nanami's gf

19 | college girl trying to improve her writting

[tonycries]

Mooo!

Synopsis. Name: Fushiguro Toji. Age: (Do not ask unless you wish to be kicked). Type: Bos taurus—in other words…a bull hybrid. Other notes: This particularly proud bull hybrid is already mated—with you! Is known to be a patient and attentive mate, despite his rough exterior. Although if Fushiguro Toji isn’t available when you go into heat, you know who to ask…your sweet farmer Shiu. Got enough milk for two?

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader x Shiu Kong

Content. MDNI, fem!cow hybrid!reader, bull hybrid!Toji, farmer!Shiu, farm AU, hybrid AU, somewhat Iove triangIes, heats, ruts, matìng bonds, accidental heat-inducing, Toji turns that truck around, thrèesome, mmf, somewhat eiffeI tower, oraI (m + f), fìngering, spìtting, suffocating (he hopes to), chokìng, tongue f, brief breathpIay, Toji’s BIG, size differences, making it fit, pushing down on stomach, RULES, teasing, running from it, Toji’s mean, Shiu’s rather nice, MANHANDLlNG, fuII neIsons, Toji’s pìercings, taking turns, impromptu bIindfolds, guessing games, punishments, p talking, p sIapping, DP, big stretches, cervìx smooches, a bit fruity, Iactation, dùmbification, pùssydrunk Shiu, pheromones, creampíes, cúmpIay, KNOTS, implied marathons, implied brèeding, getting together, pet names, swéaring.

Word count.  14.8k

A/N. I’M BAAAAAAAAAAAACK and in honor of my 21st birthday thought 2 + 1 = 3. How about a 3soooome?? A continuation of this fic by me but can be read aIone, previous fic inspired by this tiktok by the gorgeous @/v4mpyrf4e <33

“Y’know…” Toji’s chuckle comes out sharp—it hits the back of your neck in a steaming pant. And he doesn’t have to use entirely a lot of force to drag you backwards- just the simplest tug usin’ his headlock and you’re gasping down his length. 

Just as you have been for hours now- for what feels like days.

The ground beneath you is dampened with sweat and spittle, those sun-cured hay cubes are a mess- your throat is run absolutely ragged. And yet Fushiguro Toji wasn’t one to slow down - especially not during his ruts. 

The bull hybrid leans in—and you can feel the smoothness of his septum dragging down the side of your face. He’s wrapping his tail around your left thigh and hauling you to his hips. “-you’re never gonna find another mate like me, girl.”

And just as you’re opening your mouth to answer - to agree, to gasp, to sob - the doors of the barn house slam open.

And there stands your dear farmer, Shiu Kong.

Now, Shiu Kong must have known what he was walking into.

He must have-

Or at least one would think—hell, Shiu himself had assumed so and mentally prepared himself for about fifteen minutes outside the barn house before walking inside to tell the two of you to keep it down (those sensitive horse hybrids were complaining!) But he had never expected- fuck. This was all that damned Kusakabe’s fault.

It’d been about two months since Fushiguro Toji was added to his farmyard roster. Ever since his supposed ‘best friend’ had gone and dumped the proud bull hybrid on Shiu’s otherwise idyllic farm. It was meant to be temporary - just a few days watching over him until Kusakabe returned from a Hybrid Farms Convention in Tokyo. Meant to be…

But he was bigger than the rest. Broader. Gruffer. With pierced ears and the sleekest black coat on his lower half. 

So Toji had drawn gazes - one of which being from you, his most prized cow hybrid, specifically.

And Shiu couldn’t have that.

Especially not given the fact that you were the sweetest, softest thing…oh, alright you were his favorite. A part of him almost expected that having a prime bull hybrid around so many unmated cow hybrids would be nothing but trouble. But he just didn’t expect Toji to go after his favorite- anyone but you.

Thus he’d spared no expense keeping the two of you apart. 

Yet in the end it hadn’t mattered how many padlocks (twenty, at the last count) or planks that Shiu had fastened on Toji’s separate enclosure—because a padlock is only as good as it’s locked. And only three days into Toji’s stay, he’d forgotten to lock that damned thing before leaving the farm on an errand- was about halfway out of town by the time that he’d remembered. 

And turned that truck around in the middle of the highway.

Of course, by the time that Shiu actually arrived at the farm and thrown those barn house doors open - much like he had done tonight - the two of you were already tangled up n’ mated. With you humming delightedly into Toji’s neck—bite marks down every inch of it. The creamy scent of pheromones wafting out of the barn house and saturating the farmyard air.

And Toji himself hadn’t spared you an ounce of mercy.

As teeth marks were indented all along your supple skin; especially ‘round each areola of yours which Toji pinched. Letting milk flood out of Shiu’s beloved cow hybrid. Looking straight at him.

Fuck.

Shiu remembers it as clear as day.

Did he mention that he was rock-fucking-hard then? He probably shouldn’t have mentioned that…

Because it only makes him think about how hard he was right now, too. 

He was staring at a vision that was quite similar: Toji was ramming into you like there was no tomorrow- so fast that he’s only seeing the blur of his angry cock and the smack-smack-smacking of skin-on-skin. Except this time you were on all fours.

So Shiu was given the perfect view of your pretty tail swishing from side-to-side. Only growing more agitated as Toji grows faster.

The farmer watches as Toji’s hand wraps around your tail and drags you backwards- so disrespectful. A few more bite marks. A few more shakes of your pretty thighs - he gets the sense that you’d be collapsing onto the floor if Toji wasn’t helping hold you up. And once again Shiu’s struck by just how pliable you are underneath the other man.

“C’mon now-” Toji grunts. “Giddy up. Almost there.”

You’re shaking even harder. Your skin was glistening with sweat. Your eyes dazedly drift towards the other man - and he knows by that glint in your eyes- he knows it. 

He knows that you’re about to cum.

And you’re throwing your head back with what he assumes to be a moan announcing your crescendo—“Shi- oh.”

Oh.

Were you about to…?

Oh fucking-

And Shiu considers himself an intellectual man - he really does. He’s usually quick with his quips and isn’t the most inerudite of the rowdy bunch down at the bars; but this…this leaves his brain blue-screening and his mouth hanging stupidly open. Almost in a mirror of yours.

He can only stand and watch - cock throbbing in his denim overalls - as you’re tremblin’ all between Toji’s harsh thrusts. The way he fucks you is rude—as if the sound of the other man’s name on your lips almost spurs him on further.

He had to remind you who your mate was, after all.

You’re growing limp once your wave of bliss is completely bated. And it’s with a deafening slurp! that Toji himself finishes.

Polishin’ off what Shiu assumes to be your sweetest inside with his long, clingy ropes of cum- so much so that he’s seeing a ring of white start to formulate around Toji’s length. Lucky fucker. Shiu’s mouth goes dry as Toji pins your hips to the hay-littered ground and fucks and fucks his cum into you ruthlessly.

After a few prolonged minutes, he finally sets your waist free and lets your body droop onto the floor completely.

And between pants, Toji manages to whisper- “What the fuck?” Though his keen senses had already picked up on the fact that the farmer had intruded on your little…rut session, it’s only now that Toji’s finally turning.

The veins on his neck popping and prominent. Eyes greener than the brightest field - narrowed. It was as if he was finally seeing the farmer as more than simple amusement or some guy to poke ‘round with his horns sometimes - a challenge.

Was it just Shiu or were Toji’s horns looking extra sharp tonight? 

“And remember that.” Shiu speaks with courage that he did not have—to hell with not biting the hand that feeds. Shiu might’ve been the farmer but he was less than a pigsty in Toji’s eyes. Or so he felt. “Next time your pretty girl cums, she’ll be saying my name.”

Toji doesn’t even pull out of you before he snipes- “Next time you say shit like that, they’ll carry you out in a wheelbarrow.”

“And replace me?” Shiu snorts. “You think she’d milk for anyone else?”

“Pig-”

You, pointedly, kept your mouth shut to avoid saying anything more inflammatory.

And you best believe that he’s stepping back from those barn house doors as soon as he could - what was that he said about considering himself an intellectual man? He’s letting the doors slam behind him and waiting for a moment outside until he hears the two of you start it up again—those horse hybrids and their beauty sleep be damned.

With that said, Shiu takes a deep breath and heads back to his farmhouse.

The time was 12:28AM and he spends the next hour rubbin’ his cock raw to the memory of you almost moaning his name.

.

.

.

“…What did you just say to me?” And something must’ve shown in Shiu’s tone, because his friend groans from the other end of the line—‘oh, c’mon man-’

And never in his life has he let out a louder sigh. Pointed, too.

Because here Shiu was carrying on his early morning duties - ensuring herd checks and watering some of the trees, just going into the barn house to do some milking - when he gets a phone call—and from who else? Kusakabe Atsuya himself.

Now, Shiu has long since gotten used to dreading Kusakabe’s phone calls. The man’s his best friend, but a phone call from him was never bound to end well - he’s the entire reason he has a massive bull hybrid mated with you in the first place. So needless to say it didn’t start off on the right foot. But then the words left his mouth—

“-Tokyo Hybrid Farm Convention-”

And Shiu almost ended the call then and there. 

But Kusakabe must’ve had an inkling. Because he yelped out a few pleas- “Wait wait wait wait- please, I promise you’re going to want to hear this.”

And Shiu had no choice but to groan and comply. At least hear the man out. “Alright, but you better be quick. The cow hybrids need to be milked before noon.”

“Oh please- you and I both know that you’re just impatient to see your ‘pretty girl’, yeah?” Kusakabe hurries before his best friend loses his patience. “Anyways—hear me out- there’s a Hybrid Farm Convention in Tokyo-”

“I’m not-”

“And this time it’s for the hybrids.” Kusakabe cuts him off. Then basks in Shiu’s stunned silence for a few seconds, “And I know I ended up dumping Toji on you for a few days…and eventually…permanently, but let me make it up to you by getting him a new hoof-trimming chute. And maybe while I’m there I can even get him fitted for a new bull ring.”

Shiu rubs his chin in thoughtfulness. “I have been meaning to get him a larger one…”

“Then it’s settled.” Kusakabe says gleefully. “I’ll get you the ring and take Toji off your hands for a day.”

“Can’t it be a few days?” Shiu grumbles.

“No way, man. He’s all yours- consider me the babysitter.” 

“Whatever- better than nothing.” 

“So I’ll pick him up in an hour or two, yeah?” Kusakabe affirms, and from the other end of the line Shiu can hear some shuffling. A truck door slamming. “I’ll have him back to you around midnight.”

“Take your time.”

And with just a few more words shared, Shiu’s ending the call. He stands at the door to the barn house in a way far too reminiscent of the night before—and from here he can see you nuzzlin’ up to Toji for warmth as the early morning sunlight creeps into your hay-scattered abode. It really was a heartwarming sight, the two of you - if only Toji wasn’t glaring at him as if he wanted to trample over him.

However, this time, Shiu was the one with the upper hand. “Guess what, hotshot?” He goads at the bull hybrid, and it works to make his ol’ golden nose ring huff. “You’re going to be going on a little field trip today.”

Toji scoffs and rests his chin on your head.

“Oh no- I’m afraid this one’s going to be a bachelor’s trip.” The most wicked smile twitches at his lips. He watches Toji’s brows furrow and his front legs start to kick at the ground as if about to charge. “You’ll be going to the Hybrid Farm Convention in Tokyo with your old pal Kusakabe, isn’t that exciting?”

The look on Toji’s face was ‘most certainly not’.

“Then we can replace that old-fashioned ring of yours with a new one. Make that ugly mug a little more handsome, hm?”

“My ass is more handsome than you.”

“Real mature.” Shiu shakes his head as Toji flips him off and struts away outside—his midnight-black hair gleams under the morning sun, and the muscles of his upper half are almost Herculean. Shiu follows your gaze to the bull hybrid. 

With a fond chuckle, the farmer then walks over to you and runs his fingers across your scalp. Reaching that one spot he knew you loved so much- scratching behind your hybrid ears. “I don’t know how you put up with him, pretty girlie.”

“He’s really not that bad once you get to know him.” You’re softly nuzzling into him.

Shiu shudders as he thinks back to last night. “Yeah, well I think I know him a little too- hey, are you feeling a little warm?”

“Hmmm?” Absent-mindedly you’re humming.

“I’m serious, girl.” Shiu’s brows furrow- and he’s taking his hand off of your scalp to feel the temperature on your forehead. “I think you’re a little warm.”

Eyes closed, you’re only pushing against him- yearning for his touch. And Shiu tries not to think about that too hard. “I was just in the sun, Shiu.”

“Yeah but…” Now that he thinks about it- you were particularly touchy today—almost needy. And he’s sure he wasn’t imagining the scent of soft sweet cream that lingered in the barn house today. Although that wouldn’t make sense - cow hybrids were prone to one heat cycle a month, for about a week give or take.

And you’d just finished your cycle two weeks ago…Shiu would know.

He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep those past few days. And as if that wasn’t bad enough- immediately after your heat, Toji’s rut had started up. 

The farmer turns his head and looks at the little homemade calendar hung up at the end of the barn. It contained all the dates of the hybrids’ heats and ruts and when he might expect them next—and not to brag, but it had a 97% accuracy rate. The 3% was when Toji wanted to piss him off and somehow manage to draw his rut out a little longer.

But according to that- you should be in the all-clear. He furrows his brows at the color-coded green zone. What can he say? Shiu Kong liked pretty things, okay?

Aforementioned Shiu Kong looks at you. “Maybe…hm, maybe it’s just a little fever, pretty girl. That brute must’ve worn you out.” You’re shyly bumping your shoulder into him, and he runs his hand across your body. “Now then I need you to get some rest, okay? Go sleep and I’ll bring over your breakfast- oh.” Just then, his hand dips up to the swell of your chest where your tits were. “And I’ll milk you tomorrow depending on how you’re feeling, does that sound good?”

Almost dazedly, you’re nodding with a smile. “Mmm s’good, Shiu.”

A thrill zips down his spine - he ignores it. “G-good. Go on now.” And right before he himself leaves the barn house, Shiu says. “And do try to convince Toji that it’d be good for him to get a new ring. The fool doesn’t realize the power he has in emptying Kusakabe’s pockets.”

Shiu gently closes the door to head back to his duties.

He flips Toji off behind his back.

.

.

.

At 12:21PM on the dot (Kusakabe said he’d be here half an hour ago) his best friend’s truck is parked in his vast farmland. And Shiu helps Toji into a hybrid trailer—he could have just gone in the passenger-side seat, but Shiu didn’t trust Toji one bit to not just open the door and jump out. Perhaps even outrun that truck at the first instance of missing you.

Honestly, he might just do the same with the trailer too…

But Shiu doesn’t tell Kusakabe this - instead he’s letting the man load his prized bull hybrid. And then clapping him on the shoulder, “Alright- he’s your problem now.”

“Just for today.” Kusakabe rolls his eyes. “A day longer and he might just drive the truck himself getting back to his mate.”

He whispers, “…I wouldn’t count on him not to do that today, either.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Shiu amends. Looking at the huffing n’ puffing Toji inside the trailer, arms crossed. “Just that he’s a romantic.”

“That he is.” Kusakabe tips his hat and waves himself off. “Alright- midnight, yeah?”

“Like I said- take your time.” He says, eagerly- perhaps a little too eagerly.

The other man gets into the truck and slams the door shut - the force causes that hunk of rusted metal to wobble and creak, like an old man’s laugh. Shiu gets the sense that the entire world seemed to be laughing at him at that moment—including his best friend. Was he really that obvious? 

Shiu walks up to Kusakabe’s window and leans against it. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

“Oh- nothing.” Kusakabe has the audacity to wipe off a mirthful tear. “Just that it reminds me of back then. Bet you’re really happy to have some alone time with your pretty girl, huh?”

“You say that like it’s been ages since Toji’s been here.” Shiu scoffs. “She’s known me longer- probably still likes me better too. You know she only lets me-”

“-milk her.” Kusakabe interrupts. Amusement on his features at the familiar words, “Yeah yeah. You’ve said it once before, man. Or maybe twice. Thrice. Fifteen times-”

“Whatever, man.”

Shiu kicks off the side of Kusakabe’s truck and gives it a customary slap on the bonnet. 

“Drive safe. Even if you get stranded this time, I’m not coming to pick you up.”

“What a friend.” Kusakabe starts pulling the truck ahead and calls out as he goes. “Take care of the pretty girl when her mate’s not around~”

“You know I will.”

And as he watches the truck pull away with Toji inside the trailer—the bull hybrid lets out a mournful sound. It’s as Shiu feels a soft head rest against him that he realizes you’d joined him in the farewell; longingly watching your mate be hauled off. 

“It’s just for the convention, pretty girl.” Shiu mutters to you. He reaches to scratch behind your hybrid ears but- the faint heat radiating off you makes him pause. “Is…it just me or has your fever gotten worse?”

“Mmm, dunno.” You murmur thickly. You push deeper against his body and Shiu’s suddenly hit with a lingering scent of dairy and fresh flowers, presumably from last night.

“If this gets any worse then we might have to pay a visit to Dr. Shoko…”

Fervently, you’re shaking your head. 

Although you liked the cool and composed otter hybrid, Dr. Shoko, actually visiting the doctor was another thing. And so Shiu let it slide - for now - as he advised you to stay out of the sunlight and get some more rest—he’ll bring some cool drinks over after he’s done tending to the horse hybrids’ hair.

Shiu watches as you totter off into the barn house once more.

He’ll have to keep a close eye on you…

.

.

.

3:18PM

The farmdog hybrids were particularly energetic today - Shiu spent just about two hours straight neglecting his tractor maintenance to throw frisbees with them. Ah, to hell with that old thing. Maybe next time he’ll accompany Kusakabe to those Tokyo conventions and see if they have discounts on tractors. 

Although he knows he shouldn’t have been so careless - but you can’t blame a farmer for letting loose! Especially not when - usually - whenever he did this sort of thing—it’d only end up with Fushiguro Toji trampling all over the frisbee for the sake of it.

Especially not when it’s exactly what got him to notice the state of you in the first place.

Shiu had thrown the frisbee too far. It had landed somewhere by the pond, and Shiu didn’t want Ino getting his coat all muddied again- so he told the canine hybrid to stay put as he himself trudged through all the vegetation and too-soft earth. Ah…remind him to unweed this mess sometime soon. Spike rushes stuck to his boots, and water lilies waded towards him as the farmer determinedly made his way to the frisbee. 

Just bending down to get it when-

Letting out softly—“Oh.”

When Shiu spots your curled-up self on the side of the pond bank—all cocooned amongst the lush vegetation like a little treasure just for him. He tries to shake that thought out of his mind.

You startle awake once he steps on a twig attempting to get nearer to the frisbee- “Easy there.” His deep tone soothes you. “Easy. Easy. It’s just me.” You’re following the voice and settling down once you recognize him. “What’re you doing here, pretty girl?” 

“Just resting.” You respond. Now that you were sure there wasn’t any danger, you’re settling back down into your comfortable position. “The water helps keep me cool, y’know?”

“That pesky fever’s still bothering you?” Shiu reaches down to measure the temperature on your forehead - and sure as day, he’s feeling the heat simmering. If he wasn’t mistaken—it was just a tad hotter than what he remembered it to be when saying goodbye to Toji. “Hm…it doesn’t seem to be getting better on its own. How about a visit to Shoko’s?”

“Shiu…” You whine.

“Now now, missy.” He tuts. “I need you to be healthy- not only would Toji kill me otherwise, but I wouldn’t forgive myself either.”

“I’m feeling fine…really. It’s just a little hot.” You insist. “Today’s been really hot- I promise m’gonna feel better once the sun goes down.”

“Hmmm. Alright.” Though Shiu still didn’t seem all that convinced. “But you won’t cool off with water just by looking at it.” 

“What do you-”

But those words are getting stuffed back into your throat once Shiu takes a little run-up and throws himself into the pond. Creating a resounding splash! and sending a wave of water into the air—like translucent sun-glittered frogs that take a soaring leap and land on you. 

You’re yelping as the cool water lands on you- “Shiu—! You little-”

And then jumping in after him.

He throws his head back and lets out a deep, joyous laugh. And if he smelled the soft fragrance of honey suckle and fresh cream…then he imagines some of the other cow hybrids are ready for milking again.

.

.

.

6:21PM

Shiu wasn’t celebrating—honestly.

Even he wasn’t that tactless.

It’s just that it was a little quiet without Fushiguro Toji around to cause trouble with the other hybrids, or with any guests, or with Shiu…or with practically anyone that wasn’t you. He wondered whether you realized the sheer extent of his special treatment. Which was why he decided to spoil the lot of you - especially you - today.

And for this Shiu’s apples were amongst the most famed in these parts - he hears they went for thousands of yen each in Tokyo. Lush and luxurious. Like biting into a piece of heaven—he knew that the hybrids were particularly covetous of this rare luxury. And luckily for him, they’d just been harvested today. 

So why not give you lot a little treat?

Those stingy middle-men would be here to load up the apples tomorrow morning; so before that he herded his hybrids to the picturesque orchard. Where the apple trees embraced the groves from either side, the tops of their branches nearly winding into the sunset-painted clouds and pulled them back, and beneath them lay crates upon crates of apples like treasure pots at the ends of rainbows. Those apples seemed to gleam even brighter as the sun dipped beneath the horizon; gilded. 

And Shiu kept his hands on his hips, a proud smile on his face, as he watched over the hybrids picking apples and digging through crates. All except for…

“Where’s…”

Brows furrowed- Shiu turns around and spots you slumped against the wooden entrance to the orchard. Those towering pillars were intertwined with vines, and amongst them you looked like the prettiest rose. 

“Something wrong, my girl?” He walks towards you, handsome features pinched in concern. Immediately, Shiu’s hand goes up to feel your temperature once more. “Fuck-” And almost as soon as it makes contact with your forehead, he’s pulling away—

“Shiu…”

“You’re burning up- pretty girl, why didn’t you tell me that it’d become this bad?” He hisses. And then he’s reaching down to gently clasp your hand. Those caramel-brown eyes of his are just so soft…“C’mon- lets get you to Shoko’s before she’s off—”

Yet oh-so-stubbornly you’re shaking your head. “Promise m’okay, Shiu.”

“But-”

“It’s not a fever.” And the hairs on his body stand on end at those words. If not a fever, could this be…“I think it must be the heat or something- that and Toji did wear me out a little last night.”

His jaw clenches. “I’m sure. But I still think it would be good to go for a check-up.”

You’re averting your gaze from his. “I’m alright. Trust me.”

And though Shiu was clearly displeased by this turn of events—how could he ever say no to his favorite girl? It was almost embarrassing how easily he’s bending to your will- and letting out a sigh he attempts to make sound annoyed rather than fond. “Oh, alright…but at least try one of the apples. I’m sure they’d be good for you.”

“Of course-” Then you take a step - and the faint dizziness that’d accompanied your fever makes you nearly fall into Shiu’s chest. Thankfully the farmer catches you easily with his scarred palms darting to your waist, his broad arms wrapping around your body- and the tips of his fingers graze where your tail starts.

And both of your breaths hitch-

“Hey boss- can we dig into the pears too or are those off limits?” Ino’s blissfully oblivious tone shatters whatever strange atmosphere had seemed to concentrate between you two.

And you both jump backwards as if electrocuted.

“The uh- the what-” Shiu whirls around at the farm dog hybrid, “Not a chance. Don’t even think about touching those.”

“…Oops.”

“Those are ¥5000 a pear-” He pinches his nosebridge and groans- as his most trusted dog hybrid scampers off with an armful of pears. As he does so, Ino’s dropping one on the grass that Shiu’s bending down to pick up. Wiping off the non-existent dust on his denim overall, Shiu pulls a pocket knife out and cuts a clean slice of pear in mere seconds.

Calm and controlled.

Somehow, just seeing how competent he was with it made something at the pit of your stomach- twinge.

Before you know it, Shiu’s holding the tempting slice out to you. “Eat.” When you look at him in hesitation, he chuckles handsomely. “They’re about to raid the pears anyway, so you might as well eat.”

And so you do - he watches every minute expression of yours as you bite into it. That glimmer in your eyes. That smile.

Fuck…

Chomping on the luxurious fruit, you’re soon raising your nose into the air and sniffing.

Shiu raises a brow, “Something wrong? It’s not rotten, is it?”

You shake your head and continue sniffing. “No, it’s just…” Your ears twitch towards him- and he finds it so cute how they move almost all on their own. “Something smells good.”

“The pear?” 

“No.” Shaking your head once more—the way you look at him then is just…different. “Like apples. And caramel. And honeysuckle.”

Shiu scratches behind his neck. “Well, I don’t know about the caramel- but we are in an apple orchard.” Gesturing at the sprawling land. “Help yourself.”

You smile and rub yourself against him lightly, soon joining your friends.

This was proving to be quite the strange day- fuck, were you getting hotter?

.

.

.

11:59PM

“I should have taken you to Shoko’s in the morning—”

This is all Shiu’s fault.

This is all Shiu’s fault.

But to understand just how badly he’d messed up, one would have to rewind the clock to about two minutes and twenty seconds ago; it’d been a long day at the farm. Exhaustibly so. Even more so than usual, Shiu was dead-tired—it was practically subconscious the way in which he’d scrubbed himself clean and slipped into his favorite pair of pajamas (the ones with the cows and barns on them). 

And he’d just - just - sat himself down on the creaky sofa in front of the TV, to get in at least five minutes of his favorite cheesy soap operas before he zonked out before it…when the front door started rattling.

Wait…rattling?

Knocking.

Shiu sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he heaved himself to a stand- “Yeah, yeah m’coming…don’t break the damn door down.” He’d at least expected Kusakabe to give him a call before he returned and started trying to leave him doorless- but ah. 

Shiu was grumbling a few choice words underneath his breath as he swung the front door and screen open. Only to be met with—

“Pretty girl?” In split-seconds, every ounce of sleepiness leaves Shiu as he darts to hold your faintish body. Your head was drooped, and your breaths were coming out rapid. You were supported by only some of the other cow hybrids. Immediately his hand is flying to your waist, and he’s throwing one of your arms around his shoulders- before giving up on any inhibitions and pulling you into a proper princess carry.

A worried Ino and the others trailed after. “The cow hybrids let me know that there was something wrong, boss. So I brought her here.”

“Good thinking. Thank you.” Shiu just barely has the thought to murmur. He hurries to sprawl you out across where you would be most comfortable: his bed. “We need to contact Dr. Shoko immediately.”

“It’s not her time of heat yet, right?” Ino asks from the doorway. Behind him were some of the other members of the barn house looking in concern.

“No.” Shiu shakes his head. He glances up and sees the commotion- “It might be a fever, or maybe it was too hot out? I don’t know—fuck, I should’ve just taken her in the morning when she first told me.”

“Should I get the truck ready now, boss?”

“Sure. But I don’t want to move her much right now- poor thing.” Shiu looks on sadly at the way you’re gripping his soft pillows and smushing them to your face—breathing them in. “I’ll call Shoko and see if there’s anything we can do from here-” Reaching over to his bedside cabinet and picking up the phone, “You guys get some sleep, and I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“You’ve got it.” Ino nods- and then he’s herding the rest of the barn outside. 

In this little bubble of his bedroom, this little nook of the farm which smelled like fresh cream and honeysuckle, and had the air of sluggish mornings that made one’s eyes droop; it was just you and Shiu and the ringing tone of Shoko’s clinic.

Ringing once.

Ringing twice.

It cuts and Shiu’s trying Shoko’s personal number this time. She picks up almost instantly- “Hello?”

“I’m not going to ask about the integrity of your sleep schedule, but I need your help-”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

And as Shiu lists off your symptoms - the clamminess, the rapid heartbeat, the puffs of pheromones now filling up his bedroom, and more importantly…the wetness between your thighs (he wasn’t a lecher- he promises, it just-so-happened that Dr. Shoko had asked him to double check as part of your symptoms) - he himself starts to get an understanding of your diagnosis. You were in heat. But-

“But wasn’t her heat just two weeks ago?” There’s a shuffling of papers on the other end of the line as Shiu realizes Shoko must’ve gone through your file at home. “And she isn’t known for having any irregular heats.”

“Could this possibly be triggered by something external?” Shiu asks.

“It is possible.” She answers. “Have there been any changes to her environment? Something that may trigger a stress response in her?”

“Well, just today I had Toji go out with my friend to a convention- could it possibly be the distance?” He suddenly feels a drop of guilt at possibly being connected to why you feel this way.

“Hmm, I don’t believe so. Mating bonds are of the nature to be most volatile in close distances, rather than when they’re apart.” She hums thoughtfully. “You said that her mate was away today, right? And this started just today? Have there been any…other changes?”

Shiu raises a brow. “Other?”

And he can’t see her, but he gets the feeling that had they been in her office- then Shoko would have her fingers crossed and a grave expression on her face. “Yes. Has she been close with any other hybrid on the farm? Perhaps nuzzling up to them? Perhaps giving off her scent?”

The tips of Shiu’s fingers, clutching the phone, feel utterly numb. “…Yes.” Him.

“Well then. I believe the matter is quite simple, Mr. Shiu.” Tell him. “It is a strange phenomenon in which the hybrid seems to have two mates.”

“…” He can’t quite seem to close his mouth. “What?”

“Precisely.” Shoko speaks as if merely commenting on the nice weather or a particularly good football goal.

“B-but—” Shiu clutches the phone and tries to keep his volume from rising so as not to awaken you - you’d fallen asleep wrapped in his sheets now. Nose stuffed into the fabrics coated with his natural musk. “I thought hybrids mated for life? With only one-”

“Most often, yes. But there are rare cases in which a hybrid might find themselves connected to two others, or even three. Sometimes these connections may be latent and only make themselves known when triggered by a heat or time apart from her original mate.” His jaw just keeps dropping. “And it seems that in your cow hybrid’s case, in the absence of one mate she found her second mate’s connection activated. This is likely what caused her to go into heat.”

“So it’s official-” He begs. “She’s in heat now-”

“Yes, and I suggest you just let her do what needs to be done with her second mate in order to get it out of her system, otherwise she may feel rejected.”

And it seems that the conversation was coming to a close- for there was a note of epiphany in her words. But before Shoko could end the call, he questions once more. “And about the…double mate thing- does that also mean that the second mate is mated to the original mate?”

There’s a pause.

“Well, I suppose that’s up to you, Mr. Shiu.”

Wait how did she—

And then she ends the call.

Shiu holds numbly onto the phone for a few seconds - the silence felt deafening. Before a sudden stirring makes him dart his eyes over towards you. 

Like an angel.

Your face was half-pushed into one of Shiu’s pillows - also patterned with cows and barns - and that blanket of his had twisted ‘round your body like a snake now—clammy with your sweat. Your fingers were clawing at the old creaky mattress, and your knees were pushing higher, and between them were- oh.

Were another one of his pillows.

And fuck- he’s never felt more jealous of an inanimate object in his entire life.

You were reeling your hips back—thrusting them forwards again- grinding down on the pillow. Wetness was seeping between those pretty, shiverin’ legs of yours and staining the cover. From here he could see a dark splotch starting to stain the silken fabric - smelling like the sweetest honey scent.

And it makes his mouth water.

“Baby- baby…” Shiu lovingly pats your leg, dawning you completely awake. He could see now that you were in the throes of your heat - but those eyes of yours were completely alert. “I need you to get comfortable, okay? This is gonna last about a week.”

“I’m in heat?” You blink. “Dr. Shoko said you’re my mate, Shiu.”

“So you heard that, huh?” He lightly chuckles. “Just know that we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. Heats don’t necessarily affect humans-”

“Then why’re you so hard?” Though that tone of yours was utterly innocent - the look in your eyes wasn’t. You knew what you were doing to him—and you’re only hiking up the temperature between the two of you as you’re leaning in. 

On wobbly arms, you’re pushing yourself up n’ leaning in so close-

Oh, how he’s dreamed of this exact scenario so many nights before. In this very bed. With his hand wrapped around his cock.

And Shiu knows he’s talking out of his ass - it’s the inhibitions taking over now…“You’ve got me there- but what about Toji-”

“Isn’t he your mate, too?”

And then your lips are on his.

.

.

.

Fushiguro Toji feels a disturbance in the force.

He can’t quite explain it- it’s nothing that he’s seen or even something that he’s felt. Nothing tangible to give reason to this madness. It’s just that something was…off. Kusakabe notices the hybrid squirming in his seat - yes, it seems that he trusted the bull hybrid enough to let him ride shotgun - and turns on the radio.

Just Toji’s luck, it was Scotty Doesn’t Know by Lustra.

“Turn it off.” Toji scoffs and crosses his arms.

“Why? Remind you of a certain someone~?” Kusakabe asks in-between singing at the top of his lungs.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

And even though Toji is merely looking at the smaller man- he shrinks into his seat. Did he mention he’d sharpened his horns for today? Kusakabe whimper, “O-oh nothing…nothing, just that ah- the lyrics might be a little reminiscent of ah-”

And Toji was even more infuriated because of that nagging sensation- that strange…fuck. “Spit it out.”

Kusakabe lets out a squeal and looks as though he utterly regretted letting the hybrid sit next to him. “J-just the fact that Shiu mayormaynothaveacrushonyourmate—” It’s out before Toji could even register it. “Pleasedon’tkillme-”

“If I kill you who’s driving?” Toji had now unbuckled his seatbelt despite Kusakabe’s protests. Snooping around the truck and trying to trace that little- scent? “What is that infernal- fuck. And I already know that farmer’s got a thing for her - though I’d pay for him to actually try. Would love to see his face as she rejects him.”

“Really? Because she was looking all cute and cuddly and a little feverish this morning.”

“What.”

And then it hits him—that scent. Fresh cream and sunny days and honey-

You were in heat.

“Fucker, step on it.”

Kusakabe whirls towards him. “What-” But before he can finish, Toji’s grabbing onto the steering wheel and damn-near crashing them on the highway as he speeds ahead.

The radio trills: ‘I can’t believe he’s so trustin’.

While I’m right behind you thrusting.’

.

.

.

“Mmm—” Shiu’s lips are hot and persistent- letting off the most sensual mwahs! as he continues the pattern down the side of your neck.

Listen, Shiu Kong might not be a hybrid like you, but if he kept his nose pressed against your sultry skin then he could almost feel it—those pheromones. 

It was wafting off your skin like an atmosphere that was entirely your own, a gravitational pull constantly tugging him closer; the sweetened scent of honey and freshly-whipped cream. It made him blush. It went straight down to his cock.

Fuck that- it was taking over him.

A guttural groan rips out of Shiu’s chest- he kisses a pathway down the middle of your body until he’s reaching your core. Once he does, he gives the hottest wettest kiss of all to your cunt—“Oh, baby. Lean back a bit f’me, yeah?”

And then he’s pressing an open palm on top of your stomach. Pressing you to recline on the bed.

“Good girl.” Shiu rumbles. Low. “Now squeeze those pretty legs around my head- yeah, just like that. Tighter.”

“Tighter than that n’ you’ll suffocate.” You gasp.

“What about it?”

Using his own strong arms - so fucking beefy from years of work at the farm - Shiu wraps your thighs around his sweaty head. His sharp, straight hair tickles your inner thighs; so much so that the farmer has to tell you to settle down. “Easy there- eeeeasy there, girlie. I’ll make you feel good during your heat.”

“I’m not a damn horse.” You huff.

“Yeah, because you’re gonna be the one riding, huh?”

The gasp that flutters its way up to your throat doesn’t get the chance to escape- because the question on Shiu’s tongue curls around your cunt. He’s letting the squashy end of his tongue dip between your swollen pussylips—giving you a loooong lick where you were most tender. Those cushiony tastebuds of his were massaging you already- and the way he’s twisting his tongue so deliciously as he enters—

“Oh.” You’re arching off the mattress, thighs plastering to the side of his face. And yet your pussy’s openin’ up for him so invitingly. “Keep going, Shiu…”

“Had no plans of stopping soon.” Gurgling wetly between your legs.

His tongue was just so soft and smooth.

The way he’s adjusting it in and out makes your mouth just water. In and out. In and out. Shiu notices that every time he hooked his tongue around the outer rim of your entrance made your pheromones surge. Fuck—that heat of yours was affecting him, too, and leaving him sippin’ on your pussy like an aphrodisiac.

Lavish lips plastering aaaaall over again and again- “Mmmm, my pretty cow hybrid. No idea how I lasted this long without this.” Breathing through his nose - he didn’t want to waste a single second of this. His usually-deep timbre shakes with pleading desire. “And what can this do?”

You’re squealing once you feel thick fingers curl around your tail. “That’s my tail…”

“I already know that, pretty girl.” Shiu shakes his head fondly - as though you’d been the one to say something ridiculous. And in-between lapping away at your leaking pussy, he tugs softly on your tail in order to bring you closer. “But what can it do-”

“Well she likes getting it pulled during doggy position.” 

Both of you would have recognized that voice amongst a thousand bull hybrids - ten thousand. That stature. That scent of freshly-cut grass and something deeper…something more alluring.

“And sometimes if you bite it she starts clenching like crazy.” 

Fuck.

Because neither of you had heard the door click open - except maybe in what felt like a distant dream. Something worlds away.

You’re feeling a sense of déjà vu. 

Shiu’s feeling cold sweat breaking out as he realizes that he hadn’t actually locked the door. In fact. 

Whoever had opened it must be gripping it so hard that its oak frame was starting to splinter-

Both of you experience a pang at the pit of your stomach- a draw. And Shiu gapes as he looks down at himself—what the fuck was that…? He’s looking up at Fushiguro Toji standing in the doorframe with the same shocked expression.

“The hell do you think you’re doing with my girl?” Toji spits, scarred lips twisted.

“Listen, man-”

“You’re not going to make her cum eating her out like that.”

“I…what?”

Toji manages to make Shiu shut up. This must surely be a dream? And it’s just about enough time for the other man to cross the distance between the door and the bed - kicking it shut behind him - and make himself quite at home on the bed. The mattress creaks under the weight of the hybrid; and you yourself are letting out a soft moan. 

He sits beside where you were sprawled-out, facing Shiu.

“You see…my pretty girl here-”

Shiu mutters underneath this breath. “Fuckin’ stealing my pet name too, now?”

But Toji has the courtesy to ignore it - for now. “-has a certain set of rules she needs to follow.” 

At this, the other man’s brows raise in interest. Satisfied at the attention; Toji himself traces his dominant right hand over your stomach, your hips, before lowering down to your cunt and holding those puffy pussylips of yours open. Pushing them apart. Pryin’ them apart. 

Both men gulp at the way you’re clenching around nothing.

“See…she might look all innocent and sweet- but she’s a proper little slut.” The words almost make Shiu flinch - and the bull hybrid takes great care repeating them. “Your…pretty girl is a proper- little- slut. And I know that she likes being fucked like one.”

And before either of you can make a move - Toji’s swiftly craning his head down and spitting a great glob of saliva on your cunt.

It trickles over your exterior and smears along your inner thighs- and Toji takes his sweet, sweet relish in swipin’ off some of that excess and popping it into his mouth. “So?” Toji asks. “Eat her out.”

Eat…Toji’s own mate out? Like this?

“What?” Toji has the audacity to look shocked. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing her- don’t act like you haven’t been fantasizing it. You’ve wanted her even before I arrived at this damn farm.”

Shiu’s lips tremble- he almost wants to because hell, he’s been given the permission now. And yet…“Is this some sort of trick? You’re not gonna use those horns on me afterward, are you?”

“No, not at all.” The other man replies - almost too breezily. He raises his brows at Shiu expectantly. And stares deep into Shiu’s eyes as he says. “So? The fuck are you waiting for-”

Those mere words make Shiu’s cock stand painfully erect.

However, there’s a reason they claimed that Fushiguro Toji was a ruthless man. 

Because humans always did move far too slowly for the bull hybrid’s liking. And he wastes not a second more before pawin’ at the back of Shiu’s sweaty scalp - taking just a moment to bask in the utter shock upon his features - and shoving—

Straight between your pretty, pretty thighs.

Which he honestly didn’t have to do because—well fuck, you didn’t have to ask Shiu twice to eat you out. Shiu lets out a strangled grunt that turns into a moan. 

And without further ado, he’s back latched onto your pussy- those handsome cheeks of his hollowing out as he sucks n’ sucks. And you don’t know whether he was doing this for you or himself. 

Shiu ate you out like he was going to die of thirst if he didn’t.

“Fuck-” He hisses. With every movement of his face, he nuzzles himself closer. “Fuck fuck fuck—more.”

Syrupy breath sticking against your pussylips. 

And his tongue was even worse-

“My pretty girl. More.”

He’s slithering it aaaaaaaall along your outer cunt - lapping up every wad of slick you were gifting him - and then rubbing his textured tastebuds along your exterior when it just wasn’t enough. Because your cunt was practically an aphrodisiac for him.

It’s as if the heat was contagious.

Because the longer he’s spending between those gorgeous legs of yours - the more he’s blabbering like a damn fool. The murkier his eyes are growing. The harder and harder his hips are coming crashing—! down on the rickety wooden frame of the bed—pathetically dry-humping it in time with the thrashes of his tongue. Slipping right between your velvety folds and yearnin’ to taste the honey between.

That thick silkiness of his tongue was just dizzying.

He was cleaning up the mess that Toji’d made earlier—tasting him, tasting you. Shiu’s face grows warm as he remembers.

That dextrous tip of his tongue delves between your pussylips - entering that cute hole - and is lapping up everything you’re giving him. “Babydoll, fuck my mouth even deeper.” Needing more. “Even deeper.”

“F-fuck- shit, shit shit.” You’re trilling out. “You’re practically nose-deep. How can you possibly go any deeper?”

With a needy whimper, you’re letting your hybrid tail swish towards him - and without further ado Shiu takes it and wraps his fist around it. Giving a gentle tug. Fuck.

And when he actually discovers that he’s able to manhandle you further onto his mouth with that tail of yours- nothing’s stopping Shiu from increasing his strength to give you a mean haul. “Mmm- yes- oh, Shiu. It feels so good, Shiu—!”

“But not good enough, right?” Toji speaks over you, in a haughty tone.

Your hybrid ears twitch in confusion.

And before you know it, you’re feeling the sensation of Shiu’s slithering tongue disappear. 

You whine out in disappointment. And you already know that that mate of yours must have something to do with it-

Sure as day; Toji has his fist gripping Shiu’s jet-black hair and reeling him back. The other man obviously had his face twisted into something ferocious, and the tension made the atmosphere pinch. But underneath that…there was an undercurrent of sweetness…the mottling of Toji’s gleeful pheromones mixing with his lustful ones.

And Shiu’s, too.

And if you weren’t mistaken- was that a faint blush on the tips of his ears?

It seems that Toji notices, too. “See anything to blush about here?” Then his eyes dip down to you. “Oh…right. Heh.” Leaning in oh-so-closely to the other man; Toji whispers in a gravelly tone into his ear. “But if you stand around blushing and bein’ a wuss for too long, then just know that she’s not gonna wait. She’s gonna dry up~”

He spits once more.

So disrespectful.

And then turns down to Shiu and warns. “Don’t eat her out just yet. Rule number one…” Your heartbeat races as he speaks those familiar words - Fushiguro Toji never was one to care for rules…unless it was in bed. “No running.”

“I’d never run from this pussy.” Shiu frowns.

“Not you, nitwit.” Mercilessly, he’s planting a smack at the back of the farmer’s head. “Her. Don’t let her run.”

Seemingly getting the green light to start up his sensual ministrations again- Shiu slowly starts lapping between your pussylips once more. Proddin’ his thickened tip into the deep orifice of your cunt. “B-but she’s not-”

“Look.” Toji interrupts. Just as you were starting to buck and lift your hips off the sodden mattress. “Look at the way she’s moving ‘round.”

“But that’s just-”

“But this pretty cow hybrid is in heat—and you can’t just leave her uncomfortable like this, can you?” Those dazed eyes of Shiu Kong’s open wider. He faintly nods. “So aren’t you the farmer?”

He nods again - looking as though he was about to faint.

“So herd your damn cow hybrids- c’mon- don’t let her run—” Spurred on even further by his words, Shiu’s plunging back in-between your legs and usin’ his tongue for his life.

Opening his mouth wiiiiiide to make sure that he’s able to reach every nook and cranny—the end of his tongue was just so dexterous and somehow managing to slip into spots you hadn’t even known you had. “O-ohhhh, fuuuuck-” Moans just keep bubbling out of your lips. “It feels so good, Shiu-”

And just when it looked as if you were about to buck—Shiu grabs ahold of your hips- so hard that he leaves neat semi-crescent nail marks on your skin. Plopping you back down onto the bed.

Plopping you back down onto his face.

From then onwards, he doesn’t let you move a single inch as he’s thrashin’ away his fat tongue inside your cunt. Stretching that pussy out to his textured tastebuds. 

And Toji had been watching the entire display closely…very closely. With his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. “Good.” His head threatens to tip backwards as he gives a harsh tug on his thickened length. “And now rule number two: squeeze those gorgeous legs around your head. Doesn’t matter if you suffocate.”

“That- that’s what I said—” Shiu keens.

“Then why’re you speaking?”

Goosebumps run down Shiu’s arched spine. “Oh…”

“A cunt like hers isn’t to be taken for granted.” Toji tuts from above you, and you can’t help but ogle the way his biceps bulge as he pushes down Shiu’s head. “Deeper.” Harder. “Deeper. Don’t waste time talking. Don’t waste time gawking like an idiot. In fact-”

His heated words make goosebumps scatter across your open thighs.

And you whimper-

“-don’t even breathe.”

They’re both driving you absolutely mad—

Toji catches your left ear between his fingers- as it’s been swatting furiously away the more aroused you grew. So soft beneath his touch.

He uses it to urge your mouth down to where his lap was.

“Rule number three…let her fuck back into you- but only if she really…really deserves it.”

“Make the pretty girl work for it?” Shiu looks up.

Toji displays a priggish smirk. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

And you don’t know what sort of expression Shiu might have on his handsome face right now - he was much too…preoccupied for that - but you can sense him nod. Short and sharp. As he keeps on lavishin’ your insides with his tongue; the farmer makes note of just how hard you’re clenching around him. “C’mon, pretty girl—” He pushes down your bucking hips. “Clench a little harder ‘round my tongue, would ya?”

“O-oh, now you’re just mean.”

“It’s what you deserve.” Toji chuckles. “Don’t think I can’t smell your pheromones gettin’ even sweeter- you’re loving this.”

You have no counter accusation - it was, after all, painfully true. And then Toji caresses your sweaty scalp with his thick digits—grabbing ahold of the back of your neck. “Now…lets see if you can be a good girl for me, too.”

An acrid sort of sweetness floods your mouth - because in mere sultry moments Toji has his legs positioned so that they’re practically straddling your face. On the mattress; he’s kneeling to the side of your head and letting his pursed, pinkened cocktip swab across your lips.

He’s rock-hard.

Instantly your jaw’s falling open to accommodate him.

And believe- that there was a lot to be accommodating. For Toji was so many countless inches, thick and decorated in a prominent network of veins across every inch of him. They zigzagged across each of his angles n’ ended up being the most prominent where your sweet spots were—Toji meant it when he said he was made for you.

He had a scruff of jet-black happy trail. He was an angry red at his tip. He was dripping precum.

It puckered out from the divot on top of his shaft—then ended up smeeeeared down the insides of your soft mouth. “Fuuuuck…” Toji himself whispers as he eases in. The bedsprings purr as Shiu bucks against the bed harder.

And before you know it, he’s reaching upwards and biting down on your throbbing clit. “Don’t forget about me, pretty girl. You’re not getting off easy. Rule number three, remember?”

“I—oh.” Shiu’s putting his fingers in now - fingers. Two of them. Long and perfectly calloused from years of hard labor to now massage your tender insides.

Both men are manhandling you oh-so-perfectly: Shiu dragging you down by your tail- and Toji using both hands to maneuver your head down. Letting you take up numerous inches of him. Thick and throbbing.

That rounded end of his shaft hits the back of your throat and you’re immediately coughing-

“Easy there.” Toji lovingly croons…“Not.” And you didn’t expect mercy, did you? Soon enough both of them are running their bodies ragged trying to draw out the most reactions from you—Toji fucking his cock into your suckling mouth, and Shiu hooking a finger not against the roof of your cunt to press on your nerve-filled spots- to make you clench. “C’mon- milk me. You can do better.”

“C’mon, little cow hybrid.” Shiu titters. His digits prove so effective in stretchin’ out your insides even more so than his tongue—and those tastebuds of his remain tickling your clit. “Won’t you squeeze me a little harder?”

“She can’t answer.” Toji laughs. “Got her mouth a little full.”

“Bull got her tongue.”

“Mmmm…” With that said, Toji’s flooding your tastebuds with a thick lacquer of his precum. He increases his pace a little more.

“Just a little harder-” Meanwhilst, Shiu whispers to himself as he keeps probing your sweet, sweet insides. “Just a little- a little—” And at precisely that moment; he’s hitting the bullseye. What else but the place marked X: your g-spot? “O-oh.” 

He damn near cums in his pants.

“Just like that.” Shiu continues. “Fuck back into my fingers. I know you can, girlie.”

“Accomplished rule number three already?” Toji asks the other man. “Yer nicer than me- I know that for sure.”

“What can I say? She’s my favorite.”

After a few more thrusts n’ bucks n’ smashes at your favorite spot - you don’t think you can even formulate a coherent thought. You’re being tugged back and forth by both men—and they aren’t showing any signs of slowing down soon enough. “The fourth and fifth rules are a little alike…” Toji rumbles from above you. “The fourth, of course, is to get ready.”

“Get ready?” Shiu asks. Though by the way he feels the heat in the room - your pheromones - flare up, he’s sure you’re anticipating whatever it is.

“And the fifth is to…” The end of that sentence teeters on the edge of Toji’s tongue as he reels his hips back, back, back, baaaaack- “-take it all like a good girl.” 

And that’s exactly what you’re doing.

Letting the entire length of Toji’s cock fill your mouth from tip to base- his fleshy cockhead searches your insides like a flashlight. It’s almost too pornographic the way you’re choking on his length—gagging, eyes watering. 

To which of course, your beloved mate reaches down to pinch your nostrils closed. “Now now…are you the one in heat or am I?”

“Mmmpf- mmm—” You keen. Moans bubbling from the back of your throat but having no way out.

“Oi- I think she’s close.” Shiu breathes.

He could taste it in the sweet treacly syrup leaking out of you - his favorite. He could taste it in the way your cunt walls were pounding faster than ever. He could fucking smell it in those pheromones of yours that just seemed to flare to life-

“S’that so?” Toji asks. “And that brings me to our sixth and final rule: if she wants something, then she can use her words to ask for it.”

“Hardass.” Shiu scoffs.

But they’re both increasing their pace. For competition or simply to drive you mad?

The sloppiest squelches and pops! fill the room—and Shiu watches as your tail starts twitching agitatedly once the pleasure almost gets too much. Oh his pretty cow hybrid. Once you’re so close that you feel like you could burst- “Toji, she’s close—”

“Then ask for it.” Toji keeps shovelling his cock deeper. Deeper. “Fucking ask for it, doll.”

“Toji-”

Slamming into your throat with a final thwack! His balls were damn near leaving an imprint on your chin. “You can ask the farmer to help you with your heat- but you can’t ask me to make you cum…?”

“She did.”

The tension in the room falters - but never bates - as Toji turns to look at the other man. “What?”

“She did-” Shiu hastens to explain. “Ask to cum, that is…” And as if to prove his point—he’s plummeting a few more pushes with his fingers, scissoring them inside you so that those slurping suctioning noises are extra loud. “-right here.”

Toji waits for a beat.

Before he lets out a little snicker.

Before he lets out an entire laugh-

“Maybe you’re not so bad- for you, that is.” And then he’s boring his forest fire gaze down at you. “Hear that? Yer damn lucky that you’re the farmer’s favorite—hah, better thank him.” Toji’s then tugging your ear to watch you squirm just a little.

He lets out a final few thrusts.

And waits until his cock was embedded deeeep into the back of your throat - and your nose was pressed against those tufts of black at his base. Until you were well and fully stuffed full of him. 

“So cum then, my pretty mate.”

And with a few more thorough slashes inside you—knockin’ Shiu’s burly fingers into your sweetest spots, slithering Toji’s length down every crevice of your mouth, you’re crashing into your high. 

It’s quick and searing.

It takes over your body faster than you can register. Burning through every other thought and feeling - you’re letting out erotic moans around Toji’s cock, and they keep getting louder as it keeps prolonging. Longer and longer. The more they’re toyin’ with your throbbing, sopping cunt. 

Those fervent peaks seem to get stronger - and within you feels practically white-hot in sensation. Pulling off of his bulbous tip. “Sh-shiiiiiit—” Keening out. “It feels so good- it feels so good-”

“You’re welcome.” Toji says. Shovelling his pinkish tip back between those lips.

At the same time that Shiu’s panting. “Anything for you, pretty girl.”

“Don’t fucking stop.”

Of course, as your mates they’re practically bound to listen to your every syllable.

And you don’t feel them rest - even take a breath - until your orgasm was well and almost completely disappeared from the horizon.

Tears of overstimulation were now springing to your eyes. Thighs twitching with the faintest splinters of sensitivity. “F-fuck…” Toji’s throbbing tip falls from your lips. It leaves a thin ribbon of slick connecting you to him still. You’re blabbering. “Fuck, I’m getting sensitive now.”

“Hm…Shiu climb up.” Toji says.

Both you and Shiu share a glance—and with something that looked like a half-shrug, Shiu’s attempting to heave himself up from the floor-

Only to be grabbed by Toji by the hand and yanked onto bed.

The farmer’s letting out a little yelp as he’s finding himself bounced onto the springy mattress - right on your other side. Sandwiched between the two buff, broad men- you don’t think you’ve ever felt your heart beat faster…ever smelled your pheromones so potently…

“Shiu, I need those off.” You huff. Batting those teary lashes of yours.

“Oh.” His face twists into something like ecstacy - how many times has he fantasized about those very words leaving your mouth?

And, flustered, the farmer starts unbuckling his overall one-by-one-

“We’re not trying to wait until her heat’s over.” Toji gruffs. And his veined forearm reaches across you - grasping onto the front of Shiu’s overall and giving it a good tug.

Those buckles are breaking free immediately. 

The bull hybrid smiles to himself proudly. “There.”

“I should have half the mind to return you to Kusakabe…” Shiu grumbles to himself, as he takes off the rest of his clothes. That sentence makes the faintest flicker of recognition light up in his brain - really, where was Kusakabe - but it’s evaporating soon enough once you start helping him take his boxers off. 

“I’m warning you in advance, however…” He starts.

“Why?”

“Yeah- are you hiding a 21-incher in there or something?” Toji scoffs.

“No no- it’s not that. I’m…above average- probably.” Shiu waves off, his burning blush creeping up onto his face again. “It’s just that I might have made…a little mess when I was eating you out.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean by- oh.”

Oh, was right. Right indeed.

Because of course- Shiu was naturally an impressive size. About eight inches. With a much more tan tip than Toji’s - and perhaps even thicker, too - and a girth that made your mouth water. He was smoother than Toji—less veins ‘round his shaft except for a single prominent one that went around the left side. And he was curved ever-so-slightly upright, too. 

But what really caught your attention was…Shiu had cum in his pants.

Just from eating you out.

“Oh…” Your eyes widen as you take in the dark splotch at the front of his boxers. 

Thick ropey white cum had seeped into it- and Shiu’s hastily snatching those boxers out of your hands to throw them over his shoulder. His hands felt sticky. “But that’s neither here nor there-”

“Of course it is.” Toji says after a moment of contemplation. “I’m adding a seventh rule.” 

Yours and Shiu’s eyes pop open. 

“Shit.”

“Shit-”

“What?” The bull hybrid looks at you both in mock innocence. “I was just going to say that the guest goes first…”

It’s…unexpected. To say the least. But you weren’t complaining - and by the way that Shiu’s reddened length perks up at the idea, you don’t think he is either.

“Um, so how do I…”

Toji angles himself towards you- “Get up a little, doll?”

You arch your hips off the bed; and Toji’s taking the opportunity to sidle his own hips underneath them. He’s manhandling you so that you’re simply sprawled-out on his chiselled front—and oh, how your mouth waters at the sensation of his rippling pecs and abs. The way they’re massaging you from behind at even the slightest movements—was that his v-line? 

And did you mention that Toji just-so-happened to have the cutest ringed piercings through each nipple?

They’re pushing into you from behind once the hybrid hooks both hands underneath each of your legs. And he’s lifting them aaaaaaaall the way up until your knees hit your tits. Spreading you wide, wide open.

A full nelson.

Except…this time, it’s Shiu’s who’s going to be basking between your legs. 

The aforementioned man takes a courageous gulp as he shuffles on his knees between your legs - and Toji’s - to lovingly gaze at you. “Fuuuuuck, my pretty girl…you really are so gorgeous.” Shiu whispers- underneath his breath as though he didn’t even mean for you to hear.

His darkened eyes sweep down your body like a caress. “The way that pussy’s dripping so much- shit, s’like a flood down there. Can you even feel yourself?” You’re squirming at his lecherous words. “And those legs. Trembling. And the way you’re just throbbing- I can see it from here.”

You’re gasping as he presses his hot length down on your cunt. 

Sandwiched between each of your pussylips: Shiu doesn’t think he’s ever seen a prettier sight. “You’re just so dirty, girlie~”

You shudder.

And Shiu could have kept going- it absolutely killed him to tear his gaze off of you. It really did.

But Shiu could sense Toji starting to get impatient if the slightly souring tint in his pheromones was anything to go by- hey, look at that…he’s reading pheromones now. Mentalling patting himself on the back; the farmer starts slide-slide-sliiiiiding his fattened-up cock between your precious folds. “Easy there, girl?”

“Yeah yeah- we’re easy.” Rolling his eyes, you’re getting jostled as the hybrid underneath bucks. And at this point, you’re honestly wondering which one of you was more excited for his entrance…“Just get on with it.”

“Unlike you, Toji, I don’t just- get on with it.” Shiu sounded offended at the mere suggestion. 

And as you both look towards him for further clarification, Shiu nervously bites down on the inside of his cheek and pushes his swollen cock down the slit of your cunt. “It’s just that…” He lets his particularly large tip kiss your hole. “-what if I end up hurting my pretty girl during her heat? I’d never forgive myself.”

“How cute.” Toji snickers. But there’s something that you recognize there—appreciation? “But not if you follow our rules, farmer boy. Remember those?”

Shiu rolls his eyes. “How could I forget?”

“Yeah- recite those.” And you’re gasping once one of Toji’s meaty palms drift up to your face - covering your dazed peripherals. “We’re both going to take turns fucking her using those rules, and my mate’s going to guess which one of us it is—how about that?”

“Mmm, sounds fun.” You smile.

And seeing that gorgeous smile of yours - what else was he supposed to be but putty in your hands? Shiu’s giving himself a few pumps before starting to press into your tight rim.

You’re tight.

So fucking tight.

His brows furrow n’ sweat starts beading at his forehead as he slowly - sloooowly - starts easing his proud cock inside. You’re arching into Toji’s back, whilst Shiu probes into your deepest depths. “O-oh.”

It was something so different.

Although he wasn’t exactly as vein-covered as Toji was; Shiu’s length managed to have the perfect curve that prodded ‘round the roof of your cunt. Somehow directly aiming for those tender spots inside—you’re feeling the pointed end of his shaft draw sensual zig-zags inside and you’re immediately begging for more.

Of course, that’s when Toji’s silently signalling Shiu to pull out.

Replacing the farmer’s cock with his instead.

Thick. Throbbing. Those patterns and groves on his shaft were just dizzying- and Toji’s already rendered your eyes sprinting to the back of your head with but a mere few inches inside you. 

He’s making your first ring of muscle streeeeeetch- and pressing a second overlarge hand down on your stomach to keep you from movin’ around too much. And you don’t need to see him to reach blindly behind you and tug on Toji’s newest bull ring—

“Don’t be mean, Toji.”

“S’not being mean, it’s just the rules.” Toji argues. His words come out in sizzling pants against the side of your face - somehow just his presence seemed enough to make your heat symptoms two times worse. “Now that the practice run’s over…”

Your eyes are fluttering open- only to see nothing past the gaps of Toji’s thick fingers. “That was just the practice run—?” Your poor puckered hole was already pulsating with friction.

But neither of them are answering.

Instead, it just seems that they’re intent on fucking any question or comprehensible thought right back into you—because just you’re feeling a sudden intrusion deep into your core. The bulbous head of it swipes apart your puffy pussylips- and the next thing you know, you’re seeing nothing but stars at the neverending inches of one of their cocks.

Somehow managing to probe even deeper than the first time- whoever this was was so fatly swollen that his cockhead opens up plunging crevices inside you. Perhaps even new ones.

You’re gasping away- “Please.” Both men are impressively managing to keep quiet as they’re easing inside. Not completely bottoming-out…but enough to make your toes curl. “Oh, please that feels so good.”

Hips attempting to chase more- he was going so slow.

But just as soon as you do - almost the very instant that your hips are breaking contact with the skin of Toji’s toned pelvis - you feel one of his hands pin you back down. Preventing you from moving a single inch.

Your hybrid ears rustle with the huff of laughter from behind you—and you know that there’s only one man who’d keep a hand oh-so-possessively on top of your womb as he sinks into your soaking wet cunt. Rule number one, remember?

“Toji-” You’re sputtering out, voice breaking so prettily at the end of your plea. “T-Toji move a little faster- ngh, please—”

Yet another failed attempt at a buck. “Good job, doll.” He gnaws on your ear lobe. “But don’t think we’re done here just yet…”

And then before you know it, he’s pulling out. The action lets out the loudest, sloppiest little plop! of pleasure between your legs- and it feels as though firecrackers are going off through your veins.

You’re practically shaking once another intrusion starts proddin’ between your legs. This time a bit more…timid. A bit more hesitant. A bit more inexperienced and careful—and you don’t have to pay attention to anything more as Shiu creeps your legs around his waist.

Letting his tunneling cockhead push into that wet hole of yours.

Unlike Toji, however, Shiu Kong simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“Oh…” It’s just about the most attractive thing you’ve ever heard - like music to your ears. But could you really blame the guy? “Legs- rules number t-two, remember?” This was the first proper taste of that syrupy cunt he’s getting—the exact same one he’s been dreaming of for ages…as much as that makes him sound like an utter pervert.

Maybe he was.

Maybe- what even was he? What was his name? Who was he?

Shiu can’t formulate a single thought.

Maybe he should be concerned about that…but for the time being, he’s collapsing his lower half into you. Funneling the smoother length of his cock inside; the farmer is the first of the two to actually bottom out. Thighs against your thighs. Forehead against your forehead. Cocktip against your cervix.

You swear you’re feeling Shiu intrude all the way up to your throat—“Shiu…keep moving, baby.”

“Oh- oh, you seriously want it?” He asks between uneven pants. And even more uneven are those semi-thrusts he’s poundin’ away at the back of your pussy—unwilling to break contact with your sopping womb for even a split-second to thrust back in. “You seriously want this ol’ farmer to fuck you like this? And that’s not just the heat talking-”

“It’s always the heat talking.” Toji scoffs. “This slutty girl’s always in heat. Honestly- who told you it could come early?”

“S’not my fault.” Shiu taps the side of your thigh to signal to you that- oh…you’re getting dangerously close to Toji figuring it out. 

Sure, it seems that he’d deduced by now that there was something regarding the startings of a mating bond between you and Shiu. And what sort of hybrid would come between that? But the fact that Toji himself shared it…

Thankfully in that moment Shiu’s creating a distraction - unintentional or not. Because just a few thrusts and he’s already starting to bead out hot, glutinous cum that sticks to the back of your pussy.

“Shit…” Shiu whispers to himself. You’re sensing one of his hands reach downwards to squeeze ‘round the base of his length—perhaps thinking that that would stop him. But the only thing Shiu’s managing to do is milk out a few more cobwebs of cum that are getting fucked and fucked in by his irregular thrusts. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Time’s up.” Toji cuts him off gruffly. “It’s getting too easy- hurry it up.”

“Yes…sir?” Fuck- he hates to admit it but the bull hybrid was correct.

Ah…you’d expected for the two to alternate between thrusts. But you just didn’t expect it this fast. Because all of a sudden, Toji’s going from merely caressing your front to wrapping his entire left arm around your middle. Oh, those beefy forearms of his were simply indescribable. 

Then Shiu’s reeling his sloppy, cum-glazed cock backwards for one of them to replace it in no time. 

Such plump inches of their shaft. Such impatient semi-thrusts as he leaves your mouth watering. He’s increasing his pace twofold once you’re accommodating him inside, and Toji’s pressing his palm deeper against your face. “Oh-” And you hadn’t expected them to stick to their damn six (or seven) rules so much, either…“Fuuuuuuck. Is it Toji?”

“Nope.” Shiu chuckles. From where he was positioned in front of you, the farmer leans down and kisses your lips. “Still me.”

In punishment, you’re getting a heavy spankin’ on your stuffed pussy.

“Shit.”

“And the rule-” Toji pipes up from behind. “What about the rule?”

“What about the rule, I mean—” It’s just then that you’re realizing - you haven’t been able to squirm a single inch since Shiu had begun swabbin’ your poor insides. “Rule number one- rule number one.”

“Good girl.” Toji laughs. “Next.”

And you’re soon coming to the realization that they weren’t going to make this easy for you: due to everything from their rapid alternations, to the way that both of them were fucking you so stupid—

“Toji-” You’re dragging your nails down whatever body part of Toji’s that you could reach. His biceps flexed underneath your touch. “And the rule is…oh, the rule is…” Brain landing on the closest one that you think you could remember. “Rule number six?”

“Half-correct.” Toji punishes you with yet another spank. The white-hot pain and pleasure that runs up your cunt is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “That was actually a trick round - no rule.”

You bite. “Silly me…”

“But half-correct deserves just a little bit of a treat, doesn’t it?” Shiu makes your case.

And the ever-mean Fushiguro Toji considers it for a few seconds - before he’s nodding and letting his fingers dip between your pussylips. Rolling over clit in circular motions. “Happy?”

“V-very much.” You respond.

And so the cycle repeats - as both men are fucking into you like damn animals.

“Shiu? Rule number one-”

Thwack! “Half-correct.”

“Toji? Rule number five.”

Thwack! “Half-correct again, doll.”

“Toji? Rule number six.”

Thwack! Thwack! “Wrong!”

“Shiu-”

“Toji-”

Shiu. Toji. Shiu. Toji. Shiu. Toji. 

Over and over again—until you’ve said every rule at least five times, and their names countless amounts so.

It was almost getting too much. There’s another switch; and this time the thrusts are like none before them. They were harsh. They were jagged. They weren’t hitting with any specific target or objective in mind—just with the sole purpose of indentin’ his fat cockhead into every spot inside you, and hitting his hips to yours until you skin was burning-

“Toji?” You’re guessing, “Ruler number- fuck…the one about getting ready-” Based solely on the way that both men had their hands tapping at your hips to let you know when a particularly hard hit was coming through.

“And which one is that?” Toji croons.

“Number four-” There’s a victorious little pebble of precum that Toji’s emptying out into your insides. 

“Mmm, good catch.” And you’re feeling the smile crawl onto your face. “But I’m not Toji.”

Fucking—thwack!

“But how about just a little reward?” And then a hot mouth starts kissing down the valley of your breast - from this angle you could only assume that it was Shiu. 

Shiu was lapping the soft targets of your areolas…just lightly biting…and oh—he lets out a wet gasp as a thin stream of milk flows from your tits n’ into the handsome man’s mouth. “Oh- this might just be my reward.” He says as he keeps massaging your chest, twiddling his fingers over where you were most sensitive. 

“Leave some f’me.” Toji grunts at the other man.

By this point you were a blabbering mess, and it didn’t help that the other two were only growing sloppier by the second. Perhaps it was the heat affecting you three. Perhaps it was the pressure being put on all your bodies - crushed together like this. Hips driving into you again and again and again—

Another globular tip swerves inside you. “I-is it…Toji?” You ask. Your lower lip wobbles at the sudden stretches on places that couldn’t be reached without such a girth - both of them had their merits and it was hard not to long for…both. The mere thought fogs your mind. “And is it…”

Though there could only be one answer. At least for this one.

Your poor tail’s being used as a lever to drag you down onto Toji’s extremely thickened cock until you sat on the bottom of it. “-rule number five?”

Toji kisses the side of your face. “Now that…is 100% correct.”

“And what would you like as a reward? Tell your Shiu anything, pretty girl.” Shiu says—drawing a half-serious scoff from the hybrid.

But of course. There can only ever be one thing.

Your mouth opens and the confession slips out of you before you can think it through fully.

And then there’s a beat of silence- hell, you think even Toji’s hips began to falter. For but a mere split-second before he’s bashing in the soft spongy platform at the end of your cunt—“Oh.” He breathes. “I don’t see why not…”

Thrill shoots through you.

And for the first time in a while - Toji removes his palm from your face. You’re wincing ever-so-slightly at the sudden flood of light, before that expression turns into something akin to yearning as you stare at Shiu’s cock throbbing between your legs. 

He was almost out-of-place with Toji’s fat length already stuffed inside you. 

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” Shiu whispers to himself as he glides his blushin’ cockhead to drag along your outer cunt. Uuuuup the planes of your thighs. Lingering on that leakin’ slit that was so stuffed. And then squeezing the very tip-top reddened crown of his shaft into your entrance—did he mention that you already had Toji’s fat length stuffed inside you?

Shiu’s expression morphs at the tightest fit-

“Shit- fucking shit, are we sure—”

“Why not?” Toji asks. And Shiu thinks that that’s damn easy for him to say; especially considering that he was already kept hostage inside your gooey inside. That’s where Shiu was trying to be.

He’s attempting to drag you in using your tail.

The other man is rolling his eyes - and his hips. Letting off a few useless semi-thrusts that doesn’t push him even a single inch inside—not with the extremely plump circumference of the hybrid’s length inside. “Oh yeah? Then why don’t you- hah, pull out and try doing it yourself if you think it’s so easy?

“The early bull gets the pussy.” Toji smirks. “Besides- don’t tell me you’re forgetting rule number five already? The one about taking it all also means that you have to- mmm, put it all in-”

“I remember.” Shiu spits. Hands pushing your legs further open and grindin’ his hips close until his happy trail was roughly massaging your clit. “I’m just saying that it’s hypocritical to talk about the rules when even you wouldn’t be able to-”

“Guys-” You shrill above the constant arguing. “Guys.”

It takes you raising your voice loud enough to make the bedroom walls shudder for them to finally hear you.

And once they look at you- you’re huffing up at them. “I’m making my own rule.” Both pairs of pretty pussydrunken eyes widen in unison. “From now on- if you fight then you have to kiss and make up.”

“What-”

“What-”

“Pretty girl…” Shiu attempts to appeal to your softer side.

“Nuh huh.” Shaking your head. “So kiss—and then just fuck me.”

They share a look as if to question whether usurping of the rule-making was allowed…before it seems to dawn on them that yes—if it was you. And Shiu’s shrugging and leaning in - all the while still keeping his pulsating cocktip present between your folds - and Toji meets him halfway with only a few grumbles.

Shiu moans into the kiss.

And with a resounding sluuuuurp! he’s managing to squeeze just an inch or two of his cock inside. Double lengths stretching your walls until you were seeing white-

“Oh- oh.” You’re moaning. Shiu now had everything he needed to reel his bulky hips back and start pummeling you in time with Toji’s own thrusts. “I’ve never felt anything like this before—”

“Me neither.” The farmer manages through clenched teeth. The sensitive underside of his cock was rubbin’ and getting pulled by Toji’s own - those patterns of his veins, and the rock-hardness that mirrored his own - and even the slightest friction was enough to send spirals of white-hot pleasure pouring out of his bawling divot. 

“Tch- fine…me neither.” Toji groans. “But it only feels good because of me-”

“In your dreams.”

Without even being asked to or reminded of the newly-minted rule, they’re pressing a kiss onto each other’s lips—and then yours. Their pheromones twisting and melding into one. Their skin growing even more heated. Their cocks growing faster- 

And faster.

Both Shiu and Toji were moving at sloppy, lust-hazed paces that should not be possible for such a tight cranny. And yet they were managing to time it so that you’re feeling both of them exactly in the best ways: Toji and his deeeelicious veins pressing their patterns onto the sides of your channel, Shiu and his upright curve that spotted all your best nerve endings. 

They’re sandwiching you from above and below, too—Toji and his Herculean build, Shiu and his similar yet broader- and somehow stronger build.

They’re absolutely ruining you.

Ruining you.

Fucking you until your pussy’s feeling rattled and raw- and your eyes have completely bleared over with tears. Brain fried.

So it isn’t long before you’re feeling the pangs of an oncoming orgasm, and letting your mouth open to announce it—

“I-I’m going to cum.” But in actuality it’s Shiu that manages the declaration. And he’s stuffing his face into your tits, suckling out the sweet sweet milk that your hybrid body produces as he strings your gooey insides with his cum. “My pretty cow hybrid, I’m gonna stuff you full.” Looooong ropes of satin. So hard- that Shiu’s forced to hold onto both yours and Toji’s horns as he fucks your overstuffed pussy through his orgasm.

Those veins of Toji’s were making him twitch in pleasure.

You and Toji are crashing into your high rather soon afterwards too.

“Gonna…oh.” As the forceful waves of dopamine flood through every vein and atom inside you—practically make you vibrate with pleasure. You’re letting your eyes fly to the back of your head, and your toes curl as both men thrash that gooey g-spot of yours.

Perfectly synchronized with every peak upon peak of your high.

The prolonged wave of bliss soars—and it’s around the very crescendo that you’re feeling Toji empty his heavy balls out as well. They’d been thwack-thwack-thwacking! near the bottom of your slit for so long now, creating a carnal ache over your outer pussy- and it just feels so good to feel those globs of cum flood your deepest caverns.

Where Shiu had already made a mess before- “Shit…don’t stop.” 

And it’s with renewed vigor that they’re fucking and fucking you through the white-hot pleasure - so good that you’re sobbing. In-between this euphoric experience is when Toji’s keening his hips up into yours- chasing the wetness of your cunt even more—

Not just to fuck his pearly-white droplets of cum inside - but to try and squeeze, fuck, his swollen knot inside.

“Inside—” As you demand needily at your bull hybrid, Shiu watches on in something akin to awe. He starts nudging his hips back as though to give Toji more space-

But you’re wrapping your legs around his hips and dragging him to you. “Rule number one, remember?”

Letting Toji fuck his knot inside you as Shiu has his twitchin’ wet cock stuffed in there, too. The stretch was indescribable.

You think you’re cumming all over again just from it.

“My- my mates…” You’re sobbing out- sandwiched between the two buff men. Shiu leans in to kiss you, and once he’s taking a good long look at Toji too. 

“My mates…I suppose?” He says with a sheepish smile.

Toji looks between the two of you, seemingly having connected the dots. “Does this mean I’ve gotta get both of you pregnant?”

You smile. “Sounds good to me.”

Shiu. “Wait-”

Because heats lasted a week for hybrids. 

Shiu better get his human stamina used to it.

.

.

.

“I’m sorry…what?”

It’s a sentence that Shiu thinks he’s going to have to get used to a lot—telling people that the cow hybrid you’d had a crush on for the past few years but then gotten mated is actually your mate too - and that by association you’re her mate’s mate but honestly not really complaining about it is…for one a long sentence. 

And two, it’s probably going to get a bunch of weird looks.

It sounds like the stuff of a fantasy, maybe even those romance stories; and Shiu’s well and fully aware of how he sounds when he says it.

Which is why he’s telling Kusakabe first - it only seemed appropriate.

“It’s exactly as I said.” Shiu states matter-of-factly. “And you can ask Dr. Shoko if you think there’s been any mix-”

“No no, man. It’s not that I don’t believe you.” Kusakabe interrupts him. “In fact, I think it’s great that you finally managed to do something about your feelings- congratulations, man.”

“Thank you.” Shiu watches the herd from the door to the barn house - inside, the only pair were you and Toji. His breath hitches once you’re walking over from Toji to nuzzle up to him. He reaches to scratch behind those silken ears of yours—“But then what was all that about?”

“Ah- no, it’s just…” There’s a truck honk from the other end of the line, and Shiu realizes that Kusakabe must be going somewhere. “I assumed it was actually about the bull.”

Shiu squints. “The what thing?”

“The bull thing. I guess Toji forgot to tell you since you were a little preoccupied. But last night when Toji took over driving my truck we happened to run into…everything.”

Shiu snorts. “Serves you right.”

“And man- I needed this truck to transport this new bull hybrid for ol’ Gakuganji down in Kyoto. You know how he gets. It’s the only one big enough so…” 

And now…now Shiu wasn’t exactly having fun. “…And?” The two of you were looking at him in interest now, clearly having heard something about another hybrid—and Toji especially had had his smirk growing in synchronization with the increasingly ashen look on Shiu’s face.

“And so Toji said it’s alright, but would you mind looking after this new bull for a few days until I get the truck fixed? Just for a few days. I’m actually on the way there right now so thank you. His name is Sukuna and-”

“Noooooooooo-”

A/N. You babygirls asked and I delivered…

[sukunastuna]

BEAUTIFUL

[hidingwhere]

༯ birthday sex with Gojo

Gojo Satoru didn’t believe in just one round during your birthday, no, he was a firm believer of making you have orgasms all day, sometimes not in the most appropriate places.

The day starts with his head in between your thighs, morning sun filtering through the curtains and casting a yellow glow over your boyfriend’s white hair. His long, slender fingers grip the skin of your thighs roughly as he dives into your sweet pussy, head rolling back as you moan and whimper above him.

The second time, it’s in the backseat of his car. You want to visit a garden centre on your birthday? Sure, as long as he can bounce you on his cock in a quiet area of the car park afterwards. You’re far too cock drunk to notice or even care if the car is rocking violently each time he slams you down onto his deliciously thick length.

The third time, two of his fingers are splitting you open in your friend’s bathroom. You should’ve known that Gojo would try this when you said your friends had invited you round for the afternoon with an open invitation for your boyfriend too.

“Satoru,” you begin breathlessly, legs involuntarily spreading wider. “Someone could hear.”

He presses open mouthed kisses along your neck, nipping at your skin playfully. “Then let them. Let them see how well you’re being treated on your special day.”

You can’t contain your moan as his fingers plunge deeper, reaching that sweet spot that made your legs shake. “You’ve already-mm-treated me twice.”

“Not enough for me, baby. I won’t let you sleep until I’ve given you at least six orgasms today.”

You barely register his words as your eyes roll back, familiar feeling building in your lower stomach as you thrust helplessly against his palm.

The fourth time happens on the couch, right after getting home and unable to even get a word out before Gojo is pushing you down, fingers already straying to your underwear. Somehow, you end up face down ass up, drooling over one of your favourite cushions as Satoru pounds into you again and again, causing the nastiest of moans to spill from your mouth.

The fifth and sixth orgasm happens during the same event, in a fancy restaurant. Apparently, Gojo had no awareness of his surroundings even in one of the most prestigious places possible. He apparently also thinks it’s funny to rub the sole of his shoe over your clothed pussy during dinner until you finish, hands gripping your cutlery in a desperate attempt to look composed. And then to top it all off, he fucks you again in his car, the passenger seat now, one hand firmly wrapped around your neck so you don’t accidentally turn your head and notice how everyone can see the two of you this time.

[sukunastuna]

ugh im ovulating

[laylathegoddesss]

❤︎⁠ pairing: Biker!Eren x BlkBimbo!Reader

❤︎⁠ cw: College AU, porn with some plot, unprotected piv, creampie, Eren speaking a lil bit of German, smutty, sexual tension, dom Eren, rough sex, tiny bits of fluff, sub reader, hugeee dick Eren, pet names, childhood friends to lovers trope, Choking, spanking , oral (F receiving), finger sucking, reader orgasms 2x, creampie, missionary, mating press, legs over shoulder, spit play, dorm room sex, Eren is PUSSYWHIPPED!, Eren has piercings & tats, slight humor, Eren fell first but reader fell more HARDER, smuttyy, aftercare

❤︎⁠ synopsis: in which your car broke down in a cafe’s parking lot and you need a ride back to your class and you had no one else to rely on.. that is until your sexy childhood friend Eren beg you to ride with him. Although you was scared shitless to go on there. After what it felt like hours of Eren persuading you, you finally got on the bike with eren. Although Little did you know Eren was soo down bad for you since the moment he laid eyes on you and he couldn’t hide his true feelings anymore.

❤︎⁠ dividers @cursed-carmine

There it happened— your pink car breaking down again. Stranded at the cafe’s parking lot. Walking back to your university was definitely out the question since you didn’t want to walk alllll the way back to clsss. That was just too much work. But.. who comes to save the day ish? Your sexy childhood friend Eren. The 6’2 brunet heartthrob of campus that had every girl thirsting for him on campus. At first glance any girl would look at him and would think he definitely has side hoes. But that was wayyy wrong. Far from it actually.

Eren wasn’t really a huge fuckboy like his homeboys Connie and Proco. Eren was the type of man that be in his own world and would occasionally smoke weed for time to time while listening to nba youngboy on his AirPods and post pics of him and motorcycle on instagram that would get 500k likes . He was honestly a lover boy at heart.

“Come onnnn y/n, stop bein’ so scary.” Eren said in his deep voice as he begin to walk towards his black motorcycle and sitting on his bike seat, looking at you with a small smirk that stretched across his handsome face. He wore a black tight tee that highlights his abs and showed off his tatts on both of his arms along with pants, air Jordan’s, and black gloves.

“Boy you’re crazy I’m not gettin’ on that,” you had really anxious and scrunched look on your face just by looking at the damn motorcycle. You heard too many horror stories about how extremely dangerous riding on one can be, it was basically a death trap on wheels. You turned your head to see your pink car getting towed away from the cafe’s parking lot. You definitely wasn’t gonna see your car for at least a couple of days. Your first thought was to call mikasa. Maybe she could pick you up?

But then that thought immediately vanished when you suddenly remembered that she was out on a date Jean and she probably wasn’t gonna see your texts not until later.

Eren sighed under his breath. “Stop bein’ a pain in the ass and hop on wimme, you dont have a choice unless you wanna be late for class. In that case I’ll just leave you here.”

“Unt unt. Nope— what if we like die or sum?”

Of course the seriousness of death was on your mind but also the embarrassment of crashing in front of everyone? Yea that alone makes you cringe just by thinking about it.

“We aren’t. C’mon Pleaseee? I even got you a custom made helmet just for you. I know it’s yo favorite color n’ shi.” Eren was practically begging you as he stared at your pretty brown eyes as he showed you the pink custom made helmet.

“See how thoughtful I am?” Eren gives you a warm smile.

After what it almost felt like hours of Eren finally convincing you to hop on the seat with him. You cave in, taking the pretty pink helmet, putting it on and you decided to get on the bike with Eren. “You better be careful ren.” you wrapped your arms around eren’s waist tightly as you settled into the bike seat. Your arms wrapping around Eren made his beating heart race and flutter inside.

“Yea yea I know just hold on tight f’me. Don’t want you to fall off.” Eren said, revving his engine, the veins of his forearms popping out, as his large hands were on the clutch tightly.

When the both of you drove out of the cafe parking lot, heading down the highway. The cool breeze of the air hit your brown skin the more Eren drove down the road ahead. It was relaxing yet refreshing feeling you had writhing yourself, all the anxiousness you had earlier immediately left your body as you begin to rest your head on eren’s back, smelling his expensive vanilla scented cologne. Eren especially enjoyed every moment of this. A pretty ass girl riding on a motorcycle with him was definitely a dream come true to him.

When the both of you finally made it back to the university, Eren parked his motorcycle in the parking lot, taking off his helmet and he got off of the bike. He then he reached his hand out to you so you can grab his large soft hand and you did of course, hopping off the bike. “See? I told you riding with me wasn’t that bad. I knew you loved it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, trying to hide back ur smile. “Whatever, that doesn’t mean I’ll get back on it again tho. I just had needed a ride back.”

“Pshhh, if you say so. Yo ass definitely will come back riding with me again.” Eren did a small laugh at your comment knowing you were full of bs.

You looked at the clock at your phone to see that it was almost time for your class start and you sighed heavily since you dreaded going into that class. “I gotta go ren, my calculus class is about to start. But thank you for takin’ me back. I really appreciate that.”

the moment that you hugged Eren, he wrapped his arms around tightly around your waist which made pulled you more closer to him, giving you a really loving embrace. His thumbs caressing your back. You always hugged Eren but this time felt really different. It wasn’t like a casual type of hug that would friends would do to one another but it was extremely affectionate. Though you didn’t complain about it and why would you? your body melted into the hug like ice melting in a summer heat and to Eren he definitely didn’t wanna let you go, not caring if other people were around.

“Ima’ stop by your dorm later okay?”

You nodded your head at what Eren said athough you was really curious to see why he would stop by your dorm room later. Did he need or want something?— Once you were done hugging Eren. You made your way to your boring dreadful calculus class.

An hour later when your last class was finally over. You made your way back to your dorm room, you looked at your phone to see a text from Eren saying that he was almost there to your dorm room. A couple minutes later he finally arrived at your dorm room door, he knocked on the door and walked to door, opening it, letting him in.

“I’m surprised that you came by, you not hangin’ out with your homeboys today?” You closed the door behind Eren as you sit on your pink bed, scrolling through TikTok on your phone.

“Naa, they are at jean’s pool party but I wanted to spend time with you instead and besides—” He made his way over to you on your bed, sitting down beside you. “Well.. there’s been something that’s been eating me up inside.” Eren’s tone is soft now and his heart was beating in nervousness. he’s really about to confess his feelings to his childhood friend. Would you reciprocate those feelings as well?

You looked up from your phone and you looked into eren’s emerald green eyes which was staring directly into your pretty brown eyes.

“To be honest with you I had feelings for you for a long ass time now and I just can’t hide these emotions anymore. It’s honestly drivin’ me crazy.” Eren took your soft brown hands and holds them into his own hands.

“I promise I’ll make you the most happiest women in the entire universe so would be my g—?.”

You didn’t even wait for Eren to finish his sentence before saying immediately saying yes to him. He grabbed your pretty face with his hands and he gives you a long deep kiss onto your soft glossy lips, feeling overly happy to finally call you his. His sexy and gorgeous girlfriend. The two of you are both now in a full on hot makeout session on your pink bed. Eren pushed you on your back on the bed, getting on top of you.

He slides his hand underneath your skirt to rip off your thin pink lace panties and your pink skirt off. As he did this your drenched brown pussy was revealed to him. The pretty sight of your cunt made Eren riled up and made his huge meaty dick pulsating violently his pants. He always had a feeling that your pussy was gonna be pretty but this was surreal.

“Fuck..” Eren admires your throbbing pussy right in front of him in awe. “You’re already in a soaking mess. She’s just starvin’ for my attention.” His voice low and deep. He smacks your wet pussy that made you gasp out from the pleasure and pain combined from it. “Ima take good care of you now. Just lie down and relax like a good girl.”

“Okay daddy.”

“Daddy? That’s new. Lil Kinky ass.” Eren let out soft laugh. He drops down to where your pussy is and he spits onto your puffy lips. his hands have a tight grip on your soft brown thighs as he begins to latch his mouth onto your cunt, his pierced tongue did one slow lick in between your puffy folds which made your back arch a little off the bed, feeling pleasure flowing through your body. “Mmm just like that baby.” You softly moan out as you took both of your hands to clutch onto Eren’s brown hair, messing up his messy manbun which makes his hair dropping down to just above his shoulders as he begin to place sloppy kisses on your puffy pussy.

“Ohhh shittt! Right there!!— please don’t stop.” You whimpered out.

Eren’s tongue didn’t miss no parts in your pussy as his face shoved more deeper into you, groaning at your smell and scent. And holy shit He was determined to give you the best pussy eating that you will ever receive in your lifetime. He sucks on your sensitive needy clit like you were his last meal. Your body squirmed around, acrylic toes curled tightly as his tongue was too much too much to handle, moaning more loudly and lewdly, as Eren was eating your pussy like a literal fiend. He had pussy that tasted this good to him before.

Smack!

Eren slaps the side of your ass hard. “Keep your ass still. don’t try to run away from me ma.” Eren growled. His tongue eagerly lapping up your juices mixed with his spit, forming spit bubbles on gorgeous brown pussy.

Your legs were shaking uncontrollably in eren’s grasp as you were close to orgasming soon, Eren never broke his eye contact with you once, watching how cute your sexy body trembling for him. It was like you was almost falling apart from the intense pleasure from how good and nasty Eren was eating you out like no tomorrow.

“Ohhh my goddd!! I’m gonna cum ren! I’m gonna to—”

Then you begin to orgasming hard as hell, letting out a pornographic scream as your hole oozes out cream from your tight hole. Eren slowly licks up your cream, cleaning you up with his tongue while savoring the taste of you. “You enjoyed yourself mama?” Eren asks as hes caressing your thigh and giving it a soft kiss.

You were breathing heavily as you waited the h thought of your orgasm to calm down. You nodded your head with a smile. “Hell yea I did— how the fuck did you learn how to eat pussy like that?”

Eren shrugged. “I’m just the goat honestly.” He said in a cocky tone as he chuckled a bit.

You laughed at eren’s comment.

“Don’t get too comfortable tho cuz I’m not done with you yet. Spread those pretty legs nice and wide for me mama.” Eren’s tone and face is more serious now. He begins to take off his black tee revealing his toned 6-pack and removing his pants which made his pretty thick dick to flung out of his pants. Who knew that your best friend dick was that huge? It literally made your mouth dropped in shock.

Eren pumps his throbbing dick into his fist as he watches you taking your fingers to spread your brown puffy pussy wide for him which him horny as fuck. “Holy fuck you just know how to rile me huh? Nasty lil girl.” He spats out.

Eren slaps his dick onto your puffy folds. “Get ready to take this fat dick ma. You think you can handle me?”

“Definitely baby.”

“Mmm we’ll see about that. You on the pill, princess? I didn’t bring any condoms with me.”

“Yea I am.”

“Okay angel.”

Eren put one of your legs onto his shoulder as slams himself into your tight wet hole which made you scream out. Your gummy walls sucking the life outta his meaty thick cock which made eren groan out softly from the tightness of your cunt. “So verdammt gut.. (so damn good..)” He breathes out as he gives you slow yet deep strokes as he makes eye contact with you.

He shoves two fingers into your mouth, for you to suck and you do as you were moaning and whimpering. “Lutsch an diesen Fingern, genau wie diese Schlampe. (Suck on those fingers, just like that slut)” his voice deep and stern as he went picks up the pace with his thrusts and he pounds into you more rougher and faster. The sexy lewd loud sounds of skin slapping each other filled up the dorm room.

You had no idea what Eren was saying but he sounded sooo fucking sexy talking in German like that. While you were sucking eren’s long fingers he slaps the side of your brown soft plump ass again which made your cheek stinging red. Your pretty brown eyes rolled to back of your skull as Eren started to fuck your poor cunt to an oblivion now. Sucking on eren’s didn’t stop you from screaming out uncontrollably though so he took his fingers out of your mouth, and wraps his hand around your throat, squeezing it firmly which shuts off your sexy moans completely, making your mouth dropped.

“Mmm You look so fucking sexy like that mama— Yeah you better take this fuckin’ dick.” He spits into your opened mouth, you savored the taste of his spit before swallowing it. He admired your fucked out state for a couple minutes before letting your throat go and he takes both of his hands, folding both of your legs so that your knees were practically beside your ears and Eren is literally punishing your walls. Your pussy squelching loudly around his thick dick with every deep and brutal thrust inside you.

“You love gettin’ fucked this hard and rough like a nasty whore? Say it.” Eren harshly grunts out, not easing up on his poundings.

“Ohh fuckkkk yes I do!— I love getting fucked liked this..” You screamed out. Your vision getting blurry from intense pleasure that you were feeling along with feeling dazed. Eren was giving you the best dicking down like you never had before. He was hitting your g-spot repeatedly non stop.

Your legs started to shake violently as you were close to almost cumming soon and so was Eren. “Fuuuck! I’m gonna fill this pretty hole up with my load.” He groans out. “Cum with me princess.”

After a few minutes of Eren slamming away inside your tight drenched hole, he shoots his hot thick of cum inside you, filling you up with every last drop. You then begin to orgasm the second time, creaming all over eren, making a mess of him. The mixture of your cream and his cum drips to your thigh and onto the bed sheets.

When Eren was done pumping his load inside you he collapsed onto of you as the two you were both breathing heavily, catching his breath. He sloppily kisses your temple as he gives you a warm and loving embrace into his arms. “You okay baby? I wasn’t too rough with you was I?” His tone concerned.

“Not at all ren I love that a lot,” you happily said.

“Yeah I could tell— the way you was screaming out my name like crazy.” Eren laughed.

“Shut uppp.”

“C’mon let’s go into the shower and get you cleaned you ma.” You both got out of the bed and Eren holds your hand tightly as you two both made your way to the shower.

Even when your car was out of the shop days later you had actually grown to love riding with Eren on his motorcycle. And the next time that he came into your dorm room he mentioned a really freaky idea when he brought his helmet with him..

“This time doll ima give you a nice riding lessons on how to ride my motorcycle and don’t forget to put your helmet on too babygirl.” Eren said giving you smirk, laying on your pink bed, you could see his large boner making a tent in his pants.

Oh yeah— the both of you knew that it’s definitely gonna be a real good riding lesson alright.

[sukunastuna]

[superbassbuck]

call me maybe ! | bucky barnes (18+)

⤷ neighbor!bucky barnes x f!reader

⭐︎ warnings: nsfw, smut, fluff, sexual tension, reader is a college student, age-gap (reader is early twenties, bucky is presumed mid 30s) voyeuristic and exhibitionism, homoeroticism, "slut" "good girl" "whore" public sex, fingering, dry humping, groping, dirty talk, degrading, size difference, mechanic!steve, slight steve x reader, reader is a pervert but bucky is too highkey, player!bucky, bisexual awakening!!!!

⭐︎ word count: 10.2k

⭐︎ a/n: happy pride month!!! if it wasn't obvious enough, yes, it is based on the song call me maybe by carly rae jepsen. real ones know the parodies to this song on youtube. wasabi productions ifykyk. gif by sebstangif

synopsis: There’s a new guy who moved in right across from you. He’s a total mystery, but his looks certainly aren't. Since he's subtly trying to get your attention, how could you not entertain him? Especially when you have your best friend, Steve, in your ear telling you to go for it.

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Hand washing the car on a hot summer’s day was something you would never normally do.

You always let your dad handle a job like that. He’d always tease you for being ‘spoiled,’ always hitting you with the typical line of, “What happens when I’m gone? How will you take care of yourself?”

And every time he hit you with that line, without fail, you would find yourself grabbing the plastic bucket, soap, and sponges out of spite, just to prove a point.

Now, you were outside, drenched in a mixture of sweat and water as the sun beamed down. You were splayed over the hood of the car in a way that looked anything but sexy. You had on a tank top and shorts—natural, given the heat—but despite the porn director approved outfit, you looked anything but pornographic.

Matter of fact, if someone were to come up to you now, they would probably lose interest instantly.

“Hey there,” a familiar, deep voice called from behind you. “Looking pretty hot.”

Normally, you would scramble to make yourself look at least somewhat decent for anyone who approached you in this state.

But it was your best friend—so who cares?

“Steve,” you huffed, raising a leg to balance yourself on the hood of your dad’s car. “Are you going to help me or just taunt me?”

Steve crossed his arms, watching you slip and slide all over the green station wagon that looked like it was ready to fall apart at any given moment.

“Has your dad seen you like this yet? I’m sure if he saw what a poor job you were doing, he wouldn’t ask you to clean it again.

You puffed a strand of hair out of your face. “The reason I’m cleaning in the first place is to prove to my dad that I’m perfectly capable.” You mumbled under your breath, “… He called me spoiled.”

Steve chuckled lightly. “Can’t say I disagree.”

Sneering, you spun around and hurled your wet, soapy sponge in his direction. It landed right in the center of his chest, dampening his snug t-shirt with a dark spot that began to spread. He laughed, catching the sponge before it hit the ground.

“Get off the hood before you hurt yourself,” he grinned, taking a step closer.

You grunted as you slid off the car. As you stood up, your eyes trailed past Steve’s shoulder—something unfamiliar catching your attention.

The house across from yours had been unoccupied for months, but someone had recently moved in. Days had passed, and you hadn’t seen the new neighbors yet. But for the first time since the ‘FOR SALE’ sign was removed, you were finally seeing the man who lived there.

He was tall—maybe around Steve’s height. He had dark hair that fluffed messily at the top, and he was covered in dirt, looking as though he’d been doing yard work all morning. The sun hit his eyes, and he squinted, shielding them with a large hand.

As he looked up, his gaze drifted across to your lawn, and his eyes met yours for a long moment.

A warm, friendly smile tugged at his lips, and he waved. You blinked, a light smile forming on your own face when you realized he was waving at you. You waved back shyly, and his smile grew wider.

“He waved at me,” you pointed out.

Steve, curious, glanced over his shoulder. When he caught the man’s eye, he gave a quick, short nod—a casual greeting between guys.

“He seems nice,” Steve shrugged. “Your new neighbor?”

You nodded, stealing a few more seconds to look at the man across the street. He bent over, his large traps tensing against his cotton tank top as he shoved a pair of gardening gloves over his rough hands. He crouched, his dirty boots and jeans digging into the soil as he began to pull at stubborn weeds.

A man. Hard at work.

The best kind of man.

“He is,” you breathed, looking back at Steve. “And he’s hot, too.”

Steve huffed a laugh, stepping out of your way and towards the car, sponge in hand. “You trying to make me jealous, sweetheart?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a spare sponge from the soapy tub. You stepped up to the opposite window from Steve and began to scrub.

“You know, I’ve seen this play out in movies and stuff—” Steve shouted from the other side of the car. “The girl who washes her car and catches the eye of the conveniently attractive neighbor across the street.”

You quirked a brow. “In movies, or in porn?”

Now, it was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Point aside, you should go for it.” He peeked at you over the roof and nodded in your neighbor’s direction. “You’ve been single for quite a while now. It wouldn’t hurt to dip your toes back in the dating scene.”

You snorted. “Whatever happened to you being jealous?”

Steve shook his head at your comment. “I’m just saying—you’re young and pretty. You could grab that guy’s attention if you really tried.”

Pausing your sponge, you glanced over your shoulder, catching your neighbor’s gaze again. He had been staring at you—for how long, you didn’t know. Either way, your heart did a little flutter in your chest, your face warming at the thought of him watching you.

“You really think so?”

Steve hummed. “Have I ever lied to you?”

Since that day, and with the help of Steve’s encouragement, you found yourself spending more time outside just to catch your neighbor’s eye.

Most mornings, he was already out there working on the front of his house—mowing the lawn, painting fences, or tending to the plants.

The job itself didn’t matter. It was the man behind it all who suddenly made this boring, textbook suburban neighborhood interesting.

Despite only a few days passing since you last washed the car, you miraculously decided to wash it up again the day Bucky was working on the front of his house. How convenient!

Grabbing your tools while wearing a tank top—thinner than the last one—and shorts that rode so far up they were bordering on a wedgie, you stepped out with a confident stride that immediately caught his attention.

He glanced at you from his spot on a ladder, squinting as he smiled.

“Good morning!” you chirped.

“Morning,” he shouted back, nodding to the same car parked on your driveway. “Cleaning again?”

“Oh, yeah,” you smirked, motioning to your bucket. “Just something I like to do every few days.”

If Steve or your dad were here, they would be laughing in your face.

The man’s eyes slowly raked over the car—taking mental note of just how pristine and shiny it already was—before trailing back to you. “Must be a high maintenance girl, huh?”

It was just something about the way he said it—his voice deep and textured with a rasp that made every syllable sound flirtatious. You chuckled softly, your face warming.

“Something like that.”

He chuckled in return before getting back to work.

You dunked the sponge into the bucket of soapy water and got to work. Most of your time was spent focusing more on suggestive poses than actually getting the car clean. You stretched your arms high to reach the roof so the hem of your tank top rode up, then leaned low over the hood, letting your short shorts ride up to reveal the curve of your ass.

It didn’t take long for your clothes and skin to be covered in soap and water. The sun was in your favor today, catching the water as it glistened on your skin and the soap as it trickled down your thighs.

One quick glance over your shoulder made your heart stutter.

You knew you were doing it right because he was looking right at you.

He slowly began to descend the ladder. Before you knew it, he was walking in your direction, crossing the street until he reached your driveway. You had to bite back a smile as the sound of his boots scuffed closer, stopping just behind you.

“I believe we haven’t properly introduced ourselves,” he called out to grab your attention.

You didn’t turn around right away, careful not to make it too obvious. You glanced over your shoulder first, your back arching in a way that felt a bit of a strain—thanks to your usually terrible posture—then slowly stood up, trying not to groan at the sudden soreness.

“I don’t believe we have,” you said, setting the sponge down and wiping your wet hand on your damp shorts. Good enough.

You extended your hand and gave him your name.

He returned the gesture with a smile, his grip warm and rough—the hands of a working man.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Bucky,” he huffed. “Bucky Barnes.”

He looked around, appearing almost skeptical to be standing in your driveway. “You look young,” he pointed out. “Are your parents home? I’d like to introduce myself, being new to the neighborhood and all.”

“They’re on vacation,” you explained. “I’m a student over at Jepsen University.”

“A student, huh?” He rubbed his chin with his left hand. No ring. “A pretty thing like you oughta’ be careful at Jepsen. There are a lot of nasty frat boys roaming around campus.”

You chuckled, a light sway in your movement. “You went there?”

He nodded. “Graduated top of my class.”

Even though there was no ring, you still needed verbal confirmation before throwing yourself at him.

“How are you and the family liking the neighborhood so far?” You tested.

Bucky took it upon himself to lean against your car, making the frame creak slightly. He didn’t seem to care about the soap dampening his jeans.

“Well, me and my girl are liking it so far,” Bucky said. “It’s quiet, and plus, I get a good view across the street.”

You made a face at his explanation. My girl. He had a wife? Or a daughter? He was deliberately flirting with you, wasn’t he?

Bucky caught your expression and laughed lightly, waving a hand dismissively.

“My girl Alpine,” he clarified. "She’s the cat loafing on the windowsill in my living room, always staring out.”

You felt your face warm, and your posture eased up instantly. Not only was your neighbor hot as hell, but he was single—and a cat dad! There was a bit of an age gap, but that wasn’t something you couldn’t handle.

You crossed your arms, the movement accentuating your breasts beneath the thin tank top, and jutted your hip out to emphasize your curves. You smiled pridefully, watching as Bucky’s gaze traced a slow path from your eyes down your body.

“Like father, like daughter, then.”

His grin widened handsomely. “What can I say? We like looking at pretty things.”

You smiled, biting the inside of your cheek. He was such a natural flirt—and despite all your attempts to grab his attention, your words suddenly failed you when the time came.

Bucky glanced around the driveway as if he were still searching for someone. Then, he asked, “That guy who usually comes over to help you out—” he brought up slyly, still looking around, “he your boyfriend?”

You blinked at his question. The way he was subtly trying to fish for information made your stomach do a flip in celebration.

“Steve?” you asked, your voice coming out breathier than intended. A small, teasing smile tugged at your lips. “No, he’s not my boyfriend.”

You noticed the way Bucky’s shoulders relaxed slightly at your words. He was jealous.

“He goes to Jepsen, too?” He questioned.

“Yeah, he’s my senior.”

“Ah,” Bucky drawled. “A frat boy, then?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his endless questioning. “I wouldn’t call him that. He’s my best friend,” you reassured him, watching the way his blue eyes searched yours. “He just comes over sometimes to help out—or more like he comes over to make fun of me while I do all the work.”

Bucky chuckled a deep, gravelly sound that was effortlessly charming. “Best friend, huh?” He pushed himself off your car, taking a step closer to you. Fuck, he even smelled good. “Well, I can’t say I blame him for wanting to hang around. Though, if you ever need a man who’ll actually help instead of just laughing at you, you know where I live.”

He tilted his head toward the house across the street, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again.

“You said your parents were away on vacation?” he asked.

You nodded.

“For how long?”

“Just for a couple of days,” you replied.

Bucky hummed, an amused smile playing on his face as he looked at you. He leaned in, his voice releasing a low murmur as his warm breath tickled your skin.

“A couple of days, huh?”

You caught his gaze tracing a path down your tank top before he met your eyes with a devastatingly slow smirk. If he had this much confidence at his big old age, he was definitely a troublemaker when he was in college, that’s for sure.

“Would you look at that? That’s plenty of time for us to get well-acquainted.”

He watched the way your breath hitched and smiled, looking satisfied. He pulled away and turned back towards his side of the street. If he didn’t know any better, he might have thought he heard a small whine escape you.

“See you around, neighbor,” he called over his shoulder with a charming smile, sauntering down your driveway and back towards his own.

As he walked off, your heart was beating with excitement—beating far too fast to keep up. And the only thing you could think about was how much you were going to gloat about this to Steve later.

You sat across from Steve at the same dingy diner where you two met every Thursday for brunch.

While you sat cross legged on one side of the booth, Steve sat opposite from you in a crisp navy blue collared shirt with a name tag that read HYDRA’S MECHANIC! and the name Steven on the top right.

“He has a cat, Steve. A cat!” You smiled, dipping your toast into a pool of egg yolk. “Her name is Alpine—and he called her ‘his girl.’ Isn’t that so sweet? I nearly had a heart attack right there in the driveway.”

Steve held a coffee mug in his hand, watching you. He was supposed to be heading into work in twenty minutes, but he was currently occupied with the girl in front of him—and her endless rambling.

“And he’s single,” you continued through a mouthful of toast. “No ring, no wife—just a gorgeous, ripped cat dad with a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a smutty audiobook.” You paused, taking a quick sip of your drink. “I mean, yeah, he’s definitely got a few years on me. He’s a little older, but honestly, it doesn’t matter. It just makes him more…” You sighed dreamily. “Capable.”

Steve didn’t say a word. He set his coffee cup down, picked up a fry, and dipped it slowly into a side of ranch with a lopsided smile.

“What?” you asked, your brow furrowing as you caught his grin.

“Nothing,” he said simply, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Steve. I know that face,” you pointed out. “That’s your ‘I’ve got something to say, but I won’t’ face mixed with something else. Come on, tell me! What are you thinking?”

Steve chuckled, wiping his hand on a napkin before leaning back in the booth. “I don’t know how I feel about you going after some guy who’s that much older than you. He seems like the type of guy you have fun with—not someone you bring home to your parents.”

Your eyes went wide. “What? You encouraged me to go for it!”

Steve held up his hands defensively. “I know, I know! It’s just… I don’t know. Can’t a guy worry?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his bashfulness. “Aw, you’re worried over little ol’ me, Stevie?” You tilted your head, taunting him.

He rolled his eyes. “You know what? Forget I even said anything—”

“No, no,” you leaned in, resting both arms on the table “Okay, fine. I’m hearing you. What can I do that’ll make you more comfortable in this situation?”

Steve shrugged, lifting the coffee cup and bringing it to his lips. “Could start by meeting the guy, I guess.”

“Okay,” you agreed casually. “He did mention you, actually.”

Steve quirked a brow, eyeing you over the rim of his mug. “Did he?”

You nodded. “He asked if you were my boyfriend.”

He scoffed a laugh. “Boyfriend? He’s already getting jealous? God—how old is he again?”

You gave him a look. “He was just curious, Steve.”

“Sure, and I’m a superhero fighting crime in New York.” Steve set his mug down, dipping another fry into ranch and plopping it into his mouth. He gathered his phone and wallet, quickly tucking them into his pockets. “I gotta go. Shift is starting soon.”

“Wait.” You sat up straight. “My dad won’t stop texting me asking if you can fix the wagon—it keeps making this weird noise and he won’t leave me alone until you look at it.”

“I’m free tomorrow after work. I’ll swing by then. I’ll consider this—” he motioned to the table, where the bill sat squarely in the middle with your name on it, “—payment for the repair.” Steve pushed himself out of the booth, licking the ranch off his thumb before pointing a finger at you. “I’ll text you. And don’t screw the guy ‘til I meet him.”

You couldn’t even get a word in before Steve was already rushing out the door, the bell jingling after him.

“Yeah. Okay, Dad.”

After paying for brunch, you drove home feeling giddy.

Turning the corner onto your street, you spotted Bucky right outside his house, mowing the lawn. This time, he was shirtless.

You purposefully slowed down to get a good look at him, but the moment he looked up and spotted your car pulling into the driveway, he smiled—aiming it right at you through your fishbowl wagon on wheels.

Parked in the driveway, you took a quick look at yourself in the pull down mirror, checking to make sure there weren’t any crumbs on your face or a stray strand of hair sticking out. Smoothing down your top and adjusting your shorts, you stepped out of the car—aiming for casual. But with the way your heart was beating, you were anything but.

Bucky had killed the mower engine and was wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. He looked hypnotizing, his chest and stomach glistening in the afternoon sun.

“Eventful day, I take it?” He nodded towards your car. “Noticed your wagon was missing from the driveway this morning.”

He had noticed you were gone? You tried your best not to smile.

“Oh, yeah,” you leaned against trunk nonchalantly. “I went to have brunch with a friend.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest—a move that did very interesting things to his biceps that were hard to ignore—and leaned his weight back on one leg.

“Let me guess,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Steve?”

After Steve’s comment about Bucky being jealous, you couldn’t help but bask in confidence. You quirked a brow, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “Are you jealous?”

Bucky tilted his head, pretending to contemplate the question as he looked you up and down.

“Only a little,” he admitted with that handsome smile of his.

You grinned. “Well, there’s no need to be jealous, I assure you,” you explained, pushing yourself off the car.

Taking a step back, you gestured vaguely to his yard. “I’ll let you get back to it, though. You look pretty busy,” you said, despite how much you actually wanted to pull up a folding chair and just stare.

You turned to head towards your front door, but you didn’t get far before his voice stopped you.

“You know,” Bucky called out as he began crossing the street. “Your car is looking a little dirty.”

You stopped and turned back, your breath catching as you watched him make his way onto your driveway. Shirtless and confident, he looked even more imposing standing on your property than he had the other day. He came to a halt beside the green wagon, glancing at the circle of bird poop sitting right on the roof.

Then, he looked back at you with a smile—as if he already knew you wouldn’t say no.

“Need some help cleaning?”

“I…” Your eyes trailed to his bare chest slicked with sweat. You didn’t know how you were going to control yourself, but despite it all, you swallowed hard and said, “Yes.”

Minutes later, you found yourself grabbing all the supplies needed to get the car cleaned. Bucky stood by the bucket, holding the hose as the water filled the plastic. It took everything in you not to stare at the way the sun was shining down on his tanned skin, sweat and water glistening down the hard lines of his stomach.

His jeans sat dangerously low on his hips, the hem of his briefs peeking out over the top. He hadn’t even started cleaning the car yet, but he already looked hotter just standing there than you ever felt trying to look appealing while washing the wagon.

When the bucket was full, he lifted it by the handle without much struggle. You watched as his biceps and forearms flexed against the weight of it. His eyes caught yours, and you swallowed hard, quickly forcing your gaze away.

Bucky stepped to the passenger side, opposite where you were standing. He didn’t seem bothered by your staring.

Actually, he seemed to be feeding off the attention, especially after catching you several times.

“This is a nice car,” he commented, dunking a sponge into the soapy water. “Vintage. I’m surprised she’s still kicking around.”

While Bucky scrubbed down the passenger side, you kept trying to sneak glances through the untinted windows. From where you stood, you had a perfect view of his chest muscles and his stomach pressing against the glass as he worked.

“Uh—yeah,” you cleared your throat, forcing your focus back. “It’s from the sixties. It’s my dad’s, actually. Steve just helps me fix it up.”

“Your friend Steve,” Bucky mused, peeking at you over the roof. “He a mechanic?”

“Yup,” you nodded. “So if you hear loud car noises coming from across the street tomorrow when he fixes it, you can blame him.”

“This Steve guy sounds like a total catch,” Bucky said with a light laugh. “You sure you’re not dating him?”

You weren’t sure why Bucky was so insistent on you having a secret relationship with Steve. You had your fair share of insecure men who were jealous of you hanging around with someone like Steve Rogers, and you figured that habit died out once men hit the age of twenty five. But with Bucky standing across from you, poking at your relationship with Steve, you were starting to think that wasn’t the case.

“I swear, I’m not dating Steve.” You raised a pinky so he could see it over the roof. “Besides, he’s like an older brother to me.”

Bucky blew a raspberry.

“Poor kid,” he chuckled. “But really, I’m surprised he hasn’t made a move on you.” He bent down to clean the rim right above the tire, letting his eyes trail over your body through the window. “If I had a pretty girl like you in my life... we wouldn’t have been friends for long.”

You felt your heart stutter.

What did that even mean?

Did he mean he would make you his girlfriend?

You wanted to hear him say it—to blurt out the answer himself.

You dumped your sponge in your bucket, letting yourself get damp with the soapy water.

“Is that so?” you challenged, trying your best to play it cool. “And what would we be then?”

He stood up with a low groan, looking at you over the roof. He began making his way towards your side of the car, moving purposefully slow as he dragged his sponge across the hood—hardly even pretending to clean it anymore.

“After watching you wash this car—looking like a woman straight out of my dreams? We’d be a lot of things,” he said smoothly, locking eyes with you as he reached the corner of the bumper. “But ‘friends’ sure as hell isn’t one of them.”

You grinned, allowing him to be the one to approach you as you continued scrubbing.

“So,” you kept your voice playful, a little teasing. “You’ve been watching me?”

Bucky didn’t bother denying it.

He stopped just inches away from you. He let his tongue run slowly over his bottom lip, his eyes traveling shamelessly down your body. He was mesmerized with the path of the soap bubble trickling down your collarbone, sliding between the curve of your breasts before disappearing into the thin fabric of your tank top, where your perky nipples were poking right through.

It was hard for him to ignore. They were practically begging to be licked.

“Hard not to,” he rasped, stepping closer until he was standing directly behind you. He propped one strong arm against the roof of the wagon, locking you in. “Especially when you’re giving me a view like that from across the street.”

You let out a shaky breath—one that you hoped he didn’t catch, but he did. You stared at him through the reflection of the window, and his eyes were on you—tracing your face, leaning in to smell you.

It was this very moment that made you remember the age gap, because he was moving and talking so smoothly, like it was all natural to him. As if he had been swooning women like you for years.

But you weren’t going to let that shake you up.

You pushed your hips back subtly, letting your damp ass press against his hips. You tried not to gasp at the straining bulge that was waiting for you between his legs.

“Well, I’m right here,” you said quietly, staring at him in the reflection. “So, what then?”

Bucky looked around, his gaze sweeping across the street to make sure no one else was near.

With one hand still propped against the car, the other found your hip, giving it a firm squeeze to keep you right where you were with your ass pressed tight against his cock.

“Do you want to know what I love most about being in this neighborhood, aside from the fact that I have a super attractive neighbor living across from me?”

He rocked his hips forward, letting his hard bulge nestle perfectly between the curve of your bottom. His cock was fighting the restraint of his jeans, and just from that small movement alone, you could feel how big he was.

Bucky pressed his lips against your ear, murmuring low and tickling your skin with his warm breath. “I love how quiet it is. There’s rarely anyone outside, or even driving by... so when I touch you like this...” His hand slid up from your hip to cup your breast through your tank top. “No one will even notice.”

You gasped as he fondled your tits, his rough fingers flicking the sensitive peak of your nipple. As he dampened your shirt with his wet hands, the water seeped through the thin fabric, making every bit of friction feel even more sensitive than the last.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh,” he let out a low, rough breath. “You’re so reactive. I’m going to have so much fun with you.”

Bucky’s hand left the roof of the car to wrap around your eyes, pulling you even closer against him. He rocked his hips—back and forth, in a steady rhythm—dry humping you right there against the green wagon in your driveway where anyone could see.

The friction of his denim against your damp, thin shorts made a warm heat pool in your lower belly. Every grind of his hips was met with a hard twitch in his jeans, making your body ache for more.

His hands were everywhere. One hand gripped your hip, tickling the skin beneath the fabric as he gave your flesh a possessive squeeze.

The other continued to fondle your tits, tickling your nipple through the wet cotton. His thumb and forefinger would catch your nipple, rolling it until you were arching your back and whimpering his name.

“Cute noises coming out of you,” he murmured against the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “I wonder what kind of noises you’ll make if someone were to drive by and see what I’m doing to you?”

You shuddered as his hands roamed lower, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts. He undid the button with just one hand, letting his fingers trace the skin of your mound, grazing low until he found your clit—lightly rubbing the nub of his finger against it.

A moan left your lips as you arched your back deeper against him. He groaned as your ass rubbed against his throbbing cock.

While Bucky’s fingers toyed with your clit—rubbing in deep, circular motions—he rocked his hips, seeking pleasure of his own. You were moaning, breathing hard as you stared down at him playing with you.

“Bucky… I… mph—” you moaned, your voice pitched high. You ground your hips against his hand, fucking yourself onto his fingers.

With Bucky standing right behind you, he looked down at the soapy water trickling over your chest, his cock growing harder by the second.

He wasn’t lying when he said you looked like a woman straight out of a dream. He wanted nothing more than to tear your clothes apart—which he could do easily—and fuck you right on the hood of the car he’d been watching you parade yourself on for the past few days.

He was so horny, he needed to sink into you—fast.

But first, he needed to see how much of him you were willing to take, starting with his fingers.

“Gotta test you, baby,” Bucky rasped against your ear. “See how much your little pussy can take.”

His hand traced down from your clit to your folds. He groaned once his fingers made contact with your slick heat. You were so wet, so easily riled up, and so ripe for the taking, yet he wanted to make this last.

Bucky glanced around one more time—the coast was clear. He shoved your shorts down, exposing your ass to the cool air, and pushed your lace panties to the side. He probed his middle finger against your entrance, dancing his digit in a curling motion to prepare you.

“So wet,” he murmured, grinning at your little gasps and mewls. “Could easily slide my finger right in.”

His middle finger slowly eased into your pussy, the warm flesh of your entrance accommodating him smoothly. There was a bit of a stretch, sure, but he could easily finger fuck you right now with no struggle at all.

“How many can you take?” he asked.

You felt your face warm at his question. “… Two.”

He hummed against your ear. “Two, huh?”

Without warning, his ring finger took a quick drag against your entrance—already stuffed by his middle finger—and slid in slowly. Your mouth dropped as a broken gasp tore from your throat. The stretch was burning. His fingers were long and thick, and having two of them inside was enough to fill you completely.

“Fuck—Bucky!”

Bucky didn’t give you a chance to fully adjust to his two fingers before he started moving—thrusting in and out, curling deep inside you as he searched for every sensitive spot. With his free hand still clamped onto your hip, he humped you from behind, groaning as his denim jeans grew even tighter around his throbbing cock.

He was so hard it was painful.

His need to sink himself inside you was spiraling out of control as he felt his pre-cum soaking into his waistband. He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching as he watched the way your ass bounced against his hand, swallowing his fingers with every move.

“Christ,” he hissed against your neck. He slowed his hand just enough to hook a third finger against your entrance, probing the tight and overtaxed muscle. “You’re squeezing my fingers so tight, baby.”

He looked at you through the reflection of the window, and you stared back, caught in his dark gaze. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

You nodded with a whimper.

Bucky hummed in satisfaction, and without warning, he pressed the tip of his pointer finger against your stretched entrance.

Your eyes flew wide at the sensation as he slowly began sinking that third finger in, forcing you to press your tits and hands into the glass window for support.

“Bucky,” you gasped. “What are you—!”

“Think you can take three?”

He couldn’t even sink his third finger in all the way, your body simply wouldn’t allow it.

The stretch was a dizzying mix of burn and pleasure, your hips going stiff as you struggled to take him in. He was breathing hard against your ear, and you could feel every heavy throb of his cock right behind you.

“Oh my—fuck, Bucky! It’s too much, I can’t—”

He continued rutting his hips against yours, silently encouraging you to accommodate all three fingers. You could tell he was trying to hold back. His fingers stayed there, unmoving, while his hips did all the work.

“Shit,” Bucky cursed, his hand stilling completely inside you. “Three’s a little tight, huh? Come on, baby. Try for me. If you can take three, then you can take my cock with no problem.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to relax the muscles that were fighting him.

Slowly, you began to push back, easing yourself onto those three thick fingers and sinking down until you felt the base of his hand press against your folds.

Bucky groaned, his head dropping onto your shoulder as he felt your tight cunt finally give way to accommodate him. He was hard as hell, his balls growing heavier and his cock thickening against your lower back with every heavy breath he took.

“Fuck. That’s a good fucking slut,” he hissed, his hips rutting in an uneven motion. “Taking all three fingers—God, you’re being so good for me.”

His teeth traced the column of your neck, biting gently to make you gasp. His lips closed against your skin, sucking and marking you as he murmured filth in your ear.

“So fucking tight,” he whispered. “Been watching you for days, thinking you were going to be untouchable—just eye candy for a man like me living across the street.” He curled his fingers, hitting your sensitive spot and making you cry out his name. “Who knew I’d have you right here, pinned against your daddy’s car, being stretched out in broad daylight.”

You watched him through the reflection, your pussy clenching around his fingers at the dark way he was staring at you.

“Oh, you’re such a little slut for your neighbor, aren’t you?”

Your cunt fluttered around him, his fingers fucking you so thoroughly you felt like you could cum.

“Bucky,” you whined, your hips twitching as you tried to clench your legs together. “I’m—I’m gonna—”

“No,” he grunted, his voice deep and rough. “Not yet.”

If he had fucked you for even a second longer, you would have cried out in pleasure and came right there in your driveway.

But instead, he abruptly yanked his fingers out, the vulgar squelch sound following after. You let out a cry of frustration, your body slumping against the window as he left you feeling cold and aching.

Behind you, Bucky’s eyes locked onto yours in the window’s reflection as he slowly licked your juices off his fingers. The act was so unapologetically filthy that your face burned with embarrassment.

“You even taste sweet, too,” he murmured.

He took a step back, his hands fumbling with the zipper of his jeans. He gave himself a quick squeeze through the denim before finally freeing himself.

You couldn’t help it. You looked over your shoulder and your breath hitched.

Now, you understood exactly why he wanted you to take three fingers first.

His cock was massive, thick and pulsing for you. He stepped back into the space between your legs and slapped his cock against your lower back. It was hot, hard, heavy, and already wet at the tip where he leaked pre-cum. His breathing was labored as he grabbed his shaft, rubbing the tip against your bare ass—smearing his slickness and marking you from behind.

Bucky moaned at the sight of his pre-cum glistening on your soft skin.

“What a pretty, pretty whore,” he cooed. He leaned over you, his thick arm hooking around your waist to bend you over while your hands pressed against the window.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He slapped his cock against your wet pussy, making you wince as your body hummed with anticipation.

“Your pussy’s all stretched out now, ready to take me.” He grabbed his shaft, positioning the head right at your entrance.

The tip of his cock nestled perfectly between your wet, aching folds. Just the sensation of it alone was enough to make him groan in pleasure.

It felt as if your entrance was giving him warm, wet kisses, welcoming him home.

“So, it should just slide right in,” he rasped, slowly drawing his hips forward and beginning to sink into you. “Fuck.”

He couldn’t even make it past the head because of how tight you were squeezing him. His face scrunched in a twist of pleasure and pain, his arm wrapping you tight as he fought for control. You mewled and whined so sweetly—the sound of it should have made him feel bad, but it only made him want to tear you apart more.

“Fuck—how the hell are you still so tight, even after everything?”

Every time he tried to draw his hips forward, your body buckled and clamped down, refusing to give an inch more than the head of him.

“God,” he hissed, forehead dropping to the back of your neck as he struggled to breathe. “What a tight pussy fuck.”

He tried to rock into you again—slow and agonizing. He was gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, his cock pulsing as your cunt fluttered around him, desperate to stretch around his size.

“F—fuck, Bucky, I’m trying—” you whimpered.

“Come on, baby,” he rasped, rocking his hips and trying to find pleasure from what little was already inside you. “I already stretched you out. I know you can take me. You’re just so fucking small.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, and your breath caught. His face was twisted. He looked almost angry—snarling from how difficult this was for him.

You tried pushing your hips back, wincing from the delicious stretch.

“Is this hurting you, Bucky?” you asked, your voice coming out more timid than you’d like. “Are you hurting because I’m so tight?”

A raspy, deep groan tore straight from his throat. You were asking out of genuine concern, but he took it as a challenge.

“God—you fucking—are you trying to test me?”

Bucky kicked your legs wider, his hands clamping down on your waist. He hauled your body back into his, then completely sheathed his cock into your tight pussy.

The air left your lungs the minute your ass pressed against his pelvis. His dark curls were hot against your skin as he finally, finally buried himself all the way inside you. He was in to the very hilt, but you were still so tight that moving was nearly impossible.

He stayed perfectly still for a moment, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he let the sensation of your tightness settle.

In the window’s reflection, it looked as filthy as it felt—a large, shirtless, and sweaty man mounting and rutting into you from behind like an animal, his broad shoulders swallowing your frame as his heavy arms circled you, keeping you pinned close and tight.

“Fuck,” he choked out. “There it is. There you are.”

After a moment of adjustment, he began to rock his hips. He drew in and out slowly, fucking you with deep, hard strokes that made the car creak.

“Christ, look at you,” he hissed, his eyes fixed on your reflection over your shoulder. “Stretched wide open—fucked like a whore for the whole neighborhood to see. You’re taking every goddamn inch of me, aren’t you, baby?”

Your face twisted in pleasure, your bottom lip hanging open as you moaned a litany of words. “Don’t stop... Please, Bucky, please.”

“This was why you were putting your body on display for me, huh? Hoping I’d finally cross the street one day and fuck you.” He fought for his breath as his hips increased the pace, his cock sliding in and out of you, relentlessly making you his. “You’re a smart cookie, too. Made sure your parents were out of town so you could act like a total slut.”

You moaned, eyes rolling back at his filthy words as your body clenched in reaction. “Yes! Yes, Bucky! I’m a slut for you!”

He groaned as he tilted his hips, forcing himself even deeper into your abused pussy.

“Squeezing me so tight... I can only imagine how you’d react if your parents were to drive down the street right now. Imagine them seeing their precious daughter getting split open by her older neighbor—a man they haven’t even met yet.”

He felt your body begin to tremor, your walls fluttering around his pulsing cock. He leaned in even closer, his hot, raspy breath dancing against the shell of your ear.

“Now, what would happen if your poor best friend—Steve, was it?—drove down here expecting to fix your car, only to find you with your tits pushed against the glass, stuffed full of my cock? How would you react then?”

Your knees wobbled and your eyes rolled back at the image. Your body convulsed, your pussy squeezing him impossibly tight at the filthy thought of it.

“Oh, my god—S-steve...!”

Bucky huffed a disbelieving laugh, followed immediately by a deep, guttural groan at the sensation of you clenching around him. He didn’t even care that you moaned another man’s name when he had you stuffed.

“Fuck, so goddamn tight,” he rasped, his arms wrapping around you tighter as you shook. “Shit, you like it, don’t you? The idea of getting caught by your best friend? Fuck—what a goddamn nasty whore you are.”

His hips began to blur against yours as he fucked you harder, the car creaking and groaning with every thrust.

“Bet he doesn’t even know how you’re clenching around me just at the thought of him. Bet he’d ask to join in, wouldn’t he? Would you let him?” He leaned over, biting your shoulder to stifle his own grunt. “Would you let your best friend watch me split you open like this?”

You nodded frantically, sweat beading at your temple from being used so thoroughly. The talk—the idea of it was filthy, a dream that you would’ve never considered doing, but Bucky was fucking you so good that anything he said at this point was hypnotic.

“Yes, yes, Bucky, please! You both can take turns using me!”

“Nasty little slut,” Bucky hissed, his teeth biting gently at your skin again. “Fuck. I’m getting close.”

You nodded hard again, your knees nearly giving out if it weren’t for his big hands holding you back. “Me—me too, shit—!”

Bucky’s grip on your body tightened, pulling you close against his bare and sweaty chest.

After three hard thrusts that bottomed out against your womb, he let out a deep grunt against your neck, his body going stiff as he finally came.

His cock pulsed as cum began to spill out of his tip, pumping you full of his seed and staying completely stuffed inside you until you were filled to the brim. Your head tossed back as a cry left your throat, your overworked pussy clamping down on him and pulsing in a way that milked every last drop out of him.

He held you tight, breathing deep into your back as you both fought for air. “Fuck—you’re draining my balls dry, sweetheart.”

You both started to laugh—deep, tired, and rumbling laughs at everything that had just transpired out in the open, right in your very driveway.

Bucky looked down, pulling out slightly and watching with blown out pupils as his cum trickled out of you and onto the concrete, where it mixed with the soapy water.

“Dirty, dirty girl.”

You spent the following afternoon in your room, going through lectures, though you were hardly paying attention to them. With your cheek resting on your palm, your eyes kept drifting to the open window that gave you a perfect, convenient view of the house right across the street.

Bucky’s house.

The driveway was empty, and the lights inside were off. The blinds were pulled open though, and you could see Alpine—the little cat he mentioned—loafing on the windowsill and staring back at you.

In that moment, the two of you were exactly the same.

Just waiting for Bucky to come home.

The silence of your bedroom was overtaken by the rumble of a truck engine. Sitting up and peeking out the window, you recognized Steve’s battered pickup truck turning into the driveway before the engine cut out.

Steve climbed out of the driver’s seat, looking as exhausted as ever, but he had still shown up for you.

You smiled, racing down the stairs to meet him outside. In the driveway, it was clear that his shift at Hydra’s mechanic shop had done a number on him. His navy blue collared shirt was stained with sweat and motor oil, with dark streaks smeared across his jaw and down the length of his thick forearms.

“Steve,” you breathed with a smile. “Thought you forgot about me.”

Steve shut the door, the truck shaking from the force. “Could never forget about you. Work was just running me late.” He reached for his tools in the flatbed with a tired groan. “How’s your car holding up? Been using it since we had lunch yesterday?”

Your face warmed at the question.

Using it wouldn’t be the right term for it, you thought.

“Not really,” you said, trying to hide the bashful expression on your face.

“Still making that weird creaking noise?” he asked, walking over to the front and popping the hood.

You bit your lip and nodded. “Yep.”

Steve stood over the engine, glancing at wires and mechanical parts that were completely foreign to you.

“How’s it looking?” you asked, hovering over his shoulder.

He didn’t look back as he lifted a straining wire with his pointer finger, examining it closely. “Looks like she’s been through it.”

You had to bite back a snort. You would’ve complimented him on his sense of humor—if only he had known any better.

“Thanks for doing this, Steve,” you said, giving him a pat on his sweaty back. “My dad’s going to be real grateful.”

Steve nodded. “How are you and that neighbor doing?” He still kept his focus on the wires, his voice casual and unassuming. “You two didn’t screw each other after my warning yesterday, right?”

You were so glad he was focused on the engine—the face you made would’ve given it all away.

“What kind of girl do you think I am?” you scoffed playfully, crossing your arms defensively.

Steve glanced up at you with a chuckle. “A good one, I hope.” He brought his tools to the edge of the car, rummaging through the kit. “You two exchanged numbers yet?”

“Do I have to?” you shrugged. “He lives right across the street.”

Steve tilted his head, agreeing. “You make a good point.” He looked back at the engine. “When are you going to introduce me to the guy?”

You leaned against the car with a roll of your eyes. “Steve, you’re sounding an awful lot like my dad. And why are you in such a rush to meet him, anyway?”

Steve shrugged, pulling a wire stripper out of his toolbox before setting it back down on the ground. “I’m your best friend, alright? It’d give any man peace of mind to know what kind of person you’re talking to. Hand me a wrench, would you?”

Crouching, you dug into his toolbox until you found something that resembled a wrench. You handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking the tool from your hand. His brows furrowed as he wrestled with a stubborn bolt, the muscles in his forearms and biceps flexed hard, giving you an up close and personal view of a working man.

After the filthy things Bucky hissed in your ear yesterday, you couldn’t help but stare. Bet he’d ask to join in, wouldn’t he? Would you let him? Even worse was the memory of what you cried out in response. You both can take turns using me!

You wanted to slap yourself for the secondhand embarrassment you were giving yourself.

You wouldn’t consider it—no, you couldn’t. Steve was the person you grew up with, the one who fended off your bullies in kindergarten. Steve was the one who drove you to school every morning in high school. Steve was the one who took you to prom when no one else did.

Steve was family.

But as he stood there, covered in motor oil and sweat, you finally understood why a man like Bucky would be jealous over you hanging out with a man like Steve Rogers.

The wrench slipped, clattering against the frame of the car before hitting the driveway with a noise that made you flinch.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath. He bent down to pick it up. He stood up straight—reminding you all over again of just how big he was compared to you—and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

While you were having filthy thoughts about your best friend, he was standing there in an increasingly sour mood. Between the long shift at Hydra’s and the oppressive heat of the bright afternoon sun, he looked completely spent.

You didn’t know the first thing about wire strippers or engine blocks, and you felt useless just hovering over his shoulder.

“I’m going to go make you a lemonade,” you said, giving his shoulder another supportive pat. “I’ll be back, okay?”

Steve didn’t say anything. He just gave a single, firm nod to let you know he heard you.

As you retreated inside, a car that Steve didn’t recognize pulled up to Bucky’s driveway.

It was a sleek, black convertible sports car. Steve couldn’t help but clench his jaw at the sight of it. Of course Bucky drove a sports car.

He stood no chance against his rundown pickup.

Bucky stepped out of the vehicle, running a hand through his hair. As he turned to glance at your driveway, expecting to see you, his blue eyes landed on Steve instead.

For all that talk about wanting to meet him, Steve really only cared to do it if you were there, bridging the gap. So for now, until you returned with his lemonade—which he was sure would make Bucky jealous—Steve tried to keep himself too occupied to notice him.

But he kept catching movement in his peripheral vision. Then another. Then another. A stupid, persistent movement that wouldn’t go away, like a goddamn fly.

Steve finally lifted his head and saw Bucky still in his driveway, waving.

Waving?

At what?

Steve turned around, expecting to see you standing right behind him with the lemonade, but you weren’t. The porch remained empty—meaning Bucky was waving at him.

“Need any help there?” Bucky called out from across the street, resting his hands on his hips.

Steve pressed his lips into a thin line and shook his head. “I’m good!” he called back. Short, straight to the point, and friendly enough.

He looked back down at the engine, but it didn’t take long before a bright spark jumped from the terminal with a loud popping sound. Steve jolted back with a hiss, snapping his hand away from the burn. “Shit!”

Across the street, Bucky was already making his way over with a smug grin that Steve caught—and one he especially wanted to wipe off.

Jesus. Where were you?

“Here,” Bucky finally reached him, occupying the small space between the car’s engine and where Steve was standing. “Let me help you with that.”

Before Steve could fight for his spot, Bucky was leaning over the hood, adjusting the wires in a way that made Steve—the man wearing an actual mechanic’s uniform—feel like a fool.

Steve stepped up to the hood, propping his arm against it as he looked the man over. “So, you’re the new neighbor that moved in not too long ago, right?” He already knew the answer, but this was at least him trying for short conversation.

Bucky looked up at Steve, his eyes slowly tracing over his uniform. Steve felt his eyebrow twitch.

Was Bucky silently insulting him?

“Yup,” Bucky drawled with the pop of the p. “And you must be my pretty neighbor’s best friend. The one she always talks about.”

It was getting harder by the second for Steve to go along with this. Bucky acted like the very frat boys at Jensen that Steve had warned you to avoid at all costs—and this man was in his mid-thirties, for crying out loud.

“Yeah. That’s me,” Steve mumbled.

Bucky stood up straight, extending his hand for a shake. “Bucky.”

Steve was wary, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at the offered hand before finally reaching out to take it.

“Steve,” he replied with a firm grip.

Bucky stared at Steve for a moment longer—as if studying him—before looking back down at the engine with a huff of laughter. “You know, for a guy who works at a mechanic shop, you’re struggling pretty bad with a simple alternator issue.” He bent over the engine again, examining it. “Are you trying to actually fix the car, or just trying to impress your lady friend?”

Steve let out a dry laugh as he pulled a rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands. “It’s been a long day, alright? I’ve been dealing with different cars all day, the sun is giving me a headache, and now I’ve got my best friend’s neighbor to worry about—”

He stopped himself before he could spill too much, but Bucky caught it anyway. He chuckled, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he looked up at Steve from where he was bent over. “You’re worrying about me?”

Steve swallowed hard, trying to play it off. “I mean, I’m just looking out for her. New guy in the neighborhood, it’s just a habit.”

Bucky hummed, a small, knowing grin resting on his lips as he turned back to the engine block.

He leaned further under the hood of the old sixties station wagon, his fingers moving towards the distributor cap and the fraying ignition wire Steve had been struggling with. Bucky repositioned the stubborn ceramic boot, adjusting the distributor to ensure the connection wouldn’t spark again.

He wiped his hands on his thighs as he stood up straight.

“Since it’s an older model, you’re going to need to buy a specific point and condenser set for a sixties Ford wagon. But this should hold her over for now.” Bucky looked over at Steve. “You got a piece of paper so I can write down the part number you need?”

Steve blinked, surprised and undeniably impressed by how easily Bucky had handled it.

“Oh. Y-yeah, hold on—” He dug into his back pocket and pulled out a small, worn notepad and a pen, handing them over.

Bucky took them, resting the pad against the car’s fender as he scribbled down the specifications. Steve glanced up, watching you through the kitchen window where you were completely oblivious, still focused on making the lemonade.

Surprisingly, he actually liked the guy. Despite the age difference, he could see potential in Bucky. He was handsome, owned his own house, drove a nice car, and was clearly respectful and handy. He was exactly the type of man your parents wouldn’t pass out at the sight of.

He was a good man for you—regrettably so.

Bucky finished writing, flipping the notepad shut and handing it back to Steve along with the pen. “Here you go.”

Steve smiled, and this time it was polite and genuine.

“Thanks,” he muttered. “It was nice meeting you, Bucky.” He held up the notepad with a slight nod. “She’ll appreciate this. I’ll tell her you said hi.”

Bucky’s smile widened just slightly. He glanced over his shoulder, catching your silhouette through the kitchen window where you were still occupied with the lemons. His gaze lingered on you for a split second before he looked back at Steve, his expression unreadable.

“Don’t mention it,” Bucky said smoothly, giving Steve a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Remember, I’m right across the street if you ever need help.”

He gave a parting nod before turning on his heel, brushing past Steve to head back to his side of the street.

Steve watched Bucky disappear past his front door. By the time the door clicked shut, you had finally stepped out onto the porch with two glasses of lemonade in your hands. Perfect timing.

“Sorry I took so long,” you said breathlessly, walking down the steps and handing him a glass. “It’s been a minute since I last made it from scratch, so…”

“You just missed him.”

You raised a brow in confusion. “Sorry?”

Steve brought the cold glass to his lips, taking a long sip of the tart drink before nodding towards the house across the road.

“Bucky.” He let out a satisfied exhale, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. “He was just here—helping me with your car, actually.”

Your eyes went wide, your head snapping towards Bucky’s house—though he was nowhere to be found. You reached up, trying to smooth down your hair.

“He was? Is he coming back?” You asked, sounding too excited for your own good.

Steve shrugged, taking another sip. “Probably not. Seemed like he had other things to do.”

You looked at Steve, your eyes narrowing skeptically.

Steve caught your look and let out a soft laugh, adjusting the cold glass against his palm. “What?”

“So…” you teased, swaying back and forth subtly. “I assume you two talked for a bit then? How was he? What do you think of him?”

Steve shrugged again, a genuine smile breaking through the tired expression he had on before. “Alright, alright. You know what? He’s not a bad guy. He actually helped me fix your car. I like him.” He handed you back the empty glass, flipping through the crumpled pages to find the note Bucky had left. “He even told me what part we needed to order to get this thing fixed up and working again—”

He froze in the middle of his sentence. His eyes went wide, staring at the page as his words got lost in his mind.

You raised a brow, confused with Steve’s sudden change in demeanor. “Well? What part is it? Is it expensive?”

When he didn’t answer, you took it upon yourself to step closer and peek your head over his arm to look at the notepad. What you saw made your breath hitch, and your own eyes went wide.

There was no part number.

Written in bold handwriting, on the paper was a phone number, Bucky’s phone number, followed by a little message in black ink.

you’re gonna have to call me if you want that part number. xoxo, buck.

Your jaw hung so loose, a fly could’ve flown in at any moment. Steve didn’t know what to say either—if anything, he was standing there frozen, waiting for you to say something first.

“Oh my god,” was all that managed to leave your mouth. You looked up at Steve, your wide eyes meeting his. “Is Bucky…?”

Steve, poor Steve, who remained completely oblivious to the fact that you and Bucky had fucked just yesterday on this very driveway, only felt confusion and secondhand guilt.

He glanced across the street at the sleek, clean Mazda resting in Bucky's driveway, specifically staring at the custom vanity license plate on the back that read ‘BIGBUCK.’

Steve swallowed hard, his cheeks flushing with a rosy shade of pink. Though, he could easily excuse it for the sun.

“Of course,” he mumbled to himself. “He drives a Miata.”

if you were curious to know why a mazda miata specifically, you can thank r/askgaybros for that when i was conducting my research.

if you've made it this far, as always thank you so much for taking the time to read my work. interactions are always appreciated, I love reading every bit of them!

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[sukunastuna]

im obsessed with your work!!

[superbassbuck]

fight now, fuck later. | bucky barnes (18+)

⤷ civil war!bucky x black widow!reader

⭐︎ warnings: nsfw, civil war canon compliant, smut, mentions of size difference, widows have a red room variant of a super soldier serum, sexual tension, enemies to lovers, sex pollen, touch starved, bucky is so down bad, dry humping, bucky is a virgin, virginity loss, premature ejaculation, multiple orgasms, body worshiping, arguments, banter, physical fights as foreplay

⭐︎ word count: 11.1k

⭐︎ a/n: first time writing for civil war bucky and a black widow/avenger reader, kinda nervous. this is also my first attempt writing sex pollen. i hope i make the founding fathers proud with this one. gif

synopsis: While Bucky Barnes is on the run, Steve entrusts you to look after his old friend while the rest of the team tries to resolve the conflict with Tony Stark peacefully. As if babysitting a grumpy ex-Hydra soldier wasn't hard enough, an airborne toxin gets released—one designed to weaken a super soldier's resolve with the intention to trap them... and an unexpected side effect that skyrockets their libido. Between the constant bickering and fighting for your life, you have to keep reminding yourself, "I refuse to be Bucky's first."

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There were a few things you could respect Steve Rogers for.

He always seemed to know what was best for the team, he had a good head on his shoulders, and he always tried to find a way to resolve conflict with the least amount of bloodshed possible. He was a respectable man—respectable enough for people like you to follow him into hell.

But there were also plenty of things you disliked about him.

Namely, once he had a plan, he stuck to it whether the people around him agreed or not. Unfortunately for you, his current plan involved you babysitting the world’s most wanted Hydra assassin.

And that was the Winter Soldier.

“What!” you barked in disbelief, throwing your hands in the air. “No! I am not watching him. I’m coming with you—”

Steve was already gearing up—wearing the suit he stole from the Smithsonian and strapping on his shield last.

“No,” he replied, sharp and firm. “Trust me, it’s better if you stay put. If I show up with Buck by my side, it’s not gonna look good.”

Steve motioned towards Bucky, who just stood there looking about as useful and clueless as a bag of bricks.

The kicked puppy look on his face almost made you feel bad for him. Almost. Because if it weren’t for him, and your own stubborn loyalty to Steve, nobody would be in this mess in the first place.

“Look, you’re going to talk to Stark, right? Nat’s with him. Let me come. I can talk to her while you work things out with Stark, and maybe we can figure out a better solution—”

“We shouldn’t even consider talking to Nat. She’s in deep with Tony and the Accords. And besides, I don’t trust—” Steve cut himself off, his lips pressing into a thin line as his eyes flickered between you and Bucky. “Never mind.”

You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “Don’t trust what?”

The tension in the parking garage turned uncomfortable really fast.

No one dared speak or move—it felt like a bunch of kids walking in on Mom and Dad arguing and refusing to pick sides. Even though you already knew what he was going to say, you kept your eyes fixed on Steve with a silent threat for him to continue.

Steve sighed and stepped forward, mentally cursing himself for letting the words slip.

“You Widows—they’re known to be deceptive,” Steve explained as calmly and gently as he could, though it didn’t help.

“I just… can’t risk you talking to Natasha. It’s too dangerous.”

Offended wasn’t even the right word for it.

Everyone in this line of work—including you, especially you — knew about the Black Widows and their reputation. You were a group of young girls broken down and rebuilt into perfect chameleons. Widows were trained to whisper sweet nothings into a victim’s ear, only to hold a blade to their throat, slit it without remorse, and go about the rest of their day as if nothing had happened.

Steve wasn’t wrong, but the hypocrisy of his logic made you feel sour.

He didn’t trust your background, yet in the very same breath, he was willing to leave you entirely alone with Bucky—his best friend, and the only piece of his past he had left. If you were truly so deceptive, so inherently untrustworthy, what was stopping you from turning Bucky over to Stark the second Steve cleared this garage?

You wanted to cry. You had been loyal to Steve, standing by his side while the rest of the team split up and tore at each other’s throats—and this was how he repaid you? By humiliating you in front of everyone?

But you’d die before you let a single tear fall in front of Steve, or anyone else for that matter.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tightened your jaw until your teeth hurt and forced your gaze away.

“Fine.”

You were going to protect his precious best friend—not out of submission, but to shove his own prejudice right back down his throat. You would prove to him, definitively, that you could be trusted.

“I’ll watch over him,” you added, trying to keep cool. “I’ll keep my comms open, too—just in case you want to pop in and check if he’s still alive.”

Steve returned your sarcasm with a relieved exhale. “Thank you—”

“Don’t mention it,” you cut him off, waving a hand dismissively as you walked past Bucky—who was standing there looking like a child of divorce. You headed for your motorcycle.

“Are you coming, Barnes?”

Before joining you at the bike, Bucky walked over to Steve with a fond look in his eyes. They shared the same brotherly hug they'd been exchanging since they reunited. Steve mumbled something into his shoulder—probably reassurance that everything was going to be okay—before finally sending him off to you.

You rolled your eyes, slipping your helmet on to block them out.

As everyone else cleared out of the garage, Bucky walked over to your bike. You handed him a helmet, and he started strapping it on.

“Should I drive?” He asked.

You blinked at him, your face going blank despite him not being able to see it.

“I’m sorry?”

“I’ve been hiding in Bucharest for a while,” Bucky explained. “I know some discreet spots where they won’t find us.”

Even though neither of you could see the other’s expression, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Bucky was testing your competence—and on top of everything that had led to this moment, especially that little conversation with Steve, your patience was wearing dangerously thin.

“Barnes, I assure you that whatever spot you’re thinking of, a SWAT team is already sweeping it.” You revved the engine. “Get on.”

Bucky muffled a deep sigh inside his helmet. Based on his stiff posture, you thought he might argue, but he finally conceded, swinging his long leg over the back of the seat.

As you gripped the handlebars, you waited for him to hold on, but nothing happened.

Glancing at your side mirrors, you saw him awkwardly plant his hands at the edge of his seat, leaning back as far away from you as the space would allow.

“I’m gonna need you to hold on,” you ordered without looking back.

Bucky hesitated, not moving an inch.

Annoyed, you killed the revving engine for a second and glared at him over your shoulder. “Do you want to fall off?”

Bucky still didn’t budge. He kept his posture uncomfortably stiff, his eyes boring down at the empty space between his hips and the arch of your back.

“I’ll be fine right here.”

You couldn’t believe the gall of this guy. You had been tasked with something that was supposed to be so simple—tedious, sure, but easy enough—yet he was making your job twice as difficult. You glared at him through your visor, your voice strict even through the muffle of your headgear.

“Steve entrusted me to look after you. If he finds out on the evening news that his most wanted best friend fell off the back of my motorcycle and got captured by the government, then he’s never going to talk to me again. And everyone who is risking their lives for you did it all for nothing because you chose to be stubborn. Now, I am not going to repeat myself. Hold. On. To. Me.”

You couldn’t make out his expression, but slowly and reluctantly, he leaned forward and wrapped his thick arms around your waist.

“Tighter,” you commanded.

From the short time Bucky had known you, he already knew there was no point in arguing.

He let out a sigh into his helmet and wrapped his arms around you just a little tighter than before—but still kept his hold loose and, well… as respectful as he could manage.

“Bucky, I need you to hold me tighter,” you urged again.

It had already been a good five minutes since everyone left—and here you were, stuck with the man who, if caught, could risk your life and your position, all because he refused to hold onto you properly.

To you, this was nothing but a nuisance.

But for Bucky…

Bucky was holding onto every thread and reminder left from the forties of what it meant to be a respectful man. Especially since it had been so long since he’d not only been this close to a woman, but held one.

“Tighter!” you shrieked, patience finally snapping.

“Fuck, you know what? Fine!” he snapped back, adjusting his hips so that his chest was pressed up right against your back, wrapping his strong arms around you tightly enough to make you gasp.

“Is that tight enough for you?”

“Perfect,” you croaked sarcastically.

Without giving him another second to respond, you kicked the bike into gear and finally steered it out of the garage.

You were determined to keep your pride intact. His broad chest was pressed up against your back, trapping your body heat until your leather jacket felt burning hot against your skin. His metal arm was a hard band across your midsection, while his flesh arm gripped you still.

You were so small compared to him. He could easily take over—yet here he was, being your obedient puppy.

“Where are you taking me?” Bucky shouted over the rush of wind as the two of you whipped through the busy streets of Bucharest.

“To an amusement park,” you shouted back. “Don’t you want to ride a roller coaster?”

Bucky let out a tired sigh.

You managed to find sanctuary at an abandoned, overgrown rooftop greenhouse. Located on the very outskirts of Bucharest, it was far enough from the city center to avoid suspicion, but still close enough to keep your comms within range of Steve.

You paced the rooftop, feeling restless as your mind overworked with what Steve and the rest of the team could be doing right now.

Were they already fighting? Would Stark actually listen to reason and put all of this to rest?

Letting out a defeated sigh, you kicked a stray pebble, watching it skid across the concrete of the rooftop.

“This is ridiculous,” you mumbled to yourself. “Stuck on babysitting duty when I should be out there.”

Lifting your head, your eyes locked onto Bucky. He was standing dangerously close to the edge of the roof, peering down at the distant streets below.

“Hey!” you barked, pointing a finger at him like a mother scolding a child. “Step away from the edge! You’re going to fall.”

“I’m just keeping a lookout,” Bucky mumbled, his back still facing you as he refused to step away from the edge.

“You’re just making my job harder than it already is,” you argued, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

You pointed aggressively to the dusty wooden crate tucked against the brick wall.

“Just go sit over there or something.”

Bucky’s brow twitched the same time his patience snapped. He turned around to finally face you, his jaw clenched so tight his molars were crying for help.

“Would you stop talking to me like I’m a child?” he snapped, stepping away from the edge—not because you had ordered him to, but to match your hostile stance as he stalked toward you. “I’m sorry you got stuck with the shitty job of watching over me, but I can handle myself just fine, thanks.”

His defensive outburst made you raise a brow.

“Oh, really? You can handle yourself just fine?” you crossed your arms and scoffed. “Is that why the entire global government is hunting you down right now? Is that why Steve had to throw away his entire reputation just to keep you out of a cage? Because you’ve got it all handled?”

Bucky’s chest heaved, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides.

The mention of Steve’s sacrifice definitely hit a nerve, you could see the guilt in his eyes.

A part of you wished you hadn’t said it at all, and you were just about ready swallow your pride and apologize, until…

“You’re from the Red Room,” he said, stepping closer. An involuntary shudder went down your spine. “You’ve done terrible things in the past—just as I have. You know exactly what it’s like to have someone like Steve bend over backwards for lowlifes like us.”

You didn’t realize just how close he was standing until his hot breath hit your face, only shortening your temper.

“We don’t ask for the help, yet they do it for us anyway,” Bucky’s voice graveled into a whisper. “Don’t talk down to me like you don’t know what it’s like. When in fact, you’re worse—”

You were already seeing red before he could even finish his sentence.

You quickly unsheathed a pocket knife from your belt and lunged at him, aiming straight for his throat just as a threat to silence him.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

But Bucky was faster.

He brought his metal forearm up just in time to block the blade, making an ugly scraping sound. He twisted his wrist to disarm you, but your grip on the knife was tight. While one arm was held captive by his, you used your other to try and deliver a punch—which he also dodged.

You resorted to your legs, bucking them up to deliver hard kicks to his stomach. He grunted after each hit your leg managed to put out, but his hands moved quickly to grab the collar of your jacket and hurl you backwards to the nearest wall.

You cried out, face scrunching into a wince as your back slammed into hard brick.

The impact made you drop your knife. Bucky pressed his heavy body right against yours, aggressively tucking his legs between your thighs so you couldn’t use the space to swing your knees at him again.

“I can’t believe this is who Steve decided to trust me with,” he hissed in your face.

“Get off of me!” you yelled, squirming beneath his body.

“You drew your knife at me,” Bucky roared back. “Maybe Steve was right. All you Widows have a tendency to break your vows whenever things go even remotely south for you—”

You weren’t going to sit there and take his insults. Gritting your teeth with a brace, you pulled your head back and slammed your forehead directly into his face.

Bucky groaned out in pain, his grip on you loosening as he stumbled back with a hand to his face. Seizing the small window of opportunity, you shoved his chest away and dove towards the floor, reaching for the dropped pocket knife.

Before your fingers could even brush the hilt, his large hands grabbed you from behind and slammed you right back into the brick wall again.

You let out a breathless gasp as your face was forcefully squished up against the brick.

Bucky’s flesh hand came to the back of your head, pushing your skull firmly against the wall to keep your vision pinned away from him. At the same time, his metal hand gathered both your wrists behind your back, locking your two arms prone.

“Let go of me!”

You started to violently squirm and writhe, trying to buck your back against him—to tire him out, but Bucky moved his entire lower body to seal the space. His hips pressed tightly up against your bottom, his chest to your back, pinning you completely helpless as you were left trapped between him and the wall.

“No. I don’t care if you’re Steve’s friend, or if Steve respects you,” Bucky hissed, his breath right at your ear. “If I find my life in danger—after finally being free from Hydra, I’ll kill anyone who gets in my way. Even you.”

Bucky’s chest was heaving against your back.

He was angry.

He hated how much a woman like you could get under his skin with just a few sarcastic words and petty jabs.

One moment he was flustered just holding onto your waist during the bike ride, and now, he had you pinned up against the wall, your life completely in his hands.

You grit your teeth. “Dammit, Barnes—”

“—do you hear me? Hello? Anyone copy?”

You and Bucky froze. His eyes went wide as he leaned his head down toward the earpiece tucked just behind your earlobe where Steve’s voice was emitting. You glared at Bucky through the corner of your eye.

“Steve’s calling for me. I can’t answer it unless you let me go.”

“Status check. Code Blue-Alpha. Repeat, Code Blue-Alpha. Do you copy?”

Bucky was hesitant.

He didn’t want to let you go—afraid that you might actually threaten his life again the second he backed off.

Instead of releasing you, his metal hand kept the tight grip on both your wrists, while his flesh hand finally let your head free. Shifting his body closer, his finger reached around to press the button on your earpiece, activating the channel and allowing you to speak.

“Steve,” you breathed, catching your breath. “I’m here.”

“There you are!” Steve let out a relieved, staticky sigh through the comms. “How are things over there? Are you two alright?”

You and Bucky side eyed each other.

The situation was ridiculous—the two of you were still tangled in each other’s limbs, bodies pressed tight against one another, chests heaving in sync as the adrenaline from the fight slowly began to die down.

“We’re fine,” you lied. “Your boyfriend’s still alive.”

Bucky huffed a disbelieving laugh right against your ear. He didn’t say it out loud, but you could already hear his thoughts. This fucking woman.

Steve wasn’t laughing, however. His voice was serious.

“Listen to me carefully. We just got word that there are traps set up around the highest points of Bucharest. They’re wired to release an airborne toxin—specifically meant to target the biology of a super soldier.”

You watched Bucky’s eyes. His brows furrowed, concentrating on Steve’s voice as his grip on your wrists loosened slightly.

“They’re trying to smoke him out,” you reasoned. “What about the regular civilians? Will it affect them?”

“No. Just us. I’m already wearing a rebreather mask on my end,” Steve continued with a rasp. It sounded like he was running from something. “But Bucky doesn’t have one. You need to keep him inside and be extremely careful.”

There was a cold knot forming in the pit of your stomach.

Steve was thinking about Bucky, and Bucky was thinking about himself, but neither of them knew your full medical history—how could they?

During your time in the Red Room, they had pumped your veins full of a biochemical serum. It wasn’t the exact super soldier formula that created Captain America, but it was a heavily modified variation meant to enhance your physical abilities, speed up your healing, and maximize your strength.

It was what made you into a Widow. And right now, you had no idea if that same chemical footprint was enough to trigger the airborne toxin.

“Steve,” you swallowed hard, your voice shaking with worry. “How is Natasha doing? Is she with you?”

If Natasha was fine, then maybe you would be, too.

Behind you, Bucky must have sensed the sudden spike of panic in your posture. He took a step back and finally released his tight grip on your wrists—relinquishing his hold over your body.

He inhaled a deep breath to steady himself, but stopped midway, choking as if something had gotten stuck in his lungs. His chest hitched. He sniffed the air again, letting out a harsh, hacking cough in return.

“Fuck—” Bucky choked out, his hand flying to his throat.

You spun around, catching the way Bucky stumbled blindly against a wooden crate. Your heart started to race in a panic.

“Steve?” you called into the earpiece, your eyes scanning the rooftop for any signs of the trap he had just mentioned over comms. “Steve, do you copy?”

There was no answer.

The static on the other end had cut out completely. Steve had already ended the line to focus on his own escape—either that, or his comms had been jammed. You tapped the button behind your earlobe again desperately, but there was nothing.

“Steve! Respond!”

Bucky called your name from where he held himself against the crate—a sound that was broken, small, and almost whiny.

“Bucky!” you cried out, abandoning the comm line completely and focusing entirely on the man you were tasked to protect. “Are you okay?”

“Hot,” he winced, letting out a deep groan. “It feels... hot.”

You knelt by his side, the palm of your hand flying to his forehead to check his temperature. Your eyes widened at how warm he had suddenly become. He wasn’t nearly this hot when he had you pressed up against the wall just mere seconds ago.

“Fuck. Did the toxins get to you already? But how! We’re on the outskirts—”

Bucky lazily raised a finger just past your head. You whipped your head around, squinting past the sunlight that pierced the clouds.

There, you saw a hazy, almost pollen like fog beginning to drift from across the rooftop building far from you.

“Shit,” you cursed, wrapping your arm around his waist and positioning his heavy arm over your shoulders to help him up.

“Come on, we’ve gotta hide you somewhere. You’re too weak to run if you get caught.”

You tried lifting him up, but he was too heavy to carry just on your own. You groaned beneath him, using every bit of your strength to try and keep him steady.

While you struggled, Bucky’s breathing grew heavier. His eyes were half lidded and unfocused—he could barely keep them open.

“Stay with me, Bucky,” you murmured against him with a grunt, dragging your feet to get him inside the greenhouse.

It was a glass enclosure, but the walls were muddied with dirt and the plants were overgrown enough to provide decent cover. It wasn’t as indoors as you’d like, but it was the closest place you could take him with your current strength.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered down to you, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I think… I need to sit.”

Suddenly, he felt like he was suffocating in his own clothes. The breeze in Bucharest was cool, but his body felt like it was burning up from the inside. What was even worse was your touch—having your body pressed up against his made him react in ways he never thought he would.

Or at least, not anytime soon.

You stumbled over an overgrown branch, losing your balance and your grip on Bucky.

“Shit—I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

Bucky lay on the ground, adjusting his body so that he was flat on his back. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, the organ trying to tear its way out. His vision and mind went hazy, and his flesh hand was clammy.

The tension was even worse whenever he looked at you. His pupils would dilate the second his eyes landed on your body, his breath getting stuck in his throat.

You knelt down, trying to get your hands under his arms to haul him back up, but Bucky flinched away with a sharp hiss.

“No,” he rasped. “Don’t… don’t touch me.”

You furrowed your brows. You had no idea what kind of side effects the airborne toxins had been released—Steve hadn’t specified. But right now, you couldn’t afford to stand around and ponder it. You groaned, trying to lift him up one more time, but your body suddenly felt even weaker than before.

Your knees buckled as a strange aroma began to drift into your nose. It was a musky, almost tangy smell filling the deep pockets of your lungs.

“W-what the hell…?”

Bucky’s chest rose and fell heavily from where he lay on the floor, his dark, half lidded eyes meeting yours. “Do you feel it, too?”

Meeting Bucky’s eyes in this state was the worst thing you could have possibly done.

Suddenly, the greenhouse felt smaller—a glass enclosure closing in on the two of you. Your body felt molten, and you wanted nothing more than to strip your clothes off.

Grunting, you began to pull down the zipper of your jacket, and Bucky inhaled sharply.

“Hey—what… what are you doing?”

“It’s hot,” you breathed, your head spinning. “Need to take my jacket off.”

The heat inside your own skin was hurting, but for Bucky, it was absolute torture.

The super soldier serum in his veins processed the toxin at an accelerated rate, making his flesh feel like it was working overtime. His blood was rushing—hot and heavy—pooling lower until he was completely and unapologetically hard under his pants.

He wanted to rip his own clothes off. He just hoped you wouldn’t notice the tent poking between his legs—or maybe a dark part of him did, and he wanted you to offer to take care of it.

Fuck. What was he thinking?

But it wasn’t like you were thinking straight, either. Abandoning your jacket, you were left in just a tank top that clung tightly to your chest, offering Bucky a full view of your tits. You knelt right back down beside him, your hands clumsily reaching for his shoulders to lift him up again.

This was going bad for Bucky.

Too close.

Too close. Too close. Too close.

Bucky caught your scent—a natural floral and feminine smell mixed with an underlying musk of sweat that made his head spin with an overwhelmingly dangerous amount of desire.

“Stop,” Bucky choked out, his voice dropping deep and dangerous.

His right hand shot out, wrapping tightly around your bare wrist, while his metal hand gripped your hip to keep you from leaning any closer.

“Don’t... don’t do this. Get away from me right now.”

“Bucky,” you panted. “I need you to get up for me.”

“I can’t,” he groaned, letting his head fall back against the floor. “I mean it. Move away… or I swear to God, I won’t be able to control myself—”

Your gaze drifted down his body, your eyes widening at the prominent bulge waiting for you between his large, strong legs.

It throbbed and twitched beneath his pants, growing harder and more unbearable by the second.

This position was too compromising—too vulnerable, and far too dangerous for you both.

Bucky had no strength to get up on his own, and you could feel your own body betraying you by the second. You would have to relieve this for him now, or it would be doom for you both.

“Goddammit,” you cursed, bracing yourself mentally.

You moved to cradle Bucky between your thighs, mounting his lap while he was pinned weak to the floor.

His eyelids flew open, and he used all the strength left in his body to lift his head and stare up at you, bewildered and off guard.

“What the hell are you doing—!”

“We need to take care of this,” you muttered, grinding your hips tight and firm against his, making him let out a groan.

“We need to fix your problem before they find us. They set up that trap not too far from this building. There’s a chance they’re already scouting it out. It’s only a matter of time—”

Bucky’s eyes were filled with hungry lust as he stared at the point where your hips were rubbing against his. He was so hard it fucking hurt. He didn’t dare touch you—because if his hands made contact with your waist, with that warm, smooth skin just beneath your tank top that was begging to be licked, he would probably embarrass himself and cum in his pants right then and there.

“Shit—wait. Hold on. I—fuck.”

You reached for his zipper, tugging it down, and the sudden movement made his hips buck up against yours.

“Now’s not the time to talk, Barnes,” you panted, the toxin blurring your thoughts. “We need to take care of this now, or we’ll be in deep trouble. And Steve’ll have my head—”

“Fuck, shit. Wait—! I’ve never…”

You were losing your patience. You stopped your hands, glaring down at him. “Never what, Barnes?”

His face burned an embarrassing shade of red. He refused to look at you, his eyes suddenly far more interested in the overgrown plants next to him than your face.

“I’ve never had… sex,” he admitted quietly, swallowing hard.

Oh.

Oh.

Bucky was a virgin?

“Oh my god,” you whispered.

You felt incredibly foolish straddling him with your hands still hovering over his open zipper.

You felt shameful—you felt like a harlot, throwing yourself onto him and thinking you could resolve this entire crisis just by getting him off with a few strokes. You felt dirty, humiliated, and deeply guilty.

“I’m so sorry,” you stammered, quickly scrambling off his lap.

Your legs felt like jelly—a testament to the toxin fully taking hold of your own system.

“Shit. I’m so sorry, Bucky. I didn’t know. I mean, that doesn’t excuse it, but—”

“No,” Bucky rasped, his hand catching your wrist before you could back away entirely.

His grip on you was so tight and dominant, it felt like a pickaxe slowly chipping away at your remaining resolve.

“Don’t go,” he broke out, his voice a desperate, tortured rasp. “Please. Keep going. It hurts. I need you to relieve it.”

If he had said that to reassure you, you felt anything but. In fact, you felt even guiltier because of how broken and desperate he sounded.

“Bucky, I can’t.”

His brows knitted together tightly, his face twisting unpleasantly—he was upset.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because—”

“Because what!” he barked back, rolling onto his side to give you his full attention. You tried really hard not to look at the outline of his hard cock pressing against his pants. “You threw yourself onto me. You promised Steve you’d take care of me—so you’re going to come back here and finish it.”

“Bucky, I’m not going to be your first!” you yelled out, and that finally stunned him into silence.

Your chest was heaving with a frustration you didn’t even know how to name.

With confusion and a flash of embarrassment taking over his gaze, his fingers finally loosened, releasing your wrist reluctantly.

“I’m sorry,” you said, much softer this time. “I’m sorry. Just… if you need a minute to take care of it yourself, I’ll be over there—” you pointed to the far end of the greenhouse “—I’ll keep watch.”

“And what about you?” he asked, his dark eyes trailing down your body in a way that did absolutely nothing to help your situation. “Don’t you need to take care of yourself, too? You feel it, don’t you? That… primal need.”

You pressed your lips tight and tore your gaze away, not trusting yourself to look at his pained, desperate expression. You couldn’t look at the way his body was open and inviting you back in, or the way his voice went so coarse when he said the word need.

“I’ll be fine.”

You were not fine. And Bucky certainly wasn’t, either.

You tried to keep your concentration focused outside the greenhouse, forcing your hazy eyes to stare through the glass panes to keep watch. But your gaze kept betraying you, drifting right back to the corner to watch Bucky where he sat propped up against a wooden crate, his legs spread wide.

His chest was still rising and falling heavily, his long hair damp with sweat and falling over his darkened eyes.

You had told him to take care of his business, but he hadn’t made a single move since you stepped away from him. Your own urges were becoming impossible to control, too. You found yourself squeezing your thighs tightly together, trying to find any form of friction, any relief from the ache that had been building up ever since the toxin first wafted into your lungs.

It didn’t help that you could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, watching you from behind, tracing your silhouette.

It felt telepathic—as if his silent gaze was speaking directly to your body, knowing you wanted exactly what he was desperately craving too.

No. You couldn’t go to him.

If you walked up to him right now, neither of you would have any control left, and you would both submit to the drug completely.

He was a virgin. You couldn’t take something so precious from him. He had already been through a lifetime of torture and lost autonomy. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you took his first time over a stupid, weaponized toxin.

Sex was meant to be reserved for someone special—and you were far from it.

“Bucky,” you finally called out, still refusing to turn around and look at him. “Are you okay back there?”

“…No,” he muttered with a thick rasp. “Come here.”

You sucked in a breath.

Every instinct in your brain was telling you stay exactly where you were, but your body was entirely out of your control now.

Your feet dragged you across the dirty floor until you were standing over him again.

You dropped to your knees in front of him with a sigh. Trying to frame it as purely medical check, you lifted a hand and pressed your palm flat against his forehead to check his temperature once more.

He was still burning up, but the fever felt even worse.

Every hot breath he exhaled hit your exposed collarbones, and the way he was sitting—legs spread wide with you kneeling directly between them—made you feel like a mouse being lured into a trap.

Realizing just how dangerous this proximity was, you swallowed hard and began to pull your hand away. But Bucky didn’t let you. His fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist to hold you back. He let his heavy eyelids flutter shut and slowly leaned his head into your touch, rubbing his stubbled cheek right against your warm, open palm.

“Stay,” Bucky pleaded as he his metal hand came to hold your hip. “Stay here. I need you.”

A breathless groan rumbled warmly into your palm. You froze, your eyes locked onto him as you watched the lethal super soldier—the very man who had pinned you up against the wall just minutes ago—unravel helplessly right in front of you.

As he held you there, you felt an unbearable heat trickle between your legs.

Your cunt pulsed, and you squeezed your thighs tightly together to soothe the desperate ache spreading through your lower body.

The friction was a temporary fix, but the tight grind of your thighs only made you ache for more.

Bucky nuzzled his face deeper into your palm, inhaling your scent like a dying man catching a breath of fresh air.

Then, his parted lips pressed a soft, wet kiss against the center of your hand. And another one. Then another, right against the inner skin of your wrist.

“Bucky… what are you—”

“Please,” Bucky whispered against your skin, looking up at you through his dark, thick lashes.

His eyes were dilated, the blue completely washed out by a lust that made you burn from the inside out.

“I need you.”

“You… You don’t know what you’re saying,” you muttered, shaking your head in a desperate attempt to find your reason.

Bucky held your hand tighter, refusing to give you any chance to escape.

“Please, don’t go. Fuck—I need you so bad, it hurts,” he choked out. “This ache won’t go away until you help me take care of it.”

His eyes never left yours. Under normal circumstances, every confession leaving his lips should have left him feeling deeply ashamed or embarrassed. But right now, he didn’t care. His body was on fire, and your touch was only stroking each and every flame.

“I know I’m a virgin, but I don’t care—and you shouldn’t, either,” Bucky rasped.

His large hand covered yours, forcing your palm down his chest—slick and damp with sweat—until he guided your hand directly over the heavy erection waiting for you beneath his pants.

“I can make you feel so good. I can fix this for both of us. Please.” He begged.

You let out a shudder as his large hand swallowed yours, guiding your palm to slide up and down against the length of his cock. Even through the denim, you could feel him throb and harden rapidly beneath your touch, his breathing turning incredibly shallow and fast.

“It hurts so bad,” he groaned, his eyes unhinged by the toxin. “Doesn’t it hurt you, too?”

You looked down, biting your lip hard at the sight of Bucky’s thick bulge pressing directly against your fingers. He twitched beneath your touch.

There was nothing you wanted more than to finish the job you had started earlier—to finish unzipping his pants, sink right down onto him, and show him exactly what it felt like to be inside a woman for the very first time.

But you couldn’t.

Not like this.

“Bucky, I can’t—” you whispered so softly, it sounded like a whine. “I can’t be your first.”

Bucky trembled a sigh, his head falling back against the wooden crate. But he didn’t let go of your wrist. He began to subtly shift his weight, rocking his hips up in a tilt that forced his thick length to slide right against your captive palm.

“Why not?” he murmured, deep and gravelly. “You don’t think… you don’t think I’d do a good job?”

His question was so innocent, though the very thing he was doing wasn’t. He kept grinding his clothed cock into your hand—seeking pleasure from just your palm—and you felt yourself going insane.

“No, it’s not that,” you tried to pull your hand back, but he held you tight, using your trapped hand for his own pleasure. “Sex is supposed to be something that you save. And your virginity is something you give away to someone special. Not… not a casual teammate—not someone like me—”

Bucky interrupted you with a groan, his hips bucking up higher against your palm. All of your words went in one ear and out the other. The only thing he could process right now was how good your hand felt—and how much better it would feel if he sunk into something tight, wet, and warm.

Like your mouth… or your…

“I don’t care about any of that,” he choked out.

His hips rolled into your palm with a needy jerk.

“I need this. I need you. I’d be more than happy to give it to you. Fuck—I’ll give it to you so good. You’re the one I want. I need you—”

Bucky’s mouth dropped into an o shape, a sharp hiss of breath filling his lungs as his hips bucked uncontrollably. His eyes never left yours as he suddenly started spilling in his pants. A warm, thick liquid began to seep through his jeans, leaving your fingers sticky with his seed and musk.

You couldn’t believe it.

Bucky had just finished right in his pants.

“Bucky…”

His face was unreadable.

His head was tilted back against the crate, his eyes boring into yours through heavy lids and long lashes. He was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath while letting his cum shamelessly pool in the tight space of his pants.

You figured he’d pull your hand away any second now—that finally releasing all that pent up frustration would make him feel well enough to move to a safer location.

You tried not to point it out to save him from the embarrassment. And most importantly, you tried not to give in to the intense sensation of his warm spunk right beneath your fingertips.

“You should be feeling better now, right? We should keep moving—”

With his grip on your wrist tightening, he hauled you forward until you collapsed back to the ground. Two strong arms wrapped completely around your body, caging you flush against his chest.

Your knees—already so weak—forced you to straddle his lap. Your hands flew to his broad shoulders for balance as you found yourself perched directly over his ruined pants.

“Hey—what are you—!”

Bucky nuzzled his face straight into the crook of your neck, his hot, erratic breaths turning into open mouthed kisses against your skin.

“More,” he begged, the deep vibration of his voice tickling you. “S’not enough. I need more.”

Your breath hitched when his hands started to roam over your body. His fingers tickled beneath the hem of your tank top, the metal fingers cooling your skin and making you gasp out loud from the sudden cold.

No.

I won’t let this happen.

I refuse to be Bucky’s first.

But despite your emotional turmoil, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. Not with the way his hands were roaming around your body, claiming every inch of you as his through touch alone. Not with the way he was looking at you, his mouth parted with desperation.

And especially not when he had just let himself spill in his jeans from nothing but your touch and closeness.

“I know you feel it too,” Bucky rasped against your neck. “I know you’re wet down there, begging to be touched. Begging to be filled. I can fix you, baby. Just let me take care of you, please.”

He pulled back slightly, looking up at you with wide puppy blue eyes that made your heart ache and your pussy clench.

“Can I kiss you?”

You searched his gaze, breathless. “You want to kiss me?”

His metal hand left your waist, slowly crawling up your spine until his fingers tangled firmly in the hair at the back of your head, keeping your eyes pinned to his. His pupils were completely blown out, his gaze demanding an answer right now.

You should have said no. You should have pushed his chest, reminded him of the drug, and scrambled away to safety.

He was a virgin, sure. But with the way he was looking at you while holding you tight—you felt like you were going to be ravaged.

But your resolve was already a fragile thing. And with the way he was looking at you, you knew you were in too deep. Your body was hurting—aching for him in the exact same ways he was aching for you. The only way you two could fix it was each other.

You pressed your lips hard against his, and Bucky let out a rough, needy sound into your mouth.

His grip tightened in your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

The fever burned through your veins, and the way his tongue danced with yours only made the fire burn hotter. He was tasting you, broken whimpers tearing from his lips with every slick slide of his tongue. Saliva mixed together, leaving you both completely breathless, your lips and limbs tangled.

You rolled your hips back, grinding yourself deeper against Bucky’s pelvis.

His cock twitched inside his jeans, poking hard against you. You didn’t know how—but he felt even bigger and harder than he had before.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he panted against your mouth. “Fuck, I can’t—I need to feel you. Need to be inside you.”

His hands scrambled down to your waist, his fingers fumbling with the button of your pants. He popped it open with a rough tug—threatening to break the button itself—as his knuckles brushed against your hot skin.

Bucky groaned at the sight.

The lace of your panties was poking through the opening, damp with sweat and your scent. He inhaled deeply, and you wondered just how much his heightened senses were actually taking you in.

When he let out a satisfied sigh, you knew he could smell everything.

“Look at you,” he praised, his eyes tracing the curves of your body. “You’re so beautiful. It makes me want to ruin you.”

You chuckled—a sound that came out raspy and sultry without your intention, making Bucky’s cock twitch beneath you.

“Quite a bold statement for someone who’s never had sex before,” you teased, your hands trailing slowly down his chest.

Bucky’s jaw tightened. He accepted your challenge, gripping the waistband of your unzipped pants and yanking them down your thighs.

The moment your bare skin was exposed to the cool air, Bucky wasted no time traveling his eyes down the expanse of your legs. Catching his bottom lip between his teeth to keep from drooling like a madman, his gaze raked over the inner and outer curves of your thighs. His mouth went dry at the sight of the little wet spot that had collected near your clit.

His large hands slid up your thighs and behind you, squeezing your ass firmly in his rough palms.

“So fucking beautiful,” he growled, his thumb swiping over your clit, smearing your own juice all over the lace.

“Fuck—you’ve been dripping all this time. You need this just as bad as I do, and you’ve been holding back?”

You swallowed hard. “It’s not too late. We don’t have to—oh!”

You cried out once his fingers slipped past the hem of your panties. His fingers dipped between your folds, collecting your arousal with embarrassing wet noises as he tried to rub at your clit.

“No, Bucky… it’s right here—” You grabbed his forearm, guiding him to the right spot, and arched your back with a sharp cry when he started rubbing deep circles against the sensitive bud.

“Oh my god,” you gasped.

This was the pleasure you were looking for—but it wasn’t nearly enough.

There was an empty ache deep inside you that was begging to be filled. But you weren’t going to demand that of him just yet, in case he changed his mind.

A lazy, boyish smile tugged at his lips as he watched you come undone from his fingers.

“Yeah?” he huffed out a breath. “That feel good, baby?”

“Yes—don’t stop, please,” you cried helplessly.

His other hand lifted your tank top up and over your head, quickly unhooking your bra to fully reveal your tits. With a low grunt, he leaned forward, capturing one of your perky nipples into the wet warmth of his mouth.

You moaned loudly, your hand flying to the back of his head and giving his hair a hard, desperate tug. He liked that a lot, moaning against your skin in pleasure.

Bucky’s tongue swirled around your nipple, licking and sucking until you were arching off his lap at his mercy.

He was making a beautiful mess of you, switching between both buds and letting his mouth worship your body. His rough stubble tickled your chest while his fingers continued their clumsy work down below, sliding through your slick folds and rubbing messy circles right against your clit.

The wet, squelching sounds of his fingers moving against your soaking flesh filled the greenhouse—the filth of it only making you wetter and causing the toxin to course even harder.

He suddenly pulled his mouth away from your chest, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your skin, and finally looked up at you.

His lips and chin were slick and shining from giving your breasts such sloppy, adoring kisses.

“I need to be inside you,” he pleaded. “Please… I need to put it in. I need to stuff you so full of me, baby. Please, let me fuck you.”

Your eyes searched Bucky’s.

He looked like an even bigger mess than before. He looked and sounded utterly helpless, his chest rising and falling heavily, his face tight with an expression that made it look like he was physically hurting.

Even though he had just come in his pants moments ago, he needed so much more.

You knew that once you gave in to him completely, there would be no holding back for either of you. He would have to live with the fact that you would be his first.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bucky slowly slipped his hand out of your panties, bringing his fingers up to his lips and licking the juices clean. “You’re scared, but I’m not. I know what I want, and what I want right now is you.”

Bucky gripped your waist, raising you off his lap and pinning you flat against the ground.

He slipped his large body directly between your legs, his strong thighs forcing yours wide open as he covered your frame with his.

Your hair was messy across the dirt floor, framing your face as you laid beneath him breathless. The toxin was taking over control of your body—every single nerve demanding to be touched by the man between your legs.

You felt like you were in heat, consumed by a fever that only Bucky could cure.

His eyes fell over your body, tracing your tits and stomach, his gaze locking onto the way your panties—already a soaked mess—looked like they were begging to be torn away by his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his hands making quick work of your underwear.

With a harsh tug and a sharp tearing sound, the fabric gave away.

“I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do to you.”

Your panties didn’t even make it past your knees before tearing clean off your thighs. You winced slightly.

It was dizzying to think about how you had found the strength to fight Bucky earlier, only to now be reduced to a breathless, aching mess over a piece of torn fabric.

Bucky leaned back on his heels, unbuckling his belt and shoving open his unzipped, stained denim jeans.

The moment he pulled his cock free, it sprang forward then back—the tip slapping against his abdomen.

He was thick, his cock fully engorged and begging to be wrapped in something tight and warm. Pre-cum glistened at the tip, trailing down his shaft and mixing with the creamy white essence from his earlier release.

His eyes were glued to your soaking center, legs spread wide and inviting. His jaw slacked as he lazily pumped himself at the shaft, prepping his cock for your warm embrace.

He claimed he was a virgin, but the way he was looking at you with such a hungry look in his eyes made you think otherwise.

“Bucky,” you breathed, heart racing. “Are you sure you want to do this? With… me?”

Bucky leaned over your body, using his metal elbow to prop himself up while he slapped the tip of his cock against your entrance.

You weren’t sure where he learned that from, but the dirty act left you clenching around nothing.

“The more you ask, the harder it is for me to stay in control,” he gritted through clenched teeth. “I’m just gonna have to stuff you full of my cock just to prove how much I want you.”

You craned your neck, watching Bucky rub his tip up and down your folds—smearing his pre-cum while coating his shaft in your own slick juice.

When he positioned himself right at your opening and poked gently, testing your stretch, your folds immediately parted for him. You were so wet and pliable from the toxin that you were sure he would slip right in without a fight, despite how big he was.

“Just… just enough to get rid of the side effects, okay?” you muttered, though it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than him.

Bucky either didn’t hear you, or maybe he did and he just chose to ignore it.

With a clench of his jaw, he slowly pushed his hips forward, his eyes glued to the spot where your cunt wrapped around the head of his cock.

The sensation was delicious. Your body was burning hot, tight, and dangerously wet. He had only sunk the tip in, but it was already the greatest thing he had ever felt in his life. His eyes rolled back as a deep groan tore in his chest.

“Ohhh…”

Despite the toxin making your body more accommodating, you were still tighter than either of you expected.

You were being stretched completely and fully as Bucky kept going, relentlessly sinking his cock all the way inside until his dark, hairy base pressed flush against your folds. He was so big, and a part of you was grateful that he had already come once before this—because right now, his entire body was shaking with an uncontrollable need.

“So goddamn tight,” he cursed, his face twisting that looked almost like pain. “I never… fuck, I never expected pussy to feel this good… Christ.”

He stilled inside you, letting your body adjust to his size. But in reality, he was the one who needed time to adjust to your tightness.

You paced your breathing. Being stretched full by him made you want to scream at him to hurry up and move, to fuck you right into the dirt floor of the greenhouse—but you couldn’t make that kind of demand of a virgin.

Since it was his first time, despite the unfortunate circumstances, you were going to guide him gently.

“Hold me here,” you murmured, taking his hands and guiding them back to your thighs. “Feel me. It’s soft, isn’t it?”

Bucky breathed hard, nodding as he held you.

“When you’re ready, just move your hips nice and slow. Take your time.”

His face fell into a tight scowl, as if displeased with that order.

Every single one of his base instincts was screaming at him to fuck you hard and fast—to claim every surface of your pussy with his cock.

“F—fine,” he reluctantly agreed, his voice strained. He gripped your thighs tightly, spreading you open as he began rocking his hips back and forth.

His eyes were glossy with desire, transfixed by the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your body.

A thick, creamy white ring was forming around the base of his shaft, staining the unruly dark curls that sat at his pelvis.

Every time he pulled out, he made sure to sink back in even deeper, rolling his hips forward until the tip of his cock kissed your cervix.

Your eyes rolled back, your hands clutching his broad shoulders as he buried himself inside you.

“Fuck… just like that,” you moaned. “Keep going.”

“Does… does that feel good?” He swallowed hard, fingers digging deeper into your thigh.

You nodded fast. “So good—I don’t want you to stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Your breathless plea made him scowl , a frustrated snarl leaving his lips.

“This is torture.” He groaned.

You furrowed your brows, looking at his angry expression in concern. Torture? That wasn’t what sex was supposed to feel like. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him.

“Bucky,” you said, pressing your hand against his sweating chest. “If this is hurting you, we need to stop right now. Pull out of me—”

You gasped as his metal hand circled tight around your wrist, prying it away from his chest and pinning it over your head. He slammed you back to the floor, his large body shadowing yours as his face hovered.

His dark eyes bored deeply into yours—and you felt like if you so much as looked away, he might take it as a threat.

“No, I can’t—I can’t do slow,” he growled. “The drug in my veins, it’s like it's yelling at me to take what I want. And what I want is to fuck you until you cry.”

Your breath left your lungs as Bucky slammed his hips forward, burying himself inside you.

He pulled out halfway before fucking right back in, a broken gasp leaving your lips as you arched your back against the floor from the pleasure. You hadn’t expected him to fuck you this hard—being a virgin and all—but you couldn’t complain.

You had been craving to be taken like this since the moment the drug first entered your system.

“Oh my god—!” You cried out, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“Ah—fuck, you’re so tight,” Bucky cried out.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, his breath scalding against your skin as he relentlessly pumped his hips in and out of you, using your vulnerable body like his own personal sex toy.

“It feels too good, fuck, baby. Everything feels too good—I can’t stop,” he moaned.

Your moans blended together into a dirty symphony.

The toxin was amplifying every single touch, his thick shaft stretching you out completely—turning your usually strong and poised body into mush with every thrust.

Your wet walls clenched down on him every time he threatened to pull out, as if sucking him right back in. Bucky was entirely lost, his mind short circuiting from the pleasure.

Every time he buried himself deep, your swollen pussy tightened around him like your body was trying to milk him dry. You whimpered with every single thrust he gave you, your teary eyes meeting his in a lustful haze as you wrapped your legs tight around his hips for support.

“Fuck—my god, don’t do that—” He sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re squeezing me so tight. God—if this is what sex feels like, I never want to stop.”

He tilted his head down, his sweaty strands of hair tickling your hot face as he stared back down at the exact point where his hips got lost with yours.

Every stroke of his cock inside your tight body came with a hot wave of pleasure, amplified by the toxin coursing through your blood.

The sensation was addicting.

Bucky had never felt a pleasure like this before. He’d jerked off a few times in his apartment just to quickly relieve some stress, but that was always by himself.

He was a curious boy back in the forties, but he had never been close to getting any action like this.

To him, this was like a dream come true.

But he needed to go deeper. These regular, sloppy thrusts weren’t enough. He needed to feel more.

With a snarl, he leaned back to grip the backs of your thighs and shoved your knees up towards your chest, folding you into a tight mating press.

Before you could adjust to the new position, he pressed his hips against yours to lock you in place and sank down even deeper than he had before.

Your eyes flew wide, nearly bulging from their sockets as a sharp gasp ripped from your throat. His cock was stretching you at an impossible angle, burying himself so deep you could’ve sworn you saw stars.

Because you were already so sensitive from the toxin, having him bottom out so hard against your cervix made your core shudder uncontrollably, causing your legs to shake. Your head fell back against the floor, your toes curling in the air as your vision went hazy.

“Oh my god!” you cried out in a mix of pain and pleasure. “It’s too much—I can’t… you’re gonna make me cum!”

You felt your walls start to hyperventilate around his length. You knew he felt it, too, because he immediately doubled his pace.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, but it didn’t sound sincere. “Fuck—I’m so sorry. It just feels too good—fuck, I—”

His voice broke into a pained moan the moment your pussy tightened. You came hard around him without warning, your neck arching as a loud moan strained your vocal cords.

Bucky’s entire body tensed, his face twisting in a grimace from how your climax was squeezing him.

The feeling was exquisite, and fuck, he wasn’t going to last another second when he was buried this deep inside of you.

He knew your body was sensitive and overworked, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop moving. His balls had never felt this full, this heavy. He was close, so fucking close, and the more your pussy fluttered around his shaft, the more desperate he became to chase that same release.

“Shit. M’gonna cum,” he cursed, his hips stuttering as he hilted himself deep inside.

His cock twitched—he had never came inside a girl before, but he was determined to do so now.

He was going to make sure he filled you, to stuff your tight hole to the brim with his backed up super soldier seed.

“Gonna cum inside,” he warned, his metal hand sliding beneath your lower back and lifting your hips up to meet his thrusts. “I’m gonna cum inside—fuck, I hope that’s okay. I’m sorry. I can’t—I can’t control myself.”

You couldn’t muster a single coherent word. Only muffles and teary whimpers escaped you, but it didn’t matter what you said while Bucky was in this state. He had no intention of stopping.

His blue eyes were crazed, rolled back so far in his sockets you could see the white. He grit his teeth, meeting your hips with sloppy and wet thrusts. A litany of curses mumbled in broken strings under his breath, until finally…

“Oh my god—I’m cumming. Take it, baby. Take every single drop of me. Don’t let it go to waste. Please, I need this. I need this so fucking bad—”

With a firm grip on your thigh, he pinned you down and pushed his hips against yours.

His tip kissed your cervix, pulsing twice before his body gave way to your tightness. You were being filled by the thick, heavy pumping of his seed. You could feel his cock twitching relentlessly against your walls, determined to flood every inch of your pussy.

He buried his face in your neck, his chest heaving violently as he stuffed you so completely full that your lower belly felt heavy.

“I’m so sorry,” he pleaded brokenly.

Bucky trembled from head to toe, and despite his mumbled apologies, he kept your hips pinned securely so that not a single drop of his release could escape. He was spent, breathing in shaky and ragged gasps against your skin. He didn’t want to pull out yet, still savoring the feeling of your pulsing walls squeezing the very last drops from.

The two of you lay on the floor, tangled and sweaty in each other’s limbs. Once you finally caught your breath, your hands gently caressed his broad back, a comforting gesture that caught even you off guard.

“How… how are you feeling?” you finally mumbled.

Your body tensed as you braced yourself for an answer.

Now that the side effects of the toxin seemed to be wearing off, dread started trickling in.

You were terrified that everything you had just done with Bucky would be something he’d immediately regret. A part of you tried to tell yourself that you didn’t care—that he had despised you before this, and he would simply go back to hating you again.

But after being his first, there was an undeniable connection in the way you felt beneath him.

If he was already starting to feel regret... well, you weren’t sure how you would handle it. Guilt? Probably. The longer he stayed silent, the more the worry gnawed at you.

He eventually huffed a breath, but he didn’t pull away.

“If you’re wondering if I’m going to regret this,” Bucky began, his voice so raspy and tired that it sent a shiver down your spine. “The answer is no.”

You sucked in a breath, expecting a but to follow.

Bucky attempted to lift himself up slightly so he wasn’t crushing you, but he was still so sensitive that the movement made him wince sharply. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out yet, so he collapsed right back against you with a soft huff.

“I wish I could just stay like this,” he muttered, wrapping both arms around you while resting his head against your sweaty chest.

He looked so small and vulnerable in that moment, and it made your heart ache for him.

“Just holding you,” he whispered, hugging you tighter as his voice grew quieter. “Instead of constantly running, fearing for my life, or being taken away. I just want to stay like this. Holding a pretty girl.”

The tension was starting to become too much for you to handle. Your face burned, unsure of how to process the sudden compliment. Trying to break the tension, you huffed a soft laugh and continued to rub your hand up and down his broad back. He seemed to like your touch very much.

“I’m sorry you lost your virginity this way.” you tried to joke.

Bucky chuckled against your chest. “The man I was in the forties probably would’ve done a much better job.”

“Well, this wasn’t bad at all—I’ll tell you that much.”

The two of you lay there, chuckling softly in each other’s arms, until the loud, sudden static of your earpiece made you both jolt.

“Do you copy? Report in.”

You both froze, your hearts beating rapidly for an entirely different reason now.

Bucky cleared his throat as he reluctantly tried lifting himself up. The friction of his slick and semi-hard cock sliding out of you made you let out an involuntary whimper.

“Status update,” Steve pressed, his tone anxious. “Are you two safe, or are you compromised?”

Compromised, sure. But definitely not in the way Steve meant.

Suppressing a giggle, you tapped your earpiece with a bright smile, catching Bucky's eye.

“Glad to hear your comms didn’t break, Steve.”

A relieved sigh came from the other end. “Give me a status report. How are you two? How’s Bucky?”

You watched as Bucky began to pull his clothes back on, his face an embarrassing shade of red as he tried to compose himself. You chuckled softly.

“We’re fine.”

halfway through proofreading this i lowk realized this was slop. i thought i had a good idea and then lost the plot. if you actually liked this please consider leaving a like and hit that subscribe button *epic outro music*

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[sukunastuna]

YES

[superbassbuck]

club classics. | bucky barnes (18+)

⤷ dj!bucky barnes x landlord!reader

⭐︎ warnings: nsfw, greece au, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers, banter, arguments, alcohol, manchild player bucky, mean!bucky, john walker back to playing the role of a toxic bf, cheating (not by bucky), jealousy, oral (f!receiving), squirting, overstimulation, reader mentions she's on the pill (no pregnancy), praise, dirty talk, angst, alpine feature, dead rat, miscommunication, insecurities, hurt/comfort

⭐︎ word count: 17.8k

⭐︎ a/n: if you like mamma mia, this fic might be up your alley. this is my contribution for the bwat summer collab hosted by the lovely @barnesonly and @iamthatonefangirl. thank you for taking the time to keep us in check. thank you to @tw1sters for being my beta-reader! happy brat summer even though it was two years ago

synopsis: If managing a housing complex in Greece during peak tourist season wasn't hard enough, your stupid, DJ manchild of a tenant, Bucky Barnes, goes one step further to make it even more difficult—that is, until he overhears an argument between you and your boyfriend, John, and decides to prove that he actually cares about you for more than just pissing you off with his loud music.

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Oonts. Oonts. Oonts.

It was the same wretched sound all over again.

From where you sat in the complex’s office, the bass emitting from Bucky’s room was thumping and vibrating the very walls around you. The ground shook, and you swore you could see dust and pebbles straying off the ceiling and landing right into your cup of coffee.

There was no one else in the office, so you screamed as loud as you could.

“Keep it down, Barnes!”

But of course, your angry voice was met with even more thumping bass and weird techno noises.

Mumbling curses to yourself, you angrily picked up the office phone—which barely worked—and dialed his number. You pressed the receiver hard to your ear, foot tapping impatiently as you heard it ring once, twice, three times, until finally…

“Hey, you reached Bucky. Sorry I couldn’t get to the phone right now. Please leave your name and number—”

He had left your phone calls unanswered so many times, you had already memorized his voice message word for word.

With another curse, you slammed the phone back down, pushed out of your rolling chair, and stomped your way up to his room.

It was peak summertime, meaning that vacationers were flooding the streets of Greece looking for accommodations, meaning that your rundown complex had available rooms for cheap rent, meaning you had to leave your one-man post just to take care of the obnoxious tenant you should’ve kicked out years ago.

Finally reaching his door, you knocked angrily with a strength that threatened to break the hinges.

“Barnes, open up!” you shouted.

I wanna dance to me, I wanna dance to A. G—

“Bucky! Don’t make me break down this door!”

I wanna dance with George, I wanna dance to SOPHIE.

Christ. What the hell was he playing? Whatever this noise slop was, it felt specifically designed by Bucky himself to give you a headache.

“God, this fucking… fucking asshole—” you cursed to yourself, fishing for your keys in your pocket.

You unlocked his door and pushed it open. Lo and behold, you found him seated in the exact same position you always found him in every time you barged into his room for a noise complaint. Bucky’s music was so loud he didn’t even hear you enter, his focus entirely on his fancy DJ setup and speakers that probably cost more than his rent.

“Bucky!” Your face scrunched as it took every vocal cord in your body to muster the shout.

Bucky whipped his head around to face you, looking very much like a boy who had been caught red-handed watching porn—except this music was much worse than mediocre sex-on-a-screen.

He finally lowered the volume, allowing you the ability to actually hear your own thoughts.

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

You crossed your arms, jutting your hip out as you glared at him with an unpleasant and as equally disappointed frown.

“I tried calling your phone, but it went straight to voicemail. I need you to turn this music down.”

Bucky didn’t react.

He had heard this exact complaint from you more times than he could count. It was always the same routine. You’d yell at him, your body hot from the lack of AC circulation this shitty complex provided, leaving you standing in his doorway in a tank top—no bra—and tiny daisy dukes that left little to his imagination. And once you were done yelling, you’d go back downstairs to your office, and he’d turn the music right back up.

But of course, he always had a knack for making your job much harder than it actually was, purely because he loved seeing you get riled up.

“Oh. Is Georgia from the third floor complaining?” He tilted his head like an innocent puppy, knowing damn well that Georgia was a senior citizen who was legally deaf.

You scrunched your nose, looking even more pissed—which only made Bucky’s smile widen.

“No, but I’m complaining, and that should be enough to get you to shut the hell up—considering I’m your landlord.”

“Aw, but I’m dedicating this song to you.”

You wanted to stomp over to his desk and slap him right across the face to shut him up for good—but dealing with a lawsuit and a restraining order was the last thing you needed when you were responsible for running this shitty complex during peak tourist season.

“I’m not going to argue with you today,” you said, though it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself rather than him. “Soon, this complex is going to be packed with tourists and I need you on your best behavior. That means no loud robot music that’ll scare potential tenants away.”

Bucky flinched, looking offended.

“Robot music?” he scoffed, spinning back in his chair to face his laptop. “And you say this shit every year. Summertime, tourists, rent... but you’re lucky if even one person books a room.”

Your brow twitched. You hated how right he was. “Regardless, I need you to give the music a rest. If I’m not the one complaining, someone else will.”

You were ready to leave it at that. You turned around, your hand gripping the doorknob, prepared to slam the door behind you so he wouldn’t have the space to argue back. But of course, Bucky just couldn’t help himself.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

You spun around so fast your hair whipped across your face. “What the fuck did you just call me?”

Bucky kept his back turned to you. You didn’t even need to see his face to know he was wearing a smug, shit-eating grin.

“My music is harmless,” he muttered, clicking away at his screen. “And who knows? Maybe your future tenants will actually find it entertaining. I might even draw people in.”

“No, it won’t,” you hissed. “You’ll scare people away.”

Bucky shrugged. “Then what the hell am I paying you rent for if I can’t even listen to music in my own apartment?”

The way he said it was so casual, but you knew he had thrown those words out just to pull the pin right out of your heart.

Over the years, you had seen several tenants come and go, break their leases, or even scam you out of money. Taking over the building with little to no hope for business had been completely exhausting, and Bucky—along with Georgia—had been the only loyal tenants you had left.

In reality, the two of them were the ones keeping the place afloat.

You grimaced, facing the door again.

“Just… keep it down,” was all you said, because you no longer had it in you to keep up the fight.

Bucky had kept his promise to keep the music down—but that only lasted about a day. And Bucky being Bucky, if he didn’t have the ability to piss you off one way, he’d make sure to do it another.

You weren’t sure if it was entirely intentional or not, but regardless, it made your skin burn with irritation. While you were talking to a man seated across from your desk, the sound of a girl’s loud laughter echoed right above the office—and it certainly wasn’t the voice of any girl you recognized who lived in this complex.

You smiled through it. As long as you ignored it and didn’t address it, then maybe the man in front of you—who seemed to have every intention of staying here during his months long vacation—wouldn’t notice.

“But yes, as you can see, the building is very close to the beach—walking distance, actually!” You smiled, hands folding primly on the desk in front of you. “And the beaches in Greece are beautiful. I’m sure you’ve seen them while doing your research. You said you like to surf, right? This spot is very convenient for—”

“Haha—you’re so silly, Bucky!”

“I know. But you like it.”

The man in front of you glanced at the ceiling, frowning at the sound of the girl giggling, and you swallowed hard.

“—surfing….”

Instead of answering your question or addressing anything else you said, he kept his focus on the wooden ceiling above him and pointed up. “I take it this place is pretty busy—considering all the noise.”

You gripped your hands tighter.

If you weren’t able to secure this guest, you were going to make sure Bucky got an earful from you after this.

“That’s a good thing, right? Shows how lively Greece is during this time of the year.” You tried your best to salvage the situation, but your own words only gave you secondhand embarrassment.

The man chewed the inside of his cheek, his expression apprehensive. His eyes darted around the office, suddenly taking in the white plug-in wall fan that was making a suspicious whiiiirrr noise, along with the poorly painted window panels you hadn’t gotten around to fixing yet.

“Look, you seem like a nice, responsible, and hardworking young lady, but—” He stood up and started grabbing his bags. “I don’t think this place is right for me.”

“W-wait!” You scrambled from your chair, nearly lunging across the desk just to get him to stop. “We have much quieter rooms on the second floor! Facing the courtyard! You won’t hear a single thing over there, I promise!”

Fuck. What were you even saying? Bucky’s room was on the second floor.

The guy was already heading for the exit, his heavy duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He gave you a tight, sympathetic smile that felt more like a slap to the face before walking out.

“Sir, please! I can offer you a discount on the first month! Ten percent—no, fifteen!”

Your voice was pitching higher in distressed panic, but the bell above the office door gave you a cute and mocking ting! before he pushed it open and stepped out into the burning Greek heat. The door shut behind him, leaving you alone in silence with the stupid run down fan.

Well, almost silence.

Aside from the consistent whirring from the fan, another loud giggle squealed through the floorboards right above your head. Then came the thud of Bucky’s mattress hitting the bed frame.

Your eye twitched as your hands curled into tight fists. The payment that man would have given you had he settled in today—even with a fifteen percent discount—was supposed to be your grocery budget for the next three weeks.

Your sandals were already stomping up the stairs to Bucky’s floor. By the time you shoved the key into his lock, twisted it, and slammed the door open without so much as a knock, you were seeing red.

“Barnes!” you screeched, not even caring that the unknown woman lying in his bed was half-naked.

She squealed and yanked the blanket up to her chest, trying to cover herself, but you didn’t so much as glance at her.

“Bucky, I didn’t know you had a girlfriend!” she yelped, looking at Bucky with wide, terrified eyes.

Well, at least this one had some decency compared to the others. Most girls would look at you with swollen lips and a proud, “gotcha” smile to match. Bucky pushed himself up with a groan, giving you a glare that could have killed you right where you stood.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he grumbled, wiping his wet lips with the back of his hand. “She’s my landlord.”

“Oh.” The girl’s shoulders slumped in relief—and a part of you wished Bucky hadn’t clarified that, just so you could have kept the upper hand.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Bucky? You scared another potential renter away!”

Bucky didn’t look remotely remorseful. If anything, he looked mildly annoyed that his afternoon had been interrupted. He swung his legs over the side of the mattress, getting up to meet you at the door.

You didn’t even care that he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers that hung low on his hips—you had walked in on him one too many times to even bother telling him to put on a pair of pants.

“I didn’t do anything,” he said, his voice gravelly from whatever he’d been doing earlier. “I was minding my own business.”

“I’m sorry, but your ‘business’ becomes everyone else’s when you’re being too fucking loud!” you shouted. “I was seconds away from closing a three-month lease, Bucky. Three months! Do you know what I could do with that kind of money right now? I could finally fix the plumbing so the water doesn’t smell like eggs!”

The girl in his bed looked back and forth between the two of you, awkwardly clutching the sheet to her collarbone. “Um… should I leave?”

“Yes!” you snapped.

“No,” Bucky countermanded, running a tired hand through his already tousled hair. “Stay, Eleni. My landlord was just leaving.”

“Like hell I am,” you hissed, crossing your arms. “I swear to God, Barnes. If you keep this up, I’m going to tear up your lease and evict you.”

Bucky huffed a laugh. That was new. He had pushed your buttons enough to unlock a brand new threat—even if it was one you both knew you probably wouldn’t follow through with.

“Yeah, sure. Go ahead and kick me out,” he challenged, stepping closer. “You need me more than I need you, anyway.”

You were seconds away from going ballistic—from grabbing his precious DJ setup and throwing it right off the balcony. Every hair on your body stood up like a threatened cat, and you were ready to tear Bucky Barnes apart in his own room.

You sucked in a deep breath to unleash a litany of curses, and Bucky stood up straighter, bracing himself to return the sentiment right back, until a familiar voice called out from the office downstairs.

“Honey? Are you here?”

Both of you froze. Your accusatory finger hung in midair as your head instinctively turned towards the open door.

Of course. Your boyfriend, John, always managed to show up at the absolute worst timing possible.

“Would you look at that,” Bucky sighed—though you couldn’t tell if it was out of relief or annoyance. “Your knight in shining armor, coming to save me yet again,” he said sarcastically.

You shot Bucky one last lethal glare— forgetting all about Eleni still laying in his bed—and turned on your heel, stomping back down the stairs to tend to your boyfriend. As you hurried down, you flattened your hair and adjusted your tank top, trying to make yourself look somewhat presentable, though it was a lost cause.

“Hi, John,” you said, sounding more tired than endeared as you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Hey, you,” he grinned before pulling back to look at you, his expression turning from a smile to displeasure.

“Wow, you look terrible.”

Your boyfriend always had such a way with words.

You sighed, your shoulders slumping in defeat. With John here, you felt like now was the great time to talk about your day, hoping that it’d relief just a tiny bit of stress.

“I look terrible because my day is going terrible. I feel like a hamster running on a wheel that leads nowhere. It’s barely afternoon, and the day is already kicking my butt—”

“Did you hear that I got promoted today?”

You blinked at his blatant interruption. “I’m… I’m sorry?”

“No worries,” he waved his hand with a guileless smile, as if you were actually offering him a sincere apology when, in fact, you were just giving him the opportunity to rethink his interruption. “I said I got promoted. Valentina finally saw how hard I’ve been working and decided to give me the next position up. I’m making double the amount I made before!”

You felt utterly and completely defeated.

Here you were, feeling like a dog that had been beaten to the ground, and the man you proclaimed as the love of your life was flaunting his success. You should have been happy for him, but every sentence that left his lips only felt like a slap to your face.

“I’m happy for you, John,” you said, your voice wavering. You were happy for him—you really were—but John didn’t buy it.

He frowned. “Well…?”

You blinked again, your brows furrowing in confusion. “Well, what?”

“Are you going to take me out to celebrate?”

“Celebrate?” You huffed a laugh, taking his words as a joke. But one look at John’s face told you he was entirely serious.

Your lips twisted right back into a frown, your brows furrowing as dread began to settle in your gut.

“John… look around you. I can barely afford to keep this place running, much less take you out to celebrate your promotion. And besides, you’re making so much more than me now. Wouldn’t it financially make more sense for you to take us out if you really wanted to celebrate?”

You knew the words were blunt and straightforward, but truthfully, you didn’t have it in you to beat around the bush to cushion John’s feelings. You were drowning, and you needed to be honest with your partner.

John sighed, stepping closer and resting a hand on your shoulder.

“Honey, if money was that important to me—then I wouldn’t be with you right now, would I?”

Before you even knew it, you were looking at your partner not with the eyes of a lover—but with the eyes of an enemy.

“Excuse me?” You ripped yourself away from his touch, his hand dropping as you stared at him in utter disbelief. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

John let out a long sigh, his classic way of telling you that you were blowing things out of proportion. “I’m just saying, I don’t care about your financial situation. I’m looking past it because I love you. You don’t have to get so defensive.”

You wanted to cry. Your body was so coiled with nothing but rage, and right now, the only person you wanted to take it out on was John.

“Look past it?” Your voice cracked as it began to rise. “You’re looking past the fact that I run myself dry trying to keep a roof over my head with zero support from you? I can’t afford groceries, and instead of asking how I am, you walk in here, cut me off, brag about your money, and insult my business!”

“Oh, here we go with the drama,” John scoffed, throwing his hands up as if he were the victim. “It’s a rundown complex in Greece, honey, not the Hilton. You’re overreacting like you always do—”

“I am not overreacting! You are being incredibly selfish—”

“What’s going on here?”

You were so caught up in the yelling match that you hadn’t even heard the footsteps creaking down the stairs and into the office.

Both you and John turned to find Bucky and Eleni standing by the archway that led to the stairs. Bucky was dressed appropriately this time. By the looks of it, he had no intention of eavesdropping—he was just politely leading Eleni out of the building.

You swallowed hard. What a funny predicament to be in—complaining about Bucky and his noise just minutes ago, only to end up doing the exact same thing.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, averting your attention back to John. But John was already looking elsewhere—more specifically, right at Eleni.

“You sure? Sounded like things were getting pretty heated in here,” Bucky said, trying to make a joke that landed flat. “I was just leading Eleni out. You can go right back to tearing at each other’s throats once I escort her out, thanks.”

Eleni had been following close behind Bucky like a lost puppy, looking a little flustered, until her eyes scanned the lobby and landed squarely on the man standing next to you—who was already staring at her.

She froze, her jaw dropping. “John?” she gasped.

The color drained from John’s face, his cocky posture instantly stiffening into a defensive stance. “…E-Eleni?”

You blinked, looking between your boyfriend and the woman who had just been in your tenant’s bed. “Wait. You two know each other?”

Eleni gave you the exact same treatment you had given her earlier. She zipped right past you, completely forgetting about you and Bucky, and folded her arms tightly over her chest. “John, you asshole! You ghosted me after Cabo! You blocked my number and never returned any of my calls!”

The office went dead silent. Aside from the whirring fan, of course.

You felt your heart drop into your stomach. Cabo? John had mentioned going on a ‘business conference’ to Cabo—but that was only two months ago.

No.

He couldn’t have…

You slowly turned your head to look at John, silently pleading to whatever cruel God that was currently tormenting you to just give you a break. You hoped John would deny it, that he would tell this interloper to get lost, even if you hadn’t had the guts to do it yourself when she was upstairs.

But he didn’t. All he did was dart his guilty blue eyes around the room, looking anywhere but at the two women he had wronged.

“John…?” you whimpered.

And under just a smidge of pressure, John folded.

“I’m sorry!” he barked out defensively. “Look—it was a one-time thing, okay? I got drunk with Lemar on the beach, and… we lost track of time, and Eleni came up to me and—”

“Get the hell out.”

John’s shoulders slumped. He reached out for you again. “Honey, you don’t mean that—”

“Get out of my fucking face, John!” you screamed, slapping his hand away.

“Please, just listen to me for one second!” John pleaded, taking another step closer despite your screaming.

“I know I messed up, okay? I know it was a mistake—but look at the bigger picture here! I just got promoted. I’m making double now! I can take care of you. I can fund this entire complex and even… even fix the plumbing smell you’re always complaining about! Whatever you want! You won’t have to worry about a single cent anymore. Just please, don’t throw us away over a stupid slip up.”

Slip up?

Was this what he thought this was?

Years of being together, and his infidelity was just a slip up? A stupid moment of weakness?

You had thought that having a boyfriend—someone who loved you unconditionally—was the one thing you could have to yourself in this cruel world. You and John had your ups and downs, sure, but the idea of being in love was what kept you going.

Now, you felt entirely sick to your stomach—humiliated, exhausted, and broken.

“Stop it,” you choked out, a tear finally spilling down your cheek. You stepped forward and weakly slammed your palms against his chest, trying to push him towards the exit. “Just stop talking. Get out!”

Your hands were trembling, completely devoid of the strength you had wielded against him and Bucky just minutes ago. John barely budged under your weak shove. He sighed, reaching out to grab your wrists to stop you.

“Honey, stop. You’re hysterical right now, just calm down and—”

Before his fingers could even brush your skin, Bucky’s broad frame wedged itself between the two of you. He clamped a heavy hand hard onto John’s shoulder, shoving him back as he used his own body as a shield to protect you.

“You heard the woman,” Bucky gritted through clenched teeth, glaring down at your now-ex-boyfriend. “She told you to get the hell out.”

John stumbled back a step, swallowing hard as he looked up at the much larger man.

He tried to reclaim some of his lost dignity, puffing out his chest. “Hey, man, back off. This is between me and my girlfriend. It’s none of your business.”

“When you’re being that loud, your business becomes everyone else’s,” Bucky hissed. “You have three seconds to pack up your pathetic excuses and get your feet off this property before I throw you off it myself.”

If you weren’t such a fragile mess, you might’ve laughed at the fact that Bucky had just used your exact words to throw right back at John.

John looked at Bucky’s tight fists, then glanced past his shoulder at you, where you were wiping away your tears. He huffed a bitter laugh—he knew he couldn’t win a physical fight against Bucky, but that didn’t mean his pride was going down without a fight.

“Wow. Blew one of your tenants so he could act as your security guard since you couldn’t afford one?” John’s face twisted into an ugly, resentful sneer. “Fine. Keep her. I’m leaving.”

You were too busy sniffling behind Bucky—of all people—to notice that his shoulders were shaking with anger.

Bucky knew he wasn’t a saint, especially towards you, but hearing you get degraded by a man like this—a man you had given your heart to—made him unfathomably angry.

If you weren’t in such a sensitive, vulnerable state, Bucky probably would’ve had this guy pinned to the floor by now.

“While you’re at it, go ahead and take Eleni out with you,” Bucky added, nodding toward the woman dismissively, as if he hadn’t been tongue deep in her mouth just minutes ago. “Sounds like you two have some catching up to do, anyway.”

John muttered curses under his breath as he pushed through the exit, a timid Eleni trailing quickly behind him.

When the door shut, leaving just you and Bucky in the office, he turned around to finally look at you—and his heart broke right there in his chest.

He knew he had said and done things to purposefully get under your skin in the past, but seeing you now, looking so small with your cheeks stained with tears, it made him feel like the worst kind of man, despite not being the one who broke your heart.

“Hey,” Bucky murmured gently, resting both hands on your shoulders and leaning down so he was at eye level. “Are you okay—”

He nearly stumbled back from the impact of you burying your face into his chest.

You gripped his shirt tightly as you broke into the most gut wrenching sob he had ever heard in his life.

Without another thought, his arms came up to wrap securely around your body, holding you close against him. One large palm rested at the back of your head, soothing you with a comforting caress.

Bucky didn’t know what to say.

There had been times when he had almost made you cry out of sheer frustration, yeah, but that was almost. Now with you breaking down in his arms, he hated the very idea of you crying, period.

“Hey, he’s gone, okay?” he murmured against your temple. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He didn’t know what else to offer other than a couple of “you’re okays” and the occasional “I’m here.”

“I—I don’t understand—” you whimpered into Bucky’s shirt, which was now damp with your tears. “What did I do to deserve this?”

Guilt clawed at his heart while his teeth caught his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

He knew your words were also a partial reflection on him and how he’d been treating you—constantly making your job so much harder than it needed to be. He sighed, holding you a little closer.

“Nothing. You did nothing,” Bucky said, his tone gentler than you had ever heard it before. “You don’t deserve any of this. And I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” you sniffled. “For standing up for me. I… I didn’t know what to do. I’m just so tired.”

Bucky felt like the Grinch—his chest tight as his heart softened with each broken word you cried out.

For the first time since he had moved into your complex, he was hearing a thank you leave your lips. He might have expected it if he ever turned his music down on the first ask, or helped you take out the trash. But not once had you muttered those words to him until now, while you were weeping in his arms and holding onto him like he was the only person you could rely on.

He felt terrible.

He, of all people, didn’t deserve your gratitude.

“Hey, don’t get sappy on me now.” He sighed, caressing your hair again as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“You’re a strong girl. You’ll be okay.”

As the day bled into the rest of the week, Bucky felt like he was getting whiplash.

One day, you were crying in his arms and seeking his comfort, and the next, it was like you slapped your cold mask back on and went right back to being his personal landlord from hell.

He had made a promise to himself to help you out in small ways—like keeping his mixer at a lower volume, or offering to help paint the window frames. He hadn’t even invited a single girl over since your breakdown. It was selfish of him to think you’d soften up just because he held you while you cried, but you didn’t. Instead, it was the same usual business from you.

“Bucky, turn down your music!”

“Your music is giving me a headache. Lower it.”

“I can’t believe people actually listen to this robot music.”

Today, he had his friends over—Steve and Sam—whom you seemed to detest just as much because of the volume they brought with them.

Sam was lounging in the beanbag chair, his legs sprawled out, while Steve found comfort on Bucky’s bed. All three of them had a cold Mythos beer in hand, taking slow swigs while Bucky focused on mixing a new track on his laptop.

“Turn the music up,” Steve said, gesturing to the monitor with his bottle. “I want to hear how the bass hits on that drop.”

Bucky’s hand hovered over the master volume knob, then hesitated. If he recalled correctly, you had a lot of important calls to make down in the office today. The last thing he wanted to do right now was add more to your plate.

Slowly, he pulled his hand back, leaving the volume exactly where it was. “Nah, it’s loud enough.”

“No way, man. The walls are usually shaking from how loud you play this stuff,” Sam said, furrowing his brows. “Come on. Turn it up.”

Bucky kept his attention glued to his laptop, his hands adjusting everything on his mixer but the volume.

“My landlord is making calls downstairs,” he muttered, trying to sound as dismissive and nonchalant as possible in the hopes his friends would just drop it.

But of course, they don’t.

Steve sat up on the bed, his arms resting on his knees while the green bottle dangled loosely in his fingers. “Hold on. Since when do you care about what your landlord thinks?”

“Especially when it comes to your music,” Sam egged on, that teasing grin spreading across his face.

Bucky felt like he was a cat being cornered. He chewed the inside of his cheek, attempting to play around with the BPM to distract himself, but ended up completely messing up the transition.

“I don’t care what she thinks,” Bucky said quickly, his voice a little too defensive as he clicked aggressively on his trackpad. “I just don’t feel like hearing her run her mouth today.”

“You know, speaking of running her mouth—” Sam pushed himself up on the beanbag chair with a groan. “How did she react when she walked in on you and Eleni? Surely she heard all the noise you two were making, right?”

Steve barked out a laugh, waiting to hear Bucky’s response.

Bucky grimaced at the memory.

Despite them bringing Eleni up, his mind wasn’t on her at all—it was entirely on you and everything that had unfolded that day.

Normally, he’d chug his beer with his track set to the highest volume, laughing alongside Sam and Steve about how you were constantly on his ass, pestering him like a mother. But this time, he recoiled at the way his friends were talking about you.

He didn’t even know how to begin explaining it.

How could he explain that he hadn’t actually slept with Eleni because he’d overheard you arguing with your boyfriend, John? The very same John who got outed for cheating on you with Eleni—the girl Bucky just so happened to have brought home that day.

“We didn’t even sleep together. We were just messing around on the bed, and she came in to complain about the noise,” Bucky muttered with a casual shrug. “That’s it.”

Sam hummed in thought, pausing in the middle of sipping his Mythos. “You know what it sounds like your landlord needs? She needs to loosen up.”

Bucky frowned.

They had no idea what you were going through at all.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Take her to one of your gigs tonight—show her how good your music actually is, and what keeps her rent money coming in.”

Bucky couldn’t picture it. You, loosening up in the middle of a crowded dance floor, actually enjoying the music you constantly complained was nothing but “robot noise.”

“Yeah,” Bucky scoffed. “Like that’s ever going to happen.”

Steve shrugged. “A girl like that wouldn’t be hard to impress. Who knows, maybe she’ll realize the nightlife she’s missing out on here in Greece, ditch her lame boyfriend, and give you a chance instead—”

“Alright, alright, enough.” Bucky waved his hand, spinning around in his chair to glare at Steve. He hated how obvious it was that he cared. “Can we just get back to working on my mix? I need it ready and sounding perfect by Friday night.”

Sam’s brows rose. “Oh, Friday night! That’s the perfect amount of time for you to convince her to come out—”

Bucky groaned, rubbing the space between his brows to soothe his impending headache. “Christ, Sammy. Would you just shut up—”

“Eeeeek!”

Bucky was cut off by a loud, piercing screech echoing from down the stairs—straight from your office. He immediately sat up straight in his chair, his eyes widening.

Steve grimaced. “Jesus. What’s wrong with her now—”

But before Steve could even finish his sentence, Bucky was already throwing himself out of his chair. He lunged out the door and raced down the stairs toward you. As his feet pounded against the creaky steps, his mind scrambled through every worst case scenario.

Had John returned to threaten you?

Was a potential tenant giving you a hard time?

Either way, he was ready to tear them apart. And he didn’t care if Steve or Sam were right behind him to witness it.

“Hey!” Bucky barked, breathless as he rounded the corner into the office. “Are you okay—”

“Oh my god, oh my god, get away! No! Don’t get any closer!” you squealed.

Bucky froze in the doorway, only to find you stranded on top of your desk chair, your legs wobbly as you tried to keep yourself from falling. Your eyes were wide with terror, staring down at the floor. Bucky tilted his head to get a better look at what was going on.

Sitting right at the base of your chair was a stray white cat. Her tail was swishing lazily against the floor, and she was proudly holding a very dead, very fat rat between her teeth.

Bucky’s shoulders instantly slumped as he realized he wouldn’t be throwing hands with John after all—and just how ridiculous this entire situation was.

“Bucky, help me!” you wailed, pointing a shaky finger at the feline. “Get it out! Get it out of here right now!”

“Which one?” Bucky crossed his arms, making absolutely no effort to rush to your rescue. “The rodent, or the cat?”

“The rat, Bucky! Oh my god—she’s getting closer, ew!” You whipped your head toward him, frazzled. “Do something!”

Bucky sighed heavily.

He was on a tight time crunch, needing his mix ready by Friday for a gig at a massive club here in Greece—and now his precious time was being spent trying to wrestle a stray cat.

Then again, he had made a silent promise to himself to start helping you out.

He stepped away from the doorframe and closer to you, making exaggerated shooing motions at the animal.

“Shoo! Go on, get out of here. And take your friend with you.”

The cat looked up at Bucky with big, round blue eyes that perfectly matched his own, let out a raspy mewl, and turned her head right back to you. Wanting to ensure her favorite human accepted the prize, the cat pushed herself up on her hind legs, stretching her paws onto the seat of the chair to drop the limp rodent right at your feet.

“Oh my god, no! Don’t do that! Ew, ew, ew! No!”

You could’ve sworn you saw the dead rat twitch.

Panic completely overrode your system. Without a single thought for your pride or your dignity, you launched yourself off the chair and jumped straight into Bucky’s arms.

Bucky looked up, his eyes widening as he realized what you were doing, but it was already too late to brace himself.

He let out a oomph! as your body collided with his, nearly knocking him right off his feet. With a huff, his arms hooked around your waist and thighs to catch you before you both could hit the floor. He stumbled back, struggling to find his balance as you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder in panic.

He had never expected to find you in his arms again so soon—much less over a damn cat.

“You’re okay,” Bucky sighed, caressing your back. “Look! She’s already taking the rat away.” He reassured, despite the cat not moving a single paw.

You kept your face buried, your fingers tightly bunching the fabric of the back of his shirt. “Is she really? Promise me you’re not lying, Bucky.”

“Buck! We’re coming! Hold on—”

Steve’s voice echoed through the hallway as he and Sam burst through the office doorway in a sprint. Both of them had their shoulders squared and their fists clenched, ready to throw down in whatever fight Bucky had gotten himself into.

But they came to a halt, their eyes wide as they took in the view.

There was Bucky, holding the very woman he claimed to detest so much securely in his arms—bridal style, at that.

“Oh,” Sam chuckled, raising a brow. “Are we interrupting something?”

Bucky’s neck flushed a deep crimson. Even with your body tucked firmly against his, he was focused on the mortification of Steve and Sam drilling their stares directly into the side of his head.

“Get the rat out of the room!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

He tried to speak quietly so he wouldn’t startle you with the word rat, but the attempt obviously failed—because, well… you were right there, and you squealed in response.

Sam didn’t move, his grin only widening. “I don’t know, Buck. Pest control wasn’t really on the itinerary today. What’s the magic word?”

Bucky now understood why you hated his friends so much.

“Sam, I swear to God—”

Seeing that his best friend was about to combust from embarrassment, Steve finally took pity on him.

“Alright, alright, I’ve got it,” Steve reassured, stepping past them. He grabbed a plastic clipboard from your desk, using it like a makeshift shovel to carefully scoop the dead rodent off the chair.

“Ugh, that thing is huge,” Sam pointed out—eliciting another loud squeal from you—as he held the door open for Steve so they could dump it in the trash bins outside.

“Is it gone?” you whimpered into his chest.

Bucky looked down, his eyes softening as he took in the way your nose was pressed directly into his shirt. “It’s gone. I promise.”

With a relieved breath, you gently pushed yourself out of Bucky’s grasp until your feet hit the floor. He hated the sudden, empty space between the two of you.

Trying to bridge the gap you just created, Bucky stepped closer again, resting a warm palm on your shoulder. “Are you alright?”

He spoke so softly, with a gentleness that caught you off guard.

Heat tickled the back of your neck, your heart beating rapidly from the embarrassment of your outburst—and the fact that you had run straight into Bucky’s arms for comfort yet again.

“I-I’m fine,” you stammered, straightening yourself.

Steve and Sam were just about to walk back inside, but they stopped when they saw Bucky leaning down, his thumb now softly caressing your cheek.

They knew their friend had a long track record of being a blatant flirt and a playboy, but never once had they seen him soften up the way he was right now. Exchanging looks, the two of them played it smart and silently agreed to turn around, letting their friend have his chance.

You gently stepped away from Bucky’s touch, letting out a soft sigh at the cat still perched in the middle of the office floor. You hoped averting your attention elsewhere would soothe the awkwardness.

“Why’d you do that, Alpine? Are you trying to scare me to death?” you murmured, kneeling down to give her a gentle pat on her dusty head.

Bucky furrowed his brows. “She has a name?”

“She was a stray hiding near the trash bins a few weeks ago. I ran to the market next door to buy some food for her, and she’s been following me ever since. But I didn’t think she’d stick around long enough to gift me a…” You shuddered at the mere thought. “…a rat.”

He chuckled, kneeling down right next to you to offer the cat a few pets of his own.

“That’s cute,” he murmured. “Look at you, always on top of taking care of things—even the neighborhood strays.”

You let out a small laugh, the sound soft, warm, and genuine against his eardrums.

Bucky felt like his chest was going to explode. You were so close, smiling brightly in a way he almost never saw from you. As the last of your laughter trickled in the air, he realized this was his perfect opportunity.

The atmosphere between you two was soft. Your walls were down, and he could take this conversation exactly where he wanted it to go.

Are you free this Friday night?

Do you want to come see my set at the club? We could even dance together.

I actually named one of my tracks after you.

But you spoke up before he could. “Oh, I almost forgot. I wanted to say thank you.”

Bucky shrugged casually. “The rat was no problem—”

“No, not just for the rat. I meant for everything else,” you clarified, sitting up straight and meeting him in the eye.

“These past few days, I’ve noticed you’ve been… well, on your best behavior.” You offered a sheepish smile as you struggled to find the right words. “You’ve been lowering your music whenever I ask you to, and I really appreciate it. So, thank you.”

Bucky huffed a laugh.

Here you were—showing gratitude just because he was finally giving you the bare minimum. He didn’t deserve you.

“Yeah, well, even if my music isn’t blasting at full volume, it still sounds good,” he joked, flashing you a confident grin.

You rolled your eyes, letting your hands gently pet down Alpine’s spine. She was purring.

“You keep telling yourself that,” you teased back. “I still don’t know how you can listen to music like that all day, much less produce it.”

“It’s not music you listen to all day,” Bucky adjusted his posture so he was a bit more relaxed as he sat on the floor. “It’s music you listen to when the stars are out while strobe lights are blinding you.”

Without even realizing it, he started rambling.

“It’s the kind of music that's meant to make you feel good. To push all the thoughts out of your head, drown out the noise of the rest of the world, and just let yourself loose for a little while.”

You hummed in thought.

For the entire time you’ve known Bucky, you had never bothered to ask about his DJing simply because you didn’t care to.

You’d always figured it was just a stupid hobby he did to piss you off and disrupt your peace—but the way he talked about it now, passionately getting lost in his own words, made you interested to say the least.

“You should come to one of my gigs one day and see what it’s like,” he murmured, his voice sounding far more vulnerable than his usual confidence. “It’ll be fun.”

You blew a raspberry, though you weren’t entirely put off by the idea.

“I appreciate the invite, but look around you, Bucky,” you huffed, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “This place is running on my bare hands alone. I can’t afford a night off.”

“Then let me help you,” Bucky interrupted, turning his body so he was giving you his undivided attention. “You need help painting the window frames and fixing the plumbing, right? I’ll take care of it.”

You blinked, your eyes widening in surprise.

Bucky… helping you?

This was completely out of character for him. You braced yourself for the catch, waiting for him to follow up with something like, “As long as I can bring home whoever I want, play my music as loud as I want, and get a discount on my monthly rent,” but nothing came.

“I don’t know, Bucky—”

“Come on, sweetheart,” he grinned, that taunting tone creeping back into his voice. “Let someone help you for once.”

You searched his eyes, trying to catch a punchline, but still, there was nothing.

You didn’t quite believe him. You figured this was just his way of tossing you sympathy points to get you to praise him some more, only for him to end up doing absolutely nothing.

So, you just sighed, rolled your eyes, and pushed yourself up off the floor.

“Whatever you say, Barnes.”

To your surprise, Bucky had actually made true to his promise and helped you around the complex.

He was already up most mornings before you even arrived, blasting his music from his speakers. Instead of just fixing the paint on the window panels, he reinstalled new ones and painted them over with the pretty blue you’ve been eyeing.

It made you feel giddy, seeing him in a tank top and jeans that were covered in both dirt and blue paint.

“Morning,” you shouted over the music, setting your cup of coffee down at your desk. Alpine was still here—curled up in your chair. Bucky must’ve let her in.

“You’re already working on the window panels?”

Bucky didn’t hear you at first, sweeping his paintbrush back and forth until he lifted his head in your direction. He reached over to his Bluetooth speaker, lowering his music to a much more appropriate volume for seven in the morning.

“Oh, yeah.” He pushed himself up with a groan. “Thought I’d get started on the easy stuff first.”

He crossed his arms, taking a step back to admire his work. Then, he looked at you for your reaction.

“How… how do you like it?”

You wanted to jump up and down in glee with how beautiful the windows looked. The bright blue color made everything much more welcoming and inviting, but you didn’t want to give Bucky the opportunity to gloat just yet.

“Hm,” you tilted your head. You could feel Bucky growing anxious beside you—though he tried his best not to show it. “I think I want it in a different shade of blue, actually.”

Bucky’s eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. He raised his hands, about to protest, but you broke down in a laugh.

“I’m kidding,” you said, wiping a tear at his reaction. “It’s perfect. I love it.”

He let out a heavy sigh of relief, but you could still see the grump lines on his face. “Good. Otherwise I would’ve painted your face blue,” he muttered, motioning to the paintbrush.

“Oh? You mean like this?”

You quickly snatched the brush out of his hands, and before he could even process what was going on, you had already swiped a stripe of blue paint over his stubbled cheek.

Bucky stood there, wide eyed. He swiped his thumb over the paint and looked down at his fingers, appalled. But while you were busy laughing in his face, a slow smile cracked across his lips. He suddenly lunged for you, wrapping his strong arms around your body from behind. He hooked the paintbrush back out of your hands, smearing a streak of blue over your face as well.

“Bucky, stop!” you yelled, thrashing in his arms as you just barely dodged the bristles that were tickling your chin with paint. “Stop! I can’t be covered in paint—I have to work!” you argued, despite the breathless laughter breaking in between your words.

“Yeah, well. You should’ve thought about that before you attacked me first, sweetheart.”

From that day onward, your week with Bucky had been filled with more laughter than you’ve had in the entire course of previous months.

Each day was eventful—Bucky was always up early in the morning working on the complex, somehow always managing to find new things to fix, while you arrived with cups of coffee and a bag of treats for Alpine.

During break times, you and Bucky would eat lunch together in his apartment, and he introduced you to more and more of his music.

Every time you two worked, he always had his music playing. Slowly, you started to become fond of it. There were even a few tracks of his that you liked so much, you actually saved them to your own playlist. And every time you asked him for the track title, Bucky would laugh and say, “See? I told you my mixes are good.”

Now, you were sitting on his beanbag chair with your legs crossed, the two of you eating pitas with cold beers to wash them down.

“It’s all about the frequencies,” Bucky said, gesturing to the DJ controller sitting on his desk. He set his beer down, leaning forward as his fingers traced the knobs and sliders. “You’ve got your lows, mids, and highs. If I want to drop the bass out to create suspense before the hook hits, I twist this dial right here.”

He clicked a button, and the beat lost its thump thump, turning into an airy synth. Then, he slid a fader up, and the thumping beat came back in.

“That’s pretty cool. It’s a lot more complicated than I thought.” You leaned your head back against the beanbag, looking up at him with a sheepish grin. “Honestly, I just thought guys up there would bop their heads to pre-made music and pretend like they’re doing something. I didn’t think they played it all live.”

Bucky chuckled, his shoulders shaking as he swiveled his chair to face you. “Surprising, isn’t it?”

He glanced at his desk, then back to you. “Come here,” he nodded his head toward the console. “Try playing something.”

“What?” you said, sitting up straight. “No. Knowing my luck, I’d touch something and it’d break.”

Bucky huffed a laugh.

Who would’ve thought that the very woman who had threatened to throw his entire DJ setup out the window was actually too scared to even touch it?

“Enough of that. Come here, I’ll show you.”

Judging by the look on Bucky’s face, you knew he wasn’t going to let this up. With a reluctant sigh, you pushed yourself off the beanbag chair and walked over to him. He scooted his chair back, giving you the space to step right up to his setup.

You felt your face warm up instantly when he swiveled right back around, locking you between his desk and his lap.

“Sit down,” Bucky instructed from behind you.

You glanced over your shoulder and swallowed hard. His lap was spread, and he was leaning as far back in his chair as possible to make space for you. You wanted to make an excuse, to say you were much better off standing, but you knew Bucky would just fight you on it.

Mustering up your courage, you sat down, pressing your bottom directly into his lap. Bucky didn’t seem to mind it at all—meanwhile, your face was burning like crazy.

“Here,” he murmured, reaching around you to grab your arm. He guided it toward one of the sliders and placed his hand firmly over yours, setting your fingers down gently on the control.

Bucky’s palm was rough and warm against the back of your hand.

He leaned in closer, his chest pressing into your back, and you could feel the rumbly vibration of his chuckle against you.

“Relax,” he murmured right against your ear, his breath tickling your neck. “I’m not gonna bite. Unless you ask nicely.”

You hated him. You really did.

“Bucky, I swear to God—”

Bucky nudged your hand forward, forcing your fingers to slowly push the slider upward. As the fader moved, the track playing through the monitors began to warp.

“That’s the high-pass filter,” Bucky explained softly. He shifted slightly beneath you, adjusting his thighs under your bottom. “Hear how it cuts out the low end? Now, wait for the timer on the screen to hit zero, and slam it back down.”

You did exactly as instructed, yanking it down the second the timer hit zero, and a smile broke across your face at the bass.

“Wow, that sounds pretty good,” you breathed.

Curiosity got the best of you, and you started to play around with the different sliders on your own—creating a whole new funky and out of beat mix. You messed with the distortion and the reverb, and it sounded terrible enough to make you burst into laughter, with Bucky laughing right along beneath you.

You pressed a button, then a beep! noise came after. A red light started blinking at the soundboard.

“You’re recording now,” he said. “Want to sing something?”

“God, no.” You laughed.

Sooner or later, you felt his hands slowly drift from your arms down to your hips. Surprisingly, you didn’t mind his touch one bit. It felt entirely natural. Like his hands were always meant to be right there—guiding you, holding you…

“Come watch me play on Friday,” he murmured gently.

You looked down at him over your shoulder, and your breath caught. Bucky had been staring up at you this entire time. His blue eyes bored right into yours the minute you made eye contact, with no intention to break it first.

“Bucky, I…”

“I can get you in for free—you can skip the line, or come whenever you want. Just take one night off for yourself. You deserve it.”

You chewed your lower lip, feeling apprehensive. You and Bucky had done enough hard work over the last few days to compensate for the rest of the week, essentially clearing your schedule.

Looking into Bucky’s eyes—seeing the blue glimmer with hope just like the Greek ocean does on a sunny day—made it so much harder to say no. He had done so much for you these past few weeks, and the very least you could do was watch him do something he was truly passionate about.

“Fine. But only if you play my favorite tracks,” you said with a teasing smile.

Bucky blinked, as if he hadn’t heard you right.

Then, his lips pulled into the biggest, brightest grin you’d ever seen from him. His grip on your hips tightened before trailing up to your waist. Hell, he’d delete this entire set he had been working on for months if it meant you’d come watch him.

He was so overjoyed with excitement that he didn’t offer any words to prove it.

Instead, he pulled your waist a little tighter, tilted his head up, and kissed you.

You froze, your eyes going wide as his warm lips connected with yours.

You?

Kissing Bucky?

You never thought you would see the day. But the second his slick lips began to dance with yours—the second his tongue pushed past your lips to taste you—it was like all the stress from before this, all the emotional drain from your breakup with John, disappeared in an instant.

“Mmm,” you moaned into the kiss. Your hands flew to the back of his neck, burying into his messy brown hair and giving it a firm tug that made him groan right back against your mouth.

Bucky’s hands slid up from your waist, his large palms smoothing against your ribs and moving to your back to pull you closer against him.

He tasted like the cold beer, but his mouth was intoxicating heat.

Bucky had his fair share of kisses with women—just as you had your fair share of makeout sessions with John. But neither of you had to say a single word to know that this was it. This kiss shared between you two was like no other.

His hands roamed under your tank top, his fingers tickling your lower back as he trailed upward.

Of course, you had no bra on. You never wore one in this suffocating summer heat. That was one of Bucky’s favorite things about you.

Bucky broke the kiss to catch his breath, his head leaning back against the chair to gaze up at you. His eyes flickered down, lifting the hem of your shirt to reveal your smooth belly. He had seen your midriff from a distance whenever you bent over in your office—but never up close like this.

He groaned hungrily, then leaned in, pressing soft, warm kisses to your abdomen.

“A—ah, Bucky…” you mewled, squirming from the ticklish sensation.

He looked up at you with the softest eyes a boy could have, leaning his cheek right against your fluttering stomach. His stubble made you ticklish, but he didn’t pull away.

“I love it when you say my name like that,” he sighed dreamily. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your face warmed and you stammered, avoiding eye contact.

It was clear to Bucky that you weren’t used to receiving compliments, especially not from your no-good ex-boyfriend, John Walker.

But that was okay, because Bucky was here to change that.

“The most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he murmured. You tried to shy away from his compliment again, but his fingers trailed up to your chin, tilting your head down so you were forced to look at him.

“The prettiest eyes, the prettiest smile,” his thumb traced patterns on your bare hip. “And the prettiest lips. God, those lips.”

He leaned in to press his lips against yours once more. Your tongues danced in a warm embrace as he slowly began to undress you, starting with your tank top. His hands eagerly lifted the fabric, breaking the kiss momentarily just so he could pull it over your head before his mouth crashed right back down onto yours.

In between kisses, he would murmur things like, “So beautiful,” and “Mine,” every soft word matching the steady blood flow pumping from his heart and straight to cock.

When his hands found the button of your shorts, you rolled your hips forward, grinding that hot, delicious heat right against the growing bulge in his jeans.

He chuckled raspily against your lips before pulling away, his lips swollen and his chin sheen with exchanged saliva.

“Eager little thing, are you?”

You groaned in annoyance, though it sounded incredibly sexy to his ears.

You worked at his belt, then moved to the button of his jeans. “Take these off.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. His hand caught your wrist, gently prying it away from his pants. “You’ve ought to learn how to say please.”

His arms wrapped securely around your body, lifting you up from the chair so suddenly that you yelped, wrapping your legs around his waist instinctively. He led you quickly over to the edge of his bed, setting your body down and tucking himself right between your thighs.

“Besides,” he breathed, eagerly pulling your shorts down along with your panties and throwing them over his shoulder. “I’m still not done with you. I want to take my time worshiping this fucking body.”

You lay there sprawled out and bare while Bucky was still fully clothed. It was overwhelming, but you didn’t have time to fully process it before Bucky’s head tucked between your thighs, his nose pressing to your base as he inhaled deeply.

“Fuck, you’re dripping already.”

You arched your back, letting out a shocked gasp. “B-Bucky—! What are you—!”

“Relax,” he murmured against your sensitive skin, his hands finding your outer thighs and prying them wider for him. “Just want to taste you, baby.”

Bucky’s tongue swiped flat against your dripping center, the tip of his tongue flicking your sensitive clit. He groaned, letting the taste of you linger on his mouth.

He glanced to look at you between your legs, and the sight of your face—brows pinching together with your bottom lip caught between your teeth—made his cock painfully hard. You lying bare in front of him was an invitation for him to sink his cock into you, but he wanted to savor this.

He tucked his head back down, lapping at your pussy sloppily. His warm tongue would tease your entrance with every flick, before slowly dragging up. He’d press his whole mouth against your pussy, pushing his tongue deep against your clit and dragging his tongue up and down quickly to make you cry out in pleasure.

“Bucky—please, oh god, Bucky—!”

He swirled his tongue around the swollen peak of your clit, sucking it into his mouth with a light tug that had your toes curling around his head.

You were so deprived of intimate touches, never being ate out in a way that Bucky was eating you out, and you already felt like you were about to cum embarrassingly fast.

“Don’t stop, I’m gonna cum—” you whimpered, hand coming up to your mouth to muffle your cries.

Bucky had no intention of stopping.

He doubled his efforts, the sound of his wet tongue squelching against your cunt, lapping at every drip your arousal gave him. He was eager to make you fall apart, to listen to you cry out his name as you came all over his face.

Bucky inhaled sharply as you began riding his tongue with abandon. You were being selfish—chasing your high. He knew you were that kind of woman, to take what you wanted, and fuck, did he love you for it. Especially when you’re riding his face for your own pleasure, not even caring if he could breathe or not.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moaned, tossing your head. “Fuck me with your tongue, Bucky. I’m gonna cum—!”

Your eyes went wide when you realized you were about to let out more than you could handle. But you couldn’t stop—not when Bucky was pressing his tongue firmly against your clit and holding your thighs down with his strong hands.

“Bucky—wait, I…” before you could warn him, your back arched off the bed into a cry.

Your orgasm came hot and hard, pleasure suddenly flooding your senses as you felt yourself gush around his tongue. Bucky’s face was drowning with your juices, your puffy cunt clenching around his mouth. Your wet essence trickled down your thighs and stained his bedsheets vulgarly, leaving a wet spot beneath you.

“Oh my god,” you panted, face burning hot as you fought to catch your breath.

Bucky finally pulled away, a smug grin plastered on his face while his chin was dripping with your juice. You watched as he licked his lips, the gesture only making you want to sink deeper into his bed from embarrassment.

“Look at that,” he kneeled back, hand rubbing his hard cock through his jeans. “You made a real mess on my bed.”

Your eyes were shamelessly glued to the way his dick was printed against his pants. It was strained tight against the denim, and you could see the heavy outline of his tip, spurting pre-cum and dampening his thigh with his own juice.

“I’m… I’m sorry…”

Bucky chuckled—a deep, raspy sound that made you clench around nothing.

“God, baby. You’ve got my dick so hard, it hurts,” he rasped, finally pulling his cock out of his pants and kicking the article off the bed. “You already came so much. I don’t know if you can go another round.”

You weren’t sure, either. But with the way he was jerking himself off, that heavy string of pre-cum dangling from his tip, and the way his balls looked so full and desperate for relief, you were determined to go another.

He crawled over you, dragging his tip along your shaking inner thigh and against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness as he probed you.

You were so sensitive, your pussy puffy and aching, yet when he pushed his tip in to test you, your cunt parted for him so easily. You winced, your overworked pussy already fluttering around his tip despite yourself.

“Please, Bucky…” you whined, and it might’ve been the cutest thing Bucky had ever heard. “Put it in. It hurts…”

“It hurts? Aw, baby. But I bet you’re not hurting as much as I am.” He grabbed your hand, guiding it down to his cock. It was so hot, his skin smooth as it twitched under your fingertips. “Feel that? It’s aching for you, baby.”

Bucky grabbed your hips, aligning himself perfectly so he could sink in deeper, pushing his tip past your tight walls until half of his cock was embraced by your warmth.

“Fuck, you’re tight… even after cumming,” he hissed, his face tightening as he eagerly pushed his hips forward to stretch you out. “Like you were made for this.”

Already sensitive, the sudden fullness was overwhelming. A high-pitched gasp tore from your throat as your walls clamped down hard on him, tightening around the middle of his cock where he was thickest.

You whimpered and winced, trying to accommodate him, and Bucky felt his heart soar.

You were usually always so demanding, wound up so tight from constantly being overworked, and now you were wound up tight from his cock bottoming out in your pussy. Each moan and gasp of breath that left your lips made his cock twitch and his balls heavier.

“Those cute little noises—it makes my cock throb so hard,” he groaned.

Once his cock was fully sheathed inside, he started to pick up the pace, his balls slapping against you with wet and obscene smacks. His room—usually filled with the sounds of his music—was now filled with the sounds of your moans, and that was the greatest sound Bucky had ever produced.

He was fucking you so deep, each thrust met with curses and grunts. “So fucking beautiful,” “What a tight little pussy, fuck.” “You’re gonna make me cum so fast. M’already getting close…”

Each moan that left his lips made white spots dance around your vision. He was so deep, you could feel him in your gut. Pressure was building fast in your lower abdomen—a fullness that was equally agonizing and overwhelming.

Bucky’s big body was enveloping yours, his chest pressed into your sweaty one as he rocked his hips sensual and deep. He quickened his pace, in and out, in and out, until he felt his balls clench up.

“Shit, shit—” he gasped into your shoulder. “Not gonna last.”

Your pussy was like a drug. It was addicting, the way you would squeeze and flutter around him. Despite him making you squirt all over his sheets just minutes ago, you were already edging on your next orgasm. He felt every ripple and pulse your cunt had to offer—pumping him with your pussy before you cried out in pleasure so overwhelming, it made you see stars.

“Bucky!” you screamed, “oh my god—I’m cumming again—I can’t—”

Fuck, this was the fastest he had ever came.

“Please tell me you’re on the pill,” he pleaded with a broken voice.

That was essentially your warning that he was gonna cum inside. And when you nodded, that was his invitation to do it.

His entire body coiled up tight as he started pumping you full of his backed up seed. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had sex before you. All that mattered now was that his balls were finally being drained inside the person he wanted to pump them in the most—his precious landlord.

“Shit. I’m cumming, fuck! You’re squeezing me so tight—” he gasped as his body collapsed over you, huffing angry groans as his body tensed—draining every drop of his cum into your overly fucked pussy.

The two of you lay tangled in each other’s sweaty limbs, melting under the shared, musky scent of sex.

While Bucky was catching his breath, he peppered you with wet kisses—to your collarbones, shoulders, neck, and chin.

“You’re so pretty. Could lay with you forever—just like this.”

Who knew that Bucky Barnes, of all people, was the one person you slept with who made you feel more pleasure and adored than John ever had?

Your heart felt too big for your chest, and you felt like you wanted to cry. The way he held you and murmured sweet things to soothe your heart—it all became too much.

A small sniffling sound escaped you before you could stop it, and Bucky caught it immediately. He tilted his head up and looked at you, wide eyed.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed so softly, his palms coming up to caress your cheeks so you would look at him. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

Bucky was so soft, looking at you with wide, adoring eyes, like you were the only woman in the world and the only one he wanted to be with. It was hard to believe that this was the same man who always made sure to get a rise out of you just weeks ago.

“I’m… I’m okay,” you stammered. “I just… didn’t expect all this.”

Bucky frowned, his touch so delicate as if he were afraid of hurting you.

“I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t apologize,” you interjected gently, your fingers running through his sweaty strands of dark hair so you could see his eyes. “I loved every bit of it.”

He searched your eyes, his brows furrowing with vulnerability as he tried to find the truth in your words. When you held his gaze, showing how sincere you were, his frown tilted back into a sheepish smile—a far cry from his usually smug grins that you always wanted to wipe off.

“Good. Because I don’t regret a single bit of it,” he leaned in, capturing your lips with a wet kiss. “You better come on Friday. Watch me play. Then, after my set, we’ll come back home and make love all over again.”

You grinned at how blatant he was. But lying here with him, soaked up in each other’s essence, it was hard for you to say no.

“Fine. I’ll take your word for it.”

With how busy you were taking care of the complex, Friday night came in the blink of an eye.

Despite living in Greece, on an island notorious for its nightlife, you weren’t a fan of clubbing at all. You were always so busy, elbows deep in the run down housing complex just to keep it afloat—so naturally, you didn’t have anything to wear.

When you had asked Bucky for advice, he told you, “Whether you wear a short skimpy dress or a skirt that goes down to your ankles, I’ll be tearing it off later in bed.”

You had rolled your eyes at that before settling on a dress that was far too short and far too tight for your liking. But you couldn’t be bothered to care, considering the club would be dark and packed enough with bodies that no one would notice your outfit anyway.

You arrived later than you had anticipated, having been caught up with last minute paperwork and calls. By the time you got there, the club was already packed nearly shoulder to shoulder, with colorful neon strobe lights dancing across the crowd.

Your eyes naturally gravitated to the stage, where a familiar—if slightly fancier—DJ setup stood right in the center.

And of course, Bucky was right behind it.

He was manning the mixer, getting lost in his own music while the lights danced around him. One hand was resting on the mixer while the other rested on his headset. He kept his promise of playing your favorite tracks—and you couldn’t help but smile with the way he had everyone dancing in the center.

You felt out of place, standing awkwardly by the bar while everyone danced drunkenly around you. Unlike Bucky, this was not your element at all. But you took the night off, making a promise to yourself, and Bucky, that you would enjoy yourself.

Remembering Bucky’s instructions from earlier that day, “Just go up to the bar, tell them you’re with me, and get whatever you want,” you pushed your way through the crowd to get the bartender’s attention for a drink.

A guy with a slammed expression who looked like he’d been dealing with unruly tourists all night finally looked at you.

“Hey,” you shouted over the music.

“What’ll it be, miss?”

“A double Tsipouro—I’m with Bucky,” you hiked your thumb over your shoulder, pointing at the DJ who was currently mixing your favorite track.

The bartender paused, looking at Bucky on stage, then back at you with an irritated scoff.

“Yeah, like I’ve never heard that one before,” he grabbed a double shot glass, filled it to the brim, and slid it towards you. “That’ll be €8.”

You frowned. You contemplated on arguing back, but the local girls next to you giggled after they eavesdropped on the interaction, and by then, the bartender was already tending to the next person.

With a sigh that felt almost self-deprecating, you downed the shot without a chaser, and tried to enjoy the rest of the night listening to Bucky’s set without letting that interaction get to you.

After a couple of shots—that you all paid for—you went from being buzzed to intoxicated. You were dancing by yourself in the crowd, relishing every bass and beat that Bucky was throwing up on stage. When an unexpected hand came to rest on your lower back, you instantly spun around to tell the guy off.

“Hey, get your hands off—!” but you stopped when you saw Steve standing right in front of you with Sam right next to him.

“If it isn’t Bucky’s landlord,” Sam teased with a tone that brought good intentions, “I didn’t think we’d ever see you here.”

“Did Bucky drag you out tonight?” Steve asked.

With the alcohol bubbling in your bloodstream, you weren’t sure if you hid your flustered expression well.

You had no clue how much Bucky had told his friends about you—how you two were technically a ‘thing’ now, despite not officially talking about it.

“Yeah,” you shouted back. “He wanted me to come out tonight to watch his set. He’s really good.”

“He definitely is,” Steve agreed, then grabbed your hand. “Well, if you’re out here to party, better make the most of it.”

You laughed as Sam and Steve pulled you further into a clearer pocket of the crowd. With the two guys next to you—warding off the other drunk men who tried getting close to you—you actually started to let loose. You were laughing, your chest feeling lighter than it had in months.

During a transition, you looked up at the stage to see if Bucky had noticed you in the crowd yet.

But then your smile faltered, and you realized you were no longer dancing.

A small group of girls—dressed in tight outfits and looking beautiful—had managed to bypass the side security and were now crowding his DJ setup. They were drunk, based on the way they were stumbling and trying to grind on Bucky—who you thought was just trying to focus on his music. But he smiled.

You didn’t know if that was him trying to save face because he was right there, in front of a whole crowd, but from where you were standing, it seemed like he enjoyed every bit of the attention they were giving him.

You looked down, suddenly feeling incredibly self conscious in your dress.

“Don’t worry about that,” Sam reassured you as he continued dancing. “People get on stage all the time, no matter who’s playing. His set is ending soon, anyway.”

Based on Sam and Steve’s expressions, they weren’t soothing your insecurities, but rather assuming you were just expressing concern for a friend’s safety. They didn’t know you and Bucky had a thing going on at all.

You tried to push those thoughts away for the rest of the night, but how could you? Not when every single time you looked up to see Bucky—the person you came out tonight for—he was being smothered by and dancing with half dressed girls.

You tried to get lost in the music, but instead, you were getting lost in your own thoughts.

It was a horrible, familiar feeling.

It was the exact same feeling you had felt with John, who had sworn he only had eyes for you while routinely crossing boundaries, making you feel like you were crazy for caring, and eventually cheating on you. You had promised yourself you would never let a man make you feel that way again.

And yet, here you were.

You thought about the night you and Bucky had just shared. But what was it to him? Just a fun distraction with his landlord? The woman he always swore he hated? Were you just another checkbox on his list—one he sought after simply because you were ‘playing hard to get’ in his eyes?

Bucky was a playboy. His friends knew it. You knew it. And hell, even the only other tenant in the complex—who was deaf, mind you—knew it.

You were the one who had to watch him constantly bring different girls back to his place week after week. You were the one always barging in on them with noise complaints. He was charming, hot, and clearly popular in clubs, and he knew exactly what to say to get what he wanted.

“Just go up to the bar, tell them you’re with me, and get whatever you want.”

And on top of it all, you remembered what the bartender had said.

“Yeah, like I’ve never heard that one before.”

He had heard it before because Bucky had probably used that exact same line on a dozen other girls.

You weren’t special.

You were just the latest girl on his list, foolish enough to believe his sweet compliments after he ravished you in bed—the very same bed he had shared with countless other women.

Tears stung the backs of your eyes, blurring the flashing strobe lights into a messy smear of color. Your throat choked up, your chest tightening so hard it hurt to breathe.

“Hey,” Steve leaned down, noticing your expression. “You okay?”

You couldn’t even answer him. If you opened your mouth, a sob would escape.

You tried to give Bucky the benefit of the doubt—that this was just his job, that he had to put on a pretty smile and perform. But as you looked up and saw him with a drunk smile, leaning closer to a woman who had her hand on his chest and was shouting something in his ear, that was it for you.

“Sorry, I—I… um, I forgot to finish some paperwork that’s due tomorrow morning,” you lied, trying your best to sound steady. “Have fun tonight.”

Steve and Sam offered to take you home, but you couldn’t let them. You needed to be alone.

And that’s exactly what you did.

You took a cab back by yourself, drunkenly stumbling into the complex’s office with only one thing on your mind. It wasn’t because of stupid paperwork or bills. It was to tear up Bucky’s lease.

You shoved the key into the lock with a clumsy hand. Bursting inside the small office, you slammed the door shut behind you.

The office was dark, but sitting right there in the very center was Alpine. The white cat lifted her head from her food bowl, kibble crumbs decorating her white, fuzzy chin as she blinked tiredly at you.

The sight of her made the tears spill over your cheeks. You were intoxicated, heartbroken, and your emotions were at an all time high— looking at the cat you two took care of together only made the anger burn hotter in your already fragile heart.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you choked out, pointing a shaky finger at the cat. “You and your stupid dad. Your stupid, lying, playboy dad!”

Alpine blinked before letting out a mighty yawn for such a small body. Then, she turned her attention back to her food, completely indifferent to your emotional breakdown.

“Yeah, go ahead and eat!” you cried, wiping furiously at your wet face. “Enjoy it, because both of you are packing your bags! He thinks he can just… smile and say the right things, and I’ll just let my guard down and let him in?”

You marched past the cat and stormed over to the filing cabinets. You grabbed the handle of the bottom drawer and yanked it open so hard that it rattled.

“Where is it…” you muttered, your vision blurred by tears as you began rummaging through the folders. You tossed utility bills, maintenance requests, and old plumbing receipts over your shoulder. “Where is that stupid piece of paper?”

You were going to find his lease.

You were going to tear it into a million pieces, throw it in his face, and kick Bucky Barnes out of your complex.

The office door suddenly pushed open, and you jumped at the unexpected intruder who just barged in.

Bucky stood in the doorway, his chest heaving as the moonlight outlined his body from behind. Any other woman probably would’ve seen him as a god, but to you, he just looked like a man spawned from the very depths of hell.

He looked like he had run all the way from the club—but he couldn’t have, not with how fast he got here.

“Why did you come back here?” He panted.

“Get out of my sight,” you mumbled, so quietly that it was like a part of you didn’t want to mean it.

He ignored you, stepping closer as he caught his breath. “Steve told me you left before I could finish my set—said that you had paperwork to do, but that can’t be right. You told me you cleared your schedule just so you could go to the club tonight—”

“Yeah—well, plans change,” you muttered, finally pulling his folder out from the others. You sorted through it until you found his paperwork, gripping it firmly in your hands.

When Bucky stepped closer and realized what you were doing—your fingers positioned in a way that looked suspiciously like you were about to rip it—he stormed over and snatched the paper right out of your hands.

“What the hell are you doing with that?!”

You glared up at him, your head spinning so fast it hurt. “I’m tearing up your lease. I’m evicting you.”

Bucky blinked, his face a mixture of frustration and confusion.

“Are you trying to play with me right now?” He sighed, setting the paper safely on top of the filing cabinet before bending down to try and lift you up. “Come on. Let’s get you to bed. You’re drunk right now—”

You slapped his hands away, pushing yourself up to stand on your own. “What? Get me in bed so you can add me to the long roster of women you fuck?”

“What?” Bucky’s eyes went wide, looking nearly as hurt as you felt just from that accusation alone. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t think I don’t know!” a sob ripped from your throat, and you hated how weak it made you sound. “You and your notorious record for being nothing but a player who plays stupid music. You know—it makes sense, actually!”

You hiccuped, slurring your words between tears.

“You being a DJ and playing in clubs and all. It’s such a classic tale, isn’t it? How easy it is for men like you to just… pick up women and bring them home in the middle of the night. And I’m always the one cleaning up your messes and kicking them out the next morning,” you laughed at yourself.

You probably looked insane in his eyes, but you didn’t care.

“Now, look at me. I’m the mess, and no one is there to clean me up. I was stupid to think I was different.”

What the hell were you saying?

None of it even made sense to you anymore. All you felt was an overwhelming wave of anger and hurt. Your head was pounding so bad that you just wanted to lie down and sob until there were no more tears left.

Despite every cruel word you hurled at him, Bucky didn’t get angry. How could he? When almost every word you said was nothing but the truth. All the talk about him being a player, blasting his stupid music loud enough to hurt your eardrums—he couldn’t deny any of it.

Except for one thing, and that was you thinking you weren’t different.

With a soft sigh, his shoulders slumped. He stepped closer, moving quietly so as to not startle you like a cat. When he was finally within reach, he wrapped his arms tightly around your body, pulling you close against his chest in a comforting hug.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered gently against your temple, his voice rough. “You saw all those girls huddled around me at the club, didn’t you? I’m so sorry I made you feel like this.”

You jammed your fists against his chest, weak and uncoordinated. But the alcohol had drained all your strength, leaving you hollowed out and drowning in your own tears.

Bucky took every pathetic blow you gave him, and instead of pulling away, he just tightened his arms around you. With a broken sob, you collapsed into his chest, burying your wet face in his shirt.

You hated this. You hated how every time you were upset, Bucky was always right there, comforting you in this very office. And you especially hated that, despite him being the cause of your current distress, you were still seeking his comfort.

One of his large hands came up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers caressing through your hair, while his other arm held you around your waist.

“I’ve got you, baby. Just breathe.”

You were a weeping, hiccuping mess, your shoulders shaking violently as months of built up insecurity and old, unhealed wounds from John came pouring out all at once. You stained his shirt with your tears and ruined makeup, but Bucky didn’t seem to care at all.

He just held you, swaying you slightly from side to side in the quiet, dark office.

“I know what you’re scared of,” Bucky started with a gentle murmur. “You’ve gotten your heart broken, and you’re scared of opening up and getting hurt again.”

He rested his chin on your head with a sigh, looking blankly at the wall with eyes full of regret.

“And I don’t blame you for feeling that way towards me. I’ve been an awful guy to you from the start, and even now, I failed to make you feel secure with me.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, hoping it would help.

“There was no woman that came before you, and I have no intentions of anyone coming after.”

You wanted to believe him, but everything that left his mouth was just noise. Even drunk and vulnerable, you could feel your heart closing on him to shut him out.

You slowly pulled back, your hands pressing against his chest—not out of anger, but out of a desperate need for distance.

Bucky let you go reluctantly, his hands sliding down to rest loosely on your hips, his blue eyes searching your face with a fragile and heartbreaking hope that made it even harder for you to look away.

“I can’t do this, Bucky,” you whispered. “I like you. I like you so much, and I want to love you... but I can’t. I don’t want to get hurt again. I just want things to go back to the way it was before. Me as your landlord, and you as my tenant. That’s it.”

Bucky knew he deserved every ounce of your doubt, but he hadn’t braced himself for the hurt that came with it.

Still, he forced a pained, tight lipped smile, his eyes telling you just how much he was hurting. His hands twitched on your hips, a painful urge passing through him to pull you back, to hold you against his chest and never let you go.

The words I love you rushed to the tip of his tongue, burning to be said. He wanted to shout it, to promise you the world, to prove to you that he was entirely yours.

But as he looked down at your tear-stained face—at the exhaustion and fear written in your eyes, all because of him—he stopped himself.

Even drunk, you still had the strength to look out for yourself. And because he cared about you more than his own need to fix things, he respected your wishes. He wouldn’t use your vulnerability to force a confession on you. He had always been a selfish man, but he couldn’t afford to be one now.

Bucky swallowed hard, a visible lump forming in his throat as he forced the words back down. His shoulders slumped as he finally accepted defeat.

Slowly, his hands dropped from your hips. He took a single step backward, giving you the space you asked for.

“I get it. I’ll leave you alone. But if you’re ever ready to open your heart to someone again—please, let me be that person.”

Bucky kept his word and left you alone.

Yet, there were countless times when he found himself pacing in his room, or lingering just outside your office, waiting to see if you would open your heart to him again. He held onto the smallest bit of hope that the words you had shouted in a drunken blaze were words you didn’t truly mean—that they had simply come from a place of deeply unhealed hurt.

He stayed close, waiting for a knock on his door, hoping you would tell him you were ready to talk. But that knock never came.

Just like him, you also kept your word and went right back to treating him as if he were nothing more than the annoying tenant from the very beginning.

He still helped you around the complex whenever he had the time—entirely on his own insistence. But every time he found himself in the same room as you, you would make up some excuse just to get away from him.

“I need to stop by the store and buy litter for Alpine.”

“Georgia forgot to pick up her mail. I’m going to hand it to her.”

You were like a stone of indifference—not happy, but not angry either. It was starting to get frustrating.

He knew he should have respected your space, but the more you strayed away from him—not only emotionally, but physically—the more restless he grew. Maybe it was the immature side of him creeping in, but he started to take your pleas as a challenge. You wanted things to go back to normal? Back to how things were before his heart fell for you?

Fine. He would make sure to do exactly that.

The next afternoon, the entire building—which had been quiet for the past few days—began to shake.

It was that same, robotic warping noise that always rattled the ceiling of your office. It started with the usual thump, thump, thump, before the bass dropped into the most annoying sound nonsense you had ever heard in your life.

It was Bucky’s music. Except this was nothing like the tracks he knew you actually liked, and it was louder than it had been in months.

For the past few weeks, he had been playing his music through headphones or keeping the volume respectful. But right now, he was blasting it with a vengeance, the aggressive electronic beats making the light fixtures tremble.

You tried to ignore it for ten minutes. You tried to focus on your paperwork, but the relentless oonts oonts oonts was making your teeth rattle and your head pound. You knew exactly what he was playing at. He was trying to get your attention—but you wouldn’t give in. You refused to.

But then, a family of tourists walked past the front of your office. The daughter pointed up at the building, and the mother scrunched her nose, shaking her head in disapproval at the noise.

Shoving your chair back, you marched out of the office and stormed up the stairs.

You banged on Bucky’s door roughly. “Bucky! Turn that music down right now!”

You were furious, but for Bucky, this was the greatest moment of his week. He grinned, pretending not to hear you, and bumped the volume up just a tad louder.

You knocked again, but he ignored it. When you started cursing under your breath—which Bucky thought was the cutest thing he’d heard in what felt like forever, aside from Alpine’s meows—you finally fished out your master keys to unlock his door yourself.

“Do you mind?” you snapped, stepping into his apartment. “I have potential tenants walking past, and your absolute garbage music is running them off!”

Bucky was leaning back in his chair, lazily reaching over to slide a fader down.

“Garbage?” Bucky echoed, the cocky grin on his face not shrinking one bit. “You didn’t call it that when you were sitting on my lap and playing with my mixer, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened—whether with anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell. Either way, he had gotten a reaction out of you, and to him, that was like a man finally finding water in the desert.

“Just turn it down!” you demanded, already turning away and slamming the door shut behind you.

Throughout the rest of the week, Bucky realized he couldn’t hold your attention for more than five minutes with just his music blasting alone.

He was working on a mix—one that wasn’t meant for his club sets, but one that would definitely catch your attention. What was distracting him more, though, was the sound of your giggles echoing all the way from your office.

A tourist had been sitting in there with you. Initially, Bucky thought it was just a potential renter. But as the minutes dragged into over an hour, he realized that the man in question had absolutely no intention of signing a lease. He was trying to get with you.

With the floorboards being so thin, Bucky could hear everything. The guy was a blatant flirt, and you were laughing and giggling cutely at every single word he said, convinced you were just sealing the deal on an apartment.

Bucky, moved by petty retaliation, queued up special track he was working on.

The beat was slower than usual—the exact kind that would have people drunkenly grinding against each other at a club. He dialed a knob, weaving the explicit, unmistakable sound of a woman’s breathless moans right into the track, letting it echo loudly through the thin flooring.

Downstairs, your laugh died in your throat.

Your eyes widened slightly, your jaw hanging loose before a rush of heat flooded your cheeks. The tourist blinked, his charming smile faltering as the loud, provocative audio filled the small office space.

“What an interesting song,” he forced an awkward chuckle. “Didn’t know you had a DJ living in here.”

You sat stiffly in your chair, a storm of emotions thundering in your chest. Embarrassment came first, but right behind it was a wave of shock and a sickening twist of jealousy that nearly choked you.

He brought a girl over? While I'm down here working?

He actually had the audacity to do that after everything he said to you? After he said he’d be your person once you opened your heart again?

“So, anyway,” the tourist continued, oblivious. “Since you’re a local—do you think you could show me some cool spots around here? Maybe we could start with dinner?”

You didn’t even realize how jealous you actually were until that exact moment.

Knowing that another woman might be in his apartment, touching him, making those sounds, made your blood boil and your fists curl tightly under the desk. You thought you were protecting your heart by keeping him at a distance, but hearing this only proved your heart was still hopelessly tied to him.

And right now, those ties were threatening to snap and hit him right in the face.

“Excuse me,” you choked out to the man seated in front of you, abruptly stepping away from your desk.

Every step up the stairs was a stomp accentuated by your anger, the explicit moaning getting louder and more humiliating with every flight you climbed. By the time you reached his door, you were already drowning in an emotional cocktail of rage and heartbreak.

You threw the door open, ready to scream at him and whatever woman he had hidden away in his room.

“What the fuck is your problem, Bucky!”

The door banged hard against the wall as you stormed into the apartment, your chest heaving, your vision tunneling with pure rage. You were so flustered, so blindingly angry, that the words just started spilling out of you before you could even think to filter them. You were desperate to cover up the humiliating jealousy tearing through you, but it only made you sound more unhinged.

“I am trying to run a business downstairs! I just had a guy down there, a potential tenant, and then... then you had to go and bring some woman over and—and do this while—”

You paused, letting your eyes sweep across the room, only to find an empty bed.

“Where is she?” you hissed.

Bucky leaned back in his chair, leg crossing the other as he folded his arms over his chest, looking far too smug for his own good.

“Where’s who?”

Your brow twitched with annoyance. You huffed a stray hair out of your face, waving a hand around the room. “The girl.”

Bucky tilted his head, playing dumb. “What girl?”

“The girl!” you screeched out. “The girl you have over right now—that’s… that’s making all these vulgar and indecent moaning noises because you don’t know how to keep your dick, much less your promises, in your pants for more than a week!”

Bucky’s lips quirked up into a smile.

“I have been keeping both of those in my pants, thank you very much.” He turned back to his screen, his hands hovering over his mixer. “And you mean your vulgar and repulsive moaning noises?”

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest, defensive. “What?”

“Listen to it closely,” he said, slowly amping the volume up. Your soft and breathy moans of pleasure filled the room.

“That’s you.”

Your face twisted. With the heavy distortion overlaid by the beat, you couldn’t tell if he was just pulling your tail or being serious. You didn’t even remember recording anything like that when you played with his mixer.

“Stop playing in my face, Bucky.”

Bucky, still impassive as ever, simply shrugged. “You don’t recognize your own voice?”

Then, a breathy little whine came in that sounded much too familiar. “Bucky, Bucky, oh—”

Your eyes shot open so wide that your pupils stung. That was you, no doubt about it, just remixed in a way that an outsider couldn’t tell.

“That’s you moaning my name, sweetheart,” Bucky said, turning to you again with a smile.

He watched as your once angry posture began to deflate into a look of pure embarrassment. You started to stammer, your eyes darting everywhere in the room that wasn’t him. “I… I—I don’t even remember recording that.”

Bucky pushed himself off the chair with a light groan, sauntering over to you with confidence now that he knew he had the upper hand.

“You pressed the record button yourself when you were playing with my table a few weeks ago,” he explained casually.

Standing in front of you, he lifted his hand to gently caress your cheek. When his palm made contact with your soft skin without you pushing him away, his smile grew wider, and the prideful flames in his heart glowed hotter.

“What’s with that face?” he taunted, his voice low and gravelly in a way that did nothing but make your heart race faster. “After everything I said to you, did you really think I would bring a girl up here? Hm?”

Bucky tilted his head, trying to meet your eyes, which were currently glued to the ground—refusing to give him any attention.

“Don’t tell me—are you jealous?”

He knew the answer, and you did too—you just didn’t want to admit it. Despite you telling him, “No more relationship!” there was a part of you that didn’t want anyone else to have him, as selfish as it might be.

“No,” you lied.

“Okay,” he hummed in amusement. “But I am.”

You scoffed. “What are you on about?”

His eyes trailed the curves of your face—the very curves he had fallen in love with and peppered with kisses just a few weeks ago.

“I’m jealous over the fact that you have a guy downstairs making you laugh, when I haven’t seen a smile from you in days,” he murmured, letting his thumb brush over your lower lip. The sensation made you shudder.

You hated how much you were leaning into his touch. And you hated even more how much you liked the idea of him being jealous over you, just as you had been over the simple thought of him having another woman over.

“I’ve tried so hard to be patient,” he continued. “To wait and see if you’ll open your heart to me again. To see if you’ll finally let your walls down and believe the words I said. But I can’t be patient when there’s a guy down there capturing your attention so easily, when the only way I can get yours is by playing loud music.”

“And you playing a track with my moans in it makes you think you’ll win me over?” You furrowed your brows at him. “If anything, it only pisses me off. You’re distracting me and my customers, and I need you to stop.”

You tried to make yourself sound more furious than you actually felt, but it didn’t translate very well. Bucky simply licked his lower lip before catching it in a subtle bite, making your body tingle all over again.

“I’ll stop,” he promised. “If you give me just one more chance to prove to you how much I care about you and how serious I am.”

You wanted to hold onto your anger, to keep that shield locked up with the key swallowed. But as you stared at him, hearing every sweet word that came out of his mouth, you realized how terribly you missed him.

God, you missed him.

You missed the moments when he would hold you in his arms after every problem, big or small. You missed the stupid afternoons down in the office, when you were supposed to be doing paperwork but ended up doing baseless chores with him instead—with Alpine inevitably scrambling up onto the desk and squeezing right between you two, demanding her own share of the attention. You missed hearing his music up close, sitting right on his lap while he guided your hand with his on the turntable.

You tried your best to keep your face stoic, to force down the screaming of longing in your chest so you wouldn’t cave. But Bucky saw right through you. He watched your shoulders ease up slightly, the way you chewed at your lower lip, and the way you were slowly unlocking that key in your heart.

Letting out a reluctant sigh that sounded like music to his ears, you mumbled, “Fine.”

Bucky’s smile widened.

“But you better not play this track anywhere. Not even to Steve or Sam,” you continued before he could speak, swatting weakly at his chest. “I’ll shoot you dead, Barnes—I mean it. That track is for your ears only.”

Rather than backing off, Bucky reached down and wrapped his arms firmly around your lower waist, pulling you close against him until your hips hit his, making you fluster at the proximity.

“Deal,” he whispered, leaning down even closer. “I’ll delete it if it makes you feel better, but only if I get to make you moan again like that for real—live and in person.”

Your breath hitched as his lips slid down to the line of your jaw, his stubble scraping pleasantly against your skin. Even though you two had been together like this before, the sudden closeness after days of agonizing distance made everything feel brand new, yet exactly right.

It was a feeling that, despite everything, you missed all too much.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” you breathed out as a final and weak attempt at keeping your guard up.

Bucky’s lips hummed deliciously against your neck, his mind already filled with things more than just hope.

“I’ll try.”

if you've made it this far, i hope you enjoyed, and thank you so much for reading! while you're here, might i suggest taking the opportunity to check out the bwat summer masterlist that this fic is part of here!

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[sukunastuna]

lovee

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

CODEWORD: F.U.C.K.M.E.

Pairing: Nightwing!Gojo x Spy!Reader x Red Hood!Geto 

Synopsis: The plan is simple: walk into the museum auction ball, seduce your target, steal the diamond, and complete your mission. As a skilled spy and the top jewel thief in Gotham City, it seems easy enough. Except there are three problems that present themselves early in your mission. Number one, your target is Nightwing who is more cunning than you realize. Number two is Red Hood, another annoyingly hot vigilante. And number three is the sneak attack you set off that turns out to be an aphrodisiac. What happens when you hide from the cops and end up in very close quarters with the two vigilantes?

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); No Curse AU; Batman/Gotham AU; Superhero!SatoSugu x Villain!Reader; Enemies to Lovers; Sexual Tension; Highkey Flirting; Action Sequence; Aphrodisiac; R*pe/Dubcon; Threesome; Degradation & Praise; Dom!SatoSugu x sub!Reader; Dual Blowjob; Deepthroat; Dual Püssy-Eating; Handcuffs; Knife Play; Dual Ass-Eating; Gaping; DP; SatoSugu Sandwich lol; Mating Press; Anal Sëx; PIV; Crëampie; Analpie; Facials; Cūm Play; Choking; Spanking; Püssy Spanks; Hair Pulling; Rough Sëx; Reader Cüms 2x; Aftercare

Word Count: 12.3k

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you! 

Writer's Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!! I'm so so so excited to finally get this out for my JJK "I Need A Hero (or a Villain) collab!! I really hope y'all enjoy it!! Please just drop me a comment or DM me if you're interested in joining the collab! <3 -love, Jazz

Credits: Nightwing!Gojo fanart by thatsallitchief on X & Red Hood!Geto fanart by kayaxxo on X!

You stand at the threshold of the museum entrance, right across the street from its mountain of steps.

The sound of Friday night in the city—cars honking, someone blasting music from their car—fills the night air buzzing with activity. 

On a night like this, you’d be at home on the couch or having a girls’ night out. But instead, you’re spending your night at an auction party in the finest cocktail dress you could find in your closet. Your boss ordered it as part of your undercover work. You have to “look the part”, so why argue?

Especially when you look so damn good. You visited a hair salon this morning to get the perfectly seductive curls, pinning them up into a high bun with rivets and wisps of curls cascading down from your up-do. It goes perfectly with your wine red cocktail dress–body-hugging, sexy, and has a high slit at the thigh. You paired it with some Loboutine heels and your favorite MAC lipstick. 

Perfect for seducing a certain vigilante. 

You press two fingers to your right ear, right against the tiny ear piece that could be mistaken for an earring stud. “Testing, testing, 1, 2,” you speak into the earpiece. “This is Nightowl about to enter the vicinity. Target not yet in sight.” 

There is a bit of fuzz and then a familiar voice belonging to one of your fellow agents. “Roger that, Nightowl. We’ll be in the building as soon as you give the signal. Target should be inside.” 

You feel that familiar stomach flip; the one you usually get before a mission that often vanishes by the time it begins. Nowadays, you don’t get nervous anymore having done this for years. You learn to adapt and to sneak, turning into someone else for the time being until the mission is complete. “Roger. Over and out.” 

You square your shoulders and slink into that seductive, secretive persona that you keep in your closet for missions like these. Any mission where you must seduce someone and take them off guard is when you pull her out–the mysterious, sly sex kitten that knows what she wants and how to get it. Nobody can resist her…not even a certain bat-based vigilante taking over Gotham City. 

With a strut in your step and a sway in your hips, you walk over to the museum and walk up the steps to the double doors. Every click of your Loboutine heels prepares you for tonight’s festivities. Everything that can and might happen. Everything that you either are or aren’t prepared for.

You love nights like these. You crave for them. You feel electric as you walk into the museum, smiling when you hand the host your invite. You notice the way he checks out the curve of your tits in your dress and the shape of your red lips. He barely checks your ticket because he’s too busy checking you out. 

You smile and bat your lashes, thanking him. This means your job should go easy tonight. 

When you fully step into the museum lobby converted into a party room, it is in full swing and brimming with luxury, excitement and the energy of the rich, nightlife crowd. The room is surrounded by glass cases of history on display: historical artifacts, old paintings, gems and jewels glittering with temptation. All for the taking. 

You would gladly snatch up all of them if you could, but you’re after just one in particular. 

It is shockingly easy for you to blend in, but then again, as a renowned agent and jewel thief, you know exactly how to do so. It makes it easy to slink past staff and security to the ‘Staff Only’ room and snatch a random employee tag. 

You pin it to your dress and slink back out to the party without anyone noticing, the weight of your secret weapons strapped to your thigh and in your purse grounding you. 

As soon as you walk back out into the party, you are bombarded by the sound of a live band playing and the aura of luxury. It is all around you—on the snack table where a crystal bowl of punch and champagne flutes sit; in the tasteful decorations; the conversations and laughs of the guests decked out in their best designer

You keep your clutch close to your side, your little Glock hidden beneath your switchblade shaped as a lipstick tube…and your lipstick. You can’t ever leave the house without your MAC. You press your fingers to your ear again, keeping your voice low. “Night Owl within the vicinity. Target not in sight yet.”

You begin to look around the room, scanning it to find the man of the hour. You studied his appearance for weeks before coming here. Though you have no idea what he’ll be wearing tonight, you know that once you see him, you’ll know that it’s him. 

And sure enough, you do. You find him sitting at the bar in a tailored black suit, all long legs and looking so tall and big even while sitting. He is nursing a club soda in his big hand as he reads off a pamphlet about the upcoming presentation tonight and tonight’s auctioned items, his blue eyes shifting as he reads. 

There he is: Nightwing, in the flesh. You feel your throat tighten and your heart pound against your ribcage. Your agency has been on this man’s tail for months the same way he has been on theirs, tracking down his real identity. When they finally found him, your boss slapped his manila folder on your desk and smiled at you. “We got him,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.” 

Nightwing has been a thorn in your boss’ side for months now, cracking down on his most skilled agents and traffickers. Every Gotham newspaper shows a new arrest on the front page, courtesy of Nightwing and his stupid tight spandex suit and charming grin. No one has ever seen him out of his mask or suit…except for now. And you are more than excited to expose him tonight. 

Smuggling is an art form itself. It requires much time and discipline. Being a spy is exactly the same, requiring a precise form and act that makes you your boss’ top spy at his underground agency. 

Which is why he chose you for the job. If anyone can get Nightwing on a silver platter, it’s you. You’re more than happy to do so. Anyone ruining your job and chances at getting your hands on some more pretty prizes is evil in your eyes. 

The plan is simple: get the man comfortable, perhaps get some drinks in him, seduce him enough to take your offer for privacy in the basement, and then bam! He gets caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you get your hands on the museum’s newest find: a diamond worth millions. One of history’s finest artifacts recently dug up and shipped here. Never before seen. 

With the taste of danger and another pretty thing in your roster on your tongue, you strut over to the undercover vigilante and take a seat next to him, catching his attention immediately. It’s almost comical. You give him a small smile of acknowledgement as you place your clutch on the polished bar. 

You then wave your manicured nails at the bartender, flashing the vigilante your glossy, red nails. “Bartender, a Brandy Alexander, please.” The woman in the white and black uniform nods, getting started on your drink. You sit in silence for a moment, both of you testing the other to make the first move. 

You glance at Nightwing, eyeing him curiously as he pretends to read the pamphlet sitting in his lap. His pants seem to stretch across his muscular thighs…not that you’re checking him out. “So are you gonna say something or just act like you’re not staring at me?” he asks without looking up at you. 

You blink at him, taken aback. “Sorry?” He finally turns to look at you, smirking, his blue eyes devastatingly pretty. Damn him. “Pardon the bluntness. I had a glass of champagne earlier. But I can feel your eyes.”

You raise your brow at him, feeling your own smirk curl onto your lips. “Oh, really? How do you know they were mine?” The vigilante shrugs, sipping his club soda. “I’ve been to parties like this before. Or rather, auctions for historical art pieces and valuables.”

“So have I,” you reply, nodding in thanks when your drink is given to you. The vigilante watches you take a sip, eyes zooming in on your red lips. “Hm. Well, you’re certainly dressed for the part. I notice the name tag. You work here, Ms. London?”

You damn near forget about the fake name on the tag you stole and nod, smiling. “That, I do, uh…” You pretend to look puzzled, pulling an annoyingly attractive chuckle out of him. “Satoru,” he replies. “Gojo.” So your agency’s research was correct. Nightwing and Satoru Gojo, a Gotham-based college thirty-something year old, are, in fact, the same person. 

Quelling the excitable flip in your gut, you shake his hand, ignoring how big and calloused it is. “Pleasure to meet you, Satoru. I’ve been working here for a year now, so dresses like this are the norm for auctions. I’m glad you like it.”

A small blush coats Satoru’s cheeks, making him slightly endearing. He has two sides to himself it seems…or three, counting Nightwing. “Heh. Well, I’m sure everyone does. It looks very…expensive.” You giggle, eyeing his clothes. “As does your suit.”

He quirks a brow at your compliment, happy with the praise. “Ya think so, huh? Guess that Bloomingdale’s employee wasn’t bullshittin’ me then.” He flashes you a white-toothed grin, dimples popping. He is so charming that it’s disarming, making you slightly uncomfortable. You’ve never felt this way about a target before. 

“I can’t say I’ve seen your face around here,” you say, still turning up the heat. After all, this is your job. “I would’ve recognized you as a regular.” You make sure to put a flirty tone in your voice to catch his attention. Sure enough, it does. 

“I’m a lover of the arts. Got an invite from the Gotham Art Museum as a member and took it. Plus, there’s a free bar, so why not?” He smirks, sipping his drink. “That’s usually what brings people in here,” you chuckle. “Unless you’re an art buff.” You sip your drink too, leaving a red stain on the glass. 

Satoru’s eyes flick from the rim to your face, your wicked ways working on him. “Oh, I am. Nothin’ like gettin’ your hands on somethin’ as valuable and precious as a piece of art. A painting, a sculpture. Even the finest jewel.” His tone is so sly; so seductive. He’s trying to work his charm too…but why?

“Oh?” you purr, hiding your suspensions. “How so? Is it the history that turns you on? F-For art, I mean.”

Satoru chuckles at your little intentionally unintentional innuendo, ducking his head in a way that is both boyish and sexy. “Yeah. Plus, they’re just so damn pretty. I mean, look at this necklace here!” He shows you a photo of one of the artifiacts–a gorgeous necklace from 1800 England dripping with sapphires. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks. 

You nod, struggling to not inhale his cologne as he leans in to show you the photo. “It is,” you hum. “There are plenty of more pieces I can show you, if you’re interested.” He eyes you then, his blue eyes like the purest oceans. “Very. Lead the way, Ms. London.” 

You smile as you finish your drink for that liquid confidence and stand. He presents you to his elbow and you take it, trying not to get too excited over how easy this is. It may seem that way, but you need to be on your toes. This could go very wrong in an instant. For example, falling victim to the vigilante’s charms as he smiles at you and leads you around the party. 

You show the items you’ve seen on the museum’s website, feeding him info you researched and bullshit you make up on the spot. He seems to eat it all up, sipping a glass of champagne, even getting one for you to clink his glass against. Satoru doesn’t seem bored by anything you tell him, nodding in interest and slipping in little jokes between your presentations to make you giggle. 

After about two hours of your “roleplay”, things start to accelerate when you’re on your second glass of champagne and back at the bar for a mocktail. You’ll need to at least be semi-sober for this next part. As you’re reaching into your clutch for some cash to pay for your mock martini with olives, someone beats you to it. 

An older gentleman with a horrible combover grins at you, not even trying to hide his lecherous eyes. “Here. A pretty thing like you shouldn’t buy her own drink.” 

He slips you a bill, standing a little bit closer to you than you’d like. “I appreciate that,” you giggle, taking the money from him just as the bartender returns with your drink. “How can I repay you for such a kind act?” 

The old man pretends to think, puckering his lips in a way that you’re sure is supposed to be sexy. “Just your number. I could make sure you don’t have to ruin those feet walkin’ around for your job anymore.” He nods down at your fresh pedicure and designer heels, licking his chapped lips. 

You swallow your repulsion, feeling Satoru’s presence sitting behind you at the bar. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t take numbers from married men.” With joy, you watch the old man’s smile fade and he slinks away, giving you the dirtiest look known to man. Satoru nods, impressed. “You got quite the eye.” You shrug, sipping your crisp mocktail. “When you work here long, you learn to catch on.” 

He reaches over, clinking your glass with his new drink: a Brandy Alexander this time. “I could’ve told ya he was married though,” he chuckles. His laugh is smooth and rich yet deep and lethal, like a shot of whiskey. 

You turn to him, raising a brow at him as you sip your martini. “And how would you know that?” you question. “He didn’t have a ring on his finger.” You only knew because you saw him with his wife when you came in. 

Satoru chortles again as if you’re some dumb little girl he needs to school. “Don’t have to. Rings can come off, ‘specially at events like these.” He takes a sip from his drink, eyeing you across the rim. “There’s plenty of pretty women like yourself swimmin’ around here for the pickin’.” 

His gaze is hot like fire licking across your exposed skin. The air that the old man left tense becomes even more so, but you straighten your neck and regard him with a smirk. “Like me?” you scoff. “I doubt he could’ve even been able to afford me.” 

You take another sip of your martini, leaving a red stain on the rim, before fishing out the toothpick rowed with olives. You pluck one off with your teeth, knowing that he is watching. ‘Just keep up the act. Hook, line, and sinker.’ 

“And how would one afford you?” he asks, curiously glistening in his eyes. “You merchandise? Up for grabs like these beauties here?” You swirl your tongue around in your mouth, sizing him up. You try not to think about how fun it is to flirt with him. To tease him. This is your job. “Depends on how much you’re willing to bet on me.” 

That’s what finally breaks the tension and Satoru’s smile grows rather lustful. “Maybe we can discuss somewhere more private,” he suggests. He slides his hand into yours and you allow it, ignoring how your heart pounds. “You got a room?” 

You take a sip of your drink, smirking. “Plenty,” you giggle. Satoru mirrors your smirk, eyeing you down into your stool. “Little spitfire, ain’t you?”

You laugh as he helps you out of your stool. You do your best to act like your knees aren’t weak and that his touch doesn’t send electric shocks through your body. You tell yourself that it’s just because your mission is going so well. Finally, you’ll get what you want. “So I’ve been told. I’ve got just the place for us though. Follow me before someone knows we left.” 

Satoru nods, his expression like molten fire as his eyes lay on your ass when you walk ahead of him, hand in hand, towards the elevator. The auction is underway so people are preoccupied, meaning it’s easy to sneak away with the vigilante to the basement. 

Minutes later, you’re getting pinned against the basement wall and Satoru’s lips are on yours. He showed surprising self control in the elevator, even when you felt the sexual tension building and his hand on your waist growing tight. The basement is quiet and empty, only filled with supplies and other museum artifacts moved for safe keeping. 

You moan against Satoru’s kiss, his soft lips just as heavy as the darkness descending upon you. The silvery moonlight is the only light cutting through the open window above, illuminating Satoru’s snow white hair and handsome features. His hands cup your face as you grasp his shoulders, welcoming his big frame pressed against yours. 

You’ve kissed many targets before. You’ve even slept with some. Not that you’re proud of it, but it’s the name of the game. However, with Satoru, this doesn’t feel like a simple roleplay or job. His lips are soft and chaste of champagne, making you drunk. It’s so dangerous. You need to stop this now. 

Luckily, the glittering of an object catches both of your eyes, causing you to stop kissing. Satoru keeps his roaming hands on you as he gazes at the glass case of a gorgeous diamond glistening with all kinds of yellows, pinks, and lavenders. “Wait…is that the newest diamond?” he questions. “The one found in a cave in the Himalayas?" 

You nod, slinking your arms around him as you gaze at the diamond. “Yeah,” you purr. “They brought it in a month ago to present tonight.” And if anyone touches it, it will start an alarm. You know from sneaking in here weeks ago for a tour of the museum, committing every room to memory. 

With your eyes trained on Satoru, you give him a lustful stare, body tingling in anticipation. “Now shut up and take off your clothes. Step back a bit for me so I can undress.” Satoru grins and begins to do just that, reaching for his tie as he blindly steps back, the glass case right behind you. 

Click.

You freeze when you feel the cold barrel of a gun in your back, making your muscles tense. “Hold it right there,” an unfamiliar voice croons. “Move one inch and you won’t like what happens next.” You do as he says, not moving, while Satoru glares at the stranger over your head. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he hisses. 

The stranger chuckles, his voice deeper yet softer than Satoru’s. “Now is that anyway to greet your friendly neighborhood vigilante?” he jokes. “‘Specially since I could’ve just left your dumb ass here.” The gun cocks, making you gulp. “Turn around,” he orders. 

Slowly, you turn and sure enough, you’re staring at yet another Gotham vigilante that’s been bugging your boss: Red Hood, in the flesh. Dressed in his red and black uniform, muscles outlined in his suit, his long, black hair cascading down his shoulders and back. A white streak shoots through one lock in his face, right over his indigo eyes peeking over the red mask covering his mouth and nose. 

Satoru glares at the vigilante that seems to be flipped around from the same coin, just a different side. “Seriously, Suguru? You stealin’ my target from me now?”

Target? 

“Don’t use my real name,” Suguru aka Red Hood growls from behind his mask. “And you were ready to fuck my target, Nightwing. Don’t you realize this woman is tryin’ to play you? She wants someone to take the fall while she steals the diamond.” 

Slowly, you turn to stare at Satoru, hoping that you aren’t this stupid. Sure enough, the white-haired man rolls his blue eyes. “Why else would I have come down here so willingly? I’m not that much of a whore, asshole.” 

He turns to you with a smile, popping open his top to reveal the black suit with a big blue bat symbol stuck on his chest. “Pleasure to meet you by the way, Night Owl.” You gape at the bat symbol then at his face. You can’t believe it! You’ve been had! “You…you tricked me,” you hiss. 

Satoru doesn’t even look the least bit apologetic, but why would he? “Sorry, but I couldn’t have you tossin’ me to the cops. I know you ain’t gonna flap your gums about my secret identity…unless you want people to know who you are too.” 

Your eyes widen an inch, your stomach flipping with fear. He’s blackmailing you? “See, I’ve been after you for quite some time now,” he continues, giving you that stupid grin that you want to smack off of him. “You’re the most wanted jewel thief in Gotham. Frankly, I just wanted to see how far you’d think I’d fall for your plan.” 

“Fuck you,” you growl. “Neither one of you is gonna arrest me for this. The cops and Batman are all the same: fuckin’ idiots.” Suguru and Satoru share a look, silently deliberating. “Good thing they got us,” Satoru chuckles. “We’re not as dumb as you think we are, honey.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Suguru hums, the gun still cocked at your head. “You don’t give us superheroes as much credit.” You keep quiet, simpering with anger. How could you be so dumb? How could you be so reckless? So–

Crackle-crackle. “Night Owl!” your fellow agent yells into your ear. “Come in, Night Owl! There’s an initial target! It’s–”

“Tell your people that you know already,” Suguru says, close enough to hear the feedback of the "conspicuous" ear piece in your ear. “And tell them that we’re about to give you an ultimatum. All you have to do is surrender and–” 

POOF!  

The vigilante can’t finish his sentence because he’s getting a mouthful of the pink smoke bomb you slipped out of your bra. It is tiny yet lethal; a new weapon created by the tech department at your agency. It comes right in handy, creating a thick fog that fills the entire basement with pink smoke. “Goddamn!” Satoru coughs. “What the fuck was that?!”

Quickly, you turn around to knock the gun out of Suguru’s hand, the fog allowing you the perfect cover. Then you give him a swipe with your leg, tripping him backwards. Though he perfectly catches himself and kicks his legs back up to stand upright, you’re already pulling a tiny remote from your clutch and aiming it at the ceiling. 

“Sorry to cut this meeting short, fellas,” you chuckle. “But I’ve gotta run. Nice meeting you!” Then with one click, a rope with a hook at the end extends from the remote and punches a hole into the ceiling window. You zoom up right out of the building through the window before releasing and landing on the museum building’s rooftop.

Unfortunately, the fog is a little bit more potent than you realize. It explodes from the broken window, traveling up onto the rooftop. Right under your nose. You breathe it in without even realizing it and begin to cough, your throat and eyes stinging. Those fuck ass scientists! 

Quickly, you hurry to the edge of the building and stare across to a skyscraper. You could zip across that no problem. You could be out of here in just a….whoa. You suddenly feel light on your feet and your vision grows wavery, everything suddenly foggy and unfocused. 

“Oh, fuck,” you exhale before you feel yourself falling forward, about to hit the pavement…and you would’ve if Satoru didn’t catch you. He grunts as he grabs your arm and hugs you to him, positioning you so he’s carrying you bridal style.

You stare up into his blue eyes peaking out of his black mask before your vision is eaten up by darkness. “We’ve got you now, sweetie,” he whispers. “We’ll take good care of you. You’ll see.” 

“Wakey, wakey, babydoll. Let us know you’re still alive.”

Slowly, your eyes peel open and you’re staring into the ocean blues behind a black mask. The man attached to the mask wears a black and blue spandex suit with black gloves and boots. If it isn’t for the white hair and silky voice, you would not have recognized Satoru. “She lives!” he mockingly gasps. “Thank God. We thought you died on us, honey.” 

He grins at you, blinding you with his white teeth. You groan as you come to your senses, feeling achy and unbalanced. Slowly, you sit up, finding yourself on the floor in some secret room–it consists of a tiny cot bed, wooden boxes of food supplies, and a stool that Red Hood occupies. Suguru, you heard Satoru call him. He is still in his suit, but his mask is gone, revealing his handsome features and the snakebites embedded in his plump, pink bottom lip.

“W-Where am I?” you mutter. “Why do I feel so dizzy?” You place a hand on your head, still coming back to reality. You look around, seeing the towel under your head and your dress still intact. Did they…move you here? 

“You passed out after inhalin’ that smoke shit you blew at us,” Suguru explains from the stool, using a pocket knife to stab a hole in the drywall. He twists it to the right to the left, focusing hard on his movements. 

“I-I did?” you whisper. Then you panic, your memories flooding back. The smoke bomb. “Oh, no, no!” you gasp. “I have to get outta here! R-Right now!” Quickly, you try to rise to your feet only to slump back down, still dizzy. 

“Ah-ah, little miss,” Suguru tuts. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere right now.” He rises from his stool, arms crossed. His sleeves are rolled up to expose his muscular arms inked with tattoos but you ignore them…or you try to. “And who’s gonna stop me?” you growl at him, glaring up at him. 

Satoru glances at the both of you before rising to his feet, whistling. You watch him waltz over to a painting hanging up on the wall that you didn’t notice before and sloooowly moving it aside to reveal a tiny hole in the wall that Suguru surely made. “Well, them for one,” he replies, showing you a sliver of the museum lobby where you once were.

Only now, it’s surrounded by Gotham City cops. ‘Shit!’ you think. panicked. Someone called the cops?! What if Batman shows up too?! 

“And definitely not if you’re feelin’ weak,” Satoru adds, crossing his arms over his buff chest. “Whatever that sneak attack was is sneakin’ up on you too.”

You don’t answer, grabbing your clutch beside you and then feeling around your ear for… “My earpiece,” you gasp. “W-Where’s my earpiece?!” You begin to look around, searching the small room for the tiny black dot. “You’re what piece?” Satoru asks, confused. 

“That thing that her team was talkin’ in her ear with,” Suguru explains. “And don’t look at me. I don’t have it. Must’ve fallen out while you–”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish because you’re rising to your feet again only to stumble, falling into the wall. The two vigilantes quickly descend upon you, using their strong hands to help you out. “Hey, hey, relax,” Satoru gently says. “Sit down and take a breath.”

You watch them suspiciously as they sit you down on the edge of the bed, leaving you be once you’re off your feet. Why are they being so damn gentle with you? “Now explain,” Satoru firmly says, leaning against the wall. “Who are you? What’s the thing with robbin’ these museums?” 

Instead of answering, you keep quiet, stubborn and bratty. Satoru rolls his eyes at you like you’re a disobedient child. “Listen, we’re gonna be here for a while, so you may as well talk…unless you want us to alert one of these cops.” He picks up his fist and raps it quietly on the wall, making your heartbeat scatter.

Damn these damn vigilantes! Always one step ahead of you. “I’m a spy,” you begrudgingly confess. “I work for an underground organization that deals in jewel trafficking. I was tasked with stealing the diamond in the hopes of leading Batman to my boss.”

The two vigilantes share a look, silently talking to each other. Are they wondering what they'll do to you? How to torture you to make you talk? Will they use Suguru’s pocket knife to slice off your dress? Will they strip you down and spank you till you cry? Make you suck their big cocks until you’re begging for them to fuck you? Slide themselves inside of you and fill you up until you’re begging for them to stop?

You blink at the sudden onslaught of dirty, nasty thoughts and the images flashing across your brain. Where the fuck did that come from? 

And then you feel it: that warm flush that engulfs your body like you just stepped into a sauna. Then you feel your heartbeat accelerate, pumping hot blood until you can practically hear it throb. You press a hand to your forehead, finding it coated in sweat. What is happening to you?

The sound of Satoru’s silky voice doesn’t help your situation. If anything, it makes your body feel even weirder. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, sweetie. And for what it's worth, sorry to ruin your mission too.” He pauses, cocking his head to the side and squinting at you as if he’s just now seeing you. “You’re a lot prettier than that diamond though.”

The compliment comes out of nowhere and he looks just as perplexed as you feel from it. “What?” you and Suguru both ask. You blink, seeing how pink Satoru’s cheeks are, noticing how Suguru is pulling at the collar of his skin-tight suit. 

Then it hits you. “Oh, no…the bomb! It’s working on us!” you lament, instantly scooting as far across the room as you can. As you try to check for loose structure in the wall to knock down and escape, the vigilantes share a confused glance. “What do you mean?” Suguru demands. “What the hell was in that thing anyway? Jesus, are you two as hot as I am right now?”

You are–it feels like the room has grown to about 100 degrees and is quickly rising. “It was an aphrodisiac bomb,” you weakly explain. “It was made with bi-products to help distract my target and weaken their defenses by using arousal.” 

You don’t look at the vigilantes as you continue to tap against the wall, searching for a way out. But are you really searching or just pretending so you don’t succumb to the temptation of the two irresistible men standing behind you? 

“Wait, you used a fuckin’ aphrodisiac on us?” Satrou growls. “Is that why I’m so goddamn…” He pauses, letting out a broken exhale that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

“This shit is workin’ fast,” Suguru exhales, suddenly sounding a lot closer. You feelin’ it too?” He’s asking you, but you don’t answer. You don’t even turn around, too afraid of your loss of control. You can’t trust yourself anymore. 

“I-It doesn’t matter. We have to get out of here now.” You try to stand again, bracing your hands on the wall, but your knees buckle, loose like jelly. “Oh, no!” you whimper, tears springing into your eyes. 

“Hey, hey,” Satoru coos. His hands are on you, gentle and supportive, helping you stand upright. “Relax, doll. You’re okay.” Not the pet names. God, no, anything but those! 

“You don’t understand,” you whisper, trying to wrangle yourself out of his hold. He feels too good, his broad chest pressed into your back. If this continues, you don’t know what will happen and that scares you. You’re supposed to be finishing this mission! 

“What don’t I understand?” he murmurs. “Tell me.” But you can’t. You can’t focus on anything except his strong, gloved hands on your waist and his silky voice in your ear. Slowly, he turns you around to face him and you’re staring deep into his sapphire eyes glistening at you from beneath his mask. 

“Your eyes are really pretty,” you hear yourself softly admit. His lips curl into a proud smile, all dimples and charm. “Thank you, baby. Yours ain’t too bad either.” 

And then suddenly, you’re kissing. You don’t know if you lean in or if he does, but at some point, the tension that the aphrodisiacs caused reach a boiling point, steaming and overflowing. Satoru’s lips are just as soft as they were earlier in the basement, but this time, his kiss is slow and seductive, taking his time to taste you. It feels so, so fucking good. 

“No,” you whimper against his lips, some of your common sense still lingering. “T-This is all wrong.” Even so, your hands feel up his chest, indulging in how big his pecs are beneath the spandex. 

Before Satoru can protest or argue, the thud of footsteps behind you stops him short. Suguru’s hand caresses your hair, brushing it away from your neck. “Only thing that’s wrong here is me not bein’ included,” he rasps. You begin to tremble, sandwiched between their big, hard bodies, each of them towering over you. You’ve never been so intimidated in your life. 

Satoru chuckles, soft and sexy, as his thumb strokes your cheek. Though he’s speaking to Suguru, his eyes stay planted firmly on you. “Join in if ya want. There's plenty of this bad girl to go around.” His fingers trail down to your chin, tilting your head up to stare up at him. “You deserve some punishment for pullin’ that little stunt on us, don’t you?”

Suguru hums in agreement, his fingers tangled in your hair. You can’t think, too distracted by the mingling scents of their cologne and your own arousal. “I-I don’t…” You dig your teeth into your bottom lip as Suguru toys with your dress zipper, making your skin tingle. “You don’t what?” the vigilante pushes, a teasing smile in his voice. “You don’t know? Oh, we think you know quite well, little lady.” 

“Y/N,” you murmur. “My name is Y/N.” Not that you hate the petnames, but it’s also because you want to hear them utter your name. Satoru smiles, pleased. “Pretty name. Better than that London shit you were goin’ with.” He is teasing you and it’s working its magic on you, totally hooking you to your targets.

Their kisses don’t make shit any better for you. They each share you one after the other, snatching you away if one of them is taking too long with your lips. Satoru’s kiss is more possessive and sloppy while Suguru is slow and seductive. However, their lips are soft and their tongues are tantalizing, drawing soft moans out of you as they push against you, trapping you between them.

You can’t get enough of their tastes; their tongues sliding against yours. Their big hands are roaming your body. Suguru sucking on your bottom lip while Satory caresses your neck, soft sighs and moans traveling between you. It is electric. It is magic. It is perfection. 

Your limbs feel loose like jelly. If it isn’t for the vigilantes holding you up, you’d definitely crumble to the floor. They have made you weak. Satoru chuckles as if sensing this, teasingly licking a stripe across your throat. “Poor baby. All she needed was a little attention.” He takes your hand and places it on his very hard, very throbbing dick. “And maybe a little dick too,” he pants. 

“Definitely not little over here,” Suguru teases. Oh, you can feel it. He is just as big and just as stiff as Satoru, pushing into your backside. You are sweating at this point, your pussy throbbing impatiently at the feeling of their bulges packed tight in their suits. “Don’t know about you though, Satoru,” Suguru smirkingly says.

Satoru tsks, rolling his eyes. “Liar. You know all about the weapon I’m carryin’, don’t you, baby boy?” Suddenly, he’s reaching over to grip Suguru’s arm and yanking him in for a sloppy kiss. You stare, shocked and aroused, their soft moans drifting through the air as their lounges slip against each other.

You weren’t expecting some hot shit like this…but you ain’t complaining either. Your body responds immediately: hard nipples, flushed cheeks, and a very wet pussy that drips down your thighs. Satoru’s blue eyes tick over to you and he pulls away, smirking. “Oooo, baby girl’s gettin’ turned on from seein’ her guys kiss, hm?” he chuckles. “What’s the matter, honey? Can’t take it?” 

Both vigilantes stare at you, their teasing making you shy. “N-No,” you stammer. Suguru raises a brow, not convinced. “Oh, no? Then prove it.” 

Suddenly, you’re indulging in your first three-way kiss. All soft lips, tongues, and moans that travel straight to your core, making it warm and fuzzy. Your pussy drips slick down your inner thighs as Satoru grinds against your front while Suguru rubs his cock against you from the back, making you feel every inch of them. The taste of champagne coming off of their tongues is intoxicating, making you drunker than any alcohol could.

Satoru pulls away, pulling his fat, pink tongue away from you. “Bet these lips would feel real good around my cock,” he whispers. You shiver at the dirty statement, biting your bottom lip. 

Suguru agrees with a hum. “Absolutely. How ‘bout it, mama? It’s okay to need a nice, fat dick in here, right?” His thumb swipes your bottom lip, making you tingle all throughout your body. 

His smile fades as he watches you watch him, his gaze molten hot and lustful. You have no choice but to watch him unbuckle his pants with one hand and unzip the front of his suit, pulling his cock out. Your eyes widen at inch at his long, thick, pulsing shaft protruding from a nest of black curls. Especially at the glistening silver ball at his bulbous head.

Red Hood has a dick piercing.  

“Suck that dick f’me,” he demands, his tone firm and serious. “It’s the least you can do for the trouble you caused.” You feel your eyes watering and your lips quivering. Everything in you is screaming at you not to comply…but there is one part nesting in the deepest, darkest depths of your being that is interested and curious. You’ve always wondered how Red Hood and Nightwing looked and tasted…and now, you’re about to find out. 

But as you kneel on the bed before Suguru, facing his thick cock, you start to gulp. He smirks, cocky, dick bobbing in your face without him even using his hands. “Too big, mama? Don’t worry. You can try on this.” He then glides his gun out of his bat belt and holds it out to you, making your eyes widen and your heart pump. “Suck, slutty girl. Let’s see whatcha got.” 

And to your utter surprise, you wrap your lips around the gun and suck. You stare into Suguru’s eyes as you blow the pistol in your face, its cold metal warmed by your soft, lush lips. Satoru watches, just as astonished and aroused as Suguru is, as your throat sinks lower down the barrel. “Mmm, no gag reflex? That’s my kinda girl.” 

Suguru’s violet eyes grow dark with lust as you bob up and down the gun, hollowing your cheeks. “Mine too. Keep those eyes up here, mama. Let me see that pretty face.” He reels you in like a fish on a hook with those eyes, hooded and piercing, drinking in the way you suck off his gun. Your spit coats the cold metal, your lips quivering when you catch his finger on the trigger. 

You can only hope that it’s unloaded, but to your surprise, you don’t feel fear; only a thrill. But you get a thrill like no other once Suguru has had enough of the foreplay and decides to finally feed you his big dick. “Time to show me what that mouth can do…other than talk back.” 

You stare at the thick cock in front of you, the silver balls teasingly glinting at you. Swallowing your pride, you start by kissing and licking along Suguru’s shaft, introducing yourself to his dick. He softly groans and hums in enjoyment at your ministrations, pushing his hips forward.

He does so in a way that makes his cock slip between your lips and in your mouth without your permission. You gasp as his thick cock passes the threshold of your mouth, the taste of him all over your tongue. “Mmm, that’s a good girl,” he moans, using one hand to grab the back of your head. 

His deep thrusts cause your hair to loosen from its updo, your curls falling down. Quickly, they are swept up by a fist, held up out of your face so you can focus on swallowing the dick down your throat. “Allow me,” Satoru hums. “Can’t suck good dick if your hair is in the way.” 

He then pushes you forward onto Suguru’s dick, making you take him deeper. You force yourself to open your throat and to breathe through your nostrils in an effort not to choke. “Shit,” Suguru groans, watching as your lush lips stretch around his dick, taking him to the hilt. “You’re so good at this, angel. You make me wanna fuckin’ cu–” 

“My turn. You’re takin’ too fuckin’ long,” Satoru quips, tearing you off of Suguru’s cock. The long-haired vigilante glares daggers at the Nightwing as he takes his place, smirking down at you. “Be prepared for some greatness, sweetie.” 

Zzzzip. Satoru smirks as he unzips his pants and slides his dick right out for you to behold. He is just as thick as Suguru but lightly curved, leaning with a hook. He is all smooth skin and muscle, not a stitch of hair coating his pelvis except for his thighs. “Like whatcha see, naughty girl? That sneak attack made me so hard f’you.”

He bites his lip as he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking it oh-so slowly in your face. The little beads of pre-cum at the head drizzle down his shaft like the droplets of an ice cream cone. 

He hisses as his thumb strokes the sensitive underside of his head, his bottom lip quivering. “A-Ah–catch it, babes. Don’t let me go to waste now.”

You don’t know what possesses you to stick your tongue out to lick up the salty droplets. Maybe the drug or how hot he looks so desperate for you. Either way, you lick up his pre-cum and then suck on his cock like you mean it, hollowing your cheeks to take him easier. Suguru watches close by in both envy and arousal, stroking his fat dick as his eyes flick between you on your knees and Satoru fucking your throat.

Satoru lets out a loud, throaty groan, one hand tangled in your hair. “That’s it, cutie pie,” he groans. “Take that fuckin’ cock. Y’know, you’re almost better at this than ya are fightin’.” He pushes in deeper, making you gag and nearly triggering that button in the back of your throat, making you gag. Satoru loudly groans at the feeling of your throat flexing around him. “You should think about changin’ occupations…bein’ a little cocksucker is way more fittin’ for ya, pardon the vulgarity.” 

He begins to fuck your face now, slowly at first, but he is still brutal and rough. You have to force yourself to keep breathing to avoid throwing up all over his dick. “You could be my little cock slut,” he growls. “My baby. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?” 

Yes. 

You gurgle and gag in response, your throat forced to flex around his cock interrupting its natural state. You feel as if your throat and mouth are being molded into his personal fleshlight with the way he fucks your face, grunting and groaning like a desperate man. His balls slap against your chin, filling your nose with the scent of his cologne and his dick, making for an extra arousing aroma. 

“Time’s up,” Suguru says, his voice rasped with need. “You’re either sharin’ or you’re not, Satoru. Don’t be greedy.” He practically shoves the Nightwing out of the way, making Satoru roll his eyes. “Well, sorry,” he snorts. “I didn’t realize you were feenin’ for her mouth, Red Hood. Just look at all that pre-cum!” 

Sure enough, Suguru is dripping pre down his fist, oozing down to his heavy balls. Satoru smirks as the Red Hood taps his cock against your plush lips, softly moaning. “You gonna drink it all up for him, baby?” he coos. “Be a good girl and lick it aaaalll up for us.” 

You do so, licking up Suguru’s pre-cum before he pushes in and uses your mouth again. And then passes you off to Satoru. They allow you to stroke both of their dicks in time with your sucking, alternating between each one in your face, throbbing hard. Their groans and whimpers egg you on, making you ignore the ache in your jaw and how your mascara drips just to hear more of their pleasure. 

You’ve never been used in such a way. You are being resorted to nothing but a toy. A hole for the vigilantes’ own use. Saliva drips from your chin and down onto your tits, making you slick and pussy like another part of you between your thighs. The more they fuck, the more your cunt throbs and pulses in anticipation for it to be fucked the same way. 

What is wrong with you? You can only ask yourself this question with every passing moment that your mouth is used like a fleshlight, blowing each dick like it’s your job. Soon, the vigilantes have had their fill though they haven’t cum yet. “Not bad, cutie,” Satoru pants, cheeks flushed. “Now we gotta give our girl a reward, don’t we, Sugu?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Suguru hums, stroking loose hairs out of your face. “Need to make sure you’re ready for us later.”

Excitedly, your eyes tick down to their throbbing dicks again, your pussy throbbing impatiently for either one…or both. Then you catch the glint of Satoru’s handcuffs dangling from his belt. He smirks, taking them out for you. “Oh, you want these?” he teases, dangling the cuffs in your face. “Can’t say I ain’t been wantin’ to cuff your ass all night. I think it’s fittin’ for a naughty girl like you.” 

He crooks his finger at you, causing you to stand on wobbly legs. You softly gasp when he suddenly forces you to turn around, facing the bed post. “Hands behind your back, pretty. Let’s hike up this dress too.” You swallow as you obey his sultry command, allowing Satoru to carefully cuff your hands behind your back.

Meanwhile, Suguru kneels down to hike up your dress over your hips. As he does, their groans of arousal at the sight of your plump ass in your lace panties make you gush in your panties. Before you know it, you’re getting bent over the edge of the bed, presenting your ass to the both of them. “Good, baby?” Satoru murmurs, thoughtfully stroking your ass. You nod, unable to speak.  

SMACK!

You gasp as his palm connects with your ass, hard, making tears spring into your eyes. “What was that?” Satoru asks. The fiery sting makes you flinch, but your pussy has never been wetter. You’re feening at this point, needing dick like you need water to drink. You look over your shoulder at Satoru, drowning in his molten hot gaze. “Yes, I’m okay, sir,” you whisper. 

Satoru and Suguru share a praiseful smile, cooing at your obedience. “So polite! Why weren’t you this sweet earlier, hm?” Satoru hums, pressing a kiss to your ass. But then Suguru tugs on your wrists, making you grunt. “Such a little brat,” he growls. “Lucky for you, mama, I love me some bratty girls.”

Satoru hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to your panties, making you whimper. “Me too…so just what should we do to a bratty pussy like yours?” His bottom lip drags over your ass, his fat tongue licking down, down to your inner thighs. Suguru kneels with him, teasing you with his soft lips and cool tongue piercing, bathing your skin in his spit.

Your body feels unbalanced and your legs are wobbly. To some degree, you’re thankful for the bedside to hold you up as you feel Suguru’s big hands glide down your ass and thighs. Then, suddenly, you feel his breath caressing your asscheeks and something cool on your skin. 

You realize what it is when you feel your wet panties slice off of your body. A knife. “Don’t fret, mama. This is just to get these panties off…but if you want, I can use it on the dress too.” He presses the cool metal of the knife into your thigh, making you feel the jagged edges. 

“You can be a good girl for us, can’t you?” he whispers, a wicked smile in his voice. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer before lightly licking you against your slit. You gasp, your wrists straining against the cuffs. His big hands glide up to force your hips back, causing your ass to jut into his face. “F-Fuck!” you stammer, gasping as sparks of pleasure explode through your core. You can’t even grip anything because of your cuffed wrists, so you resort to curling your toes in your heels.

“Don’t leave me outta this,” Satoru purrs. “I want a lick too.” You feel him give your ass a wet, open-mouthed kiss, making you moan as Suguru slides his fat tongue up to tease your clit. “You can handle both of us, can’t you, babydoll? A tough girl like you?” 

Neither of them give you a chance to answer. Instead, your pitiful moans and slutty whimpers answer for them, filling the small room along with the soft, wet sloshing of their tongues caressing your dripping pussy. They hum enjoyment, licking and sucking away at your pussy that seems to grow wetter with every ministration of their tongues. 

“O-Oh, shit,” you whimper. “Mmm, fuck!” You try to hold back your moans, but you can’t. Plus, the knife against your thigh doesn’t allow you. One wrong move or something that Suguru doesn’t like, and that knife could be cutting your skin…and that turns you on like you’ve never been in your life. 

So let them do as they please. But you don’t really have a choice either. All you can do is shake and shudder as Sugruu sucks on your ass and Satoru swirls his tongue around your clit before he dips the muscle inside of you, moaning at your taste. Your mouth falls open on a loud moan, his soft lips cushioning your clit. 

Satoru lightly pulls on your pussy lips, earning a whimper from you. “Isn’t this so much better than fightin’ us, baby?” he asks before French kissing your cunt once again. He kisses you sloppily and messily, his tongue licking and sliding this way and that. 

At some point, you hear him and Suguru making out with your pussy between them, their soft moans and hot pants fanning across each sensitive part of your pussy, making you a panting, overstimulated mess. You push your ass into their faces, riding their tongues, desperation blooming in your core along with the familiar warm, budding sensation of an oncoming orgasm. 

“Please!” you whine. “A-Ah…oh, fuck, please!”

Satoru smiles, still licking and sucking your pussy with all of the vigor of a hungered man. “I like you beggin’,” he replies. “Do it again for us, nice and pretty.” You have no choice when he continues on slurping on your cunt and fucking your hole, his nose swiping against your clit. 

“Please, please, please!” you sob. “Please let me cum!” Your begging must satisfy the vigilantes because their tongues move a little faster, their pace causing your body to quake against the restrictions of the cuffs. Their hot, wet mouths cause your orgasm to wash over you quickly yet powerfully, controlling every part of your body. You let out a whine of pleasure as your cum explodes in their mouths, drenching their lips in your juices. 

While you’re still cumming, Suguru, ever the sadist, presses his thumb against your clit as his knife skates up to press against your pussy lips, the cold metal making you whine. “Cum more for us, baby,” he coos. “You can do it.” Then Satoru is shoving his tongue up inside of you, making you damn near scream. Fuck!” you explode as your orgasm peaks, making your eyes roll back and your legs shake. 

You don’t even realize that you’re squirting until you hear the vigilantes exclaim in surprise, catching every drop in their mouths. “Oh, shit, she’s a squirter!” he says with glee. “That’s too fuckin’ sexy.” 

Your eyes roll back as your hips buck and your pussy quivers, more and more of your honey exploding onto the vigilantes’ tongues until you are absolutely spent. Even when you slump against the bed, exhausted, Suguru stands behind you, dick up and ready to blow. Pla-pla-plap goes his cock slapping against your sensitive clit, making you hiss. 

“We ain’t done yet so you’d better get it together,” he softly demands, his big hands gripping your ass. Instantly, your stomach grows fluttery with butterflies and your core grows warm. You know exactly what is coming next. You can’t stop. You can’t avoid it. And more frighteningly, you’re not even sure if you don’t want it. 

Especially when Suguru finally slides that big, thick, long cock inside of you. Slick and open from your orgasm, he makes his home between your velvety walls, making you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt in your life. He groans into your ear while your mouth falls agape on a silent moan. “God, you’re tight!” he hisses, already bumping his hips back and forth against your ass. Slow and deep. 

You think you’re already feeling pleasure until Satoru gets involved, still kneeling behind you. He hooks one of your legs up and Suguru takes control, keeping your leg hiked up as the Nightwing tilts his chin up to face your pussy getting stretched out on some dick. “C’mere, you two,” he pants. “I wanna hear you both scream.” Then his fat tongue is caressing your clit and Suguru’s balls as the vigilante pounds you from behind. 

You are a moaning, whining mess, damn near drooling in pleasure. Suguru digs his nails into the fleshy part where your ass meets your hip, his fingers indulging in your body. “Fuck, baby!” he grunts into your ear, panting hotly. Even he can’t get a grip on himself. Your pussy feels too good wrapped around him, stroking him of all he’s worth. 

“Take it,” he demands. “Take that fuckin’ dick. You know you need it.” His other hand grips your neck, keeping a strong grip on your throat as he fucks into your wet heat. “So let me give it to you,” he huffs. “Lemme give you everything that pussy needs!” 

His hips hammer harder and faster into your ass, making it quiver and recoil. Your moans are loud and high-pitched, unable to be silenced due to his pistoning thrusts. He fucks you like a machine, pumping in and out, out and in, his cock pulsing inside of you. “F-Fuck!” you stammer. “Wait, S-Sugu! You’re going t-too fast!” 

Your pussy feels like it’s going into overload, being stuffed too much and too quickly. Satoru’s tongue doesn’t make things any better; he is a master with his tongue, giving you sloppy licks and sucks as his partner fills you up again and again. Tears spring into your eyes as Suguru grips your throat tighter, cutting off your air for just a moment. “Oh, but you can take it, can’t you, tough girl?” he chuckles. “You’re bein’ so good already.” 

Short moans and gasps leave your lips as he continues to squeeze, still fucking you dumb. Your knees buckle and your head feels fuzzy from the overstimulation and the grip on your throat. The pleasure somehow mounts to astronomical heights, leaving you a dumb, mindless mess. 

You’re about to cum. Your target is going to make you burst all over his big, fat cock as if you’re his lover and he’s deserving of all of it. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you warn. “Please, please let me cum, sir! I can’t take it!” You grip the cuffs for dear life as he fucks and fucks and fucks you. Your knuckles go pale, an indication of the pleasure you’re experiencing. 

Satoru chuckles, enjoying your torture, staring up at your bouncing tits above him. “Aww, but the fun just started, baby,” he condescendingly coos. “You gonna cum already? Is that vigilante dick just too good?” You whimper in response, your eyes fluttering closed. 

SMACK! 

Satoru slaps your clit hard, making it sting. “I don’t hear an answer,” he growls. You sob, tears threatening to drip down your cheeks. “Yes! Yes, it feels so fucking good!” you babble. You can feel yourself careening closer to orgasm, your head going blank as you get closer to the edge…

And then Suguru slows his pace, putting an end to your euphoria. “Then we’ll need to make it feel extra good,” Satoru cackles, his blue eyes glittering with wickedness. “I wanna fuck her too, Suguru. Don’t be greedy now.” He stands up, his hand on his fat, hard dick pulsing for you. 

Suguru looks between you and Satoru, raising an eyebrow. “So you wanna steal her other pretty hole? Is that it?” You blink, the gears in your brain turning, processing what your “other pretty hole” means. They can’t possibly mean–

“W-Wait, wait,” you protest as Suguru maneuvers your body, turning you around so he’s holding you up. You squeak, staring at a wall of broad chest and tattoos inking his pecs. “I-I’m not–”

“Ready?” Satoru finishes, smirking as he gets behind you, one leg hiked up to expose your dripping pussy to the both of them. “Don’t worry, babycakes! We’ve got you. That’s what these fat tongues are here for.”

Again, you’re bent over the bed and the vigilantes’ are sharing your hole again. Only this time it’s your asshole. They spit and slobber into your puckered hole, your asscheeks pried apart in their gloved hands. All you can do is moan and whine as they lick and suckle on your asshole, even using their fingers to gently fuck you there until you’re good and open. 

“Oooo, look at that gape!” Satoru cackles, grinning at the way you’re so stretched and open now for some dick. “You’re nice and ready for me now, cutie pie. You’re gonna look so beautiful stuffed with our dicks.” 

You whimper, your body burning with need and arousal. You’ve never been this horny in your life. You suspect that Batman will come at any minute to toss you in a mental facility because of how diabolically, deviously horny you are for his protégé. “Let’s get these cuffs off of you,” Suguru murmurs, taking Satoru’s key to unshackle you.

Once you’re uncuffed, you’re sandwiched between the vigilantes again, a prisoner in two walls of muscle. You are facing Suguru again, your arms around his neck, moaning as he gives you a slow, sloppy kiss, while Satoru is behind you. 

He rubs his cock against your asshole, making you whimper at the feeling of something so hot and hard trying to enter you there. “Don’t you wanna be a big girl for us?” he coos. “Don’t you wanna prove how tough you are?” You feel his tip lightly brush your entrance and flinch, nails digging into Suguru’s chest. “T-Toru,” you stammer. “Please…”

Satoru shushes you, peppering your neck in minty, champagne-spiked kisses. “S’okay, doll, we’ve gotchu. Nice and slow now…” He nods at Suguru and together, they hold you up by your leg and sink deeeeep inside of your holes.

You gasp, your eyes widening as you see twinkling stars. There is a slight burn as Satoru shoves himself in your asshole, but it is numbed by Suguru in your pussy, pleasure and pain mixing into one. After some slow, gentle strokes, they go harder, deeper, faster. Skin against skin. Moans in your ear. 

You feel stretched. You feel full. You feel used. And you feel absolutely, positively amazing. 

“Ah, fuck, baby, yes!” Satoru moans into your ear, pawing at your tits and ass like you’ll vanish if he doesn’t. “God, you–ngh, feel so fuckin’ good!” 

Suguru locks a hand around your throat and presses his lips to your ear, his lip ring cool against the shell. “A pussy like this would make me ditch the cape. Make me rob a fuckin’ bank for you.” 

He loosens his hold on your neck, allowing you time to breathe. But you can’t breathe. You can’t even speak. Your mind is full of cock, unable to focus on anything but Satoru’s big thighs slapping against yours and Suguru’s handsome, flushed face, their dicks pummeling into you. Their thrusts grow quick and brutal, turning your pussy and asshole into mush, making your clit sing and your brain fall right out of your noggin. You are gone. And so are the vigilantes. 

“Ngh–Goddamn, you feel so good,” Satoru groans, gripping your ass so hard that he’ll leave fingerprints. “How are you this fuckin’ tight?” His hand comes around to toy with your lips, his long fingers prying them apart so you can suck on his digits. 

“You’ve got me so c-close,” Suguru grunts in your ear, stammering out his words. “N-Need…oh, fuck, I need to go harder.” Harsh pants and heavy breaths leave his lush lips as he fucks you faster, his balls slapping against your clit. “You want that too, mama? Do you want us to make you cum again?”

You bounce on their cocks between them, leaving crescent marks in Suguru’s shoulders as you dig your nails into his skin. “Ah, yes, yes, please! Make me cum again!” The two vigilantes slow their thrusts for a moment to share a look, silently telling each other the same thing: let’s slut this girl out.

Suddenly, you’re posted on your back with Satoru underneath you and Suguru on top, forcing you into semi-mating press with Suguru holding your legs open for his partner. Your moans and whines of pleasure bounce off of the walls as Suguru taps his dick against your pussy, ready to give you deep-dicking like you never had. “Ready, baby?” he whispers against your lips. “Beg for it.”

“Suguru–”

SMACK!

This time, both vigilantes spank you, on your pussy and your ass, the double assault making you yelp. “Beg,” Satoru growls in your ear, gripping your throat. His cock is nestled deep in your ass, not moving, just there, driving you to the brink of insanity. You can’t think. You can only feel. 

“Please fuck me,” you whimper out. “Make me cum again, sirs. Please.” 

And so they do. They fuck you until you’re seeing stars and forgetting all about your stupid mission. They fuck you with all the mercy of sinners, drilling your holes. They fuck you into the rickety little bed until it rocks and squeaks, fuck whoever hears. Satoru fucks up into your ass while Suguru rams your pussy, the push and pull of their thrusts pulling your soul right out of you. 

It doesn’t take long for that knot in your core to snap. “Oh, fuck!” you whine, damn near screaming for all to hear as you cum hard around Suguru’s cock. You don’t have time to warn them–it just happens, exploding out of you. Suguru moans as you tighten around him, drawing his cum right out of him. “Cum for me,” he groans. “Shit–c’cmon, baby, cum! Give it to me!” 

Your orgasm hits you hard and intensely, sending you on a trip as you thrash in the vigilantes’ hands. Your pussy and ass grip their dicks tighter than a vice as you cream onto Suguru’s cock, coating them both from cockhead to balls in your juices. They share a slutty moan in pleasure by how tight you’ve grown, gripping and stroking them until they have no choice but to cum. 

Satoru’s thrusts grow sloppy as your asshole massages the spunk out of his dick, making him whine in pleasure. “Gonna cum!” he whines. “F-Fuck, I’mma cum for you, baby!” 

“Me too,” Suguru groans, eyes squeezed tight from how tight you are. How velvety and wet you feel. “Take it all…all of it! It’s all for you.” 

You gasp as you feel two hot loads of cum shoot deep into your holes, making you gasp. The moans of release that escape the men are fit for a porno, their thrusts growing sloppier and erratic as they chase their orgasms inside of you. But that isn’t enough for them. Slowly, still hard as rocks, they pull out and have you on your knees so they can pump the rest onto you. 

Their moans, gasps, and grunts fill the room as warm spunk hits your face, dripping down your cheeks, lips, neck, and juicy tits, making your skin sobbing wet and sticky with him. Your breath comes out in short puffs of air as you recover from the vigorous fucking, completely spent. You kneel there, body aching, pussy and ass sore from being stretched. 

You feel perfect. Even when the effects of the bomb begin to wear off, you still feel that addictive satisfaction that comes after some good sex. Even when the vigilantes recover and that awkwardness grows in the room, you feel no regrets. You can’t help but wonder what it means. 

After a while, still in the bed with each other, Satoru is the first one to speak. “Well, uh…that was unexpected.” He clears his throat, cheeks flushed pink. Even Suguru looks shy now, his muscles glinting in sweat. You don’t say anything, too afraid to do so. You aren’t too sure what to say anyhow. You desperately want to say something to cure this horrible silence, but Satoru beats you to it. “So…what do we do now?”

Suguru, tying his hair up in a long, sexy ponytail, looks around for a solution. “Guess find a way to get out of here without alertin’ the cops. What do you think?” He looks at you now, expectantly. 

You feel hot with their eyes on you now, a lump growing in your throat. “U-Uh…well, sure. But it might be awhile before the side effects of the bomb wear off.” The words are out before you can stop them. What exactly are you implying? That you want them to stay? That you want more? 

You open your mouth to try and take it back, but Suguru is already agreeing: “She’s right. We’ll definitely need to recuperate.” You gape at him, surprised, and see the little wink he shoots you. Satoru yawns, stretching his muscular arms high over his head. “Sounds like a plan. I think that bomb had a sleep potion too!”

You feel those damn butterflies return, realizing that tonight isn’t over. “But there’s only one bed though,” you state, looking at the small, rickety bed you’re sitting on. The vigilantes just smirk at each other and then at you, making you burn. 

“Then I guess we’ll have to share,” Suguru coos, raising an expectant eyebrow at you. That won’t be a problem though, will it?” 

You don’t dare tell him that it isn’t. You just let them sandwich you between them in the bed, limbs tangled and the afterglow engulfing you the same way your vigilantes do. You can’t hide the satisfied smile that grows on your lips as silence descends upon you again…but this time, it’s nothing but bliss. 

“We should be safe to depart here,” Suguru murmurs, coaxing you to walk up the small staircase to the rooftop first. 

You do so, your high heels clicking across the gravel as you sneak into the night air. The vigilantes follow right after, now in their super suits and masks. After some recovery and after-sex cuddling, Suguru passed you a towel to sob up the cum from your skin and Satoru found your clothes.

After slipping your dress back on like nothing happened, you snuck out of the room with the vigilantes through a loose floorboard that dropped you into the basement. From there, you went out the back of the museum and up the fire escape to the rooftop, figuring that escaping by air would be better than risking being seen by a cop. 

The side effects of the bomb have since worn off, but the feelings of lust are still there. After such amazing sex with the two heroes, it is impossible to not crave more. You stand before them now in the night air, the starry sky the perfect backdrop for them. Satoru clears his throat, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, uh…this was fun. Pretty interestin’ night, I’d say.” 

“Yeah,” you awkwardly say, your heart pummeling in your chest. You stare at both of them, trying to get a sense of where their heads are at from their eyes. “So you guys gonna go back to the batcave to discuss this or–” 

Beep, beep, beep!

“Night Owl? Come in, Night Owl. What's happening over there?!” The panicked voice of your boss comes from in your clutch. You gasp, unzipping it and fishing out your earpiece. You had it this entire time?! 

The vigilantes look just as shook as you feel when you clear your throat, already sensing the inevitable. “Night Owl is present, boss,” you say as firmly as you can into your ear piece. “I’m alive. Um…just out of curiosity, how much of that did you hear?”

You desperately hope that your boss is clueless as to what you’re talking about, but you know you won’t be that lucky. Judging by his awkward pause, you guess he heard everything. “Uh…just enough. Did you find the targets?” 

You try to think of something professional to say while also letting the vigilantes off the hook, but Satoru speaks for you. “Oh, she did!” he chirps with a grin. “And now she’s about to make us talk with some extra torture device. Thanks for checkin’ in!” 

Quickly, you end the call and toss the ear piece back into your clutch. “I’m so totally fired,” you sigh. Satoru shrugs, placing a hand on your shoulder, making your skin tingle. “You could always come work with us. Wouldn’t mind havin’ you around for some Gotham bullshit.” His smirk is sexy yet genuine. Not a hint of humor in it. He’s serious. 

You cock your head at him, sizing him up with your eyes. You did your best to fix the makeup that the cum wiped off, including your pretty eyeshadow and mascara. “I thought you work alone,” you tease with a hand on your hip. “Especially you, Red Hood.”

You nod at the tall, long-haired vigilante who has been checking you out for all the minutes you were chatting with Satoru. “I do…but you’ve got some potential.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, eyeing you up and down. “You’d definitely need to be trained to be my trusted sidekick though.” 

Your body zings at the flirty banter between you, so natural and easy as if you’d been doing it for years. “I’m nobody’s sidekick,” you scoff, eyeing the superheroes down. “But I’ll give it some thought.” Satoru rolls his eyes like you’re playing so hard to get while Suguru chuckles. “Fine. In the meantime, you keep your hands to yourself.”

The Nightwing puts his hand out for a shake. After some time sizing up his intentions, you take it, shaking his head, only to gasp when he pulls you into his body. His lips are suddenly at your ear, his voice low and hushed. “Unless you want another personal visit,” he purrs in your ear. 

Lucky for you, you know how to play the game of seduction. Plus, the idea of toying with the sexy vigilantes of Gotham, making them lose their cool, doesn’t seem too unexciting. “Hm. I may just take you up on that,” you hum into Satoru’s ear, gently kissing his cheek and leaving a ring of gloss there.

You do the same to Suguru, standing up on your tip toes to give him a kiss. You feel his body stiffen as you leave a sticky print there, marking him up. Then you take a step back, smiling coyly. “Thanks for the fun tonight, boys,” you purr to them. “And for the souvenirs.” 

Their dreamy expressions turn to confusion, brows scowled. Your smile widens as you flash them the diamond in your clutch before quickly getting out your rope gun and hitting the button. 

Before either of them can yank you back, you’re soaring through the air across the rooftop and landing perfectly in your heels on the rooftop across from the museum. You turn back to them staring at you in awe, but they are smiling. “You little sneak!” Satoru yells across the night at you. “We’ll get you back for that, Night Owl!”

You blow each of them a kiss, winking. “Lookin’ forward to it!” you giggle. “Farewell, batbrains!” 

And then you strut off into the night, feeling like a new woman. 

THE END.

[sukunastuna]

please speed i needdd this

[blowingbarnes]

Should've Kissed You Anyway

⤷ masterlist

➴ PAIRING: Brother's Best Friend!Bucky x Reader ➴ WC: 6k ➴ WARNINGS: reader is 18, bucky is 20, SMUT (p in v, protected sex for once, fingering, dry humping, car sex, virginity/virginity loss) yearning, j*hn w*lker is a dick, miscommunication, YEARNING, slow burn but not but super slow burn?, excessive use of eye rolls, he's down bad, tooth rotting fluff, open ending. ➴ SUMMARY: Your prom date ditches you, and Bucky, ever the gentlemen, offers to take you. He gives you the full senior prom experience even though he's your brother's best friend and your crush for the past decade. +fran: I wrote this with greasy hair, after work, before a shower. apparently I reach a flow state when I'm feral. this is my baby and I love this fic so much please for the love of all that is holy, tell me what you think. can be read alone, it will have sequels tho. ⤷ songs/playlist for this: there she goes - the la's, ruin the friendship - taylor swift, back to friends - sombr more

The Rogers' backyard was, for all intents and purposes, the hottest wedding venue in town. 

At least if anyone asked nine-year-old you and 11-year-old Bucky, as much was true. 

The cracked sidewalk leading to the clothesline was the aisle, peony and dandelion flower beds were the decorations. The old apple tree was the altar at which Steve stood taller on an upside down wooden crate, one of your father's old dress shirts over his shoulders to pretend he was a preist, or a pope, or some sort of higher entiry able to witness this whole thing. 

Bucky had one of your dad's suit jackets on, the navy fabric completely swallowing his frame, overlapping at the front and masking the Yankees jersey he had on, and all the dirt and grass stains on it. 

You had a pillowcase that definitely needed to be in the hamper for laundry day pinned to your hair with your favorite hair clips, of a little crystal blue butterfly. 

"Everybody be quiet," Steve announced, nose high up in the air like he was presenting a case to the Supreme Court. "This is serious business."

"It is serious business," you agreed immediately, failing to bite back a grin, missing your top right canine tooth.

One that Bucky held your hand the whole time so you'd let Steve run away with the string and pull it out. 

"We are gathered here today because Bucky and my sister wanted to play wedding instead of baseball."

"You said you'd play too!" you accused. 

Steve ignored and just kept going. "Now, Bucky Barnes." He cleared his throat, trying to make his voice lower. "Do you promise to be nice to her forever, always save her a seat to watch fireworks on my birthday, and never eat the last s'more?"

Bucky rolled his eyes, his dimple coming out as he smiled wth the side of his mouth. "Yeah," he said simply. "I promise."

You raised your brow, mock-scolding him. "You're supposed to say I do."

"Okay, yes," Your heart did an odd flip. "I do."

Steve then turned to you next. "And do you promise to be nice to Bucky forever, not tell Mrs. Barnes when he sneaks cookies before dinner, and always let him have the red Popsicle if there's only one left?"

"But they're the best ones!" You whined. 

Steve sighed, ever the dramatic, looking at Bucky with fake sorrow. "Okay, then I guess you don't love him as much as—"

That set panic in your little heart. "I do! I do!" His face changed immediately, and bucky smiled at you. 

The kind of smile that always made you feel like maybe the sun shined a little brighter on your side of the street than everybody else's.

Steve smiled, as if everything was back on track. "Now, for the rings."

Bucky dug into his pocket and produced two dandelions he'd twisted into little circles. Your eyes widened. "You made those?"

He nodded, brown hair bouncing up and down his head with the gesture. "Took me forever, but they're your favorites."

He held one carefully between his fingers before sliding it onto yours with all the concentration in the world.

"You made me a flower ring." Your grin stretched so wide your cheeks hurt.

Bucky shrugged. "Yeah."

Steve interrupted your thoughts, "Okay, okay. By the power in this vest… or in me, whatever they say in movies, you are now married." He pointed at Bucky. "No cooties." Then at you. "And don't make him play tea party every day."

Your stomach did that weird fluttery thing it always did around Bucky Barnes. It did the same thing when you rode rollercoasters, felt like it was gonna fly away and take you with it. 

"You may now high-five the bride." Steve announced, stepping down from the crate. 

Bucky extended his pinky towards you, "We'll be best friends forever."

"No take-backs." You smiled, wrapping your pinky around his.

TEN YEARS LATER

As time passed, you grew up. You got new interests, all of you got new friends, and the found family you had just seemed to get bigger. Of course, you weren't as close with Bucky anymore, no college sophomore wants to hang out constantly with his best friend's kid sister.

It's kind of uncool.

The house was loud in that familiar, comfortable way—the kind of loud that doesn’t feel chaotic so much as lived-in. Every sound has a place. Every voice belongs. Bucky, as much as he isn't family by blood, grew up running up and down these stairs the same you and Steve did, as Steve did in his house. 

Both of your moms were best friends since diapers, and it was only fate that Bucky and Steve were too. 

The kitchen doorway had his height and age and name scratched on it just the same as it did yours, he knew that house in the dark just as much as Steve, trying to sneak around to get snacks during late nights playing video games. 

Controller clicks. Steve muttering under his breath. Bucky’s low laugh every time he wins—because of course he’s winning.

“Dude, you’re cheating,” Steve groans, tossing his controller down for a second.

“I’m just better than you,” Bucky shoots back easily, stretched out on the couch like he owns the place, long legs kicked up, completely at home.

He always is.

Him and Steve drove back home from their Sophomore college parties for your graduation weekend, still half-running on energy drinks and bad decisions from the night before, which just happened to fall in the same one as your prom, only separated by three days. 

They could hear your speaker booming in your bathroom while you got ready with your two best friends, Yelena and Kate, and Natasha, Steve's girlfriend, helped you with your makeup. 

It was a mix of Megan Thee Stallion playing and giggles coming from the three of you, your two best friends gushing over their dates.

Makeup scattered across the counter. Curling iron plugged in and dangerously close to knocking something over. Dresses half-hanging, half-draped over the shower rod.

And Natasha’s laugh, warmer, older, threaded through all of it as she tried to keep things somewhat under control.

Kate is perched on the edge of the tub, kicking her heels against the porcelain. Yelena is leaning into the mirror, fixing her lip gloss with unnecessary intensity.

And you—

You’re standing between them, half-finished, dress still unzipped, hair clipped up, trying to decide if you feel as good as you’re supposed to.

“Okay, no—seriously,” Kate says, pointing at you like she’s making a case in court. “John is going to lose his mind.”

Yelena hums in agreement. “He already looks at you like he has no thoughts.”

You laugh, a little breathy. “That’s not even true.”

“It is completely true,” Kate insists.

“You’re just saying that.”

“We are not just saying that,” Yelena shoots back.

Natasha, standing behind you, gently brushes powder along your cheek, more focused than the rest of them—but she’s listening. And she notices there's a sparkle in your eye that's missing when John's the subject. 

He's nice, he's good looking, he's captain of your football team, maybe he has some anger issues with other guys, but all in all he's a solid boyfriend. He's just not—

“Alright,” Natasha says finally, pulling you from your thoughts, lightening her tone again. “Turn around. Let me see the full thing.”

You do as she asks, and she takes in her work of art, your hopeful eyes, and the soft blownout curls of your hair framing your face. 

"Perfect!"

Careful with your steps as she reaches for the zipper, pulling it up your back slowly, sealing you into the dress, into the night, into everything that’s supposed to happen.

A knock sounds on the bathroom door. "You girls alive in there?" Steve calls. "Or did the hairspray fumes get you?"

"We're decent!" Natasha calls back.

Steve pokes his head in for a second. "Oh."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

His expression shifts immediately into something resembling offense. "What happened to my little sister?"

"Oh my God." You snorted. 

Steve's broad frame now came into full view in the tiny bathroom as he stood on the dorway. "Who is this grown woman and where did she put the gremlin that used to steal my fries?"

You rolled you eyes. "I'll still steal your fries."

He shakes his head. "You look beautiful, Bug."

Your expression softens. "Thanks, Stevie."

As Pietro and Bob scrolled their phones impatiently at the bottom of the stairs, making small talk with Steve and Bucky, you were almost wearing a path into the carpeted floor of your bedroom.

Seconds after he was supposed to arrive with the other two, he texted you some shitty excuse as to why he was taking Olivia, his ex, to prom instead. 

“I was gonna explain,” John says finally, like that makes it better.

You let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “Explain what? That you’re ditching me the night of prom?”

“I’m not ditching you,” he says quickly, defensive already. “It’s just—Olivia asked me to go with her and it’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” you repeat, your grip tightening around your phone. “John, it’s prom. We’ve had this planned for weeks.”

“I know, I know,” he says, exhaling like you’re the one making this difficult. “But she’s going through stuff right now and I don’t wanna make things worse.”

Your chest tightens. “So you thought canceling on me last minute wouldn’t make things worse?”

“That’s not what I said.”

You huffed. “That’s exactly what you’re doing.”

He goes quiet again for a second, and you can practically hear him thinking—calculating—trying to figure out how to spin it in a way that makes him look less like the bad guy.

“Look,” he says finally, voice shifting into something more controlled, “you’re gonna have fun no matter what. You’ve got your friends, it’s not like you’ll be alone.”

The words hit harder than anything else he’s said.

Because they’re so easy for him. So dismissive.

“So that’s it?” you ask, quieter now, but it wavers anyway. “You just—drop me and go with her, and I’m supposed to be fine with that?”

“I’m not dropping you,” he insists again, frustration creeping in. “It’s one night.”

“It’s prom,” you snap, the word catching in your throat. “It’s not just some random thing, John.”

“Why are you making this such a big deal?” he shoots back.

That’s what does it.

Your eyes sting, tears blurring your vision as you shake your head even though he can’t see it. “I’m making it a big deal?” you echo. “You’re the one who decided, what, an hour before we’re supposed to leave, that I don’t matter as much as your ex?”

“It’s not like that,” he says, sharper now. “You’re twisting it.”

“I’m not twisting anything,” you say, your voice breaking despite your best effort to keep it steady. “You just told me exactly where I stand.”

He exhales, long and annoyed, like he’s already over the conversation. “You’re being dramatic. The words land like a slap. And for a second, you can’t even respond.

“Okay,” you say finally, and your voice is quieter now, but steadier in a way that feels final. “Okay. Go with her.”

“—See? That’s all I’m saying, it’s not that—”

“No,” you cut him off, shaking your head again, even though he still can’t see you. “I get it now.”

There’s a shift on his end, like he didn’t expect that. “Wait—”

“Have fun at prom, John.”

And before he can say anything else, you hang up.

The silence that follows is immediate and heavy, pressing in around you as you stare at your reflection, your chest rising and falling too fast, your phone still clutched in your hand.

For a second, you just stand there. And then your face crumples, and the tears come before you can stop them. 

Great. You think. An hour of Natasha's hard work gone in two seconds. 

You ripped a couple squares of toiled paper off of the roll, trying to dab away the tears when a knock interrupted you. You didn't even have time to tell whoever it was to leave you alone, the door opened anyway. 

And of course it was Bucky. 

"Hey, Walker finally—" Then he saw your face. The red rimmed eyes, the puffy nose and lips, he'd recognize your crying face if he was in a dark room blindfolded and you were three states away. "What happened?"

His voice wasn't panicked our loud, just immediate. 

"Apparently my boyfriend had a better offer." You said with a humorless laugh, fiddling with the corner of the tissue. 

His expression then changed to confusion, then disbelief, then anger. "He did what?"

Your eyes stayed on the paper, humiliated. "He took his ex to prom instead." It sounds ridiculous out loud. Embarrassing. "I know it's stupid—"

He shook his head. "It's not stupid."

You shrugged one shoulder anyway. "It kind of is."

"It kind of isn't." Bucky insisted. 

Your laugh broke apart into another shaky breath. "He said I was being dramatic." Your voice was small, like a small part of you almost believed John. 

"No the fuck he didn't." Bucky's voice, on the contrary, sounded like he was about to make sure John was in three zipcodes at the same time.

You wiped at your face furiously. "Can we not do the whole protective older brother routine thing right now? Steve's probably already planning a felony downstairs."

Bucky nodded, as if agreeing that yes, Steve should be planning felonies. "Good."

Despite yourself, a tiny laugh escapes you. "Bucky."

"I'm serious." He took the couple steps needed to lean back against the sink, back to the mirror, while you faced it. The familiar weight of him beside you settled something in your chest. "You know what I think?" he asks.

You sniffled. "What?"

"I think he's an idiot."

You snort. "Very eloquent."

"You spent weeks excited about tonight." You shrug. "You talked about your dress for months." A smaller shrug, your head shaking like you agreed with him three weeks was a little excessive. "And some guy decides at the last second that he doesn't feel like showing up?"

His eyes looked for yours, and he continued once you met his gaze. "That's his loss." 

Downstairs someone was shouting something about finding the car keys. "I just feel stupid."

His brows furrowed immediatelly. "Why?"

"Because I was excited." The words came out smaller than you meant them to. "I really thought tonight was gonna be special."

Bucky's expression softens. "It still can be."

You laughed weakly. "My date literally dumped me an hour before prom."

"Okay." He says, like the solutions is obvious. Like a dragon staring you in the face. 

You were confused. "Okay?"

"Okay." He stands up straight. "Counterpoint." You raise an eyebrow. "I've seen enough terrible teen movies to know where this goes." Despite yourself, curiosity wins.

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah." He nodded, and started counting on his fingers. "Option one: you go with your friends and have an incredible time."

"Mm." An amused smile played on your lips. 

He continued. "Option two: Steve commits a crime."

You smiled widened. "Likely."

"Or a secret, better option three—"

You quirked a brow. "There are three options?"

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully. "There are always three options." You gestured for him to continue and he grinned. "Option three: some devastatingly handsome college sophomore heroically steps in and saves prom."

You stared at him in disbelief. "Bucky Barnes."

"What?" 

"You are not asking me to prom."

"Why not?"

"Because that's ridiculous." You stammered. "You're a college guy and it's gonna be a bunch of drunk high school seniors and—"

"Seems pretty straightforward to me."

You crossed your arms over your chest, the action making your breasts stand out more, and Bucky had to hold back from looking briefly. "You drove eight hours home from college."

"Correct."

"You haven't slept." Another excuse.

"Also correct."

Truth is… You didn't trust yourself not to ruin your friendship, and Steve's, with Bucky as your date. Yes it was a childhood crush, yes it was stupid, yes he only saw you as a little sister, but for some reason every time you smelled sandalwood and listened to divorced dad rock, your stomach did the same fucking thing it always did.

It flipped. 

"I'm serious." The grin on his face faded into something gentler. "You shouldn't miss your prom because some idiot couldn't see what was standing right in front of him."

Your throat tightens. "I don't want a pity Bucky Barnes date."

"I wouldn't dream of it." Bucky shook his head. "I want to go to a high school prom sleep deprived, listen to bad music, and drink shitty punch."

You pretended to think about it. "I want milkshake and fries from Juniper's after."

Bucky got down on his knees dramatically, clutching his hands together, play-begging. "Please, let me spend my hard earned student loans on a malted brownie shake for you, m'lady."

You signed, as if you weren't blushing seven shades of red at the moment, all hidden by Natasha's foundation. "I suppose."

After Nat talked Steve down from whatever Law Abiding Citizen crap he was gonna pull, Bucky borrowed one of your dad's suits while you touched up your makeup, and off into his jeep you went. 

Bucky lingered back as he watched you walk to the old car excitedly, Natasha stopping right beside him as your friends walked to their cars, watching you get twirled by Kate. 

Bucky noticed Natasha staring at him and raised a brow in question. "What?"

She gave a noncommittal noise. "Nothing."

"Romanoff." Bucky scoffed.

She put her hands up in surrender. "I didn't say anything."

"You've got the face."

Now it was her turn to raise a brow, trying to bite back a grin. "What face?"

Bucky rolled his eyes. "The face where you've figured something out before everyone else."

Nat shrugged her shoulders. "I always figure something out before everyone, Bucky." Tapping him on the shoulder and turning arounfd to go inside. 

The prom commitee worked very hard to make sure the night looked exactly like every movie promised it would.

String lights draped from the ceiling of the gymnasium like stars somebody had caught and hung overhead. Balloons clustered in the corners. A photo booth occupied one wall. The basketball hoops had been disguised beneath enough tulle and fairy lights to fool almost everyone.

Turns out, getting ditched by John Walker was the best thing that ever happened to your prom night. You didn't even notice when Olivia was cryingin the bathroom because she caught him making out with someone else. 

No. 

You were too busy slow dancing with Bucky Barnes.

When the first chorus of the song came on, he held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

You rolled your eyes. "You're such a dork."

"Tick tock, Rogers." He wiggled his fingers impatiently.

You took his hand as if it didn't make your fingers go numb with excitement, and Bucky quickly nestled a hand on your low back, your forehead to the side of his jaw. 

"You know," Bucky said after a minute, "this is definitely better than my prom when I was your age."

"Okay, grandpa." You laughed softly. "What happened at your sophomore prom?"

"My date spent forty-five minutes crying in the bathroom because her friend wore the same shoes she did."

You clicked your tongue. "That's tragic."

"It was devastating." Bucky agreed, nodding his head, laughing softly. 

You nudged his jaw. "I'll try to hold it together."

"I appreciate that."

A moment passed, then another, and you spoke up. "Thank you for doing this for me."

"Anytime." He let out a soft breath, leaning back the slightest bit so he could look at you. "You do look beautiful, I mean it."

Thank fuck for Natasha's foundation, powder, and concealer for hiding your flush. "Thank you, Bucky." Oh how you wished you hadn't looked into his pretty eyes, reflecting the lights off of the mirrorball back onto the dancefloor. 

The ten seconds seemed to stretch an entire decade. Somehow Bucky's face getting closer and closer to yours, eyes switching from your lips back to your eyes and to your lips again. 

Oh my God, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, he's gonna—

"Hey." The word cut through the moment like broken glass. Fucking John Walker. King of never in the history of the world reading anything. Specialy the fucking room. "Can we talk?"

Bucky's hand tightened around your waist, "What do you want, John? Olivia is probably looking for you."

"C'mon, baby, you're not gonna throw our relationship away over one bad call, are you?" He was seriously trying to play this off. "I made a mistake." His hand reached for you but you stepped away. 

"I'm not your baby."

He scoffed. "Aw, c'mon." And tried again. 

This time, Bucky got between you two. "She's done, Walker. Walk away."

Now John got… Defensive. "This isn't any of your business."

Bucky clicked his tongue. "She kind of is." The words slipped out before he could stop them. The air stood still for a minute before the football bros came to get John, leaving you and Bucky with the weight of unsaid words and unspoken looks. 

Juniper's was closed by the time you finally left prom.

Not closed enough to stop Bucky from leaning halfway out of the driver's side window and convincing one of the employees locking up to sell him two milkshakes and an order of fries out of pure pity.

It wasn't until you were stargazing in his jeep with soft music from his Spotify mixing with the crickets hiding in the grass that your heart settled again. 

You were in the passenger seat, your burger already eaten, just finishing your delicious fries and your milkshake with Bucky in the same predicament in the driver's seat. 

Now the two of you sat on the hood of his Jeep in the empty parking lot overlooking the river, the New York spring air cool enough that your bare shoulders prickled every time the wind picked up.

Without a word, Bucky shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over your shoulders. You blushed. "Thanks."

He shrugged. "'M not using it."

"You literally had it on 30 seconds ago." You rolled your eyes. Bucky just muttered details between a mouthful of fries. 

"You know," you said eventually, "this wasn't exactly how I pictured prom going."

Bucky laughed quietly. "No?"

"I don't know. There was significantly less public humiliation in the original draft." You laughed softly. "But I like this version better."

Bucky nodded. "I had fun."

You looked over. "Yeah?" Hopeful little edge in your voice giving you away to anyone that knew you remotely well. 

"Yeah." His expression softened. "Got to dance with a pretty girl."

Heat climbed into your cheeks immediately. "You flirt with everybody." You rolled your eyes. 

Bucky made an offended expression, clutching his chest. "I absolutely do not."

"You absolutely do." You lolled you head to the side, raising a brow to make your point. He laughed.

God, you loved his laugh. Always had. The thought came and went so quickly you almost didn't notice it.

Your eyes drifted back toward the sky. "You know what this reminds me of?"

"Hm?" He lifted his eyes from the milkshake cup he was trying to get every last bit out of. 

"The meteor shower."

Bucky smiled immediately. "Oh man."

You grinned. "You remember?"

"Remember?" Bucky chuckled. "I had baseball tryouts the next day and I was up all night to make sure you didn't miss it."

It stopped you dead in your tracks. He did what? "No, you didn't. Your mom came and woke us up."

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, because I woke her up. I was outside waiting for it while you and Steve snoozed it off. Played like shit the next morning." He continued. "You had the date circled on the calendar."

Your brow furrowed. "I did?"

He nodded. "You drew stars around it."

"Oh my God."

Bucky chuckled, his own head lolling to the side on the head rest to look at you. "You made Steve and I promise we wouldn't stay up late the night before because we had to be rested."

You buried your face in your hands. "That sounds insufferable."

"It was kinda cute." He smiled at you like he always did, and your heart promptly forgot how to function. Bucky, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of the devastation he'd just caused.

Trying so desperately to change the subject to something that wouldn't make you tear up or your heart jump, you fiddled with your milkshake, taking a sip and making a face. "You know, I think this thing is eighty percent whipped cream."

Bucky grinned. "I can see that, it's all over your face." His left thumb came up to wipe down the leftover shake on the corner of your mouth, and it lingered just a second too long. 

For a second, or three years, the world felt like it stilled. A moment frozen in a snow globe to be forever replayed. 

Neither of you moved, not entirely sure how to. Suddenly Bucky was very close, close enough to see the tiny scar in his eyebrow from falling off his bike when he was fourteen, to count the freckles dusting across his nose, enough that you could feel your heartbeat somewhere in your throat.

His eyes flicked down to your mouth, then back up, and your heart and lungs stumbled over themselves. 

His hand lowered slowly, resting on your thigh. The night around you seemed quieter somehow. Smaller, as if the entire world had narrowed down to the space between you.

"Buck..." His name came out softer than you intended.

His expression shifted into something you'd never seen directed at you before. "If you don't want—"

And then your body moved forward on instinct, your brain a mess of fuzzy TV static, and when you came back to your body, your lips were on his.

Not because you were brave or even confident, just mostly because if you let him finish that sentence you thought your heart might actually explode.

For one terrifying second you were convinced you'd made the biggest mistake of your life. Then you felt the warmth of his hand on your cheek, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss as his tongue slipped past your lips.

The kind of kiss that felt less like fireworks and more like coming home after a very long trip.

One of your hands quickly found the nape of his neck, gently scratching your manicured nails against his scalp. He whined against your lips, hand drifting to your waist, and just as much as he pulled you onto his lap, you climbed over the console to him, food wrappers forgotten on the floor. 

You shrugged the suit jacket off, accidentally honking the horn with your butt in the process, and Bucky's hands rubbed up and down your thighs as you rocked your hips against him, feeling the heat of him against the suit pants. 

Your hands dropped from his shoulders down to his arms, then forearms, directing him to paw at the zipper on the back of your dress.

That made him pull away, looking for your eyes. "Are you—"

You could not have nodded more feverishly if you were a damn bobblehead. Bucky needed no further incentive, he made quick work of the zipper, excitement bubbling in your stomach like freshly popped champagne while he peppered kisses along your jawline and neck. 

The now bothersome fabric of the dress fell to your waist as you worked on the buttons of his shirt, hands moving to his belt and pants after. He kissed you again, deeper as his hand snuck under the hem of your dress to find the wet spot on your panties. 

You moaned against his mouth, your own hand finding its way inside of his boxers. You broke the kiss, gasping for air. "Is this— I mean— okay?" It was hushed and murured against his lips as you stroked his length. "I've never— oh!"

You got rudely interrupted by Bucky's index and middle fingers rubbing your sensitive clit over the blue cotton of your panties. He nodded against you, "Y-yeah, you're— fuck— you're doing so good." His hips bucked up against you, and the second he slipped out of his pants with your movements his hand left your core and now were both squeezing your ass.

Bucky brought you flush against him, the angry red tip of him begging for friction found it when you started to dry hump him through your underwear, gasping into his mouth every time it nudged your clit.

"Bucky, please…" He couldn't not give you what you wanted, right? "I can't take it." Not when you begged this pretty.

He nodded against you, "I know, baby." And his right hand went under your dress, behind you, and pulled your panties to the side. "I know."

The second his bare cock made contact with your wet slit, he hissed, and a lightbulb went off in his head.

Condom.

He did not trust himself to pull out. Not of you. "Condom." His voice was almost distant to you, like it hadn't crossed your mind to use protection. Not with Bucky, anyway. He'd never hurt you, he was your—

"I—" You were dazed, lost and drunk in the scent and thought and feel of him. "My purse." His hands let you go and you leaned over the seat to grab your purse from the backseat, your ass right beside Bucky's head. 

Of course he took advantage of that fully pull your panties down, now that you had the leg space. 

You sat back down on top of him with a little huff, trembling hands fumbling with the wrapper.

Bucky hissed as you rolled it down on him, and one of his hands lined himself up with your entrance.

As you sank down on him, you thought maybe you should've thought twice about it. I mean, you knew he was packing, you walked in on him changing one time a couple years ago, there was no way you could—

"Hey," Bucky's voice brought you back from your spiral. "Look at me." Beautiful cerulean eyes stared up at you like the moonlight was made to bounce off them specifically. "Breathe."

His other hand brushed your hair away from your face, just as the hand that was holding his shaft traveled up, thumb finding your clit rubbing soothing circles on it. "Just take it slow." Your eyes fluttered closed. 

"How do you not get knocked over hauling this thing around?" That brought a chuckle out of him, landing straight onto the skin of your neck. "Oh, God..."

You rocked yourself back and forth, until he was fully inside of you, your lips touching the light hair at the base. 

Bucky kissed all over your face, his thumb never stopping its work. "You're doing so good, baby."

"Feels full." He laughed softly. squeezing your waist and helping guide you into a rhythm. "Feels good."

"Yeah?" Hushed and right by your ear, you felt like drowning and the happiest person alive at the same time. "You're so tight," He continued. "So warm."

You whined against his lips, the vibration going all the way down to his core.

He moved you up and down his cock, listening to the obscene wet squelch each time you sat up and sank back down on him, and each time it dawned on him what was actually happening, he got louder.

Bolder.

He bounced you on his length, hissing each time, you squeezed around him. "Feel good, Buck. Hah!"

It surprisingly didn't take long for Bucky to have you right at the edge, not as long as people online led you to believe losing your virginity would feel like. "Can feel you fluttering." His thumb worked faster.

"Wanna come, Bucky." You whined, kissing him, and pulling away with his bottom lip between your teeth, "Can I?"

He hissed, the question making it hard for him to not blow his load right then and there. "F'course you can, pretty girl, c'mon."

Your release felt like a million meteors hitting you at once. Like Earth came apart and got put together all in the same breath. 

It felt entirely different, better, than when you tried to do it on your own. And your orgasm triggered Bucky's, waves of pleasure milking rope after rope of cum from him into the unworthy latex of the condom. 

For what it felt like forever for the milionth time that night, neither of you spoke. Your breaths and the crickets were the only sounds. 

It was quiet after. 

Just… quiet.

The kind that only existed when two people had known each other so long that silence wasn't something to fill. Starts lit up the sky that was now your ceiling, and Bucky had taken the condom off and tied it, throwing it inside of the trash with the fry bag and the milkshake cups.

For once in his life, James Buchanan Barnes appeared to be completely out of words.

Which was concerning.

You smiled a little, back in the passenger seat with the suit jacket around your chilly shoulders. "What?"

He glanced over. "Hm?"

"You're thinking too loud." That got a laugh out of him. A quiet one, but still a laugh. "Sorry."

A beat of silence, then another. "I don't want this to ruin anything."

Your smile faltered slightly.

Of course, you thought. Of course he doesn't feel that way about you, why would he—

"Oh, Buck." You faked a smile as his eyes met yours. "We'll be okay."

A sheepish, hopeful look hit his face. "Yeah?"

"Of course." You nodded and reached over and laced your pinky with his. "We're us."

His expression softened when he looked down at your joined fingers. "We're us," he echoed.

You smiled. "We survived Steve's bowl cut phase." You listed off. "The great Thanksgiving mashed potato incident."

"Traumatic." He chuckled.

"The time I accidentally backed your Jeep into Mrs. Russo's mailbox." You continued. 

He scolded you playfully. "You still owe me for emotional damages."

You laughed softly. "We'll be best friends forever."

The words came so naturally, so easily. The same words you'd said years before ona hot day beneath a tree. A pinky promise.

Forever.

Beside you, Bucky went quiet. Of course she wouldn't want anything to do with you, you're her brother's best friend. That shit only works in mov— "Right." His eyes dropped for a moment. "Friends."

Your stomach twisted at the word for the first time in your life. Because why did that sound disappointing?

Why did it sound like something had slipped through your fingers without you realizing you were holding it?

a little bit of fran in your life: okay did we like it??????? it was meant to read like a first chapter but also a standalone in case you wanted to just be done with it. yippieeeeeeee

💌 permanent freaks taglist: @chateaubarnes @houseofhyde @heldbybarnes @iamthatonefangirl @superbassbuck @its-in-the-woods @wildflowersandvibranium @unificsation @flockoff-featherface @54nboo @earthsmightiestbenders @winterdecember18 @juniebjonesin @barnesonly @bckyslover @buckyfmd @starfire-irl @tw1sters @pinksplace @artficlly @daddysbitchybaby @globetrotter28 @epiphanyrogers @famoushoshi @avgdestitute @blobfishlol @buckysdecaflove @buckybsdoll @allthingswickedpodcast

fic taglist: @starspangledspanks @mwahforbucky @allofffmypeaches @ryk-mt @bees-library3 @chocolatemilkshakex @squishyfruitloop

[sukunastuna]

fawkkk this is hot

[lovergirlcinema]

I’m A Good Girl, Officer

Sammy Bryant x black!reader

Summary: After Sammy’s divorce from Tammi, he has a whole new outlook on life, which also includes a whole new look. You notice that your cute neighbor has transformed into a total smoke show, but you’re quick to remind him that you wanted to crack him even when he was chubby.

Warning(s): SMUT (18+, MDNI), praise kink, dirty talk, oral (m and f receiving), officer role play, use of a mirror, objectifying Sammy Bryant and his chubby face & body😩, cum licking, unprotected sex, mentions of infidelity. 

Sammy Bryant has always had his eyes on you. I mean, who wouldn’t look at you? You’re an absolute stunner is what he’d say if anyone ever asked. You’d been his and Tammi’s neighbor for about two years before the divorce.

Each morning, when you both were heading to your respective jobs, you’d still be polite enough to yell out a “Mornin’ neighbor!” All while waving your pretty manicured nails at him. 

He’d blush each time, but he’d still offer up his own “Good morning” to you. Sammy liked having you as a neighbor. You were always polite and helpful. 

Whenever you’d have a cookout with your friends and family, you'd invite him and Tammi over. Of course, Tammi never came, but Sammy never let that stop him from going to eat good food. 

“Make yourself at home, Sammy. Come on, I’ll make your plate,” you said, tugging him along with you to the kitchen. As you passed by different members of your family, you would introduce them. 

“Say mane, you ain’t gone arrest us or nothin’ right?” Your uncle asked him. 

“No, sir, m’just here to enjoy some good food and company,” Sammy answers. 

“Uncle Leroy, leave my neighbor alone,” you said, laughing slightly as you pulled Sammy into the kitchen. The man watches quietly as you move around the kitchen and grab one of the long plates. 

You look up at him, “Do you eat potato salad?” 

Sammy nods, “Yeah, I do. Honestly, it all looks great, so load me up with it all.”

You chuckle, “I’ll hook you up. My dad makes the best ribs this side of town.” You navigate around the table as you pack Sammy’s plate with various foods. His mouth waters the more that you put on the plate.

But truly, he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that his mouth was watering from the food. In actuality, the man can’t keep his eyes from trailing over your body. He can’t help the way that he notices the way that the shorts cling to your body, or how they rise each time you lean over the table. 

He’s a cop. He’s supposed to pay attention to the details that other people would miss, such as the fact that when your shirt lifts, he can see the faint glint from your belly button piercing. 

Or even the fact that he can tell that you just shaved your legs–as evidenced by the bandage on the side of your leg.

“You hurt yourself?”

“Huh?” 

When you turn to look at him, Sammy points to the bandage on the back of your leg. You look down at it and hum as though you forgot it was there. 

“Yeah, I nicked myself shaving this morning. You know how it is, playing host. You never really get time to yourself,” you explain, before sticking a fork in his plate. 

You pass the plate over to him, and he ignores the way that his skin tingles at the feel of your fingers brushing against his. Sammy follows you back into the party, where you both sit together at one of the tables. He takes the first bite of potato salad and nearly moans. 

The ribs are even better. 

“This is some of the best food I’ve had in a while,” He states, taking another bite of the ribs. 

You smirk, “Your wife not cooking many home meals?”

Sammy wipes his mouth and swallows down the food, “Not really. She does her best, but she’s not much of a cook. But I knew that when I married her.” He winces once the sentence is out and tries to save face, “She makes a great casserole.”

He cringes even harder at that sentence.

You laugh softly, “M’just teasing you, Sammy. Since you like the food so much, I’ll make you some to-go plates.”

Sammy takes his time to stare into your eyes. He analyzes the different shades of color present there and how your eyelashes perfectly complement your eyes. 

“I’d really like that. Thank you.”

“S’no problem.” 

You hold eye contact with him for a beat before breaking it once one of your cousins calls your name. You’re polite enough to include Sammy in the conversation. Actually, you’re great at reassuring him throughout the entire evening. 

Even when you’re teaching him to play Spades, you’re patient and calm with him. He finds himself laughing along with your family as they joke about you bringing a white boy around. 

You laugh loudly, “Y’all are gonna put some respect on my neighbor’s name. I’m not about to let y’all come for him like this.”

“Right, niece! Y’all ain’t coming for my friend. He said he's going to help me get rid of these parking tickets,” your uncle, Delmont, said, all while winking at Sammy. 

Sammy can’t help but admire how joyful and carefree you are when you’re with your family. It only makes him more attracted to you, especially with how welcoming you are. 

He stops the thoughts before they can even begin to manifest into a montage of images. If there’s one thing that Sammy Bryant doesn’t do is cheat. 

He knew his fair share of guys at the station who were messing around on their wives and girlfriends, but that had never been Sammy’s scene. 

He took the sanctity of marriage seriously. When he said those vows to Tammi, he meant every single word. So as much as he liked you, he’d never cross that line and hurt his wife. 

Because his parents raised him to be a lot of things, but a cheater wasn’t one of them. 

Even though he has his suspicions of Tammi, he still wouldn’t allow himself to ever cross that line. 

By the end of the night, as things are winding down, Sammy stands across from you in your yard with his to-go plates stacked together in a plastic bag. 

“Thank you again for inviting me and for the food,” He said, smiling shyly at you. 

“You’re welcome. Thanks for coming. You know it was really nice having you here, Sammy. You’re welcome to come to any future cookouts.”

He smiles, “Good, because I don’t think I ever want to miss out on your dad’s ribs.” Before he knows it, you’re stepping closer to him. He can practically feel the warmth of your body with how close you are. 

“Have a good night, Sammy.” He expects that to be the end of the conversation. What he doesn’t expect is for you to pull him into a hug. He can feel the increasing thumping of his heart beating against his chest at the feel of your body pressed to his. 

He tries to take a deep breath to calm his nerves, but that only worsens the situation because then he gets a big waft of your perfume. He circles his arm around your waist and pulls you more to him. 

You happen to move your head back to stare at him, and for a moment, he’s trapped within your gaze. He clears his throat and moves back. For a second, he allowed himself to visualize what it’d be like to have your lips pressed against his. 

He swallows roughly as the guilt starts to creep up into his body. He smiles awkwardly at you, “G’night.” 

You spare him one last smile before turning to walk back inside your house. Sammy follows suit and walks back to his house. When he gets inside, he spots Tammi sitting on the couch, watching TV and texting on her phone. 

“You’ve been gone all day. Thought I might have to file a missing person’s report,” She said, eyes flickering over his form and the bag in his hand. 

“No need for that. The neighbor and her family invited me to stay and eat with them. They were really nice,” Sammy responds.

Tammi hums. She’s not blind. She can see how pretty you are and the occasional glances that you spare Sammy’s way. Even just the fact that he was so excited to go to your house has her raising her eyebrows.

Sure, she’s already having an affair of her own, but something about the thought of you and Sammy together just makes her stomach queasy. However, it would absolve her of some guilt about her affair if Sammy were sleeping with you. 

Maybe he’d even be willing to look past what she’s doing in favor of his affair with you. 

The next day, Sammy’s on edge. 

He suspects more and more that Tammi is cheating on him. But it’s fully confirmed for him in that moment when he checks his to-go plates and sees that someone had eaten his ribs. 

Tammi doesn’t even like ribs. 

So who did she have in his house?

You’d noticed the change in Sammy since his divorce. At first, he was more withdrawn and isolated. You’d grown worried when you started to notice the usual softness and joy present in his face fading away. 

You were there for Sammy even when he started to push you away. You’d send over meals to his house, and he’d give you a soft smile, but you could always tell that the light had left his eyes.

It only got worse when he found out that the baby that he was so excited for wasn’t his. 

In that moment, Sammy Bryant decides to become a brand new man. As he looks in the mirror, he takes in his chubby cheeks and the slight curve of his stomach. He figures that he’ll start there.

He starts going to the gym more and being more mindful about what he eats. Soon, the weight practically falls off, and his face becomes slimmer. His jawline’s sharper, and the man that stares at him in the mirror is him…but not him at the same time. 

He likes it. And he’s not the only one. Sammy starts to garner a lot more attention from women on the regular patrols. They’d usually keep their eyes on Nate and disregard Sammy. 

But now, they flash heated looks and sugary smiles in his direction. It puts a certain pep in his step. Even as he goes to the bar with the guys, more women are pulling him to the side and suggesting that they come back to his place. 

He smiles politely and declines. 

He sips from his beer after he’d rejected yet another woman. Ben turns to him, “Jeez, Bryant, she was a real smoke show. I bet she would’ve been open to showing you a good time.” 

Sammy shrugs, “Nah, not my type.” 

Nate scoffs, “Not your type? What’s your type then? Oh, let me guess, your fine ass neighbor next door?” 

Sammy shoots him a warning look. Nate chuckles, “So, I’m right. Why don’t you just ask her out, man? She seems like she’s into you.”

“I don’t know. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Well, you’d better get a move on it. Pretty girl like that. Some guy’s bound to scoop her up soon.”

Sammy knows that he’s right. You’re a beautiful woman, and not too many men would miss their opportunity to have you on their arm. Since the divorce, he’s been watching you a lot more. 

He finally feels like it’s not a sin to look at you and imagine what it’d be like to be with you. 

Which just happens to be the case now as he watches you head out to your car. You glance up, feeling his eyes on you, “Mornin’ neighbor.”

“Morning,” Sammy replies before he starts to walk over in your direction. 

You lean against your car and give him another one of those dazzling smiles, “Long time no see, Sammy. You get a brand new look and dump me.” 

You don’t hide the fact that you’re checking him out, which he really likes. 

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t you, I swear. It’s just been a lot with the divorce and then the baby…” He trails off at the end of the sentence and swallows roughly. 

It still hurts him to talk about the fact that the baby isn’t his. A cute, chubby-faced baby that Sammy was prepared to give the world to. Even after the DNA test came back negative, he tried to make it work. It was always his dream to be a father. But as all things are with Tammi, they eventually become complicated. Her affair partner was still a constant in her life, and he obviously wanted to be a part of the kid’s life. 

So Sammy did the mature thing. 

He bowed out and left. There was no point in fighting for something that would only hurt him in the end. 

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that, Sammy. Really. You’re a great guy,” You said, your expression softening. 

“Thanks, and thanks for being there. Those home-cooked meals meant more than you know.”

“You’re welcome. You know you’re always welcome over anytime,” You said.

Sammy smiles shyly. Even with his new look, he still found himself nervous around you. 

“I should go, but I’ll see you around, Sammy. Be careful.” With one last parting smile, you get into your car and drive away. Sammy watches you drive away and mentally scolds himself for not being brave enough to ask you out. 

It’s a random Friday night, and Sammy finds himself on patrol with Nate and Ben. There’s nothing too crazy besides them having to get a few sloppy drunks in line. Sammy’s eyes scan to the entrance of the club, and he stops once he spots you walking out with your friends. He lets his eye run down your figure in the way that the front of the dress dips dangerously to show the outline of your breasts. 

You look beautiful, and you’re practically glowing as you laugh loudly at something that one of your friends says. Your eyes scan your surroundings, and they automatically land on Sammy leaning against the patrol car. 

Sammy sees you say something to your friends before you start to walk in his direction. By this point, Nate and Ben have noticed you approaching them. Nate nudges Sammy, “Aye, Bryant, there goes your lady.”

Sammy rolls his eyes, but can’t stop the smile that covers his face. 

“Evening officers. Hi, neighbor,” You say, looking in Sammy’s direction. 

“Hi, uh..you look really nice. Girls’ night out?”

“Bachelorette Party, actually. My best friend’s getting married next week,” You reply, briefly glancing back at the group of women, who wave at you before making obscene gestures. Sammy chuckles at their antics. Your friends use his laughter as an excuse to come over and antagonize you finally. 

A woman with long faux locs and a sasha labelled “Bride” smirks while looking between you and Sammy. “Oh, so you must be the sexy neighbor that she won’t stop talking about.”

Your eyes widen, “Kamari!”

“Ooops, my bad. I’m a little tipsy officer, forget I said anything,” Kamari states before turning her gaze to Ben and Nate. “Hey, is it possible for you guys to handcuff me and put me in the back of the cop car?”

Your other friends laugh at Kamari’s suggestion, but truthfully, Ben and Nate are down to make her wish come true. You watch in amusement as Ben puts the cuffs around her wrists loosely as your other friend, Shay, takes pictures and videos of the moment.

You find that Sammy’s already looking at you, “Aren’t you gonna frisk me, Officer?”

Sammy smirks at the insinuation, “I don’t know, ma’am. Have you been a good girl or a bad girl tonight? I have to have reasonable cause for a search.”

You step closer and pretend to think it over, “I don’t know, Officer Bryant. I think I’ve been pretty bad tonight. I think you should cuff me and make sure that I’m not in possession of anything. You know, for the safety of the public and all?” You peer at him from beneath your lashes as you flash one of those dazzling smiles in his direction. 

“How much have you had to drink tonight, sweetheart?” He figures that it must be some sort of liquid courage if you’re openly flirting with him like this. 

“Not a lot. I’m playing designated driver tonight, so that means that I’m completely sober and in my right mind to flirt with you,” You mutter as you reach out to lightly touch his shirt. Your fingers play with the buttons of his shirt, and Sammy feels flush at having your hands on him.

From the side, Kamari stumbles, and you take a step back from Sammy. “I should get her home. It was nice seeing you, Sammy. Stay safe tonight.”

“Drive safely, sweetheart.” 

He watches you walk away, the dress clinging to each curve of your body. You throw a fleeting glance over your shoulder and wink at him before turning around. 

“She’s so into you, man. You gotta get in on that,” Ben suggests. 

For the first time in a while, Sammy figures that it’s time to make his move.

12:20 AM. 

That’s the precise time that Sammy makes it to his house. He briefly glances over to your house and clocks the fact that the lights are still on. 

He walks into his house, which is silent except for the sounds of his dog, Cooper, snoring from the couch. 

As Sammy showers, he’s suddenly hyper aware of his body and all of the different changes there. The slight pudge that used to sit over his pants is nonexistent. Even as he stands in the mirror and observes his jaw, which one lady stated “could cut through glass,” he just stares.

He starts to wonder if maybe Tammi wouldn’t have cheated on him if he looked like this. Was she turned off by his chubby cheeks or the feel of his stomach against hers when they had sex? 

Then he thinks about you. 

Never once during the times when he’d talked with you did you ever make him feel like he was disgusting. In fact, the only time that he ever felt wanted was when he was with you. 

The realization is what gives him the confidence to finally walk across the pathway as he stands in front of your door nervously. 

He readjusts his grip on the wine bottle as he raises his hand to knock. 

He lowers his hand, “What are you doing, Bryant? She’s probably asleep. What? You bring wine and then what?”

He jumps as the door opens. You stand in front of him with a wide grin on your face, “Are my eyes deceiving me, or are you talking to yourself at my front door, Sammy?”

Sammy blushes under your gaze. He awkwardly rubs his hand through his hair, “How’d you know I was at your door?” 

You take a small step forward and point to the side of the door, where a ring camera sits. 

“I saw you on my camera. The motion detector went off, and then I just kind of watched you psych yourself up at the door,” You respond, laughing. 

Sammy laughs right along with you. 

“I’m sorry. That was weird. I should probably go.” 

“Don’t be. It’s cute. Plus, you walked all this way, you might as well come in,” you states, leaning on the door. Frankly, it’s not like he walked far. Your house is literally only a few steps away, but implication is just far too sexy to resist. 

Sammy follows behind you into your house, and he takes the chance to look around. You’ve changed things around since the last time that he’s been here. It’s warm, cozy, and completely you. 

You navigate him towards the kitchen where you go to the cabinet to grab two glasses. 

He removes the cork from the wine glass, and you blatantly stare at the flex of his muscles. 

“Sorry if it’s not the good stuff,” He said, as he pours you both a glass. 

“It’s fine. I’ve become all too familiar with cheap wine, and truthfully, I kind of like it,” you reply. You usher him into the living with as you both sit side by side. You pull your feet up to rest on the couch as you stare at Sammy. 

“What brings you by this time of night, Officer Bryant?” You ask teasingly.

“ I wanted to see you.”

You smile, “I wanted to see you, too. I was hoping that you’d stop by.”

“You looked really beautiful tonight,” Sammy announces, eyes briefly flickering down to your bare legs.

“Thank you. You looked pretty hot in your uniform.”

He smiles bashfully, “Yeah? That’s seems to be the consensus among everyone these days. Guess they didn’t really like the way that I looked in the uniform back then. Nobody likes a chubby guy, you know?”

He tries to laugh at the end of the joke to take the sting away, but it still hurts. The insecurity of it all stillhurts. 

You set your glass down the table before turning to look at him. He wants to smooth the frown out of your pretty face. 

“Is that really what you think of yourself, Sammy? Don’t get me wrong, you’re hot like this, but I liked you when you had a little weight on you, too. You were fluffy.” 

Sammy chuckles, “Fluffy? Like a bunny?”

“Yeah, like a bunny. You always looked like you were good at cuddling and like you could keep a girl warm on a cold night,” you explain, your expression darkening. 

You scoot closer to him on the couch until your legs are touching his. You trail yours eyes across his form and suddenly, he just feels so naked under your gaze. 

He finds himself leaning in closer to your face, but you stop him. You stand from the couch and hold your hand out to him, “Come on, I wanna try something.” 

Sammy’s like a little puppy with how he willingly lets you lead him throughout your house. He eyes the various pictures frames that have you and your family in them. His heart is hammering against his chest as you both get closer to what he presumes is your bedroom. 

It also doesn’t help that he can feel himself hardening in the grey sweatpants. You push the door open lightly as he finally catches a full view of your room. 

The big bed sits neatly in the middle of the room, but what catches his eye more is the huge mirror that sits in front of the bed. Sammy’s mind goes to less innocent scenarios, such as you pleasuring yourself in front of the mirror. 

You turn to face his as you both stand in front of the bed. “Is it okay if I touch you, Sammy?”

He nods, wide eyes seeking your approval.

You click your tongue, “No, baby, you’re an officer, you know how important consent is.”

He swallows the saliva that fills his mouth, “Yes, you can touch me. You can do whatever you want to me, doll.”

“Good because I wanna make you feel good tonight.” Your fingers reach out to lightly squeeze the bulge that peeks through the sweatpants. He jumps in anticipation. 

Your hands grasp the edge of his shirt before you lift it above his head. The fabric falls carelessly to the floor. Sammy suddenly feels very shy under your gaze. 

You pull his body to yours with the drawstring of his sweats. You peer up at him, “I want you to kiss me, Sammy.”

He doesn’t need much else after that as he lips descend upon yours. Sammy’s lips move across yours, and it feels like he’d devouring you. But truthfully, you don’t know how much, he’s been waiting to finally touch you. 

You moan softly at the feel of his tongue sliding into your mouth. You can taste the faint hint of mint on Sammy’s tastebuds. You move your hands up to cup his face, “You know how many hours I spent thinking about this face? Sammy, I’d literally cum to the thought of sitting on your face.” 

You move your lips to the side and press a kiss to his cheek, “I was always happy whenever I’d get to see your sweet face in the morning.” 

As expected, he blushes. You slide your hands from his face down to his stomach, which is now lean with abs and a visible v-line running down. Your hands grasp the side of his waist.

“I really liked your stomach.” Sammy’s mouth goes dry as he watches you to come to stand behind him. You turn his face to the mirror, “Eyes on the mirror, baby. I want you to watch every single thing I’m doing to you.”

He watches you bite your lip through the mirror, “You wanna know what I fantasized about when it came to your stomach?”

“Tell me,” Sammy orders gruffly. 

 Your manicured hands slide down the length of his body before you dig your nails into his stomach. 

“I used to think about you and me together. I thought about you laying your body atop of mine, and you thrusting away. But you wanna know what really turned me on? I couldn’t stop thinking about your belly rubbing up against mine. It didn’t turn me off at all. Means that you’re eating good. Can I make you feel good?”

“Please,” he whimpers, as he leans back in your hold. 

You gently usher him to sit in the middle of the bed. Grasping the sides of his sweatpants, you pull them down as his dick slaps against his stomach. 

You kneeling between Sammy’s legs, staring up at him all pretty. 

“I wanna see you too,” Sammy said, softly. 

You lean back to toss your shirt over your head. Sammy’s greeted with the sight of your beautiful breasts as the air starts to harden your nipples.

“You look beautiful,” Sammy states. 

“Thank you, baby. So do you. Now let me make you feel good,” you tell him, to which he nods.

You take his length in your hands and slide your tongue across his tip to collect the precum dripping there. 

Sammy shudders in your hold. Licking up the underside of his dick, you allow your glossed lips to cover his tip. Lifting up, you swirl your tongue around like you’re licking a lollipop. 

“You taste so good, baby. Just like I knew you would.” Sammy jumps and moans loudly at the feel of you enveloping his full length into your mouth. He pulls your curly hair out of your face so that he can stare at you. 

You look at the Sammy the entire time as you move your head up and down. When you move up again, you allow a large amount of saliva to trail over Sammy’s tip before slurping it back into your mouth.

“Baby…fuck…that feels so good,” Sammy moans, his face scrunching up in pleasure. 

You moan around him at the praise and Sammy finds his hips lifting each time to meet your mouth. Quite frankly, you’re happy to see him prioritizing his own pleasure and wants. You know he deserves it after everything that Tammi put him through. 

Sammy feels the creeping of the orgasm rising in his body before he can fully comprehend it. His mind feels frazzled as he moans unabashedly in the room. He tries to push you back a little, “Baby…”

But you already know what that means, and you’re not letting your man miss out having his pleasure. Hallowing your cheeks more, Sammy moans increase as you fully submerge yourself to the base of his length, pushing your nose into the ginger hairs at the base of his dick. 

Stars burst beneath his eyes as his orgasm starts. He moans and whimpers as the ropes of cum leave him. You obediently drink him down and move up at the sheer amount of cum that floods your mouth. 

With him now out of your mouth, you point his leaking dick at your chest as the white liquid paints your breasts like a canvas. 

The last bit of Sammy’s white release trails lazily down the side of his dick. You catch the liquid before it can drop on the bed and bring it to your mouth. Sammy’s dick jumps at the sight of your wet mouth, along with your bare chest painted with him cum. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” He orders. 

You stand in front of him, bare and waiting. Sammy surprises you when he moves his face closer to your body and his tongue flicks out to swipe the cum away from your nipple. The ginger-haired man fully wraps his lips around your nipples as he sucks gently. Sammy repeats the action on your other breast before moving to lick the remaining remnants of his cum from your chest.

Once you’re cleaned up to his satisfaction, he connects his mouth to yours. You both kiss messily as the faint trace of him remains on your tongues. 

Gently laying you down on the bed, Sammy hovers above you. He presses light kisses down the length of your body. He grabs your hips in his hands as he slides your sleep shorts down your legs and discard them on your floor. 

“M’gonna make you feel good too, baby. For the next couple of days, all I want is the taste of you in my mouth,” He explains, laying down between your legs. 

Kissing up your thighs, Sammy nips at your thighs before soothing the bites over with his tongue. Truthfully, he wants to mark you. He wants to leave this bedroom knowing that some part of him is still imprinted on your body. 

Sammy pushes your legs back and is greeted with the sight of your glistening folds. Leaning down, he collects the slick that gathers at your entrance on his tongue and licks a long stripe towards your clit. 

It seems like just from that small taste, it incites Sammy to fully bury his face into your pussy. You lean up on your elbows as you watch his head move back and forth. 

Stuffing your hand into his curls, your jaw drops at the feel of the man eating you out like you were his last meal on Earth. 

“Sammy…”You moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head. How could Tammi be this stupid and give an eater like Sammy up? 

Admittedly, this is the first time that a man’s been able to bring you the edge so quickly just off of head alone. Sammy’s Bryant a dangerous man, and you’d definitely be willing to fight anyone before you gave up your best eater. 

With one last suck to your clit, you’re exploding on Sammy’s tongue. He watches as your back arches from the bed. It brings a huge sense of pride to his chest at the fact that he’s making you feel so good. 

You breathe heavily and laugh, “If I knew you were this good, I would have came to your house sooner.” 

Sammy licks his lips, tasting the remaining juices on his face. “I think we both have a lot to make up for baby.”

Leaning up, you pull his lips to yours, “Well, we can start now.” You grasp his hardened dick in his hand, “I’d love to feel you inside me.”

Reaching over to the bedside drawer, Sammy pulls out a condom and slides it over his length. 

“Yeah, baby, we got a lot to make up for.”

From that moment, you instantly become Sammy’s girl and there isn’t a thing that he won’t do for you. Sammy feels good about his relationship with you. For the first time in a while, he feels valued and less like a burden. 

Knowing that you found him attractive in every single state sent a wave of flutters throughout his chest each time. 

Naturally, the guys at the station teased him for getting a woman as beautiful as you. He’d heard his fair share of “You sure you can handle all that, Bryant?” But truthfully, Sammy had excelled at proving that he could handle you. 

The man was practically manhandling you all throughout his house. He got off on seeing just how much he could make you cum. He always kept a perceptive eye on you as he liked watching you cum, and seeing how overwhelmed you got by the orgasm. 

He liked knowing that he was the only one making you feel good. 

Even the first time that you’d let him go raw inside you, Sammy Bryant had literally turned you every way but loose. 

You still didn’t see how Tammi could ever cheat on the man when he was putting it down like this. 

Speaking of Sammy’s ex-wife, she’d started to become a rather bothersome nuisance. She’d heard around town that Sammy had started seeing a new woman. So imagine her surprise when she spots you and Sammy walking hand-in-hand in the grocery store with love sick smiles on your faces.

It’s also not lost on Tammi how good he looks. This wasn’t the same Sammy Bryant who’d divorced her months ago. 

No, he actually looked happy with you. 

She swallows down the sting of bitterness. As the saying goes, you never know what you have until it’s gone. And Tammi was surely recognizing that now. 

Sammy gets off on Friday and heads home to take off his uniform. He’d already since logged his body cam back in at the station. He parks in front of his house and walks in, just as he smells food wafting through the home. 

He smiles at the realization that you’re here and you’re cooking for him. He’d given you a key to his house pretty early on the relationship, and he didn’t regret it. As far as Sammy was concerned, he was serious about his relationship with you. 

Sure, the sex was great, but there wasn’t a moment that he didn’t enjoy spending with you. He loved the fact that he was able to get to know you on a more deeper and intimate level. 

He spots you stirring away at the stove. His eyes zero in on the pretty dress your wearing and how it rides up when you move. 

Gently walking up behind you, Sammy wraps his arms around your waist. 

“Evenin’ ma’am. I’m Officer Bryant with the LAPD. I’m here to discuss something serious with you, you might if I search your person for anything?” Sammy questions.

You smirk, you already know this is about to end with you cumming around Sammy. You turn the stove off as you turn your head slightly to the side, “Of course, Officer. May I ask what’s this about?”

“Well, ma’am, I have reasonable cause to suspect that you’re harboring something deadly on you. Now, do I have your consent to frisk you?”

You laugh lowly, which Sammy catches as he chuckles.

“I don’t know, Officer Bryant. Do you have a search warrant.?”

Sammy raises his eyebrows in amusement, “M’afraid I don’t ma’am. But I could take you down to the station and it’d be a lot longer. I think it’d be easier if you just consented here.” He trails his fingers down to the edges of your dress. 

“Okay, Officer Bryant, you have my permission,” you respond. 

Sammy navigates you away from the stove and to the the nearby counter. “Hands in front of you where I can see them, ma’am. Spread your legs for me.” 

You follow Sammy’s orders as you spread your legs more. You can already feel the panties between your legs becoming wet with freakiness of it all. 

Starting at your chest, Sammy gently pats his hands along your body. He gets to your breasts and cups them in his hands. You lean into his touch. Patting along your waist, Sammy moves his mouth close to your ear, “Have you been a good girl, sweetheart?”

“Mhmm..I’m always a good girl for you, Officer.” Sammy hums before kneeling behind you. 

He trails his hands up your legs as he reaches the hem of your dress. He pushes the fabric over your hips and whistles at the sight of your panties clinging to your wet pussy. 

“Now what do we have here, sweetheart? Is this getting you all hot and bothered?” Sammy asks, as he swipes his fingers along the damp center of your panties. 

“Tell you what, sweetheart. I’ll make a deal with you. I got a little situation going on if you catch my drift. You help me out and I’ll let you go scot free,” Sammy suggests. 

“Okay, Officer Bryant. We can do that,” You state, subtly waving your hips in his face. In response, Sammy pulls the wet material down your legs as he stuff it in the back of his pocket. 

He practically salivates at seeing how wet you are. 

Standing up behind you, Sammy unbuttons his pants and pulls them down just enough before guiding his tip to your entrance. 

You bend over more as you arch your back. You and Sammy moan in unison as he slides into you. 

“God baby, you feel so good,” he mutters against your shoulder. He has to pause due to how your warm walls encircle around him. 

Pulling back lightly, Sammy thrusts forward, which makes you let out a soft moan. He starts a steady pace as he rocks in and out of you. The man looks down at his your pussy stretches around him, and at the white creaminess that coats the base of his dick. 

You know Sammy’s watching. He’s always been a fan of looking at your bodies being connected. You start to thrust back as your ass bounces against his thrusts.

Sammy reaches around to close his hand around your throat as his movements increase. The loud sound of skin slapping fills the kitchen space. You and Sammy are so utterly lost in the moment that neither of you pays attention to the woman, who stands gobsmacked in the kitchen. 

Tammi doesn’t know what she expected to find when she came back to her former house. All day, she’d talked herself up to come back to the house. She had said that she would tell Sammy that she’d forgotten something, then being the nice guy that he is, he’d let her in. 

She expected that they talk, reminisce on the good old days before they’d talk about how much they missed each other. Them missing each other would lead to them kissing and then they’d go at each other like rabbits.

At least, that’s the scenario that Tammi planned in her head. However her plan was severely flawed from the jump. As soon as she had gotten to the house, she’d knocked and knocked. Not that you and Sammy would be able to hear over the sounds of your lovemaking. 

So Tammi got desperate and used her old key, which has led her to the current moment. Having to watch her ex-husband fuck you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever get to do. Her eyes zero in on Sammy’s hand wrapped around your throat, and how much pleasure you seem to be in. 

Tammi has to admit it to herself, Sammy’s always been a phenomenal lay and even better when it came to giving head. But as she watches him here with you, a large flare of envy creeps into her mind. 

Here you were reaping all of the good benefits of Sammy. The parts of him that she had neglected.

With one last thrust, you and Sammy moan loudly as your mutual climaxes erupt. Sammy holds your body flush to his as you can feel the white spurts of cum shooting against your womb. 

You laugh softly, “You keep cumming in me like this, Sammy, we’re gonna be picking out baby names.”

“Wouldn’t bother me, one bit, honey.”

You’re both startled at the sound of keys hitting the floor. You both look at the former Mrs. Bryant as she stands awkwardly in the doorway. 

Sammy pulls his pants up as he smooths your dress down, “Tammi, what are you doing here? How’d you even get in?”

The blonde woman blushes in embarrassment, “I was coming by to talk and I knocked, but you weren’t answering.” 

Her eyes flicker over to you, “I can see why now. You know, I always knew that you liked him. You’d look at him whenever he came out of the house. I guess you were just waiting on your chance to swoop in and steal him from me.” 

Sammy scoffs, “Oh, come off of it, Tammi. Last I checked, you cheated on me, and we’re divorced so you can stop with the whole ‘woe is me’ bullshit.”

“I just wanted to talk, Sammy. You remember when we used to do that?”

“Yeah, I do. I always remember that you used to not cheat on me either, or maybe the fact that you got pregnant with his kid. God, Tammi, nothing that I ever did was ever gonna be enough for you,” Sammy states, running a hand through his hair. You place a reassuring hand on his back. 

Tammi sees it. She also sees the way that Sammy’s body visibly relaxes in your hold. She isn’t dumb. She sees what’s going on here, and she swallows down the acidity as it crawls up her throat. 

Sammy is in love with you. 

It’s just as clear cut as it needs to be. There’s no chance of reconciliation for her and Sammy because she’d already lost his love to you. 

Even with the way that she can see Sammy grasping your fingers between his, it solidifies the moment.

“I shouldn’t have came. I’m sorry, Sammy.” 

She turns to leave the house until Sammy calls her name. She’s honestly expecting him to make some grand speech in front of you about how he would always love her and how he wants them to be friend. 

But that doesn’t come. 

Sammy holds his hand out, “I need my key back to my house.” Tammi’s eyes widen as she fishes the key from the key chain. She slides into Sammy’s hand and watches as he hands it over to you. 

“Aren’t you at least gonna walk me out, Sammy?”

You roll your eyes as Sammy huffs in annoyance. He’s about to take a step forward until you stop him, “I’ll walk her out, baby.” 

Sammy watches as you usher Tammi to the door. You both disappear around the corner. She turns to face you, “It won’t last with you two. Sammy and I have history together. He isn’t gonna throw it all away for some fling.”

You laugh, like actually downright laugh in her face. “Honey, was that for you or me? I seem to recall you threw all of your history with Sammy away for some fling. You even let him knock you up. You never deserved Sammy. He’s a great man, who you took for granted. But hey, I should be thanking you. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have him. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to go fuck my man again.” 

Before she can respond, you close the door in her face. You walk back into the kitchen where Sammy is standing. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even know she still had a key. And for the record, you’re not just a fling to me. I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you.” He takes a second to pause, “I love you, sweetheart. I know it may be too soon to say this but I’d like to spend the rest of my life with you.”

That pretty smile that made Sammy fall for you covers your face. You step forward to cup his face in your hands, “I love you too, Sammy. And for the record, I like the idea of spending the rest of my life with you.” 

Sammy leans down to press his lips against yours. When he pulls back, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, “Thank you for being here and loving me at every stage. There hasn’t been a moment where I had to wonder if I was worthy enough to be with you.”

Your eyes soften, “Sammy, I’ll always spend every moment reminding you of why you deserve the world.”

He smiles, “And I’ll make sure that I spend every moment making sure that I’m giving it to you.” 

“Good. Now, are we eating or going for another round?”

Sammy laughs loudly, “Let’s eat, then I can show you all the ways that I love you.”

“I like the sound of that.”

End.

Taglist (if you’re tagged here, it just means that you’re on my Shawn Hatosy list☺️):

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@rufles2 @lifeainteasy-browneyedgirl

[sukunastuna]

loveeeeeeee

[nieceeee]

nerd!ony x black reader

WC: 5K+

A/N: MDNI, afab reader, black reader, we love ony down bad as always. I had fun writing this one

“Ony, again bruh come on.”

Onyankopon sighs, rubbing his hands down his face as he stands in the doorway of his dorm. His teammates stand on the other side, once again urging him to come out for the night. “Come on, yall know how my mama is. If I don’t ace this test, I’m done.” he shrugs. Groans sound out in the crowd of people. “Ony, it's college. One bad test won't mess you up. You already have a 4.0.” his best friend Connie slaps a hand on his shoulder. “And if I was paying my own way through school I would agree. But my folks ain’t going for that and yall know it.” he explains for the umpteenth time as he pushes his glasses up on his face. Ony’s arm cross over his wide chest as he tries his best to be patient with his friends and teammates. They’re cutting into studying time was the only thing running through his mind. One thing about him, he ran a strict program. Study time was set and organized each week depending on workload. Alarms were set on his clock for breaks and lunches. Phone silenced for no distractions. He had it all in order but his teammates were disrupting his routine and it made than vein in his neck twitch in agitation. He knew they meant well but it didn't change a thing. 

“Come on man. Y'all know he ain’t budging when it comes to this school shit. We gone be late to the party.” Eren groans from behind them, his booted foot kicked up behind him balancing him out as he leans against the wall. He folds his over his chest, black hair greased and slicked back into a low ponytail. “Exactly.’ Ony quickly agrees, “Y'all just go. I’ll catch the next one.” He compromises. Another round of complaints and head shakes sound out. “Wait, isn't your girl supposed to be there tonight?” Reiner asks, that heavy country twang coming from the back of the crowd. Eyes shuffle from him back to Ony, patiently waiting for his response. To be honest, Ony wasn’t sure if you were going to be there or not. I mean he figured you would just because he knew you. That’s literally how you two met. 

Ony had been forced to go to at least one team outing by his friends and coaches (yeah, it was that bad.) After hours of reluctance he agreed to go only because he was offered (bribed with) a full study day of no interruptions and a light practice day which everyone knew he wouldn't take. His team had managed to get him out that night for the annual fair. The minute he got there he was ready to leave. It was overwhelming. The lights, the bodies, the people. He found himself standing in the line for the ferris wheel in hopes that the height from the rotating ride could offer him some sense of reprieve from the chaos swarming around him. His eyes fan the area, taking in his surroundings, teammates standing close by loud and boisterous. And then he saw you and instantly it seemed like the world melted away. Ony rarely gets awestruck but there was something about the way your brown skin shines under the moonlight, eyes twinkling like stars. Drawn like a moth to a flame he didn't even register that you had walked up to him until you were standing right under his nose. “Hey cutie. What’s your name?” Was the first thing you said to him that night. His eyes widened because there was no way you were talking to him, right? But you were. He stuttered his name to you and your response was one he would never forget. “Nice to meet you Ony. I’m Y/N. In a few minutes, I’m going to hold out my hand and you’re going to put your phone in it. I’ll be expecting a text from you with a time and a date. And if you can set it in the next 48 hours, you’ll definitely be getting a goodnight kiss that night.” He was so starstruck that he barely registered when your hand lifted in front of him. He fumbled his phone from his pocket and before you had walked off good he had sent you a text (Eren had to force him to do it because he was still confused about the entire encounter). A few dates later, he had finally asked you to be his girlfriend. It was a sweet, quiet gesture much like him. A promise ring stuffed in your favorite dessert at your favorite restaurant coupled with two dozen roses. You shared your second first kiss that night. 

You and Ony are alike and different at the same time. Both academic scholars with big aspirations. But where he is quiet, you are the life of the party. Never shying away from a function, a member of every black student organization on campus from student council to dance team, and more. If there is a gathering, you are there. Everyone who ius anybody and even the nobodies know who you are. And Ony loves it about you. Although he is much more on the shy side, his favorite thing is seeing you get the praise and accolades you are much deserved. That being said, there aren’t many parties that you miss so Ony assumes that you would be in attendance tonight as well. “She may be and that’s perfectly fine. But I’ll be here in my room. Now if y'all excuse me, I have to get started. I’m already behind schedule.” He pushes them, in between their complaints, away from the door and closes it, locking both locks. A heavy sigh and soft finally escapes his lips. The clock hits 8:41 and Ony groans in agitation. He was supposed to start at 8:30 on the dot so he can take his breaks on time. “Guess I’ll just have to move things around.” He mumbles aloud as he sits down at his desk to get started. 

10:03 pm

His floor is quiet, everyone else having went to celebrate their big win. Pages spread neatly across his desk paired with uncapped highlighters and scribbled on sticky notes. His eyes scan the PowerPoint on his laptop as he double checks the answers on his practice test. He exhales softly through his nose, squinting as he pushes his glasses back closer to his pupils. He had already taken his first break and he was due for another one at 10:30. Focus. Only a few more minutes and you can give your eyes a rest. He blinks a few more times and continues to read. “When comparing the velocity of…” he reads aloud. 

His phone rings. 

The loud sound shocks him from his thoughts causing his brows to furrow together. His eyes dart over quickly as he reaches out to silence it. He didn’t realize he hadn’t turned his ringer off which is strange for him to say the least. Ony always remembers to turn his ringer off when he is studying. Distraction aside he shakes his head and collects his thoughts. Ignoring the call, he picks up where he left off. “Comparing veloci…”

The phone rings again. 

What is happening tonight? He thinks. He lets out a small huff of annoyance flipping the phone up to see who is calling. There are very few people that can bypass his silencer on his phone and his parents know he studies late nights. His heart jumps when he sees your name and picture on his screen, that familiar warmth seeping under his skin. His eyes check the clock. 10:23. 7 minutes. He isn't supposed to answer his phone for another 7 minutes. The FaceTime call continues to ring, device vibrating in his hand. Ony bites down into his lip as he contemplates. He doesn’t normally break his schedule but he knows your deep brown eyes are starting at the phone right now with your brows slightly pulled together, waiting patiently for him to answer. The call would be ending soon and this is the second time you called him. One time won’t hurt. He swipes the phone icon right just as it was about to end, setting his phone up on the shelf so that you could see him and turns his eyes back to his computer screen. 

The call connects. 

Your face fills the screen, brown skin glistening under the soft led lights in your room. You notice his attention is elsewhere and you smile bright. He is studying obviously. “Hi baby.” You say softly. “You not going to the party?” Ony swallows heavily but keeps his attention on the laptop. Your sweet voice sending tingles down his spine. This may have been a bad idea He thinks to himself, shaking his head before responding, “No. I have an exam this week. I’m trying to make sure I’m prepared.” His eyes continue to scan over the text on the screen. You give his a soft hum. “What about you? Are you planning on going?” He asks. “Thinking bout it. I was going to see if you wanted to help me pick an outfit but you seem busy.” You say softly, shuffling on your bed. “If you can give me a few minutes, I just have to get through this.” he responds jotting down a few notes on yellow sticky. He rips it off and adds it to the others on his wall. “You work so hard. I'm so proud of you baby.” you encourage and it makes his body run warm. He mumbles a shy thank you. Ony’s eyes glance over to you for a quick moment and he regrets it the exact moment he does. His eyes widen at your current position. One leg bent close to you, the other stretched out, slightly dangling off the side of your bed. Your back arched ever so slightly and Ony feels his chest tighten. 

You were effortlessly beautiful and a major distraction right now. Still, he doesn’t dismiss you or end the call. Instead he swallows the heavy pit in his throat and forces himself to turn back to his computer, ignoring the blood rushing down his body. “So,” you say, lifting your arm up and leaning your head against your hand. “What you studying?” You ask him, eyes watching the side of his face. You admire the way the screen reflects against his features. Ony was effortlessly sexy. Chiseled jaw and smooth skin with the longest and fullest lashes you’d ever seen. You watch his full lips move as he reads the text to himself softly. “Uh, I was looking over the power points for my kinematics exam and…don’t do that.”

It came out deep, gravelly and sent a tingle down your spine. 

You blink a few times, caught off guard at his statement. “Do what baby?” You ask in confusion. Ony holds in his groan refusing to look your way again. He runs his hands down his face “That thing you do.” Your mouth parts in an “O”. You take the time to look at your man and the strain on his face. You have seen Ony in many phases over the past few months. You’ve seen his intensity during games when he tunnels visions on one goal, carrying his team as quarterback. You’ve seen him shy, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose in social settings. You’ve seen him nervous, his lips grazing yours gently, never pushing you too far. You’ve even seen him worried, from his grades to that one time you fell and sprained your ankle and he doted on you for weeks. But this Ony is definitely someone you hadn’t seen before. His jaw is clenched, chest rising and falling at a more rapid pace that you are accustomed to seeing from him. His shoulders are squared, tense and pulled to his ears. Deep brown eyes blinking quickly as he stares at his screen like the words would disappear if he didn't. “Ony, baby what are you talking about? What did I do?” He turns to you and the looks in his eyes nearly pulls a gasp from your chest. “You are being distracting.” he growls. “Ony?” you whisper his name and his eyes roll closed. He takes a few breaths to steady himself before opening them again. “Sorry.” he mumbles before turning back to his computer. 

You sit up in your bed, leaning your top half on your folded arms. Shock still coating your features. “Onyankopon Nyamekye. Look at me.” you command, trying to figure out what in the hell just possessed your boyfriend. “I can’t.” he whines, pushing his glasses up once more. You let out a broken laugh. Ony has never acted like this before. “I was…” he starts then sighs. “I was doing so good.” he whispers softly. “And what is that supposed to mean?” Ony leans back from his computer and turns to look at you, really look at you. You sit up on your bed, shorts hiked up slightly from all the rustling around and your top cut just low enough for Ony to see the curves of your breasts peeking from the top of your shirt. The sight of your nipples pressing against the thin fabric makes his mouth water. “Now can you explain why I tried to call my man to check in because I miss him and he’s asking like he can’t give me 5 minutes of attention.” He couldn’t tell you the real reason. You wouldn’t look at him the same. So instead he settles for, “I just need to get this done. I’m a bit behind.” You let out a pouty huff, crossing your arms tighter which in turn pushes your chest out more. Ony shuffles in his seat but you’re too upset to notice. “Fine, I can just let you go. I need to start getting ready anyway.” You murmur slipping off the bed. Your phone falls down in the process, causing the camera to point up to the ceiling. It gives him a moment to breathe but not much. Because after the lust simmers he finally realizes how upset he made you. It makes his stomach knot up. 

“Baby.” He calls out to you but you don’t respond, already in your mood. Instead you focus on pulling your clothes out and getting your makeup out of your vanity. Ony feels bad. He knows you weren’t actually doing anything but there was no way he was going to tell you that your thighs and titties were making him so hard that he couldn’t read through his notes. So he settled with the study card as always. Using the moment of quiet, he turns back to his notes. You disregard the phone, now focused on getting yourself together. You take time doing your hair and makeup. You fix your hair to perfectly accent your features. Smoky eyes set with dramatic liner and a deep red lip deepens your sex appeal as you work on piecing together your outfit. 

It was fairly warm out and you knew your liquor jacket would do you just right so you choose a jean belted mini skirt and crop option for your fit. It paired perfectly with your boots and the overall look. You smile to yourself., looking at your body in the mirror. “Okay. Purse, ID, keys…where is my phone?” you mumble to yourself as you grab everything you need to get ready and leave.  You hadn’t registered Ony was still on the phone up until that moment. “Ok, I’m about to leave.” You say flatly. He startles a bit at your voice. Ony had been attempting to study again but his eyes dart from the screen to his phone in hopes that you would come back. “You that mad at me? You won’t even show me your outfit.” He says trying to lighten the mood. He knows you’re upset with him but he isn’t too keen on letting you go out without seeing you. “You’re studying. Not tryin’ to distract you.” You quip. Yeah, you were pissed. “I'm on a break now.” he lies. His break was 20 minutes ago but schedule be damned. There is no way he is letting you leave without at least looking at you. “Come on baby. I want to see you.” He pleads. You release a small huff from your nose already relenting (because how can you tell him no when he asks so nicely), setting the phone up on your desk so he can see your full outfit. The minute you step back from the screen, Ony’s mouth drops open. His eyes devour you. The way the crop shows off that perfect amount of your belly. The skirt cutting into the meat of your thighs. His mind raced with how good that deep shade of red would look wrapped around his dick. He responds before his mind registers it. 

“Fuck.”

Your eyes widen, your mouth dropping open to match his. Ony doesn’t cuss. “Did you just-…” “Do a spin for me mamas.” His voice came out low and gravely, eyes slanted. The same way it is when he has just woken up and you love it. Your thighs press together gently but you obey, giving him a slow 360. “You’re so pretty baby.” He compliments you. “Thank you Onya.” You whisper back. A text chimes on your end breaking you from the trance that is your man. “Shoot, that’s Sasha. I got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow baby. Bye.” You say before disconnecting and rushing out the door. Ony released a deep breath and turns back to his studies. 

11:47 pm

Ony struggled through the last 15 minutes of his study session. Every time he tries to read, his mind keeps conjuring up pictures of you in that outfit. His leg shakes underneath his desk in anxiousness. Come on Ony. Focus. He tries to give himself a pep talk but he is failing. He’s never had this problem before. Before he could sit and study for hours without stopping. But being with you, he could barely go 30 minutes before he wanted to see your face or hear your voice. And for the most part he’s been doing good. Until recently.

Recently his desire for you has caused his focus to fall short. 

You and Ony hadn’t been intimate…yet. You wanted him to be sure and he didn’t want to rush you. You’d only been dating 8 months. But one night you came over to check on him while he was studying and things started heating up. It was the way his glasses were sitting against his face that had just did something to you. Before you knew it, you’d climbed onto his lap while he was sitting at his desk, pressing your lips all over his neck, sucking softly. His thick hands gripped your sides, hips involuntarily pressing up into you causing you to whimper against his skin. The minute your lips met his, his hands held you down moving your hips up and down his print. “Baby.” You whined and it made him want to push his dick deep inside of you and fuck the noises from your throat. But before either of you could get further, his ringer exploded into the room interrupting the moment. Breathing heavy he checked the caller id and groaned aloud. It was his mother. His head dropped against your chest. Perfect timing mom. The ringer continued to fill the air. “You should take that.” You said to him, removing yourself from his grasp. By the time he had answered and his mom’s rambling filled his ears, you were already shuffling out the door, mouthing a quick we will talk tomorrow. Ony was so worried that he had pushed you too far that he didn’t bring it up again. But you couldn’t stop thinking about that day. Especially how tight his hands held you down as he growled into your mouth. You wanted more of that Ony. But your sweetheart of a boyfriend refused to be that with you.

“I think you should just tell him.” Sasha mentions in the middle of the party. How the conversation circled around to your sex life, the world will never know. “Yall know I can’t. Ony is just…he’s too gentle for that.” You shrug, downing another shot. “Come on. Every man has some level of aggression just pent up inside. You just have to get him to understand that you want to see that part of him.” Annie chimes in. “Yeah, just tell him. Hey big daddy, I want you to fuck me into the mattress until I can’t walk for a week.” Sasha says dramatically waving her hands in the air and pressing her tongue to her teeth. You all burst into laughter. “Not my Ony. He’s a gentle giant so I doubt that will be true. And I’m okay with that really.” You say to your friends. “Alright enough boyfriend talk. Let’s shake some ASSSSS, HOE!” Mikasa yells aloud causing you all to erupt into cheers. Getting lost in the music you waste no time standing on the furniture and showing out with your girls. Unbeknownst to you, Sasha had taken your phone to record you, posting you wilding out to your main story. She eyes Annie and Mikasa as they giggle, well aware of what she was doing. She types quickly, tagging Ony in the story and locking your phone before you realizes what’s happening. 

Ony’s phone chimes at exactly 12:23 am. It only takes him a minute to pick it up, brows furrowing in confusion at the notification. The video was only 12 seconds long. It took 7 of those for Ony to get up and throw his jacket and shoes on, snatching his keys off the door hanger and starts walking to his car. Ony wasn’t mad per say. Actually he didn't really care at all. He knew he bagged a baddie when he got with you and unlike most small minded men, he knew what that came with. The video didn’t make him upset, it made him fucking feral. Seeing the way your ass jiggled in that skirt, fabric pressing gently against your pussy coupled with built up pressure from before…yeah he wasn’t making it through the rest of the night without fucking you. 

Sweet, never breaking the rules, always on time shy Ony broke so many traffic laws speeding to where you were. His body hot with fever. This is so out of character for him but he doesn’t care. Not with that video playing in his mind. He needs you. So gentle giant Ony hit 97 in a 45, burning rubber as he slides into the parking lot of the club. He barely put the car in park, cutting the engine and speed walking into the building. You’re having the time of your life completely unaware of the scheme that your friends have devised so imagine your surprise when you hear “Aye Ony you made it!” from Connie’s loud ass in the corner. You damn near snap your neck at how fast you turn around to see him. “Ony? Wha…” 

“Let's go.” 

You blink in shock, his tone throwing you for a loop. “Baby huh?” You couldn’t have heard him correctly. Your eyes scan the shocked faces around you. Your friends lips press together to hold back laughter. “You heard me. We leaving. Get yo shit.” He grunts. Your brows furrow together, a pout forming on your lips. “I’m not ready to go. Why you acting like this?” You cross your arms. His eyes trail your chest and then back up. “You either gone go willingly or I’m gone make you. And you only have 3 seconds to decide so you better choose wisely.” You were in complete and utter shock. Who the hell was this standing in front of you and where did your man go? More importantly why the fuck did it have your pussy leaking in your panties. “Ony, I said I’m not leaving.” was the dumbest thing you could’ve said in that moment. 

It was like a scene from a movie. He walked up to you pupils dilated and smiles, tongue running across his lips. Next thing you know, you were upside down. “Tell your friends bye baby.” He says hoisting you up on his shoulder in the middle of the club. A round of cuss words and exclamations sounded in the room blending in with the music. No one had ever seen Ony act like this before. But he didn’t give a damn. “Ony!” You yell out but you’re only met with his hand smacking your ass. He carried you out the door and to his car. “Ony what has gotten into you?” your chest rises and fall rapidly as you sway against his shoulder. His only response is another hand on your ass. The sting is short lived as he rubs the spot he just hit, his hand slipping towards your pussy. You let out a soft moan as his fingers coast across your wetness. Ony climbs into the driver seat of his truck, you still sitting in his arms. “Ony, this is dangerous.” you whisper but you couldn’t lie and say it didn't excite you. “Spread your legs baby.” Ony commands. “Ony, I can’t…” “Spread your legs so I can see my pretty pussy baby.” Now that gets your attention. Ony isn’t vulgar in any form.

Well, he wasn’t.

This was something new for you both. But he didn't give a damn about anything else other than the pure lust rushing through his veins. “Ony.” You whimper. “Come on mamas. Be a good girl for me, okay?” His deep voice rumbles low in his chest. Your breath is ragged, your body trembling as you lean back slowly in the front of the bench seat of his Chevy. You tilt your hips forward spreading your legs slowly. One leg resting on the top of the seat and the other bent slightly resting against the center console. You spread your legs slowly, heat singing your skin from his gaze. “Keep it just like that babygirl.” he starts the car, engine revving as he skirts off down the road, his non driving hand inching underneath your panties. He plunges two fingers inside you with ease and your body convulses at how full you feel. Ony’s hands are big, matching the rest of his massive frame. “Fuck.” You whine as your hips chase his fingers. “Damn baby, you dripping all over the fucking seat. Look at my pretty pussy just gushing for me.” Ony’s deep voice rings in your ears, dragging chills down your spine. Your confusion clashes with your euphoria because the only thing running through your head is what the fuck happened to the sweet man I’m dating. This was a different person completely. You can tell in the way his eyes devour you, the way his fingers caress your walls, the way his tongue drags across his lips and he smirks down at you. You try to call his name but only a moan falls from your lips as he hits that spot just right with the tip of his middle finger. “Ony please.” You whine, your back arching further from the seat. “You begging now just wait until we get in this room.” He growls plunging his fingers deeper, knuckles slipping past your opening. Your manicured hands grip the fabric of the seat as you feel your orgasm build in the pit of your stomach. Eight months, that’s how long it had been. I mean sure you have toys and you and Ony may or may not have sent some photos back and forth but nothing too explicit. So this was overwhelming you in the best of ways.

Eight fucking months and it took a 12 second video to make Ony snap.

He looks over at you sprawled out on the seat, eyes pinched shut as you ride his fingers. Your chest rising and falling. He can feel how close you are by the way your pussy had a death grip on his fingers. He pulls into a parking lot and cuts the engine turning towards you. He leans over, one hand pressing in the seat by your head and his fingers fuck you faster and harder. “Come on mamas. Release for me. Show me how fucking good I make you feel.” He encourages in your ear.  “Onya, I’m cumming.” You scream out, pussy squirting all over his hand. “There she is. Ride that shit out for me baby.” He slows his pace but doesn’t move away until he can feel your body start to come down from your high. Your eyes open slowly as he pulls his hand away from you bringing it up to his mouth. The moan he lets out when he tastes your pussy burns itself into your auditory memory and makes your body quiver. “You taste good, angel.” His voice does it again. It shifts in a way you can’t fully explain. “Ony, baby what’s going on? I don’t understand.” You stammer out, still catching your breath. “Come on.” He ignores your question. Your eyes widen. “Ony, are you listening to me.” His eyes narrow. “I’m trying to be patient with you baby. I really am. But if you not out of this car and walking up those steps by the time I finish talking, I will fuck you on the hood of this fucking truck. And I know you don’t want campus police called because your moans are echoing across campus now do you?” He says as he gets out of the car. Your mind registers it quickly and you are rushing out of the truck and following him to his dorm room. 

Ony had the pleasure of being a student athlete so his “dorm” was more apartment than dorm. It’s own living area and private bedroom, it was plenty spacious. And Ony was going to make sure you touched every inch of it the minute you both stepped inside. There was no time for words. Your back was against the door, legs wrapped around his waist. You don’t get to question him because your words get caught in your throat. Ony’s undoing his pants and the only thing you could focus on was how pretty his dick is. Long, thick, and veiny. It was like something out of a porn video. “Ony..’ your sentence is cut short as one quick movement has his dick kissing your cervical wall. The scream you let out, you are sure it reverberates through the halls. 9 long raw inches fuck you into the mahogany door. You can only ride through it, nails digging into his back. “Fuck baby, wait please.” You grovel as he takes everything you can give him and then some. Shock blends with the perfect amount of ecstasy, your body practically melting in his arms. “Ony what the fuck has gotten into you.” The sentence is broken into pieces, scattered between heavy pants and moans of pleasure. It does nothing to deter him, if anything he drives his dick further inside your walls, forcing your back against the wood door. You are at his mercy in every sense of the word. “You doing all that begging and shit now. This what you wanted right?” His voice pulls a visceral reaction from you, back arching into a C. “That’s exactly what the fuck you asked for. You been feigning for this dick anyway so you might as well take it.” His words stir something up deep inside you as he quite literally stirs your insides. Ony revels in the way your melodic cries fill his ears. Nights he dreamed about finally coming to life. Your pussy squeezing every inch of his dick and it drives him crazy. 

“Ony baby please. I can’t…” you whine. “What I tell you about quitting? We don’t quit do we mamas?” he encourages through strained grunts. Tip pressing deeper until it grazes your cervical wall. “You my superstar ain’t you baby. You not gone quit on daddy, right?” Ony pushes you past your breaking point. You can’t do anything but nod frantically. “Nah, I want to hear you baby. Say you’re my superstar.” Only presses his hips into yours, holding his dick deep inside of you. You tremor, “I’m your superstar.” you whine, tears welling up in your eyes from the pressure. You carve deep crescents in his back but he doesn’t give a fuck. Instead, he tilts your hips just slightly angling his dick to where it hits your g spot. Ony slows his pace and deepens his strokes. Was it wrong for him to enjoy seeing you broken and fucked out underneath him? Maybe but that wouldn't stop the way he fucked you. “

“Fuck, you take daddy’s dick so well. My perfect fucking princess. I'm so proud of you.” He praises as he work you to another orgasm. Your legs tremble as your muscles contract around his dick. The way he slips into you seems effortless, like he is perfectly crafted to fit you. He adjusts his hip height and slowly rolls his pelvis forward, finding that gummy spot deep inside her. “Ony,” you whine “Yeah, I know baby I know. Just give me this last one, ok?” He asks you. All you can do is nod as you feel yourself flood him. “There she is. I love that shit baby.” he says as you feel your eyes fluttering closed. “You can tell your friends thank you for posting that little video.” is all you hear before you fade out of consciousness.

The next morning you stretch out, your body sore as hell. You could hear the shower running as you roll over. You reach out to grab your phone and check your notifications. Your IG was blowing up. Apparently Ony’s stunt in the club went viral. Clips of you being tossed over his shoulder were all over your feed. You tap the photo on your own story to add an update when the video from last night pops up. Your eyes squint, “I know I didn't post this…” But there it was. The video of you showing out last night and in the corner, his tag. You mind puts two and two together and your eyes widen. “These bitches set me up.” You whisper aloud.

[sukunastuna]

soooooo goood

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Pairing: Bartender!Toji x Black!Fem!Reader (Strangers to Lovers)

Synopsis: To mend your broken heart after your boyfriend cheats on you, you go on a cruise vacation with your friend with no intention of meeting any man…until you meet Toji, the fine-ass bartender and divorcee. You're invited to a white party that he’s working at and while there, you find yourself flirting with him thanks to the liquid courage he gives you. After throwing caution to the wind and slipping him a note with room number, you wait for him that night. At first, you believe that he isn’t coming and feel rejected, but when he does, you realize that this vacation is just what you need to get over your heartbreak. 

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); No Curse/Modern AU; Flirting; Alcohol Consumption; Dom!Toji x sub!Reader; Drunk Sex; Oral (Giving & Receiving); Spitting; Toji Drinks Patron Off Your Titties & Pussy; Daddy Kink; Spanking; Mild Choking; Backshots On Balcony; Exhibitionism/Public Sex; Multiple Positions (Missionary & Doggystyle); Unprotected PIV; Raw Creampie; Aftercare; Mild Yuki x Choso (they my parents fr) 

Word Count: 9k

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I wrote this one about 2 years ago so I wanted to revise it. I'm in the process of revising a lot of my older stuff cuz I feel like my writing & aesthetics have gotten so much better :) I hope y'all like this one! -love, Jazz

Credits: Divider by@cillmequick!

Rock The Boat by Aaliyah on Apple Music

Song · 2001 · Duration 4:34

You sit next to the lonely soul with the horrible comb-over at the pool bar, your cheek in your hand and your brain taking you to places other than here with him.

“I just don’t think women realize how much they can hurt men by treating them like sex objects, y’know? Like, I understand that men can do it too, but I believe that’s only because men are testing women! They want to weed out the real women and the whores. I thought my ex-wife was a real woman, but…”

To anyone watching, it’d look like you’re intently listening to the man—a divorced investment banker, as he told you—discuss his extremely sexist, incel views and ideologies, but your eyes are about a second away from rolling out of your skull. 

Your eyes flit to where you left Yuki, your bestie and partner in crime, at the poolside only to find her flirting with the cute guy you met yesterday standing in line to get dinner at the buffet. He has a black mullet, inked muscles, and a lip piercing that no doubt is getting Yuki interested. You believe his name is Choso. 

Yuki lays back on her pool chair in her black bikini and sunglasses, flashing Choso a smile that makes him blush and sheepishly rub the back of his neck. You curse your friend for having such an easy time flirting with cute guys while you’re stuck sitting in the middle of this middle-aged man’s tirade of ignorant thoughts that people refuse to listen to, so that’s why he’s telling you. 

“Most women are gold diggers nowadays and only seem to focus on the outside instead of the inside,” he laments into his vodka spritzer. “That’s why I’m so glad you’re not like that. As nice-looking as you are, you’re still sitting here talking to me.” He gives you a smile that makes you feel bad because he is 100% wrong. 

Not that you’re a gold digger, but you absolutely would want to talk to someone you classify as ‘eye candy’, like Choso. Especially someone who doesn’t make you want to take a gun to your forehead. But you force a smile anyway. The divorcee turns to the bar and waves his hand. “A third, please!” he calls. 

With him distracted, you take a sip of your tequila sunrise, wanting desperately to get another. You curse Yuki even more for encouraging you to flirt even though this is what a singles’ cruise is supposed to be about: flirting, romancing, and fucking people that you’ll never see again. 

Yuki had come up with the idea for you two to vacay on the water for seven days on a boat about five months ago when you were still healing from your boyfriend’s betrayal. 

After three years of dating and hoping to live together to begin your lives, you discovered that he had been cheating on you after a random chick contacted you on IG and sent you photos of him in her bed. “I don’t want to keep him,” she told you. “I just wanted you to know what was going on.” 

Of course, he denied it until you showed him photos. Then it was the waterworks, the “I’m so sorry”s, theempty promises of never doing it again. 

But of course, dogs will be dogs. As soon as you broke it off, you found him posted up in a strip club between two dancers’ fat asses. You blocked him with the quickness, permanently taking him out of your life, but that didn’t stop the heartbreak, betrayal, and lonely nights when you desperately wanted to call. 

Tired of seeing you moping around, Yuki found the perfect solution: “Let’s go on a singles’ cruise!” she bellowed to you over coffee one morning. “It’s for seven days, we dock at three islands, and we’ll be on a boat with other hot singles like us!” 

You thought it was a stupid plan. You didn’t need to meet anyone to help you heal. But then again, it would be nice to get out of the city and see new sights. And maybe the water and hot guys would help cure your heartbreak. 

So you agreed, split the payment with Yuki, packed your cutest swimsuits and sundresses, and now here you are….trying to think of a good way to tell this drunk divorcee that it was nice chatting with him, but you’re due for a dip in the pool. The skimpy, cut-out one-piece that Yuki made you buy isn’t just for looking, though the thong and deep V-neck at the chest look quite yummy on you. 

You sip your drink for liquid courage, but you’re stopped when a deep, silky yet raspy voice comes from behind the bar: “Sorry, sir, but you reached your limit on your drink card. I can’t serve you anymore till you get that taken care of.” 

Both you and the divorcee turn to stare in shock at the bartender standing behind the tiki bar…and he’s by far the finest man you’ve ever seen. 

He’s tall, he’s buff, and he’s got eyes and a voice that would make any woman cream her panties. Standing about six-foot something, he towers over you as you sit on your barstool. His toned body fills out his Hawaiian shirt and khakis, his thick thighs and pecs pushing up against the fabric. You see yourself running your fingers through his black hair or the scar running over the corner of his lips. Veins run up and down his arms and in his big, calloused hands that pass the card back to the divorcee who looks red in the face. 

“W-What?!” He stammers. “But that’s impossible! I specifically ordered a card for unlimited drinks!” The bartender shrugs, not looking the least bit apologetic or sympathetic. “Well, ya may not remember, but I had warned you at the casino bar to be careful orderin’ all of those drinks, especially since you only got on the boat yesterday.” 

The divorcee opens his mouth to say more and the buff bartender raises an eyebrow, waiting for a rebuttal. Instead, the poor man snatches his card up, downs the rest of his drink, and scurries off back to the pool. You turn to the bartender who shakes his head disappointedly. “Don’t worry ‘bout him. He’s just a lonely soul. And a creep. All he does is bother the single girls.” 

He pauses, picking up a shaker and vigorously shaking it as he speaks. “I’m assumin’ you’re single?” he questions, obviously fishing for a conversation. You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering what he’s getting at. “I am,” you reply. “Why? You interested?” 

He stifles a chuckle as he opens the shaker and pours some orange liquid into a frosted daiquiri glass. “That would be overstepping, wouldn’t it? I mean, you’re a customer and this is my job. It wouldn’t be…” He pauses, passing you another tequila sunrise “Proper.” 

He gives you a smirk, the very tiny movement making your insides flutter. He’s just too damn fine! “My treat. No payment required.” Hesitantly, you take the new glass while he takes your old one to get washed. ”What is this?” you chuckle. “You buyin’ me a drink?” 

“Makin’ one, actually,” he corrects you as he passes two people some cranberry vodkas. “And to make you feel better after that guy got on ya nerves.” He ticks his intense eyes up to yours. “You looked like ya needed a hand.” 

You titter into your glass, already feeling the tequila taking its toll, making you talk shit. “A hand?” you parrot. “I was actually handling that myself, thank you very much.” 

The bartender laughs at this. The deep, sexy rumble of the sound makes you feel hot in your swimsuit. “Oh, yeah, ‘cause you were doing such a great job,” he sarcastically replies. “That man would’ve talked you to death.” 

You purse your lips at him, wondering if you should send the drink back or toss it in his face. “And who are you?” you sharply ask. It’s more rhetorical, but he answers anyway: “Toji Fushiguro.” He reaches one of his big hands out across the bar towards you. 

“Pleasure to meet you, uh…” He trails off, allowing you to fill the space with your name. You hesitantly eye his hand before tentatively reaching out to shake it. “Y/N,” you say, ignoring the zing of electricity zipping through your arm at his rough palm and firm grip. “Nice to meet you too.” 

“Mmm, I’m sure,” Toji replies and you quirk a questionable brow. “I make the best drinks on this boat.” He retracts his hand and you suddenly feel cold despite the hot sun beaming down on you. “You’ll be even happier you’ve met me once you get a taste of the cocktails I can whip up.” 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Oh, really? You talk such big game that I almost don’t believe you.” You take a sip of your drink, aware that he made it and it’s the best damn tequila sunrise you’ve ever had. It puts the one you had earlier by another bartender to shame. 

A spark suddenly appears behind Toji’s eyes. One of…interest? Mirth? Curiosity Whatever it is, it makes you feel exposed in your deep-cut bathing suit showing off the sliver of your titties. “It ain’t ‘big game’, Y/N,” he says, your name sounding like a sin coming off of his tongue. “When I talk, it ain’t shit. It’s all real and from experience.” 

You watch his hands quickly fix another drink, grabbing, whisking, mixing, etc. He is obviously a pro at this. You can’t imagine what his fingers could do to you in a bed. Realizing where your thoughts are headed, you mentally kick yourself. He’s a whole stranger and you’re thinking about fucking him! 

‘Get it together,’ you think. You still haven’t even read his intentions yet. Though he’s undeniably hot with hands that you’d love to feel wrapped around your neck, a body you want on top of yours, and a voice that you know has delicious moans, you don’t know how you feel about sleeping with a guy you barely know. You at least want to get to know more about him.

So you play along, twirling your straw around your glass. “Oh, really? I’d say prove it, but you already fixed me a drink and you look kinda busy.” You take the straw into your mouth, wrapping your plump, glossy lips around it. Toji watches, staring dead at your mouth. His eyes tick back up to yours as if he just realized that he’s working and he smirks. “Not busy enough for you,” he replies. 

Before he can do absolutely anything though, his phone rings in his back pocket. He looks visibly frustrated, his brows narrowing and the scarred corner of his mouth twitching. “Shit. Duty calls, I’m afraid.” 

You find yourself feeling disappointed that he’s leaving. “But listen,” he continues, passing you a white card from behind the bar. You take it and read it, realizing that it’s an invitation. “I’m gonna be workin’ at an all-white party later tonight, adults only. It’ll start at 8, but I suggest comin’ around 10 if you want the best drinks. That’s when my shift starts.” 

His smirk, sparked with playfulness and mischief, widens. You contemplate your decision for a bit before you give him a smile. “Alright then,” you agree. “I’ll see you then, Toji.” 

You take a final sip of your drink and pass it to him. As he grabs it, your fingers brush against each other. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you believe you see him inhale sharply through his nostrils as if your touch has burned him. 

I’ll be lookin’ forward to it,” he murmurs. “Enjoy the drink and the pool.” He gives you a wink before he heads off to tend to other customers, leaving you feeling lightheaded and tingly all over. 

When you meet up with Yuki by the pool, you feel like you need to take a dip to cool off. She sits up in her chair, putting her sunglasses on her head. “Whatcha get?” she asks. “A number from that hot bartender, I hope.” She grins at you, signaling that she’d been watching you the whole time. 

With a secretive smile, you silently pass her the invite and her eyes go wide. “An invite?!” she gasps, grinning up at you. “Girl, he wants you! Now we have to go! You brought a white dress with you, right?” 

And so Yuki drags you to the nearest shop on the boat to get the perfect outfit for tonight. 

As soon as you arrive at the all-white party with Yuki, you want to go back to your room and sleep almost immediately. 

Number one it’s because the music is waaay too loud. While you’re a fan of rolling your windows down and blasting your music in your car, it’s not enough to blow out your eardrums. But this music is. 

And number two, the pool is waaaay too crowded. There has to be about one hundred guests here tonight all dressed in their finest white outfits under the strobe lights. They surround the pool and tiki bar where the bartenders are working overtime. 

You look towards the bar, hoping to at least see a glimpse of Toji. Admittedly, he was the only reason you decided to buy the dress Yuki pressed you into trying on before you came down here after filling your stomachs at supper. 

Before the party, you and Yuki attended a delicious lobster dinner and pre-gamed with cocktails before going upstairs to get dressed. She’s decked out in a flowing white dress that hugs her toned body oh-so nicely and strappy sandals, her flowing, blonde hair cascading down her back in soft curls. She looks damn good. 

You feel like you do too. Standing in the bathroom mirror, you slid your hands down your sides in your white backless mini dress with a skater skirt that stops mid-thigh and ties around your neck in a cute bow. The V-neck leaves a silver of cleavage that eyes are drawn to because of the long gold chain you added to match your earrings and strappy heels. After applying some Fenty Gloss bomb to make your lips look plump and juicy, some shimmer oil to make your brown skin pop, and piling your braids into a bun at the top of your head, you felt sexy. Goddess-like. Good enough to eat. 

But even now, despite still looking hot, you don’t quite feel it. You can already feel yourself becoming overstimulated by the crowd and disappointed at not seeing Toji.“Well, it’s 10:02 and he’s not here,” you announce, checking your phone. 

Yuki pets your shoulder, intending to comfort you. “He’s probably just late,” she assures you, looking around for someone in particular before pouting. “Choso isn’t here yet either. C’mon, let’s get a drink.” 

She drags you over to the tiki bar, scouting two stools at the end of the bar. You anxiously tap your finger against your knee, your anxiety rising along with the sound of the music and miscellaneous conversations as people get drunker. Suddenly, the idea of meeting Toji with the intention of flirting and possibly having casual sex doesn’t feel like a good idea. 

“Yuki, I don’t know about this,” you sigh, leaning in towards her ear. “I haven’t dated or slept with anyone since the breakup.” Your friend furrows her blonde brows at you, her eyes soft. “And that’s okay!” she replies. “All it takes is a little push. Bartender, a round of tequila over here, please!” 

She waves one manicured hand at the pixie blonde running the bar. She then turns to you, cocking her head to the side. “That Toji guy looked like he’s exactly what you need, but you need to give him a try! Besides, even if he doesn’t show, you’ve got plenty of dudes in here who will gladly spend the night with you as fine as you look!” 

She motions her hand up and down your legs, thighs, boobs, face…even your French tipped feet. “What have you got to lose?” she asks and the question stumps you. Really, nothing. You already lost your relationship. And maybe a trip filled with hot sex would be just the trick to help you out of your heartbroken slump. 

But even so, the anxious, paranoid part of you still lingers on the ‘what ifs’. What if he isn’t interested? What if he turns out to be a creep? What if he tosses you over the balcony into the shark-infested waters? ….Okay, maybe that’s just your ID Channel obsession talking, but still! 

Even now, your lips wobble, prepared to protest against Yuki’s encouraging speech. “But—“ 

“Hey there, can I buy you two pretty ladies some drinks?” A mildly familiar, sexy, deep voice suddenly asks near your ear. You turn around, prepared to either agree or refuse, but your words die in your throat when you see Toji leaning against the bar behind you. 

And he looks yummier than he did earlier. He decided to wear white too—the shirt he wears is short-sleeved and halfway unbuttoned to show the sliver of his chest and a name tattoo that you can’t read on his right pec paired with khaki shorts and white Vans. 

The gold jewelry—a chain around his neck, a watch, and an anklet around one of his ankles—add to this deliciously masculine summertime fit. You’ve been waiting for him to arrive, but now that he’s here, all the flirty bite you had in you earlier vanishes.

You let out an embarrassing croak which he humorously smiles at. His smile is a killer, all white teeth and dimples. Damn him. He knows his powers. “I thought you were making the drinks,” Yuki says, talking for you since you suddenly can’t. “Though we’re not complaining, shouldn’t you be behind that bar?” 

“Not till 10:30,” Toji answers with a wink. “We’re fully booked with bartenders till then, so I’ve got a little break, but I can make a few exceptions for you two.” He looks at the bar, finding the tray of tequila shots sitting there. “Or not,” he chuckles. “Looks like you girls have already started.” 

He takes a seat next to you, practically filling up the space beside you with how big he is. “Uh, this is my friend Yuki,” you say, quickly snapping back to reality. “She’s my cruise buddy.” The blonde smiles at the bartender, putting an arm around you. “And the best person in her life,” she giggles. 

Toji offers his hand across you for a handshake. “Toji. Nice to meet you.” 

Yuki’s phone suddenly flashes and she quickly digs into her purse for it. She smiles at the mystery message on her phone and gives you a wink. “You two go on ahead and enjoy yourselves. My guest just arrived.” 

Meaning Choso is here and you’ll be left alone. Yuki downs a tequila shot, gives you a sticky kiss on the cheek, and leans down to whisper to you. “Have fun,” she says. “Call me if you need me.” And then, before you can even stop her or beg her to stay, she is gone. 

Now you’re left alone with the hot bartender. You become acutely aware of how close he's sitting next to you, his knee almost brushing yours. He clears his throat to ebb away the awkwardness. “So you decided to come,” he states, smiling at you. 

You turn away, staring at your nails instead. You’re afraid to look at him too much or else you’ll melt. “I said I would, didn’t I?” you reply, picking up a shot glass. “So here I am.” You take a swig and swallow it whole before sucking on a lime to ease the strong taste and burn in your throat. 

“I’d say you look good, but that isn’t goin’ to sweeten you up, is it?” He says it jokingly, but you can tell he’s noticed how hostile you seem. “What, party scene ain’t your thing?” 

You turn him, expecting him to be laughing at you, but you see none of that. Now you feel like a bitch. “Ah…no, I’m just a little seasick,” you lie. “Sorry. I’m just not used to cruises.” You sound as lame as you feel. “Why’d you decide to come then?” he wonders aloud. “Other than for the pool and the islands.” 

You allow yourself to chuckle, liking that he’s trying to ease your nerves. So you decide to tell him. “A breakup.” You watch Toji’s face fall. “I was with someone for three years, hoping that they’d ask me to move in with them or even propose, but that didn’t happen ‘cause they cheated on me, and for the last five months, I’ve been…” 

You pause, realizing that you’ve been talking for far too long. “Shit,” you sheepishly laugh. “Why didn’t you stop me from rambling?” 

Toji reaches across you for a shot glass and you realize just how big his arm is. He could put you in a chokehold if he wanted to…and you’d enjoy it. ‘Cause I thought it was cute,” he replies as he downs the shot in one gulp. “But seriously: your ex sounds like a fuckin’ idiot. Barely a man.” 

You crack a small smile at his attempt at comforting you. “Yeah,” you sigh. “Thanks.” 

Silence descends upon you again, but this time, it’s less awkward or tense. 

“You ain’t the only one with a breakup on their back,” he somberly says. “My ex-wife and I divorced years ago, but she recently got engaged to a new man. Can’t say I didn’t feel that blow.” He heaves a heavy sigh at the memory. 

“Well, what happened?” you blurt and then cover your mouth, horrified at your prying. What is wrong with you tonight? “I-I’m sorry, you don’t have to—“ 

“Money problems,” he interrupts. “Plus, we married young when we had my son and started growin’ apart. That’s the name I’ve got on my chest that you were starin’ at: my son’s name.” He peels back a bit of his shirt to show you his tattoo. “Megumi”.

“Yes, I saw you starin’ at it earlier,” he sniggers, his eyes filled with mirth. “You’re not as discreet as you think, darlin’.” You scowl at him, happy to be Black so he doesn’t see you blushing. “You jerk,” you scoff while he cackles at your dispense. “Fine. Then what about you starin’ dead at my boobs?” 

Toji looks like a kid caught in a cookie jar now. “It’s actually the necklace I was starin’ at—“ 

“Liar!” you laugh, lightly punching him in the arm. “You sound like one of my school kids’ lyin’ to my face after I told them not to do something.” Interest appears on his face “You a teacher?” 

You nod, picking up another shot. Your second one of the night. “Yep, for about five years now.” You love your teaching job and your students. It feels good to be able to be such an important figure in their little lives. 

Toji whistles to himself. “Shit, my kid would definitely pay attention in school if he had a teacher that looked like you.” You criticize yourself for folding so easily. How does this man have so much game? But then again, he was married, so you suppose he knows how to flirt. 

He reaches for another shot and holds it up. “Cheers to new experiences and a summer to remember.” You smile and raise your glass as well. “Cheers,” you parrot before you both down your shots in one gulp. 

Your second shot turns into a third. Then a fourth. And soon, it becomes easier to talk to Toji and not feel so awkward. You feel loose, but not enough to come out of your clothes or fall over chairs. The liquid courage gives you just enough confidence to stop being so closed off and start talking.

Really talking. You converse with Toji the whole time about everything: your job, why he decided to bartend, where you’re both from (you’re from the US while he was born in Japan), relationships, food, etc. 

You find that you love talking to Toji. It could be the tequila shots, but you find yourself hanging onto all of his answers, jokes, and little quips. You giggle at his attempts at flirting with you and you flirt back, slamming your attraction down on the bar. “Y’know, you’re a really good listener,” you drunkenly admit. “Definitely not like my dick ex.”

He laughs, sucking on a lime. “It’s the magic of a bartender. I get that a lot, but you make it easy to listen.” His hooded eyes stare deeply into yours, making you turn into a puddle on the bar stool. You feel absolutely delicious and untouchable being in his presence, especially under his gaze. He can’t keep his eyes off of you. 

However, his magic is broken when a timer on his phone goes off. “Well, duty calls,” he sighs, stretching his big arms over his head. “Now I can show you all my tricks.” 

You giggle as he slides off of his stool and lifts up the bar to get to his post. “You mean that big game you were talkin’ earlier?” you snigger, crossing your legs as you turn to face him. “Ah-ah, sweetie,” he tuts. “I told you: it’s all real. Lemme prove it to you.” 

‘I’d let you prove anything to me,’ you think, completely and totally wet over this man. How can you not be? Every word out of his mouth sounds like an innuendo or a promise better suited for the bedroom. 

You try to quell your horny thoughts as you watch him lean over the bar, giving you that playful smile. “What would you like?” he asks. “A mango daiquiri? Piña colada? Pick your poison.”

You take a moment to think, tapping one nail against your chin. “Hmmm…how ‘bout a mai tai?” 

Toji’s smile falls. “Seriously?” he asks. “C’mon, darlin’, give me somethin’ bettter!” 

You stick your tongue out at him. “I want what I want,” you boldly say. “Now are you gonna give it to me or do I have to find it with another bartender?” You cock your head to the side, sizing him up. Toji, on the same type of time as you, smirks and begins to whip up your order. 

You watch his big arms and skillful hands whisk; pour; grab; shake. You imagine his hands all over you, one wrapped around your neck while the other is between your thighs, his thick fingers curled in your pu– 

“Somethin’ here you like, miss?” he teasingly asks, his brown eyes fixed on you. You’ve been caught. “No,” you cough, feigning embarrassment. “Just wonderin’ what the hell is takin’ so long.” A twinkle appears in Toji’s eyes, attracted to your ability to keep up with his quips, as he finally pushes the finished drink your way. 

He watches you as you take a sip. You moan softly at the taste, falling in love with it. “Mmm!” you hum. “Okay, fine, I’ll bite. This is amazing.”

 Toji smiles, pleased. “I’m so glad I could please you,” he responds in that silky voice. “Looks like dude over there wants to please you too.” He nods down at the bar. 

You look to where he’s looking and notice another admirer with so much hair gel that it makes his hair stick together in clumps. He gives you a smile and raises his glass your way. “Mmmm,” you hum, but not in a seductive, pleased way. You’re disgusted. “Not your type?” Toji asks, stifling his laughter as he wipes down the bar. 

You give the stranger a small smile before turning away and sipping your drink as if he isn’t there. “Let’s just say I don’t like hair gel.” Toji suddenly stops cleaning, interested in you now. “Then what is your type?” he boldly asks. 

‘You.’ You pout pretending to think. A lady never tells her secrets this early, but there’s something about the bartender that makes you want to throw all caution to the wind. You want him to know you’re feeling him. 

“Well….I like men who are tall…and can make me laugh…and are good with their hands.” You trail your eyes down to his big, strong hands. He notices. “What about you? What’s your type of girl?” 

You take a sip of your drink to cool yourself down, feeling hot all over. But then Toji fixes you with a look over the bar that makes you feel like you’ve stepped foot in a boiling volcano. “The kind that like mai tais,” he answers. 

His phone rings then, stopping whatever was about to happen from happening. “That’s my boss. Hang on a sec.” 

When he leaves, you finally feel like you can breathe, but your pussy has had it by now. She knows what she wants and she will get it. So you quickly take two more sips of your mai tai and fish a tip out of your purse along with a pen that you use to scribble down a message on a napkin: 

Toji, I loved talking to you & would like to do more up in my cabin. Cabin 210. Come up if you’re interested. - Y/N 

You fold the money into the napkin and leave it under your drink before leaving. When you text Yuki that you’re heading upstairs and tell her to stay at the party, she catches on immediately. You don’t have to tell her that Toji will possibly be upstairs with you. “Just be careful and tell me everything later,” she texts you back. 

After an hour of waiting in your cabin, Toji doesn’t show up. After two, he still doesn’t show up. When three hours go by, you’ve finished your glass of wine and have dozed off on the couch. When you wake up alone in your cabin with no Toji, you feel disappointment and embarrassment flare inside of you. You feel stupid. 

While it occurs to you that you never specifically asked him when his shift ends tonight, if you had asked, you would’ve exposed yourself for wanting to spend the night with him. You were supposed to be a creature of mystery AND seduction! 

But maybe you should’ve been real about your intentions from the start like Yuki encouraged you to be. You think about your lovely best friend leaving the party with Choso on her arm and going up to his room. The thought makes you green with envy. 

You thought for sure that you’d be in the same boat as her tonight when you met Toji, but you were sadly mistaken. Now here you are, sitting alone in your pretty sundress, slightly sober from the nap and not wanting to be. Viciously swiping away a lone tear that drips down your cheek, you pour yourself another glass of wine. What you need right now is a hot bubble bath. 

But as you walk towards the bathroom with every intention of drawing yourself a relaxing bath, stripping off your stupid dress, sipping your wine, and washing away tonight, you hear a sudden loud knock on the door. 

You startle, nearly dropping your goblet. You stare at the door, perplexed and scared. Yuki has her own key, so she won’t be knocking. So who in the hell is knocking on your door at this time of night? 

“Yes?” you call, your voice stern, only wobbling a bit from nerves. 

“Y/N?” Toji’s deep voice drifts through the door. “It’s Toji. It’s late, I know, but I got your note and—“ 

You’re walking across the room and flinging the door open before he can finish. There he is standing before you. This isn’t a drunken hallucination or a mirage. He is right here at your door, still as sexy as the moment you saw him at the party. He leans against the doorframe, looking like a big Adonis. “You’re here,” you exhale. 

“Can I come in?” he asks, his dark eyes hopeful. You nod and step aside for him to enter the empty cabin.

“I was sayin’ I got your note, but I got held up at the party. I was put on cleanin’ duty, but after that, I shot out of there as fast as I could.” He turns to you now and takes your smaller hands in his bigger ones, gently stroking your knuckles with his thumbs. His touch sends electricity shooting throughout your body. 

“I’m sorry to ask,” he says, his voice soft, “but is your offer still on the table?” His gaze is not intense but it is hot. It tells you that he still wants whatever you want to happen to happen. You now know he feels the same attraction to you that you do to him. 

Throwing all caution, insecurities, and doubt to the wind, you take your hands out of his, place them on his broad shoulders, and stand on your toes to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to his lips. Toji moans into the kiss, his lips moving in tandem with yours. He tastes of mint gum and the tequila you consumed before, his tongue slowly chasing yours. 

When you pull away, there is a string of spit that attaches itself to your bottom lip. Toji’s gaze is dark and heated, burning you on the spot. “Don’t apologize,” you murmur against his lips. “Just fuck me. Please.” 

Toji grins down at you and instantly grabs your ass over your dress. “That’s all I needed to hear, baby,” he exhales before swooping in to take you into another sloppy, open-mouthed kiss that results in a make-out session. 

His pillowy-soft lips and stubble rubbing against your chin instantly make you wet. You can’t remember the last time a man’s kiss made you feel so aroused. His hands and body too. As his fingers and big palms glide up and down your thighs and ass beneath your dress, your hands indulge in his lusciously hard muscles. 

His biceps, pectorals, and abs all seduce you, making your inner thighs clench together in excitement. You can’t help but moan and whimper into his mouth, your bodies pressed against each other, hands all over each other’s bodies.

Finally fed up, Toji tears himself away from you, panting heavily. “Turn around and let me take this off of you,” he demands, his hands gliding down your sides. “As good as you look in this dress, I need to see it on the floor.” 

You do as he says and shiver as his fingers brush your skin while he toys with the bow holding your dress up. He only has to pull on one of the ties to make it slide off your body, exposing your brown skin, naked breasts, and thong to him. He runs a hand down his face as he gapes at you. “Shit,” he hisses. “Now why the fuck would anyone cheat on you? Your ex is officially a dumbass.” 

He moves towards you and swoops you up in his arms, wrapping them around your front. You bite your lip, instantly falling back into him. “You’re fuckin’ perfect,” he whispers, his teeth nibbling at your ear. “Lemme show you how much. Just tell me what you like.” 

As he kisses up and down your neck, gently sucks and nibbles on your hard nipples, and massages your ass with those big hands, you tell him every naughty, nasty thing you love. You tell him your kinks. Your fantasies. How you want to be touched and used. Toji’s smile grows wider and his cock grows harder with every secret that you tell him. 

Somehow, that all results in you getting spread eagle on your twin-sized bed while Toji is between your thighs, slurping at your pussy and fingerfucking you. 

You gasp and writhe on the mattress, one hand gripping the comforter while the other is laced in Toji’s black locks. “God, Toji, yes!” You whine, your voice bouncing off of the room’s walls. 

You don’t care if your neighbors hear you. Anyone would be as loud as you if they could feel Toji’s tongue swirling against your clit and his long, skilled fingers curling up inside of you. The wet squelching of his digits fucking your cunt make you even wetter much to his enjoyment. He eagerly slurps and licks up all that you give him, his tongue sliding down to your asscrack and then up again to your slit. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good, mama,” he moans, pressing a kiss to your quivering inner thighs. “But I know what’ll make ya taste even better.” He gives you a mischievous rin that both excites and scares you. He slowly slides his fingers out of you and sucks on them, looking you in your eyes as he does.

“Stay here,” he orders even though you’re not going anywhere. You watch him walk over to the mini fridge in your cabin and retrieve the complimentary mini bottle of Patron that was given to you and Yuki yesterday as a welcome gift. You got that along with the bottle of wine you just consumed, a fruit plate, and a bag of chocolates that you both shared while sitting on the balcony last night. 

Though Toji is only gone for two minutes, it’s enough to make your throbbing, aching pussy feel desperate and impatient. When he returns, you whimper, sliding your hand down to play with yourself. 

“Toji, please,” you whisper, gasping when he smacks your hand away. “Uh-uh,” he sternly says. “That’s my pussy tonight. No touchin’ what’s mine.” 

The idea of that turns you on more than you can express. You helplessly watch as he pops open the Patron and takes a swig before pouring a few droplets onto your hard, brown nipples. He swoops down and sucks on both, causing shocks of pleasure to soar through you. “Mmm,” you hum, eyes rolling back at the pleasure. 

Toji pulls away, his eyes intense. “Open your mouth,” he demands and you do. He takes a swig of the tequila before he leans in and presses his mouth to yours, spitting the Patron in it. You have no choice but to swallow it, your cunt throbbing from the act. 

“Like that, baby?” he asks, smirking down at you. Chuckling when you nod, he hovers over you and pours some Patron on your pussy lips. You gasp as the cool liquid hits your sensitive, heated skin, but the chill doesn’t last for long when Toji swoops in to engulf your cunt in his mouth and tongue. 

“Oh, Toji!” you gasp, your back arching off the bed. His fingers slip inside of you again as he hungrily laps at your pussy, slurping up your juices and the tequila. “Shit,” you hiss. “Right there! Oooh, yes, right there!” 

The bartender chuckles against your clit, keeping the same tempo and pressure as he fingers you, causing more juices to slip down your asscrack and onto the bed. It doesn’t take long for that knot in your core to tighten, threatening to snap the more Toji plays with your clit and your pussy. You grip his hair and shoulder for dear life, digging your nails into his skin and scalp. 

“T-Toji,” you stammer. “I-I’m close! You’re gonna…gonna make me cum.” The sexy man between your thighs mumbles in agreement against your cunt, demanding your orgasm with his fingers and tongue. “Cum for me, you little slut,” he growls. “Do it. Give it to me, baby.” 

You don’t even have a chance to warn him before your orgasm rolls out of you and hits you like a tidal wave that rocks you to your core. A loud scream-like moan escapes you as you gush all over Toji’s face, coating his chin and mouth in your cum along with his fingers. They become sticky with you and he loves every second of it. He continues to do this even as your body squirms beneath him and you try to push him away. 

“T-Toji,” you whimper. “W-Wait, oh, fuck, wait, i-it’s too much!” You’ve become overstimulated, your clit throbbing in protest to his tongue bath. Finally, he pulls away and hovers over you, his fingers and mouth coated in your cum. He then puts his fingers above your mouth. “Taste yourself,” he orders. 

Like a puppet pulled on strings, you sit up and suck your cum off of his fingers, staring deep into his eyes as you do. He then tears his digits out of your mouth like you just bit him and jumps up to strip. You watch with eager eyes as he takes off his shirt, pants, and then finally his briefs. 

Your eyes roam down his big, squeezable pecs, his washboard abs where a delicious happy trail lies, right down to his long, thick third arm swinging between his thick thighs and dripping in precum. 

“You’re perfect,” you whisper before you can stop yourself. Toji chuckles, pleased with your reaction to his physique. “Glad you like what you see, mama,” he says, giving his cock a little sway that has you hypnotized. “I do too.” He comes over to the edge of the bed and gets on top of you, straddling your chest. 

Your eyes widen at the cock in your face gently probing your chin. “Open your mouth, baby,” he coaxes. “Don’t I deserve some fun too?” 

He pushes his hips forward, gently prying your lips apart. You allow him to slide into your mouth and stretch your jaw to accommodate his girth. He is all length and thickness, stretching out your cheeks and immediately causing spit to gather in your mouth which makes it easier for him to fuck it. 

“Shit, baby,” he groans, watching you take his cock deeper. “You must’ve needed this too.” Through his hooded gaze, he is enchanted by the way you gag and slobber on his cock, no hands. You bob your head up and down, your moans causing vibrations along his shaft that travel all the way to his balls. 

His hand grabs the back of your head as he begins to roll his hips against your mouth, making you take more and more of him down your throat. You begin to gag as he hits the back of your throat, but you don’t pull away. He chuckles, caressing your scalp. “I like that noise,” he hums. “Keep gaggin’ on that shit for me.” 

Like a good girl, you do, breathing through your nostrils as you do. You look up into his eyes, spit copious amounts of saliva onto his dick, and suck that shit like it’s your profession. His moans and swears egg you on, making your pussy throb and gush excitedly at the sexy sounds escaping his mouth. 

Even with the spit dripping down your mouth and your mascara ruined, you’ve never felt sexier being used like a toy for Toji’s pleasure. 

Having had enough, Toji finally slides out of your mouth with a moan and quickly jumps off of you. He stands at the end of the bed between your thighs and slides his dick once, twice, thrice against your slit before finally sliding home inside of the wet depths of your pussy. You both gasp in unison at the contact, the bliss hitting you both instantly. 

He yanks on your ankles, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, and begins slowly rocking his hips into you. The act causes your clit to glide against his pelvis and more wetness to gather in your pussy that gushes around him. It makes it much easier for Toji to fuck you, so he places his hands on either side of your head and deepens his strokes. Your mouth falls agape, the stretching sensation and pleasure you feel otherworldly. “Ah!” you gasp, grabbing his shoulders. 

Toji is feeling the same, unable to stop his hips from moving and moans from escaping his lips. “God, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” he grunts. “You feel so good, darlin’.”

He pants and groans in your ear, making your pussy throb excitedly at the sounds. The pleasure is so immense that you can feel tears gently pushing past your eyes. You can’t remember the last time you felt this good. You can’t get enough of him. You need all of him. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. When he leans up to look down at you, you hold his gaze with yours. “Fuck me, Toji,” you beg through teary eyes. “Just take what you need.” 

Toji takes your wrists in his hands and pins them above your head, causing your heart to leap. “No…I’m gonna give you what you need,” he softly growls and captures your mouth in a sloppy kiss.

And then he proceeds to grab your hips and piston into you until you see stars. You can’t stop the moans and gasps that escape you as his cock strokes your insides, causing lewd squelches and bouncing bedsprings to create a symphony of sex in the cabin. 

To anyone walking by your room, they’d absolutely know what’s up. You’re so loud that, of course, they’d hear your incoherent words mushed together from the pleasure and deep dick you’re being given. “Fuck, Toji, yes!” you babble. “Fuck me just like that! Just. Like. That!” 

Toji grins above you, proud of the way you’re submitting to him with every roll of his hips. Your body looks so good beneath him, pinned down to the bed with no way to go. You have no choice but to take all the dick he’s giving you. He loves the way your tits jiggle with every thrust of his hips, giving him something to watch other than your pretty face. 

He wonders what else he can make jiggle. Suddenly getting an idea, he pauses in his fucking and places his hands under your ass. Without pulling out, he picks you up and begins walking with you away from the bed. “W-Where are we going?” you softly ask, tightening your limbs around him. Toji just smirks at you as he uses one hand to unlock the balcony. “To get some air.” 

When you suddenly feel the cool air tinged with the smell of sea salt on your skin, you feel your heart leap and your stomach flip. What is he planning? 

With a soft moan, Toji pulls out of you and places you onto your feet. His eyes, filled with lust, are illuminated by the big, silver moon that hangs above the dark sea below. 

“Bend over,” he demands. 

Your eyes widen at him. “W-What?” you squeak. “But someone could see us!” There are plenty of people down below and on either side of you in their own cabins. Anyone could look up or over at you getting slutted out on the balcony. 

Toji firmly grasps your chin and squeezes your cheeks together, his expression almost feral. “I don’t give a fuck,” he growls. “They can look all the way. Regardless, I’m makin’ you cum and then fillin’ you up. Now bend the fuck over.” With his other hand, he gives your ass a smack. “Don’t make me ask you again.”

With your ass stinging and your pussy weeping, how can you deny him? You turn around and slowly bend over the balcony, grasping the bar as you do. You moan as he slides his cock up against your slit, nudging your clit, before sliding in again. Your moans grow embarrassingly louder as he begins to fuck you, his cock sinking deeper inside of you at this angle.

“Fuuuck, you got wetter, mama,” he cackles, gripping your hips. “What, does my little slut like gettin’ backshots in public?” 

Slowly, he lifts up one of your legs, not enough to hurt you but enough to make you feel even more of him. His heavy balls slap against your clit as he thrusts a little faster than before, paying close attention to how you respond. T-Toji, no!” you whine. “Someone’s gonna see!” 

You can see people walking about on the lower deck, unaware of the woman getting backshots above them. 

SMACK! 

He gives your asscheek another harsh swat that echoes across the water. “Didn’t I tell you I don’t give a fuck?” he grunts. “Let ‘em see this pussy gettin’ filled up. I’m givin’ you more pleasure than they’ll ever have in their lives, baby.” 

He grabs one of your tits with one hand, massaging it while he presses his face into your hair. You can feel him everywhere. Your senses are filled with nothing but him. 

Getting fucked by him in the summer, sea breeze and moonlight is the most erotic thing that has ever happened to you. You can feel your pussy tightening around him, your peak nearing. 

As if sensing it, Toji turns your face to meet his as he continues to piston his cock into you, though he slows his pace in favor of agonizingly slow strokes. “Look at me, you little slut,” he demands. “Watch me fuck you.” His handsome face is flushed, sweat sticking to his forehead. “Tell me it feels good. Tell me you love this fuckin’ cock.” 

You feel delirious from the pleasure, like another woman who lives off of getting fucked and slutted out for the rest of her days has crawled into your body. “I love it!” you whine. “I fucking love it the way you fuck me, Daddy!” That’s the magic word for Toji. 

He grips you to him and proceeds to fuck you faster, harder, giving you exactly East you need. You wrap your arm around his head to bring him closer, sharing a sloppy kiss as his thrusts quickly bring you over the edge. You don’t care if people see you. You don’t care if they hear you. All that matters is right now. All that matters is that you cum. 

“God, Toji!” you shout, your voice carried among the waves. “You’re gonna make me cum!” Toji loops a hand around your neck and squeezes, making you gasp at the pressure. “Try again, mama.” 

Realizing your mistake, you quickly correct yourself, needing to cum. “Daddy, please,” you sob. “Please keep going! I need you to make me cum!” 

Toji smiles against your cheek, supremely satisfied with your compliance. “Good girl,” he grunts. “M’close too. Want you to cum on this dick while I fill you up.” 

There is no more talking. Only desperate moans, grunts, and gasps as he takes you to the land of bliss with his cock. You get yourself there quicker by rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts and finally, that knot inside of your core snaps. “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” you babble. 

Toji doesn’t need to warn you. His desperate, sloppy thrusts tell you that he’s close and when he grips you tighter than a vice, your body flush against his, you know that he’s cumming you. As your pussy gushes around him, his cock explodes and floods you with his cum. 

You both moan in unison as your orgasms take you through the stars and above, beyond the sea and beyond that. It’s blissful. It’s a high you’ve never experienced before. 

When it fades, Toji pulls his cock, wet with your cum, out of you and wraps his hand around it, pumping it as he gives you a heated look. “On your knees. I’m not done with you yet.”

On wobbly legs, you kneel down in front of him, watching him lazily stroke his cock in front of you. “Clean yourself off of me,” he demands. “You made the mess, so you need to clean it up.” 

You open your mouth and lazily lick his cock, cleaning yourself off of him. He softly moans as you do, caressing your hair. “Good girl,” he sighs. “Now did I make it up to you or what?”

You lean your head against his thigh, too exhausted to reply. “Aw, poor thing got fucked too good,” he chuckles. “C’mon, let’s get you inside.” 

Suddenly, you’re lifted off of the floor and carried into the cabin. You feel the cool comforter underneath you as Toji lays you down on the bed and then his warm, hard body curls next to yours. You lean your head on his chest as he tests his hand on your ass, comfortable and content.

“So I’m guessin’ they’ll be a next time for this while you’re on your trip?” he asks. 

You can only nod in response, a smile on your face, as sleep comes like a wave and sweeps you out to sea with him. Your heartbreak finally vanishing all because of your beloved bartender. 

THE END.

[sukunastuna]

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

TONGUE TWISTA! 🫦

Pairing: GF!Mirko x Black!F!Reader x Semiu Grier

Synopsis: After a hot night at the club with your girlfriend, you catch the eye of another baddie just like your favorite bunny hero. She's also just as posessive and dominant. What happens when you get both muscle mommies both in the bedroom for a fantasy fit for heaven?

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); Reader Has Braids; Threesome; Girl on Girl on Girl lol; Strangers to Lovers; After-The-Club Sex; Pussy-Eating; Facesitting; Strength Kink; Muscle Worship; Wetness; Clit Stimulation; Edging; Orgasm Denial; Mommy Kink; Legs Up; Spanking; Spitting; Pussy Spanks; Dom!Mirko x sub!Reader x Dom!Semiu; Sharing is Caring; Reader Cums 2x; Free Use!Reader; Aftercare; Strap Sex Talk; Cliffhanger Ending teehee

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you! 

Writer's Note: I feel so fucking bad that I didn't get a chance to put more fics out for Pride Month 😔😔 This month has truly been one of the busiest so far. BUT I'm happy to get this one out for y'all at least! This is my very first Mirko fic & there will be plenty more later on cuz that's my waifu fr. I hope y'all enjoy! -love, Jazz

Credits: Divider by @pixopix!

“So you think you can take us both, cutie?”

Your girlfriend stands before you, all lean muscle underneath her mesh, deep-cut top that exposes her delectable tits and lean stomach sinewy with abs. She is smirking down at you in a way that is so knowing and teasing while you try to focus on both her AND the short-haired bombshell standing next to her.

"U-Um…I could try." You try to laugh, but it comes out nervous and breathy even as your panties are more soaked than they were at the club earlier tonight. You know you have bitten off more than you can chew with these two baddies...and the two baddies in question know that.

The short-haired woman standing beside your girlfriend raises a curious brow above her spectacles that remind you a little of owl eyes, so big and round. "Hm. You seemed so confident at the club. Was it the Don Julio?"

She wears the same smile as your girlfriend, something the pro bunny hero Mirko, your Rumi, is known for. Like Rumi, your guest is all lean muscle with curves in all right places. Her cotton candy white hair and alluring yellow eyes are what drew you in, other than how gorgeous her dark skin looked under the lights of the club.

"Semiu" she said her name was when Rumi asked her. The night was hot and sticky. Just as sticky as Rumi's passion fruit-flavored lipgloss pressed against your lips; juicy and sweet. You had been kissing all night, wrapped up in each other among the throb of music and the push of dancing bodies on the dancefloor, the alcohol and Rumi's perfume fueling you.

She looked so hot tonight. All eyes were on her AND you pushed against each other, hips grinding and hands grabbling at each other's hips and asses. Hers groped your ass under your mini dress while she pushed against you, her sweat sticking with yours, Hennessy and rum on her tongue.

You felt Semiu's eyes on you before you actually saw her. They were like hot lasers on your back, making you feel flush the way the strobe lights did. You turned, finding her sitting at the bar, arms slung over the bar and her thighs spread in her hip-hugging jeans like she owned the place.

And the way she stared at you...she stared like she already owned you and you didn't know it yet. It was so brazen. So bold. So daring, even when you were locked against Rumi with her lips on your neck. Drunk from the seduction and the Don Julio you consumed, you turned to your girlfriend and tugged on her bunny ears.

"Hey," you said over the music, grinning at her. "Remember that thing we talked 'bout before? 'Bout pickin' somebody up?"

Rumi understood immediately and the corner of her glossy lips turned up into a smirk. "Sure thing, babes. Who caught your eye?" You nodded at Semiu who was still staring, sipping on her drink. "Her," you whispered into Rumi's bunny ear.

Rumi hummed in interest, checking out the stranger. "She's been starin' at you all night, y'know. If she wasn't so damn hot, I would've beat her ass."

And so you went over to Semiu and invited her into your little club romp for some drinks and a night of dancing. When you found yourself sandwiched between both women on the floor, you felt that push and pull of two dominants trying to fight over you and mark their territory.

When Rumi pressed her front against your back, her teeth nibbling your neck, Semiu gripped your hips and licked down your throat where a trail of salt from her tequila laid. "Thanks for lettin' me join y'all," she whispered against your trembling neck. "What's next for tonight? You two headin' home?"

Rumi overheard the dark-skinned woman and smirked, answering for you. Only because you were too speechless to do so. "And why you wanna know? You interested in a nightcap?"

Semiu smirked at your girlfriend, taking on the challenge. "And what if I was?" She chuckled, staring into your eyes, the sparks of lust in hers making you weak. "Your girl seems to like that idea, don't you, cutie? Would it really be such a shame to be shared between two bad bitches?"

'No,' you decided and took a shot for the road before hurrying out into an Uber with the two women, kissing and touching in the backseat. Semiu's fingers toying with your thighs while Rumi rubbed your pussy in her lap, making Semiu watch and sloppily kiss you.

You know they both would've probably fucked you in the backseat if you hadn't gotten back to your crib with Rumi so quickly. The idea of the both of them slutting you out was a fantasy you couldn't resist, but know that you're here, you realize that the booze was speaking for you.

Rumi chuckles as she watches you kneel on the bed, staring so obediently up at her. "That always gets her wet. Why do you think I always order it?" She had pumped you up with tequila all night, knowing it made you loose and horny. You feel like you're about to explode the more these two tease you.

Semiu clucks her tongue, acting disappointed. "That’s so messy. All to see your girl be a slut for a whole other woman?" She reaches out and touches your hair, moving a braid back behind your ear. You shiver at her touch.

Rumi doesn't even try to hide her freakiness. "Absolutely. You just need to remember who owns her." Her golden eyes flash at Semiu, but the dark-skinned woman isn't intimidated. You sense that Semiu can hold her own and has had her fair share of threesomes in her days with plenty of pretty women after the club or the bar.

Rumi turns to you, staring down at you with a look dripping with hot lust and posessiveness. "That goes for you too, sweet thing. No cumming for her without MY permission, understood?" She cups your chin in her hand, squeezing in a way that makes you gasp.

It doesn't hurt, but it makes you so wet that you have to control yourself, thinking of nothing but her holding your neck while Semiu eats your pussy, forcing you to take it. "Y-Yes, miss." Your voice is soft and weak when you answer her so obediently. Submissively.

Rumi smiles, proud of you, and plants a soft kiss on your forehead. Semiu watches on, interested, her pierced nipples hard beneath her flimsy top. "Oh, she’s that kinda girlfriend. I do love my girls obedient."

Your girlfriend aburptly frowns, her expression sharp. "Obedient to ME. Mind your place, girl. You’re a guest, sure, but you’ll be goin’ home after tonight." Semiu scoffs and tosses up her hands adorned with rings and gold bangles. "Goddamn, fine! Now are we gonna sit here and argue or have a taste of this cutie?"

They both turn to you now, eyes hot with lust, dripping with a night of alcohol and grinding on the dancefloor now blown off with some steamy sex. With you. These two gorgeous vixens could've had anyone else tonight, but they chose you.

So you are determined to make tonight one that they will never forget.

"Strip," Rumi demands and you do so, immediately slinking out of your skin-tight dress with the sexy cheetah print you like. Rumi helps you slide it past your heels, loving it when she fucks you with your heels on, your pretty painted toes up by her ears with her tongue in your pussy or her strap deep inside you.

Semiu hums in enjoyment as she drinks in your body, from your bra to your lace thong, your brown skin soft with coco butter and your body smelling like fruity body mist. She and Rumi come out their clothes too, leaving them discarded on the floor. You greedily drink in their muscles: abs and biceps; thick yet toned thighs; the curves of their perky tits and firm, juicy asses.

They are perfection. And under their gazes, you feel like perfection to them too.

In a blink, you are lying on your back, eyes gazing up at their supreme asses in their panties. Rumi wears a thong while Semiu has on simple lace panties, her asscheeks jiggling so enticingly out of them. She reaches down to stroke your cheek, playing with your bottom lip. "You’re such a good girl for her, cutie. Maybe you can show me what makes you so special," she whispers.

You shiver with anticipation, knowing what is coming next. You were feening for this part, just as much as the rest of tonight. You nod, smiling, fully prepared to have their sugary tastes on your tongue. You can lick on their muscles later. Right now, you want nothing more than to lick on their pussies.

Rumi hovers over you, pressing a loving hand to your cheek. "And you're gonna be a good girl and make us both feel real good, right?" she coos. You nod, smiling up at her, shivering with arousal. "Y-Yes," you whimper.

The prospect of tasting both women is a blessing that you will not turn a blind eye to. Any man and women would be happy to be in your place right now. Rumi smirks, knowing this, and squeezes your cheeks together with her posessive hand. "Then shut up and stick out that tongue f'me."

You do so, sticking your tongue out as far as it can go, allowing Rumi to suck on it before spitting into your mouth. "You know where to put it," she purrs before she pulls her panties down, revealing her sobbing wet pussy to you squeezed between her tanned brown thighs. Gorgeous. Even Semiu is impressed with the sight.

Before you know it, your girlfriend is sitting on your face with her thighs trapping you between them while Semiu is busy slipping your panties off. While you can't see her through Rumi's incredible ass in your face, you can imagine her knelt between your thighs with her ass sticking up in the air, her glasses foggy as she gazes at your pussy. "Let's see if you can focus with my tongue in you, cutie~"

You shiver as Semiu's breath caresses your thighs and the sensitive folds of your pussy. Even the slight brush of wind will make you cum at this point. "Just don't mess up my nut," Rumi huffs, glaring back at your guest. "Or I'll mess up yours." Semiu scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Where's your sense of fun, bunny? Your girl seems like love the idea of me eatin' her out."

And you do. Especially once Semiu actually gets her tongue in you. You find that she has a tongue piercing when you feel the cold metal press against your clit, making you jump. She chuckles into your dripping hole, her tongue wicked and addictive, caressing every part of you as her hands greedily grip your hips.

Meanwhile, you girlfriend is grinding her pussy into your mouth, making you take every inch of it in your mouth. You just love it when Rumi sits on your face, makes you take all that she gives you. "Mmm, fuck, that's it, baby," Rumi moans. "Just love it when you make me feel so good."

She flips her long, white hair back as her ass grinds into your face, riding it like a surfboard. She looks back at you, cheeks flushed and eyes fiery with lust, her hands massaging her perky tits. "You love eatin' that pussy, don't you, sweet girl?" she coos.

You moan into her pussy, making her whine at the vibrations. Every drip of her nectar on your tongue quenches you, but also makes you crave more. You reach up to grip her firm yet soft ass, the weight of it driving you to insanity. "Uh-huh!" you whimper into your dripping folds. "I wove it, Mommy!"

Semiu giggles from between your thighs as Rumi moans, tossing her head back when your tongue licks her faster. "A Mommy kink too?" she chuckles. "How scandelous....that makes me so fuckin' wet."

Rumi lets out a throaty chuckle, slowing her fast grinding to more slow ones that drag her wetness across your tastebuds. "Well," she sighs, "I guess since we sharin', you can sit on her face...for a bit."

Semiu looks up from your pussy, using one of her fingers to rub your clit while she thinks on this. "How kind of you to share your girl with me," she chuckles. "Let's just hope she don't get addicted."

Unfortunately, you end up becoming hooked like an addict when you get a taste of Semiu's pussy for the first time. She switches with Rumi and sits on your face, her tits and pierced, brown nipples in your face. You yearn to taste him; tweak each perky nipple squeezed between the silver balls with your tongue and teeth.

But you simply watch them bounce as Semiu rides your face, grinding her gorgeous cunt in a nest of trimmed white curls against your greedy tongue. "Fuuuck, girl, that tongue!" she groans. "You ain't too bad at this, cutie, y'know that?"

The praise fills you with utter joy and self-confidence, making your tongue lashes grow more intense and erratic as Semiu rides your tongue like she stole it from Rumi. Speaking of Rumi, the woman is eating your cunt off of the bone, her wickedly long tongue slurping at your dripping juices down to your asscrack.

You whimper and moan into Semiu's pussy as each tingle of pleasure coarses through you like waves. Rumi always knows just how to please you and revert you to nothing but a whimpering slut. "Those are cute sounds you're makin', baby," she giggles. "Keep 'em up. Mommy loves 'em...and all this gush you're givin' me."

She then uses her tongue to dip into your hole, aiming up to lick your internal clit. It's enough to make her eyes roll back and your hips buck up into her tongue. "Hey." Tap-tap. Semiu gently pats your cheek, just enough to smack you back to reality: her on top of you. "Don't stop. Eat that pussy if you want more of me later."

Lucky for you, you do get more of her and Rumi. The two end up switching spots, both of them planting their wet pussies on your waiting tongue, grinding to their hearts content. You are determined to make one or both of them cum, even as your jaw aches and your lips grow sticky with their gush.

Even as they make the bed shake when they bounce their asses on your tongue, practically humping your face. Their throaty, low moans fill the air, no doubt making the neigbors jealous and horny to join. Luckily for you, you manage to make Semiu cum first while Rumi busies herself eating your pussy again, bringing you closer to the edge.

Semiu's moans fill the air, loud and worthy of one of those ebony lesbian porn flicks that you've watched with Rumi before, her abs slick with sweat as she rides you to orgasm. "Fuck, that's it, baby! Make me cum!" she gasps, until finally, she explodes all over your tongue.

You swallow every bit of her, licking her up like a dripping ice cream cone. She is sweet just like one with a bit of salt to her too. It's intoxicating. Finally, she rolls off of you, allowing you to breathe, and plants a sloppy kiss on your lips that makes her head spin. "Good girl," she coos. "Now it's your turn. But I get to make you cum."

You shiver at the prospect of cumming for the gorgeous woman while Rumi simply glares, sitting up between your legs. "Says who?" she grunts, but Semiu is already scooting the bunny hero out of the way and tossing your legs open.

Rumi scoffs, still glaring as Seimu spits on your pussy, coating it in her saliva to make it drip and shine for her. "You could've asked nicely," she growls. "Fine, but only 'cause I don't wanna disappoint my girl. You'd better make her feel extra good then."

Semiu simply smirks at the bunny hero, all fire and self-assurance. "Don't you worry, girl. I've got my ways of makin' this pretty gal scream for me."

Several minutes later, Semiu shows you her trickers with that pierced tongue of hers. You lean back against Rumi's tits as Semiu swirls her tongue in your dripping, swollen folds, sucking on your clit with those soft, glossy lips. You whimper and moan against Rumi's chest, her strong hands holding your arms back while Semiu has your thighs cracked open as wide as they can go, making you spill all over the bedspread.

"Such a naughty girl you got here, Rumi," Semiu giggles against your clit. "Just look at how wet she is!" Rumi tuts as if she's disappointed in her girl being so messy, gushing all over herself in such an obscene way. "And all for another bitch," she tsks. "I'm startin' to feel some typa way, baby."

Her hand moves to your neck to grab your throat while Semiu angles her tongue up inside of you, making you gasp. "O-O-Oh, fuck!" you wail, squeezing your eyes shut in pure pleasure. "F-Fu-uh...you...oh, shhhit, yes!"

Semiu stares at you from behind the foggy lenses of her glasses, watching you writhe against your girlfriend with her hand locked around your throat. "You sound so cute, baby," she hums into your pussy. "Can't wait to hear how you sound when I fuck you."

Yes. The fucking part. The part where they finally take their straps and fill you up...hopefully. You're happy with just getting eaten like a dessert plate, but you're also a greedy ass bitch, so you'd hope to end the night with getting dicked down by the two pretty women, just enough to have to walking side to side the next day with a smile on your face.

Surprisingly, Rumi doesn't bark at Semiu for the comment. You'd figure she'd take it as disrespect, but instead, she says something else that shocks you. "You got some fingers, don'tcha? Go 'head, put 'em in her. She can take it, right, mamas?" She tilts your head up to look at her, seeing her wicked smirk before she plants her lips on you.

She kisses you dumb, shoving her fat, long tongue into your mouth just as Seimu sinks a finger inside of you. You gasp at the feeling, your toes curling as she begins to finger fuck you in between slurping your pussy, moaning with your buzzing clit in her mouth. When she adds another slim digit into your dripping hole, you damn near lose your shit, your soul leaving your body.

You moan and grabble for Rumi's arms, gripping them as Seimu continues to slurp your soul out of you through your pussy, making you pool all over the bedspread and your thighs shake. "A-Ah! Oh, fuck, I'mma cum!" you whine. "Please, please make me cum!"

Rumi tuts adoringly at your sweetness, gently patting your cheek. "So polite. Even slutted out of her mind, she can't help but be so sweet." But she trained you that way. Rumi wouldn't have her girl any other way but sweet and submissive, begging to cum even when you can obviously do it on your own without waiting for permission.

So you ask her, "May I cum, Mommy? Please, please?" You whimper the words out, unable to coherently speak as Semiu's tongue flicks grow more intense, the sounds of it sloshing around in your soaked pussy drifting through the air.

Rumi smiles down at you, adoringly and proudly. "Of course you can, mama," she chuckles, gently stroking your braids. "Go 'head and cum for our guest. Just rmembers whose pussy that is when you do, okay?"

And with that confirmation, you allow yourself to gush all over Semiu's tongue like a tidalwave, your moans loud and bouncing off the bedroom walls as you cum. Semiu takes it all, moaning greedily as she slurps up your mess from the source until your head spins. Rumi holds you close, her muscular arms wrapped tight around you as Semiu finishes up licking you clean until your moans grow weak and soft.

"Hm," Rumi hums, eyeing the way you slump against her, totally spent. "Not bad, but I can show ya better. Switch with me real quick." Semiu shares the same wickedly evil smile as your girlfriend, letting you lay back on the bed. You squeak as Rumi forces to lay back into the pillows, abanaoning her spot behind you. "B-But, Rumi," you stammer, only to get kissed into silence.

Rumi gives you a posessive, slow kiss that makes your brain turn to mush the same way your orgasm from Seimu's tongue did. "Quiet. Mommy wants to taste her girl now. After all, this pussy is mine, right?" She slinks a hand down between your legs to pet your pussy, grinning when you twitch from how sensitive it is. "Y-Yes," you whimper.

But that isn't good enough for your girlfriend.

SMACK! The sound of her hand smacking your pussy echos throughout the bedroom, richoeting off of the walls. "Right?" she repeats, firmer this time. She gives you another sharp smack, her palm sticking to your wet pussy as she does. "Yes, it's yours!" you loudly whine. "It's always yours, Mommy!"

The bunny hero smiles, her joy and pride so addictive. You want to make her proud of you. "Mmm, that's right. Now show our guest how good you cum for Mommy when she tastes you~"

You almost forgot about Seimu, glancing at her watching from the sidelines, rubbing her pussy, the contrast of her white nails on her brown skin making your pussy throb. Rumi switches places with Semiu, now between your thighs, hiking them up so that they are pushed against your stomach.

You have no choice but to lay there as your girlfriend makes your limbs go criss cross like a pretzel and she shoves her tongue inside of you, locking you in a prison of sheer pleasure. "Oh, fuck!" you whine, writhing on the bed like you're in the middle of an exorcism. "O-Oh, shit, Rumi, yes!"

Too late, you realize your mistake. You feel your stomach flutter with nerves as Rumi stares up at you from between the V of your thighs, glaringly. "Who?" Her voice is firm and rasped, making you bite your lip.

Suddenly, she is flipping you over with as much strength as it takes to pick up the remote, making you squeal. "Oh, fuck!" Seimu laughs as you're forced onto all fours, your ass sticking up in the air for your girlfriend.

SMACK, SMACK, SMACK! Each spanking from Rumi feels like fire licking across your asscheeks, the sound of her hand colliding with your Seimu moans at the sight, dripping all over her fingers as she toys with herself watching Rumi spank you and tears spring into your eyes.

"I'm sorry, M-Mommy! It just feels s-so good!" you whine, practically blubbering. "I won't do it again!" Rumi hums in agreement, pausing to soften the blow with wet kisses. "Mm-hm, you'd better not," she grumbles. "Now let's make my baby cum."

And then finally, finally, she's got her mouth on you again, eating you from the back. You moan and whine into the pillows as she pries your asscheeks apart, gripping them as she shoves her tongue inside of your dripping hole, coating her tongue in your honey.

Rumi is relentless with her pussy-eating, not giving you a chance to breathe or to protest. She takes what is hers, her tongue sloshing messily in your pussy, making you trickle down your thighs and drip all over the bed beneath you. Your sweet moans mix with Seimu's as she rubs her pussy to the sight, her eyes fluttering shut in pleasure.

You watch her as you get closer to your orgasm, gripping the pillow so tight that your knuckles turn pale. "Fuck, Rumi! You're gonna make me fuckin' cum, Mommy!" you whine into the pillow, staining it with your sweat and makeup.

"Then what's the magic word, mamas?" she murmurs into your pussy. "Don't be rude now. Show our guest how sweet you can really be."

"Please!" you sob, your eyes stinging with tears. "Please, please, make me cum, Mommy! Please let your baby girl cum!"

That's all Rumi needs to hear. And with a few more strokes of her tongue, you let out a broken moan as you cum for the second time that night, filling your girlfriend's mouth with your cream. Seimu cums too, letting out a throaty moan and a gasp as she makes her fingers sticky with her cum watching you explode, Rumi's mouth stuck to your pussy as she tongues you down.

Your girlfriend eats you out until your head is blank and you're seeing stars, totally and completely spent. Seimu comes over to slide her fingers, sticky with her cum, against your lips. "Taste me," she orders, making you pry your lips open to suck her taste off of her digits.

Rumi does the same, but with her tongue, forcing you to kiss her and taste your pussy off of her tongue, sharing your cum with one another. Seimu joins in with Rumi's permission, leading to a heated three-way kiss that almost makes you want to repeat the entire thing over again.

Finally, Rumi lies you down on your back and lets you recover. She and Seimu lie on either side of you, sandwiching you between them, their tits brushing against your arms. "How was that, baby?" Rumi coos, gently carding her fingers through your braids.

You weakly smile at her, your head still spinning and your body slick with sweat. You feel heavy with exhaustion but also with the wonderful feeling after great sex. "Heaven," you reply, making Seimu giggle beside you.

"Good," Rumi chirps, smirking at you. "But you ain't seen heaven yet. We ain't even give you our straps yet."

TO BE CONTINUED.

[sukunastuna]

[babblesofbun]

Pandoras Box

Starring Pro Baseball player Yuji x bsf Chubby Reader

In which, unresolved feelings(new ones too), take over both you and Yuji’s lives, opening a whole box of uncharted territory the two of you are not yet ready to face.

Duh obvi modulo Yuji bcs no minors or aging up here! (Only appearance and age tho because I can’t bring myself to write Yuji so sad💔) plus this is an au so no immortality shit here.

Warnings—smut w maybe too much plot, baseball career isn’t really important at all just a fun lil add in,Yuji’s a very soft and service dom, body worship, he loves your bush, scent kink if you squint, p in v,he’s so big and strong and he loves you much he’s scared he’ll get carried away, he’s an ashamed pervert, pussy wedgie, he loves your ass too, eating it from the back, ITS SO BIG, getting it to fit,pubic hair mentions,fingering,dumbification,overstim, creampie,pretty fluffy ngl.

W/C-12.9k

Ps- Not proofread yet! I was so excited to publish this I couldn’t wait! So please be kind if there’s any typos!

MINORS DNI

“How long are you going to take Yu’? M’starving especially because you had me waiting in the hot sun.”

Yuji walks in the living room leisurely, a fluffy towel wrapped around his naked body. Little droplets of water bead down his toned body as he bites back,” You had front row seats and I let you have the shower first aaaand you’re wearing my clothes right now. Oh and not to mention i actually played the game so I think I should be the one saying that.”

You snap back with an immediate playful eye roll,” Okay but I’m paying so who’s the real winner here?” He scoffs, stepping over to you to gently flick the top of your head. “One, I’m the actual winner because we won the game and two, you’re not paying.”

Your face morphs into a pout that’s then paired with a glare. “Yu, you always pay! Let—“ your plump hand raises to your chest, patting it proudly,” me handle this for you. Just this onee thing.”

He turns his built back towards you shaking his head no as he does so. Yuji begins trudging to his bedroom to which you follow to bargain some more. “M’ not gonna have my best friend pay for me anymore. I told you this as soon as I made it pro,” his big hands grip your shoulders, his palms grabbing the flesh with emphasis,” I’ll always take care of you.”

You frown,which earns a chuckle and a gentle pat on your pudgy cheek from Yuji. “You can’t use your sappy stuff against me. That’s not fair.” Yuji shrugs,” All’s fair in life long friendship.”

“Nobody says that!” He grins,”Well I just did.” Although he seemingly ended the discussion there, you’re still not ready to be stopped. “Well at least take your clothes back. I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us.”

“Wrong idea?” Yuji asks,clueless as ever. You look around embarrassed at what you’re about to imply. Your fingers twiddle behind your back as you say,” Ya’ know those weird little magazines and tabloids and stuff…they start rumors and I don’t want you to have to deal with that.”

“So?” Is the response while his damp feet pitter patter to his room. You’re glaring lasers in his muscled back and as you speak you’re no longer timid, instead the tone is filled to the brim with frustration,”Sooo..me wearing your clothes looks really bad to the public eye.” Not to mention how ill fitting it truly looked on your frame, the shirt consisting of the team merch appearing to;be somehow both too tight or too big in certain areas. Those areas being your tummy and hips,then from the arms up it was just a baggy mess.

“Who cares about the public eye?” He strides over to his room opening the door knob with a quick twist of his wrist. You’re exasperated at this point,completely overcame with his carefree attitude. Because HE should care about his image. “I care..and you really should too. I don’t want it to be like uni all over again. Plus, you know you’re getting rookie of the year soon and that’s even more media attention.”

Yuji’s reaching over to one of his draws before he pauses his movements,” It won’t be like uni, I swear I won’t let anything like that happen again. Is that why you’re so hung up on this whole image thing?” You nod wordlessly. “You don’t have to worry about that, we’re not college students anymore. And I will make sure nobody says anything about my life and the people I want in it.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, one that you wish you could full heartedly believe. Unfortunately, you just can’t. You know how people talk, how people glance at you when you’re beside Yuji. This 6’4 man being all muscle;towering wide and strong looking sculpted by a skilled carver. And then..you, who wasn’t impossibly good looking like your friend, or in the top percentile for fitness, quite the opposite being true in place of that. College with Yuji was a pinging reminder of that fact.

However, you don’t want to voice your disbelief any further. You know there’s no winning with Yuji’s stubbornness. “I know you will Yuji.” You smile lazily, only one corner of your lips being pulled up. “Well Imma leave you to get ready so we can hurry up and eat.”

You don’t wait for a response only closing the door with a swiftness. Your feet take you to the guest room in Yuji’s beautifully furnished penthouse, in hopes for better fitting clothes. As you rummage throughout the draws your mind is going through what Yuji could be possibly thinking.

You don’t understand how he doesn’t see the implications of seeing someone in a celebrities clothing. Dating rumors have been started up for way less. Yuji wouldn’t want that to be implied by strangers and onlookers…right? Deep in your heart you know that Yuji only sees you as a well beloved friend—that’s it. And so do you….kinda.

If you were to be honest with yourself you did have a major crush on Yuji for the first year—well way longer than that, but you try to force yourself to not think of your past pining so much as it leads to a never ending rabbit hole of unaddressed feelings. It was real easy to gain affection for the kind man,especially when he didn’t look down on you for your appearance or even really acknowledged it all. A surprise you didn’t expect when you found out you’d be rooming with a famous baseball player. Bare minimum..but still it was refreshing having someone from that background be very kind to you.

You were a goner by then; his vice grip on your heart already beginning to form. The grapple became almost suffocating when you started to tutor him and be astonished with how good willed and determined he was to do everything he possibly could the right way. And the real kicker was when you attended your first party with him he guarded you the whole night despite all his friends beckoning him over, because he knew you’d become overwhelmed.

That’s the kind of man Yuji is; a good natured, helpful soul. It’d be extremely hard not to harbor some type of fondness with the way he was. Let alone, his amazingly good looks that also are a very convincing factor.

But eventually you grew to realize Yuji doesn’t see you as a woman, well he does, but not in a way he would with others. Before he used to cower away from you with him just being half dressed or get flustered with you showing a little skin. But now he doesn’t even bat an eye in either situations. Sure it could be cause you lived with him for a few years, however in your heart you felt like that was the underlying meaning. And the only one that could ever possibly make sense.

So, you no longer kid yourself with thinking his care would ever possibly extend to more than being his best pal. There could be no more fantasies of holding hands or whispered confessions that you’ve been dying to hear for years. Hangouts you think could ever be considered as dates were out of the question.

To pivot and stop yourself from never ending pain, you swallowed every “I love you” that wasn’t just platonic, you restrained arms that wanted to grab your object of affection for a much needed kiss, cried for what would never be. And now you’re here in the middle of getting over such a frivolous thing. But it still lingers..

“Heyyyy, ya almost done in there?” A gentle knock sounds out. Quickly you fumble looking for anything that’s decently stylish. “Umm yeah, just a sec!” You throw on a comfy outfit that wouldn’t be suffocating,nor stick to you so much under the blazing sun.

With a much needed breath you zoom out the door knocking into Yuji’s hard chest. Immediately you jump back, frazzled and embarrassed at your nervously induced unawareness. Again, his hand reaches out to your shoulder, this time grounding you to the present and not your consuming thoughts. “You alright?”

His brownish eyes analyze your face with such care in them it nearly turns you into putty. “Yes, sorry I just lost track of time and was in a rush.” You said, anxiously rubbing the side of your arm.

“S’Okay, but uhhh if you’re as hungry as you say you were we gotta go now.” That’s seems to bring you back to proper functioning. You remark with a toothy grin,”Say less.”

:

:

:

The car ride there is smooth, no traffic in sight during the short trip. Yuji gets out the car first and zooms over to open your car door. Looking like a dutiful puppy as he does so. You thank him and begin walking into the comfy mom and pop restaurant.

Yuji takes a big wiff of the air in the establishment ,” Mmm, that smells so good. Have ya tried this place before?” Right before your response a nice waitress walks over to you both. But she won’t stop staring at Yuji, you both pick up on why pretty fast. “R-Right this way sir.” She only acknowledges Yuji which is something you notice quickly but don’t feel offended by yet.

She guides Yuji and you to the nicest part of the restaurant. With open arms she presents the table, embarrassed at the conditions but it’s clear that this is the best quality she has to offer. You sit first and then Yuji follows. The waitress says,”I’ll be right back to take your order sir!” Again ignoring your presence. You didn’t take it to heart because Yuju is now very well known so you could safely assume she was just star struck. That’s not to say that her lack of acknowledgement didn’t hurt at least a little. It sucks to say but you’ve gotten used to it at this point.

So you could endure being ignored for at least maybe an hour..

Wrong.

It’s uncomfortable more than other times. From the start Yuji was privy to the unfair treatment. It hadn’t been even 15 minutes since your arrival and she hadn’t asked anything about what you’d like. She purposely ignored your polite reminders of you being there and she just giggled away anytime Yuji would point out about your unfilled orders.

You’re beginning to zone out at this point. The sting of being treated invisible;leaves no choice but to retreat into yourself. The more and more Yuji gets famous the less you get treated with respect next to him unless he demands equal treatment for you. The experiences are far and in between but when it does happen it certainly does a number on your hope in humanity.

You’re anchored again once Yuju reaches over to your hand,clenching gently as he does so. “ I don’t like it here, she’s mean.” Your glazed over expression now has life blown into it and immediately you smile,” Can we go then?”

He nods rapidly, embracing your hand and easily pulling you up along with him. You can’t say how long it took you both to exit the restaurant because you’re just thinking about Yuji’s grasp on your hand.

Gentle, yet strong. A feeling that’s so consuming to you the realization of your exit hasn’t hit yet. But quickly you’re woken up from anything self indulgent once the hold leaves.

“Aww man she was so weird..M’so sorry she was treating you like that.” Oh god, speak. Say anything. It’s like you’re short circuiting, this was terrible! Of course these stupid feelings have to come out the minute you start thinking of them again.

This couldn’t happen—it wouldn’t happen. Just friends! You were just a friend thinking about his half naked body earlier and god his unimaginable giant back that’s littered with muscles you didn’t even know could be defined.

Bad! Very bad!

You were doing so well too! You didn’t even bat an eyes at this before. Now that’s all you could think about.

Mentally you’re making a vow to yourself, do not ever everrr think about your past feelings again.

From here on out, Yuji is off limits from any pervy administration. Anything other than platonic friendliness will not be accepted!

“Uhh,hello? You there?” Yuji is waving his hand in front of your face. A concerned expression painted on his own. “Y-Yes! Yes! Sorry I was just so upset about that I kinda disassociated. What were you saying?”

Yuji repeats his sentence, this time putting extra emphasis on the apology. “Aww no worries Yuji, it’s water under the bridge now. But I’m still very hungry…” At the moment both your stomachs growl. Triggering a mantra of light chuckles. He pulls you towards him, wrapping his arm around your upper body.

This time instead of your brain turning into mush you quickly reciprocate the action. “Let’s get some food then!”

You both wander down street after street, the pair of you practically having stars in your eyes. You both feasted on karaage and yummy warm takoyaki. The reign of hunger began to slow down once you reached an ice cream stand. “OUU Yu,look! They have giant cones! Let’s get one!” Eager you stride over to the stall,leaving Yuji in the dust. This being purposeful, after all you did say you’d pay. Sure, he beat you to the first two stalls but this one you’d for sure get.

Or so you hoped..with that you feel a tug on your shirt that has your hovering a good four inches above the ground. You crane your neck in surprise, gawking at Yuji. “Told ya I’d pay!” He’s grinning ear to ear as easily orders and pays.

He knew what you wanted by heart so he didn’t even bother asking. As he did so the poor cashier watched in awe and fear as his iron grip never ceased. “Put me down!” You kick and protest, it’s all in vein though because Yuji refuses to let up. “Why,I like ya like this!” As he holds you like this your mind has very questionable thoughts about his undeniable strength, thoughts that were neither family nor friend friendly. Hot shame flushes through your body because the vow has only been made up for not even an hour. And you’re already thinking of stuff.

God,why were you so easy for this man? And how do you stop? Perhaps this one time wouldn’t count against you?

“Because I’m heavy and everyone is looking at us like we’re crazy!” Yuji frowns,”Please you could never be heavy to me, I bench press more than you ever could imagine.” He raises his free hand to wipe a pretend tear on his face,”I’m hurt you think I’m so weak.” You’re practically snarling at the guy, shooting daggers with your eyes at this public humiliation.

“Yuuu cmon, don’t be mean to me.” You decide to switch gears and beg for freedom from your seemingly never ending air jail. “We could watch the whole Harry Potter series once we go back to your place..”

He hums in thought,”Mmm make it Harry Potter anddd Lord of the Rings!” You sigh, knowing your signing hours of your life away,” Deal.” Finally he lets up with perfect timing too because just then the cashier yells out your orders. Yuji gingerly retrieves them as you gain your composure.

He walks towards to you handing you the cone. You squint your eyes at him,”You’re evil.” He scoffs,”Yeah, yeah, I just had to let you know you never pay when you’re with me.”

“Oh what a gentleman.” He chuckles at your sarcasm,”Well this gentleman spots a bench for us to sit at. C’mon.” You follow behind him and eventually end up sitting beside him on the old bench.

You both begin eating, silently and peacefully. Yuji begins to observe the way you eat. His eyes watch as you carefully and gently lap on the sweet treat. He takes in the way you begin to have little spots left behind on the corner of your lips. Which leads him to say,”You eat so cute. I never caught that before.”

You turn to him shocked,” Cute?!” He flushes, rubbing the back of his undercut as he avoids eye contact with you now. “That was random,huh?” You nod, trying to hide your reaction as best as you could. You pray that he couldn’t tell how flustered you were.

“I just meant uhh you have a healthy appetite. I like that in gir—people. Because I also love to eat and it’s nice to do with someone who doesn’t judge you for that.” He’s fidgeting and still looking away from you. So this time you ground him, placing your plump hand a top his with a sugary sweet smile. “I’ll never judge you,Yuji. You’re my best friend.”

He’s silent, mouth agape, eyes widened but then he shoots you the same smile. “You’re mine too. I wouldn’t trade our friendship for the whole entire world.”

Friendship. At first it stung but you know that’s all this dynamic will be so instead of marinating in the hurt you adapt. And perhaps slowly you could adapt to the point you wouldn’t even think about Yuji in the same capacity.

After all you just broke your vow,for the first and last time.

It had to be for real this time.

No room for error.

No room for hurt.

No room for anything to be opened any further.

:

:

:

“Mmmm you always make popcorn so yummy!” Yuji takes a big bite of the handful in his palm.

“Uh huh,it’s a special top secret recipe that I must hide from you.” Yuji whines instantly,”Whyy? You never keep anything from me.”

Right…right. “A magician never reveals their secrets!.” The pink haired man protests once more,” You are no magician!” You shrug, leaning over closer to Yuji’s lap to nibble on a singular popcorn. “Hey! I learned a card trick when I was 13 that counts for something.”

“Aka nothing.” He blows a raspberry at you to which you counter with a forceful tug of his ear lobe. He winces,grabbing his lobe with mischief clouding his eyes. “I didn’t wanna have to do this..but you leave me no choice.”

Oh no! Oh God no! “Yuji…you wouldn’t do that to me..” He peers down, avoiding looking at your face. “I’m sorry, young one.” With that Yuji’s fingers get to work on his premeditated torture. He begins tickling you everywhere, beginning at your neck, then your armpits, and now your plush sides.

As he does so your shirt starts rising up, something you begin to become aware of once you feel the cool air on your tummy. Your eyes glance down to your exposed flesh, almost your whole entire pudge it out for him to see. The rolls that adorn the sides, the stretch marks that are all over your right and left, those annoying love handles that are currently poking out of your pants.

Through laughter you’re fighting embarrassment, praying Yuji is so distracted he hasn’t even noticed your clothes being messed up. “Yuuuuu! Ha! S-Stop! Ahaaa! Can’t take it!” He now has you flat on your back, one of his big muscled thighs right in between yours, perfectly slotted between the soft skin.

“Admit your defeat!” He’s on top of you, so focused he has his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth. “I-I surrenderrrrr! Ahhaaaaa! Stoppp!” Finally he gives in, his fingers relenting and now being at his side.

He makes no move to change position instead he gets even closer. He’s so close that you could the gold flecks he has in his eyes. “What’d ya learn?” He’s grinning wide and proud, the scar on lip stretching real broad.

“Not to pull your ear lobes…?” He’s shakes his head in disapproval,”Nu uh! It’s not start to start something you can’t finish.” He’s still smiling real proud and he’s still has yet to relocate.

Maybe you shouldn’t say anything? That would probably make it awkward cause obviously Yuji isn’t aware how this position must look. You try to fight how flustered you are but it’s getting to a point it’s unbearable. Be cool, act like this is nothing.

“Yeah whatever…you may have won the battle but I’ll win the war.” Yuji laughs,” You wanna talk big while I’m still on top of you?” You raise your hands up in defense,” Hey…I’m just saying for future reference.” Once you lower your hands down you travel towards your scuffled shirt, pulling it down to the point it stretches.

Yuji makes a face…one you can’t pinpoint. Disappointment, frustration? It was to stay a question because Yuji is not letting up on you today it seems. “Hey, you remember when I got that really bad fever our sophomore year?” The randomness greatly throws you off guard.

“Uhhh yeah?” Yuji has a fond look on his face as he recollects,” You were there taking care of me, you even missed an important lecture. I remember I asked you to hold me…and I ended up rolling on top of you, snuggled in your neck. “

You’re smiling fondly too,”Yeah I’m surprised you didn’t make me sick. That was a funny memory.” Yuji begins to look shy, a faint hue of pink budding across his cheeks.”Do you think we can do that while we watch movies?”

At first you’re taken aback but Yuji has already begun babbling about how weird he’s being and that he’s so sorry, naturally you have to stop his apologies. “It’s fine..I’d like that actually.”

He looks down at you,”You sure? I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.” You roll your eyes,” Yes I’m sure, it’s totally fine.” He bops his head in acknowledgment and you don’t miss the way he practically looks beyond ecstatic.

He begins lowering down his weight on you now, letting his strong arms give out. He’s flush against the crook of your neck, curling his face into the gap of space. His limbs reach under your back, wrapping you in an embrace from below. Yet again, this causes a shift in your shirt from the back. But this time instead of changing it you let yourself melt above Yuji’s lava hands. Even going as far as snuggling into them.

This felt domestic, mirroring the life your heart yearns for but that’s in the past, it has to be. However, you’d indulge, again taking it for what it really is.

An act of friendship. Yup..just two friends so close that you’d could see Yuji’s sun induced freckles that decorate the lower half of his face. “Can ya see?” Yuji croaks out. You mumble a small yeah as you press play on the small remote. Ultimately, leaving you and Yuji to your own thoughts, both of them wildly differing from one another.

You’re thinking—well trying to stop thinking about how close he is, how good he smells, how he’s snuggled in your neck like a little puppy. How every time he breaths a little harder you can feel his lips ghosting against a the skin of your neck. This experience is so heavenly and dream like you can’t believe you’re cuddling so closely with him!

While you’re seemingly not trying to weird him out, Yuji can’t even begin to take his eyes of you. One of his favorite and nostalgic movies is on, yet you’re the only thing he wants to use his eyes for. He’s looked at you plenty of times but this feels different. He can’t pinpoint this feeling that’s brewing in his belly, its warmth and its persistence consuming all his focus.

He’s admiring all these features he’s taken glances at over the years but never really admired til now. The softness of your jaw that complements the round suppleness of your cheeks, making you look even more cherubic and cute. Your lips that rest almost pouty when you’re focused, how moisturized and inviting they look.

As he admires you he’s questioning his reasoning for this. He’s seen you over a million times but right now it’s like he’s really seeing components that really make you, you. But why? Why does he feel a flutter in his tummy the more he glances at you? He’s always thought you were downright adorable but it was in a different sense than the one he feels now.

Why? Why does he feel like putty on top of you? He’s so relaxed he finds his hands digging and pawing your pudgy back,kneading you like an affectionate cat. Why is his mind freaking out about him embracing you like this? He’s done arguably done more intimate things with you prior to this. He’s shared beds with you half naked in his boxers, for multiple months! He’s undressed in front of you too many times to count! He’s seen you accidentally flash him a couple times…but cuddling is where his heart can’t stop booming against his chest?

Yuji thinks back to when he first met you. He’s recollecting all those memories that didn’t have him blushing like an untouched virgin, things that should’ve caused him to behave like that. His thoughts go to right before this moment, the moment his thigh was right in between your most precious part. He’s remembering your sickeningly cute face, the way it contorted with embarrassment, the way your lips pleaded for him to stop.

He didn’t realize it before but that was beyond erotic. And he didn’t even bat an eye about doing it! Instead his brain is just processing what possibly could’ve happened in place of just cuddling. He’s recalling your shirt lifting up for him, showing off your tender tummy to him, begging for him to kiss and mark up the fatty flesh.

God, your tummy looks so soft, so malleable that he could just dig his fingers in while he’s—

“Yu! Look it’s your favorite part!” Yuji finally glances at the tv but just as quickly his eyes go back to you. Yuji’s surprised the movie is already at an hour and thirty minutes, nowhere near being done though because he the extended version of The Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the ring.

He gives an unenthusiastic response which rings alarm bells for you. You ask if he’s okay but he mutters that’s he’s just tired. The response doesn’t wave away all your suspicion but it’s enough to shut you up.

Yuji’s attempting to cease his growing perversions but the notions just get even filthier. He really shouldn’t be thinking of doing THAT with YOU! He shouldn’t be thinking about pushing your meaty thighs alllll the way back til your kneecaps are kissing your ears. His kneading grows harsher, his hands wanting to grab the abundant flesh of your thighs instead of your back. He thinks his hands are big enough to grab all of it, so roughly his calloused hands would leave marks of their presence.

From the angle of your legs being pushed back your fat mound would be front and center, right below your plump torso. Yuji can feel hot blush flood his face the more he envisions your tummy and it’s pinch-able rolls compressed and taut just the way he likes it. He can practically see the natural weight of your breasts resting on the sides of you, bouncing up and down as he thrusts in and out of your plump pussy.

This is was so sick! Beyond what best friends should think about doing to each other! He’s never thought about you like this in his life so this just has to be a hoax, a cruel one.

He’s mentally talking to himself throughout the movie, cursing the length of the movie he chose, despite him usually loving every minute of the three hours. The longer it goes on the more descriptive his thoughts become.

Suddenly he’s receiving flashes of you on all fours, dimpled ass all displayed for just for him. Your perfect puffy pussy lips taunting him to just put it in already.

That had to be enough though. You and Yuji were just friends, friends cuddling so close he could feel your entire softness below his body. You’re right under him and he could possibly just grab you, and mold you into the positions that have been haunting him throughout this experience.

He had to get off of you before he loses his mind. Yuji hurriedly sits up, completely moving and unhooking his arms from beneath your back. This alerts you and immediately you’re full of concern. “Hey are you okay? You look a little red.”

“Uh yeah, I just don’t feel well.” As he’s going to sit up he’s now aware of his dick shooting straight out through his pants. He hopes you don’t notice as he rapidly pulls his shirt down to hide the throbbing erection.

He hops off the couch in a flash, turning his back to you so he could readjust the unwelcome surprise. “You don’t feel well? Want me to head to CVS or something? I know you don’t have any medication in here yet.” You ask.

As he fumbles for words, he fights a groan while he positions his dick taut against the waistband of his underwear, the length exceeding where his belly button is. “Um uh I just needa lay down for a bit. I think my game today just wore me out.” You reach out to him, pudgy hand rubbing gentle circles onto his back. “Oh Yu, I’m sorry and I had you go out with me too. Is there anything I can do for you?”

The sensation of you touching him is all too much for hormone ridden body, he can feel his skin burning through his clothes. He can’t handle you touching him right now or even be around him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he bares another second alone with you.

“Nahhhh, I’m just gonna head to bed early! You enjoy the movie. Thank you though!”He exclaims. You’re left mouth open, halted by his sporadic fleeing, watching him fumble up the stairs, even missing a few as he goes up. You’re at a loss of words, standing put for seconds too long.

Should you follow him or stay down here? It seemed like he wanted space but your concern was being persistent. Eventually, you think of a middle ground, settling for just texting him, that way he could read it when he feels better. Your digits write a short message that’s littered with apologies and worry.

The moment you send it you’re hoping and praying Yuji will be alright and that it wasn’t you that caused anything.

It’s couldn’t be you..right?

:

:

:

It’s been two days since you last seen Yuji. The longest you’ve ever been apart from him since you met.

Texts were unanswered.

Calls were put to voicemail.

And anytime you tried to catch him at his penthouse he was nowhere to be found.

“Yuji Itadori, makes a jaw dropping home run! What else would ever be expected from this upcoming Rookie of the Year prospect?!” Your head turns to the tv at the mention of his name just to get a glimpse of him.

He’s brooding looking at the camera, unsmiling, appearing to be a shell of himself. His usual bright and alert eyes are dull, lacking the sparkle of his eyes he commonly has. You finally stop looking when the camera pans away from him. The tv is again just background noise for your wallowing.

You feel slightly better seeing he isn’t doing well, secretly hoping it’s partly due to your absence. But also what was he was going through? Whatever it was it had to be the root cause for this whole disappearance act.

You just missed Yuji..there was nothing else you could say. Sure, you’re pissed and upset he doesn’t even tell his one and only closest friend about whatever is wrong with him. But the overall emotion was craving him.

Not even in the romantic crave you feel during late nights—but a deep ravenous hunger for everything revolving him. His talks about double features, early college days of always movie hopping, having late night sleepovers eating food that’s terrible for the body, and having those talks you couldn’t have with any other person in the world except Yuji.

Your eyes glance over to the coffee table in your living room, staring holes in your phone. The urge to text Yuji ringing out in your brain. You know he can’t answer right away because of the game plus whatever circumstance that’s causing his distance.

But a little warning wouldn’t hurt because in this moment you’ve decided to make yourself impossible to ignore. 

You grab your phone typing something you’ll regret the moment it arrives.

Your text reads,”I’m going to the penthouse. I’m tired of you being like this. We’re going to talk whether you like it or not.”

Send.

Part of you thinks about unsending the message but it was either that or never fixing your friendship with Yuji. Obviously, you chose the latter. You’re finally off your butt, rushing over to grab a dingy pair of shoes that easily slide onto your feet.

You debate changing into something different, your outfit only consisting of a ginormous shirt and panties. You decide against it because if you look a mess then maybe Yuji will understand how much his absence means to you.

The arrival time to his penthouse is like a dream. The whole ride there you’re preparing an entire speech, one that would rip him new one. Before you know it you find yourself with the extra key he gave you in hand.

With a click the door unlocks and you’re finally back where things fell apart. You walk in taking in the place, just in case it’s your last time in here. You walk over to the couch, sitting on it as you think about the position you were in two days ago. How does someone go from cuddling to ghosting all of the sudden?

It just didn’t make sense. You reflect and mull over all the things that’s you could’ve done wrong. You don’t know how long you’re thinking things out because you didn’t even bother to look at your phone, your brain being too wired and focused on fixing what your mistakes. It must’ve been awhile because you become so sleepy.Your eyes begin to drag and pool down and your body slouches sideways against the couch. You have a few good effort blinks before they shut and close.

Your last words are,”Yuji..”

:

:

:

You wake up with a stir, your body jerking up. Your eyes analyze the environment, noting that this wasn’t the living room anymore. It was Yuji’s room.

“You’re awake,that’s good.” Yuji walks in the doorway with a water bottle hand. He still looks as exhausted as he did on Tv but doesn’t look sad at all anymore. Maybe it’s you that him made him a little better.

You don’t know how to feel. On one hand you’re pissed and on the other you’re happy Yuji seems glad to see you. You don’t know if you should respond with sharpness or genuine joy. You choose sharpness,”Oh so now you can talk to me.” Yuji strides over to the bed, picking a spot that’s on the foot.

He rolls the bottle to you as he speaks,”I’m sorry, there’s no excuse for that but i couldn’t be around you feeling the way I do. It’s wrong.” He’s slouched, his posture to making him look small and frail. “So what?! I’m your friend, your best friend at that! And I can’t even get a text saying you need a mental health day or some shit!”

You sit up, getting in his face as you yell,” You can’t treat me like I mean nothing to you! I care about you..so much that those two days felt like I got shut out from the entire world.” He’s doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t even make a move to move, he just takes it. He’s pouting and his eyes look big and glossy.

“It’s not what you think..I’m feeling things i shouldn’t towards you. Trust when I say, I missed you so damn much. But I just don’t like a side of myself I saw come out recently.” He’s looking down at the bed, his hands fidgeting with the bedsheets.

Your lips start trembling as you feel tears tease your lash line,”S-So you ghost me…instead of telling me you don’t want to be friends with me anymore? I can’t believe you Yuji…” You’re holding yourself to stop the waterworks but the self soothing could only work so long. Immediately at your words Yuji darts up, surprise fueling his body. He’s by your side in an instant pulling you towards his hard chest.

Your fists push against him but his hold is unbreakable. You cry as you do so, each hit getting weaker the longer you sob. “Shhh…It’s okay baby.” Your ears perk up,baby?? He’s never called you that. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your back,”You misunderstood me, silly. I’m sorry I made you cry,that’s the last thing I wanted to do.” You lift your head up from his chest, snotty nosed and face blotchy,”Then what’d you mean then?”

He’s blushing,yet still remains unwavering eye contact with you. “I meant I don’t want to be best friends with you anymore. I want more. So much more…I can’t even express the thoughts I’ve been having since that day. “

You couldn’t believe your ears! Was this a dream?? You’ve wanted to hear those words for the longest time and of course he had to tell you that when you’re already a crying mess. “I feel the same way but before we talk about that why the hell were you avoiding me then?!”

His blush gets even more intense,”I have been thinking about you in THAT way. And I couldn’t function around you anymore.” You were already flustered by his first confession but his second confession has you trembling. You’re not allowed to dwell on it too long though before Yuji starts speaking again.

“You feel the same way though? Really?” You wish you could call him an idiot at this moment but it felt too harsh for how mushy you felt inside. Because obviously you feel the same way! “I-I do, I kinda always have but I never thought this would’ve ever happened. Because I do,” you pause reaching for his face,”love you Yuji. I love you so much that it hurts.”

He’s smiling ear to ear, his big palm enveloping on top of the one on his face. “And I love you. And I’m sorry for causin you so much pain. I went about my feelings the wrong way but I…” he bites his lip for a second, almost like he’s trying to block something from coming out, it does though,”been wanting in a way I haven’t wanted anyone.”

His grasp is tighter on your hand and now he’s no longer maintaining eye contact. You look at him deeply,eyes still lightly glossed with past tears. He’s blushing and wanton, begging without having to say a single word.

“Then want me Yuji..you could have me any way you’d like.” Those are the words Yuji needed to hear because his hand on your back lowers to your waist,cupping the suppleness of it in his big paw. “Can I kiss you then?” Eagerly you nod, leaving no room for miscommunication this time.

He brings you closer until there’s a little gap between, a space for protest but of course you wouldn’t do that. He finally closes the bridge, gently embracing your lips in a light peck. A light peck that soon grows into his tongue pushing for permission against your lips. He’s lightly sucking on your tongue, groaning in your mouth as he does so.

His hand that rested a top yours moves to firmly grab all of your waist. The greedy digits practically molding your body to his, fruitlessly praying you wouldn’t be able to break away. He breaks away ,barely, just to say,”You taste so good.” Yuji leaves no room for replies, quickly covering your mouth once more with his desperate caresses.

He’s kissing you so hungrily that occasionally the tip of his nose will bump against yours. And it’s like heaven every time. Him wanting you—needing you so much he can’t control his jerky movements.

Your hands travel towards his pushed back hair,tugging gently every time he clenches a little harder on your waist. Eventually, lips break away,mouths breathing heavily just to catch any oxygen that’s not smothered out by the heat between your bodies.

Yuji’s extremity wanders back up to your face,the appendage covering the whole left side of your face, his thumb gently pressing against your pouty lips. “You alright? Did I kiss you too hard?” He’s concerned and breathless,his big eyes looking for any hurt present on your expression.

“No Yuji, it was perfect.” To assure him some more your lips poke out just leave the tip of his thumb with a small peck. A groan falls from his lips at the light touch. His brain fuzzing up at the thought of you sucking on the digit. But he couldn’t ask something of you like that. You both had just established your mutuals feelings for each other, he couldn’t already be asking for sexual favors.

“T-That’s good! Do you wanna lay down and talk now?” Yuji’s no longer wild nor hungry, bashfulness fully taking over his features. You didn’t wanna lay down—you wanted him. Wanted him all over you, wanted him so deep inside you that you start seeing stars.

“No..I want you to want me Yuji, remember? Any way,” you pause,putting extra emphasis on the word any,”you want.” He gulps,” Baby, you just don’t understand how I feel..I don’t wanna hurt you being all rough.” The moment he says that his eyes glance down to your supple thighs, dreaming of big fingerprint bruises decorating them.

He’s so gross, you don’t deserve to experience his carnal urges the first time you’re intimate with him. When he saw your text he was planning on confessing almost everything he’s been feeling. Everything, except his need to wreck your poor pussy. He wants the first time with you to be gentle and sweet, full of the love and care he has in his heart.

“Yu,hurt me then. I can take it, I just want you so bad. I’ve been waiting years for this moment and I don’t care how it goes. I just need you Yuji.” He pouts, big eyes looking scared of what he’s capable of doing to you. “I’m really strong though and with the way you’re making me feel I just might lose control of my own strength.

You sigh, the wetness sopping your panties getting even more persistent. “Okay fine, I’ll tell you if you’re hurting me. I promise every step of the way I’ll let you know.” That seems to ease him a bit,” You promise?” His tone is so pathetic and whiney it damn near has your heart booming out your chest.

You whisper real close to his thumb,” Promise Yu.” He smiles and retracts his hold on your face,”Good, now go lay down for me.” You’re flat on your back, looking up at Yuji with an excitement one couldn’t even begin to verbalize. Your eyes follow him as his index and his pointer finger begin toying with the fabric of your much too big. “Can I take this off you?” The way he asks isn’t for confirmation anymore it’s just to hear how bad you want him.

Maybe it’s a little sadistic but seeing you all gooey eyed and desperate makes his cock jump. You nod with swiftness, not leaving room for anything else to happen. He’s quick and efficient, taking the shirt off in less than a singular second. His eyes practically glow with affection when the innate heft of your breasts bounce from the movement. His voice is low yet tender, dripping with arousal and love,”God…do you know how you irresistible you are?”

He’s gawking at your entire body, save for your pussy since that was still covered. His eyes bounce low and high, taking in the view before him. He lightly taps your thigh,”Answer baby, I like hearing you talk.”

“N-No, I’ve never thought that before…” you squeak out. Yuji frowns,”That won’t do, your body is so…,” he pauses as his hands go and reach for the fat of your belly,”yummy. I just wanna kiss you all over.”

Saying that seemed to give him an idea because he’s looking at you with pleading eyes. “Is it okay if do that baby? Can I kiss you everywhere?” You nod, shivering in anticipation for what’s to come. He leans over to your thigh, lightly nipping it,” I told you, I like your words. Talk back to me baby, I wanna know you want this all the way. So, let’s try that again..”

This time he’s happy with,”Yes Yuji, I’d love that.” Instead of a warning nip,he rewards you with a suckled kiss to your inner thigh. “Goood job, I love when you listen for me.” You whine at the praise, muttering a pathetic thank you. He mumbles faintly under his breath,”Cutie.” Smiling softly at the state he already has you in.

“Tell me where you want me to kiss first, anyyyywhere you want.” You look down, past your plump tummy, eying your pussy that’s still not exposed yet. “My pussy, want a kiss there Yuji.” He grins toothily,”I was thinking I should start there too.” He slithers down to his belly til he’s face to face with your dripping slit, a wet patch already forming and growing the longer this continues.

“So wettt,all this is for me!” It wasn’t a question, it being an elated observation. He leans his face closer, so close you think his tongue is going to give your panties a well deserved lap, instead his nose opts for a loud huff of your natural aroma. “Y-Yuji!” You scold. He doesn’t even bother looking up as he responds,” I-I’m sorry you just smell so good here I can’t help it baby.”

He’s glued to your pussy,sniffing and poking at the poor aching thing. His hand goes to the band of your panties, stretching it until it can’t anymore. Your panties are in a skinner “V” shape that leaves your fatty pussy lips exposed. You whine at the sensation, the tension of the fabric rubbing against your swollen clit. His mouth finally makes contact with your pussy, the wetness of his saliva drooling down the garment. He laps and licks until he notices your toes curling.

“You like it baby,huh?” To make responding tougher on you he begins to deliver opened mouth kisses,especially focusing on your exposed lips. “L-Love it Yu! Feels so good.” Those words should egg him on to continue but he stops much to your dismay. “Yuji! Please don’t stopp.” He purses his lips in faux sympathy,”M’ sorry but I have to do it everywhere, I promise I’ll come back to your needy pussy.” With that he drags his lips to your inner thigh, suckling and licking across the flesh greedily. He continues this all the way down to your foot, kissing and licking all your toes too. As he does he’s complimenting every characteristic that’s on your leg, from stretch marks to the adorable dimples that decorate some parts of the limb.

He repeats the process on your other leg, even spoiling you with a couple pecks on your pussy before he gets too low.His mouth then arrives to your midsection, meeting where his hands have been kneading at. “This tummy is so cuteee, so nice and soft just for me.” He cranes his neck to get a better angle just so he could a leave a mark right below your belly button. “Yujiii that tickles!” He ignores your call to him, too focused on leaving a blemish on you.

He pulls away with a loud pop, beaming down at his work. “You look so good marked up.” His lips make contact again with your tummy, littering the flesh with pecks. Yuji finds his lips now on your breast, his tongue circling the hardness of hour nipples. Of course he has to leave evidence of him exploring your body there too.

At your neck his suckling and nipping is at his roughest. The tingly sensation causing you to dig your nails into his back, your ears highly enjoying the way he groans as you do so. He gives your nape one last sloppy kiss before he’s finally at your face. “This pretty face, you’re such a cutie.” He’s grinning so wide the scar on his lips appears to be getting even wider.

One of his paws cup your face together, squishing the skin to the point of your lips protruding far out. He gives them a light kiss to which he then follows with your cheek, then your eyelids, til he’s all done with your pouty mug. He releases his hold on your face,laying another soft peck on the apples of your cheek.

“Do you mind layin on your tummy for me?” He asks. Wordlessly, you roll over on your stomach, excitedly awaiting what’s to come. Yuji huffs with an amused chuckle,” S’cute you did it so fast.” To further his praise he gives your butt cheek an affectionate squeeze, his eyes glimmering with lust as he watches the ample flesh seep out from the creases of his fingers. You’re grinding against his hand, feigning for any type of physical contact from him right now.

He groans,”Y-You look so good when you do that…mmm want me to kiss you there too?” Even with your mouth stuffed against the fluffiness of the pillows Yuji hears the whiny,”Yeth Yujiit.” Your feel him release his hold on your butt his appendages now slowly trailing down your back, til you feel the tip of the digits stop at your tailbone. An indicator for where he wants his mouth to go first, he pecks the right side following soon after with the left. His lips trail lower until he’s at the beginning of the crack, his tongue peeks out giving the line a light slurppp that has you shivering.

His mouth travels to your right cheek, his greedy hands digging into the skin. You feel a light nip that has you whimpering, which gets rewarded with another one. Yuji’s tongue pokes out to give opened mouth sloppy kisses, his loud groans vibrating against the globe. He’s going on about how soft you feel, how he loves those lil dimples that litter your ass, how he likes seeing his finger tips perfectly fit into them.

The left cheek doesn’t revolve such gentle treatment. Yuji’s palm slams down on your ass, drooling at the sight of the jiggle the impact caused. “So hypnotizing, I love your ass sooo much.” He sounds like a kid in a candy store, hyped up on way too much sugar. He kisses the area where he slapped, only to repeat to the impact. An animalistic croon falls from his maw, when you let out a particularly high pitched whimper.

“Sound so good too. Knew you were perfect all along.” His extremity’s wander high and low over the expanse of your ass as he narrates his all consuming affection for you. “I’m so sorry for being s’stupid and not seeing it before. Should’ve made you my girl the moment everyone was spreading those rumors about us in college. Should’ve took you on dates all the time,” he grunts deeply as he spreads your cheeks niceeee and wide for his pleasure,”f-fuck should’ve been making love to you all this damn time.”

His eyes glue on the way your panties get swallowed whole by your ass and pussy. It’s so taut on both ends, Yuji’s eyes can’t pick what to stare at longer. Both your throbbing clit and plump lips pokin so hard against the panties it’s basically see through. It’s sight almost impossible to turn down—God,but the way the taut hole right above your throbbin pussy could partially be seen on the sides had Yuji playing a choosing game he knew he would never decide on.

Fuck it. Yuji wanted to tease and worship your body for hours but he just couldn’t anymore. He wanted to be as patient and well behaved as his lust could allow him to. But he couldn’t and wouldn’t anymore.

With one efficient yet strong tug of your panties, Yuji finally gets to lay his eyes on both of his temptations. His mouth agapes, drool pooling at the sides as he gets to see the view of both your orifices clenching ‘n closing on nothing but air. Yuji feels his dick throb in a way he didn’t know was possible til now.

You’re so needyyyy. So needy just for him. “Damn…” It’s low and appreciative,full of underlying worship that yet to tumble off his lips. He then lyes flat on his stomach so he could be face to face with your weeping slit.

His pointer fingers traces a line down your pussy, beginning at your clit and ending at your welcoming hole. “Can I kiss you here baby? Would you like that?” It sounds so innocent and kind, like he’s asking if you want a nice hug, not requesting to lap at your wetness.

Still muffled by the pillows, your loud pleas are heard. “Yethhhhh needth ith! Pleath Yuuu!” He chuckles as he takes his fingers in his mouth, sucking on it with an appreciative hum. With the new motivation of knowing what you taste like Yuji’s driven to dive head first in your pussy.

He pushes his face allll the way in the til his chin is pressed on your clit. You moan at the sensation, wiggling your hips even further so you could be evennn closer. He nuzzles his nose closer to your entrance that he’s now perfectly angled with. He rubs the tip of his snout against it, just to hear your little whines at every touch.

His mouth then opens greedily and hungrily, aiming for your constricting orifice. His tongue curls instantly in the warm hole, twisting wildly in a scooping motion. The pink muscle slurppss relentlessly, the apex of it running its bumpiness a top the hot cavern.

Yuji groans at the heat he feels from just his tongue being inside. But it still isn’t enough for him, it isn’t close enough, not deep enough. He grabs your hips so hard you could feel promises of bruises blooming,navigating them to push all the way against his face. His greedy mug now completely consumed in the bottom half of you,just the way he intended it.

His tongue delivers a good flick in up motion that has you wriggling away from his supping that won’t take any protest for an answer. Your ass receives a warning tap, one that screamed “stop moving my meal away from me.”

But you can’t help the squirming, the sense of at last being touched in a way you’ve been wanting for years almost consuming your dumbed out brain whole. So you continue to writhe because that’s all your body allows you to do.

Smack! To which you respond with more wiggling. The taps were no longer being a gentle warning.

Smackkk! This one is harder, more frustrated and fed up of the behavior. It stings so hot and tingly it brings bubbles of tears on your lash line.

Yuji, pops his mouth off, sounding disappointed he even had to,”Baby stop moving s’much, I wanna make you cum and I can’t do that if you’re running f’om me.” You whine, messy head at long last lifting from the pillows,”It’s so good Yuji. M’sorry, mouth feels so good I can’t take it.”

He kisses where he smacked your ass before chiding you lightly,” I know it feels good baby. I know, buttt you have to stay as still as you can so I can make you cum.” Again a whiney plea graces his ears,”But why not just put me it in Yuji? I can’t wait any longer, need sum in me.” He scoffs at your desperate need, shaking his head in disapproval.

“No, no gotta stretch this tight pussy out. It’ll hurt if I don’t, I can’t hurt my pretty baby.” You huff,” Okay then, I’ll try my best to not move Yu.” He smiles wide and proud, giving your butt a praising pet,”Atta girl. Don’t worry, I’ll make you cum in no time.”

Without any hesitation he dives right back in, the only difference being his mouth locking itself on your clit instead. His tongue goes round and round the perky thing,not letting up until you’ve come undone.

His index and pointer finger began to tease your entrance. Inch after inch of his girthy fingers taunting it.

He slides it less than halfway in, commencing the digits to curl up against your walls. He pairs this with extra hard sucking on your clit, groaning against it every time you croaked out in pleasure.

There was no room for anything else but his mouth and fingers that were filling, what felt like your entire body, up with red hot gratification. With every come hither motion of his fingers, your back arched deliciously deep.

So delicious, Yuji could see your sweat gleam off your back. He keeps your hips steady with his lone free hand, rubbing soothing circles, a poor attempt of numbing the out of body experience you were receiving from his mouth.

He releases your clit with a resounding pop! Only to go back and swallow it whole in his gluttonous maw. Both your bodies are slick and clammy to the point, Yuji’s plain shirt to stick go his ladder like abdomen.

His two digits give a hard thrust up that has your call out his name,”Yujiiii! Feels so good!” He smiles a toothy grin that isn’t displayed for too long before his mouth focuses back on your aching nub.

He siphons the expanse of it, moaning around it as he does so. Your moans and babbles only egging him on with every reaction . His fingers curl deep inside,desperate to feel everyyy nook and cranny of your gummy walls.

Your legs begin to shake and shiver, your pleasure ridden body loosing the strength to keep upright. Yuji takes this as a sign of your soon to be arrival.

He pushes harder and deeper, til the point his digits finally reach that spot he’s been searching for. It’s even gummier than the rest of the suffocating walls. He pushes against the special spot.

Enjoying every second of high pitched keens that can’t be held by you. Your plump thighs quake and ache for some type of reassurance because there is no stopping Yuji’s determined mouth and fingers. Your thighs attempt to clamp shut but that only pulls Yuji tighter in your greedy hole.

Babbles and calls come from you, pleas of feeling like you’re going to explode fall on deaf ears. He only knows how to explore every inch of your pussy. His tongue now wildly lapping any place that had you moaning louder.

Until he feels it. The white ooey gooey substance that starts forming at his knuckles. There’s more and more of the creaminess that begins to pool down his hand. He halts his movements, just to watch the oozing of your release.

You’re babbling, sounding brainless as your pussy practically traps his digits in its wanton hold. That’s when he begins his pace once more,without warning you. Once wouldn’t be enough for him. It couldn’t be enough for him. He plucks his face away from your pussy, heaving lowly,”Just one more time baby. Then I’ll put it in.”

Voice shaky, you protest with any sense that’s left in you,”N-No ‘Uji m’stretched out! Can—mmm! Take it!” You begin to unsteadily sit up, using your forearms to push you up. It’s quickly in vein though once Yuji uses his hand to slam you back down. He tuts,”Unh uh,I told you, one more.”

You turn your head tearfully, pushed to the desperate brink of crying. “Stop being so mean Yu, I just want to be with you, wanna be one already.” His eyes soften and his hands go to rub your love handles apologetically, his calloused fingers contrasting the softness in a way the had his brain malfunctioning. “You really want to that bad?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Yuji, for as long as I loved you I’ve been wanting you to complete me.” His pretty brown eyes are no longer dark with his lust and want, the gaze now being full of fondness that couldn’t be contained. He’s smiling down at you,”Let’s complete each other then.”

With what look likes zero effort he flips you back on your back. Face scrunched up in astonishment at how easy he moved you. He slides your half removed panties off your legs,chucking them in a corner of the room. He pulls off his white t-shirt, blushing at the way you’re ogling his shirtless form. He shouldn’t think anything of it after all he’s been doing the exact same thing to you all this time.

He’s kissed by Greek Gods themselves. Perfectly sculpted, built to the point he looked unbeatable, defined to the finest detail that every fine line was visible to the naked eye. “You’re perfect Yu..” your praise cause the growing blush to reach the tip of his ears. “Y-You’ve seen me shirtless plenty of times.”

“But this is different…it’s like seeing you for the first time.” He hums, admitting he knows exactly what you mean. You’re leaning forward and touching his built frame, oooing at the hardness his body offers. He almost flinches away from the contact but he lets you touch him up until you’re satisfied. Your hands wander to his belly button, your curious digit then caressing the thick patch of his happy trail. You stop going lower once your finger practically bounces off the apparent bulge that’s sticking out. Yuji whimpers at the smidgen of physical contact.

“You’re so hard Yu…Is that really cause of me?” You sounded amazed, shocked by the limits you could take Yuji. He scoffs, unamused by your surprise. “Of course it’s cause of you. You’ve been driving me crazy lately, you’re so beautiful ‘n you don’t even know it. I mean—look at you! You’re the cutest thing ever.”

Look at you.

Eyes widen, mouth agape, belly slightly resting on your thighs caused by your upright posture, breasts dripping down naturally—and you were beautiful. You felt beautiful under his gaze. You couldn’t believe the man you’ve been pining for years actually wanted you back. Coveting you so badly he’s rock solid just by your presence. A dream—

No, a reality.

A reality that you’re snapped back into when Yuji pulls down both his boxers and shorts in one fleet motion. His dick slaps back against his abs, the pearling pink tip easily surpassing his navel. He’s oozing so much pre, anyone else would think he’s came untouched.

It’s fat and lengthy in way that makes you understand Yuji’s past cautioning. It’s embellished with multiple zig zag veins that are throbbing with eagerness.

Yuji’s rubbing the back of his head, embarrassed by your silent reaction. “Say something..please.” Of course the only word you can say is,”Big.” Yuji blushes a brighter hue than before,”Something else b-besides that.”

“It’s so pretty..” Yuji is proud that you think it’s big and pretty, but the compliments were driving him up the wall. Your cute face is crinkling with adoration, a face that makes his dick jump. He couldn’t handle such unintentional teasing from you anymore. If you kept being so endearing he would cum before even putting it inside you.

“Think so?” Yuji implores. “Yesss, just like you.” It’s a mumble but it reaches Yuji’s red hot ears. “You’ve always flattered me too much,babe.” He waves off your fawning for his sake. Seriously how could you be so cute?

Your hand backs off of Yuji, now flat on the bed once more. You shake your head,”Nu uh,I’ve always flattered you the correct amount.” You spread your legs, wide and proud for Yuji to see what’s been awaiting him a very long time. “C’mere Yu’.” He obeys instantly slotting himself in between your shapely haunches, his leaking length resting atop the softness of your tummy.

His eyes look into yours for approval. Once he sees your orbs glint with the okay for him, his movements are calculated, knowing exactly how he wanted you. He maneuvers your legs to push back onto your frame, as far as it can go ,until the sides of your kneecaps appear to be earmuffs to your warmed ears.

His grip is unloosening, stubborn with keeping you there. He gawks at the spectacle before his eyes—your pussy on display for him, wide n so sticky, that the hairs a top your mound are slicked with arousal. And your tummy and breasts trapped by your own plush limbs, squishing against the body part confinement.

He could see every part of you this way, the rolls that appear a lot clearer when you’re like this, your winking pussy that pleading for him, your face that’s fevered with lust. Perfect.

He aligns the tip of his dick to your entrance, removing one of his hands from the back of your thighs to do so. He feels breathless, teetering on the edge of control and losing it the moment he slid into you. “I-If it hurts you have to tell me.” It sounds like concern at first, however it’s more like caution that must be taken. A warning that he won’t be able to govern his body.

A warning you should’ve taken note of. But unaware of how far his lusts seeps out him you agree,”I will Yu, promise.” With your promise he begins sliding in the angry tip in, breathlessly, as if any sound will ruin the view. Your pussy lips almost swallow his tip whole,selfishly undertaking vacuuming more than just the aching head.

He groans,”N-nice and slow, gotta be slow.” He’s not talking to you. He’s reminding himself of his sheer size that’s already spearing you open with just the beginning. He places his hand back onto your thigh for support, his grasp causing a hissing burn that persists through your legs.

He slides it in further, less than halfway, but it still has you seeing stars. “Oh!! Yuujjii!” Lazily, he bucks upwards, driving his hips in a steady pace. His gluttonous eyes scrutinizing the way your pussy is attempting to swallow the magnitude of him whole.

“So greedy…” He growls out. He creeps in another two inches of his dick, the width of it becoming fatter and fatter the more he goes in. You feel the burning stretch, the sensation of being stretched out in a method you couldn’t even imagine.

His thrusts become deeper and deeper before you feel the sharp slap of his balls on your ass cheeks.

All the way.

All the way in.

Both of you embark in a series of boisterous moans, crying out for the overwhelming sensation to never end. You feel your eyes well up, growing and glossy and sickly with pleasure. “Yu! Feels so good!”

He delivers a rough piston of his hips, moving body parts uppp and downnn with every moment. “You feel—fuckkk,” his pelvis bucks forward in a manner that hits the very top of your partitions, the muscle tightens at the mind numbing stroke,”f-feel it in your tummy?”

“Y-Yes! ‘S deeeppp!” He releases hold of the back of your legs once more to bring his hardened palms to grab on your rounded paunch, almost using it to anchor himself with his wild thrusts. And he does so.

You feel his digits diggg deep in the skin, bobbing your body in a volatile fashion, using you almost like a hole. His eyes gaze upon the place you’re connecting, mouth crooning out with soft whimpers of your name, murmuring rambles of thanks for letting him have you so intimately, symphonies of exalting your beautifulness.

His words just increase with their fever, their desperation, the more and more he sees himself pull himself in ‘n out of your sopping warmth.

He pulls himself all the way out til only the head is barely in, only to slam alll the way in until there’s an echoing clap of his balls against your rear.

He repeats this again. Speaking between each elongated plunge along your walks.

“You’re so p-perfect.”

CLAP!

“You sound so pretty f’or me,get a lil louder. I-I love your sounds. W-Wanna—fuck! Hear you say my name.” To emphasize his point he rests his body weight on top of you, placing his ear directly towards your mouth.

“Yuujjjiii!” You croon out loud, breaking voice bouncing off every corner of the room.

CLAP!

This time he slides in so deep the tuft of his pink pubes meet your throbbing clit. He grinds on it, length rubbing snugly with that familiar spot. “Does it hurt?” He whimpers out.

In a sense it does hurt. The burning stretch of his girth achingly spreading your pussy every time he moved inside was tingly in a painful manner. The grip of his hand on your pudgy belly is biting and nipping, dull fingernails leaving blooming crescent shaped marks on the skin. And that iron grip on the back of your thigh was suffocating where your bones meet.

Yet—yet, you couldn’t even think of correcting Yuji. The pain only added onto the pleasure that’s forming in the pit of your stomach. So it didn’t really hurt, all your brain could feel was him inside and that’s all that really mattered.

“N-No! Feels soooo good! D-Don’t stop Yuji!” He takes your words as fuel for his following assaults on your cunt. Growing uncaring of being stable any longer. He’s wild now, huffing and puffing in the nook of your neck. His pink tongue even peeks out a a few times to lick the glistening sweat off your skin.

“Everything about you just tastes good! Lemme taste your pretty lips again.” You lean your head down and immediately become embraced with Yuji’s lips slamming onto yours. Both of you grumble and moan into the connection, the audios of gratification echoing in each other’s maws. It’s greedy and rushed, no longer mindful or careful of your safety.

There’s only hunger, hunger that’s only been recently awaken for Yuji. And it was all consuming. He pulls away from your lips to get air, his tongue lapping at the saliva that migrated to the sides of your mouth from the sloppy kiss. He could only think of you cumming. Only of your pleasure as you embraced his dick in an iron hold.

His thrusts grow sharper and more determined, pleading to hear your cries of peak filthy gratification. He’s watching your face with careful consideration, seeing what type of thrust has your pupils pooling all the back to the whites of your eyes.

He surveys how your mouth gapes open, almost so grandly ajar it looked like you lacked a jaw. His observations come to a halt when he feels your legs shaking below him. He thrusts himself deeper, ravenous eyes peering down at your scrunched face as you come undone on his dick.

Your eyes fully roll back,your lips forming the syllables of his name but they never come out. Your legs try to clamp shut but there’s no use. There’s no escape from the seeping pleasure that’s take over your body.

You’re babbling, growing boneless as Yuji never stops his thrusting, fucking you throughout orgasm. He swallows calls of his name with heated kisses, embracing you with reassurance. You’re huffing in his mouth, paws hopelessly clawing at his abdomen, pleading for his thrusts to end for just a bit.

It’s futile. A good effort but a useless one. “Yu—! Can’t, no more pleaaa!” He’s placing honeyed pecks on the corners of your mouth, apologizing for his lustful onslaught. “It’s okay—shhhh, you’re okay.” He’s hushing you but it doesn’t quiet your moans.

“Yujiiiii! Y-You’re so deeep!” It almost bordered on the edge of violation with deep his cock sank into you. His sticky tip kissing your cervix every time he pistons inside your weeping slot. “Yeah? You feel me in your guts? Feel me alll the way,” he bucks upward, tip snugging on that spongy part that has you jabbering on,”in there?

He’s dripping sweat, a droplet flows down the bridge of his nose, landing on your agape face. The muscles in his back are straining and flexing to the point, your hands that have moved from clawing his abs to his back, can’t even penetrate the tough muscle. In a sexed frustrated frenzy you throw your hands back, the digits twitching with stimulation.

He’s groaning loudly in ear at this point, so loud that’s the only your ears can really focus on. There was none of his hip slapping against your ass, nor the lewdly loud sloshing of your pussy every time he pulled out of it, not even your own incoherent whines could you hear.

Just him. Just the sounds of his longed for gratification. His hand on your tummy, grasps the plump flesh, tighter and harder, abusing it as a pillar, something to keep him from unwinding too quick.

“Your pussy feels so good—s-shit, I can’t get enough of it. I want to be like this with you forever. C-Can I—mmm stay like this forever with you?” At last the hand that’s been holding up your lone leg releases itself only to reach for one of yours.

He laces his fingers in between yours, clasping it with utter need. “D-Do you want me to pull out?” Your eyes are half lidded as you respond,”N-No, want it in me Yuji!”

He’s flushed, his hips stuttering as he looks at your fucked out expression. “You’re sure?” You nod, ready to be full of his cum. He still seems too unsure of your response but there isn’t anymore time to mull it over.

“Shitttttt!” He’s hissing in the groove of your neck, hiding his wrinkling nose as his pelvis stops its ruthless pace, plugging his dick all the way back in your pussy. Tears mist his lashes as he groans out your name, that’s when you feel the complete heat that releases from his slit. You call out at the sensation, the fullness and heat devouring your senses completely.

He’s huffing into your nape, the tip of his nose snuggling against the skin as he regains his composure. The first words you hear are,”You okay?” You crane your neck to glance down at him, grinning tiredly. “I’m so good, you?” He chuckles,”I’m great. I wasn’t too rough, was I?” When he asks that he lifts his head up to examine the damage he’d done.

His eyes catch crescent moon shapes littering your legs, blotchy discolored love bites, and your past tears staining your face. He gulps, guiltily, eyes avoiding your face in shame. “Shit, I’m so sorry baby—I was too rough,”he moves to pull out of you but you wrap your legs around his waist, securing his position,”whatt?” This was enough for him to stop scolding himself.

“I loved every second of it Yuji, you weren’t too rough. It was the most perfect thing ever.” He grins, sheepishly,”I was real worried I did hurt you.” He begins caressing your thigh that’s slithered around him, using the free hand that’s not embracing yours. “I wanted to ask something before we did this, of course. But—,” he pauses, face growing even more warm by the second.

“Spit it out Yu!” You chide. “Can I be your boyfriend? I had a whole plan before well,” he points down to his softening length inside you,”this.” You giggle, pulling him in with the embrace you have around him,”Of course you can be my boyfriend.”

At those words you feel his dick slowly solidifying once more. “Yujiiii!”

“M’sorry, hearing you call me that really got me goin. Could we go again?”

:

:

:

AHHH MY FIRST EVER FIC! GULP! IM SO NERVY I HOPE EVERYONE LIKES IT<3

REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

Happy reading!<3

[sukunastuna]

my cutie yuji

[houseofhyde]

but kiss me & i might... ⤷ jack abbot x nurse!reader ⌇ 23.1k

✶ ― SYNOPSIS. the 5 times jack abbot walks you home + the 1st time you invite him in.

warnings.ᐟ mdni! no use of y/n, night-shift nurse!reader, colleagues to lovers, slow burn, smut (jack pussy pleaser abbot and his big dick, soft dom jack, fingering, piv, unprotected sex, praise, creampie, cum play, cum eating, smothering?, sex against a wall + cowgirl, hair pulling [jack receiving], slight dubcon as they are both tipsy), age gap (reader is early 30s), fluff, pining, longing, workplace romance, mentions of mental health struggles + therapy as consequence of the pittfest tragedy, violence + workplace assault, jack calls the reader kid but it's only as a coping mechanism!!! (he's down bad), one too many references to drop dead by olivia rodrigo, no mentions of jack's late wife or his wedding ring, 1 reference to a scene from the movie fresh. i tried my best to represent jack's life as an amputee as respectfully as possible, deepest apologies if i failed to do so. ᯓ★ hyde's input. wrote most of this in the hospital, boots on the ground journalism. 𓂃✍︎ dt. huge big fat sloppy wet kiss for miss @pinksplace for popping my beta-reader cherry and reassuring me that this was not straight up buns, no hotdog. your friendship means the absolute world to me, the fact you match my freak is just a bonus. and to my cousin @iamthatonefangirl for telling me to watch the pitt back in february, you helped awaken something in me that had been dormant for months. & to me for continuing my tradition of posting a fic on my birthday, finishing this was my present to myself.

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The first time feels like a fluke.

A rare silver lining of good stroked through the grey devastation that was today; after hours of wading through blood and gore, you at last strike gold.

“You heading off too, kid?” Despite the questioning tone in Jack’s voice, you know it’s an order.

He’s staring down at the park bench, eyes hovering over you and how tightly you’re still clutching that fourth can of beer, zoned out and completely oblivious to how everyone else has already packed up for the night and headed home. Not to sleep, no. It’s doubtful any of you will get much sleep, not after the events of today.

Robby had slipped away first, not without sharing a few final words of wisdom aimed at soothing everybody’s aching soul. Javadi followed soon after, abandoning a half-drunken beer as she went racing off to answer her mother’s beck and call. Mateo, Princess and Samira called it quits together, each heading off in different directions. Even Donnie left eventually, the now empty cooler in tow, his wife waiting patiently for him to crawl back to their newlyweds home and into her arms.

Then there were two.

Abbot and you.

Neither of you dared to interrupt the silence that had rolled in, minds too busy swimming in pools of thought, struggling against violent currents and attempting to escape the deep end.

Moonlight crept through the crevices between the branches above, cicadas came together to sing in disjointed harmony, and the world around you both kept moving, completely oblivious to how your own life had come to a halt. Somewhere between waking up to the screech of your pager and rushing through the doors of the PTMC to find it in a state of chaos, different and bloodier than you’d known it to usually be, you had shutdown.

Jack knew better than to force you out of that state.

He saw himself in your blank stares and the bouncing knees, remembered how it felt to be young, bright-eyed, and finally forced to reckon with how brutal this field could be. He didn’t need to ask to know: this had been your first mass casualty event.

Maybe that’s why he sat with you, the passing of time irrelevant, and let you fester in your shock. Let whatever cracks were forming in your heart deepen, because he knew it was the only way they’d be able to solidify. Let you exist on the periphery of life for however long you needed, his own senses fully intact and ready to watch over your body while your mind drifted elsewhere.

Only when he noticed you stifling a yawn did he act.

Jack, conscious of not startling you, moved slowly. Calmly.

He started with his prosthetic, lifting it off the bench and placing it back down onto the ground before safely attaching it. Then his bag, hands rummaging unnecessarily as though to check everything was in place — he’d already checked before leaving the locker room, but he figured another revision and a few more minutes for you to sit with your thoughts couldn’t hurt. Slinging one strap over his right shoulder, he pushed his frame off the wooden bench and came to a stand, the sickly-sweet gravel of his voice perforating the silence at last.

“Hmm?” Your reply is practically nonverbal, a simple hum. Enough to acknowledge the fact he’s spoken, yet not enough to answer his question.

Hazel eyes zero in on your own, observing how they’re tired, blinking just a little bit too lazily. The beer has warmed your cheeks, sped up your heart, and slowed your mind. Dancing on a tightrope between tipsy and inebriated, the last thing Jack is about to do is send you off home alone.

“C’mon,” he gruffs out, prying the can from your hand and laying it to rest on the bench. He replaces the weight of it in your palm with his touch, thick fingers effortlessly engulfing your own. To his delight, you give way easily, rising to a stand as he tugs you up. “Let’s get you home.”

You attempt some version of, “I’m fine.”

Jack pays it no mind.

Instead, he grabs at your familiar pink duffel bag. Something settles in his chest, dark and sickening, at the sight of dirt staining the bottom of the fabric, ruining your usually polished belongings. How apt it seems, a perfect mirror to how today has the left a smudge on you.

You stare at him all of a few seconds, eyes red. There’s no tears in sight, just the remnants of those that have already fallen. Then, when the older man shifts his weight off his right leg, you finally begin walking.

The journey is slow.

Jack’s unsure if you set the pace to accommodate to him or to put off the inevitable of going up to a lonely apartment, where all that work you’ve done to suppress the storm of emotions building inside you will prove useless the moment you step into the quiet of your home, the furthest place from danger and, yet, where all your troubling thoughts will at last catch up to you.

He thinks he’s better off not knowing, chooses to believe you’re doing it for his sake.

Some of your steps are swayed. The sight of your unsteady feet and teetering body are enough to keep his mind alert, fighting off the exhaustion that threatens to find him soon. This was supposed to be his day off, after all. He was supposed to be catching up on sleep right now, not watching over one of his nurses and worrying himself sick with thoughts of how today’s horrors will linger with you for years to come.

It was supposed to be your day off too, after all.

Neither of you should have been at the Pitt.

One man and a weapon had changed that.

You come to a stop abruptly, catching the doctor off guard and sending his solid frame crashing into your back. Before either of you can stumble too far, Jack’s snaking his free arm around your waist and stabilising you against him.

Maybe it’s the warmth of his palm, large and imposing and seeping through the cotton of your top. Maybe it’s the gentleness behind his touch, the way it anchors your feet to the pavement and silently promises that it- he won’t let you fall. Maybe it’s the weight of today finally shaking your unbreakable self, your arms too weak to keep holding you above water for much longer.

The reason doesn’t ultimately matter.

What matters is you’re finally speaking.

“Did you litter?”

Not exactly what Jack expected you to say.

It startles him for a moment, has him forgetting how today was full of horrors and has him wondering, instead, if you recycle.

It shouldn’t be so easy to picture you, bed head and a wrinkled shirt (preferably one that originally belongs to him), huffing and puffing your cheeks while you shoot around his kitchen, bags scattered along the island as you berate him.

Jack, how many times have I told you. Yellow is for plastic and cans, blue is for paper, green is for glass!

And wouldn’t it be so hard for him to fight back a smile, heart bursting with joy? A lovesick fool, happy to be lectured on the complex recycling system if it means having you, half naked, half awake, frowning at him as soon as you notice the shake in his shoulders.

Sorry, sweetheart. Promise it won’t happen again… And his hands finding your waist, pinning you to the marble counter-top so there’s nowhere for you to run from his mouth, trailing molten kisses up the expanse of your neck, lips lingering just to feel the steady thrum of your carotid pulse, physical evidence that you’re real, and here, and in his arms-

The blaring of a horn pulls Jack Abbot back onto the sidewalk.

You’re still in his arms but his lips are far from your neck and the speed of your heart is testament only to the anxiety speeding through your veins.

“Yeah. Maybe. I- I’m not really sure,” try as he might, he can’t remember if he ever moved your can from the bench. Is it still there now, half empty and waiting for its owner to return? “I’m sure someone’ll throw it away.”

Like you can’t dwell on the thought for too long, you move on, and finally say what’s really been troubling you.

“I don’t know if I-” the words catch on your throat, dry from the beer and raw with emotion. “How do I go back?”

Vague, unspecified.

Jack, with years of becoming fluent in you, understands.

“You find a way.” He wishes he could give you something more helpful, more reassuring. All he can offer you is the truth. “It’ll be hard. Different to how it was before.”

“I don’t think I can-” once more, emotions cut you off.

You’re not crying, not yet.

Stubborn as he knows you to be, steadfast in your need to remain strong until the very end. It wounds him in a way that feels a little too deep for a man who should see you as nothing more than a coworker.

Attending physician. Nurse. Colleagues.

Those are the only three words that either of you should use to describe the other. Jack knows, has known so for years. So, why does he keep having to remind himself?

“I don’t think I belong there, Doctor Abbot. You saw it, I froze. I hesitated. You had to ask me twice for the scalpel, and then- We lost him. If I had just- I should have-”

The hand at your midriff finds your shoulder, turns you around, and then his eyes find yours.

“Stop that, now. That man, he was good as gone when he reached us,” it’s a brutal truth but one that needs to be said. Jack knew it then just as much as he knows it now; that red wristband was destined for peeds. “You could have handed me that scalpel at the speed of light, and it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing, okay?”

You take a steadying breath.

It doesn’t work.

Instead, Jack watches it shake right through your frame. Your eyes drift from his own, like if he stares too long, he might catch a glimpse of every self-blaming thought racing through your mind.

“D’you even realise how many lives you helped save today?” The question comes tumbling out before Jack can stop it, some enate part of himself screaming at him to reassure you, to scramble up all the fractured pieces of you and slot them back together. That’s an attending’s job, right? To keep watch over the crew, to take care of the crew. So what if you’re off-the-clock? “One-hundred and six.”

“I only worked on-”

“Doesn’t matter who you personally worked on. Every one, you hear me?” He gives a squeeze of your shoulder, tells himself it’s because he wants to get you to look at him. If the touch happens to ground him too, it’s a coincidence. “Every life we saved tonight, you had a hand in that. You being there mattered, we couldn’t have done it without you.”

The words settle over you like a blanket, wrapping you in warmth and promising you shelter.

They don’t erase the sadness, don’t make it dissolve into a puddle on the ground, left to be forgotten on the dirty surface of the sidewalk. But they do enough to ease the tension between Jack’s brows and to wipe a layer of uncertainty from your eyes.

Then, unable to help himself, Jack adds, “I know I certainly couldn’t. Can barely intubate without my favourite nurse at my side.”

You laugh, slightly.

It eases something in Jack’s chest, nonetheless.

“Doctor Robby says it’s not right for attendings to play favourites.”

Now Jack is the one laughing.

You take the chance to pry your bag from his grasp, throwing the strap over your shoulder. The first act of Goodnight.

“Yeah, well, come to me again when Robby starts taking his own advice.”

There is no grand goodbye between you.

Just an exchange of fractured smiles, a subtle nod of approval from Jack as you take the first step towards the building’s entrance, and the wave of your hand before you turn fully and dash to safety.

Before you can slip through the crack you make in the building’s heavy door, Jack calls out, “I’ll see you tomorrow, kid.”

Once again, not a question. An order.

The second time is all about convenience.

It’s the last night of your monthly seven-days-on, the kind of shift where the hours stretch themselves impossibly thin and it feels like you’re crawling towards the end, a goalpost that keeps moving an inch out of reach each time you start to feel relief. By the time you officially clock out, shooting off towards the locker rooms before Whitaker can ask you to accompany another patient for a CT or Princess can enquire on any night shift gossip, you’ve worked an extra two hours and the bags beneath your eyes feel so heavy, they may as well be dragging by your feet.

Out of your scrubs, back into clothes that only partially carry the sterile stench of bleach and blood, you busy yourself with cramming things into your bag while trying your best to let Mateo’s generosity down softly.

“It’s fine, really,” even you have to admit that you don’t sound as sure as you mean to be. For a moment, you mull it over, imagine the comfort of letting yourself sit back and relax in the passenger seat of Mateo’s car. The sooner you’re home, the sooner your week off can start, right? Still, something within forces you to decline. He lives on the opposite side of the city and, with gas prices rising and his body’s tank running on empty hours before his next shift, the last thing you want to be is a nuisance. “I don’t mind the walk, gives me the chance to decompress.”

Your fellow nurse looks at you with a level of distrust, doubting the reassuring smile you cast his way.

“Are you sure?” Mateo pushes, dragging his tired body along the lockers until he stands behind yours. His curls, freed at last from the constraints of a hair-tie, peek out from the door. “I really don’t mind taking you. I mean, no offence, but you look like you belong on the set of Night of The Living Dead right now. Don’t wanna send you off just to later find out you tripped over air and wound up back here as a patient.”

Slamming your locker shut and giving his shoulder a shove — with no force behind it and doing little to move the man — you roll your eyes, “I’m fine, dingus.”

“Dingus? What are we, five?”

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one treating me like a toddler.”

“Like a toddler-?! I’m trying to be a good Samaritan. A gentleman!” You dodge Mateo’s hand as it reaches for your duffel bag. “Now quit being stubborn and let me make sure you get home safe-”

Everything happens so suddenly, your brain is forced to compartmentalise every action, step by step, as they unravel.

Mateo reaches for the bag, again.

You dodge it, again.

You glide to the left.

You run shoulder-first into a solid wall of warmth.

And there he is. Jack Abbot, freshly changed out of his scrubs. Hair wet from a shower, an overly woodsy scent clinging to damp skin, black t-shirt stretched a little too tightly over his chest. Despite his attempts to scrub the night away, he’s thrown on the same pair of cargo pants he spent the last fourteen hours rushing around in.

You almost want to chastise his stupidity, until you remember you can’t.

Not only is he your colleague, he’s your senior.

What business do you have telling a man like him to do anything?

“I’ll take her home.”

Never a question, always an order.

Unlike weeks ago, world turned upside down and veins full of sickly beer, you have half the mind to turn him down this time. To inch away from where your body collides with his. To reinforce your grip on the pink strap of your bag. To shake your head and offer a polite, though bashful, smile.

“Doctor Abbot, it’s fine, really! You don’t have to offer me a ride, I really do prefer walking-”

“I’m not offering you a ride,” Jack shuts you up with a pointed look, eyebrows jumping as though he’s daring you to shoot him down again. “Car’s in the garage, something’s up with the exhaust. I’m walking your way anyway, may as well let me keep you company.”

The truth is, you’re not sure why you are so hesitant to accept his offer.

Jack is a good guy, and he’s certainly not a stranger.

You’ve known him since you first stepped foot in the emergency room. Younger and brighter, the both of you. Back then, he was still new. Back then, you were still a student. Time passed, as it tends to do; Jack became a trusted figure of authority, you graduated right into the night shift. Brief exchanges of good morning, good night, and how are you? during the shift handovers blossomed into good job, good call, and I need you with me.

Lena likes to tease you, throwing looks over the top of her glasses every time he saunters up to the nurses’ station, raps his knuckles upon the desk and tilts his head towards whatever room he needs you in.

He likes me because I talk to the patients, is typically your explanation while Lena looks at you otherwise. Keeps them busy while he works.

He likes you because you’re a pretty young thing, Lena never fails to retort between answering the every whim of the staff, like the charge nurse she is. Gives those hazel eyes something to ogle.

“C’mon, are you really gonna run away from a disabled vet?” Jack pushes, shooting you that infamous silver-fox smirk. Damn him and those arms, muscles pulled taut as he crosses his hands over his chest, impatiently waiting for you to give in. “What if I stumble and there’s no one there to catch me? That’ll be on you, kid. Think you can handle it on your conscience?”

“Yeah, imagine you come back next week and find out gramps here split his head open on the curb,” Mateo chimes in from the sidelines, only for the amused expression to melt the moment you pin a glare on him. “What? The man made a good point!”

“Yeah, kid,” you barely have the chance to register how swiftly Jack tugs the duffel out of your grip, staking claim over your belongings and securing himself as a guardian to guide you home. “I made a good point. Now, are you gonna keep me waiting? ‘Cause I’d really like to see the tail end of this place at some point today.”

So you let him walk you home.

Steps less swayed, back more stiff, you try your best not to think about the last time you both walked this path. You, drowning in sorrows; him, swimming effortlessly with his head above the water.

The sun is rising slowly, rays of golden warmth kissing over the city. It’s not enough to fight away the bitter chill of winter, sending your hands diving into the pockets of a flimsy coat, reaching for a warmth they never quite find. Beside you, Jack is unshaken, barely bothered by the way his breath reflects back at him with each exhale.

“You did good today,” Jack says today in place of last night, the true mark of what the night shift does to a person’s perception of the world. Daybreak becomes dusk, while dusk becomes sunrise. Where others prepare to start their daily ritual of adhering to capitalism, you’re crawling into bed and giving in to the sweet relief of sleep. “Calmed that kid right down.”

You know immediately who he’s referring to.

James. A sweet baby boy, barely a day past 6 months, running a fever of a hundred and three, and sporting a nasty ear infection.

Understandably, he had been screaming up a storm.

Unfortunately, a certain patient nursing a headache was screaming even louder, profanities that pleaded for someone to Shut that fucking baby up!

Jack had offered to shut the patient up.

You had a more peaceful idea.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” god, you feel pathetic.

Praise is far from something foreign to you. Patients, colleagues, and friends alike are always firing off at you, sweet words that affirm the simple gestures and quiet good you bring into their lives. Whether it’s through fluffing a pillow, aiding in procedures, or gifting out your time freely; praise always worms its way into your ears.

But this is different.

Jack is different.

Every good job, every well done, every thanks, kid; it shoots right through you. Lightning that electrifies you, takes you from a state of near asystole to tachicardic in as little as the few seconds it takes his lips to shape the words. Your cheeks warm, your palms sweat. Words run from you, leaving you to grab at the few you can manage and stumble over half-formed sentences.

Worst of all, you think he knows.

He has to, right?

A man like him has lived through enough — lived long enough — to recognise the tell tale signs of the effect he has on people. Hardly anyone is immune or safe from his charms, from college kids that wind up in a gurney after having a little too much fun with a fake ID, to elderly women rushed in by their panicking children, afraid a bad cough or a sore back could be the sign of something far more sinister in the aging body.

“How did you know it would work?” It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to realise Jack is talking again, head turned to watch as you walk alongside him rather than focusing ahead. “Flipping him over?”

Right.

James.

The crying baby.

Your peaceful idea.

That’s what you’re both talking about.

“Old wives tale,” you finally answer, mind drifting back to the memory of your quick thinking. The screaming baby, the screaming patient. Your hands, gentle as they picked James up. The questioning look from everyone in the room as you flipped the infant over, face down and hovering a few inches off the basinet. And then, silence. No more screaming baby. “My mum used to do it to me, flip me over when she couldn’t get me to stop. It just, y’know, shocks the system. It’s like flipping a switch, turning the baby off.”

“Huh,” somewhere above, a bird chirps, singing a song of good morning. “I’ll have to remember that.”

And then, before you can think any better or question the possible implications, you open your big mouth, “Why? Thinking of stepping into fatherhood?”

Jack gives you the worst possible answer he could have come up with: “No such thing as too late, right?”

“Yeah, maybe. If you’re a man,” you huff. “I, on the other hand, am running out of time on my biological clock as we speak.”

“Then you should get to work on changing that. If you ever need any help with it, I’m always here.”

He says it so casually, like each syllable doesn’t inch you closer to an imaginary ledge.

But his words aren’t what move you to silence.

It’s the imagery they conjure.

Positive tests and hospital visits.

The cold touch of gel on your belly, the warmth of a hand clasping your own.

Sweat rolling off your skin, limbs tangling with yours upon a mattress.

You have to physically shake yourself out of the… Fantasy? Nightmare? Mortifying hell-scape where you’re envisioning what it would be like to let a very handsome attending bend you over and get you pregnant?

“Oh my god,” you half whisper, half yell. “Doctor Abbot, did you just seriously offer-”

“Oh, you’re a pervert!” he has the audacity to exclaim as he swings your bag and bumps it against your thigh, the mischief in his eye the only thing that gives him away. This is Jack, after all, a notorious and shameless flirt. His words didn’t mean anything beyond making you flustered. “I was just offering up my kind and professional aid, as a healthcare provider and an avid champion behind women’s health.”

Head shaking and shoulders bouncing; you’re caught under the influence of Abbot’s charm. Completely unaware of the false sense of safety he’s lured you into, taking you by the hand and dragging you out to sea, waiting until your feet no longer reach the bottom, and then he let’s go, leaving the currents to pull you under…

In simpler words, he asks you the very thing you’ve been avoiding: “How's therapy going?”

“Good. Great. Yeah, I definitely feel a lot… Better. Thanks,” the words taste bitter on your tongue, bursting out of you with an urgency.

Maybe, you figure, if you say it fast enough, there will be no space to doubt it, no time to notice the lie.

“That’s amazing,” he nods curtly, only for that easy-going lilt on his lips to twist into something a little more sinister, a little more interrogative. “Cause when I spoke to Caleb, he said you haven’t been showing up. You wanna pretend you found someone else, or are you gonna tell me why you’re not using the help that’s there?”

You knew this conversation was bound to happen, from the moment Jack referred you to the PTMC’s trauma specialist, high-strung and hell-bent on fast-tracking your progress to mental wellness.

Jack hadn't known about the nightmares.

Or the sickening doubt.

Or the fact you remember every face you treated that day.

Even then, he knew you enough to notice the shift in your demeanour in the days following the Pittfest tragedy. He knew you enough to pull you aside and introduce you to Doctor Jefferson.

Deep inhale, slow exhale. Eyes focused on the pavement ahead, you finally answer, “I just… I don't like it.”

Jack scoffs.

“Nobody likes therapy.”

“It makes me feel… weak. Like I'm not cut out for this.”

You make it to your apartment building sooner than you expect, despite knowing the exact time it takes to trek from your door to the entry of the PTMC.

Any smarter woman would use it as an escape plan, as an excuse to duck out of a conversation that has you shifting weight from one foot onto the other and searching for anything to look at other than the whirlpools of brown that the doctor has pinned on you.

It turns out, you’re not as smart as you think you are, because your feet remain planted on the ground and there’s a feeling hollowing out your chest at the thought of parting from his side.

You will yourself to strip your bag from his grasp.

“Look, kid, I can’t force you to go. I don’t want to force you.” It would be easier to focus on what Jack is saying, if he didn’t have to sound so distracting. Soft-spoken, deep voice, on the verge of begging at an altar if it will get you to listen. “But I know what this job does to people, how it rots away at us if we don’t cure our wounds. I’ve lived it. I’ve seen it. I don’t want that for you. So just… Try, would you? If not for you, then for the poor old attending who really needs the help of his favourite nurse and her magic hands that manage to soothe even the weepiest of babies?”

Echoes of Mateo’s voice ring in your ear, his overly enthusiastic exclamation of The man made a good point! on loop.

There’s every chance you’ve been damned by some higher power, afflicted to live this life with a particular weakness to the man before you. It’s the only thing that makes sense, truthfully, when you find yourself conceding without a fight.

“Okay.”

How unfair it is, for eyes like that to light up so easily, “Okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll give it a try.” This time, there’s no bitter aftertaste to your agreement. Just the cold hard truth on your tongue: you’ll take a step down the path towards help, the path Jack put you on. “Can’t make it any worse, I guess.”

“That’s my girl.”

His words hit you like a sucker punch, straight to the gut and leaving you winded.

You stumble, both on your words and on the stairs, as you bid him goodbye and dash into your apartment building.

Safely tucked away at last, a whole week ahead without the threat of mortifying yourself in front of Jack Abbot.

The fourth time is a matter of protocol.

Jack once heard Dana ask Robby, “is it really a shift in the ED if you don’t end it wanting to quit?”

Today more than ever, he feels an itch to see resignation papers.

Not his own.

Yours.

Wrapped up in the active war zone of a multi-vehicle collision, Jack’s hands, eyes and mind were too focused on the woman actively bleeding out on the table to notice you slipping out of the OR, called upon by the charge nurse.

She needed you to check on a patient.

A favour, quick and simple. That’s all it was supposed to be.

There was never supposed to be a grapple for power. Or the clatter of metal meeting the ground. Or the crack of a skull following suit. Or the sickening sound of someone calling code Hula Hoop, when Jack’s hands are too occupied to run towards the source of violence.

It takes him twenty-eight gruelling minutes to make it free from the trauma rooms.

Jack strips himself of the PPE with haste, gloves and gown practically disintegrating under the force of his need to get out of the room and find out what happened, who it happened to.

He knows the answer is you before Mateo even gets the chance to speak.

Lena is on the phone, barking orders down the line. By the few words he manages to catch through his own deafening panic, the police no doubt sit on the receiving end of her call.

There are other patients to attend to, and other matters that are far more pressing — from an outsider’s point of view — that call for Jack’s immediate attention. He brushes them all aside, near blind to any consequence as something commands his feet across the department floor and straight for Exam Room 3, where the tiniest glimpse of you waits behind glass.

Shen is already tending to you, planted firmly by your bedside while the Pitt’s newest resident, Nazely, runs through your vitals. One of your arms is bent backwards, holding a compress to the back of your head. There’s a spatter of blood down the shoulder of your scrubs, splotches of a deep red staining the grey fabric. If Jack looks at it for too long, he’ll throw up, so his eyes shift to your face instead.

When he finds you smiling, a flood of anger finally collapses the immovable dam within him.

Jack frowns before he can even think to stop himself.

“What the hell happened?” Disgust stains each of his words, bleeding all over the room and stiffening the shoulders of those who potter around you, Nazely and the nurses alike.

Only Shen is unmoved by his outburst, turning to meet him with a deadpan stare and a mocking finger pressed to his lips, before he breathes out a gentle shh. “Watch it, old man, my precious patient’s got a nasty headache.”

There’s a likelihood Shen doesn’t get the chance to witness Jack’s eye roll, as the older man slips right through the gap between your gurney and his fellow attending. Without a word of acknowledgement tossed your way, he pries the cold compress from your fingers, commanding you to drop your arm and yield the task of holding it against your head over to him.

This time, Jack speaks a little softer, “Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know, Doctor Abbot, there’s this thing called HIPPA-”

“John, I swear to-”

“It was my fault,” your voice cuts through the bickering of the two attendings, snapping the heat of Jack’s gaze off of Shen and onto you. The frown lines along his forehead ease ever so slightly, against his will, as you insist on flashing him an even bigger smile than before. “Lena, she told me- warned me the guy was in an altered state of mind. I shouldn’t have- I know better than to turn my back on a patient in that state. But it’s fine-”

Jack starts up immediately, hackles rising on the back of his neck as he takes the stance of a defensive mutt, ready to fight tooth and nail to protect its owner, “It’s not fine-”

“I’m fine, Dr Abbot,” pathetically placid, the brush of your fingertips as they graze his arm is enough to neutralise his outrage, nostrils no longer flaring with each puffed out breath of frustration. “He grabbed me, we tussled, and then I slipped on my own untied shoe lace.”

“And where is he now? This altered patient,” his grip slips slightly on the compress, apologies flooding his tongue at the slight wince the action wakes in you. Ignoring your pain, you take more notice of the hostility in his stance, quirking an eyebrow up at him in a silent question. “Don’t give me that look. I’m a doctor, I want to make sure he’s getting the standard of care he deserves.”

When you try to shrug off his interrogation, Shen finally proves he can do something other than get on Jack’s nerves this evening and unveils the truth, “He took off, slipped out the ambulance bay when they called the code.”

“Son of a-”

“CT’s back,” Nazely, quiet as a mouse, had managed to slip out the room unnoticed, and now shoulder-barges her way back in, carrying your results and cutting off Jack’s foul mouth. “Other than a nasty bump, you’re in the clear.”

It’s not that Jack doubts the intern’s ability as a doctor.

And it’s certainly not that he doesn’t trust Shen.

It just so happens that, when the young resident goes to hand-off your CT scans to one of the attendings, Ellis comes knocking on the door, demanding the input of her most trusted attending.

Jack’s never been more relieved to come in second.

Hawk eyes scan over black and whites images, and only once he’s confirmed with his own two eyes that you truly are in the clear does Jack feel that tension in his shoulders begin to unwind.

In a room that now only houses two, he lets himself stand as close to you as he needs, shifting his stance to keep watch on the doors on either side of the room — a guard dog that can never deny it's nature to protect, even as it nestles into its owner.

He doesn’t quite nestle into you, careful to obey that fine line of decorum that exists between colleagues, between a junior and a senior, between a girl your age and a man as weathered as him. No matter the itch in his palm that begs to be scratched by skin no other than your own, he resists the urge to touch you.

Until you move.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Puzzled by the sternness in his usually nonchalant voice, you gaze over your shoulder at him, now sat upright and with both legs swung over the other side of the bed, “To finish… my shift?”

And that is how his hand finds your arm, a grasp that is gentle yet firm, allowing him to guide you back into your previous position. In his other hand still sits the ice pack, as he continues pressing it to your head.

“Uh-uh,” the denial is followed by a tsk, as he slips back into Doctor Abbot mode and puffs out his chest, taking on the persona of big, bad, commanding professional who knows exactly what his patient needs. “Your shift ended the moment that head of yours hit the ground. And since that asshole-” a pointed look shoots his way, warning in your eyes. Jack corrects his previous verbiage, “altered patient who did this took off, new protocol says I can’t let you leave hospital grounds on your own. Now unless you know someone kind enough to pick you up at 4 am, I suggest you take the opportunity to get some rest. I’ll come wake you when the morning shift zombies start strolling in.”

He leaves no room for debate.

He leaves the room, drawing the curtains and switching off the light.

If Jack were even a modicum more brazen, he’d shamelessly have locked the doors, ensuring you can’t slip away to return to your duties. In the end, he doesn’t have to worry about catching you back out on the floor, as when he checks on you some time after five fifteen, Jack finds you curled into the bed, the ice pack now fully melted and discarded halfway down the foam mattress.

By the time he wakes you, the clock has long struck seven and Robby is breathing down his neck, urging him to open Exam Room 3 back up to actual patients and not just that nurse you like to ogle.

Something in your demeanour has shifted.

Quiet, slow, weighed-down. You don’t walk; you drag yourself to the lockers. Head turned to the floor, body pulled in on itself, voice soft as you bid people good morning and goodbye.

Jack follows in your footsteps, hovering in the periphery of your every move, from your locker out into the street.

You don’t acknowledge him, barely even look at him, yet you yield easily to the way he takes the weight of your bag off your shoulder, slipping it onto his own. And so he gives you your space, walks a few paces behind as you both inch along the path back home — your home.

A shiver forces him to break the silence.

It creeps down your spine, from top to bottom, and settles into your hands, a subtle shake that not even shoving them into the pockets of your coat can quell.

“Wait a second, would you, kid?”

Jack’s never fought so hard to keep his voice soft. Despite his efforts, you startle at the interrupted silence. When your feet pause on the concrete, it’s unclear if it’s because of his request or your shock.

Instead of dwelling on the thought for too long, Jack focuses on his self-assigned task, shrugging his bag off of one shoulder and manoeuvring it to lay against his chest, allowing him to observe the contents as his hand riffles through it. Digging way down past rolls of bandage, a tube of specialised moisturiser, a few odd pairs of compression socks, and various other miscellaneous wonders, his fingers finally happen upon what they’ve been seeking: hand warmers.

“Here,” he starts up, as he hastily rips a packet open and shakes the bag. “This should get the cold out your bones.”

Jack has always prided himself on his rationality. Controlled and composed, with eyes that have payed witness to more horrors than the heart can cope with, it is a rare — if not impossible — feat to catch him sporting a heart rate higher than seventy three.

Watching you envelop the warmer in both your palms, soothing out the shake brought on by early morning chills and the residue panic from your attack, he’s tachycardic.

Months of awaiting the rise of an opportunity — since that second time he walked you home and watched you attempt to hide your skin from the wind’s bite with the flimsy pockets of your coat — buying those hand warmers has at last payed off.

He’s not quite finished digging through his bag.

Untangling the ball that has become of his wired earphones, Jack awaits permission before slipping one bud into your ear, the other into his own. He plugs them into his phone, swipes along his catalogue of playlists, and hits play on the first one that catches his eye. Medicine in the form of music, doctor’s orders.

And just like that, you’re both on the move again. The silence between you now carries a soundtrack, a mixture of eighties rock and seventies funk marking the beat of each footstep. Jack no longer hovers a few paces behind, welcomed back to your side by the short string of wire dangling between you.

Halfway through The Cure’s Just Like Heaven, Jack catches himself entranced in the shape of your lips as they mouth along to each lyric, and it strikes him, then and there, that maybe a moment like this is what inspires a musician to write, to eulogise an emotion through the eternal art of music.

For a man who long ago stopped talking to any version of a god that may exist, walking along by your side, hands brushing occasionally, bodies drifting closer to each other’s orbit; it’s as close to heaven as Jack may ever get.

Jack doesn’t leave you at the entrance to your building.

He holds the heavy door open for you, follows you in. Learning quickly that you live on the third floor, he bites back a comment about how shaky the elevator is, enduring the ride up. Following as you weave through the hall, right down to the end, he keeps quiet as you pause outside a door.

For a moment, he thinks that you’re going to say goodbye. That you’re going to thank him for walking you home, again, even after he’s told you it’s no bother. That you’re going to fish out your keys and slip through the door, starting the countdown on the clock of when he’ll get to see you again, later tonight for another shift in the pitt.

What Abbot isn’t expecting is for you to turn to him, cheek already streaked by a rogue tear, with another dancing on your eyelashes and promising to follow soon.

You take a moment to find your voice, lips parting and delivering the promise of your voice, “I’ve never felt unsafe at work.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, wanting to let your words simmer.

You have other plans.

“But when he-” the crack in his heart echoes the one in your voice, lips trembling over silent vowels as you fail to speak.

Tears roll down like waves, crashing against your chin and dripping onto the neckline of your sweater. And all Jack can do is clench his fist, hold it close to his side as blunt nails tattoo their print into the flesh of his palm. He cannot risk letting his guard slip, risk acting on an impulse you might not welcome.

“I was scared.” You breathe out, like the words you utter are a grave sin, the weight of guilt at last ripped off your shoulders. “Which is stupid, I know. I was fine, it was just a- I shouldn’t of-”

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupts, daring to take a step closer, hands still glued to his sides. “You were attacked.”

Like hearing it spoken aloud clicks something into place, gravity kicks in and you finally come crashing down, waves of tears now aided by a storm of overwhelming emotions. Shoulders shaking, breath stilling, eyes landing on every inch of the hallway but the place he stands.

Jack is no stranger to stomach-churning sights.

He’s withstood the horrors of a war zone, watched bullets hit their marks and shrapnel claim countless victims — his leg, to name one. From the brutality of war to the chaos of an emergency department, he’s bit back the acrid burn of bile at the back of his throat; it comes with each life he fails to save. There are nights where he cannot count the dead on both hands, never mind one. He has reckoned with the missing piece of him, where empty space now occupies the flesh that once extended below his right knee. Perched upon a shower bench, or throbbing with a phantom ache, or soothing vaselines and creams into an angry red stump, Jack learned to endure the pain.

But this — you, breaking down before his eyes, barely a step between you both — brings on a pain like no other, something he can't quite describe.

Cracks are forming in his composure, a trait he wears like armour, threatening to spill onto the dirtied floors of the building's hallway. His fingers slip, no longer balled into fists but pressed flat against the top of his thighs, drumming a nervous rhythm into stained cargo. When Jack tries to clear his throat of the ball forming within, he nearly breaks out in a cough, choking on the comfort he longs to speak into existence.

You interrupt his collapse of self-control.

Two steps is all it takes for your forehead to kiss his shoulder. Dampness overcomes the grey fabric of his shirt, your tears staining it a darker shade. Jack freezes at first, hands unwilling to move beneath the growing fear of touching you wrong, scaring you off. Then, slowly, as the weight of you presses deeper into the crook of his neck, his arms find themselves taking full possession of you, fingers splaying up the length of your spine and pulling you tighter against him.

For a moment, the outside world holds no consequence. Jack is not an attending, you are not a nurse. There's no decade of time between the age of your bodies, nor a quiet though respectful history of admiration between you as coworkers. That acceleration of his heart is not a reason to panic but a reason to rejoice, no fear of any wicked woes from years gone by sneaking back up to remind Jack of troubles past.

No, none of that matters in this moment but you, Jack, and the syncopation of your breathing.

One of his hands finds your hair, equal parts warm as it is large when it cups the back of your head and smothers you closer into his pulse point. Suddenly he’s grateful he reached for the expensive cologne today.

Clearing his throat, Jack attempts to self soothe from the sharp pain in his chest that grows with every sniffle from you, “Fear doesn’t make you any less brave.”

Your reaction is delayed, barely acknowledging the fact he spoke at first, until you’re bursting into a fit of subdued giggles.

While laugher wasn’t exactly what he was aiming for, Jack can’t help but feel like he's succeeded at something.

“Who knew you could be so deep, Jack,” he wrestles with his body at your soft reply, willing himself to not imagine you mentioning deep and his name in a much racier setting, preferably splayed out on the navy of his bedsheets, hair a soft halo that further cements your image as an angel… An angel he wants to commit every carnal sin against.

You move too soon for Jack’s liking, who nearly clings onto your figure until logic kicks in and reminds him how pathetic of an image that would paint. There's a streak of colour down your cheeks, stains where tears have dragged away the subtlest hints of makeup, yet Jack swears he’s never seen you in a prettier light than this: beneath the cold, buzzing light of the hallway, stepping back from his arms with a look in your eyes far lighter than the one you sank into him with.

“Easy on the teasing, kid,” the nickname has never felt more like a lie, sour on the back of his tongue. The last thing Jack Abbot considers you is a kid. Younger? Of course, but nothing short of a woman, in shape and in mind. “I stole that quote from my therapist actually, I’ll have you know.”

Then, for reasons less related to muscle memory than he would dare to admit, Jack shoots a wink in your direction.

Goodbyes exchanged and apologies for wet shirts successfully curved, Jack lingers by your door until he hears you twist the lock shut behind you, a solid frame of wood bringing the abstract divide between you into the world of the tangible.

Right then, right there, still running on that same spike of adrenaline from when he first heard the horrid cries of code Hula Hoop, Jack Abbot is struck over the head with a horrific realisation.

One taste of you in his arms is not enough, and it never will be.

Jack needs more.

The fifth time is a matter of routine.

You’ve always been a fiend for structure; a creature of habit. Doctor Jefferson reckons it’s the perfect trait to balance out the chaos your field of work brings into your life — when you reiterate that explanation to Jack, him retying his laces for the third time in a row and you reshuffling the same stack of papers for a fifth time, the attending is quick to agree.

“Have you seen yourself eat a sandwich?” Jack’s defensive retort comes no sooner than a moment after your hand teasingly swats his shoulder. Unbeknownst to you, the sudden sway he gives has less to do with the force behind your hand, and everything to do with how your touch grips at his soul. “You’re the only person I know that takes the exact same order of bites, every time.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” your protest is far from filtered through any seriousness, words that are soon followed by an amused snort. “No I do not!”

“Uh yes, you do,” back on his feet and standing straight, Jack’s gaze lowers to meet your own, sitting prudently at your desk and finding any measly task to occupy your hands for five more minutes, if only to continue giving your feet the break they need from running here, there, and everywhere. Force of his own habits, or perhaps a nervous tick, you watch as the attending occupies his hands with the shape of his stethoscope, two fists dangling from his neck as he curls his knuckles and tugs on the object.

With your apparent eating habit now dragged into the spotlight, Jack dismisses himself with nothing more than a cheeky lift of his lips, and a muttered Duty calls! as a set of EMTs come strolling in with a gurney.

The rest of your shift passes in a Jack-less blur, your eyes and ears too occupied as you trail next to Parker.

She had lay claim over you no more than seven minutes into your shift, face lighting up like a Christmas tree at the sight of you strolling out from the locker room, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes as your body familiarised itself with the shape of your scrubs. Without even so much as a hello, Ellis grasped a hand around your forearm and tugged you off towards triage, paying no mind to Jack’s questioning gaze as you both shot right past him. All she offered him was a, “Sorry, Abbot, your girl is mine for tonight.”

Abbot didn’t correct her.

Your girl.

Every part of your psyche is aware it’s a minuscule thing to get hung up on, to feel your stomach fluttering with an unknown anxiety each time you replay the scene; yet it happens all the same.

As you assist Dr Ellis, passing her a scalpel.

As you rip off dirtied gloves and replace them with a new pair.

As you stir sugar into your third coffee of the night, eyes staring blankly ahead while Ellis talks your ear off, venting about her recent misadventures in love.

“And then guess what she said!” Parker’s voice may as well be going in one ear and out the other, because you’re far from listening, eyes too busy following the shape of Abbot as he cuts down the length of a hallway, one of the younger residents glued to his side and pitching their newest case.

Has the casual dominance he wears like another layer of clothing always had this effect on you, firing off error warnings in your mind as you watch him steer his resident out the way of an oncoming gurney — a motion that reads as second nature, not even so much as a moment’s thought running through him before he’s executing the action.

Ellis snaps you out of it, fingers clicking in your face and blinking her back into focus.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh? What?” It’s torture not to let yourself get wrapped up in Jack again as he perches himself across from you both, elbows braced on the nurse’s station and arms straining at the seams of a navy top you swear is purposefully two sizes too small. “Yeah, of course I am.”

“Then guess what she said next,” despite the distrusting glint in her eye, Dr Ellis spares you the humiliation of telling you she caught you staring at her attending.

“Uh… That she’s not ready for a relationship, even though you met on a dating app?”

“Worse!” she exclaims, right as you notice Jack’s hazel gaze meet yours, intrigue practically dripping off his eyelashes with every involuntary blink. “I don’t date Virgos. I mean, can you believe that? The girl is navigating her love life by letting goddamn starry shapes guide her!”

“Hey,” you feign a face of offence, hand clasped your chest as though to shield your heart. “Some of us just like the comfort of fixed compatibility.”

You watch as the betrayal settles over Doctor Ellis, glazing over her already dead-pan stare with a look of pure judgement, “Et tu, brute? Go on then, shove your knife deeper, would you ever date a Virgo?”

“I don’t know. I guess? I’ve never really thought about what signs I wouldn’t date,” you pause, the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention as a strange sensation of being watched creeps over you. But as you look back over in Jack’s direction, you find him engrossed in his phone. A pitiful feeling dawns over you, baptising your heart with a hollow ache only disappointment can conjure. “Weirdly though, all my exes have been either a Pisces or Gemini. I don’t know what that says about me but-”

You finish on time, for once.

No last minute emergencies, no lingering to help Jack as he squeezes one last case into his already-finished shift, no letting your scrubs overstay their welcome; you pry them off like they are caught ablaze. And then you linger.

Hands occupy themselves with minuscule tasks, organising and rearranging the items in your locker; then unzipping your bag and going through each of your belongings. Eyes take the occasional peek towards the entries of the lockers, and ears perk up each time footsteps grow closer.

It’s only when Jack steps through the door at last, defeat written all over his face, that your mouth moves. First, stretching into a smile, and then forming a few words.

“Rough night?”

Relief ripples his features at the sound of your voice — like finding a streak of sunlight on a rainy day— bringing the tiniest spark of joy back into his sunken eyes, “Thought you’d have gone by now, kid.”

You waver, something about his question feeling accusatory, even if he delivers it in the gentlest of voices.

Why haven’t you left?

A troublesome cat, an unfinished box-set, and a bowl of leftover pasta sit in the confines of your apartment, practically begging you to race home back to them and delve yourself into comfort, that momentary pause to the chaos of the PTMC you struggle to find in the hours between shifts. A few months ago, you would already be a glass of wine deep and settling in for just one more episode of many, far from lingering like a bad scent amongst the lockers. But then again, a few months ago, the road home was a lonely one.

At what point did that seventeen minute walk become the highlight of your day?

Something warm meets your nostrils, dragging your attention across to where Jack now stands, spritzing his sweat-ridden neck with a few pumps of cologne. You don’t mean to notice the bottle has less than a quarter of its amber liquid left. You also don’t mean to reminisce on the first time you saw the bottle, clasped in Jack’s hands. The memory was one you thought would be singular, never once before having witnessed the older man groom himself after a shift.

Instead, it’s become his signature.

Clock out, hit the lockers, drown the stench of bleach with a warm musk, and then…

“Do you have any gum?”

You know this scene all too well, you almost get ahead of the script and answer before he even asks. Fortunately, you manage to play it cool, “Uh, let me check… Yes!”

Jack doesn't need to know that you didn’t really need to check.

And Jack definitely doesn’t need to know that you never used to carry gum, not until the first time he asked.

But does he need to move closer, that cloud of freshly sprayed cologne enveloping you in its arms, just to pluck the strip of gum from your outstretched hand?

Mint blankets over the notes of bergamot and black pepper, and Jack washes away the stale coating in his mouth, jaw wound tight as he crushes the white rubber beneath his molars.

He doesn’t inch away, retreat back to where he once stood. Instead, his hand finds your own, fingers bumping against yours and silently commanding you to relinquish control… Of the strap of your bag, of course, index and middle finger hooking beneath the padded fabric and slinging the bag over his own shoulder.

“You know,” you say, because you have to. If you don’t distract yourself with speech, you’ll drown in those hazel eyes, too close for comfort and, yet, nowhere near close enough. “You should really start bringing your own gum. Or a toothbrush, if you’re that scared of having a bad breath. What if I switch to day-shift, huh?”

Maybe Jack scoffs in disbelief, knowing there’s not a version of reality where you elect to work days. Or maybe the scoff is a way of downplaying his irritation at the thought, possessive over the sheer possibility of losing his girl to the likes of Robinavitch, hot-head extraordinaire with a touch of suicidal tendencies.

Whatever his reason, Jack is quick to mask the original expression on his face with an easy smile, one corner of his lips twisting upwards as he shrugs, “It’s less to do with not wanting a bad breath, more to do with the fact I like being in your debt.”

Frozen in shock, mouth slightly agape and brows furrowing, you barely register as Jack starts to make his way down the hall, snapping out your trance only as he calls your name.

Like a dog called to heel, you scurry off to join his side.

Jack stops informing you that he’s walking you home.

Without fail, every shift, he shows up, steals your gum, invades your space, and takes your baggage hostage, guiding you out of the ER with the ghost of his touch against your lowers back, steering you through the crowd of ailing folks and stopping you from diving in to help.

Conversation is no longer something the space between you demands, a comfortable silence settling in; the wind down of a hectic shift sound-tracked by the sound of a city waking up, the smack of your footsteps hitting the ground, and the occasional exchange of words.

Like today, as you pass by a unit under construction and Jack reads over the sign: a soon-to-open sushi restaurant.

“You ever been to Japan?” He asks, curiosity practically beaming from his eyes.

“Never. You?”

“Once, when I was young-” he hesitates, like he intended to add -er to the end of his word but decided against it. “Would you ever go?”

“To Japan?” He nods. “Yeah, maybe.”

His reply arrives like a confession, gentle and lacking the confidence you’ve come to associate with Jack, “I’ve been meaning to visit again.”

Silence keeps you both company the rest of the way, until your feet come to a halt outside your apartment block. Jack doesn’t intend to follow you to your door, not like the last time. Instead, he shrugs off your bag and helps you slip it over your own shoulder, using those large hands to scoop your hair up, rescuing you from the sharp sting of feeling the strap pull down on it.

Then Jack announces, just as lacking in confidence as the last time he spoke: “I’m not a Virgo.”

You stare at him, blinking slow, letting his words settle into the grooves of your brain and sink down until some part of you starts to make sense of them.

The more he speaks, the clearer it becomes what he’s attempting to say, “Or a Gemini. Not even a Pisces.”

Suddenly, those moments as you stood listening to Dr Ellis’ romantic woes, with the nurses station between you and Jack and fleeting glances snuck between nurse and attending, it all feels less innocent, less casual. More intentional.

Jack had been listening, hanging on to your every word as you entertained Parker and pretended to allow astrology to rule over the romance in your life.

“Just, thought I should let you know,” much to your dismay, Jack’s fleeing quicker than you can chase him, a sheepish smile overcoming his face and a hand reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. “In case you were ever wondering.”

Finally, there is the time where lines blur.

“Come on,” the tell-tale whine of a tipsy Trinity Santos rings out of your phone’s speaker, interrupting an intimate evening for three: you, your cat, and a cheesy horror movie, where the only thing scarier than the lacklustre VFX are the plot inconsistencies. “Even Crash- Ow! Sorry, I mean, even Vic is here!”

The last thing you want to do on your night off is to squeeze yourself into a pair of jeans and spend it in the presence of the exhausted day-shifters, four-drinks too deep for you to ever catch up, no matter how many shots you throw back.

Unfortunately for you, the only thing more convincing than Trinity’s pleading is Whitaker’s tipsy bellow of your name, followed promptly by, “I need a karaoke partner! Santos ditched me for Mel!”

It’s only with a groan that you agree, “Okay. Fine, yeah, whatever. I’ll come. But I’m having an early night! No seven am walks of drunken shame like last time!”

“Don’t worry meemaw, we’ll get you tucked into bed before three, latest,” Santos’ laugh rings down the line, the alcohol coursing through her veins amplifying the humour she already finds so easily in her own words. “Now hurry, the bar closes at eleven, then who knows where the night might take us!”

You enter the bar, already braced and ready for the impact of the Pittlings swarming you, like bees drawn to honey, a tangle of arms wrapping themselves around you. Only as Mel let’s you go — the last to do so — do you notice a figure you had not anticipated.

Dr Robby, sat in all his grumpy glory, greeting you with a tightlipped smile and a single wave of his hand. Before you can even open your mouth, ready to return the greeting, you take a step forward, heel landing in a puddle of spilled drinks, and nearly slip… only to find there’s a presence at your back.

Not touching you, but there; hovering, lingering. A buzz of energy trapped in the minimal space between the small of your back and the warmth of a hand.

“Careful, kid. There’s better ways to fall head over heels.”

Without even having to turn your head, you know it’s him.

You do so, anyway, and welcome in the sight of Jack Abbot clad in a pair of dark jeans, dark boots, and a white button up, sleeves rolled below his elbows and with the buttons undone enough to tease the way his collarbones sit dusted by freckles. Familiarity is in his scent, a cloud of his cologne settling into the atmosphere above your head, and the low lights of the bar catch on his pupils, reflecting warmth.

A million thoughts run through your head: how he’s no doubt come to keep Robby company, how the sleeves of his shirt are practically choking his biceps, how wrong it feels to see him surrounded by the Pittlings, how much of a relief it is to see him.

But all your mouth can manage is an unpleasant, “Why are you here?”

The table’s chatter comes to a pause, all eyes on you two as an exchange of chuckles, whistles, and even a soft ouch crawls its way out of Robby’s lips.

“No! Sorry, I-” hellbent on embarrassing yourself, it seems, you groan as your face dives into the safety of your palms, cheeks hot to the touch. “That’s not what I meant-”

Fingers seize your wrists in a gentle grasp, momentarily soothing over your rapid pulse point before they tug your hands away from your face, putting you back on display to the rest of the bar. All you see is Jack, in front of you, biting back laughter and fighting off a teasing grin.

“I know what you mean,” by the grace of something merciful, he lets go of you, sending your hands dropping back down to your sides. “I swapped with Shen. He needs my Sunday off.”

At the mercy of God, or the universe, Samira puts an end to your humiliation ritual and jumps out her seat, lacing her arm with yours, and drags you off in the direction of the bar, “Let’s get you a drink. Alcoholic, preferably!”

A half hour passes in the blink of an eye, clock striking ten and beginning the countdown to the bar’s closure. You down your first drink - a concoction of fruit juice, and syrup, and cheap liquor. The second is one you treat a little kinder, nursing your glass of vermouth and giving it the attention it deserves, each sip a chance to let the flavours melt into your tongue. By your third, the sweet feeling in your chest is enough to counter the bitterness of any drink, and so you move onto the cheap beer Trinity clings to like a lifeline.

Jack sits furthest from you, alternating between sophisticated sips of a bourbon and gulps from a beer bottle his hand engulfs entirely too easily. Despite the fact he sits knee-deep in conversation with Robby — who has spent most of his night complaining, no doubt, about a recent run-in with Gloria — while you lend an ear and a smile to Dennis as he pleads his case to you on why his friendship with a certain widow is perfectly innocent, the two of you orbit each other.

With eyes that wander, drawn from one side of the table to the other. At first, it’s bashful: whenever you catch him, Jack’s neck snaps his attention right back to his fellow attending. But as the drinks flow and time ticks on, it grows bolder, transitioning into a challenge; hazel eyes pinning your own into a staring contest as they watch you over the rim of his glass. You lose, conceding to whatever force draws your eyes down like magnets to the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

With fingers that toy a line between distance and friction. When you reach for the handful of nuts at the centre of the table, Jack’s fingers meet your own in the bowl. The graze is minute, barely a whisper of contact between skin, yet it shakes you to the core. Familiar fingers meet your skin as Jack makes his way around the table, excusing himself with needing a trip to the bathroom. It’s as he passes you that he strikes, a teasing drum of fingertips against your shoulder — mimicking the call of someone searching for your attention — that has your head turning to the right, only to find no one there. By the time you catch onto the fact it was Jack, he’s standing in a queue for the toilets and offering you a challenging raise of his brows. What the challenge is, you don’t quite know yet.

You’re not given the chance to dwell on the thought, not when Santos slams an empty bottle down into the centre of the table and declares, “Time to find out all your dirty secrets. Truth or Drink!”

A chorus of groans echo from the surrounding party, yourself included… Yet you all entertain her all the same, no one daring to challenge her pointed stare as she spins the bottle.

It lands on Mel, whose excitement lasts all of the seven seconds it takes Trinity to dish up a question.

Have you ever tried to break up a marriage?

Mel drinks.

Victim #2, much to Trinity’s delight, is Javadi.

Javadi, who already is nose deep in her glass before a question can even hit the table, slamming her empty cup down onto the table with a sheepish smile.

“Dammit, I was gonna tell Mel to ask about Mateo,” comes Santos’ disappointment.

The younger girl is just as quick to reply, “Why do you think I drank?”

Poor Robby ends up roped into the game next, following in the footsteps of the previous players and drinking instead of answering Javadi’s interrogation, “Do you follow me on TikTok?”

It’s when Dennis takes a swig of his colourful cocktail that Samira groans, surprising the entirety of the table as she throws her head back and exclaims, “Oh my God, you people are so boring! All too chicken to answer!”

Jack seems to take that as a challenge, for when the bottle comes to a halt, neck pointed in his direction after Dennis spun it, his arms remain firmly crossed over his chest.

“Shit. Wow, okay,” the younger boy is startled, no question burning on the tip of his tongue for a man he barely knows. So he settles with something simple, something impersonal, something with no deeper intention behind it to humiliate the man: “When was the last time you lied?”

Jack doesn’t answer immediately.

No, he makes a show out of turning his wrist up to his eyes, squinting as they read of the dials and his face settles into an emotionless expression, “Like… an hour ago?”

Quick as a whippet, Trinity dives at the first chance to investigate, “Who did you lie to?”

“That’s a different question,” Jack fires right back, reaching for the empty bottle to spin.

For some reason, his eyes are pinned on you. Even as the bottle lands on Trinity, they linger on your frame, that same unknown challenge in his stare.

The bar spits you all out at four minutes past eleven, bodies spilling out into the street. It’s chaos, voices of strangers mingling in with those of your coworkers. You’re being tugged each and every other way, a million questions fired in your direction.

C’mon, don’t you agree we should go Downtown?

No, no! We have to head to Passion!

Ew, Passion sucks. Every surface is… sticky.

Can’t we just go anywhere that offers karaoke?

Poor, unsuspecting Dennis is left flinching back in shock as a unified bark of No! comes from all the girls, disgusted eyes burning him for so much as daring to suggest such a thing.

“Wherever you kids are going, it won’t be with her,” Jack, emboldened by the booze in his veins, finally lets that hand of his fully press against your lower back. Your head turns to find him already watching you, amused by your puzzled look. “You’re working tomorrow.”

“So are they!” You exclaim, hand pointing out to the crowd of Pittlings. “They have work sooner than I do!”

“And that’s Dr Robinavitch’s cross to bear. You, on the other hand,” a finger drags down the slope of your nose, taping against the tip as Doctor Abbot leans down to your ear, like you’ll suddenly lose the ability to hear him over the noise of the city streets. “You’re my problem.”

It’s hard to breathe; the night air too cold, too thick, too drenched in Jack’s cologne.

You know his reputation; you’ve been victim to it. Jack Abbot, shameless flirt, tongue always locked and loaded with a comment capable of shaking even the most stable of heartbeats. But this is different.

This is his hands on you, this is his voice claiming some form of ownership over you, this is his stare tearing through the fabrics of your being and embedding itself inside your chest, awakening a kind of warmth that even the hottest Pittsburgh summer day would envy.

“Boo!” It’s Victoria who cries out, cutting right through the budding tension between nurse and attending, one-too-few seconds away from blossoming into something far from the professionalism of colleagues. “You’re leaving already!?”

Your mouth opens, ready to answer.

Jack steals the words right out your mouth, “Yes. I think it’s about time we leave, don’t you agree?”

Spotlight pointed at you, he puts you on the spot for the entire group to watch how you fumble over a simple, “Uh, sure.”

The hand against your lower back sticks to you like a magnet the whole way home.

A journey longer than the one you usually stumble down with Jack by your side. It would have made more sense to hail a cab, any rational adult would recognise that, yet neither of you dare to suggest it. Crowds of drunken fools spill out from bars and invade the sidewalk — the kind of stumbling messes that activate a cynical part of you, wondering just how many of them will wind up in the care of your colleagues before the end of the night — Jack answers their invasion by drawing you closer, footsteps fading to the back of yours as he guides you to walk ahead of him, the burn of his hand reminding you that he’s there, that you’re safe, that no wave of foreign faces is going to sweep you up and drag you away.

Even as you make your way up the stairs to your apartment floor, elevator out of service, Jack lingers a few paces behind, watching your every move.

It’s as your fumbling around in your purse, fingers blindly rummaging through loose change and half-empty lip gloss tubes in search of the keys to your apartment, that Jack takes it upon himself to start spewing revelations.

“It was you,” he says, pauses and, when met with your questioning eyes, glancing back at him over your shoulder, clarifies. “The last time I lied, tonight. It was to you.”

A few seconds pass in silence, and then, “Oh.”

“Shen doesn’t need Sunday off.”

“Oh.”

“I knew you were off tonight.”

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he leans down, enters your orbit and invades you with the knowledge of how solid his chest feels pressed against your back, and how warm his breath feels, brushing against the shell of your ear as it mimics your repetitive exclaims of shock. “‘S that all you know how to say?” Before you can politely beg him to back up, for the sake of your sanity and your fraying willpower, hanging on by a single thread that seems more than eager to snap and unleash the burning in your loins upon the older man, Jack shuffles a few steps back and takes a deep breath — the kind that has his shirt straining against the growing width of his chest. “It’s not the first time I’ve lied to you.”

“Oh- Wait,” Cut off by your own confusion, you spin on your heel a little too quickly and stumble forward, hand inches away from rediscovering the meaning of balance against his chest. “What have you lied about?”

“There we go, finally using that pretty voice properly again,” if you had known this was what a tipsy Jack Abbot behaved like, you would have offered him a drink months ago. Especially with the way his cheeks sit blushing in red, a shy imagery to contradict the growing boldness in his words. “My car was never in the garage. I even drove it to work that day. But you wouldn’t accept Mateo’s offer for a lift, so I figured I’d need a real good excuse to walk you home.”

Clarity washes over you not in repeated waves, but in one single tsunami.

Overwhelming, a wall of emotions flooding over your being. You mentally retrace each step you’ve taken in his company. Each walk home, each careful conversation exchanged between you. Every cloud of worry that hovered overhead, convincing you of a reality where your presence and the act of accompanying you home is nothing but a burden to Jack Abbot, a simple kindness that’s gotten out of hand and now he does not know how to back out of.

But his words bend that reality, until it snaps in half and ceases to exist. Because here Jack is, telling you he orchestrated reasons to walk you home, excuses to linger in your presence after the night shift came to an end and patients are no longer a force that brings you into one another’s proximity.

Jack Abbot wants to be around you. So why on Earth would you part from him now, just because your finger had hooked itself around a keyring?

“Jack,” in the quiet of the hallway, his name echoes off your lips, uttered more intimately than ever before. “Do you want to come in for a drink?”

Your confidence is a case of easy come, easy go; dissipating before you can even wait for a proper reply from the man. Anxious thoughts dialled up and overloading, you turn back to face your front door, shakily shove the key into the door, and unlock something that feels a little more than just your apartment, a point of no return awaiting in it’s premises should Jack choose to accept your offer.

Walking in before Jack can speak, you get your answer with the gentle closing of the door behind you and the clearing of Jack’s throat, swallowing back what may just be a similar ball of emotion swelling within your own.

If you had anticipated Jack Abbot standing in your living room tonight, you would have at least attempted to tidy up.

Then again, if you had anticipated this, there’s other things you would have done differently… You would have made sure you actually had something to offer him to drink, for starters.

“Uh… I don’t have any beer,” you mutter, more to yourself than Jack, one hand holding the fridge door open and the other rummaging through the half-empty shelves, like you might somehow unveil a surprise bottle of anything-worth-drinking. “I can offer bourbon? Maybe? Or I’ve got leftover wine. Might have gone bad though. Shit, sorry, I really don’t have anything to offer.”

Closer than you anticipate, hovering by the entry to the kitchen, Jack rasps a careful, “Just you is fine. ‘S all I’m really here for.”

Like two opposing magnets drawn together by an unseen force, distance becomes null and void as eyes meet and you both inch closer, devouring the space between you with careful steps. Face to face at last with everything that has been brewing beneath the surface of your interactions, you barely squeeze out a whisper of his name before Jack claims your mouth as his prisoner.

Lips lock like shackles, trapping you in place against the older man. Hands find one another’s frames, his large palm staking claim over the back of your neck and tilting your face into the perfect angle for him to deepen the kiss, tongue teasing with a graze over your lower lip, the beginning of a chuckle bubbling in his chest as you answer his touch with a pitiful whine, before he finally licks into your mouth. Your own hands carve out a path for themselves, sliding over the expanse of his broad shoulders, curling around the tightness of his biceps, trailing down his waist to find the worn out leather of his belt, two finger hooking beneath and drawing his body closer — like any space still exists between you.

He lets you move him all the same, walking yourself backwards and dragging him along until your back hits whichever wall sits the closest. Any memory of the layout to the apartment you’ve spent the last five years living in has melted away in the heat of Jack’s mouth, kissing you like he has something to prove and this is the only chance he’ll ever get.

Squeezed flush against one another, no barrier but clothes sitting between, you feel the shape of him pressing into your hip and making you painfully aware of the fact Jack Abbot, the older attending you forced yourself to learn to observe quietly and cautiously from a safe distance, now has his semi-hard cock straining against you. That realisation must run through you too viscerally, for Jack’s soon tearing his mouth away from you.

“Shit- Sorry,” he just about gasps the apology out, lips incapable of drifting too far for too long, a smatter of kisses meeting the edge of your jaw as you feel Jack angle his hips away from you. “Been a while since I last-” He’s cut off by his own groan, reactionary to the weight of your hand landing atop the bulge of his jeans, palming at the length of him in hopes of finding out just how hard he can grow. “And I’ve just been thinking about this, ‘bout you for so long. Just-” greedy mouthed, even his desperate please for apology are interrupted by the drag of his tongue over your pulse point. “Ignore it, I’ll keep myself in check. Don’t wanna come on too strong, scare you off.”

It’s a bit late to retreat now, is what you want to say, with the way your thighs are squeezing together in search of any friction and the cotton of your panties sticks uncomfortably against your folds.

But Jack is blushing enough as it is, tips of his ears as red as you imagine his hair once was, face burning hot as he burrows it deeper in your neck. So you spare him some kindness and settle on the buckle of his belt, choosing direct action over teasing words.

A switch seems to flip at the brush of your fingers as you reach for Jack’s belt, attempt to dive beneath the waistband of his boxers. The older man stiffens against you, in more ways than one, head rising from your neck like a cobra enchanted by the notes of a flute. Thick fingers curl around your wrist, prying your hand from him gently yet accompanied by the disapproving tut only an authority figure could conjure, moments away from teaching you a lesson.

His chastisement isn’t vocal but physical, dragging your wrist up to his mouth and greeting it with the gentlest press of lips, right where your pulse recounts a soliloquy on the affect this man has on you, heart rate spiking. Jack lingers, face turning to brush the tip of his nose against your skin while his eyes slip shut, like he’s drowning himself in the fading notes of your perfume. Then, he jumps right back into action, manoeuvring both your arms above your head and pinning them against the wall.

“No one ever tell you to keep your hands to yourself, sweetheart?” No man’s condescension has ever sounded so appealing, so soft. A softness he pairs with the brush of fingers, his free hand tracing a path for itself down the length of your torso, catching on the waist of your jeans and lingering, only to continue its descent over the shape of your thigh. “‘S okay, I don’t mind being the one to teach you.”

“Doctor Abbot,” you breathe, something stirring in your bones the longer the man stares at you, eyes spilling secrets of every degenerate thought passing through his mind.

“Really?” Jack reclaims your skin with his mouth, teeth scraping over your clavicle before his tongue tastes your flesh, a slow drag of the wet muscle halfway up your neck. Your pulse, a bass drum thrumming against the restraints of your veins, brings him to a pause, luring him into peppering a series of chaste kisses over the spot. All the while, his hand is familiarising itself with the curve of your thigh, fingertips dragging over the seam of your jeans and following its journey north, inching towards your clothed core. “Still calling me that, even while I’ve got my hand between your thighs?”

Maybe the alcohol is clouding your judgement, eradicating any hint of the usual hesitation that has ruled over past encounters like these, leaving you shy and bashful, and far from the kind of person willing to rip their aching desire right out their chest and present it to it’s new owner, heart in hand and lust in eyes.

The unexpected confidence boost has your hips shamelessly rolling into the palm of Jack’s hand as he engulfs the expanse of your core. Breathing stalls as the inseam of your jeans brushes against your lace-covered clit, pulsing with anticipation of whatever the older man plans to do with you.

“You’re beautiful, y’know that?” It’s unfair, hearing such earnest words falling from his lips, a touch of breathlessness to further sweeten the desperation in his voice; all the while one hand tightens it’s grip on your fidgeting arms and the other, firm and steady, undoes the button of your jeans and begins drawing the zip down at an agonizing pace. “Dangerously so. Might have to file a complaint soon, tell the board how inappropriate it is of you to distract me with just a smile while we’re meant to be saving lives.”

A sigh, delicate as silk, robs you of the satisfaction of replying instantly, body too busy accustoming itself to the intrusion of his hand on your skin, explorative touches that dip beneath your waistband and drag slowly through your folds.

Stealing yourself and silencing the part of you that wants to melt into his hand and let him remould you into something new, you eventually manage an amused, “I can always change departments, Dr Abbot. They’re always looking for extra hands with the inpatients.”

“Do that, and I’ll drag you back, kicking and screaming, if I have to.”

Beneath your clothes, the tip of Jack’s middle finger has taken to dipping between the warmth of puffy lips, collecting a dollop of your liquid pleasure, and lathering it over the desperate nub of your clit in gentle circles. His movement is casual, careless, not a hair out of place or a shaking of nerves evident on the man in front of you. Just the hungry eyes of a man in control, ready to take his time tearing you apart bit by bit, in a way only he can put you back together after.

“Fucking soaked,” Jack’s comment feels aimed at his own ears, a passing acknowledgement of your state that you just so happen to hear as he brings a second finger up to lazily play with your clit, all the while the wet patch soaking into your panties grows, no doubt seeping through lace and staining denim. “‘S actually a little pathetic, kid. I’ve barely even touched her and she’s weeping for me.”

Heat burns at your cheeks, the foul nature of the words leaving his mouth bringing you to a confusing state of embarrassment mixed with the headiness of lust, clouding your better judgements and axing whatever part of your brain is in charge of overthinking, just in time to halt a spiral down into the dreaded pits of sleeping with a coworker, a man you’ll have to continue to see nearly everyday, for better or for worse — everything hinges on how tonight ends.

There’s no time to worry about the end when Jack is just beginning.

Those same fingers that teased at your clit dip lower, nestling themselves between your folds. As though shocked by your warmth, you feel more than hear the man groan into your neck, a half-bitten back string of curses parting from his pretty lips.

“Can I, sweetheart?” His plead for permission pulls you out of your body momentarily, mind drawn away as it attempts to recall the last time a man bothered himself with asking before taking. “Need to know how she feels, ‘s all. Can you let me do that, hmm? Let me fill her with my fingers? Promise I won’t ask for more, won’t push my luck. Christ, already know I’m pushing it now, thinking an old man like me has any business messing with a pretty thing like-”

“Yes, Jack!” Cutting off his rambling mouth, your hips keen into the tantalising drag of his fingers through your slit, a back-and-forth motion he’d spent his whole monologue performing idly, with an occasional torturous catch of his fingertips on your entrance, threatening to delve deep only for him to course-correct and set them back on the track up the length of your slit. “Please, God, just- Touch me.”

“Greedy girl,” he tuts, face winding it’s way out from your neck just for his hazel eyes to observe your face as he finally breaches his fingers past your entrance. “Am I not already touching you?”

Replies are lost to the kitchen air, breath knocked out your chest in one foul swoop as he burrows his fingers knuckle-deep. Your lips part, your eyes roll back, and you grind down against his hand, as if by some grace of god he’ll hit some place deeper inside, fingers already pressing against that spot inside you as Jack curls them towards himself, putting the come in come-hither.

The angle is awkward, movement hindered by the tight squeeze of your jeans around his wrist, yet Jack works through the strain, digits pulling out at a slow, agonising pace, only to slip back inside equally as slow. It’s like he’s making you savour the feeling, imbedding every ridge and wrinkle along his fingers and knuckles into your memory, so the next time you find yourself hot under the blanket and struggling to sleep at night, your own hand won’t bring you half the relief.

His fingers fall into a rhythm, a back and forth tease that sets your nerves ablaze and unravels a ball of desire you long ago tossed aside, four weeks into working at the Pitt and telling yourself that those pesky butterflies you felt every time a certain attending crossed your path were nothing but newbie nerves. Marking the tempo of his touch, the repeated squelch of your cunt being filled by his fingers rings out; the deeper he dives, the wetter you grow. Your moans follow along to his beat, a perpetual huff of half-formed whines and hitched breaths, echoes of pleasure that claw their way out your throat and shamelessly sing him a song of praise.

“Ah, ah,” Jack mimics you, hot breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he feeds your moans right back to you in a tone so condescending, you feel your toes curl. “‘S that all you know how to say?”

Those same words and that same mocking tone from the hall have your skin crawling with need. A need to press yourself closer, until all your frayed edges tangles themselves in Jack. A need to fight against the hold of his hand, wrists squirming and fighting for release in hopes of winding your arms around his broad shoulders. A need to give in to the overwhelm, dive head first into the waves of desire that roll over you… So you do.

Jaw slack, toes curled, head thrown back. An orgasm crashes into you with the force of an ocean, sweeping you under and flooding the palm of Jack’s hand with the sticky sweet evidence of how good he’s making you feel.

His fingers fuck you through the experience, lazily curling and stroking the fire, drawing out your pleasure for as long as your body allows him, until a dry sob racks through your chest and tears dance along your lash line, head shaking as you protest the overstimulation.

The retreat of both Jack’s hands, slipping from the waistband of your jeans and relinquishing the grip on your wrists, it does not grant your poor heart respite, a chance to calm the beating it’s delivering against your chest. Instead, he doubles the speed, raising the fingers stained in your own slick and brushing the tips against your lower lip.

“Say ah,” not a question, a demand. Jack is an expert at ordering you around in a manner soft enough, confident enough to have your head reeling and will bending to his every wish.

Under the effect of his darkened gaze and the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixing with the beer on his breath, how can you do anything but let your mouth fall open?

Your first thought is disbelief, running cold down your spine at the unexpected sweetness that coats your tongue; sweetness that melts into a sharp tanginess, giving way to a thirst like no other, glands going into overdrive and wetting your palate. Drunk on yourself, you let your eyes slip shut and your lips wrap around the stretch of Jack’s fingers, a pleased hum bubbling up your throat as his digits apply the slightest of pressure against your tongue, testing the waters of your gag reflex as he slowly pushes himself deeper in your mouth, soaking himself in your spit.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” Jack’s spare hand has found its way down to your waist, slipping over the slopes of your curves and perching itself atop your hip, where he delivers a firm squeeze. “Made a real mess of my hand, ‘s only right you clean it up.”

By the time Jack pulls his hand back, a string of saliva connects his fingers to your lips and a craving is reawakening between your thighs. Afraid to fracture the fragile atmosphere between you and the attending, you choose to lead with action again, one hand grappling at the buckle of his belt while the other begins to hastily drag your jeans down the swell of your ass, skin-tight fabric stubbornly refusing to give way and grant you the freedom of air against your legs.

You only make it so far, barely managing to pry apart his belt when Jack intercepts your desperate touching, hands reclaiming possession over your own and shooing them away. With a pause for consideration, the mental cogs visibly turning behind his eyes, you watch as the attending descends the path of your body, peeling down your jeans along the way. A hiss is bitten back as he bends his knees, one foot planted firmly on the ground the other — his right knee — kissing into the kitchen floor, prosthetic calf laid behind him.

It’s the brush of a breath against your thigh that has you lurching back into your body, ignoring the worried nagging voice that wants to drag him off his knees for the sake of his health and comfort… and instead focusing on the part that wants him off his knees for a far more selfish reason.

“Jack,” your attempt at protesting is pathetic, a well-intended firm call of his name fracturing midway and collapsing into a whine as the man takes to laving his tongue up the expanse of your inner thigh, inching dangerously close to where you can feel your centre throbbing, crying out for him in morse code, desperate for the simplest of touches so long as the one delivering it is the older man currently kneeling on your kitchen floor.

Fingers wind in greying curls, the faintest burn of auburn and copper tickling against your knuckles. You attempt a tug, gentle enough to do no harm yet firm enough to get the point across of what you want: Jack, up and on his feet.

The man does not take the hint, instead he inches further up your leg, nose nuzzling against your mound. Blood rushes in every direction as you witness him pull in a sharp inhale, flooding himself with the intoxicating scent of your would-be pheromones.

“I want to taste you,” he says it with a fire behind his eyes, words impassioned by an animalistic desire; any woman would be mad to not throw herself at him, plead him to take anything and everything from her, however he should please.

Which makes the confusion burning his features more than understandable as he takes in your shaking head and your gentle mutters of no, followed swiftly by, “I need you to fuck me, Jack.”

Hands seek purchase on your hips, grip squeezing a little tighter as he steadies his prosthetic back onto the floor and brings himself back to his standing height. You can see the hesitation, in his eyes and in his fingers, as he slowly continues the undoing of his belt, slow and calculated movements that drag cracked leather free and loosen the clutch his jeans have around his waist.

“Who knew the Pitt’s sweetest nurse could be so demanding?” he muses, like joking might distract you from the cloud of doubt that has so visibly rolled in and settled above you both.

You entertain him, even if only for a moment, “Only when I don’t get what I want. Are you gonna deny me, Jack?”

“So you’re a brat,” bypassing your question, Jack drags the zipper of his pants down and leans his face in, lips brushing against your own with the ghost of a kiss. “Noted.”

His kisses paint a pretty picture of distraction, peppering affection over inches of skin that had spent so long being neglected, you’d nearly forgotten they existed. Over the swells of cheeks, down the slope of a throat, onto the point of a shoulder and back up to the shells of an ear. While your heart wants to sink into the feeling, fall back and let him lather you in every mouthful of affection he can sear against your burning skin, your brain takes the reins of the situation and forces your hands onto his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Direct and to the point, you avoid the time-waste of skirting around the subject and confront the change in his demeanour head-on, the sudden hesitancy. A sense of panic licks up your spine, filling your mind with thoughts of Jack regretting having started this, crossing over the safe lines of coworker and marching across into trickier territory. “If you don’t want- I’d understand, okay? If you say it was just the heat of the moment, and the beer, and that you no longer want-”

“What? Baby, I promise this is anything but- Fuck,” Jack practically collapses into the groan that tears out of him, hand falling over his face and pressing into the corners of his eyes as he struggles to get the words out fast enough, a soul-crushing need to put an end to the rejected twinkle in your eyes as you offer him a gentle smile, the kind offered by politeness instead of happiness. Jack hates it on you. “I don’t know how to explain without sounding conceited.”

“Oh-kay,” your confused exclaim melts into acceptance, though your eyes remain sceptical as they trail over the attending’s face, awaiting further explanation. When it doesn’t come, your eyebrows jump, a visual nudge that has Jack finally spilling confessions all over your kitchen floor.

“I’m… Big.”

And cue the laughing track.

Watching as the tips of his ears bleed a bright red, you bite back and swallow down a comment about how his height is a little over average at best. Because when a puppy-eyed Jack Abbot warns you of his size in a manner that implies real danger, the last thing you should do is turn his panic into a joke.

“How big?”

“I don’t know-” Then he cuts himself off, like reality has struck him over the head and he remembers he is, in fact, a medical professional and, though he may never have measured his own endowment, surely he can guesstimate. “Maybe like eight. Inches, I mean. And, um…” what a thrill to see Jack reduced to a mumbling mess, a man so usually consumed by his flirty nature, a charm so potent that it pours off him in rivers, soaking all who wind up in his vicinity. Yet here he stands, barely enough space for a deep breath between you, shyly detailing the heat he’s packing beneath the waistband of his trousers. “I’m- I mean it’s pretty thick, too.”

Silence haunts the space between you.

A sick satisfaction pools in your loins, knowledge renewed on the fact you’re bare from the waist down yet all the power seems to sit in the palm of your hand in this moment, Jack’s fate hanging in the balance of however you choose to react to his assumed shameful confession.

So when all you offer is cocked head and a tongue poking against the inside of your cheek, Jack just about falters into insecurity, seeking validation before you even have time to utter a word.

“I’m not bragging. Or, you know, talking myself up. It’s just- I don’t want to hurt you, or to-”

“Take it out.”

His neck practically snaps as his gaze flies from the floor to your eyes, hazel rings that grown thinner under the enlarging of his pupils, lust bleeding into his stare as he managed a careful, “What?”

“This big dick of yours,” emphasis to your words, you finally let yourself look down and catch sight of him, firm and heavy beneath the confines of dark blue denim. The view of his bulge alone is enough to have your mouth watering, but you can’t let it slip, not when your grip on the reins is finally secured. “Let me see it, Doctor Abbot.”

The switch is instant.

Bashfulness melts away and the cloud of doubt is blown away as a cockiness overcomes Jack’s features, face splitting into a shit-eating grin. Fingers work fast this time, dipping beneath the elastic of his boxers and granting his cock freedom at long last.

No trace of a lie in his words; Jack is big. Uncut, with a rosie red tip that’s already made itself known, glistening with the rogue drops of precum that smear the mushroomed head. At the base sits a bush of hair, groomed enough to show you he cares enough to trim it yet overgrown enough to tell you it’s been a few weeks, silver locks threaded through a valley of dark auburn. Freckles dust his skin in subtle specs, while a vein draws a colourful line up the length of him.

You can practically feel yourself throbbing, calling out for him with each moment that passes, your eyes glued to the phallic shape. Jack, evil incarnate, has the gall to lick a stripe up his palm, hand wrapping around himself and daring to give a slow pump.

“I’m gonna need you to stop looking at me like that,” Jack cuts himself off with a hiss, teeth taking his bottom lip hostage as a chuckle rustles out from the depth of his chest. In that moment, you swear nothing has ever been more attractive than the gentle disapproving shake of his head as he rakes his stare down the shape of you, eyes clinging to where your thighs sit squeezed together, stealing any amount of friction you can find. “‘Else I might cum all over myself like some desperate college kid.”

You reach your hand out, searching for traction and finding it in the belt loop of his trousers, still clinging to his tree-trunk thighs. And thank god for that, for it allows you to tug the man closer, chest to chest, knuckles brushing over the hood of your clit as he works his hand over his cock one last time.

“Then give me a reason to stop looking, Doctor Abbot,” swallowing back any lingering shame or shyness a less hornier version of yourself possesses, you curl a hand over the top of his and stare into pools of hazel as you speak, “Don’t you want to make my eyes roll back?”

Never has a man looked so eager to part your legs, the skin of his knuckles burning white as he takes a hand to the back of one of your knees and hooks it over his waist. Left with no choice but to keep your thighs spread, you indulge yourself by glancing down at the view. Visual sin, erotica live in emotion, Jack guides the blushing tip of his cock up the length of your cunt, soaking himself in your arousal. A mutual gasp echoes out into the kitchen on his second swipe, head catching on your entrance only to be denied easy access, hips rolling only to watch himself press against your clit.

“Don’t care if it hurts,” bordering on lost in lust, you barely register the words as your mouth moves. Jack, on the other hand, clings to every syllable, awaiting whatever salvation they promise to bring him. “Just wanna feel you, Jack. All of you, please.”

“Shh, shh,” his hushing is full of mockery, like the last thing he really wants is to silence the desperate plea in your voice. He does so, unintentionally, by finally lining himself up with your entrance. “Don’t need to beg, baby. I’m gonna give it to you, all of it. Just be sure to cry real pretty for me if it gets too much.”

Something animalistic comes over you as Jack feeds the first inch into your cunt.

The burn is there, the stretch of long-unused walls remoulding themselves around the shape of Jack. But any pain is sweet, the kind that tickles at your nerves and has your heart speeding up, adrenaline activated and intoxicating your bloodstream.

Jack, conscious of the crease between your brows, is tentative, careful. He gives a barely-there thrust, letting himself inch just a little deeper into the pulsing warmth of your pussy. There’s a vein across his forehead that makes itself known, the force of his concentration paired with an accelerating heart rate drawing it to front and centre stage of his face. All it does is make you want him more, deeper, quicker.

Words cease to serve any purpose as the two of you give in to the physical, hands that grasp and pull and anchor themselves atop one another’s skin. You think you breathe some version of his name, but the letters are knocked out of you as your fingers tangle themselves in grey curls and, in the blink of an eye, Jack’s pelvis sits flush against your own, cock buried right to the deep hilt and face collapsed into your own, foreheads exchanging sweat as his temple kisses against yours.

A pitiful whine claws its way from you, suddenly painfully aware of how well Jack fills you, stuffed to the brim in a way no man before has quite achieved. You feel him in your cunt, in your guts, in your lungs with every shaky breath you pull; you are drunk on the attending and the feeling of his cock pulsing deep within your gummy walls.

“Sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” apologies are overflowing from the fountain of Jack’s mouth, brushing against your cheek in tiny puffs of breath as the older man blesses you with a whimper so pathetic you nearly come undone right then and there, cunt ready to spill all over his throbbing cock. “Didn’t mean to- shit. Wanted to take it slow, ease him in, but god… You’re just so tight. And warm, and- Ahh! And your nails, they- they scrapped against my scalp and you were tugging on my hair and I couldn’t help it, baby.”

How can you even contest or complain, when you feel like a live wire, thrumming with a deadly kind of energy that threatens to burn everything and anything that touches you and isn’t Jack Abbot?

His hips rock back slightly, only for him to fuck back into you, tip to cervix. The leg hooked around his waist tightens around him, holding Jack as close to you as possible. The scene between you plays out with an intensity one could cut with a knife.

Slow and shallow rolls of hips, punctuating each shaken breath you pull and forcing the air out of you in pitiful whines and moans, songs of praise for Jack's viewing pleasure.

Foreheads together, breaths mingling until it’s hard to tell where your exhale stops and his inhale starts. Both nurse and attending, junior and senior, woman and man; whatever title you and Jack may be addressed by, you’re equal measures of the same mess, staining one another with nails that scrape over freckled skin and five o’clock shadows that burn at cheeks.

“Look at you,” Jack marvels, one hand scooping up to cup your face and remind you of how big his hands look — hands you spent weeks wishing would reach for yours during quiet walks home. Yet now one cradles you while the other grips at your body, tilts your hips at angle that drives him just that little bit deeper. “Taking it like a good girl, no whining or complaining that it hurts.”

What really hurts is that he is still moving at an agonisingly slow pace, torturous drags of his thick length along your walls. If you weren’t speechless under effects of his ministrations, you’d maybe find the ability to tell him this.

“You’re just grateful to have something to fill this pussy, huh?” Something catches in Jack’s throat, a fractured groan that raises a sudden alarm. It feels different to previous ones, born from somewhere deeper, more painful in his chest. “If I knew you’d be do eager, I wouldn't have waited this long to come inside.”

You stomach three more measured rolls of Jack’s hips before you cave into the anxious feeling hollowing your pleasure, the wince on his face having grown deeper and more concerning.

All it take is a hand to his shoulder and a barely formed Jack, wait, for the man to tear himself off you, putting immediate distance between you despite the hand that remains on your face, holding it steady as his gaze sweeps over you in search of evidence of your well-being.

“What’s wrong, kid?” Just like that, you watch him slip back into the practised role of a caretaker, Dr Abbot taking centre stage and relegating Jack, the man keen on seeing you come undone at his touch, to the wings. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, I told you- Warned you, baby.”

His rambling would be endearing, if you weren't aware of the sudden empty feeling of your cunt clenching at nothing and, worse, the bitten-back wince of pain that pronounces itself across his face as he shifts weight from one foot onto the other.

So you take matters into your own hands to silence his spiralling mind.

Literally into your hand, fingers wrapping themselves around the thick swell of his cock, standing at attention and smearing the evidence of your lust over Jack’s lower abdomen. The reaction is instant: hips bucking into your touch in a stuttered thrust, mouth falling agape and silent as you envelop him in your gentle touch.

“You didn’t hurt me,” quite the opposite, the tight fit of his dick bordering on nothing short of heaven. “But you’re hurting yourself.”

Before Jack can demand a much earned explanation, you trade his cock for one of his hands, threading yourself to him and enduring he can’t let go as you begin guiding him to your bedroom, the gentle jingle of his loose belt slapping against his thigh announcing each step he takes.

Lit only by the silver light of moon, you turn to him as you reach your humble queen size bed and try your hand at that stern yet caring look Jack has mastered — the look that’s held your heart hostage since you first witnessed it directed at you.

“Your leg. It’s hurting,” now you wish you had opted for switching on a light, because you swear you see the subtlest hint of a blush taking over Jack’s cheeks, guilty and caught when he thought he was doing such a good job to mask the dull ache of his limb. “Take it off, Jack. Or at least let yourself rest on the bed, let me do the work.”

Your silver fox puts up little fight, mouth opening and swiftly closing before any empty protest can flee. The mattress squeaks beneath his weight as Jack sits down on the edge, both legs bent at the knee and feet planted on the floor — he makes a conscious effort to keep his boots from touching the small carpet that runs along your bedside, unwilling to taint the cream coloured fur.

As he hunches over, hands peeling back the leg of his trouser to expose the sight of his faux-calf, a fragile quiet befalls you both. You watch entranced as he removes the prosthetic, a practised ritual he performs with the ease of a man who long ago came to terms with the cards that were handed to him. Freed at last, unwinding a strip of bandage from the stump, Jack takes to removing his clothes next, while you take to filing away his previous movements into a part of your mind labelled later, a future in the shape of a question mark, the possibility of some day needing to remove it for him.

There is something decidedly cruel about the sight of Jack Abbot sitting at the edge of your bed, completely undressed and pinning you beneath his stare as his hands now occupy themselves with more nefarious actions, one gripping at his cock and indulging himself in a languid stroke while the other takes claim of the bottom of your shirt, balling the fabric up in a fist as he tugs you close so abruptly, it’s only natural that you slip and tumble into his naked lap.

An awkward repositioning is punctuated by your own nervous laughter, a shy giggle making itself known as you straddle the doctor, the hand between his legs now teasing at your core, dipping into your honeypot just to soak himself in your sweetness before diverting his attention to your clit, pointer and middle finger rubbing an agonisingly slow circle over the nub.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jack whispers, honesty rolling off him in waves as his eyes ravage the newly exposed sight of your naked chest, t-shirt and bra tossed behind you in the blind chaos of falling into Jack. “You know that, right?”

There is urgency in his voice, like his worldview might just collapse if you tell him otherwise, and the desperation is enough to have you giggling all over again, a noise that quickly is intercepted by a gasp, eyes slipping shut as the man welcomes himself to the taste of your flesh, mouth swooping forward to take the right nipple between his lips, “You might have mentioned it before.”

“Then let me mention it again,” mumbled into your chest, he marks the sentence with a kiss to the opposite nipple, “And again,” the next kiss lands back on your right nipple. “And again.”

Both of you groan at the other’s ministrations, your hand threaded back in the silver locks of his hair and tugging at them just sharp enough to have Jack’s hips rutting up into you, bodies searching for the sweet release of friction yet neither of you rushing to give in as you slowly wade into the depths of lust, grinding desperately against one another like a pair of inexperienced college students.

“Jack,” you breathe his name, hand tilting his head back from your chest and granting you the freedom to plant your mouth against him, tongue dipping into the cavern of his mouth, the taste of beer and bourbon still on his lips.

“Hmm,” Jack hums, hand cradling your cheek.

Between you, tensions rise as your folds spread around his cock, rubbing up the length of him as he rocks himself against you.

“Are you going to fuck me,” is all he lets you get out before he drags you in for another kiss. “Or are we going to sit like this all night?”

“I don’t know, feels pretty good to me,” he’s teasing you, enjoying the sight of you growing more and more dishevelled by your own carnal needs, your nails digging into his freckled shoulders. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Sighing with nothing but sexual frustration, you recapture those earlier reins and slip your hand between you both, grabbing at Jack’s cock and lining it up at your entrance, thigh muscles burning as you hover, “Well I would.”

You sink down onto him slowly, eyes incapable of resisting the urge to roll to the back of your skull as you feel that sweet familiar burn of him stretching your walls.

Jack is speechless, but far from quiet, mouth open and singing you the prettiest songs of guttural praise. His hands are on your hips, gripping you in a way that threatens to bruise, all the while you are savouring the flush press of your bodies, your soaked folds kissing the base of his cock with a creamy ring.

When you finally begin to move, a careful raise of hips, you condemn both of you to a world polluted by lust, and pleasure, and the aching need to keep stimulating friction.

The rhythm comes naturally, a slow build-up of you fucking yourself down onto him, stuffing your cunt full to the brim. Jack has given in, handed himself over to you for you to use how you please, while his hands rake over every sliver of skin they can reach. Smoothing over your thighs, grabbing at your waist, pinching at your hard nipples, guiding your mouth down to meet his, a kiss that is more an exchange of breaths than a battle of lips.

A symphony composed entirely of sin, the darkness of your bedroom is set ablaze by the wet slap of skin meeting skin, a squelch punctuating each time he fills your cunt and a new wave of your arousal drips down his thighs and stains your bedsheets.

“This fucking pussy,” Jack speaks like you have personally wounded him, your forehead meeting his shoulder as you let out a squeak, the hands on your waist no longer sitting idle but now guiding you, bouncing you down to meet the upward rut of his hips. “‘S so tight, and warm, and perfect. You’re perfect, letting me stretch this little hole. Taking all of me.”

“Love it, Jack,” You’re babbling into his shoulder, mind turning to unusable mush the faster Jack slams you down on him.

“Love what, kid?”

“Your cock.”

“Yeah?” Oh, the smugness in his voice should be illegal, but you have only yourself to blame. “Who knew my pretty nurse was so good at taking dick. Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me all this time.”

A chord is winding inside you, drawing tighter and tighter as Jack continues to bounce you down on his cock, pausing every few thrusts to let you savour the full stretch, grinding up and biting back laughter as you greet him with the whites of your eyes.

“Holding- ahh! Out?” Your walls flutter around him as you feel yourself closer to the edge of an orgasm.

“Yeah, sweetheart, holding out,” a kiss lands on the side of your head, as though Jack is incapable of not showering you in as much physical affection as possible. “Ignoring all my flirting, never giving me a sign that you want me just as much as I want you.”

“Flirting?!” Head out from his shoulders, you gaze down at him in disbelief, refusing to take the blame for why it has taken so many months for the pair of your to wind up here, naked and desperate and staining your sheets together. “How was I supposed to know? You flirt with everyone- Jack!”

His name is more shriek than moan, tearing out of you as his fingers press themselves to your clit and send you head-first into an orgasm.

Jack fucks you through it, slower rolls of his hips stretching out your state of euphoria and granting him a longer view of your mouth spewing profanities and your eyes rolling back and your hips bucking atop him, both fleeing from and feeding into his touch.

A sudden bang interrupts the scene, cutting your bliss short and forcing you to swallow back a moan.

Frozen in place, fingers to your clit and cock half-way buried inside, Jack’s wide-eyed gaze watches you with a questioning glance. Silence isn’t given the chance to settle fully between you, as soon another sound — from the same direction as the bang — echoes through your bedroom.

“Hey! Keep it down, some of us are trying to sleep.”

Jack is the first to react, laughter shaking his shoulders. His head tilts back, disbelief gripping him in its clutches. Collapsing back onto your bed, he drags you down with him, sweaty chest pressing to sweaty chest. You follow him into laughter too, your own muted chuckles spilling into his neck as you shyly bury your face away, mortified by the thought of one of your neighbours hearing you and Jack.

Apparently, it has the opposite affect on him.

Because instead of crippling mortification, Jack has already begun rutting back into you, shallow thrusts that he somehow manages to deliver, despite the fact his cock already fills you to the brim. Nerves aflame from a ruined orgasm, your body is quick to submit to him, hips tilting to welcome him deeper, back arching into his body. But the moment your lips dare to part, a chastisement is quick to follow, a disapproving tut coming from the man beneath you.

“Shh,” despite his hushing, he makes no attempt to slow his thrusts, the very cause of your fracturing sanity, mouth no longer in control of the noises you let out. Neighbours be damned, you would happily dare any of them to feel the sweet release of Jack stretching them out and not turn into raving banshees. Well, not quite so happily, for you are very quickly growing not only fond but possessive of the attending. “I know, kid, I know. Feels good, right? So good you just wanna scream, don’t even care if someone hears?”

Whether you realise it or not, you nod along to his mockery, desperate please for more, please, just like that, Jack proving his point perfectly: you don’t care.

The only thing you can do is feel him, all of him.

“That’s it, let it out,” he croons, faux sympathy in his voice while he cups your face and swipes away at a tear, the overwhelm of feeling so full and so close to cumming for a third time finally getting the better of you. Tear gone, the hand on your cheek drifts down to cover your mouth, smothering you into silence, muffling the shriek you let out as his hips grow sloppy, desperate, fucking you deeper, harder, faster each time, his own orgasm creeping over the horizon. “I’ll take you to my place next time. ‘S a detached bungalow, can be as loud as you need to be. And, god, I plan on giving you reasons to be loud, put you in every possible position, make you cum so many times you lose count.”

Every moan and groan and whine of his name that leaves you is muffled by the heavy palm of his hand… Which turns out to be a blessing in disguise when a third and final orgasm collides, head first, right into you, leaving you a mess. As you writhe and wriggle, one of the muscles in your calf cramping as your toes curl and your body pulls itself taut, Jack is fighting his own personal battle, hips stilled and limiting the friction as much as possible while you fall apart atop him.

Fingers tangled in his hair, face engulfed by his heavy hand, thighs squeezing around his hips; the image of you cumming is the kind that pushes a man to pick up a paint brush, all in the hopes of memorialising the art in motion onto canvas. Jack can barely focus on you, however, eyes squeezing shut as he steadies his breathing and struggles to hold back a flood.

“‘M gonna cum, baby,” Jack strains out, pulse near visible along his jugular as his heart rate shifts into overdrive. “Need you to lift these pretty hips off me or else- ahh!”

The whimper you pull from him is damn near heartbreaking, right from the gut and full of a fractured sincerity. Unwilling to so much as let him finish any thought of pulling out, never mind his sentence, you’ve staked your claim, shook your head, and cemented yourself flush atop him, cock stuffed to the brim and left no choice but to spill into the pulsing heat of your walls.

Hot, thick ropes of Jack’s cum flood your pussy, painting a pearly white mess inside of you. Overflowing and with nowhere else to run, you feel the unmistakable stickiness of his cum, now mixed with your own orgasmic bliss, leaking out of you and staining both your skins in the act. Breathless and minds drifting far away from the physical plane, you crash down atop Jack, overstimulated and overspent, and drift into the comfort of his arms enveloping you, holding your sweaty figure against his own in an embrace that says stay without uttering a single syllable.

Frozen in time, the pair of you remain glued to one another. Your breathing falls in sync, each rise of his chest matching perfectly with your exhale, and a gentle rocking remains between your bodies, an invisible stream of desire that ebbs and flows, manipulating Jack into rocking up into you and teasing you into grinding down to meet his movements, in spite of the teeth clenching sensitivity tingling at your skin.

You are the first to move, a careful rise from his chest. Already softened within you, his cock slips out of you and you pull a breath in through a grimace. The muscles in your thighs have turned to mush, more unstable than jelly, and so it is nothing short of a miracle to feel Jack’s steady touch settle itself on your hips, hands supporting the dead-weight of your lax body and guiding you to hover over his lower abdomen. You quickly realise he has less than pure intentions, as you watch satisfaction creep back into his pupils when a string of his cum dribbles out from your cunt and drips down onto his skin.

Admiring the picture you paint over his lower stomach, Jack has the nerve to mock the tired whine he coaxes from you as fingers swipe through the white mess and slip between your folds, feeding his spend right back into your walls.

Back hitting the mattress before you can protest, you struggle over a gasp and a barely stringed together sentence while the attending slips down the length of your body, pausing only when his head reaches your thighs.

“What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” Jack, with reflexes quick enough to match his wit, intercepts your legs before they can crush his head between them, your hips bucking and your heart unsure whether you are trying to chase after or run from the teasing stripe he licks up your cunt. “You cleaned your mess, now let me clean mine.”

Your heads hit the pillow as the Sun hits the horizon.

By nine, birds chirp by the windowsill and sunlight cuts through the sliver in your curtains, forcing your half-asleep form to retreat into the safety of Jack’s chest. He answers your cry for help instantly, arms pulling tighter around your waist as he continues to venture through a land of dreams, lips parted in the softest snore.

By noon, the city is awake. Cars honk their horns, voices fill the streets, doors slam from floors above and below. But in your apartment, not a creature stirs, bodies clinging to one another and sleep with equal fervour. If you drift left, Jack soon follows. If Jack flips onto his front, your palm is quick to flatten itself over his back. Magnets connected by an unseen force, the pair of you toss and turn beneath wrinkled bedsheets.

By four, the bathroom mirror is fogged. You are a nervous wreck contained behind the nervous smile of someone who is trying their best to be supportive despite the shampoo stinging at your eyes and the grown man you are supporting against your frame. Unwilling to let you drag one of your leather dining chairs into the cubicle, Jack had insisted he would be fine to shower standing, so long as you kept him company.

By six, your apartment is empty. Clad in the familiar shapeless clothing that is sure to keep you comfortable throughout your shift, you’re struggling to find the right time to ask Jack to hand you your bag back, too used to his habit of prying it out your hands to even notice he had done so as you both departed from your front door. No choice but to throw on last nights clothing, Jack is silent at your back, one arm pulling you against him as yet another neighbour slips into the confines of the elevator — freshly fixed yet sending a shiver down your spine with each shake it gives in its descent down to the ground floor.

By some miracle, you make it out onto the street.

Which maybe, now that the fresh air hits your cheek, you are beginning to lament. Because this is it, the point of no return; where you go one way and Jack will go the other, trailing home to enjoy the rest of his night off while you no doubt will spend your entire shift dreading where the events that transpired between you — the stolen kisses, the lustful whines, the rolling hips — leave you both standing.

Taking your bag from him seems like the correct first move to make towards goodbye, but when you reach your hand out, Jack answers your silent plea with his empty one threading itself into your hold, fingers entwined in a manner so perfectly it has you reminiscing on how your bodies lay atop your mattress.

The attending has already tugged you halfway down the street before your mouth catches up with your feet, choking out a dumbfounded, “Where are you going? You’re off today.”

“So?” Jack barely offers you a bothered shrug of his shoulders, glancing back at you with a look in his eyes so warm, you worry you might just melt into the asphalt. “That doesn’t mean I can’t walk you to work.”

+ extra hyde!

· this fic was meant to be short, believe it or not... my first proper fic of 2026, yippee! · olivia, girl... never stop making albums for me to cry to. · pov: jack abbot, the biggest flirt who turns into a bumbling idiot when faced with the person he actually wants:

[sukunastuna]

this was sooooo well written and so cute

[rubraquercus]

ෆ 𝒫𝑅𝐸𝒯𝒯𝒴 𝒜𝒮 𝒜 𝒫𝐸𝒜𝒞𝐻 ෆ

PART 1.

mark grayson x chubby!reader

🍑 Synopsis!

Mark Grayson has a terrible time finding a lover. Like any normal young adult, he gets on a dating app. Weeks pass and it’s getting him nowhere! Until he comes across you.

🏷️ Tags!

Teeth rotting sweet fluff. Eventual soft sex. Body Worship. Mark worships the ground you walk on. Corny in some part i guess.. Mark and Reader are inexperienced and awkward. Dating Apps. Body insecurity. Mark is a chubby chaser. Reader has body issues. Little bit of hurt with a LOT of Comfort. All hurt is from past experience. Kissing. Touching. Appearance of eve and mark’s past relationships. Reader and mark are both approx ~20. Camping. Hiking, Swimming. Mark is a pervert, but so are you. More tags to add..

Mark Grayson had saved the world more than he could count on his fingers and toes this month.

Okay, technically one of those times had only been a city, and technically the other ones had mostly been Eve saving his ass while he got punched through several office buildings, but the point still stood.

He was Invincible. He could fly at hypersonic speeds. He could bench press things that definitely shouldn't be bench-pressed. He had personally fought aliens, supervillains, alternate versions of himself, and his own dad.

And yet

"You have zero game."

Mark looked up from his cereal. "Excuse me?" Across the kitchen table, Eve didn't even glance up from her phone.

"Zero. Absolutely none."

"I've dated people."

"Name one relationship that didn't end terribly."

Mark opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "...that's not fair." Mark’s lip jutted out into a pout.

"It's extremely fair."

Mark shoved another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

Eve finally looked up.

"Mark."

"No."

"You don't even know what I'm gonna say."

"I do, actually."

"You should get on a dating app."

Mark nearly inhaled a piece of his cereal.

"A dating app?"

"Yes."

"I'm Invincible."

"And?.." She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Superheroes don't use dating apps." he huffed.

Eve stared at him.

Somewhere in Chicago, a car alarm went off. Mark pointed dramatically toward the window.

"See? That's probably a supervillain."

"That's just somebody’s shitty Nissan Altima."

"My point stands."

"Your point has never stood."

Mark groaned and buried his face in his hands.

The worst part was that she wasn't wrong.

Because somehow, despite being one of the strongest people on Earth, Mark Grayson couldn't pull to save his life.

Literally.

Figuratively.

Romantically.

At this point, he'd probably have better luck fighting a Viltrumite than successfully flirting with a woman at a coffee shop. Or anywhere for that matter.

Eve took mark’s phone and downloaded an app. She slid his phone back across the table.

The screen displayed a dating app signup page.

It was all peach themed.

Mark stared at it like it was a live grenade.

"Absolutely not."

Five minutes later, he was choosing profile pictures.

Mark Grayson hadn't expected the matches.

That was the problem.

The entire reason he'd agreed to the app was because nobody was supposed to know who he was.

Not really.

His profile didn't mention Invincible.

It didn't mention superheroes.

It didn't mention saving the world.

His photos were normal. Just him in casual clothes, awkward smiles, pictures taken by friends over the years.

Nothing that screamed one of the strongest people on Earth.

The profile was intentionally boring.

And yet people kept matching with him.

At first he assumed it was luck.

Then coincidence.

Then curiosity.

By the third day, he wasn't so sure.

Mark sat on the edge of his bed, scrolling through another list of notifications.

Twenty-seven matches.

Thirty-one.

Thirty-eight.

The number kept growing.

He frowned.

That wasn't normal.

At least it didn't feel normal.

He worried that he didn’t play into a secretly identity enough

His thumb hovered over one profile before opening the conversation.

What do you do for work?

The question appeared constantly.

It was harmless.

Normal.

The kind of thing people asked each other.

Mark still hated it.

He typed.

Deleted.

Typed again.

Deleted that too.

Eventually he settled on:

“I help people.”

A minute later came responses like

“That's vague.” or “Like a social worker?”

Because it was.

Everything had to be vague.

What was he supposed to say?

“I stop alien invasions.”

“I get punched through mountains.”

“My dad killed the guardians of the globe and attempted to take over Earth and I tied to stop him.”

None of those answers exactly worked.

The conversations always died shortly afterward.

Not the first one.

Not the last.

Mark sighed and closed the app.

Maybe Eve had been wrong.

Maybe this had been a terrible idea.

-🍑-

The next day he opened the app again.

Mostly because he was bored.

Partly because there were even more matches.

That part still confused him.

Every time he expected the number to stop growing, it didn't.

Another conversation.

Another introduction.

Another person asking about him.

The normal kind of questions.

Family.

School.

Work.

Plans.

Future.

Questions that should have been easy.

Questions that somehow weren't.

Because every honest answer led somewhere dangerous.

His family was complicated.

His job was impossible to explain.

His future changed every time a new threat appeared.

Even talking about where he'd grown up felt risky.

So Mark kept pieces of himself hidden.

Not because he wanted to lie.

Because he didn't know how not to.

-🍑-

A week later he matched with someone who didn't ask what he did.

Didn't ask where he worked.

Didn't ask why he seemed strangely private.

Instead she asked what he liked doing when he wasn't busy.

Mark stared at the screen.

That was somehow harder.

Because the truthful answer was flying.

Flying with no destination.

Flying because the clouds looked different at sunset.

Flying because for a few minutes the world felt quiet.

But that answer wasn't exactly normal.

So instead he wrote:

I like being outside.

A few moments later she replied.

Me too.

That was it.

No interrogation.

No follow-up questions.

No attempts to figure him out.

Just a conversation.

Simple.

Easy.

She was also gorgeous. She was curvy, fat in all the right places. While other men felt threatened by a bigger woman, it only spurred him on.

It almost made him giddy.

For the first time since downloading the app, Mark felt himself relax.

Maybe that was the trick.

Maybe not everyone needed the whole story immediately.

The thought lingered longer than he expected.

Mark and the stranger woman who likes nature continue to talk.

Off and on throughout the day he’d hear that high pitched ping.

He’d pick up his phone with haste each time. He was actually entertained by her. Eventually came the question,

“Do you want to go out on a date?”

Mark stared at the notification.

He stared at it for a solid thirty seconds. His mouth went dry.

The words didn't rearrange themselves into something less terrifying.

“Do you want to go out on a date?”

It wasn't a complicated sentence.

It was six words.

Six normal, human words that normal, human people exchanged every single day without suffering a cardiac event.

His heart actually beat so fast that it probably would’ve killed a normal human.

You watched as Mark’s message bubble popped up and away again. The three bouncing dots tantalizing.

You took a thick swallow in.

Eyes laser focused on the screen.

You also have had little to bad luck when it came to dating.

Men usually only wanted sex, not a real relationship. One that was soft.

You thought the same thing would happen with Mark.

He looked like a fuck boy with some nerdy interests sprinkled in.

But something about his profile told you to take a chance.

The dots bounced.

Stopped.

Bounced again.

Paused.

Then finally, Mark's message appeared.

“I'd like that.”

Relief flooded through Mark.

Then immediate panic.

Because he'd just said yes.

To an in-person date.

With a real human woman who liked being outside and didn't ask about his stupid cover story.

They'd never even heard each other's voices.

He scratched the back of his neck, coming to terms that he may just be a dumbass.

“Come to (this address..)”

You sent him the address of a camp deep within the mountains.

It was secluded,

intimate.

You hoped he didn’t think you were some serial killer.

All you know is that you have an extremely attractive man willing to go out with you.

Score!

Mark stared at the address.

The app showed a preview.

Mountains.

Trees.

A single camp icon blinking in the middle of nowhere.

No street names.

No nearby businesses.

Just coordinates that looked like they'd been pulled from a survivalist's wet dream.

Immediately, Mark's brain remembered all the crime documentaries he’s watched with his mom. Chill bumps raised on his skin.

This was absolutely how serial killers got you. Everytime he watched those shows he thought that the victim should’ve seen the red flags. I mean a secluded campsite with barely any service and literally no nearby towns?

come on.

If he wasn’t a superhero he’d be more worried.

“I’ll see you there then!”

You throw your phone across the room. It smacks against the wall, sliding down and eventually landing face side up.

You can feel your heart beating right out of your chest.

When was the last time you really went on a date? To be perfectly honest, you didn’t know.

Meanwhile, Mark was hyperventilating.

He threw himself backward onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above him.

He had a date.

An actual, planned, confirmed date.

With coordinates that led deep into the wilderness.

"This’ll be the stupidest thing i’ll ever do," he announced to the empty room.

-🍑-

Mark arrived at the coordinates.

He touched down gently on the grass, checking his surroundings.

No monsters.

No Viltrumites.

No land mines.

Just trees. A lot of them. And a cabin in the distance.

“Alright.. what’s the catch..” He said to himself.

There was no catch. Just a squirrel scurrying across the ground in front of him.

His heart was doing something weird in his chest. Something that reminded him of before fights. Except without the adrenaline or the survival instinct.

This was worse. He could throw up. He just might. He choked it down.

All mark could hear was the sounds of the surrounding wildlife.

Eventually though, he hears a car pull up. It’s small, kinda shitty. It gets the job done.

However, he forgets everything else when he sees you. Your full curvaceous figure has him head over heels. Mark has always liked his women with a little more meat on their bones. More to love he thinks.

Mark froze.

The car door opened.

You stepped out.

Mark stopped breathing.

Every single thought in his head instantly evaporated, replaced by a high-pitched static that drowned out the birds, the wind, and the distant engine ticking as it cooled.

You were... absolutely gorgeous.

And exactly his type.

Soft, full curves. Hips that looked like they were designed to be held.

If he was a cartoon, his jaw would’ve been on the floor with his eyes the shapes of hearts. Right now, you were his Jessica rabbit.

You were having a similar issue.

You looked at him and you had to hold your jaw closed.

He was ripped to say the least. You could literally see those abs through his shirt.

Guys like him used to bully you in high school. You could feel the insecurities from that era bubbling up. You shake your head, shoving them down deep.

You put on a shy smile, gripping the strap of your backpack for dear life.

You both stood there, staring.

Mark was actively trying to remember how to speak.

His brain was short-circuiting between "she's so beautiful" and "oh god don't mess this up."

You were having your own internal crisis, suddenly feeling seventeen again, convinced that someone would laugh and ask what a guy like him was doing with a girl like you.

The silence stretched.

It was like two cowboys having a stand off.

The silence stretched.

And stretched…

And somehow, with every passing second, you became more aware of yourself.

The softness of your stomach beneath your shirt. The curve of your hips. The way your hands suddenly felt awkward. You resisted the urge to cross your arms over yourself, to make yourself smaller like you always did when someone was looking at you for too long.

Especially someone like Mark.

Because Mark wasn't just looking.

He was staring.

Not with pity. Not with amusement. Not with the polite kind of attention people gave when they were trying not to seem rude.

He looked... awestruck.

Which somehow made it worse.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

He's gonna realize.

It was a stupid thought. An old thought. One you'd carried around for years despite every attempt to leave it behind.

He's gonna look closer and realize he could do better.

The insecurity hit so fast it almost made you laugh.

Seventeen years old again. Standing in front of a mirror. Listening to girls talk about diets and tiny waists. Wondering why nobody ever looked at you the way they looked at them.

And yet here Mark was.

Looking at you like you hung the stars.

His mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

You nearly smiled.

"Are you okay?" you finally asked, your voice soft.

Mark blinked.

"Oh."

Another blink.

Then a hand dragged down his face. Mainly to wipe his drool.

"Wow, that was bad."

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

His expression brightened immediately at the sound.

"No, seriously," he continued, laughing nervously. "I had something cool planned to say."

"Did you?"

"Absolutely."

"What was it?"

Mark pointed at you.

Then immediately lowered his hand.

"I forgot."

You laughed harder this time.

And for the first time since you'd walked in, some of the tension loosened from your shoulders.

Because Mark was still staring.

But now you could see it clearly.

Not judgment.

Not disappointment.

Not confusion.

Just a boy who looked completely, hopelessly smitten.

His smile softened.

"You know," he said quietly, "I don't think I've ever seen anyone look this pretty before."

The warmth that flooded your face was immediate.

"Mark—"

"No, I'm serious."

His eyes met yours.

Steady. Earnest. Certain.

And suddenly all those old fears felt a little smaller beneath the weight of his gaze.

Not gone.

Maybe they never would be.

But quieter.

For once, the voice telling you that someone like him could never want someone like you wasn't the loudest thing in the room.

The loudest thing was your heartbeat.

And the way Mark looked at you like choosing you had never been a question at all.

The sunset painted everything gold.

The lake shimmered beyond the trees, perfectly still except for the occasional ripple across the surface. The clearing was exactly how you'd imagined it when you'd suggested this trip.

Honestly, you were a little proud of yourself.

Most people had reacted to your idea with confusion.

"A first date? Camping?"

"Are you trying to get murdered?"

"Why not just get coffee like a normal person?"

Well you weren’t normal, that was for sure.

But coffee dates felt awful.

Too much staring.

Too much pressure.

Too much sitting across from someone wondering if they were secretly judging every little thing about you.

Out here, there was something to do.

Something to focus on besides yourself.

At least that had been the plan.

Unfortunately for you, Mark Grayson kept looking at you regardless.

Like constantly.

Enough that every time you caught him, he'd glance away like he'd been caught doing something embarrassing. A light pink blush dusting his cheeks.

It was weird.

Cute.

And deeply confusing.

It was already getting late.

You trekked to your initially planned camping area. It was half way down the mountain. An area overlooking the shining water.

-🍑-

Mark was sitting on the log across from you, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the firelight casting warm gold across his features.

You caught yourself staring.

Again.

You quickly looked away.

Only to find him already looking at you.

Your stomach immediately flipped.

There was something dangerous about the way Mark looked at you.

Not dangerous in a frightening way.

Dangerous in the way it made you forget every reason you'd spent years convincing yourself not to hope.

Because every time his eyes found yours, there was this softness there.

This quiet affection.

As though looking at you was his favorite thing to do.

You still didn't understand it.

A part of you wasn't sure you ever would.

"What?" you asked softly.

Mark blinked.

Like he'd been pulled from a thought.

"Hm?"

"You're staring."

The corner of his mouth twitched.

"So are you."

Heat rushed into your face.

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"I was looking at the fire."

"The fire's over here."

You immediately looked away.

His smile widened.

teasing you slightly.

The kind of smile that made your chest ache.

For a few moments, neither of you spoke.

The sound of the lake lapping gently against the shore filled the space between you.

You watched the flames.

Mark watched you.

Eventually, you felt his gaze again.

Gentle.

Patient.

Steady.

The kind of attention that made you want to hide and bask in it at the same time.

Your fingers tightened around your sleeves.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

His answer came immediately.

Without hesitation.

The warmth of it settled somewhere deep in your chest.

You swallowed.

"Why did you swipe right on me?"

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Immediately, you wished you could take them back.

Mark's expression softened.

The firelight reflected in his eyes.

"What?"

You stared into the flames.

Suddenly unable to look at him.

"I don't know."

Your voice came out smaller than intended.

"I just..."

You laughed quietly.

Embarrassed.

"I guess I never expected you to."

The confession hung in the air.

You hated how vulnerable it sounded.

How honest it sounded.

For a moment, Mark didn't answer.

When he did, his voice was so gentle it almost hurt.

"Why wouldn't I?"

You shrugged.

Unable to explain years of insecurity in a single sentence.

Unable to explain what it felt like growing up feeling invisible.

Like every pretty girl in the room somehow existed under a brighter light than you did.

Mark stared at you for a long moment.

Then he stood.

Your heart immediately started racing.

He crossed the small distance between you and settled beside you on the log.

Close enough that your shoulders touched.

Neither of you spoke.

You became painfully aware of every inch of space between you.

Every breath.

Every heartbeat.

Then Mark quietly reached over and took your hand.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Like he'd been wanting to do it all evening.

Your breath caught.

The pad of his thumb rubbed against your knuckle. He held your hand there on your thigh.

Slow.

Careful.

Almost shy.

"I swiped right because you seemed kind."

Your eyes lifted to his.

Mark's gaze never wavered.

"You seemed funny."

Another gentle stroke of his thumb.

"You seemed smart."

The corner of his mouth lifted.

"And your profile made me smile."

He brought your hand up to his lips. He softly pressed a kiss against your skin.

Something inside you melted.

Completely.

Hopelessly.

"I remember sitting there looking at your pictures and thinking I really hoped you'd answer me."

You laughed softly.

"That first message was not the greatest."

"I know."

His smile grew.

"But you answered."

Your heart was beating so hard you were certain he could hear it.

Unbeknownst to you, he could. Curse his superhuman hearing.

The look on his face made it impossible to look away.

Like he wasn't seeing the things you criticized about yourself.

The softness.

The flaws.

The parts you'd spent years wishing you could change.

He was just seeing you.

And somehow that felt more intimate than anything else.

The fire crackled quietly beside you.

The lake shimmered beneath the moonlight.

Mark squeezed your hand.

A small smile tugged at his lips.

And in that moment, sitting beneath a sky full of stars with his hand wrapped around yours, you realized something.

For the entire evening, Mark had looked at you like you were the prettiest thing in the woods.

Even with a moonlit lake twenty feet away.

And somehow, impossibly, he seemed completely sincere about it.

You lean against his steady shoulder.

Mark internally freaked out, but he played it off…

His other hand was digging into the log, crushing it.

…

The moment lingered.

The warmth of his hand around yours.

The crackling fire.

The quiet rush of water against the shore.

It should have felt perfect.

Maybe it did.

That was the problem.

Perfect things had a way of making you nervous.

Your gaze dropped to your intertwined hands.

Mark's thumb still brushed absentmindedly over your knuckles, like he wasn't even thinking about it.

Like touching you had already become natural.

The thought made your chest ache.

Because you wanted this.

You really did.

But wanting things had never guaranteed you'd get to keep them.

You stared into the fire.

"You know," you said softly, "you're making this difficult."

Mark looked down at you.

"Hm?"

You huffed a small laugh.

"You're nice."

His eyebrows rose.

"That's the complaint?"

"Yes. Ew."

He smiled.

"I think that's the first time anybody's ever said that to me."

You rolled your eyes, but your smile faded quickly.

The words slipped out before you could stop them.

"Most people aren't."

Within your time together, Mark realized that you’ve been deeply hurt before. Maybe by past lovers, friends, family? It didn’t matter to him.

It made him feel a nasty wave wash over him. Protectiveness? Anger? He couldn’t put a finger on it. It swirled deep within his chest.

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable.

Just thoughtful.

Mark didn't immediately ask what you meant.

Didn't demand an explanation.

He simply waited.

And somehow that made it easier.

You drew your knees up slightly.

"People can be mean."

The statement felt stupidly obvious.

Yet it carried years behind it.

School hallways.

Whispered comments.

Friends who weren't really friends.

Dates that made you feel like a joke.

People who acted interested until they decided they weren't.

Mark's expression softened.

The kind that let you know he was listening.

"I spent a long time feeling like I had to earn people liking me."

Your voice was quiet.

"So whenever somebody's nice to me, I kind of assume there's a catch."

It caught him off guard with how close he related to your words.

Mark looked down at your joined hands.

Then back at you.

"And if there isn't?"

You laughed softly.

"I don't know. That’s never happened."

The honesty of the answer surprised both of you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The fire crackled.

A breeze stirred the trees overhead.

Then Mark shifted slightly on the log.

"You know what I thought when I first saw your profile?"

You groaned immediately.

"Oh no."

"I'm serious."

"That never ends well."

A small grin tugged at his mouth.

"It does this time."

You narrowed your eyes.

He ignored you.

"First, I thought you are a damn fine woman."

Heat immediately rushed to your face.

Mark continued before you could protest.

"And I thought you looked like someone I'd want to spend time with."

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Opened it again.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

You stared.

Mark shrugged.

Like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Like there had never been anything complicated about it.

The thing was, he genuinely seemed to mean it.

There was no hesitation.

No qualification.

No despite.

Just you.

The way you were.

Exactly as you were.

The realization settled somewhere deep inside your chest.

Not fixing anything.

Not magically erasing old wounds.

Just loosening them.

A little.

You liked how straightforward he was.

-🍑-

The night grew colder as the hours passed.

Eventually, you stood to grab something from your backpack.

Only for your foot to catch on a root hidden beneath the grass.

A startled sound escaped you.

The world tilted.

And before you could fully process what was happening,

A hand caught your waist.

Steady.

Effortless.

You blinked.

Mark blinked back.

One arm was wrapped securely around you.

Like keeping you upright hadn't required any effort whatsoever.

For a second neither of you moved.

Then realization hit.

"Oh my God."

You buried your face in your hands.

"I almost ate dirt."

A laugh escaped Mark.

"You did."

You groaned.

His hand lingered for a moment longer before he stepped back.

The movement was reluctant enough that it made your stomach flutter.

Not because of what he'd done.

But because of how natural it had felt.

Like his first instinct had simply been to catch you.

Make sure you were okay.

Nothing more complicated than that.

You glanced over at him.

The firelight painted gold across his face.

His smile was small.

Warm.

Soft around the edges.

And for the first time all evening, the knot of anxiety in your chest loosened enough for you to smile back without overthinking it.

Mark's eyes lit up immediately.

As though that smile was worth more than the stars overhead.

And somehow, sitting beside the lake with the night stretching endlessly around you, you found yourself hoping this wasn't one of those things you'd eventually lose.

Because for once, being cared for didn't feel like something you had to earn.

With Mark, it felt like something he gave freely.

And that was a terrifyingly wonderful thing.

You were still thinking about it.

About the way his hand had caught you.

Not just caught, that didn’t even feel like the right word. It had been faster than your brain could process, like gravity had briefly decided it didn’t apply to you and Mark had just corrected it without thinking.

You sat back down near the fire, but your mind stayed stuck on it.

On him.

On the fact that you’d been falling and he’d moved like it wasn’t even a decision.

Mark was sitting beside you again, adjusting a log in the fire like nothing had happened at all.

Like he hadn’t just

You glanced at him.

He looked… normal.

Relaxed. Warm. A little distracted by the flames.

Not someone who had just moved fast enough to make your head spin.

Your eyes narrowed slightly before you could stop yourself.

Mark felt it.

Of course he did.

He looked over. “What?”

You hesitated.

Then pointed vaguely at him.

“How did you do that?”

He blinked. “Do what?”

Mark felt his heart drop to his ass.

“You know.” You gestured toward the space between you like the answer was floating there. “Catch me.”

Mark frowned a little, thinking.

“You tripped.”

“Yes.”

“And you were about to fall.”

“Yes.”

“So I caught you.”

“That part I got.”

He gave you a look that suggested what else would I do?

But that wasn’t the issue.

You shifted closer slightly, still studying him.

“It wasn’t like… a normal catch.”

That made him pause.

“A normal catch?” he repeated.

You exhaled through your nose, frustrated with how impossible this was to explain without sounding insane.

“You were just-” you searched for the words, “-fast. Like, really fast.”

Mark went quiet for half a second.

Long enough that your attention sharpened.

Then he shrugged. “Adrenaline, I guess.”

You squinted at him.

“That was not adrenaline.”

“It could’ve been.”

“It wasn’t.”

He opened his mouth

Closed it again.

You noticed that.

The pause.

The tiny delay before he answered like he was choosing something carefully.

Your gaze stayed on him.

More focused now.

Less soft.

Mark shifted slightly under it. Made him feel some type of.. way

You leaned back a little, eyes still on him, like you were trying to match what you were seeing with what you knew.

Which was a guy from a dating app.

A guy who was bad at flirting.

A guy who got nervous over marshmallows.

A guy who had just caught you like you weighed nothing.

You swallowed.

“…Mark.”

“Yeah?”

You hesitated again.

Then shook your head slightly, like you were trying to reset your thoughts.

“I’m just saying,” you continued slowly, “most people don’t move like that.”

He nodded once. “Fair.”

That should’ve ended it.

It didn’t.

Because now you were noticing other things.

The way he sat a little too straight sometimes, like slouching wasn’t natural for him.

The way he didn’t seem tired after the hike you’d been quietly struggling through.

The way, earlier, he’d barely broken a sweat setting up camp while you’d been fighting with the tent like it had a personal vendetta.

You looked away toward the lake, frowning faintly.

A quiet part of your brain tried to smooth it over.

Tall guys are just like that sometimes.

Athletic.

Lucky genetics.

But it didn’t fully sit right.

Mark was watching you now.

Nervously

Like he was waiting to see where your thoughts landed.

You pulled your knees closer to your chest again.

“I think you’re stronger than you look,” you said finally, more to yourself than him.

A beat.

Mark nodded again. “Yeah.”

Simple.

Too simple.

You looked back at him immediately.

That answer didn’t help at all.

But what struck you more than anything wasn’t the answer.

It was the way he said it.

No joking.

No deflection.

Just… acceptance.

Like there was nothing strange about it.

Like it was just another fact about him, the same way the sky was dark and the fire was warm.

You studied his face again.

Really looked this time.

The quiet steadiness in his eyes when he met yours.

The ease in his posture now that he wasn’t hiding anything emotional.

The way he didn’t seem threatened by your suspicion, just patient with it.

Your chest tightened slightly, not with fear exactly.

With uncertainty.

And something softer underneath it.

Mark shifted a little closer, slow enough that you could’ve moved away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t.

He glanced at you.

“You’re thinking really hard right now.”

“I am not.”

“You are.”

You huffed a quiet laugh despite yourself.

“…I might be a little.”

He smiled faintly.

“About me catching you?”

You hesitated.

Then nodded.

Mark didn’t tease you for it.

Instead, he just said, almost gently, “I wouldn’t let you fall.”

The words weren’t dramatic.

They weren’t big.

But they landed anyway.

Your eyes lingered on him a little longer than before.

And for the first time that night, your thoughts didn’t rush to fill in the silence with worst-case scenarios.

They just… paused.

Like they were waiting to see what he would do next.

Eventually, the night started to feel heavier.

The kind of quiet that settles into the trees when everything living decides it’s time to rest.

Mark stood first, brushing a bit of dirt from his hands.

“Probably should get the tent ready,” he said.

You nodded, pulling yourself up a second later.

“Yeah.”

There was a brief look between you two, unspoken agreement, unspoken nerves, then you both walked back toward the campsite.

The tent still stood.

Barely.

A little slanted. A little stubborn. But upright.

You stared at it for a second.

“It’s standing up,” you said quietly.

Mark hummed. “Barely.”

You shot him a look.

That got him laughing again, soft and easy, like it always seemed to with you.

The kind of sound that made the night feel less empty.

You climbed inside first, kicking off your shoes and adjusting your bag to the side…

(Part 2!?)

[sukunastuna]

cuteee

[dilfstarr]

Here you were, half moisturized—I’m talking lotion and oils still caked on your palms, just waiting to be evenly coated on your legs. Body wash is still fresh to your skin—clinging tightly, unknowingly inviting Eren to explore the unknown. Puffy, plump cheek smudged against the velvety surface of your patterned vanity, your teeth biting deliciously into your bottom lip to muffle escaped moans. Your robe was folded halfway up your back, almost in that space just above your hips while the tips of your manicured toes ached as you attempted to hold up your body weight.

“Oh g-gosh, Eren. You make me feel so good,” you whispered into a whine. You pushed back against his mouth unintentionally, earning a pinch to the inside of your thighs. A multitude of glass perfume bottles clinked while your earth toned bangles clacked, creating a rollercoaster of back and forth notes when you suddenly jumped from Eren’s quick and quiet punishment.

You couldn’t see Eren, but gosh could you hear him. He growled and groaned against your flesh, attempting to dig his face deeper inside of your tight embrace. Even though your cheeks were spread wider than a rumor, he still felt like he wasn’t close enough. His jaw flexed beneath you, slurping up and catching what he could before a puddle formed—to keep the floor as dry as possible of course.

Nevertheless, Eren was living happily in his own world. Even with the pattern carpet adding nothing to comfort his knees holding his weight, nothing could pull him out of the daze he was happily backstroking through.

Except you attempting to nudge you away. He never understood why you ran away when things felt good. Why you ran away from cumming instead of just letting it happen and not dragging it out. It didn’t bother him in the beginning, only when you started to reach behind yourself and got lotion in his hair from pushing him back is when his irritation bled through.

That’s when your wrist was bound together beneath you by one of his headbands. The cloth bit at your wrist, but only when you fight against it.

“Does it hurt at all?”

Eren looked down at his working fingers folding the fabric tighter around your wrist.

“Mmm, no. Feels alright, ‘Ren.“

Eren responded silently, lifting your hands in his to examine his work of art. “Good.”

As he lowered himself back to his knees, he took a glimpse at your face—eyes lined with pending tears while a deep pout kissed at your lips. Just how he likes it.

“Put your leg up and lay your body flat. ‘Not telling you again,” he’d grumble against your spit coated lips. If it was one thing Eren hated, it was you shying away from his touch. See, he hated physical contact to begin with, and that was with anyone. So to Eren holding hands, kissing, and in his case eating, was a privilege that he kept hidden and reserved for people he truly loved and trusted. You running away was like almost rejection. Disrespectful in his eyes to say the least.

You were now face to face with your knee, almost kissing it from how close it was. With this new angle, Eren had much more space. Much more control over you knowing that you couldn’t push him away. Even if you wanted to move, you couldn’t. The crown of your head pressed against the mirror while your leg kept you stable. And if you somehow became wobbly, Eren was giving you extra support to say up right. He had you just how he wanted.

Almost everything was laminated in Eren’s spit. He’d start at the top of your ass crack, taking his time before flattening his tongue and dragging it down lower and lower until he was met with your puffy clit, twitching in anticipation. He’d give a suck or two before his tongue flattened again to take the same route back the way he came. Each lap he took exploring your mound, you felt your lips separate from the width of your boyfriend’s thick tongue. He knew the right amount of pressure to get you to start leaking and squirming on his tongue.

You hissed softly, toes curling into themselves while half crescents formed on your palms.

“My God, Eren. Wa-wait!”

You palmed at what your fingers could reach from under you—which was the soaked strands of his goatee. Eren’s thumb placed the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, spiraling it slowly while his thick tongue teased your entrance.

“I got you, Pretty. Just let me have it. I’ll catch it.” Eren’s vibration in his words shook you to your core.

Your breathing picks up when the pace of his thumb does. What was sharp uncoordinated gasps, transitioned into deep trembling breaths that couldn’t quite fill up your lungs to full capacity. Your vision blurred as those hot tears that were teasing your lash line finally passed through.

“You’re gon—haah! Mmm! I’m goin’ to cum.

The static feeling creeped up from your ankles, rising with speed up your thighs like a fever. Despite your movements being limited, you found yourself circling your hips, grinding yourself into Eren’s face. Heavy eyelids fluttered while your eyesight disappeared into your skull. You were cumming and just as he promised, he was there to catch every drop.

[sukunastuna]

this was so hot to read

[an9els]

❥ 𝓗OW TO BAG A HOT DILF: 5-STEP BEGINNER’S GUIDE !

𝓼ummary: the hot, grumpy dad next door won’t give you the time of day? here’s how to make him fuck you stupid anyway. warning: side effects may include pregnancy.

pairing: dilf!toji fushiguro x f!reader genre/tags: smut with (some) plot, kinda slow burn tension, neighbor romance, crack comedy, age gap, manipulative flirting, implied daddy issues, light angst, dom!toji, corruption kink, praise + slight degradation, breeding kink, rough sex, slight jealousy, daddy kink, possessiveness, manhandling, overstim, multiple orgasms, fingering, oral (f. rec), creampie, fluffy ending <3

word count: 8.1k

❥ STEP 1 — commit to the bit (and the bit is wanting him SO bad you’re willing to risk federal charges)

you don’t believe in love at first sight. you’re not that kind of girl.

but lust at first sight?

yeah. that one had you in a chokehold the second you saw him hauling a case of bottled water into his apartment, dressed in nothing but grey sweatpants and a faded black tank top— one that clung to the broad curve of his back like it owed you something. like it knew what it was doing.

he didn’t even look at you. not really. just grunted out a soft “hey” when you passed, voice low and rough like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in days, and disappeared into the dark crack of his doorway with a hand scrubbing at the back of his neck, muscles flexing under golden skin and black ink.

you’ve been down so fucking bad ever since.

toji fushiguro.

your across-the-hall neighbor. father of one. age: probably mid to late thirties. height: unfair. attitude: uninterested.

the kind of man who walks around the building shirtless at night with a beer in hand, who leaves his door cracked open when he’s working out in the living room, who definitely has a “don’t talk to me” aura and the look of someone who’s been burned by love and never fully recovered from it.

and of course, of course, that’s exactly your type.

(but in your defense, it’s not like this came out of nowhere. you’ve always had a thing for older men. it’s the deep voice, the scars, the rough hands and emotional unavailability. it’s the way they look at you like they’ve lived five lives and none of them ended well. also? your dad never called you back after your high school graduation. so… connect the dots.)

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you were just supposed to move in.

fresh start. new city. small apartment, low rent, okay view. the listing said “quiet neighborhood” and you said “sure, whatever” because all you needed was a clean kitchen and decent lighting. you didn’t ask for a brooding, musclebound dilf living directly across the hall like some kind of cruel test of character.

but now?

you’ve memorized the exact time he leaves in the morning. you know which beer he drinks. you know the sound of his shower turning on. you’ve adjusted your hallway appearances to “casually hot girl next door” levels and tried every combination of crop top and pajama shorts known to man.

and the worst part?

he hasn’t made a single move. not one. no smirk. no side-eye. not even the classic “didn’t know girls like you lived around here” line. he’s just… normal. silent. borderline rude. polite only when necessary, otherwise acts like you barely exist.

you wave when you see him— he nods. you held the elevator door once and he told you, “don’t worry about it,” like he was doing you a favor by taking the stairs. you’ve walked past him in tight leggings, skimpy pajama shorts, cute little tank tops with no bra underneath, but still, nothing. not even a flicker of interest or a glance.

at first, you thought maybe he wasn’t into it. there could be a possibility he had a secret wife. or maybe he was, god forbid, celibate.

but then you caught him on the balcony one night. shirtless. sweaty. cigarette between his fingers, hair pushed back, staring off into the distance like he was thinking about his tragic backstory. and when you stepped out to water your plants, leaned just slightly over the railing in your tiniest shorts— his eyes dropped. slow, deliberate. right to your thighs. then back up to the skyline like nothing happened.

and that’s when you knew.

he’s not blind. he’s just resisting.

which brings you to now.

standing in front of his door like a fucking maniac, heart pounding like you’re about to ring the bell at the gates of horny hell, holding a suspiciously clean, never-before-touched envelope you pulled from the depths of your junk drawer ten minutes ago.

it’s addressed to his unit, obviously.

but it’s been in your apartment the entire time.

because you’re a liar.

and you’re going to get your neighbor’s attention if it kills you.

the door opens faster than you expect. no warning creak, no slow reveal— just a single click and then bam, it’s open, and there he is.

up close. full resolution. shirtless again. grey sweats again. taller than he looked in the hallway. and staring down at you like he’s trying to figure out whether you’re here to sell something or commit a crime.

his hair is messy— fresh out the shower messy, strands curling a little at the ends, pushed back and damp like he towel-dried and gave up halfway. a faint scratch trails down his collarbone. there’s a tattoo peeking from under his left pec. you are in fact not okay.

“…yeah?” he asks, voice still that same low, unbothered gravel. he sounds as though he was in the middle of something and you interrupted him.

you blink once. then twice. and hand him the envelope as if it’s some kind of peace offering.

“this was in my mailbox,” you say, a little too fast. “but it’s for your unit.”

he glances down, but doesn’t take it yet. his brow furrows.

“…you live in 402, right?”

your heart drops. you manage a nod. “yeah.”

he looks back at the envelope, then back at you, and cocks his head a little. “this says 404.”

“right,” you nod again, smiling like a liar. “which is your unit.”

there’s a pause. a long one.

toji squints slightly, eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to decide whether you’re stupid or suspicious. then— finally— he sighs, takes the envelope from your hand with two fingers, and mutters, “thanks.”

and then. then. a small voice behind him;

“who’s at the door?”

you peek past him instinctively—

and there he is. a kid. dark-haired, serious-looking, big eyes and bigger pout. tiny arms crossed over a cartoon t-shirt like he pays rent. he clocks you immediately, gaze traveling from your face to your outfit and back again, silently judging you in 4K.

toji looks over his shoulder. “just the neighbor. ‘gumi, go back inside.”

“you said we could watch something,” the kid says, very clearly not moving. very clearly invested.

“yeah, and i will,” toji sighs, the kind of sigh that sounds like he’s already used to negotiating with a tiny lawyer. “in a minute.”

you’re standing here braless, in a crop top and fluffy socks, trying to flirt with a dilf, and his child— his ten-year-old child— is right there in the background watching this all go down like it’s an episode of Love Is Blind: Divorce Court Edition.

you panic. you smile. you crouch slightly like a Girl Who Is Good With Kids™ and wave.

“hi! i’m your new neighbor.”

megumi blinks once. totally unimpressed. “i know.”

you die a little. “right..”

“you were singing in the stairwell yesterday,” he adds, like he’s filing a noise complaint.

toji exhales through his nose, clearly already tired. “alright,” he mutters, shifting his weight as if he’s trying to end this conversation with his entire body. “thanks for dropping this off.”

you panic again. you’re spiraling. this is not going to plan. you were supposed to be effortlessly hot, a little mysterious, maybe get invited in for a drink. instead you’re sweating profusely through your tank top, getting stared down by a ten-year-old and dismissed like some door-to-door scam.

abort mission. regroup.

you nod, stepping back quickly. “no problem! anytime.”

he doesn’t respond. just closes the door halfway and disappears, voice fading as he calls back to megumi— “pick a movie that isn’t garbage this time” —before the door clicks shut behind him.

silence.

the hallway feels colder now.

you stand there for a second. maybe two. then turn on your heel and march straight back to your apartment, locking the door behind you with a little more force than necessary and collapsing onto your couch with a dramatic, miserable groan.

okay. so maybe the whole fake-mail delivery thing was a bust. maybe you didn’t make the strongest first impression. maybe megumi’s gonna go to school on monday and tell his friends he saw a thirsty neighbor try to seduce his dad and fail in real time.

but you’re not giving up!

because toji fushiguro isn’t oblivious. he looked. you know he looked.

he’s just being difficult. reserved. nonchalant. you love that shit. it’s practically a challenge.

which brings you to:

❥ STEP 2 — establish neighborly rapport (aka: force more interactions)

you’ve already had contact. now it’s time for consistency! eye contact. hallway banter. the illusion of familiarity. you’re gonna bump into him enough that he has no choice but to acknowledge your existence— and then? then you’ll break him down. slowly. methodically. emotionally.

you have a plan.

a little awkward start isn’t gonna stop you. not when he looks like that with wet hair, lazy sweatpants, and his voice sounds like it could ruin your entire sense of self-worth with a single sentence.

step two starts tomorrow.

or tonight, depending on how bold you feel. your package is supposed to arrive soon— you could just happen to be outside when it gets delivered. or drop something near his door again. or, worst case scenario, start a small fire and see if he comes running.

you’re in too deep to turn back now.

besides, if megumi’s already seen you at your worst, there’s nowhere to go but up.

you start running into him a lot more.

not in a weird way. you’re not, like, stalking or anything. you’re just… situationally strategic.

like this morning— how coincidentally, you happened to take your trash out the exact moment he left for a run. and when he walked past you in those same criminally low-hanging sweatpants, headphones in, shirt clinging to his chest like it wanted you dead? yeah. totally natural timing.

you smiled. waved. gave a little “morning!”

he gave you a nod and kept jogging.

progress.

and yesterday? you timed your laundry schedule to line up with his, based purely on auditory research (aka: eavesdropping through the vents), and when he came down to switch out his load, you were already bent over the dryer in your tiny shorts like a good little trap.

he walked in. saw you. paused.

you straightened up way too fast and bumped your elbow, trying to look breezy while hiding the way your heart rate doubled on sight. “oh- hey! laundry day?”

toji looked at you. then at the dryer. then back at you. “…yeah.”

another awkward pause.

god, he’s so fucking impossible.

you gave him your brightest smile and added, “mine too! small world.”

“…we live in the same building,” he said, completely deadpan, before opening the washer and pulling out a fistful of dark clothes like you weren’t trying to orchestrate a meet-cute over tide pods. he moved with the exhausted efficiency of a man who hated small talk and suspected you might be trying to sell him essential oils.

you wanted to scream. you smiled instead.

“right,” you laughed, tapping your temple as if the realization just dawned on you. “duh. neighbors.”

he didn’t answer. just shoved his clothes into the dryer, grabbed his detergent, and left the room like it was a hostage negotiation and you were the threat. didn’t even look back. but you saw it.

the twitch in his jaw when you bent over again. the extra second of eye contact before he left. the little crack in his silence when you giggled at your own joke and his mouth twitched— barely, but it did. you’re starting to learn his tells.

like tonight— when you caught him coming back from the grocery store, arms full of bags, and offered to hold the elevator door open for him again.

“you don’t have to,” he said, almost automatically.

but this time you didn’t let him off so easily.

you flashed a cheeky smile, cocked your head to the side, and replied, “well i want to. unless you wanna take the stairs and pretend you’re not tired.”

that got you a look. brief. amused. his lips pressed into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but not nothing either.

he stepped in and stood beside you, towering and silent and pretending he wasn’t eyeing your legs in the reflective elevator wall. you leaned against the side and grinned to yourself like a lunatic.

“what floor?” you asked, already knowing the answer. playing dumb. living out your sitcom fantasy.

“…same as yours,” he muttered, setting the bags down for a second. “you know that.”

you beamed. “just making conversation.”

he sighed. quiet. tired. maybe even a little fond, but you couldn’t tell.

and then, just as the doors opened, a sleepy voice echoed from down the hall— “dad?”

toji blinked. glanced up.

megumi stood outside their apartment in socks and Spider-Man pajamas, squinting at the two of you like he was already judging this moment for future therapy sessions.

“you took forever,” he said. “i thought you died.”

“well i didn’t,” toji grunted, picking up the bags again. “get inside.”

you waved, again. because apparently, this is your life now. it’s not enough to get embarrassed in front of your crush— his preteen son also has to witness your descent into neighborhood whore madness.

megumi stared. then looked at his dad. then back at you.

“…hi.”

victory.

you’re three days into operation ‘establish rapport’ and you swear it’s working. slowly. he’s still playing it cool— gruff, quiet, annoyingly unaffected— but you’re catching those little cracks. the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. the tiny pauses before he responds. the way his eyes always drop to your mouth when you smile too wide. the way he takes just a little too long to look away.

he’s slipping.

and you’re gonna be right there to catch him.

❥ STEP 3 — engineered domestic proximity (create a situation where he owes you and then emotionally blackmail him with kindness!)

it starts with a fake injury.

not like, hospital fake. just a little casual suffering. something light and flirty and “damn she might be unwell” coded.

you pick a thursday. the hallway’s quiet. you hear his door open— the soft clink of keys, the slow creak of the hinge— and then you strike.

toji turns the corner just in time to see you slumped against your apartment door, barefoot, hair a mess, hoodie slipping off your shoulder, clutching your ankle like a romcom extra who’s about to fall in love with the first man who offers her an ice pack. you even let out a pitiful little “ugh,” to really seal the deal.

he stops. eyes narrow.

“…what the hell happened to you?”

you wince, voice trembling perfectly as you look up at him with wide eyes and say, “i tripped on the stairs.”

technically true. you did, in fact, trip. you just made sure it was today. and loud enough for him to hear.

“you didn’t even leave your apartment,” he deadpans, looking absolutely done.

“…gravity’s everywhere?”

he sighs like you’re the world’s most annoying problem. runs a hand over his face. and you try not to short-circuit when he crouches down.

his hand wraps around your ankle— casually, confidently, like he’s done this a hundred times before, and his thumb brushes over your skin, rough and warm and way too distracting. he presses, checks the joint, and you flinch very dramatically.

he doesn’t react. “it’s not broken.”

you pout. “still hurts.”

toji gives you a long, tired look. then rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath, probably something that sounds suspiciously like “fucking drama queen,” but reaches out anyway. big hands slide under your legs and back, and suddenly you’re being lifted. literally carried.

you make a noise that is not normal.

“jesus,” he grunts, shifting you in his arms. “what the hell do you eat?”

“excuse me??”

“relax,” he says, toeing open your apartment door. “you’re light.”

you are going to die here.

he carries you across the threshold like a goddamn bride and sets you down gently on the couch, muttering something about “needy neighbors” as he tosses your throw blanket over your lap. then pauses. stares at you for a second too long. his brows draw together like he’s thinking something he shouldn’t be.

“…don’t move,” he says finally. “i’ll get an ice pack.”

he disappears into your kitchen— uninvited, completely aware of where your freezer is— and you clutch the blanket to your chest like it’s holy protection from your own bad decisions and whisper;

“oh my god.”

step three is officially a success.

after that, things shift.

slow. subtle. like the hallway air is warmer now. like he doesn’t avoid you anymore.

the next time you make too much pasta (on purpose), you knock on his door and offer leftovers. “just in case,” you say with a smile. he raises an eyebrow, gives you a long look, but takes the container anyway.

“it’s good,” he mutters a few days later, passing you in the hall.

you blink. “what?”

“the pasta. wasn’t bad.”

you nearly trip over your own shoes.

when you run into him carrying groceries, you casually ask if he needs anything next time you go. he grunts something about paper towels. the next day, you drop off a pack at his door with a sticky note that says ‘paper-towel princess strikes again >:)’ and you swear you hear him laugh. just once. low. barely there.

and megumi? megumi is your new little buddy.

you “accidentally” bump into them on the stairs one weekend and ask him about school— next thing you know, you’re helping him with a science project at your dining table, glitter on your shirt and glue in your hair, and he actually smiles at you when it lights up. his eyes go wide. he looks proud. you melt.

toji shows up to get him an hour later.

he stops in the doorway, arms crossed. eyes flick between you and megumi on the couch, surrounded by worksheets and snacks and a movie playing softly in the background.

“…you don’t have to babysit, y’know.”

you glance up, then nudge megumi with your shoulder. “he’s cool. we’re having fun.”

toji stares. unreadable. his jaw works like he’s chewing on something he won’t say. and then he nods. once. slow.

“…yeah. he’s good.”

he leaves with megumi five minutes later, and you spend the rest of the night curled into your couch like a girl who just got emotionally married in the hallway.

a few days pass.

and then— he knocks on your door.

you open it and nearly fall over, because he’s standing there in a black t-shirt, holding a plastic container full of something that smells like soy sauce and heaven. his hair’s messy. his jaw’s tight. he doesn’t look like he wants to be here. but he is.

“we made too much,” he says. pauses. adds, almost begrudgingly, “me and ‘gumi.”

your brain goes static.

you accept it like it’s a holy relic. your hand brushes his. it’s fine. you’re normal.

“thank you,” you somehow manage breathe out.

you eat together on the steps between your units that night. plastic utensils. beer for him, water bottle for you. megumi’s inside watching something with way too much volume. the hallway buzzes with soft domestic noise.

he chuckles— an actual, real chuckle— when you tell him about your failed knee stunt getting you out of gym class in high school. it sounds like it surprises him. like it doesn’t happen often. you want to bottle the sound and save it for winter.

and then, as you’re wiping sauce from the corner of your mouth, he gives you this long, unreadable look. his eyes flick to your mouth. lingering.

“you’re trouble, aren’t you?”

you almost pass out.

“yeah,” you say, smiling slow. “but i’m cute about it.”

he laughs again. soft. huffed. the kind that makes your stomach flutter in the worst/best way.

note to self: a chuckle = an emotional orgasm in dilf language.

❥ STEP 4 — desperate times, horny measures (blur the line between “friendly neighbor” and “would let you hit raw if you asked nicely”)

you’ve played the long game. you’ve laid the groundwork. you’ve smiled, cooked, lingered in doorways and memorized his hallway habits. you helped his child with a diorama. you have earned your place in this man’s orbit. and now, you’re upping the ante.

tight tank tops with no bra? daily.

asking if he needs help lifting shit? always.

bending down in front of him for no reason whatsoever? the moment requires it.

you’ve “accidentally” dropped your keys outside his door. twice.

you’ve complimented his cologne when he wasn’t wearing any.

you’ve said the phrase “you must’ve been crazy hot in your twenties” with a completely straight face and full eye contact, just to watch his eyebrow twitch like he was deciding whether to argue or kiss you.

and toji?

toji has looked.

albeit, slow and restrained. but it’s there.

the way his gaze drops and lingers. the way his hand flexes when you laugh too hard. the way he sometimes says your name like it annoys him to have it on his tongue, like he’s chewing on it instead of swallowing. you’re getting to him. you know you are.

especially tonight.

it’s late. you’re bored. your hair looks good and your shorts are criminal. and you know he’s home because you heard the clink of a beer bottle hit his counter through your shared wall. so naturally, you text him:

you up?

no response…

you try again:

i’m making cookies and need a taste tester. u down?

there’s a pause. long enough to make you regret it. then finally:

don’t burn your kitchen down.

which— okay. rude. but also? not a no.

you show up at his door with a plate of warm cookies and the dumbest smile imaginable, leaning against the doorframe like a horny little housewife in denial, praying your lip gloss doesn’t smudge when you inevitably start smiling too hard.

the door swings open. and there he is.

shirtless, because of course. low sweatpants, towel around his neck, hair still damp. a vein in his bicep flexing like it’s personally here to ruin you. he raises an eyebrow when he sees you.

“you actually baked something?”

you pout. “don’t sound so shocked.”

he huffs. not quite a laugh. steps aside and lets you in. silent permission. another small victory.

you sit on the couch, drop the plate between you. he takes a cookie. you take a risk.

“so…” you say, crossing your legs slowly, letting your voice dip soft and sweet. “what do i get if they’re good?”

toji chews. swallows. side-eyes you. “…you want a prize for not poisoning me?”

you tilt your head, smile like trouble. lean a little closer, so your thigh brushes his.

“i want something,” you murmur.

he watches you. unreadable.

your heart’s racing. your leg’s touching his. the tension is so thick it could suffocate a small village. he’s quiet. too quiet. and for a second— a single, traitorous second— you believe. believe he’s going to touch you. say something filthy. hell, maybe even kiss you.

but instead— he stands up.

you freeze.

no.

he walks to the door.

absolutely not.

he opens it.

“go home, sweetheart.”

you blink. “…what?”

he doesn’t look at you. doesn’t even flinch.

“you’ve had your fun,” he mutters, voice low. final. “time to go.”

the plate of cookies is still on the table. your lip gloss is still perfect. and this man— this walking thirst trap of a dilf— just opened the door and told you to leave as if you were an inconvenience.

you stand there for five full seconds. staring at the wood grain like it personally wronged you. your mouth opens, closes, no words ever come out.

no explanation. no thank you. not even a cookie to-go.

you take the hint.

you walk home— five steps that feel like a funeral march— let yourself back into your apartment with hands that won’t stop shaking, and close the door behind you like it might collapse if you don’t hold it up. then you crawl into bed, pull the blanket over your head, and try very, very hard not to cry over a man who never asked you to try this hard in the first place.

❥ STEP 5 — let him come to you (the part of the spiral where you stop trying, and he starts breaking)

you’ve officially stopped trying.

no more cookies, fake run-ins, or conveniently timed errands. you’re done bending over near his door like some desperate domestic goddess waiting to be claimed. no more lingering glances, no flirty texts, no smiles he could potentially mistake for an invitation

you go cold. polite. distant.

“hey,” he mutters in the hallway one morning, voice a little rough from sleep.

“morning,” you reply. clipped. unreadable. no smile.

you don’t linger. don’t wait for anything in return. you catch him glancing over when you pass, but you don’t look back. just keep walking like you’ve got better things to do than pine for a man who slams doors in your face.

when megumi finds you on the stairs the following weekend and asks if you want to help with another project, you smile softly, press a hand to the top of his head, and say, “not this week, bud. busy.” he frowns a little. you ruffle his hair, and walk away without looking up.

you start going out more. wearing new outfits. dresses you hadn’t felt bold enough to wear before. lip gloss that makes your mouth look mean. you let strangers hold the door for you. let them compliment you. you let them linger.

you laugh too loud outside your apartment one night, on purpose, after coming back from a date with someone who isn’t him. your heels click against the floor. your voice drips with honey. you lean against your door while someone says something into your ear and you throw your head back like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard.

you know he’s listening.

you feel his eyes on you like a bruise forming slow.

and then the shift begins.

it’s subtle, at first.

he starts speaking more.

“mornin’,” he grunts one day, voice thicker now. rougher.

you nod, toss him a quiet “hey.”

“new dress?” he says one night when you pass in the hallway.

you glance down at it, fingers brushing your hip. nod again. “yeah.”

he stares a second too long.

you keep walking.

the next week, he holds the elevator for you. for the very first time.

you step inside without looking at him, lean against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. he stands beside you, silent for a second too long.

“…got plans tonight?” he asks.

you glance at him. his hand’s on the railing. his eyes are on your legs. the heat between you is palpable.

“maybe,” you shrug. “why? you wanna know if i’m free?”

he doesn’t answer. just scoffs and looks away.

but his jaw tightens. you see it.

and you smile to yourself when the elevator dings.

you don’t stop. you don’t wait.

and then— one night. late.

a knock at your door.

you weren’t expecting it. you’re in your tank top and sleep shorts, hair still a little messy, face clean of makeup. for a second you debate not opening it at all.

but then you do.

he’s there.

black t-shirt. low voice. tension rolling off him like heat. his eyes sweep over you once— bare legs, bare face, bare everything— and settle on your mouth.

you open your lips to say something but nothing comes out. for a second, he doesn’t speak. just stares. like he’s trying to remember why this was a bad idea.

“you done with your little game?” he asks finally, voice rough, jaw set.

you blink. tilt your head. heart stuttering.

“why?” you say. “you jealous?”

he exhales slow. like he’s holding something in. then steps forward, just once. close enough that his chest nearly brushes yours. the hallway hums with silence. you can feel it thickening between you—every breath, every second, every inch of space closing.

he looks down at you, jaw clenched. his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them. his gaze drops to your mouth. lingers.

“you think i haven’t thought about fucking you since the first day you moved in?”

jackpot.

you smile. slow and wicked.

“well,” you murmur, stepping back just enough to tug him inside, “what are you waiting for?”

❥ STEP 5.1 — fuck the dilf. repeatedly!! (aka: daddy finally breaks, and so does your spine)

the door isn’t even fully closed before he’s got you pinned against it, one hand slamming it shut behind you while the other grips your jaw hard enough to tilt your head back. his mouth crashes into yours— hot, hungry, furious— like he’s trying to erase every other man who’s ever looked at you, every laugh you gave someone else, every second you weren’t his.

his hands are everywhere. gripping your waist, your throat, your jaw. rough. greedy. like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you through sheer force, like he doesn’t trust himself to stop once he starts. his fingers dig into your skin hard enough to leave marks, dragging you closer, forcing your body flush against his so you can feel him— hard, heavy, pressing insistently between you.

“this what you wanted, sweetheart?” he growls, dragging his mouth down your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver. “walkin’ around like that every damn day- no bra, tiny little shorts, always smilin’ at me like a fuckin’ tease—”

you gasp when he shoves his thigh between yours, grinding hard, forcing your hips to rock against him. your pussy’s already soaked— soaked enough that the friction makes your head spin, a broken little whimper slipping out before you can stop it. he feels it. of course he does.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice dropping lower, eyes darkening as he watches your face fall apart. “already wet. knew it. knew you were walkin’ around like that for me.”

“you shouldn’t be here,” you breathe, even as your hands clutch at his shirt, dragging him closer, nails digging into his back like you’re scared he’ll disappear and you’d rather die than have him pull away now.

“don’t fuckin’ care,” he snarls, cupping your pussy through your panties, pressing just enough to make your knees buckle. his thumb drags over you, feeling how drenched you are through the thin fabric. “been thinkin’ about this cunt for weeks.”

you moan— full body, spine-arching, dignity-leaving moan— as he yanks your panties to the side and sinks two fingers into you without hesitation. nothing stops him. your body takes him easily, molded for him, as though his hands belong there and they’ve always known exactly where to go.

you’re so wet it’s obscene. it squelches. it gives around him immediately, your walls fluttering, clenching like they recognize him, like they’ve been waiting.

“shit,” he hisses, pumping his fingers slow just to feel it, watching the way your face twists. “tight little thing. messy already. all that attitude just ‘cause you needed a cock in you, huh?”

you nod, crying out, grinding against his palm like a bitch in heat, chasing the friction, chasing him, hips moving on instinct, your body no longer yours to command.

he slaps your cunt. hard. you jerk, a broken sob ripping out of you.

“use your words.”

“yes, fuck, yes, i wanted this, wanted you, please- needed you so bad- been thinking about you too—”

“yeah?” he mocks, curling his fingers just right, hitting that spot that makes your vision blur, your knees give out. “needed daddy’s cock that bad? all that work just to get it, huh?”

he pulls his fingers out and licks them clean, making eye contact while his tongue drags over his knuckles— savoring you, devouring every trace with the hunger of a man who’s finally getting what he’s craved.

you feel your face burn. your thighs tremble. your body aches.

“needy lil thing,” he mutters. “so desperate for daddy’s cock you made friends with my kid to get it.”

your mouth drops open.

“fuck,” you whisper, humiliated, horny, heart beating out of your chest. “i-i didn’t—”

“yeah, you did,” he cuts you off, voice low and certain, already tugging his sweats down. “i saw right through you. every little look. everytime you bent over in front of me like you were askin’ for it.”

his cock springs free— massive, thick, veiny, heavy against your stomach, already leaking. it twitches when he drags it through your folds, smearing your wetness all over himself, groaning under his breath at the feeling.

“watchin’ me, droppin shit in the hallway, showin’ up all cute with cookies—” he continues, voice roughening. “all so i’d fuck you like this.”

he grabs your hips. lifts you like it’s easy.

you wrap your legs around him on instinct, clinging, desperate, your ankles locking behind his back.

he slams you against the wall and shoves in deep.

you scream.

it burns for half a second— then it’s just full. overwhelming. he stretches you open, every inch fitting so perfectly it feels intentional, inevitable— your body made to take him, built around the shape of him alone.

“this what you wanted?” he growls, already moving, setting a brutal pace, hips snapping harshly into yours. “wanted daddy to stuff this sloppy little cunt so full you can’t think?”

you’re crying already. sobbing into his shoulder, nails clawing at him, dragging down his back hard enough to leave lines. “yesyes- oh my god- yes please- don’t stop, don’t stop—”

he doesn’t. he can’t.

he fucks you hard. no mercy. no build-up. just punishing, deep, filthy strokes that slam into you over and over, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your body jostling against the wall, the wet sound of it echoing in the room— proof of how wrecked you are for him.

“listen to that,” he grunts, one hand coming down to grab your ass, spreading you open, forcing himself even deeper. “fuckin’ soaked. takin’ me so easy.”

“toji—”

“nah,” he snaps, grabbing your jaw again, forcing you to look at him, eyes blown wide, mouth open, completely ruined. “say it right.”

“daddy—” you choke.

his hips stutter for half a second. then he loses it.

“yeah,” he groans, fucking into you harder, deeper, pace turning reckless. “that’s it. say it again.”

“daddy, fuck, daddy please- please don’t stop—”

“good girl,” he breathes, voice wrecked now, forehead pressing against yours. “knew you’d sound pretty sayin’ it.”

he keeps going until your legs shake so hard you can’t hold yourself up, until your body goes limp in his arms, until you’re nothing but weight and noise and need. then he drags you away from the wall, carries you like you weigh nothing, and drops you onto the couch.

your shirt’s gone in seconds. your tits spill free, bouncing when he grabs them, squeezing hard, biting one, then the other, tongue dragging over the marks he leaves, teeth sinking in just enough to make you cry out.

you whine, arching into him, completely gone, hips lifting even though you can barely move.

“look at you,” he mutters, almost to himself. “fuckin’ ruined already.”

he spits on your chest. spreads it with his thumb. then shoves you back, spreading your legs open, staring at your dripping cunt like it’s dinner, like he could spend hours there.

“not done with you yet,” he mutters.

then he dives in.

he eats you out starving— insatiable, greedy, nothing held back. hasn’t touched anyone in years, and now he’s buried in you, treating your pussy like a lifeline. his tongue moves everywhere— flicking, sucking, pushing deep, groaning into the mess he’s making, matching your desperation, needing this with the same feverish hunger you do.

“taste so fuckin’ good,” he mumbles against you, nose brushing your clit, making you jerk violently. “all for me, huh? all this just for me?”

you’re shaking. crying. your hands in his hair, grinding down onto his face, desperate, greedy, nasty.

“yes- fuck- yes—”

he hums, pleased, and the vibration sends you over immediately.

you cum once. then twice. he doesn’t stop. he eats you through it, moaning into your pussy while you scream and sob and claw at the cushions like a feral bitch, your thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the couch.

“too much, too much—”

“nah,” he mutters, holding you down, hands gripping your thighs so hard they’ll bruise. “you can take it.”

and you do. you take it until your body gives out and you’re nothing but a twitching, whimpering mess under him, tears streaking your face, chest heaving.

when he finally pulls back, his face is soaked. his chin’s messy. his pupils are blown so wide he looks dangerous.

he strokes his cock over your twitching cunt, dragging it through your folds, tapping your clit just to make you jolt, smearing your wetness back over you.

“you want daddy to put a baby in you next?” he growls.

your brain breaks. completely. all you can do is nod frantically, tears still clinging to your lashes as you whimper out a little, “yes please”

toji grins at that. dark, and way too cocky.

“fuckin’ knew it.”

and then he slams back in and fucks you like he means it— like he’s trying to knock you up, ruin you, break you down and rebuild you around his dick. your body takes it, greedily, desperately, your walls clenching around him like you don’t want to let him go, like you want to keep him there.

“gonna fill you up,” he groans, thrusts getting sloppy now, deeper somehow, grinding into you. “gonna keep you full of me.”

you’re sobbing. babbling. “pleasepleaseplease—”

he finishes deep. thick. hot. doesn’t pull out. just buries himself as far as he can go and groans into your neck, hips stuttering while you feel it— feel him— filling you, spilling inside you, too much, too warm, your body fluttering around him.

he stays there. holds you. keeps you plugged with his cock while your body trembles and leaks around him.

you’re drooling. whimpering. completely, utterly spent.

“good girl,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, softer now but still possessive. “took me so well.”

his hand slides down your stomach. presses there. like he’s already imagining it.

“you’re mine now.”

you barely come back to yourself before he’s moving again.

you’re still shaking. still sensitive. your cunt is pulsing, aching and full and leaking around him, your thighs sticky, your body limp and boneless against the couch. every nerve feels raw, like your skin’s been turned inside out.

and he’s still inside you.

still hard.

you let out a weak, broken sound when he shifts his hips, cock dragging inside you— slow, deliberate— he’s reminding you exactly where he is.

“toji—” you whimper, voice wrecked, barely there.

his hand tightens on your hip immediately.

“what’d i tell you?” he mutters, low and sharp.

you choke on a breath. “d-daddy—”

“yeah,” he exhales, satisfied, rolling his hips again, slower this time, savoring it. “that’s better.”

you feel everything now. every inch. every drag. the way he stretches you again even though you’re already so fucked out it hurts. your walls flutter around him uncontrollably, oversensitive, and he groans at it— deep, filthy.

“fuck,” he hisses. “still squeezin’ me like that? after all that?”

“too much,” you whimper, pushing weakly at his chest, even as your hips betray you, rocking up into him. “i can’t—”

“you can,” he cuts you off, already pulling out halfway just to slam back in. you sob.

“you will.”

your body jerks with it, your tits bouncing weakly with each thrust, your hands scrambling for something to hold onto. everything feels too intense— too deep, too full, too good.

“s-sensitive—” you gasp, nails digging into his arms.

“i know,” he mutters, almost mean about it, dragging his cock against that spot again on purpose. “that’s the point.”

you cry out, back arching hard, your whole body trembling as he starts fucking you again— slower than before, but somehow worse. deeper. more intentional. every thrust aimed to make you feel it, to drag it out of you.

“so fucked out already,” he murmurs, grabbing your chin and forcing your head up so you have to meet his eyes. “can’t even think anymore, huh?”

you shake your head, tears slipping down your temples. “no—”

“all that attitude gone,” he continues, voice low, almost mocking, thumb brushing your lip. “all that mouth, and now you’re just- what?”

you swallow, breath hitching. “yours—”

his grip tightens.

“say it again.”

“yours,” you sob, louder this time. “i’m yours—”

“yeah you are,” he groans, pace picking up just a little, just enough to make your head spin again. “fuckin’ made for me, aren’t you? takin’ me like this, still beggin’ for more—”

“i’m not—” you try, voice breaking, but your hips roll into him again, chasing it, proving him right.

he laughs. low. mean.

“yeah,” he breathes. “that’s what i thought.”

his hand slides down between your bodies, fingers finding your clit— already swollen, oversensitive, aching.

you jolt hard.

“nono, please- s’too much—”

he circles it anyway.

slow.

you squeal.

your body spasms instantly, thighs clamping around him, back arching so hard it almost hurts. it hits you out of nowhere— another orgasm ripping through you before you can even process it, your cunt clenching down on him so tight he curses.

“fuuuckk,” he groans, thrust stuttering. “that’s it, there it is—”

you’re sobbing now. full-on crying. your body shaking uncontrollably as he keeps moving, keeps rubbing, using you through it.

“can’t take it- can’t—” you gasp, voice dissolving into broken sounds.

“you are takin’ it,” he says, not slowing down, not stopping, cock dragging in and out of your fluttering, oversensitive cunt while your body keeps spasming around him. “look at you. still squeezin’ me. still want it.”

you don’t even know if that’s true anymore. you just know you can’t stop reacting, can’t stop feeling.

he shifts suddenly— grabs your hips, flips you over like it’s nothing.

you yelp, barely catching yourself before your face hits the couch.

“stay,” he mutters, pressing you down, one hand between your shoulder blades, the other guiding himself back in.

you whine the second he pushes back inside— somehow deeper like this, your body folding around him differently, more exposed, more helpless.

“shit,” he breathes, gripping your hips tight. “yeah. this is better.”

and then he starts again.

hard.

faster this time.

your body jolts forward with every thrust, your cheek pressed into the cushions, your fingers clawing at the fabric as the sounds get louder, wet and messy.

“daddy—!” you cry, voice muffled, broken.

“that’s it,” he groans behind you, hand sliding up your back, gripping your neck— not choking, just holding. controlling. “say it louder.”

he fucks you deeper with every word.

“who’s pussy is this?”

“yours—!” you sob.

“who you doin’ all that shit for, huh?” he snaps, pace turning relentless again. “all that dressin’ up, all that flirtin’—”

“you—! just you—!”

“damn right.”

his hand slides down your back, grabs your ass, spreading you open again so he can watch himself disappear inside you, over and over, your cunt clinging to him like it doesn’t want to let go.

“fuckin’ made a mess of you,” he mutters, almost impressed. “can’t even keep it in.”

you can’t. it’s leaking. every thrust pushes more of him out, slick and messy, your body too full, too used.

you’re gone. completely.

he leans over you, chest pressed to your back, mouth at your ear.

“one more,” he murmurs, voice low, dangerous. “gimme one more.”

you shake your head weakly. “can’t—”

“yes you can.”

his hand finds your clit again.

you break.

your whole body locks up, a scream tearing out of you as another orgasm crashes through, sharper this time, almost painful in how intense it is, your cunt clenching so tight around him it drags him over the edge with you.

“fuck—” he groans, biting into your shoulder as he finishes again, hips stuttering hard against you, spilling deep, grinding into you as he rides it out.

you collapse under him completely.

he stays there for a second. breathing heavy. still inside you. still holding you down.

then, softer this time— just a little—

“told you,” he mutters against your skin. “you could take it.”

you don’t respond. you physically can’t.

you’re just… gone.

and he sounds way too pleased about it.

you wake up sore. sore in ways you didn’t even know were possible. your thighs ache, your hips feel bruised, your legs do not work. your pussy’s twitching— puffy, overstimulated, and leaking. there’s cum literally dripping out of you, sticky between your thighs, cooling against the sheets.

and toji’s still there.

sprawled across your bed like he owns it, like you’re his bed now, arm heavy over your waist, breathing slow against the back of your neck. his chest rises and falls steady, the heat of his body sinking into yours. it’s warm. safe. a little filthy. you can feel his cock pressed to your ass— soft, but still there, like a threat.

you’re not sure if he’s awake. you’re not sure if you’re awake. your whole body feels broken in. chewed up. worshipped. wrecked. you blink blearily at the sunlight slanting through your blinds, brain swimming in the slow syrup of morning-after haze, and shift slightly beneath the weight of him.

he moves with you. groans low, deep in his chest, as though the stretch of his limbs aches. then, voice gravel-thick and sleep-rough:

“fuck. you made me pull a muscle.”

you try to laugh, but it comes out cracked. “good.”

he snorts, lazy and fond, burying his face in your shoulder and muttering, “brat.”

you hum, cheek pressed into the pillow, toes curling under the sheets. you don’t move. don’t want to. his arm tightens around your waist just enough to remind you it’s still there.

you’re quiet for a second. breathing in the moment. then— soft, teasing, and only half joking:

“so… what are we now?”

he goes still. just for a beat. long enough for your stomach to drop a little. you tense, suddenly hyperaware of how real this feels, how easy it would be to ruin it. your heart thumps like you’re asking him to raise a child. (which. maybe you are. unknowingly. oops.)

he exhales.

then, low. rough. certain.

“mine.”

you short-circuit. go quiet.

he doesn’t say it again. doesn’t need to. just grabs your thigh, still sore, and drags you back against his chest like he thinks you might try to leave— even though you physically can’t. you melt into the mattress with a broken little sigh, breath catching when his cock shifts against your ass, not quite hard, but heavy and possessive all the same.

you stay there. warm. stupidly happy. still full of his cum.

his fingers trail over your waist lazily, absent-minded, almost like he’s petting you. like you’re his and this is normal now. you close your eyes, let yourself float in it, wondering how the hell you went from faking ankle injuries to getting bred in your own hallway by the hottest dilf alive.

and when megumi knocks on the door half an hour later and yells, “dad, i’m hungry,”

toji groans like a man betrayed. buries his face in your neck, kisses your skin as if it’s your fault he has responsibilities.

“you’re makin’ breakfast,” he mutters.

you turn your head, blinking at him. “me?!”

“you want me to limp in there with my back blown out?”

“…you blew my back out.”

“exactly,” he grins against your throat. “teamwork.”

you roll your eyes. groan. try to wiggle away, but he doesn’t let you. just holds you tighter and mumbles something about five more minutes before letting you go— barely.

you’re smiling as you get up. your legs are still jelly. your thighs stick when you move. you’re sore and used and leaking, and you’ve never felt so fucking good.

repost from my old blog ! ^_^ (this might be one of the only ones i’m reposting since i liked this one the most lolz)

[sukunastuna]

lovedddd