he would always attack you aggressively when it came to practice, or constantly give you sarcastic comments. always saying something to genuinely ruin your day, constantly shoving you roughly during missions. it was really obvious you two hated each other so badly that you both wished death on each other.
but that never explained how you ended up on his bed naked. moaning his name as he roughly pounded into you.
he had one hand wrapped around your throat as he choked you out, his other hand gripping your hip as he brutally thrusted into you. he growled lowly, gripping your throat tighter as he continued to pound into you, his hips moving faster and faster as he fucked you brutally.
sweat dripped down his forehead and chest as he used you like some toy.
you moan softly. he smirked cruelly as he heard your soft moan, tightening his grip on your throat even more. “louder. let me hear how much you love getting fucked by someone who you hate deeply.” he slammed into you harder, his cock hitting your sweet spot repeatedly as he made you cry out.
“i-i.. hgnhhh!.. zanka—“ you stutter. he laughed, knowing he had full control over your body. he knew he was hitting the right spot inside of you. “yeah? you like getting fucked by me?” he slammed into you again, making you arch your back and grab onto his sheets.
he suddenly pulled out of you, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. he flipped you over onto your stomach and pulled your hips up, entering you from behind roughly. he grabbed your hair and wrapped it around his fist, using it as leverage to fuck you deeper and faster.
your moans filled the room as he used your body for his pleasure, not caring how rough he was being at that moment. “that's it. moan for me, pathetic—“ he bit down on your shoulder, leaving a deep mark as he continued his brutal pace.
“g-gonna.. gonna cum— z-zanka!!” you cried out as your orgasm crashed over you. letting the pleasure hit you hard, you trembled violently, slowly collapsed onto the sheets.
he growled, feeling your pussy clench around him as you came. he fucked you through it, not slowing down until he felt his own release building up. with one final brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you and came hard, filling you with his hot cum.
he collapsed on top of you, still inside you, breathing heavily against your sweaty skin. he stayed like that for a moment before pulling out roughly, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness. he rolled off you, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. the room was silent except for your heavy breathing.
he grabbed a towel and wiped between your legs roughly, cleaning up the mess he made. he tossed the towel aside and pulled you into his arms without thinking, spooning behind you possessively despite his earlier words. his hand rested on your stomach, keeping you close as if he didn't hate you at all.
he tightened his grip around you, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. you could feel his face pressed against the back of your head, his breath warm against your neck. despite the rough sex and harsh words, there was a surprising tenderness in how he held you now.
enemies to lovers! (size kink warning) this one is loooong
Very few things managed to truly burrow under your skin.
A Gryffindor celebrating a win like they’d personally invented victory. Someone leaving their disgusting mess for house-elves to deal with. And, most infuriating of all, Theodore Nott.
He was a constant, walking irritation. The crude, suggestive jokes he lobbed specifically to make your cheeks burn, the dark, rolling timbre of his laugh that reached you no matter how loud the room or how hard you tried to ignore it, and those damn storm-grey eyes that always , always, found you like they were hunting.
Tonight, though, he wasn’t just looking.
He was staring.
You’d pushed far beyond your usual boundaries for this last-minute Ravenclaw party. The black dress you’d chosen clung to every dangerous curve you normally kept hidden beneath tailored robes. Low-cut enough to feel sinful, short enough that every step reminded you how exposed you were. The firewhisky your dance partner kept tipping into your mouth had set your blood alight. Your skin tingling, cheeks flushed, the room pulsing in time with your heartbeat.
You didn’t even know his name properly. Jake? Jacob? Something forgettable. What you did notice was the clean, cedar-and-citrus scent of his cologne, the confident way his hands settled on your waist, the warm drag of his palms as they slid lower, guiding your hips to the heavy bass. For once you let yourself sink into it, let your body roll against his, let your fingers trail up the back of his neck. A small rebellion. A reminder that you didn’t need anyone’s permission to feel good.
But Theodore Nott's stupidly handsome face was ruining it.
He hadn’t moved from his spot against the far wall. His long legs crossed at the ankle, cigarette hanging loosely between two long fingers, smoke curling lazily upward. His eyes were locked on you with an intensity that made your stomach clench. The easy smirk he usually wore was gone. In its place was something darker. Jaw tight, pupils blown, a muscle ticking beneath the sharp line of his cheekbone.
You should have looked away.
Instead you arched your back a little more dramatically, pressed your ass back against your partner’s hips, let your head tip back onto his shoulder so your throat was bared. If Theo wanted to glare, let him choke on the sight.
Theo wished he was choking.
It would be a cleaner explanation for the vise tightening around his throat every time that Hufflepuff prick’s hands wandered a fraction too low, fingers splaying possessively over the curve of your hip like he had any claim to you. Choking would be easier than admitting to Enzo, to Blaise, to fucking anyone that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, of all people. The same sharp-tongued Slytherin who’d spent years trading venom with him like it was fucking foreplay.
He hated almost everything about you.
The way your smart-ass mouth could cut deeper than any hex, quick and precise, always aimed right at his ego. The infuriating kindness you showed everyone else. Your dumb soft smiles for first-years, easy laughs with the girls in the common room, even a patient ear for that whiny Ravenclaw prefect who wouldn’t shut up about N.E.W.T.s. Everyone but him. To Theo, you were ice and barbs, and he reveled in melting that frost just to watch you flush crimson and spit fire back.
He loved to fluster you. Loved the way your eyes would narrow, lips parting in outrage before you snarled something cutting. Loved pushing until your composure cracked and you shoved him against a wall or stormed off with that delicious sway in your hips.
What he did not love—what was currently carving a hole through his chest—was that fucking dress. Black fabric so tight it looked painted on, clinging to every dip and swell like it was daring him to peel it off. The neckline plunged low, silver snake pendant glinting between the soft swell of your breasts with every breath. The hem skimmed scandalously high, flashing perfect thigh with each sway to the music. Why did you even own something so offending? And that Hufflepuff nerd was treating your waist like his personal playground.
Theo’s cigarette burned forgotten between his fingers, ash crumbling to the floor as he watched the boy’s palm slide lower, cupping the underside of your ass for one brazen second. Your head tipped back on a laugh all light and tipsy and fucking irritating. Something in Theo’s gut twisted viciously at just the idea of you leaving with him.
Before the thought could even solidify fully in his mind and before he could talk himself out of it with another drag of smoke or a muttered curse. Theo crushed the cigarette under the heel of his boot, the ember hissing out against the sticky floor like a warning he ignored.
Ruining your little dance was better than letting you slip away into some dimly lit corridor with that spineless Hufflepuff, letting him fumble through disappointing, half-hearted sex that would leave you unsatisfied and scowling tomorrow. Really, if you thought about it, he was doing you a favor. Protecting you from mediocrity.
He cut through the crowd like a shadow given purpose, long strides eating distance until he was right behind your date. You didn’t startle when his presence registered—didn’t flinch at the sudden wall of heat and cedar-and-smoke cologne that enveloped you both. Your partner, though? He stiffened instantly, shoulders hunching as if he’d felt the blade before it even touched skin.
Theo’s eyes were cold steel, lips curved in that dark, amused tilt that promised violence wrapped in velvet. The Hufflepuff spun, took one look at the towering Slytherin looming over him with broad shoulders blocking the light, jaw clenched, grey eyes promising something psychotic. The color drained from his face before you even made eye contact.
“S-sorry, I—uh—getting a drink,” he stammered, tail tucked so fast it was almost comical. Then he was gone, melting into the throng like he’d never existed.
You feigned disappointment beautifully, eyes narrowing into slits as you turned to face the culprit. Chin high, lips pursed in that way that always made Theo want to bite them until they bled. “Do you need something, Nott? Think scaring my date off is going to finally get me to fuck you?”
Theo closed his eyes for one single, measured second, inhaling through his nose, forcing the red haze of rage and raw want back behind his teeth. He wanted to bend you over the nearest table right then, yank that sinful dress up around your waist, and spank your ass raw until it glowed crimson, until tears streaked your cheeks and you sobbed apologies between broken moans. The fantasy alone made his cock throb painfully against the confines of his trousers, thickening further at the memory of how you’d looked strutting past him earlier in this horrible dress.
He didn’t think twice.
One hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your waist and yanking you flush against him hard enough that your breasts crushed to his chest, hips slotting together with brutal precision. His erection dug shamelessly into your lower belly, thick and insistent through the fabric, letting you feel exactly what your little show had done to him.
His breath was hot against the shell of your ear, voice a low growl that vibrated straight down your spine. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
A shiver ripped through you traitorous and immediate. Your thighs pressed together instinctively, slick heat blooming between them at the dark promise in his tone. Your voice came out embarrassingly breathy, cheeks burning despite yourself. “Yeah? Or what?”
Theo’s free hand slid up, cupping the back of your neck, his thumb pressing just under your jaw, tilting your head back so you had no choice but to meet his molten gaze. His lips brushed the corner of your mouth, not quite a kiss, more a threat.
“Or I’ll fuck it,” he whispered, each word deliberate, filthy. “Right here. Shove you to your knees in front of every single person in this room, pull that smart mouth open, and stuff my cock down your throat until you’re choking on me. Until the only thing you can say is my name around my dick.”
Your breath hitched audibly, nipples hardening against the thin fabric of your dress, core clenching around nothing at the vivid image. You hated how wet the threat made you, hated how your body responded to his violence like it was praise.
Theo felt the subtle tremor in your frame, the way your hips shifted forward just enough to grind against the hard length pressing into you. His grip tightened, possessive, bruising.
“You think that little Hufflepuff could ever make you this worked up?” he murmured, lips grazing your pulse point, teeth scraping just enough to sting. “He’d fumble, come too fast, leave you aching and unsatisfied. Me? I’d ruin you. Split you open on my cock until you’re sobbing, begging, coming so hard you forget how to hate me.”
Your hands fisted in his shirt, whether to shove him away or pull him closer, you aren't sure. “You’re delusional.”
“Liar.” His thigh wedged between yours without warning, pressing up against the damp heat soaking through your lace. The friction sent sparks shooting up your spine; a soft, involuntary whimper escaped before you could swallow it.
Theo’s eyes darkened to near-black. “Doesn't feel like I'm delusional sweetheart. Now tell me again how much you hate me while you’re dripping down my thigh.”
You opened your mouth but he swallowed any sound you could make with a bruising kiss. All teeth and fury and years of tension snapping like a curse finally cast. You bit back just as hard, nails raking down his back, tasting smoke and whisky and the sharp edge of everything you’d both pretended not to want.
When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing ragged, foreheads pressed together.
“Upstairs,” he ordered, voice wrecked. “Now. Or I make good on that promise right here.”
You didn’t argue.
You let him haul you through the crowd with his hand possessive on the small of your back, erection still evident, pulse roaring between your legs, knowing the night was about to burn everything you’d built between you to ash.
The door clicked shut with a finality that echoed in the sudden quiet, the muffled bass from the party downstairs now just a distant throb, like a second heartbeat.
Theo didn’t give you time to breathe.
He spun you, shoved your back against the wood so hard the breath punched out of your lungs in a soft gasp. The impact rattled your spine, but the sting was nothing compared to the heat of him crowding in immediately after. His broad chest pinning you, hips grinding forward so you felt every thick, insistent inch of his cock straining against his trousers.
One large hand roamed greedily, shamelessly. Palm sliding up your dress to cup the heavy swell of your breast, thumb dragging rough circles over your nipple until it peaked hard beneath the thin fabric. The other hand yanked his shirt over his head in one impatient motion, muscles flexing and rippling under pale skin dusted with dark hair. He tossed the shirt somewhere behind him without looking, but your mouth runs dry at the sight.
Merlin, he was devastating.
Every line of him carved like he’d been sculpted to ruin you. Sharp collarbones, defined pecs that shifted with each ragged breath, the deep cut of his V disappearing into low-slung trousers, abs tightening as he pressed closer. A faint scar curved along his left ribcage as if proof he wasn’t just pretty but also dangerous made your core clench around nothing.
You hated how perfect he was. Hated how it made the ache between your thighs sharpen into something painful.
No time to dwell on your hatred. Theo’s fingers hook into the fragile lace of your soaked panties that cling obscenely to your folds and shoves them down your thighs in one brutal tug. The fabric caught briefly on the swell of your ass before sliding to pool at your ankles. He stepped back half a pace, just enough to rake his gaze over you like he was memorizing every filthy detail.
Your dress was rucked up around your hips, silk bunched and wrinkled. Thighs slick with your own arousal, glistening in the low lamplight filtering through the cracked window. Hair a wild tangle from his earlier grip, lips swollen and red from biting back moans, cheeks flushed a deep, guilty crimson. Eyes glassy, pupils blown wide with want and fury in equal measure.
He stared like you were art he’d waited years to defile.
A masterpiece, he thought. Every forbidden fantasy he’d buried under layers of spite and cigarettes finally breathing in front of him. Wet. Trembling. His to take.
You reached for the hem of your dress, fingers trembling as you started to drag it over your head, needing to feel skin on skin, needing more.
Theo’s hand snapped around your wrist like iron. Hard and unyielding. He pinned it above your head against the door, the wood cool against your knuckles.
“The dress stays on,” he rasped, voice wrecked, thick with Italian gravel and something darker. His thumb pressed into the racing pulse at your inner wrist, feeling it flutter like a trapped bird. “I’ve spent all night imagining bending you over in this fucking thing. Watching it ride up while I fuck you stupid. You don’t get to take it off until I’ve ruined it.”
Your breath hitched in half protest, half plea. The silk was already clinging damply to your skin where you’d leaked onto it, the fabric suddenly too tight and imposing.
Theo released your wrist only to slide both hands under the hem, palming your bare ass and lifting you effortlessly. Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, heels digging into the small of his back as he ground his clothed cock against your dripping center. The rough drag of his zipper and the hard heat beneath it made you whimper loud, broken, embarrassing.
“Feel that?” he growled against your throat, teeth grazing your pulse. “That’s what you do to me. Every time you open that smart fucking mouth. Every time you glare at me like you want to hex me into next week.” He rocked forward again, deliberate, letting the ridge of him catch against your swollen clit. “And now you’re going to take every inch while this dress is still on you. So when you walk out of here later with your legs shaking and cunt still dripping. You'll feel me with every fucking step and remember exactly who ruined this sinful dress.”
You tried to snap something back, some cutting retort or some kind of denial, but it dissolved into a moan when his fingers found your entrance, two sliding in without preamble. Deep. Rough. Curling immediately against a deep spot that made your vision blur around the edges.
“Fuck—Theo-”
“There it is,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, voice low and filthy. Deep rooted satisfaction bloomed behind his chest, the nickname slipping out so easily when you've refused to use anything but his full name in years. “My name on that pretty mouth. Say it again while I stretch you open. Tell me how much you hate me while your pussy sucks my fingers like it’s starving.”
He pumped harder, scissoring, thumb finding your clit and rubbing merciless circles. Your hips bucked, chasing, thighs trembling around his waist. The door rattled hard with every thrust of his hand and even you, miss perfect, couldn't seem to care about the prospect of anyone hearing you.
“You’re going to come like this first,” he ordered, teeth sinking into the soft skin below your ear hard enough to mark. “Gonna soak my hand, then I’m flipping you around, bending you over and fucking you until you can’t remember why you ever hated me in the first place.”
Your nails scored down his bare back, leaving red trails he’d happily wear like badges tomorrow.
“Promise?” you gasped, pleasure taking over every rationale part of your brain.
Theo’s laugh was dark, dangerous “Trust me, sweetheart,” he breathed, curling his fingers harder, faster, “I promise.”
Your orgasm hit like an explosion. Shattering, violent, thighs locking around him as you pulsed and clenched, slick coating his wrist, dripping down to stain the silk bunched at your hips. You cried out his name unabashed and he swallowed the sound with a bruising kiss, drinking every tremor, every broken whimper.
The tremors still rippled through your thighs in aftershocks that made your knees threaten to buckle when Theo flipped you with brutal economy.
One hand fisted the silk bunched at your waist, the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave fingerprints, and he spun you so your front slammed back against the door. The wood was cool and unyielding against your overheated skin; your cheek pressed flat to it, breasts crushed to the panels, nipples scraping painfully sensitive through the thin fabric with every heaving breath. The latch rattled faintly from the force.
He wished, fiercely and uncharacteristically irrationally, that he’d dragged you all the way down twisting corridors to the Slytherin dungeons. To his own four-poster, heavy drapes drawn, sheets already carrying his scent. Somewhere he could chain this moment, repeat it until sunrise, mark you so thoroughly that even if this was the only night he ever got inside you, you’d wake up tomorrow feeling him in every bruised inch of your body. Just in case you never let him again.
But patience had died somewhere between the wall downstairs and the first landing. This anonymous room above Ravenclaw Tower with it's bare stone, single narrow window letting in pale moonlight and faint smell of dust and old books, would have to be enough. The door would have to be enough.
Your back arched immediately, involuntarily, spine curving like it had been trained to seek him out. Your cunt throbbed in vicious, oversensitive pulses, still swollen, still leaking from your release. Every tiny shift of your hips made the ruined silk drag across your folds, a cruel reminder of how thoroughly he’d already wrecked you.
Theo stepped in close. His bare chest pressed to your back, skin fever-hot, heart slamming against your shoulder blades. One long arm snaked around your front; calloused fingers wrapped around the slim column of your throat, not squeezing just yet. Possessive. Just like all the times he'd thought of this in his head, he almost moaned at just the idea he was choking slytherin's only good girl. His thumb stroked once along the frantic flutter of your pulse while his other hand shoved between your bodies, guiding himself.
He kicked his trousers and boxers aside in one impatient motion. The heavy length of him sprang free thick, flushed dark, veins standing out under pale skin, the blunt head already glistening with pre-cum. It slapped wetly against the curve of your ass before he angled it down.
No warning.
The fat head shoved against your soaked entrance, parting slick folds with inexorable pressure. Your whole body locked up. Muscles seizing, breath snagging sharp in your chest as the sheer size registered all over again. He was impossibly thick, stretching you open inch by burning inch even before he’d pushed inside properly. The stretch was obscene: a deep, aching burn that bordered on too much, the kind that made your eyes water and your thighs tremble harder.
There was no possible way you could take all of him.
No fucking way.
And there was absolutely zero chance in hell you’d ever admit it out loud.
Theo felt it instantly—the sudden, involuntary clench of your walls, the way your whole body locked up the second he tried to push an inch deeper.
He really should have known.
Some smug, rational corner of his mind had always known.
He was big. Thick. Unapologetically so. He’d never had to wonder whether a girl could take him; most of them either begged for it or tapped out early with wide eyes and shaky apologies. But you? Your perfect, dripping cunt had never been properly stretched, never been forced to make room for someone like him. Of course it hadn’t. Look at the boys you let touch you. Look at the soft-handed loser you danced with downstairs, the ones who probably came in their trousers before they even got your dress off. They’d never come close to filling you the way he was about to.
Your body knew it too, even if your mouth would never admit it.
The tension snapped through you like a taut wire, your spine stiffening against his chest, thighs quivering, breath catching in sharp, shallow hitches. Your walls fluttered wildly around the blunt head of him, clenching in reflexive panic, trying to push him out even as your traitorous body betrayed you in the most humiliating way possible. Another hot, slippery rush of slick coating his cock, dripping down the seam of your folds and onto the floorboards beneath you.
He could feel every pulse of resistance, every helpless spasm as your cunt fought to accommodate him.
And fuck if that didn’t make him harder.
Theo’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding for a second as he forced himself to hold still barely an inch deeper than before, letting you feel the impossible stretch, letting you feel exactly how much of him was still waiting. His hand on your throat flexed once, thumb stroking the frantic flutter of your pulse like he was soothing a wild animal.
His grip on your throat tightened just enough. Not cruel, but deliberate. Commanding. The pressure curled your spine further back against his chest, forcing your head to tip, neck arching in a long, vulnerable line so you had no choice but to look at him over your shoulder.
Storm-grey eyes met yours and held. Dark. Molten. Pupils blown so wide the silver was nothing but thin, razor-sharp rings around endless black. He looked wrecked already. Sweat beading at his temples, dark curls clinging damply to his forehead, lips parted on shallow, ragged breaths, and still somehow in complete control. Like he could unravel you with nothing more than that stare.
“Relax,” he rasped, voice pure gravel and smoke, fraying at the edges with the effort it took not to just snap his hips forward and bury himself to the hilt. His lips brushed the shell of your ear soft, almost tender, before his teeth grazed the sensitive skin there. A slow, deliberate scrape that sent fresh heat flooding between your thighs.
“Finally figured out how to get you to shut the fuck up.” The words were low, mocking, laced with dark satisfaction. He rocked forward another torturously shallow inch, barely anything, but enough to make your walls flutter and burn, enough to drag a choked whimper from your throat that you couldn’t swallow back.
“You took my fingers, baby,” he murmured, lips curving against your ear in something too feral to be called a smile. “Two of them. Deep. Stretching you open while you soaked my hand and begged with those pretty little gasps. You can take my cock.”
Another slow, relentless push. The thick ridge of him dragged against every swollen, oversensitive inch inside you. Your cunt spasmed, clenching hard in reflexive protest even as more slick leaked out around him, dripping obscenely down the seam of your folds, coating his balls, trickling warm and sticky onto the floorboards beneath you both.
Theo groaned low, the sound vibrating through his chest and into your back where he pressed against you. His free hand slid down to grip your hip, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, holding you exactly where he wanted you.
“Look at you,” he breathed, voice rough with something dangerously close to awe. “Trying so fucking hard to keep that smart mouth closed now. But your pussy’s telling the truth, isn’t it? Clenching around me like it’s scared I’ll pull out. Dripping like you’ve been waiting as long as I have for this.”
The stretch was vicious. A deep, searing burn that radiated outward from where he was splitting you open, every ridge and vein dragging against your swollen, oversensitive walls like he was carving his claim into you one brutal centimeter at a time. Tears pooled hot and immediate in the corners of your eyes, not from pain alone but from the overwhelming collision of too much and not enough. Your body screaming it couldn’t possibly take more while your cunt clenched greedily around him, betraying every hateful word you’d ever spat in his direction.
He still held your head angled back by the throat, fingers firm around your pulse, forcing you to keep looking at him over your shoulder. No escape. No hiding the way your lips trembled, the way your pupils were blown wide with a mix of fury and want, the way tears clung to your lashes before one finally slipped free and tracked down your cheek.
Your thighs shook violently, muscles quivering so hard they threatened to give out. Your nails scraped uselessly at the wood above your head, leaving faint, desperate gouges in the ancient oak as if you could claw your way out of this moment, out of him. A broken sound tore from your throat before you could clamp your teeth down on it. The satisfied look on his face was enough to piss you off.
“Fuck. You.”
The words came out wrecked, breathy, more plea than insult. Your voice cracked on the last syllable, raw from screaming his name earlier, from biting back every whimper he’d already dragged out of you tonight.
Theo’s thumb stroked once along the frantic hammer of your pulse, the barest whisper of tenderness in the middle of all this violence. His lips curved against the shell of your ear, dark and dangerous.
“Oh trust me,” he rasped, voice low and frayed, thick with the same barely-leashed rage that had simmered between you for years. “I plan to, all night long.”
He punctuated the words with another slow, punishing roll of his hips and burying that last thick inch until he was seated so deep you felt him in your fucking throat. The blunt head kissed your cervix with brutal precision; your whole body locked up in a full shudder, walls spasming wildly around the impossible girth of him. Slick gushed out around where you were joined. Hot, obscene, dripping steadily down your thighs, coating his balls, pooling on the floorboards beneath you both with soft, wet patters that echoed in the quiet room.
You hate him.
Hate how perfectly he fills you.
Hate how your body arches back into him like it had been waiting for this exact moment for years.
Hate the way fresh tears slip free even as your hips tilted higher, silently begging for more.
Theo felt every tremor, every flutter, every helpless clench. His free hand slid from your hip to palm the curve of your ass. Fingers digging in hard enough to leave crescent bruises before he cracked his palm down once, sharp and stinging. The slap rang out; your cunt clamped down so hard around him he groaned low in his throat, hips stuttering for the first time.
“Still hate me?” he growled, lips brushing the tear track on your cheek, tasting salt. “Still want to pretend this isn’t exactly what you’ve been dripping for every time you glared at me across the common room? Every time you shoved past me in the corridor and your breath hitched?”
Another thrust harder this time. The door rattled violently behind you. Your breasts dragged against the wood through the silk, nipples scraping painfully into sensitive peaks that sent sparks straight to your core.
“Say it again,” he demanded, voice fraying into something darker, more desperate. “Tell me to fuck off while your pussy milks me like it’s terrified I’ll stop. Tell me you hate me while you’re crying on my cock.”
Every thrust he gave you made your stomach warm, low molten heat spreading outward like liquid fire, coiling tighter with each brutal snap of his hips. The door at your back rattled in time with the rhythm he set: deep, punishing, unhurried enough to make you feel every single inch dragging out before slamming back in. Your walls fluttered helplessly around him, still hypersensitive from the last orgasm he’d ripped out of you, every ridge and vein stroking places you didn’t even know could ache like this.
His hand on your throat flexed, squeezing just enough to make stars flicker at the edges of your vision while his other palm slid down to grip the front of your hip, holding you hard against him. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed obscenely in the small room, mingling with the slick sounds of your arousal coating him, dripping down your thighs in steady, shameful rivulets.
“You can spit venom at me tomorrow,” he continued, voice fraying at the edges with his own building need. “You can glare across the common room and pretend this never happened. But we both know the truth.”
He pulled back almost all the way leaving you empty, aching, walls fluttering around nothing, then slammed home again, burying himself so deep your toes curled against the floorboards.
“You’ll always want more after tonight.”
The words land like a hex so quiet, certain, devastating. Because he was right. You hated that he was right. Hated how your body arched back into him, hips tilting higher despite yourself, chasing the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming fullness only he's ever given you. Hated how fresh tears slipped down your cheeks even as your cunt spasmed around him again, milking him like it never wanted to let him go.
Theo’s forehead dropped to the curve of your shoulder for a heartbeat, breath hot and ragged against your skin.
“Fuck—Theo—”
“Look at me,” he growled, fingers flexing tighter around your throat enough pressure to make your head spin sweetly, enough to remind you who owned this moment. “Watch my face while I fill this greedy little cunt.”
You obeyed with glassy eyes, lips parted on shallow pants, staring back at him as he sank impossibly deeper.
“So fucking tight,” Theo growled against the shell of your ear, voice raw and frayed, each word punched out in time with the brutal snap of his hips. “You can hate me forever. But I’m the only one who gets to fuck this pussy.”
Your head was spinning with pleasure crashing into the sweet, dizzy pressure around your throat, blurring the line between oxygen deprivation and the white-hot ecstasy building low in your belly. His fingers flexed once, loosening just a fraction, just enough for you to drag in a ragged, desperate breath—before he slammed back into you, hard and deep, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing off the stone walls like a curse being cast over and over.
“Fucking say it,” he snarled, teeth sinking into the soft skin below your ear hard enough to bruise, hard enough to mark. His hand on your throat tightened again, rhythmic, possessive, making stars burst behind your closed lids. “Say who this cunt belongs to now.”
Your voice came out wrecked, high and broken, trembling on the edge of another shattering orgasm.
“You, Theo, please.”
The words slipped out soft, broken, desperate and the second they hit the air, something in Theo snapped.
There was a time, not long ago, when he was certain hell would freeze over before you ever begged him for anything. Before you’d ever let that pretty mouth form his name like a plea instead of a curse. He’d spent years imagining it in the dark corners of his mind. Your voice cracking, your pride crumbling, you finally admitting what he already knew: that beneath all the venom and glares, you wanted him just as badly as he wanted to ruin you.
And now here you were.
Begging.
For him.
Gods, he had a sickening feeling he'd do whatever you asked if you just tacked the word please on the end.
His pace turned feral.
He slammed into you faster, each thrust a punishing claim that rattled the door on its hinges and knocked the breath from your lungs in sharp, staccato gasps. The wet, obscene slap of skin on skin filled the room, louder than the distant party thump, louder than your own heartbeat thundering in your ears. His cock drove deep, relentless, the thick head kissing your cervix with every brutal snap of his hips until stars burst behind your closed lids.
Your eyes rolled back, whites flashing, head thunking against the wood as pleasure overloaded every nerve. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t do anything but feel him: the stretch, the burn, the overwhelming fullness that made your toes curl against the floorboards and your thighs quake uncontrollably.
“Again,” he growled, voice wrecked and commanding, lips pressed to the sweat-slick curve of your neck. His hand on your throat sliding up to fist your hair instead, yanking your head back so he could see your face. “Say it again. Beg me like you fucking mean it.”
“T-Theo—ah!—fuck—please!”
His name fell from your lips like a chant, broken and breathless, each syllable punched out by the next punishing thrust. Tears streamed freely now with pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain, dripping down your cheeks to mix with the sweat and the faint smear of mascara.
“That’s it,” he rasped, teeth grazing your shoulder, biting down just hard enough to leave another blooming mark. “My name. Only my fucking name. No one else gets to hear you like this. No one else gets to feel this perfect little pussy.”
He angled his hips, shifting just enough, and the ridge of him dragged over a swollen, sensitive spot inside you with devastating accuracy. Once. Twice. Relentless.
“Come,” he ordered, voice fraying. “Come on my cock right here, milk me while you scream my name into this fucking door.”
Your whole body seized.
The orgasm built so fast it stole your breath, coiling vicious and tight before exploding outward in a blinding rush. You screamed his name raw, echoing, shattering off stone walls, cunt clamping down so hard around him his rhythm stuttered, hips slamming forward one last time as he groaned low and guttural against your ear.
"Theo- I can't take-"
“You can take it, baby,” he snarled against your neck, teeth sinking into the soft skin just below your ear. “Let the whole tower hear how good you cum when I fuck you stupid against a door. You'll take every fucking drop, gonna fill you up just to watch it drip down these pretty legs while you try to walk back like nothing happened.”
His orgasm stole his breath only seconds later. Hips slamming deep, burying himself to the root as he came with a broken groan. Hot, thick spurts flooded you, spilling out around his cock, dripping down your thighs to join the mess already on the floor.
Theo’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, lips brushing the bite mark he’d left there, soft now, almost reverent.
“Say it one more time,” he murmured, voice hoarse, stripped raw. “Just once more.”
You swallowed, throat dry, voice wrecked, but the words came anyway, quiet and honest in the aftermath.
“Theo… please.”
His low, breathless laugh vibrated against your skin. “Good girl,” he whispered, pressing a slow kiss to the nape of your neck. “That’s my girl.”
He didn’t pull out yet.
He stayed buried deep. Still half-hard inside you, arms banding around your waist to keep you upright as your legs threatened to give out completely.
“We’re not leaving this room until I hear it a hundred more times,” he promised, lips curving against your ear. “And maybe not even then.”
The door stayed locked.
Your dress stayed on ruined, clinging, soaked.
And the line between hate and something far more dangerous had finally, irrevocably blurred.
Newly single, you decide to fly solo to the Maldives, because why not enjoy a non-refundable trip your ex already booked? Unfortunately, as you discovered on board the airplane, he had the same idea.
ao3 ☼ wc: 9,892 ☼ based on this request!
tags: Leon Kennedy/cisfem!reader, any era Leon, smut, angst, hate sex, leon is an eater, dry humping, arguing!!, teasing, dirty talk, one bed trope, creampie, p in v, nipple play (f receiving), semi-public sex (reader gets eaten out in a sauna), mentions of cheating (no one actually cheated tho), reader protests a lot but doesn't mean it
“Group one, welcome aboard.”
You picked up your carry-on and fished your boarding pass from your purse as you shuffled into line, clutching it tightly until you held it over the scanner with a beep. “Enjoy your trip,” the attendant said with a smile. You returned it with a thank-you and trekked through the boarding bridge until you were breathing the sweet, stale air of the cabin, thanking yourself for packing a hoodie as the conditioned air nipped your arms. After all, you didn’t need cold-weather clothes where you were going.
You settled into your window seat and set your bag in the empty one next to you, kicking your feet in the ample leg room. First class seats. Your ex-boyfriend’s job really had really some perks. If only he’d shown you more upsides to being with him while you were together.
You tried not to be sad that the middle seat was occupied by luggage instead of him. You should be nestling in arm-to-arm right now, flipping through travel brochures and deciding what movie to watch on the way, but instead, you were alone.
Hard to complain about a solo trip to the Maldives, though. You’re just glad he couldn’t refund the tickets. You’d get the last laugh, after all.
“Excuse me, miss, you’re in my–”
Your heart stopped beating and dread filled your body as you looked up to find Leon with the same slack-jawed expression. He was thinking the same thought as you: no fucking way.
You could see his eyes turn red and his jaw clench as he threw his duffel bag in the overhead compartment, and then he returned to you, who was still watching in disbelief.
He gestured to your luggage in the seat that was supposed to remain empty. “Can you at least move your shit?”
All you could do was stare and guffaw. He rolled his eyes and grabbed it himself with a heavy pinch of attitude, throwing it alongside his own.
“Hey, be careful with that, my laptop’s in there,” you snapped, his harsh treatment willing you to speak. He ignored you and plopped down to sit.
Both of your eyes were set on the headrest in front of you as the painfully awkward situation set in, but he was too close not to notice every little thing. His hands were clasped together to squeeze his biceps in, very clearly not wanting to brush arms with you. His breathing was heavy and you were sure he was irate. Just the slightest sound of his breath through his nose pissed you off.
Oh my god, I’m gonna be stuck here with him for hours, you realized, and then a whole five days on a remote island.
You hadn’t even left the boarding gate, and your vacation was already ruined. Not only that, but you were caught red-handed trying to go yourself.
“I didn’t think you were going to come,” you squeaked out.
“No shit,” he whispered harshly. “Non-refundable, remember?”
“Yeah.”
It was excruciatingly awkward. Your hopes of dozing off until you landed were dashed by the palpable tension in the pressurized air, and each minute felt like an hour. He radiated so much anger and annoyance that you were surprised it didn’t set off the smoke detectors. You felt bad for the other first class passengers, because surely you were shattering the feeling of luxury for the whole section.
You tried to think of a way out of it, but then you lifted off and the wheels retracted, and you were totally and completely stuck. You cursed the Wright brothers for inventing what was now your cruel enclosure.
You rested your head against the window, looking out at the clouds below and succumbing to your fate. Five days with him, and then a flight home, too. It was supposed to be your anniversary. He’d booked a romantic cabin. You didn’t know if you’d survive.
When you landed, he didn’t even take your bags down for you. He slung his over his shoulder and walked away. You stared daggers at his back as you yanked yours down.
There was no reason not to be beside him, although you kept a minimum buffer of six feet between as you waited for your checked bags and the shuttle to the resort. It should’ve looked beautiful as you approached, the sun setting on the horizon and the palm trees in the wind, but it looked more like a prison. And then, you got to your cabin.
One bed, of course. This was a couple’s cabin after all.
“Looks like you’re taking the couch,” Leon taunted and entered the room. You left your things by the door and quickly tailed him to argue.
“Absolutely not, are you kidding me?”
“Who paid for this again?” he retorted with raised eyebrows and a tilt of his head.
Your face was scrunching and burning with anger. Every ounce of chivalry he showed when you were together was clearly dead and gone. You couldn’t argue with his point, though.
“You’re a real asshole, Leon. You were planning on soaking this trip up on your own, same as me.”
“Now neither of us can, since you decided to take advantage of it.”
“Oh, take advantage? Like you took advantage of your missions to oggle at other girls?”
That shut him up. It was the reason you broke up. It cut through the tension and hung in the air like Damocles’ sword. He grumbled and picked his bag up again, leaving the room in a storm, not missing the chance to bump roughly against your shoulder on the way out.
“Fine. You take it tonight, and then we’ll switch. Fair?”
“Fine.” You smirked with satisfaction as you moved into the room. We’ll see about that.
You closed the door and collapsed into the plush king-sized bed, letting yourself sink inside the fluffy comforters. You got up to unpack into the dresser, moving in with no intention of trading with him tomorrow, sighing as dusk took over the view outside the window. It really was beautiful here.
You made a decision: you were here, and the only thing that wasn’t perfect was your company. You’d do your absolute best to enjoy this trip in spite of him. Might even feel good to have him watch you being perfectly happy and blissful without him.
You itched to wash the airplane germs off of your skin. That’s when you realized the first obstacle to your relaxation: you’d marked the bedroom as your territory, making the rest of the place effectively his. You flinched as you turned the doorknob and put on a smug expression as soon as you opened it.
“I’m showering,” you announced as you beelined for the bathroom, not stopping to hear any response or even look at where he was.
Your second mistake was not bringing your nightclothes along with you, which you only realized when you turned the water off. You pulled the towel tightly around you and did your best to hold your head high as you beelined back to the bedroom. You groaned after closing the door behind you. Relaxing was gonna be harder than you thought.
Even more so when you got ready the next morning and remembered you’d exclusively packed your hottest, most flattering, boner-inducing bikinis in the hopes of having a steamy vacation rendezvous with a well-off stranger that’d make even the best romance authors bow before you. Maybe you still could, but Leon would be the primary individual who saw you wearing them. But you certainly weren’t bringing any bachelors back to your place. Leon’s bad attitude in the living room would scare them off if you even found the balls to try.
Whatever. This was your vacation, not his. Might feel good to know he sees all the heads you turn. Rub it in his face that you’re available to every man but him.
You wrap a skirt around you— not that it covers much, it’s more of an accessory— and leave your room.
Breakfast is on the stove, and Leon isn’t around. You shrug and grab a plate, filling it with room temperature eggs as you wait for bread to crisp in the toaster.
You lean back on the counter and take in the place you’re staying at. Tall windows with plenty of natural light shining onto the luxurious furniture and reflecting off the glass frames that house tasteful artwork on the walls. A fully stocked kitchen and hardwood floors that are begging to be covered in sand as evidence of your enjoyment. Everything so clean it practically sparkles. It’s not huge, but it’s nice. Really, really nice.
It would’ve been so much nicer if you were here for the intended purpose, if you weren’t newly single, if your ex wasn’t lurking around and was wrapping his arms around you instead, before your breakup transformed him into a raging dick.
The toaster pops and you take your plate to the table. You look at the sofa in the living room and see the tousled throw pillows and the lingering shape of his body still inlayed in the upholstery.
You look up at the sound of him entering from the bathroom wearing nothing but swim shorts. You quickly mind your business and look down to your next bite of food. You know what his body looks like, you don’t need to stare. You definitely don’t want a reason to add his rippling pecs and washboard abs to the things you should’ve been enjoying here.
Leon gazes at the stove as he passes through the kitchen on his way to his makeshift bed. “I see you helped yourself.”
“Yup. Went cold, though.” A hidden double meaning.
He raised a brow as he sat down on the couch, picking up the pamphlet on the coffee table. “You’re welcome for making enough for you.”
You sighed and leaned back in the dining chair as you swallowed. “I think we’d both appreciate not spending the week fighting. Can you do that?”
“Easy, we’re sure off to a great start.” Dripping with sarcasm.
He was really getting under your skin now. You rubbed your palms into your eyes and picked up your empty plate to throw it in the kitchen before grabbing your totebag of beachside essentials.
“Whatever, Leon. I’m going to enjoy myself regardless. See you around.”
He was very much distracted by your ass moving under your very small bikini as you walked out the door. He blinked to snap back to reality.
“Don’t charge your drinks to the room,” he called after you. You were far enough away that you could pretend not to hear. A drink was a great idea. Who cares that it’s still morning? You’re on vacation.
You really did enjoy yourself. You spent a good while walking around and exploring the resort, and you had absolutely zero complaints. The ocean glittered all around you, an inviting clear blue, you even saw some cute little fishes swimming under the piered walkway. You took a menu from the day spa and decided you’d absolutely book the sauna at some point. The main bar was empty of people, but you couldn’t wait to see it at night. It was kinda fun to roam around and pretend you could afford to be here on your own.
You’d killed an hour and a half and decided to head for the beach. The sun was rising towards noon and was starting to draw sweat from your skin, which made a cocktail sound better than ever. You hummed as your toes met the cool white sand and sauntered over to the beachside bar, all smiles as you relaxed onto the stool and ordered whatever sounded the most refreshing. The tender stopped you before you left with it to ask if you reserved a beach chair.
“Oh, I didn’t know they had to be reserved.”
“They’re all booked up for today. What’s your room number? I can double check if you have one?”
“Sure, thank you.” You sipped through the straw as they clicked on a tablet, until they shared the good news. It’d been reserved in advance as part of the package. “Amazing, thank you!”
You giddy stride as your day got off to a good start was cut short as you approached the chairs. It was just like the airplane, but now Leon had beaten you there. You had half a mind to turn heel until you remembered your goal not to let him rain on your sunny day.
You sat down with a huff, ignoring the way he looked over from under his sunglasses. You pulled out your book and settled in, cocktail still in hand, nestled under the shade of the wide umbrella above.
“Enjoying yourself?”
“Yeah, I am,” he replied.
You wanted to keep it civil, and the tense small talk was a start, but you just couldn’t bite your tongue, could you?
“I figured, plenty of girls in bikinis to keep you entertained.”
He looked up as he started ranting, waving his hands towards the sky like he was talking to god and not you sitting next to him. You closed the book you hadn’t even began as you watched him.
“I told you it wasn’t like that, jesus christ. I didn’t lie to you, I didn’t cheat on you, I don’t know how you expect me to prove a negative.”
You nodded slowly. “Sure fooled me. Guess you’re not even sorry anymore.”
He sighed and covered his hands with his face. He wasn’t lying, but explaining himself was just as impossible now as it’d been in the days-long argument before he threw in the towel, which in your eyes just confirmed that he’d exchanged you for another and used the argument as an excuse to drop the burden of being taken. He regretted the decision after, knowing it was driven by emotional impulse in the heat of an argument, and was ultimately the cowardly way out. The way you accepted it and left in a string of insults solidified it as a lasting choice. It made you certain that he’d actually done something wrong, and that frustrated him worst of all, especially as it was thrown back in his face.
But what was he to do? Try to get you back? He was the one who broke up with you, and the door back in was barricaded shut.
When you stood up and took off your skirt before announcing you’d go for a swim, unwrapping your body so close to him that he could smack your ass if he wanted, he decided he had to try. God bless polarized shades for assuring him you wouldn’t be able to see him watch you strut all the way into the water if you’d looked back.
He grumbled as you plunged below the surface, wetting your hair and reemerging like a siren. He reclined back and closed his eyes, pulling his knees up a bit to hide the tent that was forming in his shorts.
When you got out of the water, his chair was empty, and it remained so for the rest of the many hours you spent cozied up with your book and the melting ice in your cocktail. It was hard to focus on reading, though, as your thoughts always went back to the words he’d said.
There was still a part of you that ached to believe him, that wished it never happened and you could pick back up where you were. But he was the one who broke up with you. He didn’t want you. It wouldn’t be any closure to believe him because then you’d have to mourn a relationship that ended over nothing.
The sun on the outside and the alcohol on the inside pulled you into drowsiness, and the breeze lulled you to sleep.
You woke up with a start and rummaged through your tote bag for your phone. It was four in the afternoon. You’d totally slept through lunch, and now you were starving.
You rubbed the sleep off your face and decided to take another dip, letting the water wake you up, giving you enough energy to walk back to your abode. You thought Leon might be out until you saw the back patio doors were left open and you poked your head through to see him sitting on the edge, kicking his feet in the water as he looked out in the distance.
He hadn’t noticed you were there yet, and you couldn’t help but watch him. God, his back muscles were so hot. You walked back in to avert yourself.
“I’m back,” you called from the living room. He turned his head to see you. You sat on the carpet and stretched a little bit, enjoying the fresh air pooling inside.
“Hey,” he said, and gazed back ahead.
You furrowed your brow. He sounded kinda sad. Dejected maybe? Gloomy. It made you feel bad, because if he was, you definitely caused it. You just couldn’t help yourself. You paused and pursed your lips.
“I’m sorry for–”
“Don’t,” he interrupted. “It’s fine. I’m an asshole, I know.”
You inhaled to say something sharp, but he cut you off again. “No, I mean it. I’m not just saying it ‘cause that’s how you see me.”
You rocked on the ground, a puzzled expression on your face. It was the closest thing to an apology that you’d gotten so far, and remorse was the last thing you expected to come back here and find. You thought he had more to say, but he must have decided against it, because he stood and walked past you to the bathroom, leaving you alone and kinda confused.
Whatever. You didn’t have to help him with his emotions anymore. He’d relieved you of the job. You leaned forward and grabbed the pamphlet from the coffee table, looking for your restaurant options.
You felt a little weird as you sat alone at your table for two. You’d idly scanned around for wealthy benefactors, but they all had a well-dressed lady on their arm or a gold band on their finger. And none looked anywhere near as good as the man who was back in your room.
You rested your chin in your hand as you stared out at the amber sunset on the ebbing expanse of the ocean. The candle on your table flickered and birds chirped as they flew towards their nests for the night. Your food arrived and you dug in, then left cash on the table so you didn’t spend more time waiting around in silence.
You returned to find Leon kicked back on your bed, scrolling on his phone with his legs crossed. There goes your calm mood.
“Oh, hey. Food any good?”
“Are you seriously gonna make me sleep on the couch?”
He shrugged and didn’t look up. “You agreed. I swapped the blankets for you.”
“Unbelievable,” you muttered as you swiped up your necessities from the dresser and the bedside.
“If you really want to sleep here, we can share.”
“You wish, asshole.”
You closed the door behind you and fell into the couch. It felt like concrete compared to the bed.
The next morning, you woke up to the sound of clinking dishes and pressed the pillow over your ears with a groan.
“Morning sunshine,” you heard him mock through the pillow feathers. That was enough to ensure you woke up on the wrong side of the sofa.
It was all grumbles and slammed doors as you got yourself ready. You dragged your blanket back to the bed and returned his to the couch dramatically. And then, the daunting task of getting dressed.
Your hands hovered over a cherry red bikini with a smirk. That was one way to get under his skin.
You sauntered out of the room like you were unaffected by the sour start to the day. Sure, you could’ve put clothes on over your bikini for now, but where was the fun in that?
Leon, however, was made of glass. It was all too obvious the way his neck craned as he watched and his mouth ever-so-slightly parted.
You grabbed the sunscreen from the entryway and stepped onto the back patio, keeping the doors open as you covered your body in the sheer, glossy mist. You took your sweet time rubbing it in, literally and definitely figuratively. It was important to get in every nook and cranny, wasn’t it? You made sure you didn’t miss a spot, gliding your fingers an inch under the fabric in case it moved around.
You suddenly looked back up to catch Leon staring. He was caught red-handed and stuttered in a thin attempt to act like he wasn’t looking. You shook the canister in your hand.
“You need some?”
“Um, uh, yeah.”
He walked over to you all too quickly, acting like a desperate schoolboy. You smirked as he stood in front of you with visible nervousness, waiting.
“Here ya go.”
You shoved the sunscreen into his chest and walked away, leaving him there to die.
As you pulled orange juice from the fridge, you heard him scoff, and then the quiet sound of the spray. You didn’t watch. No way you’d make the same mistake he just did.
He set it firmly down on the kitchen counter as you sipped from your glass.
“That was cruel.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You flashed a smile so sweet it could’ve rot his teeth. He shook his head and gathered his things from the entryway. Sunglasses, sandals, other things in already in his tote (one you definitely bought for him).
“I’m hitting the beach. You coming?”
You grabbed the sunscreen and followed. “Sure.”
The tension was better now that you felt like you had the upper hand. You were actually able to read your book as the waves and bristling palm fronds sang a sweet white noise around you. Leon reclined his seat back to lay down, hands resting behind his head as he soaked up the shade, his earphones acting as a room divider between you. It really wasn’t half bad.
Before long it was time for lunch. You decided to avoid another unplanned nap and led the way back, being certain to put your hips into your walk as he followed slowly behind. The minute the door closed behind you, the easy vibes were over.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“Is it working?”
But instead of Leon walking away in a huff of frustration or returning a sarcastic jab, something in his gaze darkened in a way that made you feel almost scared. He took measured steps towards you until he was close enough that you stepped back to keep the distance, like he was closing in on his prey.
“You’ve been nothing but a bitch to me this whole trip, acting like you hate me,” he said, voice low and husky, looking at you from under his brow.
“I do hate you.”
You wished it sounded more confident as you tried to match his serious expression. The back of your thighs hit the sofa’s armrest and you gripped it to keep balance, trying to appear as if you were half-sitting on it casually, as if you weren’t just there because he’d cornered you.
“Then why are you acting like you want something?”
You inhaled sharply as he leaned over you, his hands on either side of the armrest, caging you in, so close you had to lean back.
Shit, maybe you’d gone too far. You looked back and forth between his eyes as you tried to get a grip on the situation and where it was going. You should’ve thought your teasing through.
He cocked his head mockingly. “Where’s all that venom now, babe?” He raised an index finger to curl under the string of your bikini that rested between your breasts, pulling it away from your skin and letting it go with a snap that stole your breath. “Y’don’t seem to be talking back now, huh?”
The air went thick as you held his eye contact. A smirk bloomed on his face. And then you were flying backwards onto the couch, and he crawled right over with you.
He was fervent and hungry, devouring your lips with wet, open mouthed kisses that were all tongue and spit. If you had ownership over your mouth you would’ve gasped, but you were struggling for air. You held onto his arms and felt the warm, stiff muscles of his biceps flexing in your grip, making you squeeze them tighter without even meaning to.
You also didn’t mean to arch your back, sending your hips curling against his hard dick in his boxers. You took in the much-needed oxygen as he unlatched from your lips, instead nipping and sucking the skin under your jaw, making him chuckle before he pressed his body closer into you, grinding against your bikini-clad center.
“Your mouth is much better used for this than all that smart talk,” he said as he put two fingers into your open mouth. You knit your brows as your tongue instinctively met the salty pads of his fingertips, and he pushed them further in response. The meat of his palm lightly pushed up from under your chin as he made a blunt command. “Suck.”
You held back from moaning around his digits as he grinded into you with more precision, feeling the wetness begin to seep out under the friction of your bikini as he rubbed himself against your clothed clit. Your head was spinning and you were lost in a daze as he slowly drew his fingers in and out of the vacuum of your mouth. Your eyes flitted open as he rolled his hips with intoxicatingly slow intention, and you found him staring down at you with cruel amusement.
You turned your head and all but spat his fingers out, pushing your hands against his pecs to get him off, but you didn’t try all that hard, really. You looked away from him in embarrassment.
“Get off of me, Leon.”
He pressed his cock against you firmly, keeping it there, ceasing his movements. Your body betrayed you as your hips twitched in search of movement.
“You sure that’s what you want?” He pressed in a little further and you swore you felt him throb against you. Or maybe it was your own sex that was throbbing. You weren’t gonna think about it enough to find out. You couldn’t think about anything when he leaned in and toyed with the hem of your top and took your legs tensing around him as permission to pull it down and latch onto your nipple.
“Oh,” you moaned in surprise at the sensation. It felt like ages since you’d been touched like this, or at all. His tongue slipped around your nipple in crude, soft circles. When he sucked it up into his mouth, he moaned around it, and the vibration sent an electric currents straight to your pulsing cunt. When he pulled off with a wet pop and started flicking up and down over it, you had to put all your effort into not writhing needily under him.
“Could do this somewhere else on you,” he mumbled before sucking and twirling his tongue again.
You felt like you were losing your mind. You needed to get a grip before you completely lost sight of your resolve. This was already miles beyond a bad idea; letting him go further would be insane. You really didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, even as his hand brushed your stomach and traveled downward towards your navel. Especially then.
You pushed against his chest with a lot more purpose. “I said get off of me.”
He did, leaning back on his haunches, one knee in between your legs and another on the ground, arms up in a mock surrender.
“Whatever you say, babe.”
You scrambled to rise, yanking your bikini back in place and running your fingers sharply through your hair before you hightailed it towards the bedroom, face red and still out of breath.
“You’re a fucking pervert, Leon. Stay the hell away from me.” You knew he was smiling as you slammed the door behind you.
You felt gross. You could still feel his saliva coating your hard nipple under your top, could still feel his body heat on you. Worse, you were so turned on you felt dizzy. You changed out of your bikini to get the evidence off of you. You paused in horror as your bottoms were mid-thigh, heart hammering as you saw the thick, creamy evidence of your arousal. You bunched them up and threw them in the corner to get them as far away from you as possible, as if that’d separate you from the feelings in your body.
You shouldn’t have let him get that far, not even close to it. And you’d let him get so close to giving you more. Thank god you stopped him so he wouldn’t discover how wet a little dry humping had made you.
You threw on a fresh pair of underwear, the least sexy ones you’d packed, and pulled on a t-shirt and shorts. You threw your hair up in a clip and stormed out, kicking your sandals on while you were halfway out the door.
“Where ya going?”
“Out,” you barked as you fumbled to step into your stupid non-cooperative shoes.
“Where to?”
“Away from you,” you turned to nearly shout as you finally got them on, and then you were off, hands in fists at your side as you walked towards you-didn’t-know-where.
You walked past the guest services building and past the bars and restaurants. You thought about stopping for food, but you’d lost your appetite now, and you didn’t want to sit out in the open where he might find you. A sign pointed towards a different shore than you’d been going to, so you followed it. A five-minute walk and your sandals met sand, and you just kept walking, putting as much distance between you and Leon as possible.
The effort of walking through soft sand in the beating afternoon sunshine forced you to finally slow down. The rigidity of your body from your wired nervous system was replaced by the soreness of your calves and the sweat you wiped from your forehead, forcing you to relax to conserve your energy, or at least focus on your body and not your racing thoughts. You should’ve brought the sunscreen, and you stepped under the shade of the palms that line the far side of the shore. Eventually, you reached the end of the beach where it curved into a small peninsula and sat down under a tree.
You were physically more relaxed, but as you gazed out at the water, your head was filled with the angry white noise of cement crushers and destructive heavy machinery loudly whirring and clanking. Your mind was a demolition zone as you grappled with frustration and confusion and the stupid, undeniable want that still throbbed between your legs.
You wished you brought your phone, but you’d left it in your beach bag. You could really benefit from phoning a friend right now. But what did you hope to hear? That you should kick him out somehow, or you should give him another shot, even if it’s just for hot vacation sex? You wished you could do both, and it made you want to rip your hair out.
You stayed there for a long while, until you calmed down enough to enjoy the scenery again, and decided it was best to avoid him altogether. Then you’d have less opportunities to speak and wouldn’t risk seeing the results of your provocations again, and you wouldn’t have to worry about anything happening or not.
When you got back, he made that hard. He had takeout sitting on the counter next to an unopened bottle of wine. The very kind you liked.
“What is this, an apology?” you muttered to yourself as you inspected the label. You grabbed a fork and a glass, took it all to your room, and ate cross-legged on the bed with your laptop open playing your comfort show. You were glad for the large windows, because even holed up inside, you didn’t miss out on the tropic amber sunset.
The wine didn’t help your thoughts, though. You were a touch dehydrated from your long walk, and one glass hit harder than it should’ve. You set the container of food down on the bedside table and curled into the sheets, arms wrapped around yourself. You weren’t trying to sleep, just waiting to be less tipsy.
Unfortunately, the sheets now smelled of him. Faint enough not to be overpowering, apparent enough to be constant. Pine and balmy musk, with a small hint of sharp spice. Distinctive and comfortingly familiar. The scent you used to savor on all his stolen hoodies, and steal the shampoo in his shower to take a part of him home in your hair.
The image of what happened earlier that day flashed behind your eyelids. You groaned in ire and pressed your thighs together. You flicked off the lamp, kicked your shorts to the floor, and ignored it until you slept.
You woke up. Day three. Two more days and you’d be on a flight home and could forget this ever happened.
But now your problems had doubled. Leon made himself impossible to escape. He stood in your way intentionally, forcing you to stand way closer to him than you wanted to before he moved, acting like he just wasn’t paying attention. He beat you to lunch plans, ordering food to the room, but of course he didn’t tell you that until you were just about to get ready to find a meal on your own, so you were stuck waiting in the room with him because for half an hour it’d be there “any minute”. And the bastard booked you both the sauna that night. Son of a bitch found the spa menu you took and knew you well enough to guess what you most wanted.
“I’ll pass.”
“Oh come on, I already paid for you. You didn’t pass up wasting my money to go on this trip, don’t start wasting it now.”
“Eat a dick,” you replied, but you were already moving to get changed.
The sauna was woefully small. You sat across from him but had to keep your legs in so they wouldn’t touch his. You had a full view of his cut figure as he rested his arms across the top of the seat and his jawline as it tipped back in relaxation. You closed your eyes and breathed in the steam as it filled the bamboo room, trying to relax and not regret agreeing to be here. But your worst mistake this trip, and maybe your entire life, was picking a brand new white bikini to wear.
“You really aren’t subtle,” he said, making your eyes slowly open in question.
“Excuse me?”
“I thought the red bikini was hot, but this one takes the cake.”
You followed his eyes to look down at yourself.
Oh no. No, no, no, this can’t be happening to me right now, you thought as you saw the dampened fabric that was once opaque cling like a second skin, clearly showing the outline and hue of your nipples on the top, and creasing along your folds on the bottom. Your knees banged together as you closed them and you crossed your arms against your chest, embarrassed beyond saving. He giggled as he watched, like it was the cutest joke he’d ever heard.
“How long were you staring before you told me?!” You cursed yourself for shopping online and not reading the reviews.
Leon shrugged. “C’mon, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I saw them just yesterday.”
You reached out a foot to kick him as your face grew hot. He’d seen your body in grotesque displays of nakedness, yeah, but you hadn’t planned on this. In fact, you were planning on never showing your naked body to him ever again.
With sympathy, he looked around at the sauna and listened for anyone outside.
“There’s no cameras in here, you’re fine. I’m right by the door, I won’t let anyone come in.”
You relaxed just a touch, but not enough to expose yourself. He scoffed disbelievingly at your shyness.
“Would it make you feel better if I took my shorts off? Then you’d be the most modest one in–”
“Shut up.”
“It’s a sauna, you’re allowed to be naked.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you,” you sneered.
He looked you up and down and you noticed he definitely had a bulge growing. “So what if I did?”
“‘So what?’ ‘So,’ you broke up with me, Leon. ‘So,’ you don’t get to paw at me like a horny teenage boy anymore.”
“You sure liked it yesterday.”
You turned in an attempt to face away from the truth in his statement, which only egged him on.
“My offer still stands.”
“What offer?”
“To do the thing you like with my tongue somewhere better than your tits.”
He leaned forward and the humidity billowed around him like smoke. From the corner of your eye you could see the moisture sticking to him, dampening his hair into a darker shade of brown, every crevice of muscle shining like he was oil slick in the low light.
You breathed out your thoughts. “You are so vulgar.”
You inhaled shakily as he sank down to his knees. “You didn’t say no.”
“I’m not gonna fuck you, Leon, and definitely not here,” you pleaded. But it fell on deaf ears as his big hands took hold of your knees and slowly pulled them apart. His eyes were blown as he looked up at you between kisses up your inner thighs.
“You don’t gotta fuck me,” he cooed between each soft peck, “just let me eat you out. Don’t gotta return the favor.”
He bit softly at the crease at the fork of your thigh and your cunt, making you gasp and twitch towards him, your legs spreading on their own and giving him just enough room to thumb under the hem.
“Hey,” he said lowly, interrupting your focus on squeezing your eyes shut. He looked up at you through the mist, his face inches away from you. “Lift your hips for me.”
You uncovered your chest and lifted yourself up, turning a blind eye to the way he hummed at the sight of your breasts before pulling your bottoms down to dangle around one ankle. You sat yourself back down closer to the edge so he could access you, and leaned back to accept your decision. He was already spreading you apart in his hands like he was marvelling at the sight.
There was no use in protesting now. You’d given in to him. The promise of an orgasm was too enticing to resist, because you knew how skillfully he’d get you there.
He slowly dragged his velvety tongue up your folds, letting it flatten on your clit before he flicked it back into his mouth with a bite of his lower lip and a furrow in his brow, like he just got a taste of the finest thing on earth and he was ready to dig in. Then he did it again, saliva pooling in his wake, adding to the sap that was escaping from your entrance.
It was getting hard to breathe through the steam, and you felt hot and dizzy all over. Each time he passed over your clit, your thigh twitched in his hands and left you desperate for more as he started all over again, excruciatingly slow.
“Stop teasing.”
“M’not,” he licked again, “just enjoying myself.”
“Thought this was for me, not you.”
“Hmm-mm,” he hummed the negative into you, “just said you didn’t have to get me off. Can get myself off just from this.”
Your jaw went slack at the sight of him pushing down his swim trunks to pull his cock free. He was already rock hard and leaking just from this. He pumped himself slowly, hands twisting to gather the leaking pre-cum at the tip, and rubbing it all the way back down.
He could be such a perv sometimes, needing it everywhere and anywhere. You wished it wasn’t so hot of him so you could close your eyes and imagine it was anyone else, but he looked way too good not to watch.
You arched your back, pushing your hips into his puffy mouth. He moaned just from that, gruff and unashamed of what he was doing and where. His arm flexed as he stroked himself faster as he pushed his face into your cunt, his tongue burying itself and fucking into you crudely. He shook his head from side to side and his nose rubbing against your clit made you moan a little louder than you should’ve.
He planted a kiss onto the sensitive bud. “Maybe I should stop, ‘know you can’t be quiet to save your life.”
You grabbed his hair and pulled those smiling lips back in. “I can be quiet, ahhh… you just, make it hard.”
“Oh yeah?”
He and his goddamn tactical precision, tongue finding your clit like a heat seaking missle. He caught your eye contact as he moved it back and forth until you were ready to combust.
Your breath hitched and you whispered a string of swears as he returned with purpose. “Leon, fuck… gonna make me cum, please.”
He went even faster, head all but thrashing to add to his speed. He pushed a finger inside with no precursor or warning. He curled it against your walls and that was all it took for stars to explode in your vision.
You whined and ground into his face as you came, nerves sparking and sizzling with electricity as your muscles seized and jittered towards his thirsty mouth that slurped every drop with wet and embarrassing sounds. He never showed any mercy when you came; his eagerness to taste you only ever drove him to a faster, deliciously sloppy speed, regardless of how it sent you reeling towards overstimulation.
Your thighs clamped down around his face and you tried to push him away by the forehead, but by the looks of his heaving back and arm pumping at breakneck speed, it wouldn’t be over until he was done.
But then he suddenly stopped, grunting and shaking as he lay his head on your thigh and squeezed the base of his cock. “I can’t cum here...” Clearly he was overheating, too. “Let me give you another, baby.”
“M’not your baby,” you huffed.
You winced as he stuck his tongue out to lick your sensitive folds once more. “I could cum here.”
The idea stole your breath away. Getting eaten out in a sauna was one thing (and was already pushing it, frankly), so there was no way in hell you’d let him creampie you here.
“That’s such a bad idea, Leon. It’d still be way too messy.”
He kissed up your body– taking special pause over your boobs, of course– until he was sucking at your neck. Slowly, his hand moved up and down his shaft again, the tip pressed into your inner thigh, which you had full view of as a bead of precum leaked out and smeared against the point of contact.
He spoke directly into your ear. “Could just eat you out again to clean it up. I’ll make it real good for you, promise. Just the tip?”
You held onto his shoulders as you quivered, and you looked down to see him not-so-subtly inching his dick closer to your entrance. Right now, you wanted it, you really did. To feel his girth fill you up, his length hammer against your g-spot, watch him fuck into you like he didn’t care who saw.
“J-just the tip. Only the tip.” He lined himself up, both of you looking down to see his head slip up and down your sopping hole. “Promise me.” He didn’t respond as he pressed it inside. “Leon, I’m so serious, don’t ahh, go any further, and don’t you dare cum in me.”
It drove you crazy the way he whined in a pitch too high to believe that he produced it. And that was his only reply.
He shallowly fucked you, holding your legs up around his waist as it glided in and out. You were surely leaving fingernail marks on his shoulders with how you held onto him, but it was the only way you could keep yourself from obeying your desperate pussy that fluttered in its desire to draw him further in.
“Feel so good, sweetheart. So fucking tight for me.” His tip was fully disappearing inside of you now, and maybe a centimeter more. “You fuck anyone since we broke up? Or you kept it just for me?”
You trembled as you watched him test his limits, seeing just how much more he could add before you stopped him, whispering such filthy things in the hope of obliterating your composure.
And the truth of it was that you hadn’t slept with anyone new. Leon was pretty blessed down there, and you highly doubted you’d win the luck of a draw if you had a one-night stand. It was an objective reality, not a matter of yearning, that you thought a random guy wouldn’t come close to comparing. So you didn’t even try.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a rhetorical question. “Tell me, I wanna know. How many guys have you fucked since you’ve been gone?”
Your chest burned, but you answered in a squeak. “N-none.”
The truth was a bad answer. You should’ve said a hundred, or said that you met a guy with a giant penis who made Leon’s look like a marble. But you told the truth and his eyes lit up with that wicked, smug-faced smile. He thrust a little further in.
“Leon stop, you’re going too deep, you said–”
“That was before I knew how much she missed me. Fuck, can’t believe you saved it for me… I didn’t fuck anyone else either, never want another pussy. Look at her grip me, baby, look how wet you’re making my cock.”
You looked and really shouldn’t have because it was a filthy sight, and the blame was spread equally between you. You huffed as your body opened up, and he drove his hips forward harder, distracting you from how he abandoned his initial proposition by yanking your top down to grope at your tits. Your eyes rolled back as he twisted your nipples and he captured your mouth with his own, knowing you were on the brink of being way too loud again, muffling your sounds with his tongue as he sped up and bottomed out.
He couldn’t go too fast or else the sound of slapping skin would give away what you were doing, and it kept you right on the edge, teetering towards another orgasm like a tight rope walk.
“C’mon, give me another, fuck I can feel how close you are.”
His words made the knot tighten and tighten until it was nearly about to snap.
Then, the timer went off.
“Shit, shit,” he muttered as he clamored to pull out and bring his shorts up. He watched the door and blindly tugged your bottoms up to your knee to help you in your own flurry to recover yourself.
The minute you both stood, the door opened and a woman in black scrubs greeted you with a smile. You both froze like you were at attention, flashing your most convincing grins as she chimed, “time’s up! Did you enjoy yourselves?”
Leon rushed to speak and if your heart wasn’t pounding against your ribcage so bad it hurt, you would’ve laughed at his hands clasped in front of him to hold down his hard on.
“Absolutely! Could we get some towels?”
As soon as she turned around, Leon yanked the door closed again and turned around to tie his drawstrings. You gave yourself another once over as you scolded him as sharply as you possibly could in a whisper.
“I told you that was a bad idea, I fucking told you, are you out of your goddamn mind?”
“Shut up,” he grumbled as he palmed his cock like it’d deflate.
“Don’t tell me to–”
The door opened again and you both snapped back to niceties. Leon thanked her and grabbed them, tossing one to you as he rushed to pull his around his waist.
“I’ll give you two a minute. I’ll wait in the hall,” the woman said, leaving the sauna door open as she left.
You bumped into Leon rudely as you stepped out of the steam and into the air conditioning, rubbing your face with the towel and pressing it into your swimsuit to absorb the excess moisture in hopes it’d return to its dry opacity. He walked out a moment later looking criminally unphased.
“It’s fine, she doesn’t know, I’m sure they see that all the time.”
You clutched the towel to your chest as you turned to him. “That doesn’t mean we should risk getting caught. What if she does know? What if they kick us out?”
He rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall. “Then they would’ve kicked us out. They didn’t, so relax.”
You bit your cheeks as your face twisted up, wanting to snap again. He probably thought you had nothing to come back with, but you had plenty. What made it hard to talk was how good he looked flushed and wet, chest still rising and falling with the remaining breathlessness, skin glossy with steam and sweat, muscles pumped and defined from his labors. You gumbled and looked for your clothes. “You’re so stupid, seriously.”
“Keep yelling at me, it’s helping me go soft.”
You threw your towel right in his face and tugged your shorts on with difficulty as your own damp skin clung to the cotton.
You stormed ahead with heavy steps pounding on the boardwalk as you rushed to get back to privacy. You let the door close behind you and heard him stop it from slamming in his face.
“Don’t be like that, you liked it.”
You were in a full on rage, pacing around aimlessly, arms waving in vexation. “Fuck you, Leon, seriously. I cannot believe how reckless you are, you have no consideration for anything but getting your rocks off.”
“You calling me a selfish lover? I remember it starting by getting you off.”
“Because you started it. You got on your knees and begged for it. It was your idea.”
He wasn’t put off by your little stormcloud at all. In fact, he was smoothly approaching you. You scoffed and pushed him away, but he followed at your heel to the bedroom.
“What are you even doing?” he said as he watched you enter.
You held the door and tried to close it, but he was standing in the way.
“Oh,” you laughed, “don’t even think I’m taking the couch tonight. If anyone’s ever deserved to sleep on the couch, it’s you.”
“You can take the bed tonight,” he shrugged cooly.
You blinked and rolled your eyes, leaving him standing in the doorway as you tried to find something in the room to act like you came in there for. You settled on pulling your hair and sitting on the bed, and you sighed in relief as he left.
But it wasn’t for long, because he returned with his blanket and tossed it on the foot.
“What are you doing?” you asked, only slightly simmered down after a moment to collect yourself.
“You can sleep in the bed, but it’s still my night, so I’m sleeping here too.”
“Like hell you are.”
“I don’t know why you’re so resistant,” he started as he walked around to be in front of you. “Clearly you want me, too. I mean, come on, letting me put the tip in?”
You shut your eyes as he stood over you, shaking your head in frustration at yourself as much as him, because he was ultimately correct. You felt his shadow cover you as he closed in. A shiver went down your core as his voice deepened close to you.
“We both know you want it, so let me finish what I started.” His hands trepidatiously swept up and down your thighs, and you hated how turned on you still were. You got so close to release before it ended so abruptly. “I’ll make it up to you, promise. I’ll be nice, I won’t bother you. I’ll make you cum until you’ve had your fill and then I’ll leave you be.”
Your eyes fluttered open and you watched your legs part again. You’d gone this far. He’d already fucked you, and despite your hot temper, he wanted to again. No use in not getting yours now.
You yanked him by the nape of the neck and connected in a searing kiss. He groaned as your hands tightened painfully in his hair and crawled on top of you, pushing you back onto the bed as he started fumbling with your shorts.
You opened your tongue to him as you raised your hips, letting him remove your shorts and bikini bottom in one fell swoop. He threw them somewhere behind him and returned to your top, reaching behind you to untie the strings and letting it fall out of place to expose you. You didn’t hide this time, and he relished in it even more, moaning at the sight of you coming undone before he pushed it all aside to grab and suck on your tits again.
You arched in search of his body heat and he eagerly provided it, grinding his hips into you once before deciding he couldn’t take feeling you through clothing a second longer. His mouth trailed down until he landed sloppy kisses against your cunt, sucking and lapping only a few times before he crawled over you again with a groan.
He smacked your still-sensitive clit as he stared down at you, lining himself up with a taunt.
“This what you need to feel better? Need my cock to stop your bitching?”
He thrust inside to cut off the possibility of further balk talk. You gasped at the feeling, already gone tight again in the time between the sauna and here, the friction of your walls grabbing at him as he entered. He hardly drew back before pushing in again, settling onto his forearms while he stayed flush to the hilt. Only then did he start a steady rock of his hips, bluntly coming down with force that made you cry out.
“You love taking this dick, don’t you? Just look at you, baby, already a fucking mess. You hear how wet you are? ‘Cause I can feel it.”
“Stop talking,” you whined, wrapping an arm around his back and threading your fingers through his hair.
“Mmm, you love my dirty mouth. You think I forgot what my girl likes? Think I don’t jerk off to the thought of giving it to you every night?”
He was right; you did love it. Every knock against your cervix was a thought-terminating cliché, and the filth paired with graphic confessions and the words ‘my girl’ made your head swim even more. And the the confession that made the earth tilt on its axis:
“Think I don’t still love you? Because I do.”
You felt it bloom and burst in your chest, though you couldn’t form words to reciprocate. He was everywhere: his warmth all around you, solid muscles and smooth flesh, the woodsy scent of his skin peppered with the tart musk of sauna sweat. The soft edges of his hair brushed against your face as they swayed with his hammering pace. All the little things you’d tried to get over and fought so hard not to miss, all the reasons you’d treated him poorly to push the yearning away.
“You should be thanking me after what a pain you’ve been,” he muttered the taunts against your neck and traced your pulse point with his tongue. “Shouldn’t be fucking you at all, but you just needed it so bad.”
“You’re such an asshole,” you breathed, not a trace of conviction in it.
He held you by the pit of your knee to drive in at a deeper angle, building momentum to go faster and faster.
“You love it.”
“I– oh– hate you…”
“Keep telling yourself that, babe. You love this dick a whole lot more.”
Your eyes rolled back as he gritted his teeth and hammered in, firmly holding you in his bulky arms as his navel slapped against you, and his cock smacked against your sweet spot. Pornographic sounds echoed in the room and the sheets were undoubtedly earning a wet spot, you could tell by the way he looked down at where you connected. You chanted ah, ah, ah, like a prayer and he folded you in half until each thrust pushed the sounds out of your lungs whether you wanted to be loud or not.
“Cum all over my cock, pretty girl, say my fucking name when you cum.”
Two sharp up tilted snaps of his hips and you fell apart under him, unable to see anything but heaven as your eyelids flickered. You moaned his name so loud you knew you’d feel ashamed later, but right now all you felt was ecstasy as he kept going while you writhed.
You barely started coming down to earth when you noticed him losing his grip, a smile twitching faintly before his face scrunched up in concentration.
“Let me fill you, please, let me cum in your pussy,” he begged.
“Do it, fuck,” you moaned at the mere thought.
He grunted and then his body seized in unsteady shakes and sputters, and your mouth fell open in a gasp as you felt it spill inside.
With every weak thrust he sank further and further down onto you, until he stilled and you were pressed firmly under his weight. You rubbed his back as your teeth buzzed and soaked in the sensation of his cock twitching inside.
You laid there in the afterglow and watched the dimming sunlight dance on the ceiling, wrapping your head around what happened today and the fact that you didn’t feel angry right now.
You patted him as his breathing evened so he didn’t fall asleep on you. He rolled off, both of you hissing as he pulled out, and then collapsed beside you with his arms above his head.
Damn him for being stretched out like a greek god. Damn you for loving it.
He caught your eye as you stared and neither of you could help but huff out a smile. It lingered there until he looked at your lips and then back to your eyes.
“Want me to make dinner reservations?” he asked in a rasp.
skirt - mike wheeler x cheerleader!reader (hate sex)
mike wheeler had been watching you all day. I mean, it was impossible not to notice you.
that cheerleading skirt had crept up a few inches past what was allowed, and every time you passed him in school’s hallway, your eyes would meet his with this mix of hatred and something way hotter. you were teasing him. you knew you were teasing him. your eyes practically said you hated him, but they were begging him to fuck you like he’d been doing in secret for the past few weeks. mike spent the whole day restless, hard, unable to focus on anything. all he wanted was finally get a chance to eat your pussy.
now the day was over. the second-floor hallway was empty, the dim lights barely illuminating anything. and there you were, leaning over to get your books out of your locker. your skirt rode up way too high. you didn’t even bother pulling it down, because you knew he was coming up behind you. “are you insane?” his voice came low, right against the back of your neck. mike spun you around, pressing you up against the lockers. “you spent the whole day fucking teasing me” “I have no idea what you’re talking about, freak” “you don’t?” his hand went to your hip, gripping the flesh there hard enough to leave a mark. “this skirt. you wanted me thinking about it all class. or better yet, you wanted me to fuck you in front of everyone, huh?” his hand slid up slowly, slipping under the hem of your top. his cold fingers touched your skin and you arched without meaning to. mike tilted his head, his face way too close. “take your hand off me, wheeler” “why? isn’t this what you wanted?” you didn’t answer, just bit your lip. he pressed his body against yours, his thigh slotting between your legs, and you could feel how hard he was against your stomach. “so stuck-up all day, and now you’ve got nothing to say?” “fuck you” he grinned. his hand moved up to your neck, fingers wrapping around the back of it, and he tugged your hair back in a motion that made you gasp. “that’s it” he pulled again, harder. “make some noise for me” “mike—” he grabbed you by the arm, dragging you down the hallway. your little shoes scraped against the floor as you tried to keep up, your bag slipping from your fingers and scattering papers everywhere. “my homework—” “fuck your homework” he shoved you into the first empty classroom he found. “what the hell are you doing, michael?” he didn’t even answer.
he pushed you against the desk and pressed his body up behind you. “you want attention so bad” his hand ran down your back roughly, gripping your nape to bend you over the desk. “then you’re gonna get it” his other hand hiked up your skirt in one swift motion. you arched instinctively, your hips pushing back against him in a way that was practically begging. “so wet already” his long fingers slid over the thin fabric of your panties. “if they only knew that behind that princess face there’s a slut who cries on my dick” “shut up, mike—” he answered by yanking your panties down roughly. “shut up? you spent hours teasing me. now you’re gonna deal with the consequences.” his long fingers pushed inside hard. you bit your lip to stop yourself from screaming, and he laughed against your neck. “mikeee” you moaned “mike what?” he pulled his fingers out abruptly, and you let out a frustrated whimper. he unzipped his pants with torturous slowness. “you gonna ask nicely?” you tried to turn your head to look at him, but his hand pressed firmly against your nape, keeping your face pinned to the cold desk. his body lined up behind you, and you felt the head of him pressing against your entrance. but he didn’t push in. just kept pressing. “say it. say what you want” “fuck you, michael” he laughed. he was probably loving this, seeing you all pathetic like this, giving in for his dick.
mike thrust in with one rough, deep stroke, and you let out a cry that he muffled with his hand over your mouth. his fingers pressed into your lips while his hips slammed into yours hard enough to shove you into the desk. “can’t you stay quiet, fuck” his hand slipped from your mouth into your hair, pulling, forcing your head back until your whole spine arched into an impossible curve. “look” he nodded toward the dark window, your reflections staring back at you. “you see that? look at you” you saw yourself: messy hair, mouth open, face flushed and wet with tears. so humiliating, and it just turned you on more.
you moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the desk. “what? gonna cum, princess?” his hand slid around to the front, fingers finding your clit, and it was too much. your legs shook and you almost screamed when you came, feeling him come with you.
by the time you managed to turn around, he was already fixing his pants, hair falling into his eyes, face calm like nothing had happened. “wear that skirt again tomorrow.”
Warnings: hate sex, multiple orgasms, multiple sex positions, creampie, missionary position, kitchen sex, sexual overstimulation, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, size difference, manhandling .ᐟ
Your relationship with Toji Fushiguro was far from conventional.
Even at the best of times, you felt like all he did was take take take from you. Whether it was asking for money, ghosting you for sometimes days at a time, forgetting every birthday or anniversary...
You knew he loved you in his own way- but you were done.
But the problem was, he always found a way to make you come crawling back. Like a moth to a flame, a never-ending cycle. But this time around, he’d royally pissed you off. You told yourself there was no going back now, this was it.
You pace your apartment, furious, fists clenched, phone thrown across the room. And where was Toji? Nowhere to be seen- not for days. Not one text, not one call, like he’d disappeared into thin air.
Sure, he’d done this before- he was a lousy texter, but he showed up. The most he’d gone before without so much as contacting you was three days- ‘work stuff.’ Yeah, the job he swore up and down he had, but refused to talk about.
So what was his excuse this time? Six days had passed. No calls, no texts, nothing. Until now.
Toji doesn’t knock, one way or another, he just lets himself in every time. The door swings open, the large man letting it carelessly close behind him as he paced towards the kitchen where you stood- still seething.
“Hell no. Get out Toji, I’m done” you hiss, pointing towards the door. Though deep down, you were relieved to see him- for all you knew, he could’ve been dead in a ditch these past few days. At least his handsome ass was still alive.
“What, ya’ not happy to see me?” he scoffs, leaning against the kitchen counter, stealing an apple from your fruit bowl before scoffing it into his mouth, the juice trickling down his chin. You slap the apple out of his hand, now stood inches away from him.
You were far from intimidating. In fact, Toji found it cute when you challenged him like this- like he couldn’t just throw you over his shoulder in an instant. He was quite literally twice your size, and twice as dominant.
An infuriatingly casual smirk grows on his face, “Someone’s feeling bold. No dick for a few days n’ yer angrier than a drunk old man.”
You blood boiled.
“So, first you disappear for six days, then you waltz in here like nothing’s wrong. And THEN? Then, you compare me to an old man” you shout, attempting to shove Toji away, ultimately failing. He just stood there, unmoved and somewhat amused. Now you were just embarrassed- only adding to the redness of your face.
“Stuff came up, doll. Lighten up” he says, increasingly aware of how much he’s pissing you off right now- not that it particularly affected him. “M’ here now, gonna stand there and pout or lemme make it up to ya?” he says, stepping closer and placing one large hand on your hip.
Shit. Must. Break. The. Cycle.
You simply act on instinct, you want to pull him closer, feel his calloused hands all over you- no. You slap him clean across the face. He just stands there again, unphased and unmoved- like a fly had simply landed on his cheek. You slap him a second time, same thing.
He actually just seemed to be enjoying this.
“You done?” he bores.
“N-No!?” you stutter, raising your hand to shove him again. Though this time, he catches your hand effortlessly, using it to pull you closer again. You look up at him, jaw clenched. Then, he grabs you firmly by your chin, leaning down and pressing a hungry kiss to your mouth.
Instantly, you melt into the kiss- hands clenching his shirt, silently fighting back. “I hate you” you mumble. “I know” he rasps, picking you up and encouraging your legs to wrap around him as he places you down on the kitchen counter.
It was hungry, all teeth and tongue- animalistic hunger. His way of apologising without actually having to say it.
Panting, you pull his shirt up and off him, his mouth now exploring your neck- littering it with sloppy kisses and firm sucks. Your hands find his scarred chest, feeling the hard muscle- one of the many reasons, you seem to be incapable of prying yourself away from him.
Your cheap little tank top gets ripped off, exposing your breasts to his ravenous gaze. Your hand finds the hair on the nape of his neck, tugging on it firmly as he sucks your nipples into his mouth.
The sight, the sounds, it was filthy- desperate.
Once your breasts had been thoroughly lavished, your shorts are next to come off. Ripped off, more like. He pushes you back to lay on the counter, coaxing your legs atop his shoulders as he trails open-mouthed kisses down your stomach.
Years of knowing this man, touching this man, being incredibly angry at this man; and you still can’t wrap your head around how big he is. Above and below the belt.
His tongue darts out once he reaches your cunt, licking a firm stripe up your slit. “Taste so fuckin’ good” he rasps, gripping your thighs as he starts devouring you. “Ah!- I still h-hate you” you stutter, throwing your head back blissfully, letting it hit the hard counter.
“Yeah? Doesn’t sound like it” he smirks against your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth extraaaaa hard just to make you squeal- just to prove a point. “Ah! T-Toji" you moan out, fisting your hand in his hair as his tongue makes you see stars.
“Keep makin’ those pretty sounds f’me” he growls, pushing two fingers inside of you, curling them upwards perfectly to hit that sweet spot he seems to always locate so easily.
Your moans were now frequent, desperate. His fingers continuing to fuck in and out of your greedy pussy. “Gotta get this tight little cunt ready f’me, yeah?” Toji rasps, his mouth against your clit as his quick pace and precision bring you to your peak swiftly.
He sucks your clit into his mouth again, the tension in your body snapping abruptly as both his fingers and tongue pushed you to your limit. Your sweet cum coats his chin and fingers, fingers that he licks clean whilst holding the filthiest eye contact with you.
How the fuck could you stay mad at that face.
Seconds later, Toji lifts you down from the counter, turning you around and freeing his cock from the confines of his pants and rubbing it against your dripping core. You’re still recovering from your orgasm, your legs weak- Toji holds your hips firmly to keep you upright as he nudges his thick, leaking tip into your cunt.
Shit. You’re supposed to hate him right now. Suddenly you’re gritting your teeth in anger again. Though admittedly, your head was partially still in the clouds from that orgasm.
“F-fuck you” you hiss, still no real malice there. Hating him was truly just an uphill battle in your mind.
“I’m about to” he grins sadistically, sinking his cock into your tight heat, giving you only seconds before pulling all the way out and slamming into you again. “Fuck-” you whimper, feeling how his cock stretches you open as he begins to pound you mercilessly.
Your hands braced the counter for stability, your legs already threatening to give in at any moment.
“Feels even better than I remember” he groans, holding your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds your poor (lucky) cunt. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you forgot given you left for almost a week” you pant, smiling to yourself, mostly because you knew what was coming next.
One large hand leaves your hip, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back unforgivingly. He leans over your back, his breath hot against your ear- cock shoved further inside of you than you thought was humanly possible.
“Think you’re funny, doncha’?” he growls, punctuating his sentence with a particularly forceful thrust, a strangled moan escaping you. He thrusts again, his grip tightening on your hair, “What? Done being a smartass now, huh?” he snarls, picking up the pace again.
Oh, you were in for it now.
“Let’s see how well you can sass me while ya screamin’ my name” he chuckles darkly, the scar on the corner of his mouth lifting. You thought he was brutal before? No. Toji was only just getting started with you.
He starts ploughing into your cunt like never before.
It was unlike anything you’ve ever felt from him before, rough, unforgiving- but so fucking good. Sure, he makes you see stars every time; but this was heated. Each thrust somehow triggering every nerve in your body. The sounds leaving your mouth were unforgettable, almost embarrassing.
“Feel so fuckin’ good” he pants, delivering a sharp smack to your ass as he leans over your back to whisper into your ear again. One hand grabs your chin, pressing your cheek against his, “Where’s all that fire gone, huh?”
“Oh God, Toji” you babble, tears of pleasure leaking from your eyes and down your cheeks which he licks up filthily- your cunt leaking just as much.
He leans back again, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he bullies his cock into your pussy continuously- his skin slapping so hard against yours his lower abdomen was a faint red. “T-Toji, m’so close!” you cry out, your cunt fluttering around him as he pried another orgasm from you.
You thought the previous one was heaven? No. You simply tasted heaven, now, you’re actually there.
Lost in a haze of pleasure, your body weak and satisfied, he rips you from the counter, carrying you effortlessly to your bedroom nearby. He throws you carelessly onto the bed, immediately pushing himself back into your sopping cunt.
All seven point five girthy, veiny inches.
“More?” you struggle, sweat beading on your forehead as he coaxes your legs over his shoulders, grinning down at you menacingly. “What, thought I was done with ya’ sweetheart?”
He looked as feral as the second he started, his cock twitching inside of you as he effortlessly found your g-spot, sliding his cock over it repeatedly, already making your legs shake again. “I c-can't a-ah!” you struggle, throwing your head back against the pillows, Toji’s large hands holding your ankles still.
“You will” he commands, his hand now straying from your ankle to rub your sensitive clit in precise, fast circles. “Hah-” you cry out, feeling another orgasm approaching- this one wasn't gradual, you didn’t feel yourself grow closer.
It just happened. One second you were moaning in pleasure, the next you were squirting all over him. His cock, balls, chest, were coated in it. And he loved it. Pure evidence of how good he was making you feel, covering his sculpted body.
You had no words left, no coherent thoughts, he had truly fucked you dumb.
Then he leans in, your legs still on top of his shoulders, his eyes locked onto yours. “One more” he grins, folding you almost in half as his cock continues to slide in and out of your sore pussy. You looked at him in disbelief, brows knitted. You shake your head rapidly, the sweat on your forehead mingling with his.
“One more, Princess. Cmon” he urges, pressing his lips to yours as he pleasures the deepest parts of you, his heavy balls smacking against your ass loudly. You pant against his mouth, your eyes squeezed shut as you rake your nails down his back in pleasure.
Toji bites your bottom lip, “Look at me” he demands, “I wanna watch those pretty eyes roll back when you cum again” he grunts.
And they did. So far back you feared they’d never return.
Then finally, he snaps too, gritting his teeth as he spills his hot cum into your welcoming heat, the finale you’d been waiting for eagerly. “Fuuckkk, that’s my girl” he praises, fucking you through both your orgasms, his pace refusing to slow yet. Not until you were both fully through it.
You’d never seen nor felt so much cum. You’d be thoroughly surprised if there was even a singular drop left to give.
“So, how much do ya’ hate me now?” he pants lightly, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek. You were still completely cock drunk, filled to the brim with cum, unable to push out a singular sentence.
a/n: lmk if u want the smut pt 2 or if this is cringe 9000 and i should end my life
also i want to make it clear that they're MUTUALLY SPARRING. his words have innuendos he doesn't quite realize (yes he does) but not in a weirdo forceful way
tags-ish: nsfw. veryyyy suggestive. dry humping. enemies to lovers (?). enemies to fuck buddies more like. desperation. slight angst. percy and reader are both stupid. and horny
“Get off me,” you shouted.
“What? I thought you wanted this?”
Percy’s voice was low, almost taunting as he pressed Riptide closer to your throat. You felt the cold celestial bronze kiss your skin, a sharp sting blooming just above your collarbone.
He had you pinned against the wooden wall of the training grounds during a rematch that you had insisted on, his weight solid and unyielding. Every inch of him boxed you in. Heat, muscle, the faint scent of salt and sweat. You tried to shift, but he only leaned harder, his forearm braced beside your head.
Tiny beads of blood welled up where the edge of his sword grazed you. Percy’s gaze flicked down, jaw tightening, but he didn’t move the sword.
“Still think you can take me?” he said, voice rough.
You glared up at him, jaw set. “You’re enjoying this too much.”
He scoffed, leaning in a little closer. “Maybe.”
There it was. That infuriating grin, that spark that always came before you lost control. It twisted something in your chest, you couldn’t tell if he was trying to provoke you or figure you out. With Percy, it always seemed to be both.
“Gods, you’re such a jackass,” you hissed.
“You’re the one who keeps coming back for more,” he murmured, sea-green eyes locked on yours.
He chuckled, but his eyes were sharp. Then, with a sudden movement, he leaned in close, too close. Your breath caught, and for a second, you swore you could feel his lips almost brush yours.
You froze, heart hammering. The heat in the air between you was almost unbearable, and for a split second, you genuinely thought he might kiss you.
Then he pulled back just slightly, smirk returning, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Infuriated, you drove the hilt of your own blade into his side, hard enough to make him stumble back.
“What the hell is your problem?” you snapped, voice rising. “Do you even hear yourself?”
Percy said nothing, just glared, breathing ragged.
“I’ve tried to be your friend,” you went on, anger breaking into something rawer. “But you keep doing this—this thing. You act like you can’t stand me, then you look at me like—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head, words tripping over the weight in your chest.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Percy spat, shaking his head.
It messed with your head, drove you insane. Everything about him did. You hated this stupid little dance you two had going on. The sparring, the banter, the way he’d glare at you one moment and linger a little too long the next. It made no sense, and you hated how much you kept letting it happen.
Even after the “friend plan” had fallen apart so spectacularly, you’d settled into this messy, impossible, horribly frustrating dynamic. It wasn’t perfect—but it was something. And for you, deep down, something with Percy was better than nothing. Despite his inanity, you were willing to tolerate anything, as long as it was in relation to him.
But this was becoming too much, even for you.
“Why do you keep doing this?!” you demanded, voice raw. “All this time I've been at camp, and you’re just incapable of being normal, why? Honestly just tell me—”
Percy’s gaze flicked away, a flash of guilt—or maybe denial—crossing his face. “Do you think I do this on purpose?” he said through gritted teeth, voice strained. “You think it’s that simple?!”
“You don’t even know what you want!”
“I want you!” he shouted, the words ripping out before he could stop them.
“...What?”
Percy froze, chest rising and falling fast. For a moment, the bravado faltered, replaced by something jagged and unguarded. His jaw flexed like he wished he could physically shove the words back into his mouth, but it was too late. His eyes darted anywhere but you—ground, sword, sky—before finally snapping back to your face. He looked furious at himself.
You stood there, heart hammering so loud you swore he could hear it. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be. Neither of you said anything for a while. You just caught your breath before your senses came back to you.
What an absolute piece of shit.
You tried to register what he had said to you, that wasn’t real was it? It had to have been the mist—maybe Hazel was standing behind the bushes playing some cruel trick on you with Percy.
You weren’t going to humor him any longer, he didn’t deserve it. Your sword slipped from your hand and hit the ground with a sharp clang. You stalked past him, muttering, “You’re unbelievable.”
Before you could go any farther, his hand shot out and caught your wrist.
“Don’t,” he said, voice low.
Your steps halted. His grip wasn’t cruel, but more akin to desperation. Fingers tight around your skin, his pulse thudding under his thumb. When you turned, you found his expression cracked wide open.
Anger, regret, desire—all fighting for room on his face.
No one moved. You just stared at each other, breaths colliding, tension thrumming like a live wire.
Then, by some miraculous stroke of impulse, something in you snapped.
You yanked him closer by the collar and kissed him. Hard. Angry. It wasn’t sweet or soft, but rather pure frustration. Months of hunger and denial crashing together.
He stumbled back a step, but his hand stayed locked around your wrist. When he finally kissed you back, it wasn’t careful either. It was all teeth and breath and too much heat, like both of you were trying to win, even now.
For once, neither of you had the upper hand—but the fight for it was starting to progress, and quickly. Percy still had a strong hold over your hand, while his other had snuck to wrap around your waist. His fingers grabbed and teased the skin harshly, aching for more.
Your hips were slotted against each other, desperately grinding and shifting over clothes, stumbling through the training grounds before you were somehow pressed against a stray table nestled in a clearing near the woods.
Percy broke the kiss just long enough to sweep everything off the table in one rough motion—water bottles and bits of armor clattering to the ground—before lifting you with ease to sit on the edge.
He caught your lips again almost instantly, the kiss deepening as he leaned closer, pushing you back until your spine met the cool surface of the table, his breath heavy against yours.
Percy’s hands found your waist, your arms, your breasts, all at once. Roaming incessantly, desperately, and with an intense desire. He had slotted himself between your legs, and was periodically thrusting against you. He hadn’t bothered to hide his arousal. If anything, he was making a statement. An unspoken declaration of exactly what he eagerly anticipated to do to you.
HII, KEN!!! can i ask some... fanfic about Bucky where he and the reader is actually A NEMESIS, but got paired up in a mission by the avengers as a couple who has to attend some gala on their mission.
and then they did, at some times need to find something and got stucked in the room while outside the guards already banging the door, there's no way out, and so.. eum, filthy reader trying to make it looks like 'they're having sex' in the room so the guards has to leave. currently the leader throw herself on the wall, told Bucky to come closer, and while the guard banging and yelling the readér started to moan...
and oh, Bucky was really into it. it's supposed to be just additional fake situation... until it's not.
hihi, if you don't mind make it a bit smutty and spicy! THANK YOU!
You and Bucky Barnes had been at each other’s throats for months.
Every mission, every briefing—snide remarks, undercut jabs, glaring contests that made the rest of the team place bets. He thought you were reckless. You thought he was an arrogant, century-old asshole who still moved like he owned every room. So when Fury paired you as a fake married couple for tonight’s gala infiltration, the groan that left both of you could’ve cracked concrete.
“Try not to kill each other before we get the drive,” Steve had sighed, handing over the mission brief.
Easy for him to say.
The gala was all crystal chandeliers and whispered deals in dark corners. You wore a backless black gown that clungto you like sin, your hair pinned up to expose the vulnerable line of your neck. Bucky cleaned up in a tailored tux, metal arm hidden beneath sleek black fabric, hair swept back. He looked annoyingly good.
You hated it.
You danced once—stiff, close enough for cover. His hand on your waist burned through the silk. “Smile, darling,” he murmured against your ear, voice dripping sarcasm.
Your heel dug into his polished shoe in reply.
Halfway through the night, you slipped away to the upper floors, hunting the encrypted drive in a private office. The door clicked shut behind you. Bucky moved to the safe, hands quick and precise, while you kept watch.
Thirty seconds later—footsteps.
Too many. Too heavy.
“Shit—hide!” you hissed.
No time.
The only exit was the door they were now pounding on.
Bucky grabbed your arm, dragging you toward the far wall—the one fully visible from the entrance if it gave way. Voices shouted in Russian.
“Open up! We know someone’s in here!”
Your heart hammered. No windows. No vents. No way out.
An idea sparked—filthy and desperate.
You backed into the wall, chest rising fast. “Barnes. Come here.”
He shot you a look. “What—”
“Shut up and get over here.”
You grabbed his tie and yanked him forward until his body caged yours against the cool plaster.
“We make it look like we’re fucking,” you whispered. “If we're loud and convincing enough, they’ll leave.”
For once, the Winter Soldier looked completely speechless.
The pounding got louder. “Last warning!”
You didn’t wait.
Your head tipped back against the wall, lips parting. “Bucky…” The sound that left you was low, breathy, practiced—but it still sent a jolt through your own spine. Your hands slid up his chest, nails dragging lightly. “Harder—fuck, yes—”
His breath hitched.
His hands landed on your hips, gripping tighter than necessary.
The fake was supposed to stay fake.
But something in the way you said his name—soft and wrecked—flipped a switch.
“Damn it,” he growled, voice rough. One hand slid down your thigh, bunching your dress up to your hip. He pressed forward, thigh slotting between yours, rocking once.
The friction hit just right.
Your next moan wasn’t entirely staged.
Outside, the guards hesitated. One muttered something under his breath. Another laughed.
You doubled down. “Bucky—right there, baby—don’t stop—”
Your voice cracked.
His metal hand spread over your ass, dragging you harder against him. You felt him—hot, thick, straining through his slacks—and the realization sent a sharp thrill straight through your core.
“Fuck, doll,” he rasped into your neck, teeth grazing your skin. Not part of the act. Not even close. His hips rolled again, deliberate now, grinding against you through layers of fabric. Your back arched.
A real whimper slipped free.
The door rattled again. “Hey! People are trying to enjoy the party!”
Bucky’s mouth latched onto your throat, sucking a mark that would darken by morning. “Louder,” he ordered, voice dark velvet. His hand slipped beneath your dress, fingers teasing the edge of your panties. “Let them hear how good I’m making you feel.”
You obeyed—because you had to.
Because you wanted to.
“Ah—Bucky! Yes—fuck me—”
The words broke into something real as his fingers pushed your underwear aside and found you already slick. He groaned before sliding two fingers inside you in one smooth thrust.
Your knees nearly gave out.
He caught you easily, holding you up while he worked his hand between your thighs, pumping slow and deep. His hips kept moving, grinding against you, the friction relentless and filthy. The sounds—wet, obscene—echoed in the small room.
Your hand fisted in his hair, pulling hard. “More—please—”
No act left now.
Just want.
He added another finger, stretching you, his thumb circling your clit with devastating precision. The distant hum of the gala faded into nothing. All you could hear was his breathing, rough and uneven, and the slick rhythm of his hand.
Your orgasm built fast.
Outside, the guards were arguing now. “Probably just some horny guests. Waste of time.”
Bucky’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he drove his fingers deeper, curling just right. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let go. Let them hear you scream my name.”
You did.
The orgasm hit like a shockwave—your body tightening, trembling, breaking apart around his hand. A loud, wrecked cry tore out of you.
“Bucky—fuck—!”
It wasn’t fake.
It wasn’t controlled.
It was real.
He worked you through it, slower now but no less intense, until your legs were shaking and you were barely upright. Only then did he pull his fingers free—bringing them to his mouth without breaking eye contact.
The look he gave you while licking them clean made your stomach flip.
The hallway outside had gone quiet.
Footsteps retreated.
Bucky’s chest rose and fell, his eyes blown dark. “Mission’s not over,” he said hoarsely.
But he didn’t move away.
Instead, he kissed you.
All teeth and tongue and months of tension snapping at once.
You bit his lip, tasting copper, breath mingling with his. “Then finish the job, Barnes,” you muttered. “And make it quick.”
Your hand dropped between you, palming him through his slacks.
“I want you inside me before they circle back.”
A dark laugh left him, already reaching for his belt. “Yes, ma’am.”
The drive could wait.
Five minutes.
Maybe ten.
Because somewhere between silk and shadows, between hatred and heat, the line had snapped—and neither of you had any intention of fixing it.
