Not when he followed Hiromi Higuruma home, half out of curiosity, half because Higuruma had said, in that flat, exhausted voice of his, “You can meet my wife, if you want.”
Yuji had expected someone serious. Stern. Maybe even a little cold, someone who matched Higuruma’s quiet, heavy presence. A woman who spoke in clipped sentences and stared people down like a judge passing sentence.
The door swung open before Higuruma could even knock properly.
“Oh! You’re finally home—”
What he got instead...was you
Short. Soft. Warm in a way that hit Yuji immediately, like stepping into a heated room after being out in the cold too long. Your sweater sleeves were pushed up, flour dusted faintly across your cheek like you’d been baking, your body plush and soft in a way that made you look safe. Comforting. Your eyes lit up when you saw Higuruma and then your gaze shifted to Yuji.
And widened.
“Oh my goodness—”
Yuji barely had time to react before you were right in front of him, hands gently grabbing his face.
“You’re so skinny. Hiromi, why didn’t you tell me you were bringing a child home!! are you eating properly? Do you need food? You look like you need food.”
“Uh—” Yuji blinked, caught completely off guard. “I...I ate earlier—”
“That’s not an answer.”
It wasn’t harsh, wasn’t loud.But it landed.
Yuji froze.
Because somehow, somehow, this adorable, soft, flour-dusted woman had just commanded him like a general.
Behind him, Higuruma sighed, slipping off his coat.
“She’s going to feed you regardless of your answer,” he muttered. “You might as well sit down.”
Yuji nodded immediately. "Okay.”He didn’t even question it.
Five minutes later, Yuji was seated at the table with a full plate of food he did not remember agreeing to, watching as you bustled around the kitchen with alarming efficiency.
“More rice?” you asked.
“I...I’m okay—”
You were already scooping more onto his plate ignoring Yuji's answer.“Yes, you do.”
Yuji stared at the pile. “…okay.”
Across from him, Higuruma sat quietly, sipping tea like this was completely normal.
Yuji leaned toward him slightly.“…Does she always...?"
“Yes.”
“…Okay.”
It wasn’t just the food.
It was the way you hovered, fixing his posture slightly when he slouched, brushing crumbs off his sleeve without even thinking, refilling his drink the moment it dipped below half.
“You’re still growing,” you said firmly at one point, crossing your arms as you looked him over. “You need proper meals. None of that convenience store nonsense Hiromi probably eats.”
“That’s—” Higuruma started.
You turned your head slowly.
He stopped. “…fair.”
Yuji stared between you both, because what just happened.
But then it shifted, just slightly.
Yuji noticed it when Higuruma reached for a second cup of tea without asking.
Your hand caught his wrist mid-air, gently. Your thumb gliding over the skin. “Hiromi.”Your voice was soft.
Higuruma stilled. “…Yes?”
“You’ve had three cups already.”
“…It’s just tea.”
“And you haven’t eaten properly today.”
Yuji blinked.
Oh.
Oh no.
He recognized that tone.
That was the same tone you used on him.Except now....Now it was worse.
Because Higuruma, Hiromi Higuruma, a man who faced curses and courtrooms without flinching actually looked… cornered.
“I’ll eat,” he said.
You smiled. “Good.”
And just like that, the tension vanished. You leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you passed him a plate.
Yuji watched, wide-eyed.Because this terrifying, composed lawyer man just got handled.
Later, when you stepped away for a moment, Yuji leaned forward again, whispering urgently.
“…She’s scary.”
Higuruma didn’t even look up from his plate.“Yes.”
“…But like… nice scary.”
“Yes.”
“…Like she could ruin my life but also make me soup.”
Higuruma paused, thinking then nodded his head as he peered at you from the kitchen.“That’s exactly it.”
You came back before Yuji could say anything else, setting down something sweet in front of him.
“Dessert,” you said brightly. “You did well.”
Yuji lit up immediately. “Oh! thank you!”
You beamed at him, soft, warm, proud.Then glanced at Higuruma. “…You too.”
Higuruma nodded once. “…Thank you.”
Yuji nearly choked.Because that was the most obedient he had ever seen that man.
Yuji waited until you disappeared fully into the kitchen, the faint clatter of dishes and your soft humming just barely carrying through the apartment.
Then he leaned forward, like he was about to ask something dangerous.
Across from him, Hiromi Higuruma sat with his usual composed posture, tea in hand, completely unbothered.
Yuji lowered his voice anyway. “…How did you meet her?”
Higuruma didn’t answer immediately.Which, to Yuji, was already suspicious.The man always answered immediately.
Finally, Higuruma exhaled softly through his nose.
“She hit me with her bike.”
Yuji blinked.“…What.”
Higuruma took another calm sip of tea. “She hit me with her bike,” he repeated, like this was a normal, everyday sentence. “And then,” he added, just as calmly, “she blamed me for being in the way.”
Yuji stared at him. “…But she’s the one that hit you!!”
“I know.”
“You know?!” Yuji’s voice cracked slightly, hands coming up in disbelief. “You’re telling me she ran you over and then yelled at you for it?!”
Higuruma nodded once. “Yes.”
“And you just...what...stood there??”
“More like I was sitting on the ground but I had to.”
Yuji leaned closer, squinting at him like he was trying to find the missing logic. “You had to?”
Higuruma set his cup down with a soft clink, finally looking at him.And for the first time there was something faintly… human in his expression.Something softer. “…You didn’t see her.”
Yuji frowned. “I’m seeing her now.”
“It’s different,” Higuruma said quietly.
Yuji blinked.“…Different how?”
Higuruma leaned back slightly, gaze drifting, not distant, but remembering as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “She was standing there,” he said, voice low, steady. “Hands on her hips. Short. Absolutely furious....”
Yuji snorted a little. “Yeah, that tracks—”
“She told me I shouldn’t block the sidewalk.”
“…You weren’t blocking the sidewalk.”
“I wasn’t.”
“And she still yelled at you?”
“Yes.”
“And you just let her??”
Higuruma didn’t answer right away.Instead, his gaze softened just a fraction more.
“…She looked beautiful.”
Yuji froze.“…I’m sorry....what.”
Higuruma didn’t even flinch.“She looked beautiful yelling at me.”
Yuji stared at him like he had just said the most insane thing imaginable. “…So you didn’t do anything.”
“No.”
“Because....”
Higuruma met his eyes, completely serious.“Because she looked beautiful, I knew I would marry her.”
Yuji leaned back in his chair slowly, processing what the man had just told him. “…So you didn’t do anything because you simped for her.”
Higuruma paused, he wasn't offended, he wasn't defensive, he was just....thinking. “…If you want to phrase it that way.”
“THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT THAT IS!”
Yuji slapped the table lightly, pointing at him like he’d cracked a case. “You got hit by a bike and fell in love immediately!”
Higuruma picked up his tea again. “It was not immediate.”
“How long did it take?”
“…A few seconds.”
“THAT’S IMMEDIATE!” Yuji groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “You’re a lawyer! You’re supposed to argue! Defend yourself! File charges or something!”
Higuruma took a slow sip. “She was holding the bike.”
“…Okay?”
“She was still yelling.”
“…Yeah?”
“She had a small scratch on her knee.”
Yuji blinked. “…So?”
“I asked if she was hurt.”
Yuji stared at him, long, hard. “…You got hit.”
“Yes.”
“And you asked her if she was okay.”
“Also Yes.”
“…And she was yelling at you.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought—”
A sigh. “She looked beautiful.”
Yuji dropped his head onto the table.A long, suffering groan muffled against the wood.“You’re unbelievable.”
Higuruma said nothing, because he wasn’t denying it.
From the kitchen, your voice floated out. “Yuji, do you want more food?”
Yuji shot upright instantly. “Yes, ma’am!”
Higuruma didn’t even look surprised.
But as Yuji turned toward the kitchen, he leaned just slightly back toward Higuruma, whispering under his breath. “…You got hit by a bike and said ‘yes, this is my wife.’”
Higuruma’s lips twitched. “…Essentially.”
Yuji shook his head, already standing. “Crazy.” Though his gaze lifted to the kitchen. “…She is really pretty though."
Higuruma picked up his tea again, calm as ever.“…I know.”
pairing: jack abbot x plus-size! santos' sister! reader
summary: trinity is in the middle of a double and is desperate enough to have her sister show up at her job to bring her food. (takes place between seasons 1 & 2)
word count: 5.1 k ⚕♡
warning: y'all this one got away from me, it was just supposed to be a cute abbot x reader but sibling angst got mixed in and now we have this. reader is 12 years older than trinity so age gap, no smut just fluff and angst but if y'all like it than there may be some more in the future!
You couldn’t be prouder of your baby sister. But if you were to ever tell her that to her face, she would probably punch you. The past week has been an inescapable nightmare for her; they were down a few staff members, which had her picking up the slack for the next month while replacements were found. That’s how you found yourself at the farthest entry of the ambulance bay, balancing a tray half-filled with two different types of lumpia and okoy, there was some chicken mixed in there as well.
“Dude, what the hell are you doing back there?” You looked towards the sliding doors and saw Trinity calling out to you.
“It didn’t feel right going all the way down!” It honestly felt wrong to even be this close to the hospital without going through the front entrance.
She waved her arms like she was directing air traffic. “Hurry up and get down here, I’m starving!” No way in hell were you running, you were carrying precious cargo, but you did pick up the pace for her sake. “What took you so long?”
You held up the tray, “Uh, I was finishing up the food.” The aluminum pan was handed over, and she almost dropped it from the unexpected weight.
She looked at you wide-eyed, “Jesus, why did you make so much?”
You had gotten into a groove, and it felt nice to make familiar recipes. “Figured I’d make enough for you and your coworkers since I had access to the big kitchen at work. That’s if you choose not to be greedy, of course, if nothing else, leftovers.”
“None of them deserve your cooking,” she remarked as the sliding doors opened up to the emergency department.
“Except you?”
“Except me.”
An older blonde woman called from behind the desk. “Trinity, you’re needed in room two now.”
Your sister held up the tray like it would cover for her. “But Dana food…”
Dana just shrugged with a small laugh, “Sorry kid.”
Trinity was already rushing towards room two. “Alright, fine, can my sister stay with you for a minute?”
“Sure, your sister can stay. Nice to meet you sweetie.”
“Nice to meet–” the tray of food was dropped back into your arms without warning. “Nice to meet you too.”
She grabbed a stack of papers and knocked them against the desk to straighten them out. “Hate to say it but it’s the first time I’m hearing about you.”
You gave her a ‘what can you do about it look.’ It was normal at this point. “If you look up mystery in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of her underneath.” Sometimes it hurt that your sister never talked about you. Especially when you would mention her and her accomplishments to anyone who would listen. But you also couldn’t blame her for wanting to keep her private life separate in a workplace like this.
There was a huff of laughter behind you, and suddenly, a warm body was leaning against the counter next to you.
“That has to be the most accurate description I’ve heard of her.” Holy shit, you thought hot doctors only existed in medical dramas, either that or you’ve just never had the pleasure of meeting one like this. Silver fox personified, god he’s gorgeous. “So Santos’ sister, huh?”
You had to shake yourself back to life. “Y-yeah, you know I feel like I should be offended, but I would have been more surprised if she had mentioned me before.” You finally introduced yourself, balancing the tray so that one hand was free.
His hand was strong, steady, calloused, gosh, he has really, really nice hands. “Dr. Abbot.”
He fits the bill, and right into your fantasies, woah, down girl. “Ahhh, the famous Dr. Abbot, don’t tell her I said this, but Trinity thinks you’re pretty cool, and that is high praise right there.”
He did a small playful fist pump, “I knew I could still relate to the kids.”
Someone likes to use old-man humour, don’t they? “Probably better than I can at this point.”
He looked out towards his younger residents, “comes with experience…” his remark trailed off, staring again at you like there’s a question unanswered.
God, I probably look like a mess, you thought. Leggings that had a hole in both knees and an oversized volunteer shirt with about a dozen bleach stains screamed put together. You can hear your mother ‘you should always have makeup on, never know who you’re gonna meet.’ Damn, maybe she was right about some things. He’s staring. Why is he still staring? “Do I have something on my face?”
A short cough from him, clearing his throat and breaking his gaze. “Uh, n-no, sorry, you just look really familiar. Don’t tell me I’ve treated you here before.” Oh, if only you were so lucky.
Thankfully, nothing had landed you in the hospital since moving to Pittsburgh with Trinity. Though now you feel like you should probably knock on some wood to keep up that winning streak. “Definitely not, but now that I’m thinking about it, so do you…oh wait, I know, the uh, the Veterans Center!”
He smiled and snapped his fingers, “That’s it, you’re with the Meals on Wheels crew, right?”
“That’s me, we try to help get them set up with different plans.”
“It’s good work you’re doing there.” Lord is everything he says laced with such sincerity? He seemed like the type of person to choose every word carefully, to make sure it means something.
You threw the compliment back, “It’s good work you’re doing here.” As if what you were doing could compare to his work, to your sister's work.
“Just doing the best we can.” Something tells you his best goes above and beyond the normal. Something also tells you that you could become addicted to the small uptick at the corner of his mouth. So subtle, a blink and you’ll miss it moment.
“That’s about all you can do some days.”
The silence shared between the two of you was charged, the background noise of the ED fading in and out the more seconds passed. Neither of you was aware of the small crowd that formed behind the desk.
Trinity popped up behind Abbot, hand sanitizer being generously applied to her hands, before she scootched between you two. It cut the moment completely like a faint record scratch, well, if there had actually been a moment and you weren’t imagining things. The cover of the tray was lifted and nearly smacked you in the face. “God, that was ridiculous. I’m starving.” She had already picked up two chicken skewers and an okoy fritter before glaring at the vultures surrounding them.
“Why didn’t you tell us you have a sister?” A woman with glasses and a very put-together braid asked. No doubt this was Mel.
“I have a sister, there, now you know.” She responded mid-bite, determined to end the conversation there. Something she’d once said to you had always stuck. ‘The less people know, the better,’ it’s a motto she seemed determined to live by.
Your arms were starting to get tired from carrying this tray. “She talks about you all so much, I feel like introductions aren’t even needed at this point.” Based off descriptions you were sure you could match up the names to the faces, but one you hoped to run into was the infamous Garcia, but you knew that would be unlikely, life of a surgeon and all that.
“Shut the fuuuck up.” She said through clenched teeth and a mouthful of chicken.
You gently nudged her, and she subtly did it back like it was muscle memory. “Aww come on, it’s been forever since I’ve gotten to embarrass you in front of your friends.”
“Were you adopted?” Tired eyes, curls, ahh, Huckleberry.
“Was she?” Small, youthful, definitely Javadi.
There was murder in your sister's eyes. “Don’t both of you have patients?”
The mythical Dr. Robby seemed to appear out of thin air. “Don’t you Santos? And I think foods supposed to be eaten in the lounge.”
She took another bite of chicken, almost mocking, like she was saying, ‘you’re just jealous cause I actually have decent food.’ “Thought you said eat when you can?”
You opened the lid again, the smell hitting every nose in the vicinity, setting off a few stomach growls. “You’re welcome to have one, please don’t let her hog it all.” You felt a short warning smack to your side.
Robby picked up one of the lumpia before taking the tray out of your hands. “Hmm, you can stay.” He gave Dr. Abbot a look as he passed by, taking a bite out of the roll. Prompting Abbot to take one for himself before the tray was carted off to the lounge for Santos to take care of later.
Your sister looked over your shoulder, “shit I gotta go take care of this, find me before you leave.” She was already running down the hall, shovelling down the rest of her food, your soft ‘okay’ following after.
“I’m still not convinced you two are siblings.” Dr. Abbot said, taking a bite of the food he was able to snag.
“Wanna see my driver's license?”
He groaned from the taste, eyes closed, head back, and he even did that small bend that people do when something is just that good. “Hmm, no, there it is, same snark.”
“Nobody ever believes we’re siblings, we’ve got different dads, not to mention the twelve years between us.” There are a couple of other reasons that run through your mind, but those are best kept to yourself.
“Well, the more I stand here, the more I start to see it.” Interesting.
“In a good or a bad way?”
He took the last bite. “All the good parts, I promise, you both have a very caring heart.”
Very interesting. “Huh, caring heart typically isn’t used to describe my sister.”
“I like to think we’ve worked together enough that I can see it, even when it’s hidden under all her spikes.” It surprised you to hear this kind of praise from someone above your sister; she had always had issues with authority. Constantly complained about the teachers and professors that she’d had over the years. Except for Dr. Abbot, he must be one hell of a teacher.
“She really does care about her job. It’s nice to see that she’s got a good group of people behind her.”
“That’s the Pitt crew for you.” There it was again, that small movement, and there goes the silence again. Sometimes it’s better not to scramble to fill it. “Hey, I uh, I think we used to work with Meals on Wheels before Covid happened, but I think it would be worth starting up again for the patients. I know it would help out a lot of the people we see.”
Work, thank god, something you can confidently talk about. “Yeah, definitely, I’ll talk to my supervisor and see if I could maybe work as a representative for the hospital.” It would be a good chance to see Trinity more…and Dr. Abbot…no bad, bad brain.
“Oh, I’d hate to add more to your plate.” Where does he hold all that sincerity?
“Nah, it wouldn’t be a problem at all, most likely they’d have me swing by a couple of days a week to review forms for anyone who was interested.”
He crossed his arms, fully leaning into you, or is he leaning into the counter? And why is it getting harder to breathe right now? “Well, I know for a fact we’d be lucky to have you.”
Once again, Trinity snuck up on you. “Alright, all done, thanks for bringing dinner by.” She gave you a quick one-armed hug before practically pushing you away like the hug wasn’t her idea in the first place.
“Okayyy…well, I’ll get out of your hair, really nice meeting you all, and I’ll see you at home Trinity.” You gave a wave to the few residents and nurses that had stuck around the desk.
“Bye Sissy,” the term of endearment seemed to slip out of her sleep-deprived mouth before her brain could catch it. You could see the way she braced herself for war as her coworkers slowly turned their heads towards her. Shit-eating grins on all of their faces.
“Bye Sissy,” you echoed back, adding fuel to the fire.
The month passed by, and like clockwork, you would bring Trinity and the Pitt crew whatever you could to help feed them. After the first visit if Jack was available it meant that the tray you were carrying would be out of your hands the moment he saw you. It made your heart flutter, his fingers always brushed against yours. He had to know what he was doing.
Honestly, it just felt nice to have other people outside of your work to talk to, and you wondered why you hadn’t been doing this before.
Until one day, something snapped the fragile routine.
You were speaking with Jack, and he insisted on a first-name basis the next time you stopped by to bring Trinity dinner. The two of you were discussing the positives, among other things, patient satisfaction with the program inclusion, and what you were planning for the rest of the night, while he’s happily trapped here.
Suddenly, your arm was yanked backwards, “Dr. Abbot, I need to borrow her for a second.”
Trinity was a lot stronger than she looked, not a lot of people knew that until she decided to reveal it. Like she was now, by dragging you towards the staff lounge. “Hey, hey, are you trying to dislocate my arm?”
“Oh, trust me, you’d know if I was.” Oh, she’s pissed, but why, you have no idea.
You crossed your arms across your chest once she finally dropped the death grip that she had. “Okay, what the hell is your problem?”
“This has to stop.”
“You just gestured to all of me. What does that even mean?”
She poked her finger against your chest, dangerously close to your tit, which she knows is sensitive. “You, you coming here, bringing food for everybody, and whatever this thing is that you have going on with Abbot, it has to stop.”
That stopped you in your tracks because nothing inappropriate was going on with Abbott, not that you wouldn’t mind if something inappropriate were happening. “Trinity, there’s nothing–”
She poked you again, “Don’t bullshit me alright. This is my job, and you cannot come in here and fuck it up.”
You were brought back to a party that you didn’t know about and killed when you walked in the door. Back when she was being reckless and angry. “I wasn’t trying to–”
Trinity was on a rampage right now, and you were the target. “And I don’t care if you’re desperate, pick someone else besides one of my fucking attendings.” This was humiliation at its finest, she wasn’t trying to be quiet or private, she wanted people to hear.
You took a deep breath in, trying to ground yourself. “I’ve only ever come here to bring you food Trin, and for work, I see that you’re working doubles on the calendar, and I know you don’t eat like you should–”
She threw her hands up. “You’re not fucking mom okay! I’m not your problem, and you need to leave so I can do my fucking job!” She stormed out of the break room, a “what” thrown out to anyone who was looking her way.
You waited a second before adjusting your bag on your shoulder and walking out as well, head down, the refusal to make eye contact with anyone evident. A tear didn’t fall until the sliding doors closed behind you.
Trinity never thought that she would feel this hesitancy to enter her home again. But the weight of an apology was on her shoulders. Robby had chewed her out after her spectacle in the break room, told her to keep the family drama out of the ED, or her sister wouldn’t be allowed back. She didn’t want that, she never wanted that. The place somehow felt lighter when you showed up, helped make everything not feel so suffocating.
But the look that Abbot gave her today just pissed her off, fuck that man and his obvious crush on you. If he wasn’t going to ask you out then he needed to knock off the goo-goo eyes at work. And they wanted to say that she was being unprofessional.
Every movement was slow as she unlocked the door and stepped inside. She didn’t expect you to be sitting on the couch, an episode of Rick and Morty playing on the TV. She remembered you letting her watch an episode when she was way too young. “Hey…I brought home takeout.”
You didn’t say anything as she set the bag down, but you could hear a soft, annoyed sigh behind you. “What episode are you watching?” She knew exactly what episode it was. “Are you not gonna say anything?” No, you were not. “Alright, fuck, I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have snapped at you today. That was really shitty of me.” Trinity Santos, the master of apologies, ladies and gentlemen.
“So you still meant everything you said?” There was no move to look away from the screen.
“I shouldn’t have brought mom up, that wasn’t fair to you–”
Your head shook in disbelief. “You have said that to me before so many times Trin, it really doesn’t phase me at this point. I know it’s your go-to when I’m ‘smothering’ you I just–I care. You know I care right? I’m not trying to be…”
It was obvious that she was reaching for the right words. “I know you’re not, it’s just–it’s hard sometimes…you’ve always been more of a mom to me, and now that I’m older. It feels like I’m having to relearn how to be your sister.”
It made a lot of sense. Part of you hated that you had to be an adult at such a young age, but you wouldn’t give up your sister for the world. “I think I’m having to learn that too. I didn’t mean to encroach on your space or your work, I actively tried not to be in your way–”
She cut you off, “You were never in the way, it’s actually been nice having you there, and you genuinely seem to enjoy that place, which is crazy to me since I’m itching to get out of there.”
You nudged her, and thankfully, she nudged back. “You enjoy it too.”
“Yeah, I think, I think I just got so used to it being you and me that I didn’t really bother to have friends at work in the beginning. And then you started being all buddy-buddy with everyone, and I thought that’s it, she’s gonna be everybody’s best friend, and I’m gonna be alone again.” You always thought that was just the way she liked it, on her own. ‘Nobody to disappoint her that way,’ she would say.
You paused the TV, sensing the shift. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”
She scoffed, “How could I talk to you about feeling lonely?”
Now you were the one scrambling, “Trinity…I’ve been alone a really long time–”
“Yeah cause you choose to be.” Maybe your sister does need a psych evaluation.
“Choose to be, I’m sorry, you think I choose to be alone?” She nodded her head like it was obvious, “No…no, that’s you, I don’t choose this.”
She looked like she was ready to ditch this conversation now. “Okay fuck you. If you’re so alone, go out and find someone.” It’s almost like you could hear your mom's voice in your ear, ‘you have such a pretty face, if you just had form like your sisters, you’d be a knockout.’ ‘Of course you’re gonna be alone if you never put yourself out there.’ How were you supposed to put yourself out there when she had been putting you down for so much of your life?
Now your words had bite and sharpness to them. “You say that like it’s so easy. It is for you, it’s not for me, and it never has been.”
“What are you talking about? You never had a problem with making friends.” Friends that never stayed in contact, not one from high school or college, and it sure as hell wasn’t from a lack of trying on your part.
“Yeah, and you never had a problem finding someone that wanted to be with you. There are different kinds of loneliness Trin.”
It took a second for her to fully understand what you meant. “Oh, oh, I didn’t realize you…missed that.” Honestly your last relationship was so long ago that you felt like a born again virgin somedays.
“Yeah, I’m not a nun. I just don’t talk to you about it cause you’ve never had that problem before.”
Trinity was tired of standing, so she reached into the fridge to grab some beer to go alongside the takeout. She handed one to you before placing the bag on the coffee table and sitting beside you. “Yeah, just a problem with people staying.”
You cracked open both bottles while she started to unbox the food. “To be fair, you’ve never asked anyone to stay before.”
Her shoulders shrugged. “True, probably something I need to be in therapy for.”
“You and me both Sissy.”
“I hope you know, I don’t actually care about you and Abbot, I mean, I do I–I want you to be happy. You deserve it, you’ve taken care of me my whole life and you–you deserve someone who wants to take care of you too. And if that’s Abbot, then good for you, I guess.” What a world it would be if Jack Abbot wanted to take care of you. Maybe for a brief moment you thought he might have been interested, but after spending some time with him, you’re sure that subtle flirting is just his default mode. Nothing else has really hinted at interest or even desire, which you wouldn’t be able to spot in a person anyway.
Even though you wish it wasn’t true, “Trinity Jack’s not interested in me like that.” He probably wants someone in the same field anyway; it’s not like you’d understand half of what he talks about at work, you barely understand Trinity some days.
She took off the lid to her curry. “Uh, yes, he is.”
Accepting the takeout container from her, you pressed yourself against the back of the couch. “You sound awfully sure about that.”
She looked at you like she couldn’t believe someone could be so oblivious. “Okay, I’m starting to think that you’ve been alone because you’re just blind to when people like you, honestly, I should’ve caught on to that sooner.”
As sad as it was, it still made you laugh. “Well, can you blame me? I could never tell if it was a joke or not.” Boys had always been unnecessarily cruel to you growing up.
“Just…take my word for it…he likes you.”
You wanted to believe her so badly. It would be so easy to. But even if you did believe her, what would you do with the information? It’s not like you’d make a move, no, you’ve done it before, and it never works. That’s why you decided that if someone actually liked you, then it would have to be on them. At least nothing gets lost in translation that way. “I wouldn’t want to make things weird at work for you.”
She finished about a third of her beer. “Things are already weird, trust me, you’re fine. Listen, if he asks you out, just promise me you’ll say yes, at least give it a shot.”
Who would have thought your baby sister would try to set you up with her attending? Just what was the world coming to? “Yeah, that’s if he asks me out, which is a big if.”
A slow, smug smile crept onto her face. “I’ll bet you a hundred bucks that he asks you out tomorrow when you bring me lunch.”
“You and I both know you don’t have that money.” One would think being a doctor would pay better, but the world’s becoming too expensive even for them.
“That’s how confident I am.”
“I’m thinking you just want an excuse for me to bring you lunch tomorrow.”
The next day, you just ended up bringing the damn chicken soup in a crockpot since containers were a hassle. It seemed to be the right call, since the cold had brought in a wave of sickness throughout the ED.
Hands came up from your left and took the crockpot from you, both of you on a familiar path to the break room. You sure would know those biceps anywhere. Not that you were objectifying him in that way, of course not, you would never. “She returns…you know, we had a bet going on whether you’d be back around.”
You thanked him per usual and asked, “Oh yeah? Who won?”
He had a sort of playful scowl on his face. “Whitaker, he bet that Santos would apologize after work and you’d be back the next day. Kinda scary how well that kid knows her.”
“She’d never admit it, but she has a soft spot for him.” They reached the breakroom and Jack set soup down on the counter close to the outlet. You reached out to plug it in expecting him to take a step back. Only he didn’t, he just stood there without a care in the world.
Now the bastard was smirking at you, “Want me to get that for you?”
Come on, pull up your big girl panties and fucking flirt with this man. You have the approval of your sister of all people. A leap of faith had you leaning in, “That’s okay I got it.” Your arm brushed against his chest, and lord, that is one sturdy man, of course you could tell that just by looking at him, but to actually feel it. “Can I ask what you ended up betting?”
He leaned in even closer, “I was not a betting man this time around.”
“How come?”
His hand reached out, an inch away from your hip, a question, ‘am I allowed to?' So you leaned into the touch. “Didn’t want to take the chance that the outcome would be longer than I wanted.” That struck you, the way he said it, so simple, just a fact trapped in the room.
“You got lucky then, Trinity and I didn’t speak for three months straight one time.”
The smallest tug had you jolting forward, quickly trying to catch yourself. Jack had you right where he wanted you. “Oh, now I would’ve missed you way too much.”
“You mean my cooking.”
“That too but mostly you.”
“Good to know,” now’s when you say ‘I would have missed you too,’ go ahead. “Make sure you get some of the soup then, who knows when Trinity might decide to banish me again.” What the fuck is wrong with you?
He gave you a full smile, one of his rare ones, as his hand squeezed your side. You used to shrink away from touches like that, but from him, every part of you just softly pleaded more, more. “Perish the thought,” he looked over at the pot, “I can’t remember the last time I had homemade chicken soup.”
“Hope it lives up to the memory if you remember it.”
Jack has a silent intensity about him, and it keeps dragging you in. He’s just staring, a million questions he could be asking, and somehow he’s asking each one simultaneously. “Hmm,” even his ‘hmms’ have a vocabulary of their own. “You know, if you ever get tired of cooking, I’d be happy to do it for you.”
Is this–is this him asking you out? “Oh, you’d cook for me, huh?” Friends have dinner together, hell you’ve been doing it a lot this past month. But friends don’t hold onto someone like this and they definitely don’t keep glancing down at your lips like they’re seconds away from kissing you. Fuck, you wish he would.
The hand on your waist glides to your spine and his hands have a way of making you feel small, and incredibly weak in the knees. “You sound surprised.”
“Just thought you lived off of adrenaline and protein shakes at this point.”
“I’ve been known to make a mean steak.” The mental image of Jack standing over a grill just about does you in. It’s almost sad. When’s the last time someone cooked for you?
“Hmm, I’m very picky about my steak.”
That smirk makes you want to reach up and kiss it away. “As am I, you have to be. You free tomorrow?”
What the hell is happening right now? “Uh, yeah, yeah, I am.”
“Great, so I’ll pick you up at six.”
“I’ll bring dessert.” It was unmistakable, the heat, the way his eyes wandered slowly across you. You hadn’t meant it that way, or maybe deep down you did, maybe this is what it was to actually flirt. Maybe you were even good at it.
“Can’t wait.” He took a step closer, christ, he wanted to kiss you. Just a quick one, something to tide him over during his shift, but he knew it wouldn’t be quick, it wouldn’t be enough, and it wouldn’t be appropriate for the workplace.
Thankfully and annoyingly at the same time, one of the nurses came through the door asking for him before he could give in. “Sorry sweetheart.” He felt like he had to pry himself away from you, and you were just as desperate to hold on, but you knew better.
“Jeez, do your job Dr. Abbot,” you playfully teased. Secretly, it was a way to also catch your breath. But little did you know what that did to him. Eyes followed his back as he walked towards the door, his hand gripped the frame, and he looked so close to turning back around, but he knew better. His head shook with a small laugh, and then he was off.
It was just you and the soup now, you checked the heat once more and made your way towards the exit. There was an overwhelming need to get some fresh air and run the last ten minutes over and over in your mind.
Behind you, the almost evil voice of your sister whispered, “If you could send me that hundred bucks now, that would be great.”
a/n: hope you liked it, please let me know if you want to see more of this pairning! also i think I might start strictly writing plus-size characters from now on cause why the hell not, there's never enough of them! ⚕♡
here's my masterlist if you're insterested ــــ٨ـ🩺
I have a very cute idea about an elf lover that absolute despises humans, but has grown too attached to you over the years.
He’s not around much during the spring and summer, since he’s busy traveling and collecting new spells for the books he’s writing.
But during the fall and winter though?
You try your best to blink the sleep away from your eyes as he walks into your bedroom in the middle of the night, tossing his cloak onto your floor before crawling into bed with you,
“You could have knocked…” you whine, knowing he probably picked your lock or used some magic spell to get in.
Like a mischievous cat, he cuddles into you, unwilling to listen to your complaints as he focuses on sinking into your chubby flesh and warming himself. You hiss as his cold hands make contact with your skin.
“C-cold!”
He huffs against your neck, pawing at your hips to pull you in closer. “Stop complaining, I want to sleep.”
Elves are less human-like than most assume. They are more akin to fae or magical creatures, and are only confused for being related to humans because of their appearance.
Most elves migrated to warmer places during the colder months, but why would he need to do that when he had his own personal heater ready to keep him warm when the temperature began to dip?
He’s intent on keeping you fed and happy, going out to hunt big game and returning to feed you enough to ensure you’re fat. Most elves are thin and not made to withstand cold temperatures, so your body fat is crucial for his survival.
And though that’s all true, groping your tits and tummy while fucking into your fat cunt every night isn’t exactly necessary…
“You’re warm…” he mutters as he holds your leg up and lines his cock up with your pussy. As his tip presses into your wet folds, he kisses your neck. “Don’t complain, you can go back to sleep.”
He always huffs the next morning, pushing over a plate full of food as he looks approvingly at the marks he’s left on your neck.
You’ll be good and pregnant by spring, and he’s determined to keep you comfy, fed, and warm through the winter.
Imagine: You were the one who took Spider in after Neytiti voiced her concerns. After raising your son on your own for over 14 years, you end up meeting his father in less than desirable circumstances.
Word count: 4.3k
Warnings: murder (cmon it’s Quaritch and you’re a very protective mother)
Masterlist
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
Your people said that you were born twice, once at your birth and the second in the eyes of Eywa when you earned your place amongst the clan. But you didn’t really feel like you started living until the day Spider came into your life. You remembered the day like it was yesterday.
It had been a long day, full of flying, patrolling the area on the lookout for any suspicious activity around the clan’s current home near the Tree of Souls, where you had to be forcibly relocated after the skypeople destroyed the Hometree. You were finally granted rest time and you head straight to the riverbank to wash your face and arms of the sweat and dirt that caked your blue skin, a satisfied sigh left your lips as the water cooled your flesh. You sat back on your heels, eyes closed, basking in the fading sunset as your ears twitched, taking in the sounds of the running water, the distant calls of ikrans in the sky, the quiet chirping of prolemuris as they swung through the trees.
Your eyes snapped open as your ears twitched to the left, hearing a shrill little giggle. It sounded so childlike. You turned to face the noise, finding a white-fleshed creature waddling its way towards the riverbank. It was covered in a loincloth similar to the kind your people wear, yellow hair frizzy and untamed down his back. A black mask stuck to its face and dirt caked its arms, legs and stomach. A skyperson. But it was so small? So tiny and helpless. A baby? You had never seen a baby skyperson before, and looking at this one, it was very difficult to believe they could grow up to be such heartless beings.
It didn’t seem to be aware of your presence at first, scurrying around, following something crawling along the floor. You watched intently, tracking its every move. Even as the child slipped on a wet rock and fell onto his behind. Your four fingered hand came up to cover your mouth to muffle the laugh behind it. The little human finally saw you then, head turning to look at you. He stayed on the floor for a few moments before immediately getting back onto his feet, waddling over to you. You were unsure how to proceed. What if his parents were nearby ready to shoot with their big guns? Did his presence mean you were close to others? Your ears and sense of smell told you otherwise, but your guard was raised nonetheless.
The small boy slowed down as he reached your kneeled form, you were so much taller than him just like this. It was comical seeing how much his head tilted back to look you in the face. It was enough to cause your mouth to split into a smile, making the human let out another giggle. His hands opened and closed as they reached out towards you, wanting to be held.
By all logic, you should pick the boy up and throw him in the river, discard of one more skyperson. It was what your head was telling you to do, but your heart and all your instincts had you moving towards the little boy. Hesitantly, your big hands cupped him underneath his armpits to lift him off the ground. It was as if he weighed nothing at all. You held him out in front of you, turning him to look over him, checking for injuries or perhaps even a hint he belonged to someone.
The baby human only giggled at being spun around, his hands opening and closing into tiny fists as he whined, reaching for you, gurgling nonsense, not even full words. Slowly, you brought him closer, his head resting on your chest. The contact soothed him, his whining stopping immediately, his small arms doing their best to fit around your neck as his head rested upon your shoulder. Your hands moved to slide one underneath his bottom whilst the other cradled the back of his head.
You slowly stood, turning to look all around you, but yet again, there was no sign of any other skypeople. You decided you would have to take him to the Olo'eyktan, Jake Sully, to decide his fate. Your tail swished behind you as you took a leisurely walk towards your home camp, glancing down every so often at the little boy in your arms. His hands had come down to play with the beads on your top, tracing them with his tiny fingers. The sight filled you with deep emotion.
You had lost your chance to be mated before the eyes of Eywa, your chosen mate losing his life in the skypeople battle before you could bond. In grief, you hadn’t chosen another mate and therefore had not been granted the blessing of children. Many times you had dreamt of seeing little fingers curled up against your chest just like this, carrying your baby protectively through the forest. Your closed off maternal instincts overpowered you as you looked down at the small boy. You made a silent vow to protect him until he was safe.
You were a few feet from the edge of the home camp when you heard panicked shouting, causing you to pick up your pace. Your hands held the boy closer to you as you ran, only slowing once you saw your fellow Na’vi. The first being the Olo'eyktan himself. At the sight of you, he came to a halt and looked down at your arms.
“Spider! Oh buddy we were looking everywhere for you. Where did you find him?” Jake came over to you, his attention turning to you after seeing the boy Spider was okay. Your hands loosened their hold so he could see Jake in front of him, the young boy giving him a wide smile before looking back up at you. Your teeth bared in a grin as you moved the hand on the back of his head to lightly stroke the bridge of Spider’s nose, “This little thing was running towards the riverbank. He came towards me and asked to be held. I accepted his request.” Spider giggled and grabbed onto your long finger.
Jake looked surprised at you, though your focus was trained onto Spider so you took no notice. The movement of tree branches had you all looking towards Neytiri who walked forwards to scowl at the boy in your hold. Jake waved his hand in Spider’s direction, “You see? He needs us, he doesn’t have anyone back there to look after him. It’s not safe for him there.”
Neytiri grunted, her disdain clear on her face, “He does not belong here. He was here for seconds and yet he cause trouble, running away. I cannot permit this, Ma’Jake.”
Jake ran a frustrated hand over his face, “Baby please, he has no where else to go, both his parents are dead. We can teach him our ways, he won’t grow up to be like the others.” Neytiri still wasn’t convinced, her teeth baring in a snarl as she glared at Spider. The sight made you hold the boy a little tighter. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, holding yourself a little higher. “I will take care of him.”
Both Neytiri and Jake snapped their eyes to you. One of shock and one of relief. Jake took a step forward, placing a strong hand on your shoulder, “Thank you, (Y/N), thank you. I am indebted to you for this.” Neytiri frowned, looking between you and her husband before giving a reluctant nod, she wasn’t going to win this battle,
“Very well. You are now responsible for the human. Raise it properly and perhaps it will not grow into its insanity.”
“-om, Mom!” A small nudge in the middle of your back had you shaking out of your memories. You lifted your arm to look behind you, seeing Spider standing there with a basket of berries. You smiled down at your adoptive son, patting him on his head. “Mom, you were like completely zoned out, I was calling you for ages.”
“Apologies, my son, I was just thinking about the day I took you in.” Spider wrapped his arm around your waist in a hug, “You were so tiny, and helpless. I can see not much has changed.”
Your soft laughter rang through the air as Spider tried to tackle you to the ground but his human body was no match for your Na’vi strength. “You’re not funny mom!” He whined as you pushed him back, reaching down to tickle his sides, grinning at his laughs. Only when his breathing got too shallow did you stop, immediately kneeling down to get face level with him, checking the oxygen markings on his mask. Still high. Spider rolled his eyes at your big eyes full of worry, placing his hands over your own, “Mom I’m fine, c’mon. Look I got you some berries, I know you’ve been craving them lately. I went with Kiri before you start worrying I was alone.”
The tone in your voice turned playful at the mention of Kiri, “Oh, Kiri hm? You’re often alone with the Sully girl aren’t you Son.” His smaller hands swatted at you but you brushed them off, “Ugh mom! We’re just friends.” Your smile widened as your hand brushed through Spider’s blonde dreads, “Mawey Son, I am just teasing you. Come, it is time to welcome the warriors back from patrol.”
You placed your hand on Spider’s shoulder, guiding him alongside you as you walked forward, your tail swishing behind you. You tilted your head back to release a call for your ikran, Amay, who came a few seconds afterwards. She was large and beautiful, all kinds of shades of blue adorned her tough skin. She screeched as she landed, bowing down before you to allow you to sit on her back. You reached behind you to grab your queue to bond with Amay, leaning back to make space for Spider who promptly crawled over to sit in front of you. Once he was comfortable, you held onto her and flew her around to the other side of the Hallelujah mountains where your clan had been moved due to the decision of your leader, Jake Sully.
The past year since the RDA had come back, your world felt unsafe once again. The skypeople were relentless in their pursuits and you often feared for your people, and your son’s life. You had no idea what might happen to him should he be taken by them. A human with a life’s worth of knowledge about the Na’vi way of life was sure to be valuable to them.
It didn’t take long before you landed at the camps, helping Spider down onto the ground before releasing your bond with Amay, allowing her to fly away to rest. You watched with a knowing smile as your son immediately made his way over to the eldest Sully daughter. She was a sweet young girl and had never treated your son as anything less than an equal, it wasn’t hard to understand why Spider was so attached to her and the rest of the Sully kids.
Jake called all the riders to the tent at the back of the cave, gathering for a debrief on the latest patrol. You were quick to follow the others, knowing your son would be fine with the Sully girl.
A few hours had passed, darkness spread through the night and fatigue was starting to take over in you. Your ears twitched along with your nose as you picked up the fading scent of Spider, where had he gone?
“(Y/N)! The kids and Spider are in danger, I need your help!” There was no time to waste, running alongside your chief as you both ran towards the edge of camp, shouting for your ikrans. You glanced over to your right to see Neytiri following closely behind, the three of you gliding through the air to the coordinates Jake had gotten from his son. It was like you could feel the blood pumping around your veins in a mixture of rage and worry. All of them were just children, but Spider was vulnerable especially without his mask. He needed you, you could feel it.
Landing as quietly as possible in a tree close to Lo’ak’s coordinates, the three of you stepped down from your ikrans, ears perking as you picked up the sounds of struggle ahead. Jake gave you and Neytiri hand signals, with his wife turning off right as you headed towards the left, taking out your knife to grip tightly in your hand. You crouched down low, your steps light on the ground as you made your way unnoticed towards a small clearing. There you saw all of the children held up by demons, or Avatars, as Jake would have you call them.
You watched as Jake made the first move, taking down a guard in front of him. You scowled at the avatar in front of you, waiting for the moment he stepped back, far enough away from the view of the others to strike. One more step. Now.
You lunged, jumping up to wrap your legs around him to keep him still, one hand covering his mouth as the other sliced his neck, jumping off to slowly lower his body to the ground. Two down but still too many to go. The upper hand was yours, your positions kept secret. Until Neytiri fired her bow into the head of a demon right next to the tallest demon of them all. He held your son’s hair tight, the pain on his face forced a snarl from you. The avatars turned to shoot in Neytiri’s direction, foolishly keeping their backs to you.
You rushed out of hiding, using your knife to stab through the stomach of one man, hissing as you pushed him away, pulling your weapon back to wield again. You ducked a hit from the man to his left, coming back up to push your knife into his chest.
“Mom!”
Spider’s voice distracted you only for mere moments but it was enough time to have you be grabbed by your queue, a foot to the back of your legs forcing you onto your knees. You snarled and snapped your jaw at the hands trying to grab at your face.
“Well lookey here. Ain’t you a little spitfire.” The tallest Demon, the one Neytiri recognised, walked closer to stand in front of you. His eyes held curiosity as he stared down at you. You had killed three of his men and yet he smirked down at you? But it was irrelevant, he took your son and now he needed to pay.
You glared up at the demon man before you, jaw clenched in unmeasurable anger. A rusting and a cry of pain had your head turning to see Spider being held unconscious on the shoulders of the female demon. A quick scan around the clearing showed all the Sully kids and their parents nowhere to be seen. At least they made it out safely but the sight of your son in the hands of that bitch turned against your better judgement. Your elbow drew back into the stomach of the demon behind you, releasing his hold on your queue to spin around, kicking your leg out behind you to swipe him off his feet. Your hands grabbed handfuls of dirt into your palms to throw at the face of the demon in front of you. It was juvenile and not well planned but it worked for long enough to be able to get close to your son.
Just as your hand held onto Spider’s the feeling of something cold pressed against your forehead. The weapon the female demon was holding in her hands dug into your skin as your bared your teeth at her. “Stand down, Z.” The she-demon frowned but obediently pulled back her weapon. You snarled at her, “Give me back my son.”
An amused laugh echoed in the clearing, the taller man coming into view as he walked to the side of you, wiping the mud from his face. “Your son huh? Is that right? Forgive me if I’m wrong but uh ain’t you a little too blue for a son who looks like that?”
Your gaze hardened, “I have raised him since he was a little boy. He is my son and I will not let you demons take him from me, or I swear to Eywa I will hunt you down and kill every last one of you with my bare hands.”
Quaritch’s mouth spread into a grin, his small fangs revealing themselves into the night, “Ain’t that a pretty promise? Alright, we’re taking her too boys, let’s roll out.” His hand came up to grab your wrists, placing a strange black binding around them, “No biting cupcake, or I’ll have to muzzle you.” You answered his words with a hiss, only gaining another laugh. Your tail swished in fury, preparing to make another attack even with your bound hands. That was, before you were hit in the side of the head with the gun of the marine behind you, knocking you unconscious.
The sound of the helicopter above had Quaritch leaning down to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, as they made their way towards the landing hovercraft. He looked back over his shoulder to make sure Spider was in tow with the others.
-
Your lungs burned as you awoken, mouth open desperately trying to gulp down air that wasn’t meant for your body. Your vision blurry as your arms swung around, fighting for survival. A blue blur in front of you came closer, grabbing something from your chest to press over your nose and mouth.
“Breathe. That’s it. Nice and slowly.” You greedily swallowed down four big inhales of air before your heart rate slowed down enough to regain full consciousness. Blinking, your sight cleared to recognise the blue blur as the soldier from (you assumed) last night. Immediately, you bared your teeth to snarl at him, ears pinning back and making a move to strike him. Your wrists were caught before you could make contact, his grip firm but not enough to cause pain.
He could only smile at your defiance, “I like the fire in you, lady. We haven’t been formally introduced, the names Miles Quaritch.”
Your nose scrunched in distrust for the man. “I have no desire to know you, Demon.” Quaritch smirked as he let go of you, either foolishly thinking you wouldn’t try to attack him again, or cocky enough to assume he could stop you a second time.
“I’d beg to differ. We seem to have a common interest. The boy, Spider, is my son.” Your eyes widened in shock, that surely wasn’t possible, he had to be lying. Quaritch continued, “Not from this body of course. I was a human killed by Mrs Sully, my memories stored and placed into this body. He was born just before things went tits up for us, his mom died fighting alongside me.”
“Wrong. I am his mother.” The scoff from Quaritch’s mouth made you angry, as if you were a child lying for attention. “I took him in, cared for him as my own for fourteen years! I have been there through the sickness, through the good. I have wiped his tears and bathed his tiny body. I have been the one to keep him fed and soothe him to sleep. I am his mother in every sense of the word and I will not let you or anyone take him from me.”
Quaritch stood still for a moment before crossing his arms over his chest, looking you up and down and nodded once, twice. “That right? Guess I owe you some kind of thanks then, for keeping my boy safe and sound.” You didn’t bother hiding the anger on your safe from hearing Quaritch call Spider ‘his boy’ but at least he didn’t seem to have bad intentions towards your son.
Quaritch lifted his own breathing mask that lay around his neck to take a deep breath before turning to leave the room, his hand reaching for the door handle. “Wait,” he paused, “I want to see him.”
Quaritch pursed his lips at your request, letting out a quiet hum in thought. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, lady.”
“Please.”
Quaritch looked back over his shoulder at you, his eyes piercing as they stared into your own. A slow nod, “I’ll see what I can do.” You tried not to show your emotions to this demon but you couldn’t help the relief on your face at the chance of being able to see Spider. No doubt he was feeling scared and angry at being cooped up in this horrible place. The walls were so bright it was making your head hurt to look at them. You sat down on the metal bench, occasionally taking breaths from the mask around your neck as you waited for when you could see your son.
It was hours later when you heard the door to your glorified cage unlock, opening to see Quaritch behind it. Your nose twitched as you recognised Spider’s scent, sitting up straight to look past Quaritch to see Spider pushing his way into the room, “Mom!”
“Spider!” You leapt off your seat, meeting your son halfway in the room, crouching down to take him into your arms. Your large hand cradled the back of his head as you felt your eyes watering, the relief at seeing Spider pushing the tears out of you. You pulled back to start lifting up his arms, looking for any signs of injury, “They didn’t hurt you did they? I swear, if they laid a finger on you I will happily bite them off.” Spider laughed at you, oh how you were so happy to hear that laugh.
You brought your hands up to cup his face, leaning down to press your forehead against his own, feeling his hands wrap around your wrist. “Mawey mom, I’m fine, see!” You smiled at that, he seemed like the same old Spider. You tilted your head up to press a soft kiss against Spider’s forehead, your tail curling around Spider’s leg. You had never seen Spider up close without his mask before, having refused many times to enter the human labs he liked to frequent with his friends. You could see every detail so much clearer, including the red streaks on his cheeks where it was clear he had been crying.
Your eyes flickered up to see Quaritch stood at the entrance, staring at the two of you with an unreadable expression on his face. Seeing he had your attention, he cleared his throat, “That’s enough now, we need to get ready to leave.” His words had you standing immediately, putting yourself in front of your son, “You will not take him from me again, Demon.”
“Mom it’s okay,” Spider’s hand tugging your own did nothing to calm you down, not as Quaritch smirked, taking two steps towards you, limiting the distance to mere inches between the two of you. You hated that you had to crane your neck a little to look up at him and the smug grin on his face. “Oh no little lady, you’re coming with. Spider’s made it very clear he won’t cooperate unless you tag along.”
‘Lady’ you despised that name. It was meant for the sky people, not na’vi like you. Your teeth gritted as you spoke, “My name is (Y/N), not lady.”
“Pretty.” Your ears pinned back as you scowled at him, placing a protective hand over Spider’s chest behind you. Pretty? It was not a word you had often heard about yourself in regard to your name but you refused to feel praise at the compliment. Quaritch held out his hand to you, but you swatted it away, taking hold of your son’s hand as you stepped out of the white box room, ducking so as to not hit your head off the low ceiling. Spider’s hand clenched around yours, “Don’t worry Mom, I’m gonna get us out of here. We just need to play along for a while.”
Your thumb rubbed over the back of Spider’s hand, trying your best to make the smile on your face look genuine. But it was difficult to feel any sort of hope for your future, with it being in the hands of these dangerous creatures. As Quaritch led you two towards yet another skyperson air craft, Spider spoke to you in Na’vi informing you of what it was that you were supposed to be doing.
Your stomach bubbled with dread for what lies ahead, your only comfort being your son sat by your side, arms wrapped around your waist like he had always done when seeking your affection. You didn’t smile, keeping your face stoic as the back of your hand gently stroked the back of his head. How you wished to grab him by the face and tell him everything was going to be okay, but you didn’t want to show any kind of weakness or fear to these demons. At the feeling of being watched, you raised your head to see Quaritch looking at you and Spider with that same unreadable expression. Your graze hardened, your arm subconsciously moving to cover more of Spider and holding him closer. Quaritch blinked twice before seeming to come back from his thoughts, making eye contact with you. He smirked, you bared your teeth and wrapped your tail around Spider’s leg. Your eyes closed as you muttered under your breath, praying to Eywa that the two of you would remain safe, that you would find your people again, and that you would bring these demons to their knees.
The issue I have with writers doing a "plus-size reader being insecure, so sex is the solution" trope is that it just sexualizes us. Insecurity can also stem from sexualization, just like it can from rejection. Plus-size people face objectification every day, and you're a part of it. It's also so unrealistic; if I'm feeling insecure about my body, the last thing I'd want is someone groping my naked body. Imagine if you were really thirsty and instead of someone giving water, they spit in your face and say, "Well, it's a liquid." That's what y'all are doing with those fic tropes. You're saying, "Oh, you have insecurities? Here's a fic about you getting your puss ate." Also, 99% of these authors who write plus-size characters like that are not plus-size themselves. So, instead of doing research or even talking to a bigger person, they write a crappy, half-assed fic that they think is so different. They praise themselves like they're fucking Liberace. I can give you a quick outline of these fics.
•reader tries on dress
•reader is insecure
•character comes in
•reader cries
•character and reader have sex.
You're like everyone else who treats us like we are not more than our bodies, you're just doing it in a performative way. You're not different, nothing you're doing is new, and if I'm being honest every insecurity->sex fic I've seen has been fucking trash.
Summary: Sunshine reader is always seen as sweet and innocent to the team, always happy to use her healing magic wherever possible. Bucky, touch starved and in love, discovers reader is not as innocent as she seems.
Word count: 8.2k words <3
Plus size reader safe! All body types are safe in this fic! Everyone loves Dom! Bucky I do too but good god I need whipped Bucky who will do anything for Reader. This is the longest piece I’ve written in so long! Enjoy and leave a note<3 I’m in my marvel era again so feel free to request anyone! I didn't proof read (i finished it at 1am)
Tags: There is a plot! (porn with plot lol) AFAB reader, The smut is pure FILTH tbh, Smut, Pining Bucky, no use of Y/N.
Smut warnings: Sub!Bucky, soft dom! Reader, use of ‘Good boy’, Bucky has a praise kink, pussy eating (lots of it), Needy/touch starved Bucky, Bucky has an Edward Cullen moment, Oral (female/reader receiving— THREE times hehe) penetration, Buck likes his hair pulled, Bucky dry humps, Reader squirts (third oral sequence so skip that part if you wish) needy creampie.
There were things in the modern world that baffled Bucky, Bubble tea, new terms for prejudice ending in 'phobia', babies with Ipads in their faces. And you. The first time he laid eyes on you, you gave him a blindingly sweet smile, and held your hand out for him to shake. When he didn't take it you didn't judge him or look at him funny, you smiled like you understood. From then on, you respected his boundaries and he began to feel safe. It made sense to him that someone like you had the power to help and heal others.
You’d always bring them things; vitamins, water, those weird orange flavoured things that dissolve in water, something a little sugary for a boost, with that sweet, innocent smile he'd grown to adore. He would never- could never admit that though, someone like him wasn't worthy of you. He could settle for some longing and pining instead.
Bucky is lounging on the sofa with Steve, some 50s flick playing that Steve had insisted on, something about a painter in Paris- he wasn't sure. And then, you walk in, your sweet voice drifting into his ear.
“An American in Paris, huh?” you asked, gently teasing as you moved closer to the sofa, catching sight of the movie they were watching.
Bucky shifted a little, his gaze flickering to you, then quickly back to the TV. He tried not to look at you too much when you were around, not because he didn’t want to, but because every time he did, it felt like something in his chest tightened. It certainly didn’t help that it was a hot day today, you’d opted for a cute pink and white sundress that stopped mid thigh.
“Yeah, Steve’s choice,” Bucky muttered, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out a little softer than he intended. He knew that you liked these kinds of old movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.
Steve grinned from the other end of the couch, catching the subtle shift in Bucky’s tone, but not saying anything about it. Instead, he glanced up at you with a friendly smile.
“You a fan of the classics too?” Steve asked, gesturing for you to sit if you wanted to join them.
You walked over, the scent of your shampoo reaching Bucky’s senses. Vanilla and coconut, coincidentally his favourite fragrance, something that had changed not long after he’d met you… coincidentally of course, and the more you lingered around, the harder it became for him to focus on anything but you.
“Reminds me of my dad. Some are super sexist but I’m a sucker for Marilyn Monroe” you said, sitting down at the edge of the couch, right next to Bucky. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you, but still with enough space to respect his boundaries. You always seemed to know exactly how to balance that, without even trying. It amazed him.
Bucky felt his pulse quicken as you sat beside him. You were so close. Too close. Not close enough.
He grunted in agreement with your statement, nodding, though his eyes stayed fixed on the screen. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you—he just didn’t know how. What could he say that wouldn’t make him seem awkward or broken? Besides, talking might make him reveal just how badly he wanted to be near you, and he couldn’t afford that.
But then you spoke again, your voice soft and gentle, like you were speaking just to him. “How was training today?”
He cleared his throat, trying to push away the thoughts clouding his mind. “Same as always. Steve still hits like a truck.”
Steve laughed from the other side, “You’re the one with the metal arm, Buck.”
Bucky shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. Just a distraction. He was grateful for it.
You laughed too, and that sound—it was like a melody that settled right under Bucky’s skin, making him feel warm in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He stole a glance at you again, just for a second, and you were looking right at him. That smile on your face, the one that had been seared into his memory from the moment you’d met.
“Let me guess,” you said, eyes twinkling, “you didn’t let him win this time either?”
Bucky’s lips twitched, almost into a smile, but he stopped himself. “Nope.”
“Good,” you replied, your voice soft again, almost as if you were relieved. “Can’t let Cap off easy.”
It was such a simple thing to say, but it hit Bucky harder than he’d expected. You cared. Not just in the way you handed out snacks and drinks after training or smiled when they passed by, but genuinely cared. For him. For Steve. And maybe, just maybe, that meant you’d be willing to see something more in him than he saw in himself.
The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but it was thick with unspoken words. Bucky could feel it. He wanted to reach out, say something—anything—but the words lodged themselves in his throat, like they always did when it came to you.
For a moment, Bucky let himself wonder what it would be like—if he could let himself believe he was worthy of you. Of someone so full of light and warmth, when all he felt was the shadows of his past.
But then the doubt crept back in, and he looked away again. He couldn’t let himself get too close. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could manage without giving too much away.
You didn’t push him, though. You never did. You just smiled again and settled into the couch beside him, watching the movie like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And for a fleeting moment, Bucky let himself pretend that it was.
The training room echoes with the sharp sound of fists hitting metal, the rhythmic thud of boots against the mat, and the occasional grunt of exertion. Bucky and Steve were sparring again; the same routine they'd run through countless times. It usually helped Bucky clear his mind, focus his energy on something physical, something he could control. But today, it was different.
“Come on, Buck, focus,” Steve says as he circles around, hands up and ready. His movements were fluid, precise. He was always like that—disciplined, unshakable. Bucky was too, usually. But not today.
His thoughts kept drifting, unbidden, back to you.
He couldn’t stop thinking about how close you had been on the couch last night, the way your voice had softened when you’d spoken to him, like you saw something in him that no one else did. That smile. It was haunting him in the best way.
As if to taunt him farther, his mind flashes with the image of you in your sundress, the way it swayed around the soft skin of your thighs.
“Bucky?” Steve’s voice cut through his reverie, but not fast enough.
Distracted, Bucky moves just a second too late. He swings wide, and Steve, quicker than ever, ducked under his arm and swept his legs out from under him. Before Bucky could react, he hit the mat hard, air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp.
“Damn it,” Bucky growles, more at himself than at Steve. He stays on the floor for a moment, trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He shouldn’t be getting distracted like this. Not during a sparring session. Not ever.
Steve stands over him, offering a hand, his brow furrowed in concern. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Bucky grumbles, accepting the hand and letting Steve pull him back to his feet. His ribs ache from the fall, but it wasn’t anything serious. It was more the embarrassment that stung. Bucky didn’t like feeling off his game, and lately, thinking about you was doing just that.
“You weren’t focused,” Steve says, stepping back into position. It wasn’t a question.
Bucky wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking out his arms as if that could somehow reset his mind. “I’m fine. Let’s go again.”
Steve hesitates for a second, then nods, getting back into stance. He could tell something was on Bucky’s mind, but he wasn’t going to push. At least, not right now. Steve knew when to back off, and when to press—though Bucky had a feeling that conversation would come soon enough.
They start again, trading punches and dodges, but Bucky couldn’t shake the lingering thoughts of you. The way you made him feel—safe, seen. The way you’d praise him. God… the way you’d tell him he did a good job after training or a mission,
Just for a second, his mind drifts again— Your pretty eyes, the way they’d look at him like he was something amazing, the smile you’d give him and then he wonders what your face would look like as he dives down deep between your thighs-
Steve’s fist came in fast, and though Bucky manages to block it, he doesn’t account for the follow-up. Steve's knee connects with his side, hitting just below his ribs with enough force to knock the wind out of him.
Bucky staggers back, holding his side with a grimace.
“Whoa, Buck!” Steve stops immediately, hands out in concern. “You good?”
Bucky clenches his jaw, nodding, though his side throbbed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth.
“You’re not fine,” Steve replies, taking a step forward, but Bucky waves him off, frustrated with himself more than anything.
“I said I’m fine,” Bucky snaps, turning away for a moment to catch his breath. He hates this. Hates how easily you get into his head, how much he let himself think about you when he was supposed to be focused. It wasn’t like him to get distracted, especially not in a fight.
Steve gives him a long, knowing look. He wasn’t pushing the subject yet, but Bucky could see it in his eyes—Steve had noticed something. And knowing Steve, it wouldn’t be long before he asked about it.
Steve lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “You need to go get that checked out.” He motions to the cut on Bucky’s cheek and his ribs.
“I said I’m fine,” Bucky mutters.
Steve doesn’t budge. “Buck, if you don’t get that cleaned up, it’s going to get worse. You’re already bruised, and that cut—” He gestured to Bucky’s face. “—needs to be looked at.”
Bucky was about to argue again when Steve adds, with a pointed look, “Go see her.”
He blinks, his heart suddenly beating faster in his chest. “What?”
“Go see her,” Steve repeats, his voice calm but insistent. “You know she can patch you up. She always does.”
Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. You always did take care of them after training, offering vitamin drinks or snacks, your touch gentle and your presence calming.
“I don’t need—” Bucky begins, but Steve cuts him off with a significant look.
“Buck, you’re hurt. Let her help you. Besides, we both know she’d want to,” Steve says, his tone softening as he rests a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She cares, man. And you’re not doing yourself any favours by pretending you don’t need her.”
Bucky clenched his jaw, his chest tight with a mix of frustration and something else he couldn’t quite name. The truth was, he did want to go to you.
With a heavy sigh, Bucky nods, finally relenting. “Fine.”
Steve smiles, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go get cleaned up. I’ll finish up here.”
Bucky hesitates for a second before turning to leave the training room, his side still aching from the hit.
All he knew was that when he saw you, when you smiled at him with that gentle, understanding look in your eyes, it was going to make it that much harder to keep pretending he didn’t feel anything.
Bucky’s footsteps echo softly through the hall as he makes his way to the infirmary. When he reaches the infirmary door, he gives a soft knock before stepping inside.
You’re there, sitting at your desk with one thigh crossed elegantly over the other, your attention focused on some paperwork in front of you. You’re dressed in your usual professional attire—a fitted dress that hugs your form just enough to hint at your curves beneath your white lab coat. The subtle click of your black heels against the floor when you shift is a small, but noticeable, sound that makes Bucky's heart beat a little faster.
You look up when you hear him enter, that sweet, welcoming smile appearing almost instantly. “Bucky,” you greet warmly, your voice soft. “What brings you in? Did you and Steve go a little too hard today?”
For a second, Bucky just stands there, distracted by how you look. His heart skips a beat as he takes in the sight of you. He notices, maybe for the first time, how the hem of your dress rides up slightly when you cross your legs. He forces himself to look away before you catch him staring.
“Uh, yeah,” he mutters, gesturing vaguely to the cut on his face. “Just a cut… and maybe some bruised ribs.”
You arch an eyebrow, your smile turning a little coy. “Only maybe bruised ribs? Sounds like you need me to take a closer look.”
Bucky blinks, heat creeping up his neck as he tries to decide whether he’s imagining the playful tone in your voice or if it’s actually there. He clears his throat. “Yeah… probably.”
With that, you uncross your legs and stand up, heels clicking softly against the tile floor as you walk over to him. Your movements are graceful, confident, and Bucky feels his pulse quicken as you draw closer. There’s something about the way you carry yourself today—calm, collected, but with an air of subtle suggestion that makes him feel off balance.
You stand just inches away from him, reaching up to gently tilt his chin up so you can inspect the cut above his eyebrow. Your fingers are cool against his sweaty skin, and Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat.
“It’s not deep,” you murmur “But it’s a little more than a scratch. Seems like you need my magic touch~” you wiggle your fingers and Bucky bites back a groan at the subtle implication.
Before Bucky can respond, you place your hand gently over the wound, and he feels a soft, warm tingling sensation spread across his skin. Your healing powers are subtle but effective, and within seconds, the pain is gone, the cut already closing up beneath your touch. He’s experienced your abilities before, but every time he feels a spark from your touch, it’s a simple move but he craves more.
“There we go,” you say softly, removing your hand from his face. Your fingers linger a little longer than usual, trailing down his jaw ever so slightly before you step back, your eyes locking with his for a brief moment.
Bucky swallows hard, trying to shake off the heat rising in his chest. He’s probably imagining it—just reading too much into things. You’re always sweet, always kind and innocent.
Your gaze drops to his side, and you gently brush your hand over his ribs. “Lift your shirt for me?” you ask, your voice light but carrying a tone of suggestion that makes Bucky’s heart skip a beat.
He hesitates for a second, then does as you ask, pulling up his shirt to reveal the dark bruise spreading along his ribs. You make a soft sound of sympathy, a small pout forming on your lips as your pretty eyes lock with his for a moment. You look back down, your fingers grazing his skin as you crouch slightly to get a closer look.
“You really got hit hard,” you murmur, your tone carrying a note of concern but it switches up subtly as you carry on: “Good thing I can take care of you.”
Bucky’s breath hitches. Did he hear that right? Is there something more in your words? You were just talking about the injury right? The way you said it, the way you moved—it feels almost sinful in a way he’s not used to, at least not from you. He tries to keep his focus, but with you this close, your fingers trailing lightly over his bruised skin, it’s damn near impossible.
You place your hand gently over his ribs, your touch soft but firm as you close your eyes for a moment, focusing on healing the injury. Bucky feels the familiar warmth of your powers again, spreading through his body like a gentle wave. The pain begins to melt away, the bruise slowly fading beneath your hand.
“There,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “All better.”
But your hand doesn’t move right away. Instead, it lingers on his ribs for a second too long, your fingertips brushing the edge of his abdomen in a way that makes his breath catch. Then, just as he’s about to say something—anything—you pull away, turning to your desk, palms flat and bending as if you’re looking for something. Bucky’s mind flashes to pulling up your dress and fucking you senseless then and there, his metal hand clenches and he shakes the thought away.
Bucky exhales slowly, trying to calm the sudden storm in his chest. He has to be imagining it, right? You’re just being your usual caring self- but that touch felt different. Everything you’re doing feels different. More intentional. And the way you’d looked at him just now—
He notices you didn’t actually pick anything up from the desk after you’d bent over it a little.
“Alright, just one last check,” you say as you come back to stand in front of him, a small, almost playful smile on your lips. “Let me make sure everything else is fine.” You reach up, your hand lightly brushing against his neck as if you’re checking for tension or soreness. But then, your fingers linger—soft and warm against his skin, trailing slowly down to his collarbone. The touch is innocent enough, but there’s something in the way you do it that makes Bucky’s entire body tense.
You meet his eyes, your expression still sweet and professional, but there’s a hint of something more—something almost teasing in the way you hold his gaze. “Hmm, seems like you’re all healed up,” you murmur, your voice soft but suggestive in a way that makes his pulse race.
Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly dry as he stares at you. For a moment, he can’t move, can’t speak—stuck between the need to figure out if what he’s feeling is real or just in his head. He tries to convince himself it’s all innocent, but the way your hand lingers on his neck, the way your eyes flicker to his lips for the briefest of moments… it leaves him wondering if you aren’t quite as innocent as he thought.
You finally step back, that same sweet smile on your face as if nothing happened. “Take it easy, alright? Don’t push yourself too hard next time.”
Bucky nods, his voice hoarse when he finally speaks. “Yeah… thanks.”
You tilt your head, your smile widening just a little. “Anytime.” You sit down on your chair again, crossing one thigh over the other, it seemed deliberate.
You rest a pencil on your lower lip, teeth grazing it just slightly, pretty eyes on him. Bucky draws in a breath and feels a problem growing between his legs. He spins around to the door, hoping you don’t notice.
As Bucky begins leave you call out once more: “Let me know if you need me Bucky~ you can always come to me”
As Bucky leaves the infirmary, his mind spins. He came in with injuries, but now he has a different kind of problem, he attempts to calm down, the hardness in his pants making it hard to think. Something has shifted between you two, and whether it’s real or just in his imagination, Bucky can’t help but think back to it all. Did you want him too?
That night, Bucky stares at his ceiling, mind flashing back to you at your desk. Why didn’t you pick anything up? Did you forget what you were looking for? The look in your eyes told him you must’ve known what was going through his head.
He groans and pushes his face into his pillow, he thinks back to something that had happened a few days ago. You were giving out some sort of vitamin pill to everyone, when you’d leaned in, lips near his ear as you whispered:
“I saved you the last cherry flavoured one, don’t tell anyone” before winking slightly.
He shivers at the memory; he could smell every inch of you when you leaned in.
He grunts and pushes his face farther into the pillow. Why did you always save the good things for him? Was it on purpose? Whenever you baked you’d give him first pick- he thought you were just being nice, the sweet girl they all know. But the more he thinks about you the more he notices those little things.
Before he had even registered what he was doing, he was standing and making his way to your rooms. You did say he could always come to you. Bucky freezes outside the door when he realises where he was and what he was doing. Was he crazy? How could he come up with an excuse for being at your door at eleven at night? Before he can change his mind and turn around your door opens. There you stood wearing nothing but a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top- with no bra.
Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat as his gaze locks on you. The soft glow of your bedside lamp spills over your frame, highlighting the way your sleep shorts hug your hips and your tank top clings to your chest. His mouth goes dry.
You blink at him. “Bucky?” your voice is soft, a hint of curiosity laced in your tone. “Is everything okay? F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you were stood outside my door.
For a moment, all he can do is stare. He knows he should say something, anything, but his mind is scrambling for an excuse—an explanation for why he’s standing at your door in the middle of the night. His thoughts drift back to your touch earlier, the brush of your hand on his neck, and the memory of your lips near his ear just days ago.
You tilt your head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, and Bucky swears there’s something teasing in your expression. You step aside, opening the door wider as if you’re inviting him in. “You didn’t have to knock, you know,” you say with that same sweetness. “You can always come to me.”
His heart pounds in his chest, loud enough that he wonders if you can hear it. He swallows, trying to push down the tension, but something in your eyes—something about the way you're looking at him—has his feet moving before his brain catches up.
He steps over the threshold.
Bucky steps inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The room is dim, and the soft scent of your perfume lingers in the air, teasing his senses. He watches you as you turn back toward him, your smile still warm, still innocent—at least on the surface.
“So…” you say, your voice soft as you walk a little closer to him, “What brings you here so late, Bucky?” There’s a hint of playfulness in your tone, like you already know the answer but want to hear him say it.
He shifts awkwardly, his eyes darting away from yours. “I… uh, I couldn’t sleep.” His voice comes out rougher than he intended.
“We both know my healing powers can’t help you sleep Bucky. So what’s up with you coming to see lil’. ol’. Me.”
He opens his mouth to reply, but no words come out. His mind is racing—unsure if you're playing a game or if he’s just reading too much into it. His eyes flick down to your tank top, the way it clings to you, the coolness from the hallway had made hard peaks appear on your chest he then glances back to your face. You’re watching him carefully, that same playful glint in your eyes.
You tilt your head slightly, voice soft but teasing. “You’ve been thinking a lot lately, haven’t you?” Your fingers brush lightly against his arm, sending a shiver through him. “About me?”
Bucky feels his pulse quicken. He’s certain now—there’s no way he’s imagining it.
“I—” He swallows hard, trying to find the right words. But before he can, you step even closer, your body inches from his now, your hand lingering on his arm.
“You think I didn’t notice?” You ask sweetly
Bucky’s breath hitches as your words sink in, and his chest tightens, the space between you suddenly feeling far too small. His mind is racing, but his body is rooted in place, drawn to you in a way he can’t explain. He tries to speak, to form some kind of coherent response, but his voice fails him.
“You think I didn’t notice?” you ask again, your voice low, sweet, but with a teasing edge that makes Bucky’s heart race. Your hand is still resting lightly on his arm, your touch burning through his skin despite the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of your body is so close now, and Bucky is overwhelmed by the scent of you—intoxicating, pulling him deeper into the moment. He can feel himself grow hard at the simple touch, he want’s your hands all over him. He just needs to feel you touch him.
He stares down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the way your lips curve into that soft, knowing smile. You tilt your head up slightly, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of you, standing impossibly close, the air between you thick with tension.
“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, but Bucky hears every word. “I notice where your eyes go when I wear a skirt or dress, if I bend over or wear anything even remotely low cut.”
He swallows hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. He wants to say something, to explain himself, to apologize, but he can’t—because the truth is, you’re right. He has been looking at you, watching you, craving your presence without ever fully admitting it to himself.
You shift even closer, your chest almost brushing against his, and Bucky’s breath catches as your fingers slowly trail up his arm, lingering at his shoulder. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep control of himself. The way you’re looking at him, your lips parted slightly, your eyes holding his like they’re daring him to make the next move…
He’s losing it.
“You don’t have to hide it,” you whisper, your voice laced with that same soft, teasing edge. Your hand moves up to his neck now, your fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just below his jaw. “You can tell me what you want, Bucky…”
He whines.
Before the embarrassment can hit him you let out a low groan at the sound. “Fuck…”
Bucky’s breath comes out in a shudder, his self-control hanging by a thread. He feels the warmth of your hand against his neck, the way your touch lingers just a second too long, and it sends a wave of heat rushing through him.
He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already moving, closing the last bit of space between you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and Bucky’s resolve crumbles. He can’t hold back anymore.
His hand reaches out almost instinctively, fingers gently curling around your waist, pulling you closer. He leans down, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches from your lips, his heart pounding in his chest.
“You…” His voice is low, strained, as if he’s barely holding on. “You’re driving me crazy, doll.”
You smile, and the look in your eyes—soft, teasing, and just a little wicked—sends him over the edge.
Bucky leans to close the gap but your finger presses against his lips. A frown forms on his face, and then you speak.
“ah ah ah” you shake your head “we ask for what we want”
Bucky mentally scolds himself for not asking, he was in the moment.
“May I kiss you?” he asks.
“Say please” there was an unexpected dominance to your tone, completely wiping out the innocence.
Oh fuck.
Bucky feels himself grow harder at the tone. He’s momentarily stunned. Your pretty eyes are on him, feigning innocence but there’s something sinful hiding in them. His beautiful blue eyes look down at you, filled with need.
“Please?”
You let out a moan at the word, your body heating up, your core dampens your shorts.
“Fuck… Bucky…” You say breathily before you pull him down a little to reach your height and kiss him. It’s gentle, as though you’re teasing him, giving him a glimpse to what he can have. He just needs to ask politely.
“Doll… please… I…” He struggles to get his words out, brain fogged over from all the sensations hitting him at once. You run your hands along his abs and he whines again. The whine shoots straight through you. Bucky Barnes, the worlds most accomplished assassin is whining for you.
“Please what? Good boys use their words.” You say in a sinfully soft voice that sends a shiver down his spine.
“I need… more… please” He whispers your name at the end and you hum, satisfied. You grasp his hand and it feels so good to him. Too good. He follows you as you pull him towards the bed.
“Sit there. Lean against the headboard” you hum and he immediately does as he’s told. Sure, he was a super solider who could overpower you in a second, you were both aware. But you were both also aware that he didn’t want that. He needed you to guide him.
You plant yourself in his lap, straddling him, before letting out a soft hum as you feel his hardness push against your core over your sleep shorts. Bucky lets out a moan at the contact but you’re quick to swallow it with a deep, heated kiss. His hands claw at your hips and you gasp slightly as the metal of his hand touches your skin. He’s quick to pull it away but you’re quicker, gripping his wrist and shaking your head, guiding it back in place.
You continue the kiss, before taking his lower lip in between your teeth. You open your eyes to see his blue ones are locked onto your own in what can only be described as the hottest, neediest way, his pupils dilated. You lick over his lip before your hand snakes around the back of his neck and up to his hair. You gently tug, its light, testing the waters and his lips part, head nodding. You pull his hair back a little harsher and he moans. You laugh, the sound dark and sinful in Bucky’s ears.
Your lips kiss his earlobe. “You like your hair pulled? Dirty boy~”
He moans again and nods, hands gripping your hips a little harder, pulling you down to grind on him. You make a ‘tsk’ sound and he freezes, quickly remembering your rule.
You get off him and he groans at the loss of contact, his needy eyes falling onto you. You slowly pull down your shorts, revealing your core to him. His breathing quickens, cock twitching and straining against his sweatpants.
“Take your clothes off, honey” your sultry voice fills his ears and he does so immediately, stripping off his shirt first, exposing the honey toned abs with numerous scars here and there. He is beautiful and you let it show on your face. He drags down his sweatpants leaving him in his grey boxers. There’s a dark damp spot on them from his arousal, pre-cum weeping through from the tip. You make a gesture for him to keep going and he obliges, dragging the boxers down. He stands there, glorious cock hard against his abdomen, looking at you, waiting for your next command.
“What do you want? You just need to ask” You inquire, goading him to tell you.
He swallows, looking down at your dripping core and then back to his cock. You fully expect him to ask to fuck you based on his expression, but he shocks you.
“Can I taste you please?”
Your eyes widen briefly, stunned at his choice.
“I’m sorry— if you don’t want—“ He begins to speak but you cut him off with a finger to your lips and standing up. You slowly peel off your shorts, leaning against the wall.
“You asked me so nicely.” You beckon him and the speed in which he’s on his knees in front of you has your legs weak. His hands skim over your thighs, leaving Goosebumps in their wake. “Is this what you want?”
Bucky looks up at you with desperate eyes, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Yes, please” His voice is hoarse.
“You wanna make me feel good?” You coo.
Bucky groans, his hands gripping your thighs a little. “More than anything” He confirms.
You nod, giving your permission and he settles in between your thighs. He grasps your ass, pulling you up so your legs are over his shoulders, his head cradled by your thighs. You’re momentarily stunned, briefly forgetting he’s a super soldier with insane strength. The thought goes right to your core. Your back is against the wall, his hands still firm on your ass, keeping you in place. Bucky’s breath ghosts across your core before he looks up at you. The sight was nearly enough to make you come. With a firm squeeze on your ass, he dives in, licking a stripe up your lips, making you gasp and weave your fingers through his hair. He groans and begins to lap at your clit like a man starved. He occasionally moans and groans, letting you know how much he’s enjoying being between your legs.
“Bucky— oh my god” You moan out. This only drives him more, he focuses his tongue on your bundle of nerves and you see stars.
He is good at this.
Really fucking good.
Too good?
It doesn’t take you long to come at all, you grasp his hair tighter, thighs squeezing around his head in a way that makes his cock twitch against his abdomen. He rides you through your orgasm until you’re squirming and too sensitive.
He pulls back, holding you up still, and looks into your eyes. The lower part of his face is sinfully wet, he gives you a charming smile, eyes still betraying his neediness.
“You did so well… so good for me…” You breathe out and a strangled noise escapes him.
A praise kink.
“You did so so good for me Bucky~ You deserve a reward” You coo, getting off his shoulders and standing up. You tilt his head up with your finger. “You want a reward baby?”
Bucky lets out a breathy noise and nods.
“What do you want? I’ll give you whatever you want”
Bucky Looks up at you, standing up. He shocked you again.
“Please doll… sit on my face… if… you want…” He adds the last part, unsure. All he knows is that being in between your thighs, hearing you, feeling you, giving you pleasure is all he wants right now.
You bite back a groan and nod, watching him scramble to the bed, laying on his back. He’s gloriously naked, thick cock incredibly hard and standing to attention. You crawl up his body, making sure to brush up against his length to hear those delicious whines from him. His hips buck a few times against you and then you’re settled just above his face. You look down at him and he looks ravenous— His desperate eyes flicking from your core to your face. His hands keep flexing as he struggles, wanting nothing more than to pull you down onto his face and hold you there until he can’t breathe.
“You can touch me Buck” you say softly and his hands hesitantly settle on your hips. He pauses before it eventually becomes too much and pulls you down onto his face, groaning at the impact. You don’t move much, assuming he wants to take the lead when he speaks, muffled against your core.
You giggle and look at him innocently. “Sorry honey what was that? I can’t understand you~”
His eyes grow even more needy, looking up at you. He speaks, muffled again before he decided to lift you up just enough to speak.
“Move— please. Grind on my face. Use me to come please”
How could you say no to such a beautiful request?
You settle back down and rock your hips. His tongue moves with the same finesse and you can’t help but wonder if he’s tired. He doesn’t look tired. You move his arms so he’s holding them up and you entwine your fingers, using his arms to keep you upright, moving against him. His eyes are fluttering shut in pleasure and you groan. You make quick work of your shirt, leaving you both naked now.
“Eyes open Bucky~ I thought you wanted to see what you do to me?~” You tease.
His eyes shoot open again, pupils dilated, his eyes more black than blue now.
“Good~ So good to me” You breathe out and he moans against you, making you gasp and your hips stutter. You grip his hands tighter. His pretty eyes are begging you to come and you do, thighs once again squeezing around his head, making him feel dizzy. Your hips are bucking against his face not even thinking about his breathing— but that isn’t on Bucky’s mind either. You ride out your orgasm and get off him, falling on your back, breathing erratic.
Bucky lays there with the lower half of his face wet, stubble and all. His breathing is erratic and his cock is painfully hard against his abdomen.
“Holy shit Bucky” You huff out and a hoarse moan leaves his mouth.
He slots himself between your legs, kissing your shoulder, slowly moving down your body until he’s at your hip, kissing it softly.
“You are so beautiful doll” His eyes are sincere and your cheeks feel hot at the compliment. “One more time? Please?” He asks, eyes pleading.
Sweet mother of Jesus.
“You want— you seriously— you want to eat me out again?” Your eyes are wide.
Bucky nods, nuzzling and kissing your thigh before focusing on your face again. “And to fuck you with my fingers if that’s alright with you doll?”
Sweet. Mother. Of. Jesus.
Your brain short circuits for a moment at the words leaving his mouth and you mindlessly nod, your gaze heated and intense.
He runs a finger along your dripping core and he moans. Was he really getting this much pleasure? You hadn’t even touched him at all. He teases your entrance before sinking a finger in softly. He hisses at how tight it is, his cock twitching. You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling, instinctively reaching for his hair. Bucky peppers kisses on your thighs before he begins pumping his finger.
It’s not enough.
“More” You demand, gripping his hair. Bucky is happy to oblige, pushing a second finger in, your toes curling. “oh god yes”
Bucky begins to curl his fingers, brushing up against your sweet spot as he increases his pace a fraction and you cry out.
“Am I doing good?” His husky voice asks, desperate for praise.
“So good baby, so fucking good. You’re so good to me” You moan out and he snaps, thrusting his fingers into you with a little more force and latching his mouth onto your clit. You’re so sensitive at this point you let out a whine, your words not coherent. You didn’t even know it was possible to come this many times before being fucked. The coil in your stomach feels more intense than you have ever felt before, you tighten around his fingers and before you could warn him, he pulls away, watching the liquid squirt from you in awe. You, on the other hand are glassy eyed and trembling afterwards.
Bucky gives you a few minutes to settle before he brings himself back up to your face, you pull him in for a messy kiss. His cock is settled on your thigh, Bucky whines into the kiss and you can feel him jutting against it. You grasp his chin as he kisses you, feeling his length as he desperately claims whatever friction he can get.
Bucky is surprised at himself. There has never been a time in his life where he has felt the need to dry hump a woman. But you have the best ways of bringing new feelings and actions out of him.
“Please” He says softly.
“Oh you’re so worked up honey. After doing such a good job. Take what you want Bucky” you coo, stroking his cheek and he leans into it before settling his hips between your legs.
“Can I… are you okay if I…” He begins and you nod.
“You’ve more than earned it” You rake your hands through his hair, nails scratching his scalp.
In an attempt to ground himself, He places his hands on your headboard, letting you guide his cock into place. He pushes in and groans, immediately shattering the headboard where his hands were.
Oh lord.
You squeeze around him and let out a breathy, aroused giggle. Bucky on the other hand looks mortified.
“Oh my god doll I am so sorry—“ He goes to pull out of you but you grasp his arms and shake your head. He doesn’t take much convincing before he pushes into you fully. He’s panting and rests his forehead on yours. Even with the fingers stretching you earlier, you need to adjust. The super solider cock is no joke.
You moan encouragingly in his ear and he pulls back softly before pushing back in. Your eyes flutter and Bucky has his trained solely on you and your reactions.
“Am I hurting you, doll?” He asks, breathily, stopping his motions.
You shake your head immediately. “Please don’t stop”
He keeps his strength in check, bracing on the half broken headboard again, his hands slotting into the Bucky sized hand holes in them. He uses a leisurely pace that does hit the spot, but it’s not quite enough. You could tell he was holding back for your sake but you needed to see just how much he needed you.
“Harder Bucky~ Fuck. I can take it— please”
The headboard crushes even more at your words, your legs were wound around his hips, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your neck as he desperately thrusts into you. It’s hard and fast, a string of moans and curses leaving your mouth as you can’t move in his grip, all you can do is take it. You’re seeing stars now, as Bucky is whining and muttering praises in your ear.
“You feel so good doll”
“I would do this forever… beautiful beautiful girl”
And lastly:
“Oh god thank you” He repeats the phrase a few times and your head spins.
He’s fucking thanking you.
You manage to moan out a few praises that are punctuated by his sharp needy thrusts. He pulls his face away from his neck when he’s close. You can see it on his face, begging you to come first. He slips his metal hand down to your clit, stroking the already sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes widen at the coolness against it.
“Please come” He moans and it doesn’t take you long to oblige his plea, the metal hand on your clit, the whines from Bucky and his cock hitting you deep pushes you over the edge and you come, clenching him hard.
“You’re so beautiful” He says in awe. “Please can I come— please doll” Bucky’s thrusts are faltering.
“fill me up Bucky~” You moan and that’s all it takes, his thrusts become harder, your body jolting from the force, you’ll feel this in your hips in the morning. You could always heal it away. But you probably won’t. You place a hand over his neck holding it loosely, your other hand raking through his hair.
Bucky thrusts into you hard and deep, with hoarse moans of thank you as he comes inside you, filling you up. He simply stays inside you after, his body moving with his deep ragged breaths before he collapses on top of you, making sure to use some strength to stop him crushing you. You stroke his hair, muttering soft praises.
He rolls off you, his honey toned skin covered in a sheen of sweat that made him look godly. Your legs are jelly; you aren’t even sure you can use them for the next few days. Bucky stands and walks to your bathroom, giving you the perfect view of his sculpted ass and returns a few moments later with a warm wet cloth to clean you up with.
When the both of you are cleaned up, Bucky begins to wipe away the crushed pieces of headboard from your bed sheepishly.
“Sorry doll” He says quietly.
“It’s okay” You assure. “It was hot. Made me feel like Bella Swan” You joke.
Bucky looks at you, not understanding the reference.
“From Twi… never mind” You hum, helping to brush off the little pieces of wood. He lays back down and pulls you into his arms.
“Doll… I… I have never felt like that before. What did you do to me? I am under a spell when it comes to you.”
You yawn and let out a sleepy laugh. “You’re telling me. I don’t think I could sleep with a regular dude again after that”
It’s not long until exhaustion rushes through you. Super solider stamina is no joke. You drift off, head on his chest. Bucky watches the soft rise and fall of your chest, your soft snores filling the room.
And for the first time in what feels like forever; Bucky has a deep, dreamless sleep. His nightmares paused as he slumbers beside your soft, warm body.
It’s late when Bucky wakes up. Your side of the bed is cold. He glances at the clock on his phone, reading 11:07am, and a text from you, timestamped two hours ago:
‘Morning sleepy head. I didn’t wanna wake you. You looked too comfortable ;)’
He smiles at the text and looks for his clothes, only to find you must have taken a trip to his room to grab some fresh clothes. There is a towel on a chair with a new set of clean clothes and a pair of boxers.
When he’s all cleaned up and dressed he makes his way to the kitchen. You’re talking to Wanda, Steve and Sam.
“Bucky good morning!” Your sweet voice drifts over to him. “You slept in late. Are you feeling okay? Late night?” It’s an innocent question, no one bats an eyelash at it. You’re the healer of the team, and you’re concerned. But Bucky bites back a groan at the implications they both know is behind the sweet words.
Before Bucky can respond, Tony walks in.
“Hey Hippocrates” Tony calls out to you. “Why did F.R.I.D.A.Y tell me you needed a new headboard for your bed?
summary: you are trying to study, but clark can’t teach when you’re so pretty, and you can’t focus when he’s so pretty, so it ends up being an unproductive tutoring session…
word count: 2.1k
contains: smut & fluff. clark’s math brain + you = sex… LOL. slightly dumbified reader, clark’s got a bit of a mouth on him. *riding/piv, lots of praise, a bit more bunny kink than usual. *no use of y/n
a/n: a quick & freaky one... breaking from my sweetheart country clark for a minute bc of the feminine moon tides… yeeesssss….. mwahahhahahahahha… hope u like, my requesters !
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Clark could not keep his eyes off of you, and the worst part was that you didn’t even seem to care.
How was he supposed to? You were practically begging to be stared at. Your hair had that natural crimp in it from always being tucked behind your ear, and so when it fell loose, it made this gorgeous swoop over your cheek. Your eyebrows gathered up all pinchy when you got confused over the equation before you. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, the tips of your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You shifted in your seat every few moments, the soft pudge of your tummy and back twisting with your discomfort, the cute little fold of your chin rolling when you pulled back in confusion. You hummed under your breath to help you think, for gods sake. There was no focusing when you looked so beautiful. All he saw when you sat so prettily was your face, and then the memory of your face twisting and back arching and voice cracking, and he became a lost cause.
Clark took on the gargantuan task of tutoring you in calculus because you struggled so adorably in the seat next to him, and for a college girl who maintained A averages, he couldn’t let you sabotage yourself. That English-geared brain needed to survive calculus so it could keep reading books. Plus, you always seemed to be looking at him instead of the board, so maybe by combining the two, you would find some focus.
But the problem was that you were a good student. A smart girl who wanted to get things right. So, as cute as he was, you unfortunately took this very seriously– he sometimes ended up sitting with you for hours, practicing derivatives over and over until you finally got it. It was torture. College tutoring sessions were supposed to end in him bending you over a table, not in you crying over difficult questions and him coaxing your hair back and kissing your temples. Sure, he got a few smooches here and there, but you were very strict. Only kissing outside of tutoring hours. He had to go alllll the way to your dorm just to touch you. O, the inhumanity!
Tonight was like the others as you poured over a word problem that was entirely simple to him, but gibberish to you, and so he sat and stared while you tried to stubbornly work it out on your own. But Clark was withering away, and he needed you.
His probing finger traced the curve of your shoulder as he leaned in and nosed at your cheek. “Why bother? I could just take the test for you.”
You grumbled and pushed his face away like a puppy. “I’m trying to focus.”
“C’mooon. You’ve been at it for an hour. Pay attention to me.”
“Clark,”
“Bunny,” he pouted, pressing his forehead to your arm.
“Clarkie, I can’t focus with you interrupting me,” you whined, and you rubbed your eyes. “Great. Now I lost my train of thought.”
The boy huffed softly at your look of disdain, and he rolled his eyes. He was a total sucker. Clark smoothed the paper out and took your pencil, tipping your chin up with it. “Fine. I’ll be good. Listen, okay? I’ll explain it.”
You perked up as he put on his teacher's voice, and you rested your chin in the palm of your hand as Clark began to unpack some ridiculous collection of symbols that meant nothing to you. This, of course, was equally not useful. Clark had this way of talking that just… hypnotized you. His soft lips, the pretty dip of his cupid’s bow, the absolutely criminal flutter of his lashes over those baby blues when he flicked between one side of the equation and the other. How was anyone supposed to focus when their tutor-turned-boyfriend had a face like that? It was like if Patrick Swayze was trying to teach you how to dance. They made a whole movie about how that was impossible– look where it got Baby.
Clark smirked and stopped talking when he realized you weren’t listening. When he leaned in and kissed you, you weakly protested, “Mm.. but m’studying…”
“No you’re not,” he purred, “you were staring at my mouth.”
“S’a pretty mouth.”
“You’re a pretty mouth,” he blabbed, collecting your soft body and hoisting you from your chair into his lap.
You hummed in satisfaction as he wrapped his arms around you like a boa constrictor and squeezed, sinking into the strong warmth of his chest. You pushed and pulled at his hair, sticking it up on all sides, and he happily smeared your jaw and neck with sloppy kisses, breathing you in like a hungry puppy.
“M’gonna fail calc,” you frowned, gasping when he nibbled on your ear.
“You won’t fail a thing, baby, you’re a genius.”
“I suck at math, Clarkie.”
“You suck at nothing," he chuckled, pulling back to kiss your nose. “You just need a break.”
You nudged his nose. “A break…”
“Yeah, baby. You want a break? You did some good work today… you deserve a reward, honey, for being so smart.”
You blushed, smiling knowingly, falling for the age-old classic Clark trick. He loved to baby you, and you ate up the pampering like no other. “Mhm.”
“My good girl,” he cooed, nipping your lip. “What do you want, huh?”
“Right here, in your lap,” you mumbled, ducking your head to kiss his Adam's apple.
“Yeah? Wanna sit in my lap? My bed’s right there, honey,” Clark tipped his head back for you, glancing at his dorm mattress. His hands snuck under your shirt to smush the softness of your back between his fingers.
Your hands roamed the broad, tan expanse of his biceps, and you leaned down to teeth at one. “Mm… right here.”
Clark’s heart swelled at your bites, and he brushed your hair back. “You just wanna be in my arms, don’t you?”
You came back up for another kiss and smiled, grinding your hips down against his. Clark swallowed a broken grunt and yanked you close, hands smoothing up your back.
“Want me to take my time, or you just want me?”
“Just you,” you breathed, nipping at his cheek.
Clark couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. You got so needy when he collected you into his grasp. He let you busy yourself with his mouth, kissing and sucking dutifully on his bottom lip as he freed his cock from the fly of his jeans, shoving them down just enough. There was no use for decorum or fuss when you both were buzzing like this. Clark smiled sweetly as he smacked it lightly against your thigh, seeing how you squirmed and pouted for it.
“Say the words, honey,” he coaxed.
You cupped his jaw and planted lipstick prints across his chin. “Pretty please, Clarkie.”
“Mm… try a little harder, baby. I want you to mean it.”
You whimpered and ground against the hard muscle of his thigh. “Pretty, pretty please, baby…”
His cheeks tinted pink as you begged, and it was certainly enough. He never liked to string you out. Clark made good on his word– he tugged the hem of your dress up and simply snagged your panties to the slide, and he notched the head of his cock between your puffy folds, not yet sinking inside, but teasing you with it. Your frustrated face melted into desire as he caught your clit, and he whispered, “That’s my girl, yeah… my smart girl.”
“Clarkie,” you moaned.
“You gonna bounce for me, bunny, or do I have to do all the work?”
Your skin flushed red from your ears down to your neck, and you stiffened as he prodded your entrance. “Can hop, I can,” you swore.
Clark smirked at your eagerness, and he curled his long fingers over the handlebars of your hips to remind you to sit still and sink down. You drew in a deep breath as you carefully sheathed his cock inside of you, feeling the delicious stretch between your walls; an embarrassing whimper spilled out as you crumpled in his lap, hips rocking against the intrusion. Clark’s eyes fluttered shut at the tight, familiar heat of your cunt, vision fuzzing out. He watched you slowly rise and drop your hips, giving your best effort, but you never could follow through when you were this needy– you laid on him like a rag doll, moaning and suckling at his neck, and he had to pump you up and down for him. A low grunt escaped his chest as you obediently hopped with his help, watching his length disappear inside you. By the way your eyes rolled back and you soaked his hips, he knew you needed it, and he was obliged to give it to you. You were just so gorgeous when you finally focused on something you cared about.
Clark kneaded the pudgy flesh of your ass and murmured into your ear, “Feels so good, baby, you’re doing so well… such a smart girl, makin’ me feel so good…”
You whined and swallowed him whole, in and out over and over, laying all your weight on his shoulder as he used his big paws to fuck you. Heat burned low in your tummy, low and fast. As he began to meet your manufactured bounces with his own bucks, he groaned with pleasure against your cheek.
“Good girl… take it… Always such a high achiever, bunny– Jesus– sometimes you gotta let me take care of you.”
“I… oh, Clarkie… feels so…”
“I know, baby, I can feel you,” he crooned, licking your bottom lip before kissing you. “Cum whenever you want, bunny. Feel good. It’s your reward.”
“S’gonna be messy!” you warned as you dropped down on his cock another time, feeling the soft throbbing of the muscle against your constricting walls. Your hands fisted in his shirt for a tether.
Clark’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head at how tight you could grip him. Sometimes he was somewhat worried that your cunt would squeeze so hard he would never get out, like a chinese finger trap. He pressed a palm to your lower back hard enough that it stopped you rocking, and you whined petulantly. He praised, “Shh, be a good bunny, hm?” before he started drilling into you from below.
A squeak of surprise escaped you before you disassembled against his chest, grunting with the exertion of being jackrabbited like a toy. Clark moaned pathetically into your neck as he thrusted deep and fast, battering into the velveteen muscle that had you writhing and begging for just a little more, just a little faster. He gave you everything you asked for until you couldn’t even form the words.
“Gonna– gonna-!”
“I got ‘ya, honey, cum for me… c’mon, give me a good one, bunny,”
The coil snapped inside your gut as he shoved himself as far inside as it was possible to go, and you spasmed into a trembling orgasm, arms around his neck, clinging on for dear life. Clark bullied your cunt happily, refusing to stop until he came, too– which was barely seconds later. The way you cried into his shoulder from overstimulation made him dizzy, and before he knew it, he was flooding your womb with sticky spend, bucking erratically to give it all away. He grunted in breathless victory as pretty little rings of creams coated him, and he gently eased you back down, squeezing your hips as he let you sit on his cock and settle.
Your face was slack and pressed to his neck, hands scratching at the nape of his neck like a kitten; little puffs of exhausted air left you as your lashes fluttered and the feeling tamped down. Clark made little promises against your shoulders and neck.
“That’s it, bunny… so good, love, you took it like a champ… just like a good student should, right? At least you can pay attention to something…”
Your skin flushed brutally hot and you burrowed into the hiding spot of his collarbone. “Don’t be mean.”
“I’m not,” Clark chuckled, gently cradling the back of your skull and using our hair to tug your head back. “Just happy you finished a lesson.”
You gazed up at his sleepy eyes– that face that got him anything he wanted– and you chewed the inside of your cheek. “Think I might need another if I’m gonna finish that homework…”
Clark poked your cheek affectionately. “Baby, if I fuck you again, there won’t be any homework.”
You grinned, “Good.”
Clark’s heart fluttered as he lifted you in his lap and flung you down on the bed, cruelly discarding the calculus textbooks on his dorm room desk, leaving them to watch while their maker chose some more exciting thing to practice. You weren’t worried– you always passed. Clark was right. Sometimes you just need a break. He taught you that, at the very least.
