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madamechrissy · 9 hours ago

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Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- this chap- explicit sex, shower sex, oral ( f receiving) lots of fluff, lots of emotions, mentions of past angst, an INSANE breed kink (reader and Toru hehe) cumplay, sweet whipped Satoru, they're so in lovvve.- WC- 7.8k

Based on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙 Taglist closed! -Comments/rbs appreciated <3

<<<Part Seven - Masterlist - Playlist- Part Nine>>> (soon)

Part Eight

You’ve never been on a plane.

You’ve driven everywhere, even out of state you’d get a car rental and just cruise, but Satoru has you on a plane in first class, headed to Hollywood. You’re so nervous, heart racing as you think of seeing him again, as you think of being in his arms. It’s only been a couple weeks, but a couple weeks feels like forever when it has been eight years without him.

The plane ride goes smoothly, despite your anxiety, a couple airport bottles may have been necessary for how panicked you were at first, so you may or may not be a little buzzed when you get off the plane. You step into the airport and the overwhelming amount of people surround you, you’re momentarily disoriented at just how many, walking past and rushing off.

You eye your phone then, before a big sign catches your attention, a dark haired man with glasses holding up your name on a huge sign. You giggle just a bit and walk over then, he smiles at you. “That would be me!”

“Perfect, I’m Ijichi. Mr. Gojo is waiting in the limo, he didn’t want to overwhelm you with too much attention if he came out.” You nod in understanding, certainly the paparazzi would be all over him. “Right this way, Miss.”

You follow him out, and through all of the rest of the enormous airport, the chaos makes you just a little dizzy. You can still feel the nerves even as you walk out into the much different climate than back home. It’s warm and sunny, there’s a dry heat you’ve never really felt entering your lungs as you inhale and exhale, shutting your eyes at how good it feels when Ijichi reaches a black limo.

The door opens and Satoru rushes out of the car, surprising you when he scoops you up in his arms, wearing some round Gucci shades and a big grin. You giggle and let him pick you up, twirling you like you’re a little feather in his strong hold, slamming his lips down. That’s when the tears well up, mixed with the laughter, how badly you missed this.

How can you miss something you didn’t have before so vividly? Now it feels the perfect and only place to be, his arms, clinging so tightly to him. He’s whispering your name over and over when cameras start flashing, you hear the clicks and feel eyes on the two of you then, not just paparazzi either, it’s random people gossiping.

“Satoru, baby they’re all watching…” You murmur then, and he glares at them for a moment, setting you down.

“Mr. Gojo, weren't you supposed to hide in the limo?”

“I got too excited,” he’s pouting as he looks down at you, cupping your face, you feel his eyes are only on you, feel the warmth of his touch as you grip his wrist gently. “Fuck I missed you.”

“I missed you more, um… are you okay with them seeing me?” He frowns a bit, caressing your jaw line tenderly, and it’s really just you two, nothing else at that very moment.

“I should ask you, I’d love everyone to know I have the prettiest fucking girl in the world.”

“You go on too much!”

“Wanna bet?” You’re giggling again even as he swipes your tears, and his bright, brilliant eyes look at you so lovingly.

“You hype me up a lot you know.”

“As I should,” he kisses you again, right as people are wondering who you are outside of LAX, you feel the warmth of the sun shining down as he tugs you closer. “Should give ‘em a show.”

“Oh gosh!”

“Blushing, cute.”

“You’re ridiculous!” He’s chuckling again, slipping back on his shades and then gesturing for you to climb in as Ijichi puts up your luggage in the trunk.

When Satoru’s back with you, he’s pressing your back against the seat, leaning on top and kissing every inch he can find, your face, your throat, your chest, all while you giggle breathlessly. You gasp when he’s at the base of your neck, his plush lips brushing on sensitive skin, god he missed you so much it takes everything not to fuck you right here.

He’s sure you want a shower, to relax a bit from a long flight with two layovers, so he holds back just a bit, keeping the touches teasing and sweet. Your lips are pliant under his, parting as his tongue slips through the seam, and he tastes your sweetness again.

“Mochi has nothing on you.”

“You’re too much!” You’re grinning against his lips now, and he sighs, leaning up to look down at you for a moment, before kissing you again.

“Hmm, wait… is that tequila!?” He’s lapping at your lips as if it’s an inspection, you burst out into more laughter.

“Maybe! Maybe I’m a little tipsy. Just this much.” You put your thumb and finger together, grinning now, he can’t help but laugh with you, infectious as ever, studying your precious face and wondering how he ever went without it.

“You’re good and drunk, I can’t take advantage of you.”

“Not even, take all the advantage.” You’re kissing across his neck, hands slipping over his dress shirt, feeling the luxurious material as it ripples across his muscles, eliciting a soft whine from his throat.

“Fuck,” he’s throbbing under his slacks now, pressing against your heat and feeling your body arch, hips pressing for more of him. “You need water bottles or something, you're gonna get dehydrated that soaking wet.”

“Oh!” He’s smirking, sitting you up then, tugging you right against his side as he leans over and snatches a bottle up. “Do you just typically ride in a limo?”

“Yeah, long legs you know.” You roll your eyes as he spreads them wide, shoving one on you.

“You are like ninety percent leg.” You take the cool water, sipping it and sighing as it hits, cooling you off just a bit, Satoru nudges you further, before you kick back at him, and he tugs you to him again.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” he’s softer now, the teasing gone as he cups your face, the condensation from the water pressing against your palm and dampening his dress shirt just a bit. Your heart races, the emotions mixing with the exhaustion, you haven’t slept in days in anticipation. “I don’t know how I went that long without seeing you to begin with.”

“I always missed you.” Your words break him, the sincerity and sweetness, and he swallows down the guilt once more.

He could have had this.

He could have had you in his arms, in his life, but you quickly shut off his thoughts with another kiss. “Hey, Satoru…”

“Yeah?” His voice is soft, you feel it then, his longing for something that cannot be, even if he doesn’t say it.

“We don’t know what would have happened, if we confessed our feelings then, we’ve grown a lot now, and we’re different in ways. I think everything happens for a reason, okay? So don’t look back on the past, we can’t change it. Focus on this right here.” You kiss him again, pulling back to look up at him, he sighs then.

“You’re all wise and shit huh?” You smile and wiggle your brows. “You’re right, there’s no sense in it. But to think I could have had you in my life…”

“I’m in your life right now, Toru.” The little nickname always breaks him, always melts him for you even more.

“Drink your water,” he presses a kiss on your forehead. “You little drunk.”

“Am not!” But you’re doing as he says, you are so thirsty, soon you’re resting your head on his chest as you two drive through the LA traffic, he’s got an arm wrapped around you as you yawn. “I don’t want to sleep as soon as I see you!”

“Take a nap, we have an hour before we’ll get home.”

Home, the words make your heart race, how he says it so easily, as if you’ll instantly be a part of that for him. The love you’ve always had makes the ease of this so perfect, a new relationship shouldn’t feel like this, nothing could ever really feel like this, like your home is in the arms of the boy you’ve always loved. Your eyes drift shut even as you fight it.

“I got a guitar you know,” you smile against his chest, inhaling his scent as he tugs you closer. “I am trying to remember how to play it.”

“I’m excited, I’ll get serenaded by the Satoru Gojo huh?”

“You’re very special, it's exclusive.” You’re resting more and more, until he hears it - a light little snore, and he knows you’re zonked out from your trip. Affection claws at his throat, mixing with his own exhaustion, while he strokes back your hair gently.

He’s been so busy this week, he worked to clear as much time as he could with you, but even so he has events. He’ll have you right by his side for them all, which he can’t wait to have you there, not being lonely and plastering on a trademark look for every camera and every interviewer. No, he’ll have you, all dolled up in one of the fancy dresses he bought you.

You soon find out he went overboard, as you all eventually take the elevator up to Satoru’s fancy penthouse overlooking the oceanside, it’s stunning and spotless as he gives you a little tour of it and you notice he’s already got half his closet filled with beautiful gowns. There are stacks of fancy shoe brands you cannot even pronounce but you’ve seen in magazines.

“Satoru! I said a couple dresses, holy fuck…” You’re brushing your fingers along one now, black sequined with a slit all the way up, you flush as you think how much leg that will show. “I’m more of a jean or legging girl you know.”

“Oh, I know, it’ll make it even hotter to dress you up,” he’s got his arms wrapped around you, tugging your back against him, lips trailing along your temple. “Like you’re my little doll, huh?”

“Mnh…” You’re lost as he presses hot kisses on the side of your neck, gasping at the sensation, his closet is as big as your room back home, organized by color and brand, a mirror between the shelves that shows your disheveled state. “Your doll?”

“Would you like that? Be my pretty little doll,” your eyes shut for a moment as your body reacts to his nearness, to his touch, igniting heat in your tummy that spreads at his whispered words. “No thoughts in your head, just for me to dress you up and fuck you like you’re a toy?”

“God,” you’re done for, his words bringing filthy pictures as his hand splays over your tummy, long fingers spread across it, the knot tightening with how badly you want him inside you. “You’re insane.”

“You really haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart.” Your chin is turned, and he kisses you deeply, tongue delving inside your mouth again.

“I need a shower, I’m sweaty Toru.”

“Like I care?” You giggle again, but he pulls back, sighing. “I figured you would want to wash up. Go put your things up here and I’ll get it started, okay?”

“Yes, thank you!” He kisses you once more as you start placing the few outfits and things you brought with you, he’s got a whole empty drawer as if he was waiting for you and cleared it out.

You hear the water running, walking out to smell sweet fragrant steam, following it until you get into one of his bathrooms, it’s all polished cream marble and immaculate, some waterfall shower with three heads, two on either side and one overhead. You blink in surprise at it, before studying a now shirtless Satoru, his body is so perfect it makes you ache more.

“This shower is insane,” you shut the door and slip off your own shirt, just wearing a bra, they bounce gently when you do, making Satoru exhale, his cock throbbing as he sees the body he’s been missing so fucking bad. You brush your hair over one shoulder, turning then. “Can you help me?”

He runs over there like an eager teenager, you both laugh at it, at experienced supermodel Satoru Gojo’s hands trembling with anticipation, as he unclasps the bra nervously. He slips it down your shoulders until it falls to the floor, turning you and running his slender fingers over the marks the bra left, as if he could soothe them away for you.

“Don’t wear one here, please?” His pout is enough to do you in.

“Not at all?”

“Not at all, my one thing I’ll ask. Well…” he eases down your jean shorts, then slips your panties down, his breath hot on you as steam fills the room, swirling around you two, your thighs trembling, cunt pulsing around nothing at his avid attention. “Two things.”

“What’s the other thing, hmm?” Your fingers card through his silky white locks carefully, nails gentle on his scalp, while he presses a kiss to your thigh.

“No panties here either.” He eyes you under those snowy lashes, on his knees like he worships you, it’s a heady feeling, the way his huge hands grip your thighs, the way his lips caress your hip.

“I can do that for you, only here though,” he grins against your skin, you feel the lines of his pretty white teeth as he does, before he stands, towering over you and cupping your face. “I want you in there with me, please?”

“You think there’s a world where I wasn’t going to take a shower with you?”

Soon Satoru is leading you in, and the hot water starts pounding against your skin, soothing the soreness of the flight right away. He’s gently running a sudsy washcloth all over your body, inch by inch, relishing and putting attention into every little bit he can see. Your head falls back against the warmed tiles as he starts massaging his hands, feeling the fragrant bubbles and your soft, slick skin.

“This is perfect, it’s well worth any flight.” He smiles at that, lips quirking up at the corner while he continues, now his thumbs brush your nipples, you gasp.

“Sensitive?” He teases, you nod then, looking up at him, the water has made his silvery locks long and slick, you brush them back, biting your lip when he brushes them again. “Asked ya a question, sweetheart.”

“They are sensitive, feels s’good though, mmm!” He’s got them between his thumb and forefingers now, twisting just a bit and making the need unbearable, you gasp out at it.

“Imagine when I get you pregnant,” his words fuck what’s left of your dumb brain then, his eyes flashing with some feral hunger that makes them almost hard to look into. “They’re gonna be so full.”

“Fuck, you’re talking like that?” You’re dragging him down for a kiss, trying to tiptoe and nearly slipping, he grabs you and keeps you steady, his other hand slipping down to cup your ass cheek. “God, don’t even talk like that to me.”

“Why, you got a breed kink?” You’re burying your face against his chest, slick from the body wash, and he chuckles at you then, you feel the vibrations against your body as you whine out. “You do? Don’t be shy, I wanna know all about it.”

“I’ve never… acted on it… mnh…” Satoru turns you then, leaning down as you brace your hands against the wall, pressing closer to him when he slips his fingers between your soppy folds, you’re whining out at it.

“Tell me, what do you think about, hmm?” He’s taunting you, his other hand gripping yours as the water cascades over you both.

“I want babies in me,” your whisper ends him, his cock throbbing and leaking precum as he runs his finger over your clit in little circles. You’re gasping out at the sensations, him pressing up more, it’s twitching against his fingers, cunt leaking out of your hole. “Ah!”

“You want babies in you, what a little freak my sweet girl is, tsk,” he’s taunting you, fingers entwining, his teeth sinking into your neck as he leans over you, the water pounding against his muscled back, heating his skin until it’s a blushing red. “You want my babies inside you?”

“Only yours, only ever yours.” You’re arching for more, his teasing fingers just dipping in your hole, that grips his fingertip like she wants to suck it so greedily inside of her.

“You want me to throw out that fucking birth control?”

“Oh, Toru…”

“You do, huh?” He’s lost in his madness, you two know it’s nonsense for now, but his words end you, picturing it vividly. “I’ll put so much cum in you it’ll never work anyway.”

“Ngh, please do it - ah!” Satoru’s got you spun back so quickly you’re dizzy, the mix of the heat of the shower and his hard body overtaking all your senses. He’s leaned down, kissing your lips, his big hands taking your body over, your waist, your hips, slipping even lower.

“Thought you were a good girl,” he’s taunting you, but you couldn’t care less, when he lifts you like it’s nothing, pressing you against the wall, your thighs against his narrow hips. “You want all of my cum, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, I want it.” He’s moaning, hoarse sounds from his throat, his tip aligning itself with your hole, pressing inside - the most delicious pressure, stretching your tight ring of muscles when he pulls back and thrusts his hips. You choke on your moan, while he just looks at you, hungry and fucking insane, hands sinking into your thighs.

“Want me to fill this perfect cunt till you can’t walk without dripping?” You nod weakly, he’s sinking deeper in your slick walls, which pulse and slip down his veiny length. Your cunt tries to accommodate him, but he’s so thick, that leaky tip hitting just your spot, until you’re shattering already, cumming so hard you can’t think. “Ya that easy, we just started.”

“Shh,” you’re kissing him, aftershocks rocking you, the release so good you’re already fucked out in moments. “Want you.”

“I want you, pregnant with milk pouring from your nipples.” Satoru’s trying to end you, your eyes shooting up to his as he braces you on the wall, one hand gripping a slick breast and squishing. You’re cries echo in the shower, bouncing right off the walls to fill his ears, a sound he never wants to stop fucking hearing. “That’s it, you’re so easy when I bring it up.”

“J-jerk…” He’s smiling against your neck when he buries his face against it, bottoming out as deep as he can go, making you so full you feel him everywhere, in your stomach, hitting every spot you have with his mean tip. “M’gonna cum again,”

“Again, god you’re slutty for me,” he’s lost inside you, talking all the shit he can when he’s just trying to desperately not cum, not bust this early, but the way your cunt is milking him for all it’s worth. He’s pulling back, hands back on your ass, dragging your cunt closer, just making it more sensitive. “You’re trying to get me to cum, aren’t you brat?”

“Me? N-no,” you tighten just a bit, earning his cute glare, when he starts pounding into your cunt, you’re gripping his shoulders, nails pressing in, as he fucks you so hard it hurts - the pain perfect, heady and addictive.

“God I would keep you pregnant,” he’s huffing those words under his breath, your lower back bruising against the wall as he presses you harder, head lowering to rest his forehead on yours as he holds you up. “Use you, like my little doll, just to fill with cum over and over.”

“Ngh!” How many kinks is he trying to hit!? You’re gasping and clinging to his back, fingers slipping as he holds you up, pulling you off the wall. “Toru I’m gonna fall, s-stop!”

“Think I don’t got you, sweetheart?” He’s dragging your cunt down, using you, you’re not even able to move, his hands on your ass guiding you up and down as your head falls to the side, slick hair dripping down across your shoulder. He’s devouring your neck as his thick cock shoves in so deep, your cries making his cock twitch, making him sensitive.

You’re whining out his name, while he holds you like that, and you’re shivering, goosebumps rising as the pleasure builds, until you feel like you’re going to break. “Mnh! Fuck…”

“That’s it, cum again,” he’s pressing you back on the wall, eyes looking down into yours. “Want me to use you don’t you? Till I bust inside, fill you up?”

All you can do is nod in jerky motions, and Satoru’s filthy with it, his strokes mean as they slam your cervix over and over. He’s whispering your name over and over, you’re clinging to him, fingers slipping, thighs threatening to lock up, but he doesn’t let you fall, he’s lost as you are, rhythm faster and faster as your cunt gushes around him, head falling back for his teeth and mouth to mark you.

You’re kissing him as he presses you against the tiles, as the water drips and cascades off his face to yours, and your lips move over each other, until you feel him slow, and thicken. He thickens so much, so deep inside you, stretching you out as his tip is against your cervix, and his hands leave marks against your thighs. You’re crying out in his mouth, gasping as he pumps hot cum inside you.

“Toru!” He moans, kissing you messy, saliva dripping as white hot ropes shoot up inside you.

“That’s it, take all my cum, huh?” You’re nodding desperately, thighs shaking with the effort, as he moans low in your ear, resting his head against the shower wall as he fills you. “God I missed this.”

“M-me too, mmm, me too.” The kisses are messier as he eases out, he gently washes you after, careful as you’re sore just a bit from having him inside you again.

“Beat her up.”

“Toru!”

“Sorry, she’s cute.” He presses a kiss on her and chuckles after the shower is done and he’s drying you off. “Let me dry your hair.”

Satoru works carefully then, bringing you back to thoughts of when he’d curl or straighten your hair before a competition. To when he’d help you do your makeup because you were hopeless at it, and his hand was always so steady and precise. The thoughts fill you with warmth as you swipe some of the steam off the mirror, bringing him into view.

He has a towel loose around his narrow hips, yours is carefully tucked around your breasts, it’s so domestic, it’s so perfect. A comfort you think you could only feel with him, even after the time and distance, he shows you that affection, the sweet way he slathers some fancy oil in your hair, how he massages some other fancy lotion against your skin.

“You use all this?”

“I get a lot of free things when I do commercials or ads, I have a stupid collection. You can take anything you want, though I don’t think I wanna remember you have to leave after a few days.” You hear it, the sadness in his voice, before he clears his throat and tugs you against him, pressing the soft terry cloth against his chest. “Let’s not think of it at all.”

“Let’s not, let’s enjoy.”

Laying in Satoru Gojo’s fancy ass bed, in his huge immaculate room, it feels as cozy as his childhood room did, because he is there. He’s holding you close to him, an arm wrapped around your waist, hand gripping your tit, you giggle at it, tugging it a little lower, for him to bite your shoulder playfully and scooch it back.

“I waited how long to grab these? Better let me.”

“You’re silly, y’know that?” You turn your head and he just grins, squishing it again and making you laugh.

“The first pair of titties I noticed.”

“Oh whatever!”

“Think I’m lying? Don’t you remember the tissues, the lotion, the-”

“Oh god. Not a poster girl or model?”

“Nah fuck that, nicest pair right here.” He squishes your other one now, you exhale and arch against him at the sensations. “They’ll get so big when you’re-”

“Fuck this.” You’re on him before he can blink, and you do not get any rest until the sun rises and filters through the blinds.

*****

“Relax, you look fucking beautiful.” Satoru’s grinning at you the next evening as you two sit in the limo, right in front of the event. He is looking like a million bucks in his dark blue suit, elaborate lace designs embedded in the lapels, matching just a few shades of his blue eyes.

His big hand holds yours, he feels how sweaty it is, how shaky as you tremble just a bit, looking out at the limo then, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know you think I’m beautiful-”

“I will put this off and bend you over my knee,” he tugs you to him, a hand precariously on your thigh, scowl on his handsome features. “I’ll beat that pretty ass so hard if you say one more thing.”

“Satoru, you’re a model. I am not a model.”

“No, because I’d be too jealous to ever let anyone see your pretty fucking body, huh?” You’re a blushing mess, as he does look at you like you’re the prettiest thing in the world.

That’s when it all hits.

Satoru always looked at you like that, maybe not as intense, maybe not as bold as he is now, but he always eyed you with that devotion. The memories all start to cascade together, bits and pieces - a memory of going to your middle school dance together in eighth grade.

‘You’re the prettiest girl here,’ he’d been so cute with his fully buttoned dress shirt and bowtie, grinning with his braces on full display as he twirled you on the floor.

‘And you’re the cutest boy!’ he’d blushed, full pink, his eyes directly on your face, and when a boy asked to dance, the little pout he gave made sure you turned it down.

‘You can dance with other people, it’s okay.’

‘No, it’s our night.’

That memory is as vivid as the others, all falling together and showing the glaring conclusion - Satoru Gojo had always been in love with you. It’s exactly as he said, and you’d been oblivious to it, now just quiet as your eyes fill with tears, he frowns in concern, his brows drawing together, fingers caressing your cheek with the utmost care, eliciting another memory.

“Sweetheart, if you’re not ready, I can put this off.”

“No… it’s not that.” He swipes a tear, glittery with the mascara dripping from your lashes, while you remember again, a night at a party where you’d been far too intoxicated back in high school, when he’d eyed you with that look.

‘Satoru, dance with me!’ you’d been slurring your words a bit, wrapping your arms around his neck, seeing him flustered.

‘No, I hate dancing, you know.’

‘Not with me!’ you’re pouting as you stood outside the blaring loud party at someone’s house, you both didn’t even know, but Satoru always got dragged along with your dumb ideas. ‘Please!’

‘We’re in their yard, silly,’ he pecked a kiss on your head then, looking at you with an unreadable expression, sighing as his fingers hovered over your cheek, but never touched it.

‘Satoru has anyone told you, you’re really hot?’

‘Yeah, you did. You’re really drunk huh?’

‘Hmm, maybe,’ you’d leaned up, eyes fluttering shut, and Satoru would have died to kiss you, if he knew you were sober. ‘Hmph!’

‘You’re going home with me, c’mon.’ you’d fallen asleep on his shoulder as he drove you home, but you remembered it - how he looked at you.

“Sweets, what’s wrong?” He asks then, and you realize you’re in a full throw of tears, remembering his caring, remembering the way he just listened, how he was always there.

Until he wasn’t.

“Satoru, if I appreciated you more, would you have stayed?” He glares now, lips parted, shaking his head at you, you grip his wrist while he cups your face, sniffling more now. “Be honest.”

“You appreciated me, god you were the best person in the world. You really think that’s why?” His voice is hushed, while you look back out at the window, hearing the flash of the cameras, the announcements, echoing in the confines of the limousine, before looking back at him.

“You always loved me.” He exhales then, swallowing, nodding his head imperceptibly. “And I didn’t know.”

“To be fair, I was as oblivious as you, remember?” You nod then, while he brushes back just a bit of your carefully curled hair. “I didn’t leave because you didn’t appreciate me. I left because I didn’t love myself.”

“Oh, Toru…”

“Shh, gonna cry off all that makeup.” He’s gentle as he tries to fix the smudges, smiling at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners a bit. “I wasn’t okay with who I was, I wanted to be… perfect. And now I am by all standards ‘perfect’ but baby, it wasn’t shit without you, okay?”

You’re done then, kissing him furiously, as you pour everything into it, he gets lost right with you, lips pressing over yours over and over, breaths heavy and scattered, his hands sliding over those delicate sequins. “I don’t want to go home.”

“I don’t want you to, fuck… ever.” He’s kissing you softer now, pulling back as he eyes the window then. “But will you really feel home here?”

“I want to keep trying, and see if I can. I just know I have a lot to… take care of if I do that first.”

“Then we’ll figure it out, anything okay? If you fucking hate this event, we’ll figure out something. If you love it, then we’ll go to every one you want. I want you, more than anything.” You kiss him again, he’s tugging you closer, every memory of you two drifting in his mind now too.

“You always loved me, and I always loved you.”

“Always, sweetheart. Since I met you. Who wouldn’t?”

“Who wouldn’t love you?” He sucks a breath in, his hand slipping up the bare skin of your thigh, watching your face flush, your eyes dilate.

“We’re not gonna make it out of the car if you keep lookin’ at me like that, I’ll put a baby in you here.”

“Toru don’t say it, you know what it does to me now!” You’re whining and he smirks now.

“Soaking wet?”

“Hush!”

“You’re so easy f’me,” he’s kissing your lower lip, lapping across it with his tongue as your lips part, your hands tugging at the lapels of his jacket. “I should have fucked you before, could drip cum on the red carpet.”

“You’re ridiculous, stop it,” but you’re wetter now, and he knows it, his teasing smile replacing the emotional one he had earlier.

“Ya really want me to stop, sweets?” You exhale, shaking your head as he slips it higher, finding you over the delicate lace of the panties he bought you, groaning. “You are soaked, you wanna be pregnant so bad.”

“We will never m-make it if you keep touching me.” He swipes his finger closer, as another courtesy rap on the door sounds, you pull away a bit, when he swipes your glistening arousal on his lips, making them even glossier, your tummy tenses, breaths caught in your throat at the sight.

“Should I tell them my new secret to glossy lips?” He kisses you again, spreading your flavor along your mouth, you’re whining out softly when he finally pulls back. “Let’s knock 'em all dead, yeah?”

“Let’s do it.” He’s grinning, so brilliant, and you try to focus on him then, as the cameras hone in on you, lights glittering off the sequins while Satoru keeps a hand at the small of your back.

“It’s so many people,” you murmur, looking everywhere, it’s loud and insane with the sheer amount of people walking, the attention on you makes you anxious. You used to cheer and competitions would also have you in a cold sweat, he’d always hype you up. “Satoru…”

“I’m here baby,” he tugs you against his side, you feel his reassuring arm wrap as he looks at the cameras ahead. “Just look at me.”

You do that, and he eyes you and smiles, when a couple interviewers start shouting his name. “Should you go?”

“We’ll go,” he’s holding your hand as you two walk over, and then more interviewers run up, overwhelming you as you look down at your glittery heels, but Satoru holds your hand even tighter. “One question each.”

“Are you two together?” One asks, and you look up at Satoru, focusing on his cute little smile as he winks at you.

“We are together.”

There’s a clamoring, and people are leaving other interviews to get a shot at a question of the elusive Satoru and his new girlfriend. The attention is just too much, you’re not sure how he handles it all, but the way he commands them with just enough friendliness, but still holds back himself from them is impressive.

That Satoru is all yours.

“How long have you known each other?”

“Hmm,” he taps his chin, eyes narrowing. “Let’s see… over eighteen years ago we met.”

“How has she been a secret?”

“She lives back home. For now.” He’s winking again, you let him command them, answering their questions until he sighs a bit. “Okay, yes she’s my girl, but this is boring and I’m ready for the show. One more question.”

“Is it serious?” One of the girls asked, and Satoru holds your hand to his lips, giving your knuckles a little kiss as he eyes you.

“It’s very serious. I’m afraid I’m permanently off the market.” He says, to the murmurs and gasps of everyone around.

The warmth spreads, as you realize how devoted he is openly, making you fall impossibly deeper, the love spreading an expanse of your lifetime but still growing with every moment. As he looks into your eyes, you see it too, the apprehension, but the love shining so brightly, nervous maybe that he said it, but you’re reassuring him with a smile, a little nod, until he exhales and grins.

“May we ask you a question?” You look at an interviewer then, nodding shyly, Satoru tenses when she opens her mouth.

“How do you feel about his career, with all these models and now he’ll have co stars? Are you ever stressed about how you’ll fit in his life?”

The words hurt, and suddenly you feel every bit of your prior apprehension, Satoru scoffs. “She knows she’s the only girl for me.”

“I can answer, it’s okay,” you smile up at him again, and he nods a bit, as you look back at the interviewer, the lights still bombarding you. “I would never worry, it’s his career, but also I know what we have, and it’s irreplaceable.”

He leans close, murmuring - ‘good girl’ in your ear, you flush under his praise meant just for you as they keep chatting and throwing out questions, but he’s already leading you away. The closer to the red ropes, the more lively, but the less cameras, as you two walk hand in hand.

“My feet are killing me already,” you whisper, only for him to pick you up in his arms. “You don’t have to!”

“Shh, let me carry you,” he’s pressing a kiss on your head as everyone is oohing and ahhing, you snuggle against his neck, sore feet finally feeling better as you relish in his devotion. “You’ll get used to the heels.”

“Really? I want to just wear some tennis shoes next time.”

“I love you but no, not on the red carpet. Fashion faux pas.”

“I see, you take this serious.”

“Hmm,” he’s raising a brow as he eases you down into the theater, slipping across his body, and he kisses you right in front of a room full of stars. “Let’s enjoy the show.”

*****

The next couple days are a whirlwind, so many things he’s packed in, even at lunch people snap photos from outside the windows, but Satoru seems oblivious to it, just happy to be there with you. You go see the stars on Hollywood boulevard, you put your hands against your favorite stars and he takes a photo.

He’s got you and him together as his instagram picture, it has an insane amount of likes and comments, you’re reading them as you lay on the soft carpet of his floor, ankles crossed as he takes out his new guitar. “Satoru, they’re insane - I wanna suck his dick - wow.”

“They all want to, it’s true.” He has a shameless grin, you giggle, sipping the wine he’d poured. “Only you get to though.”

It’s so similar to that night in his room.

The nostalgia hits, but so does one thing, you miss home - and not just home, you miss him being home. You swallow it down, the fact that you’re not sure you fit in out here, because no matter what you want him to follow his dreams, and you want to be by your side. You all still have time to figure this out, even if you have to leave in a couple days.

That ache of missing him happens before you have to go, like your heart and body is already anticipating it. You push it down, looking at another comment. “This guy says I have nice tits, what?”

“He what now?” Satoru snatches your phone up, glaring. “Oh fuck no.”

You’re giggling as he types a mean, nasty ass response to him, then to many others who said anything. “Toru!”

“Don’t ‘Toru’ me, tch, the fuck they think they have a chance? Never.” He has to have the phone physically taken and put up, eyes lit up with anger when you straddle his lap, cupping his face.

“No one can have me, ever.”

“Fuck,” he kisses you then, deep and desperate, the hunger that’s always there ignites, the constant need for him in every fucking way, every position, every rythm, a neverending madness. “Fuck the guitar, wanna put cum in you again.”

“No no, I wanna hear! Please!”

“Don’t you pout at me,” he sighs though. “You’re too cute. Fine, go sit before I fuck you so hard you can’t walk.”

“Oh god, maybe not,” he’s chuckling as you slip off, going to grab your wine and sitting with your legs crossed. “I’m ready!”

“All right, it’s the one I played in school, but I’m rusty.” He holds the guitar now, on his lap, a light tan acoustic that his fingers gently begin to strum the frets, and his gaze locks on you. “I wrote that song for you.”

“You composed that song for me? You never told me.” You’re swallowing now, as you scooch closer, a hand on his thigh over the soft pajama pants littered with little white kittens.

Everything in that moment feels so perfect, you never want to leave.

“I never told you, I never sang the words to you,” he’s blushing like the boy he was back then, nervous you can tell, when you reassure him with a nod and smile. “All right then, here it goes.”

Satoru’s melody fills the room, as he starts playing the familiar rhythm, it’s a little off key in places, but you instantly remember it. Remember studying as he played - Satoru was so smart he never studied. You had to try pretty hard for your grades, and he helped you all the time, answering questions as he played that guitar with those long fingers.

You’re suddenly that girl, but also now a woman, both of them sitting and looking at the boy they love, as you now realize it’s meant for you, when his lips form those words. You almost can hardly contain yourself, the longing to stay and the dread of leaving falling back, to just enjoy this moment, in how much you adore him, how much you love this moment.

The words are for you, they’re only for you, spilling from his lips in a soft little husky pitch, and before you can comprehend your tears have spilled across your cheeks in glittery streaks. As Satoru sings the words he only sang on his own, practicing over and over in front of the mirror, too afraid to ever play them, too afraid to sing them out loud.

They mirror the poem in the year book, the mirror everything he’s never said, as he sings about your smile, as he sings about his heart. You’re a mess to the point his fingers falter, but you shake your head. “No, keep going please.”

Satoru finishes the song and he has just enough time to put it aside when you’ve knocked him to the ground, wrapping your arms around him, he chuckles a bit, stroking your back gently. “Would I have gotten this response then?”

“Yes, I would’ve been your first.” He chuckles again, as you pull back. “I’m such a crybaby.”

“You are… and you are the first that has ever mattered. Okay?” You nod quickly, kissing him again, until he’s hungrily kissing down your body, you’re on your back as he does, your gasps fueling him. “Fucking perfect.”

“Love you, mnh don’t wanna - ah - miss you again,” he exhales, breath tickling your tummy as he leans up, silvery hair falling over his brow. “I don’t want it to ever end.”

“It won’t baby,” he’s kissing lower, spreading your thighs, you’re gasping when his tongue slips up your slit, and he moans. “I never want this taste out of my mouth.”

“Please…” He’s groaning against your hot, eager cunt, tongue swirling and flicking your clit, as two fingers curl in your messy cunt. “Ah! Oh god… mnh!”

He’s devouring your cunt hungrily, losing himself in your wetness pouring, in your taste as he eyes you under those lashes, his long fingers pressing into your hips to drag you closer. He’s working you so good, curling his fingers in your soppy little hole as his mouth latches on your clit, and he sucks the tiny, twitchy nub into his hot and eager mouth.

You’re screaming out, so fucking thankful you can - the quietness of playing in your childhood houses did not do his sexy moans or your cries justice. You’re closer and closer, feeling the coil tighten and then release, until the pleasure shoots through your body, and you’re convulsing around his thick fingers, clear arousal pouring into his mouth which he slurps up, fucking obscene.

“That’s it, make me a mess baby,” he’s dragging you back against his mouth, lapping every drop up as more starts dripping, then leaning up and slamming your thighs to your chest, pressing you into the floor. “Can’t make it to the bed.”

“Then fuck me on the floor, ah!”

Satoru needs no more invitation, he’s hastily tugged those pajamas down, precum dripping on your pretty cunt as he slips his tip between your folds, feeling how fucking perfect you are. He doesn’t give it inch by inch, no he bottoms out in one thrust, making you so full so fast, you’re screaming out, fingers gripping the plush carpet underneath.

“Mnh, it’s so much!”

“Take it f’me, all my cum hmm? Gonna fill you so much…” you’re cumming so quick it’d be embarassing if he didn’t love it, if he wasn’t lifting your thighs and fucking into you deeper, harder, strokes mean and messy, loud with the slapping of his skin against yours. “Perfect, fuck you’re perfect.”

“Toru! Please,” you don’t even know what the fuck you’re begging for, until he finds your clit, hugging your legs with his other arm, and you’re shattering underneath him again. “Ngh, there, yes please! L-love you!”

“I fucking love you, I’ll love you round with me, huh?” You nod eagerly, your cunt greedy as she milks him when he does bust after fucking you harder, faster, until you’re both broken. You’re cumming from his hot white ropes filling you. He’s cursing stuttering as his weight presses on you, heavy and so perfect, smushing your thighs up even higher, until he’s slamming his cum against your cervix.

“Want it, want it all.” He’s moaning, pulling out and watching your little hole twitch and wink at him, as white milky cum pours out.

“Wasting it, tsk,” he fingers it right back inside you, smirking at you with dilated eyes when you’re wriggling under him, cunt so sensitive. “Don’t you want it all?”

“All of it. Mmm, I can take it.” He’s inside you again and again, it’s like the two of you can’t stop, until you’re so sore it’s hard to move, and he’s hugging you against him in the bed.

“Don’t ever go, please.” He’s pouting against your neck, you’re so fucked out it’s hard to think, you look back at him, and he caresses your face.

“I will try to see if I can start to… figure out what to do. But Satoru, I don’t know if I fit in here?”

“You will, god everyone thought you were a star,” you’re smiling shyly, sleepy eyes dozing off, while he presses little kisses on your head. “It’ll be so lonely if you go please…”

“Toru…” You’re kissing him again, turning until you’re facing him, and he tugs you against him closely, sighing shakily.

“I shouldn’t put so much pressure.”

“No, no, I don’t want to be lonely without you either,” you’re kissing him gently, feeling sleep tug at you as the desire to stay awake and be with him every second you can fights it. “We will figure something out. I know it.”

“We will. I’ll lock you in chains to the bed-”

“Wait now.”

He’s smiling abashedly, but your eyes narrow. “You think I really would!?”

“I don’t know, you look devious!” He’s tickling you then, it’s all too perfect, every bit of this night, as the two of you try to be in the moment, but also dread the moment you’ll have to part, wondering just how the fuck you’ll make it work.

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intoanotherworld23 · 2 days ago

Text

Safe House Heat

Summary: Harry Castillo was hired to be your bodyguard, and watch over you until everything was safe. What you didn’t anticipate was what was going to happen next

Warnings: mature themes, explicit content, smut, unprotected sex, buckle up this is a kinky one y’all, spanking, oral female receiving, bondage, overstimulation, dominant Harry, submissive reader

A/N: y’all better clutch your panties for this one cause it is long and kinky! Comments and reblogs are always encouraged and appreciated! Always support your fellow tumblr writers! If you wish to be an added to a tag list let me know and I’ll add you! Thanks so much! Enjoy! XOXO

Hall Of Hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Tag list for Pedro Pascal: @pedrohoe04 @k-k0129 @livingdeadmaria @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @milly-louise @kittenlittle24 @trisaratops-mcgee @subconsciouscollapse @hooked-on-penapascal27 @red-red-rogue @fellinfromthetop @drewharrisonwriter @vickie5446 @millerfan @lover-of-books-and-tea @bbyanarchist @justajoelsreader @meetmeatyourworst

You knew being locked away in a safe house with Harry Castillo was going to drive you crazy. What you didn't expect was the way your body responded to him every time he entered the room like a live current ran straight through you.

Six days into isolation, you were tired of pretending. Tired of acting like your bodyguard wasn't the kind of man who haunted fantasies. Tall, broad shouldered, eyes like a summer storm about to break, and a voice that could command obedience with just a murmur.

But tonight, something was different.

The storm outside rattled the windows. Rain sliced down the glass like it was trying to get in. You sat curled on the worn leather couch in one of Harry's oversized hoodies, pretending to watch the flickering light of the fire. In truth, you were aware of him more than anything else. Every shift of his weight in the armchair opposite, the slow drag of his gaze down your bare thighs, the clench of his jaw when he thought you weren't looking.

You'd caught him staring more than once. And you were ready to make your move.

"You gonna keep staring at me all night, Castillo?" you teased, voice low. His eyes flicked up to yours dangerous, dark, amused. He didn't even blink.

"I've had my eyes on you since the moment we got here," he said, his voice gravel and heat. "You just haven't had the guts to call me on it until now."

Your heart skipped, heat crawling under your skin. You shifted on the couch, crossing your legs slowly, deliberately, making sure the hem of the hoodie inched just high enough to reveal a flash of your lace panties. His jaw flexed.

"What are you trying to do, sweetheart?" he asked, tone deceptively calm.

You smirked. "Drive you crazy. Is it working?"

Harry stood. No hesitation. Just power, confidence, and the slow stalk of a predator with prey in sight. He didn't stop until he was towering over you, one hand braced on the back of the couch, the other trailing a finger under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

"You have no idea what you're asking for," he murmured, eyes burning. "But I'm done playing bodyguard if you keep looking at me like that."

"Then stop playing," you whispered.

That was all it took. He gripped your jaw and kissed you like he was starving. His mouth claimed yours, rough and dominant, tongue sliding in without asking permission because he already knew it was his. You moaned against him, fisting his shirt, pulling him closer.

Harry pulled back just long enough to yank the hoodie over your head, baring your chest and the soft black lace beneath. He growled when he saw it.

"You wore this for me?" You nodded, breathless. He dragged his hand down your throat to the curve of your breast, squeezing just hard enough to make you gasp. "Smart girl."

Then he flipped you over his knee like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Wha- Harry!" you yelped, heat blooming in your cheeks.

He chuckled darkly, his hand smoothing over your ass. "Told you. You tease me for six days straight, flash those pretty little panties, and you don't think you're gonna get punished?"

The first smack was sharp, firm, but not cruel. You cried out, more in surprise than pain, the sting sending a shock of arousal straight to your core.

"Oh my god." Another. And another. His hand alternating between soft squeezes and harsh spanks. Between each one, he leaned in close, his voice low and sinful.

"You like acting like a brat?" Smack.

"Wriggling in my lap like that?" Smack.

"You've been begging for this, baby. Every little look, every bend of your hips." Smack.

Your thighs trembled. You were soaking.

"Harry, please." you whimpered, breath catching on a gasp. He ran a hand between your legs, sliding your panties to the side and cupping your soaked heat.

"Goddamn," he growled. "Dripping for me. You wanted this. You need me to fuck the brat right out of you, don't you?"

You nodded, dazed, grinding against his fingers. He pushed two in without warning, curling them just right. You cried out again, shuddering around them, hips canting up to meet each thrust of his hand. The rough calluses on his fingers made every stroke delicious torture.

"Beg me," he said, voice guttural. "Tell me what you want."

"I want you to fuck me," you moaned, losing all sense of pride. "I want you to ruin me, Harry please."

He didn't make you ask again. In seconds, he had you on your knees against the couch, chest pressed into the cushions, ass up, legs parted. The storm outside raged, but all you could hear was the sound of him unzipping his jeans and the blunt pressure of his cock sliding between your folds, teasing and taunting.

"You ready for this?"

"Yes," you gasped, back arching. "God, yes."

He slammed into you in one thrust, burying himself to the hilt. Your scream was swallowed by the couch cushions as he began to pound into you from behind, one hand on your hip, the other tangled in your hair, keeping you right where he wanted you.

The sound of skin against skin filled the room. Each thrust rougher than the last, Harry's voice tight with control.

"Look at you," he growled. "Taking me so well. Your tight little pussy wrapped around me like you were made for this."

You moaned incoherently, lost to the rhythm of his hips, the overwhelming fullness of him inside you.

"Fuck you're so good," he groaned. "So wet, so fucking perfect."

When he spanked you again harder this time you cried out and clenched around him, the sharp pain only pushing you closer to the edge.

"You gonna come for me, baby?" he taunted, grinding into you with a wicked smirk. "You gonna fall apart on my cock like a good girl?"

"Yes yes, I'm so close Harry please!" His hand found your clit, rubbing in tight, perfect circles as he pounded into you harder, faster. Your body seized, back bowing, every nerve lighting up as your orgasm slammed into you with a force you couldn't stop if you tried.

You screamed his name, eyes squeezing shut, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Harry followed a second later, burying himself deep with a harsh groan, spilling inside you as he gripped your hips so tight you'd feel him for days.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of the storm, the fire crackling, your combined ragged breaths.

Then Harry leaned down, his chest pressed to your back, and whispered against your neck, "Told you I'd break you. You good, sweetheart?"

You nodded, smiling into the cushions, completely blissed out. He pulled out slowly, guiding you gently onto your back, kissing your thighs, your belly, your breasts slow and reverent now.

"I'm not done with you," he murmured, his voice like velvet and sin. "We've got all night. And I've waited too fucking long to stop at once."

And with that, he slid down between your legs again, tongue flicking out like a man determined to worship you until you couldn't walk tomorrow.

You were still trembling from the first orgasm when you felt his mouth on you again warm, wet, deliberate. His tongue flicked up your slit, slow and teasing, dragging your overstimulated nerves back to life. You gasped, thighs jerking, but Harry's hands wrapped around your legs and pinned them to his shoulders.

"You didn't think I was done, did you?" he murmured against your folds, the vibration sending aftershocks straight through your core. "Sweetheart, I haven't even started with you yet."

You were already soaked, slick with both of your release, and he groaned at the taste of it, diving back in like a man obsessed.

He licked you like he had all the time in the world lazy strokes, messy kisses, little flicks of his tongue over your clit, pulling a whimper from your throat with every pass. Then he'd slow it down, circle your entrance, just watching you twitch for more.

"Fuck look at you," he rasped. "All swollen and sensitive. I could spend hours between these legs. Days."

You reached for his hair, needing something to anchor yourself, but he caught your wrists in one hand and pressed them above your head.

"No, baby," he said, voice dark silk. "You don't get to control anything right now. That's my job."

Then his tongue plunged into you, and you screamed. Helpless. Bound by nothing but his grip and your own writhing pleasure. He kept you pinned and open, tongue fucking you slow and deep, making the pressure build again even though your body was still trembling from the first wave. You tried to twist your hips, to chase the edge, but he pulled back.

"Nope," he said with maddening calm. "Not yet. I decide when you come again." You whimpered, nearly frantic.

"You like giving up control, don't you?" he asked, voice low. "You like letting me take what I want." You nodded frantically, unable to speak. He smiled, that dark, cocky smirk that made your stomach drop. "Good girl."

Then he reached up, slid two fingers into your mouth.

"Suck." You did, instinctively, tasting yourself on his skin. He watched you with heat in his eyes, the flicker of firelight reflecting in them like molten gold.

Once your lips were wet and full around his fingers, he slid them back down—straight into your slick, desperate core—and started thrusting them slowly while his mouth returned to your clit. The mix of suction and pressure was too much.

"Harry. Harry, I can't, " you sobbed, thighs clenching.

"You will," he growled. "You'll come for me again, and you'll thank me for it."

Your body arched off the couch, overwhelmed, oversensitive but god, you wanted it. Needed it. Every wicked stroke of his tongue, every curl of his fingers dragged you closer.

Your orgasm crashed over you with brutal intensity. You convulsed around him, crying out as everything shattered and ignited at once. He didn't stop he kept licking you through it, slower now, gentler, teasing your thighs as they trembled around his head.

When you finally collapsed, breathless and limp, he rose over you your shirt gone now, chest bare, sweat gleaming across his sculpted muscles.

"You still with me?" he asked, brushing your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

You nodded, dazed and wrecked in the best way. Harry leaned down and kissed you slow and sensual this time. A different kind of hunger. Less claiming, more connection. It melted something in your chest, even as your body begged for more.

"I've wanted to do that since day one," he murmured against your lips. "You have no idea what you do to me."

You smiled, still catching your breath. "Then show me." His smirk returned. Dangerous. Hot.

"Oh, baby. With pleasure."

You were in his bed now, the only bedroom in the safe house. The sheets smelled like cedar and clean linen, but it was Harry's scent that surrounded you, that made you feel drunk. Your wrists were bound in his tie, anchored loosely to the headboard.

Harry trailed kisses from your navel to your throat, taking his time. His cock pressed hard against your thigh, but he didn't rush it.

"I want you to remember this," he said, voice thick. "Every. Damn. Detail."

His hand slid up to your breast, kneading gently, thumb flicking over the sensitive peak until your back arched.

He kissed you again, slower now, but no less intense. He kept you hovering, teased you with his body, his words, every inch of him designed to torment you with pleasure.

"I love watching you fall apart," he murmured. "Love making you squirm, making you need it."

He kissed your neck, your jaw, bit your earlobe, his breath hot.

"You love being mine like this, don't you?"

"Yes," you gasped, grinding up against him, desperate.

"I could keep you tied here for hours," he whispered. "Just edging you. Over and over until you're crying for it."

"Please." you whimpered. "I'll do anything."

He groaned. "Fuck. You're perfect."

Then finally, finally he thrust into you again. Slower this time, deeper, each movement precise and possessive, like he was carving himself into your memory.

He stayed inside you like that, rocking his hips in a rhythm that sent shudders through your core, his mouth never leaving your skin. Every inch of your body was his.

And you wouldn't have it any other way. He whispered things in your ear as he moved.

"Such a good girl..."

"You take me so well..."

"I could fuck you like this forever."

You came again with him deep inside you, moaning his name like it was the only word you knew. He followed moments later, groaning into your shoulder, his body pressing yours down into the mattress with the force of it.

Afterward, he untied your wrists and gathered you into his arms. The storm had passed outside, the silence broken only by the faint crackle of the fire and the slowing beat of your hearts. You pressed your face to his chest, dazed and aching in the best way.

"You're mine now," he whispered into your hair. "No more pretending. No more distance."

You nodded. "I don't want distance. I want this. You."

Harry smiled against your skin.

"Good," he said, pulling the blanket over you both. "Because I'm not letting you go."

———————————————

The soft morning sun filtered through the cabin's wide windows, bathing the bedroom in a golden glow. Outside, birdsong cut through the quiet aftermath of the storm, but inside the safe house, you were trapped in something far warmer it was Harry Castillo's arms.

You shifted beneath the sheets and felt the dull ache in your thighs, between your legs, across your hips a delicious reminder of everything he'd done to you the night before. Several times.

His hand was sprawled over your stomach, possessive even in sleep, and his body radiated heat at your back. You tilted your head just slightly and smiled when you caught sight of him mouth slightly parted, lashes too long for someone so dangerous, hair messy and wild from your hands. God help you, but he was sexy even half-unconscious.

You tried to slip out of bed, careful not to wake him. Your legs weren't exactly cooperating, and the soreness made you wince as your foot hit the cold wooden floor.

"I know you're not trying to sneak away after I rearranged your entire soul last night," came his groggy voice, rough with sleep. You froze, turning slowly. He hadn't even opened his eyes.

"Rearranged my soul?" you asked with a laugh.

His eyes cracked open, a lazy grin pulling at his mouth. "Don't act like you didn't see stars, baby."

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the hoodie you'd worn the night before his hoodie, obviously.

"I did see stars. Right around the third orgasm."

He groaned, rubbing a hand down his face. "Fuck. I love hearing that."

You pulled the hoodie over your bare skin and padded to the kitchen. The place was quiet and cozy, the storm having left behind a coolness in the air that contrasted with the heat still thrumming in your veins.

You were halfway through making coffee when you felt him come up behind you, chest pressed to your back, hands low on your waist.

"Didn't say you could get out of bed yet," he murmured, kissing the spot just behind your ear.

You shivered. "Didn't realize I needed permission."

He grinned against your skin. "After last night, you definitely need permission."

One hand slid under the hoodie and skimmed over your bare thigh.

"Still not wearing panties?" he asked, mock-scandalized. "Shameless."

"You ruined them," you reminded him, glancing over your shoulder. "You ripped the lace with your teeth, remember?"

He groaned like it was a fond memory. "Best fucking moment of my life."

You giggled as he bent and lifted you onto the counter, planting himself between your thighs, the coffee now forgotten behind you. His hands gripped your hips as he leaned in, noses brushing.

"You know this complicates things," you whispered, even as your fingers curled in the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Yeah," he admitted. "But I'm not walking away. Not now. Not after I know what it's like to have you squirming under me, moaning my name like it's the only word you know."

You flushed, legs tightening around his waist automatically.

"You're really bad at being professional," you teased.

He smirked. "So are you, sweetheart."

You kissed him slow, teasing, softer than last night, but still hungry. He tasted like sleep and desire and something addictive you knew you weren't ready to give up.

When you finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "As soon as this job's over, I'm taking you somewhere no one can find us."

"We're already in a safe house," you pointed out.

"Not safe enough," he said with a growl, palming your ass through the hoodie. "I want to be able to make you scream without worrying about security cameras."

You bit your lip. "I think I can handle that."

He reached for your coffee cup behind you, took a sip, then made a face.

"No sugar?"

"I didn't have time to sweeten it," you said with a smirk.

Harry leaned in, his mouth brushing yours again. "Good thing I've got you to sweeten my morning."

You rolled your eyes hard enough to give yourself a headache, laughing as he lifted you off the counter and carried you back toward the bed like you weighed nothing.

"Harry! I was making breakfast!"

"I am breakfast," he said smugly. "And you're not leaving this bed until I'm satisfied."

"Again?" you asked, mock-dramatic. "I might need an ice pack."

He tossed you onto the mattress and crawled on top of you, the hoodie riding up your thighs, eyes gleaming with mischief and promise.

"I'll spank you for that sass, sweetheart."

"Maybe I want you to," you whispered. He paused. Smiled.

"Well," he said, pulling the hoodie up over your head again, "then I guess we're both getting exactly what we want."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #harry castillo #Harry Castillo smut #Harry Castillo x reader #Harry Castillo fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 days ago

Text

Locked Out of Heaven 13

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father invites a work friend to the neighbourhood barbecue.

Characters: Nick Fowler (Dad’s friend trope)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Nick bends over, smothering your lips as he snarks. You still have your hand on him, moving it just like he said. He puts his hand over yours and stops you.

He parts and hovers over you, “slow down, girl.”

You exhale and stare up at him. His eyes crawl down and his hand follows. He traces along your throat and down to your chest. He cups the curve of your flesh and bends over you. He kisses each nipple and you twitch.

He trails down your stomach and across your pelvis, then back up. He frames your chin and kisses you again. He glues his lips to yours and plants a hand next to you. He stretches his legs out and moves to hold himself in a plank above you.

You reach with your fingers and graze his thighs. Slowly you explore his skin, up to his stomach, and finally his chest. He purrs and nibbles your lip. He lowers his pelvis until his dick rubs against you. He wiggles and you gasp.

“You wanna put me in?” He rasps.

Your eyes are foggy and your insides are bubbly. This is it. The moment. The point of no return passed so long ago but it’s all too real right then. Him gazing down at you; you beneath him, his skin against yours.

“Sure... uh.”

“Just do what you feel, princess,” he coaxes. “I’m all yours. Do what you want with me.”

You drag your hand back down, feeling his muscle, and his tip twitches against the back of your hand. You shakily touch him and dip below his length. You slip down and grip him. He rests his knees between yours and lowers himself gently.

You guide him along your folds. You flinch as he glides along the slickness. You hold your breath and push him further back. You line him up with your entrance and your eyes widen.

“Baby, you gotta breathe, okay? Or you’ll be all tense,” he cooes and lowers himself onto an elbow. He pets your forehead, tracing your sweaty hairline. “You ready.”

You blow your breath from your nose and tilt your hips. You nod and bite your tongue. He rests his forehead against yours, your noses flush. He pushes past your fingers.

He stretches you with his tip. You press your palm to his chest and he pecks your lips again. He hums as you clench. You whimper.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he coaxes. “Alright, just a little at a time.”

He pulls out of you. You groan. He prods you again, poking inside just as far as before. You whine again. He does it several times, each thrust easier than the last.

“You can make noise, baby. No one’s gonna hear us,” he drawls. “Why don’t you touch yourself, huh? It will feel better.”

You moan. You obey and roll two fingers between your folds. You swirl around your clit, the sparks it strikes sending a swell through you. This time, he pushes in a little deeper.

He rocks his hips steadily. His lips covers yours and he delves his tongue into your mouth. His kiss stifles your rising voice. It hurts as he dives in just a bit more.

You tremble as he eases in more and more. Each thrust he pulls back until he’s not even touching you, only to plunge back in. You can’t tell how much, it’s all a lot. It’s too much.

You almost bite him before you rip your mouth away from his. You turn your head and whine through your teeth. Your fingers slide down your clit, your juices coating them. Your fingertips brush against him.

“Princess, you want this, don’t you? You said you wanted this?” He smears his lips over your cheek. “You put me in. You want it.”

“Y-y-yea,” you stutter. “Yeah, I... oh, god.”

Your eyes roll back and your head lolls. He groans and you feel something change. He slides deep into you, as far as he can go, and he drones as he collapses onto you. He breathes heavily as he crushes you under his dead weight.

“Baby, do you feel that? That’s all of me.” His lips tickle your temple.

Your eyes bead with tears. You can feel it. All of it. You’re full in a way that makes you throb.

“Nick,” you croak. “I...”

He pulls back and you choke. He dips in again and you squeal. You push against your clit as your toes curl. You bend your legs higher, cradling him between them, and bite your tongue.

“I told you, play with yourself, princess. It’ll be easier,” he pumps again. “Do it.”

You hum and drag your fingers between your folds. You flick them around and your thighs quiver against him. He pushes into you until he can go no deeper.

You hiss behind your teeth and arch your back. He raises himself and sits on his knees. He drapes your legs over his, scooping his hands under your ass. He looks down as he rocks, watching himself delve into you.

You look down too. You lift your head until you can see him in you. Your fingers work faster and he matches your rhythm. You hang your head back and moan.

The pain slowly recedes. Your fears with it. You squirm and spasm. Nick pushes your hand away and puts his thumb to your clit. He rolls it around and around, his pace quickening.

You cry out as you cum again. You pulse around him, soaking him in delight. He slows. You drift into the afterglow but he’s not done.

You shake and writhe as he keeps his tempo even. He runs his hand up your stomach and back down. He spreads your folds as once more he watches himself impale you, thrusting into you, over and over.

He rubs your clit again. You babble as he plucks at your oversensitive nerves. It isn’t long before another orgasm rains down on you.

He bends and slips his arms under you. He sits back, lifting you with him and kisses your lips. His breath encircles you as he lays a trail along your cheek and jaw. You sink onto him until you feel him in your stomach.

“Your turn. Keep going,” he growls. “Fuck me.”

Your insides churn with his command. You are enthralled by it. You sling your arm behind his neck and spread your other hand over the left side of his chest.

You tilt your hips. You feel him so intensely. You buck again and whine. Again. Again. You can’t stop as friction warms between you, nestling in your clit.

You roll your hips. You moan and run your hand up to his hair. You cling to his thick locks and kiss him. You want to eat him up. Devour him.

He cups your ass as he helps you. Guiding you from below. Faster and faster.

You twitch and cum again. You whine out shakily and hug him, paralysed by another sweltering ripple. You hang your head over his shoulder and whimper.

He shifts back onto his rear. He unwraps your arm from around him, playing with your hand as he sprawls out beneath you. You can barely keep yourself up as sweat trickles down your spine.

He frames your hips and guides them. He lifts you up his length and shoves you back down. Up. Down. Up. Down. He grits his teeth and growls, the noise rising from deep in his chest. You put your palms to his stomach and leverage yourself over him.

“That’s it, baby girl. That’s it. I... I can’t hold out. It hurts.” He grits. “Please, can I cum, baby? Tell me I can cum.”

“Y-y-you... can... cum.” You sputter.

“I can?” He groans. “Princess, really?”

“Please... please, you can cum. Please cum,” you beg, lashes fluttering, insides swimming. “Pl-e-easeeee.”

He grunts and fucks up into you. He holds your hips in place as he hammers from below. You push your head back and your arms hang limp at your sides as he loses control. He bounces you wildly, roaring as you feel him gush inside you.

He stills you. You sit on him, shivering in the sunlight. His hands fall down to your thighs, laying on them weakly. His eyes crinkle as he squeezes them shut and his neck strains. He puffs out and shudders.

You put your hands over his and try to lift yourself. He groans and shakes his head. “Stay, stay,” he hisses. “Not yet.”

You stay as you are. You rub his knuckles and watch his chest rise and fall. You’re drained of everything, ready to melt beneath the sun.

He slips his hands from under yours and trails up your arms. He pulls you down, folding you over him. He hooks his arms around you and traps you against him. He kisses your hair and purrs.

“Wanna stay like this forever?” He whispers.

💜

Nick hands you another can of the sparkling citrus drink. You’re not sure if it’s the first one, the sun, or the physical exertion but you’re dizzy and a bit spaced out. You thank him as you sit on the cushioned bench in the shade of the cabin. You push the tab in and sip, cheeks pinching at the tartness.

“Ahh,” Nick sighs. “How are you doing?”

He’s forgone his shorts, instead, a towel slung haphazardly around his waist. You’re in only the coverup, the sheer fabric doing little to hide your nudity. You’re not thinking enough to care.

“Good,” you smile behind the can. It wasn’t just once. He kept going even when you thought it was over. At least two more times, depending how you count it.

The air cools as it sweeps through the open back of the boat. Nick rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck. He slurps from his own can; pre-mixed whiskey soda.

“It’s getting late. Don’t wanna be out on the water when it gets dark,” he muses.

“Oh, we should head back,” you look out onto the waters. You can’t tell if you’re swaying or the boat.

“Definitely close to docking time,” he agrees. “Baby,” he sits beside you. “You have a good day? You have fun?”

You giggle and look at your lap. You rub your cheek as it singes. You shrug. “Sure I did.”

He runs his knuckles up the front of the coverup and pinches your nipple through it. You squeak and look at him.

“You’re still shy, huh? Even after you took me so good,” he smirks.

Your brows pop up and you laugh again. You wiggle and glance down at the can. The condensation stains your fingers.

“I... I guess.”

“You did, you know?” He rubs your knee as he leans in. “You did so good, princess. And the noises—you sound as delicious as you feel, you know that?” He coughs and shifts. “I’m getting worked up again.”

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry?” You bat your lashes at him.

“Sorry? Baby, you’re amazing.” He kisses your temple. “But you can help... if you want.”

“Um, help?”

“Sure, I’ll drive us in and you can... take care of me. How about that?”

“Take care?”

“With your hand. Like before.”

“Oh, sure, I’ll try,” your voice squeaks.

“Baby, you’re too perfect,” he grabs your chin and turns your head. He kisses your lips, reluctantly drawing away. “Come on.”

He stands, the towel tenting, and he heads for the front of the boat. You hesitate and get up to follow. He sits in the driver’s chair and you lower yourself next to him. You put the can in the cup holder beside his.

He starts the engine and grips the wheel with one hand. With the other, he opens his towel. His dick springs up against his stomach. You stare and he stretches his arm across to rest his hand on your seat.

“Here we go, princess.” He pets your shoulder with his thumb.

He goes forward and you peek ahead. You reach over to him and touch his hard length. He twitches. You grab him and squeeze. It takes a moment for you to start. You stroke him from tip to base and back again. He groans and his knuckles pale.

“That’s it,” he urges you on.

He tickles the back of your neck as you keep going. You watch your hand, stunned at the sight, at the reality of what you’re doing. Even after everything else, it still feels so unreal.

“Almost there,” he growls.

You look up. It doesn’t seem like he’s been driving that long. You squint and peer around. This isn’t where you set off. There’s a dock but it’s much shorter. Behind it, just across a flat of land and behind a sparse row of trees, is a beach house.

You glance at him in confusion.

“Dad’s outta town for the week, isn’t he?” He clamps his hand around the back of your neck. “Too late to take you all the way back there.”

You’re silent. You can’t argue. He’s right, you’re far from home, yet this doesn’t feel right. He never mentioned this. Never said you’d be staying out. Over night.

“You finish me off and we’ll go get settled in,” he says. “I think you’re really gonna like the place.”

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the 355 #locked out of heaven

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aventurineswife · 5 hours ago

Note

Hi hello hope you’re having a great day!

I’ve been in drought for Phainon fics especially after his drip marketing came out just recently.

If this isn’t too sensitive of a topic for you could I request Phainon helping reader overcome their fear of men? Perhaps with Dan Heng and Aventurine as well?? With lots of hugs too!!

Hold Me Until the Fear Fades

Tags: Dan Heng x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Comfort, Emotional Healing, Trauma Recovery, Gentle Romance, Fluff, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Characters, Hugs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Vulnerability, Safe Space, Found Family (Implied/Optional).

Warnings: Past trauma (non-specific, implied abuse or assault), Mention of fear/anxiety triggers, Emotional distress and recovery themes, Depictions of panic or hypervigilance (mild and handled sensitively), Comforting physical contact (e.g., hugs, hand-holding) after explicit consent, Heavy emotional themes but handled with care and positive progression.

A/N: Don't worry, it's not sensitive at all! And I can relate to the topic lol.

You didn’t expect him to sit so far away.

The garden shimmered in the twilight, Coreflames casting soft glows across the marble. Phainon rested across from you on the bench’s edge, hands on his lap, eyes lowered—not in shame, but in thoughtfulness. He was careful. He had always been careful.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, voice trembling. “It’s just… sometimes I still flinch. Even when I don’t want to.”

Phainon shook his head gently, white hair shifting with the breeze. “Don’t apologize. Fear is something we survive through. You don’t have to justify your survival.”

You stared at your hands. You didn’t even realize they were shaking until his presence stilled them—without touching, without speaking.

Just being.

“Would it help if I moved further?” he asked softly. “Or closer? I want you to feel in control.”

You paused. “Closer… but slowly. Please.”

He moved an inch at a time, saying nothing, giving you time. When he was at your side—still not touching—he opened his regal coat and extended it slightly, a silent offer. “May I hug you?”

Tears welled unexpectedly in your eyes.

You nodded.

He wrapped his arms around you as though you were glass and treasure all at once. His embrace was warm silk, patient and steady. There was no pressure—only presence.

“You’re not broken,” he whispered near your ear. “And I will wait as long as you need. I promise, I’ll never be a fear you have to run from.”

In his arms, your breath began to slow. Maybe healing didn’t always come in leaps. Maybe it was found here—in a quiet garden, in a safe embrace, and in the trust that someone could see you and not expect anything more.

It was late when the door knocked.

You hadn’t meant to cry. The Astral Express was quiet, and the stars beyond the window blurred as your eyes stung. You expected silence in return.

But Dan Heng waited. Not entering—just… waiting.

“I heard…” His voice was quiet, hesitant. “I brought tea. And… a book. Only if you want company.”

You opened the door with trembling hands. His eyes didn’t roam. He didn’t stare. He stood with his usual stillness, a porcelain calmness that, strangely, didn’t intimidate—it reassured.

You moved aside.

He sat on the floor by the wall, letting you have the bed. Placing the tea where you could reach it. Offering nothing but presence.

“I’m afraid,” you whispered. “Men… sometimes. They’ve—hurt me. I don’t want to think that about everyone, but…”

Dan Heng didn’t flinch. He simply nodded. “It’s not irrational. You learned through pain. That takes strength—not weakness.”

“I don’t want to be scared of you,” you admitted.

“You don’t have to trust me today,” he said. “You don’t have to ever, if it means peace for you. But I will never give you reason to fear me.”

You looked at him. He hadn’t moved an inch. Not even to close the distance.

“Can I… hug you?”

His eyes softened—just barely. He stood, careful as a breeze, and let you step forward. His arms wrapped around you only after you reached for him.

He didn’t hold too tightly. Didn’t sway or rock. He was just… there.

A steady heartbeat. A silent oath.

For the first time in a long while, you felt safe at night.

Of all people, you never expected Aventurine to handle it so gracefully.

You’d flinched when he approached too quickly in the lounge. Your body had gone rigid. He stopped, instantly, arms raised—not in defense, but in surrender.

“Oh no, sweetheart. That wasn’t your fault,” he said gently, his usual flamboyance toned to a soft drawl. “I scared you. That’s on me.”

You sat at the far end of the couch. Your eyes darted to his accessories, his rings, the glint of his smile. Part of you wanted to flee. The other part…

“You’re different,” you said quietly.

He chuckled, removing his glasses and setting them down. “Darling, I’ve heard many things. ‘Charming,’ ‘terrifying,’ ‘morally grey with impeccable taste’—but that’s a new one.”

“No. I mean… you didn’t get mad when I flinched.”

He leaned back, away from you, and placed a hand over his heart. “If anyone made you feel like your fear isn’t valid… tell me their names. I’m rich enough to ruin them.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. A little.

“You’re not what I expected.”

He tilted his head, smile soft now. “I gamble for a living, sugar. But trust? That’s the riskiest hand of all. So, how about we start small?”

He held out one arm in open invitation. “You say the word, I’ll wrap you in the warmest, safest hug this side of the galaxy. Or I can stay right here. No pressure. No stakes.”

Your breath shook. You reached forward.

He caught you like silk catching rain, arms curling around you with practiced grace—yet none of his usual bravado. Just warmth. Sincerity.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured. “I’m not here to play games with your heart. Not this one.”

You let your head rest on his chest, listening to the steady beat beneath designer fabric.

For the first time, a man’s embrace felt like shelter, not fear.

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comfortlesshurt · 3 days ago

Text

Skyler's VLD Zine Giveaway: enter by August 31st, 2025!

Hello hello!

As some of you may know, I have a TERRIBLE habit of over-collecting VLD merch. Well, today, that is YOUR potential gain. Because I have come to propose a silly little game with prizes for two (2!) lucky winners.

INFO BELOW THE CUT!

What do I have to do?

Draw!

Well, it's slightly more complicated than that. Spelled out:

Read one (or more!) of the six qualifying fics linked below the cut. Reading the whole fic isn't required if you find the scene you're interested in early on, but it's still highly encouraged!

Pick a scene (or more than one!) and create art for it.

Share your art on Tumblr (and anywhere else you want to), making sure to include: tagging the fic's author, tagging me, a mention of this giveaway, and a link to the fic. Finally, if you are okay with the author embedding a copy of your artwork in their fic (giving you credit, obviously!), please say so in your post.

I'll reblog your art when I see it, and once I reblog, you are officially entered for both of the prizes. If I don't reblog within 48 hours, please DM me in case I missed the post!

You are NOT limited to one entry! Submit as many pieces as you want. Each piece submitted gets your name in the drawing for each prize 1 time, so 1 piece = 1 entry each, 2 pieces = 2 entries each, etc.

Bonus: if you include a screenshot of or direct link to a well thought-out comment you leave on any of the qualifying fics, you can earn one additional entry per fic. The comment needs to be a comment you made because of this giveaway, so no comments older than this Tumblr post will count. If you can't or don't want to draw, you are completely welcome to enter the giveaway by only using the comment method. You can't stack multiple comments for multiple entries, so make it one good comment for each of the six qualifying fics for up to six entries in the giveaway.

Okay, then what?

Every entry gets you one (1) ecstatic author, no limitations.

But two randomly-selected winners will also win VLD merch from my collection! I will do the drawing soon after the giveaway closes on August 31st, 2025.

What merch!?

A copy of the Besitos del Mar Klance mermaid zine

A copy of Sharpshooter: A Lance Sports Zine

(Make this fun to host, and you'll probably see another round with different prizes in the future. I never learn to stop buying merch bundles...)

Any rules?

Don't be a dick.

No generative AI. If I find out you used it for any portion of any of your entries, all of your entries are disqualified.

Please don't enter something super generic. It should be clear it was inspired by the fic. Low skill is totally fine! Low effort is not.

Please don't enter if you aren't okay with the author of the fic linking to your artwork (with credit given). Bonus if you give permission to let the author choose to embed the art in their fic (again, with credit given to you!), but that's completely optional. I can't make promises for the other authors involved, but if you choose option 1 in the fic options below, I will definitely be linking from my fic to your artwork!

Some of the qualifying fics are rated explicit. Do NOT make an entry based on an explicit fic unless you are at least 18 years old. I have provided qualifying non-explicit fics for minors and anyone else who prefers them! I will disqualify any entry based on an explicit fic if I see that it was submitted by a minor. This applies to both art entries and comment entries.

The prizes are free and the shipping is free, but you do need to provide a full legal name and address where you can receive a package. I am happy to ship internationally, but please confirm that I will be allowed to send you a package from the United States before you enter. If I'm unable to ship to your location for legal/logistical/you-not-cooperating reasons, I will reroll a winner in your place.

If you just want to participate and not enter for the prizes, that's fine! Either don't tag me (but please still tag the author of the fic!) or mention somewhere in your post that you are not entering for any prizes.

If you're only interested in one of the prizes, say which one you want to be entered for somewhere in your post! I'll put you down just for that one so you don't win something you don't want.

All submissions must be received by 31-Aug-2025 at 11:59pm EST. After that, I'll be drawing the winners. I'm not gonna (and don't want to) stop you from sharing more art, but I can't enter you for a prize anymore at that point! I'll DM the winners, allow up to a week for a response, and reroll any winners I need to after that.

What are the qualifying fics?

I thought you'd never ask! All of the options below are equally valid options for adults who want to enter.

Option number 1 and 2 contain explicit sexual references. Entries from minors will NOT be accepted for these two options.

Option number 3 and 4 are rated mature but not explicit. Minors may participate with these two options at their own discretion.

Option number 5 and 6 are rated teen and should be suitable for anyone old enough to agree to the Tumblr TOS.

Mind any tags and trigger warnings on all of these fics. You are under no obligation to read any of these, and you shouldn't if it's going to negatively affect you! A fun little $20 prize is not worth it.

1) Maybe this thing works out (if I'm lying too) by @occasionalklance

2) escape velocity by @existwound

3) Grin and Bear It by @loadingboy

4) Even the People in Your Dreams Will Lie to You by @roylustang

5) i'm only overthinking when i'm close to you by @langst

6) No Place is Home by @catsushinyakajima

And there you go!

Final summary:

1 entry per fic if you leave a nice, well thought-out comment on that fic - multiple comments on the same fic do NOT get you multiple entries

1 entry per piece of art you create for any of these fics - multiple pieces of art ARE allowed for the same fic, and every art piece is another entry into the giveaway

Be nice! Show the authors you appreciate their fics! Please show me there's enough demand for something like this so I can look forward to hosting more giveaways in the future!

You can view the entries received here, split into 1 tab for Besitos del Mar and another for Sharpshooter.

#vld #voltron #klance #also i am BEGGING you to reblog this post #it's not limited to followers only and i do NOT have a wide reach on my own lmao #come play games with me even if you don't wanna follow! that is fine! it's still fun!

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dreamsofbroflovski · 2 days ago

Text

be careful what you wish for.

Kyley-B x Reader - trinitrotoluene - chapter 2

Also available on ao3! 𓆩♡𓆪 Link to Chapter 1

Summary: An innocent librarian's whole views on the world - as well as her guts - are rearranged when she takes into the equation South Park's resident New Jersey asshole. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Fem!Reader, Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cunnilingus, Creampie, Arguing, Fighting, Mentions of Alcohol

A/N: the sequel expected by both everyone and no one.

this took me a while to get to due to me really wanting to capture the vibes of the first chapter. i needed it to end with a bang. but it's here now - big as hell and intense. like Kyley-B, i guess?

i'm not afraid of him anymore. we're one now. we're Venom.

(also uni was kicking my ass but the semester's over now so i can work on more things over winter break!)

“Kyley, I don’t know about this… I think I should go back and change.”

My muttered complaint was almost inaudible over the thundering beats of the music inside the nightclub we were standing in line for, the conversations of the fellow partygoers surrounding us and the rustle of the fabric of my own tight-fitting clothing as I once again tried to pull the hem of it further down, to as much success as I had with the previous attempts - which is to say, very little.

Truly, I didn’t know why I still had that garment. It was a memento from my freshman year of university, back when I thought the following semesters would be filled with partying and drinking that required an outfit up to the challenge, leading me to spending more than I should on a strapless tube dress that left very little to the imagination when it came to my curves and kept on trying to show off even more with the way it rode up my thighs with every movement. Alas, the piece itself did not come accompanied by the courage to wear it; and so for the years after purchase it hung, brand-new, depressedly in the back of my closet, waiting until it could be claimed either by moths or by a cardboard box full of other clothes that I might want to donate.

Or until the man standing in line in front of me found out about it during a weekend at my house and decided it needed to be seen under any conditions, thus inviting me to a new nightclub that had just opened up in Main Street, an environment perfect for a fit of that nature. Minus the fact that I’d obviously… blossomed since my higher education years, and the lack of fabric that was already questionable at the time was nowadays borderline dangerous, which I’d pointed out before we’d even left the house.

Not a sentiment my companion shared, though. “You look fantastic, doll. Don’t sweat it.” Kyley-B responded distractedly while craning his neck to see the beginning of the line better, through the mass of people waiting to enter.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not even looking at me!”

“Because you’ve asked me this question four times in the last five minutes so far!” He reached out behind him for my hand to pull me forward as soon as the bouncer began to open the double doors to let in another group of people, before anyone in front of us had dared see that happen, and despite the rough reply, I held his hand and walked the few steps with him. “And I’ve told you every time that you’re gorgeous. What, ya think I’m a liar?”

His tone gave out that it was not a question he wanted answered. So I didn’t.

In reality, no matter how much I fussed about the hangout and how different the whole situation was for me, deep down I was grateful for the invitation and his insistence. For the past few months since the Jersey playboy came barreling down into my life in the loudest, most charged way, this had been the usual for us. Our very first interaction had turned my world inside out - with his cock nearly doing the same to my body - and since then he’d attached himself to me like a tattoo, if tattoos dragged you around to every single thing they wanted to do with little room for questioning. The activities he figured would be most enjoyable in my company tended to be things fully out of my comfort zone, lacking prior warning; a set of circumstances utterly terrifying in any other context, but with him, I came to find them almost… delightful. They opened my eyes to experiences I’d never have had without his hand, which guided me with a gentleness rarely shown anywhere else: he reassured me at every turn while simultaneously keeping me on the figurative edge of my seat, to a point where I was outright expectant of our next meetings, just to find out what else I could learn from him.

And the opposite had been true as well; while he brought excitement and new memories to my life, he was also not averse to stopping and smelling the roses, and this is where I really stood out. When it was my turn to choose something to do and we’d settle for something more peaceful and inside of my little bubble, his very stance would change, turning rather relaxed and centering his focus. Opinions that would normally be handed out abrasively became carefully thought-out and understandable, the intelligence I knew he had inside finally able to shine through. He’d curse less, speak in a lower volume, his mannerisms were more mindful - and what was best, it came naturally, like he just had that inside all along waiting for an opportunity. Although I tried to stay humble about it, I tended to internally brag at the concept that I’d be the one with access to that side of him.

There was only one thing missing in my very own real life retelling of ‘Lady and the Tramp’: our collars. A label.

Months by now we’d spent together, during which we’d done all sorts of activities: I’d been to his house and he’d been to mine, we had visited multiple different places and been seen in public together countless times both at night and during the day, he’d had me naked and bent in various different positions with surprising success, I’d dragged him out of trouble a lot so far, even paid his bail and drove him home once after a bar fight got particularly heated. Our closeness was impossible to deny.

But, like everything else about Kyley-B, it seemed volatile; even after all that, with the praise and the quality time and the intimacy, I was still clueless about what we were, what my place in his life was if I had any. The warmth I felt in my chest whenever he was close, embers of his own fiery personality that he’d shared for me to keep safe, told me constantly I was special - but how many of these did he have to give? Was he such a blazing flame that just one person would never be able to soothe?

Part of me figured it was more efficient to just take what I could get without pondering the specifics too much, and bask in the satisfaction of knowing at least I was a constant in his life, someone he was always searching for and keeping close. It was more than what could be said of the women that usually surround guys like him. But another part, that which saw those one-on-one moments as heartfelt developments of our connection, screamed in desperation to understand what was really going on; and it wouldn’t accept casualness as an answer, wanting to just grab at that goddamned fake gold chain he always wore and yank until he’d claim me as his one and only.

Fear held me back, though. Not of him: Of breaking the stalemate only to find my chances weren’t as high as I thought. If I placed such a heavy question - to which the agreeable answer would come with a fresh set of responsibilities - on the table and received a negative response, it would be devastating. It’d mean no part of what we lived together was as meaningful to Kyley as it had been to me, or as enjoyable, repurposing all those moments as just hangouts without any further sentiment behind them. It would wreck my entire perception of the past months into a fine dust of ‘what might have been’. I’d have to start over from scratch, losing a companion who I’d cared so much for and who had shown me so much I hadn’t seen of the world around me, while at the same time knowing that for him I wasn’t more than another woman who gave him the time of day.

It was with all this in mind that I never asked. I just held his hand and let him carry me, both the few steps as the line diminished and the rest of our time together, hoping that our fields of view were synchronized even through the veil of my meekness and the shades of his reputation.

Faster than expected considering the amount of people in front of us, Kyley and I were at the beginning of the line, and soon enough the flooring under my heels changed from concrete pavers to glossy vinyl while colorful beams of light shone different hues onto my dress, shifting its black color into darker purples or reds or greens. The music, which the nightclub’s walls had done a decent job of protecting my ears from, was now positively booming, some remix of famous recession pop songs and old school hip-hop beats - I’d caught many hints of different conversations in line about how the specific DJ who was playing that night was fantastic and really knew how to get a party going, and maybe it was just a lack of knowledge on the subject, but I didn’t perceive the work as all that extraordinary. The space inside was crammed and the body heat of many different people enveloped me rather uncomfortably, making my short dress feel like appropriate attire if exclusively considering the temperature.

Keeping a tight hold on my hand and not speaking - he wouldn’t be heard anyway - Kyley-B brought me away from the doors and further towards the center, creating a corridor for me to walk through safely at the expense of numerous partygoers that complained when hit by his shoulders or arms when he passed by them. I kept muttering some apologies, but they went unnoticed as we continued weaving through the crowd, stopping only when we reached a spot close to the wall, near the bar.

“Party’s pumpin’ tonight,” Kyley said with excitement, leaning towards me to put his mouth as close to my ear as possible - even then, it took some effort from me to make out the actual words. “The guys really weren’t kiddin’. This place’s amazing!”

It would probably take me several more minutes for the word amazing to become one of the possible descriptors for this event in my mind, but I didn’t want to wreck his joy. “I guess it is,” I responded, giving him a smile and hoping it didn’t look as nervous as it felt in my face.

But Kyley knew me, better than any other man could. Not that it was any hard to see in my demeanor how out of my element I was: The way my arms were kept close to my body, making myself smaller to fit in the nonexistent space, the flickers of my eyes here and there as I took in the excessive visual stimuli. “You know what you need? A drink!” He didn’t miss a beat with the offer, which came as high-energy as his previous sentence. “I’ll get one for ya. Don’t go nowhere.”

Just like that, he was turning away from me and trying to make his way closer to the actual bar, one arm lifted to present the wristband placed on him at the entrance for easier ordering. With me being left standing close by, he remained able to see me very clearly, and I noticed him taking full advantage of that by constantly looking over his shoulder to check if I was in place. As for me, well, that red hair would grab my sight anywhere, even with the thick gel on it reflecting the multi-colored lighting.

The music, loud as it was, did a decent job of keeping my insecure thoughts at bay… by substituting it with repetitive beats, but still. I kept my eyes on Kyley from the second he stepped away, begging with them for him to come back quick, but also expressing my gratitude that he was the one going through all this trouble - since I didn’t think I would’ve survived pushing through the wall of people asking for drinks at the bar, which he did with the ease that comes with being someone you don’t wanna mess with. And when he stepped away not long after, one colorful cup with the nightclub’s logo in each hand, I breathed an infinitesimal sigh of relief. I might’ve been tense and uncomfortable without his presence, but I knew he had my best interests in mind - he wouldn’t put me through something he wasn’t sure I could handle, and who knows? Maybe some alcohol in my system was exactly what I needed to let myself loose and enjoy another wonderful night out with him.

Or at least it would’ve been, until she arrived.

I didn’t detect her coming in his direction until she was basically glued arm to arm with him. The first thing that came through my mind was that she reminded me of a walking disco ball; her sequin crop top reflected lights in every which direction, hundreds of her own little shining spots that I had to force myself to look away from considering they spread over just enough area to cover her breasts, and even that coverage was questionable. Between that and the low-rise denim shorts she wore, as much of her skin as legally possible was showing, a slight glisten of sweat on her belly and chest that spoke of how she’d already been heavily partying for a while. Her fit made me look modest, but she displayed none of the discomfort I did, excitedly gesturing at the Jersey playboy to catch his attention - successfully - while making small jumps that made her boobs bounce and the bracelets in her arms shake.

The nightclub went silent. Those light beams still moved, people still danced and their mouths moved while they continued their conversations, like the volume had been dialed down to zero. All my focus was on the pair some feet away from me, on how Kyley-B stayed put while the new girl came closer, turning in her direction and saying something with a smile on his face; his words were unknown to me, but his laugh was something I’d die before forgetting, and it reached my ears better than the music would. The woman stretched her arms wide as if to give him a hug, but he took a step aside last second - God forbid he spill his drinks, my mind concluded with disdain as something unknown dragged down my back. Thousands of knives straight to my spine, tearing through the bone as easily as they would some tapestry, with the blood they’d spill instead making its way up my throat in the shape of a stinging toxin that made me want to vomit my guts out. Yet I didn’t collapse to my knees in utter agony or let out the horrendous shriek this sensation urged me to. That would’ve been less painful.

My legs moved before I’d made the decision to, which I wouldn’t if it was up to me. But everything above my hips was locked onto itself, the remaining energy in my muscles channeling towards making that stride happen, while my brain did the work of figuring out the easiest path to my targets in that crowd. What called me to action wasn’t sense, but some sort of deeply ingrained hunch that whatever was causing me so much grief was related to those two being alone together, and that a maintenance of that condition for any extra seconds would have death as a result. Whether mine or theirs.

It didn’t take long for me to reach both of them, with the noise in the space gradually increasing the closer I got to the destination. By the time I was near their side, it was booming inside of my head again, bass-heavy as the fury it warred with. I didn’t know if my heartbeat had decided to sync up with the music… or if it was the other way around.

Proximity to the woman did nothing to diminish my unsettlement. She was a few inches taller than me, the height of my heels included, and a quick look down told me that her own gladiator sandals had the back of her feet lifted in an angle that I’d only describe as uncomfortable. Her squeaky voice managed to disrupt even more the air around us, and I figured she might be well-beloved by the street dogs in town whenever she spoke - that if the noise of her multiple accessories didn’t scare them off, clashing and clinking with her every movement, which she did a lot of to make sure eyes would be drawn to her at all times. Everything about her screeched in need to be seen, and against my own opinion on her merit to be so, she was.

Before I could announce my own presence, though, Kyley did it for me. “And then I went and- Wait, what?” He interrupted himself mid-sentence, turning to me with a confused look on his face that gradually shifted into pleasant surprise. “Whatcha doin’ here, sweet cheeks? Didn’t I tell ya to wait back there?”

Crash. Awareness suddenly returned to me all at once; where I was, what I had been doing, and the thoughts that I’d had in the span of seconds that led me there. A cocktail of shame, dread and anger stronger than anything Kyley could’ve bought me mixed itself in my stomach as I was now required to both face my own unconscious actions and control my conscious ones. The man’s arched eyebrows and the small smile that spread on his face upon seeing me should’ve filled me with joy, but instead I wanted to punch it right out. For leaving me alone, for talking to this woman, for betraying what we had - but had he? Did we have anything for him to betray? And if we had, would that have been betrayal at all? Picking a fight over something that wasn’t even palpable would dig my own grave of humiliation further, while I already wasn’t at my most comfortable in an unknown environment.

Lying outright would not be an option, as Kyley certainly would call me out, but I also couldn’t turn to him and say ‘Hey, I hate this woman, stop talking to her and any others forever’. So what came out was the softer sliver of the truth, without the blood-curdling details. “I… I didn’t want to be alone anymore,” I muttered with a small shrug, “So I came to see you.”

That’s when a scolding should come into play. The Jersey man detested when his orders were questioned, and so far I’d been obedient enough to not be on the receiving end of one of his thorough lectures, but there’s a first time for everything. However, it did not come to pass; he just tossed his head back in a fit of good-natured laughter. “Impatient little thing, you are,” Kyley teased, giving me one of the cups before throwing the now free arm over my shoulders and pulling me towards his side. “Well, stay here now. You didn’t miss much, we were just talkin’.”

Not that I knew what I would’ve done with myself if he had said anything contrary, but nevertheless it felt good to be so clearly told to stay. Especially when the order was followed by a very obvious display of discomfort on the other woman’s part, her deep pink lipstick nigh disappearing as her lips pressed into a thin line, which made the smallest movements - she was biting on them, munching on her complaints. “And who is this little thing you have with you today, Kyley, dear?” She eventually questioned, her tone high-pitched and filled with fake cuteness, ignoring me completely as if I were a child. Seen, because she had no choice, but not heard. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

“Oh, this here’s my (Y/N),” Kyley responded promptly, his hand rubbing up and down my arm. The woman’s long fake lashes batted repeatedly, her teeth dragging onto her bottom lip again, but with the blood that blossomed right in front of my cornea and clouded my focus, I failed to register why. “We both had never been here before, so I said well, here’s a great opportunity to show her off a bit, you know.”

Bless the colorful lights in the space, for they hid the undoubtedly reddish hue that spread across my cheeks at the words ‘show her off’. I brought my cup close to my face in an automatic motion, seeking to distract myself God knows how, and inhaled deeply. The sharp scent of lemon and vodka invaded my nostrils, twisting around inside my head and scratching my brain, cleansing it of the gunk the thoughts of that woman had covered it with. Not the same effect it would have when it finally got to my stomach, but I forced myself to have a generous sip, needing the liquid courage and also some way of seeming less troubled by the situation than I was. So I let it burn the inside of my throat, deliberately concentrating on the alcohol - an objectively bad idea, like that whole interaction.

“I see.” The woman gave one short nod that also served as an excuse to eye me up and down, her gaze lingering both on my face - half-hidden by the cup - and on my dress, which suddenly seemed too simple for the event. “You knoooow, for this sort of thing, you really have to consider the company you bring, Kyley,” she added in a drawl, her bracelets jingling again when she gestured with her hand, manipulating in the air around us the best way to speak her mind. “It’s real grown-up stuff, darling. This place’s not for just anyone.”

My fingers tightened around the plastic cup. Real grown-up stuff. I wanted to ask just what the fuck she meant by that, but it would only make me look silly, because we both knew. She didn’t see me as good enough company, for a club like this or for Kyley. And on any other occasion, maybe as soon as earlier that same night, I might’ve been inclined to agree out of self-deprecation, question my own aptitude to be the partner he needed - this would’ve presented the woman in front of me as a more worthy option, though, and that wouldn’t do either. But the man at my side laughed again, impeding me from arguing for myself. “Well, good thing I brought (Y/N) then, because I know she’s up for it,” he asserted, shaking his head. “Don’t take her for no dummy, Kandee. She looks all cute like that, but she can handle the heat.”

Kandee. A sweet name for a sour person. The sound of my snort echoed inside my cup, but if either of them noticed, it wasn’t commented on. Rather, only her disbelief at the Jersey man’s claims was noticeable, searching for an outlet in the form of several taps of her long, shoddily manicured fake nails on her own bare thigh - which didn’t follow the rhythm of the background song, or of anything at all.

“Oh noooo, far from me to wanna do that, Kyley! She seems like such a dear!” She shook her head as well, more emphatically, huge dangling earrings hitting her cheeks with each turn. Such a dear. A delightful compliment, if not for it being completely fake and also unwarranted considering I hadn’t spoken a word to her yet. “What I’m saying is, maybe sometimes you want to vary your company a bit! If you do…”

And then her hand reached out.

The touch was small, tentative, like a shoplifter discreetly looking around before stuffing a small object inside their jacket. Not noticing, or not caring about, the fact that the security guard had been on to them from the start. It landed on his left shoulder, and though it didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme, there was still some relief to be felt at the fact that the man had ditched the usual tank top for the night in favor of a proper form-fitting t-shirt. One extra layer of protection, however thin, between his skin and hers.

Much to my satisfaction, it didn’t linger for too much. One sudden movement of Kyley’s torso as he turned away to look at something else broke contact, leaving her arm lifted in the air awkwardly. Another chuckle shook the drink I was holding onto, and this time Kandee did send a glare my way, making me mask my reaction of amusement with another sip.

“Well, Kandee, some people…” I cleared my throat, alleviating both the burning sensation of the drink and my own nerves at deciding to finally be a part of the conversation. “Some people like to just have the same company all the time, if the company’s… decent enough.”

“That’s right!” Kyley brought his attention to us again and lifted his own cup towards me, mimicking a toast. Kandee’s eyes followed the movement, sharp as a tack. “Smart words, sweets. But don’t drink too fast. Ain’t no one in a hurry.”

Kandee’s hand, the one she had lifted to touch Kyley, briefly balled into a fist in mid-air, now grasping at the points she hoped to make to turn the conversation in her favor. “Yeeeah, (Y/N) dear, be careful,” she cooed wretchedly, having apparently found the line of thought she wished to sew with. Her hand uncurled, and her index moved in my direction now - resting with intent on the rim of my cup and pressing down, as if she wanted to move the whole thing. “The drinks here are strong, you don’t want to… go over the line or anything.”

I quickly pulled my cup back towards my chest, the liquid inside sloshing around in the process. “I think I can handle it.”

“It’s just friendly advice, love…” We’re not friends. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about.”

So do I, I thought as the cup found my mouth again, my gaze defiant while I took another sip. “I can imagine.”

Apparently I needed to work either on my sarcasm intonation or my debate skills, because a grin spread across her face and her lashes batted once more. “Oh, I do, honey,” she continued with a small nod, “But it’s better that you don’t think about it too much either way…”

Another attempt at theft.

And this time, she didn’t even hide it.

Because her arm stretched out again, and this time, her palm was flat and splayed on the left side of his chest. Over his heart, which the beating of now thumped in my ears in the shape of a memory, having heard it so many times with my head laid there.

Into a thousand pieces, it shattered. My respect for the environment around me, my interest in remaining polite and demure, and the fucks I had to give for what Kyley would think of me. I was weirdly aware of the position of my elbow and the movement of my shoulder as my arm swayed - backwards, then forth, one simple flick of my wrist finalizing the act of throwing the drink in my cup in Kandee’s direction. The pull of a marionette’s strings, except I knew who held them. Control was there - and it was being used for what I wanted to do all along.

My eyes brought down to a slow-mo the speed of the liquid splashing onto her body, allowing me to see the impact in its full glory. Her hand backed away from Kyley’s body in an attempt to brace herself that came several seconds too late, and the wet spot on her skin reflected the lights like a disgusting and sticky extension of the sequins of her top. Fitting.

The slow-mo broke with an ear-piercing screech, one that brought all of the clubbers right out of their alcohol plus loud music induced zones and made them turn in its direction. I had a measly nanosecond to garner reactions before my rival made contact with me in a lunge, nails getting caught on my hair as boney fingers found purchase on it. The pull had me roaring in response, my cup being thrown and crashing onto the floor so my hands could try to pull her wrists away - the carrier of the fight’s catalyst now discarded and useless.

An admission had to be made that she had much more stability on her too-many-inches-tall heels than I had on my shorter ones, her legs straight and steady while I had to keep mine slightly apart for any sort of balancing base. But what her possible past experience of pulling this kind of stunt before gave her in efficiency, I had in unbridled rage from my desire to protect what I saw as mine.

A dig of my own nails on her arm made her let go of my hair, yet I couldn’t even be proud of causing her torment, as my own scalp stung fiercely where the strands she had pulled were located. I wouldn’t know if what I was feeling was legitimate adrenaline, but it was pretty fucking close to the usual descriptions of it, since the pain dulled almost instantly and this time it was me going after her, raising my hand and lowering my open palm rapidly, striking wherever I was able to without further consideration. She began mimicking that move once I had one of her arms in grasp of my free hand, the accessories in her wrist clanging against each other and also against my body, and I found myself gritting my teeth to minimize the painful annoyance.

The makeshift ring we had in the form of dance floor space began to increase in size as more and more people stepped back to watch the scene, mostly through the screens of their own phone as they recorded the ordeal. External hands attached to some overly courageous faceless watchers kept on reaching out to us, trying to halt our aggression, yet they’d recoil quickly after one or two slaps we’d spare for them before going back to our original targets. People were yelling all over, trying to talk to each other or to us - yet the only things that reached our ears or left our throats were our own screams and animalistic growls, communicating in a language I’d never properly learned but knew by heart. Each snarl a constructed offense to Kandee’s irksome looks and demeanor, every shriek a warning for her to stay the fuck away from Kyley-B, wherever he was. The language of violence.

Those slaps began alternating with closed fist punches, any bruises or injuries sustained going ignored since we didn’t want to risk missing a chance to land anything else in. My teeth snapped against air in attempts to bite at any inch of her skin that got close enough to my mouth, while her feet turned in awkward directions when she tried to stab my own with her heel. Only much later did I realize the single thing holding me in that fight was that heart-clenching jealousy from earlier, as in any other situation my defeat would’ve been immediate and outright embarrassing. The strength rage brought me was all too appreciated, condensing around my hands in a glove simultaneously agonizing and comforting to wear.

One of her slaps fell weirdly on my exposed collarbone and she huffed following a tiny snapping sound; the fake nails on her middle and ring fingers now dangled precariously from them, broken and lame. Seizing the opportunity, I brought my own hand to her face, my index landing on her right eye in a very happy accident. With a yelp of utter pain, she covered her eye with one hand and pushed me away with the other unceremoniously, using the movement to propel herself back as well, creating a bit of extra distance to recover while I stumbled against an unknown hard surface behind me. Probably one of the onlookers, but I had no interest in apologizing for the impact. They should’ve known better. Looking down at her, I-

Looking down?

Strong, fake-tanned arms had my legs swiftly grabbed in the span of less than a second, throwing me over Kyley-B’s shoulder like I weighed nothing. The rings on his fingers dug slightly onto the back of my thighs in the successful effort of his hands to securely keep me in place, but I still grabbed at his shirt as if it would somehow save me if I were to fall. People around the fighting area all gasped in surprise with their heads tilted up as well, but the Jersey man had his back to most of them and, without as much as a glance or a word, began to carry me away from the scene; this time, he didn’t have to shove anyone away to make way for himself - people were intentionally stepping away from his path, unwilling to get caught in the mess.

The fight I put up to avoid being removed like that was inefficient, but it was there. Despite the fear of falling from the unusual height, my very present anger continued egging me towards bashing Kandee’s face right in, leading me to thrash around in my precarious position, disregarding potential damage trying to get him to drop me so I could go back to my previous task. The other woman clearly had the same idea, attempting to follow us through the corridor, but Kyley’s long stride had her eating dust within moments and she soon gave up, swallowed by the crowd that filled the space he’d gone through. By then my dress had given up on any coverage and was bunched up at my hips, my ass likely on full display to anyone who tried their luck at staring for too long, but the tension in my mind left me oblivious to it.

“Fuck you! Put me down! What are you doing?” I protested between muffled thumps of my fists against Kyley’s shoulder blade, the punches having as much effect as blowing him a kiss when it came to getting him to actually do what I said.

“Takin’ us outta here before the police does,” he grunted simply, turning his head to avoid the backwards kicks of my heels. Even with his eyes not on the target, he knew exactly where to go, able to continue without issue and helped by the voluntary clearing of his personal road.

“I don’t care about the police! Leave me alone!”

He did not.

My exposed skin felt torn through by a sudden gust of cold when the double doors were opened by an unknown entity to let us pass, and my screams of complaint were silenced by a hiss of discomfort. It hadn’t completely missed Kyley, whose shoulder tensed under my body as the difference in temperature caught him too. Getting distance from the club did nothing to dampen my fury and the urge to get back in there, so it was through sustained kicking and punching that the Jersey man power-walked away from the venue and into the young night.

Kyley-B’s sneakers were crunching gravel when he finally slowed down, reaching his car in the parking lot where we’d left it nearly an hour earlier. My throat was rough and tight from yelling, the alcohol not having given me much to fall back on in regards to that - so my complaints were scratchy and punctuated by cough fits, but not any less present.

“Fucking take me back there, you cretin! Put me down!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed noncommittally, the first actual words he’d spoken since we left the bar. But, instead of unlocking the vehicle for either of us to get in, he stopped right in front of it, bending forward slightly and lowering my feet to the ground.

I knew I wasn’t getting out of it that easy, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t make an attempt. As soon as my heels sank between the tiny stones, I was trying to make a run for it towards the exit to the parking lot - without any plan of what I’d do if I succeeded or fear of being tackled by a force much less gentle than the man who held me previously. If I was lucky, I could get back in or catch Kandee outside, rip off a hair extension or two as a prize. Having the scent of trouble as part of his notes and knowing what I was doing, Kyley once more stood ground, his hands drifting with a steady grip up my body as he straightened up in front of me.

“Let! Me! Go!” I insisted, trying to break free from his hold with quick movements of my body, deemed irrelevant in face of his strength.

“Fuckin’ relax already,” he huffed, “You ain’t going nowhere now.”

With just one small step forwards of his, I felt my - bare - ass against the hood of the car, cold from being out in the open at night. That chill spread up through my back, making me shudder; only for Kyley’s intense eyes to heat me up all over again, serious and unyielding gazing down toward me, adding a pinch of lust to the flush of rage on my body.

“Says who?” I questioned in a growl, trying to push away from the car and being pressed towards it further in return.

“You do,” he stated simply. Despite how nonsensical the answer was, it was also serious, as if he was doing nothing but placing a fact.

The scowl of anger I held flashed briefly with confusion, my eyebrows twitching. “The fuck does that even mean?”

This time, what twitched were his fingers on both sides of my hips, pressing down onto the bunched fabric of my dress. A smirk curved his lips, their taunting making me want to claw them right off of him - fuck, maybe Kandee was on to something with the unfashionable long nails. “Well, weren’t ya just yelling and screaming and wanting to be heard? You were saying something. I just listened.”

“I didn’t say anything! I don’t want nothing from you!”

“Oh, but you do.” And I didn’t get the chance to complain about how he was repeating himself - because with his hands still holding me, he began lowering himself to the ground, the crunching noises of the gravel beneath his knees deafening in the empty space. The stab of lust, which I was well-acquainted with, that went right through my womb at the sight of him looking up at me with that devilish smile made me groan in irritation with how I needed to rapidly suppress it.

“Stop talking nonsense!” My hands moved to his shoulders to try and shove him away this time, but all I managed from that contact was feeling the lift of them as Kyley-B shrugged carelessly.

“Alright.” He wiggled his eyebrows twice, his cursed smile not diminishing as he dropped his eyes towards what was right in front of him, level with my abdomen. “You talk then.”

There was no way in hell he’d given up so easily. I knew as much. But I couldn’t let the asinine behavior make me forget just how pissed off I was at this dude - this goddamn sexy, strong dude kneeling in front of me like- Focus!

“I have nothing to talk to you about!” Even in my annoyed tone, there was a shaky background to it now - my affections shining through, unfortunately. One of my feet stomped onto the ground once, commanding his eyes back on mine, to be taken seriously - instead, the hand closest to that leg tightened briefly on my hip before both of them began drifting down. It didn’t take long for those palms to reach bare skin, caressing the sides of my thighs, reminding me of just how uncovered the lower half of me had been since he picked me up back at the bar.

“You do.” Again, he repeated without missing a beat - and, not catching some deep-seated request of the old ‘me’ to be covered again, he brought the bunched dress further up, baring my legs completely; goosebumps all over them both from the slight cold and his touch, though I wouldn’t admit to the latter. “You’ve been yelling so much, it’s fuckin’ obvious. So do tell.” My thighs pressed together when his olive gaze landed on my underwear, the only coverage I had right then - if you could even call that the plain black ensemble I had on. Thin lace, which usually drew from him some sort of husky praise, but all I got was a faint tickle when his fingers began tracing the pattern of it on the waistband.

They hooked onto it after a moment, tugging down with the slowest pace, and the objection that instantly formed in my brain from the anger - telling him to stop, to pay attention to me - failed to make its way to my mouth. How could it? I was there because of him. My body craved Kyley’s touch like the feeling of home. Even those panties had been chosen with him in mind, knowing they’d be taken off later. My muscles were frozen, but my mind ran wild: the result was staying right put while refusing to be his mental peace. “Why don’t you go and ask fucking Kandee if she’s got something to say? Clearly y’all chummy enough for you to wanna know.”

Only later, sober, would I have noticed how easily I fell into his trap, the jealous sentence slipping from me in the form of an accusation while I thought it was a genius clapback. In my defense, it was my first time feeling that way.

The Jersey man clicked his tongue once, his eyes following the movement of his own hands. Down, down, those long fingers dragging my panties to my knees. “I don’t wanna know about her, I wanna know about you,” he insisted, his tone firm in its tease - for once in his life, he hadn’t taken to heart a complaint regarding him. “I’m chummy enough with you.”

I don’t wanna know about her - fuck if that sentence didn’t make the monster inside me growl in appreciation. Green-eyed. Like the man who caused it to awaken. This appreciation put a blowtorch to the ice that toughened my muscles, and I shifted my weight uncomfortably on my feet, testing the hint of movement that had been granted me. “Fuck off with that. If you wanted to know about me, you wouldn’t have left me alone back there,” I huffed, turning my face up to the night sky to avoid staring too much at the man down there to avoid further warming my cold shoulder.

“Mmhmm.” Right as I had committed to avoiding laying eyes on Kyley, my balance shifted terribly, a loud sound booming through the parking lot when I slammed my palms on the car hood behind me trying to stay upright. For the second time that night that he’d done something like this without warning, the man had lifted up my right foot, taking my panties off of that side and leaving the left leg ignored. Methodically, deeming irrelevant the noise or my gasp of surprise when I’d almost fallen - as long as he was there, I wouldn’t. “And that makes ya feel some type of way.”

“Of course I feel some type of fucking way!” With me trying to tug my own foot away from his grasp so I could stomp it on the ground again being fruitless, I settled for slapping the hood of the car a second time, figuring damage to the vehicle would startle him out of the nonchalance - yet he simply caressed my ankle with his thumb, the only show of acknowledgement on his part that I’d noticed when looking down being a particularly forceful blink. “I get my ass all dolled up for you, get out of my own fucking house to spend time with you and what do you do? You go talk to some fucking skank instead!”

A reaction. Sneaky, occurring despite himself, Kyley’s usual Jersey sincerity unable to hold back fully no matter how he tried. His bottom lip got caught between his teeth, his shirt shifting minimally with a brief tense of his shoulders, before he relaxed again. Whether it was the unbecoming amount of curse words in my voice or the content of my sentences, he wasn’t unaffected. “I… Fuck. Go on,” he grunted after a deep breath, resuming intentional movement: bringing the foot he held to his shoulder and keeping it there with one hand, placing the other on the inside of my left thigh. The warmth of his palm so intentionally close to my center would’ve been scorching if not for how heated his teasing moves already had me feeling.

The feedback hadn’t been enough, and it was driving me crazy, more than I even had gone during the fight. The walls of my throat burned with an acid sensation, wanting to say everything and nothing at the same time, dissolving me from the inside out. Where was his knowledge of me when I needed it?

“‘Go on!’ I- Look, just take me back home already,” I huffed, trying to ignore the increasingly overwhelming heat inside of me. If I couldn’t have what I wanted, neither would he, regardless of how much I wanted what he did too. ”I don’t wanna talk about this or anything else with you right now.”

With those words, Kyley’s fingers curled more vehemently around my ankle, like he’d been woken up from a state of drowsiness. His eyes snapped up to meet mine, and there he was again - intensity that teetered towards brutality, unwavering, infuriatingly dominant. If not for the things left unsaid, I might’ve been the one dropping to my knees there. “Stay,” he ordered, his tone making up in firmness for the usual anger it was conveniently missing. “Kitty wanted to show claw back there and argue, didn’t cha? Now I wanna fuckin’ hear ya meow.”

My thigh muscles quivered slightly, that being the stupidest last-ditch effort they could make to tell me to close myself off - both physically and emotionally - altogether. I knew his insistence would drop at the faintest hint of legitimate refusal from me: Kyley had never done to me anything I hadn’t wanted, and as much as I wouldn’t have admitted that then, he was just too fucking good a teacher to desires I struggled with understanding. Through that burning in my throat, I still couldn’t draw up any refusal, since there was none inside.

Plus the threat of my absence had made the Jersey man all too aware of the itch under his own skin, I could tell. Because he wasted no more time before putting his face close up to my pussy, startling me slightly and making me back up even more towards the car while he deeply inhaled the scent of me. His hand inched even closer, his intention clear - mine, too, when my hips shifted automatically towards him, my clit brushing against his nose.

And there he stayed.

Sight locked onto my face, wide dark pupils reflecting whatever tiny dots of light they could catch from sources nearby. If I focused, I’d see myself in them.

Waiting.

Kyley wasn’t lying when he said he wanted me to meow; if I wanted to be soothed from the ache his proximity had developed within me, then I’d better start talking. His breath so close to where I was most sensitive felt like a caress, bringing me a strange sense of comfort regardless of the nature of that contact.

“And… And I don’t even know what you see in her!” When I resumed speaking, it was undecided, still reeling from the scolding I’d received - but remembering the subject lit a fire under my ass again, and I was interested in rambling again in the blink of an eye. “Everything about her is fake! Her face, her hair, her goddamn-”

I cut myself off with a cry. Kyley’s soft lips had found my clit and wrapped around it, sucking with gentle steadiness. His tongue flicked over it carefully, unwilling to overwhelm me but certainly demanding attention. Which it got. The fingertip of his index circled my entrance with a feather-light graze, annoying in its taunt - the Jersey playboy couldn’t speak, but he was still telling me to talk. And I had to retract every single time I’d shushed someone into silence in my job at the library, because I found myself to be quite the blabbermouth.

“Ngh… Her- ah- her fucking clothes-” His finger breached my entrance all the way to the first knuckle, and the odd absence of the feeling of hard metal against my walls meant he was either favourably missing one on that particular digit or took it off while I wasn’t looking.” “- They’re so fucking trashy! She dresses like a whole-ass hooker, I don’t know what you see in-” Another interruption as his finger began pumping in and out of me, matching the rhythm his tongue had on my clit. Sure of itself, sure of how needed it was.

Whines began spilling from me, half grateful for the permission of pleasure and half critical of it not being nearly enough. The unshakeable concentration I used to build up my animosity towards Kandee was becoming flimsier, my hands balling into fists over the hood of the car like they wanted to physically hold onto that negativity, while the riveting touches I was receiving begged - not exactly silently, given the wet sounds my cunt was making with the pumps of Kyley’s finger - for me to let go and be free.

“And it’s such bullshit that you listened to her… You just left me there… Aaah…”

Every time I tried to resume stating my grievances, more of the decisiveness was shaved from my tone when Kyley showed that he was, in fact, listening. A second finger found its way deep inside me, then a third after a particularly curse-heavy protest; curling inside of me seductively, massaging my G-spot with the magical precision only someone who knew my body better than I did could gather. Meanwhile, his soft tongue lapped and swirled around my clit in earnest, making me even more delirious with desire.

Closing my eyes in that state brought me right back to the club from earlier: with its colorful lights sparking behind my eyelids, their glow now inviting instead of oppressive. A separate party made specifically for me and under my own terms. Rainbows of neon in the darkness, their hues hitting my skin and healing me with their energy in ways that would make even the highest partygoers back at the real place think maybe they had enough. The thumping in my ears no longer came from mediocre remixes or my heart in the throes of rage - now it matched the tempo of my clenching walls, with the squelching from the thrusts of the Jersey man’s fingers in and out providing a perfect background beat and the less than conscious rolls of my hips towards his mouth being my own way of dancing to it.

Damn, I guess that drink I had was stronger than I thought.

Weaving through the colors and music, there was one other presence. Kyley-B and the reds and oranges that I’ve learned to attach to the memory of him, fiery, burning me up. Because of course - he was the one who brought me all that bliss, who pulled me into that mental space that ressignified all my experiences into something marvelous. Perhaps I wasn’t listening to his grunts of satisfaction at my taste on his tongue, but I could feel them vibrating up my skin, adding to the inevitable climax building up inside me.

“I… I didn’t-… Ngh… Ah-… I didn’t want to… Mmph…”

As the blaze in my lower abdomen roared fiercer and fiercer, the sour coating in my throat had wholly vanished, converted into honey with every whine and cry I let out. Some attempts at speaking were still weakly being made, now more due to Kyley having requested it rather than any remaining outrage, but they got lost almost immediately.

And I only had the vocalizations of ecstasy to give out when the inner inferno hit me like an outside explosion, endorsed to my hazy mind by the bang of metal when my ass hit the car hood - my straightened knee buckling and denying me of balance when my orgasm struck, any leftover stress and tension rippling right out via my quivering muscles. Over Kyley’s shoulder, his hand tightened around my ankle to keep it held while the fingers on the other continued to fuck me through my orgasm without faltering.

Only when my legs started literally shaking from overstimulation and another metallic sound denounced that I’d laid down fully over the car, my eyes wide staring at the moon above without committing the sight to memory, did the man decide he was “done”. Scare quotes needed, as he never seemed to be quite done with me. He let go of me and got up quickly, one hand already moving to his belt - frankly, the fact he’d managed to go all that time teasing and listening without actually giving me dick was commendable in itself for how out of character that restraint was.

“Ya good enough to handle it now, doll face?” He asked roughly, the other hand moving to my knee, which shook under his touch. My eyes were drawn to it, then to his own, my vision still unfocused from pleasure - but taking in his handsome face and the obvious interest in his features had my mouth watering. I nodded automatically, not trusting myself to speak lest I actively drool.

The next seconds were a blur - he might’ve taken his time with me, but now his hunger was back in full force and he was not gonna starve any longer. His pants and underwear were down in one swift movement, and just as swiftly he’d grabbed my hips and pulled me along the hood towards him, both my legs wrapping around his waist like they’d been trained for such. Then all of his length was inside me; one fast, slick thrust making me cry out again with a volume I didn’t know I even had to give anymore as he filled up the emptiness his fingers left.

“Thank fuck,” he panted, the sheer relief in that breath he let out showing just how much being patient had taken out of him. Waiting for something he wanted was physical pain to the Jersey playboy, and my cunt was finally healing that ache.

Taking advantage of how wet and ready I was, he didn’t wait for me to adapt to his girth; the pace he immediately set was quick and rough, slamming into me with the frenzy a man only gets when he’s one moment away from pleading. He didn’t quite get to doing that, probably would’ve died before it happened, but it was obvious. The hold on my hips, possessive as always, continued pulling me towards him so I’d meet those harsh thrusts like the concept of any space between us was inadmissible, a concept corroborated by the dents his fingers created on my flesh where they held my hips.

With his cock knocking the air right out of my lungs every time its head slammed right into my cervix, and the lightning jolts that struck my body in succession, it was outright impossible for me to form any of those complaints he’d demanded from me earlier - but luckily they were no longer necessary, as my companion appeared to have forgotten all about that situation. And so had I, fully now. Kandee who? What club? At that moment, Kyley-B was mine, irrevocably. Those strong arms that held me so tight, those hips that my legs struggled to stay wrapped around with how fast they moved, those groans and huffs of bliss when I clenched even tighter around him… those were mine.

Mind reader that he was - or likely noticing the smile that had grown on my face, the delight in my features that went past just sexual pleasure -, Kyley leaned towards me when that knowledge permeated my hazy brain, his breath warm against my skin as he rested his forehead on my collarbone. “Fucking beautiful thing you are, sweets,” he husked with a grin of his own, “I’m all here f’ya…”

I hummed in agreement at his words, though they’d take two or three more thrusts before I’d actually understand them. “Here for me…” I echoed in hardly a breath, closing my eyes and letting his presence encompass me again.

The top of my dress was hastily tugged down, possibly by his teeth, letting my breasts spill free from it due to the lack of a bra. Those same teeth briefly bit my hardened nipple and the gasp from the minimal pain I felt dissolved into a moan when his lips began suckling on me, instantly soothing and bringing more sparks of delight to my skin with the movement of his mouth.

After years, that fucking garment had finally paid itself via the ease it created for that moment to happen - and if I started wearing it more I might have to give it even more money instead.

“And you’re here f’me too, ain’t ya, pretty…? Soft and wet and ready and all that good stuff that you are… Just for me…” Kyley broke his veneration of my breast temporarily to speak between harsh breaths, his hips starting to stray from the speedy pace they had set as he got lost in the heat and scent of my body, frenzy for frenzy’s sake becoming a chase after his release.

Oh, I was everything for him. Pretty, flexible, ready, soft… and most importantly, close. I almost couldn’t feel the metal under me anymore with how my back arched away from it, pressing my upper body towards his own. With a full-body jerk courtesy of the extra sensitivity from being overstimulated earlier, I shouted his name out into the world as I came again, my legs somehow finding strength to wrap around him more fiercely, trapping his body against mine while my cunt milked his cock for everything that it had. This time, I was taking him out with me. And it worked - his roar sent another shiver through me as his throbbing length, still relentlessly thrusting inside of me, filled me with strong jets of his seed. Leaving me full of him.

With the bliss of climax keeping us together in the beautiful moment that followed, with him laid on top of me and slowing his movements to a stop as we both panted our lungs out, I fleetingly felt an abnormal sense of pride. But as the fog of lust dissipated from over us like dry ice, one specific sentiment I hadn’t had time or need to feel yet ultimately emerged. Embarrassment. Memories of the fight, the punches exchanged, and most of all, the things I’d told Kyley while he was eating me out. Even the pain from the bruises and small injuries I’d sustained from the brawl arose too, having waited specifically for that moment - where I’d be at my lowest, raw enough to feel everything times a hundred. That pride went as it came. Fast and undeserved.

Pretending nothing had happened wasn’t an option. The ordeal was ridiculous, out of character, a severe lapse of judgement; yet it was me regardless. Confessing to all those emotions of jealousy and agony while in one of my most vulnerable moments - with my cunt right on Kyley’s mouth - made it impossible to just ignore. I had done all those things and needed to bear the consequences.

“I… I’m sorry.” I muttered, nearly inaudible, turning my frowning face to the side and closing my eyes. It was too shameful to stare at Kyley in that moment.

A deep breath of his made goosebumps spread on my chest before he placed the softest kiss to the valley between my breasts. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry.” My repetition came louder, more stiff, with my frown intensifying as I decided to get serious. “I don’t know what came over me there, I…”

“I said don’t.” That firmness I held was mirrored by him - but in his voice, it was way more powerful. Enough to make my eyes snap open. “Didn’t ask ya to apologize for nothin’.”

Kyley’s weight left my body and I looked at him to see he had adjusted his posture; standing tall with his cock still inside of me, a smirk twitching one corner of his mouth when he saw me staring. Those large hands began roaming the uncovered parts of my body - which were virtually all of it - distractedly, palm fully open to feel as much of it as possible. A sheen of sweat lingered on his fake-tanned skin and had also dampened his shirt, making it cling to the point where I could discern his actual muscles - or maybe said shirt was just that tight and I was just that used to his body.

What really confounded me was how happy he seemed. In that smirk, taunting as usual, there was genuine contentment, which I’d learned to recognize in him from those moments we’d spent just the two of us. That memory made my heart clench; those moments, which had been so important to me and I’d worried so much that he didn’t feel the same about them. The embarrassment had also brought back the insecurity about them, and through all I’d confessed, at no point did I actually find out what I wanted.

“But I have to.” I propped myself on my elbows, attempting to meet his certainty head-on by repositioning my body. “I went all crazy. I picked a whole fight and almost made us get kicked out of the club. I ruined our night.”

“Ruined?” Kyley frowned. “I think it went pretty great.” He glanced down, towards where we were still connected, that smirk never leaving.

For emphasis, he moved his hip the smallest bit towards mine one last time, his softening dick moving inside me and making me bite my lip briefly before he completely pulled out. Smooth son of a bitch. But I needed to face the music.

“You know what I mean,” I insisted, “I know I shouldn’t have done all that, but… It was a lot, okay? I got really nervous because you weren’t there and-”

“That’s not what ya tryna apologize for, though.”

“I am!”

“Nah. You didn’t get nervous.” His hands squeezed my shoulders, where they’d stopped their roaming briefly before returning to that. “You got jealous. There’s a difference.”

Well. with or without taking Merriam-Webster into consideration, he wasn’t wrong - nonetheless, hearing it from his mouth was bothersome. “That- that doesn’t matter. I really was nervous…”

“It matters. One’s hotter.”

I gasped. “Huh?”

My reaction made Kyley’s lips twitch at the corners in genuine amusement while he leaned towards me, placing his palms on the car hood on either side of my thighs now. “You got jealous and it was hot as hell.” In tandem with the teasing edge of his explanation, there was certainty. “My sweet little kitten gettin’ feisty with this chick she didn’t even know just because she got too close to me? Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

The feral part of said kitten wanted to ask why the fuck he hadn’t told me that sooner. But, unfortunately, it was asleep, and what was awake was the one that couldn’t remotely conceive what he was on about due to shame. “It wasn’t gorgeous, it was embarrassing!” I protested, “A scandal, Kyley! I started this fight in front of all those people-”

“Beautiful fight, by the way,” he interjected, his left hand moving to reassuringly rest over my right. “You landed some real nice hits on her there. Should’ve known you had it in ya. Made me hard as fuck.”

“H-hard?”

“Goddamnit, baby, why do you think I took you outta there so fast like that?” He chuckled dryly. “Damn near impossible to stay even a second longer without gettin’ my hands on you, and then you’d have a real fuckin’ scandal.”

My face heated up again, for a different reason. When I thought I’d heard it all from him, he’d come up with stuff like this and make me blush shades of red I didn’t know the human skin could achieve. “What about Kandee, then?” I pushed the words out with a slight struggle, dragging the weight of the matter over my tongue like sandpaper. “I hit her! I hurt her! You care about her, don’t you?”

“FUCK no!”

The scene that unfolded was nearly hilarious. Losing the taunt altogether, Kyley huffed and shook his head fiercely, reminding me in a weird way of a dog that had just been fed medicine - if I pressed the issue, I might’ve witnessed him actively retching to try and spit my words out. “I never wanted nothing to do with her. She’s garbage!”

Not that I didn’t agree - heaven knows I did -, but such a visceral reaction drew shock from me. “But I thought-” I sputtered, coughing to clear my throat while trying not to appear as pleasantly surprised as I was. I still needed an explanation, after all. “- But I thought you were close!”

Another huff. “Don’t bunch me up with that shit.” He rolled his eyes. “That bitch is fucking annoying is what she is. Pisses me the fuck off. Don’t know a single fucker that wants to be near all that bullshit.”

Even though I refrained from full-blown laughing, the smallest snort still went through my nose, and from how Kyley’s smirk returned, safe to say he’d caught on to that. “But why be so nice to her, then? Why talk to her at all?”

“Because you’re always tellin’ me to chill!” He gestured towards me with one hand. “You’re always doing shit for me. Gettin’ dressed up all pretty and goin’ places with me. I didn’t wanna stress you out.”

Any words I’d ever learned were wiped right out of my mind for a moment, leaving only the specific sequence of I didn’t wanna stress you out. Never before had I seen the Kyley-B care about the peace of mind of anyone - not even his own, considering how he tagged along with trouble in a very close friendship. Regardless, here he was, telling me he’d been nice to someone he didn’t even like specifically because he thought it’d humor me.

“So I thought maybe I could play it cool and she would leave, no sweat,” he continued, “But then you came and I had to commit.”

“... Why me?”

Momentarily, Kyley looked as confused as I was. “What?”

The questioning left my vocal chords mechanically. My insecurity had them well-trained for that. “Why me?” I repeated, placing one hand in front of my mouth to hide at least part of the jaw-dropped expression that I couldn’t shake and which showed in my tone regardless of if I’d managed to visually hide all of it. “Why would you do all that for someone like me? I’m just another girl!”

“Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“Don’t do this to me now,” I sighed, “You know it, Kyley. You have so many girls that hang out with you all the time. You can do whatever you want… You don’t owe me a single thing.” My voice got thicker with emotion, and I dropped my hand as I lowered my face. “It really is ridiculous. I got jealous around you and we’re not even together.”

“Well, let’s get this show on the road then!”

I didn’t need to look at him to tell that the confusion had vanished. Usual Kyley-B, confident, strong-willed and opinionated, was back. And, much like many times before where he’d done something that came out of nowhere, I was left stunned.

Time spent together had taught him how to work around this, given he didn’t wait for me to talk before continuing. “If the issue is we’re not together, then let’s be together,” he declared, “There ya go. No more issue.”

My heart skipped a beat at those two little sentences, jumping at the opportunity to take them for itself. Yet it didn’t matter what it wanted - my rational mind knew how things actually were with Kyley. “That’s not how it works.”

“And why not?”

I swallowed hard, preparing to say the words that were sure to squeeze my chest into a bloody pulp. “Being ‘together’ is not what you think it is, Kyley,” I told him, and sure enough, each syllable was harder and harder to push out. “Sure, we hang out, we talk, we… fuck… But it’s not just that. It’s a lot of other stuff, it’s more important.”

“I know that,” He groaned, clearly growing frustrated with having to extend a question that to him had a clear-cut answer. “Like bein’ exclusive, right? Goin’ on dates, livin’ together and shit?”

Him saying it with all the words so easily wasn’t on the script, but it did save me the trouble of explaining. “Well… Yes. Mostly that.”

“Then I don’t know what the fuck we’re waitin’ for!”

I lifted my face to look at him. He’d crossed his arms and was shifting his weight between his legs restlessly, looking bigger than usual given how small I felt yet somehow… vulnerable at the same time.

“Look, I don’t… I don’t want to take anything from you,” I admitted gingerly, my throat getting agonizingly tighter as I thought about what the fuck we, or at least I, had been waiting for. “You… You like to party, to be with other girls. You don’t want me to take that away from you.”

“Take what away? What you’re talkin’ about ain’t that much different from what I’ve been doin’ already,” he countered, shrugging with naturality. But then his eyebrows arched, awareness of something crossing his mind - something unknown flashed behind his eyes while his upper body tensed up, hands balling into fists with his arms still crossed. “Unless you…”

“No!” I exclaimed right away, my eyes widening. There was no fear in my face or in my voice - only astonishment that such a concept would even be brought up as an option. “I’m not, at all!”

His guarded posture loosened up immediately at my confirmation, but my astonishment didn’t. The clear upset he had displayed at the assumption of me being with other men besides him had me caught up in it. It was familiar - and suddenly I was all the way back inside the club, cackling with that fury I had roaring inside my chest. Kyley… He’d known what that was before I did. And if it had been so strong within me, who’d never dealt with it before… How painful could it be to someone who was like that by default?

My gaze softened towards him, trying to bring him further tranquility. “I’m… Not with anyone.” I repeated, shaking my head slowly. “Are you?”

“Ain’t that what I just said?” The corners of his lips twitched, a pleased smile trying to form. “No, I’m not. Haven’t been since you came into my life.”.

Truth was, I hadn’t been exactly caught up in Kyley-B’s romantic or sexual endeavors - a deliberate decision that had eaten me up inside, but which the absence of would’ve proven even more unhealthy considering what I thought I’d find out. I didn’t want to hear about all the women he was likely getting it on with, women that my mind perceived as being much prettier, much more fun, much better aligned with what he demanded in life. Yes, the fact that he hadn’t brought it up in conversation either had been a little off to me - it wasn’t like he’d made an effort to hide his popularity from what I’d known of him prior to actually getting involved with the guy -, but I’d attributed it to just… basic human decency he wasn’t impervious to. Not to there being literally nothing to bring up.

“I… Didn’t know that.”

“‘Course you didn’t. Wouldn’t be having this talk if ya did.”

“So… Does that mean…” I coughed once, trying to distract myself from how fast my heart was beating. Put myself together. “You’ve just been… Waiting? For me?”

“Sorta, yeah. I was tryna… be better for you, actually.” And for the first time in that conversation, he averted his eyes. His arms uncrossed, lingering at his sides lazily, making him look every bit like an awkward teenager about to confess to his crush. Reticent and so unlike him. “Get my shit together. Put in the work if I wanna be worthy, ya know? Cut back on the bullshit to show I can settle down and-”

My heels were on the ground before I knew it. The scent of sweat and Kyley’s usual cologne invaded my nostrils when my face found his neck, with my arms wrapping around him with all the strength I could muster. I didn’t care about fixing the dress on my body or cutting back on the emotion; I needed him as close as I could, needed him to know exactly how much I’d cared through the past months, all the anguish I’d had in me each day that passed without being his. Not formally, anyway.

And he’d been waiting to be better for me. How the fuck did he not know he was already the best he could ever be, and that I’d been the one thinking I lacked what was necessary to be his partner? Hadn’t he seen all the changes within me, how much more free I acted when he was around, how he brought forth everything my heart desired in the simplest way possible?

“Fuck you,” I muttered against his shirt, my upper body shaking as tears began to stung in my eyes, making my breath catch in my throat. “Fuck you, you dumbass.”

There was absolutely no bite in my curses, but they still startled the man inside my embrace, who quickly wrapped his own arms around me protectively. “Calm down, sweet,” he murmured back, kissing the side of my head and letting his lips linger there. “This ain’t you.”

“No way. Fuck you.” A sob cut my sentence in half, and I had to take a deep breath before resuming it, overpowered by sentiment. “You don’t have to change a thing.”

“You just called me a dumbass. Don’t I have to change that?”

I shook my head, my nose ruffling his shirt. “Not even that. But you should’ve told me.”

Another kiss, his breath ruffling my hair as he chuckled. “I didn’t want ya to feel pressured.” He confessed, losing some of the worry I’d drawn up in him with my sudden actions. “Wanted ya to come to me on your own terms. Not feel forced just because I was doin’ work. If you were happy with how things were, then… I wanted to stick around and be a part of that.”

“Happy with how things were?” I pulled back slightly, finding him already looking down at me. His olive eyes were unusually gentle, a lightness reserved to either post-coital moments or days where we’d dial back and spend quality time together in more peaceful ways than he was accustomed to. Now I’d have to add ‘charged confessions in dark parking lots’ as a third situation. “Kyley, it’s been… Lovely. Every single day we spent together was awesome. I just… didn’t think you cared about anything more… And I didn’t want to be a bother with what I wanted.”

Again, the concept of distance between us became unimaginable to Kyley. One of his hands found the back of my head and pressed it right against his shoulder again, keeping me there gently. “Don’t ever say that shit again.” Yes, there was heftiness to his scolding, but it was tender - maybe he wanted it to come off a lot nicer than it did. “You could never bother me. Goddamn, doll… You’re amazing. You taught me shit I’d never even imagined. You showed me things I didn’t know I needed. You… You’re it for me, (Y/N).”

My tears began freely dampening his shirt, but I didn’t care. Those sentences, that simple declaration Kyley-B style, direct and honest and endearing and perfect. It might not have been as grandiose as the confessions I’d read in the many romance novels I’d consumed, but did it matter? It was all I ever wanted to hear from the man I wanted to hear them from. And that made it the most wonderful moment imaginable.

Through my tears, I started laughing. A soft, light giggle, swaying my heart into relief and calm by shaking away all the leftover pain. “You’re it for me too, Kyley,” I murmured with a choked sob, “I don’t want you to change. I want to be with you, just the way you are.”

“Then ya got me,” he concluded in a whisper. Unnecessary, given how alone we were outside, but it held weight - even if we’d been in the most populated space imaginable, those words were meant for me only. “You’re always gonna have me, baby. I wasn’t ever anywhere else… You’ve been stuck with me since the moment we met.”

Funny he said that. Because I always thought it was the other way around. The tiny wisp of me, following this great thing that was him. Hoping to one day walk together. When we’d been doing so all that time.

A few sniffles helped with slowing down the fall of my tears, along with him caming me down. His fingers scratched the back of my head distractedly, curling into my hair in a cautious caress. In that moment, in his arms, he held the most precious thing he had. And I did too.

“But… If you want to continue trying to get me to stay by startin’ shit in nightclubs, I don’t mind. I told ya, it’s really fucking hot,” he added playfully, tugging at my hair once before petting it again. “Just want ya to know you don’t have to. No one’s gonna steal me.”

“Screw you,” I chuckled, stepping lightly on his shoe in retaliation. “If you’d told me how you felt earlier, I wouldn’t have had to do that.”

“Maybe not.” He took his foot away from under mine, giving it the smallest kick. “But I loved to see it. Shows you care, doll. And that… That makes me happy.”

This realization made my tears stop completely with how impactful it was. I… hadn’t seen it that way. All I latched onto was how awful it felt, how ridiculous, how unlike me it was.Maybe it wasn’t unlike me - it was just the part of me that cared about that Jersey playboy a little too much trying to show that.

Taking that into consideration, perhaps his nice confessions and protective stances were… his way of doing the same.

“Maybe I can do that in other ways,” I squeezed him inside of my arms briefly. “Without… You know… Causing a ruckus.”

“Have you ever seen me give a fuck about ruckus?” Kyley said playfully. “We’ll go at your pace, sweets. Gonna be perfect regardless.”

No doubt it would. Yet, considering he was giving me his ‘permission’... Maybe his inner ruckus and mine could mingle more from then on.

Normalcy returned with our light-hearted banter. Our surroundings became irrelevant. We stayed in that embrace for what felt like an eternity and not long enough, chests rising and falling against each other in peaceful deep breaths while our hearts beat in synchronicity. Not the first time we were like this, and definitely not the last, but special. Like a warm light, one I’d been chasing for so long, had at last wrapped around us, tying us together like never before.

“But look, if I can just say somethin’...”

Heeere we go. That tone of his that drags on, starting unassuming, but promising a Jersey-level rant. I could recognize that from miles away.w

“It’s been fuckin’ hard, ya know? Tryna be nice to so many of these people. This town is filled with so many assholes ya wouldn’t believe this shit. I don’t know how you manage! It’s all…”

Yup, there it is.

I listened to all of it with a smile on my face. Because it was mine to listen to. Kyley-B was mine, he trusted me, he wanted me - prim and proper or starting shit, it didn’t matter. And I’d want him in any way that he came, as long as it was towards me.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

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hevvxx2 · 3 days ago

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Title: Loud Thoughts, Hot Coffee- Part 13 “The Cage She Chose”

Characters: Joaquin Torres x Reader

Warnings: Psychological trauma and emotional distress. Depiction of captivity and restraint. Implied coercion and loss of autonomy. Mental and emotional manipulation. Mentions of physical and psychological torture. Themes of powerlessness and sacrifice (though no explicit torture scenes in this part) Themes of powerlessness and sacrifice

Summary: Secret! My lips are sealed! 🤐

The truck rumbled through the dark.

She sat alone, wrists and ankles bound in cold restraints that pulsed every few seconds—gentle reminders of who was in control now. She didn’t struggle. Didn’t speak. Her head rested back against the metal wall, and her eyes stayed closed.

But her mind was screaming.

She could still hear Joaquin’s voice. Could still feel the way his body seized against the current. Sam’s rage. Bucky’s pain.

All of it.

Because of her.

So she’d done the only thing she could do.

She’d gone.

Not because she believed Delmont could be trusted.

But because she knew he could destroy them if she didn’t.

FACILITY – SECTOR 6

They didn’t put her in a cell right away.

That would’ve been too kind.

No, Delmont brought her back to the lab.

Where it all started.

She was strapped upright to the standing rig—same one from before. Same leather cuffs. Same smell of bleach and metal and fear baked into the walls.

Except this time, they didn’t hook her to any machines.

They just made her stand there.

For hours.

The lights overhead never dimmed.

No questions. No pain yet.

Just… waiting.

It was worse than torture.

And she knew it was deliberate.

Delmont’s way of reminding her: You chose this.

You came back.

You belong to me.

MONITOR ROOM – OBSERVATION DECK

Delmont stood with his hands folded behind his back, watching her through the reinforced glass.

“She hasn’t tried to use her abilities.” A tech noted, nervously scribbling. “Not even passively.”

“She won’t.” Delmont said simply. “She’s ashamed. That’s more powerful than any cuff.”

The tech swallowed. “Sir… what if she breaks containment again?”

Delmont didn’t answer for a moment.

Then: “If she does, let her.”

The tech blinked. “Sir?”

Delmont’s gaze never left the glass. “This time, she comes back broken. And stays broken.”

FACILITY – HOLDING ROOM

The door hissed open just past midnight.

She didn’t move when the guards entered.

Didn’t flinch when they unhooked her restraints, roughly dragging her to a bench in the corner of the room. No chains. No walls. Just an empty room and a single camera embedded in the corner.

Still, she didn’t try to escape.

Because she couldn’t.

Not with that machine running.

Not with the memories clawing their way back into her head.

She curled into herself, fingers trembling against her temple.

“Stay strong.” She whispered, just loud enough for the room to hear. “You made this choice. For them. For them. For them.”

She pressed the words into her skin like a prayer. Like armor.

ELSEWHERE – SAFEHOUSE

Joaquin tore the room apart.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep.

Sam had to stop him twice—once physically. The bruises on both their knuckles would fade. But the ache in his chest wouldn’t.

“She chose to go.” Bucky finally said, quiet but firm.

“She didn’t choose anything.” Joaquin snapped. “She had to. You saw what they did to her. You saw her face—“

“I saw her save our lives.”

Joaquin froze. His hands clenched around the edge of the table until his knuckles turned white. Until he felt the splinters dig into his hands.

“She’s not going to survive there again.”

Sam stepped into the room, eyes hard. “Then we bring her back.”

The silence that followed was grim. Heavy.

Because they all knew the truth.

This wouldn’t be a rescue.

It would be a war.

FACILITY – LATER

She lay on the cot now. Still no food. No water. No visitors.

Just the constant hum of electricity and the sting of every memory.

But somewhere under it all…

Buried deep beneath the guilt and grief…

A flicker of something else stirred.

Not fear.

Not pain.

Fury.

And a voice—her own, rising from the depths—quiet, clear, and cold.

“You should’ve killed me when you had the chance.”

Like my work? Here’s my Masterlist!

A/N: I’m so sorry I left you guys waiting for part 13! Life got a little busy and I got sidetracked on some other fics I’m working on 😭

Taglist: @mochminnie @je33123 @saintbusan

#bucky barnes #marvel #sam wilson #joaquin torres x reader #joaquín torres x you #joaquin torres fanfiction #joaquin torres x you #joaquín torres x reader #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin x you #joaquin torres #joaquin x reader #joaquín torres

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e1ysianvisions · 15 hours ago

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Cowboy Like Me

Part 3 - Boots Beneath My Bed

Paring: cowboy!Tommy Miller x Fem!reader

[Previous Part] [Next Part]

[Series Masterlist]

Summary: You now understand why your relationship with Tommy needs to remain a secret for now.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, MDNI, unspecified age gap (reader is in her 20s while Tommy is in his 30s), no outbreak AU, secret relationship, pet names, fingering, blowjobs, praise, very brief mentions of drug consumption, duel POV

Word count: 2.1k

You wake up to the feel of Tommy’s body wrapped around yours in a tender embrace. You watch through sleepy eyes as amber steaks of sunlight begin to peak through the curtains. It feels natural, you think, waking up like this.

However, once the moment of bliss has passed, panic takes its place. Tommy normally leaves before the morning to ensure that the two of you don’t get caught, and although in normal circumstances the thrill would send waves of pleasure straight to your core, this wasn’t a normal situation. You’re in a delicate stage of your relationship with Tommy, made even more so with secrecy of it. And if the two of you got caught now, it would throw you head first into an awkward conversation you’re definitely not ready for.

You stifle a yawn as you lean into his embrace, allowing yourself one more moment of peace before it is forced to pass. You press your back against his bare chest, your ass against his already hard cock.

You hear Tommy groan behind you, his arms pulling you impossibly closer into him as though you were a teddy bear for him to cuddle. His nose affectionately nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his wild curls tickling your cheek in the process.

You let out a gasp as he begins to grind into you, a hand coming down to caress your thighs open for him with his expert touch. You bite your lip as his fingers dip into your folds.

“Good morning, then.” You mumble, your voice still heavy with sleep, as your hips move to the steady rhythm of his fingers.

“Mornin’, baby.” His low, gravely, morning voice sends a shiver straight to your core. The honey-like drawl drives you crazy, so crazy you let him continue despite knowing that he should go, go before the others wake up.

You bite down on your lip, caging a moan in when Tommy begins to message that spongy spot inside you that makes you see stars. As if on instinct, your arm flings around and your fingers find their way to the messy mop of curls on his head. You wine, rocking into his hand, his fingers knuckle deep, the heel pressing into your puffy clit.

You’re close. You’re so, so close you can practically taste it.

Your teeth lose their hold on your bottom lip as your jaw goes slack. Tommy wastes no time covering your mouth with his spare hand.

“Sh, baby, the other’s are just across the hall. Don’t want ya wakin’ them with your pretty sounds.” Tommy doesn’t flinch when you bite into his palm, pleasure taking over any and all thoughts in your brain. And when you finally reach the finish line, you melt into Tommy’s embrace as white hot pleasure courses through your veins, heating up every part of your body in the most satisfying way.

He coaxes you through the orgasm with his fingers pumping in and out of you as he whispers sweet praises into your ear, all the while his hardness was digging into your lower back, precum leaking from the tip.

When you come back down to Earth, your thighs and pussy sore but your body is still buzzing with pure, primal need for the man in your bed. You reach behind you, between your bodies, to tug on his hard cock.

Tommy groans, a low sound, into your ear. “Love when you get needy for me.” Tommy places a chaste kiss behind your ear before he starts to rut into your entrance. But before he can enter, you turn around in his arms, place a chaste kiss on his lips and disappear beneath the covers.

Still in that blissful state of just waking up, Tommy doesn’t protest when you lay him on his back, crawl under the sheets and put your perfect, plush lips on his dick. In fact, he doesn’t think there is anything better first thing in the morning. Not even the strongest cup of coffee can hold a candle to this.

He pushes the covers back, to look down at you and if it ain’t the prettiest view in the whole damn world. His girl between his thighs, sucking him off as if there’s no place on Earth you’d rather be.

Tommy’s not gonna last long, he thinks. The feel of your throat, your tongue, your lips is pure ecstasy, better than any drug he’s tried. But it’s the seductive way you look up at him that’s making his hips involuntarily buck into your mouth, chasing that sweet release.

Tommy has to bite his lip so fucking hard it’s bleeding to stop the noises rousing in his chest. The only thing keeping him tethered to reality is gripping your hair, a mess from last night's session, but still so fucking soft. How is your hair that fucking soft?

What nearly finishes him though is you hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard on his aching tip.

“Shit, sweetheart,” Tommy mutters, messaging your jaw with his spare hand. Though he’s not sure it’s very comforting with his movements all over the place from the pleasure igniting at the base of his spine.

“M’close.” He continues, you hum in response and the vibrations make him lose any and all restraint he had left in him. He grips your face as he fucks up into you, chasing his orgasm. His head flinging back into the pillow as he releases into your mouth. Once you’ve swallowed, Tommy brings you up for a hungry kiss, his hand gripping at your roots.

One you break apart, a string of mixed saliva connecting your lips, You settle on his chest, basking in the afterglow.

“Should probably go soon. ‘Fore everyone wakes up.” He tells you, placing a kiss in your hair, You put your chin on his chest, looking up at him.

“I mean, would it be so bad if we told them?” You ask, tone pleading. You were having fun with Tommy, but lines are starting to get blurred. It was supposed to be casual sex, at least that’s what you told yourself the first night you dragged him to your bed. There’s no doubt you wanted Tommy from the moment you met him, but this felt more than just lust. With all the sweet nicknames he gave you, the way he looked at you with such intensity it made you insatiable for more stolen glances, and the way you found yourself gravitating towards him… it didn’t feel casual anymore. It felt real, realer than anything you think you’ve ever felt before with anyone.

“What would we tell them, hm?” Tommy didn’t mean to sound harsh, you knew that, his brown eyes were wide and caring, but the words still felt like a punch to the gut, leaving you winded. “What are we, baby?”

That’s a good question, you think to yourself. Apart from your jealous outburst when you were drunk, and the whispered talk in the kitchen the morning after, the two of you hadn’t really discussed it much.

You bite your lip in contemplation. “I don’t know, all I know is that you made me feel again.”

Tommy looks at you, his eyes soft and apologetic at your confession, with that intensity that leaves your soul aching. He parts his lips, about to say something when there’s a knock at your door. Sarah’s voice calls for you, “Can I come in?” You look at Tommy, eyes wide, before practically pushing him off the bed. Tommy gives you an amused smile as you force him into the closet. You can practically hear the thought behind the playing expression on his face as you give him a gentle shove, fucking chiche.

“Yeah two seconds,” You make a quick sweep of the room with your eyes, shoving any of Tommy’s clothes under the bed. Swiftly putting on your own. You go open the door.

“Morning.” You say, probably a bit too cheerfully. Sarah only groans in response before flinging herself onto your bed. As you turn around you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror above the desk, hair disheveled, face flushed, tear stains at the corners of your eyes. You looked thoroughly fucked. Because you were. Luckily, Sarah didn’t notice. What she also didn’t notice were Tommy's boots at the end of the bed which you discreetly kick underneath before making your way over to her. “Everything okay?” You ask, sitting next to her, smoothing your hair with your fingers.

“No,” She replies, her voice muffled by the pillow. “Had a fight with Ella.”

You listen as Sarah tells you the details of the argument. How Ella wanted Tommy’s number and when Sarah pressed her for more information she told her ‘none of your business’.

Sarah groans, punching a pillow. You’ve known Sarah for three years, lived with her in a shitty shoebox apartment for two, you know this isn’t why she’s so upset. You give her a knowing look, urging her to fully open up. She sighs, cuddling your pillow as she begins to speak.

“I think they’ve had sex.” Sarah doesn’t acknowledge the shocked look on your face, only continues. “At least, I think that’s what Ella was implying. They fucked, he left with no goodbye and that’s why Ella wants his number. I mean, she was all over him the other night and Tommy’s well… Tommy.”

You want to ask her what she means by that, but you already know. You know it’s ridiculous, the pinching feeling in your chest at the thought of Tommy with another woman. But maybe that’s what he was getting at when he was asking what you were. Maybe he wants it to remain casual, doesn’t want your complicated feelings. Maybe Sarah was right about him. She's your best friend after all, you trust her judgement.

“You don’t know for sure. Why not ask Ella, or Tommy.”

Sarah scoffs, throwing the pillow back on the bed. “Tommy would deny it, probably to save my feelings and Ella won’t tell me anything until I give her Tommy’s number.”

You don’t know what to say to that, your own brain clouded with images of Tommy and Ella to think of a response to comfort your friend.

Sarah sighs, getting up. “Anyways, chickens won’t feed themselves. I’m gonna make myself a coffee first, you want one?”

“Yeah, just leave it on the counter, thanks.” With that she leaves you. You close the door behind her and when you turn you see Tommy with an expression you’ve never seen before. Hurt.

“So, that’s what she thinks of me.” He what he finally says.

“She’s more hurt about Ella than you.” You tell him to reassure him, though by the look on his face, it doesn't seem to work.

“She still thinks I’d fuck one of her friends. Have no care for her feelings.” You raise an eyebrow. Unbelievable, you think. Tommy takes a step towards you, cradling your head in his hands when you try to look away. “You’re more than a fuck, and if you don’t know that by now I’ve done something wrong.” He leans his head down, lips so close you can practically taste them. “Tell me how to make it right.” He whispers. With that he finally connects his lips with yours in a gentle kiss. He can sense your hesitation, of course he can, over these past several weeks he’s become so attuned to your body, your emotions, your needs. It’s one of the reasons you’ve become so… so in love with him. Maybe love is too strong a word for it, but in truth you can’t think of any other word for it. So, of course he can tell you’re just as hurt and confused by Sarah’s words as he is.

Tommy looks deep into your eyes. “You’re my girl, don’t want no one else.” He reassures you, and you let yourself believe him as you lean in to kiss him again, letting all the words you’ve left unspoken pour into this tender moment. You don’t have long to bask in it however as you help Tommy retrieve his clothes from beneath the bed, getting ready to sneak him out. As he’s about to leave he stops and turns to you. “We can’t tell her. Not yet.” On that you now agree.

AN: Firstly I just want to say thankyou so much for all the support I've received from this series so far, it means so much to me that people are enjoying my work

Secondly, I want to apologise for how long it's taken me to release this third part, life's been hectic for me these past couple weeks but I've already started work on part 4, I hope yall are ready to rodeo!

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hawkinsuniversity · 3 days ago

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a one time thing

word count: 2k

pairing: percy jackson + leo valdez + connor stoll x reader

warnings: 18+ content, dark!percy, submissive reader, sexual content, explicit language, dominance, submission, exhibitionism, voyeurism, substance use, gang bang, jealousy, possessiveness and power dynamics.

minors please do not interact due to 18+ content.

•••

The night at Camp Half-Blood is thick with tension and desire. The fire crackled, casting a warm glow on the faces of the demigods gathered around it.

Percy, Connor, and Leo have been passing around a flask, their laughter growing louder and more uninhibited with each drink. Their eyes keep drifting to you, lingering on your body, especially your breasts. Percy notices their stares and a cocky grin spreads across his face.

"Enjoying the view, assholes?" Percy calls out, his voice mocking. "You two better keep your eyes to yourselves, or I might just have to share my girl with you. But remember, she's all mine."

Connor and Leo exchange glances, their cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. They know they've been caught, but the alcohol in their systems makes them bolder.

As the night goes on, the boys continue to drink, their inhibitions lowering with each swig. Percy, seeing their growing boldness, decides to have a bit of fun. "You know what? I'm feeling generous," he says, a sly smile playing on his lips. "I'll let you two have a little taste of what's mine. But only this once, and only if you promise to behave."

Connor and Leo nod eagerly, their eyes wide with anticipation. Percy turns to you, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you against him. "What do you say, princess? Want to give these boys a show they'll never forget?"

You nod, your breath hitching with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Percy leads you to a secluded spot behind one of the cabins, the firelight casting long, seductive shadows. He turns to you, his hands roaming your body, and leans down to whisper in your ear, "Be a good girl and suck their cocks while I fuck you from behind. But remember, you're mine. They can have your mouth, but your pussy is all mine."

You shiver, your body responding to his dominant tone. You turn to Connor and Leo, dropping to your knees, and take them both in your hands, stroking them slowly. Connor and Leo groan, their heads falling back as you take turns sucking them, your tongue swirling around their lengths. Percy, meanwhile, has lifted your skirt, his hands gripping your ass as he positions himself at your entrance. He enters you slowly, inch by inch, his breath hissing out as he fills you completely.

"You like that, don't you?" Percy growls, his hips beginning to move in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "You like having their cocks in your mouth while I fuck you from behind."

You moan around Connor's cock, the sound vibrating through him, making his knees weak. Percy starts to move faster, his hips thrusting against you, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You match his rhythm, your body moving in sync with his as you pleasure Connor and Leo with your mouth and hands.

The boys are a mess of groans and curses, their bodies tensing as you bring them closer to the edge. Percy, feeling their impending release, increases his pace, his hips slapping against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his voice a low rumble. "But remember, boys, this is a one-time thing. She's mine, and mine alone."

Connor and Leo can't hold back any longer, their orgasms ripping through them, their cocks pulsing in your mouth and hand. You swallow, your body trembling with need as Percy continues to pound into you, his own release building.

With a final, powerful thrust, Percy comes, his body shaking, his grip on your hips bruising. He leans down, his forehead resting against your back as he catches his breath. You turn to look at Connor and Leo, their chests heaving, their eyes filled with satisfaction and awe.

But Percy isn't done with you yet. He pulls out, turning you around to face him. He kisses you, his tongue exploring your mouth, tasting Connor and Leo on your lips. "Good girl," he murmurs, his hands cupping your face. You smile, your body sated, your heart full.

Percy leads you back to the fire, his arm around your waist, possessing you. The other demigods at camp watch, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and envy. Percy sits down, pulling you onto his lap, his hands roaming your body possessively. "You're mine," he whispers, his voice a low growl. "And I want them to see it. Tonight was a one-time thing, but I want to make sure they remember who you belong to."

Connor and Leo join you by the fire, their eyes still glazed with desire and satisfaction. Percy leans back, a smug smile on his face, as he watches them. "You boys want more?" he asks, his tone mocking. Connor and Leo nod, their breaths quickening again.

Percy stands up, pulling you with him. He turns you around, his hands gripping your hips, and bends you over slightly. "Show them what's theirs," he growls, his voice a low rumble. You comply, your body responding to his dominant tone. You turn to Connor and Leo, dropping to your knees, and take them both in your hands, stroking them slowly.

Percy enters you from behind, his movements slow and deliberate, teasing both you and the audience of eager demigods. You moan, your body arching back against him, your hands working Connor and Leo's cocks in sync with his thrusts.

The demigods watching are a mess of groans and curses, their bodies tensing as they watch you pleasure Connor and Leo. Percy, feeling their anticipation, increases his pace, his hips slapping against you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, his voice a low rumble.

Connor and Leo are losing their minds, their eyes wild with desire as they watch you suck and stroke them. "Fuck, your mouth is incredible," Connor groans, his hands tangling in your hair. Leo, not to be outdone, reaches out to touch your breast, but Percy swiftly smacks his hand away. "Hands off, Leo. You get her mouth, that's it," he growls, a low warning.

Leo nods, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tries to maintain control. You can feel Percy's jealousy radiating off him, but it only serves to turn you on more. You love being the center of his attention, the object of his desire and possession.

Percy's hips move faster, his thrusts more urgent as he nears his release. "Fuck, I'm close," he grunts, his voice strained. Connor and Leo, sensing his impending orgasm, increase their own efforts, their hips thrusting into your mouth and hand.

With a final, powerful thrust, Percy comes, his body shaking, his grip on your hips bruising. He leans down, his forehead pressing against your back as he rides out the waves of pleasure. You turn to look at Connor and Leo, their faces flushed, their eyes wild with satisfaction and awe.

Percy pulls out, turning you around to face him. He kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth, tasting the remnants of Connor and Leo on your lips. "You were incredible, as always," he murmurs, his hands cupping your face tenderly. You smile up at him, your heart swelling with love and contentment.

As they all catch their breath, Percy's possessiveness becomes even more apparent. He pulls you close, his arm around your waist, staking his claim. Connor and Leo, still in a daze, start to reach for you again, but Percy growls, a low, warning sound that sends shivers down your spine. "Remember your place, boys," he says, his voice a low rumble. "She's mine."

Connor and Leo nod, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and respect. They know that Percy is the alpha here, and they've been given a rare treat, but it's a treat that comes with a warning: you belong to Percy, and Percy alone.

You look up at Percy, your eyes shining with love and desire. "I'm yours, Percy," you whisper, your voice soft and sincere. He smiles down at you, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Damn right, you are," he murmurs, his voice a low growl. And with that, he kisses you, sealing his claim, his possession, his love.

The night continues, and Percy's possessiveness only grows. He smacks Connor's hand away when he tries to touch your breast again, and Leo gets a warning growl when he leans in to kiss your neck. "I said one time, and that's final," Percy asserts, his voice firm and final. "You two got your fun, now remember who she belongs to."

Connor and Leo, their minds foggy with desire and alcohol, nod but their hands wander again, touching you in places they shouldn't. Percy's jealousy flares, and he pulls you away from them, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "Mine," he growls, his voice a low rumble. "You're all mine, and don't you fucking forget it."

You look up at him, your eyes wide with surprise and arousal. "Percy," you whisper, your voice a soft plea. He kisses you, his tongue exploring your mouth, his hands roaming your body possessively. "You're mine, and I'm not sharing you with anyone else," he murmurs against your lips.

Connor and Leo watch, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and envy. They know they've been given a gift, a night with the most desirable girl at camp, but they also know that Percy is the lucky one, the one who gets to keep you.

Percy turns you around, his hands gripping your hips, and bends you over slightly. "Show them what's theirs," he growls, his voice a low rumble. You comply, your body responding to his dominant tone. You turn to Connor and Leo, dropping to your knees, and take them both in your hands, stroking them slowly.

Connor and Leo are beside themselves, their eyes glazed with lust as they watch you suck and stroke them. "Your mouth is pure magic," Connor moans, his fingers digging into your scalp. Leo, trying to regain some control, reaches out to touch your breast again, but Percy swiftly smacks his hand away. "I said hands off, Leo," Percy warns, his voice a low growl.

Leo nods, his chest heaving as he tries to rein in his desires. You can feel the intensity of Percy's jealousy, but it only heightens your arousal. Being the sole focus of his desire and possession is intoxicating.

Percy's thrusts become more urgent, his body tensing as he nears his climax. "I'm close, princess," he grunts, his voice strained with effort. Connor and Leo, feeling the urgency, match his pace, their hips thrusting wildly as they chase their own releases.

With a final, powerful thrust, Percy comes, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. He leans down, his forehead pressing against your back as he rides out the waves of pleasure. You turn to look at Connor and Leo, their faces flushed, their eyes wild with satisfaction and awe.

As the night comes to a close, Percy's possessiveness is clear to everyone. He keeps you close, his arm around your waist, a silent warning to anyone who might try to take what's his. Connor and Leo, still in a daze, nod in understanding, knowing that they've had their one and only chance with you.

#percy jackson #percy jackson smut #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x reader smut #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #PJO series

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probablygayattorneys · 2 years ago

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I don’t like fish. I don’t know what it is about them, but the way some people are about spiders or snakes is how I am about fish. They freak me the fuck out and my fear is only rivaled by my hatred. So when Last Specter introduced a fish minigame and asked me to name the fish, I let my heart guide me.

#professor Layton and the last specter #it let me by the way #like a lot of games have profanity filters #and will not let you enter in explicitives #this game is not one #it let me name the fish fuckers #queue takumi defense squad

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madamechrissy · 3 months ago

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Baby You're a Star Masterlist // Pornstar Satoru headcanons

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six

Pairings- Pornstar Satoru x shy f!reader

Summary- You meet Satoru Gojo at a wild Hollywood party, insanely out of place, waiting for your friend to show up. The two of you hit it off, spending time together, and share a kiss, but you're a good girl, and you just don't do this, but he is the top pornstar there is, and the top .01 % on OnlyFans. Once you find out, you know there's probably no match, as Satoru doesn't date, and you don't sleep around, but after meeting, you keep in touch- and soon Satoru can't get hard without thinking of you, and you get over curious, and join a livestream.

Warnings- mentions of sex and sexwork, masturbation, mentions of drug use, weed smoking, Gojo has an OF hehe, lots of longing, pining, Satoru can't get hard if it's not you, whipped ass Satoru, explicit sexual content, angst - WC 67k 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 Playlist -Ao3 link-Headcanons below!

Pornstar Satoru is one of the most famous pornstars there are, hence him constantly wearing jet black shades and hoodies at times, he never knew just who he'd run into that would recognize him. Whether it's his flicks or his OF - he's the top .01 % - he gets a lot of notice, especially in bustling LA. But, he loves what he does, he especially loves watching his abs flex in the camera as he hits one of his lovely costars from the back.

Pornstar Satoru loves making the costars and girls he collabs with actually cum, where they're shaking and squirting all over his latex covered cock. Not that fake shit like he watches them do with other men- no Satoru makes sure to slam that curved tip against their cervix, to roll his thumb right on their clit with the perfect amount of pressure. Perhaps that's the secret to how famous he really is, along with his good looks.

Pornstar Satoru makes so much money from each shoot and is in high demand, so he can have whoever he wants as a co star. They line up to have a chance at him, watching his videos and aching for a chance to feel his cock hitting them deeper than damn near anyone could hit, to say they got to shoot with the Satoru Gojo. This just makes Satoru fuck them harder, smiling right at that camera, as women dream it's really them that have captured his pretty blue eyed gaze.

Pornstar Satoru thinks it's a pretty damn good life, being rich for fucking beautiful women on camera, as he's inhaling a blunt after a threesome shoot with his best friend - and often costar- Pornstar Suguru, as they talk about who got the girl to squirt more, right in the middle of a bouguie party in East LA. Suguru let's out a throaty laugh, while Satoru narrows his blue eyes. 'I had her cumming so hard she was shaking' he says, taking a hit and handing it back to Suguru. 'Nah, that was all for me, did you see...'

Pornstar Satoru stops listening when he sees you enter the room, completely out of place at the coke filled, booze filled party, wearing a pair of black glasses that cover half of your pretty face, and a little nervous look as you stand there, in a cute white pleated skirt and a big oversized sweater. Satoru smacks Suguru on the shoulder then and he coughs up smoke. 'Shit what is it?' Satoru looks back at you, when you're handed a drink, some guy flirting as you look down shyly. 'Who's she?' Suguru blinks a bit curiously. 'I don't know, she's pretty though'

Pornstar Satoru scowls at Suguru who snorts in laughter then. 'Satoru we don't have 'girlfriends' and she... looks like a good girl' your eyes catch his then, across the room, like something shifts as you smile sweetly, before peering at your phone, biting your lip in concentration. 'I'm talking to her' Suguru chuckles as he watches his friend, and Satoru feels his heart race when he comes too close to you, something he can't say he's felt, even pleasing countless beauties, nothing has quite altered him as your sweet turn of lips, as you look down at your converse, so out of place you're fucking adorable. 'Hey sweetheart... Satoru Gojo' he says, introducing himself with ease, expecting you to maybe notice him, get starstruck, fuck women get wet just near him, but you simply grin, and your name whispers through his mind when it spills from your lips.

Pornstar Satoru has you sitting with him later, you fall into easy conversation, you're a little gamer nerd, you love science and the environment, he just bets you were head of your ecology club in college, which you quickly confirm, all while you're in awe of just how beautiful this man is. He's sweet, he's sexy... you feel he shouldn't even be talking to you. You're pretty but... he's experienced so clearly, by every way he moves, he's worldly, so confident, and you've never really left this little part of LA, but the two of you can't stop talking, to the point you forget what brought you here.

Pornstar Satoru laughs with you, as you're sitting side by side, and he lights up a blunt, leaning back on the burgundy couch on the outskirts of the party, inhaling it deep into his lungs. 'Want a hit, sweets?' he murmurs, you take it nervously, putting it to your lips and inhaling a bit, before coughing, covering your mouth. Satoru chuckles, 'you're cute' earning your cheeks heating up. 'Can you tell I don't do this?' you're nervously tapping your leg now. 'Yeah, what does bring you here, doesn't seem your...' 'my scene?' he nods then. 'yeah, that.'

Pornstar Satoru watches avidly as you sip on your drink, wincing at the strong liquor. 'Well, my friend invited me over, but she's running late' Satoru grins now. 'Party time is different, everyone comes late, that's on time. About fifteen minutes late' 'oh no I came early!' you smack your own forehead, giggling along with him. 'Are you like... a model, or an actor?' you ask, eyeing him and his baby blues, the cheekbones so perfect, those lips that wrap the blunt again. 'You could say I'm a bit of both,' he muses, then spits out his drink when you ask 'what are you in!?'

Pornstar Satoru coughs just a bit, he's never been ashamed of what he does, but he's nervous for some reason to tell you. Why, he doesn't know. 'I'm... into some indie flicks' you brighten up then. 'Oh, let me know, I love lowkey films! I bet you're great' Satoru sighs, gulping down the rest of his drink and eyeing your cup. 'Want more?' you frown now, maybe you're asking too much, or offending this actor that you don't recognize him!? You nod, the amount of people around you making you press against this friendly, pretty white haired stranger just a little more.

Pornstar Satoru has another drink, eyeing the sea of bodies undulating in the extravagant mansion, and soon the two of you are dancing together you're cute and so awkward, Satoru's enjoying this far, far too much. He has plenty of costars and fans come up to the two of you, but he's too interested in showing you how to move your hips to pay them any mind, when finally your friend comes. Satoru instantly recognizes her, she's a pretty famous co star he's collabed with on her Onlyfans not long ago. When she sees you giggling and enjoying yourself so much, she damn near drags you away, making Satoru curse.

Pornstar Satoru eyes you when your friend whispers in your ear- 'you really don't recognize him!?' you blink curiously, looking at him more closely. 'Should I?' she sighs then, eyeing Satoru up and down. 'He was in my OF videos, we collabed' you heat up furiously then. 'I never watched your videos! I just subbed to be supportive!' she giggles. 'You're so cute, I thought you at least watched some?' you shake your head nervously. 'I don't really watch, is he... like an OnlyFans guy?' Satoru is back over with Suguru now, while you sip your drink, feeling your body warm up. 'He's the top pornstar there is, the collab was like a dream. He's really sweet but you should know is all, you're kinda...' you glare. 'kinda what?' she giggles again. 'you're just... sweet, emotional, is all'

Pornstar Satoru expects you to be done with him once you find out, after all you just seem innocent, uncorrupted for this city, not the kind of girl to be at this party where lines are being snorted off bodies, and people are naked and jumping in the pools, a heady, wild atmosphere. But you smile at him, as you murmur - 'he's sweet?' to your friend. She nods then. 'He is, but just know... he doesn't date so, it'd only be physical' you frown at that now, that's not something you think you can do, you're about as demisexual as it gets, hence your very limited experience. 'He doesn't date at all?' Your friend gently touches your shoulder. 'No, love, I'd hate to see you hurt'

Pornstar Satoru catches you before you leave later that night, when you are just feeling too out of place, his big hand wrapped around your delicate wrist, earning you looking up at him. He can't stop thinking how pretty your eyes would look rolled back, how good your lips would feel wrapped around his cock, as you relax a bit, turning and looking up. 'Headed out already?' he asks softly, you flush as you remember just what he does for a living, your friend had just described his cock in far too vivid detail. 'It's not really my thing, but I'm glad we met, Gojo' you smile so cute then, leaning up and pecking him on the cheek, his arm wraps your waist as he leans down, inhaling that sweet vanilla scent cloying to your skin.

Pornstar Satoru pulls you in closer, blue eyes staring under snowy lashes. 'Can I... get your number?' Satoru has never asked for a number a day in his life, but he delights in watching you shift nervously, nodding as you tuck your hair behind your ear. 'Yeah, I'd like that' he exchanges numbers, tilting your chin up then, watching the way your eyes dilate, the color spread on your pretty cheeks. 'She told you?' you clear your throat, nodding a bit, still being captured by his fingers. 'I don't judge at all, Gojo, I'd still like to be... friends...' your whisper is met with the most subtle kiss on your lips, shooting desire hot and heavy until Satoru releases you, plump lips smirking- 'sure, sweets, we can be friends'

Pornstar Satoru can't get you off his mind, the feel of your skin on his, the sweet sigh against his lips. He is on a big shoot and - the Satoru Gojo that never gets soft - is having trouble keeping it up, to the amusement of his costar Pornstar Sukuna. Satoru scowls at his comments, just picturing your sweet lips against his for that brief moment. A man who just fucks and fucks, and doesn't feel, is hung up just on some fucking kiss. He has to take a break after pleasing his costar with his fingers, she's cumming so much she doesn't notice, but the directors wonder why he's off. He's in his own dressing room, eyeing the phone, hands shaking as he decides to type a message - 'could you give me a picture, sweets, to save as your caller id?'

Pornstar Satoru finds his cock is right back on hard when you send one quickly, just a cute selfie with a little peace sign, but he sees your glossy fucking lips, the teeth indentations he aches to rub the tip of his cock on, along with just a hint of your breasts. Your nipples press against the thin material of your little tee shirt- Pokemon, he notices, smiling- his cock throbbing. 'Can I get one too?' you're biting that lower lip nervously as you ask, getting a picture of him shirtless then, doing nothing to stifle the curiosity in your mind, your heart racing as you seee his body. 'You at a shoot?' you ask in the messages, he hesitates before answering - 'yes' - and somehow you feel jealous of whoever his costar is. You message a - kill it, Gojo! - despite the feeling in your tummy, little do you know you're drowning his fucking mind when he performs later, feeling the star squirting all over his latex covered cock.

Pornstar Satoru can't stop texting you that week, he can't even get hard if he doesn't look at that picture, and you can't stop your curiosity, when you friend mentions he's doing a live stream. Since Satoru can hardly perform, he's decided to masturbate on live cam, in minutes making more than he'd make in a shoot, all while having your picture propped up. People are chatting, watching, dollars by the hundreds being tipped every moment, fuck he's making way more than he usually would, and he can think of you. He laughs softly, abs flexing as he hits the right angle, reading the comments, making you dripping wet, this isn't what you do!?

Pornstar Satoru is stroking his wet, slick cock that's glistening, up and down with his huge hand, and you feel your pussy clench, breath coming faster, unsure whether to look away or keep staring, meanwhile he's picturing you in all sorts of positions, on your knees, a fucking mating press. He's shutting his eyes for a moment, grinning as the viewers go crazy. 'I know, it's pretty, huh?' he spits right on that long, veiny cock of his, pinching his pink tip and whining, white lashes fluttering open right when he sees a familiar name enter the chat.

Your name.

Pornstar Sukuna hcs here // Pornstar Suguru hcs here // Onlyfans Nanami hcs here

Kofi link (if you feel generous & wanna buy me a ☕️

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days ago

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Locked Out of Heaven 12

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father invites a work friend to the neighbourhood barbecue.

Characters: Nick Fowler (Dad’s friend trope)

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Music flows from unseen speakers. The boat rocks slightly as Nick makes his way back. You crane to see him as you lay on the beach blanket, the sun beaming down on the lazy stir of the waters.

He lowers himself next to you and sighs. He bends his arms behind his head. You can’t help but notice how the muscles bulge, not just his biceps but his chest. He’s so perfect.

He slowly turns his head to look at you. You wince and give a sheepish smile. He shifts onto his side, keeping himself propped up on one elbow and tickles along your side.

“Come here,” he moves closer, his hand crawling along your stomach. “You look so good, baby, you know that?”

“I... do? I mean—You do too.” You flutter your lashes as you stare at him. “Sorry, I...” you giggle and it sends a flurry through your guts. “I’m sorry, I—I—don’t know what to do.”

You cover your face, mortified at the confession. He grabs your left hand and gently moves it away. You drop your other and stare up at the sky, just below the glare of the sun. He guides your hand to his chest.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he drawls. “You just chill. Be you.”

He pets your cheek with his knuckles. He leans in even closer. You lock up as your eyes meet his. They are even bluer than the sky. You gulp and he tickles down your throat.

“Princess,” his lips brush yours. “I need you so bad.”

“Oh,” you bat your lashes.

“Can I have you? Pretty please?” He begs.

“Ummm...”

“All of you? Please. It hurts, baby. You don’t want me to hurt, do you?” He rubs his thumb along the front of your throat, his breath fluttering over you.

Your heartbeat pounds like thunder. You press your fingertips into his chest and nod. Your tongue sticks the roof of your mouth and you cough out your answer. “Y-yes.”

“Yeah? You want me too?” He rubs his nose against yours. “Tell me you do.”

“I... I want you,” you pet his chest. “Nick, really, I do.”

“Mm, I’ve dreamt of you saying that.” He growls and slides his hand up to the side of your head.

His thumb and index form a vee around your ear as he cradles your skull. He tilts your head and kisses you. He plunges his tongue past your lips and groans as you close your eyes. Your heart races as the noise of the slapping waters and the music fade to a drone.

The world zeroes in on you. Your skin is on fire, your blood is ice cold, and your nerves vibrate. You slip your hand up around his shoulder and moan into his mouth. You’ve never felt anything like this. You can feel everything so much.

He turns his body as he smothers you. He slides his arm under your head as he turns his chest parallel to yours. His fingertips massage your scalps as he drinks you in.

His pushes his pelvis against you, rocking slightly. He hooks a leg around yours and pulls it away from your other. He trails his hand down your neck and tickles along your chest. He gropes you as you feel along his neck, the tendons taut with his hunger.

He lifts himself and plants his knees between your legs. He holds himself just above you as his lips slip away from yours. He kisses your cheek and jaw, pecking along your neck as you squirm. His breath sends shivers over you as he descends.

He traces your collarbone with kisses and buries his face in your cleavage. He kneads you through the fabric and teethes at your skin. You moan as a whirlwind swirls behind your rib cage. You can hardly breathe.

He nuzzles you as he follows the strap of the bikini behind your neck. He tugs until the ribbon slackens. You gasp and try to catch the top before it falls away. You cover your self as he licks the curve of your tit.

“Princess,” he rasps and you look down at him. His eyes blaze up at you. “You said I could...”

“I... yes,” your arms are stuck for a moment. They won’t obey. Finally, you peel your hands away. He purrs and dives back in.

He flicks his tongue around your nipple and you squeal. The sensation tangles in your core. You heave and arch your back.

You catch the back of his head and urge him on. Your fingers twine into the thick strands of his hair. You look down at him, lifting your head higher to see him, the silver threads in woven through shining in the sun. There's a flicker of doubt though it fades into the flames of his touch.

He nibbles on your pebbled bud before he parts and tends to the other. You moan and drop your head down. You bend one leg as your cunt clenches needily. He laps and licks and nips as you melt into the blanket.

He fondles your other tit as he drags his mouth lower. He leaves a smear of saliva along your stomach, teasing you as he wanders back and forth, nibbling at those places that make you twitch or whine.

He traces the edge of your bottoms with his nose then tugs with his teeth. You gasp and wriggle as he snarls. He pushes the tails of the coverup away from your thighs and loops his thumbs in the ties along the side of the suit. You quiver and reach to stop him as a glimmer of doubt fogs your eyes.

“Nick...”

He hushes you as he pulls until the knots loosen.

“Nick, please... I’m... scared,” you puff out.

“Baby,” he slowly drags the suit down. Your hands shoot down to cover your pelvis. He tuts and catches them, pulling them away. “Why you scared? Huh? I’m not hurting you.”

“I... I...” you stammer.

You shiver even as the sun beats down and speckles your flesh with sweat. Even as you feel flames consuming you from within. Even as his warmth floods into you.

“Hush, baby, I got you.”

He pushes himself back and gets on his stomach. He frames your pelvis with his hands, his thumbs petting the short tuft of hair along your vee. He hums and bows his head, inhaling your scent and exhaling it back on you. His breath dampens the wiry curls.

He buries his nose into you, rolling his head, and tilts back as his tongue swipes along your lips. You gape down at him as his eyes flick up to meet yours. He purrs as he delves deeper, his cool tongue gliding between your hot folds.

You bite your lip and drop your head down as you moan. The melding of hot and cold flows through you, unfurling from your core. You twitch and dig your nails into the blanket beneath you.

He spreads his tongue wide and drags it up your cunt, tasting you with a hum. The rumble that rises from his chest stokes the swelter inside you. You arch your back deeper, pushing into his mouth and push your heels down into the floor.

His mouth laps loudly as he groans and growls rise from him. He feels around blindly and takes your hand. He puts his on his head. Instinctively, you urge him on, clutching him as you rock your hips.

His tongue flicks around your clit and he teases lightly with his teeth. He seals his lips around your swollen bud and sucks. You cry out and spasm. You heave and thrust your chest out, your body contorting like an ocean tide.

You yank on his hair as he tends to you. His hand crawls up your thigh, his other slipping beneath your bottom as he gropes you. He tickles your leg up to the crease of your cunt.

He moves his head in tandem with his tongue. He eats you up as he pokes along your entrance. He rubs you as the slickness glosses over his finger. He grunts as his finger dips into you, as if surprised by how easy it is.

He pushes in, just the tip, then draws back out. He smears around your juices then delves back in. A little deeper. He pulls in and out, further with each plunge. You quake and clasp onto his head with both hands.

His tongue circles your clit as the pressure pulses in that one spot. He curls his finger inside of you, rocking his hand slightly as the weight thrums. You gulp and gasp, fighting to catch your breath.

You tear your hands from his head and slap your palms on the floor. You lift your head and shoulders and squeal as the tension bursts and spills from your core. He keeps going, guiding you through your orgasm as you writhe and whimper.

You fall back down, panting, legs quivering, heart thumping. He turns his head back and forth, rubbing his beard against you as he hums. He drags his chin along your folds and slowly raises himself up to look at you. The dark hair along his jaw glistens with you.

“Mm, princess, you’re so sweet,” he growls and licks his lips.

He looks down, his finger still inside you. He pulls it out and flicks it between your folds. He trails back to your entrance and presses another fingertip there. He wiggles two fingers into you. You groan and reach weakly to stop him, barely grazing his forearm.

“Please,” you murmur.

He pushes in to his knuckles. You bend your legs as he kneels between them, watching his hand as he wiggles his fingers inside you. He turns his hand and puts his thumb to your clit. You squeak.

He tilts his hand steadily, falling into a rhythm. He squeezes so the heat twists between his fingertips. He bends over you, hand still moving, and he kisses you. You can smell and taste yourself on his lip. You shudder and run your hands along his shoulders and down his arm. You squeeze his bicep and moan into him.

Your walls clench him as you cum again. You nearly bite his tongue as the waves crash down and consume you. Your turn your head and he presses his lips to your cheek. He chuckles as he feels you clinging to his fingers.

“Baby, you’re doing so good,” he slithers. “Huh, that feel good?”

“Yessss,” you drone as your lashes flutter.

“Mmm, good girl,” he kisses you before he sits up again.

He slides his fingers out of you and wipes your juices down your leg. You lay weak and quivering, the coverup is wide open around your naked body, the bikini hanging below your chest, the bottoms crumpled between your thighs. Each breath rises and falls heavily.

He raises himself on his knees and hooks his thumbs under his waist band. You stare. You can’t look away. He stretches it away from his body and around his rigid length. He pushes them down his thighs and stands to strip entire.

His dick bobs before him as he looks down at you. You stare at it. It’s... well. You think it looks pretty big. You peek down at your body and put your legs together. You don’t think it will fit. That though makes your stomach ripple. Inside?

He gets back to his knees next to you. He takes your hand and pets your knuckles. He kisses them as he caresses your palm. He examines it like something precious as he pushes it flat.

He guides your hand down to his dick as he kneels beside you. His chest strains as he curves your fingers around him. Thick, firm, the veins swollen and hard against your palm. He pumps you down and back to his tip. He quakes against the motion.

“Mmm, princess, do you feel how much I need you?” He growls.

You blink and nod as he keeps your hand moving slowly; down, up, down, up.

“Slow, like that,” he purrs. “You keep going, baby. Gotta make sure we’re both ready.”

He drops his hand away from yours and looks down. He watches you play with him. You see how his stomach tightens as he braces his thigh. He groans and chews his lip.

Your gaze falls to your hand. You’re enthralled by the sight of what you’re doing to him. You squeeze harder and he groans. His breath juts out of him in short puffs. His nails dig into the muscle of his thigh.

“Yeah, like that,” he goads. “Just a little more...”

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #the 355 #locked out of heaven #series #fic #dark!fic #dark fic

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buckyseternaldoll · 20 days ago

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eighteen hours.

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Weeks apart on separate missions leave you and Bucky Barnes aching, desperate, and one heartbeat away from unraveling. The reunion? Eighteen hours of pure, breathless release.

Disclaimer: 18+ (mdni!), explicit smut content, p in v, multiple rounds, overstimulation, edging, mutual desperation, shower sex, window sex, kitchen counter sex, use of restraints (soft), masturbation mention, lingerie tease, squirting (f), super soldier stamina, mild teasing from tb* members

It started like any other assignment.

A sharp morning. Polished boots. Steel chairs arranged around the Watchtower’s mission table. The kind of day where even the light felt clinical—too white, too bright, too final.

Valentina entered with a clipboard in hand and that usual glint in her eye, the one that said she already knew something you didn’t want to hear.

“Barnes, Yelena, Alexei, Bob—Bucharest first. Bogotá by week three. Rotating safehouses. No crossovers.”

You stiffened.

“Walker, Ava, and…”

She looked straight at you.

“You—Algeria. Then east through Istanbul. Targets on the move. You’re expected to stay mobile and out of range.”

The silence afterward said everything.

That pause before your name wasn’t a slip.

It was surgical.

Across the table, Bucky’s jaw tensed. He didn’t look at you, but his shoulders rolled tight. His metal hand flexed once, resting flat on the table like he was physically grounding himself.

This wasn’t routine.

This was designed.

The room shifted. Teams gathered their gear. Orders confirmed.

But neither of you moved.

Bucky brushed your fingers beneath the table—the kind of small, hidden touch that wasn’t meant to say goodbye. It was a promise.

We’ll find each other.

However we can.

—

Packing was mechanical.

Weapons, suits, coordinates, clearances.

Everyone was buzzing around the hangar level, focused on countdowns and jet fuel. But Bucky caught your wrist with a glance that made your breath hitch—then gently steered you down a side corridor.

He didn’t stop until you ducked into a quiet auxiliary room—once used for archive storage, now mostly forgotten. The lights were dim. A narrow bench ran along the wall. A few old mission files sat boxed in the corner.

He shut the door behind you.

“Just for a minute,” he said, voice low. “Just wanna be where you are.”

You barely nodded before he pulled you into his chest. He held you like he needed it—not tight or desperate, but complete. His warmth poured into you as you buried your face into the space between his neck and shoulder.

You ended up straddling his lap on the bench, both of you half-armored, half-undressed—hands roaming like you were trying to memorize every line, every scar, every breath.

“I hate this,” you muttered into his neck.

“I know.” His voice was steady. Anchoring. “But we’ll be okay.”

His mouth found the slope of your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then lower—teeth grazing before lips closed around your skin and sucked.

You gasped—part surprise, part pure heat.

“Bucky—”

“Gonna leave a few. Let ‘em wonder how many more are where they can’t see.”

He left another. And another. The bruises bloomed warm beneath your skin—high enough that your tactical suit wouldn’t cover all of them.

When he pulled back to look at you, his pupils were blown wide, lips kiss-bitten and breath ragged.

“You’re mine,” he murmured. “Even if they split us across the damn planet.”

You ran your hands up under his shirt, nails scratching lightly across his ribs—grounding yourself in the solidity of him.

“You’ll text me when you can?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Even if it’s just one word?”

“Even if it’s just a photo.”

You smirked. “Of what?”

He grinned, leaning back like he had all the time in the world—even though you both knew better.

“I’m waiting for boob pics, love. Minimum one per timezone.”

You laughed into his neck and kissed his jaw, soft and smiling.

“You’re such a menace.”

“You love it.”

“Unfortunately.”

When the comm finally buzzed for final departure prep, you lingered another moment, forehead pressed to his.

“We’re good?”

“Always.”

And then you slipped out—his warmth still clinging to your skin, and his hickeys hidden beneath your collar like the loudest secret in the world.

—

The first few days weren’t unbearable.

Busy hours blurred the worst of it—briefings, drone recon, field scans. The kind of missions that demanded your hands stay full and your focus sharp. You told yourself it helped. That staying in motion kept the ache at bay.

But the nights were something else entirely.

By the third night, sleep wouldn’t come. The cot beneath you was too narrow, too cold. You rolled over instinctively and reached for the other side—empty. Your palm flattened against the mattress like it could summon him there.

It didn’t.

You’d already stripped out of your tactical suit, skin flushed from a lukewarm shower and a restlessness that refused to settle. The mirror over the sink caught your reflection just as the last of the sun dipped beneath the window—warm dusk light casting gold across your damp collarbone, your bare shoulder.

You grabbed your comm. Lifted your phone.

Pulled down your undershirt just enough to let the neckline dip low—sweat clinging to the curve of your breasts, a faint bruise from his mouth peeking out beneath the edge of the fabric.

The angle was deliberate.

Head tilted back. Lips parted. Not a full reveal. But it said everything.

Still thinking about the way your hands fit around my waist.

Bet you’d wreck me if you were here.

You hit send before you could talk yourself out of it.

—

His reply came six hours later. No text. Just an image.

The lighting was shit—whatever rooftop he was on barely lit by the glow of city spill—but it didn’t matter.

He was shirtless.

Dog tags heavy and low over his chest.

Hair a little messier than usual, as if he’d just run a hand through it before taking the shot.

But the part that made your thighs press together?

His sweatpants.

Slung low. Way too low. Obscene, really—the waistband clinging just above the vee of his hips, and beneath it? A thick, unmistakable bulge pressing upward. Not subtle. Not suggestive.

Hard. Veined. Heavy. Angry.

Like he’d taken the photo mid-thought, right before palming himself. Like maybe he had.

Your name was probably still on his tongue when he snapped it.

You sucked in a breath, cheeks hot, and held the screen to your chest like it could warm the parts of you he was supposed to be touching.

This was manageable, you told yourself.

Just teasing. Just playing.

It would pass.

—

It got worse.

What started as playful—just a little edge, a little fun—turned into something raw. Unbearable. Every picture, every breathy message only twisted the knife deeper.

Bucky cracked first.

The signal finally held long enough for him to send a voice note.

You were mid-gear check when it came through, tucked into a corner of the safehouse with your earbuds in.

“Woke up with my hand around my cock,” he rasped, voice low, wrecked. “Thought it was you at first. Swear to God, I could feel you there. Your breath on my neck, your legs wrapped around me. Then I realized I was alone again.”

A pause. A harsh exhale.

“And fuck, baby… I nearly lost it.”

You played it three times.

Nearly dropped your comm on the third.

—

You didn’t just tease back. You retaliated.

The next photo was a mirror shot—deliberately filthy. You stood in the dim light of your bunk, chest bare, your breasts fully visible this time, no shame. One hand was sunk into your panties, fingers clearly pressing against the soaked fabric. The other held your phone steady, angled to catch the full view: your messy hair, parted lips, heavy-lidded eyes, and the slick glint of sweat on your chest. No caption. Just raw hunger in pixels.

This help you sleep tonight? Or should I take more?

He didn’t respond immediately. But when he did, it was short.

You’re not playing fair.

My cock’s been hard since sunrise. Haven’t touched it. Saving every second of this for you.

You sent a quick clip later—just a few seconds long. You didn’t even speak in it.

Just six seconds. The camera angled low—your hand slipping beneath the blanket between your thighs. No real view, just the movement. The blanket shifted slightly with every circle you traced over your clit. Soft moans escaped—broken, breathy, like you were trying to stay quiet. Then a whimper—his name, trembling from your lips. No skin shown. No climax caught. Just the sound and the hint and the promise of you falling apart.

Bucky watched it on repeat like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

—

Then came Ava.

You’d crashed hard that night—exhausted, sweaty, and stripped down to just your lingerie. The maroon lace set he liked. The same one he’d picked out. It had become a habit—wearing it when you missed him. A reminder. A tether.

Ava had been reviewing footage by the window for perimeter movement when she caught it.

The camera was focused outward. But the mic had picked up your sleep sounds in the background.

She wasn’t trying to be cruel when she played it back.

She just raised an eyebrow and pressed play—a grin tugging at her lips as the soft moans filled the air. You were murmuring his name. Restless. Breathless. Like you were dreaming of him—no, feeling him.

“Mmh… Bucky—please… inside me… deeper—oh god… please—”

Your voice cracked on the last word, a sharp gasp like you were right on the edge.

You could’ve died.

“Jesus,” Ava had laughed, not unkind. “Want me to send it to him? Y’know, for motivation?”

You didn’t answer fast enough. She already hit send.

—

He didn’t laugh.

He didn’t even text back. Just disappeared for a few hours.

Locked himself in the bathroom of the Bogotá safehouse, palms braced on the sink, sweat dripping from his temple to his jaw. The floor was cold. His cock throbbed painfully in the tight grip of his tactical jeans, already slick with precum from the sound of your voice in his ear—played over and over again like a goddamn drug.

He groaned low, forehead resting against the mirror as he finally undid his fly—reached in and freed himself with a hissed curse.

Hard. Angry. Red at the tip and twitching. His hand flexed uselessly beside him, trembling from restraint.

He closed his eyes and whispered, “Fuck, baby… what are you doing to me…”

But he didn’t stroke.

Didn’t move.

Didn’t dare.

Not without your hands.

Not without your thighs tight around his hips.

Not without your voice whispering that he could let go.

So he tucked himself away again—biting down hard on the side of his fist until it bruised, his pulse roaring like a storm.

Later, when the signal held again, he finally texted:

This was supposed to help.

All these videos. These fucking pictures.

It’s making everything worse, doll.

I need you so bad, I swear I’m gonna lose my mind.

—

He stopped sleeping properly.

The circles under his eyes were darker now, sharp enough to draw questions if anyone had the nerve. His mouth was constantly pressed into a tight, agitated line. The usual post-mission calm he carried—that calculated, steady presence of command—was cracking.

Every time he sat down to write up route plans, his hands twitched. His left hand—the metal one—wouldn’t stop flexing. Clenching. Releasing. Like he was trying to ground himself in anything that wasn’t your voice moaning his name.

The last time he tried to issue orders midbriefing, he nearly snapped a comm tablet in half.

“Safehouse Delta’s too close to the highway,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ll reroute south. Four klicks. We’ll—”

He trailed off.

Everyone stared at the map table, then at Bucky—who was clearly no longer looking at anything but the wall. Or rather, through it.

His jaw clenched again. He tried to redirect.

“We’ll send Bob first to—”

But Bob was already looking sideways at him.

“You gonna pass out?”

“No.”

“You look like your brain’s buffering.”

“I said I’m fine.”

But his voice had cracked. Just slightly.

Yelena leaned back in her seat with a dramatic sigh, chewing on the end of a protein bar like this was better than Netflix.

“Alright,” she announced loudly, “I’m just gonna say what everyone else is thinking.”

Bucky didn’t even turn his head.

She kept going.

“You’re clearly about three days from spontaneously combusting from blue balls. You’ve been staring at walls, misreading maps, and grinding your teeth like it’s a fetish. Which—respectfully—gross.”

Alexei smothered a laugh. Bob coughed loudly into his fist.

“You need to jerk off or jump off a building,” Yelena finished, deadpan. “Pick one.”

Bucky finally looked up.

His eyes were bloodshot. His voice was tight when he replied.

“I’m not jerking off.”

That shut them up.

Yelena blinked. “…Okay. That’s not where I thought that was going.”

“I’m saving it. All of it.” His hand twitched again. “She deserves every goddamn second of it.”

A pause. The silence stretched—not awkward, just charged.

Even Alexei nodded solemnly, as if that was the only acceptable answer.

Yelena rolled her eyes but muttered, “Romantic. Disgusting. Continue suffering, I guess.”

—

Later that night, Bucky paced the rooftop alone. Fingers twitching. Breath uneven.

He pulled up your last photo again.

Your hand between your thighs. Lips parted. That little text below it:

I’d spread for you right here on this cot if you were with me.

He groaned into his palm.

Pressed the heel of his hand against the painful bulge in his pants.

Didn’t move. Didn’t stroke. Just gritted his teeth and endured.

“You better be ready for what I’m gonna do to you,” he muttered into the dark.

—

It was just after 7:00PM when the jet touched down.

The sky above the Watchtower was bruised in golds and fading gray, clouds curling low like dusk had rolled in too early. Your shoulders ached. Muscles stiff from too many hours strapped in gear, too many days sleeping with one eye open.

Your boots hit the floor with more weight than usual—the kind that didn’t come from exhaustion alone. It was something else. Something thick in your chest, pressing behind your ribs.

Inside the compound, it was unusually quiet.

Operatives passed by in pairs. Brief nods. No chatter.

Ava veered off toward medical, threw a wink over her shoulder, and mouthed, “Go get your man.”

You didn’t smile. Not yet.

Not until your fingers brushed the key panel of your shared room, and the door clicked open beneath your touch.

Something shifted the moment you stepped inside.

The air smelled like candle wax, clean linens, and something warmer underneath—musk and sandalwood, with a trace of vanilla. The room glowed gold in low light. Flickering candles burned on the desk, by the bed, and one small one beside the bathroom mirror.

It was quiet. But not empty.

He was there.

And the second he saw you, his face lit up.

“Hey,” Bucky breathed, already halfway to his feet. His voice was low but clear, as if speaking pulled breath right back into his lungs. “You’re home.”

That ache—the one locked in your chest—snapped clean open.

You dropped your duffel just as he reached you, arms wrapping tight around your waist, your cheek pressed against his collarbone. He smelled like soap and steel and something distinctly him—warm skin, freshly showered, a hint of cologne that clung to his shirt.

He didn’t devour you. Didn’t grope, didn’t rush.

He just held you.

One arm around your back, the other cradling the back of your head. His lips brushed the top of your hair.

You clung back like it might hold you together.

His hand ran slowly down your spine. You could feel the control in it—the way his chest rose hard against yours, like he was barely keeping the rest of him contained.

“I changed the sheets,” he murmured softly. “Lit a few candles. Put your shampoo out. Thought maybe you’d want a hot shower first.”

Your heart cracked, melted, rebuilt itself.

You nodded against him, cheek brushing the curve of his neck.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did.” His smile touched his voice, even as his hand lingered low on your back. “You always say you wanna feel clean before we get dirty.”

That earned a small laugh from you—quiet, but real.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, cupping your cheek in one hand. His thumb brushed gently beneath your eye, like he was checking you for damage.

“I missed you,” he said. “Like breathing stopped.”

You kissed him, soft and slow—lips barely parting, just enough to feel the warmth of him beneath the quiet.

“Missed you more.”

He didn’t rush you when you stepped out of your gear. Just watched with quiet reverence, helping peel the layers off your shoulders and arms. He kissed your shoulder once—right over the old bruise he left weeks ago—and whispered:

“I’ve been thinking about this moment for 36 days. But I’m not rushing it. Not until you’re ready.”

Then he took your hand, kissed the inside of your wrist, and nodded toward the bathroom.

“Go on. I’ll be right here.”

—

You hadn’t even closed the door behind you.

The steam was already thick, curling from the shower where hot water slammed against tile. You peeled your clothes off slowly, shaking the last of the travel dust from your skin, limbs heavy from the mission—but your chest felt lighter. He was here. You were home.

You stepped into the spray and let it hit you.

Heat flooded your shoulders. Rolled down your spine.

The ache you’d ignored for weeks cracked wide open across your bones.

You arched slightly under the pressure of the water, fingers dragging slowly down your stomach. Your thighs pressed together at the memory of his voice—his lips on your neck, his hands gripping your hips like they belonged there.

You knelt briefly to grab a bottle you knocked over. Bent forward. Stretched.

And then—

“Mmh…”

Just a sound. A breath.

But it came from somewhere deep—unconscious, raw, and aching. It slipped from your throat like his name was caught beneath it.

The floor creaked.

You turned, startled—and everything inside you tightened.

He was there.

Bucky Barnes. Standing in the doorway of the bathroom like something ancient and carved from firelight. His chest rose fast, hard, like he’d sprinted across the room. Hair damp with sweat, not water. Shoulders tight. Fists clenched at his sides.

And he was naked.

Completely.

You hadn’t even heard him undress. But there he stood—broad, solid, his cock achingly hard and already slick with precum, flushed dark and twitching with every strained breath he took.

His eyes drank you in.

Steam wrapped around his body, clinging to every line of him. You watched his jaw twitch, chest heave. His cock twitched again—another thick drop of precum beading at the tip.

“Baby…”

His voice cracked. A breath. A prayer. Hoarse and wrecked.

“Please…”

“Please stop torturing me.”

But he didn’t move. Not yet.

Like he was waiting for your permission—even now, even while unraveling at the seams.

You reached for him.

One hand. Simple. Open. You pressed your palm to the center of his chest—felt the hammering heartbeat beneath it, the way his breath hitched.

He whimpered.

The sound broke from his lips like it had been fighting its way out for days. He stepped forward, cupped your waist, then your jaw, thumb trembling against your cheek.

“You’re real,” he whispered. “Fuck—you’re here.”

You smiled softly. Nodded.

He stepped into the shower with you—no hesitation this time.

The water soaked him instantly, but he didn’t care. He was already soaked in you. The scent. The need.

His hands were everywhere. One warm, the other metal, both reverent. They dragged up your spine, gripped your hips, held your face like it was holy.

“Missed you,” he rasped between frantic kisses.

“Missed your mouth. Your voice. Your thighs. The way you sound when I’m inside you—fuck, baby, I’ve been dying.”

Your back hit the tile with a dull thud. His body pressed into yours, all solid heat and desperation.

His cock bumped against your stomach—hot, heavy, leaking.

He gasped. “Touch me… please, just—let me feel you.”

You did more than touch.

Your hand curled around the base of him, felt him throb in your palm. He swore low against your neck, forehead pressing to yours as his hands skimmed lower, between your thighs.

“Jesus, sweetheart—”

His fingers slid through the slick between your legs.

“You’re soaked…”

He groaned. Slid two fingers inside you.

You gasped, walls clenching hard around the intrusion.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Tight… tighter than I remember. You really waited for me?”

You bit his jaw. “I didn’t even let myself finish, Bucky. You ruined me.”

That was all it took.

He gripped your thighs, lifted you off the ground like you weighed nothing, and pinned you to the shower wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, arms around his neck.

“Hold on to me,” he breathed. “That’s it… Good girl.”

He lined himself up. Slick head pressed against your entrance. And then—

He sank in.

One thrust. Deep. Full.

You both cried out—voices echoing in the tile and steam.

The stretch. The heat. The sudden, perfect fullness.

He fucked into you with short, desperate thrusts—buried all the way, hips snapping with precision. You met him every time, nails clawing his back, gasping against his mouth.

Your orgasm ripped through you without warning—sharp, wet, loud.

“James, I—I’m coming!”

“I’ve got you. Let go. Soak me, baby.”

You did. You clenched so hard around him he almost collapsed.

He followed seconds after—buried deep, groaning your name as he came hard inside you, hips jerking, forehead pressed to your shoulder. His body trembled with the force of it. He held you there, still wrapped around him, his cock twitching inside your pulsing heat.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “Not letting you out of this room for days.”

You kissed him through the fog, smiling against his lips.

“Good. I’m not going anywhere.”

—

Your legs were still shaking when he carried you out of the bathroom.

No towel. No words. Just the heat of his arms around you, the steady thump of his heart against your ribs, and the way the air between you still crackled like static. You smelled like him. He smelled like you. It wasn’t over. It had only begun.

He laid you on the bed like something sacred.

Candles glowed around the room, casting golden halos over damp sheets and flushed skin. The maroon lace slip sat untouched where he’d left it—delicate, sheer, wicked.

You reached for it with trembling fingers.

But Bucky caught your wrist gently. “Let me,” he said.

His voice was lower now. Hoarse. Reverent.

He lifted the slip over your head slowly, letting the lace fall like a whisper down your body. It hugged your hips, clung to your breasts just enough to tease—translucent and sinful. His lips brushed your spine as he adjusted the straps, hands shaking.

“I thought about this every night,” he murmured, lips brushing your shoulder.

“Fantasized about it. About you, straddling me in this. Had to lie there with my fists clenched, cock aching, just—breathing through it. Didn’t touch myself. Not once.”

His voice cracked. “Didn’t want to waste a single drop that wasn’t for you.”

You whimpered.

He hovered above you now—fully naked, flushed, his cock already hard again. Veined and glistening, twitching with the pulse of how badly he needed to be inside you.

But he didn’t rush.

Didn’t even move until you cupped his jaw and pulled him down into a kiss.

Mouths met softly, then harder.

Tongues sliding slow.

His body sinking into yours, heat to heat, heartbeat to heartbeat.

You grabbed the back of his neck and whispered against his lips, “Come here. Let me ruin you.”

He groaned, deep in his throat, and you flipped him onto his back, straddling his hips with shaking thighs. The lace slip rode up your thighs, leaving nothing in the way when his cock pressed hot and heavy against your dripping heat.

“Fuck, baby,” he gasped. “You’re soaked through.”

You leaned down, your breasts brushing his chest, and ground your hips against his length. “You did this,” you whispered. “With every text. Every picture. Every breath.”

He was gone. Let you take full control.

You gathered the hem of the lace slip, just enough to bare yourself to him, and guided him in—sinking down slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt.

Both of you moaned, raw and open, mouths slack with need.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, head thrown back, fists clenched in the sheets.

“Still so tight, baby. Still fucking perfect.”

You started to move—slow at first, grinding your hips in deep, lazy circles that dragged the tip of his cock right against your most sensitive spot. His hands clamped hard on your thighs, trying to keep his control, but you didn’t make it easy.

“You gonna come again just from riding me?” he asked, breathless.

You nodded. “Already close.”

He groaned, slipping one hand between your bodies to rub firm, precise circles over your clit.

“There you go… let me feel you. Let go for me.”

And you did.

Your second orgasm hit like a goddamn wave—crashing through your spine, stealing your breath, squeezing around his cock so tight he choked on a moan.

He didn’t last much longer.

You kept grinding, whispering filth into his ear—how full he made you feel, how wrecked you were for him, how you still weren’t done.

That tipped him.

He came hard with a strangled moan, cock pulsing deep inside you, hips jerking as he flooded you for the second time. His arms locked around your waist as he gasped into the crook of your neck, trembling from the force of it.

You stayed like that, slumped against his chest, bodies stuck together with sweat and slick and heat.

“You alright?” he asked, voice scratchy.

“I’m feral,” you whispered back. “And I’m not finished.”

He chuckled, still panting. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not tapping out anytime soon.”

—

Later.

The wine sat untouched on the desk.

The lace slip lay discarded in a crumpled pile on the floor.

The candles had burned halfway down, wax pooling thick at the base.

And you?

You were flushed. Sweaty. Trembling.

Knees sinking into the mattress as you straddled his thighs once more, this time with your back to him—hips hovering, your whole body tingling.

He leaned against the headboard, sweat shining on his chest, watching you like a man possessed.

“You sure?” he rasped, voice ragged and frayed.

You didn’t answer.

You just reached back, gripped his cock at the base, and lowered yourself onto him slowly—inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt inside you.

Both of you moaned. Loud.

Deep.

Almost pained.

Your hands braced against his shins behind you for leverage, thighs spread wide as you rode him hard—your ass slapping against his hips, slick and flushed with every bounce.

“Oh, fuck—”

His hands gripped your waist like he was anchoring himself.

“Jesus, sweetheart—you’re still so fuckin’ tight…”

You started to move—slow, heavy grinds, rolling your hips like you needed every inch of him rooted inside you. Bucky gasped behind you, his hands traveling from your hips to your thighs to your breasts, groping, squeezing, completely feral.

“You ride me like it’s the only thing keeping you alive,” he growled.

“Look at that ass—fuck, I can see it bounce every time you fucking slam down.”

You moaned—head tilted back, chest rising and falling—sweat glistening between your breasts.

And then—his fingers slid between your thighs from behind. Two of them, circling your clit with ruthless precision.

“I wanna feel you come again, baby. Let me feel you fucking gush on my cock.”

Your thighs trembled. Muscles locked. Your core started to spasm.

“Bucky, I—I think I—fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Do it. Come on, baby. You’re dripping, you’re so fucking close—let it happen.”

You broke with a cry.

Legs shaking. Hands digging into his thighs.

Your pussy clamped down hard, and then it hit—

You squirted.

Hard.

Hot wetness sprayed between your thighs, down over his cock, soaking the sheets. Bucky let out a strangled moan, clutching your waist like he was going to lose his mind.

“Goddamn—fuck, look at you. You’re gonna make a fucking mess, aren’t you, baby?”

He didn’t stop.

He snapped his hips up into you, relentless now—grinding deep as your soaked cunt fluttered around him, so overstimulated your vision blurred.

“Still want more?” he panted, thrusting up again, angling perfectly.

“I can feel how much you need it. So greedy for me—so fucking full of my cum, and still not satisfied.”

You couldn’t answer. You just moaned, nodding wildly, nails dragging down his thighs, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his breath hot on your shoulder as he leaned forward, one hand now wrapped tight around your throat.

“You gonna come for me again? Gonna make a mess on my cock one more time?”

“Yes—James, please—”

And you did.

A second wave slammed into you.

You screamed, back arching, body locking as you squirted again—wetter this time, gushing down over his balls, onto the sheets, soaking everything beneath you.

Bucky lost it.

“Shitshitshit— I’m coming—fuck, baby—I’m—”

He grunted, jerking up into you with three final brutal thrusts as his cock pulsed deep inside you, filling you again, so hot you felt it flood your walls.

You collapsed forward onto the mattress, his arms catching you just before you slumped completely. He held you tight from behind, your body still twitching, both of you covered in sweat, slick, and release.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed, voice dazed, completely gone.

“You just… soaked me, baby.”

You half-laughed, half-whimpered. “I couldn’t help it. You broke me.”

“Good,” he growled, kissing your neck. “You can break me next.”

—

You should’ve been done.

You should’ve been shaking, satisfied, breathless from three rounds and nothing left to give.

But you weren’t.

The ache still lived in your bones.

The emptiness still throbbed between your legs.

And when Bucky’s lips brushed your temple—slow, tender, trembling—you felt it in him too.

He needed more.

You both did.

The sheets beneath you were damp. Your thighs were slick. Your chest rose with every sharp breath, nipples flushed and sensitive, body still twitching from your last orgasm. And still… the hunger hadn’t dulled.

“You okay?” he whispered against your throat.

“No,” you rasped, voice cracking.

“I need you again. Right fucking now.”

Bucky exhaled a shaky breath. His cock twitched against your thigh—already stiffening again.

“Jesus, doll… you’re insatiable.”

He kissed your jaw. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Then he shifted—slow but deliberate—and suddenly, your wrists were gathered above your head. You gasped at the motion, but his grip was careful, tender. He reached for the discarded shirt at the foot of the bed and looped it around your wrists—soft, warm, not tight.

“Just wanna keep you here,” he murmured, kissing your palms one at a time.

“Let me take care of you.”

Your stomach fluttered. Your thighs clenched.

And when he dropped between your legs, your breath hitched so hard your back arched off the bed.

“James—”

“Shhh,” he purred, brushing his stubble along the inside of your thigh.

“Gonna keep you right here, sweetheart. Gonna make you come until your body forgets what rest feels like.”

His tongue dragged through your folds—slow, warm, filthy.

The first flick over your clit sent your hips off the bed—but he was already holding you down, fingers firm, spreading you open like he was fucking home.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled into your cunt, voice rough with disbelief.

“Jesus, baby, you taste like both of us… fuck. You’re perfect.”

He devoured you.

Long, slow licks that lapped up his own cum still leaking from you. Wet, obscene noises filled the room—every slurp, every moan against your pussy like it was the only thing that ever mattered.

You whined. Cried out. Legs trembling.

His mouth worked faster, tongue flicking your clit with maddening precision—soft then hard, gentle then firm, always changing, always knowing exactly how to ruin you.

“Bucky—fuck—baby I—”

Your voice broke.

Your hips bucked.

You were so close again, already, already—

He pulled back.

“Not yet,” he rasped, lips wet and eyes dark.

“Not until you beg for it.”

You sobbed—from the overstimulation, from the ache, from how badly you needed to fall apart.

“Please—please, baby, I can’t—just let me—let me come, please—!”

That broke him.

He groaned, deep and guttural, and latched onto your clit with his mouth wide and relentless—tongue flat, dragging fast and rough, his fingers digging bruises into your thighs.

You exploded.

A scream ripped from your throat as your orgasm hit like a strike of lightning—your whole body shook, fists clenched, toes curled, thighs trembling. You gasped so hard your ribs ached. The headboard thudded behind you.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice soaked in reverence.

“One more, baby. Just one more for me.”

You didn’t even get to respond.

Didn’t even breathe.

Because his tongue never stopped.

He kept sucking—soft at first, then harder—until another wave curled sharp behind your ribs. You sobbed his name, pulled at the binds, tried to run but couldn’t move.

You came again.

Harder.

Legs seizing, slick gushing between your thighs, soaking his face, your body curling from the sheer force of it.

He kissed your trembling thighs through the aftershocks.

Pressed his forehead to your belly.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“I don’t even know where I am,” you panted.

“And I think I like it.”

—

Later—

Maybe thirty minutes.

Maybe five.

Time had stopped meaning anything.

It warped, curled, bled together beneath the hum of overstimulation and breathless ache.

You lay curled on your side, one leg bent, sheets tangled around your calves. Sweat cooled on your skin in sticky rivulets. Your breathing had started to even out, but your body still pulsed from the inside—too full, too stretched, too tender to be still.

And then—

The mattress dipped behind you.

You felt his warmth before you felt his hands.

He slid in close—chest to your back, thighs pressed to yours, breath curling against your neck.

His lips brushed your shoulder.

“Still want me?” he asked, voice soft as fog.

You answered with a sigh. Reached back without looking, your palm wrapping around the hard length of him, thick and hot and already twitching against your fingers.

“Always.”

You rocked your hips back, slotting yourself perfectly into him.

He kissed your spine.

Tucked his face into the crook of your neck, and whispered like a man undone.

“I’ll never stop wanting you.”

One hand lifted your top leg, just slightly—fingers gliding over your thigh. His other arm wrapped low around your waist. You felt the weight of him, the warm press of his tip teasing at your entrance—slow, so fucking slow—until he finally pushed inside.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped, as if the heat of you had burned him.

“You’re still tight. Still fluttering around me.”

You whimpered.

He thrust deep.

Steady. Gentle.

Every movement an unspoken prayer.

No rhythm. No pace. Just a rolling, molten motion—his cock dragging deep and slow, slick with everything you’d already shared, stroking right against the spot that still trembled.

“I could live here,” he breathed. “I want to live here.”

Your hand gripped his forearm where it wrapped across your middle. He pulled you back against him with every gentle thrust, grounding you in the heat of his body, his breath stuttering where it ghosted along your neck.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmured. “So fucking good.”

“Still feels like a dream,” you whispered.

“Then don’t wake up. Just… stay right here. Let me have you like this.”

Your eyes fluttered shut. Tears stung, soft and sudden. It wasn’t pain—it was too much pleasure. Too much love. The way he moved inside you like your body was a temple. Like every inch of you was his.

“Tell me you’re mine again,” he whispered, voice breaking.

You choked on a moan.

“I’m yours, James. Always.”

You came first—slow and quiet. A gentle quake that rippled from your core outward, your body trembling against him as your inner walls clamped down tight. You gasped softly, a sob in your throat, your hands fisting in the sheets.

“That’s it,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder.

“Let go, doll. Let me feel you.”

He wasn’t far behind.

He buried himself deep, groaning low into your hair, his whole body taut as his release surged inside you again—slow and warm, his cock pulsing deep as he held still, hips locked to yours.

You lay there, body slack and soft, his cock still inside you.

He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away.

His fingers traced lazy shapes on your belly, his lips pressing soft, almost absent kisses to your damp shoulder, your neck, your cheekbone.

“You okay?” he asked eventually, voice quiet.

You nodded.

“I think I’m in love with you again.”

He smiled against your skin. “Good. I never stopped.”

—

Your body was trembling again.

Not with the sharp, writhing spasms of climax—but the deeper, low-grade tremor of exhaustion.

The kind that came after too many orgasms and too little rest.

Muscles fluttering, breath short, limbs weak. You felt boneless and heavy, like your body had melted halfway into the mattress.

And yet—

Your core still throbbed.

Your nipples still ached.

Your cunt still ached for him.

He noticed. Of course he did.

Bucky sat back on his heels beside you, eyes trailing over your form with something like worship—something like worry.

His hand reached out slowly. Brushed your sweat-slicked hair off your forehead. Pressed a soft kiss there.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice gentling. “You with me, sweetheart?”

You nodded once, eyes glassy. Your throat was too dry to speak right away.

“Breathe for me. C’mon.”

His thumb stroked your cheek.

“You look wrecked.”

“I am…”

Your voice came out hoarse.

“I’m so tired.”

That broke his heart a little—you could see it in the way his brows creased. His jaw clenched like he was trying to talk himself down from his own feral hunger.

“Then let’s stop, okay?” he offered softly. “Let me clean you up, hold you for a bit. You need rest.”

But your hand was already moving.

Shaky, slow—but determined.

You reached between his legs and wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock.

Still hard.

Still thick and flushed and leaking at the tip like he’d never finished.

His breath caught.

“Baby—”

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, tears suddenly springing to your lashes.

“Please, don’t stop. I need you.”

He looked stricken.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he murmured. “I don’t wanna take too much.”

“Then be gentle,” you gasped, stroking him slowly.

“But don’t pull away. I need more. I want you again. I want you.”

His restraint cracked like glass.

With a low, ragged sound, Bucky leaned down to kiss you—soft, shaky, like a prayer being answered. He whispered against your lips.

“Tell me when to stop, baby. Or I won’t.”

You nodded.

Wrapped your arms around his neck.

Pulled him into you.

He guided your legs open with reverent hands—watching your face the entire time, watching for any flinch or hesitation. You were sensitive. Sore. Spent.

But not done.

“I love you,” he said quietly, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“So much it hurts.”

You barely had breath left to answer.

“Then have me,” you whispered. “Take what’s already yours.”

His cock slid into you slow—so slow—inch by inch, the stretch deep and aching, but your body welcomed him like he’d never left.

He moaned into your throat.

“Fuck, baby… still so tight. I can feel your pulse around me.”

He moved gently. Just the slow grind of his hips, the full drag of his cock over soaked, sensitive walls. His hand slid under your back, pulling you flush to his chest.

“You tell me when to stop. You hear me?”

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered. “Just keep giving me all of you.”

And so he did.

With every thrust, he kissed you. With every shift of his hips, he whispered your name. His fingers stroked your side, your hip, your waist—every inch of skin he could reach. You shook beneath him, moaning soft and high each time he bottomed out.

“You’re incredible,” he rasped. “You’re still taking me like it’s the first time. My perfect girl.”

Your orgasm crept in like fog, soft and wet and overwhelming.

You came with a shuddered cry, barely able to hold him, but your body squeezed around him tight—fluttering, spasming, claiming him all over again.

“That's my girl,” he whispered, voice shaking. “So fucking good for me.”

And then he followed—hips stuttering, forehead pressed to yours as he groaned your name like a benediction. His cock throbbed deep inside, spilling more warmth into the mess already flooding between your legs.

He collapsed next to you, immediately pulling you into his arms. Your body was trembling. His thumb stroked your cheek.

“No more unless you ask,” he murmured against your hair.

“I’ll only give you what you want.”

—

The sky was beginning to lighten.

A dusky indigo bled into grey, softening the skyline behind the Watchtower’s windows. But inside the room, time was a blur of candlelight, heat, and the thick, dizzying scent of sweat and sex.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d fully caught your breath.

Your whole body felt glass-thin. Shivering. Sensitive. The sheets clung to your skin with sweat, and your legs barely worked. But the ache was still there. Nestled low. Pulsing. It didn’t fade.

Bucky’s palm slid over your thigh—soft, slow, as if testing your response.

His voice came a moment later, raspy and hesitant. “Sweetheart… we can stop. You need rest. I can wait.”

But you turned to him, eyes half-lidded, lips parted. Your fingers found his, laced through them.

“I want more,” you whispered. “Please… take me there.”

He exhaled like you’d just saved his life.

Guiding you gently toward the windows—your legs shaky, but moving—he kissed your shoulder and whispered, “I’ll be gentle. Just let me see you.”

The whole room swam around you, golden in candlelight and glimmering sweat.

The skyline stretched before you. Towering buildings, distant lights. No eyes. Just your reflection—flushed, ruined, hair damp and tangled across your shoulders.

“Fuck,” Bucky exhaled when he saw you.

“Look at yourself, baby. Look what I’ve done to you.”

You braced your palms against the cool glass, breasts pressing to it as your body arched. The contrast of heat and chill made you gasp. Bucky moved in behind you, spreading your thighs with his knee. One hand on your hip. The other wrapped around his cock, dragging the head through your soaked folds.

“Still dripping,” he muttered. “Even now. Jesus, you never stop, do you?”

“I need it,” you whispered. “Still need you.”

He didn’t make you wait.

Not this time.

He slid into you with one deep, brutal thrust—your bodies colliding with a smack so loud it echoed off the glass. Your moan fogged the window instantly, your hands flattening harder against it.

“Bucky—fuck—”

He set a hard rhythm, pulling your hips back to meet every thrust, the wet sound of your bodies filling the room. You could barely stand, legs shaking, forehead pressed to the glass.

“That’s it. Just like that,” he groaned. “So fucking perfect like this. My girl. My pussy.”

His hand slid around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, grounding. His mouth hovered by your ear.

“You were made for me,” he said. “Fucking built for this.”

“Harder,” you begged. “Please—please don’t stop.”

“Look at your reflection,” he rasped. “Look how good you look. Look how you’re taking me.”

You opened your eyes—and the sight of yourself, cock-stuffed, sweat-slick, wild-eyed, flushed and wrecked against the window, nearly sent you over the edge.

He thrust harder. Faster. Your thighs trembled violently.

“Gonna come,” you sobbed. “Can’t—Bucky—I can’t hold it—”

“Then don’t,” he growled. “Come for me, baby. Come with the whole fucking city watching.”

You shattered.

Legs giving out.

A scream ripped from your throat as your orgasm slammed through you like lightning. Your vision blurred. Your body buckled. Bucky caught you before you hit the ground—arm locking around your waist as he kept moving, groaning into your neck.

“Fuck—fuck—gonna fill you again—”

His hips snapped hard, once, twice—and then he came with a guttural sound, spilling inside you with a heat that pushed out around the edges. His head dropped to your shoulder, body shuddering as he emptied himself again.

You stood there for a long time—pressed to the glass, panting, twitching. Your hands limp against the windowpane. Bucky held you like you were breakable.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded faintly.

“Good. ‘Cause we’re not done.”

—

The sun was climbing now.

Pale gold spilled across the Watchtower skyline, casting long streaks of light onto the floor like it was forgiving the sins you were still committing.

Your whole body ached—but not in the way that begged for rest.

It was a deep, needy pulse. Faint, but still there. A hunger that wouldn’t let go.

You stumbled barefoot into the kitchenette, still bare, still slick between your thighs, wearing nothing but Bucky’s hickeys. Your hair was tangled. Your lips were swollen. Your legs trembled with every step.

Your hand landed on a protein bar. You peeled it open with shaking fingers and leaned on the counter for support.

“You better be looking for food,” you said over your shoulder, breathless and hoarse.

You heard the footsteps.

But they didn’t head for the fridge.

Bucky’s body pressed into you from behind—solid, burning hot, and still hard. He slid one arm around your waist, the other reaching up to gently move your hair aside so he could press a kiss to your neck.

“I am hungry,” he rasped, his voice low and feral.

“Just not for that.”

“Bucky,” you groaned, half-laughing, half-destroyed. “I can’t even feel my legs—”

“Good,” he whispered. “You don’t need ‘em.”

Before you could blink, he bent you over the kitchen island.

Your palms slapped down on the cold countertop, and you gasped as your bare nipples brushed the smooth marble.

You didn’t even get the chance to speak.

He lined himself up and pushed in fast—no prep, no warning, just the slick glide of his cock stretching you open again, sliding back into your wrecked body like it was home.

“Fuck, Bucky—!”

“Still so wet,” he growled behind you.

“Still squeezing me like you want more.”

His hands slid to your hips, gripping tight, pulling you back against him with every hard thrust.

This wasn’t slow.

This wasn’t tender.

It was filthy, frantic, barely-in-control fucking. Not because he didn’t care—but because he still needed you that badly.

The sound of skin slapping echoed in the tiny space. The sticky squelch of your soaked cunt taking him again and again filled the air. Your moans bounced off stainless steel and tiled walls.

You dropped your head onto your forearm.

“We… already did this—eight times,” you whimpered.

“I know,” he growled, fucking into you deeper.

“And you’re still fuckin’ perfect. Still taking it all.”

“You’re gonna kill me—”

“Then what a fucking way to go, sweetheart.”

He slid a hand around your front, fingers seeking out your clit, stroking with maddening precision. The way he touched you was still worshipful—even in this chaos.

Your whole body clenched.

“You want one more?” he asked, voice thick, rough, hungry.

“You got one more in you for me, doll?”

“Yes—yes—please—just one more—!”

You came hard. Your scream was ragged, echoing through the kitchen, and your knees nearly gave out from the force of it. The overstimulation blurred your vision with white-hot static, but your body still took every inch of him.

Bucky groaned deep and low, hips jerking as he spilled inside you one last time—his cock pulsing, his chest pressed to your back as he moaned your name like a blessing.

He didn’t sag against you. Didn’t drop.

He stayed upright, body still buzzing, cock still twitching inside you. You could feel him—full, ready again. You were the one shaking. Not him.

“Jesus Christ,” you whispered. “You’re still hard.”

“Told you,” he murmured, breath warm against your ear.

“I could do this for days.”

“James…”

He slid his arms around your waist from behind and pulled you upright, holding you there with his cock still buried deep.

“I’ll stop if you need me to,” he whispered.

“Just say the word.”

You leaned your head back against his shoulder, heart thudding weakly.

“…I think my soul already came twice.”

Bucky laughed softly. Kissed the crown of your head.

“Rest, baby. I’ll still be here when you wake up. Hard as a fucking rock.”

—

You didn’t know what time it was when you finally woke.

Only that the light outside was warmer. Honey-gold, slipping through the windows in slow streaks. The world felt distant. Blurry. But the weight behind you wasn’t.

Bucky’s arm was still around your waist, his chest pressed along your back. Warm. Steady. His breath ghosted over the back of your neck in a soft, familiar rhythm.

Your body ached in the best ways—sore thighs, puffy lips, bruised hips—but it was the ache in your chest that hummed the loudest.

You blinked. Shifted slowly.

He stirred.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice still sleep-rough.

“You okay?”

You turned to face him—carefully, slowly—and found his eyes already open, watching you.

“Mhm. Everything hurts,” you whispered. “In a good way.”

Bucky smiled. Just a little. One of those soft, private smiles he saved for no one but you.

“Told you I’d wreck you.”

“You did. Multiple times.”

He chuckled, then leaned forward to kiss you.

No tongue. No hunger. Just warmth. Lips brushing yours with slow reverence, like he was re-learning your taste now that the storm had passed.

You melted into it.

Pressed your forehead to his.

His fingers traced lazy lines across your spine, slow and aimless.

“Missed this,” he whispered. “Missed you.”

You whispered it back. Quiet. Honest.

Then let the silence settle over you both for a while—safe, sacred, slow.

Eventually, after a second nap and a shower where no one tried to fuck anyone against the tiles (God bless you), you both managed to drag yourselves into clothes and make your way toward the common area.

Bucky wore a black tee and gray sweatpants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. You were in a loose hoodie and biker shorts—though judging by the soreness between your thighs, sitting might be a challenge.

His arm was around your waist the whole walk.

Your legs still wobbled slightly, and he adjusted his pace to match yours. Not a word about it. Just his warm palm pressing steady against your hipbone like a grounding wire.

—

The squad was already gathered around the Watchtower’s long dining table.

It was pasta night.

Yelena sat at the end, spooning pesto onto her plate with war-like intensity. Ava nursed a glass of wine. Bob looked half-asleep. Alexei was double-fisting garlic bread.

John Walker looked up the moment you stepped into view.

“Oh look,” he said dryly. “It lives.”

You flipped him off without stopping.

“Someone got their back blown out,” Ava added sweetly, raising her glass.

“We heard everything,” Alexei boomed. “Whole floor shook.”

“I had to wear my noise-canceling headphones,” Bob mumbled, half amused, half scarred.

Yelena didn’t even look up from her plate.

“I placed eight rounds in the pool. I win. Pay up, losers.”

You covered your face with your hands.

Bucky didn’t blink.

Just leaned in close, mouth brushing your ear, voice low and smug.

“We could’ve made it nine.”

You choked on your wine, burst out laughing, and slapped his chest as he grinned like the devil himself.

And when his hand slipped onto your thigh under the table—warm, firm, possessive—you didn’t move it.

You just smiled.

And yeah…

You weren’t done.

💜 @iamthatonefangirl @sonja-blayde

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #જ⁀➴ by elle #mcu!bucky fic #mcu!bucky

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venusheartsyou2 · 1 month ago

Text

me and my husband | bucky barnes

summary: bucky asks a lot of you. like that time he asked you to marry him, no-strings-attached, of course.

pairing: congressman!bucky x fem!reader.

warnings: explicit. 18+ only, MDNI. afab!reader. marriage of convenience. many mentions of alcohol and drinking! yearn city over here, reader is a chronic people pleaser, hurt/comfort, domestic fluff, tad bit of angst. flashbacks to endgame, mention of steve and nat death & grieving. mention of benjamin poindexter. vague timeline. oral (female receiving), piv sex, unsafe sex, no use of y/n.

wc: 10.6K (FUUUCK)

a/n: oh my holy guaca-freaking-mole. this. took. fucking FOREVER to write. i hope yall like it, i really do. anyways.. self-indulgent! yippee!!

EDIT: i forgot bucky cant get drunk. please pretend he can for my sake.

heavily inspired by love me more by byexbyez (aka the better written version of this trope, lol)

The soup you made earlier in the day had gone cold. Chicken noodle. It wasn’t your favorite, but your husband usually asks for it when you offer to cook. Your husband’s late again, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. He was busy. He always is. Life as a congressman isn’t easy. It’s monotonous, boring, and soul-sucking. As much as the empty yet somewhat grand house bothered you, you learned to get over its suffocating hallways.

The sound of keys jingling in the door knob breaks you out of your little trance. The key sounds act as a little warning that someone’s coming in. Bucky enters quietly and he knocks off his shoes and removes his worn out tuxedo jacket and leaves on the coat hanger next to the door.

“Long day?” You ask. Bucky didn’t expect you to be up still, proven by the little jump he does when he hears your voice. He sighs, it’s just you.

“Yeah, when isn’t it?” He responds. You let out a light breath disguised as a laugh.

“Made soup. It’s a bit cold now, but I can go warm it up if you’d like.” You say as you start heading to the kitchen.

“I’m not that hungry.” Bucky replies. Bucky’s reluctance to eat made you bitter, however there was no use. Behind closed doors, there was no need for pretending. Bucky had asked you to sign that marriage license, however long ago, but there was no sentiment tied to it. It was simply a means to an end.

“You should eat Bucky. I’ll leave it out.” You respond, trying not to push too much. Bucky simply nods, a sign he’s not too interested in continuing chatting. At least when the topic is about him. Stage fright, maybe.

Bucky nervously fidgets with the cuff of his shirt. After a moment, Bucky lets out a deep breath and breaks his silence. “You’re gonna hate me.”

Your immediate reaction is anxiety. “What did you do?” You say, cocking your head slightly.

“There’s a charity event tomorrow.. ”

“Yeah, and?”

“I made a promise I would come.” Bucky says. What Bucky means to say is, ‘we would come’, but he thinks laying you into the news slowly will make your reaction easier to handle.

You would be fine with it, usually. You knew that these superficial galas and events came with Bucky’s profession. The only problem was that your mother was visiting the city for the day, and you had full-day plans for dinner and catching up. Bucky knew about them, as you told him the moment it was planned.

Your lack of a response was enough for Bucky. “I’m sorry. I know you have plans with your mother.” He says, apologetic enough to seem genuine.

“And I have to go?” You ask.

“It would look weird if you didn’t.” He responds. It’s always about looks, isn’t it?

“Right.” You reply, already planning out a long apology text to your mother, who would definitely understand. Can’t help but feel bad. You whip out your phone to start texting your mother.

“I’m buying a dress for you to wear tomorrow.” Bucky says, hoping that works as an incentive.

“Did you choose the dress, or did your secretary? You know I like her taste in fashion better.” You grin at Bucky for a second, then you look back down at your phone to begin typing your large paragraph of an apology.

“She helped.” Bucky laughs weakly. He can’t help but look at you frantically typing.

“Well, I’ll leave the soup out if you want it. You should eat something. ‘Gonna be a long day tomorrow too.” You say, finally, after you send your apology.

Bucky purses his lips and nods. “Okay. Thanks.” He says, so casually.

If anyone had seen how the two of you talk, they would assume you were roommates. Which you essentially were. The two of you weren’t very romantic, at least when the both of you were sober, or while you weren’t in the public eye, of course. Any non-public romantic passes were swiftly ignored the next day. It’s not that you didn’t find Bucky attractive, because you most certainly did, it was mainly the fact that Bucky made it clear from the beginning this relationship was strictly for political gain. Nothing really so hot and heavy about that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning then, Bucky.” You yawn as you head to your bedroom, which was a guest bedroom that Bucky randomly assigned you.

“See you. Be ready by 6PM.” Bucky tells you off-handedly. You give him a thumbs up as you walk to your room.

It’s hard for you to go to sleep, usually. It’s partially your fault. You know that being on your phone before bed isn’t best for getting the optimum amount of sleep. However, you find yourself researching your husband’s political moves every night. Bucky hasn't been able to pass a single bill since he joined Congress, so you note to yourself to avoid talking about that while at the event tomorrow. You hated studying in school, but yet you find yourself studying every night. You have to present yourself as a good wife, or at least a believable one.

You sigh, shutting off your phone after reading a large amount of hate comments on Bucky’s surprising political career. People don’t like change, or at least the fact that an ex-assassin somehow got into office. You shrug it off. Weirder stuff has happened, anyway.

You groan as you get out of bed. You accepted the fact you just weren’t going to get your desired hours of sleep tonight. Maybe it’ll be easier to go to bed after a glass of water?

You walk downstairs into the kitchen to get your glass of water. You enter to see Bucky, sitting with his laptop, with a bunch of paperwork splayed all over the kitchen island. Bucky hears the sounds of your footsteps, and he smiles at you weakly when he sees you. He’s tired, it’s clear by the look on his face.

You walk over next to Bucky, looking at all of his work. Just a bunch of political mumbo-jumbo; nothing of interest to you. You rub Bucky’s shoulder and neck, trying to massage what you can without seeming too touchy. Bucky groans a little, and he’s broken out of his little trance. He realizes just how tired he really is.

Bucky pats your hand on his shoulder and gently takes your hand off him. You’re not sure if that gesture was too affectionate. It shouldn’t be, but you can’t risk making anything awkward. “Thanks.” Bucky mumbles, his voice almost at a whisper. He rubs his eyes and yawns.

“You should go to sleep. You’ll work better after sleeping.” You tell Bucky, as you always do. You see an empty, used bowl. Bucky ate your food. You find yourself smiling.

“You like it?” You ask, heading towards the pot of soup that was sitting on the stove. You mix the soup around.

“It was perfect, thank you.” Bucky grins.

You grab a spoon and taste the soup you had made.

What the hell was Bucky talking about? It was the most watery, unflavorful soup you had made yet. And the soup you usually make is nowhere near gourmet. “What the hell are you talking about? This is ass.” You grimace at the taste.

Bucky grins and shrugs. “Tasted good to me.”

“HYDRA must’ve fucked you up bad.” You joke. Were HYDRA jokes too far? You were about to find out.

To your relief, Bucky let out a light laugh. “Guess they did. I’m just lucky that someone is willing to cook for me at all.”

You smile at Bucky, while continuing to stir the pot of soup. “It’s not a big deal. I’m glad you’re willing to eat it.” You say, while adding copious amounts of salt and herbs to make up for the lackluster taste.

After a moment, Bucky reveals, “I called your mom.”

You turn around. “You did?” You ask, looking a little concerned. Your mother didn’t know the true nature of you and Bucky’s real relationship. When you had told her the news, she was excited that her only daughter was getting married, but she was furious about the fact that she had never known about him before. Which is understandable. However, it wasn’t like you had much time before the fake marriage ceremony to introduce him.

You had asked for a wedding. With a nice dress. As a kid, you had always dreamed of having a perfect wedding, where most of the focus was just on you and your future partner. Bucky tried to deliver, but the wedding just didn’t feel complete. Probably from the lack of true feelings on either party, or the fact that you had to prepare for a new life under spotlight and public scrutiny soon.

The wedding you had was small, mainly just family and select friends. The only proof of the wedding’s existence was a photo you had taken with Bucky at the altar, along with the grotesque amount of photos your mother insisted on taking. You told her to keep the photos private, to which she begrudgingly agreed. All that, and yet the wedding also didn’t feel complete without Natasha there, as she was the woman who had introduced the two of you to one another many years ago.

It’s still weird Nat’s gone. You thank her for a lot of things. She provided you with your first job in the city. She convinced Tony that the Avengers needed a manager to handle all of their public appearances. She then convinced Tony that it should be you, and even with Tony’s unbearable stubbornness, she got you that job. It was there when you met Bucky, or the Winter Soldier, as he was named at the time.

“She wasn’t too mad about you canceling.” Bucky says about your mother, which knocks you out of your trance.

“She wasn’t? That’s a relief.” You respond.

“I’m still sorry that you had to cancel. I’ll make it up to you one day.” Bucky promises. While you’re sure Bucky means to keep the promise, he’s always so busy with work, so you wonder how long you’ll have to wait for Bucky to make it up to you — with whatever he plans to do.

“It’s fine, Bucky.” You shrug off as an instinct.

Bucky looks remorseful, but he doesn’t say anything more about it. “Good night then.”

“Night.”

In the morning, you wake up to an empty house. Bucky leaves for work early in the morning. You work from home – something you had wished for a while – but you have to admit, it gets pretty lonely. After a long day of pointless powerpoints and spreadsheets, you get a text from Bucky’s secretary.

“Mr. Barnes will be bringing your dress for tonight in 30 minutes.” She texts you, overly formal. You’ve told her that there’s no need to be formal, but she insists as she’s on the clock.

Bucky gently knocks on your door. You turn to see him with a box in his hands. “Surprise.”

You grin. “Wow, a present for me?” You say as you open the box. It’s a gorgeous white dress with gold accents. What a surprise – there’s no way Bucky picked this out himself.

“Mia.” Bucky mentions his secretary, notioning that it was her idea. You look up at him and nod. “Makes sense.”

You check your watch. 4:30PM. “I should start getting ready soon.”

“You’ll look good either way.” Bucky compliments, seeming more affectionate than it should. You clear your throat. “That’s kind of you, Bucky.”

“I’ll leave you to it.” Bucky says, leaving the box on your bed.

You say bye, as you start unfolding the dress. How the hell do you put this thing on? The dress had two strips of loose fabric, which were meant to be tied together in the back, similar to that of a halter top. At least you think they’re meant to be tied. You brace yourself to fit into this dress. You squeeze in a little, as the dress is a little tight in the back.

The dress was cute, from what you could see. The dress still needed to be tied, and there wasn’t a way for you to reach the back of the dress. You sigh a little as you try your best to make a knot. “Bucky?” You shout out.

“Yeah?” He calls out from downstairs.

“Can you come up?” You ask.

You can hear Bucky’s footsteps slowly come closer to your room. You turn around. The top of the dress folds over the waist of the dress. You turn around, your back facing the door, as your chest is exposed, and you’re not so keen on giving Bucky an unwanted surprise when he enters your room.

Bucky enters your room, surprised to see your torso exposed. He clears his throat and asks you what you need. You tell him to tie the back, instructing him on how to assemble the knot.

“Tie it tight.”

Bucky hums a little ‘mm-hm’. As he finishes the knot, you turn back around to show off the dress. “How does it look?”

Bucky grins a little. “Perfect.”

–

Later, you and Bucky enter the fancy ballroom. Charity events were a bore to you, as bad as that sounds. It always surprised you how much money people had to just give so freely, as you had grown up with so little. Perhaps it was best not to focus on that. It’s good that these people are donating so much for good causes.

Bucky had cleaned up, his hair was slicked back and he was in his best suit. Your hair was tied up and curled neatly. It had taken forever to do, so at least it turned out nicely. You accessorized with gold jewelry, to match with the gold accents of the dress, of course.

Bucky’s arm lays on the small of your back. Servers pass by with champagne and hors d'oeuvres, to which you pick up naturally.

Small talk between politicians killed you. You could not think of a bigger waste of time. You could feel the venom in each of the politicians' voices, but it’s hidden by smiles and charming personalities. You know what you have to do. Smile big, and only speak when spoken to. Best to avoid any slip-ups.

“You’re doing great, just focus on me.” Bucky whispers into your ear. You cough off the warm feeling in your chest.

“Congratulations on the wedding. Still in the honeymoon phase, are you?” A wife of a congressman asked.

“Very much so.” Bucky responded, looking at you with love in his eyes. He’s a good actor. You smile back as you place a hand on his chest.

“She gets me through my day.” Bucky adds, and a flurry of ‘aww’s’ follow suit. You swiftly push down the growing lump in your throat. Gotta act natural.

As you and Bucky break away from the group of people, you find yourself by the sidelines, people-watching. Bucky had left to go network, or whatever it is that he does. You had him in your line of sight, which comforted you in this large crowd.

You drink your champagne, unassuming.

“Mrs. Barnes?” A man asks out to you, seemingly out of nowhere. You jump a little at the surprise.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” The man laughs as he slowly inches up to you. Your neck cranes upward to look at the man’s face, as he’s much taller than you.

“Of course not,” You grin, “You just caught me off guard.”

The man rubs the back of his neck. “My apologies.” You shrug it off.

“I was trying to reach Mr. Barnes, but he seems to be occupied.” The man sighs as he shoots a glance at Bucky.

“Am I just your next best option, then?” You ask, smiling.

The man turns back to you. “Of course not.” He insists with a charming smile. You’re quick to brush it off and assure him it’s alright.

“Benjamin Poindexter. Most people call me Dex.” He reaches his hand out with a grin. You tell him your name and shake his hand, his grip steady and firm.

“Am I allowed to call you Dex?”

“Call me whatever you like.” He says with a wink. You laugh. As your eyes wander back into the crowd, you see Bucky stare from across the ballroom. You notice that he isn’t paying full attention to the man he’s talking to. You pay no mind and go back to your conversation with Dex.

You invite Dex to people-watch with you, and it’s easy to convince him.

“These events are such a drag.” He mentions off-handedly. You let out a sigh of relief. “Aren’t they?” You respond, more enthusiastically than you have been this entire time at this gala.

“Just a huge flaunt of money.” Dex notes.

“It is. At least it’s for a good cause.” You try to reason.

“I’m sure they could do that without all the pointless attractions.” Dex sighs. You laugh as you stare at all the grand decor, live music, and grand meals. It’s true, this entire thing was just so obnoxious to you. “You get me.” You say.

Dex grins at you as he lightly places his hand on your shoulder. “At least you look lovely tonight.”

“Are you flirting with me, Dex? You know I’m a married woman.” You roll your eyes and grin, your eyes pointed towards the ground.

“Of course not,” Dex responds, “Unless you’d like me to.”

Your eyes widen at his boldness and laugh Dex’s advances off. “You’re funny.”

Dex doesn’t respond, his only response being the faint upward curling of his lips. Before you get to speak again, Bucky appears by your side.

“I’m sorry, could I steal my wife from you for a second?” Bucky says with a tight-lipped grin.

“Oh, of course-” Dex starts to say, only to be cut off by Bucky swiftly grabbing your hand and dragging you out of there.

“Oh, Bucky, Dex — or Benjamin — wanted to speak with you-” You try to say to your husband.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get to that later.” Bucky says, not paying attention.

“Are you okay? What are you doing?” You whisper to Bucky once he fully removes you from Dex’s presence.

“How do you think I look when my wife’s too busy giggling with another man?” Bucky mutters into your ear. You pull back.

“It wasn’t like that-” You say, naively.

“Course it wasn’t,” He spits out, and a brief silence follows.

After taking a deep breath, Bucky says, “Just stick by me for the rest of the night, okay?”

You frown slightly, your face turning sour. “Right, okay.”

The rest of the night killed you. Every boring conversation felt even longer than it had before. It wasn’t helping that Bucky kept his grip on your waist tighter than usual. You counted down the seconds until this stupid gala was over, all with a big smile on your face.

You couldn’t ignore the looks Dex would shoot at you occasionally, but you didn’t let your gaze linger.

The car ride back home was quiet. You couldn’t tell if Bucky was still angry, his face was unreadable.

You two finally get back home, and the door shuts with a click. Bucky immediately lets out a deep sigh. You take that as a sign to initiate your go-to unwind routine, which usually consists of ordering Chinese and drinking. Hopefully Bucky will warm up to you again with some food in his stomach.

“Chinese?” You ask, waiting for Bucky’s go-ahead.

“Yeah. Sounds good.” Bucky says, his voice void of any emotion.

You fight the urge to ask Bucky if he’s still mad at you, best not to disturb the lion.

The ring of the doorbell notifies you that the takeout was finally here.

“So, talk to anyone interesting tonight?” You ask as you and Bucky sit down next to each other at your small dinner table.

“Never.” Bucky lets out a light breath of amusement. He watches you as you crack open wooden chopsticks for the both of you. You frown slightly at the uneven crack of the chopsticks.

As you hand over better separated chopsticks to Bucky, you stand up to grab drinks from the kitchen. “Beer?” You ask.

“Always.” He says as he chews on his noodles.

You grab a beer from the fridge, opening it up for Bucky. You grab a wine glass for yourself, pouring your favorite red wine into it.

As you hand over the beer to Bucky, he nods his head as a way of thanking you.

The dinner between the two of you is silent. Not that that’s necessarily weird, as you and Bucky have grown accustomed to uncomfortable silences.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize mindlessly. “For Dex.”

Bucky sighs as he finishes chewing his greasy noodles. “It’s fine. Just.. I don’t want anyone to suspect anything.” Bucky admits.

“Right.” You say, not putting up a fight. The idea of making Bucky angry makes your stomach bubble up in anxiety. You don’t want Bucky to smell your worry, so you bite your cheek to stifle it down.

— 13 YEARS EARLIER (POST CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER)

“He doesn’t talk a lot, but I think he just needs some time to readjust.” Natasha says as the both of you walk past the room of the new addition to the Avengers Tower. HYDRA had called him the Winter Soldier, but Steve calls him Bucky. Steve’s very adamant the rest of the Avengers (and also you) call him Bucky too.

It was your first week at your new job of being the Avenger’s manager. You’re still not sure how Natasha managed to snag this job for you, but it was better to not to question anything. You just couldn’t believe your luck.

Tony seemed apprehensive towards letting you in, but whether he liked it or not, the Avengers were becoming public figures, and they needed someone to manage their schedules. The rest of the Avengers didn’t seem to mind your presence; you were sure they had bigger things to worry about — like the state of the universe, for example.

Natasha had known you for at least a year prior to you moving to New York. She had saved you in an attack in your small hometown. You had no idea what she was doing in a small town like yours, but she had many secrets. You were just thankful she was in the right place and the right time.

As you and Natasha mindlessly tour the tower, you bump into a man much taller than you. It was Bucky.

“Oh— sorry about that.” You apologize instinctively.

Bucky looks at you bewildered. Well, you note that he kind of just always looks that way. It must be hard for him. You knew he was still fighting off the last bits of HYDRA’s brainwashing. It was best to just let him do his own thing, even if his hard stares felt like they were burning holes into your skin.

— PRESENT

You and Bucky finish eating the take-out noodles. They never get any less greasier. There’s spots of grease along Bucky’s mouth. You laugh and gesture to his mouth. “Got something on your face, Bucky.”

“Ah, shit—” Bucky groans as he tries to wipe it off with his hand. It’s unsuccessful, he’s just spread it around instead of getting rid of it.

“Here.” You say as you grab a napkin and start wiping his mouth for him. Bucky tilts his head up towards you as you hold his face. You wipe his lips, cheeks, and chin. You’re too focused on cleaning Bucky’s face that you don’t realize how flustered Bucky looks. “Done.”

You go to wash the oil off your hands in the kitchen sink. Bucky clears his throat to regain composure.

Little moments of soft domesticity like this make this makeshift marriage feel more real. Sometimes, it’s hard reminding yourself that it’s not.

“I should go to bed soon.” You note. You don’t want to end the night early, but you don’t want to seem too desperate for Bucky’s presence.

“Course. Right.” Bucky says. His lack of willingness to keep you around makes you frown. But you know there wasn’t anything to expect. At least it’s a guarantee that you’ll keep seeing him around.

The next morning, you wake up earlier than Bucky. It’s quite rare, knowing your sleep schedule. There’s sounds coming from Bucky’s bedroom. Muttered curses and frantic scribbling. You knock on his door. “Can I come in?”

Bucky looks at the door, his eyes tired. “Oh, yes, come in.”

He looked like a mess. He had fallen asleep at his desk. He was still wearing his suit from last night. That must’ve been uncomfortable, not to mention dirty. “Bucky— are you okay?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing.

“Mmm, yeah. Perfect.” Bucky says as he stares at his endless pile of paperwork. You sigh as you turn Bucky towards you in his spinny-chair. “I have to go to work soon.” He yawns.

“Yeah, you do.” You respond. He wasn’t close to ready. “Come on, get up.”

Bucky doesn’t protest. He lets you drag him into his walk-in closet. There were a plethora of suits that all looked the same. You pick the first one you see, and shove it into Bucky’s hands. “Put those on.” You tell him as you turn around, to give him privacy.

Bucky does as you say, yawning as he does it. He would usually resist your attempts to help him, especially with tasks so mundane as this, but he was too tired to think. You grab a random necktie and wrap it around Bucky’s neck. Luckily for you, you had spent many hours studying on how to tie a necktie for the day of your wedding. You tie the necktie with swiftness. It’s a little lopsided, but it’ll do. You adjust his tie one last time, patting your hand on his chest as you finish. “Good.”

Bucky smiles weakly. “Thank you, I don’t think I could get anything done without you.”

You let out an amused breath. “I’m barely any help.” You say, as you pick up from stray clothes from off the floor.

Bucky softly smiles and shakes his head, while looking at the large mirror. “I’ll take all the help I can get.”

“When’s your next day off?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Good. You need the rest, Bucky.” You say. Bucky grins weakly, looking at the ground.

A pause.

“You know, I’m not sure what the hell I’m even doing.” He admits.

It sure was weird seeing Bucky open up. In the grander scheme of things, Bucky wasn’t being vulnerable at all. However, Bucky isn’t one to talk about himself — at all, really. Emotions made him feel antsy. Especially his own.

“Politics isn’t easy, Bucky. I’m sure you’ll grow into it.” You attempt to say some comforting words. You rub one of his shoulders to ground him, or something.

“No.” Bucky laughs lightly as he shakes his head. “I don’t know the first thing about this shit.” Bucky couldn’t admit that his whole sham of a political career was just a ploy to ethically inch himself towards Valentina Allegra de Fontaine. Val was hiding something, and Bucky was going to figure it out. That didn’t mean his wife had to be dragged into this.

You purse your lips, unsure of what to say.

“Steve would know what to do.” Bucky sighs. Nowadays, Bucky hasn’t mentioned Steve as much as he used to, but that didn’t mean he never stopped thinking about him.

— 4 YEARS AGO (POST ENDGAME)

There wasn’t much noise from the Avengers anymore. Everyone had gone their own way, feeling lost after the loss of Tony, Natasha, and Steve. You feel sick to your stomach whenever you think about Natasha. Your friend, gone just like that — all for some stupid orange stone. You couldn’t bear to see Clint, his grief clouded him and invaded the space to those around him. You wish you could help him, but you couldn’t even help yourself. You're just grateful Clint at least has his loving family around him.

As you walk around Central Park, you see a familiar face. Bucky. His metal arm stuck out like a sore thumb. The two of you had become acquaintances, and maybe even friends? You could never read him. You also hadn’t talked to him in a while, as he was too busy helping save the fate of the universe. You know, the usual. As you walk up to him, you tap his shoulder and ask, “This spot open?”

Bucky looks up at you and grins weakly. He says your name and scoots on the bench to invite you in.

“How are you holding up?” You ask a dumb question. Everyone was grieving.

“Fine.” Bucky lies. You lean back on the bench.

“Wish I could say the same. I don’t really know what to do with myself.” You laugh, awkwardly.

“Yeah. Same.” Bucky says, seemingly distant.

You and Bucky sit in the silence for a second. “Talked to anyone recently?” You ask.

“Saw Sam a couple of days ago. He’s really busy right now.” Bucky sighs.

“How’s he?”

“Stressed. Steve giving him the shield really put a lot of pressure on him.”

“Can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now.”

There’s another awkward silence as your topic of discussion runs its course.

That’s when you had an idea. You two shouldn’t have to continue living in limbo. You were gonna ask Bucky to hang out, so the both of you guys could be less alone together. Innocent and easy, yeah?

“Let’s get drinks, Bucky.” You ask. He seems confused, but anything sounds better than rocking himself to sleep.

“Really?”

“Why not? I’ve been sitting around for weeks. Steve and Nat would want us to keep living, don’t you think?” You reason.

“I think you’re right. That sounds good.” He says as he gives a small grin.

You get up from the bench and give a hand to Bucky, “C’mon, I know a place.”

Hours passed by, and the night didn’t go quite as well as you planned. You heavily underestimated how much alcohol you could tolerate, as you hadn’t drank in quite some time, and Bucky got carried away trying to drown out his sorrows. Luckily, you could still control yourself, at least when you really focus.

You managed to call an Uber to your apartment. Bucky wraps his arm around you as the two of you stumble into your house. Bucky was sure to regret everything tomorrow morning. But for now, he took his chance to let down his inhibitions and connect with someone else. Bucky hadn’t stopped talking about Steve, which was fine, since you just replied with your own grief about Natasha. The two of you flop on your couch.

“Can’t believe he’s really gone.” He hiccups. “Me neither.”

“He was the greatest.” Bucky mumbles as he lays his head on your couch.

“Natasha was so kind.” You mumble.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Bucky says.

You look at Bucky, his eyes low and fluttery. His lashes look beautiful as Bucky blinks. You sigh as you continue to peer into Bucky’s soul. Bucky would normally feel exposed, but he feels a sense of company he hasn’t felt in a long time. “Me neither.” You say.

There’s a lingering silence. Steve and Nat wouldn’t want the both of you guys drinking yourselves to death over them. The two of you knew that, but it was easier said than done.

“I just feel so alone.” Bucky says as he looks at you. You grab Bucky’s hand, squeezing it tight. You’re unsure of what to say. You should say something comforting, but you feel the same. You feel the same agonizing isolation he feels. You muster up something somewhat comforting to say. “I’m here, you’re not alone.” You say. You wish emotional maturity didn’t feel and sound as corny as it did.

Bucky looks at you. It’s softer than the gaze he would look at you with when the two of you met first at the Avengers Tower. He breathes slowly before he says, “I’m sorry.”

Bucky cups your jaw, and inches himself closer to you. He places a kiss on your mouth. You back away from him a second. He curses to himself, did he mess it up? Maybe he misread the bonding experience the two of you both shared. Maybe you didn’t feel as alone as him, or maybe you didn’t need this as much as he did.

You lean back in, kissing Bucky roughly. Your mouths morphed into one. Quick breaths are taken in between kisses. It was as if kissing was your life-line, and if either one of you were to break it, you would die. Your nose was pressed so hard against Bucky’s face, it felt as though it could break. Your hands were clasped around Bucky’s jaw, your fingers spilling onto his neck. You could feel his heartbeat thunder against his throat. His face was scruffy from his stubble. He felt rough in your hands.

As you break away from the kiss, the both of you take deep gasps of air. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, as he pins his focus on your cheek and jaw. He peppers kisses all along your cheekbones, nose, jaw, and neck.

“Jesus, Bucky..” You whisper out.

The night continues, and you wake up the next morning with you and Bucky’s clothes scattered all over your bedroom floor. Your head felt like it could pop. You felt nauseous as you propped yourself up in your bed. Your twin XL bed wasn’t enough space for you and Bucky. He was nearly falling off the side. You still had enough memories from last night, thankfully. You weren’t sure how Bucky was going to react to it. Shit, maybe this was a bad idea.

— PRESENT

You and your mother had re-planned your previous plans. Your mother was a kind break from the rest of the things on your mind. As you and your mother sat at an outside table outside a quaint little cafe, she let out a little sigh as she looked at you.

“You know, the rest of the family still wants to meet him.” She mentions Bucky.

You loved your mother, but you didn’t love her nagging. “Yeah. Yeah. They’ll meet him soon.”

“You always say that.” Your mother says, as she takes a sip of her coffee. You sigh as you ignore your mother.

After a moment, you finally respond. “I sent them our wedding photos. Surely that’ll hold them over for now.”

“They’re all so nosy. They want to meet him in person.”

You frown. “Bucky’s shy. It’ll happen eventually, mom — trust me.”

“Whatever you say.”

Your apprehension for having Bucky meet your family was understandable. Your family was a lot to deal with, as with every family, you assume. You were scared that Bucky would get scared. You’re not worried about Bucky leaving you over anything, as you were safe as long as Bucky was still a congressman with a ‘family-man’ reputation to uphold. The possibility of Bucky leaving after his term ended made you feel uneasy. Hopefully he likes you enough to keep you around.

— A YEAR AGO (PRE THUNDERBOLTS*)

Bucky had called you to meet him at a nearby bar where he was at the moment. Bucky and you had become proper friends. Friends who don’t really talk about that time they hooked up approximately 3 years ago. You had heard whispers from people of Bucky’s potential political career. Of course, it didn’t make sense to you. But you weren’t one to discourage one from their goals.

You walk into the dingy bar, and wave to Bucky. “How are you, Bucky?” You say as you sit in the seat next to him, making small talk.

“Fine. As good as I can be.” Bucky shrugs, his beer hanging loosely in his hands. You order your usual drink, and Bucky tells the bartender to put it on his tab. Always the gentleman.

“So, what’d you call me for?” You ask.

“Good company. I don’t need an excuse to see you, do I?”

“Course not, Buck — Just didn’t expect it.” You say. You’re always the one who asks Bucky to hangout. The bartender hands you your drink. You thank them swiftly and look back to Bucky.

“It’s good seeing you, really.” Bucky says.

“Is it?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Bucky laughs lightly. “You’re a good break from politics.”

“What are you even doing in politics, anyway?”

Bucky groans. “It’s all for public image, really,” He admits. “Wanna do some good out there, you know. It’ll help the public like me after my whole ‘Winter Soldier’ thing. You know.”

“I think you helping to save the universe did enough for your public perception.”

“People don’t like to forget the past.”

“Fair.”

Of course, Bucky didn’t mention Val. No reason to drag his friend into his ploy. The night went on, and you and Bucky continued catching up. You made sure not to overdrink, only feeling a little looser now than when you walked through the bar doors.

“People don’t really believe my whole campaign. My manager has been saying I need to make my reputation look better.” Bucky mumbles to you.

“How?”

“Well, he suggested I make myself look more family-oriented. Married with kids, and all that.”

You smile as you laugh into your drink. “Good luck with that.” You turn to Bucky silently observing you. His gaze makes you feel exposed. “Something on my face?”

“No, sorry. Just thinking.”

“Whatever you say, Bucky.”

You and Bucky walk out the bar; quite put together, thankfully. You tighten your grip around the handle of your shoulder purse. “Well, it was nice seeing you.”

“Course, you too.” Bucky says as you tap your phone, trying to find yourself an Uber.

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

Bucky cleared his throat, looking nervous and antsy. “You can say no. This is going to sound crazy.”

You furrowed your brows and smiled, timid. “What? Just say it, Bucky, you’re making me nervous.”

“You can say no.”

“Just fucking say it, Bucky.”

“Fine.” Bucky says. He still takes a moment to collect himself, his heartbeat beating out of his chest.

“Would you consider marrying me?” Bucky finally musters the courage to ask.

You stared at Bucky, your anxious grin still not leaving your face. He’s right, he does sound crazy.

“What are you talking about, Bucky?” You laugh as you shake your head.

“If I asked you, would you marry me?” Bucky repeats himself.

“You’re drunk.” You laugh off his question, awkwardly.

“You know how I am when I’m drunk.”

“You being sober doesn’t normally include you proposing.”

“You can say no.”

“Why are you even asking me that?”

Bucky flicks his fingers in anxiety. He asked out of desperation, the pressures of appearing family-oriented to the public weighed on him. Also, the fact you were previously the manager for the Avengers could also help with his public perception bullshit. You being attractive also helped. He wouldn’t say that out loud though, he had class.

“Doesn’t have to be real. Just has to look it.” Bucky says. “You can do your own thing, I can do mine.”

“This for your politics?” You guess correctly, rubbing your forehead.

Bucky sighs. “Yeah.”

“I’m not sure, Bucky.. This is a lot to ask—” You say, before getting cut off by Bucky.

“Just think about it. You can say no.“

You bite your bottom lip. “I’ll think about it.”

It’s been a few days since Bucky asked you to marry him. You hadn’t texted him since, being too scared to do so. Bucky beats himself over it. He was sure he messed up a good friendship for something so stupid; of course you’d say no. What was he thinking?

You walk back into your dark, empty apartment. The dishes you had refused to wash piled in your sink. It’s eerily silent. And cold. Your landlord was neglectful, proven by your heater that had been broken for weeks. You made up for the cold by buying more blankets. You couldn’t buy another portable heater just yet, you were late on last month’s rent. You were trying to find work after being blipped and after the Avenger’s disbanded.

You groan, your head laying back on the edge of the couch. Bucky’s offer didn’t sound so crazy. You’ve been to Bucky’s house a couple of times. A proper heater and A/C sounded more and more appealing. Not worrying about how you’re going to pay rent sounded more and more appealing. Not being so alone sounded appealing as well.

In your moment of desperation, you text Bucky back. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

— A WEEK AGO FROM PRESENT DAY

You were busy wiping the countertops as Bucky came back home. Bucky didn’t drink as much as he used to. You were surprised to smell alcohol off of Bucky’s clothes.

“I’m home.” Bucky calls out as he drops his bag down on the floor.

“Bucky.” You grin. You were happy that the house wasn’t going to feel as daunting as it did when you were alone. Bucky’s good company, whether or not you liked to admit it.

Bucky smiles at you. The smell of alcohol invaded your nostrils. “You drank?”

“Only a few drinks. One or two. Maybe three.” Bucky says. You roll your eyes, smiling softly.

“Jesus, Buck.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Sure you aren’t.”

“Not.” Bucky says as he sits on the couch.

“Need anything? We got some leftovers, if you’d like.” You offer. Bucky looks back at you, tempted. You heat up food for him, and hand it to him carefully. “It’s hot, be careful.”

“What would I do without you?” Bucky says with his mouth stuffed with food.

“Probably die.” You say, as you pick off food from his face. Bucky giggles. “Yeah. Probably.”

Bucky brings his plate to the sink and starts to wash it. You attempted to do it for him, but Bucky insisted. He wanted to prove he didn’t need your help with everything — not that he really minded the help.

Bucky comes back to the couch. Later, he’s mindlessly watching TV as you’re attempting to read the book you promised to finish about 3 months earlier. His hot body lays on top of you. Like a custom heated, weighted blanket. Bucky’s hot body clashes with his abnormally cold metal arm. You’ve usually found yourself placing your hands on top of Bucky’s arm, as to cool your hands that are always hot. You and Bucky have formed your own mutualistic relationship. In terms of body heat.

The walls Bucky usually has up are lowered, thanks to the alcohol. He gently inches closer to you, resting his head on you. You smile softly. He’s usually like this when he’s a little tipsy. You can’t blame him, you know a lot of touchy drunks. You gently play with the ends of his long hair. Bucky nearly purrs from the soft sensation. He’s like a cat in your touch.

You lay on the couch, to which Bucky adapts and lays on your stomach, his arms wrapped around you. How silly. You continue brushing your hands through his scalp. The soft companionship makes you feel warm inside.

You had finished about 30 pages of your book when you realized that Bucky hadn’t spoken or moved much in a while. He had fallen asleep on you. You laugh as you look at the large man on you. It was a funny sight, for sure. You go back to reading your book. Reading usually makes you sleepy, though. It’s not a surprise that you fall asleep not too soon after.

— PRESENT

You fidget with the ring on your finger. It was a plain, gold band. You didn’t want to run through Bucky’s pockets when trying to pick out a ring. It would be nice to have a pretty ring, though. Bucky was going to come back home anytime now. He texted you that he was going to pick up food on the way back. You had nothing to do, no more work for the day and no food to cook for someone. It felt weird, but you tuned out the little itch in your head to be useful by mindlessly doom scrolling.

Bucky opens the door with his keys. He groans as he knocks off his shoes and takes off his jacket.

“What’d you get us?” You ask, from the couch.

“Thai.” Bucky mumbles as he lifts up the large bag to show you. He sounds tired.

“Oh, my favorite.” You say as you grab the large takeout bag from Bucky’s hands. You place the bag on the dinner table, and rush to grab cutlery for the two of you.

“Actually.. I think I’m gonna eat alone.” Bucky says as he grabs his food and laptop to bring to his room.

“Oh. Okay.” You say, disappointed. You don’t want to shove your company onto Bucky, so you just agree. Compliant wife, or whatever. Bucky didn’t stay long, he immediately headed towards his room. Did you do something wrong? Why was being like this?

After Bucky had got up and left for his room, you grabbed your portion of the food and brought it towards the coffee table in front of the TV. Eating alone while watching TV reminded you too much of your life before you decided to “marry” Bucky.

After approximately 30 minutes, Bucky walks out his bedroom, with his takeout trash in his hands. You get up, walking towards Bucky. “I can get that!” You say, desperately trying to help out.

“Oh—” Bucky says, surprised.

“You need anything, Buck? I can go fill up the tub, or clean your room. Ugh, I’m sorry I didn’t clean before, I really should’ve, that’s on me—” You ramble. Bucky cuts you off by saying your name.

“Stop. It’s.. it’s fine.” Bucky says, looking overwhelmed and overstimulated. You bite back a whimper as you nod your head. You so desperately want to be a helping hand, and yet now, you just feel like an overwhelming burden. “Sorry.”

Bucky purses his lips. “I’m just going to go to bed.” He says, as he throws his trash away by himself.

“Right. Okay. Goodnight.”

The next day, you stay at your friend’s place. You had the day off, and you thought it was best to spend the day with someone that wasn’t Bucky. Or your mom. During the day, you think back to how Bucky was last night. He has a lot on his plate. Maybe you really were being too much. As much as you didn’t wish for it to happen, you couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky.

The idea that you had planted into your own brain, the idea that Bucky might leave you after his term ends, haunted you. It seemed silly. He wouldn’t just leave, right? Well... there’s been no signs that Bucky would necessarily stay. He wasn’t obligated to, and neither were you. You wouldn’t leave, though. You’ve grown accustomed to your new life with Bucky. Bucky on the other hand, might want to return to his life of peace and quiet he had before he married you. God, this whole thing made you feel sick.

Your friend had seemed worried about you, but you were adamant you were fine. You didn’t allow her to worry about you. Nothing for her to worry about, after all.

It was late at night when you returned home. Using the keys Bucky gave you, you tried to enter as quietly as you could.

Bucky’s at the dinner table, looking concerned. He eases once he sees you.

“Where have you been?” He asks, standing from his chair.

“At a friend’s place.” You tell him. The conversation sends you flashbacks to your teenage years; when your parents would be worried sick about your whereabouts. Is this what your relationship with Bucky has amounted to? Some kind of parental relationship?

“You should’ve texted me.”

“Right.”

“I’m being serious.”

You feel uneasy, and also annoyed. Why the hell did Bucky care? You two weren’t actually together. Roommates don’t have to always know where the other one is. That doesn’t change with Bucky — who’s basically your glorified roommate.

“Sure.” You mumble.

Bucky glares at you. “What the hell’s your problem?” He asks. You don’t get into fights with Bucky often. Fighting also makes you anxious. Perfect combo for you.

“Nothing, Bucky.” You say, as you hang your bag and outdoor clothes on the nearby hangers.

“Obviously there’s something bothering you. Just spit it out.”

You roll your eyes, which makes Bucky’s jaw clench. Bucky doesn’t need to pretend he cares. “Let’s just leave this alone.” You say, as you try to head to the bathroom, to freshen up before going to bed.

“No. What’s going on with you?” Bucky says, as he grabs your arm, holding you back.

You stare at Bucky, taken back by his audacity. “Fine.”

Bucky drags you to the couch. The place where a week ago, you were sure Bucky and you had a proper, domestic moment. Maybe he didn’t think much of it. He was tipsy, after all. Would Bucky still want to be tender with you if he didn’t have a couple drinks in him? Did you sicken him that much?

“Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something? Please— just tell me.” Bucky pleads, hints of worry speckled in his soft, blue eyes.

Being vulnerable never came easy to you. The feeling of burdening others with your mundane emotions made you feel sick. Feelings of anxiety bubbled from your stomach to your chest.

“I.. haven’t been avoiding you—” You say, before you’re swiftly cut off.

“You have been. I’ve texted you multiple times today.” Bucky says, matter-of-factly. You clear your throat, feeling too exposed.

“Okay, well..” You find yourself trailing off again.

“Jesus Christ.” Bucky says, while also saying your name, distressed. “Just fucking say it.”

Bucky’s attitude was out of control. You scoff with your eyebrows furrowed, staring holes into Bucky.

“Stop fucking doing that.” You say, biting your bottom lip in uneasiness.

“I will if you just fucking let me know what’s been up with you.”

“Fine! Fine.” You say, trying to sort your thoughts. How much are you willing to expose to Bucky? Are you really willing to spill to him that you actually do like him? Well, not that you’re like, in love with him or anything, but the idea you’ve planted in your head that Bucky might choose to leave you after he leaves his failing career in politics lingered in your brain. Shit, who were you kidding. You were in love with Bucky. You were in love with Bucky and it was eating you up alive. You’re not used to being so open. It feels so invasive.

“You can tell me anything.” Bucky attempts to be comforting, but he’s unsure of its effectiveness. He grabs your hands, and rubs loving circles with his thumbs. How unfair.

“You know, it’s stupid..” You say.

“Not stupid.” Bucky responds.

“I was just mad.. That you seemed distant. Last night.” You let out.

Bucky lets out a deep breath. “Right.”

“It’s stupid. It’s not like you always have to be around me.” You try to explain, but Bucky cuts you off short.

“No. It makes sense. I’ve been really stressed out recently.”

“No, no, right, right. That makes sense. I told you, it’s stupid.” You find yourself rambling over Bucky again. Bucky cuts you off by saying your name yet again.

“Stop. Breathe. It’s fine, really.”

You take a deep breath in. It makes you feel less like you’re about to pass out, but the antsiness never leaves your chest. Bucky places a hand on your knee that had been bouncing like crazy. You didn’t even realize it was shaking.

“Well, that can’t be it, right?” Bucky urges you to continue. You pick at your ring, a tic you’ve picked up on during the last couple of months.

“I just.. feel-like-a-burden-to-you.” You say quickly, hoping the faster you say it, the faster this whole conversation will end.

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. He looks almost.. hurt? “Why would you think that?” He says, almost too lovingly. What a considerate asshole.

“I just.. I know I overwhelm you. I just want to feel useful. Make you feel like you didn’t make a mistake in choosing me as your fake wife.”

“I fully knew what I was doing when I asked you.”

“I can’t help it.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me.” Bucky says, quietly.

You fight back the urge to say, ‘You’re just saying that.’ He was just being nice. God, you hate that he managed to fish all this out of you. You felt so bare. Bucky knocks you out of your trance by saying your name.

“Look at me, okay? You don’t have to prove anything to me.” He says, with a face too genuine it makes your stomach churn. You spin your ring around your finger. How easy would it be to just give it back to him? He’s just gonna leave you anyway when he decides to leave politics.

“You should have this back.” You say, gesturing to the ring. You didn’t mean to be so dramatic in the way you decided to hand back Bucky his ring. Just fell out that way.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, looking bewildered.

“You shouldn’t feel obligated to keep being with me even after your term ends. This whole thing was to appear family-oriented to the public, right? So, when you’re done, you should be able to do your own thing. I don’t want to hold you back.” You let the words flow out your mouth. While it did make you feel like a burden had been lifted off your shoulders, with the way Bucky looked at you, it didn’t do much for making you feel any better.

“What?”

You sigh, biting your lip. Little droplets of blood bead at your lip from where you bit. You wipe it away, hoping Bucky doesn’t overanalyze how you’re acting.

“You should be able to meet someone else, you know. Someone you actually want to spend the rest of your life with. You don’t have to do this whole charity thing, you know.”

“Charity?” Bucky repeats, baffled. “Is that what you think?”

“You know, I’m surprised you hadn’t seen anyone during the time we were together. Missed opportunity, I think.”

“Jesus,” Bucky says, his words tinged with a slight tone of disappointment. You hate the way it makes you feel.

Bucky’s quiet for a moment, but you could tell small bits of anger was boiling inside him.

“That why you were so close and personal with that fucking guy— what was his name.. Dex? You thought I was out here, doing the same shit?” Bucky says, his jealousy reaching his throat, choking on his own words.

“I..” You struggle to find the words. “I wasn’t doing anything with that guy.”

“You know, the way you looked at him made me feel fucking sick. Jesus, I’d never want anyone to feel the way I felt then.”

“Jesus— Bucky, you’re making me sound like some kind of monster.” You scoff.

“And you’re making me sound any better?” Bucky retorts. Bucky’s words make you choke up on your own. “You make it seem I was just trying to use you.. Like I don’t appreciate you, at all.”

“Which isn’t true.” Bucky adds, at the last second.

You groan, sinking into the couch. It would be convenient if the couch swallowed you whole, right about now. It would save you the trouble.

“Talk to me.” Bucky pleaded, again. His eyes were glued onto you. His fleshy hand felt clammy.

“You’re going to hate me.” You mumble. “I could never.”

You take a deep breath in, trying to compose yourself the best you can. You’re so anxious, you can barely find the words you want to use.

“God.” You say.

“I fucking love you, okay? As if it’s not glaringly obvious. Fuck.” You say, to Bucky’s surprise. “I want to feel helpful, I want you to want me around you, and I want you to want me the way I want you.” You say, truthful, for once.

Bucky doesn’t know what to say. Well, he’s happy, of course. Thrilled, one could say. He didn’t want to jump at his chance to be with you so fast, out of fear of looking starved and desperate. But life was too short to worry about how he was perceived. His grin spread from cheek to cheek. You didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing or a bad thing. His stupid, beautiful fucking face shone at you.

“Say something. I feel like I’m gonna vomit.” You say quietly.

“Jesus Christ. You know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that shit?” Bucky says before he clasps your face, bringing you towards his face with a clash. Bucky kisses you like he did that one night many years ago. But yet, now, it’s more caring. More careful. You melt like a puddle in his hands. This is everything you wanted, but your fear of underperforming haunts you.

“Just let me guide you.” Bucky breathes out, saying the perfect thing. It’s like he could read you. He knew you through and through. Bucky’s tongue slips into your mouth with ease. He lovingly kisses your top and bottom lip. He did exactly what you needed. He guided you through it.

Bucky grabs you by your thighs, lifting you up and taking you to his bedroom. He mindlessly opens the door. He’s too busy being engrossed by your presence. It’s intoxicating. Bucky feels his way through his room. He lays you gently on the side of his bed.

“Fuck.” He whispers out, as he grabs the side of your face, lifting your gaze up to reach his. You looked so beautiful under his touch, and he was dedicated to making you never doubt how much you mean to him again.

Bucky sits beside you, shoving his mouth on yours again. His tongue follows down the path of your throat. His hands slowly graze the sides of your thighs. You felt soft in his hands. It made him feel insane. Bucky let out small praises, whispers of ‘So gorgeous’ and, ‘I needed this’ exit his mouth. You took your hand, the hand that wasn’t clasped around Bucky’s face, and palmed at Bucky’s unmistakable boner. Bucky lets out a deep groan. “Jesus.”

Bucky reacts by swiftly removing your top, still kissing you. He was desperate to see you. You unbuckled Bucky’s belt, and unbuttoned his pants. “Tell me what you need.” Bucky says.

You laughed into the kiss. You felt the growing knot in your stomach expand. You needed Bucky as much as he wanted you. “I want to sit on your face, Bucky.”

“Course you do.” Bucky responds, as he pulls off your clothes. Bucky lifts you over him, so you’re straddling his chest. It was embarrassing, having Bucky feel the growing wet spot from your core on his skin. You couldn’t really think much of it though, you had bigger things to think about right now.

Bucky adjusts himself just perfectly under you, his eyes looking at you, filled with lust and care. You fall forward on the headboard of the bed; the first touch from Bucky’s tongue on your pussy making you reel forward.

Bucky was an animal. His tongue drove into you like a machine. He would spend time easing you into it, but he was selfish. He needed you, and guessing from the sounds you’re making, you needed him too.

“Fuck— Oh my god!” You moan out.

You rest your arms over top of the headboard for support. You leaned your head on top of your arms, only making the bottom of your face visible to Bucky. He reaches his hand towards your chest and pushes you back, notioning that he wants the full view.

“Fuck. Fuck, Bucky— I…” You whisper out as you lean your arms back to support yourself on Bucky’s torso. Your boobs jiggle over Bucky’s face in a mesmerizing way. Bucky wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking on it. You’re so wet already, it’s proven by the ridiculous sounds Bucky’s mouth is making while eating you up.

As you inch closer and closer to your high, you’re cut off by Bucky’s frantic slapping on your thigh. You get up from off of him immediately, to which he gasps in a big breath of air. He was nearly drowning in your pussy. Which, honestly, Bucky wouldn’t mind it if that’s how he was going to go. His mouth is filled with remnants of your arousal, to which he swallows easily. There’s even some in his nostrils. Jesus. How fucking grotesque.

“You’re gonna kill me, darling.” Bucky laughs out. “You’re gonna kill me first.” You breathe out.

Bucky grins as he grabs you and flips you on your stomach with ease. He takes off his boxers as quickly as he can, eager to feel you. The cold feel of the blankets and pillows is a nice contrast to how hot your body feels against Bucky. Bucky grabs your ass, lifting it up as his erection springs out his boxers.

The first thrust into you feels like heaven. Bucky fills you up, and your pussy stretches around him. Bucky swears this is heaven. Bucky pounds into you with ease, the bed shakes under the two of you.

“So good. Oh my god—” You manage to say out loud. Bucky leans over you, reaching his fingers to your sensitive clit. The sensation is nearly too much. Your eyes roll back into your head, and you’re only a little glad that Bucky can’t see just how much of a mess he’s making you.

“Jesus, baby. You’re being so good for me.” Bucky mumbles lazily. He’s becoming nearly undone. He feels as though he could cum any moment now. “Taking it so well, yeah?” Bucky asks.

The only answer you could give him was a nearly inaudible, “Mm-hm.”

Bucky laughs. He slowly envelops his hands with fistfuls of your hair. He pulls your head back to look at him. You have one hand on the bed, one hand on the headboard. Your eyes peered all the way back at Bucky. “Tell me, tell me how good you’re being for me.”

“I’m.. fuck, I’m being good for you, Bucky.” You mumble out, mindlessly. Bucky loved seeing you come undone by him. Made him feel good. You feel tears prick up in your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. You can’t keep holding on for much longer, your high was near. Pathetic moans exit your mouth repeatedly. You were gasping for air, and you bit on your bottom lip to help you deal with the pleasure consuming you. Bucky thrusts get sloppier and more inconsistent, the closer he gets to his own release.

Bucky continued pounding into you. “Do you even remember that fucking loser’s name?” He groans out, mentioning Dex. To be fair, you weren’t far from forgetting your own name. You shake your head no rapidly. “I don’t— I don’t remember his name.” You babble out.

“Good. God, you’re so good under me.”

“Oh my— gonna, gonna cum, Bucky.”

“Cum, please— oh my god.” Bucky begs you, his mind getting too clouded by his own pleasure.

You do what he asks of you. You cum around his cock, and he revels in the sensation. He fucks you through the high, which nearly makes you scream out. Bucky had already planned on leaving this stupid politician shit behind him. But seeing you like this, all fucked out for him, was the icing on the cake. He could have you like this all the time, with no shitty and pointless job to hold him back.

“Cum inside of me.” You beg, desperate. Bucky bites back a guttural moan from that. His thrusts are becoming incredibly sloppy. He does as you ask of him, and cums inside of you. The feeling drives you insane. Bucky falls on top of you, the weight of him crushing you. Bucky rolls off of you, his breath shaky and uneven. Bucky presses hot kisses on your back and neck.

After a moment of recovery, you turn to Bucky, giggling. You felt safe with Bucky. Bucky wrapped his arms around you, kissing your head softly.

“Still think I’m gonna leave you?” Bucky asks, his tone light.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Bucky— Shut the fuck up.”

4K notes · View notes

chuluoyi · 6 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑

- xavier x reader

a new friendly colleague has joined your team, but your boyfriend is convinced he is up to no good... and that's why xavier is determined to show it that you are his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, fluff explicit smut: slightly rough sex, fingering, doggy style, based on xavier's card misty silhouette

note: skxmskcjsf bye don't look at me. this fanart and xavier's card messed me up :') this banner is so unhealthy for me i swear </3

Xavier knew he wasn’t the most patient person.

But even patience, he thought, has limits. And he had been patient and reasonable for a week, to be precise.

It all started ever since that damned new recruit entered his team. He didn't know why, but he kept coming to you for everything—directions, advice, even trivial nonsense like lunch recommendations. It was almost as if on purpose.

This afternoon was no different. Xavier had been looking forward to having lunch with you—just the two of you. You’d promised him, after all.

And yet—

“There was this one time I got trapped inside the N109 Zone—”

“N109 Zone!?”

“Yes!”

“Really?! What did you do then?”

“Hmm, so at first, I was in total panic, but then—”

For the past 15 minutes, your lunch break had been taken over by recounting your tales of valor as a hunter to the new recruit. Nearby, Xavier sat in brooding silence, scathingly sparing him a glance. The slight frown on his face said it all—blatant disinterest and a touch of irritation.

And you too... why are you engaging him so enthusiastically?

Then again, given his age, Xavier knew he had to be mature about this. He tried, really. If it had been someone like Jeremiah, he might have let it slide.

But there was just something about this new recruit—Sean, was it?—that rubbed him the wrong way.

“Whoa, you're so cool, Miss Y/N!” Sean exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “Not only are you pretty and talented, but you're also incredibly skilled! What do you even lack, eh?”

“Really, it's not that much,” you giggled, brushing him off. The way you got sheepish only made Xavier’s annoyance flare even further.

“Let me guess— a boyfriend!”

So that’s what it was. Now Xavier understood what about Sean that set him off. The entire time you’d been talking, he had been giving you those googly eyes.

He didn't like it one bit. He looked ridiculous while doing it.

Despite being silent as a mouse all the way, before he could stop himself, he blurted, “She has a boyfriend already.”

You turned to him in surprise, clearly not expecting him to announce it so bluntly.

“Oh...? Xavier, you know who her boyfriend is...?” Sean turned to him with curiosity.

He noticed it. How his expression fell ever so slightly upon he told him that you were already taken. Xavier huffed and stuffed his mouth with his ramen.

“Yeah. Her boyfriend lives next door.”

Technically, he lived upstairs, but the detail didn’t matter. He just needed to make his point known.

And somehow, for the rest of the day, the new recruit finally seemed to develop some sense—at least enough to stop hovering around you so frequently. Particularly when Xavier was nearby.

“Xavier... why did you tell him that?”

You fell into step beside your quiet boyfriend as the two of you headed home that evening, tilting your head as you replayed the events of the afternoon.

Xavier gave you a brief glance before looking straight ahead again, ignoring your question.

You observed him. There it was again—that gray cloud hovering over him. It always seemed to appear when he was in a bad mood.

Puckering your lips, you pressed further. “We haven’t even told anybody else about our relationship... And what you did there—you’re literally telling him we’re dating.”

“So what?” he shot back, his tone sharper than usual. “Are you afraid people might find out we are? Or—”

Xavier abruptly stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. His usually vibrant blue eyes darkened, piercing into yours with a sharp gleam. “Are you afraid he will find out?”

There was something in his gaze that held you captive—that made your silly heart skip a beat.

“N-no...” you looked away, swallowing the heat that were about to take over your face. Why does Xavier look kind of... hot like that...?

Your cheeks warmed regardless, but you had to appease him. “Like I told you before, I just thought it’d be easier if this stays our little secret. It’s less of a bother if they don’t know…”

Reaching for his hand, you gave it a reassuring squeeze and flashed him a soft smile. “Besides, why would I be afraid if he knows? My boyfriend is cool, handsome, and the best hunter there is.”

You watched as Xavier's expression softened, the tension melting away. A faint blush crept up his cheeks too, and the gray cloud that had loomed over him finally disappeared. He squeezed your hand in return, looking away as if to hide the way he got bashful.

Adorable. For all his brooding, your boyfriend was surprisingly easy to soothe.

For the rest of the walk back to your apartment, you two remained hand-in-hand, the tension of the afternoon slipping away with each step.

. . .

You were staying over at Xavier's place tonight. After a relaxing bath and a hearty dinner, the two of you found yourselves standing side by side in the kitchen, doing the dishes together.

It was mundane things like this that Xavier considered his favorite routine to do with you. Just as you handed him the last plate to dry, you spoke up, your voice breaking the quiet hum of contentment—

“Xavier, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking... Sean seems nice and friendly, but from what I’ve seen, you seem kind of... unwelcoming— almost hostile even towards him.”

At your words, a frown etched itself onto Xavier’s forehead as he turned to face you fully. You seemed so oblivious, standing there with a look of genuine curiosity.

“Do you really not know?” he questioned you incredulously.

You blinked. “Know what?”

Damn it. Xavier sighed and put down the dish he was holding, but the words faltered on his tongue as a sour expression crossed his face. “No matter,” he muttered under his breath.

He took a deliberate step closer, his movements slow and heavy, and you instinctively backed away—

“So,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes boring into yours as he took one hot step forward after another, “while Sean is nice and friendly, I’m hostile and unwelcoming, huh?”

—only to find yourself pressed against the window, unable to retreat further.

He stood in front of you now, his arms caging you in, creating a barrier that sealed off any chance of escape.

Uh-oh. Apparently, you had flipped that switch—

The air between you grew thick, and you could feel your pulse quicken under the weight of his gaze. “That’s not what I'm getting at—”

“He’s been eyeing you all day, following you around... getting lunches with you—”

In that moment, your phone erupted to life, its ringtone cutting through the tension. It sat on the small table near the windowsill, and Xavier gave it a quick glance, his expression darkening upon seeing Sean's name flash on the screen.

“Oh?” His voice dropped lower, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. “He’s now calling you at nights too?”

“No!” you quickly refuted, your words tumbling out almost too fast. “Xavier, don’t get the wrong idea—”

He tilted your jaw to face him, holding your spooked gaze. “Then what idea am I supposed to be getting when he’s so blatantly pursuing you and you don't even do anything about it?”

The plot twist is... you know. Of course you knew it when a guy was trying to make a move on you, you just pretended not to notice it because it was easier that way. You didn’t know which devil had planted this rotten idea in your head that made you want to push Xavier to the edge, just to see how he'd react when he held nothing back—

The call tonight was a coincidence though, but definitely fueled your lover's ire even more. It was a dangerous game, but now that you’d crossed this line, you couldn't go back any longer.

Your lips curled into a bewitching smile then, and your boyfriend was almost mystified. "So, what will you do to me?"

Xavier looked at you with slightly widened eyes, not expecting your boldness at all. But then he grimaced, as at the same time, the irritation in his veins suddenly flared up—

With a swift, fluid motion, he turned you that you faced the window, his right arm wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed his body against yours—his hardness pressing, almost poking you.

“You’re so clueless,” he growled into your ear before going after your neck, sucking hard and fast. His hips began to grind against you, pressing harder with each movement. “Too damn clueless...!”

His fingers that gripped your belly moved then, slipping inside your frisky nightgown to finger you— and you lost all your wits in that instant. “Ah-h—!”

Two of his fingers pumped in and out of you, dragging them almost rashly, and it took everything in you to stay upright. "X-Xavier!"

“Mmph,” he breathed against the skin of your neck, his other arm pressing you against him tighter, simultaneously squeezing your breasts. "You asked for it."

Your thighs were trembling in no time, and your breaths came in shaky moans. Your boyfriend was not exactly gentle, but this is probably the first time in a while that he was being rough without reservations. While you wanted to protest, it felt too good—

He turned your face towards him then, crashing his lips on yours.

It almost felt like you were punished, but you couldn't do anything about it. The tension in your lower belly was steadily building, ready to snap at any moment, and the way his fingers relentlessly hitting that one unforgivable spot was starting to made you dizzy.

"Ah—ngh!" You finally shuddered when you reached your climax. It was freeing when you felt yourself burst on his fingers, the release smearing your thighs.

And right then your knees buckled—

But Xavier immediately got a secure hold over you, lifting your body effortlessly into his arms, one hand supporting your knees, the other cradling your back. Through your teary eyes, you met his gaze once more. His expression was unreadable, a dark haze of disapproval clouding his features.

“I’m not done yet.”

He brought you over to his bed, gently lying you down despite the roughness of his voice. He parted your legs, getting himself between them—

Ring! Ring!

The shrill sound of your phone pierced the coolness of the room, and you almost jolted.

But your lover... the sound was like a spell to him, only intensifying his irritation as his features twisted with frustration, and you knew that he was about to take it on you.

As if changing his mind, Xavier suddenly flipped you over that you laid on your stomach and straddled you from behind. He quickly turned your head to face him and claimed your lips in a deep, urgent kiss.

“Mm, hmmp—!” The ringtone of your phone blared in the background, a jarring sound that wasn't pleasant at the slightest. It wasn’t until it finally stopped that he pulled away from the kiss.

You were gasping for breath, your chest heaving, and a stray tear slipped from your eyes. Xavier stared at you, and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

Flushed, sweaty, tearful... you looked so enchanting in his eyes in that moment. He almost felt bad that he had manhandled you this roughly.

Almost.

His hands gripped your waist, and he paused, his gaze locked with yours, silently seeking your approval— or more like, commanding you to give it to him.

In response, you arched your back— a silent affirmation, bracing yourself.

From then on, he was no longer holding back. He tugged your panties down and let his throbbing member out of his pants. It was laughable how insatiable he was— both of you were still clothed, save for his unbuttoned shirt, but he was already this aroused and hard.

He nudged forward, his tip breaching your entrance. The feeling of that familiar stretch left you keeling, babbles and whimpers falling from your lips as he slowly eased into you.

It was hard to take him in fully, and you were a mess of breathy gasps the moment you did. But you were in for the main ride when he started ramming into you, pushing in and out of you in a merciless pace.

"Ah... Xavier!" you panted between thrusts, feeling how it started to be too much for you the more he went on. "Ahh, hrah!"

Behind you, Xavier groaned in reply, his lips sucking your shoulder as his hips quickened, striving to bring you to the peak faster. One of his large hands dug into the skin of your stomach, urging your back to arch more, while the other clasped yours, fingers entwined in the sheets.

He watched intently as your face twisted and contorted in ecstasy, a surge of pride swelling within him, greater than he thought possible.

It was mind-blowing, slightly forceful, and your senses were all heightened. The harsh pace drew cries from your lips, your tears falling to the sheets, yet the pleasure also catapulted you into the stars—

The sinful delight of having him so deep within you.

The sinful rapture of being thrusted over and over.

“Ahhh!” And then, all at once, it was as if heaven and hell collided in a cataclysmic burst. Everything inside you shattered as you cried out—a scream morphing into a high-pitched gasp—as the two of you reached the climax together. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your walls clasped around him impossibly tight as Xavier filled you with everything that he had in one shot.

You collapsed against the sheets like a ragdoll, the pressure finally easing from your sore spine.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Xavier...”

The morning after. You stirred awake, your mind still foggy with sleep, as muffled voices filtered in from outside the bedroom.

“I have to take an urgent leave today...”

You were still utterly drained, your body heavy and unwilling to move. Instinctively, your hand reached out to your side, searching for your lover, but the spot was empty.

“Yes. Y/N too. She isn’t well today... We will be back tomorrow...”

You let out a soft, tired whine, your voice plaintive, as you lay sprawled across the bed, wishing for his warmth to return. Honestly, everything was still sore, and you were this close to tears again.

The door then opened with a creak not long after, and you let out a whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Are you awake...?” Xavier's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he stepped closer to the bed.

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry. He was already dressed, his crisp appearance in stark contrast to your disheveled state. In his hand, he held a small plastic bag.

“What’s that...?” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you struggled to prop yourself up, curiosity flickering through your tired gaze.

“Don’t get up too quickly,” Xavier murmured, his hands steady as he caught you mid-movement. He guided you back down and tucked the blankets snugly around you, his touch gentle yet firm. “Just rest for now.”

A low hum of contentment escaped you as you leaned into his touch. Your bleary eyes focused solely on him, and despite himself, Xavier found a smile tugging at his lips.

“I just went to the drugstore downstairs to get you some painkillers,” he explained, lifting the small plastic bag slightly. “Take them after you’ve had some breakfast later.”

He then fixed you a bashful grimace, looking down. “Sorry for... uh, last night... I think I’ve pushed you too far.”

His fingers reached out, brushing gently against your cheek. The same fingers that had driven you to the brink of madness the night before now so tender against your skin. “You were crying,” he murmured, guilt lacing his voice. “I feel bad.”

“Mm-hm, so that’s what happens when you don’t hold back at all,” you snickered softly, the corners of your mouth curving despite the lingering ache in your body.

Xavier shifted his gaze away, his confidence faltering. “Will you... hate me for it?”

It was hard to contain your smile from breaking out into a grin. Your boyfriend, a ferocious wolf in a sheep’s clothing, had no need for this shy charade when he had railed you that hard last night.

“No, but you’re going to have to make it up to me. I can’t even walk now.”

Xavier blinked before he patted your head. “Yeah, I’ll fulfill any of your wishes,” he sighed in relief, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “So, what is it?”

You paused for a moment, then with a mischievous glint in your eye, you said, “Take me to the bathroom? I want to have a shower first.”

And, of course, he obliged. With a effortless motion, Xavier scooped you up into a princess carry, holding you close. His arms cradled you with care, and you rested against his chest, the warmth of his embrace offering a sense of security.

Just like that, you spent the rest of the day as lovers, sleeping in with careless abandon, unburdened by your duties.

Epilogue

Later in the afternoon, you were once again deep in a sleep as Xavier cuddled you close, when suddenly the doorbell of his apartment rang incessantly.

Frowning, Xavier carefully eased himself out of bed, making sure not to disturb your slumber. He moved quietly towards the door, and when he saw the intercom, his frown worsened.

Sean, the newbie, was at his doorstep. He had half a mind to ignore him, but after a beat, he decided to open the door.

“What do you want?” his voice sharp with annoyance.

“Oh, Xavier!” The guy was stunned for a moment as his eyes lingered on Xavier’s chiseled abs, exposed through the his unbuttoned shirt. “O-oh, so... I’ve been trying to ring the doorbell to Y/N's apartment to give her a fruit basket to wish her a fast recovery, but she’s not answering—” he hastily explained, gesturing toward the basket in his hand. “Can you reach her—?”

Xavier felt like popping a vein at how meddlesome this guy was. Was this guy an idiot? Didn’t he realize by now that he was your next-door boyfriend?

Nevermind. The hard way it is.

“She’s with me.”

“H-huh?”

He shot him a pointed look. “Don't think you’ll have a chance with her, newbie.”

And with that, he shut the door in his face.

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