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abbotjack · 3 months ago

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Don't Make Me Someone You Can't Have

pairing : dr. jack abbot x resident!reader (afab!reader)

summary : The fallout didn’t start the day of Pitt Fest—it started when you told Jack Abbot how you felt and he told you he didn’t want you. A week later, grief, jealousy, and everything unsaid ignite into something impossible to bury. (Lowkey inspired by Big Love by Fleetwood Mac—because obviously.)

warnings/content : trauma aftermath (mass casualty event), hospital setting, attending x resident dynamic, mutual pining, emotional repression, angst, jealousy, possessive behavior, verbal rejection, explicit sexual content (f!receiving, protected sex), semi-public/backseat sex, emotionally loaded dialogue, swearing

word count : 4,212

18+ ONLY, not beta read. Please read responsibly.

a/n : I am just so obsessed with Abbot, like oml I do not need a new hyperfixation at this point of the semester but here we are. Hope you guys enjoy this!

There’s blood on your forearms.

Not a lot—just the dried trace of a life you couldn’t save, stuck to your skin even after the first scrub. You’ve already changed out of your soiled gloves and gown. You sanitized twice. But still, you scrub again, because your hands won’t stop shaking and focusing on the motion keeps you upright.

The shooting at Pitt Fest has left the trauma bay soaked with the sound of screams you can’t forget. The floors were slick. Supplies ran out faster than anyone could track. You can still hear the rhythmic buzz of the trauma pager, the overhead call for more gurneys, the shrill monitor that never quieted until it did.

Your white coat is somewhere in the hallway—discarded and stained, a casualty of triage. There’s a bruise blossoming on your cheekbone, just beneath your eye. It’s from when the mother of the boy thrashed in panic, her elbow colliding with your face. You didn’t notice it at first, not until someone pointed it out with a grimace. Said it was turning purple, already swelling. Said you should ice it. You didn’t.

You press harder on your hands.

Jack Abbot hasn’t spoken to you since he snapped orders across the gurney three hours ago, voice razor-sharp, eyes like flint. He’d taken over compressions without blinking. His personal protection gear streaked in blood. His shoulders set like stone. His voice—steady, calm, cold.

You’d hesitated.

Just a second. Maybe less. But he’d seen it.

“You’re too shallow—switch out. Now.”

He hadn’t looked at you when he said it. Just stepped in, hands already moving, chest compressing with the precision of someone who’d done it a hundred times before. Because he has.

He moves like he did on the field. You’ve heard stories—Jack the soldier, desert heat in his lungs, fingers suturing flesh with a kind of brutal grace. You’ve seen glimpses of it before, but tonight? Tonight, it wasn’t a glimpse. It was a full transformation.

You backed away, stunned into silence. Not because he took over. But because of how he did it. Like you were a liability. Like you didn’t belong.

You told yourself it was adrenaline. It wasn’t.

The door creaks open behind you, and you don’t have to turn to know it’s him.

You keep your eyes on the mirror—don’t move, don’t breathe—until his reflection comes into focus beside yours.

His eyes go straight to your cheek.

The bruise.

His posture changes. Shoulders tense, mouth tightening. He doesn’t say anything, but the flicker of something behind his eyes is unmistakable. Not surprise. Not guilt.

Anger. Not at you—but at the fact that you’re hurt.

He doesn’t speak. Just leans against the counter. His eyes flick to your cheekbone again. The bruise is deeper now, ugly in the fluorescent light.

“You paused,” he says finally, voice low.

You dry your hands slowly. The paper towel crinkles between your fingers.

You turn, sharp. “I froze because I’ve never had to treat a gunshot wound in a fifteen-year-old while their mother screamed in my ear.”

You don’t stop.

“She was grabbing my sleeves, pulling at my hands, sobbing and shouting his name—over and over. She kept trying to touch his face. I could barely see where the blood was coming from. I wasn’t even sure where to start.”

Jack doesn’t flinch. “That’s what the job is.”

You laugh, and it sounds like it’s clawing its way out of your chest. “Don’t lecture me on what the job is, Jack. I’ve been here three years. I know what this place does to people.”

His jaw tightens. There’s something in his eyes—anger, maybe. Or guilt. You can’t tell with him. You never can.

He pushes off the counter.

“You think I don’t know what it does to people?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Not when he steps closer, the air between you tight enough to snap.

“You think I wanted you in the bay?” he asks.

You blink. “What?”

Jack’s voice dips lower. “I saw your name on the call sheet. I almost pulled you off rotation.”

Your breath hitches. “You don’t get to do that.”

He’s close now—too close. He smells like hospital soap and something else beneath it—deep, expensive cologne that cuts through the sterile air. Teakwood. Mahogany. That warm, slightly spiced scent that always lingers a second too long after he leaves a room. Clean. Controlled. Intentionally chosen. Just like him.

“I don’t want to watch you fall apart,” he says.

Your heart slams. The words hit harder than they should, because they’re the first ones he’s offered that sound like anything real. Not just protocol. Not just war-worn discipline.

“I already have,” you whisper. “And you didn’t notice. Not when I told you how I felt. Not when you shut me down like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.”

He swallows hard. His posture stiffens.

“You didn’t even look at me after that,” you say, voice shaking. “I told you I had feelings for you, and you acted like I’d crossed some unspoken line. Like caring about you was a mistake I should be embarrassed by.”

Jack doesn’t say anything.

You shake your head, eyes burning. “For you, it’s easier to pretend this thing—whatever it is between us—doesn’t exist than admit you’re scared of something real.”

You don’t have to spell it out. You’ve seen the way he distances himself—the way he locks things down before anyone even gets close. You’ve felt it.

The silence now is a living thing. Loud. Brutal. The air is laced with too many unsaid things.

You can feel it—beneath the calm, beneath the scrub shirt and military precision—Jack is burning.

But he still doesn’t reach for you.

So you do what you always do.

You leave before he can stop you.

You don’t get far.

The trauma bay doors hiss shut behind you and the night air hits your face like a slap—cool, sharp, soaked in hospital exhaust and rain-soaked concrete. You pace once. Twice. You don’t cry.

You breathe. You think you might scream. Instead, you lean back against the cold exterior wall of the hospital and close your eyes. And there it is—the echo of his voice, thick with something too raw to name.

“I don’t want to watch you fall apart.”

But it wasn’t just tonight that gutted you. It started before. When you said too much and he gave you nothing.

It was three days ago. Late enough that the hospital had gone quiet—the kind of quiet where your thoughts get too loud, and nothing feels safe to admit.

You were both at the nurses’ station. Jack sat at one of the desktops, the screen glowing pale blue in front of him, his fingers motionless on the trackpad. You were across from him, one hand hovering over the keyboard, the other absently toying with a pen.

You’d been circling it for weeks—maybe longer. This thing between you. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. It lived in the quiet, in the unspoken, in the almosts. In the way your skin prickled when he entered a room. The way air shifted when he stood behind you—close, but never touching.

It was in the way his gaze found you during rounds, lingering just a heartbeat too long. The way his voice dipped when he said your name, soft and unreadable—like a secret slipping between his teeth. The way your breath caught when he brushed past you in the hallway, the fabric of his scrubs grazing yours, sending a bolt of something electric down your spine.

It was professional. It had to be. But it never felt neutral.

Every look felt like contact. Every silence, a dare.

The tension wasn’t dramatic. It didn’t need to be. It sat just under the surface—constant, quiet, undeniable. Like gravity. Like something pulling you toward him whether you wanted it or not.

But it wasn’t just you.

Jack watched you, too. Carefully. Deliberately. Like he was trying not to want you and failing anyway. He always looked away too slowly. Cleared his throat when your laugh caught him off guard. Said your name differently than everyone else—lower, rougher, like he was holding it in his mouth too long.

There were moments you caught him looking at you like he was already sorry for it.

Like he knew what it would cost if he gave in.

There were nights you couldn’t sleep without replaying the way his hand brushed yours, or the heat of his body behind you in the elevator, or the flicker of something in his eyes before he shut it down again.

You weren’t supposed to notice.

He wasn’t supposed to let you.

But you did.

And he did.

And both of you kept pretending it wasn’t real—even as it took up more and more space inside your chest.

You hadn’t planned to say anything. You hadn’t rehearsed it. It just… happened.

“I care about you,” you’d said, voice soft but steady. “I’m not trying to ruin anything. I just need you to know.”

Jack didn’t look up. Not at first. He just sat there, shoulders stiff, jaw set like someone had flipped a switch inside him. When he did meet your eyes, it wasn’t with warmth. It was with something colder. Sharper. Like he was bracing for impact.

“This can’t happen,” he’d said. Quiet. Controlled. Like he was reciting a rule he’d memorized a long time ago. “You’re a resident. I’m your attending. You know that.”

You’d nodded, tried to smile, tried to make it easy for him. Tried to act like it didn’t sting.

But he kept going.

“And even if you weren’t… it’s not a good idea.”

He hesitated. Just a second. But enough.

"You don’t know me," he added, eyes hard. "You think you do, but you don’t. You see what I let you see. And that version of me—that's not real."

And then, like he needed to twist the knife just to make sure it stuck :

“Whatever you think this is—I don’t want it. I don’t want you.”

You knew, even as he said it—he didn’t mean it. Not like that. But he wanted it to hurt. Needed it to. Like if he made you hate him, it would make walking away easier. That was the part that stayed with you.

You hadn’t cried then. Not in front of him. You nodded again, eyes dry, throat burning, and told him you understood. But you hadn’t said anything else. Didn’t argue. Didn’t ask him why.

And he hadn’t offered.

Not an apology. Not an explanation.

He hadn’t said a single word to you since—not until today, when his voice finally cut through the chaos to order you off the boy’s chest. Cold. Clinical. Like nothing had ever passed between you at all. Like you were just another resident.

But you’d felt it. In the way he walked into a room and wouldn’t look at you. In the way his voice would hitch when you brushed past. In the way his fists curled tight at his sides, like he wanted to reach for you but refused to let himself.

He was trying to be cold. Trying to keep the line drawn.

And still—still—he’d almost pulled you from trauma rotation tonight.

You open your eyes. The ache in your chest feels ancient. Familiar.

Big love. That’s what it was. The kind that never had a chance to grow, but still bloomed under your skin like it owned you.

And Jack? Jack let it die before it ever had the chance to live.

It’s been a week since Pitt Fest.

The hospital has started to settle into something like normal, but you haven’t. You still flinch when a trauma page comes over the comms. Still hear that mother’s voice, shrill and ragged. Still feel the ghost of Jack’s hand brushing yours when he took over compressions. That wasn’t the moment you broke, but it was the moment you knew you couldn’t pretend anymore.

So tonight, you go out. Against your better judgment.

Whitaker begged you. Santos threatened to show up at your apartment with a bottle of tequila. King and Mohan promised only one drink, just one, come on, you need it. Javadi was supposed to come too, but she bailed last minute—something about studying for boards and not wanting to get caught at another bar underage.

So now it’s the five of you crammed into a booth at this dive bar near the hospital in downtown Pittsburgh, the one with sticky floors and pool tables missing half the balls. The music is too loud, but the company is easy. Whitaker is doing some elaborate retelling of a patient who tried to fake a heart attack to get out of paying his copay. Mohan is crying from laughter. You’re sipping something sweet and strong and trying to let it all melt away.

It’s working.

Until you see him.

Jack.

He’s across the bar, half-shadowed under the neon sign, nursing a beer like he doesn’t want to be seen. But he’s not alone.

Robby’s with him. Of course he is.

They’re leaned in close, not talking much. Just sitting. Watching.

No—he’s watching.

You.

Your drink stills halfway to your mouth. Your stomach twists, not violently, but enough to knock the wind out of you. Jack doesn’t look away. Not immediately. Just holds your gaze like it hurts him. Like it should.

You force yourself to blink, to laugh at something Whitaker says. You pretend your hands aren’t shaking. You pretend you don’t feel your entire body tuning itself to the sound of his silence.

He rejected you. You know that.

But the way he’s looking at you now? It doesn’t feel like rejection.

It feels like longing.

And maybe that’s worse.

You down the rest of your drink in one go. It burns less than it should.

There’s a man at the bar. Mid-forties, maybe older. Salt-and-pepper beard. Expensive watch. He catches your glance and offers a smile that’s a little too polished, a little too practiced—but you return it anyway. Because he’s older. Because he’s sharp-eyed. Because he reminds you, in all the wrong ways, of someone else.

You excuse yourself from the table before anyone can stop you.

You take your drink, your heels, and your broken pride, and you slide onto the stool next to him.

Jack sees. Of course he does.

You make sure he does.

“Can I buy you another?” the man asks, nodding to your empty glass.

You smile. “Yeah. Why not?”

You laugh too easily. Let your shoulder brush his as he leans in. He says something you don’t hear because your pulse is thundering in your ears.

Across the bar, Jack’s jaw is tight. His hand clenches around his beer bottle, the label peeling beneath his thumb.

You tilt your head back and laugh again—this time louder, brighter, crueler.

Because if you’re going to hurt, you want him to feel it too.

And he does.

You can see it in the way he breaks eye contact first.

You can see it in the way Robby says something and Jack doesn’t respond.

You can see it in the way he stands up a minute later, like he can’t stand to watch anymore.

But he doesn’t leave.

He moves.

Across the bar. Slow, deliberate. Controlled rage in every step.

Robby calls after him, eyebrows lifted, confused—but Jack doesn’t answer.

He stops a foot away from you, the stranger mid-sentence, and you feel it before you even look up—heat rolling off of him like a storm about to break.

“Can I talk to you?” Jack says. Voice low. Measured. Barely held together.

You arch an eyebrow, take a long sip of your drink. “Busy.”

The man beside you glances between the two of you, sensing something sharp in the air. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to.

Jack’s eyes are locked on yours. Not the stranger’s. Not anyone else’s.

“You need to come with me,” he says, lower now. “Now.”

And it’s not a command. It’s not even a plea. It’s desperation wrapped in control, fraying at the edges.

You consider refusing. You want to.

But you rise anyway.

And follow him out the door.

The air outside is colder than you expected. Or maybe that’s just him.

Jack doesn’t speak right away. He walks fast—toward the lot behind the bar, where his car is parked beneath a crooked streetlamp. When he finally stops, it’s with his back to you. One hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair. The kind of stillness that comes right before something breaks.

You follow, heart hammering. He turns.

“What the hell was that?”

Your arms fold across your chest. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

His eyes flash. “The guy. The flirting. You were trying to—”

“Trying to what?” you snap. “Move on? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Jack exhales, sharp and uneven. “You don’t get it.”

“No, Jack. I really don’t. You said this couldn’t happen. You told me to forget it, forget you. And then you stare at me like that? Like you’ve got any right to be angry?”

“I’m not angry,” he bites out. “I’m—”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Silence stretches. You can hear the distant music from inside, laughter spilling through the front entrance. But here? It’s just you and him, and everything you haven’t said.

“I didn’t want to do that to you,” he says finally, voice frayed. “Push you away. I just… I didn’t know how else to make it stop.”

Your voice lowers. “Why would you want it to stop?”

He steps forward once. Close, but not touching. His hands stay at his sides like he’s afraid of what will happen if he reaches for you.

“Because it scares the shit out of me,” Jack says. “Because you matter more than you should. And because I don’t trust myself not to fuck that up.”

Your heart twists. “So instead you say things to make me hate you?”

“I thought if you hated me, it would be easier for both of us.”

You laugh—soft, bitter. “It’s not.”

His voice breaks. “I know.”

You look at him. Really look at him. There’s pain there—old and festering. The kind that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with whatever he’s been dragging behind him since the war, since before.

You take a breath. “So what now?”

Jack steps even closer. You can feel the heat of him again. His eyes drop to your mouth, then snap back up like he’s furious with himself for even looking.

“You came out here,” you say.

“I didn’t want to watch someone else touch you,” he admits.

“Then don’t make me someone you can’t have.”

There’s a beat.

And then he’s kissing you.

Rough. Desperate. Like he’s been holding it in for years and it’s finally breaking loose. You answer it without hesitation, fisting your hands in his shirt, dragging him down like you’re daring him to finally stop pretending.

He presses you back against the car, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your waist like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. His mouth is on yours—hungry, ragged—like if he slows down, this will disappear.

“Back seat,” he growls. His voice scrapes through your chest.

He opens the rear door behind you, hand never leaving your hip, guiding you with him. You climb in first, crawling across the backseat with your heart in your throat. By the time you turn, he’s already sliding in after you, pulling the door shut behind him with a solid, final thud.

He grabs your face with both hands and kisses you again, harder this time, like his life depends on it. You climb into his lap, straddling him now, knees on either side of his thighs, your bodies pressed close and flushed with heat. He shoves your coat off your shoulders, pushes your shirt up. You tug his top over his head and toss it somewhere in the car.

“God,” he mutters, eyes raking over you. “You’ve been driving me insane.”

“Then do something about it.”

He does.

He unhooks your bra with one hand—like muscle memory—his mouth already on your chest, teeth and tongue working in tandem. His other hand splays across your lower back, holding you close as your hips grind down into his.

You’re panting. He’s shaking.

You reach between you, working open his belt, and feel him throb beneath the fabric. Jack shudders when your hand slips inside, groaning low into your skin.

“Wallet,” he mutters against your neck, voice breathless. “Inside pocket.”

You grab it. Your fingers move fast, practiced by adrenaline. You find the condom tucked there, tear it open, and hand it to him. His eyes meet yours as he rolls it on—slow, deliberate. Controlled, even now.

You brace yourself on his shoulders and lower down onto him, taking him inch by inch until he’s seated fully inside you.

The stretch burns in the best way. You gasp. He swears.

You don’t move. Not yet.

He kisses your jaw, your collarbone. Holds your hips steady with both hands like he’s savoring the feel of you. And when you start to move—hips rolling slow and deep—he leans his head back and groans your name like it’s the only word he knows.

“You feel—fuck, you feel like heaven,” he breathes.

You ride him hard, your rhythm building, mouths colliding again and again between moans. His grip bruises your thighs as he thrusts up to meet every movement, his control slipping with every second you stay on top of him.

Then suddenly—he shifts.

His arms wrap under your thighs, and in one smooth, powerful motion, he lifts you.

You gasp as he turns, guiding you onto your back across the seat. He stays inside you the whole time, never letting go, until your back hits the cool leather and he’s towering over you, braced between your legs.

“You okay?” he asks, breath ragged.

You nod, already whining for more.

Then he starts to move again—deep, relentless, rocking the car with every thrust.

He shifts, bracing one hand beneath your thigh to push your leg higher, opening you up to take him deeper. The angle hits something devastating—you cry out, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

Jack leans down, mouth hot at your neck, breath ragged.

“You’re mine,” he says, voice cracked and raw. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp. “I’m yours, Jack.”

His hand slides down your side, gripping your hip for leverage—then slips between your bodies. His fingers find your clit and start to circle, firm and focused, his pace never faltering.

It sends you over the edge.

You break apart beneath him—back arching, thighs trembling, his name ripped from your mouth like a prayer you didn’t know you were saying.

You’re still shaking when he comes—groaning into your shoulder, his rhythm faltering as he buries himself deep one last time and lets go.

Afterward, you don’t speak right away.

You’re tangled together. His chest is against yours. His arms still hold you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he loosens his grip. Your heartbeat stutters beneath his palm. The windows are fogged, the car soaked in heat and the weight of everything that just happened.

You stroke a hand through the back of his hair, calming him more than you.

Finally, he shifts, settling beside you, your body still half-curled on top of him.

And quietly, you say:

“I followed you out because I thought you were going to leave again.”

He freezes.

You feel his breath catch against your shoulder.

“You left once,” you say. “After I told you how I felt. You didn’t look at me. Didn’t say anything. Just made it clear I’d imagined all of it. And tonight? I thought you were about to do it again.”

His voice is tight when he finally speaks.

“I almost did.”

You nod slowly. “Why didn’t you?”

Jack exhales hard. “Because I saw you with him, and I knew—if I walked away again, I wouldn’t just lose you. I’d be choosing to.”

He turns your face toward him.

“And I couldn’t live with that.”

You search his expression. His hand brushes a strand of hair from your face, and then settles on your cheek.

“I tried to kill it,” he says. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t real. But it is. And it’s too big to ignore.”

“Big love,” you whisper.

He nods. “Yeah. The kind that burns everything else down.”

You press your forehead to his.

“I waited. Through all of it—every time you pretended you didn’t feel this, too.”

His eyes close. Like the truth hurts more than anything else tonight.

“I don’t know how to want you without wanting all of it,” he admits.

And you don’t need him to explain what all of it means.

The chaos. The risk. The weight.

You nod. “Good. Because I don’t want halfway.”

He leans in—presses a kiss to your cheek, then your lips, soft now. Careful.

And finally—finally—he says, “Then I won’t run anymore.”

You believe him.

But only because Big Love doesn’t let you run.

It lives. Loud. Messy. Permanent.

And tonight, in the heat of a parked car, Jack finally lets it have him.

#i got too carried away #jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #the pitt #the pitt x reader #shawn hatosy #dr abbot #dr abbot x reader #jack abbott #the pitt 2025 #the pitt hbo #the pitt fanfiction #smut #angst

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rrysbabydoll · 1 month ago

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A Night In Rome

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

CW: Alcohol consumption, public intoxication, suggestive sexual behavior in public, light dominance/submission dynamics, clingy Y/N.

Synopsis: A night in rome with a very drunk clingy Y/N.

You were wearing a white lace dress, with your hair tied loosely back, a few strands slipping free to frame your flushed face. The streets hummed around you, but you weren’t really paying attention to anything except Harry, well, Harry and the icy drink in your hand.

The cobblestone streets of Rome glistened under soft amber lights. It had rained briefly earlier that evening, just enough to coat the city in a sheen that made every step feel cinematic.

You were tipsy. Gloriously, gigglingly tipsy.

Harry leaned back against the wall of the trattoria you’d all just left, the collar of his blue shirt slightly undone, the hem of his trousers brushing his ankles. He was sipping slowly, his other hand tucked into his pocket, eyes watching you with that amused, adoring little smile.

Alessandro Michele was standing nearby with an arm lazily draped around his partner. He was telling some story to the group gathered around, all talking over one another.

But you were entirely fixated on your boyfriend.

You took a sip of your cocktail, lips pursing. “Why is this so good?” you said, stumbling a little as you reached Harry. You clung to his side, wrapping your free arm around his waist like you needed him to stay upright.

Harry chuckled, low and patient. “Because it’s your fourth one, bunny.”

You smiled dreamily. “It’s not my fourth.”

“It is.” He slid your glass gently from your hand. “And that’s enough, lovie.”

You blinked up at him, swaying just slightly on your feet. “You’re mean.”

“I know.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek. “But you’ll thank me in the morning.”

You wrapped your arms tighter around him, hands gliding over the silk of his shirt, and buried your face in his neck. “You smell so good,” you whispered, then nuzzled in deeper and left a slow, open-mouthed kiss just beneath his jaw.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away or tell you to behave. Just let you nuzzle and nip at the soft skin beneath his ear, your lips brushing just beneath his jaw as if you were trying to memorize the shape of him with your mouth. You were delicate at first, barely-there kisses, your breath warm and sweet against his skin, but then your teeth grazed him, playful and a little greedy, and he made a low sound that barely passed as a laugh.

Still, he didn’t stop you.

His arm wrapped more securely around your waist, hand warm and steady against the small of your back, his thumb drawing slow, grounding circles. He was still listening to Alessandro and laughing softly with the others, nodding along, but every now and then, his hand would slide just a little lower, soothing, steadying, as your lips trailed along his neck with lazy devotion.

You kept going, half-draped over him, mouthing at the skin above his collarbone, barely noticing how your lip gloss had smudged just a little. You pressed another kiss to the side of his neck, then did it again, just because you could.

Harry tilted his head to the side slightly, offering you more space, still not saying anything. He didn’t need to. His body was so relaxed, like this was just second nature, letting his tipsy girl crawl all over him in the middle of a Roman alley while he chatted with old friends.

Every now and then, his fingers would tighten at your waist, squeezing gently when you got a bit too close to his collar or a little too sharp with your teeth. But he didn’t move you away. He just kept talking.

At one point, Giovanni, Alessandro’s partner, caught Harry’s eye and raised a brow with a knowing smirk.

“She’s had fun tonight,” Harry said smoothly, not missing a beat. He kissed the top of your head without even looking. “Haven’t you, bun?”

You hummed in reply, completely blissed out against his neck, lips still grazing skin as if it was the only thing tethering you to the ground.

Then you said softly, right against his skin: “You taste good too.”

That was when Harry finally blinked and let out a quiet laugh.

You kissed him again, then again, sloppier this time, hot lips dragging across the column of his throat. “Can we go back home?” you murmured.

“Not yet, bun.”

“Wanna be alone with you.”

“I know you do.” His voice was still gentle, but there was a warning edge to it. You’d pushed past that edge.

Your hand slid down, tracing the front of his shirt, nails dragging lightly, until you reached the waistband of his trousers. You giggled, brushing the heel of your palm over the slight bulge in his pants.

His eyes widened. “Jesus,” he muttered, laughter bursting from him as he quickly grabbed your wrist and pushed your hand away. “You’re gonna get us arrested.”

“But it’s Rome,” you whispered with a giggle. “They’re romantic here.”

“Yeah, not that romantic,” he said, still laughing.

You pouted, leaning up to kiss him again. This time it was full-on, your mouth open, messy, hungry.

Your lips found his like it was the only thing in the world you could focus on. You tilted your head and opened wider, tongue brushing his, fingers tangling into the collar of his shirt as you pressed up on your toes to reach him fully.

Harry let you kiss him. Let you take and take, groaning softly into your mouth as one of his hands came up to cradle the back of your head, steadying you. His other arm stayed looped around your waist, keeping you anchored, flush to him. His fingers curled at your lower back again, a slow, reassuring stroke up and down, up and down.

Around you, no one paid much attention. The group had splintered into smaller conversations, Alessandro now theatrically reenacting something with wide hand gestures, everyone too caught up in their own tipsy laughter and stories to care that you were practically devouring your boyfriend in the street.

You whimpered softly into his mouth, angling yourself closer, knee slipping between his, and Harry chuckled again, deep in his chest.

“You’re a menace tonight,” he murmured against your lips.

But he still didn’t stop you.

You were about to say something, something about how warm he was, or how you wanted to crawl into his shirt and live there, when a sudden arm slung casually around your shoulders from the side, pulling you back slightly with affectionate force.

“Alright, bambini,” Alessandro grinned, standing between you and Harry now like a human barrier, one arm still draped across your shoulders, the other flung around Harry’s. “Save some of that passion for behind closed doors, hmm?”

Harry threw his head back and laughed.

You blinked up at Alessandro, dazed and pouty, but didn’t resist his grip. You stood there for a moment, swaying a little under the weight of his arm, then slipped out from under it with a tiny huff and wandered toward the table nearby, sinking into one of the wrought iron chairs with a sigh.

Your cheek smushed against your hand, elbow propped on the table. You kicked your feet slightly under the chair and started humming to yourself, some soft, dreamy tune you couldn’t quite remember the name of. Probably something Harry had played for you once, or something Alessandro had blasted through his villa speakers.

Your dress caught the light every time you shifted, your flushed face dreamy and content as the night swirled on around you. People talked and sipped and smoked and laughed, and you just hummed and watched Harry from your little spot, like he was the center of your universe.

Because he was.

You kept humming, now swaying slightly in your seat, arms folded on the table in front of you. The streets had grown quieter now, just the low hum of traffic in the distance, a few passing voices, the clinking of ice in glasses.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the breeze slip past and cool your flushed skin. You imagined Harry’s hand instead, those warm fingers tracing down your back, over your thighs, up the inside of your—

“Bun,” came his voice suddenly, close.

Your eyes fluttered open to find him crouching beside you, glass of water in one hand and that soft, bossy smile on his face.

“Drink this,” he said, nudging it toward your lips.

You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t want water.”

“I know,” he said gently, tilting the glass anyway. “Be a good girl, yeah? Just a little.”

You let out the tiniest whine, dramatic and pouty, but opened your mouth. He helped you sip, watching you the whole time, free hand rubbing your thigh slowly under the table. You finished a little less than half before turning your head dramatically into his shoulder.

“There,” you murmured. “I’m healthy.”

Harry laughed, soft and warm. “You’re getting healthy. One more sip, bunny.”

“This is so entertaining,” Alessandro said suddenly, perched across from you both with a smirk on his face, chin in hand, elbow propped on the table, as you glared at him.

Harry smiled down at you, ignoring them entirely, lifting the glass once more.

“You gonna finish this for me?” he asked sweetly.

You stared at him. “If i get a kissy after.”

He smirked. “Deal.”

You took another sip, then immediately threw yourself at him. His arms came around you instinctively, laughing into your shoulder as you tried to kiss his cheek, his jaw, his mouth.

“Christ,” he muttered, letting you do whatever you wanted, still smiling as he glanced back toward Alessandro. “She’s relentless tonight.”

“Let her be,” Alessandro said.

“C’mon, time to go.” Harry said after a while.

You blinked. “Already?”

“It’s nearly two,” he said gently, crouching slightly so you were eye level. “I thought you wanted to go home?”

You pouted again. “No, I like it here.”

“I know, lovie,” he said, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, “We’re gonna come again tomorrow, right now you need sleep.”

You giggled and let him pull you to your feet.

Your legs wobbled a bit, and Harry steadied you immediately with both hands around your waist, then leaned in to kiss the tip of your nose.

“I want pizza,” you said dreamily as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and guided you back to the group.

Alessandro gasped. “Finally, someone says what we’re all thinking!”

Within minutes, the group was making their way down the winding street toward a place Alessandro swore had the best late-night margherita in the entire city. You walked with Harry, arm wrapped tightly around his middle, your body practically glued to his side.

You kept kissing his shoulder as you walked. His arm never left your back.

“You know how much I love you?” you asked, not quietly.

Harry glanced down at you with a soft laugh. “How much, bun?”

You stopped suddenly in the middle of the street. “This much,” you declared, stretching your arms wide, nearly twirling in your spot.

He caught you before you could wobble too far and kissed your forehead, tucking you safely back under his arm. “That’s a lot.”

“You’re my favorite person,” you whispered into his chest.

He squeezed you closer. “You’re mine, too.”

Eventually, the group stumbled into the tiny pizza shop Alessandro had spoken of, and you curled up beside Harry in the booth, half-asleep on his shoulder by the time your slices arrived. He fed you bites between sips of water and whispered something against your hair that made you giggle again.

And when you finally left, the cobblestone streets still warm beneath your sandals, Harry wrapped his jacket around your shoulders, held your hand tightly, and guided you all the way back home.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #dom harry styles #harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff

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karvokr · 28 days ago

Text

cleared for entry

the cabin's empty, the cockpit's not. what happens post-flight is strictly off record.

pairings: pilot!gojo x flight attendant!reader content warnings: mdni, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, oral (f receiving), fingering, choking, degradation and praise, semi-public sex (on a plane), inappropriate workplace relationship/power dynamic, uniform kink if you squint, dom!gojo, not faa approved behavior :D

The last passenger has finally disembarked. The cabin lights are dimmed, and the jet bridge has long since been disconnected. But you’re still lingering in the cockpit, pretending to go over a post-flight checklist you’ve already signed off on.

Gojo lounges in the captain’s chair– hat cocked back, shirt partially unbuttoned with his tie abandoned somewhere on the floor, the weight of a long-haul flight heavy on his shoulders. He watches you with that same grin he always does– like he knows something you don’t (he usually does).

“You waiting on me to give the ‘you have safely reached your destination’ speech again, sweetheart?” His voice is hoarse from hours over the comms, yet it still manages to travel through your ears and down to your core, where you can feel yourself dripping.

You arch a brow and inch closer. “I think I deserve something for making it through that nightmare landing in Detroit.”

“You saying I didn’t stick the landing?” he asks, mock-offended, spinning slowly in his seat to face you head-on.

“I’m saying I had to have a death grip on the beverage cart. Might hit up my union rep, see what kind of settlement I can get for emotional trauma.”

Gojo tilts his head, gives you that slow up-and-down that feels more like a caress than a glance. “You want compensation, baby? I’m sure we can work something out.”

He grabs the backs of your thighs and pulls you into his lap, settling you across him in the captain’s chair as his mouth finds yours. One hand cradles your jaw; the other presses low against your spine, guiding your hips down to meet his. It isn’t gentle– not this time. It’s the product of hours of stolen glances and subtle touches, of the way you’d leaned in before takeoff and whispered, “Captain,” like you knew exactly what it’d do to him.

He kisses like he flies– cocky, unrelenting, and smooth as hell.

He tugs at your scarf, loosening the knot just enough for him to slide it free, dragging the silk down to hang like a leash around your neck.

“You want me to pay up with something more hands-on?” he mumbles into your skin, already nosing down your neck. “That what you want?”

You hum, breath catching as he pushes your skirt up over your ass and grabs a handful, grinding you against the growing bulge in his slacks. “Thought you’d never offer.”

His hands travel lower, fingertips slipping beneath your skirt until they find your soaked panties. He groans at the heat radiating from you, middle finger tracing slow, taunting circles over the damp cotton.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“And you’ll die happy,” you breathe– just before he pulls you upright and bends you over the control board, sinking to his knees on the cockpit floor.

He taps your ankles– silent instruction. You widen your stance without hesitation. With one rough pull, he drags your panties aside, fingers sliding through your soaked slit like he’s flipping controls mid-flight. One broad hand settles on your lower back, guiding you into a deeper arch and pinning you there like he owns the whole damn plane.

Then his tongue is on you– and it’s all heat, pressure, and filthy devotion. You stifle a moan behind your hand, face flushed against the softly glowing control panel.

The floor rumbles faintly beneath you as the auxiliary power unit cycles. Or maybe it’s just him– his mouth, his fingers, his desperation. He eats you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever taste, licking into you with practiced greed, lips slick and open over your clit.

“God, Sat–”

“Captain," he growls.

What a cocky bastard. But you’re in his territory, dripping for him. So you let it slide. “Captain– fuck–”

He sinks a finger in, then two, stretching you open with just enough pressure to make your legs tremble. His tongue doesn’t stop– just shifts, flicking hard against your clit as he curls his fingers just right, hitting that spot with practiced, perfect aim. Landing right on the runway.

You cum with a sharp gasp of his name, your whole body shaking, vision going white-hot at the edges. He doesn’t stop– not until you’re twitching and sensitive, gasping for him again in a wrecked voice that barely sounds like yours.

He’s up before you can catch your breath, already undoing his belt and tugging his zipper down. The sound alone sends another throb straight to your core– and you can feel it, the fresh wave of slick trailing down your inner thighs.

“Spread ’em for me, baby,” he murmurs.

You don’t hesitate. You arch your back and reach behind you, spreading yourself open like you want him to lose control. You hear his breath catch– hear the faint moan that follows.

“Just like that. God, you’re fucking perfect.”

The panel is cold beneath your chest, your cheek pressed to metal. Lights blink lazily across your skin. Then he’s inside you, slow at first, thick and hot, groaning low with his head thrown back like he’s fighting every instinct not to lose control.

“Still so tight,” he grits out. “Fuck, baby. You make me lose my fucking mind.”

You laugh– half-drunk on the high of it– of him– until he thrusts deeper, hard enough to knock the sound from your lungs. The laugh dissolves into a whimper.

The rhythm is messy. Needy. Less about finesse and more about relief– hours of tension and shitty passengers poured into every wet, desperate thrust. You can’t hear anything but your own heartbeat, the wet slap of skin, and the way he pants your name like a prayer he doesn’t need anyone to answer.

“Want you to cum in this cockpit. Cum on this cock,” he says, fingers reaching around to rub circles on your clit. Your mouth has fallen open, spit and tears falling and mixing on the control panel below you. “Look at you. Fucking whore, huh? Opening your legs in a fucking plane. Desperate.”

You cry out, broken and wet, as his fingers work over your clit– rough and practiced, dragging tight, messy circles with just enough pressure to make your thighs twitch. Every thrust drives you forward, your hips braced hard against the panel, lights flickering faster beneath your cheek as if the cockpit itself is reacting to the filth spilling from his mouth.

"This pussy soaking my cock," he grits, fucking up into you so deep you swear he’s bruising something. "This pretty little uniform, short as fuck– you’re just begging for it, aren’t you?"

You can’t answer. Can barely think. Just moan, high-pitched and wrecked, hips rocking back into him like your body’s acting on instinct alone. He’s everywhere– hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave prints, his cock punching into you with unforgiving force, his voice dripping praise and filth straight into your skin.

"Fucking dripping," he groans. "You're making a mess all over me. All over my goddamn flight controls."

You whine, forehead pressed to cool metal, legs shaking as he slaps your ass with one hand and grabs a fistful with the other, using it to fuck you back onto him harder.

"You want it, baby? You want me to fill you up right here– in the goddamn cockpit? Where I fly your pretty little ass from city to city?”

"Yes," you sob, barely audible. “Please– please, Captain, I need it– need you to–"

The title makes him snap. He grabs you by the throat, just tight enough to make your spine curve deeper– just tight enough to steal a little breath. The pressure has your vision narrowing, body tensing, mouth falling open as he holds you there, completely still. Then he fucks into you hard. Deep enough to knock the air from your lungs even more and send your eyes rolling back. His breath is hot against your ear, teeth grazing your cheek as he grinds in slow and brutal.

"Then take it. Be a good little flight attendant and take it.”

You don’t even realize you’re cumming until your whole body locks up– white heat crashing through your core, cunt fluttering tight around him as your scream dies hoarse in your throat. His fingers never leave your clit, just keep rubbing you through it, coaxing every last wave out of you until you’re twitching and slick and completely ruined.

And he still doesn’t stop. He fucks you right through your orgasm, chasing his own, fucking harder now– sloppier– every thrust pushing out a fresh rush of slick around his cock. You can feel how close he is in the way his rhythm falters, the way his grip turns brutal.

"Where do you want it?" he hisses. "Tell me where to cum, baby."

"In– in me," you breathe, throat still partially closed off. “Need it– fuck– inside me, please– Captain.”

He groans like it hurts.

“Fuck– fuck, yes– take it, baby,” he grits, hips snapping once, twice– and then he’s spilling into you, buried to the hilt, jaw clenched as he pulses thick and hot inside. You swear you feel it in your stomach, every twitch, every drop, the heat of it mixing with yours.

He doesn’t move for a moment. Just breathes raggedly, nose pressed into your hair that’s fallen out of its up-do, chest pressed to your back, cock still buried deep, like pulling out might bring reality crashing back. His hand stays on your neck, not choking anymore– it stays almost possessively.

Eventually, he leans up, pulls out slow– watching the way you leak onto the plane's floor with a dazed, greedy groan.

"Fuck, baby. Gonna have to fly this thing knowing I fucked you stupid on the dash."

You glance over your shoulder, still trembling, lips parted around your shallow breaths.

He tucks himself back in, then grabs a spare rag from the side panel and crouches down– wiping the mess from your thighs, gentle now.

"You good?" he asks, voice soft, hands steady.

You nod, boneless and fucked-out.

His grin returns. Wicked. Stupidly proud. “Guess that’s one more thing I can log in the flight report.”

he is plaguing my brain get gojo out of my HEAD (need him biblically)

#satoru gojo #satoru smut #gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo au #jjk au #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk satoru #jjk fic #jjk gojo #gojo fic #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru x you

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pin-k-ink · 5 months ago

Text

OFF THE RECORD ⋆✦⋆ gojo satoru

synopsis ➸ you know gojo too well to believe he’s here for a quick fuck. he’s here for a favor—one you have no intention of granting. too bad he’s never been good at taking no for an answer.

tags ➸ implied former student/teacher relationship, slight age gap, friends with benefits, possessive behavior, mild dom/sub themes, power play, manipulation, daddy kink, mild objectification, dirty talking, semi-public/public sex, mention of past sexual encounters, implied blackmail (it’s really not as bad as you think)

wc ➸ 10.9k

The steamy tendrils still clung to your skin as you stepped out of the shower, toweling off with a contented sigh. Mornings like this—quiet, peaceful routines before diving headfirst into the chaotic world of jujutsu—were increasingly rare these days. So you tried to savor each precious moment while it lasted.

With the towel secured around your body, you padded toward the bedroom to get dressed for yet another long day at headquarters. However, the second you stepped over the threshold, the hairs along your nape instantly prickled upright. A presence. An unmistakable shift in the air currents that could only mean—

"Well, good morning, gorgeous! Sleep well?"

You barely stifled the startled yelp as Gojo Satoru's cheerful baritone seemed to resonate from directly behind you. Whirling around, sure enough, there he was—all towering height, shredded muscle, and bright eyes glinting with clear amusement. How someone so powerful could also be so utterly shameless sometimes, you'd never know.

Doing your best to ignore the heat flooding your cheeks, you planted your hands on your hips in a stern facsimile of composure. "Satoru...what an unexpected surprise. Here I thought teachers were supposed to set good examples about respecting boundaries, not traipsing into former students' homes unannounced."

Rather than appear even remotely chagrined, Gojo simply chuckled and leaned back against your kitchen counter as if he owned the place. You watched in mild annoyance as his gaze slowly trailed up and down your towel-clad figure with undisguised appreciation.

"Hey now, no need for such icy formalities between us old friends," he chided, the barest hints of a smirk tugging at those infuriatingly full lips. "Besides, when have I ever cared about doing what's expected of me, hm? That's like...95% of my appeal, babe."

Rolling your eyes, you huffed out a resigned sigh and crossed the room to your closet, firmly squelching the instincts that urged you to yank the towel higher and more securely over your body. Gojo had seen—and thoroughly enjoyed—far more of you than this in the past. No sense getting flustered over his blazing regard now.

"Right, so does this impromptu visit have an actual purpose?" You shot him a pointed look over your shoulder as you fished out a crisp blouse and trousers to wear to HQ. "Or are you just being a pain as usual and raiding my fridge for a sugar fix again?"

You heard Gojo's low snort of amusement before his heavy footfalls sounded, clearly bringing him closer despite your protestations. "What can I say? Your kitchen is better stocked with sweets than most convenience stores. I can't help craving a little nibble now and then..."

The sultry undercurrent in his tone triggered a fresh blaze of heat along your nape. You could practically feel the smoldering weight of Gojo's stare boring into your ass as you bent to rifle through your bottom dresser drawer.

"But you're onto something with that other theory as well," he continued in a lower, more contemplative register. All traces of levity seemed to evaporate as his presence loomed larger behind you. "I did actually come to ask a favor of my very favorite former pupil. An important one that I wouldn't bother you about if the stakes weren't so high."

Curiosity and trepidation warred within your chest at the unexpected gravity clouding Gojo's usually buoyant candor. You instinctively straightened, clutching your clothes to your chest as you slowly turned to face him once more.

And just like that, the heated tension seemed to ratchet up several palpable notches as your eyes met and held in the claustrophobic space. Gojo's sculptured features had taken on a severe, intense edge—all sharp angles and tightly leashed power that instantly siphoned the breath from your lungs.

Suddenly, his earlier "playful" flirting and teasing manner seemed less like an act and more like a fragile facade barely containing his true tempestuous nature. You swallowed hard against the liquid lick of thrilling trepidation skating down your spine as Gojo maintained that weighty, piercing stare for several moments longer.

"...Is everything okay?" You finally managed in a hushed murmur, scarcely recognizing your own voice under the abrupt spell of Gojo's domineering energy. "What could possibly have you riled up enough to ditch the flippant act?"

Rather than immediately answering, Gojo closed the remaining distance between you with two long, purposeful strides. You had to crane your head back slightly to maintain eye contact as his powerful silhouette utterly consumed your space—the scalding brand of his body heat and crisp, masculine scent enveloping you from all sides.

"Believe me, kitten...if I came here for anything even remotely fun or pleasure-oriented, you wouldn't need to ask," he rumbled at last, voice pitched low enough to instill a full-body shiver along your nerves.

One of Gojo's large hands came up, and you froze as the rough pads of his knuckles grazed a feather-light caress along the line of your jaw. His thumb swiped over the seam of your lower lip in an utterly artless, possessive sweep—smoldering gaze following the motion with incendiary focus.

"I'd already have that smart mouth wrapped around my cock doing something far more useful than talking..."

Despite the crudity of his words, you couldn't quite stifle the punched-out whimper that slipped free at the graphic implication. Gojo's pupils blew fractionally wider in answer, tongue darting out to lave his lower lip as if tasting the charged undercurrents now rippling between you.

"Lucky for you, this is actually about business," he continued in that same resonant timbre that seemed to spark straight between your thighs each time his rich cadence washed over you. "The kind of serious business that even a lazy pervert like me can't afford...distractions for at the moment, got it?"

You managed a jerky nod, too disoriented by the heady spiral of desire cloying at your senses to do much else. Gojo's expression seemed to tighten further—a muscle feathering in his chiseled jaw as if steeling himself for whatever came next as he stepped back a bit.

"Itadori Yuji is scheduled for execution..." The blunt statement punched out like a missile deployment, brutally shredding the increasingly rapacious atmosphere between you. "And one way or another, I need that sentence postponed before it's too late."

You immediately shook your head, mouth set in a grim line. "Postponing Itadori Yuji's execution? That's not going to happen, Satoru."

His brows pinched slightly at your blunt refusal. "This is serious, kitten. That kid is instrumental to—"

"Don't you think I know how serious this is?" you cut him off, firming your voice into an authoritative tone. "I work directly under the higher-ups, remember? I'm well aware of the situation with Sukuna’s vessel and the potential ramifications of his continued existence."

Squaring your shoulders, you leveled Gojo with an unwavering stare. "My answer is final. Bringing this to the elders would be pointless at best, and could potentially jeopardize my position if they see it as insubordination. I'm not sacrificing everything I've worked for just because you showed up and gave me those stupid puppy dog eyes."

Rather than back down, Gojo simply regarded you with a contemplative tilt of his head—bright gaze assessing as if turning over your words from every possible angle. You could practically see the gears turning behind those piercing blue irises as he recalibrated his approach.

"Okay, let's table the business side of things for now," he said at last, tone losing some of its previous urgency. Straightening his body, Gojo prowled a step closer—effectively reclaiming the charged atmosphere from earlier. "Maybe you just need some...persuading to see reason."

You refused to be baited so easily, keeping your expression coolly neutral even as his scalding presence flooded your personal space once more. "I'm not some hormonal teenager letting her heart sway business decisions anymore, Satoru. Those games won't work."

Gojo hummed softly in response, head cocking as his lips curved into a slow, molten smirk. "We'll see about that..."

Without warning, his hands clamped down on your hips, thumbs digging in with delicious friction as he hauled you flush against the solid wall of his torso. You couldn't withhold the tiny gasp that punched free at the sudden, searing contact—every ridge and cording muscle of Gojo's powerful physique branding itself against your towel-clad frame.

"Does this position feel...familiar to you at all, gorgeous?" he murmured in a honeyed rasp right against the whorl of your ear. His nose trailed a path along your jaw as he dipped to mouth steamy, lingering kisses down the fragrant column of your throat. "Maybe sparks a few memories of the last time you found yourself pinned underneath me...crying out for more the whole night through?"

A shudder rippled down your spine at the crude allusion to your long-ago graduation celebration with Gojo. You remembered that encounter vividly—every slick rasp of skin against skin, the sweltering tangle of limbs, the exquisite ache of being split open on his thick cock over and over until the entire room reeked of your joined passion.

Gojo merely chuckled at your flustered squirming, nosing aside the collar of your towel to lave a heated path along your collarbone. "Mmm...that's right. There were points that night where I had my cock buried so fuckin' deep in this perfect pussy of yours that you could taste it on the back of your tongue with every breath."

You bit back a shuddering whimper at the crude imagery, willpower rapidly crumbling beneath his carnal onslaught. Despite your best efforts, the memories he so skillfully stoked were stoking liquid tendrils of arousal thrumming to life between your thighs. Gojo's grin stretched wider as you unconsciously arched into his scorching frame.

"Always did love ruining you on my dick that first time," he rumbled with blatant gratification against your heated skin. "Watching those gorgeous eyes glaze over while I split you open again and again until you passed out..."

Abruptly, Gojo detached his mouth from the thundering pulse at your jugular with one final lingering sweep of his sinful tongue. Smirking down at your glazed, panting expression, he tucked an errant lock of hair behind your ear.

"But hey...while fun memories are nice, I'd rather make some new ones together after work," he said, suddenly all casual nonchalance once more as he meandered towards the door. "I'll pick you up from HQ when your shift is over and we can...discuss this Itadori thing some more in private. That sound good to you, babe?"

You blinked rapidly, trying to reassemble your scattered thoughts as the searing proximity of Gojo's presence withdrew—leaving you bereft and utterly unbalanced by the shift.

"Don't worry your pretty head over giving me an answer," Gojo called over his shoulder as he palmed the doorknob. "I already know you'll say yes when I remind you again how much that tight little pussy loves being split open on my—"

The door snapped shut with a hollow thud, cutting off the rest of his filthy promise. Though the last rakish wink he slanted your way before departing was more than enough to sear the implication deep into your psyche.

Sinking heavily back against the wall, you fought to regain your equilibrium—limbs quaking and breath escaping in ragged pants that did nothing to dissuade the rising tide of feverish arousal still gripping your core. Gojo had utterly unraveled you into a breathless, squirming mess from just a few suggestive caresses and searing endearments.

And despite your best efforts, you got the gnawing suspicion he'd made up his mind to thoroughly capitalize on—and ruthlessly extend—that molten state when you inevitably saw him again tonight.

The long hours crept by at an agonizing pace as you tried to focus on your duties at headquarters. But the memory of Gojo's heated presence that morning, his crude allusions to your long-ago passionate tryst, made it utterly impossible to concentrate.

You vividly recalled the way his powerful frame had caged you against the wall, face nuzzling along your flushed throat as that rich, smoky timbre painted filthy promises about thoroughly splitting you open again soon. Just the phantom whisper of Gojo's searing lips tracing your thundering pulse was enough to catalyze wild tremors of molten arousal deep in your core.

Each time you shifted in your seat or bent over the piles of paperwork, you could've sworn a delirious ache throbbed between your thighs—muscles fluttering with unbearable emptiness. Like they instinctively yearned to be stretched taut around the thick, punishing girth of Gojo's cock once more, just like that rapturous night of your graduation celebration.

The explicit images and flashes of sensation made concentrating an exercise in futility. Only your rigid adherence to professionalism and composure prevented you from squirming like an utter harlot right there in front of your subordinates.

By the time the evening hours finally rolled around, you felt strung as taut as a high wire—electrified nerves screaming for any sort of reprieve from Gojo's lingering psychic imprint. So you hastily packed your bags and paperwork, determined to slip out before he had a chance to accost you again.

However, the second you passed through the main entrance gates, a powerful hand shot out to clamp around your bicep in an authoritative grip. You barely contained the strangled gasp as Gojo's sheer masculine presence enveloped you, dragging you into the shadowed seclusion of a nearby alcove.

The cool stone bit into your back as he firmly levered your wrists overhead, utterly pinning you in place with his hulking silhouette. Gojo's piercing blue eyes glinted in the dim light, scorching a path down your disheveled figure with undisguised intent.

"Leaving so soon?" The deep, resonant timbre of his voice washed over you in smoky tendrils, already catalyzing a fresh blaze of arousal in your veins. "And here I was looking forward to picking up where we left off earlier..."

To emphasize his point, Gojo surged forward until every inch of his powerful frame molded against yours in a delicious, searing brand. You whimpered softly as his weight pinned you fully, feeling the unmistakable rigid line of his erection notching against your lower belly.

Gojo ducked his head with a low rumble of approval, searing lips and tongue mapping a scorching path along the fragrant hollow of your throat. You instinctively tilted your head aside to grant him better access, shuddering helplessly as he indulged in long, openmouthed draughts of your scent and flushed skin.

"F-Fuck...Satoru, not here!" The words emerged in a reedy, breathless whine against your better judgment as his wicked mouth found that sensitive bundle of nerves just below your ear. You writhed beneath the slow torment with increasing desperation. "Anyone could catch us...this is crazy!"

Rather than immediately address your token protests, Gojo merely chuckled—the warm puffs of his amusement ghosting deliciously along your tingling nerves as he mouthed a stinging graze against your racing pulse. One of his large, calloused palms slid down to engulf your hip in a possessive squeeze, already kneading and grinding you in a slow simmer of friction.

"You say that like you've never been desperate enough to beg me to fuck you right here in these hallways before..." The low, sensually-charged growl shivered your bones down to the marrow. Gojo finally pulled back enough to cage your dazed features fully within his piercing stare—lips curved in a lascivious smirk of fond reminiscence. "Multiple times, if I'm recalling correctly."

Heat flared through your cheeks as the graphic imagery took shape against your fraying resistance—lurid memories of breathless encounters where the thrill of potentially being caught by patrolling sentries only fueled the delirious flames higher. You swallowed hard against the thickness now cloying your throat, squirming in feeble denial.

Gojo's smirk deepened into something utterly sinful as he drank in your expression with clear relish. "Do you need me to refresh your memory about the last time you had me backed into a supply closet?" he rasped, leaning in until the blistering brand of his body seared you from chest to hip once more. "How hard you came when I finally pulled those thighs apart and licked straight through your soaked—"

"Enough!" you gasped out before he could fully unleash the damning words. You renewed your efforts at wriggling free in earnest, well aware your weakening restraint wouldn't last against Gojo's relentless carnal onslaught. "I-I...maybe we should actually go somewhere more appropriate first. Dinner, maybe?"

Despite your sudden meek suggestion, you couldn't quite mask the desperation laced through the plaintive request. Gojo's eyes seemed to glitter brighter at the shift in your demeanor, clearly scenting weakness in the offing as he allowed his grip to relax somewhat.

"Dinner first, huh?" He pursed those full lips into an exaggerated pout of contemplation before relenting with a dramatic sigh. "Well, I suppose that's only fair since I'm the one working up an appetite here..."

With one last blistering look that robbed you of breath entirely, Gojo stepped back and pivoted on his heel to swagger away down the narrow thoroughfare like a man supremely assured of victory. You could only sag back against the alcove wall, chest heaving with exertion as the towering remnants of arousal slowly ebbed.

However, there remained little doubt in your overwrought psyche that this temporary reprieve from your joining was little more than the universe's taunting cruelty. You'd awoken Gojo's darkest, most lascivious appetites earlier that morning.

And if the way he slanted one final look over his powerful shoulder—bright irises already blown wide and jaw clenching subtly around what had to be punishing levels of restraint—then the true feasting was only just about to begin in earnest. With your achingly empty body as the main course.

The opulent restaurant oozed sophistication from every polished surface and perfectly-starched linen. The sommelier's formal bow and crisp recitation of the evening's premier wine offerings seemed utterly wasted on the two of you.

You eyed Gojo over the rim of your glass, the dry Cabernet doing little to dull the lingering tension still thrumming between your joined frames. As always, he looked utterly nonplussed about the lavish indulgences surrounding you—crisp white dress shirt straining across his muscular torso and sharp jawline rasped by the beginnings of late evening stubble. Like a predator eternally at ease, regardless of situation.

Gojo's piercing gaze roamed over you with the same slow, assessing intensity one might reserve for an exquisite delicacy awaiting consumption. You tried not to squirm under that molten scrutiny, clearing your throat pointedly.

"I'm assuming there was some purpose behind corralling me into this place," you remarked in your best professional tone. "Beyond getting me liquored up for some inappropriate table exhibition, that is."

Rather than rebuff your dig, Gojo simply angled his head in a catlike tilt—lips curling into a devilish smirk that telegraphed his carnal interest crystal clear. Leaning further back in his chair, he allowed one broad palm to splay suggestively over the crisp linen covering his lap, fingertips drumming out an idle staccato.

"Well now, I certainly wouldn't say no to having those gorgeous lips wrapped around something else for a change." His deep timbre emerged laced with sin and smoky insinuation. "You always did look like an utter vision stuffed under these fancy tabletops sucking me off..."

Heat blossomed across your cheeks despite your best efforts at composure. You knocked back another bracing swallow of wine, struggling not to dwell on the searing flashes his words evoked—memories of delirious encounters where Gojo had hauled you under secluded tables to properly appreciate your skills with relentless, undisguised gratification.

Swallowing thickly, you gripped your fork with slightly more force than necessary."I'd ask if you're always this disgracefully crass and lascivious in public these days...but then I remembered who I'm talking to," you said dryly. "So in the interest of not causing a scene, why don't we get to the point of this little ambush?"

One brow arched infinitesimally as Gojo cocked his head further, clearly drinking in your prim and vaguely irritated state with evident relish. "You seem awfully anxious to rush right to business," he murmured, fingertips continuing their idle rhythm against the tablecloth. "Where's that simmering self-restraint and haughty composure I remember enjoying unraveling piece...by...delicious...piece so thoroughly back in the day?"

You opened your mouth to fire back a scathing retort, only for Gojo to cut you off with a low, lush rumble. "Unless you've simply decided being insatiably thirsty for this cock is more your speed these days..."

With that quiet taunt, his free hand disappeared beneath the pristine linen swathe in a heavy, meaningful descent. You swallowed convulsively as his fingertips slid along the unmistakable ridge of his thick cock straining against the unforgiving fabric of his slacks. Every knuckle undulated in a deliberate, stroking glide that tightened your throat like a vise around trapped breaths and unspoken pleas.

"Can practically already taste how soaked you're getting beneath those prim layers just from the thought alone..." Gojo continued in a molten rasp heavy with undisguised gratification. "Imagining that filthy little mouth stretched wide around my girth again, glazing yourself in my cum right here in front of god and all these polite company..."

A tiny, reedy sound slipped unbidden from your constricted chest despite your best efforts at locking it down. Gojo's lascivious smirk turned rapacious as he correctly scented the spike of liquid want now cloying the humid space between you.

"So what do you say, gorgeous?" He pitched his timbre slightly lower, allowing each gravelled syllable to curl around your senses with lashes of pure elemental sin. "Going to be a good little famished cocksleeve and give me a hand under the table before we get down to—"

You cut across his brazen soliloquy with a forceful rap of your fork against the tabletop. Pulling yourself together, you fixed Gojo with a severe glower that finally seemed to give him pause.

"If you can't conduct yourself with any semblance of decorum befitting your station, then I'm through entertaining these adolescent displays," you bit out in a hushed tone edged with adamant warning. "I'm not some wide-eyed underling fresh off the training fields anymore, Satoru. I have higher standing and responsibility than you seem to grasp."

Silence stretched between you for a weighted beat—Gojo's heated gaze flickering over you with renewed focus you couldn't quite decipher. When he finally spoke again, there was a note of uncharacteristic control underpinning his typically buoyant candor. Clearly, he'd grasped the need to change tactics once more.

"You're absolutely right," he said after a prolonged pause. "Part of me forgets just how much you've grown and ascended the ranks over the years." One side of his mouth curved higher in a lopsided ghost of his usual smirk. "Clearly earned the elders' respect and esteem far beyond that of a simple 'secretary' as I put it earlier."

Before you could retort, Gojo pressed onwards—hand sliding almost absently back into view to wrap around the stem of his wine flute. "Which is exactly why your assistance is pivotal to turning the tide regarding Yuji's current...perilous circumstances."

There was a grim finality in his words that snapped you back to the seriousness of the moment like a sobering slap to the face. You shifted fractionally taller in your seat, expression hardening as Gojo continued in low, adamant tones.

"Whether you're fully aware or care to admit it right now, that kid is destined to be pivotal for the upcoming events on the horizon," he rumbled with quiet conviction. "Leaving him to get executed off the books tomorrow morning would be tantamount to losing our most powerful asset before the real battles even begin."

Swirling his wine idly, Gojo paused to take an unhurried pull directly from the bottle before continuing. "Which is why I'm going to need to call in more than a few favors getting his sentence postponed tonight. Starting with you, of course..."

There was a new current of steely focus glinting in his gaze as it bored into you with ruthless intensity. For several protracted beats, you simply held each other's stares—gauging the lengths and motivations rumbling beneath the surface beyond petty physical exploits.

Finally, you pursed your lips and shook your head in a solemn negation. "I'm sorry, but I can't overstep protocol and abuse my influence with the elders like that," you stated, quietly adamant. "Not even for you, Satoru. The ramifications could unravel everything I've worked decades to attain if word got out I went rogue."

Rather than exploding in his usual flashes of arrogance or wounded pride, Gojo merely raked you with a glower of narrowed, simmering intent. His next words emerged more pointed and resonating than any innuendo or filthy endearment preceding it.

"Are you sure about that stance?" he intoned darkly. "Because if memory serves, there are a few distinct...indiscretions we've engaged in that could certainly be construed as 'unraveling' by the elders' view, wouldn't you agree?"

The waiter's polished footsteps faded as he departed to fetch their entrees, leaving you and Gojo in a weighted silence. You could practically taste the undercurrent of tension simmering in the air between you both.

Sipping his wine slowly, Gojo dragged his incandescent stare over your features with undisguised intensity. "I'm serious about this," he stated in a low, firm rumble that brooked no further evasion. "We're talking everything from inappropriate use of jujutsu techniques to conduct we both know crosses so many lines..."

He trailed off meaningfully, leaving the implications to hang heavy as his tongue slicked over his lower lip. You swallowed hard against the rising heat prickling across your cheeks and neck.

"Like that night in the east gardens behind the training halls," Gojo continued, voice dropping into a deeper, more intimate register that curled straight between your thighs. "Where I pinned you down in the grass and ate you out until you came all over my face. And then I fucked you so hard, you nearly passed out before we got caught."

Despite yourself, a tremulous shiver raked through your nerves as the visceral flashes assaulted your mind's eye—the frantic rasp of his calloused palms roaming and kneading, the slick motions of his tongue probing and savoring parts of you meant for far more intimate settings.

Gojo noticed your reaction with a dark chuckle, clearly satisfied he'd reeled you back in completely. "Or what about the time you wrapped those pretty lips around my cock in the maintenance closet and let me rail your throat until you choked on my load? How many rules was just that one encounter bending, hm?"

The directness of his words scorched through you with dizzying potency, making you flush and squirm. You parted your lips on a shaky exhale, determined to regain some semblance of control.

But Gojo smirked knowingly and pressed his verbal advantage in a low, filthy rumble. "Face it, I've got enough material on you ruining me with that greedy little mouth and pussy all over campus to get you defrocked hard." His hooded azure gaze practically seared into your core. "And yet you really wanna risk me airing all those dirty details to the elders? Leaving Itadori's fate to chance like that?"

Your mouth felt suddenly dry as you wrestled with the undeniable truth behind his taunting words. For several fraught beats, the frustration and righteous indignation warred with your embedded sense of duty to the cause. Finally, you released a shuddery breath and lifted your chin.

"I'll...see what I can do about swaying things in your favor," you muttered in a low, slightly strained tone. "No promises, but I'll try discussing options with the higher-ups."

Rather than seem appeased, Gojo's expression only hardened further—carved features settling into a granite mask of tenacious stubbornness and smoldering impatience. "'Not good enough, kitten," he rumbled, forearms tensing atop the table. "This mission is too fucking important for halfhearted measures. I need you to outright insist on a stay of execution being granted, got it? No more stammering 'I'll try' bullshit that lets them sidestep."

His unyielding stare pinned you with the intensity of a physical force, raising your hackles slightly despite your attempt at diplomacy. Still, looking into those blazing blue embers, you got the distinct impression that you'd sooner achieve moving a mountain with vocal commands than sway Gojo on this matter. That steely resolve would accept nothing less than complete victory in postponing Itadori's fate.

Just as you began resigning yourself to digging in for another round of heated back-and-forth across the fancy tablecloth, the arrival of the main courses mercifully broke the combative spell between you. Gojo seemed to settle back imperceptibly as the waiter swept in—that scorching intensity banking down to a more companionable smolder for the time being.

Still, you recognized the temporary reprieve for what it was as you tucked into your meal with far less gusto than anticipated. Despite his best efforts to gloss over the previous tension with idle banter and lighter conversational tones, it remained silently understood that the evening's main purpose still hung unresolved and delicate between you until matters were final.

So it was with an undercurrent of somber expectation that you finally settled the check and rose to follow Gojo from the opulent dining hall at evening's end. A subtle snap of his fingers triggered a curiously disorienting sensation of compression and vertigo—only to release you blinking in surprise mere heartbeats later, finding yourself suddenly standing in the familiar living quarters you called home.

"I'd say you're handling that little trick with far more aplomb these days," Gojo remarked with a lopsided grin, clearly drinking in your adjustment to his impromptu teleportation with amusement. "Remember when I first started zipping you around like that? Pretty sure you heaved your guts all over those ugly penny loafers you used to wear back in the day."

Huffing out a noise of semi-fond exasperation, you aimed a swat at his sculpted arm without malice. "Yes, well I suppose youth and naivety breed certain...overzealous behaviors, don't they?" you retorted before immediately sobering once more. "Like making reckless judgment calls that imperil an entire system..."

Gojo's expression remained impassive, giving no outward indication whether your choice of words struck any particular chord with him. However, you caught the faintest glimmer flickering behind those incandescent blue irises - the barest hint that perhaps you'd underestimated just how much gravitas your dissenting opinion potentially held with the higher-ups.

After all, you were Gojo Satoru's first and most distinguished pupil back when he initially ascended to teaching status, weren't you? Not only that, but your judicious control and prime mastery of your innate techniques embodied many of the fundamental philosophies and fighting styles the old guard so staunchly valued. On numerous occasions, your skills had been cited as quintessential examples to uphold for future generations...

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard as the weighty truth of your potential sway with leadership gradually bobbed to the surface of your consciousness like drift debris after a storm. This entire evening, Gojo might have simply been maneuvering to forcibly realign your perspective on leveraging the hidden influence you apparently wielded without ever fully grasping it.

To truly comprehend the magnitude of the gambit he intended to play using your standing as the key gambit.

Before you could properly parse that sobering epiphany, however, Gojo had already closed what little distance remained between your frames with purposeful strides. The blistering heat of his body all but blanketed yours as he leaned in with that familiar aura of prowling, casual intensity that always made your breath stall.

"So..." he murmured, voice pitching into a lower register that seemed to slither straight down your spine. "Does that mean you're gonna be a good girl and invite me inside so we can continue this intriguing conversation in more...comfortable accommodations?"

Gojo punctuated the brazen implication by cocking one arm against the doorframe, effectively caging you between the cool wood and the searing, masculine planes of his torso and hips. You were abruptly overwhelmed by the reality of his proximity - each subtly shifting ripple of sinew and musculature utterly inescapable from this range.

That distinctly virile, elemental musk that always set your senses clamoring was back in full force as well. You swallowed hard, nostrils flaring fractionally as the delirious essence of Gojo's body heat and clean, faintly spiced perspiration flooded your olfactory receptors. Despite your most ardent efforts, you felt your lids grow heavy and mouth part unconsciously as liquid frissons of pure, burgeoning temptation licked through your veins.

Just like that, with a few deftly aimed strokes, Gojo had reeled you back to the precipice of helpless surrender once more. Still, you summoned the dregs of your stern resolve and planted your palms squarely against his chest, levering back an inch to preserve some semblance of boundaries.

"Subtle as ever, I see," you managed in a tone you hoped came across more dryly exasperated than outright breathless. "I should've guessed the moment we arrived you'd be angling to make yourself at home uninvited."

One brow arched higher, though you didn't miss the slight crinkling at the corners of Gojo's stupidly pretty eyes betraying his hushed amusement. "Oof, someone has their defenses wound just a tad tightly if they think I require permission these days," he shot back with a wry rumble.

Before you could summon a retort, that leonine physique surged forward in a slow, sensual undulation—once again pinning you fully against the unyielding wooden slab with the scorching brand of his larger frame. Gojo's free hand drifted down to palm the generous curve of your hip with sinful insistence, hips canting forward until there could be no mistaking the ridge of his erection notching against your lower belly.

"Better question might be..." His voice dropped several delirious octaves into those sandpaper-rough timbres that seemed to sizzle straight through your nerve endings. "Why even bother pretending at token protests when we both know how this little dance is gonna end...?"

Those incandescent azure irises flickered down to where his fingertips were already stroking teasing swirls against the exposed strip of skin between your top and waistband, silently daring you to rebuff such an implicit capitulation.

"So why delay the inevitable any longer, gorgeous?" Gojo rumbled against your lips, voice dropping into that gravelly timbre designed to liquefy your restraint. "Let's get down to stripping off all these formalities once and for—"

"You haven't even kissed me yet today," you blurted out, cutting across his heated soliloquy.

Gojo's pale brows pinched infinitesimally as the words seemed to momentarily stall his single-minded determination. You could practically see the gears turning behind those hooded azure irises as he processed your statement—likely running back through every provocative encounter and instance of attempted seduction throughout the evening.

When his piercing stare finally snapped back to yours, there was the faintest glimmer of sheepish realization burning there. "...Huh. You're right," he remarked in a slightly lower, more subdued tone. "Here I've been working overtime to rile you up, and I haven't even had the balls to properly lay one on you yet."

You tried not to visibly preen under the gratifying acknowledgment, but couldn't quite suppress the tiny quirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. Sensing a rare window of opportunity, you shifted your weight more fully against the solid contours of Gojo's frame, allowing your fingers to trail upwards in delicate spirals.

"Well?" You arched one brow in playful challenge, throat bobbing on a swallow as your digits mapped higher along the tendons of his powerful neck. "Are you going to actually follow through, or am I going to have to take the initiative here?"

For one heated beat, Gojo simply held your pointed stare in taut suspension—the atmosphere between you both seeming to atomize down into charged ionization particles awaiting the slightest catalyst to detonate. Then, his lips curved higher in a lopsided smirk you'd come to recognize as pure, unrepentant recklessness sublimating into physical form.

"You're going to have to come and get it, gorgeous," he rumbled, the raspy undercurrents sending delicious frissons shivering along your nerves. "Show me just how badly you've been starving for a real taste all evening."

His dexterous fingers slid up to cup the line of your jaw, thumb sweeping suggestively across your lower lip in a searing caress. You struggled not to whimper at the electrifying friction as Gojo leaned further into your personal space.

However, rather than ducking his head the final few scant inches to seal his mouth hungrily over yours, the insufferable tease merely arched backward—body undulating in a slow, sinuous retreat until he towered over you at his full impressive stature. The tip of his tongue darted out to lave his lower lip in clear relish, eyes glinting with wicked invitation as he silently dared you to make good on rising to his heated gauntlet.

A thrill of excitement and determination lanced through your chest as you instantly grasped the game afoot. With purposeful, unhurried movements, you allowed your palms to splay across the granite warmth of his abdomen before slowly, teasingly tracking higher in a worshiping glide. Every rippling corde and sinewy groove of his musculature became briefly profiled as you glided your touch upwards - mapping the scorching acreage in ardent appreciation.

Gojo watched your journey with blown pupils and ragged breaths, torso visibly expanding with each shuddering inhalation he dragged against his impressive restraint. You didn't miss the flex and bunching of his arms and shoulders as you passed over his pectorals, clearly fighting not to haul you bodily against him right then and simply crush your pliant frames back into mutual rapture.

But still, he remained steadfast and motionless—a living marble statue gloriously chiseled from pure virile perfection, awaiting your reverent indulgences with a banked smolder burning behind his hooded stare.

Finally, your fingertips dusted across the sharp angles of his jaw and cheekbones, body arching and straining upwards in your single-minded pursuit of that elusive, smug mouth you craved with mounting desperation. Try as you might to extend yourself onto the balls of your feet and go fully up on tiptoes, Gojo maintained a scant whisper of distance—always hovering just out of your reach with an expression of blatant masculine gratification at your squirming efforts.

A huff of breathy frustration nearly slipped free at the persistent denial, only to be silenced by the way Gojo instinctively dipped lower as if to grant your wish...only to arc back with a low, filthy chuckle that reverberated against your now-thundering pulse. It was as much a sensual dance of control and restraint as a taunt or test of wills at this juncture—simply savoring the delirious friction generated as your pliant, questing form sought to twine and pull him down into decadent oblivion, inch by maddening inch.

"Easy there, kitten..." he rasped in a low, smoky cadence designed to further short-circuit your resolve. "Why don't you try dropping to those pretty knees for me? Might give you better leverage and angles to play with in reaching those tempting lips that have been tormenting that insatiable appetite of yours..."

You answered with a full-body shudder and a needy keen spilling free from your very marrow—all thoughts of recalcitrance and willpower now thoroughly banished beneath the inescapable gravity well of Gojo's hypnotic presence and unholy temptations.

You whined out loud, an unguarded noise of pure pleading desire that seemed to momentarily crack through your usually reserved demeanor. "Satoru...please, wanna kiss you so badly."

The raw, plaintive tone of your entreaty hung in the air between you, heavy with naked yearning in a way that gave even Gojo pause. His brilliant eyes seemed to smolder brighter for an instant, no doubt dredging up fond recollections of past occasions where he'd so thoroughly unraveled your ironclad poise and reduced you to this state.

Rather than pounce on your vulnerability or tease further, however, Gojo's expression softened ever so slightly. One broad palm cradled the back of your skull as he ducked in closer, guiding your trembling frame until your brows nearly brushed.

"Since you asked so nicely..." he murmured, deep timbre emerging somewhere between a graveled purr and heated rumble.

You barely managed a shuddering inhalation before Gojo sealed his mouth over yours in a searing brand of possession. The initial clash of lips and tongue was something closer to an elemental force than a mere intimate exchange—not at all gentle, but rife with pent-up longing and ravenous need finally given free rein.

Your fingers instinctively knotted in the soft fabric of his shirt as Gojo laid an utterly thorough claim upon your senses. He swallowed each desperate little noise and whimper that punched free as if savoring the most delectable of delicacies. One thick forearm banded around your lower back to anchor you fully against his solid frame as he deepened the devouring cadence with relentless intensity.

A husky growl of clear approval and gratification rumbled against your slick, swollen mouth as Gojo momentarily allowed a scant parting for air. "Fuck...I'd almost forgotten how greedy and eager this talented little tongue can get," he grated with clear relish.

You could only pant and squirm fitfully in answer, thoughts scattered like dandelion seeds on a breeze. Gojo simply chuckled richly—the timbre vibrating straight through your very cells in a way that somehow untethered your feet from the ground entirely.

The next thing you clearly registered were his powerful arms banding beneath the backs of your thighs to haul you securely against his body in one smooth, easy motion. Your startled yelp melted into a tremulous sigh as the bunching plains of his torso and abdomen braced your arched spine in a sublime full-body embrace.

"Don't go passing out on me before the real fun starts," Gojo husked against the thundering pulse at your nape, even as his long strides carried you across the threshold of your apartment. "I've got plans for putting that gifted mouth to far better uses than just kissing..."

With your legs now locked around his narrow hips, you could feel every delicious ridge and twitch of his growing erection grinding against your dampening heat through the flimsy barriers separating you. A piteous whine slipped free as the swaying rhythm of his determined gait threatened to unravel you down to your very foundation.

"That's it, let me hear just how desperate I've got you aching to taste me properly again," Gojo growled against the whorl of your ear, each guttural rasp sparking fresh convulsions of need between your thighs. "Been waiting all fucking day to unwrap this gorgeous little prize and savor you inch...by...inch."

Gojo punctuated the lascivious promise by swiveling to carefully lay you out amidst the rumpled linens and cushions—each flickering shadow casting his chiseled features into harsh relief. No more levity or evasion glossed his expression, only the stark severity and zero-compromises focus of a predator fully engaged.

Rather than pounce on you immediately, however, Gojo seemed to pause and simply drink in the sight of your breathless, disheveled state with smoldering intent. His bright eyes roamed over every inch of your upturned features and the generous curves left tantalizingly displayed by your askew clothing.

"Goddamn..." he rumbled in a deep timbre thick with undisguised yearning. "Look at you splayed out for me, practically begging to get worked over already."

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away from the pure masculine intensity blazing in his stare. There was an undercurrent of restrained hunger there that made your pulse thunder—heady and distinctly feral even as Gojo slowly prowled over your prone body.

Rather than immediately claim you in a reckless flurry of lust, his calloused palms mapped your sides in a languid, purposeful glide all the way up to your rib cage. You arched instinctively into his maddening caresses, whimpering softly in anticipation.

"Easy there, baby..." Gojo murmured in a low rasp against the whorl of your ear. His nose trailed along the thrumming tendons of your neck, clearly savoring the scent of your desire. "You act like it's been months since this pretty pussy has been spread out and stuffed full. And after all the time I spent working you into this gorgeous, wrecked state..."

You squirmed fitfully beneath his unyielding weight, needy whines spilling past your parted lips as Gojo continued leisurely nuzzling and nipping along your jawline and throat. Despite the unhurried leisure of his attentions, you were rapidly spiraling into molten delirium between his hoarse endearments and the tantalizing friction where your bodies met.

"What, so impatient you can't even let me take a second to savor this?" Gojo husked out in a gravel-rough rasp that made you shiver. "I had to spend all damn day thinking about bending you over the second we were alone...so you'll excuse me if I take things slow now that I've got you all wound up and drenched for it."

Emphasizing his point, Gojo slotted one thick, muscular thigh between your parted legs, rocking forward in a slow grind that dragged the solid length of his cock against your molten entrance through the thin barrier separating you. You cried out sharply at the delicious friction, back bowing as frantic nails scoured tracks down his flexing shoulder blades in desperation.

"Yeah...that's it, squirm and moan for me like a good girl," Gojo growled in clear approval, tongue laving a wet path along the fragrant hollow of your throat. "Keep making those filthy sounds and just MAYBE I'll finally give you what you've been gagging for all night."

You could only whimper raggedly in compliance as his mouth moved lower, searing a path from collarbone to the generous swell of your breasts. His large hands cradled and kneaded the soft flesh with relish before tugging the stretchy fabric aside to bare one nipple to the calloused heat of his lips and tongue.

"That's right...let Daddy get his fill and reacquaint himself with every lush goddamn inch," Gojo growled around the rosy peak, sending lightning bolts of sensation zinging straight to your molten core. "Been thinking about sucking and biting these perfect tits all over again ever since you walked into that restaurant looking like a goddamn meal..."

Despite his crude admission, there was an undercurrent of clear reverence and tender devotion laced through his ragged cadences now. Gojo laved and nuzzled at your breasts with all the ardent indulgence of a penitent savoring their last meal before execution. His hooded azure gaze seemed to blaze brighter with each piteous keen and arch you offered up in answer to his lavishing.

Just as you felt yourself ascending the spiraling crescendo toward mindless bliss under his skilled attentions, Gojo abruptly detached from your saturated nipple with a low noise of harsh restraint. You whined plaintively, eyes glassy as your hands reflexively fisted in the front of his shirt—silently pleading for him to resume lapping away at the fiery deprivation swiftly devouring you inside out.

"Easy, baby..." he rasped through gritted teeth, clearly suppressing his own spiraling ardor through sheer force of iron will. "I didn't wait this long to absolutely wreck you just to blow it all on some half-assed foreplay."

Slanting his mouth over yours in another scorching, possessive claim, Gojo cradled your overwrought features between those rough, calloused palms with surprising tenderness.

His thumb smoothed along your cheekbone as the kiss gradually shifted into a slow, sensual undulation.

"Tell me what you want," he murmured against the seam of your lips. "Let Daddy hear you ask for it nice and loud."

The command emerged as a gravelly whisper, though his blazing stare held an unmistakable glint of command. Still, the blatant carnal hunger etched into his expression made you feel positively giddy and invincible as your fingertips trailed along the corded lines of his powerful throat.

"I want you inside me, Sensei," you pleaded, voice pitching into a breathy whine. "Please, I need to feel you filling me up again."

Gojo groaned, clearly relishing the shameless admission and the way your thighs clenched reflexively around his hips. You could feel the rigid contours of his cock twitching eagerly against your slickened folds through the layers separating you.

"Fuck, the mouth on you," he rasped, nipping lightly at the underside of your jaw. "You know what it does to me when you call me that."

"Good," you purred, allowing your fingers to trail higher until they carded through the silky soft strands of his hair. "Now, are you going to stop stalling and show me how much better you are at playing teacher in bed?"

Your bold retort earned a snarl of pure male approval, though the sound quickly tapered into a groan as you deliberately canted your hips to drag the seeping damp of your panties against his throbbing erection. Gojo's fingers instinctively curled tighter around your neck, pinning you into place as he bucked and rolled his pelvis forward to reciprocate the delicious friction.

"Alright then, smartass..." he rasped, pupils blown nearly black with ravenous need as he stared down at your upturned, flushed face. "If that's how you wanna play it, I'm gonna make damn sure you're thoroughly re-educated on who exactly holds the reins here."

Without further ado, his hands drifted down to tug insistently at your waistband, practically shredding the flimsy fabric in his haste to free you from the rest of your clothing. You shivered at the way the cool evening air instantly pebbled across your newly exposed skin, though any instinctive modesty was quickly chased away by the hungry stare drinking in your naked form.

Gojo's expression shifted into a predatory leer, the sight sending another jolt of electric anticipation shooting through your already-jangling nerve endings. "That's better," he rumbled, broad palm skating a path up your inner thigh with unhurried reverence. "Nothing should be allowed to hide such a perfect view of my favorite fucking dessert."

You bit back a whimper at the possessive timbres lacing his gravel-rough voice, thighs twitching restlessly as Gojo's touch continued mapping higher. Finally, his questing fingertips slid into the sticky slick coating your swollen folds, dragging the copious evidence of your desire back to where your clit throbbed with need.

"Oh, look at that..." Gojo practically cooed, the filthy delight and awe laced through his voice sending a fresh rush of warmth spilling out against his dexterous ministrations. "Daddy's been neglecting his baby girl, and she's absolutely soaking wet already. How long has my gorgeous kitten been aching like this, hmm?"

The words emerged somewhere between a teasing croon and a gravelly growl, and you could only shudder and keen as Gojo continued rubbing maddening circles over your hypersensitive bud. The friction was already pushing you rapidly to the edge, and judging by the way Gojo's hooded gaze flickered up to watch your rapture, he could tell as much.

"Ah-ah...no cumming until you beg Daddy to fuck you properly," he rasped, even as his index and ring fingers dipped shallowly into your fluttering channel—teasing and stretching the seeping velvet heat in a way that made you sob out loud. "Don't make me have to punish you for being so naughty, kitten. You know I can keep you on the edge all night if I need to."

Your spine bowed and back arched as you writhed and thrashed beneath his touch, a litany of breathy whimpers and pleas falling from your kiss-swollen lips. "Please, please, Daddy, don't tease me," you begged shamelessly, the words nearly slurring together with raw need. "I'll be a good girl, I swear. Please, please just fuck me..."

Gojo's gaze sharpened with clear gratification as you entreated his mercy, and he finally eased off on the merciless friction between your thighs. Your lungs burned with the force of gulping down ragged lungfuls of air, but you were given scant reprieve before his hands gripped and lifted your thighs, effortlessly hauling you closer and spreading them wide.

"There's my good girl," he murmured, the raw timbre of his voice sending delicious frissons shivering across your fever-warm skin. "Such a sweet little angel when you finally submit."

With one more brief nip at the delicate flesh of your inner thigh, Gojo began working the fly of his trousers open, finally freeing his massive erection. He stroked and pumped his straining shaft a few times for good measure, eyes raking across your splayed, naked form with clear relish.

"Look at how pretty this tight little pussy is, dripping all over my fingers and cock just begging to get filled," he grunted, lining the bulbous crown against your quivering entrance and rubbing it back and forth through the sticky arousal saturating your folds.

A pitiful keen slipped past your parted lips at the taunting pressure, and you could feel a fresh gush of slickness welling up in response to his crass praise. Gojo smirked at the telltale reaction, one calloused palm sliding down to part the plush folds of your pussy even further.

"Goddamn, look how wet and greedy this is for me," he rumbled in a low tone thick with pure male satisfaction. "Bet you were fantasizing about having Daddy's cock stuffing this pretty cunt the whole time we were sitting there in that restaurant. Isn't that right, kitten?"

Your brain was barely capable of stringing together a coherent thought, much less a snarky comeback, but somehow the words slipped free despite the mindless delirium clouding your head. "Y-you were the one who wouldn't stop teasing," you moaned, squirming fitfully against the delicious pressure poised at your molten core. "Can't say I wasn't tempted to drag you into the bathroom and suck you off..."

The words dissolved into a keening cry as Gojo abruptly slammed into the hilt, filling you to the brim and beyond in one brutal, unyielding stroke. Your legs reflexively locked around his hips and lower back as he immediately began pounding into your clenching walls, each powerful thrust punching the breath from your lungs.

"Is that so, sweetheart?" Gojo gritted out, hissing through clenched teeth as the clutching vice of your inner walls seemed to squeeze the very life from his engorged shaft. "You were just planning on being a dirty little tease the whole time we were at dinner? What a fucking minx..."

Gojo punctuated the statement by angling your hips upward to drill even deeper, each merciless thrust nudging the sensitive spot at the very end of your channel until the pressure sent stars exploding behind your eyelids. The only sounds that could emerge were a series of broken mewls and wordless whines, utterly incapable of doing anything but lay there and take the exquisite torment of his unrelenting, devastating pace.

"Yeah, that's it, let me feel just how desperately you've been needing this," he snarled, large hands gripping your waist as his pelvis hammered a merciless rhythm against your overstimulated sex. "Soak this fucking cock like a good little kitten. Don't hold back on me, baby. Show me how much you missed Daddy's cock and I might let you cum."

You could barely process the filth spilling free from his mouth at this point, each syllable dissolving into an electric buzz as his ruthless assault stoked the pressure mounting inside you. It was a familiar, heady rush of sensation—a coiling tension that seemed to grow tighter and more unbearable with every punishing roll of Gojo's hips against yours.

He was driving you toward a cliff's edge without pause or quarter, and the sheer force of his intensity was dizzying. Yet, despite the frantic, almost savage cadence, you could feel the subtle shift in his grip and angle as Gojo's gaze bored into your face. Even in the midst of his own delirium, the sheer focus and attentiveness in his stare was intoxicating.

"F-fuck, I'm so close," you gasped out, feeling your core spasming and clutching against the rigid pistoning length impaling you. You feebly reached out, desperate for any kind of anchor amidst the relentless tidal wave of sensation threatening to pull you under. "Satoru...please, want you to kiss me again."

Without missing a beat, Gojo's hands shifted, scooping you up until you were practically cradled in his lap. Your legs reflexively locked around his hips and midsection, ankles hooking together as his thrusts never paused. The new position left your torso arching up toward his chest, and Gojo quickly took advantage, slanting his mouth over yours with renewed hunger.

Each slide and curl of his tongue seemed perfectly in time with the driving roll of his hips, and the added closeness was swiftly becoming too much. You were hurtling toward the edge of the abyss, and this time, Gojo seemed intent on taking you down with him.

"My perfect girl, taking my cock like such a good little slut," he gritted out, one hand tangling in your hair while the other braced your back, keeping your bodies fused together. "Been dreaming about this tight cunt for fucking days, and it's even better than I remember. Now be a good kitten and soak Daddy's cock for me."

You could feel yourself tumbling over the precipice even before Gojo's hand snaked down to thumb your clit, and the dual assault was all it took to send you reeling into blinding euphoria. Your climax hit like a freight train, ripping through you with an almost painful intensity that left your toes curling and vision blurring.

Gojo continued thrusting his full length in a rapid-fire tempo, hissing out a strangled groan as the spasms of your inner walls finally dragged him into the depths of oblivion alongside you. Your limbs felt like jelly, and you were grateful for his grip holding you steady as the waves of rapture subsided.

He didn't release you, though, not right away. Rather, Gojo simply held you in his arms, his cheek pressed to the side of your head and the slow rise and fall of his chest syncing with yours. The two of you remained silent for a long moment, simply breathing together as the room gradually stopped spinning around you.

Eventually, Gojo pulled back enough to cup your jaw and slant his mouth over yours in another gentle, exploratory kiss. It was nothing like the devouring claims and searing conquests that had preceded it, and the tenderness in the simple press of lips left you feeling utterly weightless.

When Gojo finally withdrew, the smirk curling his lips was positively self-satisfied. "I'd say that’s enough foreplay, wouldn't you, baby?"

You could only huff a soft laugh in response, shaking your head as the residual tremors of bliss faded. "You consider thatforeplay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, was I too gentle?" he retorted, feigning a look of innocent confusion. "Maybe we should try round two, then. I'll give you a chance to demonstrate what you meant about sucking me off."

The words emerged in a low, silky murmur as his large hands gripped and squeezed the supple curves of your ass, eliciting a soft squeal from you. You smacked at his broad chest ineffectually, unable to fight the grin tugging at your own mouth.

"You're incorrigible."

"That's not a no," Gojo pointed out, his smug expression practically radiating his unrepentant satisfaction. "And if you keep acting all cute and sassy, I can't promise I'll be able to resist the urge to bend you over and remind you exactly who's in charge."

Your stomach fluttered at the casual, nonchalant admission. It was an undeniable thrill knowing just how badly Gojo craved this—craved you. The thought alone was enough to send a fresh wave of warmth flooding through your veins.

"Maybe I'm not opposed to the idea," you murmured, biting down on your lower lip as you glanced up through your lashes.

The look was clearly too much for Gojo's self-control. His eyes darkened with fresh desire, and his grip shifted to lift and turn you so that you were sprawled facedown across the rumpled cushions.

"Well, in that case," he growled, the heat and weight of his body blanketing yours as his hips pressed flush to the swell of your backside. "Let's see just how filthy this mouth is, shall we?"

The room seemed to exist in its own hushed, velvety cocoon of tranquility - a stark contrast to the ferocious passion that had consumed every inch mere moments ago. You lay draped languidly across Gojo's powerful frame with your cheek pillowed on the rises and valleys of his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat reverberated through your lashes in a soothing cadence.

One of your hands traced idle, featherlight patterns over the expanse of his toned abdomen - mapping the ridges and grooves so recently sheened and flexing under your ardent worshiping. Gojo remained equally at peace beneath your sprawled embrace, those brilliant azure irises at half-mast while he reclined with one arm crooked behind his head.

Despite the palpable aura of repletion surrounding you both, a new undercurrent began to gradually assert itself in the weighted stillness. You felt compelled to disturb the quietude to address what this entire evening had truly culminated towards - the deal quietly brokered between heated sheets and joined bodies.

"I'll contact the elders first thing," you murmured, the words seeming to slip free before your mind fully grasped their implication. "About postponing Itadori Yuji's case, like you wanted."

Gojo's chest expanded minutely on a slow inhale, but otherwise his statuesque form remained comfortably inert as your words hung in the air between you. After several beats, you felt the subtle weight of his stare alighting on your upturned features.

"Yeah?" His resonant timbre emerged in a low, stripped rasp - sounding as thoroughly unraveled as the rest of his carefully compartmentalized composure. "They'll actually listen to your stance on something so high-stakes?"

You allowed your own eyes to slip shut in a protracted blink, thoughts rapidly trying to align and process how to even begin verbalizing the sheer revelations that had bloomed open tonight about your place within the jujutsu hierarchy.

"I didn't fully grasp it at first," you admitted, voice coming out slightly roughened from earlier exertions. "But now I'm starting to understand the actual leverage my positioning and reputation has afforded without me even noticing."

Rather than respond directly, the only sound came from a protracted exhalation through Gojo's nose - seeming to signal his grasp of the situation finally mapping out as well. You hoped he also understood just how monumental a gambit he'd set into motion by hammering the truth home in his uniquely heated approach tonight. Not to induce guilt, per se...but perhaps a smidgeon more humility about the harrowing stakes being juggled.

As if sensing the direction of your thoughts, Gojo abruptly shifted his weight until you were rolled over onto your back - his solid bulk carefully blanketing yours without pressure. When your gazes met and locked, you felt that simmering connection arc back into incandescence once more between your joined frames.

"You continue underestimating yourself," he murmured in a timbre now rendered warm gravel thanks to its gravelly softness. He cupped the side of your jaw, thumb tracing the bow of your lips in a barely-there caress that spoke to so much more than surface motions. "Which is exactly why I'm never going to stop knocking some sense into that stubborn head of yours..."

With that throaty declaration, Gojo dipped his chiseled features lower until your foreheads brushed - noses scanting along one another in an electrifying gossamer graze. The intimacy of the motion seemed to steal your very breath straight from your lungs as he carried on in a husked rasp.

"So thank you. For listening to reason and actually wielding your power for once when it really mattered..."

Unable to resist the unspoken pull between your joined gravities any longer, you surged up to seal Gojo's mouth in a slow, simmering clash of satin flesh and indulgent possession. All the unvoiced sentiments and roiling tides of turbulence hovered for a suspended eternity within that singular nexus point before gradually dispersing into peaceful becalm once more.

Eventually Gojo broke away with the barest hint of a crooked smile tugging at those stupidly perfect lips, clearly satisfied with your acquiescence for the time being. The two of you simply basked in silence for a while longer, relishing in this well-earned moment of bonded lassitude.

That is, until the first stirrings of Gojo's impish irreverence inevitably bubbled back up in the form of his rich baritone laced with none-too-subtle swagger:

"So...I take it this means I get to thoroughly ruin you again before breakfast? No more insufferable teasing about you not putting out until your higher-up buddies get their precious signatures?"

You scoffed out a long-suffering sound of semi-amused exasperation, already anticipating the thick cloud of smug virility about to descend. Sure enough, Gojo's chest puffed with unrepentant satisfaction as he slung one heavy arm around your waist and lightly squeezed.

"That's what I thought. Face it kitten, that pretty pussy has officially been drafted into service under my uncompromising authority until further notice..."

He punctuated the lewd declaration by slanting his mouth over yours in a deliriously thorough deluge of hunger and virility, effectively stealing your very breath for a second rapturous cycle before exhaustion could dare creep back in.

And as your joined frames spiraled back into the delirious vortex of blissful dissipation once more, you couldn't help hazarding one last, bemused thought: somehow, you got the distinct impression Gojo would be exercising his latest "authority" over you with particularly unrestrained enthusiasm this time around.

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kermdoeswriting · 5 months ago

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Bruce Wayne's a Foster Parent. Also he avoids death a lot so a dead person can usually tell if a humans meant to have died but didn't.

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"Bruce you know I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't have to but-"

Bruce just sighed from his side of the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Nobody ever really expects to get a phone call nearing 3 am but exceptions had to be made when you were a legal foster parent and also a part-time secret super hero. If it wasn't one thing calling for him it was the other.

On the other side of the phone, Bruce heard the caseworker, Roni, chuckle.

"It's just for 3 nights and half of the day after, but I need you to be prepared for something before I can pass them off to you."

Bruce sat upright now on his bed, attentively listening to her words. Usually the kids didn't really come with any pre-warnings from the Caseworker themselves, letting anything about each Foster kid be said inside of their personal files that got sent along with them.

But when she gave out this information it was usually important. The last time Bruce had gotten a warning like this it was for Jason which was ages ago it feels at this point.

"What is it?"

"The kids are-" Her voice trailed off, like as if she was still searching for the right words to say. "They've been through what I can honestly only describe as the equivalent to a meta-kid trafficking lab"

Bruce shifted as he heard the driving continue on the other side of the phone.

"They're very guarded because of what they went through and they might display.. unusual behavior. More unusual then a meta-kids behavior after such a situation would be, but don't let it fool you! The kids are really sweet beyond being afraid."

Bruce frowns at the descriptions before replying to her, mentally trying to prepare himself for the idea of these kids and what they might have went through.

"I'll make a note of it then. Thank you, Roni"

"No, thank you, Bruce. I really appreciate this last minute placement. We'll be by really soon"

He was left with a click as he removed himself off his bed and threw the covers to the side of him. Alfred would want to know that they would have 2 new guests in the manor, at the very least to greet them and have rooms prepared even if they didn't need to have them prepared further then what they already were.

It was less then 5 minutes later that Bruce found himself, with Alfred, greeting the temporary fosters at the front door. Roni looked tiredly at them as she pushed the kids front and center.

Bruce could relate heavily.

"Hello Danny, Ellie. It's nice to meet you both, I'm Bruce Wayne."

Danny just stared at the mans outstretched hand for a second before he turned to look up at him, a pinched look on his face. Ellie matched his expression, although being a bit more subtle about it as she looked over Bruce as a whole.

Eerily, Bruce felt like his very soul was being judge the longer the kids stared at him. He also felt a sense of familiarity with these two kids the longer this continued.

They seemed detached rather than afraid like their caseworker had explained earlier, more so viewing the world as if they were outside of it rather then in it in any way.

Danny was quick to glare at him after another moment, "You're a fruit-loop, aren't you?"

Ellie broke from her own scanning almost immediately when she heard Danny's comment, cackling beside him before shoving him off with her arm. The action made Bruce smile as he took his arm back and placed it by his side.

Alfred also looked amused between the pair of siblings before turning attention to the task at hand again. Bruce just smiled at his pseudo-fathers usual fondness over children, knowing he was being reminded of his own grandchildren.

"This is Alfred. He's going to be the one to show you over to your rooms for the next few nights." Alfred greeted the kids in the same polite way he usually greeted all guests before he leaned down and extended his hands towards their belongings. He didn't grab their belongings just remained leaning over them before questioning the kids if they would like help to take their stuff to their rooms.

Bruce only really saw it faintly and if it were any other moment he might have ignored it as a sleepless hallucination, but for some reason he noticed the change immediately. The twins eyes go from a darker blue to a flashing bright green.

As if alarmed by the sudden movement towards their belongings.

Danny was quick to catch his own staring as well, eyes flashing back to blue for only a second before reverting back to green. Almost as if to give off some kind of warning.

Ellie noticed his staring immediately and shoved Danny again, this time more forceful for his attention before turning to whisper something to him when she had him back.

Bruce felt his skin crawl before turning away to face their caseworker, not really understanding anything they were saying beyond hearing a few words and feeling their eyes look between each other and his back.

Death Touched was an especially new description, and one that stuck in his head the second he heard it.

Bruce waited until the kids were guided away by Alfred before talking to their caseworker officially and waking her up from her half delirious tired drop-off.

"Hey Roni? Is there any chance we can extend the Fenton kids stay?"

There was something going on here with these kids and he was going to get to the bottom of it. One way or another.

#dc x dp prompt #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #dpxdc #dc x dp #dc x dp au #Bruce is canonically a foster parent guys #trust me #just trust me bro #Also he's apparently died like around 24 times-#i know most of those aren't canon to the mainline but-#lets just say at least one does for the sake of this plot #and that it doesnt count and he literally escaped it or smthing idk #Danny is so confused as to why this man smells like death but hasnt died yet??#dani is just amused as hell bc hell yeah get it random rich dude #Dani: Good on you for escaping death man!#Bruce: what #also just ignore the oc caseworker i just didnt wanna call them the caseworker so she has a name ig idk u dont have to use it #shes just here for the sake of chugging the plot along

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nexysworld · 1 year ago

Text

Summary: Raccoon City, 1998. Leon, a rookie officer, encounters an exceptionally unique girl while on patrol. Captivated by her and concerned for her well-being, he decides to take her under his protection. Slowly, his thoughts increasingly revolve around her, and his concern for her safety turns into an obsession. Pairing: Developing Yandere Leon x Puppy Hybrid Reader Tags: NSFW, MDNI, Smut, Oneshot, Mild Slowburn, Female Masturbation, Sex, Creampies, Dubcon, Controlling behavior, Incredibly Naive Reader, Non Outbreak AU, Fingering, Pillow Humping, baby trapping, mentions of past trauma/medical related trauma, Umbrella corporation being evil, sweet sex, fluff, no use of y/n, heat cycles. WC: 14.6K

A/N: This was a commission for the ever wonderful and lovely @explorevenus. I loved writing this and I hope you love it too. <3 Also thank you @dollfacefantasy for beta reading for me. :)

Read on AO3 || Ask Box || Masterlists

Thick fog permeated the area obstructing Leon’s view through the windshield of his cruiser. He didn’t really see a point in traffic patrols on nights like this; the road wasn’t visible, nor was any potential crime. Though he had to admit it was nice being able to sit and listen to the radio with nothing else to pull his attention.

The particular strip of highway he was monitoring connected to the dense and dark woods that began the separation from the city to the mountains – it wasn’t uncommon for the shadows of the wildlife to occasionally dance against his headlights before the animal skittered off. It was something that used to unnerve him, but he’d grown used to it by now.

The night bore on with little eventfulness, it was nearly midnight and time for Leon to phone in that he was ending his shift. Another night, exactly the same as before.

Carefully, he pulled the vehicle out onto the road, keeping just slightly below speed to make up for the lack of visuals. Not paying much attention to anything besides the dim road ahead, he didn’t process anything in his peripherals – especially not the figure running towards the street.

“Shit!” He exclaimed, slamming the breaks. While the impact wasn’t high speed, it was too fast to stop in time – as he braced himself by squeezing his eyes shut, he heard the thump of something hit the hood. By the time he opened his eyes, he caught the tail end of the body rolling off and onto the road.

“Are you alright?” He called out, not sure yet if it had been an animal or a person, as he shakily made his way over to the scene. His breath hitched upon the sight. “What the hell?” A girl, naked and ragdolled onto the pavement with a nonhuman set of ears and tail. Leon bent down, pressing his fingers to her neck. “She’s got a pulse, that’s good. Hey, can you hear me?” No sound came from the girl before him.

He knew he should’ve called for backup, had the paramedics on the way – but something about the whole situation was so peculiar it had his mind working at a negative speed. Gently he rolled her onto her back. There was no blood, just some scuffed up bruising on the girl’s left side from the impact, a goose egg forming on her head.

Gently he tugged on one of the dog-like ears, expecting it to be part of a costume or a headband. Leon was thoroughly perplexed when he realized they were attached to the girl’s head, nearly jumping back when they twitched. A pained groan left her mouth as she moved a bit, coming back to the conscious world, eyes lazily opening. Another muted mumble left her mouth as she rubbed at her head before sitting upright.

“Miss?” Leon put his hand on her shoulder trying to get her attention again.

She met his gaze and in an instant recoiled from him, growling as she scowled, even baring her teeth.

He noted the way the dog-ears on her head had pointed back all on their own, further evidence of them not being a costume prop. It was absurd, and he wasn’t sure whether to be on guard or laugh at her strange behavior. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been in such a strange situation in his entire life. “Miss, I need you to take a deep breath for me, calm down.”

She didn’t let up, growling at him with more intensity, her stance becoming tighter as if she was winding herself up to spring at him. Despite the hostility, he could see it in her eyes that she was scared.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” He reached his arm out again, slowly. “I’m a cop, I help people….do you understand me?”

She gave him an untrusting glance, eyeing at the hand as if it were offensive to be in her presence, but the growling had stopped. He dared his hand even closer again, this time managing to gently touch her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “You’re safe with me.”

Her bottom lip quivered before she relaxed a little.

He smiled at her. “Can you talk?”

“Yes.” Her voice was hoarse.

“My name’s Leon. Do you have a name?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“You got roughed up pretty good,” He tore his heavy uniform jacket off, wrapping it around her shoulders before standing. “You too hurt to walk? Need help up?”

She shook her head again, using the hood of the cruiser to wobble back to her feet. He could see the goosebumps on her skin from where the cool air was hitting everything not under the jacket – though he quickly averted his eyes up from where her indecency started. He placed a hand on her back, gently motioning her to follow him to the door of the car, opening it and ushering her into the warmth of the back seat. “What happened to your clothes?”

“Don’t have any.” She stared back at him, tilting her head to the side, dog ear flopping with it. It was cute, probably the cutest thing Leon had ever seen, and he wasn’t even sure what he was seeing still.

“Where are you from?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are you doing out here alone?”

She didn’t reply, nor did he get a peep out of her for any other questions. When it became clear that she was shutting down, Leon had to think fast. “These are real, aren’t they?” He asked bringing his hand out to touch the soft ears atop her head again. He felt them perk up beneath his hand, and he gave a little scratch to it, hearing the telltale sign of her tale thump lightly against the leathered backseat. “You like that, huh?”

She responded by closing her eyes, nodding into his touch.

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

“No.”

Leon wasn’t sure what to do with the girl. She hadn’t done anything illegal – unless you counted public indecency, but he could tell that probably wasn’t by her own choice. On the other hand, she clearly wasn’t normal. He didn’t even know what to make of the animal attachments or her quirky mannerisms. With her head tilted to the side, he had a more clear view of her neck now, a tattoo catching his attention, it was a red and white logo he’d seen before. “The umbrella logo?” He asked out loud, more to himself than her.

She responded by jumping back in the seat, growling again, covering the mark with her hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He said, putting his hands up defensively. He was even less sure what a pharmaceutical company had to do with a girl like her – he could only venture to guess. Whatever happened there, she clearly wasn’t happy about it. “I won’t make you go back.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

“Then we’re in agreement.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, shaking it. She looked confused by the gesture but didn’t stop him. “When you shake on something, it means its a deal, you can’t go back on it.”

“Really?”

“That’s right. Why don’t you come stay with me for the night? You look like you could use some food and I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting you stay out in the cold like this.”

“Ok.” He helped slip her arms through the holes in his jacket, zipping it up before clicking the seat belt into place. She squirmed against it in a panic. “No! No! Get it off!”

“Hey, hey.” He cooed again, cupping her cheeks. “It’s alright. It’s to keep you safe.” She shook her head, fat tears brimming at her lash line. “It is, I promise.” He held his hand out to her again. She took it this time, mimicking his earlier action of shaking it. “See? I have to keep my word now.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˚♡︎˚˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

You weren’t sure of the man sitting in the front seat, or why you had to be strapped down again. You hated being strapped down. But there was something about his eyes, they were so kind compared to the scary men in white lab coats. His scent too, sweet and musky, not the sterile chemical smell that was scattered around the labs. Leon was nice. Leon was safe.

The warmth of the moving box you were in was all it took for the soreness and fatigue to catch up with you, eyes growing heavier and heavier until you found yourself sinking into that sweet and comfortable darkness.

“Hey, we’re home.”

The familiar sound of Leon’s voice tore you from slumber, annoyed, you let out a grumble readjusting in the seat. Only the jarring feeling of the cold hitting you as the door opened again was enough to yank you fully back to consciousness with a frown. “Don’t wanna move.”

He sighed. “Then I won’t make you,” a moment later you were being scooped up into his arms. Being cradled against his chest felt nice, another thing so very unlike the way you were used to being treated.

The inside of his home wasn’t what you were expecting. Every corner of the small house radiated his scent, and it was warm. Not a concrete wall or blindingly white light anywhere. The couch he’d plopped you down onto was soft, fabric feeling nice against your skin. It couldn’t even hold a flame to the sticky leather of Dr. Birkin’s office seat. Sinking into the plushness, you couldn’t help but bury your nose into one of the pillows, tail wagging heavily as you took in more of Leon’s scent.

“Comfy?” He asked with a soft laugh.

“Yeah! Yeah!”

“You wait right there, I’ll be back. I just need to get out of these clothes, then we can work on getting some food in you.” He ruffled your hair, making you giggle. The heaviness of his jacket and the comfiness of the cushions kept you in place.

When he returned, he was in gray pants and a white shirt. He held out some fabric towards you. “I get the feeling clothes aren’t something you’re used too, but I think it would be best if you put these on.” There was a light flushing to his face as he said the words, though you couldn’t figure out why.

“Why?” You asked, taking them from his hand. They didn’t smell as deeply of him as you’d liked, instead a synthetic floral scent wafted to your nose making your face scrunch up. “They smell bad. I don’t need them.” “Bad? They’re fresh out of the laundry they should smell like – oh. Your sense of smell is probably a lot stronger than mine, isn’t it? Hold that thought.” He ran back up the stairs again, this time coming down with another shirt. He thrust it out waiting until you took it. “That better?”

Yanking it from his hands, you brought it to your nose, inhaling it. It was much better, wrapped in Leon, you nodded in acknowledgement.

“It’s my undershirt from earlier, thought it might work better. Let’s compromise, you can wear that shirt, but the boxers gotta be fresh since they’re not as close to your nose.”

You considered his suggestion, rubbing the fabric against your face again. “Alright.” He helped you unzip the jacket and slide it off before slipping the shirt over your head, then holding out the black bottoms for you to step into.

You didn’t love it, the way the clothes felt against your skin, it was restrictive in a way you weren’t used to – but when he praised you, petting your head again you decided you could suffer through the torment of clothing for him.

“Good girl.” He praised again, and you were done for, practically crawling into his lap to get closer to the hand that was scritching behind your ears. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sore, but ok.”

“I think I have some medicine –”

“No!” You interjected. Medicine was never a good thing, it meant feeling hazy, fuzzy. It meant waking up with headaches, not feeling like yourself. Medicine was bad.

“It’ll make your head and side feel better.”

“I don’t care.”

“Ok, ok.” He gave in, pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around you, gently running his hand down the back of your head in slow repetitions. “But if it gets too bad, let me know. Are you hungry?”

“I am.”

He nodded, reaching for the phone on the side table. He said something about a large with extra cheese, but you had no clue what that meant.

In fact, when he eventually answered the door and presented you with the triangular piece of food, you were even more confused. “What’s this?”

“It’s pizza.” He replied as if that was obvious, holding up the dripping thing and taking a bite out of the pointy end.

You sniffed at the unfamiliar food. It looked nothing like the slop that constituted your meals back at the lab. It smelled strange too – but as Leon wolfed down his own piece, you took that as a sign it was safe to eat, even if a little strange.

You couldn’t stop the moan leaving your mouth as your tongue met it – a strange mix of flavors but all were delicious as it melted in your mouth. Practically inhaling the piece, you scrambled forward to stuff your face with more.

Leon chuckled, rubbing your back. “I get the feeling you’ve never been given a decent meal before.”

You shook your head, another piece of pizza dangling from your mouth as you did so.

“Well, from now on you won’t have to worry about that.” He assured. “Promise.”

Did he really mean it? You weren’t sure, but so far he’d been nothing but kind. You smiled at him, food still in your mouth as you reached over to shake his free hand, making sure he couldn’t go back on his word.

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The moment the front door flew open, Leon was greeted by the tell tale sign of her presence, feet pattering around against the wooden floors as she bounded towards him. He caught her in his arms like he had every prior day, holding her close and resting his chin on her head.

Her tail wagged behind her so fast it was hardly visible, but he could feel the light air current it created. Nothing warmed his heart more.

“You have a good day, sweetheart?”

“Mmm yeah, was boring without you though.” She whined. “They played the same movie on TV like 8 times!”

He chuckled brushing some hair away from her forehead before planting a kiss there. “That’s the worst.” He agreed, gently prying the girl off of him so he could make his way further inside the home to begin their evening routine – the same routine they’d gone through each night since he’d taken her home.

Leon didn’t have much going for him, sure he achieved his goal of graduating from the police academy, hell he even got his first pick of the local stations. But it wasn’t as fulfilling as he’d hoped. He had no grand career plans, or even life plans. His only reason for joining the police force was so he could help people, something that he rarely even did.

Traffic patrol, pencil pushing, the odd bar fight break ups – that was his life.

At least until now.

He found his thoughts wandering to her every spare chance he got. The image of her stretched out on the couch taking a midday nap, her curious naivety and childlike wonder over new things. The most mundane of things still revolved around her – and he loved it. Having someone to come home to and worry about gave him a genuine purpose.

“Leon?”

“Yeah?” He responded as he pulled the soft cotton tshirt over his head.

“Can we go on a walk tonight, please? Please?” She begged as she sat on the edge of their now shared bed.

“I don’t know, you remember what happened last time - “

“I know, I know. But I swear this time I’ll stay right by your side. I’ll even wear the hat!”

He let out a sigh, it was hard to say no when she was looking at him like that. “What has you wanting to go out so badly?” The thought of it dredged up some anxiety. While she was free to run about the property as she pleased, taking her into public was a different challenge all together. Not only were her social skills needing some work, but he was worried that wherever she’d come from, whoever had kept her originally was still looking for her. Despite the time spent together, she hadn’t opened up much about anything still, not that he blamed her.

“The TV said there’s a para aid tonight.”

“A para aid?” He had no clue what she was going on about.

“Yeah! They showed all these fancy lights and food.”

“Oh, the parade! The one down by the carnival.” He said in realization. “I don’t know… there’s going to be a lot of people there, lots of smells and noises too…”

The way she immediately shrunk down on herself, deflated in defeat, broke his heart. Her tail stopped wagging, fluffy ears flattened against the top of her head. It felt so wrong to be the cause of that upset, gut wrenching really. “You promise to keep the clothes on the whole time, and not run off on me?”

She perked up immediately, so quickly he was under the distinct suspicion she’d only been feigning her upset to get her way. Even that was endearing though. “Promise!”

“Then we can go for a little bit.”

When she was at home running around in his boxers and shirts, it was adorable. But something about her dressed in his oversized clothes did something to him that he couldn’t explain. The gray beanie keeping her ears in place, the blue jacket covering where her tail was belted to her back, the jeans bunched at the waist and pooling at her ankles – it was like a sign of ownership in a way.

He wrapped his arm around her, keeping her tucked into his side as they walked. He could see her head darting around every which way as the overwhelming sights came and left their view. “You alright?”

“Yeah. There’s just so much.”

“I told you.” He chuckled, squeezing her into him more. “If it gets to be too much, let me know and we can head home, ok?”

She nodded, but her eyes were already glued on the twinkling set of lights from the moving vehicles ahead of her. Leon moved the two of them forward enough so they could see the floats clearly as they came by.

“They’re beautiful.” She said, eyes wide in amazement. He could feel her tail attempting to move under the confines of the jacket-belt combo. It saddened him a bit that she wasn’t able to express herself the way she deserved for such a happy moment.

“Not as beautiful as you.” He watched as she looked in the opposite direction of him, despite the glowing multicolored lights of the next vehicle making its way past the crowd, he could still see the twinge of a flush on her cheeks from his comment. She looked pretty like that, soft and vulnerable – he couldn’t remember the last time someone gave him that fuzzy feeling, made his heart skip a beat.

“You really think that?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then why do I have to cover my ea - “

He shushed her, gently pulling her away from the crowd of people and the ongoing parade, until they were behind one of the teacup carnival rides. “You know you need to keep quiet about that when we’re out here. You promised.”

“But I don’t understand… if you think I’m pretty then why do I have to hide it?”

“Because - “ He was cut off when a group of teenagers bumped into them.

“My bad!” The kid said, waving them off as they walked away. The spot the two of them stood in was becoming more and more crowded as the street parade ended. With more people flooding in, Leon realized this wasn’t the time nor place for this conversation – but he knew he couldn’t leave her so upset either.

“Look, let me take you on one of the rides and we can talk, ok?”

“Rides?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll like it.” He said pointing to large ferris wheel rotating around. “That one, you get to sit in those carts and once you’re at the very top, you’ll get the view of the whole city.” Not waiting for her response, he took her by the hand leading her over to the line. Being halfway through the night there weren’t as many people lined up for the rides as there were for the games and food stalls. It didn’t take long before the two of them were seated, and the ride began to move.

He could tell by her body language alone the movement had her on edge. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t go any faster than this. We’re safe.”

“And I can look out?”

“Yep, just like I said, look.” He pointed out showing the bustling city below them as the wheel reached its peak.

“Oh wow.”

“That’s where I work.” He said pointing out to the large RPD building. “And that’s where I go to get the groceries.”

“And the pizza?”

“Over there.”

Now that the ride had been filled, it began to rotate again, she watched the city intently as it went around a few more rotations. He didn’t want to interrupt her intense fascination, so he let her be, only reaching out when she went a little too far over the opened window than he would’ve liked.

“Can we go again?”

“I can ask.” With the evening winding down more, and only a few others wanting to join the ride, the attendant nodded, allowing them to go again.

This time, her fascination dwindled slightly as she stayed put in the seat. “Can we talk about it now?”

“Covering up?”

She nodded, fidgeting with the cuffs of the jacket sleeve.

“When you’re home watching TV, do you ever see anyone that looks like you?”

“No.”

“It’s because you’re special, one of a kind.” He said tucking a stray strand of hair back under the beanie. “And I love that about you. My special puppydoll.” He smiled as she nuzzled into his hand. “But, because you’re so special, other people might not feel the same. People can be really mean when someone is different than them. I don’t want anyone to be mean to you, or worse, hurt you.”

A moment of silence washed over them, she scooted closer to rest her head on his shoulder, the cart swaying slightly.

“They were mean to me.”

“Who?”

“Where I came from.”

“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what else to say to that, it was the most information he’d gotten out of her and it hadn’t been a lot, but he was happy that she was confiding something after all this time. “I’m sorry that happened to you . . . Do you want to talk about it?”

“Dr. Birkin was the worst. There were two of them actually, lady Birkin and man Birkin. They yelled at me a lot, asked me tons of questions. Sometimes they would put me on this big table and tied me down, poke at me…” As she spoke her voice became more strained, her body tensing up along with it.

It was clear that her short explanation was merely the cliffnoted version of events, and he wasn’t going to pry further than that – he got the idea. “Hey, its ok.” He cooed, wrapping both arms around her. “You don’t have to worry about them any more. I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.”

“What if they hurt you?” She peeked up from where her head had been nestled into the crook of his neck, a small wet patch formed where her eyes had watered.

“Why would they do that?”

“They’re bad people… and I wasn’t supposed to leave.”

“I’m a cop – its our job to keep people safe. And guess what?”

“What?”

“It makes us much harder to hurt.”

“Hey Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I try something I saw on the TV?”

“You’re not going to jump out of here, are you?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No, I think that would be dangerous.”

“Then go for it.”

He was surprised when her lips met his, her arms slinking around his neck. He returned the gesture, holding her tightly to him, closing his eyes. “You learn to kiss like that just from watching the TV? I’m impressed.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Can I do it again?”

“I’d never say no.”

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The wheel came to its last stop, this time the man outside insisting they had to get off. Leon nodded at the man, helping you step out of the cart.

“You hungry? I think some of the food places are still open if you want to try them. Or we can grab something on the way home.”

“Yeah, I’m starving.” You followed next to him as he was headed over to where the strong cacophony of smells was coming from. Like many experiences with Leon, it was something you couldn’t have imagined. Closing your eyes, you sniffed around, trying to identify and take in each individual scent that you could.

A familiar voice broke your concentration, if it weren’t for the stupid hat, your ear would’ve lifted allowing you better access to the sound. Instead it was muffled slightly, soon another familiar voice layered over that one.

Swallowing dryly, dared to peek at the offending voices and immediately froze. The Birkins, it was hard to recognize them without their white outfits, but it was them – blonde hair and all, between them a small girl grasping at both of their hands.

“No.” Voice breathless you tried to take a step and grab at Leon’s arm, only to realize he wasn’t next to you.

“What do you want?” The stranger responded.

“I-I’m sorr - “ The man didn’t let you finish, already walking away. Leon wasn’t anywhere in your sight, and despite your eyes darting around you failed to pick up on him or his scent. The surrounding crowd was beginning to overwhelm you, too much noise, too much to look at and take in. “L-Leon?” No response, not that your voice could contend with the chatter around.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump. “There you are.” Man Birkin. “We were wondering where you ran off too.”

Not giving the man a chance to do anything else, you took off. He gripped at the back of Leon’s jacket, almost yanking you backwards, but you caught yourself and slipped out of it, not caring if the surrounding people caught sight of your true form – all you were concerned with was getting away, putting as much distance between yourself and the Birkins as you could.

It wasn’t long before the maelstrom of colors and scents from the carnival died down, morphing into a disgustingly musty and cool toned city view. Legs burning, you stopped only to give yourself long enough to pant, trying to catch your breath. Peering around the corner and doing a quick 360, there was no one in sight, not Birkin, not Leon, not anyone.

A new sense of fear encompassed you, the realization you were lost and alone again, just like that night in the woods. Even worse, fear that if Leon did find you, he’d be angry. The hat you were wearing long blew off in the wind, the belt having been ripped off to free your tail – it made running easier. You were exposed exactly in the way you’d promised him not to be, and you’d managed to leave his side too.

“He’s going to hate me.” You whined into your hands, slapping at your face as the tears began to spill. “I’m so stupid. So stupid.”

Once calm enough to think the situation through more, you looked around again to assess your surroundings. The streets were empty, and it was a lot darker than it seemed from the top of the wheel. Eerily quiet too, so unlike the bustling cities you watched on the little box TV at home.

Gripping your tail with both hands nervously, you started your trek down one of the narrow roads. If you’d learned anything from the TV, it was that you don’t stay in alleyways. Besides that, what knowledge you had was limited, a fact you were now painfully aware of upon realizing that you didn’t even have a clue of where you were walking to. A green sign pasted to the wall looked familiar. There was someone wearing clothes similar to Leon’s, and a big white arrow pointing down the path ‘RPD’, you’d recognized those symbols from Leon’s uniform, and the huge sign he’d pointed at during the ferris wheel. “Cops help people.” You reminded yourself of his words.

You followed the arrow, stumbling about until you were before the gigantic building. A man was leaning against the wall, talking into a small radio. He was huge, the biggest man you’d ever seen, brown hair and muscles everywhere. His clothes weren’t quite the same as Leon’s but seemed different than the other people at the carnival. Nervously, you stepped forward. “A-are you a cop?”

He looked down at you, despite his larger and slightly more gruff exterior, his eyes were soft and kind like Leon’s. “Not exactly, something like it though. Are you alright?”

“I’m looking for Leon.”

“Leon? Leon….oh officer Kennedy. He’s not working tonight.”

“I know, I got separated from him.”

“Ah, I gotcha.” He took a step forward, instinctively you took one back, not trusting of the stranger just yet. “Hey, no need to be scared. I can help you.”

“But you’re not a cop?” You asked, taking another calculated step back.

“Not a cop, but I still work here with Leon. See?” He pulled some type of badge out. It was too far away and too dark to see clearly, but the shape of the badge itself looked like the one Leon usually kept in his uniform pocket. “The name’s Chris, Chris Redfield. Come on, you can come inside and wait while I call him.”

“Ok.” Where you had been standing it was dark, but once the streetlight fully illuminated your figure, you saw his face change. Sensing no malice, you didn’t make a move to run, but you didn’t walk any closer either.

Chris opted to come to you, eyes narrowing suspiciously at your form. Your ears were flat to your head as you looked up at him. “Are those...real?” It was so similar to your first meeting with Leon, even the large hand coming down to pat your head, scritching at them. It felt so good, you’d let the grip on your tail go, rubbing back into his hand. You recognized the look of concern that spread over his feature, but it was quickly replaced with a smile as he guided you into the building, and past several doors.

The man took a seat behind a desk, watching you as he picked up the phone. It rang a few times before he put it back onto the receiver, no answer. “You don’t look so hot. Hungry? Need a drink?”

“Please.”

“Here.” He said, opening a metal tin before handing it to you. “Homemade by my sister, guaranteed to be delicious.” He stood from the rolling chair he had been seated in, looking down at you. “Wait here for me, I think his cell number is somewhere around here. Just don’t leave this room, got it?”

Already halfway through scarfing down the sandwich, you couldn’t respond. You nodded in agreement though.

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Leon had never experienced anxiety on this level before, not once in his entire life. One moment he was ordering food, the next he realized you hadn’t been by his side. His heart sank.

The next hour he’d spend running around the carnival area, up and down the streets where the parade was, only to come up empty handed. When he’d stumbled upon his jacket, he felt sick to his stomach – only worst case scenarios came to mind; your dead body on one of his police reports, headlines about a mysterious science experiment gone missing, or arguably worse – someone else taking you home for their own pleasure.

The thoughts only worsened when he pulled the antenna up from his phone before flipping it open. “Leon? It’s Redfield. I think I have your uh….friend here. The one with the extra parts.”

“Is she ok? Is she hurt? How’d she get - “

“She’s fine. But we need to talk. I’m keeping her in my office for right now, no one else is here besides some pencil pushers, but some of the patrolling squads will return soon. I won’t be able to hide her all night.”

“Shit.” Leon dug his sneaker into the gravel. “I can be there in 15, no more like 25 with all the traffic leaving. Look Chris, I can explain. “

There was some shuffling and Chris greeting someone on the other end of the line before his voice picked up again. “Bad news, some of the teams are already back.” His voice was now a low hushed whisper. “Look, just go home, I’ll meet you there with her. You’re still at the old sheriff's house right?”

“Yeah but wait - “

“Gotta go.”

Leon bristled as the call cut off, snapping the phone shut. The walk to his jeep, and the drive back home were done in silence. He felt out of his own body, swishing back and forth on waves of anxiety. He paced back and forth waiting for an update.

It felt like a lifetime had passed before the glow of Chris’ headlights made an appearance through the front windows of the house. Leon couldn’t contain the childlike giddiness he felt, bolting out the front door and over to her; crushing her into a too-tight hug.

“Leon…” She whined, attempting to squirm under his grasp.

“No.” He said firmly, refusing to let go. “I can’t believe you ran like that, you promised me.”

“Leon it wasn’t -”

“I don’t care. Don’t you ever scare me like that again, do you understand?” He finally gave her enough room to look up at him. He felt horrible at the knee-weakening stare she gave back, but he couldn’t bring himself to calm down enough to comfort her just yet. “Go inside and wait for me, I have to talk to Chris.”

“But Le - “

“Go.” He said more firmly, pointing towards the front door. He waited for her to slowly make her way towards it, ears down and tail nearly tucked between her legs.

“Hey, don't be so hard on her.” Chris said, putting his hand on Leon’s shoulder.

“Yeah I know. I’ll apologize later. Thanks for bringing her home.”

“Sure thing.” There was a moment of silence that passed between the two men before Chris finally piped up again. “Leon . . . how do you even have that girl? I saw the umbrella logo on her neck, she’s probably some experiment, or worse, a bioweapon.”

“A what? Her? No. No way.” Leon said, shaking his head. “She’s different...but harmless.”

Chris sighed. “I think so too, but you never know. How did you even get her? How long have you had her?”

“Almost a year now. I kind of stumbled on her one night during the end of my patrol. She was so scared, I couldn’t send her back Chris, not if you saw that look in her eye.”

“I get it.” The taller man said. “You should be more careful. I’m not sure the ins and outs of it all myself, but I know that higher ups in the S.T.A.R.S. unit sometimes work with Umbrella. I wouldn’t even be surprised if that girl was reported to them already. I’d keep her away from the city from now on.”

“You’re right.” It wasn’t like he’d let her go out often as it was, but after tonight, he was realizing that she wasn’t made to go out at all. She was far better off here, at home. He also knew that she wasn’t going to like that change - but it was for her own good. “You’re not going to uh…say anything are you?”

“Nah.” Chris shrugged. “I don’t see a point, it wouldn’t benefit anyone. She’s better off with you, I think.”

“Well thanks again for bringing her back.”

“No problem. If you two need anything, let me know.”

Leon nodded, he watched as Chris made his way back to his vehicle and waved him off, not moving until it was out of sight. The anxiety from the evening hadn’t fully left Leon, and now that she was back home and it was just the two of them, he was nervous. Not in the sense that he thought they would have a confrontation, but he knew given everything it would be awkward and he hated the feeling of awkwardness.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He called out noticing she wasn't splayed across the couch like he expected. The non-immediate response set off alarm bells in his head, but he was relieved when she came trodding downstairs in her usual attire.

“What?”

As expected, she didn’t look happy, brows knitted together anger written all over her face. He pulled her into another hug with one arm, his free hand gently smoothing over the top of her head, focusing on her ears in a short rhythmic pattern. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. I’m just happy you’re safe, and home.”

“I didn’t mean to run off.” She mumbled against him, clinging to him in a hug of her own. “Really. One moment I couldn’t see you anymore, and I saw the Birkins there. It was so scary, I didn’t know what to do.”

“I should have kept a closer eye on you. I’m sorry.” Leon gave her a quick peck of the lips before pulling back.

“Leon?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I in trouble? I let Chris see me and -”

“No. No, you’re not in trouble.”

“Are you going to be in trouble?”

“No, I’ll be fine. Chris is a cool guy, you can trust him.”

“Ok.”

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It was about a week after the night at the carnival that you noticed something was different between you and Leon now. You weren’t sure if it had to do with the kiss, or the rest of the evening. A sneaking suspicion told you it was likely both.

Since that night, he never seemed to leave you alone. It wasn’t a bad thing, at first. New rules in place meant you weren’t allowed outside without him now, even on the property. He taught you how to use the house phone just so he could start calling several times a day to check in. When he was home, he was all over you, scarcely allowing you to even remain in a single room by yourself.

It was all for your own safety, is how he’d explained it.

He cared about you more than anyone else ever had, and the added attention made your stomach tingle, tail wagging and ears perked.

But soon it became too much, suffocating as time went on. It left you with torn feelings, on the one hand you knew you should be grateful to Leon, should soak in all the affection he bathed you in. And you wanted to really. Guilt ate away at you every time one too many hugs became irritating. One too many phone calls pulling your concentration from your current task. Going stir crazy in the same 4 walls day in and out. Not even being able to sit alone on the porch for a minute of solace.

It was so reminiscent of the lab, and you hated yourself for making that connection – because Leon was not like the Birkins or anyone else there. He was kind. He was sweet. You loved him. Moreso, even being locked within the house, you had more freedom than those sterile white walls and blinding lights that you’d grown accustomed to.

You felt shameful disgusted with yourself for harboring such thoughts. Despite that, the annoyance didn’t go away, it only grew despite yourself.

“Leooonnnnnn.” You whined, angrily tapping your fingers against the kitchen table. “You’ve been gone every day this week.”

“I know, I know. But Marvin’s been out sick, they needed someone to cover his shifts. Next week I’m all yours.” He said, ruffling your ears and kissing the top of your head like he always did. It was a small comfort, enough that you felt your tail do a single little thump against the seat. It wasn’t enough this time to improve your soured mood.

“I haven’t been out of the house in almost two weeks and that was just to sit on the porch. I’m bored. Can’t we go on another walk?”

“I told you to stop asking me that.”

You recoiled. He didn’t yell, Leon never yelled, but his voice was sharp and cut like a knife. His usually soft features were pointed with irritation, and it seemed so unfitting for him. It was only the second time he’d ever snapped at you like that. He wasn’t wrong either, you’d been shot down every time you’d asked, and when you kept up the onslaught of begging, he had respectfully told you to stop.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He said as he idly grabbed the ingredients for dinner. “I know you’re going a little stir crazy here, I get it. Really.”

“Does that mean you might change your mind?”

“No.” He said, shooting you a weak smile.

“But you just said you understood.”

“I do understand. But sometimes what’s best for us isn’t what makes us happy, we gotta stick it out.”

“How long do I have to stick it out?”

“I don’t have an answer for that. But I promise it won’t be forever.”

You weren’t sure if you believed him, but nodded anyway. “Ok.”

This time when he ruffled your hair, you felt a strange warmness waterfall over you. It had you squirming in your seat. “Can I go sit on the porch while you make dinner at least? Please?"

He shot you a warning look, but it softened in an instant. "Fine, but only the porch, not a step past it. "

"Thank you! Thank you!" You cheered, assaulting his cheek with an onslaught of kisses the moment he'd agreed. You heard him say something as you skittered off, but it didn't register, beyond happy to finally have a taste of fresh air - a view of something that wasn't the same set of walls for the first time in weeks.

The air slapped your face immediately. It was chilly outside, so much so you were debating heading back to grab a coat or a blanket, but the fear that you may not be granted permission to go back out if you even stepped an inch back into the house, kept you planted. A little cold was nothing compared to feeling of the wind in your hair, the different scents of nature drawing their way into your nose.

Your ears twitched, picking up the sound of something nearby. Chirping. A bird! It was perched in a tree at the end of the property where the well-groomed lawn spread out into the wilderness that spanned beyond the old fence.

The bright red was unlike anything you'd ever seen before in person. You wanted a closer look, just to observe it, halting the moment your foot lifted off the threshold of the porch. Leon had only permitted you to stay on the porch. He trusted you.

Your legs felt antsy, burning with the need to move, run. Your mind itched with the want to get closer to the small bird before it flew away. Before you were confided to the house again. A pathetic squeal-like whine worked its way from the back of your throat as you gripped the ledge of the porch, bouncing your legs up in down as if you were marching. You just wanted to see it.

Sure Leon would be mad if he knew, but if you were quick enough, only a minute, then he'd never know. Besides, you would still be on the property, technically.

Apprehension settled in your stomach, tethering you to the porch. "Leeeoonnn, I'm hungry. Is dinner almost done?" You called, cracking the back door open just enough to hear his response.

"Five more minutes." He called back, "I promise you won't starve, just wait out there for me, we can eat on the porch tonight."

"Ok!"

Five minutes. The door closed with a creak, the latch of the doorknob clicking into place. The fiery bird was still there, perched happily on the branch. Five minutes. You repeated on more time before taking off.

It felt so good, the bottoms of your feet flattening against the grass with each step. The wind knocking your hair backwards out of your face as you ran, tail and ears pointed. You had to resist the urge to spin, arms out, happy to be in the center of the open yard again. But there was only limited time, and you needed to make sure your little trip meant something.

Five minutes. "Crap." You muttered to yourself. "How long has it even been since he first said 5 minutes?" Realizing you didn't have the time to linger, you continued your journey jogging until you clutched the fence with both hands. "Ow!" The fence was splintered a part from age, but you hadn't expected it to bite you.

Only one hand was injured, little speckles of blood forming against your skin. The most damage done to your index and middle fingers. You shoved them into your mouth to suck and lap at the injury, ignoring the metallic taste in favor of finalizing your mission.

There it was in all its glory, this fat red bird seated in its nest. It turned its head side to side a few times as if looking down at you. "Wow." Murmuring around your injured fingers, your free hand cam up to reach out to it. It chirped and hopped around before fluttering it's wings and landing on your extended finger.

Eyes wide as saucers, your face almost hurt from how outstretched your smile was. Despite being so plump looking, the bird was surprisingly lightweight. It chirped a few more times. "Hello." If not for the stinging in your left hand reminding you of the current situation, you'd have felt like the Disney princesses Leon showed you.

Leon that's right, dinner would be done soon and you had no idea how much of the five minutes had been wasted. The turning off the doorknob in the distance had your ear twitching in that direction. It was too late to head back.

The sound of plates crashing to the wooden flooring made you want to cry, the bird sitting on your finger kept you where you were. Your hope was that maybe Leon would see it, understand why you'd done what you did, but the heavy stride of his steps told you otherwise.

"Leon -"

"Don't."

The last loud step by your side had the bird flying away, making you sad.

"You promised me! The first time I give you an ounce of trust and this is what you do?"

"I'm sorry - "

"You're always sorry! Do you want to be taken away? Do you want to go back to the lab, or worse be stuck with some stranger?"

"No."

"Go back inside."

"Leon the food -"

"Go. Back. Inside."

It was the first time Leon ever looked genuinely angry, his sky blue eyes feeling like lasers boring into the back of your head as you shamefully walked back towards the house. The remnants of dinner scattered over the porch from where he'd dropped them.

"Careful." He commanded, lifting you from behind to help you up and over the mess of glass and food, though the tone was far more annoyed than caring. You stood in the corner of the living room, watching him stomp around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets a little too roughly as he grabbed cleaning supplies.

Even the way he knelt down to begin scraping up the glass and food remnants off the ground just radiated negativity. "I can help clean it up."

"Don't bother." He said, getting as much of the mess into the dustpan. You sunk to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest, a defensive pose learned when you were still with the Birkins.

Leon didn't say another word to you as he stormed around the place, and you didn't have the guts to say anything to him either. You were in trouble. Real trouble.

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He can't remember the last time he was so angry. He didn't usually get angry. Just wasn't that kind of guy. On the rare occasion it did happen, he was pretty good at reigning it in.

Now though? It felt like pure heat radiated from every vein in his body. He couldn't breathe without steam working its way from his lungs. He wasn't sure what he was the most upset about, the breach of trust? The defiance? Or maybe the way she batted those lashes, the stupid bird on her hand.

Manipulative. That's what she was being, he was sure of it. Manipulative because she thought she understood how things worked, thought she could just decide to do whatever she wanted without consequence. Worse, she thought he was a pushover that would just allow it at every turn.

He pinched his nose, leaning against the counter. When he finally felt a little more numb to his emotions, he allowed himself to look over to where she was sitting, curled up in the corner like a child. He wasn't sure if it was genuine submission he was viewing, or another way of trying to get under his skin. The gurgling of her belly coupled with the silence from her mouth was enough to at least draw his focus from the situation to her immediate needs.

Leon pulled the phone off the receiver, speed dialing the Chinese place. He wasn't in the mood to cook again, and while he didn't want to reward your misbehavior, he couldn't help the pull of the crab rangoon, knowing it would make his own mood improve.

"Get up." The words came out harsher than he had intended and when she flinched from him, he felt nauseous. He cleared his throat, trying again, this time much softer. "I need you to get up, you can't stay there all night."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Yes." She look like she'd been shot. "But I won't be forever. " He gently tugged her arm, helping her to her feet. He ruffled the hair on her head before smoothing his hands over her ears a few times. "I ordered something to eat. Let's talk before it gets here."

It wasn't a request, but he still appreciated the nod he got in return as he led her over to the couch. He had to admit now that he was mellowing out, he didn't like the invisible separation between the two of them. Now he finally understood what people meant about the tension being thick enough to cut. The way she was sat, stiff as a board hands palm up in her lap, he bristled once he realized one of them was injured. If it weren't for the still lingering simmer of anger in him, he'd have given in already pulling her close and doting on her until that sad look on her face melted to the gleeful smile he was used to.

"You broke my trust." He began, "That really hurts my feelings. The first time I give you a little leeway and this is what you do? I'm so disappointed in you."

"I just wanted to see the bird..."

"Why didn't you come ask?"

"Because you would say no! You always say no!"

"I didn't say no to the porch, did I?"

"No...but - "

"I let you do almost anything you want, damn it! The only time I say anything is when it has to do with your safety. So the few rules I have in place I expect to be followed. It's that simple. You're more human than dog, control yourself next time." He was raising his voice again, and he hated the sound of it. His own words rattling in his head and yet they continued to flow like a venomous waterfall.

"It was just the end of the yard. I thought I'd see it up close, then come right back."

"And you got hurt anyway. Look at your hand. That fence was old, dirty, that could get infected. And then what? It's not like I can take you to a regular hospital...." He put his palm over his face, sensing he needed to calm down all over again.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Really I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

He wish he hadn't looked. Her face contorted and scrunched, red, tears and snot running down her cheeks. His chest tightened, mouth suddenly dry. That wasn't manipulation. No one ugly cried like that if they didn't mean it. It didn't change the fact that the trust he had in her was fractured, but any other negative feelings fizzled out with a pop.

"I believe you." He cooed, reaching forward to wipe some tears away from her face. "I forgive you. "

"I...love you....Leon" The words came between wracked sobs.

"I love you too." He wrapped his arms around her tightly, letting her sob into his shoulder. "It's ok. It's ok," he repeated as he pet her hair. "You just gotta listen from now on, sweetheart. I don't want anything bad to happen to you. I don't want to lose you. It would break my heart."

"I will. I promise."

He wasn't so sure of that. He believed that she believed it though, and that sentiment was enough. He let her finish out her crying session until the delivery driver knocked on the door, tearing them out of the moment.

"Just a minute!" He called out, returning his attention to her. "After I grab the food, we'll get your hand cleaned up, eat, and get some sleep. Tomorrow will be better, alright?"

"Promise?"

"Promise." He cooked his pinky finger around hers, pressing a quick peck to her lips. Her ears pointed up in return, tail lifting to slowly move back and forth. That was his girl.

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That strange warmness from earlier was back. A feeling of longing you couldn't quite place tugged at your core while heat made every part of your skin tingle, the bedding sticking to your clammy body. The wedge of moonlight coming in through the window caught your attention, pouring all your focus into eyeing it, trying desperately to ignore the discomfort, and to not wake Leon up. The last thing you needed right now was to have him upset with you all over again.

But whatever was wrong with you had slowly become too much, worsening by the hour.

The floorboards creaked with each step, feet feeling heavy as you tried to pad your way to the bathroom as quietly as you could. Even your lungs felt like you'd run a mile, panting the only way to get enough air without feeling suffocated.

One time, at the lab, you remembered feeling this way. It didn't last long before lady Birkin was stabbing a needle into your arm, frigid liquid cooling you down from within your veins. From that moment on, the shots became regular. They didn't explain what any of it meant, but you never felt that all consuming inferno again -- at least not until now.

Liquid cold. Instant relief.

That's all you craved. That's all you needed. That's all you could think about.

Liquid cold. Instant relief.

Stumbling into the bathroom, you flicked the light on, gripping the sink with your good hand so tightly a part of you was scared you'd crack the porcelain from sheer force of will. Your breath expanded over the mirror, fogging it up each time a heavy breath escaped. "Ok...I got this.....ok...." You told yourself, scuttling over to the tub.

Shower or bath, you mulled over the options quickly trying to make a decision. Leon took cold showers. He told you so, sometimes in the middle of the night, other times in the morning. You'd vaguely wake up to something poking you, and he'd be shuffling out of the bed. 'Shh. Go back to sleep.' He'd coo. 'Just feeling a little hot, 'gon take a cold shower, and I'll be right back.'

Good enough for you. The overhead shower roared to life as you turned the cold knob to max, water pattering loudly against the tub. You didn't even bother to strip, flopping yourself into the basin, clothes and all.

It felt like ice shards clattering against you, steam sizzling off your skin from the sheer difference in temperature. In any other situation, it would've felt miserable, too cold and uncomfortable. But right now, even the stinging pain of the water felt intoxicating compared to just being hot all over. It wasn't as good as the shot from lady Birkin, but it was enough to sooth.

As your body regulated its temperature, the aching sensations became more noticeable now. A pang of something between your legs had you clamping them together instinctively, skin making a slapping noise from the mix of force and wetness.

Your nipples hurt, hardening beneath the water, too rough against the tank top's fabric you had on. You needed to be freed from the clothes, weighing you to the bottom of the tub and sticking to your skin.

The shirt was the first to go, tugging it up and over your head, frustrated as the wet fabric seemed to stretch and stretch before it finally decided to free you of its grasp. The wet shirt hit the door with a smack and a plop, before sliding down onto the tile floor. You hiss when your nipples were exposed to the air, droplets of water making direct contact with the pruning skin. It wasn't as painful as the fabric, but it was definitely more sensitive.

Flattening your palms against your chest, you kneaded at your breasts, hoping warming them up a bit might help. It served its purpose, but each movement, skin rolling against skin made unfamiliar sensations of longing pulse between your legs.

You groaned, squeezing your legs together again. Every time you fixed one issue, another seemed to pop up somewhere else. You just wanted it all to go away.

The boxers were next, discarded next to the tank top. Now you felt weightless where you laid, nude flesh encompassed by the hug of the tub, water splashing down on you like rain. You were sure this is what heaven felt like, until another round of pulsating from your core made you bristle, ruining your moment of peace.

"No more..." you breathed out loud, startling yourself with the unrecognizable tone of your own voice.

You adjusted, one arm snaking its way under your neck for support, the other finding itself between your legs hoping to massage out the sensation if you could, like dealing with any sore muscle. The cold tips of your fingers brushed past something that made you gasp, toes flexing. A cold jolt, a warm tingle.

Tentatively, you brought your fingers back to that spot again, pressing down. It felt good, not quite as good as the first time, but the firm pressure seemed to quell some of the throbbing. You could feel your pulse in your fingers - were they being warmed by whatever was between your legs? Or was the cold of your fingers icing the spot there. You couldn't tell, both sensations melding together.

Why didn't it feel like the first time? Your brows came together, as you thought, eyes slipping closed. Spreading your fingers outward in a V shape, you felt it again, that jolt that made your lower half jump. The little bump, you discovered, was the key to that feeling.

Experimentally, you ran your index and middle finger over it again in a circular motion. A strangled noise worked itself out of your throat, and a muscle you weren't even aware you had tightened. It felt so good, but not enough. A burning pleasure on the outside, a dull thrum of need somewhere deep inside of you.

You wanted more room, spreading your legs as much as the tub would allow before hooking one over the ledge. You could worry about the water running off your foot and onto the floor later.

The water above served only as background noise now, your skin long numbed from the cold, allowing your brain to focus solely on what was happening below.

It felt like something was building up, like every sensation was working towards something, something you couldn't grasp. Frustrated noises echoed through the tiny bathroom, and your arm muscles burned with overexertion. Despite that, the need for something, anything, kept you going, desperately rubbing your fingers over the bundle of nerves in no rhyme or rhythm.

As fast as your body would allow, you pawed at yourself closer and closer until it felt like you were tossed off the edge of a cliff. Every muscle in your body tensed up. You forgot how to breathe. Splotches of white and black lights danced behind your eyelids. The shower was silent against the heartbeat hammering against your eardrums. Fuzzy ears twitched with your pulse, tail sloshing back and forth in the shallow water.

And as quickly as it came, the feeling was gone. So much rubbing, so much effort, so little warmth and too much exhaustion.

You went lax like a rag doll, leg sliding back into the tub, sore arm left where it was, hand still resting flat against your pubic area. When was the last time you felt this relaxed? Tired? Never, probably. Not even having the capacity to reach up to shut the water off, you were fully unconscious within seconds, facial muscles relaxing as the water rained down on you.

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Light burned through his eyelids, the familiar feeling of consciousness tugged at his mind. He yawned, rubbing at his eyes. It was rare he didn't have to wake up to an alarm, it felt nice, just getting to lay there for a bit. The lack of warmth and dip in the mattress next to him made him grumble. "Sweetheart?" He reached over, patting around for her and coming up with nothing but the cool sheets beneath his palm.

Panic made him shoot up, eyes barely adjusting to the light as he looked around. The sound of the shower caught his attention. It meant she was home, at least, easing part of his concern. However, she never showered in the morning. Was something wrong?

Leon wiped the crust and sleep from his eyes as he made his way down the upstairs hall to the bathroom. The door wasn't closed all the way, stopped from swinging open by wet fabric bunching beneath it when he tried. "What the?" He knelt so he could move the cloth from the door before swinging it open. He was more confused at first, not seeing her silhouette. In fact, the shower curtain was mostly open, water having misted around the floor. Where the hell was she?

His took a step forward, knees buckling at the sight. He caught the edge of the tub with his hands, pajama pants soaking into the water on the floor. She was in there, unconscious. Her skin blueish in tint, unmoving was the water splashed over her form. He scrambled to shut the water off, almost turning the wrong knob in his panic.

"Come on, wake up." He said, shaking her by the shoulder. Her body wiggled, but she didn't move on her own. "Sweetheart... what did you do?" He looked her over again. Did she fall? But there was no bruising or blood. He lifted her arm, dropping it back on top of her. Nothing. He tried to feel for a pulse, but her skin was too cold to feel anything. Luckily, with the water off, it took only a moment before he heard the telltale sound of her teeth chattering together, even her tail seemed to vibrate as her body shivered involuntarily trying to gain some warmth. He'd have turned the warm water on if not for how pruny and textured her skin already was. She was practically water logged, but alive.

He yanked the towel off the bathroom rack, tossing it over her, helping to get a grip on her torso before pulling her out of the tub, cradling her against himself. He cartoon slid out of the bathroom, water making his feet hydroplane on the finished wood as he rushed you back to the bedroom. He didn't care about the mess, he just needed you to be ok, stuffing your cold body under the comforter, wrapping himself under with you, cocooning you in his body heat.

"Leon?" She blinked, knocking a few beads of water off her plush eyelashes. She was shivering violently. "I'm so cold."

"What the hell happened!?" His words held no malice, he was terrified more than he had the capacity to be angry, rubbing his palm against her back desperate to get some friction going between them.

"Was so hot... just wanted to cool off. Fell asleep...."

"You fell asleep in the shower?"

"Yeah."

"How'd you manage that?"

"So hot, then so sleepy."

He hadn't a clue what the hell she was talking about, but he was glad she was alive. He made a mental note to add a rule now that she wasn't allowed to use the shower without him from now on. In fact, he was already brainstorming a whole new set of rules and restrictions.

Every day, it seemed like she was tempting to pull herself away from him in one way or another. If it wasn't the way he could see her face tense when he was being overly affectionate. The way she complained and pushed boundaries. But this? God, he couldn't trust her to do anything anymore, could he?

His precious puppydoll, what was the matter with her? He peppered her forehead with kisses, ignoring his own shivering as the cold passed between them. She curled herself into him, his only focus was getting her comfortable and warmed up. He just couldn't understand her.

He wasn't sure how long the two of them had been laying there when she finally stopped shivering, falling back into sleep. Her breathing even, the sun through the window warm against the now soiled blankets. Leon couldn't find it within himself to do the same. He was wide awake, thinking about what to do. Watching her puppy ears twitch every now again, idly running his fingers through her now drying hair.

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You couldn't remember sleeping like that before, so exhausted, the world was gone. Dreamless. Vaguely, there was the memory of feeling so cold that your bones ached. Even when your eyes cracked open, part of your face felt numb - still you were nude, half wrapped in a towel and curled under the blanket.

'When did I come back to bed?' You thought to yourself, pawing at your eyes to get the crust and goopy feeling to go away. Despite the memory of freezing, the only thing you felt again was hot. Pure heat all over again.

"Good morning." Leon's voice caught your attention, his hands gently stroking your ears.

"Morning." You said, still groggy, a squeaky yawn leaving you as your eyes adjusted to the world. As if the warmth wasn't bad enough, everything felt off, the man laying in front of you just seemed so much more than he normally was. Leon's face was smooth, skin vibrant with life. You were hyper aware of the warmth on his cheeks, the cool undertones that cast the shadows of his features. His blue eyes were so opaque they could've been painted on stained-glass.

"Are you ok?" He asked, his large hand cupping your cheek. "Your pupils are dilated."

You had no clue what that meant, but you had this overwhelming instinct to press yourself to him, and you did. Nose nestled firmly into the crook of his neck, taking in a deep inhale. Had he always smelled this good? You whined, fisting his shirt to anchor yourself to him, tail drumming behind you in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the stimuli. His scent was so intense, it was hypnotizing, and you craved more of him. Your tongue reached out to lap at the junction between his neck and collar bone, tasting his skin. That new but familiar aching between your legs was back with a vengeance. You wormed your hand down between your legs attempting to stave off the feeling, when Leon's hands met your shoulders to push you away from him slightly.

"What are you doing?" His face was tinged with a bright blush you hadn't seen before on him. Was he embarrassed by something? You weren't sure why, he looked so perfect right now. "H-hey now." He said, pressing you away from him, a firm grip on both your shoulders.

"Leoonnnn..." You whined his name, squirming to get back to him. When he wasn't budging, face still etched in confusion, a low growl began to bubble from the back of your throat, fangs bearing at him from frustration.

"What the hell's gotten into you? Are you seriously growling at me?" He kept his hold on you firm, giving a light squeeze to your shoulders. His face morphed into something you couldn't fully read, a cross between what you presumed to be anger and something else. Unable to articulate your need for him, the heat you were feeling - the growling didn't ease up. You struggled in his grasp, snapping and snarling, pawing at his arms as best you could with the awkward angle.

"Bad girl!" He snapped, voice loud and sharp. He rolled you over, pinning you down against the mattress, using his body weight to keep you there, his face level above yours. The surprise movement coupled with chiding made you halt for a moment. With his face so close to yours, there was no reason for you to remain so upset, instead you happily peppered his face with kissing, running your nose against his jaw again to take in his scent. A contented mewl dug it's way out of you.

"Leon, please." Tail wagging between your legs, you tried so hard to get him to understand. "Too hot. Everything's s'hot. Make it better?" You ground your hips upwards against him a few times. Something hard poked against your thigh as you did it, but Leon didn't move immediately.

When he finally did move, he was peeling himself away from you. "What the fuck?" He asked aloud to no one in particular.

"Leon!" You demanded, reaching your hands out to grab at him. He dodged them easily, slipping off the mattress, staring down at you. "It hurts, it's too hot. Leon, please." The room felt like it was teetering, you were so wound up, you wanted to cry, scream, throw yourself onto the floor. Anything to help cope with the overstimulation of everything going on. Even the silence was too much, aiding in your ability to hear both your heartbeats pounding in your head. The heat, smell, the visuals.

Flopping forwards onto the bed, you buried your face in the blanket, inhaling his scent again. The corner of his pillow had caught against the spot between your legs from the movement. It was dull, but you felt it. That same pleasurable feeling from the night before. With a soft groan, you bore down again, grinding your hips onto the bed to try and get more of that pressure, anything to quell that ache.

Leon still hadn't said anything, but you were too driven by instinct to even care. The blanket blocking your vision, his scent mixed with laundry detergent sating your olfactory, all you could focus on was rocking your hips against the pillow letting that pressure build up again.

"I get it now..." He finally piped up, kneeling down and patting your shoulder.

Panting, you lifted your head to look at him. "H-help me?"

"I can't, at least not how you need." He brushed some of the hair that had clung to your face from sweat away. Again his expression was unreadable, and you hated it. You didn't understand, all you wanted was to feel normal again. For the heat and ache to go away.

Tears clung to your lash line, unable to cope any more as your hips picked up speeding, rutting desperately against the pillow. Leon drew his hand back as he stood again. He did a strange shuffle messing with his pants, before quickly exiting the room. You reached out for him, wanting to call him back to you, beg him not to go, but the door slammed closed behind him. Unable to do anything else, you squeezed your eyes shut, flopping there until a few more movements of your hips had that same pleasurable feeling washing over you again.

Sighing in relief, you just laid there, bringing the blanket back to your nose to inhale it.

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The moment the door slammed behind him, Leon bound down the stairs, skipping half the steps. He needed to distance himself, clear his head. Her erratic behavior had thrown him a loop that he could hardly process. The way she was begging for him, clinging to him, fucking herself against his pillow - all within a few minutes of waking up. It was enough to make his pajama pants tent painfully.

What he wouldn't give to let you pepper his face in more of those kisses while he railed you into the mattress. She shivered at the thought, pushing it to the outskirts of his consciousness to try and calm down. His palms felt sweaty, and his heart was hammering a mile a minute.

He couldn't do that to you. It wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be fair. You were in heat...at least he thought so. Not in your right mind. But even if you were in your right mind, he still hadn't concluded what exactly your relationship was. Were you even aware enough to consent to anything more than kisses?

He didn't know. And he wished he didn't care enough to know, wanting to give in to his baser instincts.

For now, he was stuck sitting on the floor in front of the couch, catching his breath. He leaned back, letting his head fall onto the cushion. "Fuck." He palmed himself through the cottony fabric of his pajama pants to ease his own tension. He couldn't get the image of her out of his head, every time he blinked he saw her dilated pupils, that lovesick longing. Leon's had girlfriends before, not many, but he's had them, and he's sure not one of them ever looked at him like that. There was never a connection he'd felt with someone so intense before, like she would die without him. Maybe she would.

She would.

He was sure of that fact, especially after last night.

He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. 'She does need me, I know that.' He confirmed to himself. 'God.' He let out a few deep breaths, removing his hand from his crotch, allowing his erection to deflate. It was just one more thing to add to the list of everything else he was dealing with.

Her behavior. Her desire to keep pushing his boundaries. Her erratic behavior the night before. Now this.

He listened to see if he could hear her. Luckily, there was nothing but silence from the upstairs bedroom. She'd likely fallen back asleep, giving him even more time to process things. In all his 21 years of life, he was sure he had never faced a challenge like this one before, but he was never one to give up or back down. His puppydoll needed him, and he was going to figure things out, even if it was the death of him. He owed her that, he owed himself that.

"I could call Chris, maybe..." He mumbled to himself, looking to the landline. Something about the idea of Chris knowing she was in heat, even imagining what she was looking like right now didn't set right with him. Leon wasn't a jealous person by nature, but somehow a phantom jealousy shut that idea down. No, she needed him not anyone else right now.

"Think, think." He chided himself, cupping his temples with his hands. Did he go back upstairs to her? Comfort her in the short term? Did he leave her there? Longterm?

He slicked his hair out of his face, emptying his head of all thoughts for a moment. "If she's in heat then she must have other instincts right? She's fertile, and she'll want to nest and...mating makes animals closer right?" He mused out loud, then it occurred to him. This situation was the solution, not another problem.

"No, that's messed up... I shouldn't even be thinking about..." But he was, the image of her swollen and gravid with a baby, his baby flashed before his eyes. She'd be so needy, tired. So focused on what her body was meant to do, she wouldn't need to try and get into any more trouble.

It was tempting. So very tempting.

It would solve her problem of being bored too, with a baby to focus on, take care of. She wouldn't have to be lonely while he was away.

The more he thought of it, the more appealing it was becoming. His cock was filling out again, twitching each time he pictured it. He had a solid job, a house, two things most people his age didn't. He could do it. Really.

By the time the wet spot formed on his pajamas, any moral argument against the plan had disappeared by the need to get his rocks off, to fuck a baby into her. He was convinced that this was the perfect solution in totality.

His legs were a little shaky as he stumbled to his feet, every step of the stairs felt like running through sand. Electricity skipped through his nerves, leaving him tweaking like a livewire. The door creaked open slowly, and he poked his head back in.

She hadn't moved from her spot, face down on top of the covers. One of her ears twitched, before pointing up in his direction. "H-hey."

Her head lifted just enough to look at him, her eyes glossy and dilated still. The sheen of sweat that made her skin glisten was enough of an indicator that she was still hot all over. "Are you mad at me?"

That shattered him, truly. "No, no sweetheart, I'm not mad. I was just...surprised." He coaxed her to sit up, taking his own spot next to her. "I'm sorry for responding that way. Are you still feeling uncomfortable?"

She nodded, "Yeah. Not like because, but everything is still so hot."

"Is that...is that why you took a cold shower last night?"

"Just wanted it to stop."

He nodded, "I understand. You had me so worried though, you can get really sick if you stay cold too long."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He said, pecking her on the cheek. "I'm sorry you're feeling so unwell. I think I can help you now though. Would you like that?"

"But I thought you said - "

"Nevermind what I said before. I was being stupid." The look she was giving him now nearly sent him into cardiac arrest, that sweet pleading face begging for him to devour her. "I promise, I'll make it all better, ok?"

"Really?"

He smiled, reaching down to lock his pinky around hers. "I promise. I'll make it all better, just trust me."

She nodded, and he took the opportunity to lean forward and capture her lips with his own, unlike the ferris wheel or any other time, he tried his best to convey his own need. He groaned into her mouth, tongue sweeping against her bottom lip before slipping it into her mouth the moment her lips parted. He slid it along hers, nearly whining himself as he pressed her back down onto the bed, grinding his tented and leaking cock down against her a few times, his pants soaking with her own juices.

"You're so pretty. So perfect. My pretty perfect puppydoll. " He cooed, pulling away just enough to kiss her jaw, then her neck. "I've never met anyone like you before. I've never wanted anyone as much as you before." He admitted, swirling his tongue over one of her nipples.

"Leon!" She gasped, squirming beneath him. He pressed himself down onto her more to keep her still before popping off to latch on to her other breast. He ran his thumb over the perked up one, smearing his own saliva across it as he worked the current one with his mouth. He could feel her thighs twitching from the stimulation, he could only imagine how her poor pussy was feeling. Her skin was feverish, sticky. He loved it, it felt so primal.

"Don't worry sweetheart." He leaned back to give her a moment to catch her breath, seizing the chance to spread her legs. He groaned at the sight of her slick folds, her hole twitching and closing over nothing. Prettiest pussy he'd ever seen, he ever would see, he was sure of it. Leon made a mental note to devour her next time, make her squirm and scream on his tongue until she was pulling his hair out - see how many noises he could get her to make. The thought alone almost made him cum, and he had to take a deep breath to refocus.

There was a task at hand, and his own need was starting to become painful. He tugged his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock and balls, letting his shaft slap against his abdomen. He hissed at the feeling of the air, relief washing over him from the lack of restriction.

With one hand he squeezed the base of his shaft, holding the pressure there before stroking himself slowly, as slow as he could without torturing himself. With his free hand he slipped two fingers into her folds, running them up and down, coating them in her slick.

"This might feel a little weird, just trust me, ok?" He warned.

"I trust you." She whispered, barely louder than a mouse.

"Good girl." He heard her tail hit the bed, wagging from the praise. 'Fuck, she's too cute.' He pressed his fingers into her slowly, she was so tight, so wet. He could only imagine the way she'd feel finally wrapped around him. He pressed his thumb against her clit circling it gently, leaving the inserted fingers still. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah. Feels good."

"Good." He nodded, beginning to move his fingers in and out of her slowly. "If it hurts, tell me, alright?" He picked up speed, switching from thrusting to spreading his fingers within her, feeling the resistance of her walls contracting from the movements. Her slick covered the palm of his hand, and he refocused his thumb back to her clit.

She made a noise, he wasn't entirely sure if it was agreement or not, but the look on her face was enough to tell him she was enjoying herself. He continued to finger her, entranced by the small squeaks she made, the way her facial muscles twitched with each new sensation. The sun hit her face at just the right angle, illuminating her features like an angel.

She was an angel.

God he loved her so much, it hurt.

He pulled his hand out, chuckling at the needy whine she let out. "Don't worry, just give me a sec." He wiped the slick from his hand all over his tip and shaft, making sure it was good and wet before leaning over her again. Pressing the mushroomy head against her entrance, he kissed her one more time. "I love you." He mumbled against her lips.

"Love you t-"

She was cut off when he sunk himself inside of her. He was careful, slow, whimpering at how constricting she was. It was euphoric nearly, how her walls squeezed against every inch of him, sucking him into her. Her eyes were wide, mouth parted the moment he gave a shallow thrust.

"So good. So good for me baby." He cooed, resting both elbows beside her head, lazily grinding into her. "Never had someone so perfect before."

"L-leon... so full...what's happening....?"

"I'm making you allllllll better." He said, sloppily kissing her jaw a few times. "Just like I promised." He enjoyed the closeness, the intimacy of laying atop her like this, slow, soft. "Gotta take care of my puppydoll."

She squeezed her eyes shut, relaxing against the pillow, soft whines escaping her with every movement he made. Now that she was more placid, and he was able to sink himself fully into her. The feeling was indescribable. He was on cloud nine balls deep inside of her.

"Such a good girl. Good, good girl." He chanted, pulling back just enough to pull her legs up to her chest, so he had a better angle to bear down into her. She wrapped her arms around him, latching her nails into his back, red crescent shaped marks left over every time she dragged them against his skin. Her nose buried in his neck as she clung to him, whimpering and whining.

The sound of his name falling from her lips, mumbled into his skin like a prayer, coupled with the squeezing of her walls around him, was enough to make him lose it. He felt his balls tighten the moment she came, nearly crying as he gripped her hips bruisingly, slamming the head of his cock as deep as he could. He held himself like that as he shot his load. "F-fuck." He groaned, squeezing his own eyes shut before shallowly thrusting again, riding out the hot waves of pleasure that overcame him.

He caught his breath, kissing her forehead a few times. He wasn't ready to pull out, even when he felt himself going soft. Instead, he propped himself above her a little longer before daring to crack his eyes open. She looked half asleep, peaceful beneath him. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired....good."

"I'm glad, baby. Still hot?"

"Not like before... Am I fixed now?"

"I think so, we might have to do this a few more times. But you'll feel better and better each time." He assured.

She nodded, yawning. He could see her eyelids growing heavy again, fighting off the impending sleep. "Poor thing, you should get some sleep."

"Slept a lot, don't wanna."

"You need it." He slowly pulled out of her, rolling off to the side so he could hold her close. He flattened his palm against her belly, imagining the future again, what it would feel like a few months from now. "Take a nap, I'll lay with you. I'll even take you on a walk later. "

"Really?"

"Really." He pulled the blanket back over the two of them. "I promise." She nestled herself into his side, hooking her pinky around his. She didn't say anything further, closing her eyes and sinking into unconsciousness next to him.

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mattscoquette · 13 days ago

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matt fucking you after meeting your family. matt sturniolo.

matt pounded into you, his grip on your hips tight as he had you bent over the couch arm, barely three steps inside your apartment.

“thaaat’s it, pretty girl, take it,” he praised through grunted teeth, his hips thrusting against you.

you were already a whimpering and whining mess, your panties pushed to the side and your sundress hiked up on your back.

“couldn’t keep my eyes off you all fuckin’ night,” matt groaned, his voice deep and laced with arousal, “such a tease.”

matt had finally met your entire family tonight, your parents treating you all to a nice dinner out. unlucky for matt, he had to be on his best behavior around them, and how could he when your tits looked that good in a sundress?

the second you both had left, his hands were all over you, his mouth attacking your neck when you got into the car. he nearly got into a wreck on the way home, unable to keep his eyes off you in the passenger seat. and here he was now, fucking you like his life depending on it.

matt’s dick repeatedly thrusted in and out of your sopping cunt, your walls squeezing and clenching around his length. the sound of skin slapping against skin bounced off the living room walls, mixed with the sound of you and matt’s moans.

“ma-aatt,” you gasped, the air catching in your lungs as he hit the sweet spot that made you see stars, “please, need more.”

matt smirked, his lips softly trailing across your shoulder blade, “yeah, sweetheart? need more what? use your words, pretty.”

your eyes scrunched shut, your chest heaving as heat pooled in your lower tummy, “need you more, touch me please.”

he grinned, you didn’t have to tell him twice. in an instant, matt’s arms were wrapped around you, one hand gropping your tits and the other one playing at your clit. “like that?”

you nodded desperately, the pleasure wracking through your body, your legs beginning to shake. you could hear matt’s sinister chuckling from behind you, something along the lines of you being that worked up already.

you could feel your orgasm building up, a string of curse words and moans leaving your parted lips as it came crashing down over you. your arousal coaxed matt’s dick as he came deep inside you, your pussy leaking.

mat pulled out slowly, pressing soft kisses to your neck as he helped you upright, pulling you into a tight hug and mumbling into your hair.

“was holding that in all night.”

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ based of this tweet i saw! i #NEEDTHATT omgg 💔 matt once chance pretty pls ill be the best u ever ever had.

#© mattscoquette #꒰ blurbs 𝒢𑄺 ꒱#⊹ ࣪ ˖ ࿐୨୧ matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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navybrat817 · 7 months ago

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Deep in the Woods: Part 1

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Series Masterlist | Part 2

Chapter Summary: You encounter your grumpy temporary neighbor while attempting to chop some firewood.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit rude at first, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: A new dark AU inspired by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 's ask. ❤️‍🔥 Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for cheering me on! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun shining in the sky was deceiving as you hauled a large piece of wood to the tree trunk. It was chillier than expected, and the cold would only get worse once the sun went down. Your cabin had heat, but you'd be stuck if it went out and you didn’t manage to chop some firewood. Making a fire you could handle. Chopping wood?

That was another story.

“Okay,” you smiled, setting the log upright and adjusting your gloves before you grabbed the axe. You gripped the handle tight, raising it above your head. “I got this.”

The blade hit the log almost dead center. Unsurprisingly though, it barely pierced the wood. You hunched over, tugging at the axe, nearly losing your balance in the process. “I still got this,” you huffed, shaking out your arms and swinging again.

The next swing went deeper, but only by an inch. The swing after that, you nearly missed completely. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your body warming despite the chill in the air. After a moment, you dropped the axe and stared at the log with your hands on your hips. It was nowhere near split.

“I don’t got this,” you sighed.

“Who the hell are you?” a gruff voice asked from behind you.

Your heart leapt to your throat as you spun around, and it raced even faster when you spotted a figure just a few feet away. He was a large man, and one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. He would likely tower over you if he stepped closer. His dark hair hung messily past his shoulders, while his perfectly trimmed beard gave him a rugged edge. The flannel he wore strained against the biceps of his muscular arms, one of the shades of blue matching his thunderous eyes.

Was he glaring at you?

“Hi,” you smiled, trying to sound friendly as you gestured toward the unchopped log. “I was just trying, and failing, to chop some firewood. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

He kicked a small twig away with his boot. “I didn't ask what you were doing. I asked, ‘Who the hell are you?’”

Your smile slipped. Maybe he was local and didn't like outsiders, though something about him seemed familiar. “Oh, yeah. Right,” you said, giving him your name and nodding to the cabin nearby. “Mr. Hunter rented the place out to me. I’m staying for a couple of weeks. Just got here this morning.” You hoped the place wasn't double booked.

He relaxed a fraction, but his glare didn't disappear completely as he took out his phone and dialed a number. You heard a ring as he put it on speaker. While he tapped a foot impatiently, you weren't sure what to say or do.

“Howdy, neighbor,” a raspy voice answered on the other end.

“Did you rent out your place?” he asked, keeping his eyes on you when your face got hot. You wanted to yell that you wouldn't lie about something like that, but that didn't seem like a good idea.

“Yeah. Pretty lady. Paid in full upfront. Clean background, too.” You looked at your feet. It was weird to listen in even though it was on speaker. And did he say “clean background”? What did that mean? “Why? Is she-”

The man hung up the phone. “Didn't think he rented his cabin out anymore,” he said more to himself than you.

An awkward silence filled the air. “Yeah, well, apparently he does. I booked it a couple of months ago and he left a code to get in and some instructions for the place,” you explained, trying to smile again as you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. “It’s a really nice place and the view up here is gorgeous, like something out of a photograph. Do you live nearby?”

He grunted and jutted his chin out. “My cabin is the next one over to the left.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled more, grabbing the axe again. “And it was very interesting meeting you, temporary neighbor, but I should try to finish this up.”

Before you could blink, the man was directly in front of you with one hand on the handle. He was even bigger up close. “If you’re thinking of taking another swing at that log, don't,” he barked at you, snatching the axe from your hands. You weren’t sure if it was his tone or him grabbing it from you that made you flinch. “This isn't a toy, it’s dangerous. And from the looks of that log you have no business trying to do that to begin with.”

Your cheeks burned again. It was bad enough that this guy didn't take your word for staying at the cabin, but the last thing you needed was for some stranger to lecture or humiliate you, and a grumpy one at that. “Yeah, well, if my cheating asshole of a boyfriend hadn't been balls deep in his colleague, we wouldn't be having this conversation. He'd be out here chopping firewood and I’d be inside cooking, which is something I'm actually good at, thank you very much,” you snapped.

Your tone surprised him enough to let you take the axe back. “I didn't…” he trailed off when you held up a hand.

“You don't know me and that’s fine, but I’m trying to be friendly and that's more than you can say,” you continued, his nostrils flaring. He didn't have to be nice to you, but he didn't need to be rude either. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I'm stuck here by myself, I’m trying my best to make it work, and I don't need some random stranger out here giving me a hard time for no reason.”

Your eyes burned as he stared at you, but you squared your shoulders and held your head high. You spent enough time crying over a prick who wasn’t worth it and you refused to shed another tear because you deserved better than an unfaithful asshole. And you sure as hell wouldn't cry in front of some hot grump with a chip on his shoulder.

The man’s pensive look dissipated more of your sudden anger and his tone softened considerably when he asked, “You’re really out here by yourself?”

You tensed up. It wasn't smart of you to broadcast that you were all by your lonesome. “Yeah, for now,” you said, your voice softer, too. Maybe you could convince a friend to stop by for a day or so. “I know I’m not good with an axe, but I tried. I just wanted some firewood in case the heat went out for any reason,” you said, your shoulders sagging. “So if you don't mind, can I please finish up?”

He nodded, taking the axe more gently this time. “Let me,” he offered, your eyes wide at his change in demeanor. “And step back. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Once you moved out of the way, he lifted the axe and split the log down the middle with expert precision. With his view on the task at hand, you swept an appreciative gaze over him. The guy was a bit of a grump, but he filled his jeans out well. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, mister,” you told him, getting a grunt in response. “My problems aren't your problems and I didn't mean to get so defensive about my lack of wood chopping skills.”

“You can call me Bucky,” he said, grabbing another log. “And nothing to be sorry for. I didn't exactly lay out the welcome mat for you.”

“It’s… Wait, Bucky.” Your eyes widened in realization. “Bucky Barnes?”

He froze before he brought the axe down again. “Heard of me?”

“Of course I have. You helped save the world,” you smiled. Years back, an alien warlord had wiped out half of the population. Not only did a group of heroes called the Avengers help reverse the wipeout, but they stopped the monster with the help of many others across the galaxy. Bucky was one of those people. No wonder he seemed so familiar. “You’re a hero.”

A tortured one at that. You remembered seeing a few articles about him. A former prisoner of war turned brainwashed assassin turned hero. He was pardoned for the crimes committed while was brainwashed, and rightfully so in your opinion, and he went on to use his skills and expertise to help others.

What was he doing out here in the woods?

“Not really a hero anymore,” he said, brushing his hair back with his forearm. “Now I’m just a lumberjack who values his privacy.”

“Oh.” That answered your question. “I guess valuing your privacy explains why you didn't roll out the welcome mat,” you teased, wringing your fingers together. You felt kind of bad again for snapping at him. Given his past that you were aware of, it made sense why he would've been suspicious of someone new popping up near his home.

He stopped to glance at you. “Guess it’s my turn to apologize,” he said.

You blinked, not wanting to lose yourself in his deep gaze. “No need. I figured you were just a local who didn't like new people around.” You smiled at the pile of wood he made. “I think you chopping firewood for me is the perfect apology. You saved me a lot of time and trouble.”

He hummed, putting the blade in the tree trunk once he finished. “You said you cook?” he asked, wiping his gloves on his jeans as he faced you.

“Yeah. I actually have a stew keeping warm right now,” you replied, shifting on your feet when he stared you down. “Are you hungry? I made plenty.”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Okay.” Your smile faltered when you walked toward the cabin with Bucky close behind. Was it a good idea to invite him in when you didn't exactly know him? The guy was a hero though. No reason to be suspicious.

The aroma of seasonings, beef, and vegetables greeted you as you opened the door and set your gloves on the entry table. “If you don’t mind taking your boots off, that was one of the instructions,” you told him, removing yours and hanging your coat on the hook.

While the cabin wasn’t large, it was in great condition. It was also extremely clean and tidy. The guy who owned it likely didn’t want dirt on his floors.

“Yeah, God’s kind of picky about that stuff,” Bucky said, putting his gloves on top of yours. You caught a glimpse of his metal hand, but you quickly looked away. It wasn’t polite to stare.

“Wait. The G in G.B. Hunter stands for God?” Your brows pinched as you walked toward the kitchen. “What the hell does the B stand for?” you muttered to yourself.

“That’s really what it stands for. He’s a bit of a strange guy, but a good neighbor when he’s here,” Bucky said, following close again. He was practically on top of you. “So, your boyfriend. He-”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you corrected him, inhaling deeply as you lifted the lid from the warm pot. The scent brought a smile to your face and pushed a bit of the bitterness away. “What about him?”

Bucky grabbed a couple of bowls from the cupboard. He knew where the spoons were, too, so he was at least somewhat familiar with the place. You weren’t sure how that made you feel. “How long were you two together?”

“Almost a year,” you replied. A waste of about twelve months and it wouldn't be fun to start over again.

He set the bowls on the counter before he grabbed a couple of drinks, sweeping a look over you. “Did you catch him cheating?” he asked curiously.

You froze, the image of your ex scrambling to cover himself and his colleague up as you walked in taking over your mind. You had to blink multiple times to make the image go away, but it didn’t stop your stomach from turning. “Yep,” you answered, your throat tight. Why did he want to know? “Tried to give me some lame excuse that it wasn't what it looked like, but I slapped him and said we were done. I can forgive a lot of things, but cheating isn’t one of them.”

“Loyalty is a good trait to want in a partner,” he mused.

“It is, but it’s a trait he didn't have apparently. At least we didn’t live together,” you continued, taking a breath. It hurt and felt good to talk about it. “We were supposed to come up here for a getaway and I debated cancelling the reservation, but I figured it would be a good way to clear my head.”

The kitchen felt warmer and you figured it was because you were close to the stove until you realized Bucky was right at your back. You went rigid when he inhaled. Maybe he was just smelling the food. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You gripped the ladle until your hand ached. “Not your fault,” you whispered, keeping perfectly still. If you moved forward, the stove would burn you. If you moved back, you’d be right against him. It was a small kitchen, but there was no reason for him to stand so close.

You didn’t exhale until he moved to set the drinks on the table. “You got a job?” he asked.

Clearing your throat, you nodded, thankful for the change in topic. “Yeah, data entry. Not too exciting, but it’s decent pay and I don’t have to go into an office or deal with traffic.” You scooped a generous portion of stew into a bowl for him, just in case he was really hungry. “As long as I have my laptop and an internet connection, I can get the job done.”

“Must be nice,” he commented, but it sounded more admirable than sarcastic. “You said you and your ex didn’t live together. Do you have a roommate? Pets?”

You side-eyed him. The tone was casual, but what was with the multiple questions? “I live alone because my apartment is about the size of a shoebox,” you said. It was cozy though and yours. “Nice thing is the rent is cheap. Sad thing is the building is pet free.”

He took out his phone as you got your bowl ready. “I have a cat,” he said, shoving the phone close to your face. It was a photo of a beautiful white cat sitting by a window. It was endearing picturing a burly man holding such a delicate creature. “Her name’s Alpine.”

You smiled at the image. “She’s really beautiful. I’ve always loved cats.”

He smiled a little, too, but it went away as fast as it appeared. “She’s very particular with people, but you’re welcome to meet her.” He took the bowl from your hand to carry them to the small table nearby. “She might like you since you’re sweet.”

Heat rolled up your neck. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose,” you said. It wasn’t like you had any plans during your time there, but he had done enough by chopping the firewood for you.

His jaw ticked. “If it was an imposition I wouldn't have asked.”

“Oh, I wasn't trying to imply anything,” you promised, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't your intention to upset him.

“Are you allergic to cats?”

“No, I’m not,” you answered.

He set the bowls on the table and leveled you with a hard stare. “Then I think you should meet her,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Sit.”

You hesitated before you sat down. “Okay then,” you said. Maybe he was trying to make up for being rude earlier by welcoming you in some capacity. “Does tomorrow work?”

His lip curled up in a smile, giving you a nod, too. “Tomorrow. Early afternoon,” he replied, taking a seat. How did he still look so big sitting down? You watched him blow on a spoonful of stew before he took a bite, his eyes shutting with a groan. It was a deep, primal sound and you shouldn't have liked hearing it. “This is… really good.”

You beamed, unable to help yourself. You took pride in your cooking. “I’m glad you like it,” you said, digging in, too. “So, you said you’re a lumberjack now. How long have you been doing that?”

He hunched over a bit as he took a few more bites, like he hadn't eaten all day. “About nine months. Tough mission happened and I had to walk away from it.” He shrugged dismissively. Did the mission have a bad outcome or was it just the straw that broke the camel’s back? It wasn’t any of your business. “Came out to the woods with Alpine, started chopping down trees to work out some of my frustration, and it somehow became my new job. The woods suit me better than the city anyway.”

“Yeah? How so?”

He shrugged again. “It’s quiet, peaceful. No judging or prying eyes,” he answered, pushing the now empty bowl away. It almost sounded like he was hiding from the world. “And I don’t mind working with my hands. Can chop trees down pretty fast and it doesn’t take long to get the logs to the sawmill. Even built some of my own furniture in my place.”

“You build your own furniture? That’s so cool,” you smiled. It took a moment, but he smiled back a little. “Being a lumberjack sounds like hard but satisfying work,” you added. You admired him for being a hero, but also for his new, humble lifestyle.

“Yeah, it is.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “This might be rude to ask, but you wouldn’t mind making us lunch tomorrow, would you? I can cook, but it’s nothing like yours.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Part of you took it as a compliment that he liked your cooking, but something in his stare made you want to squirm. Could it be the assumption that you were going to have lunch with him when all he said was that he wanted you to meet his cat? “I don’t mind,” you smiled. Maybe the guy was a bit lonely and just wanted someone to share a meal with. You could sympathize with that. “Anything in particular you like? If I don’t have it, I can go to town and-”

“Surprise me, doll.” The chair scraped along the floor as he pushed himself up, towering over the table and you. “And don’t bother going to town. Whatever you have here to cook, I’ll eat it.”

“I’ll surprise you then.” Your brows pinched as he went back to the kitchen. He walked around like he owned the place. “Oh, help yourself,” you said when he stopped at the stove for another bowl.

He paused to look back at you. His blue eyes looked a shade darker and you couldn’t help but shiver. “I plan to,” he stated.

You gave him a smile, discreetly patting your pants pocket to make sure you still had your phone on you. It wasn’t like you needed to call anyone for help, but you were all alone and had to be careful. You were still going to have a nice time though. It would be a relaxing trip and you could catch up on reading, relaxing, whatever you wanted.

Besides, Bucky was nearby just in case. The guy didn’t seem to have a complete sense of boundaries, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He was a hero. You didn’t have anything to fear.

Right?

Oh, our reader did herself no favors by answering truthfully that she's all alone. I wonder how Bucky will play this... Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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