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militaryapple · 4 months ago

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WHATS YOUR SAFE WORD?

synopsis. you ask caleb to degrade you, and when he agrees with his own terms you take it as a challenge.

cw. fem!reader, mild degradation, asphyxiation, fingering, cunnilingus, caleb has you in a headlock, marking, he gets hard when you call him colonel.

add ons. hope everyones having a wonderful monday

wc. 1.6k

"you want me to what?" caleb said surprised. degradation? it wasn't his forte. It's not like he didn't want to degrade you, tell you how much of a fucking slut you looked when you begged for him to fill up every little crevice of your throbbing cunt. he couldn't help but praise you though, you always took his cock so nicely. it was practically made for you. the sounds you made whenever he would go deeper in your sweet cunt, how perfect you looked when he fucked you senseless. it just rolled off his tongue naturally!

"caleb" you whined softly. he thought about it. oh he couldn't help but say yes to you, he couldn't say no. not when you look up at him, batting your eyes in a way that makes you look oh-so-innocent. he couldn't help but have a wide grin fall upon his face. "okay okay, fine pipsqueak." he said playfully "but-" and there it was.

your once gleeful face dropped. of course there was going to be a "but" this is caleb after all. why did he have to make this more difficult than it needed to be? it was just gonna be like.. a test the waters thing.

"hey don't look so sad on me now, I know why you're asking me to do this anyways." he clicked his tongue after finishing his sentence, pushing his hand into his pocket before pulling out a sheet of paper, and you felt your heart drop.

oh god.

oh lumiere.

"100% masochist.." how did he?

"98% rope bunny?" take it back.

"87% experimentalist?" your face flushed, you felt like you were burning before rushing towards him and grabbing the small piece of paper. dammit! this is why you don't do things with your friends after you drink! you leave evidence of shit around! you hit Caleb as hard as you could before he ducked and laughed. how could he even find this?! you swore you hid it well. well enough that after you woke up with a very bad hangover you forgot where you placed it.

"i know everything about you pips. you think I wouldn't be able to find a small little paper you attempted to hide away?" caleb said, almost mocking you. "did you forget who took care of you last night? I'm glad I looked at it when I did. i'd be a little sad to miss something this interesting about you." he shifted over on the couch where he was seated. you plopped yourself down next to him in embarrassment.

fuck your life.

"ah- back to our conversation, my only 'but' was that we have a safe word." his gaze shifting from the paper now peering at you. his face smug. like he fucking knows everything. "you go through my things, you make fun of me and now you want a safe word? ha? do you think i'd need to tap out or something?" you snarled back at him

caleb shifted from a comfortable position to a more.. open one. his legs widened as he couldn't help teasing you. look how flare you get? how your cheeks puff and your eyes burn into him. shit you were sexy like this.

"i'm just saying pip-squeak, if you cant handle it anymore, just say the word and i'll run a warm bath for you. we can cuddle and.." he trailed off as you moved to him, placing yourself on top of his lap as his gaze, once shifted downwards to meet your eyes now looking up.

"the safe word is apples. I won't need it since you're obviously challenging me." you retorted. there was no way you were losing some sort of game to caleb. he might have physical strength but you have mental strength, and that's more than enough.

caleb hummed in approval before grabbing you by your sides and swaying your hips on his crotch. oh fuck did it rub you just right. "I know everything about you." he whispered in your ear, his breath hot. fiery. you could feel the dent in his pants rising as the friction only made you feel so much better. you couldn't give in now, you both were just beginning.

caleb dug his face in the crook of your neck his kisses moving up as he bit the side of your neck, hard enough for you to feel it but not enough to make you bleed, softly coating the area with his saliva. "I know what you like," his nibbles becoming more and more prominent, "what you hate" the feeling was euphoric for you. "what you need." oh fuck, was he marking you?

you didn't have time to react before you were flipped to your front side. it didn't take any time before caleb unbuckled your pants and undoing your zipper. one of his arms putting you in a headlock, not quite hurting you but squeezing you, while his free hand made its way down your pants and in your panties. you would be lying if you said this wasn't turning you on, and caleb knew.

"you're drenched for me baby. what is it? you like the feeling of my big arms being wrapped around your pretty little throat? its almost pathetic." his arm tightening at the feeling of you wiggling beneath in, ah ah. you weren't getting out of this that fast. he rubbed your clit slowly, kissing the back of your neck as you pleaded for him to move faster. this was torture.

caleb was more than amused, he watched as you wiggled and writhed under him. oh how he would love to just give into you but he couldn't, not when you wanted him to be mean, and that's when he heard it.

"colonel, please."

could you say that? it didn't matter. he was rock fucking hard. hearing that from you was like sweet music to his ears. caleb rubbed your throbbing clit faster, your hand grabbing on his arm wrapped around your neck keeping you stern in place. "say it again, call me colonel, tell me how much you fucking need and how you cant do anything without me." you could only shake, you were so close to your release. your head fuzzy from the low oxygen you were getting, and the feeling of you creaming your pants.

caleb moved his hand away, moving it on your thigh as he rubbed it. you begged for him to touch you again. for him to make you cum all over him. "i know baby, just say it. say you need me, say you need your colonel." he coos. you felt fucking stupid. drunk off his slim fingers which made you feel so divine. all you could do was nod your head and let out a small "okay". caleb kissed the side of your head. "see baby? you're not that stupid."

he moved his finger back as he kissed and smothered you. rubbing your sensitive area as you babble out whatever you could. "I need you colonel. please, please I need you in so many ways. I'm nothing without you, I need you." it was a melody for him, a tune that would play over and over in his head until the day he actually dies. you shook as he felt you tense up. the familiar feeling he knows all too well. "you came? who said you could do that? jeez you are slutty."

he scooped you up and brought you to his room, throwing you down as he undid his pants. he looked over and noticed his work gloves, and a bright idea came to his head. caleb walked over and grabbed his gloves, sliding them on before towering over you and moving his hands to pop right inside your exhausted pussy.

"you cant expect me to just stop now. i wanna feel good too, until you call quits is all." caleb made fun of you. you weren't going to give out, even if he felt so fucking good, and the way his fingers slipped in and out of you. fuck the gloves were cold, but they felt so so good. you shivered underneath as he hit all your good spots.

you squirmed, your body aching for more, you grabbed on his arm and looked up, babbling for something, anything. though you were met by the soft coo's of caleb. "come on use your words, I know you can." he held you down while his fingers abused your cunt.

"please caleb, please just fuck me already." it was those few words that made him flip you upside down and slide his cock in you. he moaned and held on you while he got into a somewhat steady pace. in and out, in and out. his balls hitting your clit while his tip kissed your sweet spot. "yeah? you like that? nasty little thing." he coo'd.

you couldn't take anymore, you had to cum. your body shook. you were close, so so close it was like you would fall off a ledge. you grabbed caleb whining. "please colonel, let me cum, please I've been good." you pleaded. caleb drowned at your words, he was rearing his end too. "okay baby, yeah, cum for me, okay? come on come on." his body slammed into yours, feeling a wave of euphoria wash of you. it took Caleb a few more slaps before he eventually slowed down. he slid out of you, watching your every movement.

"I told you" you said sweetly. "we didn't need a safe word. I can take you." you were right to some extent, but you were still fucked out. as for Caleb, he moved back to admire what he had done to you, before letting out a small chuckle.

"what pip-squeak? you think that we're done? you haven't tapped out yet, which means we aren't done."

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collegelives · 1 year ago

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sugoroo · 8 months ago

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SHARING IS CARING!

ʚɞ summary: satoru agrees to share his girlfriend with kento for one night to help ease some of the stress he’s been under lately! but that doesn’t mean he’s going to make it easy for his co-worker.

warnings: fem!reader, voyeurism, cuck!satoru, oral (m receiving), breast play, penetration (p in v), fingering, pussydrunk nanami, squirting, praise kink, 18+ minors dni.

wc: 7.1k

despite how much satoru enjoys teasing his co-worker kento nanami, he can see how much stress the other man has been under lately. it’s clear from the heavy bags underneath his eyes, the way his back is almost permanently hunched in exhaustion.

the white-haired sorcerer spent an embarrassingly long amount of time in his office brainstorming different ideas to attempt to cheer nanami up. his usual go-to for anyone else would be to buy them some sweets, but he has a feeling that wouldn’t be too appreciated in this situation.

and then, after his phone buzzed with a newly received text from you: his pretty little girlfriend who was currently waiting for him at home — a lightbulb lit up in his head.

he could give you to nanami to cheer him up.

well, when he says ‘give’, of course he really means lending you to nanami. a one-time only gift (that must be returned after use) as it were.

and satoru will unarguably be present to observe the entire interaction too — he has to make sure nanami treats his sweet girl the way she deserves, after all. if the other man was to leave you unsatisfied, he would very possibly have to hollow purple him.

(and he also wouldn’t be completely opposed to watching his much-too-uptight co worker unravel before his eyes, either. but he’ll keep that part to himself.)

pleased with his newest idea, satoru practically skips along the halls on the way to nanami's office, a wide grin stretched across his lips and anticipation buzzing throughout his body.

"hellooo, nanamin!" he coos obnoxiously once he arrives outside his co-worker's office, craning his neck to peek his head around the doorway. "you in here?"

nanami audibly sighs at the sound of the white-haired man's voice, glancing up briefly from his desk with an unimpressed look pulling at his visibly exhausted features. "yes, gojo, i'm clearly in here. what is it you want this time?"

satoru holds up his hands in mock surrender, his grin never faltering as he steps fully inside the office. it's clear he's up to no good (even more so than usual), given the way he's practically vibrating on the spot with excitement.

"well?" the blonde man prompts impatiently, his eyes already cast back down to the various piles of paperwork splayed across his desk. he's evidently in no mood to deal with satoru's mischief.

"now now, don't rush me!" he huffs in response, his lower lip jutting out in an overdramatic pout despite knowing nanami isn't even looking in his direction right now. "this is a very... sensitive topic. so i'm gonna need you to pay suuuper close attention. got it?"

at this, nanami looks up from his papers, his annoyance slowly morphing into cautiousness. "sensitive how? this better not be about you wanting to know how many people i've bedded in the past, because i already told you that i will never dignify such a shameless question with an answer."

"what? no! it's not about that," satoru chuckles amusedly, before tapping the bottom of his chin with a slender finger in a theatrical display of thought. "....although, i really should find out the answer to that eventually."

nanami rolls his eyes all the way to the back of his head behind his goggles, bringing two fingers up to rub his temple. "i don't have time for this, gojo. whatever it is you came here to ask, will you just spit it out already?"

"alright, alriiight!" the white-haired sorcerer whines petulantly, sauntering further into the office and leaning his elbows against his co-worker's desk like he owns the place. "so, i've noticed you've been under a lot of stress lately—"

"which is none of your business, might i add." the other man deadpans bluntly, his lips set into their usual tight line as he regards satoru.

"sure. but, as your co-worker and friend, i've decided to make it my business," he retorts without missing a beat, waving a pale hand dismissively in nanami's direction as he continues speaking. "and i've come up with the perfect solution to cheer you up!"

nanami raises a blonde eyebrow at this, visibly still cautious but (hopefully) a little curious now. "oh, have you now?" he mutters tightly, attempting to hide the subtle interest hiding under his tone. but satoru notices, because of course he does.

"mhmm," satoru croons mischievously, his grin morphing into a little smirk as he leans further across the desk. "would you like to hear it, nanamin?"

the interest in his colleague's expression is gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by irritation yet again as he releases a deep sigh. "i'm not in the mood for your games, gojo. are you going to tell me or not?"

"ugh, fine," the white-haired man groans dramatically, rolling his eyes behind his blindfold. "can't blame a guy for trying to build up a little suspense."

satoru rifles around in his pocket for a few moments before pulling out his phone, instantly thrusting the device directly into nanami's face with absolutely no context.

"what—" nanami begins, his words quickly trailing off into an unintelligible sound of some description once he catches sight of the picture being displayed on his colleague's lock screen. "oh."

"like what you seee?" he coos obnoxiously from behind the phone, tilting his head to the side in an attempt to get a better view of the other man's reaction. "just kidding - i know you do."

"this... is that your girlfriend?" the blonde man croaks out, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically flustered. "and why is that your lockscreen, for the love of god?"

satoru just shrugs nonchalantly, jerking the phone back towards himself and taking a moment to admire the photo of you. it's your pretty body, completely bare on his bed, perky breasts on full display and smooth legs spread wide to reveal your abused pussy which was just oozing with ropes of his goopy cum.

"yes, it's my girlfriend," he hums proudly, shoving the device back into his pocket before fixing nanami with another wide grin. "and why not? it's not like anyone else sees it except me. until now, obviously."

"right," the other man breathes out, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly in a poor attempt to try and compose himself. "and, pray tell, why did you feel the need to show me that?"

satoru huffs dramatically, as if having to actually explain the proposition he's come up with is taking a serious toll on him. "come onn, nanamin. use that brilliant brain of yours! i say i have a way to relieve some of your stress, and then i show you that picture..."

nanami visibly tenses as the realization of what his colleague is suggesting washes over him, his eyes narrowing into cautious slits. but he doesn't want to get ahead of himself, just in case he misinterpreted his words, so he settles for saying — "is this another one of those highly unamusing pranks of yours, gojo?"

the white-haired man rolls his eyes yet again, leaning even closer over the desk and tilting his head to the side in a playful manner. "you really think i'd show you a naked picture of my girl if this was just a prank?"

as much as it irks nanami to admit, even to himself, his co-worker does has a point there.

"touché." he grumbles under his breath, trying his best to keep up his uninterested façade despite how obviously affected he is by seeing that picture of you; needless to say, he thinks satoru is a very lucky man.

"that's all you're gonna say? touché?" satoru repeats incredulously, throwing his hands up in the air theatrically. "no 'yes please, gojo, i'd love to get me some of that'?"

"first of all, i would never say it so crudely," the blonde man retorts with his nose wrinkled in not-so-subtle disgust, shaking his had faintly. "and second of all, i'm not the sort of man who takes what doesn't belong to him."

satoru snorts out a loud laugh at this. "ugh, drop the serious act for a minute, nanamin! it's not like you're stealing her away from me or anything. i'm just offering some... one-time only stress relief, that's all."

"whatever you say, gojo," he mutters dismissively, waving a hand in his direction before rubbing his temple yet again. "even if i was to consider such a proposition, have you asked your girlfriend if she would be willing to participate?"

"yeah, sooo, about that..." satoru responds in an elongated hum, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck somewhat sheepishly.

"satoru—"

"wait, wait! just let me explain," the white-haired man squeaks hurriedly, waving around his hands theatrically. the rare use of his first name from his colleague clearly shows just how annoyed he is at this point. "i was so excited when i came up with the idea that i kinda-maybe-definitely forgot to ask her."

"why am i not surprised?" nanami huffs bluntly, clearly losing whatever interest he may have begrudgingly gained when he saw the photo.

but just before he can return to his work, satoru quickly speaks up again. "hey, wait just a minute! she's my girl, and i know my girl. she'll say yes."

nanami pauses for a few moments, silently cursing the way he's actually considering this insane proposition. but there's two facts he can't deny — one: he has been under a lot of stress lately, and he wouldn't exactly mind releasing it. and two: satoru's girlfriend is incredibly attractive.

much to his chagrin, he doesn't have a good reason to say no.

"...alright."

and that's how kento nanami finds himself standing outside your and satoru's apartment a week later, his fist hovering just above the door as he attempts to process what's awaiting him on the other side.

he can't quite believe he's actually going to 'release his stress' by using satoru's pretty little girlfriend who he's never even met before today. but he knows that not going through with it isn't an option — especially when he'll have to endure his colleague's relentless teasing afterwards.

so he knocks.

and it's you who opens the door, dressed in nothing but one of satoru's old shirts that is definitely much too long for you, the baggy fabric practically swallowing you whole as you stand before nanami.

"oh!" you gasp in realization as you look up at him, a small smile spreading across your lips as you kindly extend a hand to the man in front of you. "you must be kento! toru's told me a lot about you."

nanami, much to his own embarrassment, takes a few long moments to recover from the sight of you. somehow, you're even more beautiful in person than you were in that photo on his co-worker's lockscreen (despite being much more... clothed now.)

"ahem. yes, that's me," he murmurs after swallowing roughly, taking your hand in his own to give it a quick shake. he tries not to let his eyes linger too long on the size difference between them; how your hand practically disappears beneath his. "all good things, i hope?"

"oh, of course." you chuckle softly, stepping to the side and opening the door a little wider in a silent initiation for him to come inside. this is it — his last chance to just blow this whole thing off and drive home.

but he doesn't take that chance.

instead, he shuffles inside with a polite smile in your direction, pulling his other hand from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of flowers he'd bought on the way over here; he wasn't exactly sure what was an appropriate gift for someone else's girlfriend who was going to let him have sex with her, so he settled for some simple roses.

you close the door behind the two of you, your eyes widening when they fall on the flowers. how very... gentlemanly. you hadn't expected him to bring any type of present tonight — from what you'd gathered from satoru, this was going to be a very transactional exchange.

"sorry... is this too forward?" nanami mutters a little awkwardly, toying with the petal of one of the roses. "if you don't want them, i can go put them back in my—"

"no, no! they're beautiful," you say quickly, grasping the bouquet from him with a warm smile stretching across your lips. "it's really sweet of you. i just wasn't expecting it, that's all."

the blonde man seems to relax slightly at this, his tensed shoulders slowly deflating and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. it's clear he's never done anything like this before; but then again, neither have you.

but when satoru had come to you with the idea of helping out his thoroughly overworked colleague and friend, who also happened to be quite handsome (in your boyfriend's words), you couldn't help but agree.

and satoru definitely underestimated kento's appearance with that measly description. he's more than quite handsome — he's gorgeous, with those well-kempt blonde locks and that ridiculously sharp jawline that could probably cut glass.

...let's just say you're not having any last minute regrets about agreeing to this.

"so, how about you go and make yourself comfortable in the living room while i put these in some water?" you suggest kindly, gesturing to doorway on the left as you head in the direction of the kitchen with the bouquet in your hands.

nanami nods in agreement, ducking his head to fit underneath the doorframe as he saunters into the living room of your apartment. it's cozy and small, with little trinkets that just scream satoru gojo scattered around the area.

of course that man has to make even his living room as chaotic as he is.

he plops down onto the couch, his still somewhat tense body sinking into the comfortable material. he feels more relaxed already than he has in months — it must be something to do with the warm atmosphere in your home (or the promise of what's to come.)

his respite doesn't last for long, however, because satoru comes bounding down the stairs, his blindfold askew and his grin wide when he notices nanami sitting there in his living room. "heyyy, nanamin! you're actually here! i figured you'd chicken out last minute, honestly."

the blonde man rolls his eyes behind his goggles, shooting his colleague a thoroughly unimpressed look in response to his statement; as if he hadn't just been considering 'chickening out', as gojo put it, moments ago outside the front door.

but he doesn't have to know that.

"well, i didn't." he settles for sighing bluntly, raising a neatly trimmed eyebrow when satoru drapes himself across the couch next to him like an oversized cat, practically taking up every inch of spare space.

"what's that look for?" satoru snickers obnoxiously, slinging his lanky legs over nanami's lap as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "this is my house you're in right now, remember? i can do what i want."

before nanami can even think of replying, you start padding into the room, shooting your boyfriend what can only be described as a disapproving look. "toru, stop harassing our guest."

the white-haired man lets out a petulant whine in response, grasping your hips as soon as you draw close enough and pulling you down onto his lap. he buries his face in your neck, grumbling. "i'm not harassing him, baby! it's just our usual banter. riiight, nanamin?"

"right." he chuckles lightly, exchanging an amused glance with you over satoru's head at the other man's antics. he's more like a young, whiny child than a full grown adult; especially when he acts like this.

"hey, stop smiling at him!" satoru huffs overdramatically in protest, looking up at you from your neck with one of his bright blue eyes peeking out from under his blindfold. "you're supposed to be on my side, pretty girl."

"i am on your side, silly," you say with fond exasperation, bringing a hand up to ruffle his messy white locks affectionately. "are you seriously mad at me for getting along with your friend?"

"no, i guess not." he grumbles in response, nuzzling his face back into your skin like a beloved pet would do to its owner.

nanami can't help but find it fascinating how the strongest sorcerer and most popular teacher at jujutsu tech seems to completely melt in your presence — there must be something really special about you, and he feels honoured to be allowed to have you for himself; even if only for one night.

"so— uh, how does this... work?" the blonde man asks curiously after clearing his throat, looking between you and the manchild snuggling you in his lap with a carefully questioning gaze.

satoru giggles at this, turning his head to give nanami an obnoxiously teasing wink. "how does me letting you hit this..." he drawls playfully, his hand traveling down from your hip to lightly squeeze your ass. "...work, nanamin?"

nanami almost chokes on his own salvia in response to his colleague's blunt wording, but somehow he manages to compose himself (just). "...yes, i suppose. if you insist on being so lewd about it."

you let out a small chuckle at this, swatting your boyfriend's hand away from your ass and giving him a chiding look, to which he just shrugs innocently.

"i think it should be up to you, kento," you hum thoughtfully, resting your chin on satoru's head and peering over at the blonde man with an encouraging smile. "how would you like this to work?"

"ah, well..." nanami begins, finding his brain seems to have short-circuited at your suggestion. he gets to choose how he has you? jesus, how is even supposed to form a single coherent sentence with you smiling at him like that?

"oh, come onn, nanamin!" satoru whines, raising one of his legs from the other man's lap to kick at his chest with one of his socked feet. "want me to give you some ideas? hmm... how about you start with her perfect little mouth? it works wonders, y'know!"

nanami lets a choked sound escape from somewhere in the back of his throat at this, his wide eyes shooting to you for any signs of hesitance. but he finds none, no — you're still smiling at him in such a friendly way, as if your boyfriend isn't signing you up to suck another man off right in front of him.

"is that— can i... are you sure?" he stammers awkwardly, suddenly feeling like an inexperienced teenager rather than a fully grown man.

"it's fine with me," you say sweetly, each word so thick and honeyed, making nanami's head start to go a little hazy. he can already feel his trousers starting to grow uncomfortably tight just from the direction this conversation is going in. "would you like that, kento?"

"would i—" nanami swallows thickly, stopping his words before they can come out sounding too eager. "yes... yes, i believe i would."

satoru grins widely at his co-worker's admission, effortlessly lifting you up from his lap and placing you on the floor in front of the couch. you crawl the rest of the way across the carpet, coming to perch between nanami's manspread legs.

the blonde man audibly gulps when you bring your hands up to his thighs, shifting just a little on the chair to try and hide how much his body is reacting to your proximity.

"phewww... look at him, baby," satoru whistles amusedly with a mischievous smirk as he watches the interaction, obnoxiously pointing to the growing tent in nanami's slacks. "so worked up already."

you tut lightly, shooting another disapproving look in your boyfriend's direction. "stop teasing him, toru. he's probably just touch-starved."

"something you wouldn't understand, gojo," nanami pushes out through gritted teeth, trying his best to keep up his usual collected demeanour even when he feels your fingers graze over his bulge. "not when you have such a sweet little thing waiting for you at home everyday."

"hm. now that is true," the white-haired man hums in agreement, reaching over nanami's lap to give your hair a gentle, loving stroke. "my girl always knows how to keep me satisfied."

you smile warmly up at satoru, leaning your head into his touch slightly while your hand squeezes around his colleague's clothed erection — and, shit. you can tell just how big he is even through these tight trousers.

you've really got your work cut out for you here.

satoru is quick to help you out, grasping a cushion from the couch and leaning down to slide it underneath your knees to make the position more comfortable for you. ugh, your boyfriend is just so considerate— but tonight isn't about him. focus!

with better support on the floor, you reach up to pop open the button on the front of nanami's slacks, looking up at him through your lashes; and, god, he looks absolutely wrecked already. his cheeks are flushed a light shade of pink, and his goggle-clad eyes are staring anywhere but you.

despite how stoic he always was in satoru's descriptions of him, right now... kento nanami looks utterly adorable.

unzipping his fly, the only barrier between you and his monster of an aching cock is his expensive-looking boxers. and while at this point with satoru you'd usually do a little teasing, you figure with nanami, it's better to cut straight to the chase.

he clearly needs it.

so you dip your nails under the waistband of his underwear, carefully tugging it down to reveal your boyfriend's colleague in all of his touch-starved glory; cock just giant as it slaps against his clothed abdomen, all veiny and curved as the reddened tip leaks onto the couch.

"woww, nanamin!" satoru croons obnoxiously, fanning himself with his hand as if he's a prim and proper lady about to collapse from shock. "how big you are."

"do you really have to be here for this?" the blonde man retorts, shooting a glare so deadly in his friend's direction that if looks could kill... your boyfriend definitely would be six feet under.

"oh, absolutely," he drawls back without missing a beat, smirking smugly as he crosses his legs against nanami's lap, as if watching his girlfriend prepare to give his co-worker a blowjob is the most normal situation possible. "i'll be here the whooole time. better get used to it."

rolling your eyes at satoru's relentless teasing, you opt to distract nanami from the white-haired sorcerer's interjections by wrapping a hand around his bare length (let it be noted that you definitely cannot fit his entire girthy base in your grip.)

nanami lets out a raspy, broken groan at the contact, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as he tries to keep himself together. but the way his cock visibly jumps under your touch doesn't go unnoticed by you or satoru.

"relax for me, kento," you coo sweetly, giving him a light squeeze to make sure he's paying attention to your words. "gonna make you feel good, yeah?"

he can only release a few incoherent mumbles in response, his head falling back against the couch when you start to languidly stroke him, moving your hand from tip to base with well-practised movements.

"fuck, that's so hot," satoru groans as he shifts a little closer to get a better view of you working his uptight colleague with your fist, his own sweatpants starting to visibly tent too. "keep going, pretty girl."

you smile again at the praise, your thighs rubbing together subtly underneath satoru's baggy shirt. but he notices it, because of course he does, he knows your body's reactions like the back of his hand. "see that, nanamin? she loves it when you praise her. i hope you're taking mental notes right now."

nanami can only watch in awe as you lean down to press your soft lips to the leaking tip of his cock, his brain completely scrambled already from only a few touches. jesus, he can't believe he almost didn't agree to take part in this; he’s silently thanking his past self for having the confidence to go through with it right now.

"that's... you're doing good— so good." he pushes out, the words more of a garbled mess than anything as his toned hips involuntarily buck lightly into your hand, in search of more and more friction.

a small, satisfied hum spills from your lips at the praise, your tongue instinctively flicking out to lap at the pearlescent rivulets of pre-cum just streaming from his pudgy tip.

it’s not as sweet as satoru’s — it has a bit more of a salty tang. but it’s not exactly unpleasant either, and you find yourself digging the tip of your tongue into his slit to gather more of the interesting new flavour.

"ah!" nanami gasps loudly, the sound escaping from him without permission. his eyes fly open to fall squarely on you as you start suckling on his tip, finding himself being rendered completely speechless at the way you’re making him feel already — and you’ve only just started.

he’s in for a long night.

“yeahh, she’s good, isn’t she?” satoru croons proudly from beside him, reminding nanami of his presence yet again. but he can’t bring himself to be too mad at his colleague when he’s giving him access to his perfect girlfriend with such a sweet mouth.

“mhm,” the blonde man grunts out, his head rolling to the side slightly. he quickly shuts his eyes, not wanting to catch sight of satoru while he’s receiving such intense pleasure; the last thing he wants is to ruin his upcoming orgasm. “you’re a lu— ah, a lucky man.”

“oh, i know i am,” satoru hums smugly, his hand still resting on your hair giving you a gentle push in a silent encouragement to move your head forward. “come on, baby. i know you can take more of him than that.”

with the help of your boyfriend’s guiding hand, you find yourself sinking more of nanami’s thick cock into your mouth, inch by girthy inch until your nose bumps against the small patch of trimmed blonde hair at the bottom of his abdomen.

“oh, fuuuck…” nanami groans roughly, gripping the fabric of the couch so hard his knuckles are whitening as he tries to hold himself back from just fucking into your mouth like a feral animal.

“it’s okay if you want be rough, nanamin,” the white-haired sorcerer murmurs against the shell of his ear, as if directly reading his thoughts. “she doesn’t mind. she’s your stress relief, remember?”

like the gentleman he is, nanami makes sure to make eye contact with you to check for any signs of hesitance first. but when he doesn’t find any; he just can’t hold himself back from thrusting his hips up into the wet cavern of your mouth.

you try your absolute best to kneel there and take it, but you simply can’t help the way you choke around his sheer length when his tip hits the back of your throat with a lewd thwack!, causing both he and satoru to moan in response.

“yeahhh, you look so pretty choking on nanamin’s cock, babygirl.” satoru groans proudly, trailing his spare hand down to leisurely palm the bulge in his own pants as he observes the scene before him.

your boyfriend’s praise makes you audibly mewl around the blonde man’s cock, the vibrations around his shaft making nanami slap satoru’s hand out of your hair to grab it himself, keeping you in place as he continues rutting into your mouth with reckless abandon.

“just like that, just like that.” nanami chants over and over like a mantra, starting to completely forget about any and all stress he has as he loses himself to the overwhelming pleasure you’re giving him.

“you’re close, aren’t you?” satoru chimes in with a satisfied smirk stretching across his lips as he leans in unnecessarily close to nanami’s ear to whisper. “don’t worry about pulling out, she’ll swallow it all.”

his colleague’s lewd words practically send nanami hurtling over the edge, his grip on your hair tightening to a borderline painful degree as he spills rope after rope of hot, thick cum straight down your throat.

it takes a few deep gulps for you to swallow everything nanami gave you, but there’s just so much of it that a few stray drops spill from the edges of your lips and onto the carpet. shit — you’ll have to clean that up later.

“thaat’s it. such a good girl,” satoru purrs warmly, his eyes alight with affection as he reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb, enjoying the dazed expression across your pretty features. “i think you broke nanamin, though.”

looking up at nanami, you can instantly see the visual evidence of what your boyfriend means by you breaking nanami.

the blonde man looks completely debauched — chest rapidly rising and falling as he pants harshly in an attempt to come down from the intensity of his orgasm and eyes squeezed shut so tightly it would appear that he's in some sort of pain if you didn't know better.

"you alright there, kento?" you ask half-teasingly, tapping his thigh gently to try and gain his attention. (it doesn't work; he's clearly out of it.)

satoru is grinning like a madman beside him on the couch, clearly more than pleased with how well his girlfriend is doing unravelling his uptight co-worker so far. "aww, what a shame! he's chickening out before he can even get a feel of your tight little pussy."

you huff, lean up to swat at the white-haired sorcerer's arm in an attempt to get him to shut up, which only causes him to scoop you up in his arms again and place a big wet kiss on your lips in retaliation, seemingly uncaring of the lingering tase of nanami on them.

giggling, you attempt to wriggle out of his grip, which accidentally causes your ass to brush against nanami's still half-hard cock as a result; and that seems to snap him right out of his reverie.

nanami's entire body jolts to attention, a low groan leaving his lips as he glances down at where you're unintentionally pressed against him. and, god, if your mouth made him cum that hard that he forgot where he was for a few moments, just how much better must your pussy be?

"finally back with us, hmm?" satoru drawls playfully, reaching around you to punch his colleague's shoulder a little harder than necessary, causing the blonde man to scowl in response.

"quiet, gojo." he mutters under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away from the slip of your panties he can just about see from underneath the hem of your baggy shirt.

oh, what he'd give for just one little taste right now...

"don't even think about it," satoru cuts in, snapping him from his thoughts. oh dear, did he say that out loud? he really does need to get control of himself. "if you taste her you'll get addicted, and we can't have that."

nanami can't help but feel slightly disappointed at this — he's always been the type to return the favour, and not being able to do the same for you makes a subtle frown tug at his lips.

but he knows that he has no right to ask for anything more than what he's being offered, seeing as you're not his. (and it's not like he can complain if he gets to be inside that pretty pussy that's been on his mind since satoru showed him his lockscreen last week.)

"are you just gonna sit there, nanamin?" satoru chuckles in teasing disapproval, shaking his head and lifting up the hem of your (his) baggy shirt to reveal the considerable wet spot painting the crotch of your panties. "or are you gonna hurry up and take care of my girl? you knoow, it's bad manners to leave a lady waiting while she's this needy."

"ahem. my apologies, darling," nanami mutters hoarsely, using every ounce of self-control he has left to forcefully tear his eyes away from your underwear and meet your eyes. he gestures to his lap, giving you the strongest smile he can muster right now. "would you like to take a seat?"

"still so well-mannered." you giggle lightly, although you oblige without question, crawling away from satoru to perch yourself upon nanami's wide thighs. he instinctively reaches out to grasp your hips with two large hands, keeping you steady.

"so... can i—?" nanami mutters quietly to satoru, as if sharing a well-kept secret, and not as if he's asking for permission to touch another man's girlfriend's cunt. jesus, is he out of his comfort zone right now.

"can you touch her? yes, yes, of course," the white-haired sorcerer replies quickly with a dismissive wave of his hand, as if eager to get this underway already so he can sit back and enjoy the show. "oh, and you have to make her cum on your fingers atleast once before you can fuck her. house rules."

nanami isn't complaining about this rule.

he owes you an orgasm anyway, but when he slides your soiled panties to the side and gets an eyeful of your pretty pussy, he feels as if it would be a crime not to put his fingers inside of you.

ever the gentleman, nanami looks up at you from behind his lopsided goggles one more time to check for any signs of hesitation, and when he still doesn't find any, he slowly dips two thick fingers between your folds, caressing your slick flesh.

you release a small sigh at the touch, your eyelids fluttering as a wave of pleasure washes over you. he's careful and gentle with his ministrations; since he obviously isn't familiar with what you like.

but you can tell he's the type to be a quick learner.

it isn't long before nanami has you squirming and whining on his lap, the two fingers he eased inside of your dripping entrance scissoring and exploring your sloppy hole, spreading you open bit by bit.

"mmm, you like that, pretty girl?" satoru asks raspily from behind you, lazily palming his clothed erection again as he observes your reactions to his colleague's touch. "is he making you feel good?"

"y-yeahhh." is all you can get out in your daze, your back arching forwards in an unconscious action when nanami's thumb finds your swollen clit, lightly pressing the rough pad of it down on the puffy bud.

satoru leans back in so his chin is almost resting on nanami's shoulder, his warm, laboured breaths caressing the lobe of the other man's ear. "her favourite thing is when you rub lil' circles on her clit." he whispers, voice low and teasing.

against his will, a shiver ripples down nanami's spine in response to satoru's words, and he finds himself following them like they were a command, his thumb sloppily circling your pretty clit and emitting a soft gasp from your parted lips.

"c-close, kento." you mutter breathlessly, your hips beginning to grind down onto his fingers in search of more friction. satoru is quick to assist, abandoning palming himself and wrapping his an arm around your waist to help you bounce on the other man's digits more smoothly.

"thank you, thank you!" you cry out to your boyfriend, turning your head to meet his lips in an uncoordinated, messy kiss inches from nanami's face. the blonde man finds his fingers unconsciously speeding up as he observes the interaction, fucking you on them hard and fast.

within moments, you're coming undone.

a soundless cry falls from your lips as your body falls limp between the two men, your cunt clenching and unclenching around nanami's fingers in search of something to milk.

"god. she looks even more beautiful when she cums... i-i need to feel her. can i feel her, satoru?" comes nanami's broken voice from somewhere nearby, your blissed out state making your vision swim and your hearing fuzzy.

"woow. called me by my first name and everything!" that's satoru, obviously. he sounds overwhelmingly smug. "if i knew my girlfriend would get you this pussydrunk, i'd have let you have a turn with her ages ago."

their bickering becomes background noise as you bathe in the afterglow of your orgasm, but you vaguely register your baggy shirt being removed and your body being repositioned so you're splayed across the couch on your back.

"darling? do you need a moment or can i..." it's nanami's voice again. you manage to blink one eye open to find him hunched over you, burly arms either side of your head and his blonde tresses sticking to his forehead with sweat. casting your vision down, you can see his cock, flushed and angry with precum dripping from the tip once again, hovering just above your entrance.

"please." you mewl, the word slurred from lingering pleasure as you weakly grind your hips up into his erection, causing him to release a groan from deep in his throat.

"go ahead. give my girl what she wants," satoru grunts from somewhere behind nanami, the slick sounds filling the air indicating that he's finally released his cock from the confines of his sweatpants and started jerking himself off. "and you better give it to her good."

"i will," nanami mutters as he slowly but surely, pushes his monster of a cock past that first tight ring of muscle that is your entrance. "f-fuck— i will."

"i think that's the — ah — first time i've ever head you curse, nanamin." the white-haired man remarks playfully, his hips bucking up into his closed fist as he watches his colleague prepare to fuck his girlfriend. damn, this is even hotter than he expected.

"don't get used to it." he grunts in response, his arms visibly shaking above you as he tries to hold himself back from just slamming all the way into you. but no, he's still a gentleman; even now. he'll start slowly, atleast.

it takes a few long moments for nanami to push all of his ridiculously thick inches into you, and when he finally bottoms out, his heavy balls flush against your ass, both of you moan. he's stretching you out so good, just as much (if not more so) than satoru does.

the blonde man, to his credit, does manage to give you a while to adjust to the new intrusion filling you up, but it isn't long before he snaps, the animalistic side of him coming out as he begins rutting his hips into you like it's his last day on earth.

"a-ah! fuck, kento!" you cry breathlessly, your legs quickly locking around his waist for some type of support as he continues to use you like his own person cocksleeve, the couch rocking back and forth with the suddenly ruthless movements.

"uh huhh," satoru croons as he works his own cock faster, his blindfold discarded somewhere nearby so he can get the clearest view of nanami pounding his girlfriend into the couch. "use her to get rid of all that pesky stress."

"sorry, sweetheart — shit, sorry," nanami pants above you, his body seemingly having a mind of its own as he continues to drive his cock in and out of you, barely giving you a moment to breathe in between the rough thrusts. "can't stop."

you'd tell him it was okay, that it feels good, but right now you can't form a single coherent thought. you're completely and utterly cockdrunk, and there isn't even a doubt about it.

"hey — mmm — she really likes it when you play with her tits while you're fuckin' her." satoru adds helpfully, causing nanami to growl out something akin to thanks in response.

suddenly, a large hand is palming one of your bouncing breasts, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh and making you clench tightly around the cock inside of you.

nanami curses yet again under his breath, his eyes visibly rolling back in his head behind the fogged up lenses of his goggles. "so tight, darling. practically squeezing around me like a v-vice."

at his words, a broken moan gets ripped from your throat, your ankles digging into the muscles of his lower back in an attempt to pull him in even deeper. all you seem to be able to say is "more, more, more."

"that— ngh, that means she's close," satoru gasps out, his cock twitching beneath his fist as he continues to jerk himself off like there's no tomorrow. "rub... rub her clit like y'did earlier again."

instantly complying to the other man's command, two of nanami's thick fingers find your puffy little bud again, rubbing uncoordinated circles as he continues to pound into you like an animal in heat. jesus, he can't even remember what he was stressed about anymore.

"o-oh, shit!" you almost scream, the stimulation on your sensitive bud and the repeated slams of nanami's pudgy cockhead against your g spot driving you half-insane with pleasure. you can feel an all-too-familiar coil start to spool in the depths of your stomach, threatening to unravel at any given moment.

"yeah, that's it, baby," satoru praises breathlessly, his own orgasm approaching as he continues grinding into his fist like a desperate virgin. "cum all over nanamin's cock for me."

the dual sensations of your boyfriend's words and the thrusting of nanami's sinful hips has you spiralling uncontrollably over the edge, your second high of the night somehow even more intense than the first. you barely even have time to register the liquid just spraying from your cunt and soaking nanami's heavy balls where they're slapping against your ass with a lewd thwack! each time.

"god, so perfect, can't last—" nanami rambles in a very pussydrunk manner, his movements suddenly growing considerably more uncoordinated and sloppy as he struggles to find the strength to hold himself up. "gojo, where can i...?"

"not inside," satoru responds firmly, his voice the most coherent it's been since he started jerking himself off. it's clear there's no room for argument on this one. "that's for me only."

nodding shakily, nanami manages to pull his throbbing cock out just in a nick of time, rope after rope of his goopy cum splattering across the supple skin of your stomach, the stream going on for so long it seems like it'll never stop.

somewhere behind the blonde man, a low, raspy groan is the tell-tale sign that satoru has just finished too, probably coating his own hand with his sticky release.

it's silent for a few blissful moments, all three of you just basking in the afterglow of your respective orgasms. but of course, satoru gojo is a man who can never stay quite for long, so he says—

"hey, maybe we should do a threesome next time."

"next time?" nanami chokes out weakly, barely managing to lift his head up to glance over at this colleague with two raised eyebrows.

"yeah, next time," satoru shrugs nonchalantly, as if the proposal was nothing short of normal. "i know i said i'd only let you do this once, but... sharing is caring, right?"

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

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angel0news · 1 year ago

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buckysleftbicep · 4 days ago

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little black dress 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!dom!bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex, rough sex creampie, possessive!bucky, bathroom sex

summary: you and bucky have always danced the line between desire and something more. but he never made his move, so you showed him exactly what it looked like when john does.

word count: 4.8k

author's note: hii my darlings! i had this fic in mind for a while now, and it took me a few days to finally get to writing it! and, honestly, john's growing on me 🥹 i hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! thank you for your support <333 love ya guys and stay safe out there! 💖

The dress was barely a dress at all, if anything it was more suggestion than fabric, clinging to your body like a second skin.

Black silk, paper-thin, and cut like it was designed to destroy restraint. It slipped over your curves without resistance, the kind of fit that made strangers stare and men lose their footing.

The back plunged low, scandalously so—baring the line of your spine, the dip at the small of your back, the parts of you that longed to be touched. The hem itself was short enough to provoke imagination, short enough to turn heads.

You hadn’t even considered a bra, the silhouette just didn’t allow for one, but truthfully, that wasn’t the reason. The absence was part of the appeal, it made you feel unrestrained

The silk whispered across your thighs as you moved, every step practiced and purposeful, it caught the light in just the right places, teased your skin like a lover’s touch.

You could feel how the dress made you watchable, the kind of thing people noticed and couldn’t look away from. Every inch of exposed skin became a silent challenge and every shift of your hips, a calculated dare.

You stood at the mirror, sliding in one earring, then the other, your lips were slicked in a soft, gleaming gloss that caught the light every time your mouth curved.

Yelena’s voice carried through the doorway, amused. “Wow. You trying to kill Bucky?”

You didn’t flinch, just met her eyes in the mirror as she leaned lazily against the frame, one brow arched in mock accusation, a knowing smirk tugging at her mouth.

“Maybe,” you murmured.

“He doesn’t stand a chance.”

You turned slightly, letting the dress shift like a ripple down your thighs, your mouth curving into a knowing smirk. “He’s had chances,” you said, voice lower now, almost thoughtful. “He just never took them.”

Yelena’s grin widened. “Don’t let him off easy. The man’s been blue-balling himself for months.”

She disappeared down the hallway with a lazy wave, leaving only the soft sound of her boots against tile and the muted thrum of your own heartbeat.

The tension between you and Bucky had always lived in that thin space between too much and not enough. Flirting had blurred into something else long ago, something darker, slower, heavier.

It lived in the way his eyes tracked you across a room like you were a threat to him. In the way his touch lingered a second too long when he helped you up off the mats. In the way your breath caught every time he leaned close enough that you could practically feel his restraint.

It had become a game, a slow-burn stalemate of low voices, shared glances, and touches that hovered right at the edge of indecent. He’d press you down during training, thick thighs caging you in, vibranium fingers wrapped firm around your wrist, and the heat between you would spike.

He never moved. Never let himself fall.

And you were tired of pretending not to notice the way his hands tightened when you teased. The way his jaw clenched when your laugh came too close to someone else’s ear. The way he looked at you—like he wanted to devour you, and somehow hated himself for it.

Your heels clicked softly against the concrete as you stepped out of the compound’s elevator, each step deliberate.

Ava was already by the SUV, one hip cocked, gaze flickering between her phone screen and the cluster of the others around her. Bob nodded along absently to the pulse of whatever bass-heavy song Yelena had commandeered for the aux.

Alexei stood beside them, sipping something clear from a paper cup that definitely hadn’t been cleared by protocol, honestly, nothing he had been drinking since the team moved into the compound had been, not that you were complaining though.

But all of them stilled, for just a second, when you walked out into the warm, electric hum of the night.

John let out a low whistle, his gaze unfiltered and unhurried as it raked down the length of you. “If I knew you were wearing that,” he said, voice warm with amusement, “I’d have taken longer to get ready.”

You smiled, slow, confident, a little cruel, and breezed past him with a smirk that felt like the start of trouble. “Too late, Walker.”

As you passed, your fingers brushed Bucky’s. Barely. A whisper of contact, just enough to feel the static crackle between you. It could’ve been dismissed as accidental, if not for the way his fingers twitched, the almost-imperceptible flex, like he was fighting the urge to catch your hand and hold it there.

He was leaned against the SUV’s doorframe, arms folded across his chest. Stil, watchful. The tightly-leashed expression he wore wasn’t new, it was the same one he wore during missions, when the objective was in sight but the timing wasn’t right. Controlled tension, that coil of restraint wrapped tight beneath the surface.

His black tee stretched obscenely across his chest, the sleeves clinging to biceps that seemed to be sculpted from Adonis himself. His jeans were broken-in and low-slung, worn soft in all the right places, he looked lethal, almost unbothered. Except he wasn’t.

His gaze dropped—from your eyes to the slope of your bare back, pausing there before trailing lower. You caught the subtle shift in his jaw, the clench and release that gave him away.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

And you didn’t look back.

Inside the SUV, it was chaos, the kind that came with too many personalities jammed into one vehicle. Alexei and John were already halfway into an argument over the playlist. Both men reached for the center console like it was some kind of atomic bomb they were racing to defuse.

“I pick! You picked last time,” Alexei snapped, clearly offended.

“That was the gym,” John countered, cocky and unbothered. “This is clubbing. Different playlist.”

“It’s still music, идиот (idiot).”

Bob, ever the neutral third party, tried to mediate with a calm voice and a poor sense of timing. Yelena, predictably, told him to stop touching her mirror, and he did, again.

You climbed in last, taking the only seat left, right beside Bucky. It was tight, deliberately so. Your thigh pressed flush against his, the heat of his body seeping into yours through denim and skin, a slow, smoldering current that made your breath hitch.

He didn’t shift. Didn’t lean away. Didn’t lean in, either.

He sat like he’d been poured into the seat and frozen there, every muscle drawn tight beneath his skin, jaw ticking, eyes fixed on the window like it was the only thing keeping him together. His stillness wasn’t calm, it was restraint, sharp-edged and suffocating, the kind that only lasted until something snapped.

You could feel it in the air between you, thick and heavy. You knew that silence, knew what it meant when Bucky went quiet like that.

So you moved instead. Slow. Intentional.

You crossed your legs with a fluid, unhurried motion, letting the silk of your dress slip higher on your thighs. The fabric whispered against your skin, you knew what you looked like, knew how little the dress left to the imagination.

And you knew he was watching. Even if he wouldn’t look directly, you could feel the way his focus narrowed.

The effect was immediate, barely visible, but you saw it.

The twitch in his jaw. The subtle exhale through his nose. The slow, unmistakable flex of his gloved fingers against his thigh, the leather creaking ever so slightly as his knuckles tightened.

You turned your head just enough to catch him in your peripheral vision, your voice dipped low and syrup-sweet.

“Something wrong?”

He didn’t speak at first. Just blinked, once, as if clearing a fog, his throat worked around the words like they tasted dangerous.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” he said, low, hoarse, like it scraped its way out of him.

Your smile curled, wicked and slow. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep it from spreading too far, too fast, but you were glowing with it. Thriving in the weight of his unraveling.

That wasn’t denial. That was surrender, dressed in defiance.

And you hadn’t even touched him yet.

Tonight was going to be fun.

The bass hit first, low, pulsing and thick enough to feel in your chest. It vibrated up through the soles of your heels as lights strobed across the club in rhythmic flashes, bathing the dance floor in a kaleidoscope of heat and haze.

Everything smelled like sweat, smoke, and sex, bodies pressed too close, perfume clinging to skin, desire hanging thickly in the air.

The boys peeled off toward the back, claiming a booth near the edge of the floor wall, Bucky didn’t even look at you as he passed, didn’t acknowledge the dress, the skin, the sway of your hips. But you felt him clock every inch, felt his gaze dragging behind him like smoke.

Let him look.

You, Ava, and Yelena made a beeline for the bar, heels clicking against sticky tile, hips swaying in easy confidence. The kind of entrance that wasn’t loud, but undeniable. The three of you moved with practiced grace, synced like predators on the hunt.

Ava leaned her elbows on the counter, tipping her head just enough to catch your reflection in the mirrored back wall. Her mouth curved in a smirk, “So… what exactly do you have up your little sleeve tonight?”

You took your time answering, sipping your margarita first, your eyes went wide, mock-innocent, voice featherlight. “Nothing. Just drinks, dancing.”

Yelena snorted—elegant and completely unamused. “Right. And I only wear red lipstick when I’m feeling shy.” Her accent slipped ever so lightly as she raised a brow, tipping her glass at you. “Game on.”

You laughed into your cocktail, the rim cold against your mouth, the liquid burn sliding smooth down your throat. “Come on. I’m overworked and underfucked. Let a girl have her fun.”

Ava raised her glass in mock salute. “Here’s to that.”

Yelena clinked hers against both of yours and deadpanned, “To sins we don’t plan on confessing.”

You grinned behind your glass, letting the moment bloom in your chest, the ache, the buzz, the sharp sparkle of anticipation. The burn of your drink was satisfying, but it was nothing compared to the heat unfurling low in your belly, thick and steady, pulsing with every beat of the music.

This wasn’t about about playing coy or waiting for someone else, him to make the first move. It wasn’t about almosts, and it damn sure wasn’t about patience.

Yelena finished the last sip of her drink with a dramatic sigh, setting her glass down, “alright,” she said, turning toward the dance floor. “Lots of bad decisions on the floor tonight,” the blonde added, gesturing with a tilt of her chin to the sea of bodies moving, looking like they were chasing sin.

Ava grinned and looped her arm through hers. “Pick your poison.”

They disappeared into the crowd, a blur of glitter and limbs, swallowed up by pulsing lights and sweat-slick rhythm, leaving you at the bar with a half-full glass and the slow, deliberate thrum of possibility building beneath your skin. You didn’t follow.

Not yet.

Instead, you leaned against the counter with one elbow, the condensation of your drink trickling down your fingers. You drew slow, idle circles into the damp ring left behind, a flick of your nail here, a swirl there.

The music surged, thick and pulsing, you sipped slow, lips parting just enough to let the burn slide over your tongue.

John walked up beside you like a storm rolling in off the coast, easy grin, crooked charm and amused timing. He moved like he’d known you’d be here, like he was already in on the joke.

Two drinks in hand, shirt sleeves rolled up, hair a little too perfect not to be deliberate. He looked you up and down once—not subtle, not rushed.

“They abandon you already?” he asked, lifting a brow, offering the second drink with a tilt of his wrist.

You smiled, slow, sly, just the curve of your mouth like the lift of a weapon. “Strategically separated.”

He handed you the drink, and your fingers brushed his, just enough skin to spark. His gaze dropped, the way your dress hugged your hips, the bare line of your shoulder. He sure as hell wasn’t trying to hide it, and you didn’t ask him to.

“What’s the angle?”

You met his eyes, calm and unblinking, lashes dipped low. “Wanna help me with something?”

He huffed a soft laugh, low and almost fond. “You’re always up to something, aren’t you?”

You gave a little shrug, sipping slowly. “Mmhm.”

He leaned in a fraction, close enough that you could feel the heat of him—not touching, just there.

You tilted your head, eyes glittering, voice smooth. “I need a little distraction. Something that'll get under his skin.”

You didn’t say jealous, you didn’t need to. It was all over your posture, the way you lingered in the doorway between control and provocation. That got you a full pause. A low whistle through his teeth as he set his own glass down on the bar behind him.

His eyes narrowed. “You trying to get me killed?”

You smiled almost sweetly “Mmm. Maybe.”

John’s gaze dragged over you again, slower this time. Appraising. Heat in every pass. His tongue wet his bottom lip before he spoke again, voice dropping an octave. “You know,” he murmured, “with you looking like that, I don’t think it’ll take much.”

You said nothing. Just held his gaze, then—still watching him—reached down and slid your fingers through his. A small tug. No force.

An invitation.

And he followed, just like you knew he would. Because of course he did.

The bass swallowed you whole the moment your heels touched the floor.

It pulsed through the soles of your feet, climbed up your spine, sank low into your stomach—all rhythm and thudding pressure. Lights slashed through the darkness, catching glances of skin and sweat, painting the crowd in strobe-lit temptation.

The air was thick—muggy with lust and music, electric with the scent of alcohol, perfume, and too many people pressing too close. You could feel the pulse of it against your ribs, in the backs of your knees, deep between your legs. It was visceral, almost alive.

Bodies moved in waves, hands where they shouldn’t be..

You led John into the center of it, into the heat and chaos and everything you’d been simmering with all night. You didn’t ask, you didn’t wait. You turned, pressing your body flush to his, and started to move.

It wasn’t subtle and it wasn’t meant to be.

You rolled your hips into his slowly, deliberately, letting the music guide your rhythm—the kind of movement that left no room for interpretation.

John’s hands found your hips easily, like he’d been waiting for the cue, his fingers tight, almost possessive, but not quite. He moved with you, his body catching the pace of yours, letting the friction build, letting the fantasy settle into reality.

His touch dipped lower, tracing the shape of your waist, down the curve of your hips, then sliding further—over the swell of your ass, where he squeezed once, firm and unbothered.

You arched into him instinctively, feeling him hard against you, and felt the heat of his breath against your neck when he chuckled, voice thick with amusement and something darker.

“Shit,” he murmured near your ear, half-dazed. “You really want him to kill me, huh?”

You didn’t answer.

You just turned in his arms—slow, like silk unrolling, until your back was pressed against his chest. Your ass ground into his crotch with no shame, no pause, no hesitation. You wanted him to feel it. Wanted everyone watching to see it, to see you.

You moved with intent, liquid and hot, your body matching the beat in slow, deliberate waves. Letting the music pulse through your hips. Letting every roll say watch this. Watch her choose someone else.

His hand spread wide across your lower back, holding you there, fingertips pressing just hard enough to feel. The other settled on your waist, fingers splaying low beneath the hem of your dress, riding the curve of your body like he’d earned it.

Your hand slid behind you, fingers skating up the back of his neck, slipping into his hair, tugging him down until his mouth hovered just behind your ear.

You didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.

Because across the dance floor — through the haze and the lights and the pounding bass — he was watching.

Bucky hadn’t moved.

He was still sitting in the booth, drink untouched, his shoulders stiff, coiled like wire. Elbows braced on his knees, hands loose but twitching, almost as if he was holding something back. Like if he gripped any tighter, the glass in his hand would break.

His jaw was locked, the muscles working hard beneath his skin.

But his eyes—those fucking eyes—they were locked on you.

Cerulean. Burning. Blown wide. He wasn’t blinking, hell he probably wasn’t breathing. He was consuming you with nothing but a stare, tracking every shift of your hips, every breath you took, every inch of your body pressed to someone else’s.

And when your eyes finally met his, it felt like something cracked open between you—a tether stretched so tight it sang with tension.

You smiled.

Coy. Dangerous. Just the corner of your mouth, like you weren’t thinking about him at all when every second of this performance was for him. Like he wasn’t the reason you wore the dress. The fuck-me heels.

Then you turned your head—slow, deliberate—just enough for Bucky to see your lips ghost against John’s cheek.

Your fingers slid from the back of the blonde’s neck to his jaw, tilting his face toward yours with a kind of practiced care.

And you kissed him.

Full, slow and intentional. Lips parted. Breath caught. Not rushed and definitely not for fun.

Not for John. Not even for you.

Just for the man across the club who hadn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you stepped onto the floor.

The man who hadn’t touched you.

You didn’t break the kiss right away.

You let it linger, just long enough for Bucky to watch your lips part against John’s, your fingers curled lightly in the fabric of his shirt. Just long enough for him to feel the choice in it.

The defiance. The line being drawn in real time.

You weren’t playing anymore. You were showing him what it looked like when you stopped waiting.

He was already watching, and he hadn’t looked away once.

And across the club, where the music drowned everything but the pulse in his jaw, Bucky sat like a man seconds from detonation.

Yelena leaned in, loud and unapologetic. “Your girl’s with Walker now, huh?” she said, nudging him with the sharp edge of her elbow, eyes tracking the slow, obscene way your bodies moved.

That did it.

The brunette stood, fast and sharp, like a wire finally snapping and shoved past Alexei without a word, shouldered Bob hard enough to make his drink spill.

And he came for you.

Bucky didn’t care. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t speak.

His boots pounded against the floor, direct, unrelenting, cutting a path through the crowd like he was built for one purpose only: you.

People moved before he touched them. Stepped aside like they could feel it coming off him—the possessive edge carved into every clenched muscle.

You didn’t see him until it was too late.

Until his hand wrapped around your wrist. His touch—firm, hot and unmistakable.

Your body jerked back instinctively, caught off guard by the sudden contact. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was tight. Claiming. As if letting go wasn’t even an option.

Your head snapped around, startled, mouth parted. “What the fuck are you—?”

He didn’t answer, didn’t look at John, didn’t acknowledge the beat still hammering around you.

He just dragged you.

One hard tug and you stumbled into him, your heel skidding against the floor, the front of your dress catching against his jeans for half a second before you found your footing again.

John called something behind you, your name, maybe, or just a startled, amused curse but it was swallowed by the music and the crowd.

Bucky didn’t stop. He pulled you through the writhing bodies like they weren’t there, cutting a clean line across the chaos. His grip on your wrist never loosened, not once and you didn’t resist.

Not really.

Not when your skin was flushed, your breath caught somewhere between panic and arousal, and your pulse was thrumming like a war drum in your throat.

He turned down a narrow hallway, cool and dim and lined with flickering wall sconces, and barely slowed before slamming his boot into a door. It flew open with a sharp, echoing crack, and then—

You were inside.

The door slammed shut behind you with a force that made the wall shudder, and then his hands were on you. Everywhere. Hard palms on your waist, his body pressing into yours, his mouth already devouring.

He pinned you against the door with the full weight of his body, all chest and heat and barely leashed violence. His mouth crashed into yours like a punishment, and it was filthy. Hot breath. Tongue. Teeth dragging across your bottom lip until you gasped. He kissed like he wanted to bruise, like he needed to stake a claim from the inside out.

One hand fisted into your hair and yanked your head back hard enough to make you moan; the other gripped your thigh, shoving it up around his waist as he ground his cock into you through his jeans—thick, hot, already hard.

“You think I didn’t see what you were doing?” he growled into your mouth, voice ragged and ruined. “Grinding on Walker like that? Kissing him like you wanted me to fucking lose it?”

You couldn’t answer, too breathless, too far gone, and maybe that was the point. He didn’t want words. He wanted surrender.

He spun you hard—chest to the door one second, then bent over the sink the next. The mirror caught your wide eyes, your flushed cheeks, your mouth already parted in anticipation as he shoved your hips forward and flattened his hand between your shoulder blades.

You barely had time to breathe.

His hand yanked your dress up in one swift, brutal motion, baring you to the air.

No panties.

Just slick, swollen heat between your thighs.

The gasp that tore from your mouth wasn’t just shock—it was want. Need. Desperation.

He froze for half a beat.

Then, “Fucking knew it.”

The sound of his voice—shredded, possessive, starving made you clench around nothing. Your knees almost buckled, but he caught you, of course he did. One arm wrapped tight around your waist, the other slid down, fingers slipping between your thighs without hesitation.

He groaned. Deep. Raw. “You’re soaking.”

He didn’t ease in, didn’t test the waters. He shoved two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, while his thumb circled your clit with tight, filthy pressure.

You jerked against the counter, legs straining, hips rocking helplessly into his hand.

“Filthy little tease,” he hissed against your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark. “You walk around with this dripping cunt and expect me to stay quiet?”

You whimpered something—his name, or maybe please—but it didn’t matter. He was already undoing his belt with one hand, jeans shoved down just enough, cock springing free, heavy and thick and leaking. He lined up behind you, ran the tip through your folds, groaning when he felt how wet you were.

Then he slammed into you.

One brutal thrust, all the way to the hilt.

You cry out, not from pain, but from shock. From the stretch, from the sheer depth of him. He was thick, perfectly shaped to ruin you, and he didn’t give you time to adjust. He pulled out halfway and slammed back in harder.

Again. And again. And again.

Your hands clawed at the counter, your thighs trembled. You were already splintering.

He fucked you like he didn’t care who heard. Flesh slapping against flesh, deep and punishing. He didn’t hold back. Didn’t slow down. He knew exactly what he was doing—grinding his hips into your ass, hitting the spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes with every stroke.

One hand fisted in your hair again, wrenching your head back so he could watch your expression in the mirror. The other found your clit and didn’t let up.

“Say it,” he panted, fucking you harder. “Say you’re mine.”

“Bucky—”

Another thrust. Vicious.

“Say it.”

“I’m—fuck—I’m yours,” you sobbed, eyes glassy.

“Damn right you are.”

Your orgasm hit like an explosion—a scream dragged from deep in your chest, your body locking up around him, pulsing, shaking. Your legs gave out and he held you up, fingers digging into your hips as he fucked you through it, chasing his own release.

But he didn’t stop.

Didn’t slow. Didn’t let you breathe.

“That’s it, princess,” he groaned. “Give me another one. Come on. You can take it.”

You were drenched. Shaking. Fucked-out and trembling. Your body tried to fight it, twitching and jolting with every thrust, but his hand on your clit kept moving—tight circles, never breaking rhythm.

You came again with a broken scream—your second orgasm ripping through you, thighs trembling violently as your body begged for mercy. Your cunt spasmed around his cock, pulsing so tight it dragged a strangled sound from his throat.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—”

He slammed into you one last time, deep and final, his hips jerking hard against your ass as he came with a growl—a raw, filthy sound buried in the curve of your neck as he spilled inside you, thick and hot, his cock pulsing with every wave.

He didn’t move for a moment, just held you, breathing ragged, his hand still gripping your hip like he thought you might vanish.

Eventually, he pulled out—slow, careful, your body still fluttering from aftershocks, his cum slick and warm as it slid down your inner thighs. You swayed a little, overstimulated and trembling, and he caught you instantly.

“Easy,” he murmured, voice rough as gravel. His hands steadied your hips. “I’ve got you.”

You let him turn you gently toward him, your heart still galloping in your chest, legs jelly-soft. His fingers were shaking as they fixed your dress—tugging the fabric down over your hips, smoothing it over your thighs like it mattered now.

You looked up at him, lips kiss-bruised, eyes dazed, makeup smudged.

His hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. He didn’t speak for a moment—just stared at you, pupils still blown wide, jaw still tight, like he was trying to figure out how the hell he let it get that far.

“Tell me,” he rasped, “did it work?”

You blinked, throat still too dry to laugh properly. “You mean the jealousy plan?”

His mouth twitched—not quite a smile. “You trying to drive me fucking insane?”

You tilted your head, kissed his thumb. “Just needed a reaction.”

He leaned in, forehead resting against yours. “You want a reaction, princess” His voice dropped to something low and lethal. “Next time, you ask. I’ll give you everything.”

You swallowed, heat sparking in your belly again despite everything. “That a promise?”

He kissed you—softer this time. Still deep, claiming.

“Yeah,” he whispered against your lips. “You can bet on it”

Finally, you opened the bathroom door.

And stopped short.

A paper sign, written in black sharpie and taped crookedly across the door, flapped in the hallway breeze:

OUT OF ORDER — DO NOT ENTER

Laughter exploded a few feet away at the booth.

Yelena and Bob were doubled over, howling. Ava leaned against the wall like she’d been waiting. John stood smugly sipping his drink, clearly proud of himself. And Alexei, hands in his pockets, gave Bucky a once-over and shook his head with faux disappointment.

“Was it worth it, Barnes?!” Yelena hollered, absolutely delighted.

Alexei sighed. “I owe Walker twenty bucks. Told him he’d snap before midnight.”

You groaned, burying your face in Bucky’s shoulder as he groaned under his breath.

“Oh my god.”

You laughed into his chest, muffled. “Told you I’d get your attention.”

He slid his arm around your waist again, pulling you in tight.

“You’ve got all of it now,” he muttered. “Hope you know what the fuck to do with it.”

And you did. You just grinned.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this fic! if you did, please consider dropping a comment or even a reblog 💌 it keeps me motivated! thank you my loves

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