yvieliny

[yvieliny]

Next door - Bucky Barnes x Reader

━━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅ ♡ ⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━━

Word Count: 2.9k

Description: You thought you were being quiet when you touched yourself. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault he could hear everything from his bed next door every single time. And when you moan his name out loud, he’s done pretending he doesn’t hear.

Tags/Warnings: Smut. Menace Bucky is back on this one. Fem!reader. Bucky spying on her. Mutual masturbation. Oral f!rec.

Note: this is literally just Bucky being feral about a helpless doll next door, he just has to step in. Enjoy lovelies 🫶🏼 also I’m making a John Walker version of this.

Masterlist

It wasn't his fault. His room just happened to be next to yours, beds pressed against the same wall. A thick wall. But it wasn't his fault he had enhanced hearing, so he just couldn't help it. Couldn't help hearing the nights you gave yourself over to pleasure.

And fuck, he listened. Every single time.

He learned every sound you made. He could tell when you were already worked up, getting yourself off in just a few minutes. Other nights where you would drive yourself to the edge, again and again, dragging it out for hours.

Hours he spent with his cock in hand, back pressed to the headboard, leaning towards the wall so he wouldn't miss a single wet, filthy sound your fingers made.

And then other ones, rare, where you couldn't quite get there. Frustrated groans. The creak of the bed as you shifted restlessly. He could even picture the sweat dripping past your furrowed eyebrows, when your fingers just weren't enough.

Nights where he fought everything inside him, that feral instinct to tear the wall between you and show you how it feels to be fucked right.

Tonight was one of those nights.

He wasn't expecting anything, he never really did. He'd taken a hot shower, put on a pair of boxers and sat on his bed with a book in hand. His back rested on the headboard, legs crossed over his ankles. A warm, cozy light coming from the lamp on his nightstand illuminated his room. The place was quiet, the only sounds disrupting the silence were his fingers flipping over the pages as he read, and the occasional chuckle the story provoked.

But then he caught it.

A faint, almost inaudible whimper slipped from your mouth on the other side of the wall. He froze in place, just like he always did, like it was somehow still a surprise. Like he didn't expect to hear you again. Like he knew it was wrong to listen. To want to listen.

But he did. Every damn time.

He snapped the book shut in his hands, dropped it over his lap, and instinctively leaned closer to the wall, to your side of the bed. He listened, focused hard, until he could finally hear that familiar sound of slick fingers sliding in a desperate rhythm. A breath got caught up in his throat, when you moaned, and blood rushed to his crotch.

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling himself harden against the hardback cover of the book he had completely forgotten about. He sighed deeply, shoving it aside, and reached to switch off the lamp on his nightstand.

He knew what came next, what he was about to do. He knew it was wrong, dirty. But somehow, being swallowed in complete darkness made it easier to pretend it wasn't.

Like if he couldn't see himself, then maybe he didn't have to feel guilty.

His hand slipped into his boxers, gripping his swollen, painfully hard cock. He pulled it out and immediately started stroking at a fast pace, no buildup, no teasing this time. Just tight, large punishing pumps of his fist to the sounds that came out your mouth. His head dropped back to the wall, eyes closed to block out everything but you.

To try to feel you.

He swore he could even smell you, the arousal, the wetness between your thighs, the sex emanating from your skin as you fucked yourself with your fingers like there was no one else to do it for you. Like he wasn't next to your room, stroking his cock to your whimpers like a fucking pervert.

Like he wasn't willing to split you open if you just said the word.

So he just kept stroking, up and down, cause it was the only damn thing he could do when you were unknowingly putting on a show for him.

But after a while passed, he noticed you just went on and on, but it wasn't edging. Not this time. It didn't bother him, he knew he could go for hours if he wanted to, but you? He knew you weren't getting there.

He knew those frustrated sighs escaping your mouth, when you paused because your fingers were probably cramping from pumping in and out without getting anywhere. That soft thump against your mattress when you hit the bed desperate.

It wasn't fair, he thought, you deserved to see white, to come so unbelievably hard that you screamed without a single care if the entire team heard.

He heard you stop, chest probably rising up and down, panting, as a groan escaped your lips. He stopped too, dick resting on his palm as he waited for your next move.

"Come on ... please" You mumbled to yourself, words muffled by the wall separating him from completely ruining you.

Every fucking part of his body twitched to that plea. Fuck. You were lonely, you needed someone.

You needed someone to fuck you right.

He takes a deep breath, restraining himself with whatever is left of his will, whimpers invading your room as you began moving your fingers once again. He restarts with you, harder, sloppier this time, like he's frustrated too because if you're not coming neither is he.

And then, in the middle of the moans, he hears something else, it's not just incoherent sounds, you're whimpering someone's name.

"B-b ... Bucky"

Shit. Holy fucking shit. His name? he couldn't have heard that right.

He stopped stroking himself, body rising up from his seating position to kneel on the bed, left ear to the wall, hands on either side of his head. He held his breath, closing his eyes, part of him wishing he misheard you, the other part craving to be right.

He heard more moans, but in between, there was something else. Slurred B's. He was sure.

"B-buck ... Bucky please just like that baby"

Shit. You were fantasizing about him. Out loud. About his head between your legs, about his tongue eating you out while his fingers wrecked you.

You wanted him. You needed him.

His legs moved before he could think with his brain instead of the cock he shoved back into his boxers. He took long strides to his door, metal hand messing with his hair like that would do something to take away the heat on his face or bring his heart rate back to normal.

Suddenly he was out of his room, in front of yours, chest heaving like a lunatic in heat. He shook his head, it was too late to back away now, so fuck it, might as well try it. His hand knocked against the door, instantly making you stop your little session.

You sat on the bed all flustered, quickly wiping your hand on a small towel you had tossed to the mattress in case you made a mess of yourself. Which quite frankly you were doing, before someone decided to interrupt your sacred self love time.

Who the hell is knocking on your door and what the hell do they want right now?

You let out an exasperated sigh, finally getting up from the bed, the oversized shirt on your body falling down to cover the drench between your legs. You threw the towel to a hamper, taking a deep breath before reaching for the doorknob.

A gasp caught in your throat the second you opened the door. There he was. The man whose name rolled out your tongue so painfully easily.

Bucky.

Standing right there, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and his dog tags on his chest. Jaw locked, face visibly on edge. His hair was a mess, the front strands sticking to a sheen of sweat on his forehead. His eyes were dark, exactly how they looked in your little fantasy just minutes ago.

Shit. He didn't know, he couldn't know. Right?

Bucky was having his own fight inside his head. When he saw you open the door, pupils dilated, your rapid heart rate thumping on his ears, all agitated and ... kind of glowing. Glowing in that arousal I'm-fucking-myself sheen. He had to fight every urge in his body that told him to wrap his hand around your neck and pin you to the ground to make you scream in the hallway, so everybody in that floor knew what name you were pleading to in your room.

"B-Bucky?" You blurted out, eyes darting around nervously.

He almost laughed at that. Why were you so shy now when you were praying his name just minutes ago?

"Are you okay? Is it a nightmare?" You shifted your tone, eyebrows furrowing. Figured that must be the reason of his unsettled expression.

He did let a chuckle out then, shaking his head as he slowly pushed himself into your room, closing the door behind him, backing you up like he was cornering a prey.

"I guess you could say I was having a nightmare, doll" He growled, voice deeper than you've ever heard before. "One where you desperately called out my name, all helpless and needy, and I wasn't here to help you"

Your legs threatened to buckle when you realized what he meant. He'd heard you moaning his name, like a freak.

You'd fantasized about him before, you did it every single time your fingers traveled down to your thighs, but his name had never left your lips then. However, this time, you were so frustrated, so swollen from teasing, rubbing, pushing and not getting anywhere, that his name just rolled out your tongue like a plea, like a call for help.

The back of your legs hit your bed, making you stumble, but his arms were quick to catch you. Your hands hit his bare chest for support, grazing the dangling metal tags, looking up at him with wide eyes and a hint of embarrassment washing your features.

The huge bulge pressing against your stomach didn't help either, too warm and solid to ignore.

He lifted his metal hand to cradle your face, you instinctively leaned into his cold touch closing your eyes, almost purring. He took a deep breath, this wasn't about him, this was all about you. He planted a kiss on your forehead, making you open your eyes at the gesture.

"You don't have to be ashamed angel, not when you were calling my name so sweetly" He said, too softly, like he wasn't about to ruin your life. "And I think it would be real fucking rude if I didn't give you what you were begging for"

You bit your lip, his chest was fire against yours even through your shirt, the cold vibranium hand in your cheek was keeping you grounded, but you weren't sure how long your composure would last under his touch.

"Are you gonna let me make it better for you, doll?" He asked, in mock sweetness.

Cause he already knew the answer, he'd already decided you weren't going to sleep until your legs were shaking.

You nodded, desperately, you were too flustered from the haze, too frustrated with all the bottled up tension in your body. You barely had time to blink before he pushed you onto the bed, flat on your back, sinking to his knees in front of yours. He bunched up the shirt up to your waist, big hands dragging your thighs apart, the cool air hitting your wet skin made you gasp.

"Shh, I know angel" Bucky mumbled against your skin. "Let me take care of you"

His hot breath ghosted its way up your legs, trailing wet kisses that made it hard to maintain eye contact with him, when your head threatened to fall back in pure bliss. He slowly went higher, like he was not only teasing you, but himself.

Something inside him went feral the moment he finally caught the sight of your glistening pussy. Something he had pictured before, all those lonely nights in his room.

"Fuck me... look at you doll" he groaned, spreading your legs even wider, his firm grip pressed the soft flesh of your thighs. "You thinking about my mouth on this pretty little pussy? That what got you dripping all over yourself?"

You nod shakily, hips twitching when he leaned in, hot breath grazing your soaked folds.

"I just, I-I couldn't..." You tried to explain, but he was already shaking his head.

"I know, doll" He cut you off, placing a quick, teasing kiss on your clit, making you whimper. "I heard you, I know every single sound you make. When you're close, when you don't want to let yourself go, when your fingers don't cut it anymore"

Your back arched, trying to grind up against his lips again, beard tickling your skin, but his metal arm wrapped around your thigh and held your hips flat to the mattress.

"Nuh uh, stay still for me dollface" he warned. "You move again and I stop. You hear me?"

You nodded rapidly, chest heaving with anticipation. You were becoming undone and he hadn't even started yet.

"Good girl" He praised, placing another kiss in your bare pussy, this time letting it linger for a few seconds.

He draws back satisfied when he hears your moan, and licks his lips to let the taste of you sink into his mouth.

"Now, good girls aren't supposed to play with themselves like that. So fucking messy with no one to help them" He shook his head, with a devilish grin. "Not when a man willing to break them is next door"

"B-bucky ... please" You begged, this was taking too long, you were dripping over the sheets.

He grinned wider, now this is the way you were moaning his name earlier.

That was all he needed.

You lose it the second his mouth touched you. It was so warm, greedy all over you, groaning into your skin like he was the one getting off from it.

"Sweetest fucking thing I've ever tasted, angel" he mumbled, lips dragging up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth until you cried out. "How the fuck did I go this long without it? Without kicking that door and showing you what is like to be pleased properly"

Your hips lifted involuntarily at his words, thighs shaking, but he wasn't having it. His vibranium arm pinned you in place, cold palm heavy on your lower belly, sending you into overdrive. "I said hold still" he growled, before diving right back in.

He was sure he could bust into his boxers just from hearing you become undone under him. This time there was no wall muffling your sounds, your scent, your wetness. This time he had you moaning so loud under his touch, he was sure no one in that floor needed enhanced hearing to know what was happening in your room.

"Bucky...f-fuck, I can't" You cried, unable to control your feet kicking next to his head, but every time your hips jerked he just grunted and pressed down harder.

"Yeah you can" He growled. He let you go briefly to hook your legs over his shoulders and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed until your pussy was even deeper into his face. "Gonna hold you down and make you take it, doll"

Your back arched, trying to escape the overwhelming pressure of his mouth, but he just tightened his grip and kept going. Bucky's tongue worked heavenly over your clit, and when you thought it couldn't get any better, he slipped two fingers inside, curling just right, like he memorized every sound you made through the wall and translated it into his hand.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling tight, and he moaned at every tug, while he kept fingering, licking, sucking, groaning into you like he needed every drop of your pleasure. Like he was fucking addicted.

"C'mon, angel" he whispered, agitated breaths hot against you. "Let me hear it, let me hear what it sounds like when I make you come"

"B-bucky" His name was the only thing you blurted out, body trembling, ragged breathing.

"Come on my tongue, doll" He begged, too drunk in your sweet taste. "Soak my fucking face. Show me who this pussy belongs to"

That was all you needed to let yourself go. Your vision blurred as your orgasm hit, ripping through you so hard you pushed his hands and head away but he kept you pinned, kept licking through it, like he wasn't done until you were sobbing. He only stopped when your legs were shaking uncontrollably, pussy clenching his fingers, and your breath came in broken gasps, eyes lost on the ceiling.

That drove him to the edge too.

He wiped his beard with his right arm, before yanking his boxers down, cock springing free, thick, leaking, heavy in his hand as he wrapped his fingers around it.

"You did this, angel. Look at me" He leaned over your body, his metal hand reached behind your neck, lifting it slightly. "Look what just tasting you does to me"

You were still dazed, eyes blinking to focus yourself on him.

He didn't even need his hand to come, so he used it to hold himself above you. He straddled your shaking body, placing his cock over your stomach with a wet slap, sliding against your soft skin while you were too wrecked to move, just whimpering again and again under him. He grabbed your hand and put it over his cock, to push himself deeper into your skin.

"That's it, dollface, just lay there and take it. Let me use this sweet body to finish" He grunted, hips jerking forward, desperately seeking for that release he'd sought after in his room.

You were breathless, overwhelmed by the weight of his cock on your stomach and it’s width under your hand, while he panted like you were the only thing that could save him.

After a few more pumps, he finally came hard with a groan.  Thick, hot white landed on your stomach in long, messy streaks. The first spurt made you flinch, the second had him cursing under his breath, hips jerking uncontrollably as he emptied himself on you. His chest heaved as he watched it drip down your skin, and a proud look flashed across his face like he just marked what was his.

The warm fluid felt almost comforting, running down the side of your leg as you still twitched every now and then, trying to remember how to breathe again. 

Bucky falls onto the bed beside you, panting, with that painfully arrogant smile like he didn't just come from rubbing himself to you.

“Next time …” He whispered low in your ear, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m not stopping until it’s dripping out of every hole you have”

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reblogs and comments are always appreciated, thank you so much for reading 🫶🏼

[yvieliny]

Toxic Heat

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Agent! Female! Reader

Summary: While waiting for the extraction team after a successful mission, Bucky leaves you and runs into a greenhouse room in the mission building with strange plants. Accidentally breathing in the gas from the plants he returns to you, but something is off.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, Smut, Cursing, Fingering, Rough Sex, Edging, Enemies to lovers, Hormone inducing plant, Vaginal sex, Multiple orgasms, Aftercare, Super Intense (my god this is so dirty.)

Word Count: 6.4k

The mission had been straightforward at first: infiltrate the abandoned research outpost, gather intel, and get out before anyone noticed.

But when the team’s extraction was delayed, you and Bucky found yourselves trapped inside the building’s dusty corridors, waiting for backup.

After the constant, usual bickering and insults, he left and you heard his footsteps retreat down the hall as he scouted ahead, his metal arm clanking softly with each step. You stayed close to the cracked wall, nervously fingering the strap of your gear. Wishing there were windows to bring in any source of light throughout the creepy dim building.

Suddenly, Bucky’s footsteps stopped. Silence swallowed the hallway. Slight worry grew over you, as you take a look down the hallway, however, no sight or sound of him to be found.

When you finally heard footsteps again, you quickly peaked your head past the doorway down the hallway. Seeing Bucky approach, his movements were slower, heavier. His dark eyes held something unreadable — a flicker of distraction mixed with a strange heat.

You noticed the sweat beading at his temple, the way his breath came a little too fast, a little too shallow.

“Bucky?” Your voice curious, concern knitting your brows.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned against the doorway, jaw clenched tight, hand pressing over his mouth as if trying to catch his breath.

Your heart pounded. You couldn’t just stand there.

Carefully, you took a few steps closer, eyes scanning his face for any sign of injury or distress. “Are you hurt? You don’t look well.”

Your fingers hovered uncertainly near his arm before gently laying it on the flushed skin.

The contact made him flinch, a sharp intake of breath escaping his lips, and his whole body tensed under your touch.

He looked at you, confusion clouding his dark eyes before darting his eyes away. “I… I don’t know what’s happening,” he admitted quietly, voice strained. “I can’t… focus.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning with a mix of worry and something else you couldn’t name.

Despite your hesitation, your fingers lingered, tracing the line of his jaw slowly.

His heavy breathing filled the tight space between you.

He wasn’t the bold, direct, and frankly asshole of a man you’d expected to come back— he was confused, vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.

And yet, beneath that confusion simmered something primal, waiting to break free.

You swallowed hard, fighting the urge to pull back as Bucky’s gaze locked with yours—dark, confused, and somehow raw in a way you’d never seen before. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breath hitching like he was struggling to steady it.

“Do you need to sit down?” you offered softly, voice barely above a whisper. You hated how your own hands trembled, but you couldn’t just leave him like this.

Bucky shook his head slowly, jaw still tight. “No,” he said, voice rough, “I just… need a moment.”

You edged closer, feeling the warmth radiating off his body, the subtle tremor running through his muscles. Your fingers brushed again against his skin—this time along the softer flesh of the inside of his wrist, inspecting his seemingly pulsing veins.

He flinched again, that sharp intake of breath turning deeper, ragged. His eyes fluttered closed for a second, turning his face away from you as if trying to contain something he didn’t understand.

“Bucky…” Your voice softened, uncertainty threading through every word. “What’s going on?”

He opened his eyes, dark pools swirling with confusion and frustration. “I don’t know,” he said roughly, voice breaking just slightly. “I feel… wrong. Hot. Like I’m… burning up from the inside.”

You bit your lip, heart clenching. The man who is feared, who’s a deadly super soldier, was now trembling under your touch, vulnerable and raw.

Without thinking, your hand moved to rest flat against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm.

His breathing hitched, eyes darkening as if the simple contact overwhelmed him. “Don’t…” he growled out, voice hoarse.

The room seemed to shrink around you both, heavy with unspoken tension. You wanted to pull away, to respect his boundaries, but your body betrayed you—drawn to him like a moth to flame.

“Bucky,” you whispered, “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your palm pressed against his chest, trying to calm the wild thumping of his heart. Bucky’s breath was ragged, uneven, like he was barely holding himself together. His dark eyes flicked toward you, filled with confusion—and something raw, unfiltered.

He growled softly, a frustrated sound. “I ran into some kind of room in the west wing with a bunch of plants. They were releasing some kind of gas. I don’t know what it’s doing to me, but—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “—it’s making me feel things. Things I don’t like.”

You raised an eyebrow, and try to lighten the mood. “Oh great. Just what I needed: Barnes, the grumpy tin man, suddenly turned into a hot mess.” You say softly, rolling your eyes with a slight smile

He scowled but didn’t deny it. “Keep it up, and I might just knock that smug smile off your face.”

“Yeah, yeah. Not like this you won’t” you teased, voice light despite the tension.

Bucky took a deep, shuddering breath. “Don’t tempt me. Besides, this isn’t a joke. I don’t know how to control it, and I don’t want you getting involved.”

You stepped closer, still wary but unable to look away. “Since when did you care what I think?”

His eyes darkened, and he took a half-step towards the other side of the room, like you might be contagious. “Since this gas has me all messed up and I’m not sure I’m still me.” He growls out

You bit your lip, trying not to let your cheeks betray how much the sight of him like this was affecting you.

“Look,” he said, voice low and rough, “I understand that we’re partnered up for this mission, but—” His voice cracked slightly, “right now… I need you to just stay out of it. Or maybe just don’t make it worse.”

You raised your hands in mock surrender. “Fine. But only because I’m curious what’ll happen next.” Not sliding in the tid-bit that you’re still extremely worried for him no matter how aggravating he may be or how many times he’s insulted you back at the avengers tower.

Bucky’s glare was sharp, but something softer flickered beneath it before he turned away, trying to hide the vulnerability that scared him.

Bucky’s back was stiff as a board as he leaned against an abandoned table in the room, jaw clenched tight, but the rapid rise and fall of his chest gave him away. The gas wasn’t just messing with his head—it was twisting something deeper, something primal he clearly didn’t want to admit.

Without a word, he suddenly stepped closer, the heat radiating off him intense and raw. His dark eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness that made your breath catch.

Then, almost abruptly, his hand reached out and grabbed your wrist—his grip firm but not cruel.

His voice came low and rough, like gravel scraping over steel. “You don’t get it. This gas… it’s messing with me. Making me feel things I shouldn’t.”

You blinked, caught off guard, heart pounding.

He swallowed hard, eyes darkening as if fighting to hold himself back. “I don’t want you involved. Hell, I don’t want anyone involved. Especially not you.”

You stepped back slightly, wary but steady. “Just cut deeper why don’t you.” You say dripping with sarcasm.

Bucky’s jaw tightened even more. Standing in silence very clearly thinking something through despite the haze he’s under. “I feel like I’m starting to lose control—and you’re the one thing that’s driving me crazy.”

His breath hitched. “I don’t want this. I don’t want to want you.”

Your cheeks flushed but you didn’t pull away.

He hesitated for a moment, then leaned in just enough for you to feel his breath on your skin.

“Don’t make me lose it,” he warned, voice rough and low.

The closeness of his face, feeling the hotness of his breath fanning over your skin, the tone of his voice. You can’t help but to begin breathing heavily. Despite you and Bucky’s mockery, insults, and arguing, you can’t help but be affected by how he’s acting towards you right now. Your eyes scan over him as you fail to resist the squeezing of your thighs and the feeling of molten heat pool in your stomach.

You notice his nostrils flare and his eyes close, inhaling deeply as he lets out a low groan. His eyes open and burned into yours, fierce and unyielding, but underneath there was a raw vulnerability that made your chest tighten. He walks closer towards you, making you back up until your back hits the cold concrete wall. The tension between you wasn’t just the usual snark or competition anymore—it was something sharper, hotter, dangerous.

Bucky closed the last few inches and pressed his palm flat against the wall beside your head, trapping you gently but firmly. His metal fingers brushed lightly against your temple, and a flicker of something desperate crossed his face.

“You don’t know what this is doing to me,” he muttered, voice thick with frustration and something darker. “I’m not… me right now. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

You swallowed hard, nerves sparking but your gaze steady. “You won’t.”

He swallowed again, chest rising and falling faster now, like every breath was a fight.

Then, almost reluctantly, his hand found yours—fingers curling around yours, cool against your skin but firm, possessive.

“I’m warning you,” he breathed, his voice dropping lower, “if you let me, I might not going to be able stop.”

His gaze flicked down to your lips, then back up, heavy with unspoken promises and desperate need.

You felt your heart hammer in your chest, caught between fear and the undeniable pull drawing you closer to him.

Bucky’s grip tightened around your fingers, a low growl rumbling deep in his throat. His dark eyes searched your face like he was looking for permission—and maybe begging for it too, though his pride wouldn’t let him say so.

“I don’t want this,” he snarled softly, voice rough and raw, “but I’m losing the fight.”

His breath hitched, hot and ragged against your skin. The heat radiating off him was suffocating—an almost tangible force pulling you closer, burning away the space between.

You wanted to pull back, wanted to remind him that you weren’t sure what this was either, that this was the opposite of professional, opposite of what you two were—but something in his expression held you fast, unsteady and trembling.

His metal hand slid from your fingers to your wrist, then higher, tracing the delicate skin of your forearm. Every inch was electric under his touch, like you were both alive on a knife’s edge.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered hoarsely, voice thick with frustration, “and I will. But if you don’t…”

He closed the distance suddenly, lips brushing a harsh, breathless kiss against yours—rough and demanding, like he was trying to ground himself through the contact.

Your breath caught, shyness warred with a fierce, blooming heat deep inside you.

Bucky’s hands framed your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as if trying to memorize every line, every trembling breath.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, voice low and vulnerable beneath the roughness. “Scared I won’t be able to pull back.” You feel him physically trying to restrain himself from pulling himself closer to you.

You swallowed, heart pounding louder than your thoughts.

“No,” you whispered, voice soft but sure. “Don’t pull back.”

His lips instantly found yours, crashing into your lips, with a wild insatiable hunger. There was no gentleness in it, just raw need and the taste of restraint shattering. He gripped your waist, his hands big and calloused, roughly pulling you flush against his body like he needed you to stay anchored to the ground.

You gasped into him, the sound catching in your throat as you felt the heat of him—every line of muscle, every tremble in his body that betrayed how hard he was fighting to stay in control.

“I shouldn’t want this,” he growled, voice rough against your lips, “not with you… not like this.”

But his hands didn’t stop. One slid up under your shirt, skimming over your ribs, fingertips dragging goosebumps in their wake. His touch was desperate, reverent, like he needed to memorize your body just to keep from coming undone.

“I didn’t even like you,” he muttered hoarsely, forehead resting against yours, breath ragged. “You always ran your mouth, always got under my skin…”

Your hands clutched at the front of his tactical shirt, heart pounding against your ribs. “You didn’t like me?” you managed, breathless.

“I hated how much I noticed you,” he growled. “How I couldn’t stop watching the way you moved… how you looked at me like you saw past the metal and my history.”

You whimpered as his fingers slipped beneath your waistband, teasing the skin just above your underwear. His touch wasn’t tentative—it was firm, claiming. Possessive. But there was a tremble in it, like he wasn’t sure if he was about to worship you or ruin you.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered again, voice cracking with restraint. “Please.”

But you couldn’t. All you could do was look up at him, seeing him, pieces of hair falling in his face, his dark eyes staring into yours and let out a soft needy whine.

That was all he needed.

His mouth moved to your neck, kissing and biting, the sting softened by the heat of his tongue. His hand slid into your pants, cupping you firmly. The gasp that tore from your throat only made him press closer, lips brushing your ear.

“Fuck, you’re warm,” he groaned. “So soft…”

His fingers dipped lower, teasing over your folds, dragging a moan from you that made his grip falter—like your voice alone was a match to dry gasoline.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” he muttered, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as his fingers slipped inside you, slow but thick and deep. “Don’t even know if this is the gas anymore… or just you.”

You could barely breathe, body melting into his as he thrust his fingers slow and deep, watching your every reaction like he was starving for it. He was so careful despite the desperation coiled in his muscles—his touches growing rougher, but still holding back that last thread of restraint.

His fingers, curling just enough to make your knees shake. You gasped, a tremor running through your thighs as you clutched at the front of his suit, but Bucky didn’t rush—not yet.

He growled under his breath, forehead still pressed to your shoulder, lips ghosting against your skin as his fingers dragged slick and steady inside you.

“Goddamn…” he breathed, voice broken with awe and frustration. “You’re driving me out of my fucking mind.”

You whimpered, your breath shallow. “Bucky…”

His name made him shudder.

He pulled his hand away too soon, and you let out a small sound of protest. Bucky met your eyes then—completely unguarded. His pupils were blown wide, his lips slightly parted, sweat shining along his jaw.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. “I’m hanging on by a thread.”

You weren’t sure if that was a plead, command or a threat.

Then, you could feel the thick bulge of him straining against his pants, grinding against your soaked core through the fabric of your clothes.

“Feel that?” he rasped into your ear, rutting against you. “That’s what you’re doing to me. And I haven’t even gotten inside you yet.”

Your breath caught. His words lit a fire in your belly, made your thighs clench, made you ache.

His hand slipped down again, running two fingers over your clit.

“Fuck. You’re soaking.”

The curse slipped through his teeth like a prayer as your eyes roll back at the heavenly friction of his hand.

You whine once more as he brought his fingers up and stared at them—coated in your wetness—then met your eyes again as he sucked them slowly into his mouth.

Your legs nearly gave out. “Bucky…” you mutter.

“I’m not gonna fuck you yet,” he said, voice rough and tight like it hurt to say it. “Not until you’re begging for it.”

You whined, hips rolling instinctively toward him, chasing friction.

“Oh, you like that?” he murmured darkly, hand sliding between you again, rubbing slow, heavy circles over your clit. “The mouthy little agent who never shuts up… can’t even form a sentence now.”

You were panting, your body hypersensitive to every stroke, every drag of his rough voice.

“I want to ruin that attitude,” he growled. “Make you forget how to talk. Make you cry.”

His fingers dipped inside you again, thrusting slow and deep, each stroke deliberate and angled just right. You clenched around him, a soft cry leaving your lips, and he chuckled low and sharp in your ear.

“There it is,” he whispered. “That’s what I wanted. So fucking tight around my fingers already.”

His metal hand slid up your shirt, palming your breast through your bra, thumb flicking across your nipple with just enough pressure to make your back arch. “You gonna fall apart just from this?” he taunted, voice husky. “We haven’t even started yet.”

“Bucky—” you gasped.

“No,” he cut in, hot breath against your neck. “Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say.”

Your head hit the wall behind you with a soft thud, pleasure cresting inside you—too much, too slow, not enough.

Bucky’s mouth moved to your jaw, your throat, licking and biting as his fingers fucked you slow, precise, dragging you closer to the edge and pulling you back again and again.

“You think I don’t see the way you look at me?” he whispered. “Like you hate me. But underneath it? You wanted this. You wanted me.”

Your moan betrayed you.

He grinned against your throat, then sank his teeth into the delicate skin there—not enough to hurt, just enough to make you gasp. His hand never stopped moving, never gave you what you needed all the way. He was relentless, teasing, every inch of him vibrating with tension and barely held control.

“I could keep you like this for hours,” he muttered. “Desperate. Soaking wet. Shaking.”

He dragged his fingers out of you and pressed them between your lips.

“Taste how sweet you are,” he said roughly. “And tell me you don’t want me.”

Your mouth opened before you could stop yourself, and the taste of your own need sent heat rushing straight to your core.

Bucky growled. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s what I wanted.”

He pushed his hips into yours again, the thick, throbbing heat of him pressing right against your clit through the fabric.

“You ready?” he asked darkly. “Because once I’m inside you, I’m not stopping.”

You were trembling beneath him, body pinned to the wall, soaked and aching. Every nerve ending buzzed under the weight of his mouth, his hands, his voice—dragging you to the edge, over and over, without mercy.

And still… he hadn’t taken you.

Until now.

Bucky’s jaw flexed like he was still trying to fight it—but the look in his eyes told you he was past the point of no return.

“I told myself I wouldn’t,” he growled, lips ghosting over yours. “Told myself I could ride it out. Wait for backup. Do the right thing.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours, his hips grinding against you in a slow, punishing circle. You felt him—thick, hard, straining inside the confines of his pants—and your breath hitched.

“But I can’t fucking think straight,” he whispered, almost like it hurt. “Not when you’re this wet. This soft. Looking at me like you’d let me break you open.”

You didn’t say a word. You couldn’t. The air was thick with your shared breath, hot and humid, and your voice had long since abandoned you.

He slid your pants down, low enough for you to shimmy and step out of them. He reached down, undid his belt with shaking hands, and freed himself—thick and heavy and flushed, the head already leaking. The sight of it made your thighs clench instinctively.

Bucky groaned at the sight of you. “Fuck, look at you. So shy all the time, but now…” he leaned towards you, grabbed your thigh and wrapped it around his waist. He pushed your soaked underwear to the side, lined himself up and paused, metal hand gripping your thigh, holding you open, holding you still.

“Last chance,” he rasped. “You want me?”

You look up at him with pleading eyes and a whine, “please, Bucky….”

That was all it took.

He thrust forward in one deep, brutal stroke,

burying himself inside you to the hilt. You cried out, nails digging into his arms as your body stretched to take him.

“Shit,” he gritted through clenched teeth, eyes screwed shut. “So fucking tight. You feel—God—you feel unreal.”

He held still for a beat, shaking from the effort not to lose it too fast. But you clenched around him, and he groaned low in his throat, head falling to your shoulder.

Then he started to move.

Each thrust was deep, rough, and controlled—but just barely. He was shaking with it, like he couldn’t believe how good it felt, like every time he slammed into you it pulled a piece of him loose.

“You like it rough, sweetheart?” he growled against your ear.

But you were already gone—moaning, head back against the wall, gasping as your body met his rhythm instinctively. You give a messy nod.

“Yeah,” Bucky snarled, gripping your ass and lifting you a little higher so he could drive in deeper, your leg not wrapped around his waist barely touching the ground. “You take me so fucking good.”

The sound of skin slapping echoed off the walls, the wet slick of your arousal making each brutal thrust louder, messier.

“You think I don’t see you?” he grunted, voice ragged. “Always biting your lip around me, looking away. Playing innocent. But you’re not.”

His pace picked up, hips slamming into yours harder now, deeper. “You want this. You’ve always wanted this.”

“Bucky—” you whimpered, voice cracking.

“Say it,” he growled. “Say you want me.”

“I want you,” you gasped, clinging to him.

He cursed viciously, his control unraveling at the sound of your voice.

“Fuck—I’m not gonna last—” he bit out, slamming in deeper with each thrust. “You feel too good—too tight—I’ve never—”

He cut himself off with a broken groan, his lips crashing against yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he fucked you harder, rougher. Your body was shaking, teetering right at the edge, and he could feel it.

“Come for me,” he commanded, voice thick and guttural. “Now.”

And with one last, brutal thrust—he hit the spot that sent you spiraling.

You shattered around him, crying out, trembling as your climax tore through you, soaking him. Bucky followed instantly with a strangled groan, burying himself deep as he came hard, hips jerking, forehead pressed to yours as he gasped your name like a lifeline.

His hips slowed, but only slightly—just enough to ride out his own release as you trembled around him, body slack and twitching in his hold. But he didn’t pull out. He didn’t ease away. He stayed inside you, panting against your neck, every muscle still coiled tight like a predator that hadn’t fed nearly enough.

You whimpered softly as his cock throbbed still-hard inside you, impossibly thick, sensitive—but not softening. Not even a little.

“…You’re still hard,” you breathed, dazed.

Bucky’s shoulders shook with a low, humorless laugh. He dragged his mouth up your throat, tongue catching on the sweat at your collarbone before he murmured, “I know.”

His voice was darker now—gravel scraping over flame—and when he pulled his head back to look at you, his pupils were still blown wide, black swallowing the blue.

“That plant,” he said, panting, “it did something. I don’t feel normal, I—” He gritted his teeth and rolled his hips forward again, slow and grinding.

You moaned, sharp and overstimulated, but it only made him groan. “Still not enough.”

He pulled out just a few inches, dragging his cock against your soaked, sensitive walls—then slammed back in with a low, wrecked sound.

Your body jolted, pleasure colliding with sensitivity, making you gasp. “Bucky—”

“Can’t stop,” he growled. “Can’t. You feel too good. I need more.”

He hooked your other leg up around his waist, spreading you open and lifting you slightly off the ground. The shift in angle drove him deeper, the stretch unbearable, the pressure mounting again despite how recently you'd come. You were already growing slick around him again, your body betraying your mind as it begged for more.

“I should hate you for this,” he whispered against your lips. “You make me insane.”

“Then hate me,” you whispered back, breathless.

He snarled—and then snapped.

His mouth crashed to yours, biting and claiming, tongue dragging over your lips before plunging deep. At the same time, he started to fuck you again—harder than before, frantic and relentless, each thrust punching a moan out of you.

You had no defense anymore. No sharp quips, no witty retorts—just Bucky, inside you, growling your name like a curse and a prayer all at once.

“Gonna keep you like this,” he panted, lips brushing your ear. “Stuffed full of me. Until you can’t walk straight. Until everyone on comms knows what I did to you.”

His words hit you like lightning, heat pooling fast and hard in your gut again.

“You want that?” he murmured, nipping your earlobe. “Want me to ruin you until all you can say is my name?”

You couldn’t speak. You could only cry out, moaning shamelessly as he started slamming into you again—rough, wild, deep. His grip bruised your thighs, his mouth never left your skin, and every thrust sent stars behind your eyes.

“You’re mine right now,” he gritted, pounding into you. “Just mine.”

Your second orgasm hit harder—sharper—your body seizing around him with a cry that echoed through the empty hall. You were pulsing around him, milking him, but this time, Bucky didn’t come.

He just groaned and kept going.

His breath was ragged now, like he was in pain from holding back.

“I’m not done,” he choked out, pressing your back tighter to the wall. “Not until I’ve wrung every fucking sound out of you.”

Then he pulled out, slowly, deliberately—and spun you around.

Your hands hit the wall just in time to catch yourself as he dragged your underwear the rest of the way off. You whimper at the cold concrete pushing against your soft chest. His hands gripped your hips, pulling your ass back toward him—and without pause, he shoved himself back in from behind with a deep, wrecked growl.

You gasped, moaning at the new angle, at how deep he felt this way.

His hand came around to your front again, fingers finding your swollen clit, rubbing in messy circles.

“You’re taking me so fucking well,” he snarled. “Like you were made for me.”

The words made you clench, and he hissed through his teeth, hips stuttering.

“Say it,” he barked. “Tell me you want more.”

“More—” you choked, hands scrambling for purchase against the wall. “Bucky—God—more—”

He slammed into you even harder, punishing now, wrecked with need.

“Good girl,” he growled, voice low.

Your hands braced against the wall, fingers splayed, trying to ground yourself—but Bucky gave you no reprieve.

His thrusts were brutal now, paced with a rhythm that shook through your entire body. Each snap of his hips pushed a cry from your lips, every inch of him stretching you open all over again, slick from your last two orgasms and still somehow burning for more.

You were soaked. Raw. Quivering.

And he was insatiable.

Behind you, Bucky was panting like a man possessed. His forehead dropped to your shoulder for a second, teeth grazing your sweat-slicked skin as his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging in deep enough to bruise.

“Fucking hell,” he growled, voice wrecked. “I can feel you squeezing me—like you’re trying to pull me deeper.”

You moaned, unable to answer. You weren’t sure there were words anymore—just sensation.

Heat. Pressure. Him.

He slammed into you harder, and your knees buckled, but he caught you—one arm locking around your waist, dragging you up against his chest. Moaning, feeling your body pressed flushed against his. His other hand was still between your legs, fingers working your clit with ruthless precision, flicking and circling until your legs were trembling, your cries coming faster.

“Gonna come again,” he rasped in your ear. “I can feel it. You’re so close, baby. Give it to me.”

His metal hand gripped your throat—slightly tight, just enough to tilt your head, to control you—and he sank his teeth into the curve of your neck as he fucked you harder, faster.

You cried out, your body tipping toward the edge again with dizzying speed, your back arching at the intense pleasure.

“Say it,” he ordered through gritted teeth. “Say you want to come on my cock.”

“Please—Bucky—want it—fuck—I want it, I want it—”

“That’s it,” he hissed. “God, that’s it—gonna make you come so fucking hard—”

You clenched around him, your whole body going taut—and then snapped.

Your climax tore through you like fire, a scream ripping from your throat as your pussy spasmed around him, pulsing, slick, drenching him.

Bucky groaned like it broke him, thrusting deep one last time before he came with a roar—slamming into you to the hilt, cock twitching as he spilled inside, hot and thick, filling you to overflowing.

He held you tight, shuddering, mouth pressed to your shoulder as he rode it out—still pulsing, still deep inside you.

For a moment, everything was quiet—just your panting, the wet sounds of your bodies, and his heart hammering against your back.

Then he finally spoke—voice low, hoarse, almost reverent.

“…Still hate me, sweetheart?”

You let out a breathless, broken laugh against the wall.

“Only when you’re not fucking me like that.”

Bucky chuckled darkly, nuzzling your neck, still buried inside you. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep doing it.”

Bucky’s breathing was still ragged behind you, his broad chest rising and falling against your back. His arms stayed wrapped around your waist, firm but gentle now, as if afraid you’d slip away if he let go.

You both stayed like that for a long moment—pressed together, skin flushed and slick with sweat, the heavy sound of your breathing the only thing filling the silence.

Then, slowly, he eased out of you, hissing softly at the overstimulation. You whimpered, sensitive and sore and still trembling, and he caught you as your knees buckled, guiding you gently to the floor.

The moment your back hit the cold wall, you shivered.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered, voice thick and gravelly. “You okay?”

You looked up at him, lips parted, dazed. “I think so…”

He crouched in front of you, one knee bent, eyes scanning your face—not with lust now, but something softer. Something real. His pupils weren’t as blown out anymore. The sharp edge of heat in them was starting to fade.

And for the first time since all this started, you realized… the gas was wearing off.

You could see it in his body—the subtle way his muscles unclenched, the way his breathing evened, like his senses were slowly coming back under control.

“…Bucky,” you murmured, still catching your breath, “what was that stuff?”

He exhaled hard, dragging a hand back through his damp hair.

“Like I said earlier, there was a room. Down the hall. Some kind of overgrown greenhouse or lab, I don’t know.” His voice was quieter now, more grounded. “I barely stepped inside before I started sweating. My head got light, and then everything started to burn. My skin, my blood… my cock.”

You flushed, throat bobbing as your eyes flicked down between you.

He noticed. His jaw tightened.

“I didn’t know what was happening,” he added, guilt creeping into his tone. “Didn’t understand why I was reacting like that until I saw you again and I just—”

He broke off, shaking his head like he was angry at himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally. “I shouldn’t’ve touched you. Not like that. Not when I wasn’t thinking straight.”

But you reached out and curled your fingers around his vibranium wrist, grounding him.

“You didn’t force me,” you said softly. “I wanted it. All of it.”

His eyes met yours—sharp, guarded, like he was still waiting for the punchline.

“You sure?” he asked. Not a tease. Just a whisper of vulnerability cracking through the armor.

You gave a breathless laugh, nodding. “Yeah. Pretty sure the three orgasms confirm that.”

That pulled a small, crooked smirk from him—but it didn’t last. His gaze drifted back to where your bare thighs were still spread, slick and flushed, your pants still tangled around one ankle. You were raw, used, full of him.

And still… somehow… the tension wasn’t gone.

“You didn’t hate it,” he murmured, like he was testing the waters.

“No,” you admitted. “And… maybe I don’t hate you as much as I pretend to.”

That surprised him.

He tilted his head, lips parting like he had something to say—but instead, he leaned forward, slowly, giving you the chance to stop him.

You didn’t.

His lips brushed yours, soft this time. Nothing like the devouring heat from earlier. Just a quiet, aching thing. A kiss that said we’re not done—but maybe not just in a physical way.

You kissed him back, fingers curling into his jacket. And when he finally pulled away, his forehead leaned against yours, breath warm across your face.

“I’ll get you cleaned up,” he murmured, voice husky again, but this time with gentleness rather than hunger.

You nodded, legs still shaky. “Yeah. I… don’t think I can stand yet.”

That made him chuckle, low and rough.

“You won’t be walking straight for a while.”

You smacked his chest weakly, and he grinned. It was the first time you’d ever really seen him smile—not that tight, sarcastic twist, but something real.

And just like that… something had shifted.

The lines that used to keep you on opposite sides of every room were gone—burned away by sweat, heat, and the way his hands had held you like he was afraid of losing something he didn’t know he wanted.

As he helped you pull your clothes back on, slow and careful, your fingers brushed. You didn’t pull away.

Neither did he.

⊹ ︶⏝⭒ ⊹ ⭒⏝︶ ⊹

By the time the extraction team touched down, the gas was well out of Bucky’s system—but the aftermath lingered on both of you like a second skin.

He still walked close to you. His arm still brushed yours whenever the hallway narrowed. His jacket, slung loosely around your shoulders, smelled like him—warm leather and sweat and something darker, primal, something you’d felt grinding deep inside you less than an hour ago.

Neither of you had said much since.

Not because there wasn’t anything to say—but because the weight of everything that had happened still hummed like a live wire between you.

And when the door to the building finally slammed open and Sam’s voice came over the comms—dry, impatient, and absolutely oblivious—you nearly jumped.

“There you two are,” he said, stepping into view in full gear, eyes flicking from you to Bucky. “Took your sweet time, huh? We were about to call it and let you rot in there.”

Bucky didn’t flinch. He just grunted. “We managed.”

Sam looked at the both of you suspiciously.

Your hair was a mess. Your pants were definitely on inside out, despite your frantic fumbling earlier. Bucky’s shirt clung to him with dried sweat, and his belt was still hanging open under his tactical vest.

And when Sam’s eyes narrowed and slid down to the distinct bite mark blooming just beneath your collarbone, visible even beneath the edge of Bucky’s jacket—

He froze.

Blinked.

And looked back at Bucky. Slowly.

“…Did you fight each other?”

You opened your mouth, panic rising in your throat.

But Bucky—smug bastard—beat you to it.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said coolly, leading the way past Sam without missing a beat. “I won.”

Sam gawked after him. “You won what? An STD?!”

You groaned and followed quickly, cheeks flaming. “Shut up, Wilson.”

“You shut up!” Sam called after you. “I’m gonna have to Lysol the entire jet, aren’t I?!”

Bucky didn’t even blink as he climbed aboard.

You shot him a glare as you slid into the seat across from him, keeping your arms crossed even though his jacket still hung around your shoulders like some ridiculous trophy.

The second Sam stepped in behind you, eyeing the both of you like a disgruntled parent, you tried to school your expression into something neutral.

You failed.

Bucky smirked.

“So,” Sam said, dropping into the pilot’s chair with a sigh. “Either of you wanna tell me why your vitals were going crazy on the monitors for thirty minutes straight?”

“Must’ve been a glitch,” Bucky replied smoothly.

Sam turned, staring at him.

You were biting your lip. Hard.

“A glitch,” Sam repeated flatly.

Bucky shrugged, unbothered. “Must’ve been the plant gas. Messed with my sensors.”

“Oh, I bet it did,” Sam muttered, spinning back to the controls. “God, I’m too old for this.”

The Quinjet engines flared to life.

You glanced at Bucky. He was watching you from under his lashes, jaw tight, one corner of his mouth twitching upward like he was this close to smiling.

You leaned closer, voice just low enough that Sam wouldn’t hear.

“You’re really proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

Bucky’s smile turned wicked.

“You’re the one still wearing my jacket, sweetheart.”

You flushed—and hated how much it thrilled you.

As the jet lifted into the sky, the tension didn’t fade.

It simply shifted.

No longer the tension of enemies circling each other like knives waiting to clash—but the quieter, heavier kind. The kind that simmers under the surface, waiting to boil over again the second you're alone.

And something told you…

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.

[yvieliny]

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 | Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier x fem!reader

It was supposed to be a quick and easy mission—break in, grab the files, and get out. Simple. Or so you thought. But here you were, going toe-to-toe with the one person you were told to avoid at all costs: the Winter Soldier.

Warnings - nsfw [18+], smut, cursing, porn with plot, choking, size kink, face slapping, mask kink, a pinch of degradation, kind of ooc winter soldier, unprotected sex [wrap it before you tap it], fingering, biting

Author's Note: Originally, this was meant to be a one-shot titled The Winter Soldier, with no plans for a continuation. But as I started writing, I started liking the storyline, so now it's becoming When Winter Comes, and yes, there will be a part two!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐

Panic surged through you as you threw desperate punches, backpedaling with each strike. You’d told yourself this would be easy, clean, and quick. But deep down, you should’ve known. Missions like this never stay simple for long.

A sharp pain flared in your side as his punch landed hard against your ribs. You groaned, gritting your teeth through it. Fighting back, you kicked at his legs, knocking him to his knees. Taking the moment, you slammed a punch into his face while he was down.

But he recovered fast. In a blur, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and slamming you backward. Your spine hit the cold edge of a metal table, the force knocking the air from your lungs.

“Fuck,” you gasped, pain shooting through your back.

You’d had enough. Your hand grabbed onto the knife strapped to your thigh. With a sharp pull, you drove the blade into his shoulder and kneed him in the chest as hard as possible. He staggered, and with all the strength you had left, you shoved him off you.

He hit the floor with a thud. Without looking back to see if he stayed on the floor, you ran out of the now-wrecked room, breathing heavily.

“I’ve got the flash drive — I’m on my way out of the base now!” you shouted into your radio, your voice echoing through the long, dark corridors of the Hydra compound.

The thought of finishing the mission vanished as quickly as it came. A sudden impact slammed you into the nearby door, throwing you into the next room. Your ears rang, your vision blurred, and a groan escaped your lips as you hit the floor, clutching your ribs. Dazed, you looked up.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” you groaned, trying to stand — but you barely got halfway up before your legs were yanked out from under you, dragging you forward.

“Give it to me,” the Winter Soldier said, now standing over you, his legs planted on either side of your body.

“I’d rather die,” you muttered, reaching for the spare knife hidden in your pants. But before you could move, he dropped onto you, pinning you down with his full weight. His hand clamped around your wrists, slamming them above your head.

“Last chance. Give it to me,” he growled, leaning in, the threat sharp in his voice.

As he hovered over you, you finally got a proper look at him — the way his piercing blue eyes scanned your face, how strands of long brown hair slipped from behind his ears, brushing your skin and tickling the side of your face.

Breathing heavily, your grip tightened around the flash drive. “Piss the fuck off,” you spat.

Before you could register what was happening, his hand struck your cheek with a sharp slap, then wrapped around your throat.

“You just like being a hard-ass, don’t you?” the Soldier muttered, his grip tightening around your neck.

You hummed. “When I need to.” You shifted, trying to free yourself from beneath him, but his legs tightened around you, cutting off any chance of escape.

“How about you just let me go and we pretend none of this ever happened?” you offered, voice light but edged with defiance.

“Then I’d be a dead man,” he replied quietly.

His eyes lingered on you for a long moment. The grip around your neck loosened slightly — not enough to move, but just enough to breathe. His metal hand still held your wrists firmly in place.

You watched as he leaned in, his mask brushing against your nose. His eyes softened — just slightly — though the cold edge never fully left them.

Before you could think twice, you leaned up and pressed your lips to the spot where his mouth would be, right against his mask.

You felt his body relax, just slightly. His legs loosened around your waist before he pulled back.

“What? Didn’t like that, pretty boy?” you teased, a sly grin tugging at your lips.

His eyes were wide, and for a second, you caught the faintest flush of pink across his cheeks.

The hand still at your throat tightened — not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you who was still in control. Then something shifted in him. His metal hand released your wrists and moved to his mask. Without a word, he pulled it off, revealing his face.

You took him in, shamelessly letting your eyes trace the scars and lines scattered across his face. He didn’t look away.

The moment didn’t last long. Before you could say anything, his lips were on yours.

They were softer than you expected — cracked, rough in places, but still careful. His right hand never left your throat. You hummed softly, your hands sliding up to his face, fingers brushing along his jaw. His metal hand settled on your waist, firm and steady, giving a slow, deliberate squeeze.

Without thinking, your hands slid from his face to his chest. Pulling back slightly, you searched his expression.

“Can I?” you asked, your eyes flicking down to the straps that crossed his shirt.

He nodded quickly, then leaned back in, his lips finding yours again. His hands moved with intention now, gripping your waist before sliding under your shirt, his fingers skimming across your skin.

As you worked to unbuckle the straps, a sharp gasp escaped you — the cold metal of his hand now pressed directly against your bare side.

You moved quickly, freeing the last of the straps and tossing them aside with a metallic clatter as they hit the floor. His kiss grew more desperate, and your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it up over his torso.

He broke the kiss just long enough to pull his hands from under your shirt and strip his own off in one swift motion, tossing them aside. Before you could properly take him in, his metal hand gripped your shirt — and with a single, rough pull, he tore it from your body.

“C’mon, I needed that,” you groaned, glaring at the shredded fabric.

“Shut up,” he snapped, voice low and stern, before standing and pulling you up with him.

He pinned you to the wall, leaning in to kiss you again. His knee slid between your thighs, pressing firmly against your core. You let out a soft moan, fingers tangling in his hair as you gave it a gentle tug. His hands roamed your body, mapping every inch like he needed to memorize it.

Grinding down into his thigh to get some kind of relief, another breathless sound slipping from your lips.

His fingers toyed with the button of your pants before popping it open, sliding them down, and kicking them aside. He broke the kiss and stepped back, eyes sweeping over you — lace bra, black underwear, flushed skin.

“Perfect,” he muttered, voice rough with desire, before undoing his pants and pushing them down.

Before this mission, there was one thing you knew for sure about the Winter Soldier: he’d taken the super soldier serum. You’d studied that serum like the back of your hand — you knew exactly what it did. It enhanced everything.

Your gaze dropped, trailing along every sharp line and hard curve of his body — solid, sculpted, built to perfection. As your eyes traveled lower, the sheer size of him hit you, and you swallowed hard.

He noticed. “What?” he said with a low chuckle, stepping toward you. “Cat got your tongue?”

Before you could respond, he lifted you effortlessly and set you down on the nearby table, stepping between your legs like he belonged there.

His hands found your neck, applying the slightest pressure as his lips met yours. The kiss was urgent, like he needed it to survive. Your hands wandered across his body, exploring every dip, every curve, every scar, committing each one to memory.

“Please…” you breathed, your moan muffled against his mouth.

“Please, what?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

“I need you,” you whispered, barely able to speak.

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest as his hands slid to the waistband of his underwear. “Ask, and you shall receive,” he muttered, pulling them down and tossing them aside.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked at him.  “T-That’s not going to fit…” You whispered, anxiety lacing your voice.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “I’ll make it fit,” he said, his voice calm.

His metal hand slipped down, a single finger hooking around the waistband of your panties. With a sharp tug, the fabric tore in his grasp.

“Look at you… Already so wet for me,” he hummed with a low chuckle.

His fingers traced slowly over your slick folds, teasing you. Then, without warning, his middle finger slid into you. You gasped, the cool touch of metal rubbing against your walls sending a jolt through your core. His gaze fixed on your face, studying each reaction like he was memorizing them.

As his finger began to move faster, your moans grew louder, your hands clutching his shoulders, nails digging in and leaving crescent-shaped marks.

“Oh, you little slut,” he chuckled darkly, mocking. “Just one finger in, and you already sound like a desperate whore.” 

Watching you squirm, a tight smile curled on his lips before he slipped his ring finger inside you. "Such a good girl, taking my fingers so well," he murmured with a smirk, pressing a kiss to your lips as he curled his fingers upward.

A loud moan escaped you, your fingers digging into him, legs tightening around his waist.

"Aww, looks like I found your spot," he said, the amusement in his voice almost sounding like laughter.

"Please, I need you..." you begged.

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. "Since you asked so nicely," he hummed, slowly pulling his fingers out from your core. Bringing them to his mouth, he sucked your taste from his fingers with deliberate care.

"Perfect," he mumbled, his hand moving down to grip the base of his cock. Loosening your legs around him, he guided himself to your core, the tip rubbing slowly against your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned quietly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he pushed the tip into your cunt.

A soft groan slipped from your lips as you bit down on your lip.

“Shh... you can take it. Just relax,” he whispered, his right hand settling on your hip, squeezing gently before pushing deeper.

The stretch felt unbearable, every inch of him sinking further into you. A low groan rumbled from the soldier’s chest, his grip on your waist tightening—you already knew that would leave a bruise later.

“Look at you, taking me so well, like the good girl you are,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure as your walls tightened around him.

He bottomed out with a deep thrust, pausing for a few seconds. Then he pulled back slowly, leaving just the tip inside, before slamming his hips forward again. You moaned loudly, your head falling back against the wall.

Sliding his arms under your thighs, he lifted your legs, adjusting the angle, driving himself deeper with each thrust.

Squeezing your eyes shut, your fingers dug into his skin, scratching deep and leaving red, swollen trails.

“No, no—look at me, doll,” he muttered, his hand moving to deliver soft but firm taps against your cheek. “Look at me when I fuck you.”

His grip tightened around your face, fingers pressing into your cheek with a firm squeeze.

Your eyes fluttered open, gaze dropping slightly as he pounded into you with unrelenting force.

His hand never left your face as he thrust harder into you, your orgasm building with every deep stroke. Your walls clenched around him, drawing a ragged breath from his lips, but his rhythm barely faltered.

“So fucking tight for me,” he growled, his eyes locked on yours, nothing but hunger burning in them.

Your body trembled beneath him, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter—until it snapped. Pleasure crashing over you, your moans spilling into the heated space between you.

But he didn’t stop. Not when you felt like heaven wrapped around him.

He knew this was wrong—knew he was putting all of Hydra at risk—but none of that mattered. All he needed right now was you and only you.

His hand slid back to your waist, gripping you firmly, possessively. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving it red and burning.

He glanced down, watching the way your cunt stretched around him, slick pooling beneath you. He could’ve come just from the sight alone, but he didn’t. He wanted to watch you squirm beneath him, fucked-out and overstimulated.

“Such a good fucking girl for me,” he growled, slamming into you with each word, punctuating every syllable with a thrust.

Feeling his stomach tighten, he thrust into you harder, your moans echoing through the empty room. Your hands gripped his biceps, fingers digging in as you watched him fuck you—his hair disheveled, his body gleaming with a thin layer of sweat.

His breath grew ragged, each exhale brushing hot against your cheek as he leaned closer, hips snapping with unrelenting rhythm.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he growled, voice low and ragged. You gasped, your nails raking down his arms as your legs trembled beneath the weight of pleasure.

He was close—hips relentless, rhythm brutal. His mouth found your neck, teeth sinking into your skin as he left his mark. His grip around you tightened, possessive and desperate.

“F-fuck!” He slammed his hips flush against yours, burying himself deep, and before you could process the wave building inside you, you felt his hot cum flood your cunt.

You moaned at the sensation, the warmth of him filling you, only pushing you further.

His body shuddered through release, as he kept moving, chasing the aftershocks. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, your bodies covered in sweat.

The two of you stayed there, breathing heavily, bodies tangled together, hearts still racing as you both came down from the high.

“You need to go… they’ll start searching the building soon,” he muttered, voice hoarse as he stepped back.

You let out a soft moan when his cock slipped from your still-sensitive walls, the sudden emptiness making you shiver.

When you looked up, he was already pulling his pants back on, his expression unreadable, jaw tight.

Letting out a quiet sigh, you pushed yourself to your feet on unsteady legs. You reached for your clothes, pulling on your pants with a wince, the ache between your thighs a sharp reminder of what had just happened. Your ripped panties lay forgotten on the ground.

“My shirt…” You murmured, frowning at the torn fabric in your hands.

He glanced over, then wordlessly peeled off his shirt and handed it to you.

You hesitated, looking at him—shirtless now, bruised, and marked by your nails. The scent of sex still lingered in the air between you.

“Thanks,” you said, pulling the shirt over your head. It was too big, hanging off one shoulder, still warm from his body.

He nodded but didn’t speak. Instead, he stepped toward the door, pausing to glance back at you.

“I’ll find you,” he said quietly. “When this is over.”

Something in his voice—half promise, half plea—made your throat tighten.

You gave a small nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him, leaving you alone in the aftermath, heart pounding, already aching for more

[yvieliny]

teach you a thing or two

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: when bucky hears his teammates talking about their sex lives, he feels like he’s from a foreign planet. but you’re there to teach him you’re never too old to learn something new.

word count: 2k

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, sub!bucky, restraints, praise kink, edging, orgasm denial, oral (m recieving), masturbating, voyeurism, minors DNI

The rambling of his teammates fell on his ears like a foreign language— and he spoke many languages.

In truth, he was trying to ignore them. He was huddled in the corner of the living room with the book you’d leant him. You told him it was your favorite, so he decided to read it, so he could talk to you about it.

The room had been peacefully silent for about twenty minutes before his teammates arrived and launched into a heated discussion.

He was half listening— realizing none of the words they were saying made any sense to him.

“What about you, Barnes?” John asked, grabbing Bucky’s attention.

The heat rushed to his cheeks. “What? Me?” He asked, trying to pretend he hadn’t been listening.

“Yeah, come on. We all shared. It’s your turn.” Yelena agreed.

“I uhh…I wasn’t listening.” Bucky lied. They scowled at him. For a man who was a notoriously great spy and liar, he was doing a pretty terrible job.

“You’re blushing. You were definitely listening. I’m sure you have some good stories. If you don’t tell us, we’ll just have to ask your girl.” Ava said.

He was supposed to tell them his wildest sex story with you? What was going on? Bucky’s mind was racing. “What’s your poison? You a voyeurism guy, maybe? Edging? Toys?” Walker asked.

Bucky stuttered, trying to get out just one coherent word— he was failing. “Awww you look so embarrassed. Are you just into vanilla? I wouldn’t have expected it with the metal arm and everything.” Ava said.

“I have to go.” Bucky grabbed his book and stormed off to your room.

You jumped in surprise as Bucky slammed your door open and came into your room. His face was bright red, and his hair looked disheveled like he’d been running his fingers through it.

“You alright, honey?” You asked, pausing the show you were watching.

He crawled in next to you in your bed, pulling you into his lap. “Do you think I act like a grandpa?” He asked you, softly.

You’d never seen Bucky look so defeated or insecure. “Only in the best way,” you said, trying to cheer him up. You peppered kisses across his face.

Normally, that was the easiest way to make Bucky smile— but it didn’t work.

“I don’t want you to leave me because you think I’m stuck in the past.” He admitted. His head hung low as he refused to look you in the eyes.

You brushed his hair out of his face. “You definitely have a unique life experience, but I love you for you. I don’t want you to pretend to be anything you’re not.” You told him, kissing his cheek.

He finally looked at you. Your words brought him peace— if only a little.

“Besides, if you start trying to act hip to get along with the kids, I will have no choice but to leave you.” You teased, finally earning a chuckle from Bucky.

He rested his face on your shoulder, letting you continue to caress his hair. “What are you feeling so anxious about?” You asked. He shifted under you.

He couldn’t shake that 1940s sense of shame. Why was he so embarrassed to talk about sex with you?

“Heard the others talking about sex stuff, and I just felt so old.” He mumbled against your skin.

You felt your heart melt at how genuine his concern was. “Was there something they mentioned that you wanted to try?” You asked, testing the waters.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his cheeks flushed pink. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. I didn’t know half of what they were talking about.” He said, bashfully.

“What things did they mention?” You asked, curiously.

He hesitated— trying to find the best way to not sound like an awkward idiot.

“They talked about toys, but I know about that. And then, they talked about edging…which I think I know what that is.” He started to explain. He looked to you for reassurance and to stop him from rambling.

“Edging is when you get the point where you’re about to cum, and then you stop. And then, you get to that point again, and stop. And so on.” You explained.

He nodded along attentively. “What else?” You asked, knowing there was more just from the expression on his face.

He stalled— looking at the floor, his hands, anywhere but at you.

He scratched at the back of his neck. “They mentioned something called voyeurism.” He said, sheepishly.

You giggled at how red his face was. He felt like his skin was on fire and if he looked into your eyes, he’d combust into flames.

“Baby, voyeurism is when you like to watch somebody getting off.” You told him. He gulped nervously as your fingers trailed down his arm.

“You want to try?” You asked him, trying to judge his reaction.

“I…I wouldn’t know how.” He mumbled.

“How about I’m in charge this time? I’ll tell you what to do and you have to focus on feeling good?” You proposed. His eyes went wide— excited by the possibility. “That sounds nice.” He said.

“I have something I’ve wanted to try with you.” You said, walking over to your closet and grabbing something out of a drawer.

You returned to the bed with a black satin piece of fabric. “Take off all your clothes for me, honey.” You instructed him.

Bucky quickly obliged, tossing all his clothes on the floor. He laid on your bed, waiting for your next move. This was completely outside his comfort zone, but seeing you take charge made Bucky’s stomach do flips.

You straddled his hips, grabbing his wrists and then tying them both to your bedposts.

“Such a pretty boy, you gonna be a good boy for me?” You asked, brushing his hair out of his face.

He furiously nodded. “Whatever you want,” he responded.

You pressed a quick kiss against his lips— pulling away before he could kiss you back. “I bought something that I’ve been wanting to show you. Stay here, and I’ll be right back.” You said, going back into your closet and closing the door.

He groaned and moved restlessly on the bed. He needed you bad. The anticipation of waiting for your surprise was going to kill him.

He was already painfully hard— precum leaking out of his tip.

You emerged from the closet in a short black nightgown that had an intricate lace trim. “Woah,” Bucky mumbled, his eyes going wide as he stared at you.

“You like what you see?” You asked as you crawled onto the bed. He swore under his breath. He caught a glimpse between your legs and realized you weren’t wearing panties.

“You’re being such a patient boy. I think you deserve a little treat.” You said, your tone was slow and seductive.

“Yes, please,” Bucky begged for you.

You wrapped your hand around his cock, running your thumb over his tip. He squirmed against your hand— trying to get more contact as you teased him.

You slowly moved your hand up and down his length at an agonizing pace. Stuttered moans fell from his lips. “You look so pretty like this, you know that? My pretty little soldier being so good for me.” You praised him.

This time a higher pitched moan came out of him. You looked up at him, a smirk growing on your face. “You like that? My pretty little soldier loves to be told he’s doing a good job?” You repeated, knowing the nickname would turn him on.

His cock was throbbing in your hand, but you refused to speed up your pace. His head hung back against the headboard, grunts falling from his lips.

It was too much. Your hand on him. The way your nipples were poking through your nightgown. The soft praises that you gave him.

“I’m think I’m close…” Bucky mumbled, his eyes fluttering shut.

You quickly removed your hand from him. He whined, thrusting up against the empty air.

“C’mon, baby. Remember our little vocab lesson. What does edging mean?” You asked him, running your fingers down his chest.

“It means…uhhh…gotta wait to cum.” He answered, finding it hard to remember or focus on anything other than the need deep in his belly.

“Yes, good job. That’s my good little soldier.” You said, kissing his shoulder. He took deep breaths, trying to recover. All he could think about was feeling your hand on him again.

“Thank you for being so patient. Just remember what your prize is, if you keep following my directions, sweet boy.” You said, lifting your nightgown up and exposing the wetness between your thighs.

He nodded his head, biting down on his bottom lip. He wanted to behave so bad, but all his body wanted was to cum.

“Time for another little treat?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes.

He tried to steady his breath as you placed yourself between his legs. Keeping your eyes glued on his, you slowly sunk down until your lips were millimeters from his cock.

You placed soft kisses up and down his shaft. Each time you did, Bucky let out a small groan. You ran your tongue along the bottom of his cock. He called out your name, tugging his wrists against the restraints.

“Such a well-behaved boy,” you praised, wrapping your lips around his tip. Your name fell from his lips— repeating it like a prayer. You slowly and teasingly licked around his cock. He bucked his hips up into your mouth.

“I can’t…can’t take anymore. I’m gonna—” he moaned. He felt all his muscles contradict as he tried to hold off his orgasm.

You pulled away, sitting up in front of him. He clenched his eyes shut. “What’s wrong, baby?” You asked, resting your hand on his thigh.

“Can’t even look at you in that dress. I’ll cum just from lookin’ at ya.” He said, keeping his eyes shut as tightly as he could.

You ran your fingers up his thigh, teasing him as his body tensed. “I think you can be a brave little soldier for me. Be strong, baby.” You encouraged him.

He slowly opened his eyes to find you slipping your hand in between your thighs. The hem of your dress kept your cunt hidden from Bucky’s gaze. But, he could hear how wet you were as your fingers pushed in and out of you.

“Can’t see, wanna watch,” he begged. His hair was clinging to his sweaty forehead. You could see his desperation in his eyes.

You sat down on the bed, spreading your legs as wide as you could and bending your knees. Bucky couldn’t help the shudder that rolled through him as he saw your arousal dripping out of your folds.

You resumed your previous movements, plunging your two fingers deep into your cunt and curling them inside you. He bucked his hips up desperately against nothing.

Your mouth hung open, softly whining as you started grinding your hips against your hand. You let your thumb find your clit, drawing circles.

Bucky whined, calling your name over and over. “Please, honey,” he begged, he was desperate. More desperate than you’d ever seen him.

“Shhh, my pretty little soldier. Wait your turn. Be a good boy.” You teased.

You noticed how quickly his chest was rising and falling. “Fuck, please, honey. I’m gonna cum. Can’t hold it any longer,” Bucky swore.

You both were close to the edge. There wasn’t much holding Bucky back from falling over that edge.

Before he could say anything else, you straddled his hips. You quickly sunk down onto his cock.

He moaned at the contact, sinking his nails into the palms of his hands. His hips jutted up against yours and his seed came shooting out inside of you. That was enough to push you over the edge.

“Oh, fuck, such a good job, my sweet boy. Filling me up so well,” you praised, sealing Bucky’s lips in a kiss. He hungrily kissed you back as you slowly rolled your hips against his, coaxing you both down from your highs.

You carefully untied Bucky’s wrists, and he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your chest. “Did you like that?” You asked, scratching your fingers through his hair.

He nodded, still breathless. “I love you.” He mumbled, kissing you again.

“Next time you want to learn something new, all you have to do is ask.” You said, kissing him back.

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Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[yvieliny]

Practice

18+ 

Dark-ish Mob bucky barnes x virgin maid reader 

Warnings: Dub con, manipulation but make it sexy, possessiveness, jealously, SMUT, innocence kink, virginity taking, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, Dom Bucky and the tiniest appearance of sub Bucky. a smidgen of fluff? 

What have I done. Reader is very innocent, Bucky is a menace. A MENACE. (he really does like you though) This is so filthy, I’m sorry. So much pent up nastiness. Just filth right through. A lil fucked up. Just a lil. or a lot depending on your limits, the ending is meant to be happy okay? 

-

Bucky’s eyes were locked on you, watching you quietly dust a few shelves, the hem of your skirt riding up as you reached for a vase that rested on top of it. He had to adjust himself as you bent over to put away some books on the bottom of the shelf. Your sweet innocent cotton panties were on full display; the tiny maid dress did nothing to cover any of your modesty. 

Fuck, he loved that uniform. 

He cocked his head, as you nervously lingered around his office for a second longer instead of leaving immediately as you usually did. You carefully approached his desk, clinging onto your duster for dear life while Bucky sat back in his chair, simply nodding for you speak. 

“I-May I have the night off, sir?” You kept your eyes trained on your feet, not daring look up at him while he smirked to himself, enjoying how you bit your lip, fingers gripping the duster, anxiously waiting for his answer. 

Keep reading

[yvieliny]

Behind Closed Doors.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Tags: Established relationship. Light Angst. Regression Episodes. Emotional Dependency. Comfort. Pet names.

Warnings: 18+ only. PTSD. Regressive!Bucky. Mommy Kink. Praise Kink. Self-Soothing (Nursing). Comfort Sex. Past Self-Harm Mention.

Summary: Most days, Bucky is a functional, dependable, and even deadly man. Others, when the noise in his head gets too loud, behind closed doors, he becomes Jamie.

Word Count: About 5.5k.

notes: For the @avengers-assemble-bingo event, Kinky Bingo. The Prompt is Mommy Kink. Card number KB-014.

The door banged open hard enough to rattle the frame. Sam strode in first, glancing over his shoulder. "I told you to handle it like a grown-ass man."

Bucky followed, with a duffel slung over his shoulder and a deep scowl carved into his face. "It was handled," he muttered.

She stepped out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, smiling without thinking, until she caught the flicker in Bucky’s eyes, the slight drop of his shoulders, the tension so tight under his skin it was a wonder he could move at all.

Still, he crossed the room like nothing was wrong, dropped the duffel with a heavy thud, and bent to kiss her in a short press. His lips were dry, and his hand felt cold against her hip through her pajama shirt. "Missed you," he said, like he meant to say more but swallowed it back down.

Sam snorted behind them. "Real touching, man. Now gimme the damn briefcase, lover boy." 

She laughed under her breath; Bucky flipped him off without looking.

The briefcase was waiting by the couch, matte black, secure enough to survive a plane crash. Bucky kicked it closer with the toe of his boot.

"You know," Sam said, hefting it. "This wouldn’t even be necessary if a certain someone didn’t hulk out on Redwing."

Bucky shrugged, deadpan. "It was an accident."

"Bullshit," Sam barked, half-laughing. "You aimed at him!"

"He was in the way."

"He was flying surveillance, you jackass!"

Bucky shrugged again, more theatrical this time, and a sly twist tugging at his mouth. "Collateral damage."

Sam muttered something vile, but the edge was missing, worn down by exhaustion and familiarity. They circled each other like two old dogs too stubborn to admit they were friends.

"You owe me," Sam called over his shoulder, stepping through the door.

Bucky didn’t answer, just kicked the door shut behind him with a solid, decisive slam.

Three long strides, and he was in her space. He bent his head, digging his forehead into the curve where her neck met her shoulder, banding his arms around her like he could fold himself into her skin if he just held tight enough.

He shuddered once -just once- and then he went still, breathing her in like she was air after drowning.

Already feeling the shift in his mind -the slow melt of tension into something heavier, darker- she cupped the back of his head and murmured, "What's wrong, Jamie?"

His voice was a rasp against her throat. "Don't wanna talk about it, Mommy."

There it was. The tremor under the words. The old damage rising from the depths, thick as smoke, inescapable.

It was going to be one of those weeks.

Bucky was gone. Not dead, not disappeared. Just… buried.

His mind, fractured and fragile, bore scars deeper than any bullet wound. Years of physical torture, mind control, chemical sedation, and that damned chair had left behind something that could never be stitched whole again, only nurtured, only loved in all its brokenness.

"Alright," she whispered, smoothing her palm along the nape of his neck, tangling her fingers lightly in his hair. "You don't have to, sweetie."

Bucky clung harder and shifted his weight, nudging her backwards, steering her without words. The backs of her knees bumped the armrest of the couch, catching her off guard- and then he was pressing, urging, laying her down like something loved but urgent, needing her pliant and beneath him.

She let herself fall back, and her body sank into the cushions.

Bucky climbed after her, sprawling his massive frame above her, caging her in, shuddering like the weight of the world was slipping down his spine.

He buried his face against her chest, moving his mouth blindly, mouthing her through the thin cotton of her pajama top. Desperate, clumsy, a low whine slipping from his throat when the fabric denied him skin.

Frustrated, he nosed under the hem, catching it with his teeth, tugging upward -an animal trying to shed the barrier himself- and she lifted her arms in silent permission, helping him strip the top away.

"There you go, baby," she cooed, cradling the back of his head, guiding him.

Bucky latched greedily onto her breast the second he could. His tongue flicked rough and desperate, the suction was almost bruising, pulling at her with the kind of force that spoke of starvation, not hunger.

She cradled him close, slightly rocking them as soft, wet sounds filled the quiet room. The metal plates of his hand pressed cold against her waist as he shifted his hold, needing the contact. He suckled hard -harder than he usually allowed himself- losing himself in the mindless rhythm of the process, soothed only by her scent, her heartbeat, the feel of her skin in his mouth.

She only held him tighter, whispering into the crown of his head, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

But it wasn't enough. She felt it, the restless grind of his hips against her leg, the low, helpless groan deep in his chest.

The tremors in his body grew worse. He needed more. More skin, more warmth, more of her wrapped around every broken part of him he didn’t know how to fix.

He whimpered around her nipple, the sound was pitiful, hungry, broken. His hips jerked forward in clumsy, desperate thrusts, rubbing his heavy cock against her leg, the friction too little, too clothed, too maddening.

One of his hands fumbled down between them, pawing clumsily at her waistband, frustrated when the fabric of her pajama shorts didn’t yield. She lifted her hips, helping, soothing, letting him peel the barrier away.

The second her shorts were gone, he was there, grinding harder, the rough denim of his fatigues rasping against the tender, slick heat between her legs. His mouth never stopped, suckling greedily and wet at her breast, the noises were animalistic, wet, and obscene. Her thighs fell open to give him more, to give him everything he was silently begging for.

"That's it, baby," she murmured against his temple, her voice thick with love and aching need. "Take it, Jamie. Take what you need."

He shuddered at her words, and with a low growl, he fumbled at his belt, nearly tearing it open in his frantic need. The sound of the zipper rasped loud in the thick, humid air between them, and then he was pushing his pants and boxers just far enough down to free himself, his cock flushed dark and leaking, throbbing with every erratic beat of his heart.

He didn't even line himself up properly at first, just thrusting blindly, rutting against her belly, her hip, lost in pure instinct. She reached down, gentle but firm, guiding him lower, dragging the head of his cock through her slick folds, and he gasped, a desperate, wounded noise, like she'd just torn open his chest and touched his heart.

He pushed forward in a single, shaking thrust, sinking inside her inch by inch, whimpering her name, clinging to her body.

"Mommy... Mommy, please..." he sobbed into her skin, fucking desperately into her, like he couldn't get deep enough, close enough, like he needed to crawl inside her and never come out.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him tighter, whispering praises and love into his hair, rocking her hips up to meet each frantic thrust, giving him everything, everything he needed.

Bucky's rhythm faltered almost immediately, embarrassingly fast, his whole body went rigid, and a broken cry tore from his throat as he came hard, pulsing deep and warm inside her.

Her fingers never stopped stroking his scalp, the curve of his neck, the tense line of his back where sweat glued his shirt to his skin. He whimpered low in his chest, a sound that made her thighs clench around his waist instinctively, holding him there, inside her, where he belonged.

"You did so good for me." she murmured again, threading the words right into his marrow, "filled me up so good, sweetheart."

His hips gave a weak jerk, as if his body was trying to answer even while spent. He nosed deeper into the crook of her neck, and his hands roamed frantically on her hips like he didn’t know whether to stay still or start again. A needy little whimper bled out of him, wet and desperate.

"Shh, you're perfect," she soothed, rocking her hips just the slightest bit, enough to make him groan, low and wrecked.

But Bucky needed more. Shame and hunger twisted together in his mind, his need to please her, to earn the sweetness of her praise. His hand scrabbled down her body, pushing his shaking fingers between them, seeking out where they were still joined, sticky and wet.

"I can-" he mumbled into her neck, his voice hoarse and cracked, "I can make you come, Mommy... lemme... please, lemme-"

She caught his wrist, soft but firm, guiding him, showing him without words. Her own fingers slipped down, spreading herself open for him, letting him feel the slick heat, her throbbing clit, how ready she was, how close she'd been even from his desperate rutting.

"Alright," she breathed, her voice breaking into a moan when his thumb brushed clumsily over her clit. "Let Mommy remember you how."

He chased every stuttered gasp, every little roll of her hips, with awkward but hungry movements, so eager to please that he trembled. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, and nuzzled helplessly against her, feeding off every moan, "Tell me, Mommy... wanna make you feel good... please..."

"You're doing so good, baby," she cooed, rolling her hips into the clumsy circles he traced against her swollen clit, feeling sparks skittering up her spine. "My big strong boy... that's it, sweetie, just like that."

His breath hitched sharply. She felt him throb inside her, half-hard but growing, so easily aroused by her praise.

"M- more," she whispered into his hair, guiding his hand with gentle, insistent pressure. "Mommy needs more, Jamie... you can give it to me, can't you, baby?"

A shattered little sound broke out of his throat. He latched onto her neck, sucking greedily, slipping his fingers faster, finding the rhythm she loved without even realizing it, simply because she wanted it, because she told him he could.

"Yes... yes, I can-" he gasped, nearly crying it, driving his hand harder against her, frantic, devoted.

She moaned shamelessly, grinding softly against his hand, feeling the wet slide of his cock thickening again between her slick folds. She angled her hips to grind against him, smearing herself all over him, and he nearly sobbed.

"Such a good boy," she panted, dragging her fingers across his scalp, tugging his hair just enough to make him moan. "Making me feel so good... my perfect boy..."

Bucky's whole body shuddered. He humped against her without rhythm, desperate, straining toward the heaven of her approval.

She was so close, the pleasure was burning tight and high, and when he whined brokenly, "Need you to cum Mommy, need it so bad," she ground against him harder, her and breath hitched. The tension snapped through her body as she came around his already hard cock, writhing, crying his name, clamping her thighs tightly around his waist.

His hips moved before thought could catch them, pure instinct, pure need. She gasped sharply, her body so sensitive, still riding her orgasm, and he let out a strangled moan, pressing his forehead hard against hers, as his arms shook where they caged her in.

"Jamie," she whimpered, reflexively wrapping her legs tighter around him, holding him there, where he belonged.

He groaned, trying to last, trying to hold back -but the heat of her body and the clutch of her inner muscles around him milked another low, broken cry from his throat.

"Can't-" he choked out, as his hips twitched. "Mommy, I- fuck-, I can't-"

"You don't have to, baby," she whispered against his lips, "Just let go."

The second the words left her mouth, Bucky shattered. His rhythm was frantic and short-lived, sloppy little thrusts, his whole body spasming, jerking helplessly. His face twisted into a tortured, beautiful grimace, mouth open in a silent cry as he came again, flooding her, so raw, so painfully intense it stripped the breath from his lungs.

She held him through it, both hands threaded in his hair, pulling his weight down onto her so he could sob against her throat, every breath a broken thing.

"Good boy," she murmured, cradling him, rocking him gently even as he trembled and gasped, as if the orgasm had unraveled something too dark inside him.

"My sweet, perfect Jamie..."

He clung to her, gasping, as the aftershocks racked his body. His cock throbbed weakly inside her, spent but refusing to soften, desperate to stay part of her, to never be alone again.

"Love you," he rasped, barely louder than a breath. "I love you so much..."

She kissed his temple, his wet lashes, the corner of his mouth. "I love you too, sweetheart."

He whimpered again, softer this time, more at peace, and his breathing began to slow down as she stroked his spine. It was a mindless comfort, just the warmth of her body, her scent, the surety of being wanted exactly as he was, no masks, no shame.

She felt him trembling against her, as small broken hitches of breath ghosted hot over her collarbone, and she knew he wasn’t done needing her yet. Gently, she threaded her fingers through his hair again, scratching lightly at his scalp until he made a soft, choked sound, half-whine, half-moan.

"Jamie, baby," she whispered, kissing his ear, feeling the damp strands of hair clinging to his temple. "I need you to sit up for me, alright? Just for a minute. Let Mommy take care of you."

He whined again, burrowing his face harder against her skin, refusing. His cock twitched uselessly inside her, spent but stubborn, like his body was terrified of losing contact.

She cupped his jaw, brushing her thumb along the sharp plane of his cheekbone. "Sweetheart, please. Just a little shift, then you can cuddle all you want. Promise."

That promise cracked through the fog in his mind. Bucky lifted his head, blinking slowly and heavy with glazed blue eyes, and his lip caught in his teeth in a desperate little bite. Wordless, he obeyed, pushing himself up on shaking arms and pulling out of her with a reluctant, shuddering moan.

She winced a little at the loss but sat up quickly, nudging his hips to guide him back onto the couch cushions. His tactical pants were still around his thighs, boots still muddy and scuffed from the mission, whole body a mess of tension and need.

She kissed his knee through the fabric, soothing him. "Good boy. Stay still for me, alright?"

He nodded, but his hands twitched like he didn’t know what to grab onto, finally fisting the fabric of her discarded pajama top like a lifeline.

With quick hands, she unlaced and yanked off his boots, tossing them without care. His socks followed, peeled off with a little tug. Then she shimmied the ruined pants down his thighs, down past his knees, ankles, freeing him completely.

Bucky whined low in his throat, and his thighs trembed where they spread for her, his cock flushed dark, twitching weakly against his belly, glistening with the mess of what they’ve made.

"There we go, baby," she murmured, stroking his trembling thighs, letting him feel her loving hands on him. "I got you."

He looked like he wanted to fold in on himself, humiliated and desperate, as his chest heaved.

She pressed a soft kiss to his navel, another just above his hipbone. "You did so well for me, Jamie. Gave Mommy everything she needed.”

He tensed beneath her mouth, breath hitching like he wanted to protest. “That’s not true, I couldn’t-”

She kissed the top of his thigh, firmer this time. “Shhh. No, baby. No more of that.” Her hand smoothed over his stomach. “You did. You gave me what you could. That’s everything.”

Her kiss, her words, seemed to reach him. She felt the tension in his grip easing, not gone, but yielding enough for her to slip from his hold.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” she murmured, brushing one last kiss to his thigh before pulling away slowly.

He gave a faint whimper but let her go, slumping back into the couch, with his legs still spread, and arms loose and heavy at his sides. Vulnerable. Waiting.

She moved quickly, finding a clean cloth and dampening it with warm water, squeezing it out until it streamed between her fingers. When she returned, he hadn’t moved, and his eyes were glassy, staring somewhere past the ceiling, lost somewhere she couldn’t follow, breathing slowly but not relaxed.

She knelt between his thighs and began wiping him with slow, tender strokes, the warm cloth gliding over his softening cock and the skin of his inner thighs. He let her do, as always.

Then, in a voice so quiet it was almost a breath, he said, "There was a chair."

Her hands froze for just a second before she moved again, softer now, like she was tending a wound she couldn’t see. He didn’t have to explain. That phrase -the chair- floated between them, thick and poisonous.

She kissed tenderly the inside of his knee and crawled up to straddle his lap without hesitation, wrapping him up in her arms. His flesh hand immediately latched onto her waist, the metal one curling over her back like he could mold her into himself.

"It was supposed to be another kind of mission," she said tentatively.

"The growing organization... Sam said... they were forming from scraps. Vestiges. Hydra info." His breathing hitched. "We thought... we thought there would be intel to scrap. Maybe... maybe a serum, old samples. Destroy it before it can spread. But they had it. They had the chair."

He choked the last word out like it tasted like blood.

She cradled his face between her hands. “They can’t hurt you anymore, sweetie. You’re free, remember? Remember how they made it all better in Wakanda?” he only nodded, hiding his face on one of her palms.

She threaded her fingers slowly through his hair, feeling the tension beneath his scalp like a live wire still sparking. “Are you hungry, Jamie?” she whispered against the shell of his ear.

There was a small, reluctant pause before he nodded against her chest. "Yeah. But... I can't-" he clutched her tighter, as if her body might dissolve if he let go.

"I know," she soothed. "Come with me, then. We'll stick together."

She coaxed him to stand, his heavy steps were sluggish, clumsy, almost childlike in his exhaustion. He shadowed her across the room, never more than an inch away, his hand curled tight at her waist. While she pulled things from the fridge and stacked a couple of fast sandwiches, Bucky wrapped around her from behind, big and unyielding, pinning her gently against the counter with his weight.

He buried his face in her neck, breathing her scent.

"I'm sorry I'm like this," he mumbled, with a raw, scratchy voice against her skin. "I’m sorry my head's so messed up."

She stilled her hands, the sandwich forgotten half-built, and cupped his forearm where it pressed across her middle, squeezing him hard.

"No," she said firmly, tipping her head back against his shoulder to make sure he heard every word. "You survived what would have killed anybody else. You’re not messed up. You're my Jamie. That's all that matters."

Bucky let out a low, broken sound, something between a sob and a sigh, and hug her tighter like he might fuse himself into her bones if he could.

"Now eat a little, sweetheart," she whispered. "Then I'll tuck you into bed, yeah?"

He nodded mutely against her neck, still clinging, letting her finish fixing the sandwiches one-handed while he melted against her.

"Need me to cut them small for you, or are you good to grab the knife?" she asked gently, tilting her head to catch his expression.

Bucky hesitated, and his eyes flickered uncertainly to the counter, then back to her. "I'll eat them whole," he said finally. "With my hands."

"That's so good, baby," she praised, brushing her fingers over his knuckles. "Wanna eat them on the bed?"

He only nodded, letting her gather the plate and then reach for his hand, guiding him through the hallway like leading a wounded animal.

"Alright. Shirt off, sweetheart," she murmured when they reached the bedroom, giving a little tug at the hem of his tactical top. "Don’t want that messy thing on the sheets."

"Sorry," he mumbled, brow crumpling. His fingers fumbled at the fabric, uncertain. "Should I shower too?"

"Do you want to?" she asked.

"The sheets-"

"Bucky," she cut him off. Not Jamie this time, but Bucky, to wise him up. His breath caught in his chest.

"Do you want to?" she repeated, slower, softer.

"...not right now," he confessed.

"Then get in the bed and eat the sandwiches," she ordered gently, brushing her palm over his stomach in passing.

He obeyed without argument, pulling the shirt clumsily over his head and leaving it crumpled on the floor. His body was flushed and tight with leftover adrenaline, his scars standing out against his skin. He climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged like a great, awkward boy, with the plate balanced in his lap.

She settled beside him, smoothing her hand up and down his back in slow, rhythmic strokes as he tore into the first sandwich with trembling fingers, chewing dutifully.

Every time he took a bite, she murmured something soft near his ear: "That's it, baby." "You're doing so good." "My sweet boy."

Bucky shivered every time, eating faster, desperate for her approval, for the tone of her voice wrapped around him.

When he finished, he wiped his hands clumsily on the sheet. She would’ve scolded him, but when he turned toward her, his eyes were huge and glassy, and desperate, his mouth trembling like he might cry if she said even one word wrong, she couldn’t.

Instead, she only smiled, lifting the plate from his lap and setting it aside.

"C'mere," she whispered, opening her arms.

She eased them down into the mattress, coaxing him to lie with his head against her chest. His hair -brushing past his jawline in dark, tangled waves- spilled over her skin. She threaded her fingers through it without urgency, combing gently through the snarls, almost worshipfully.

Bucky let out a low, shaky exhale against her skin, the sound was so raw it made her chest ache. Each slow stroke of her fingers through his hair unspooled knots buried far deeper than the ones at his scalp, memories of fists twisting in his hair to punish, to control, to bend him to grotesque, degenerate wills. Those hands had ripped at him like he was a mindless beast, but hers... hers just held, adored, cherished.

She waited, giving him time to soften under her touch, before she murmured, her voice barely a ghost against the crown of his head.

"Do you have to go tomorrow?" Her fingers combed slowly, untangling another small knot. "You just got here. Can't Clint count on someone else?"

He shook his head against her chest, dragging his hair across her skin in a silky brush. "They need me," he rasped, his voice hollowed out by guilt. "My strength. My hands. Can't just leave 'em hanging."

She kissed the top of his head, brushing her lips in the softest spot where his hair parted. "Rest then, handsome," she breathed into him. "I'll guard your sleep."

----

She woke slowly, feeling him before she even turned her head down. Bucky was draped half over her, his chest pressed to her side, with one heavy arm hooked around her waist. His face was nuzzled into her breast, his wet, warm mouth suckling in soft, absent pulses around her nipple. Not truly awake. Not truly dreaming. Just clinging. Needing.

Nuzzled in like a child too big to be held, too broken not to need it anyway.

She said nothing. Would never say anything. Just slid her hand through his long hair, slow and tenderly, letting him have whatever peace he could steal from her body.

Later, after he finally stirred with a grumble and a heavy, embarrassed sigh, she helped him to the bathroom, guiding him under the shower. She washed his hair carefully, then his body. Dressed him piece by piece in a fresh set of tactical clothing with a lover’s hands.

They sat side by side at the kitchen table, with their knees bumping occasionally, plates between them. Bucky picked at his toast, sluggish but obedient, while she fussed with a napkin, sweeping a streak of jam from the stubble along his jaw. He tilted his head toward her touch like a sleepy cat, eyes half-lidded, savoring every second. Then-

The doorbell rang, sharp and sudden.

Bucky stiffened immediately. His fork clattered onto the plate as he straightened, with a frown etching deep between his brows.

"Early," he muttered. "Wasn’t supposed to be here 'til later."

"I’ll get the door. Finish your breakfast," she said, squeezing his hand before rising.

As she crossed the living room, she could already hear Clint's muffled voice behind the door, some cheery nonsense about coffee and ‘no rest for the wicked.’ She shook her head fondly and reached for the handle, casting one last glance back at Bucky, still sitting hunched at the table, tense, his eyes dark with the weight of parting.

Clint stepped inside with a gust of morning air, scrubbing a hand through his messy hair. He sniffed exaggeratedly, with a wide grin breaking over his face.

"Smells delicious in here. You mind if I munch on something? Didn’t have time at home, kids were playing tug-of-war with my socks."

Bucky froze for a breath mid-bite. Then, without missing another beat, the switch flipped, and he slipped the mask into place. His scowl was automatic, familiar, almost rehearsed.

"Comin’ early and stealing my food," he muttered, jerking his chin toward the table in a rough invitation.

Clint chuckled, taking it for what it was and flopping into the nearest chair.

She hid her little sigh behind a smile, moving to pour Clint some coffee and pulling extra toast and eggs from the warming plate on the stove. As she set them down in front of him, she cast a glance at Bucky.

The mask wasn’t how he lived day to day. Most of the time, he was a functional, competent, and reliable partner. Not the trembling boy who'd wept against her chest, mourning a harsh treatment he hadn’t had in years but still felt in his bones.

When something triggered the trauma, he regressed for days. And those days were… well, manageable inside the house. But when the outside world needed something of him, when he couldn’t just pass those days at peace, the mask appeared. He wore it every time he left home. To go on missions, to stand across from bureaucrats and therapists, to smile awkwardly when a stranger said "thank you for your service," but looking at him like he was a monster.

Now he lounged in his seat, with an elbow propped on the table, coffee in hand, boots crossed at the ankles, looking confident.

Clint wolfed down half a piece of toast, talking around it. "So, mission details got updated late last night," he said, crumbs flying. "Turns out the warehouse’s not just full of spare parts and wannabe Zemo cosplay rejects. They’ve got a shipment of experimental tech stashed in a sublevel. Pressure sensors on every door, that kind of shit. Trip one, and the whole place locks down."

Bucky barely lifted his brows. Sipped his coffee like Clint was telling him the damn weather. "I'll handle that alone," he said flatly. "You just focus on fucking up their electric system."

Clint grinned around his coffee mug. "Pfft. It's like you don’t even need me there."

Bucky gave him a slow, unimpressed look that said exactly that.

Clint clutched his chest theatrically. "Rude."

They bickered, sharp-edged and kind of amicably, but beneath the noise, Bucky’s left hand slid across the seat instinctively until his fingers found hers under the table.

He squeezed her, firm and self-soothingly. She squeezed back, not even glancing down, not making a big thing of it.

----

By the time Clint was asking for seconds, Bucky had drunk all his coffee and finished wiping his plate clean with a torn piece of toast.

"You should see what Lila pulled on Laura last week," Clint said between mouthfuls. "Whole laundry room filled with packing peanuts. Packing peanuts. I swear, that kid’s got a future in psychological warfare."

Bucky huffed -the closest thing he gave to a laugh most days- and leaned back in his chair.  His hand didn’t leave hers under the table. Not once.  When he stood, he tugged gently, silently asking her to follow.

"Be right back," she said casually to Clint, who just waved her off, too busy scraping jam onto another slice of toast.

In the hallway, Bucky didn’t speak. He just brushed his arm against hers, subtly, before nudging open the door to the gear room.

Everything was already half-packed, and she moved to help without him asking. Slid ammo clips into pouches, folded the spare jacket, and zipped compartments closed. Behind her, Bucky stripped off the sweatshirt he'd thrown on for breakfast, revealing the tight black compression shirt beneath it.

"Are you good on suppressors?" she asked, checking the side pouches.

"Yeah." His voice was rough, but controlled. "Packed two."

She smoothed her hand over the thick strap of his tac belt as she adjusted it on the table, brushing her thumb over a scuff mark near the buckle.

His body brushed hers again, slow and heavy, with a silent gratitude he never put into words.

From down the hallway, Clint's voice floated: "-and then she glued all my arrows together. Like some evil arts and crafts project-"

Bucky huffed another low sound, a little closer to amusement this time.

His arm bumped hers again.

He just kept finding ways to stay in her space, pressing close like something small burrowing under a blanket, chasing the comfort only she could give him.

She worked around him like a second skin, slipping the knives into their sheaths behind his waist, across his thighs, securing the flashbangs to the front clips.

He stood still for her, obedient, letting her dress him for war, like he couldn't do it himself.

Not today.

His hands twitched at his sides when she brushed too close to his belt, reaching for the magazine pouches. When she fastened the vest across his chest, his fingers tangled briefly in the hem of her shirt, clutching, small, desperate. She pressed a kiss just below his collarbone in answer, right over the faint scar where a bullet had once shattered bone. He exhaled roughly. Still trembling. Still pretending otherwise, because Clint was just down the hallway.

She buckled the side straps and slotted the heavier grenades at his hip. Checked the sidearm holsters, one after the other. He didn't even try anymore, just let her do it. Let her carry the ritual when he couldn't. It broke her heart every time, how he still wanted to be the strong asset everyone expected him to be, even when the man inside it had been splintered into pieces.

She knelt to strap his boots tighter, double-knotting the laces with a tug. When she stood up, Bucky was already sinking to his knees in front of her. He pressed his face against her belly, wrapping his arms around her waist in a crushing grip.

She just threaded her fingers through his hair, those longer, wild locks he never let the stylists touch, combing slow, soothing strokes from root to tip.

He breathed against her. Ragged. Needy.

A few years ago, when she'd found him curled in a corner after a nightmare so bad he couldn't even speak, she'd dared to ask him, "How did you deal with it… before?"

It had taken him three tries to answer. Finally, he'd muttered: "I... hurt myself. Until I could function again." Like it was normal. Like it was the best strategy. Damage the body to break the mind out of a loop.

Pain instead of panic.

She cradled him closer, stroking the nape of his neck with her thumb.

Never again. Not under her watch.

She motioned for him to stand up. "You’re geared up, Jamie," she murmured against his temple when he pressed his body against her again. He nodded but didn't move. Just hold her closer, breathing the scent of her skin, sensing the fabric of her shirt, the pulse of life he always chased in her when the world tried to smother him.

Only when she whispered, "Come on, handsome. Let’s not keep Clint waiting," did he finally push himself up with a soft grunt, rubbing his face against her like he could take a piece of her with him.

He took a deep breath, still trembling faintly, but standing straighter now.

Still fractured, but held together by her hands, her patience, and her love.

And that was enough.

It was always enough.

Permanent Taglist: @civilbucky @pandaxnienke @queergalpal97 @mrsalexstan

dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[yvieliny]

I want a whiny whimpering needy Bucky who just wants to suck on his doll for comfort. He wants her boobs in his mouth and nothing else.

For no reason at all, tbh. He just loves how soft and intimate the whole thing is, her fingers nimbly playing with his hair while he’s clinging to her like a baby.

Cause he is a baby.

He’s so touch starved he doens’t care if others would find it weird if they found out. This 6ft super soldier who wants to practically nurse off his pretty girl because it feels so comfy and warm.

It isn’t even sexual for him. Sometimes he gets a little worked up and wordlessly tugs his boxers down so she can get rid of that achy feeling between his legs but for the most part he’s soft all over, lips sealed around her peaked bud. Her hand gently works up and down his length while he wraps his arms around her, needy gurgles leaving his lips and his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

Such a shy little cutie when he reaches his high because he doesn’t mean to get hard and sometimes he tries to hide it. He tries to quieten his own noises by taking more of her breast in his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut as his hips stutter.

You know how precious he is when he blindly searches for her after a nightmare. Pawing at her shirt needing it off. You have to coo and kiss him, guiding him to what he needs, his cries immediately calming down when he gets his mouth on his doll.

The only thing you hear are his soft suckles and occasional muffled whimpers as tries to calm himself down, eventually lulling off to sleep.

Even after he’s content and fast asleep, you can’t pull him off, his face smushed into your breasts.

Bucky loves boobs. His favourite thing ever.

We don’t talk about how feral he gets when you show him he can slot his too hard cock between your very soft breasts. The sight alone of his length between you boobs makes him cum without warning before he even moves.

He’s so dazed after, he barely waits for you to wipe away the mess he made, he needs to go back to filling his mouth up.

[yvieliny]

Behind Closed Doors.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Tags: Established relationship. Light Angst. Regression Episodes. Emotional Dependency. Comfort. Pet names.

Warnings: 18+ only. PTSD. Regressive!Bucky. Mommy Kink. Praise Kink. Self-Soothing (Nursing). Comfort Sex. Past Self-Harm Mention.

Summary: Most days, Bucky is a functional, dependable, and even deadly man. Others, when the noise in his head gets too loud, behind closed doors, he becomes Jamie.

Word Count: About 5.5k.

notes: For the @avengers-assemble-bingo event, Kinky Bingo. The Prompt is Mommy Kink. Card number KB-014.

The door banged open hard enough to rattle the frame. Sam strode in first, glancing over his shoulder. "I told you to handle it like a grown-ass man."

Bucky followed, with a duffel slung over his shoulder and a deep scowl carved into his face. "It was handled," he muttered.

She stepped out from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel, smiling without thinking, until she caught the flicker in Bucky’s eyes, the slight drop of his shoulders, the tension so tight under his skin it was a wonder he could move at all.

Still, he crossed the room like nothing was wrong, dropped the duffel with a heavy thud, and bent to kiss her in a short press. His lips were dry, and his hand felt cold against her hip through her pajama shirt. "Missed you," he said, like he meant to say more but swallowed it back down.

Sam snorted behind them. "Real touching, man. Now gimme the damn briefcase, lover boy." 

She laughed under her breath; Bucky flipped him off without looking.

The briefcase was waiting by the couch, matte black, secure enough to survive a plane crash. Bucky kicked it closer with the toe of his boot.

"You know," Sam said, hefting it. "This wouldn’t even be necessary if a certain someone didn’t hulk out on Redwing."

Bucky shrugged, deadpan. "It was an accident."

"Bullshit," Sam barked, half-laughing. "You aimed at him!"

"He was in the way."

"He was flying surveillance, you jackass!"

Bucky shrugged again, more theatrical this time, and a sly twist tugging at his mouth. "Collateral damage."

Sam muttered something vile, but the edge was missing, worn down by exhaustion and familiarity. They circled each other like two old dogs too stubborn to admit they were friends.

"You owe me," Sam called over his shoulder, stepping through the door.

Bucky didn’t answer, just kicked the door shut behind him with a solid, decisive slam.

Three long strides, and he was in her space. He bent his head, digging his forehead into the curve where her neck met her shoulder, banding his arms around her like he could fold himself into her skin if he just held tight enough.

He shuddered once -just once- and then he went still, breathing her in like she was air after drowning.

Already feeling the shift in his mind -the slow melt of tension into something heavier, darker- she cupped the back of his head and murmured, "What's wrong, Jamie?"

His voice was a rasp against her throat. "Don't wanna talk about it, Mommy."

There it was. The tremor under the words. The old damage rising from the depths, thick as smoke, inescapable.

It was going to be one of those weeks.

Bucky was gone. Not dead, not disappeared. Just… buried.

His mind, fractured and fragile, bore scars deeper than any bullet wound. Years of physical torture, mind control, chemical sedation, and that damned chair had left behind something that could never be stitched whole again, only nurtured, only loved in all its brokenness.

"Alright," she whispered, smoothing her palm along the nape of his neck, tangling her fingers lightly in his hair. "You don't have to, sweetie."

Bucky clung harder and shifted his weight, nudging her backwards, steering her without words. The backs of her knees bumped the armrest of the couch, catching her off guard- and then he was pressing, urging, laying her down like something loved but urgent, needing her pliant and beneath him.

She let herself fall back, and her body sank into the cushions.

Bucky climbed after her, sprawling his massive frame above her, caging her in, shuddering like the weight of the world was slipping down his spine.

He buried his face against her chest, moving his mouth blindly, mouthing her through the thin cotton of her pajama top. Desperate, clumsy, a low whine slipping from his throat when the fabric denied him skin.

Frustrated, he nosed under the hem, catching it with his teeth, tugging upward -an animal trying to shed the barrier himself- and she lifted her arms in silent permission, helping him strip the top away.

"There you go, baby," she cooed, cradling the back of his head, guiding him.

Bucky latched greedily onto her breast the second he could. His tongue flicked rough and desperate, the suction was almost bruising, pulling at her with the kind of force that spoke of starvation, not hunger.

She cradled him close, slightly rocking them as soft, wet sounds filled the quiet room. The metal plates of his hand pressed cold against her waist as he shifted his hold, needing the contact. He suckled hard -harder than he usually allowed himself- losing himself in the mindless rhythm of the process, soothed only by her scent, her heartbeat, the feel of her skin in his mouth.

She only held him tighter, whispering into the crown of his head, "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

But it wasn't enough. She felt it, the restless grind of his hips against her leg, the low, helpless groan deep in his chest.

The tremors in his body grew worse. He needed more. More skin, more warmth, more of her wrapped around every broken part of him he didn’t know how to fix.

He whimpered around her nipple, the sound was pitiful, hungry, broken. His hips jerked forward in clumsy, desperate thrusts, rubbing his heavy cock against her leg, the friction too little, too clothed, too maddening.

One of his hands fumbled down between them, pawing clumsily at her waistband, frustrated when the fabric of her pajama shorts didn’t yield. She lifted her hips, helping, soothing, letting him peel the barrier away.

The second her shorts were gone, he was there, grinding harder, the rough denim of his fatigues rasping against the tender, slick heat between her legs. His mouth never stopped, suckling greedily and wet at her breast, the noises were animalistic, wet, and obscene. Her thighs fell open to give him more, to give him everything he was silently begging for.

"That's it, baby," she murmured against his temple, her voice thick with love and aching need. "Take it, Jamie. Take what you need."

He shuddered at her words, and with a low growl, he fumbled at his belt, nearly tearing it open in his frantic need. The sound of the zipper rasped loud in the thick, humid air between them, and then he was pushing his pants and boxers just far enough down to free himself, his cock flushed dark and leaking, throbbing with every erratic beat of his heart.

He didn't even line himself up properly at first, just thrusting blindly, rutting against her belly, her hip, lost in pure instinct. She reached down, gentle but firm, guiding him lower, dragging the head of his cock through her slick folds, and he gasped, a desperate, wounded noise, like she'd just torn open his chest and touched his heart.

He pushed forward in a single, shaking thrust, sinking inside her inch by inch, whimpering her name, clinging to her body.

"Mommy... Mommy, please..." he sobbed into her skin, fucking desperately into her, like he couldn't get deep enough, close enough, like he needed to crawl inside her and never come out.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him tighter, whispering praises and love into his hair, rocking her hips up to meet each frantic thrust, giving him everything, everything he needed.

Bucky's rhythm faltered almost immediately, embarrassingly fast, his whole body went rigid, and a broken cry tore from his throat as he came hard, pulsing deep and warm inside her.

Her fingers never stopped stroking his scalp, the curve of his neck, the tense line of his back where sweat glued his shirt to his skin. He whimpered low in his chest, a sound that made her thighs clench around his waist instinctively, holding him there, inside her, where he belonged.

"You did so good for me." she murmured again, threading the words right into his marrow, "filled me up so good, sweetheart."

His hips gave a weak jerk, as if his body was trying to answer even while spent. He nosed deeper into the crook of her neck, and his hands roamed frantically on her hips like he didn’t know whether to stay still or start again. A needy little whimper bled out of him, wet and desperate.

"Shh, you're perfect," she soothed, rocking her hips just the slightest bit, enough to make him groan, low and wrecked.

But Bucky needed more. Shame and hunger twisted together in his mind, his need to please her, to earn the sweetness of her praise. His hand scrabbled down her body, pushing his shaking fingers between them, seeking out where they were still joined, sticky and wet.

"I can-" he mumbled into her neck, his voice hoarse and cracked, "I can make you come, Mommy... lemme... please, lemme-"

She caught his wrist, soft but firm, guiding him, showing him without words. Her own fingers slipped down, spreading herself open for him, letting him feel the slick heat, her throbbing clit, how ready she was, how close she'd been even from his desperate rutting.

"Alright," she breathed, her voice breaking into a moan when his thumb brushed clumsily over her clit. "Let Mommy remember you how."

He chased every stuttered gasp, every little roll of her hips, with awkward but hungry movements, so eager to please that he trembled. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, and nuzzled helplessly against her, feeding off every moan, "Tell me, Mommy... wanna make you feel good... please..."

"You're doing so good, baby," she cooed, rolling her hips into the clumsy circles he traced against her swollen clit, feeling sparks skittering up her spine. "My big strong boy... that's it, sweetie, just like that."

His breath hitched sharply. She felt him throb inside her, half-hard but growing, so easily aroused by her praise.

"M- more," she whispered into his hair, guiding his hand with gentle, insistent pressure. "Mommy needs more, Jamie... you can give it to me, can't you, baby?"

A shattered little sound broke out of his throat. He latched onto her neck, sucking greedily, slipping his fingers faster, finding the rhythm she loved without even realizing it, simply because she wanted it, because she told him he could.

"Yes... yes, I can-" he gasped, nearly crying it, driving his hand harder against her, frantic, devoted.

She moaned shamelessly, grinding softly against his hand, feeling the wet slide of his cock thickening again between her slick folds. She angled her hips to grind against him, smearing herself all over him, and he nearly sobbed.

"Such a good boy," she panted, dragging her fingers across his scalp, tugging his hair just enough to make him moan. "Making me feel so good... my perfect boy..."

Bucky's whole body shuddered. He humped against her without rhythm, desperate, straining toward the heaven of her approval.

She was so close, the pleasure was burning tight and high, and when he whined brokenly, "Need you to cum Mommy, need it so bad," she ground against him harder, her and breath hitched. The tension snapped through her body as she came around his already hard cock, writhing, crying his name, clamping her thighs tightly around his waist.

His hips moved before thought could catch them, pure instinct, pure need. She gasped sharply, her body so sensitive, still riding her orgasm, and he let out a strangled moan, pressing his forehead hard against hers, as his arms shook where they caged her in.

"Jamie," she whimpered, reflexively wrapping her legs tighter around him, holding him there, where he belonged.

He groaned, trying to last, trying to hold back -but the heat of her body and the clutch of her inner muscles around him milked another low, broken cry from his throat.

"Can't-" he choked out, as his hips twitched. "Mommy, I- fuck-, I can't-"

"You don't have to, baby," she whispered against his lips, "Just let go."

The second the words left her mouth, Bucky shattered. His rhythm was frantic and short-lived, sloppy little thrusts, his whole body spasming, jerking helplessly. His face twisted into a tortured, beautiful grimace, mouth open in a silent cry as he came again, flooding her, so raw, so painfully intense it stripped the breath from his lungs.

She held him through it, both hands threaded in his hair, pulling his weight down onto her so he could sob against her throat, every breath a broken thing.

"Good boy," she murmured, cradling him, rocking him gently even as he trembled and gasped, as if the orgasm had unraveled something too dark inside him.

"My sweet, perfect Jamie..."

He clung to her, gasping, as the aftershocks racked his body. His cock throbbed weakly inside her, spent but refusing to soften, desperate to stay part of her, to never be alone again.

"Love you," he rasped, barely louder than a breath. "I love you so much..."

She kissed his temple, his wet lashes, the corner of his mouth. "I love you too, sweetheart."

He whimpered again, softer this time, more at peace, and his breathing began to slow down as she stroked his spine. It was a mindless comfort, just the warmth of her body, her scent, the surety of being wanted exactly as he was, no masks, no shame.

She felt him trembling against her, as small broken hitches of breath ghosted hot over her collarbone, and she knew he wasn’t done needing her yet. Gently, she threaded her fingers through his hair again, scratching lightly at his scalp until he made a soft, choked sound, half-whine, half-moan.

"Jamie, baby," she whispered, kissing his ear, feeling the damp strands of hair clinging to his temple. "I need you to sit up for me, alright? Just for a minute. Let Mommy take care of you."

He whined again, burrowing his face harder against her skin, refusing. His cock twitched uselessly inside her, spent but stubborn, like his body was terrified of losing contact.

She cupped his jaw, brushing her thumb along the sharp plane of his cheekbone. "Sweetheart, please. Just a little shift, then you can cuddle all you want. Promise."

That promise cracked through the fog in his mind. Bucky lifted his head, blinking slowly and heavy with glazed blue eyes, and his lip caught in his teeth in a desperate little bite. Wordless, he obeyed, pushing himself up on shaking arms and pulling out of her with a reluctant, shuddering moan.

She winced a little at the loss but sat up quickly, nudging his hips to guide him back onto the couch cushions. His tactical pants were still around his thighs, boots still muddy and scuffed from the mission, whole body a mess of tension and need.

She kissed his knee through the fabric, soothing him. "Good boy. Stay still for me, alright?"

He nodded, but his hands twitched like he didn’t know what to grab onto, finally fisting the fabric of her discarded pajama top like a lifeline.

With quick hands, she unlaced and yanked off his boots, tossing them without care. His socks followed, peeled off with a little tug. Then she shimmied the ruined pants down his thighs, down past his knees, ankles, freeing him completely.

Bucky whined low in his throat, and his thighs trembed where they spread for her, his cock flushed dark, twitching weakly against his belly, glistening with the mess of what they’ve made.

"There we go, baby," she murmured, stroking his trembling thighs, letting him feel her loving hands on him. "I got you."

He looked like he wanted to fold in on himself, humiliated and desperate, as his chest heaved.

She pressed a soft kiss to his navel, another just above his hipbone. "You did so well for me, Jamie. Gave Mommy everything she needed.”

He tensed beneath her mouth, breath hitching like he wanted to protest. “That’s not true, I couldn’t-”

She kissed the top of his thigh, firmer this time. “Shhh. No, baby. No more of that.” Her hand smoothed over his stomach. “You did. You gave me what you could. That’s everything.”

Her kiss, her words, seemed to reach him. She felt the tension in his grip easing, not gone, but yielding enough for her to slip from his hold.

“I’ll be right back, baby,” she murmured, brushing one last kiss to his thigh before pulling away slowly.

He gave a faint whimper but let her go, slumping back into the couch, with his legs still spread, and arms loose and heavy at his sides. Vulnerable. Waiting.

She moved quickly, finding a clean cloth and dampening it with warm water, squeezing it out until it streamed between her fingers. When she returned, he hadn’t moved, and his eyes were glassy, staring somewhere past the ceiling, lost somewhere she couldn’t follow, breathing slowly but not relaxed.

She knelt between his thighs and began wiping him with slow, tender strokes, the warm cloth gliding over his softening cock and the skin of his inner thighs. He let her do, as always.

Then, in a voice so quiet it was almost a breath, he said, "There was a chair."

Her hands froze for just a second before she moved again, softer now, like she was tending a wound she couldn’t see. He didn’t have to explain. That phrase -the chair- floated between them, thick and poisonous.

She kissed tenderly the inside of his knee and crawled up to straddle his lap without hesitation, wrapping him up in her arms. His flesh hand immediately latched onto her waist, the metal one curling over her back like he could mold her into himself.

"It was supposed to be another kind of mission," she said tentatively.

"The growing organization... Sam said... they were forming from scraps. Vestiges. Hydra info." His breathing hitched. "We thought... we thought there would be intel to scrap. Maybe... maybe a serum, old samples. Destroy it before it can spread. But they had it. They had the chair."

He choked the last word out like it tasted like blood.

She cradled his face between her hands. “They can’t hurt you anymore, sweetie. You’re free, remember? Remember how they made it all better in Wakanda?” he only nodded, hiding his face on one of her palms.

She threaded her fingers slowly through his hair, feeling the tension beneath his scalp like a live wire still sparking. “Are you hungry, Jamie?” she whispered against the shell of his ear.

There was a small, reluctant pause before he nodded against her chest. "Yeah. But... I can't-" he clutched her tighter, as if her body might dissolve if he let go.

"I know," she soothed. "Come with me, then. We'll stick together."

She coaxed him to stand, his heavy steps were sluggish, clumsy, almost childlike in his exhaustion. He shadowed her across the room, never more than an inch away, his hand curled tight at her waist. While she pulled things from the fridge and stacked a couple of fast sandwiches, Bucky wrapped around her from behind, big and unyielding, pinning her gently against the counter with his weight.

He buried his face in her neck, breathing her scent.

"I'm sorry I'm like this," he mumbled, with a raw, scratchy voice against her skin. "I’m sorry my head's so messed up."

She stilled her hands, the sandwich forgotten half-built, and cupped his forearm where it pressed across her middle, squeezing him hard.

"No," she said firmly, tipping her head back against his shoulder to make sure he heard every word. "You survived what would have killed anybody else. You’re not messed up. You're my Jamie. That's all that matters."

Bucky let out a low, broken sound, something between a sob and a sigh, and hug her tighter like he might fuse himself into her bones if he could.

"Now eat a little, sweetheart," she whispered. "Then I'll tuck you into bed, yeah?"

He nodded mutely against her neck, still clinging, letting her finish fixing the sandwiches one-handed while he melted against her.

"Need me to cut them small for you, or are you good to grab the knife?" she asked gently, tilting her head to catch his expression.

Bucky hesitated, and his eyes flickered uncertainly to the counter, then back to her. "I'll eat them whole," he said finally. "With my hands."

"That's so good, baby," she praised, brushing her fingers over his knuckles. "Wanna eat them on the bed?"

He only nodded, letting her gather the plate and then reach for his hand, guiding him through the hallway like leading a wounded animal.

"Alright. Shirt off, sweetheart," she murmured when they reached the bedroom, giving a little tug at the hem of his tactical top. "Don’t want that messy thing on the sheets."

"Sorry," he mumbled, brow crumpling. His fingers fumbled at the fabric, uncertain. "Should I shower too?"

"Do you want to?" she asked.

"The sheets-"

"Bucky," she cut him off. Not Jamie this time, but Bucky, to wise him up. His breath caught in his chest.

"Do you want to?" she repeated, slower, softer.

"...not right now," he confessed.

"Then get in the bed and eat the sandwiches," she ordered gently, brushing her palm over his stomach in passing.

He obeyed without argument, pulling the shirt clumsily over his head and leaving it crumpled on the floor. His body was flushed and tight with leftover adrenaline, his scars standing out against his skin. He climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged like a great, awkward boy, with the plate balanced in his lap.

She settled beside him, smoothing her hand up and down his back in slow, rhythmic strokes as he tore into the first sandwich with trembling fingers, chewing dutifully.

Every time he took a bite, she murmured something soft near his ear: "That's it, baby." "You're doing so good." "My sweet boy."

Bucky shivered every time, eating faster, desperate for her approval, for the tone of her voice wrapped around him.

When he finished, he wiped his hands clumsily on the sheet. She would’ve scolded him, but when he turned toward her, his eyes were huge and glassy, and desperate, his mouth trembling like he might cry if she said even one word wrong, she couldn’t.

Instead, she only smiled, lifting the plate from his lap and setting it aside.

"C'mere," she whispered, opening her arms.

She eased them down into the mattress, coaxing him to lie with his head against her chest. His hair -brushing past his jawline in dark, tangled waves- spilled over her skin. She threaded her fingers through it without urgency, combing gently through the snarls, almost worshipfully.

Bucky let out a low, shaky exhale against her skin, the sound was so raw it made her chest ache. Each slow stroke of her fingers through his hair unspooled knots buried far deeper than the ones at his scalp, memories of fists twisting in his hair to punish, to control, to bend him to grotesque, degenerate wills. Those hands had ripped at him like he was a mindless beast, but hers... hers just held, adored, cherished.

She waited, giving him time to soften under her touch, before she murmured, her voice barely a ghost against the crown of his head.

"Do you have to go tomorrow?" Her fingers combed slowly, untangling another small knot. "You just got here. Can't Clint count on someone else?"

He shook his head against her chest, dragging his hair across her skin in a silky brush. "They need me," he rasped, his voice hollowed out by guilt. "My strength. My hands. Can't just leave 'em hanging."

She kissed the top of his head, brushing her lips in the softest spot where his hair parted. "Rest then, handsome," she breathed into him. "I'll guard your sleep."

----

She woke slowly, feeling him before she even turned her head down. Bucky was draped half over her, his chest pressed to her side, with one heavy arm hooked around her waist. His face was nuzzled into her breast, his wet, warm mouth suckling in soft, absent pulses around her nipple. Not truly awake. Not truly dreaming. Just clinging. Needing.

Nuzzled in like a child too big to be held, too broken not to need it anyway.

She said nothing. Would never say anything. Just slid her hand through his long hair, slow and tenderly, letting him have whatever peace he could steal from her body.

Later, after he finally stirred with a grumble and a heavy, embarrassed sigh, she helped him to the bathroom, guiding him under the shower. She washed his hair carefully, then his body. Dressed him piece by piece in a fresh set of tactical clothing with a lover’s hands.

They sat side by side at the kitchen table, with their knees bumping occasionally, plates between them. Bucky picked at his toast, sluggish but obedient, while she fussed with a napkin, sweeping a streak of jam from the stubble along his jaw. He tilted his head toward her touch like a sleepy cat, eyes half-lidded, savoring every second. Then-

The doorbell rang, sharp and sudden.

Bucky stiffened immediately. His fork clattered onto the plate as he straightened, with a frown etching deep between his brows.

"Early," he muttered. "Wasn’t supposed to be here 'til later."

"I’ll get the door. Finish your breakfast," she said, squeezing his hand before rising.

As she crossed the living room, she could already hear Clint's muffled voice behind the door, some cheery nonsense about coffee and ‘no rest for the wicked.’ She shook her head fondly and reached for the handle, casting one last glance back at Bucky, still sitting hunched at the table, tense, his eyes dark with the weight of parting.

Clint stepped inside with a gust of morning air, scrubbing a hand through his messy hair. He sniffed exaggeratedly, with a wide grin breaking over his face.

"Smells delicious in here. You mind if I munch on something? Didn’t have time at home, kids were playing tug-of-war with my socks."

Bucky froze for a breath mid-bite. Then, without missing another beat, the switch flipped, and he slipped the mask into place. His scowl was automatic, familiar, almost rehearsed.

"Comin’ early and stealing my food," he muttered, jerking his chin toward the table in a rough invitation.

Clint chuckled, taking it for what it was and flopping into the nearest chair.

She hid her little sigh behind a smile, moving to pour Clint some coffee and pulling extra toast and eggs from the warming plate on the stove. As she set them down in front of him, she cast a glance at Bucky.

The mask wasn’t how he lived day to day. Most of the time, he was a functional, competent, and reliable partner. Not the trembling boy who'd wept against her chest, mourning a harsh treatment he hadn’t had in years but still felt in his bones.

When something triggered the trauma, he regressed for days. And those days were… well, manageable inside the house. But when the outside world needed something of him, when he couldn’t just pass those days at peace, the mask appeared. He wore it every time he left home. To go on missions, to stand across from bureaucrats and therapists, to smile awkwardly when a stranger said "thank you for your service," but looking at him like he was a monster.

Now he lounged in his seat, with an elbow propped on the table, coffee in hand, boots crossed at the ankles, looking confident.

Clint wolfed down half a piece of toast, talking around it. "So, mission details got updated late last night," he said, crumbs flying. "Turns out the warehouse’s not just full of spare parts and wannabe Zemo cosplay rejects. They’ve got a shipment of experimental tech stashed in a sublevel. Pressure sensors on every door, that kind of shit. Trip one, and the whole place locks down."

Bucky barely lifted his brows. Sipped his coffee like Clint was telling him the damn weather. "I'll handle that alone," he said flatly. "You just focus on fucking up their electric system."

Clint grinned around his coffee mug. "Pfft. It's like you don’t even need me there."

Bucky gave him a slow, unimpressed look that said exactly that.

Clint clutched his chest theatrically. "Rude."

They bickered, sharp-edged and kind of amicably, but beneath the noise, Bucky’s left hand slid across the seat instinctively until his fingers found hers under the table.

He squeezed her, firm and self-soothingly. She squeezed back, not even glancing down, not making a big thing of it.

----

By the time Clint was asking for seconds, Bucky had drunk all his coffee and finished wiping his plate clean with a torn piece of toast.

"You should see what Lila pulled on Laura last week," Clint said between mouthfuls. "Whole laundry room filled with packing peanuts. Packing peanuts. I swear, that kid’s got a future in psychological warfare."

Bucky huffed -the closest thing he gave to a laugh most days- and leaned back in his chair.  His hand didn’t leave hers under the table. Not once.  When he stood, he tugged gently, silently asking her to follow.

"Be right back," she said casually to Clint, who just waved her off, too busy scraping jam onto another slice of toast.

In the hallway, Bucky didn’t speak. He just brushed his arm against hers, subtly, before nudging open the door to the gear room.

Everything was already half-packed, and she moved to help without him asking. Slid ammo clips into pouches, folded the spare jacket, and zipped compartments closed. Behind her, Bucky stripped off the sweatshirt he'd thrown on for breakfast, revealing the tight black compression shirt beneath it.

"Are you good on suppressors?" she asked, checking the side pouches.

"Yeah." His voice was rough, but controlled. "Packed two."

She smoothed her hand over the thick strap of his tac belt as she adjusted it on the table, brushing her thumb over a scuff mark near the buckle.

His body brushed hers again, slow and heavy, with a silent gratitude he never put into words.

From down the hallway, Clint's voice floated: "-and then she glued all my arrows together. Like some evil arts and crafts project-"

Bucky huffed another low sound, a little closer to amusement this time.

His arm bumped hers again.

He just kept finding ways to stay in her space, pressing close like something small burrowing under a blanket, chasing the comfort only she could give him.

She worked around him like a second skin, slipping the knives into their sheaths behind his waist, across his thighs, securing the flashbangs to the front clips.

He stood still for her, obedient, letting her dress him for war, like he couldn't do it himself.

Not today.

His hands twitched at his sides when she brushed too close to his belt, reaching for the magazine pouches. When she fastened the vest across his chest, his fingers tangled briefly in the hem of her shirt, clutching, small, desperate. She pressed a kiss just below his collarbone in answer, right over the faint scar where a bullet had once shattered bone. He exhaled roughly. Still trembling. Still pretending otherwise, because Clint was just down the hallway.

She buckled the side straps and slotted the heavier grenades at his hip. Checked the sidearm holsters, one after the other. He didn't even try anymore, just let her do it. Let her carry the ritual when he couldn't. It broke her heart every time, how he still wanted to be the strong asset everyone expected him to be, even when the man inside it had been splintered into pieces.

She knelt to strap his boots tighter, double-knotting the laces with a tug. When she stood up, Bucky was already sinking to his knees in front of her. He pressed his face against her belly, wrapping his arms around her waist in a crushing grip.

She just threaded her fingers through his hair, those longer, wild locks he never let the stylists touch, combing slow, soothing strokes from root to tip.

He breathed against her. Ragged. Needy.

A few years ago, when she'd found him curled in a corner after a nightmare so bad he couldn't even speak, she'd dared to ask him, "How did you deal with it… before?"

It had taken him three tries to answer. Finally, he'd muttered: "I... hurt myself. Until I could function again." Like it was normal. Like it was the best strategy. Damage the body to break the mind out of a loop.

Pain instead of panic.

She cradled him closer, stroking the nape of his neck with her thumb.

Never again. Not under her watch.

She motioned for him to stand up. "You’re geared up, Jamie," she murmured against his temple when he pressed his body against her again. He nodded but didn't move. Just hold her closer, breathing the scent of her skin, sensing the fabric of her shirt, the pulse of life he always chased in her when the world tried to smother him.

Only when she whispered, "Come on, handsome. Let’s not keep Clint waiting," did he finally push himself up with a soft grunt, rubbing his face against her like he could take a piece of her with him.

He took a deep breath, still trembling faintly, but standing straighter now.

Still fractured, but held together by her hands, her patience, and her love.

And that was enough.

It was always enough.

Permanent Taglist: @civilbucky @pandaxnienke @queergalpal97 @mrsalexstan

dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[yvieliny]

helping bucky practice kissing leads to a whole lot more

i saw this post and knew immediately what i had to do

as usual for my fics everyone is a happy family and no one is dead bc i said so

18+ minors dni

—————————————————————————

there were many things you enjoyed about being an avenger. free living space, meeting interesting people, and free healthcare were a few favorites.

the top contender by far, however, was tony’s insistence on team bonding.

light chatter and laughter filled the air around you. after another week of saving the world, tony had decided the team should take a trip to his lake house for the weekend.

you loved these retreats. you were all able to unzip the super suits and just exist together. no androids, aliens, or wizards- save for dr. strange when he decided to tag along- to fight.

“we should play truth or dare!” wanda’s bright voice cut through the group.

pietro groaned at his sister, “what are we, 13?”

you shrugged beside wanda, giving her a playful nudge, “i think it could be a fun time.”

“fine but i’m not putting anything weird in my mouth,” sam said, shooting daggers at natasha.

“it was a banana peel, relax,” natasha said as she stifled a laugh behind her beer bottle.

you looked over to the quiet figure on the loveseat next to steve. bucky was fidgeting with his hands nervously, clearly wanting to join in the banter but unsure how.

bucky had joined the team only 9 months ago. after his time in wakanda steve brought him back to the compound where he had been slowly integrated into the team. you in particular had ample time with him. you were close with steve and known for being patient and kind, so to help bucky stretch his comfort zone steve had you mentor him.

every training session and mission, you were right by bucky’s side. while at first he would barely utter a word to you, over time he became more comfortable. his nervous glances turned into fond smiles, tense shoulders relaxing once you were near. you slowly got to see the bucky that steve knew so well. the charming, sweet, noble guy who just wanted to do right by the world.

getting to see such a pure side of him did have it’s downfalls though. because now you were the one stealing nervous glances, stomach flipping and palms sweating whenever he would look at you with that gentle smile. you hadn’t meant for it to happen, of course. you felt it was inevitable for anyone who had spent as much time as you did with bucky to fall for him.

you got up from your spot on the couch as the group continued the conversation, making your way over to the loveseat and perching on the arm next to bucky.

“truth or dare sound fun?” you asked, giving him a gentle smile and a nudge.

bucky looked up at you, letting out a breath as he said in a low voice, “honestly i’m not sure what it is and i was too nervous to ask.”

you slapped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter. bucky laughed too, scrubbing a hand down his face and shaking his head. through giggles you explained the rules to him.

“that seems pretty simple,” bucky nodded and smiled, “i’m up for it.”

“yay!” you said as you stood up and addressed the group, “okay everyone sit in a circle!”

—————————————————————————

the game was, at first, a great idea on wanda’s part.

the room was filled with laughter as natasha sat back down, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “okay, i see your point sam.” she said, eyeing the discarded banana peel warily.

sam had a satisfied grin on his face, “thank you.”

natasha rolled her eyes playfully as she looked around the room and hummed thoughtfully. her eyes landed on bucky, then flicked to you. you saw a devious grin flash across her face before she said, “bucky, truth or dare?”

bucky shrugged a bit, “i’m not exactly an open book so… dare?”

natasha’s grin only grew, “i dare you to kiss y/n.”

your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you gawked at natasha. you opened your mouth to tell bucky he didn’t have to do that, but he beat you to it.

“no. absolutely not.” he mumbled, quiet but firm. the air in the room grew stiff.

of course you hadn’t expected him to kiss you, hadn’t even wanted him to, really. not under these circumstances. but you hadn’t expected him to be so vehemently against it. his rejection hit you swiftly, stinging like a million tiny nettles bursting through your skin. you swallowed the lump in your throat as you tried to maintain a straight face.

natasha’s grin dropped immediately, eyes flicking to you with concern. you shook your head, a subtle plea to drop it.

she cleared her throat and sat up straighter, giving a gentle smile, “no worries. steve, truth or dare?”

it took a few rounds, but the group was able to get back into a comfortable flow. wanda, who was sat beside you, leaned in and rested her chin on your shoulder, her voice a gentle mumble, “you okay?”

you gave her a small smile before leaning your head against hers, “i have a feeling that if i tell you i am you’re gonna disagree.”

“you would be right about that,” she laughed.

you sighed a bit before getting up and pulling wanda with you, telling everyone you were getting more snacks as you slipped into the kitchen.

you groaned once you were out of earshot from everyone, hands covering your face, “i didn’t expect him to do it but i guess i also just didn’t expect… that.”

wanda frowned before pulling you into a tight hug, “i’m gonna grill nat for giving him that dare in the first place.”

“me too honestly,” you muttered, wrapping your arms around her.

“i’m sure you and bucky can talk about this later. it’ll be fine,” she said as she rubbed your back gently.

you groaned and pulled away, shaking your head harshly, “absolutely not. i’d rather we as a group forget about this incident. actually… do you think dr. strange-“

“nope, absolutely not going there. let’s get snacks.” wanda patted your back and pulled away, grabbing a couple bags of chips from the cabinet.

you sighed and went to the fridge. as you looked through it you decided you would text dr. strange in the morning.

—————————————————————————

the rest of the night had gone smoothly, all things considered. bucky was considerably quieter since that stupid dare, your heart clenching at the furrow in his brow. he was clearly somewhere deep and unpleasant in his mind. all you wanted to do was gently coax him out of it, but you were afraid that you would only make it worse. so you just sighed and prayed that this would all blow over by morning.

around 12 am your eyes started to close involuntarily as you leant against wanda. yawning, you sat up and stretched before standing and bidding the group goodnight. bucky’s eyes flicked towards you, his mouth opening then closing as if he wanted to say something then decided against it. you worried your bottom lip between your teeth as you headed to your bedroom.

you let out a sigh as you sprawled on top of the comforter, reveling in the comfort of whatever expensive fabric it was made out of. you dragged yourself to the bathroom after a moment, brushing your teeth and washing your face before changing into a comfortable set of pajamas.

a soft knock at your door startled you as you pulled back the blankets. opening the door, you expected wanda, or maybe natasha coming to apologize. instead, standing in front of you with his shoulders hunched and a face like a kicked puppy, was bucky. you blinked a bit before you stammered, “bucky- what um.. what’s up?”

“can i come in?” bucky nearly begged.

you nodded jerkily before stepping back and opening the door for him. you closed it before turning to look at bucky, who had sat at the end of your bed. he was pressing his hands together nervously, hunched over and staring at his sock clad feet.

you sat next to him cautiously, not too close in case you startled him. bucky let out a breath, his voice trembling slightly as he said, “i’m sorry. i didn’t- i just got-“ he took a deep breath, the rest of his words tumbling out as if he was physically forcing them, “i haven’t kissed anyone since 1945.”

you were slightly taken aback at his confession. but as you thought about it, there really hadn’t been a time where bucky would have had physical intimacy high on his list of priorities.

“i-it wasn’t that i didn’t want to kiss you,” he continued, “i just don’t know if i even remember how to. and i didn’t want to embarrass myself.”

your face softened at his words. of course bucky wouldn’t say anything to hurt you. the poor man was just a nervous wreck. you wanted to make his nerves disappear, help him through the inner turmoil he was facing.

a thought filled your mind as you scooted closer to him, gently resting a hand on his back and rubbing softly. as his muscles relaxed under your touch, you spoke softly, “what if… i helped you?”

he lifted his head slightly to look at you, “helped me?”

heat crept up your cheeks as you cleared your throat, “practice kissing. if you want. totally up to you.” you watched bucky consider your words, your nerves buzzing as you said, “totally fine if n-“

“okay,” bucky’s quiet voice cut you off. he shifted, sitting up straight and facing towards you. “i.. i want you to help me.”

your breath caught as he stared at you hopefully before you nodded and gently grabbed his hands, “okay,” you said, your voice a soft lull, “i’m just gonna start small okay? you tell me if you’re uncomfortable at any point.”

bucky nodded squeezing your hands gently, “okay.”

all you could hear was the pounding of your heart as you leant in slowly, stopping just short of his lips. your eyes flicked to his, searching for any sign of uncertainty. when you found none, you allowed your lips to brush against his gently, once, twice, before pressing your lips to his in a light kiss.

you pulled back slightly, meeting bucky’s vaguely dazed stare as you whispered, “okay so far?”

bucky nodded again, giving you that slightly shy yet still charming half smile, “your lips are soft.”

that earned a giggle from you before you felt bucky’s hand on your cheek, slowly coaxing you back towards his lips. you slotted your lips against his more firmly this time, bucky’s thumb rubbing your cheek absentmindedly. your mouths moved slowly, the gentle smacking of your lips the only sound in the room.

for someone who hadn’t kissed anyone in 80 years, you thought bucky was doing exceptionally well. while tentative, his movements spoke of someone who had at one point had this down to a practiced art. his flesh hand cupped the back of your neck, metal moving to rest at your waist. you cupped his face with both hands, gasping slightly when you felt his tongue dart out against your lip.

bucky pulled back at the sound, cheeks flushed and voice slightly breathless, “sorry, was that too much?”

you shook your head quickly, resting your hands on his chest, “not at all. just unexpected.”

bucky grinned hopefully, “good unexpected?”

“good unexpected,” you smiled before catching his lips in another kiss. this one felt different. heated. with your reassuring words in mind, bucky’s lips were more confident, his tongue slipping into your mouth with practiced ease. you couldn’t help the breathy moan that slipped out of you as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

bucky groaned as he pulled his mouth from yours, “c’mere,” he mumbled, lifting you and settling you straddled on his lap. he quickly fixed his mouth against yours again, earning more breathy moans from you as he kissed you like his life depended on it.

the way bucky kissed you, the soft groans falling from his mouth, and the feeling of his hard body pressed against yours made wetness pool in your underwear quickly. you tried your best to avoid the hard tent in bucky’s sweatpants, not wanting to overwhelm him. but when a breathy moan of your name slipped from his throat, your hips rolled instinctively, your clothed cunt rubbing deliciously against bucky’s hard cock. you both gasped, bucky’s hands gripping your waist tightly.

“i-i’m sorry,” you stuttered, “i didn’t mean-“ you cut yourself off with a surprised moan when bucky rolled his hips up, rubbing himself against you once more.

he pulled your face back to his slowly as he spoke, “you know, i think i could use some more practice.”

you bit your lip as you smiled, lips brushing against his, “well, we both know i’m a good teacher.”

bucky grinned before kissing you again. it felt like the gloves had come off, his mouth dominating yours in a way that made you roll your hips against his continuously. you and bucky moaned into each others mouths as you dry humped, the wetness in your underwear slowly leaking through your shorts.

you pulled away, kissing down his jaw and neck slowly. bucky groaned when you began sucking a mark onto his neck. his hands slid down to your ass and pulled your cunt tighter against his cock, salaciously grinding his hips. you moaned his name into his neck, shuddering when bucky spoke into your ear, “fuck, y/n, i need-“ he started to slide his hand under your top and you got the message, peeling it off and tossing it somewhere in your room.

bucky stared at your bare chest before swearing under his breathing, diving in and latching his mouth onto your nipple. you cried out, hand tangling in his hair as he suckled.

he pulled away with a wet pop, mumbling, “you’re so fucking beautiful,” before attaching himself to your other breast. you whined as you rolled your hips against his, the steady pressure on your pussy and stimulation on your nipples making you shudder.

you reached down bucky’s back, bunching his shirt up. he pulled away to help you pull it off him fully before wrapping arm around you and flipping you onto your back. you two stared at each other for a moment, chests heaving, lips swollen.

bucky leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft yet heated kiss. he kissed his way down your neck while his fingers hooked in the waistband of your shorts. you lifted your hips, a silent plea for him to rid you of them, which he did swiftly. he pulled away from your neck, staring down at the wet patch on your underwear.

a low noise rumbled in his chest as he swiped his thumb over your clothed pussy. you gasped, hips twitching slightly when he grazed your clit. a smirk spread across bucky’s face slowly at your reaction, “this all for me baby?”

you bit your lip as you nodded, heat flooding your cheeks when bucky hooked his finger in your panties and pulled them to the side.

his eyes darkened at the sight of your glistening cunt, swollen and puffy from the way his cock had bullied it earlier.

he slid your panties down your legs before settling on his stomach between them. he gripped your thighs, spreading you further for him before he licked a slow, wet stripe from your hole to your clit. he groaned at your taste before latching his mouth around your clit and sucking.

your back arched off the bed, hand slapping over your mouth in an attempt to muffle the loud moan leaving your throat. your other hand slid into bucky’s hair, anchoring yourself as he devoured your pussy.

bucky groaned into your cunt, his hips grinding against the bed while he tongue fucked your hole. you whined, hips thrusting up to meet him, grinding your pussy against his face. his nose bumped your clit deliciously, bringing you closer to the edge.

“bucky- i’m-“ you managed to choke out before bucky doubled his efforts, latching his mouth around your clit once more and sliding a metal finger into you, pumping furiously. you gasped as you came, the wet sounds of your cunt and your sweet, breathy moans filling the room.

bucky continued his ministrations until you were squirming and pushing his head away. he brought his finger to his mouth, moaning as he licked your slick off of it. he leaned over you, cupping the back of your neck and bringing your lips to his in a filthy kiss. you could taste yourself on his tongue, the depravity making your thighs clench together.

you skated your fingers down his torso slowly, his muscles shuddering under your touch, until your hand was resting snugly against his bulge. you palmed him slowly, earning a low groan from bucky as his hips thrust into your hand. he pulled away from your mouth in a gasping breath, voice wobbly as he breathed, “y/n- i- fuck, i need to be inside you- please baby, please let me fuck you.”

you moaned and nodded, hands moving to frantically push his sweatpants down his legs. bucky stood for a moment, making quick work of them and his boxers, before slotting himself between your legs once more.

“i’m not sure i’ll be able to last too long, doll,” he admitted, a slightly sheepish smile on his face.

you grabbed his flesh hand, kissing his fingertips as you muttered, “i don’t mind. just wanna feel you inside me.”

bucky groaned, pumping his cock slowly as he stared at your pussy, “condom?”

you shook your head, “on the pill. want you bare.”

“you trying to kill me doll?” bucky groaned, his eyes meeting the coquettish smile on your face. he chuckled as he gripped your thighs and tugged you closer, slowly rubbing the shaft of his cock between the swollen lips of your cunt. you both moaned at the contact, your wet pussy covering him in your first release.

bucky notched the tip of his cock at your hole, slowly sliding in with a pop. he stilled, hands gripping your thighs, jaw going slack, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of your warm, tight walls wrapped around him.

you grabbed at his forearms, needing him closer. bucky understood, leaning over you and wrapping his arms around you tightly. he brought you close until you were pressing chest to chest, careful not to put too much of his weight on you. slowly, he thrust deeper, moaning with every inch, until he was fully buried in your pussy.

he began to thrust, your eyes rolling back at the feeling of his fat cock driving in and out of your sensitive cunt. you whined when he began to suck marks onto your neck, his thrusts picking up speed and his grip on you tightening.

“god, you feel so fucking good,” he growled in your ear, “pussy’s so fucking wet and tight. you gonna let me fill you up baby? gonna let me mark you from the inside too?”

his filthy words shocked you and went straight to your core. you moved your hand to your clit, rubbing frantically in time with his thrusts.

“please bucky,” you whined, “please fill me up, make me yours.”

the groan that spilled from bucky’s throat was pornographic as he buried himself fully in you, cock twitching and body tensing. you weren’t far behind him, pussy pulsing and hips writhing as he painted your walls.

he stayed buried in you as you caught your breaths, neither wanting to break the comfortable silence of the moment.

“that was a lot more than kissing practice,” you mumbled into bucky’s hair after a while, earning a loud laugh from bucky.

“think i’m gonna need some pretty regular tutoring sessions,” he said as he kissed your neck slowly, hissing a bit when your pussy clenched around his sensitive cock.

you tilted your head, exposing more of your skin to bucky as your eyes fluttered closed, “yeah, i think so too.”

bucky began to thrust again slowly, lifting his head to rest his forehead against yours, “mine huh?”

heat crept up your neck as you opened your mouth to respond.

“i like the sound of that,” bucky said, a possessive look in his eyes, “keep reminding me who you belong to while i fuck your sensitive little cunt again.”

[yvieliny]

In My Head

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sunshine reader is always seen as sweet and innocent to the team, always happy to use her healing magic wherever possible. Bucky, touch starved and in love, discovers reader is not as innocent as she seems.

Word count: 8.2k words <3

Plus size reader safe! All body types are safe in this fic! Everyone loves Dom! Bucky I do too but good god I need whipped Bucky who will do anything for Reader. This is the longest piece I’ve written in so long! Enjoy and leave a note<3 I’m in my marvel era again so feel free to request anyone! I didn't proof read (i finished it at 1am)

Tags: There is a plot! (porn with plot lol) AFAB reader, The smut is pure FILTH tbh, Smut, Pining Bucky, no use of Y/N.

Smut warnings: Sub!Bucky, soft dom! Reader, use of ‘Good boy’, Bucky has a praise kink, pussy eating (lots of it), Needy/touch starved Bucky, Bucky has an Edward Cullen moment, Oral (female/reader receiving— THREE times hehe) penetration, Buck likes his hair pulled, Bucky dry humps, Reader squirts (third oral sequence so skip that part if you wish) needy creampie.

There were things in the modern world that baffled Bucky, Bubble tea, new terms for prejudice ending in 'phobia', babies with Ipads in their faces. And you. The first time he laid eyes on you, you gave him a blindingly sweet smile, and held your hand out for him to shake. When he didn't take it you didn't judge him or look at him funny, you smiled like you understood. From then on, you respected his boundaries and he began to feel safe. It made sense to him that someone like you had the power to help and heal others.

You’d always bring them things; vitamins, water, those weird orange flavoured things that dissolve in water, something a little sugary for a boost, with that sweet, innocent smile he'd grown to adore. He would never- could never admit that though, someone like him wasn't worthy of you. He could settle for some longing and pining instead.

Bucky is lounging on the sofa with Steve, some 50s flick playing that Steve had insisted on, something about a painter in Paris- he wasn't sure. And then, you walk in, your sweet voice drifting into his ear.

“An American in Paris, huh?” you asked, gently teasing as you moved closer to the sofa, catching sight of the movie they were watching.

Bucky shifted a little, his gaze flickering to you, then quickly back to the TV. He tried not to look at you too much when you were around, not because he didn’t want to, but because every time he did, it felt like something in his chest tightened. It certainly didn’t help that it was a hot day today, you’d opted for a cute pink and white sundress that stopped mid thigh.

“Yeah, Steve’s choice,” Bucky muttered, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out a little softer than he intended. He knew that you liked these kinds of old movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

Steve grinned from the other end of the couch, catching the subtle shift in Bucky’s tone, but not saying anything about it. Instead, he glanced up at you with a friendly smile.

“You a fan of the classics too?” Steve asked, gesturing for you to sit if you wanted to join them.

You walked over, the scent of your shampoo reaching Bucky’s senses. Vanilla and coconut, coincidentally his favourite fragrance, something that had changed not long after he’d met you… coincidentally of course, and the more you lingered around, the harder it became for him to focus on anything but you.

“Reminds me of my dad. Some are super sexist but I’m a sucker for Marilyn Monroe” you said, sitting down at the edge of the couch, right next to Bucky. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you, but still with enough space to respect his boundaries. You always seemed to know exactly how to balance that, without even trying. It amazed him.

Bucky felt his pulse quicken as you sat beside him. You were so close. Too close. Not close enough.

He grunted in agreement with your statement, nodding, though his eyes stayed fixed on the screen. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you—he just didn’t know how. What could he say that wouldn’t make him seem awkward or broken? Besides, talking might make him reveal just how badly he wanted to be near you, and he couldn’t afford that.

But then you spoke again, your voice soft and gentle, like you were speaking just to him. “How was training today?”

He cleared his throat, trying to push away the thoughts clouding his mind. “Same as always. Steve still hits like a truck.”

Steve laughed from the other side, “You’re the one with the metal arm, Buck.”

Bucky shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. Just a distraction. He was grateful for it.

You laughed too, and that sound—it was like a melody that settled right under Bucky’s skin, making him feel warm in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He stole a glance at you again, just for a second, and you were looking right at him. That smile on your face, the one that had been seared into his memory from the moment you’d met.

“Let me guess,” you said, eyes twinkling, “you didn’t let him win this time either?”

Bucky’s lips twitched, almost into a smile, but he stopped himself. “Nope.”

“Good,” you replied, your voice soft again, almost as if you were relieved. “Can’t let Cap off easy.”

It was such a simple thing to say, but it hit Bucky harder than he’d expected. You cared. Not just in the way you handed out snacks and drinks after training or smiled when they passed by, but genuinely cared. For him. For Steve. And maybe, just maybe, that meant you’d be willing to see something more in him than he saw in himself.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but it was thick with unspoken words. Bucky could feel it. He wanted to reach out, say something—anything—but the words lodged themselves in his throat, like they always did when it came to you.

For a moment, Bucky let himself wonder what it would be like—if he could let himself believe he was worthy of you. Of someone so full of light and warmth, when all he felt was the shadows of his past.

But then the doubt crept back in, and he looked away again. He couldn’t let himself get too close. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could manage without giving too much away.

You didn’t push him, though. You never did. You just smiled again and settled into the couch beside him, watching the movie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And for a fleeting moment, Bucky let himself pretend that it was.

The training room echoes with the sharp sound of fists hitting metal, the rhythmic thud of boots against the mat, and the occasional grunt of exertion. Bucky and Steve were sparring again; the same routine they'd run through countless times. It usually helped Bucky clear his mind, focus his energy on something physical, something he could control. But today, it was different.

“Come on, Buck, focus,” Steve says as he circles around, hands up and ready. His movements were fluid, precise. He was always like that—disciplined, unshakable. Bucky was too, usually. But not today.

His thoughts kept drifting, unbidden, back to you.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how close you had been on the couch last night, the way your voice had softened when you’d spoken to him, like you saw something in him that no one else did. That smile. It was haunting him in the best way.

As if to taunt him farther, his mind flashes with the image of you in your sundress, the way it swayed around the soft skin of your thighs.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice cut through his reverie, but not fast enough.

Distracted, Bucky moves just a second too late. He swings wide, and Steve, quicker than ever, ducked under his arm and swept his legs out from under him. Before Bucky could react, he hit the mat hard, air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp.

“Damn it,” Bucky growles, more at himself than at Steve. He stays on the floor for a moment, trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He shouldn’t be getting distracted like this. Not during a sparring session. Not ever.

Steve stands over him, offering a hand, his brow furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grumbles, accepting the hand and letting Steve pull him back to his feet. His ribs ache from the fall, but it wasn’t anything serious. It was more the embarrassment that stung. Bucky didn’t like feeling off his game, and lately, thinking about you was doing just that.

“You weren’t focused,” Steve says, stepping back into position. It wasn’t a question.

Bucky wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking out his arms as if that could somehow reset his mind. “I’m fine. Let’s go again.”

Steve hesitates for a second, then nods, getting back into stance. He could tell something was on Bucky’s mind, but he wasn’t going to push. At least, not right now. Steve knew when to back off, and when to press—though Bucky had a feeling that conversation would come soon enough.

They start again, trading punches and dodges, but Bucky couldn’t shake the lingering thoughts of you. The way you made him feel—safe, seen. The way you’d praise him. God… the way you’d tell him he did a good job after training or a mission,

Just for a second, his mind drifts again— Your pretty eyes, the way they’d look at him like he was something amazing, the smile you’d give him and then he wonders what your face would look like as he dives down deep between your thighs-

Steve’s fist came in fast, and though Bucky manages to block it, he doesn’t account for the follow-up. Steve's knee connects with his side, hitting just below his ribs with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

Bucky staggers back, holding his side with a grimace.

“Whoa, Buck!” Steve stops immediately, hands out in concern. “You good?”

Bucky clenches his jaw, nodding, though his side throbbed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not fine,” Steve replies, taking a step forward, but Bucky waves him off, frustrated with himself more than anything.

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky snaps, turning away for a moment to catch his breath. He hates this. Hates how easily you get into his head, how much he let himself think about you when he was supposed to be focused. It wasn’t like him to get distracted, especially not in a fight.

Steve gives him a long, knowing look. He wasn’t pushing the subject yet, but Bucky could see it in his eyes—Steve had noticed something. And knowing Steve, it wouldn’t be long before he asked about it.

Steve lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “You need to go get that checked out.” He motions to the cut on Bucky’s cheek and his ribs.

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky mutters.

Steve doesn’t budge. “Buck, if you don’t get that cleaned up, it’s going to get worse. You’re already bruised, and that cut—” He gestured to Bucky’s face. “—needs to be looked at.”

Bucky was about to argue again when Steve adds, with a pointed look, “Go see her.”

He blinks, his heart suddenly beating faster in his chest. “What?”

“Go see her,” Steve repeats, his voice calm but insistent. “You know she can patch you up. She always does.”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. You always did take care of them after training, offering vitamin drinks or snacks, your touch gentle and your presence calming.

“I don’t need—” Bucky begins, but Steve cuts him off with a significant look.

“Buck, you’re hurt. Let her help you. Besides, we both know she’d want to,” Steve says, his tone softening as he rests a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She cares, man. And you’re not doing yourself any favours by pretending you don’t need her.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his chest tight with a mix of frustration and something else he couldn’t quite name. The truth was, he did want to go to you.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky nods, finally relenting. “Fine.”

Steve smiles, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go get cleaned up. I’ll finish up here.”

Bucky hesitates for a second before turning to leave the training room, his side still aching from the hit.

All he knew was that when he saw you, when you smiled at him with that gentle, understanding look in your eyes, it was going to make it that much harder to keep pretending he didn’t feel anything.

Bucky’s footsteps echo softly through the hall as he makes his way to the infirmary. When he reaches the infirmary door, he gives a soft knock before stepping inside.

You’re there, sitting at your desk with one thigh crossed elegantly over the other, your attention focused on some paperwork in front of you. You’re dressed in your usual professional attire—a fitted dress that hugs your form just enough to hint at your curves beneath your white lab coat. The subtle click of your black heels against the floor when you shift is a small, but noticeable, sound that makes Bucky's heart beat a little faster.

You look up when you hear him enter, that sweet, welcoming smile appearing almost instantly. “Bucky,” you greet warmly, your voice soft. “What brings you in? Did you and Steve go a little too hard today?”

For a second, Bucky just stands there, distracted by how you look. His heart skips a beat as he takes in the sight of you. He notices, maybe for the first time, how the hem of your dress rides up slightly when you cross your legs. He forces himself to look away before you catch him staring.

“Uh, yeah,” he mutters, gesturing vaguely to the cut on his face. “Just a cut… and maybe some bruised ribs.”

You arch an eyebrow, your smile turning a little coy. “Only maybe bruised ribs? Sounds like you need me to take a closer look.”

Bucky blinks, heat creeping up his neck as he tries to decide whether he’s imagining the playful tone in your voice or if it’s actually there. He clears his throat. “Yeah… probably.”

With that, you uncross your legs and stand up, heels clicking softly against the tile floor as you walk over to him. Your movements are graceful, confident, and Bucky feels his pulse quicken as you draw closer. There’s something about the way you carry yourself today—calm, collected, but with an air of subtle suggestion that makes him feel off balance.

You stand just inches away from him, reaching up to gently tilt his chin up so you can inspect the cut above his eyebrow. Your fingers are cool against his sweaty skin, and Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

“It’s not deep,” you murmur “But it’s a little more than a scratch. Seems like you need my magic touch~” you wiggle your fingers and Bucky bites back a groan at the subtle implication.

Before Bucky can respond, you place your hand gently over the wound, and he feels a soft, warm tingling sensation spread across his skin. Your healing powers are subtle but effective, and within seconds, the pain is gone, the cut already closing up beneath your touch. He’s experienced your abilities before, but every time he feels a spark from your touch, it’s a simple move but he craves more.

“There we go,” you say softly, removing your hand from his face. Your fingers linger a little longer than usual, trailing down his jaw ever so slightly before you step back, your eyes locking with his for a brief moment.

Bucky swallows hard, trying to shake off the heat rising in his chest. He’s probably imagining it—just reading too much into things. You’re always sweet, always kind and innocent.

Your gaze drops to his side, and you gently brush your hand over his ribs. “Lift your shirt for me?” you ask, your voice light but carrying a tone of suggestion that makes Bucky’s heart skip a beat.

He hesitates for a second, then does as you ask, pulling up his shirt to reveal the dark bruise spreading along his ribs. You make a soft sound of sympathy, a small pout forming on your lips as your pretty eyes lock with his for a moment. You look back down, your fingers grazing his skin as you crouch slightly to get a closer look.

“You really got hit hard,” you murmur, your tone carrying a note of concern but it switches up subtly as you carry on: “Good thing I can take care of you.”

Bucky’s breath hitches. Did he hear that right? Is there something more in your words? You were just talking about the injury right? The way you said it, the way you moved—it feels almost sinful in a way he’s not used to, at least not from you. He tries to keep his focus, but with you this close, your fingers trailing lightly over his bruised skin, it’s damn near impossible.

You place your hand gently over his ribs, your touch soft but firm as you close your eyes for a moment, focusing on healing the injury. Bucky feels the familiar warmth of your powers again, spreading through his body like a gentle wave. The pain begins to melt away, the bruise slowly fading beneath your hand.

“There,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “All better.”

But your hand doesn’t move right away. Instead, it lingers on his ribs for a second too long, your fingertips brushing the edge of his abdomen in a way that makes his breath catch. Then, just as he’s about to say something—anything—you pull away, turning to your desk, palms flat and bending as if you’re looking for something. Bucky’s mind flashes to pulling up your dress and fucking you senseless then and there, his metal hand clenches and he shakes the thought away.

Bucky exhales slowly, trying to calm the sudden storm in his chest. He has to be imagining it, right? You’re just being your usual caring self- but that touch felt different. Everything you’re doing feels different. More intentional. And the way you’d looked at him just now—

He notices you didn’t actually pick anything up from the desk after you’d bent over it a little.

“Alright, just one last check,” you say as you come back to stand in front of him, a small, almost playful smile on your lips. “Let me make sure everything else is fine.” You reach up, your hand lightly brushing against his neck as if you’re checking for tension or soreness. But then, your fingers linger—soft and warm against his skin, trailing slowly down to his collarbone. The touch is innocent enough, but there’s something in the way you do it that makes Bucky’s entire body tense.

You meet his eyes, your expression still sweet and professional, but there’s a hint of something more—something almost teasing in the way you hold his gaze. “Hmm, seems like you’re all healed up,” you murmur, your voice soft but suggestive in a way that makes his pulse race.

Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly dry as he stares at you. For a moment, he can’t move, can’t speak—stuck between the need to figure out if what he’s feeling is real or just in his head. He tries to convince himself it’s all innocent, but the way your hand lingers on his neck, the way your eyes flicker to his lips for the briefest of moments… it leaves him wondering if you aren’t quite as innocent as he thought.

You finally step back, that same sweet smile on your face as if nothing happened. “Take it easy, alright? Don’t push yourself too hard next time.”

Bucky nods, his voice hoarse when he finally speaks. “Yeah… thanks.”

You tilt your head, your smile widening just a little. “Anytime.” You sit down on your chair again, crossing one thigh over the other, it seemed deliberate.

You rest a pencil on your lower lip, teeth grazing it just slightly, pretty eyes on him. Bucky draws in a breath and feels a problem growing between his legs. He spins around to the door, hoping you don’t notice.

As Bucky begins leave you call out once more: “Let me know if you need me Bucky~ you can always come to me”

As Bucky leaves the infirmary, his mind spins. He came in with injuries, but now he has a different kind of problem, he attempts to calm down, the hardness in his pants making it hard to think. Something has shifted between you two, and whether it’s real or just in his imagination, Bucky can’t help but think back to it all. Did you want him too?

That night, Bucky stares at his ceiling, mind flashing back to you at your desk. Why didn’t you pick anything up? Did you forget what you were looking for? The look in your eyes told him you must’ve known what was going through his head.

He groans and pushes his face into his pillow, he thinks back to something that had happened a few days ago. You were giving out some sort of vitamin pill to everyone, when you’d leaned in, lips near his ear as you whispered:

“I saved you the last cherry flavoured one, don’t tell anyone” before winking slightly.

He shivers at the memory; he could smell every inch of you when you leaned in.

He grunts and pushes his face farther into the pillow. Why did you always save the good things for him? Was it on purpose? Whenever you baked you’d give him first pick- he thought you were just being nice, the sweet girl they all know. But the more he thinks about you the more he notices those little things.

Before he had even registered what he was doing, he was standing and making his way to your rooms. You did say he could always come to you. Bucky freezes outside the door when he realises where he was and what he was doing. Was he crazy? How could he come up with an excuse for being at your door at eleven at night? Before he can change his mind and turn around your door opens. There you stood wearing nothing but a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top- with no bra.

Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat as his gaze locks on you. The soft glow of your bedside lamp spills over your frame, highlighting the way your sleep shorts hug your hips and your tank top clings to your chest. His mouth goes dry.

You blink at him. “Bucky?” your voice is soft, a hint of curiosity laced in your tone. “Is everything okay? F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you were stood outside my door.

For a moment, all he can do is stare. He knows he should say something, anything, but his mind is scrambling for an excuse—an explanation for why he’s standing at your door in the middle of the night. His thoughts drift back to your touch earlier, the brush of your hand on his neck, and the memory of your lips near his ear just days ago.

You tilt your head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, and Bucky swears there’s something teasing in your expression. You step aside, opening the door wider as if you’re inviting him in. “You didn’t have to knock, you know,” you say with that same sweetness. “You can always come to me.”

His heart pounds in his chest, loud enough that he wonders if you can hear it. He swallows, trying to push down the tension, but something in your eyes—something about the way you're looking at him—has his feet moving before his brain catches up.

He steps over the threshold.

Bucky steps inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The room is dim, and the soft scent of your perfume lingers in the air, teasing his senses. He watches you as you turn back toward him, your smile still warm, still innocent—at least on the surface.

“So…” you say, your voice soft as you walk a little closer to him, “What brings you here so late, Bucky?” There’s a hint of playfulness in your tone, like you already know the answer but want to hear him say it.

He shifts awkwardly, his eyes darting away from yours. “I… uh, I couldn’t sleep.” His voice comes out rougher than he intended.

“We both know my healing powers can’t help you sleep Bucky. So what’s up with you coming to see lil’. ol’. Me.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but no words come out. His mind is racing—unsure if you're playing a game or if he’s just reading too much into it. His eyes flick down to your tank top, the way it clings to you, the coolness from the hallway had made hard peaks appear on your chest he then glances back to your face. You’re watching him carefully, that same playful glint in your eyes.

You tilt your head slightly, voice soft but teasing. “You’ve been thinking a lot lately, haven’t you?” Your fingers brush lightly against his arm, sending a shiver through him. “About me?”

Bucky feels his pulse quicken. He’s certain now—there’s no way he’s imagining it.

“I—” He swallows hard, trying to find the right words. But before he can, you step even closer, your body inches from his now, your hand lingering on his arm.

“You think I didn’t notice?” You ask sweetly

Bucky’s breath hitches as your words sink in, and his chest tightens, the space between you suddenly feeling far too small. His mind is racing, but his body is rooted in place, drawn to you in a way he can’t explain. He tries to speak, to form some kind of coherent response, but his voice fails him.

“You think I didn’t notice?” you ask again, your voice low, sweet, but with a teasing edge that makes Bucky’s heart race. Your hand is still resting lightly on his arm, your touch burning through his skin despite the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of your body is so close now, and Bucky is overwhelmed by the scent of you—intoxicating, pulling him deeper into the moment. He can feel himself grow hard at the simple touch, he want’s your hands all over him. He just needs to feel you touch him.

He stares down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the way your lips curve into that soft, knowing smile. You tilt your head up slightly, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of you, standing impossibly close, the air between you thick with tension.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, but Bucky hears every word. “I notice where your eyes go when I wear a skirt or dress, if I bend over or wear anything even remotely low cut.”

He swallows hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. He wants to say something, to explain himself, to apologize, but he can’t—because the truth is, you’re right. He has been looking at you, watching you, craving your presence without ever fully admitting it to himself.

You shift even closer, your chest almost brushing against his, and Bucky’s breath catches as your fingers slowly trail up his arm, lingering at his shoulder. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep control of himself. The way you’re looking at him, your lips parted slightly, your eyes holding his like they’re daring him to make the next move…

He’s losing it.

“You don’t have to hide it,” you whisper, your voice laced with that same soft, teasing edge. Your hand moves up to his neck now, your fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just below his jaw. “You can tell me what you want, Bucky…”

He whines.

Before the embarrassment can hit him you let out a low groan at the sound. “Fuck…”

Bucky’s breath comes out in a shudder, his self-control hanging by a thread. He feels the warmth of your hand against his neck, the way your touch lingers just a second too long, and it sends a wave of heat rushing through him.

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already moving, closing the last bit of space between you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and Bucky’s resolve crumbles. He can’t hold back anymore.

His hand reaches out almost instinctively, fingers gently curling around your waist, pulling you closer. He leans down, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches from your lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You…” His voice is low, strained, as if he’s barely holding on. “You’re driving me crazy, doll.”

You smile, and the look in your eyes—soft, teasing, and just a little wicked—sends him over the edge.

Bucky leans to close the gap but your finger presses against his lips. A frown forms on his face, and then you speak.

“ah ah ah” you shake your head “we ask for what we want”

Bucky mentally scolds himself for not asking, he was in the moment.

“May I kiss you?” he asks.

“Say please” there was an unexpected dominance to your tone, completely wiping out the innocence.

Oh fuck.

Bucky feels himself grow harder at the tone. He’s momentarily stunned. Your pretty eyes are on him, feigning innocence but there’s something sinful hiding in them. His beautiful blue eyes look down at you, filled with need.

“Please?”

You let out a moan at the word, your body heating up, your core dampens your shorts.

“Fuck… Bucky…” You say breathily before you pull him down a little to reach your height and kiss him. It’s gentle, as though you’re teasing him, giving him a glimpse to what he can have. He just needs to ask politely.

“Doll… please… I…” He struggles to get his words out, brain fogged over from all the sensations hitting him at once. You run your hands along his abs and he whines again. The whine shoots straight through you. Bucky Barnes, the worlds most accomplished assassin is whining for you.

“Please what? Good boys use their words.” You say in a sinfully soft voice that sends a shiver down his spine.

“I need… more… please” He whispers your name at the end and you hum, satisfied. You grasp his hand and it feels so good to him. Too good. He follows you as you pull him towards the bed.

“Sit there. Lean against the headboard” you hum and he immediately does as he’s told. Sure, he was a super solider who could overpower you in a second, you were both aware. But you were both also aware that he didn’t want that. He needed you to guide him.

You plant yourself in his lap, straddling him, before letting out a soft hum as you feel his hardness push against your core over your sleep shorts. Bucky lets out a moan at the contact but you’re quick to swallow it with a deep, heated kiss. His hands claw at your hips and you gasp slightly as the metal of his hand touches your skin. He’s quick to pull it away but you’re quicker, gripping his wrist and shaking your head, guiding it back in place.

You continue the kiss, before taking his lower lip in between your teeth. You open your eyes to see his blue ones are locked onto your own in what can only be described as the hottest, neediest way, his pupils dilated. You lick over his lip before your hand snakes around the back of his neck and up to his hair. You gently tug, its light, testing the waters and his lips part, head nodding. You pull his hair back a little harsher and he moans. You laugh, the sound dark and sinful in Bucky’s ears.

Your lips kiss his earlobe. “You like your hair pulled? Dirty boy~”

He moans again and nods, hands gripping your hips a little harder, pulling you down to grind on him. You make a ‘tsk’ sound and he freezes, quickly remembering your rule.

You get off him and he groans at the loss of contact, his needy eyes falling onto you. You slowly pull down your shorts, revealing your core to him. His breathing quickens, cock twitching and straining against his sweatpants.

“Take your clothes off, honey” your sultry voice fills his ears and he does so immediately, stripping off his shirt first, exposing the honey toned abs with numerous scars here and there. He is beautiful and you let it show on your face. He drags down his sweatpants leaving him in his grey boxers. There’s a dark damp spot on them from his arousal, pre-cum weeping through from the tip. You make a gesture for him to keep going and he obliges, dragging the boxers down. He stands there, glorious cock hard against his abdomen, looking at you, waiting for your next command.

“What do you want? You just need to ask” You inquire, goading him to tell you.

He swallows, looking down at your dripping core and then back to his cock. You fully expect him to ask to fuck you based on his expression, but he shocks you.

“Can I taste you please?”

Your eyes widen briefly, stunned at his choice.

“I’m sorry— if you don’t want—“ He begins to speak but you cut him off with a finger to your lips and standing up. You slowly peel off your shorts, leaning against the wall.

“You asked me so nicely.” You beckon him and the speed in which he’s on his knees in front of you has your legs weak. His hands skim over your thighs, leaving Goosebumps in their wake. “Is this what you want?”

Bucky looks up at you with desperate eyes, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Yes, please” His voice is hoarse.

“You wanna make me feel good?” You coo.

Bucky groans, his hands gripping your thighs a little. “More than anything” He confirms.

You nod, giving your permission and he settles in between your thighs. He grasps your ass, pulling you up so your legs are over his shoulders, his head cradled by your thighs. You’re momentarily stunned, briefly forgetting he’s a super soldier with insane strength. The thought goes right to your core. Your back is against the wall, his hands still firm on your ass, keeping you in place. Bucky’s breath ghosts across your core before he looks up at you. The sight was nearly enough to make you come. With a firm squeeze on your ass, he dives in, licking a stripe up your lips, making you gasp and weave your fingers through his hair. He groans and begins to lap at your clit like a man starved. He occasionally moans and groans, letting you know how much he’s enjoying being between your legs.

“Bucky— oh my god” You moan out. This only drives him more, he focuses his tongue on your bundle of nerves and you see stars.

He is good at this.

Really fucking good.

Too good?

It doesn’t take you long to come at all, you grasp his hair tighter, thighs squeezing around his head in a way that makes his cock twitch against his abdomen. He rides you through your orgasm until you’re squirming and too sensitive.

He pulls back, holding you up still, and looks into your eyes. The lower part of his face is sinfully wet, he gives you a charming smile, eyes still betraying his neediness.

“You did so well… so good for me…” You breathe out and a strangled noise escapes him.

A praise kink.

“You did so so good for me Bucky~ You deserve a reward” You coo, getting off his shoulders and standing up. You tilt his head up with your finger. “You want a reward baby?”

Bucky lets out a breathy noise and nods.

“What do you want? I’ll give you whatever you want”

Bucky Looks up at you, standing up. He shocked you again.

“Please doll… sit on my face… if… you want…” He adds the last part, unsure. All he knows is that being in between your thighs, hearing you, feeling you, giving you pleasure is all he wants right now.

You bite back a groan and nod, watching him scramble to the bed, laying on his back. He’s gloriously naked, thick cock incredibly hard and standing to attention. You crawl up his body, making sure to brush up against his length to hear those delicious whines from him. His hips buck a few times against you and then you’re settled just above his face. You look down at him and he looks ravenous— His desperate eyes flicking from your core to your face. His hands keep flexing as he struggles, wanting nothing more than to pull you down onto his face and hold you there until he can’t breathe.

“You can touch me Buck” you say softly and his hands hesitantly settle on your hips. He pauses before it eventually becomes too much and pulls you down onto his face, groaning at the impact. You don’t move much, assuming he wants to take the lead when he speaks, muffled against your core.

You giggle and look at him innocently. “Sorry honey what was that? I can’t understand you~”

His eyes grow even more needy, looking up at you. He speaks, muffled again before he decided to lift you up just enough to speak.

“Move— please. Grind on my face. Use me to come please”

How could you say no to such a beautiful request?

You settle back down and rock your hips. His tongue moves with the same finesse and you can’t help but wonder if he’s tired. He doesn’t look tired. You move his arms so he’s holding them up and you entwine your fingers, using his arms to keep you upright, moving against him. His eyes are fluttering shut in pleasure and you groan. You make quick work of your shirt, leaving you both naked now.

“Eyes open Bucky~ I thought you wanted to see what you do to me?~” You tease.

His eyes shoot open again, pupils dilated, his eyes more black than blue now.

“Good~ So good to me” You breathe out and he moans against you, making you gasp and your hips stutter. You grip his hands tighter. His pretty eyes are begging you to come and you do, thighs once again squeezing around his head, making him feel dizzy. Your hips are bucking against his face not even thinking about his breathing— but that isn’t on Bucky’s mind either. You ride out your orgasm and get off him, falling on your back, breathing erratic.

Bucky lays there with the lower half of his face wet, stubble and all. His breathing is erratic and his cock is painfully hard against his abdomen.

“Holy shit Bucky” You huff out and a hoarse moan leaves his mouth.

He slots himself between your legs, kissing your shoulder, slowly moving down your body until he’s at your hip, kissing it softly.

“You are so beautiful doll” His eyes are sincere and your cheeks feel hot at the compliment. “One more time? Please?” He asks, eyes pleading.

Sweet mother of Jesus.

“You want— you seriously— you want to eat me out again?” Your eyes are wide.

Bucky nods, nuzzling and kissing your thigh before focusing on your face again. “And to fuck you with my fingers if that’s alright with you doll?”

Sweet. Mother. Of. Jesus.

Your brain short circuits for a moment at the words leaving his mouth and you mindlessly nod, your gaze heated and intense.

He runs a finger along your dripping core and he moans. Was he really getting this much pleasure? You hadn’t even touched him at all. He teases your entrance before sinking a finger in softly. He hisses at how tight it is, his cock twitching. You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling, instinctively reaching for his hair. Bucky peppers kisses on your thighs before he begins pumping his finger.

It’s not enough.

“More” You demand, gripping his hair. Bucky is happy to oblige, pushing a second finger in, your toes curling. “oh god yes”

Bucky begins to curl his fingers, brushing up against your sweet spot as he increases his pace a fraction and you cry out.

“Am I doing good?” His husky voice asks, desperate for praise.

“So good baby, so fucking good. You’re so good to me” You moan out and he snaps, thrusting his fingers into you with a little more force and latching his mouth onto your clit. You’re so sensitive at this point you let out a whine, your words not coherent. You didn’t even know it was possible to come this many times before being fucked. The coil in your stomach feels more intense than you have ever felt before, you tighten around his fingers and before you could warn him, he pulls away, watching the liquid squirt from you in awe. You, on the other hand are glassy eyed and trembling afterwards.

Bucky gives you a few minutes to settle before he brings himself back up to your face, you pull him in for a messy kiss. His cock is settled on your thigh, Bucky whines into the kiss and you can feel him jutting against it. You grasp his chin as he kisses you, feeling his length as he desperately claims whatever friction he can get.

Bucky is surprised at himself. There has never been a time in his life where he has felt the need to dry hump a woman. But you have the best ways of bringing new feelings and actions out of him.

“Please” He says softly.

“Oh you’re so worked up honey. After doing such a good job. Take what you want Bucky” you coo, stroking his cheek and he leans into it before settling his hips between your legs.

“Can I… are you okay if I…” He begins and you nod.

“You’ve more than earned it” You rake your hands through his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

In an attempt to ground himself, He places his hands on your headboard, letting you guide his cock into place. He pushes in and groans, immediately shattering the headboard where his hands were.

Oh lord.

You squeeze around him and let out a breathy, aroused giggle. Bucky on the other hand looks mortified.

“Oh my god doll I am so sorry—“ He goes to pull out of you but you grasp his arms and shake your head. He doesn’t take much convincing before he pushes into you fully. He’s panting and rests his forehead on yours. Even with the fingers stretching you earlier, you need to adjust. The super solider cock is no joke.

You moan encouragingly in his ear and he pulls back softly before pushing back in. Your eyes flutter and Bucky has his trained solely on you and your reactions.

“Am I hurting you, doll?” He asks, breathily, stopping his motions.

You shake your head immediately. “Please don’t stop”

He keeps his strength in check, bracing on the half broken headboard again, his hands slotting into the Bucky sized hand holes in them. He uses a leisurely pace that does hit the spot, but it’s not quite enough. You could tell he was holding back for your sake but you needed to see just how much he needed you.

“Harder Bucky~ Fuck. I can take it— please”

The headboard crushes even more at your words, your legs were wound around his hips, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your neck as he desperately thrusts into you. It’s hard and fast, a string of moans and curses leaving your mouth as you can’t move in his grip, all you can do is take it. You’re seeing stars now, as Bucky is whining and muttering praises in your ear.

“You feel so good doll”

“I would do this forever… beautiful beautiful girl”

And lastly:

“Oh god thank you” He repeats the phrase a few times and your head spins.

He’s fucking thanking you.

You manage to moan out a few praises that are punctuated by his sharp needy thrusts. He pulls his face away from his neck when he’s close. You can see it on his face, begging you to come first. He slips his metal hand down to your clit, stroking the already sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes widen at the coolness against it.

“Please come” He moans and it doesn’t take you long to oblige his plea, the metal hand on your clit, the whines from Bucky and his cock hitting you deep pushes you over the edge and you come, clenching him hard.

“You’re so beautiful” He says in awe. “Please can I come— please doll” Bucky’s thrusts are faltering.

“fill me up Bucky~” You moan and that’s all it takes, his thrusts become harder, your body jolting from the force, you’ll feel this in your hips in the morning. You could always heal it away. But you probably won’t. You place a hand over his neck holding it loosely, your other hand raking through his hair.

Bucky thrusts into you hard and deep, with hoarse moans of thank you as he comes inside you, filling you up. He simply stays inside you after, his body moving with his deep ragged breaths before he collapses on top of you, making sure to use some strength to stop him crushing you. You stroke his hair, muttering soft praises.

He rolls off you, his honey toned skin covered in a sheen of sweat that made him look godly. Your legs are jelly; you aren’t even sure you can use them for the next few days. Bucky stands and walks to your bathroom, giving you the perfect view of his sculpted ass and returns a few moments later with a warm wet cloth to clean you up with.

When the both of you are cleaned up, Bucky begins to wipe away the crushed pieces of headboard from your bed sheepishly.

“Sorry doll” He says quietly.

“It’s okay” You assure. “It was hot. Made me feel like Bella Swan” You joke.

Bucky looks at you, not understanding the reference.

“From Twi… never mind” You hum, helping to brush off the little pieces of wood. He lays back down and pulls you into his arms.

“Doll… I… I have never felt like that before. What did you do to me? I am under a spell when it comes to you.”

You yawn and let out a sleepy laugh. “You’re telling me. I don’t think I could sleep with a regular dude again after that”

It’s not long until exhaustion rushes through you. Super solider stamina is no joke. You drift off, head on his chest. Bucky watches the soft rise and fall of your chest, your soft snores filling the room.

And for the first time in what feels like forever; Bucky has a deep, dreamless sleep. His nightmares paused as he slumbers beside your soft, warm body.

It’s late when Bucky wakes up. Your side of the bed is cold. He glances at the clock on his phone, reading 11:07am, and a text from you, timestamped two hours ago:

‘Morning sleepy head. I didn’t wanna wake you. You looked too comfortable ;)’

He smiles at the text and looks for his clothes, only to find you must have taken a trip to his room to grab some fresh clothes. There is a towel on a chair with a new set of clean clothes and a pair of boxers.

When he’s all cleaned up and dressed he makes his way to the kitchen. You’re talking to Wanda, Steve and Sam.

“Bucky good morning!” Your sweet voice drifts over to him. “You slept in late. Are you feeling okay? Late night?” It’s an innocent question, no one bats an eyelash at it. You’re the healer of the team, and you’re concerned. But Bucky bites back a groan at the implications they both know is behind the sweet words.

Before Bucky can respond, Tony walks in.

“Hey Hippocrates” Tony calls out to you. “Why did F.R.I.D.A.Y tell me you needed a new headboard for your bed?

Oops.

-END-

[yvieliny]

kento nanami is a virgin. there's no doubt about it. at twenty-six, his entire life has been focused on work. first it was schoolwork, then it was office work, and finally sorcery.

he didn't have time for silly relationships, if he was horny he just jerked off and left it at that. but, oh, when he met you. it was the beginning of his downfall.

before you, he was jerking off maybe twice a month? but now.. god, it's everyday. more than once a day, really.

he pathetically pulls up your social media, the only picture of your face is your profile picture, which he stares at while stroking himself and imagining himself doing things to you he'd never admit out loud.

he feels like a total pervert afterwards, unable to look at you the next morning. and that's only the beginning of his twisted thoughts.

he gets a glimpse of the panties you're wearing when you bend over? he goes to the store to buy a pair himself, just to look at and hold.

you drop your pen without realizing? he stuffs it in his pocket and saves it for later, licking the plastic.

when he finally has the courage to ask you out for drinks? he memorizes your order to get one after you leave, so he knows what you would've tasted like just a few minutes ago.

he finds himself watching porn for the first time, he's never been into it, but there's one model that reminds him enough of you to make him hard.

kento nanami is a pervert. and he won't be a virgin for long, not when you've been partnered with him for a mission overnight.

not when there's only one room, and one bed. it was a mistake, really. his bad.

[yvieliny]

Video Game Lover - G.S.

Synopsis. Suguru Geto, the resident nerd who “helps” you with your homework. Tall, gloomy, mean, and- and an alpha? And he’s in rut?!

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, alpha! nerd! Geto, ruts, OMÉGAVERSE AU, pánty-sniffer Geto, he goes FÉRAL, MEAN Geto, headIocks, slightly bímbo! reader, dúmbifícation, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, MANHANDLlNG, Geto with glasses + tattoos, overstím, knots, first times (Geto), pússydrunk Geto, MATÍNG BÍTES, oraI (f + m), p talking, spítting, praise, he’s POSSESSIVE, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.8k

A/N. Hope you have a lovely week <3

“Please, Sugu—?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you keep my panties?”

And that makes Geto shudder, breath hitching into something dangerously husky as he pushes his thick glasses further up his nose bridge. Greedy gaze darting anywhere but where you were oh-so-vulgarly leaning towards him. “Tch- as if I’d ever…”

With a grin, you shift to show him a flash of cherry pink peeking out from underneath that sinfully short skirt of yours.

Purposefully. 

He was gone. 

“F-fine.” He’s gulping, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’d goaded the ill-tempered campus genius, Geto Suguru, into doing your- ah, “helping” you with your homework. “But-”

Before Geto can ramble away the usual lecture about something called “academic integrity”, you’re jumping up and tackling his towering frame into a hug. Pressing the curves of your tits into his Digimon t-shirt - just as a little treat - and flouncing excitedly back to your friends. 

But what you didn’t notice is the way that makes Geto stiffen.

His tummy lurching, nose raising into the air- 

Oh.

You smelled so sweet. 

Geto’s spit-slicked lips part open to steal a sharp gasp of the sweltering lecture hall air- it couldn’t be. And his bleary irises can’t even focus, can’t lock on anything but the figure of you mere feet away. 

…Could it?

With a slight tilt of your head, you’re staring back at him - and something…carnal pangs through his suddenly-boiling veins.

Then you smirk- and Geto twitches.

Fuck.

He would’ve crashed onto his knees right then and there if it wasn’t for the way that you proceed to dig through your cute, useless bag - still in the middle of a conversation with your friends - and throw something flimsy and pale pink at him.

No shame. No regrets.

None for either of you; but especially not Geto once his strong palms reach out to urgently scramble for the shred of gauzy fabric in midair. 

Tangling the stringy satin between thick, ringed fingerpads, he’s sinking his face into its sugarcoated scent before sinking into the realization that you’d had the audacity to throw your fucking panties at him in the middle of a bustling seminar. 

Yet, he was even worse - jaw slackening, broad chest heaving with rasping ahs! as he drinks in loooong repeated puffs of your pheromones. Coating his brain in melty molasses of sugar and spice and you. 

There was a reason you were the most sought-after omega on the entire campus. With your filthy skin-tight outfits, and your flirty smiles. 

And him? He couldn’t get enough.

Smearing away a sloppy splotch of saliva spilling from the corner of his mouth- when had he even started drooling? Geto watches through watery peripherals as you mouth a smug “an advance” at him, and saunter out of the class in your tightly-knit group.

Too tightly-knit, if you asked Geto. Dead-on stare narrowing, he catches the way one of your so-called friends brush away an invisible piece of lint from your shoulder. 

Just barely. His head snapping towards Geto when the latter growls-

Oh.

Oh, fuck. 

He was fucked.

.

.

.

Listen, it’s not as if you make Geto finish all of your homework - just the ones that you found too tedious, too complicated, or too time-consuming. Which might just happen to be all of them, but you digress! 

He was more than happy to collect those slutty scraps of silk you called “panties” and you were proud to keep your streak of having the second-highest GPA in class (after the man himself, of course.)

The more important the grade the more sinful the panties. 

After all, it wasn’t as if you minded all of Geto’s fiery stares at you during lectures, the spark in his eyes when he tried to drill a difficult concept into your mind, or the way his dark lashes would flutter drunkenly the moment you got too close. 

In fact, you might even admit that you…like it.

Because Geto was hot. Fuck- he was fucking pretty.

You’d seen just how fawny his amethyst eyes were behind those clunky glasses. Lengthy Stygian hair, so many inches above six feet, and biceps that pull his gamer t-shirts so taut that it made you wonder what was underneath.

But it wasn’t as if a nerd - and a beta, obviously, though you didn’t care for secondary gender - like him would ever make a move. 

Hell, he barely even talked to anyone other than the professors. 

All grumbling and rude. It took you weeks to even get him to acknowledge your existence, and that was only by giving him an “accidental” glimpse of your red, red bra strap. 

So you were mostly fine and dandy with this lecherous transaction of yours. Geto was smart; he was never a minute late in emailing you your surely A+ worthy work before their deadlines, and you’d gift him his little treat just the day after.

Except- you were lounging on your couch as the 12:00AM deadline for your latest essay rolled around and there was still no sign of Geto. Not a single ping from your inbox. 

With an impatient thumb, you’re idly scrolling through the sparse chat history you’d all but bullied him into sharing with you, brows furrowing deeper and deeper at your plethora of ignored texts and calls. 

Nothing new but, seriously…

Scoffing as the clock tick! tick! ticked! its way to 12:01AM. 

He was late - and your homework was, too. 

You’d been feeling a little too…feverish tonight to attend that one party your friends had invited you to, and thank your stars for that. Because not even minutes later, you were stomping the few blocks down to Geto’s apartment building and all the way up to his white-painted front door.

“Hey, Sugu—” You rap your knuckles harshly on the wood, exasperated. “Are you in there?”

No answer. 

Huffing, your heated skin stings where it clashes even harder against his door. Impatiently, “Hah- making an omega walk all the way out here…I should take back all those panties I gave you. Yaga deducts points for late submissions and I am not leaving until you come out.”

Still no answer. Not even a sound. 

“In fact, I’ll only get louder.”

Not even a breath. 

That was…strange. He should’ve at least come out to shut up your racket so that he can study, if not at the mention of your panties. 

And right now your annoyance was being washed away with sharp waves of concern, a nervous bout of laughter escaping you as soon as your hand falls on the door handle to find it shockingly unlocked. Oh? 

You and Geto might not be the best of friends, but you wanted him to be alright goddammit. 

“Better come out and stop me now, unless you want me to barge in!” You call out, jostling the cold, metallic knob for good measure. It holds firm in your hand, the only thing grounding your swimming mind as you bask in a second of silence. Two. Three. Before sighing, “Have it your way then. I’m coming in–”

Then it hits you.

Slow, at first. Like a smell from a distant memory that you find yourself aching for - find yourself stumbling a few steps inside Geto’s cozy apartment and devouring in generous lungfuls. 

You slam the door shut to cloud yourself in the saturated air and gasp.

This was nothing like any expensive perfume you’d smelled before. It felt like your entire body was on fire, like every one of your pores was scorching from deep inside. Like you needed him.

Head whirling with the heady concoction of caramel salt scent and those dark undertones of wine. Something so dangerous. So tempting. So…Suguru.

You jolt. He was in rut. 

Wait, rut? Geto Suguru? Wasn’t he…wasn’t he a beta? 

You swear he was. You didn’t know what was happening, only angling your head up for more and more and more-

Shit, you’re shoving your thighs together before you know it. Already feeling the slippery stream of slick that sloshes past your pussy lips and puddles at the bottom of your underwear. And you know you’ve never been wetter. 

“A-anyone home?” You’re straining out, the doughy mountain of your palm rubbing mindlessly up n’ down through your thin skirt. 

Undoubtedly, there’s still no response. And yet, it’s almost as if he’s calling to you - and maybe he is.

Feet wrenching one jerky pitch after the other, you have to balance yourself on the hallway walls to fucking keep your sanity.

And to perhaps stop your weakened knees from slipping you into a pile on the polished hardwood floors. Perhaps to stop yourself from breaking out into a run to wherever your inner luna was clawing to take you. 

You breathe, “Th-this isn’t funny, Suguru…”

The soft thuds of your padded steps thunder in time with your racing heart. Louder and louder. Deafening by the time you’re catching sight of a large mahogany door at the end of the corridor that waves ever-so-slightly ajar. 

Where those hypnotic pheromones were the most saturated. And your mouth waters. 

It’s only once you’re reaching it - trembling, standing stock-still, right outside what you now assumed to be his bedroom - that you realize Geto was calling to you. Well, more like he was calling out for you. 

Your name. 

In soft, breathy moans that make his rich baritone crack.

“Get the fuck in here.”

.

.

.

The moment Geto Suguru catches a glimpse of your oh-so-cute face - the moment he senses that you’re actually, honest-to-goodness here - he cums. 

And he can’t help it- fuck, he can’t help it.

Even dabbing the fat of his massive thumb right over his bawling tip can’t stop the heaping torrents of gooey white escaping from him. Such slick ribbons upon ribbons crawling their way up Geto’s washboard abs, you can only watch with bated breath as his messy, round globs of seed trickle up n’ down until they drench his dark happy trail. 

Your watery thighs stick together, maw falling agape because you’d be lying if you said you’d never imagined this.

You had. Once or twice or many, many times. 

All splayed out on his Digimon sheets like this; meaty thighs cracked open, silky locks slathered across every inch, glasses fogged up. Ruined. Geto’s sweat-shimmered back arches off the outdated bed springs with a creak! while his hand flew furiously up and down his swollen cock.

Shit, you’re biting your lip. Syllables jumping roughly off of your heavy tongue, “S-Suguru?”

SLAM!

It’s like the sound of your voice does heavenly wonders to him.

Plump, tender balls squeezing, Geto’s free hand encloses behind his sweaty scalp and onto the headboard above him. Hard enough that the sturdy frame snaps, pale biceps flexing enough that you find your skin clammy with need. 

“Fuh-fuck.” He’s hissing through clenched teeth. Staring right at your meandering form through dazed half-crescents, mouth departing endless husked grunts. And oh…oh a few more dewy droplets of cum spray out of his bawling orifice once you gulp. “Look what you’ve done t’me.”

“Y-you’re an alpha?” You finally manage to find your voice. 

He snickers, the murky scent of the room growing ever-stronger. And even more than that was your own scent, mixing and melding until you felt dizzy. “And you’re in danger, little omega~”

Your widened gaze grows to lock on the way that his rugged fingers continue milking out creamy sploshes of cum. Expertly flying up, up, up– before fisting his hefty base with an airy sigh. 

Large. He was so large. 

And in so many ways more than one. 

An alpha. He was an alpha. 

Seductively sculptured body dwarfing his single bed with what looked like miles upon miles of toned, tall muscles. Were those tattoos spying out from the sides of his back?

A syrupy geyser of sap formulates between his two legs the size of your head- this was Geto Suguru? 

And his cock - oh, he was so perfectly massive. Oversized, even in Geto’s engulfing hand. 

So painfully hard that he was blushing a blossoming magenta near the very tip of his globular cockhead, throbbing. Pulsing. Thick lightning bolts of veins gripping down either side of his pink shaft and all the way down to his breeder balls.

With a harrowed gasp filling your lungs, you’re spotting just the barest fringe of something soaked-through and gauzy tangled underneath his digits. 

Fuck. 

“Is that-”

“This?” Geto grins - grins. You’ve never seen him smile let alone show off this dopey, predatory leer plastering all over his flushed features. A gentle dimple embeds near his curled lip, and he quirks an eager brow. 

You can barely even think while he untwines the frilly pair of panties you’d thrown at him in class from around his aching cock. Sticky and stretched now, it finds home right near his flared nostrils as Geto brings it up and sniffs. Crazed. “C’mere.”

The rawest of glints twinkle in his half-lidded vision as you inch closer, the way you tremble on your two feet like a newborn fawn was adorable. And he can’t stop himself from letting out a low whistle–

“Yeah. Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your body kneels you right by Geto’s bedside before your mind can even think to catch up. Head lolling lecherously against the wide plane of his shivering thigh, you let your tongue lap up a pearl of his buttery white cum and keen. He was even bigger up close. “Sugu—”

“Nuh uh, gorgeous.” Geto tuts, gravelly tonality rendering you confused just as much as you were needy. His two palms grip the crown of your head to peer upwards, “S’all because of you. You n’ those d-damn panties. M’not your hck! nerdy fuckin’ Sugu right now. Best remember that- m’gonna make sure you remember that.”

He’s more than gazing down at you, he’s boring right through you. 

Spectacle frames creeping precariously down his nose bridge, tendrils of his shaggy hair almost curtaining him, pellets of sweat trickle down his temples and hit you in thin spatters. So close. And you wanted him closer. 

“Tilt your head back, lemme see that ngh- pretty mouth.” One hand slips from your head to curl around Geto’s fattened hilt, nudging his puckered tip to strike your lips with a dull thud! “Count.”

“One-”

And it’s not once. 

“T-two-”

Not twice. 

“Three- hah!”

Not thrice, until he’s leaving your mouth whimpering and stinging with the slam of his rock-hard shaft slapping down your tender flesh. Leaving a slimy trail of pre and salty cum that leaks between your maw and drives you wild. 

Then - and only then - is he wrenching you up closer. Manhandling your pliable body until the very tip of his perfectly button nose meets yours. So close.

Your teary lashes flutter halfway shut once you feel the foggy breeze of his breath scorching your face, cunt quivering with the anticipation of a kiss. His pheromones hit you in powerful gusts, your primal urges scratching up to the surface.

Closer. Too close- for a kiss that never comes.

“Heh. Cute.”

He doesn’t kiss you.

But before you know it, Geto pitches his tongue back and wets your shimmery pouted lips with a large wad of his syrupy saliva. 

In just a split-second. 

Bowing you back underneath him and stuffing your chatty mouth so damn full of his swollen cock that you can’t even think of anything else. Fat droplets of tears fountain up at the edge of your eyes, you don’t think you’ve ever felt so split open.

He was eight- no, maybe nearing ten whole inches that scraped the back of your mushy throat with his ruthless mushroom tip. 

Hard. Girthy. 

Cratering out a wet circumference of bruises into your melty mouth with a singular thrust, and it wasn’t enough- fuck, it might never be enough.

Geto’s throwing his head back, toned core muscles tensing. “O-oh. This. Th-this is what it feels like?” 

You almost wonder whether he even knew what he was doing once you feel a shaky thigh throwing behind your neck and reel you in close. Drawing you all the way up until your nose scratches his tufted pelvis, mouth hanging wiiidely agape. 

“Sh-shooo big–” You’re mumbling through a scalding mouthful, slicked walls clenching at the realization that he had you trapped in a headlock. And by the looks of it, he was never going to let go.

“Yeah- yeah?” He shudders out, bass cracking into a zillion shatters near the end. Octaves higher. Unsteady. Meanly, Geto’s leg jostles you even further from behind to probe his shaft even deeper into your velvety mouth, your chin buckling underneath his curvaceous ballsack. Holding you still. Firmly. “Fuckin’ l-like that, don’t you?”

You can’t nod. You can’t hum affirmative. He was so bulky inside you that your lips sag underneath the sheer weight.

But your omega preens for the attention, sleek tongue zig-zagging over one of the pounding veins that poked into the roof of your mouth. And it’s enough of an answer for Geto.

Spitting out, “Oh yeah? Dirty girl. Didn’t expect your loser lil’ Sugu to have such a fat fuckin’ dick, huh?” 

So fucking…rude, words teetering right on just the edge of being menacing. And you were just so gorgeous crying all over his cock like this, so much better than when you were hanging off of other alphas. 

So much better when he strays a thumb to feel your filling throat, the way he’s lodged deep inside. Him. All him. 

You let off a whiny gag the moment his blushing red cockhead twitches up ferally at the thought. The static cotton in your head making you slurp his length with a sloppy squelch! 

He’s pushing up his glasses furiously, “Can you even take it? Seriously- acting so popular n’ mighty when you can’t even take my hngh- cock.”

And you’re about to rebuke, you’re about to- you swear.

But oh, he didn’t have mercy now. 

“Whaaaat? M’just saying.” The ridges of his head press up all against every nook and cranny of your mouth, a silvery trail of drool now seeping from between your locked lips. Geto wipes away his own cobwebs of drool with the back of his mouth, giggling. Giggling when you scuffle, “S’it too big? Too big for our f-famous lil’ omega?”

Your throat aches something carnally delicious when he keeps a hold ‘round your neck to plunge into the waterlogged bottom. Bobbing your head in lewd maneuvers allll the way up n’ down. “Ngh- Sugu–” 

“Hah- hah!” His glassy eyes gleam something wild, microscopic tastebuds watering all over again with just how intensely he was gawking down at you. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that his eyes were glowing- “Why are ya still fuckin’ speaking, gorgeous?”

It wasn’t a Command, but oh did it feel like one.

Only mere moments later and Geto’s springing himself off of the bouncy mattress to shovel your hot throat full of copious inches and leave you spellbound. Swirling a lazy few half-circles of his heavy tip where you were most sensitive.

“Cool that pretty lil’ head. You’re cuter when yer like th-this, y’know?” He groans, feeling your slippery cheeks grip his shaft in an adorable hug. Knee drawing up even tighter to hold you still while he fucked your mouth the way he’d been wishing he could for so long. “All shut up a-and mine and…”

Ah, breath wisping away. He’s prodding your poor gag reflexes at the very same time he rovers up a stray hand to squeeze your nostrils together. “-only mine.”

“Nghh- G-etooo—” And yet, he still doesn’t let up. You’re cupping Geto’s plumpened balls with a delicately loving touch, lustrous strands of spit layering your lips. “Want you.”

“Hm?”

“Want you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Those are the very same words he’s been dreaming of every single rut since meeting you. And he can’t help himself, he can’t stop himself from letting out a slew of swears and cumming.

Shocked. 

“Sh-shit—” It’s all Geto can do to bite down on the plush of his bottom lip and wrangle back those embarrassing fucking whimpers on his tongue, dewy eyes sparkling with a few overstimulated tears. “You’re gonna- f-fucking…”

But he’s not given the privilege to finish his thought let alone his sentence. 

Just flooding your senses with the caramel salt of his scent, and his gobs of pearly seed. Every jackhammer has Geto pinpricking it on the back of your bruised and battered throat, every squeeze of his hand around your neck makes him drool out in wiry oodles of sap more and more and more-

“S’what you w-wanted, right?” And you’re sensing the way his scent tinged with something maddened, leaving your eyes popping. “Prancing around with your hah- p-pre-heat panties and your- fuck!” Geto fights to keep his eyes from flapping closed, “Take it- ohhhh take it all.”

As if you could do anything else.

Every tiny twitch leaves your cavern flooded. Geto was cumming so hard that it was overspilling from each crevice of your lips, a silvery waterfall of cum that he’s dabbing around a thumb to smear. 

Letting your pouted lips wobble at the fresh topping of white gloss, “There’s a good girl. My goood fuckin’ girl.” 

Oh, there’s no doubt in your fractured mind right now that Geto Suguru was an alpha. Inhaling his deep puffs of contentment, you’re arching your back mindlessly in delight. Throat loosening with the motions to-

“Don’t swallow.”

So mean. 

You don’t think you’re given the split-second to wonder otherwise before he’s grappling for the pretty column of your throat and kissing you raw. 

You’re gasping when his depraved tongue smacks down between the seam of your mouth to lather in every scorching hot mess of sap he’d left behind. The mess that he made. And he was only making it messier.

Watching you through barely-cracked open pupils while he scooped up the sticky webs of seed dangling from your mouth. Scratchy buds taking over. A kiss so filthy that you felt shy to even call it that. 

“Mmm—” Geto’s skidding his tongue down the buttered length of his lips, flicking over any stray droplets he could find. And something in his eyes told you that he was mere seconds away from doing it all over again. “Not bad for a first kiss.”

Fuck- what?

“Sugu- what-” You’re panting out measly syllables through the gaps of his sappy mouth. “I-I thought you’d be more…”

“What? A heh- bumbling loser?” His eyes narrow down at you, words purring sexily. “Oh, gorgeous…”

Fuck, and if the rasping growl in his tone didn’t shut you up, the way that Geto’s throwing you onto the bouncy bed sure does. 

He doesn’t have a care in the world, he doesn’t have a single thought other than ripping off your flimsy clothes. Everything but those very same cherry pink panties you’d teased up at him, well- more see-through than anything right now.

Kneeing apart your jittery legs to watch the way your cunt gushes in pure need. Lips curling into a leer at the way she winks up at him through filthy masses of slick.

“Sh-she’s mine now, isn’t she?” Rumbling out, eyes wide. Unfocused. And the look on Geto’s face made white-hot trills sprint down your spine - ones you couldn’t decode between primal need and fear. “She’s…”

Ptwah!

The vicious goblet of spit that hits you this time is somehow even meaner than the last, striking at the very top of your sobbing pussy and disappearing riiiight between your folds. 

“Mine.” Awestruck, Geto bullies one capped knee to smooch up against your slit. Gleaming his heated skin with the bucketloads of cute sap that you kept pouring out by the second. Geto was greedy, he was grunting. “Beg for it, omega.”

You’re squirming underneath him impatiently, clawing all over his unmoving wrists. You ached all over for something. Anything. “Don’t- don’t wanna-”

But Geto had ten times your strength and wasn’t afraid of using it. Oh, he wasn’t afraid of using it - wasn’t afraid of pinning down both your trembly hands on the bed springs with one of his. Rutting his knee up even more mercilessly, murking his pheromones until it burned of salt and spice. “Beg.”

You mewl, “P-please-”

“No stuttering.”

“Please.” And if that wasn’t enough, you’re batting your lacquered lashes up at Geto in exactly the way you knew was his weakness. Exactly the way that got you the second-highest GPA for so long. Jutting your back the perfect curvature off of the bed, “I’ll let you k-keep my panties, Suguru—?”

“Oh, giiiirl—” He husks out, leaning in so close to plant a yearning snog on your mouth. Blushing pink lips wrapping around your tongue and sucking. You always got what you wanted. “M’keeping those regardless.”

In his special drawer for all your slutty underwear, of course. 

And just as soon as Geto’s kissing your lips, he’s trekking his way downwards to make sure that your other ones don’t feel left out. 

“Look at her.” He breathes, words taking on an airy tone that makes him sound as if he was furious. Blistering with the anger that he’s been deprived of the heavenly proximity of your soft, seeping cunt for so long. “H-heh, if o-only those tch- popular friends of yours could see. Just look- look how wet she is f’me. All me.”

A fattened thumb fringes past your panties, and you flinch at the cold press of his silver rings. Rovering all the way to greet your puffy pussylips in languid drags uuuuup and down, pricking his manicured fingernail on the button of your clit. 

Geto’s hooded lids widen, heat rushing all over his cheeks at the sloppy squelches he draws out. So easily. Adorably.

And it was true - he did have a tattoo. A splashing inking of a dragon all across Geto’s muscled back, somehow making him even more unintentionally hotter. 

“And look how loud mmm–” He’s kissing the mound of your folds like a lover, lingering. Loving. Stealing deeeeep gasps of your scent, “M’gonna ruin you. Ngh- ohhh, m’gonna r-ruin you, gorgeous. Ruin ya for anyone else.”

And when Geto meant he was going to ruin you - he meant it.

“Shit.” He was going to mush his pretty features up into your sopping wet pussy until you could feel every minute, warm pant. Staring right up into the target of your fuzzy heart-eyes, “How do you- how do you taste so good.”

Every gasp he’s drinking in of your murked perfumed pheromones, showering ‘round every sense and making him dizzy.

“Squeeze- wanna feel-”

And maybe it’s his rut, maybe it’s the way your tension was so thick - but you instantaneously know what to do. 

To close your legs in a deadlock around Geto’s oily scalp. Your weighty eyelids bat up and down subconsciously at the attractive way he was digging his bulging biceps into the sides of your thighs. Pulling you in closer and closer and closer. “That turns you on, huh?”

But that wasn’t all- oh, that wasn’t what he was making out with your cute cunt and begging for. 

His mouth lathers over with a fresh bout of watery spit the moment your rubbery ring of muscle clench all around him. Making every ridge of his hot tongue catch on your gooey innards, the texture of it enough to drive you positively wild. 

“Sh-shiiit–” You’re letting out a primal groan, clawing at his tattooed back. Chest shuddering underneath the strain of one powerful hand pinning you down. Holding you painfully still. “Suguru- want more. More.”

Slipping his slick tongue in and out of your fluttery hole, Geto keens at the way your entrance kept on trying to suck him back in. 

“Fuckin’ know-” In one second, he’s pushing his cloudy glasses up his nose, and in the other he pries apart your puffed lips and caresses. “Yer turning into a fucking w-waterpark, dirty girl. Even wetter than all that p-porn I learned from…”

You’re whimpering, legs falling further n’ further open until it burned your inner quads. No matter how deeply Geto stuffed his face between them it just wouldn’t be enough.

It was almost as if…

“Heat.” He’s slurring a looong lap of his grooved tastebuds all over the lustre of your sweet, sweet juices. Free hand wrapping at his favorite position around your neck and making sure to angle your head so that you catch the twinkling droplets of slick pouring down his tongue. “You’re in heat, little omega.”

Gasping, “W-what?”

But it made sense. It was falling into place and that only made you wetter.

With a smirk, Geto swats your hands until they tangle into his silken tresses. “Lemme take care of you.” SWAT! The plapping sensation hits you before the realization that he’d run his crowned digits over to spank your perked clit. “Ngh- just sit tight n’ let your nerdy ol’ Sugu here take g-goood care of you.”

He was pleading with you - begging you - to latch onto his pretty locks and grind your pussy in repeated gyrations all over his face. Guiding him, using the hook of his pert nose as the perfect ridge to rest your throbbing clit on. 

“Th-thank you, alpha—” Too good. You were giving into something baser, to let your head loll into the cushy pillow behind you in sweeping motions. And it was so cute he could cum. 

“Yeah? Who- who?”

“You, Suguru.”

“Damn right.”

With every drag of his hoarse syllables, Geto was trawling his face across every inch between the beautiful legs that you had to offer.

Purposefully. 

You’re holding back his endless, inky strands just to admire how pretty he looked. How ravenous. Greedy. 

Fuck, Geto was making up for all these years he spent parched. Spitting out streak after streak of spittle that made your pussy pour out all over his snogging mouth. “Gonna- gonna fuck you like this w’my cock next.”

His tongue folds into your slobbery hole and slithers into every tender orifice - so staggeringly long that you were feeling a lump in your own throat. 

Just a few flops into your earliest magical spots and Geto could already hear the way you were fighting to hide your little sobs. 

“Th-this right here-” He’s probing a finger underneath the panties that stuck to your cunt like adhesive, letting it spring back to hit you with a smack! Tittering at your yelp, “S’mine.”

Rubbing a fat few crowns of his fingerpads at the tender area underneath the base of your pussy. Pressing down. Hard. “And her? All the w-way from here-”

Drawing sensual patterns up, up uuuup all the way to your sensitive clit, and oh- it felt so right to have him draw sultry little hearts on your weepy hood. 

Tugging it over to nip underneath one sharp canine - one that you swear had grown even longer in the last few minutes. Geto was gone in the depths of his rut, hallowing out his cheeks to eat you out as if he was a man starved. And you were his favorite dessert. “To here? S’mine, too.”

RIIIIIP—!

Through your glossy heaps of tears, you can make out the fuzzy shapes of Geto tearing your satiny underwear into tatters. Balling it up into a wad of sugarcoated fabric that he unapologetically stuffs in your drivelling mouth.

“Gonna add these t-to my collection.” You feel him smile against the outer edges of your claggy cunt, tittering at the stupid way your overspilling lips slacken with a soggy pwah! You’re hearing and feeling a long-winded woooosh from below once he takes a deeeep breath in with his over-delicate senses. “Th-thereeee we go. Cum all over my mouth, gorgeous.”

And if you were in any better state of mind perhaps you’d have noticed the way that Geto’s driving his hips into the bed like a damn dog when he sensed your scent peaking. Sensed you getting closer.

Ragged breaths striking your quivering pussy mercilessly and making your teeth sink desperately into the muggy jumble of underwear in your mouth. 

Your broken moans burst out even through that particular watergate, right along with a slithery trickle of saliva and a huff of “S-Suguru—” Craning your head to watch his nostrils flare with knowing, “Close- clo- cumming.”

Eyes flashing. Heart thumping not just within your rib cage.

When it rains, it pours. 

But you weren’t just pouring - you were flooding.

Such glutinous ropes of your orgasm, it sprays Geto’s sexy face in squirts. Clinging onto the edge of his glasses and forming little puddles right at the apples of his high cheeks.

Suddenly, you were oh-so-thankful for the way he’d stuffed your mouth mercilessly full - because by the rusted rasp in your throat, you’re sure you’re singing out shrill trills loud enough that his neighbors would file a noise complaint.

But that was the last thing on his mind.

The last thing- well, fuck, it wasn’t on his mind at all. Geto’s cooing at how unstable you feel, treacherous fingers mazing across your fat clit and giving her a goood few pushes just the way he would with his gameboys.

“Good girl-” he spits into your gapingly widened cunt, still suffering from the remnant tremors of your high and still slopping out wads of juices. Like a mantra, Geto’s dark brows scrunch in concentration, “Good girl good girl gooood fucking girl.”

Words hitching up into something shrill near the edge, he sounded as if he was fraying his sanity with every droplet of slick you pumped into his mouth. With every single second. 

Pushing his aching hot cock deeper and deeper into the sullied sheets. More. He needed more. 

Every sloppy swivel of your widely pried-apart pussy on his tongue made him leave an open-palmed smack! on your thigh. Other hand traipsing to pin your hips down with his big, vein-decorated forearm. 

He doesn’t want to let go.

You’re barely letting off a whine at the lack of friction before Geto lets his mouth depart from your cunt with a soggy pwah! Leaving a final few French kisses on his favorite sweet orifice, he’s pecking a loooong open-mouthed pathway up to your loosened maw.

“Good girl…” He hiccups, clammy forehead sticking against yours. Each syllable struggles to wrench past the leaden ball slowly forming on Geto’s mouth. 

The syrup-glazed lenses of his glasses clash into you, and Geto himself seems to notice. “Look what a fuckin’ mess ya made.” He’s gruffing out at the thick topping of oozing gloss that made the frame impossible to see through. 

Immediately pulling back a few millimeters to take them off and dump them on your own nose bridge. Unceremoniously. 

And it was so wet. 

Almost as wet as Geto’s features were - all showered in gunky dredges of glistening sap. It streaks all the way from his pointed chin and up to his handsome cheekbones. Beads of it hitting your panting chest in a pat! pat! pat!

Heaving out a shaky exhale, he’s pushing away a few elegant strands of charcoal bangs. 

“M’gonna…m’gonna fuck you now.” Sounding more as if he was talking to himself rather than you. Or perhaps both. Puffy folds being rubbed all raw with the depraved back and forth of his veiny under-shaft. “Gonna fuck you. So take it- take it.”

Geto stares deep into your whirling eyes while he sinks his hefty cock into you just as thoroughly. A clingy film sticks to his gaze, dazed and all half-hooded that you wondered if he could even register what was in front of him.

Crazed.

And he’s such a fucking tease, too. 

Creating a slimy trail of pasty pre all over your weakened inner thighs, he drags his bawling divot all over every stretch of your entrance. Around and around in circles. 

“B-big, huh? Better take it b-before I- make it- fit-” He’s echoing, dimples peaking out at the cute way your breath hitches once you feel the sheerly massive circumference of his fat tip. “Shhhh shh sh, s’alright- s’where you’re m-meant to ngh- be.”

Even for an alpha, he was always staggering - but having him stuffing you to the brim would be a whole other feeling. Would have you ruined. 

You’re peering up at him through humid lashes, borrowed glasses smearing wet splotches of slick underneath your skin. Eventually, those panties had found themselves spilling out of your unfastened jaw, “Meant to- hah! be?”

“Mhmmm— pretty omega.” You’re hit with a sudden wave of coaxing pheromones, the gentle salty breeze making your hips buck subconsciously upwards. Subconsciously aching. “This s’where you’re ngh- meant to be.”

And as much as Geto loved hearing whiny questions bubble their way up to your spit-layered lips, oh- was it so much more fun to eye down at your speechless self when he snugly squeezes just a mere sensual inch.

Leaning back to watch the way his bustling cock was stretching and stretching and stretching your tender walls flawlessly. You were taking him so ridiculously well. 

“Fuh-fuck you-” His plush pecs rumble with his bass from above, words tumbling. Hips rolling. And Geto was fucking gone- staring at you with wide, humorless eyes that you doubt were even seeing. “Fuck you- m’fucking you…fuck you fuck you fuck!”

With every sharp fah! being whirled into your loose mouth, Geto rubs his puffed-up veins into the tender mound of your cunt. You can’t help but count every rapid ba-dump—! his achy length throbs. 

Desperately. Rutting and rutting just to fit himself inside. 

Around the time he’s only halfway in, Geto circles one hand over his drenched base to skid taut O’s at the edge of your hole. Nudging his fat girth past your entrance and keening-

“M-more!” You’re barking out primally, your tongue tied into all sorts of bows and ribbons with the way this stretch was searing. And it was the best sort of tight fit, you were practically drooling all over again at the fleshy thwack! of Geto’s rounded balls smacking your thighs. “More, Sugu—”

“M-more…?”

It wasn’t just you - your luna needed more, too. 

You’re nodding and nodding- only to realize with a harsh muffle of Geto’s palm over your noisy mouth that he wasn’t even talking to you.

No, he was tittering away in a small sort of voice. Octaves higher. Strained. Goosebumps smatter all across your skin at the way he sounded so unstable. 

“More…” Irises flashing a glowy purple, fingers twitching where he held you. A loser like him. A nerd like him. “M-more she says.”

Fuck. 

Without another word - without another breath - Geto’s flipping you around with only one beefy palm clawing at your hip. Shoving your face deep into the puff of his nerdy pillows, he’s bottoming out with just one thrust-

You think you scream, you think you bawl once you feel his plummy mushroom head draw a long line of pre along the insides of your cervix. And your pussy felt so full you could burst, your walls crushed with all overpacked inches of his.

Finally. 

“Thaaaat’s it, that’s it-” He’s grunting through furiously clenched teeth, a hand crowning the back of your scalp and muffling your words into the bed. Hard. Fuck- he was going to pass out if you made another pretty sound. “S’where you belong.”

Ah, there it is - that little broken prayer.

Except, this time it was being respired in boiling hot pants against the tips of your ears. Was being wheezed out of Geto when he lurches his sweat-simmered hips back to hit your ass with a resounding pap!

“All f-fucked dumb on my ngh- biiig fucking cock, hm?” He tilts your head up with one hand, smiling to himself once he catches a glittery flash of spit leaking from your lips. “All…” A warm splatter! strikes your back, and only then do you realize that he’s slobbering. “Mine.”

And where Geto was talking all possessively - he was fucking you even more so.

In the blink of an eye, he’s planting two sets of fingers on either of your wrists and pulling all the way back, back, back. A length foot being placed right at the small of your spine to get you to bend in a delicious arch-

“Fuck!” Your cute voice rings hoarse, like music to his blushing ears. Struggling to regain the gasps of air leaving your lungs, “There- th-there.”

Oh, shit.

The way Geto was manhandling you was not only bending you in all sorts of lecherously pliable ways that had your slit dripping, it was making his rotund cockhead stub oh-so-viciously into your cervix. 

Rough. Probing. 

“H-heh, guess I lost my first kiss there, too.” He’s giggling out, biting down on the rugged mewls that threaten to depart every time your cunt swallows him whole. “Congrats on being my ngh- first, little omega— yer e-even better than my ngh- bodypillows of you.”

Bending you over ever-deeper, honestly- your walls were cloying onto him so desperately that it was making Geto’s heart pang with disappointment every time his ruddied tip recoiled back from the bottom of your sloppy pussy. 

He wanted to be this close to you forever. 

Treacling out stringy wads of pre, he’s furrowing brows and making sure each n’ every jackhammer fills you up impossibly. 

You can barely grapple for air at this point, the sloshes of syrup left after each barrelling strike leaving you star-struck. 

He grins, “Shit, d-do ya ever stop fuckin’ drooling? Gonna hafta call the f-fire department, girl.”

“Can’t help it–!” All you can do it let your mouth unlatch to warble whimper after whimper–

“C’mon now, gorgeous- aren’t ya ashamed?” Licking his lips free of your taste, Geto diverts more pressure to his foot. Hefty balls rippling wickedly against the sobbing end of your slit with just how easy you were to throw around like his favorite toy. Like his favorite figurines. “Look at what a mess yer making. Being fucked so f-filthy. And I haven’t even ngh- found it, yet.”

Haven’t found it. Oh, but he knew he was going to. He was going to make you scream.

Your syrupy whines slip into something desperate, “Y-you don’t know…?”

“Of course I f-fuckin’ know. Who d’ya think you’re ngh talking to?” As if you could forget you were being thoroughly pounded by the smartest person on campus right now. And evidently the filthiest, too. 

A ringed finger treks down to your sensitive nub, soothing over where you were throbbing the most violently. Cute. Lulling you into a sweet, sweet state of bliss before Geto pinches–

“Oh p-please!” You’re targeting your hazy vision over your shoulder, and somewhere along the lines Geto’s spectacles had slid cleanly off of you. Toes curling as his bloated head bludgeons just the creamy edges near your g-spot. “Please- y-you’re so close, Suguru-”

You didn’t know whether it was your heat or just Geto that had you so desperate. Your sparkless mind blames the latter.

“Am I?” He hums, leaning over so that the soft tendrils of his hair tickled your back. 

Whacking his painfully achy crownhead mere centimeters below your magical spots, and you’re starting to think he’s doing this on purpose. 

Geto starts holding it there for lingering French snogs into the steamy inner depths of your cunt and then you know he’s doing this on purpose. Spitting in your mouth with a smile. 

That mean bastard.

Jittering your hips to chase the texture of his curly pubic hair against your ass, he snickers. “Are you ngh- suuuure? You haven’t done a s-single one of your ngh- human biology essays lately, dirty girl.”

You’re molding your lips into a pout - difficult, with just how many loads of saliva were pouring out of you and cementing a puddle onto the Digimon pillows. “F-fuck you.”

“No…” You set free a gasp of air you didn’t know you were holding the very second he lets go of the rough foot anchoring your spine, instead- in only mere nanoseconds you find yourself jerked up into Geto Suguru’s hold with a hand at your throat. Back gluing against his glissading abs, even his voice was unbalanced and trembling now. “I’m fucking you, little omega.”

And you were about to remember it.

With an immediate pitch of his gasping breaths, Geto’s angled hips go from steadily ruined to sloppy. Calculated. 

He didn’t care if he made a mess of stringy slick that circled in the satiny sheets around the two of you, he didn’t care if your eyes were bulging out of their poor sockets when his pronounced hips dig into your backside with blistering bruises. 

He didn’t care for anything but digging the curled fringe of his fatly bloated tip right into the target of your g-spot. 

Mazing through your gluey folds and keeping them snugly open with his reddened girth, Geto knocks your sweetest spots with vengeance. 

“There–!” You call out, as if he hadn’t already felt the gooey seize of your pussy trying to hold him hostage. 

His mouth trudges over your throat, fingers roaming over to give your clit a nice few pinches. Meaningfully, “Here? Orrrr–” Punctuating each word, each second with a thorough drilling into your g-spot. “-here? Make up th-that ditzy lil’ mind. Seriously.”

Your head drunkenly crashes on top of his collarbone and stays there, “R-right here- there. Both, Sugu.”

“Again with the f-fucking Sugu-” Geto snarls out, though you can sense by his cloudy scent that he was anything but irritated with you. 

Your whines had quietened down into something more of an incoherent mess, and the main things ringing in Geto’s ears right now were the creaky protests of his bed and the clammy plops of his thrusts. 

“C’mon now— where’s my bossy fuck! omega? The one who loves her poor, nerdy Sugu?”

Arousal reaching a peak, and now that he’d found your g-spot, he was probing into it with fat thuds. Not just once or twice. Nooooo, it was over and over and- 

“Just w-wanna cum—” you’re sobbing out. Jerking your body like a bobble-head up and down to further feel the drag of his Herculean form behind you, to savor each ridge and sculpted curve sweatily massaging your back. “P-pleeeeease, Suguru. Let me cum?”

Swerving his tensing hips out alllll the way back to leave solid smooches ‘round your pussy entrance each and every time, and then there were the squelches-

Oh, you were just flooding a slippery sheen all over his hefty, swelling base. A viscid luster of slick that glided all the way down to drip off of his sack n’ between his legs. 

Your eyes manage to snatch themselves open- hissing at the realization that it was pooling especially around that particularly ballooned-up ring right over Geto’s breeder balls. 

Was that? With a shiver you’re rutting backwards, feeling for yourself the slow drag of his proud knot. Bigger than any else you’ve ever seen. It was. 

You rasp, throat itchy and raw. Sweltering droplets of tears streaming down your cheeks when he matches the stuttering beat of your heart with every pressurized push- “P-please.”

“Needy thing. Cum, huh?” Geto drawls out, voice thick with need and something else you were too stupid to register right now. He collides you even tighter against rippling pecs. Taking the sweet, sweet opportunity to poke his nose into your scent gland and steal a looooong breath of your overdriven pheromones. 

“Cum then, c-cum. Fucking cum all over my cock.”

Fuck, it’s with those exact words in mind that you do.

Startling straight headfirst into your high - and you don’t think you’ve even crashed into one wave of bliss before the other overtakes you. And another. And another-

“Oh g-god—” You’re trilling, only held up by the ruthless grip that Geto was maintaining. His hips were deep, and your pleasure even deeper. “-please. Please- please, Sugu-”

He’s hunching over your body ever-so-slightly, resting your thighs against his thick, flexing ones. Only bending you over to kiss your g-spot even more sinfully, Geto’s response comes out ragged into your lobes. “Tch, wh-what now?”

His ruby-red tip was blushing like a strawberry and just as plump - swirling around your treasure trove of spots, pounding you through each peak of your orgasm until you saw stars. 

“Cum i-insiiiide-” Your barely-audible groans spring out into the heady air, adding to its hypnotic mix of perfumes. And it’s not just the heat that made you crave Geto carnally, every pap! against the puffy ring at his base making you crave more more more- “Want it a-all up…”

You’re trailing off, melted mind unable to do multiple things at once. 

With tottering fingerpads, you’re trapping one of his palms underneath your own. Homing itself right above where his rounded tip was stretching open your insides, right above your womb.

“H-here, okay? Don’t miss-” 

You blink up at him and Geto thinks he might just be having a heart attack. Sparks fizzing around his sloshed brain, “Fuh-fuuuuck– don’t talk out of yer pussy, gorgeous.” He spanks your clit once. Twice just to watch your eyes glaze over stupidly. “Or m’gonna get you pregnant.” 

Soothing over that faint bulge he was fucking into your tummy, “Gonna h-have my baby growing allll up in here. Make you round and…” His voice sounds faint, whispering. “-big and…glowing. And…and pregnant.”

But, ah- you never did make it easy for him. Did you? Always had to have your way. 

Which Geto Suguru gladly gave. 

“But I want that, Sugu—” You pout, “Wan’ your knot…please?”

You didn’t have to say another word before Geto’s finishing off in such a messy way, reaching the biggest fucking orgasm he’s had in his entire life. The strongest. The most heavenly and oh- oh, were you an angel?

He’s collapsing onto the drenched sheets before he knows it, pinning you down with the strong v-line of his hips. 

“Shit-” Geto emits through the cracks in his bitten canines. “Shit shit shit- shit-”

You don’t know who’s losing their mind more, you or him. Falling into the well of a second, third, perhaps even fourth orgasm with how blissfully his fattened, split-ended cock bruised every nook of your adhesive-like walls. 

Your saliva cascades in puddles that soak the pillows through. “Suguruuu— a-are you okay-”

“Do I look okay?”

Sexily ridged abs kneading your back, hands scrambling on the mattress, inked shoulders shivering. His swollen knot hits and hits your pussymound. 

And it’s only once his trembly fingers latch around his glasses - fumbling, dropping it copious times before Geto manages to push them haphazardly onto his face. 

Tilting his head back just enough degrees to watch as the curved fringe of his knot disappears past your puffy folds. 

“There we- there…” He’s driveling clingy wads of translucent saliva, letting the stray pouring excess hit your fluttering hole with a splat! One eager thumb of Geto’s hooks into your entrance and bullies it aside to let his incredible perimeter sink iiiiiiiiin-

He’s melting into you now, spent. Ruined. “Get pregnant.” Geto whispers into your sweat-glossed shoulder blade once he feels the back of his knot get fully enveloped into your pussy with a gummy pop! Once he feels himself finally tip over- “Get pregnant.”

And it’s not just mindless babbling - it’s a promise. 

A promise that he rasps out time and time against with every wadded slip of seed that dollops out across your cervix. Pushing it so deep. Smearing acres of ribbony streaks all over your most precious orifices and spots. 

“Gonna know wh-what we did.” Geto whimpers, shit- he couldn’t pound his voluminous ounces of cum into you as aggressively as he wanted with this damn knot. “Entire campus. Professors. Everyone’s gonna know ngh- how I fucked ya full. F-fucked you pregnant. Gonna wonder.”

But that didn’t stop him from trying.

That didn’t stop him from wrenching out a hand to squeeze the ends of your sopping wet slit, forcing down on his very knot. Squeezing out so many numerous dredges of syrupy white cum that thwack! thwack! thwacks! a filthy second skin against your walls. 

“Fuh-fuuuuck— get pregnant, gorgeous.” He’s rutting. Grinding. Humping you like some beast more than man. “Gonna l-look at you all round n’ big and see me- me me me. Get pregnant get pregnant get-” 

Geto’s mouth parts at the pearly dewdrops of seed that leak from the overstuffed ends of your cunt. He can feel his entire body twitch, can feel his sharpened teeth lacquer so rabidly. 

He still wasn’t done.

Still letting one prespired forearm of his dangle around your neck, manhandling you into a fucking headlock. The other tracing the edges of his digits over your glands, squeezing until your skin was all tender and raw. 

And puffy. 

Perfect for him to tilt his head and bite—

“Ohhh- yes!” Every fibre of your being delights at the way Geto’s biting you so hard that you can smell crimson iron. Your pheromone bubble pops! to mix together with his own. Becoming one. And you can scent him - you can feel him. 

Glasses clashing, teeth tearing. Before you know it, you’re doing the same. “Suguruuuu— m’yours.”

Your mate latches onto the curves of your hips - your soon-to-be birthing hips. 

And the way Geto rediscovers that - tucking his face into the ruined, drenched fabric of those cherry pink panties and taking an endless, husky sniff - tells you that this was going to be a long, loooong night. 

“Mine.”

A/N. MMMMMMMMM NERD GETOOOOOOOO

Plagiarism not authorized. 

[yvieliny]

love me not!

Suguru Geto is your bully, your boss, and now your...baby daddy?

pairings: baby daddy!Geto x f!reader x coworker!Nanami

content: MDNI, angst and fluff and smut, coworker AU, rivals-to-coparents, toxic relationship dynamics, bullying, Geto and reader HATE each other (for now), unplanned pregnancy, hidden baby trope (sorta), hatefucking, piv sex, oral (m! receiving), reader is incredibly petty, descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, more tags to be added

art creds: @/Bom61487782 on x for suguru + @/Neconi_o0 for nanami I believe !!

chapter index

plucked | branching out | broken twigs | picking petals | thorns | deadheading | ripping out the roots | yours, mine, his | in bloom | overgrown garden | new seeds | clipped

more to be added <3

comment to be added to taglist :p

[yvieliny]

ღ MASTERLIST ღ

18+ BLOG MINORS DNI

no translations, reposts, and pls do not post me on tiktok. my goal isn’t to become famous and i would like to keep my writing on this site considering the amount of minors on tiktok

DARK CONTENT AHEAD AND NSFW

questions/ ask/ reblog account: @sukunafuka

Ao3 link

—jujutsu kaisen—

puppy!satoru 🔞

puppy!satoru and owner!suguru adopt you!🔞

bestfriendsdad!toji 🔞

sukuna likes to fuck in your parents house 🔞

teaching best friend yuji how to eat pussy 🔞 PART 2 (part 3 coming soon)

roommate!sukunaandyuji 🔞

yandere virgin megumi has a crush on his dad’s girlfriend 🔞 (part 2 coming soon)

yuji the fart sniffer (fluff)

mermaid hybrid satoru (suggestive 🔞) (part 2 coming soon)

accurate gentleman nanami (fluff)

accurate yandere boyfriend sukuna kidnaps you 🔞

oops toge accidentally says ‘fuck!’ 🔞

sukuna gets high and doesn’t recognize you (suggestive 🔞)

oh no! dont sneak into the mens locker room! toji will fuck you! 🔞

i heard a rumor that professor gojo’s d— 🔞

pervy doctor geto will be with you momentarily🔞

naive choso cums prematurely with a lap dance on the side 🔞

moms 40 yr old boyfriend, nanami, mistakes you for her🔞 (part 2 coming soon)

Best friends dad, Toji, thinks you’re too trusting as you sleep under his roof 🔞

[yvieliny]

warnings: dub con ? (cursed speech), nsfw 🔞, virgin inumaki and reader, (inumaki is aged up to 19)

boyfriend!inumaki who accidentally groans ‘fuck’ as you guys makeout and before he can stop you, you’re already pulling his cock out of his boxers, slipping your loose shorts and panties to the side and sitting on it till the hilt before you snap out of your daze.

your eyes drop to examine your connection, and even though you seemed to have initiated it, you’re still taken aback by the sight. his cursed speech had never been used against you before and honestly it kind of scares you how powerful it is.

“y—you’re inside me—” you gasp out, shock and terror in your expression and tone. his hands fly to dig his fingers into your hips to keep you from moving as he grunts.

your eyes widen in tandem with his and you stare at each other with embarrassment and surprise. he then comically pulls out his phone with shaky hands and shows you a note saying ‘i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to’

whether you like it or not, inumaki has now taken your virginity and you’ve taken his. you had barely started getting comfortable enough to dry hump with him and now you can feel his leaking tip kissing your cervix. you’re quite lucky you had grown sufficiently wet making out before this because it doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it would.

“i—it’s okay,” you mumble briefly, aware that it’s not really his fault. you try to pull away from his pulsing cock with a flushed face but it feels as if an invisible barrier is holding you in place. honestly, you should just be thankful your body isn’t compelling you to bounce on him, despite his command of ‘fuck.’ you assume it’s because you’re a virgin, and your inexperience is somehow working in your favor, even though you obviously know what fucking entails.

“i- i can’t get off,” you whine in panic, gripping his shoulders like a vice as his lidded gaze flickers from your face, down at where he’s buried inside of your warm chasm with a wince.

panic rises to impossible heights as you hear someone walking in the hall past your room, likely another student. because you guys were only making out before, you had left the door to your room cracked open, your naive selves thinking it was quite risky and hot to do so. but now that his dick is inside of you, the hot risk has turned into a terrifying risk. yes, it’d be embarrassing and shameful if one of your peers walked in but god forbid a teacher did, you’d both probably be suspended or worse.

“t-toge, the door!” you whine at him, shakily and panicked. he seems just as scared because his wide gaze flickers at the door before gulping.

inumaki sets his phone down to the side and returns his shaky hands to grip your hips. he pulls desperately, attempting to help you get off but it’s like his strength has disappeared with his cock into your pussy because he can’t summon any power to pull you off for the life of him.

“get off,” he commands shakily, trying to help but instead, it does the opposite. your body feels as though its a doll with strings tied to it because now it chooses to use two fingers to start swiping harshly against your clit in that familiar way you do all alone. it seems his command was perceived as making yourself cum rather than getting off of his lap.

you immediately gasp in forced pleasure, forcing him to let out a groan as your pussy flutters around him. to play with your clit in front of your boyfriend of only a few weeks is terribly embarrassing and quite awkward for you but to toge? this is just about the hottest thing he’s ever seen. he can’t help but gawk and study the way you’re pleasuring your little bud, jumping at the opportunity to learn what you like. you know it’s not his fault but you can’t help but use your other hand to slap against his chest with irritation as your other refuses to relent.

“q- quit it!” you plead with panic, eerily aware of his gaze on your vulnerable clit.

“s-stop touching yourself,” he hesitantly commands at your request, making you deeply sigh in relief as your hands fly to grip his shoulders instead, leaving your poor clit alone. you don’t miss the way his cock twitches inside of you as he says those words, as if he’s aroused at the idea that he can force you to touch yourself or to stop whenever he likes.

honestly, his mind is reeling. he’s been desperately attempting to hold back filling your pussy with cum since you forced him in, he wouldn’t be able to think of a command to get you off of him efficiently right now even if he tried.

he does feel bad knowing it likely hurt you to take his seven inches in all at once, he and yuta often talk about the importance of foreplay for women, both desperately not wanting to be one of those guys who seem to be incapable of pleasing a woman. he also knows you’re anxious about the door as well, but he can’t help but feel giddy that he’s actually feeling your insides. after all, he’s the definition of a stereotypical nerdy virgin, desperate for any kind of stimulation from his sexy girlfriend. he’s never seen this expression on you before or any real woman, you look so shamefully aroused.

he’s fantasized about this moment for years, since you had become friends. though, he did imagine it to happen a bit differently, something with him eating you out until you’re nice and gushy and then easing his way inside before fucking you as long as he possibly could— but he’ll take what he can get.

“the door, the door,” you babble, redirecting his attention. you’re aware that he’s hesitant to give you another command, likely worried he might make things worse again like he did earlier when he accidentally made you touch yourself so the door takes priority over anything else. he nods at you with a gulp in preparation.

he then wraps his arms around your thighs and stands, making you both groan as the new position pushes his cock in even deeper. you take deep, shaky breaths in attempt to cope as he bites back the instinct to just start fucking you with hopeless abandon.

“g-go, toge, go.” you urge him, unintentionally moaning it out, making him clench his eyes shut briefly to focus before walking to the door and shutting it quickly. every step is like you’re being impaled, agonizingly euphorically.

you both breathe out in relief as he locks the door, but that relief is short lived because the next thing you know, he’s gently lying you on your back on the carpeted floor of your room as he places himself between your legs.

“o-kay—mhm— out, toge,” you breathe out, reminding him to pull out.

a long few moments of an unmoving toge deep inside of you with his head tilted down, eyes glued to where you’re connected makes your brows twitch in confusion. you almost believe he’s not going to pull out because of his pause.

little do you know, toge is at war with himself. part of him wants so badly to just say fuck it and fuck the idea of stopping right out of you, it’d be so easy. but the other, more logical part wants to take your feelings into consideration, aware that this is probably not how you wanted your first time together to be.

“t-toge?” you ask, tilting your head to the side a bit in attempt to see his face.

he seems to choose your feelings over his own at the sound of your shaky voice because he begins to slowly pull out, making you both moan together as you grip his shirt harshly.

when he finally withdraws from your weeping chasm, you get your first clear view of his pretty, blushing dick while he takes in the beautiful sight of your pussy. neither of you can help but stare. his leaking, glistening seven inches bobs just above your pussy and makes you bite your lip with a slow exhale.

“t-that was inside me?” you mutter in disbelief, his cock is just huge. part of you assumed he’d be on the smaller side, mostly because he literally calls you his omega and jokes that he howls at the moon but you couldn’t be more wrong.

he groans with clenched eyes, your praising words doing anything but assisting his self control. he pushes to lie on his back beside you, taking a large amount of effort to force himself off of you.

but before you can even sigh in relief at the feeling of no longer being stuffed to the brim, your body seems to act on its own once again. as he starts to slip his cock back into his pants, your body flies to straddle him and slip him fully inside again. it’s as if since the command hasn’t been called off or combatted with another, your body isnt able to stop until it is.

you whimper in a pathetic broken whine as you try to cope. but that’s nothing compared to what inumaki is feeling as your walls hug onto him, practically begging him to breed you.

he hisses and grips your hips again, unable to stop himself from bucking up into you in a singular harsh thrust, pulling a ‘ah!’ from your pretty lips.

“d-don’t do that!” you plead, whining. your adorable tone is absolutely not helping in toge’s attempt at forcing away the impending doom of cumming with scarce amounts of stimulation.

if he could talk without potentially hurting you, he’d repeat that he’s sorry like a broken record.

“fuck— we need to think of something,” you quickly breathe, attempting desperately to ignore the obvious as you rake your brain for ideas.

toge simply nods frantically, licking his lips as he eyes your pussy. he can’t think of anything but the blissful sight of your cute little clit twitching in distress.

“tell me to— ngh—” and before you can even complete your messy thought, he abruptly hisses harshly and loudly as if in a panic.

“move! move!” he groans at you in desperate warning of his imminent orgasm, nails digging into your hips as his begin to sporadically thrust up into you like he can’t control it. it feels as though he’s the one under compulsion because his hips just won’t stop humping up into you. it’s really not his fault, he tried to hold it back for as long as he could.

and unfortunately, ‘move’ does make you move— but not in the way he intended. you begin to grind your hips down on his jolting ones, unintentionally milking his cock of all of the cum he’s offering your pussy.

“are you—! cumming right now?” you gasp at the euphoric feeling of warmth shooting deep inside as his hard member bullies through your sensitive walls frantically.

you may as well be speaking to the wall because even though he hears you, the intensity of his high is just too euphoric to focus on your words. he’s not sure he would even choose to if he could because it’s just so embarrassing.

the sight of you fucking down on him as he desperately fucks up into you is anything but sexy, though inumaki would disagree. you both look like desperate, pathetic virgins who have no idea how to fuck, thrusts not lining up at all but still somehow working to help him ride his high.

“hahh— fuck! so good, you’re so good,” he babbles in such a pathetic tone that makes you moan back loudly with hands fisting his shirt. you really wish you didn’t have to, but you slap a hand over his mouth to silence him and prevent him from making things worse. while you can’t blame him for struggling to control his words at a time like this, the rare sound of your boyfriends sexy voice speaking normal words only brings you crashing down to your own climax

finding a solution is no longer on your minds; the intensity of real life sex is overwhelming. you anticipated it would be intense, but this feels beyond anything you could have imagined.

he groans beneath your palm, his brows pinched as his high slowly subsides, yet his ruts up into you remain relentless.

“i’m! i’m— i think— it’s—!” you stutter, hands flying to grip his hands on your hips, attempting to communicate that you’re right on the edge of your own orgasm. you don’t even need to say it, inumaki understands what you mean just from the way your grinding turns into a harsh bounce.

desperate to make you cum after embarrassing himself so badly, he uses two fingers to rub against your clit with zero technique and strategy. he’s trying to copy your moves earlier but he’s failing terribly, maybe he’d be able to do this efficiently if you weren’t bouncing frantically on his overstimulated cock.

it soon becomes clear that his inexperienced circles against your clit only work to rile you up more after a few minutes, seemingly making your orgasm stray away instead of pulling it closer.

you whine in frustration and he panics, eager to return the pleasure you gave him. despite the fact that you’re abusing his sensitive cock after he just came, his only concern is that he’s fortunately still hard enough for you to eventually find your release.

“p-please— wanna cum too!” you whimper, leaning down to lay a messy kiss against his lips, making his brows twitch in sympathy. the second an idea graces his mind, he halts his movements against your clit and instead tightens his hold on your hips to help you bounce. it’s impossible to hold back pathetic whines as he takes control of your moves.

“cum hard for me,” he coos, commanding you with urgency. and like clockwork, your vision blurs, your orgasm crashing down on you so hard that your back arches and you scream out his name for all of the dorms to hear just how good inumaki seems to be treating you.

“t-thank you— thank you— thank you—” you babble like an idiot, but he thinks you sound like a fucking angel.

he just about cums again at the sight of your twitching, jolting body mixed with the feeling of your pussy clenching on him harder than ever. though he’s a bit hurt he wasn’t able to make you cum without his cursed speech, he’s mostly just glad he was able to make you cum at all considering the situation at hand. he thinks it’s the least he could do for you.

after a few moments of your pussy squeezing him like a vice, it begins to clench in a pattern of sorts, like it’s your bodies built in way of assuring his cum will penetrate your uterus. he wants so badly to ask why that’s happening but he’ll have to wait to look it up later because the idea of typing that out makes his cheeks burn.

then, you collapse onto his body, slowly softening cock still snug inside of you as you gasp for air. he rubs your back soothingly as you tuck your head in his shoulder, basking in the afterglow together.

his phone must have landed near you because you hear him typing, making you sit up lazily to check.

he presents his phone to you with a blush, ‘i know that wasn’t ideal but that was really good for me. thank you and i’m sorry.”

and you can’t help but laugh, though you’re just as embarrassed, face burning as harshly as his is.

“it—it’s okay, you’re lucky i’m on birth control,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his torso with relaxed closed eyes, more than unbothered that his soft dick is still nestled inside. it feels like you’re hugging him down there and up here, only adding to the intimacy.

“and it was good for me too,” you whisper seductively before nibbling on his neck.

you giggle when you hear him sigh deeply in relief and wrap his arms around you.

“you came awfully fast, toge,” you suddenly tease, making his face grimace in shame before he groans.

he wishes he could tease you back but he settles with pinching your waist playfully, causing you to squeak and jolt, making your hips jerk down on his sensitive cock. before you can even pray that he doesn’t react with an another command—

“f-fuck!”

[yvieliny]

warnings: mermaid hybrid satoru, exploration kink?, suggestive nsfw🔞 this is a long one~

“nngh!”

sounds of distressed whimpers force your head out of your book with furrowed brows—you can barely hear the cries under the steady crashing of waves and birds singing in the wind. part of you thinks you might be going crazy considering no one is within your proximity on this side of the beach. you blink rapidly as you attempt to listen in on the sound and when it doesn’t fade, you hesitantly stand and attempt to make your way closer to it.

but when it leads you to a cluster of all different sizes of rocks near the shore, you sigh. you’re close to just deem yourself crazy, maybe your fantasy book is just encouraging your imagination. but when the whining turns into a faint cry, your curiosity only grows. you squint at the area in attempt to spot the source as you take your shoes off and throw them closer to the dry sand along with your book, as to not get them wet.

you take a step into the wet sand at the very border of the shore where the waves meet your feet as you eye the area.

“is someone there?” you hesitantly call, cringing at the sound of your voice as you look around to make sure no one is seeing you speak to the ocean like an imbecile.

immediately the whining and sobbing halts abruptly, making your brows furrow further with curiosity.

“are- are you hurt?” you ask, taking another step closer to the rocks. the rocks are a bit intimidating even though they’re not submerged much since the tide has shifted so you gulp as you near them.

you’re now ankle deep into the water, no longer needing to go in any deeper to approach the rocks.

it’s silent now. you’re now second guessing if you even heard anything in the first place, but it’s too odd that the noises seemed to stop once you had spoken.

so you finally approach the rocks, laying your palms down on a large one to peek your head over it, half expecting to see a child that’s lost their way.

and what you see makes your eyes widen and the blood drain from your face. you gasp in a mixture of shock, fear, and confusion when you make eye contact with what looks like a fairy tail creature.

you jump back in surprise, stumbling and falling straight onto your ass, completely soaking your bottoms and the hem of your shirt.

“w-what-what the fuck?” you stutter to yourself, shaking your head harshly as you clench your eyes shut and grip the wet sand. maybe these fantasy books are finally getting to you or maybe you fell asleep on the beach and this is all a dream.

a moment later, you blink rapidly as you shakily stand. and this time, you walk around the rock so you can properly see what you think you saw without something in the way.

and once you do, you see it again, staring at you with wide piercing blue eyes. you can’t even speak as you analyze it, much less breathe. it looks deathly afraid of you, whatever it is, and it eyes your every step with the upmost observation and fear.

it’s long scaly fish like tail is a beautiful blue color, but it’s torso and head is seemingly human. it has milky white skin, pecks with nipples like a man, toned arms with little blue fins attached, and hands with fingers— though they seem more webbed than a normal persons. it’s tail begins where a normal humans legs would. it’s some kind of a creature that’s half man and half fish. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it looks like a mermaid.

you don’t dare to take another step closer, staying a few feet away with caution. it’s tail is caught in some kind of netting connected to the rock and it looks as though the grip it has on it’s tail is so tight that there’s a bit of red blood seeping from it.

it’s not moving one inch as the baby waves crash gently on it. the creature is so still, in fact, that you’d believe it was dead if not for its eery eyes watching your every breath and the way it’s blinking every now and then.

you’ve had the ‘do aliens exist’ talk before, everyone has, but no matter your stance on it, actually seeing something inhuman and seemingly otherworldly is a whole nother conversation entirely.

your breath is shaky as you squint at the netting because even though you have no idea what this creature is, it looks like it’s in pain. you can’t help but wish to help it.

you gulp and take a step closer to get a better look at the netting but the moment you do, it flinches and it’s tail begins to slam against the sand with force— like it’s trying to scare you off by splashing you with the small amount of water under it.

and if his intent was to scare you, it works because you fall right back onto your ass with a gasp as droplets of water litter your face.

“i-i-i’m sorry! i- won’t h-hurt you!” you stutter out, voice shakier than it’s ever been as you wipe your face of the water. you aren’t even sure if this creature can understand your language, but even animals can understand intent so you figure it’s worth a shot.

hesitantly, it slows it’s flopping and tears begin to fall from its beautiful, gleaming eyes as soft whimpers fall from its lips. it seems as though it’s accepted its fate, that you will hurt it or even worse, kill it.

your brows twitch in sympathy as you stand once again. its teary eyes follow you every step of the way as you inch closer to it ever so slowly with hands extended, as if to communicate that you won’t hurt it.

and once you get close enough to potentially touch its tail, you crouch in front of the mid part of it with caution, eyes trained on it’s terrified face.

you gulp. “i’m going to t-try to get this off, okay?” you voice, knowing it likely doesn’t understand you.

it’s face contorts with confusion and eyes flicker down to your hands that are steadily moving towards it’s tail.

you pause for a moment, giving it time to process what’s happening before attempting to make contact. as you get just inches away, it flinches violently, tugging against the netting and letting out a painful whine.

“it’s okay! don’t move— calm down.” you coo, attempting to adopt a calming tone to your voice. it seems to help a bit because its tail stills, though still obviously hesitant.

although your natural curiosity urges you to touch its tail to learn more, you don’t want to frighten the injured creature any further. this is your first time encountering such a being, and it's likely the creature’s first time seeing a human.

you gently place a hand on the net around its tail, careful not to touch the tail itself to avoid scaring it. you carefully maneuver the netting, examining what can be done. the knots are tangled, but not impossible to undo.

you gently let go and look at its face once again with sympathy.

“that must hurt, huh? poor thing.” you coo as it softly sobs, “i’m going to unknot it now.” you explain with a newfound determination.

you begin working, carefully untying the netting as gently as possible. when the creature’s whines intensify from a particularly painful tug, you pause, easing up to show that you mean no harm. this gesture seems to soothe it, enough that its gaze shifts from your working hands to your focused face, filled with curiosity.

you notice that whenever your fingers get close to its tail, there's a subtle resistance, as if an invisible barrier is pushing against you, protecting it from your touch.

finally, you get it untied and you pull the ropesoff of it’s tail with an accomplished sigh. “all done.”

it’s eyes widen in shock as its tail suddenly moves freely. you huff with a cheerful smile, watching as the creature realizes it’s free and no longer doomed to die here. you can’t help but wonder why it was so close to shore in the first place.

then, suddenly, as if realizing you might still pose a threat, it swiftly turns and glides gracefully into a deeper part of the ocean.

you stand up with an expression of bewilderment as you watch it swim into the water, disappearing with a splash of its large tail.

you chuckle to yourself in disbelief, rubbing a hand down your face. your eyes remain fixed on the spot where you last saw it, hoping to catch just one more glimpse before you leave. you know no one would believe you if you told them what you just witnessed, but maybe that’s for the best, given how cruel humans can be.

just as you’re about to turn to retrieve your book and shoes, your eyes light up when it’s white haired head pops up, exposing its face as it stares at you from afar.

when it doesn’t move to leave immediately, you lift a hand and awkwardly wave, mentally cursing yourself when you realize it probably doesn’t know what that gesture means. sure, the way it’s just watching you is a bit unsettling, but it doesn’t seem to have any ill intent. you’re fairly certain it understands that you set it free—or at least, you hope so.

and then, you exhale sharply in bewilderment when it surprisingly copies your gesture, lifting a hand and waving back at you before disappearing back into the ocean.

the next few days you can’t help but visit the same area of the beach again, hoping that maybe you’ll see the astonishing creature again. but you don’t, not for days.

after about a week, you finally see it again, but any hopes or expectations you had are quickly dashed when it merely observes you from a safe distance in the water. you don’t dare to push the boundary and enter the water, fearing that it might scare the creature away or even the possibility that it could hurt you.

in the days that follow, it surprisingly returns each day at the same time to watch you for hours at a time. whenever another human comes by, it vanishes into the ocean in the blink of an eye, only to reappear and gaze at you again. you’ve noticed that it seems particularly interested in watching you read for some reason.

unfortunately, you have college classes to attend still so you’re forced to skip a beach day. the entirety of the class, all you can do is wonder if the creature is waiting for you to show up.

the next day, instead of lounging on the dry sand, you sit in the shallow water, where it reaches up to your waist, wearing your swimsuit.

to your surprise, when it pops up like usual, it doesn’t seem afraid of your new proximity but it stays a long distance away as it eyes you. its expression reads curiosity but you can’t be sure from this distance.

after spending about an hour idly watching the creature and playing with the wet sand under your hands, you grow comfortable. you even close your eyes and bask in the sun.

but when you hear the gentle ripple of water— as if something is moving, you peek open your eyes to see it much closer now.

it scares you at first, making you gasp and scoot back a bit with fear. but your reaction seems to scare it too, making it quickly retreat into the water again.

“n-no! wait! i’m sorry— come back!” you plead in fear that it might never return as you crawl in deeper on all fours, unsure if it can hear you beneath the water.

a moment later, it peeks up at you again, much further than before but still close enough to see. immediately you smile and wave, hoping it recognizes your gesture again.

and it does recognize it, showing a sort of naïveté as its eyes light up and it swims closer, shockingly fast. it’s a bit unnerving how fast it moves but maybe you should have expected as much from a creature of the water. you try not to show any signs of fear or shock at its movement so you don’t potentially scare it away again.

it then exposes its entire face as it lifts a hand and waves back with wonder in its eyes, only feet away from you. it seems it’s hesitant to come any closer because you’re in a shallow part of the shore— though you think that’s for the best because even if it hasn’t hurt you thus far, it’s an unknown creature that you know nothing about. it’s best to keep a small space between the two of you for now.

you take a seat in the water that’s now up to your lower ribs as you examine its beautiful features while it examines yours.

it’s facial features are that of the most beautiful in the world, you think, surpassing even the most famous of beauties in the human race. and it’s eyes are a color that shouldn’t be possible, so piercing blue that they’re almost glowing. its hair is milky white, much more pure of a white than any bleach could ever turn a humans hair— matching its eyelashes and eyebrows. you aren’t sure, but it looks like a man in his twenties.

“beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” you breathe out in awe, making it’s head tilt in curiosity— reminiscent of a puppy.

and then it suddenly speaks, but the language scares you. it’s like no language you’ve ever heard before and it’s tone sounds bewildered. it’s voice is deep and raspy, like a man and you’re not sure what you expected but it wasn’t that.

you can’t help but flinch and gulp a bit at the sound of it, it’s only natural to be afraid of such an unknown sound but you’re trying your best to be open minded.

as if responding to your sign of fear, it begins to speak again but this time— in english.

“c-calm— d-d-ow-n, poor th-thing.” it stumbles over its words, attempting so hard to copy your words and cooing tone from weeks ago when you were freeing it.

you can barely grasp what it’s trying to say, but as you piece it together, your jaw drops in awe. you’re amazed that it remembered what you said well enough to repeat it—especially since it’s using the same calming words you used on it to try to soothe you. It’s as if it’s trying to calm you down, even though it probably doesn’t understand the meaning of the words.

“amazing,” you breathe out, blinking in utter disbelief.

“ama—zong,” it repeats with a curious tone.

you giggle with your eyes crinkled closed as it mispronounces “amazing” as “amazong,” and your laughter only seems to intrigue it further. its white eyebrows twitch as it swims closer, trying to catch more of your laugh.

when you open your eyes again, you find it closer than before, causing you to stiffen and gasp. it’s now only a few feet away, and because it’s in such shallow water, it’s forced into a horizontal position, with parts of its tail visible behind it.

then, it speaks again, slowly, but in its own language like it’s trying to teach you a word.

“sa-tor-u.” it coos, sounding out the word for you to learn with gentleness.

the fear that rose when the creature came closer is quickly replaced with fascination as you focus on the word.

“satoru.” you repeat the word slowly and immediately it smiles as it lifts its tail and splashes the water excitedly.

you chuckle at the sight as droplets from the splash of its powerful tail land on your cheek.

“satoru. what does it mean?” you question with a smile, more to yourself than the creature as you wipe the water away from your cheek.

and as if detecting your questioning tone, he quickly points at itself and repeats the word again.

“you? your name?” you ask, eager to learn more about the creature. but he doesn’t understand your words and simply blinks at you. it’s astonishing that he wants you to know his name—not that you think he’s unintelligent, but you weren’t sure of his level of awareness. ‘satoru’ is primarily a male name, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve come across some humans with the name.

“uh- um,” you then point to yourself and speak your own name slowly, eager for him to learn yours now.

he repeats your name with determination to pronounce it correctly, and you nod with a big smile, delighted by the sound of his beautiful voice saying your name.

then, as if the setting sun is a curfew, satoru suddenly turns and dives into the ocean with urgency. but before disappearing for the night, he resurfaces briefly, waves with a smile, and then vanishes once more.

the following days are some of the most exciting of your life, stories you’ll tell your grandchildren about teaching a beautiful merman to speak english.

unfortunately, the first thing you teach satoru is how to say, ‘stay back or i will hurt you.’ its a bit tough to explain the meaning but once you point to his tail to remind him of the painful netting, he understands for the most part.

you’re afraid someone less moral will come across satoru who’s so beautiful and naive and innocent to the human world. you have to explain that not all humans are like you and though he’s a bit confused, he mostly grasps the concept.

you’ve found that the easiest way to teach satoru about words and meanings is to read to him. he listens to you for hours and when you begin to pick children’s books that help in learning english, he excels quickly.

soon, he’s able to speak at a moderate level and you’re simply aching to ask him every question in the book as you sit in your familiar place in the shallow water by the rocks.

“are you a mermaid?” you inquire, knowing it’s a silly question to ask considering ‘mermaid’ is a silly human term for fairytales.

“‘mer-maid?’” he repeats with curiosity, and you chuckle to yourself. you should have expected that response.

“where were you born? how old are you?” you instead question, eagerly.

he points to the open ocean before turning back to you. “eight— six.”

you hum in thought, recalling how you’ve already tried teaching him about human days and years, but it seems he has his own way of measuring time. you’ve discovered that in his terms, eighty-six translates to twenty-six in your time.

“are there a lot of your kind?”

“yes. lot.” he nods, seemingly happy to be able to communicate with you.

“are you able to get out of the ocean completely? or do you need the water to breathe?” you ask.

“no, i can get out. but we are not supposed to. rules,” he grumbles, clearly annoyed by the rule. you wonder if he might be a bit of a rebel in his society. this also explains why he was treading so close to the shore when he got caught in the net.

“can i ask question too?” he suddenly questions.

your brows twitch in slight surprise at his curiosity and you nod with a smile.

“why do you save me?” he suddenly asks, referring to the time you met and you freed him from the netting.

you exhale with sympathy as you gaze at him.

“why not? i saved you because you were in pain.”

he blinks at you with utmost wonder in his blue eyes and then quickly refocuses onto his next question— as if he’s afraid he won’t have time to ask everything he wants to.

“how many are you?” and his question slightly confuses you until it clicks that he’s asking your age.

“uh— in your time, i’m eight-one,” you explain, converting your age of twenty-one into a number he can understand.

he immediately coos, “cute. you are young. in my home, you would be offered up to mate.”

you blush a bit and gasp a bit before chuckling nervously. “o-oh!”

“do you have a mate?” he asks with gleaming, glowing eyes.

you breathe out a laugh. “no. do you?”

“how do you say—” he hums in thought, likely looking back on your language exercises, “—hell no.”

immediately, you burst into a fit of giggles. that phrase was one of your favorite to teach him.

“beautiful. you are beautiful,” his smile broadens at the sound of your laugh, breathing out audibly through his nose— making a noise reminiscent of an awe.

your eyes widen at his compliment, blinking rapidly as your cheeks burn. “w-wow, me? says you.”

“thank you!” he cheers, like a child who has been taught to say thank you after every compliment— it makes you snap out of your flattered state and giggle a bit.

“what are these? why?” he questions and you jump when you feel his fingers graze along your calf under water.

“m-my legs? um- i’m not sure why. to walk i suppose.” you shrug, slightly shivering at his touch with a blush. you hadn’t made physical contact yet and it’s a bit unnerving. he doesn’t seem to be the shy type.

“painful?” he questions with concern, fingers still curiously exploring your legs gently.

you giggle softly at his assumption, and he tilts his head at you with a curious smile. you figure he thinks your legs must be painful since they’re split in two instead of being one piece like his tail.

“no, not painful,” you shake your head, attempting to eye his hand traveling up your thigh through the murky water as you grip the sand.

“soft,” he says before dipping his head under the water, intently examining your legs. he runs his hands along them, but when he reaches the inside of your thighs in exploration, you gasp and quickly grab his hands to stop him before he can reach your private area. he surfaces, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“hurt you? sorry, i’m sorry.” he pouts, slightly pulling back and lowering himself to show that he’s a non-threat submissively.

you huff and gently pull his hands from your legs so you can interlock yours with his— partly to keep control of where he puts them and partly to just feel his skin.

“you didn’t hurt me. that area is just,” you pause, thinking on the right words to use for this, “-sensitive and private.”

he moves closer again, your friendly gesture of holding his hands helping him to relax, as his fear of hurting you fades and interest takes its place. he says a word in his own language and you blink at him with confusion.

“what’s the word for— is it—mating organs?”

“um— ‘mating organs’?” and quickly you realize that you had never taught him a word for your reproductive organs and your face burns in embarrassment. “oh uh— yes, sort of.”

“can i see?” he questions, making your embarrassment sky rocket. it’s obvious he’s simply intrigued with the human body, without ill intent.

“uh— that’s not a good idea,” you quickly utter, letting go of his hands and shutting your thighs tightly.

he starts pouting, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned about satoru over the past few days, it’s that he’s kind of needy and playful, and definitely prone to pouting when things don’t go his way.

“why?” he whines, hands returning to caress your ankles gently.

“uh-um because— well, that’s like me asking to see your- fish-tail-mating area,” you exclaim dumbly, unsure of if he even has male reproductive organs like humans do.

he blinks at you, pout still prominent.

“‘fish tail?’” he repeats, thinking for a moment before his brows raise in understanding.

“you can see and i can see!” he shouts, as if he’s just solved the issue easily.

you gulp and your gaze flickers around, avoiding his gaze in utter disbelief. you’re pretty sure that he’s insinuating a ‘i’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ situation.

“please?” he pleads, and you wish you hadn’t ever taught him the word because his sweet, graceful tone sways you, as if his voice has a spell woven into it.

you can’t deny your own curiosity about his tail and his anatomy, so you find yourself looking around the empty beach before gulping and nodding—for research purposes.

he brightens up and promptly adjusts into a seated position. using his palms, he scoots closer to the shore, encouraging you to move back until his tail is completely exposed. he rests his back against one of the many rocks by the shore as the baby waves crash against the both of you.

you gulp as your eyes linger on his stunning physique, sitting back on your calves while you focus on where his abdomen transitions into his tail. he seems to notice your ogling, taking your hand and gently guiding your fingers from the wet ridges of his abs down to his scaly tail.

“w-wow, you’re so beautiful.” you breathe, lips slightly parted as your breathing deepens in astonishment.

he giggles, as if he’s quite used to this type of admiration, and lets you explore his tail. when you reach his fin, he playfully flicks it up, huffing in amusement when you flinch and gasp.

you then bring your hand to press against his warm chest, where his heart is and your jaw drops when it beats in such an irregular way— unlike any human heart.

“your heart! it’s- amazing.” you breathe in awe, moving your fingers around slightly to feel it better.

his head tilts in wonder before reaching out and pressing his own finger tips to your chest, just between your breasts.

and after a moment of waiting, he gasps and hunches forward to suddenly press his ear to your chest.

“boom! boom! boom! boom! boom!” he breathes in astonishment, now understanding why you were so amazed at his heart beat. he thinks yours sounds so comforting, he could stay pressed to your soft chest all day.

you chuckle and blink down at him, slightly embarrassed that he’s pressing into the fat of your breasts. but after a few long moments of him simply listening to your heart, you gently pull his head up to lean against the rock once more.

“you keep feel?” he questions, asking if you’re done exploring his body or not.

although you feel a bit deranged for letting your mind wander, you can’t help but ponder how his kind reproduces. you don’t see any visible dick of any kind but you do see a slight bulge where his dick should be.

you tilt your head at it, hesitant to ask but it seems you don’t have to because he notices.

“under. like your cover.” he gestures towards your bathing suit bottoms with a slight blush dusting his high cheekbones.

“o-oh, i see,” you stutter with a bashful smile, lowering your chin in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the bulge beneath his scales.

as if reading your mind, he then tilts his head down to make eye contact with you.

“you want to see?”

you part your lips and stutter, blinking rapidly.

“um- if that’s okay.” you gaze up at him nervously, biting your lip coyly. you figure if you’re ready to reveal what’s beneath your bottoms, it’s only fair that he does the same.

though he seems quite shameless and confident, he grows shy as he moves his scales to the side and exposes a slit.

your brows furrow, eyes squinting briefly as you focus in on the area. you can’t help but gasp when a long, thick member resembling a human cock slides out. it’s nearly identical to a humans, except for the fact that it has blue scales near the base.

it bobs, seemingly hard, but you aren’t sure if he’s naturally this size or not. you wonder if it’s potentially arousing him to show his genitalia to a human but you can’t deny the possibility that you’re just demented.

“w-wow, big,” you gulp, in a slight haze as you watch a bead of what looks like pre cum dribble out of his tip. you don’t even realize what you just said until he’s chuckling.

“human not ‘big’?” he questions, almost slyly. he seems quite confident in his body, which he absolutely should be considering how ethereally gorgeous he is from top to bottom.

you clear your throat and force your gaze away from his throbbing member.

“n-not usually that big.” you mumble. “are those.. scales?” you point at the scales near the bottom of his cock.

“yes, touch?” he asks, reading that look on your face as a look of a creature that wants to mate— though he’s not so ignorant as to be unaware that you’re likely just curious like he is.

your eyes widen even wider and your mouth opens and closes as you try to put your thoughts in order. you aren’t sure if he’s so shamelessly lewd as to ask you to jerk him off.

“no mate, just touch,” he attempts to clarify, delicately grasping your willing hand and moving it close until it’s just inches away from the scales you were curious about.

how many human can say they’ve ever had this opportunity before? to explore a merman’s body? you figure as long as you just touch briefly, it’s fine, it’s not like you have harmful intentions.

you gulp and your gaze flickers up at him as if to make sure it’s okay to be doing this before focusing on his cock.

you softly brush your fingers along the ridges of the bumpy, slick scales at his base, causing his cock to twitch. you glance up at his face as he whines a word in his language and unintentionally thrusts his hips toward your touch.

the scales are soft but textured at the same time, and they seem to ripple in response to your touch—as if they’re just built to react to stimulus that way.

“o-okay you can put it away,” you quickly mutter when you form the instinct to wrap your hand around his cock and pull more of those adorable whines out of him.

he nods, eyes lidded and breathing deeper than before. you watch as it slides back into his slit and he covers it with his scales once again. it’s a bit bizarre the way it retracts and moves but mostly fascinating.

“my turn?” he questions eagerly, gently nudging your legs with one hand as to make them part while the tip of his fin grazes your outer thigh.

your nerves rise as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. a promise is a promise and though it’s nerve racking, you want to prove that even though you’re a strange creature in his eyes, you’ll stick to your word.

“y-yes.” you nod with a nervous smile.

excitement litters his face as he moves to lie on his stomach, tail playfully tapping against the shallow puddle of water beneath.

you tentatively and somewhat embarrassedly get into position, with your legs bent on either side of his head and leaning on your elbows to watch what he does.

you attempt to take deep, steady breaths as he gently pushes your thighs apart with warm hands.

shakily, you let them part ways, allowing him to push them as far apart as they go until you feel the subtle burn of the stretch. it’s really not his fault, he’s likely completely unaware of how far your legs can push apart.

you can’t help but imagine how startling this sight would be if someone were to stumble upon it. he then pulls at the material of the gusset of your swimsuit with confusion, making your abdomen gently flinch.

“is this connect to you?” he looks up at you. it seems he’s asking if your swimsuit is similar to his scales that cover his slit.

“no, i can take it off.” you utter shyly before simply pulling it to the side so he can see your pussy.

immediately his eyes widen and he leans in so close that you can feel his breath fan over your twitching folds.

you’re aware he’s likely never seen a humans genitalia before and has nothing to compare yours to but it doesn’t stop you from growing self conscious under his stare.

“like me?” he asks, blinking up at you with furrowed brows. he’s attempting to ask if you have a cock that comes out of your slit as well, though your slit does look very different than his.

“n-no, no. it’s just a.. hole.” you explain, humiliated, blushing, and gripping the sand to cope with the embarrassing words.

“what is this bump?” he questions, pointing at your twitching clit, fingertip only breaths away from making contact.

“um— mating.. tool?” you cringe at your choice of words but he chirps a hum as if understanding— though you aren’t sure how much he could possibly understand form your poor explanation.

“touch?” he asks, not taking his eyes away from your slit. he doesn’t miss the way your ‘mating tool’ spasms when he speaks.

you gulp and close your eyes with a sharp exhale through your nose, trying to collect yourself and your naughty urges.

“why?”

“to see more,” he explains, “so compact.” you can tell he’s referring to the way your outer lips keep your inner lips closed to an extent in this position.

“o-okay,” you nod, watching him like a hawk as he reaches out and pulls one of your outer lips to the side, making your folds straighten out on that side. it allows for a peek into your clenching chasm and it only intrigues him further, squinting his eyes to look into your hole.

“smells yummy,” he whines out, causing your pussy to clench around nothing and slowly leak a bit of arousal. you bite back a moan at his unintentional compliment.

“a-are you done?” you gulp, hoping he doesn’t question your slick leaking out.

“this is your mating hole?” he refers to your pussy and you bite into your bottom lip, mind racing with ideas of ‘mating’ with the beautiful creature in front of you and how it would work.

“y-yes,” you stutter, breathy.

“you have mated before?” he asks, gaze flickering up at you and gently letting go of your lips. it takes everything within you not to laugh at his question, he’s basically asking if you’re a virgin.

“no, have you?” you turn his question back on him with a small smile.

“no, that’s for life long mate,” he admits with a matching smile, leaning in and licking an affectionate stripe up your inner thigh.

you gasp pathetically in pleasure and your thighs clench, making you quickly cover your pussy with your bottoms once again in fear of your urges pushing this experience too far before you know it.

“o-okay no more.”

he frowns a bit at the sight of your covered pussy and gently pushes back into the water to submerge more comfortably.

you settle into a criss crossed position after scooting closer until the water reaches your waist.

“thank you for showing me, you are interesting,” he coos with a smile, gently lifting a dripping finger to brush it down your cheek, making you shiver.

you exhale slowly and lean into his touch. “will i see you again?”

he suddenly seems as though he has an idea or remembered one, face lighting up.

“i be back—wait,” he voices briefly before turning and diving into the water so fast that you’d have missed it if you blinked.

you can’t help but furrow your brows and reach out to the ocean in fear that he might never come back— even in spite of his words. but a few moments later, he re-emerges, making you exhale in relief. he seems to have brought you a large white shell.

“watch,” he coos, keeping eye contact with you as he brings it to his lips and blows. a beautiful sound comes out of the shell, inducing a peaceful tranquil feeling deep within causing you to light up with awe.

“you call and i come,” he explains softly, wrapping your hands around the shell like it’s a precious gift.

your heart flutters at his words and the feeling of his hands around yours, eyebrows twitching in a pout when he lets go.

the sun suddenly sets below the ocean and now it’s his turn to pout. “i must go.”

and just like that, he kisses the back of your hand before escaping back into the dark ocean, leaving you to wonder when you’ll see him again.

—————-

i am so in love with mermaid satoru bye

[yvieliny]

warnings: mermaid hybrid satoru, exploration kink?, suggestive nsfw🔞 this is a long one~

“nngh!”

sounds of distressed whimpers force your head out of your book with furrowed brows—you can barely hear the cries under the steady crashing of waves and birds singing in the wind. part of you thinks you might be going crazy considering no one is within your proximity on this side of the beach. you blink rapidly as you attempt to listen in on the sound and when it doesn’t fade, you hesitantly stand and attempt to make your way closer to it.

but when it leads you to a cluster of all different sizes of rocks near the shore, you sigh. you’re close to just deem yourself crazy, maybe your fantasy book is just encouraging your imagination. but when the whining turns into a faint cry, your curiosity only grows. you squint at the area in attempt to spot the source as you take your shoes off and throw them closer to the dry sand along with your book, as to not get them wet.

you take a step into the wet sand at the very border of the shore where the waves meet your feet as you eye the area.

“is someone there?” you hesitantly call, cringing at the sound of your voice as you look around to make sure no one is seeing you speak to the ocean like an imbecile.

immediately the whining and sobbing halts abruptly, making your brows furrow further with curiosity.

“are- are you hurt?” you ask, taking another step closer to the rocks. the rocks are a bit intimidating even though they’re not submerged much since the tide has shifted so you gulp as you near them.

you’re now ankle deep into the water, no longer needing to go in any deeper to approach the rocks.

it’s silent now. you’re now second guessing if you even heard anything in the first place, but it’s too odd that the noises seemed to stop once you had spoken.

so you finally approach the rocks, laying your palms down on a large one to peek your head over it, half expecting to see a child that’s lost their way.

and what you see makes your eyes widen and the blood drain from your face. you gasp in a mixture of shock, fear, and confusion when you make eye contact with what looks like a fairy tail creature.

you jump back in surprise, stumbling and falling straight onto your ass, completely soaking your bottoms and the hem of your shirt.

“w-what-what the fuck?” you stutter to yourself, shaking your head harshly as you clench your eyes shut and grip the wet sand. maybe these fantasy books are finally getting to you or maybe you fell asleep on the beach and this is all a dream.

a moment later, you blink rapidly as you shakily stand. and this time, you walk around the rock so you can properly see what you think you saw without something in the way.

and once you do, you see it again, staring at you with wide piercing blue eyes. you can’t even speak as you analyze it, much less breathe. it looks deathly afraid of you, whatever it is, and it eyes your every step with the upmost observation and fear.

it’s long scaly fish like tail is a beautiful blue color, but it’s torso and head is seemingly human. it has milky white skin, pecks with nipples like a man, toned arms with little blue fins attached, and hands with fingers— though they seem more webbed than a normal persons. it’s tail begins where a normal humans legs would. it’s some kind of a creature that’s half man and half fish. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it looks like a mermaid.

you don’t dare to take another step closer, staying a few feet away with caution. it’s tail is caught in some kind of netting connected to the rock and it looks as though the grip it has on it’s tail is so tight that there’s a bit of red blood seeping from it.

it’s not moving one inch as the baby waves crash gently on it. the creature is so still, in fact, that you’d believe it was dead if not for its eery eyes watching your every breath and the way it’s blinking every now and then.

you’ve had the ‘do aliens exist’ talk before, everyone has, but no matter your stance on it, actually seeing something inhuman and seemingly otherworldly is a whole nother conversation entirely.

your breath is shaky as you squint at the netting because even though you have no idea what this creature is, it looks like it’s in pain. you can’t help but wish to help it.

you gulp and take a step closer to get a better look at the netting but the moment you do, it flinches and it’s tail begins to slam against the sand with force— like it’s trying to scare you off by splashing you with the small amount of water under it.

and if his intent was to scare you, it works because you fall right back onto your ass with a gasp as droplets of water litter your face.

“i-i-i’m sorry! i- won’t h-hurt you!” you stutter out, voice shakier than it’s ever been as you wipe your face of the water. you aren’t even sure if this creature can understand your language, but even animals can understand intent so you figure it’s worth a shot.

hesitantly, it slows it’s flopping and tears begin to fall from its beautiful, gleaming eyes as soft whimpers fall from its lips. it seems as though it’s accepted its fate, that you will hurt it or even worse, kill it.

your brows twitch in sympathy as you stand once again. its teary eyes follow you every step of the way as you inch closer to it ever so slowly with hands extended, as if to communicate that you won’t hurt it.

and once you get close enough to potentially touch its tail, you crouch in front of the mid part of it with caution, eyes trained on it’s terrified face.

you gulp. “i’m going to t-try to get this off, okay?” you voice, knowing it likely doesn’t understand you.

it’s face contorts with confusion and eyes flicker down to your hands that are steadily moving towards it’s tail.

you pause for a moment, giving it time to process what’s happening before attempting to make contact. as you get just inches away, it flinches violently, tugging against the netting and letting out a painful whine.

“it’s okay! don’t move— calm down.” you coo, attempting to adopt a calming tone to your voice. it seems to help a bit because its tail stills, though still obviously hesitant.

although your natural curiosity urges you to touch its tail to learn more, you don’t want to frighten the injured creature any further. this is your first time encountering such a being, and it's likely the creature’s first time seeing a human.

you gently place a hand on the net around its tail, careful not to touch the tail itself to avoid scaring it. you carefully maneuver the netting, examining what can be done. the knots are tangled, but not impossible to undo.

you gently let go and look at its face once again with sympathy.

“that must hurt, huh? poor thing.” you coo as it softly sobs, “i’m going to unknot it now.” you explain with a newfound determination.

you begin working, carefully untying the netting as gently as possible. when the creature’s whines intensify from a particularly painful tug, you pause, easing up to show that you mean no harm. this gesture seems to soothe it, enough that its gaze shifts from your working hands to your focused face, filled with curiosity.

you notice that whenever your fingers get close to its tail, there's a subtle resistance, as if an invisible barrier is pushing against you, protecting it from your touch.

finally, you get it untied and you pull the ropesoff of it’s tail with an accomplished sigh. “all done.”

it’s eyes widen in shock as its tail suddenly moves freely. you huff with a cheerful smile, watching as the creature realizes it’s free and no longer doomed to die here. you can’t help but wonder why it was so close to shore in the first place.

then, suddenly, as if realizing you might still pose a threat, it swiftly turns and glides gracefully into a deeper part of the ocean.

you stand up with an expression of bewilderment as you watch it swim into the water, disappearing with a splash of its large tail.

you chuckle to yourself in disbelief, rubbing a hand down your face. your eyes remain fixed on the spot where you last saw it, hoping to catch just one more glimpse before you leave. you know no one would believe you if you told them what you just witnessed, but maybe that’s for the best, given how cruel humans can be.

just as you’re about to turn to retrieve your book and shoes, your eyes light up when it’s white haired head pops up, exposing its face as it stares at you from afar.

when it doesn’t move to leave immediately, you lift a hand and awkwardly wave, mentally cursing yourself when you realize it probably doesn’t know what that gesture means. sure, the way it’s just watching you is a bit unsettling, but it doesn’t seem to have any ill intent. you’re fairly certain it understands that you set it free—or at least, you hope so.

and then, you exhale sharply in bewilderment when it surprisingly copies your gesture, lifting a hand and waving back at you before disappearing back into the ocean.

the next few days you can’t help but visit the same area of the beach again, hoping that maybe you’ll see the astonishing creature again. but you don’t, not for days.

after about a week, you finally see it again, but any hopes or expectations you had are quickly dashed when it merely observes you from a safe distance in the water. you don’t dare to push the boundary and enter the water, fearing that it might scare the creature away or even the possibility that it could hurt you.

in the days that follow, it surprisingly returns each day at the same time to watch you for hours at a time. whenever another human comes by, it vanishes into the ocean in the blink of an eye, only to reappear and gaze at you again. you’ve noticed that it seems particularly interested in watching you read for some reason.

unfortunately, you have college classes to attend still so you’re forced to skip a beach day. the entirety of the class, all you can do is wonder if the creature is waiting for you to show up.

the next day, instead of lounging on the dry sand, you sit in the shallow water, where it reaches up to your waist, wearing your swimsuit.

to your surprise, when it pops up like usual, it doesn’t seem afraid of your new proximity but it stays a long distance away as it eyes you. its expression reads curiosity but you can’t be sure from this distance.

after spending about an hour idly watching the creature and playing with the wet sand under your hands, you grow comfortable. you even close your eyes and bask in the sun.

but when you hear the gentle ripple of water— as if something is moving, you peek open your eyes to see it much closer now.

it scares you at first, making you gasp and scoot back a bit with fear. but your reaction seems to scare it too, making it quickly retreat into the water again.

“n-no! wait! i’m sorry— come back!” you plead in fear that it might never return as you crawl in deeper on all fours, unsure if it can hear you beneath the water.

a moment later, it peeks up at you again, much further than before but still close enough to see. immediately you smile and wave, hoping it recognizes your gesture again.

and it does recognize it, showing a sort of naïveté as its eyes light up and it swims closer, shockingly fast. it’s a bit unnerving how fast it moves but maybe you should have expected as much from a creature of the water. you try not to show any signs of fear or shock at its movement so you don’t potentially scare it away again.

it then exposes its entire face as it lifts a hand and waves back with wonder in its eyes, only feet away from you. it seems it’s hesitant to come any closer because you’re in a shallow part of the shore— though you think that’s for the best because even if it hasn’t hurt you thus far, it’s an unknown creature that you know nothing about. it’s best to keep a small space between the two of you for now.

you take a seat in the water that’s now up to your lower ribs as you examine its beautiful features while it examines yours.

it’s facial features are that of the most beautiful in the world, you think, surpassing even the most famous of beauties in the human race. and it’s eyes are a color that shouldn’t be possible, so piercing blue that they’re almost glowing. its hair is milky white, much more pure of a white than any bleach could ever turn a humans hair— matching its eyelashes and eyebrows. you aren’t sure, but it looks like a man in his twenties.

“beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” you breathe out in awe, making it’s head tilt in curiosity— reminiscent of a puppy.

and then it suddenly speaks, but the language scares you. it’s like no language you’ve ever heard before and it’s tone sounds bewildered. it’s voice is deep and raspy, like a man and you’re not sure what you expected but it wasn’t that.

you can’t help but flinch and gulp a bit at the sound of it, it’s only natural to be afraid of such an unknown sound but you’re trying your best to be open minded.

as if responding to your sign of fear, it begins to speak again but this time— in english.

“c-calm— d-d-ow-n, poor th-thing.” it stumbles over its words, attempting so hard to copy your words and cooing tone from weeks ago when you were freeing it.

you can barely grasp what it’s trying to say, but as you piece it together, your jaw drops in awe. you’re amazed that it remembered what you said well enough to repeat it—especially since it’s using the same calming words you used on it to try to soothe you. It’s as if it’s trying to calm you down, even though it probably doesn’t understand the meaning of the words.

“amazing,” you breathe out, blinking in utter disbelief.

“ama—zong,” it repeats with a curious tone.

you giggle with your eyes crinkled closed as it mispronounces “amazing” as “amazong,” and your laughter only seems to intrigue it further. its white eyebrows twitch as it swims closer, trying to catch more of your laugh.

when you open your eyes again, you find it closer than before, causing you to stiffen and gasp. it’s now only a few feet away, and because it’s in such shallow water, it’s forced into a horizontal position, with parts of its tail visible behind it.

then, it speaks again, slowly, but in its own language like it’s trying to teach you a word.

“sa-tor-u.” it coos, sounding out the word for you to learn with gentleness.

the fear that rose when the creature came closer is quickly replaced with fascination as you focus on the word.

“satoru.” you repeat the word slowly and immediately it smiles as it lifts its tail and splashes the water excitedly.

you chuckle at the sight as droplets from the splash of its powerful tail land on your cheek.

“satoru. what does it mean?” you question with a smile, more to yourself than the creature as you wipe the water away from your cheek.

and as if detecting your questioning tone, he quickly points at itself and repeats the word again.

“you? your name?” you ask, eager to learn more about the creature. but he doesn’t understand your words and simply blinks at you. it’s astonishing that he wants you to know his name—not that you think he’s unintelligent, but you weren’t sure of his level of awareness. ‘satoru’ is primarily a male name, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve come across some humans with the name.

“uh- um,” you then point to yourself and speak your own name slowly, eager for him to learn yours now.

he repeats your name with determination to pronounce it correctly, and you nod with a big smile, delighted by the sound of his beautiful voice saying your name.

then, as if the setting sun is a curfew, satoru suddenly turns and dives into the ocean with urgency. but before disappearing for the night, he resurfaces briefly, waves with a smile, and then vanishes once more.

the following days are some of the most exciting of your life, stories you’ll tell your grandchildren about teaching a beautiful merman to speak english.

unfortunately, the first thing you teach satoru is how to say, ‘stay back or i will hurt you.’ its a bit tough to explain the meaning but once you point to his tail to remind him of the painful netting, he understands for the most part.

you’re afraid someone less moral will come across satoru who’s so beautiful and naive and innocent to the human world. you have to explain that not all humans are like you and though he’s a bit confused, he mostly grasps the concept.

you’ve found that the easiest way to teach satoru about words and meanings is to read to him. he listens to you for hours and when you begin to pick children’s books that help in learning english, he excels quickly.

soon, he’s able to speak at a moderate level and you’re simply aching to ask him every question in the book as you sit in your familiar place in the shallow water by the rocks.

“are you a mermaid?” you inquire, knowing it’s a silly question to ask considering ‘mermaid’ is a silly human term for fairytales.

“‘mer-maid?’” he repeats with curiosity, and you chuckle to yourself. you should have expected that response.

“where were you born? how old are you?” you instead question, eagerly.

he points to the open ocean before turning back to you. “eight— six.”

you hum in thought, recalling how you’ve already tried teaching him about human days and years, but it seems he has his own way of measuring time. you’ve discovered that in his terms, eighty-six translates to twenty-six in your time.

“are there a lot of your kind?”

“yes. lot.” he nods, seemingly happy to be able to communicate with you.

“are you able to get out of the ocean completely? or do you need the water to breathe?” you ask.

“no, i can get out. but we are not supposed to. rules,” he grumbles, clearly annoyed by the rule. you wonder if he might be a bit of a rebel in his society. this also explains why he was treading so close to the shore when he got caught in the net.

“can i ask question too?” he suddenly questions.

your brows twitch in slight surprise at his curiosity and you nod with a smile.

“why do you save me?” he suddenly asks, referring to the time you met and you freed him from the netting.

you exhale with sympathy as you gaze at him.

“why not? i saved you because you were in pain.”

he blinks at you with utmost wonder in his blue eyes and then quickly refocuses onto his next question— as if he’s afraid he won’t have time to ask everything he wants to.

“how many are you?” and his question slightly confuses you until it clicks that he’s asking your age.

“uh— in your time, i’m eight-one,” you explain, converting your age of twenty-one into a number he can understand.

he immediately coos, “cute. you are young. in my home, you would be offered up to mate.”

you blush a bit and gasp a bit before chuckling nervously. “o-oh!”

“do you have a mate?” he asks with gleaming, glowing eyes.

you breathe out a laugh. “no. do you?”

“how do you say—” he hums in thought, likely looking back on your language exercises, “—hell no.”

immediately, you burst into a fit of giggles. that phrase was one of your favorite to teach him.

“beautiful. you are beautiful,” his smile broadens at the sound of your laugh, breathing out audibly through his nose— making a noise reminiscent of an awe.

your eyes widen at his compliment, blinking rapidly as your cheeks burn. “w-wow, me? says you.”

“thank you!” he cheers, like a child who has been taught to say thank you after every compliment— it makes you snap out of your flattered state and giggle a bit.

“what are these? why?” he questions and you jump when you feel his fingers graze along your calf under water.

“m-my legs? um- i’m not sure why. to walk i suppose.” you shrug, slightly shivering at his touch with a blush. you hadn’t made physical contact yet and it’s a bit unnerving. he doesn’t seem to be the shy type.

“painful?” he questions with concern, fingers still curiously exploring your legs gently.

you giggle softly at his assumption, and he tilts his head at you with a curious smile. you figure he thinks your legs must be painful since they’re split in two instead of being one piece like his tail.

“no, not painful,” you shake your head, attempting to eye his hand traveling up your thigh through the murky water as you grip the sand.

“soft,” he says before dipping his head under the water, intently examining your legs. he runs his hands along them, but when he reaches the inside of your thighs in exploration, you gasp and quickly grab his hands to stop him before he can reach your private area. he surfaces, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“hurt you? sorry, i’m sorry.” he pouts, slightly pulling back and lowering himself to show that he’s a non-threat submissively.

you huff and gently pull his hands from your legs so you can interlock yours with his— partly to keep control of where he puts them and partly to just feel his skin.

“you didn’t hurt me. that area is just,” you pause, thinking on the right words to use for this, “-sensitive and private.”

he moves closer again, your friendly gesture of holding his hands helping him to relax, as his fear of hurting you fades and interest takes its place. he says a word in his own language and you blink at him with confusion.

“what’s the word for— is it—mating organs?”

“um— ‘mating organs’?” and quickly you realize that you had never taught him a word for your reproductive organs and your face burns in embarrassment. “oh uh— yes, sort of.”

“can i see?” he questions, making your embarrassment sky rocket. it’s obvious he’s simply intrigued with the human body, without ill intent.

“uh— that’s not a good idea,” you quickly utter, letting go of his hands and shutting your thighs tightly.

he starts pouting, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned about satoru over the past few days, it’s that he’s kind of needy and playful, and definitely prone to pouting when things don’t go his way.

“why?” he whines, hands returning to caress your ankles gently.

“uh-um because— well, that’s like me asking to see your- fish-tail-mating area,” you exclaim dumbly, unsure of if he even has male reproductive organs like humans do.

he blinks at you, pout still prominent.

“‘fish tail?’” he repeats, thinking for a moment before his brows raise in understanding.

“you can see and i can see!” he shouts, as if he’s just solved the issue easily.

you gulp and your gaze flickers around, avoiding his gaze in utter disbelief. you’re pretty sure that he’s insinuating a ‘i’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ situation.

“please?” he pleads, and you wish you hadn’t ever taught him the word because his sweet, graceful tone sways you, as if his voice has a spell woven into it.

you can’t deny your own curiosity about his tail and his anatomy, so you find yourself looking around the empty beach before gulping and nodding—for research purposes.

he brightens up and promptly adjusts into a seated position. using his palms, he scoots closer to the shore, encouraging you to move back until his tail is completely exposed. he rests his back against one of the many rocks by the shore as the baby waves crash against the both of you.

you gulp as your eyes linger on his stunning physique, sitting back on your calves while you focus on where his abdomen transitions into his tail. he seems to notice your ogling, taking your hand and gently guiding your fingers from the wet ridges of his abs down to his scaly tail.

“w-wow, you’re so beautiful.” you breathe, lips slightly parted as your breathing deepens in astonishment.

he giggles, as if he’s quite used to this type of admiration, and lets you explore his tail. when you reach his fin, he playfully flicks it up, huffing in amusement when you flinch and gasp.

you then bring your hand to press against his warm chest, where his heart is and your jaw drops when it beats in such an irregular way— unlike any human heart.

“your heart! it’s- amazing.” you breathe in awe, moving your fingers around slightly to feel it better.

his head tilts in wonder before reaching out and pressing his own finger tips to your chest, just between your breasts.

and after a moment of waiting, he gasps and hunches forward to suddenly press his ear to your chest.

“boom! boom! boom! boom! boom!” he breathes in astonishment, now understanding why you were so amazed at his heart beat. he thinks yours sounds so comforting, he could stay pressed to your soft chest all day.

you chuckle and blink down at him, slightly embarrassed that he’s pressing into the fat of your breasts. but after a few long moments of him simply listening to your heart, you gently pull his head up to lean against the rock once more.

“you keep feel?” he questions, asking if you’re done exploring his body or not.

although you feel a bit deranged for letting your mind wander, you can’t help but ponder how his kind reproduces. you don’t see any visible dick of any kind but you do see a slight bulge where his dick should be.

you tilt your head at it, hesitant to ask but it seems you don’t have to because he notices.

“under. like your cover.” he gestures towards your bathing suit bottoms with a slight blush dusting his high cheekbones.

“o-oh, i see,” you stutter with a bashful smile, lowering your chin in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the bulge beneath his scales.

as if reading your mind, he then tilts his head down to make eye contact with you.

“you want to see?”

you part your lips and stutter, blinking rapidly.

“um- if that’s okay.” you gaze up at him nervously, biting your lip coyly. you figure if you’re ready to reveal what’s beneath your bottoms, it’s only fair that he does the same.

though he seems quite shameless and confident, he grows shy as he moves his scales to the side and exposes a slit.

your brows furrow, eyes squinting briefly as you focus in on the area. you can’t help but gasp when a long, thick member resembling a human cock slides out. it’s nearly identical to a humans, except for the fact that it has blue scales near the base.

it bobs, seemingly hard, but you aren’t sure if he’s naturally this size or not. you wonder if it’s potentially arousing him to show his genitalia to a human but you can’t deny the possibility that you’re just demented.

“w-wow, big,” you gulp, in a slight haze as you watch a bead of what looks like pre cum dribble out of his tip. you don’t even realize what you just said until he’s chuckling.

“human not ‘big’?” he questions, almost slyly. he seems quite confident in his body, which he absolutely should be considering how ethereally gorgeous he is from top to bottom.

you clear your throat and force your gaze away from his throbbing member.

“n-not usually that big.” you mumble. “are those.. scales?” you point at the scales near the bottom of his cock.

“yes, touch?” he asks, reading that look on your face as a look of a creature that wants to mate— though he’s not so ignorant as to be unaware that you’re likely just curious like he is.

your eyes widen even wider and your mouth opens and closes as you try to put your thoughts in order. you aren’t sure if he’s so shamelessly lewd as to ask you to jerk him off.

“no mate, just touch,” he attempts to clarify, delicately grasping your willing hand and moving it close until it’s just inches away from the scales you were curious about.

how many human can say they’ve ever had this opportunity before? to explore a merman’s body? you figure as long as you just touch briefly, it’s fine, it’s not like you have harmful intentions.

you gulp and your gaze flickers up at him as if to make sure it’s okay to be doing this before focusing on his cock.

you softly brush your fingers along the ridges of the bumpy, slick scales at his base, causing his cock to twitch. you glance up at his face as he whines a word in his language and unintentionally thrusts his hips toward your touch.

the scales are soft but textured at the same time, and they seem to ripple in response to your touch—as if they’re just built to react to stimulus that way.

“o-okay you can put it away,” you quickly mutter when you form the instinct to wrap your hand around his cock and pull more of those adorable whines out of him.

he nods, eyes lidded and breathing deeper than before. you watch as it slides back into his slit and he covers it with his scales once again. it’s a bit bizarre the way it retracts and moves but mostly fascinating.

“my turn?” he questions eagerly, gently nudging your legs with one hand as to make them part while the tip of his fin grazes your outer thigh.

your nerves rise as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. a promise is a promise and though it’s nerve racking, you want to prove that even though you’re a strange creature in his eyes, you’ll stick to your word.

“y-yes.” you nod with a nervous smile.

excitement litters his face as he moves to lie on his stomach, tail playfully tapping against the shallow puddle of water beneath.

you tentatively and somewhat embarrassedly get into position, with your legs bent on either side of his head and leaning on your elbows to watch what he does.

you attempt to take deep, steady breaths as he gently pushes your thighs apart with warm hands.

shakily, you let them part ways, allowing him to push them as far apart as they go until you feel the subtle burn of the stretch. it’s really not his fault, he’s likely completely unaware of how far your legs can push apart.

you can’t help but imagine how startling this sight would be if someone were to stumble upon it. he then pulls at the material of the gusset of your swimsuit with confusion, making your abdomen gently flinch.

“is this connect to you?” he looks up at you. it seems he’s asking if your swimsuit is similar to his scales that cover his slit.

“no, i can take it off.” you utter shyly before simply pulling it to the side so he can see your pussy.

immediately his eyes widen and he leans in so close that you can feel his breath fan over your twitching folds.

you’re aware he’s likely never seen a humans genitalia before and has nothing to compare yours to but it doesn’t stop you from growing self conscious under his stare.

“like me?” he asks, blinking up at you with furrowed brows. he’s attempting to ask if you have a cock that comes out of your slit as well, though your slit does look very different than his.

“n-no, no. it’s just a.. hole.” you explain, humiliated, blushing, and gripping the sand to cope with the embarrassing words.

“what is this bump?” he questions, pointing at your twitching clit, fingertip only breaths away from making contact.

“um— mating.. tool?” you cringe at your choice of words but he chirps a hum as if understanding— though you aren’t sure how much he could possibly understand form your poor explanation.

“touch?” he asks, not taking his eyes away from your slit. he doesn’t miss the way your ‘mating tool’ spasms when he speaks.

you gulp and close your eyes with a sharp exhale through your nose, trying to collect yourself and your naughty urges.

“why?”

“to see more,” he explains, “so compact.” you can tell he’s referring to the way your outer lips keep your inner lips closed to an extent in this position.

“o-okay,” you nod, watching him like a hawk as he reaches out and pulls one of your outer lips to the side, making your folds straighten out on that side. it allows for a peek into your clenching chasm and it only intrigues him further, squinting his eyes to look into your hole.

“smells yummy,” he whines out, causing your pussy to clench around nothing and slowly leak a bit of arousal. you bite back a moan at his unintentional compliment.

“a-are you done?” you gulp, hoping he doesn’t question your slick leaking out.

“this is your mating hole?” he refers to your pussy and you bite into your bottom lip, mind racing with ideas of ‘mating’ with the beautiful creature in front of you and how it would work.

“y-yes,” you stutter, breathy.

“you have mated before?” he asks, gaze flickering up at you and gently letting go of your lips. it takes everything within you not to laugh at his question, he’s basically asking if you’re a virgin.

“no, have you?” you turn his question back on him with a small smile.

“no, that’s for life long mate,” he admits with a matching smile, leaning in and licking an affectionate stripe up your inner thigh.

you gasp pathetically in pleasure and your thighs clench, making you quickly cover your pussy with your bottoms once again in fear of your urges pushing this experience too far before you know it.

“o-okay no more.”

he frowns a bit at the sight of your covered pussy and gently pushes back into the water to submerge more comfortably.

you settle into a criss crossed position after scooting closer until the water reaches your waist.

“thank you for showing me, you are interesting,” he coos with a smile, gently lifting a dripping finger to brush it down your cheek, making you shiver.

you exhale slowly and lean into his touch. “will i see you again?”

he suddenly seems as though he has an idea or remembered one, face lighting up.

“i be back—wait,” he voices briefly before turning and diving into the water so fast that you’d have missed it if you blinked.

you can’t help but furrow your brows and reach out to the ocean in fear that he might never come back— even in spite of his words. but a few moments later, he re-emerges, making you exhale in relief. he seems to have brought you a large white shell.

“watch,” he coos, keeping eye contact with you as he brings it to his lips and blows. a beautiful sound comes out of the shell, inducing a peaceful tranquil feeling deep within causing you to light up with awe.

“you call and i come,” he explains softly, wrapping your hands around the shell like it’s a precious gift.

your heart flutters at his words and the feeling of his hands around yours, eyebrows twitching in a pout when he lets go.

the sun suddenly sets below the ocean and now it’s his turn to pout. “i must go.”

and just like that, he kisses the back of your hand before escaping back into the dark ocean, leaving you to wonder when you’ll see him again.

—————-

i am so in love with mermaid satoru bye