#steamy smut

[shouyuus]

18+, mdni, vi-shaped but what else is new

car mechanic!vi who's basically been working at her dad's autoshop hounds auto since she was like seven years old, running around handing vander the fuel pressure meter and fetching water, who grows up in the garage to the point that all vander's regulars know her by name and also all her favorite sweets (bc she DOES have a sweet tooth, despite her tomboy looks).

car mechanic!vi who's closet is exclusively stained gray tanktops, leather jackets gifted to her by all her dad's patrons, and old denim from thrift shops bc she likes how they feel worn in and also why bother getting "nice" clothes if they're just gonna get greased up anyway? who hums to herself when she's working, always has a cool beer chilling in the garage fridge and is doing her best to make sure she can send powder to caltech bc she knows her sister is a genius and is gonna be like a rocket scientist one day.

car mechanic!vi who laughs when you pull up one day with your 1960's cherry red corvette, climbing out of the driver's seat with your white fishnets and your pink croptop and your plaid miniskirt, your heart-shaped sunglasses propped on top of perfectly blown out bangs, and the only thing vi can think when she lands eyes on you is how much she'd enjoy taking you apart on the hood of your car, your thighs hiked onto her shoulders, your palm-prints inked into the bright red paint of your car.

car mechanic!vi who grins slow, slings a greasy towel on her shoulder as she comes out to greet you, hitching an eyebrow as you motion towards the car, your cheeks stained the most adorable shade of pink she's ever seen, saying --

"i think there's something wrong with it --" but when you purse your perfectly glossed, cherry-tinted lips, vi has to force herself not to lose focus because sweet baby jesus on a harley, that should be illegal.

"-- think you can help...?" you shuffle your feet, glancing at her even as she takes her time looking you over, doing nothing to hide the way her eyes rake over the length of your body and back up again.

"sure thing, sweets. mind if i pop the front?"

you swallow, nodding eagerly; vi doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on her arms and perhaps flexes harder than is absolutely necessary when opening up the front hood of the car.

car mechanic!vi who bends over to take a closer look and actually does miss the way you physically have to tear your eyes away from the bend of her ass, because holy shit? it does not help that vi shifts to lean further into the hood, a slip of skin peaking out from beneath her tanktop, and suddenly, there's a spring-water rush of blood behind your ears, threatening to drown out all other sound as she pulls back with a shrug.

"looks like the cooling system's busted," she says, scratching at the back of her neck, frowning as she looks back at you, "there's a couple things we can do --"

you swallow, "just a couple?" you ask, before you can stop yourself. you squeeze your eyes shut as the words leave your mouth. woops. fuck.

car mechanic!vi who blinks, cocking her head at you before a smirk teases across her lips. she leans back against the front of your car, crossing her arms loosely over her chest.

"yeah, for the car. but... dunno, if you wanna stick around for a bit, i can think of a ton more things we can do..."

you lick your lips, scuffing your mary janes against the cool pavement of her garage.

"define a bit... and also a ton..."

vi's grin is crooked; there's a fox-bright gleam in her eyes as she pushes off the car and makes her way towards you -- and for a moment, you can't help but wonder if she's a lamb in wolf's clothing, or perhaps (the thought singes a tantalizing line up your spine) just the damned wolf itself.

car mechanic!vi who tells you that for the car, she can either order all the parts that have suffered wear and tear, and then just replace them.

"issue with that is, in these older models, even with the parts replaced, it won't last you too long before you'll need them redone again."

"so..." you teeter, looking around at the various tools hung across the walls, every inch of space utilized to maximize efficiency, the high ceilings, the slow-turning fans, the propped up cars, some missing the front two wheels, some just a skeleton of mechanical parts.

"but lucky for you, one of my old man's pals just put a brand new crossflow radiator into his 1960's corvette, and he paid me to help him rig it. and i can do the same for you."

by the way vi smiles, it's obvious that this is the option she thinks you should go for. you blink.

"cross... flow... what?"

vi stares for a few seconds before letting out a startled laugh.

"wait -- i thought you said this was your car?"

you nod, fiddling with your hands behind your back.

"and... you've got no idea how to take care of a vintage car like this, do you?"

you shake your head, feeling a now-familiar heat prickling into your cheeks.

"my -- my dad got it for me for my 21st birthday..." you say, just on the other side of petulant.

car mechanic!vi who hums low in her throat and closes the distance between you in a few quick steps, a hand drifting up to trace along the line of our cheek.

"and you're just daddy's little princess, aren't you?" she asks, noticing with a dull ache in her belly, the way your breath hitches at the word princess.

she bites back another smirk as you bob your head once, your eyes flickering down to her lips before refocusing on her again.

"well..." she draws out the word, tugging back, a satisfied warmth pooling in her chest at the way your lips push out into perfect pout at her distance, "if you wanna give you daddy a call to ask what he might want..." she lets her words trail off. but you're already shaking your head, your eyes bright, your expression over-eager.

(she thinks you just might be the end of her; if she doesn't end you first.)

"no!" you squeak, "i -- i mean -- whatever you think is best --" you amend hurriedly, blushing something furious as vi leans back up against her workbench, her gaze locked on the shape of you, the hunger in her eyes now so evident that it sparks goosepimples down the lengths of your arms.

"yeah? you trust me that much, pretty girl?"

you nearly go into anaphylactic shock; your lashes flutter.

vi thinks she might honestly blow a fuse as you look shyly back at her, your gaze somehow both molten and hard.

"y-yeah. i do. i -- i trust you."

car mechanic!vi who wastes no time drawing up a plan for your repairs, but when you glance over the receipt, you notice that the number at the bottom is way, way too long, and you're fairly certain (even in your advanced stages of crush-induced lightheadedness) dollar amounts aren't usually broken up by dashes.

"is this... where i should send the payment?" you ask, holding up the handwritten receipt.

vi grins, tossing you a look over her shoulder as she steps out from behind the wheel of your car, now parked safely in her garage.

"nope. that's just my number."

"your..." you look back down at the scribbled series of digits. oh.

"so... are you gonna text me the final cost?"

vi chuckles, "sure, sweets -- if that's what you'd like. and if you're feelin' real frisky -- we can text about other stuff too."

your breath catches in your throat like thread around a barbed wire fence. you nearly drop the receipt.

"l-like what?" you ask.

"oh... i dunno..." vi says, the tease now obvious in her voice as she makes her way around the shop, gathering this tool and that, bending down to haul a massive toolbox from beneath a set of shelves. your mouth physically waters at the flex in her biceps as she carries it all back over to her workbench.

"maybe about the kinda coffee you like," she says, leisurely, "or how you'd like your eggs in the morning."

car mechanic!vi who wastes no time in asking if you'd like to go out the next day, because as much as she really loves the thought of pinning you to the hood of your car right then and there, a part of her wants to do this properly. and, she muses, there's no better foreplay than sharing a banana split sundae with a pretty girl.

she sends you on your way with the receipt tucked into your miniature handbag ("what's that even hold anyway?" "uhm... my card wallet, the keys, and lip gloss!" "...ah. of course. all the most essential things.") and a promise to pick you up the following day, since your ride's temporarily out of commission ("don't worry, sweets, i'll take real good care of this baby right here." you immediately wonder if it's normal to feel jealous of a car).

and pick you up she does, at 6pm on the dot, in black pants so tight they might've been painted on, and a cropped leather jacket, though you hear her revving her motorbike a full 30 seconds before her text dings on your phone --

look outside, sweetness.

car mechanic!vi who is so polite to your rather bewildered parents, smiles wide and charming, easily slips into conversation with your dad about the vintage cars in his collection, calls your mom "m'aam" and compliments her pearl earrings, promises not to keep you out too late. so that by the time she tells you to swing onto the bike behind her, you're convinced that your parents might like her more than they like you.

"hold on tight, princess." is all she says before she rips off down the street of your cul de sac and you're yelping, burying your face in her back, the leather of her jacket butter-soft and warm against your skin.

car mechanic!vi who's just a bit too smug and more than a little smitten when she has to help you off her bike in the parking lot of the cute little retro-themed diner downtown, you shaking out your hair from the helmet she'd handed you, your cheeks painted sunset as she guides you into the restaurant with a palm at the small of your back.

who enjoys talking to you way too much, who wants to bottle up the sound of your laughter in one of those old fashioned coca-cola bottles, all sweet and bubbly, and save it for the summer afternoons when the air's thick enough to slick the skin, pop it open and pour it down her throat, swallow around the sound of you, giggling into the curly fries, debating with her about the perfect ketchup-to-mustard ratio for the most optimum fry-eating experience.

car mechanic!vi who tells you that the sundaes here are the best in town, and nearly melts at how bright your eyes get, how excited you look as you nod and flag down the waitress to order one.

"just one?" the waitress asks.

"trust me, one is more than enough," vi answers smoothly, shooting you a wink that might've induced heart failure in a weaker soul (and you truly do not think you're one of god's strongest soldiers bc you definitely had to take a mental breather after that).

but it turns out that she was quite right, because the banana split is huge. dauntingly-sized. and vi perhaps has too good of a time watching you gape over it (she's not at all thinking about how your cute lil mouth, so round now, would look stretched over her strap, not at all nope, nope, nope) before motioning for you to dig in.

car mechanic!vi who thinks, for the first time, that she might've bitten off more than she can chew (metaphorically, of course) when you cut off way too big of a bite, and white whipped cream smears across your lips as you struggle to get the whole thing in your mouth, your cheeks puffed out, lashes fluttering.

"careful there, sweets -- don't want you to hurt yourself," she says, in a decent stab at her usual suave tone, but her voice comes out just a bit hoarse as she reaches out to try and wipe some of the whipped cream from your lips at the exact moment your tongue flicks out to do the same --

her stomach clenches as your tongue accidently laves along the pad of her thumb and the dollop of cream drops onto the table between you.

"whoops," you say, your shoulders shrugging up as you finally swallow the bite of banana and cream, reaching for a napkin to wipe your mouth before dabbing at the tabletop.

when you glance up at vi, she's still staring, her expression strangely blank as you meet her eyes. but the second your gaze catches on hers, you see the way her pupils dilate, darkness eating into pre-dawn blue.

car mechanic!vi who tries her level best not to fidget too hard as the pair of you diligently make your way through as much of the sundae as possible, before you toss down your fork with a sigh, shaking your head.

"wow, i'm so full!"

"mm... could be fuller, i'm sure," vi murmurs into your ear, grinning when you shiver at the low sway of her voice, the gentle dance of her fingers on your waist.

"v-vi!" you squeak, even as she ushers you from the diner with a bright grin at the waitress, promising to come by again soon, and to send their love to her dad and younger sister.

and fuck, she really did think she wanted to take this slow, but holy shit, she can't wipe the image of you swallowing around the mouthful of cream from her mind, the feeling of your warm tongue as it'd flicked across the pad of her thumb.

"c'mon, sweet girl," she says, grazing her lips along the soft spot behind your ear and your knees almost buckle then and there, but her strong arm is looped around your waist as she helps you back onto her bike and cups your cheeks, "god, you have no idea what you do to me, huh?"

your breath hitches; what you do to her? what about what she does to you?

car mechanic!vi who can't help the way she presses in to kiss you, hesitating for a breath to ask can i? against your lips before you're nodding, just as eager as she is, and tugging her in to kiss her. you taste as sweet as she'd imagined (and lord, has she been imagining, even though it's been less than 24 hours), the lingering taste of whipped cream and chocolate syrup on your tongue as she licks hungrily into your mouth, moaning as you whimper, your thighs squeezing around her hips, your ass nearly slipping off the seat of her bike.

she hitches you back up without breaking the kiss, heat rolling up into her neck and shoulders as she feels your fingers twisting in her hair.

"f-fuck --" she pulls back breathless, her head spinning, her eyes caught on the press of your kiss-bruised lips, the way you purse them as you glance up at her, already looking so debauched she's tempted to pull you into the shadow of the diner and take you against the wall.

but, she falls half a step back and breathes, grinning crookedly as you pout at her.

"a-are you gonna take me back to your place, or not?".

car mechanic!vi who lets out a startled laugh and cocks her head, thinking that really there is a god, and that this -- just you, sitting on the black leather of her bike, your hair a bit mussed up, your cheeks flushed with color, asking her to take you to hers -- is all the proof she needs.

"you really are a spoiled little princess, aren't you?" she asks, swinging her leg over the bike seat and adjusting her grip. your arms loop around her middle and she tries not to groan at the feeling of your body pressing up against hers.

"well, daddy always told me that i shouldn't settle for anything less than the best," you say, and your voice would've been lofty, had it not been for the way you lean up to ghost your lips by the shell of vi's ear, chasing shivers down the length of her entire spine.

her stomach roils with heat. she turns to shoot you a smirk over her shoulder.

"well then. guess i'll just have to ruin you for every other girl who might come your way, huh?"

car mechanic!vi who definitely breaks the sound barrier tearing through the few streets separating the downtown strip and the auto shop, who's barely done parking the bike before she's pulling you bodily off the seat, hitching your legs around her waist and carrying you into the shop, slamming a hand on the switch to close the garage door.

she's already kissing you by the time she sets you on the hood of your car, the height of it perfect for her to pull back and pin you down by your wrists. she thinks that you have no business looking so perfect against the bright cherry of the paint, and grins as she looks you over, pressing a knee up between your legs just to hear your breath hitch and admire the way your cute little plaid skirt rides up.

car mechanic!vi who drops to her knees, pillows her cheek on your thigh and groans as she flips up the hem of your skirt to press her the flat of her tongue to the damp patch already soaking through your pink lace panties. who's mesmerized by the sight of you arching your back on the hood of your car, your fingers scrabbling at the smooth metal, reaching down till you can grip at her hair, your lips parting over your little whimpers and moans -- she thinks, faintly, that she wants to fuck you till your voice goes hoarse.

"vi -- what if -- is anyone -- ah --"

she can't help smiling at the way you can't quite get a full thought out, leaning back as she hooks her fingers around your panties and tugs them down your thighs till they're dangling off one of your delicate ankles.

"no one's here, sweetness -- so you can be as loud as you want," she says, reaching down to slick her fingers between your pussy, admiring the shine on her skin.

"b-but what if -- mmngh -- someone c-comes -- b-back --"

and it's cute, really, how worried you are about all of it, even as she teases a finger around your sodden hole, her thumb flicking up against your clit, making your body jerk up. she smiles, easing a finger in with a soft groan of her own, relishing the way you squeeze around her.

"mm, well -- let's see..." she says, her voice low and steady even as she tugs back her finger and pushes it in again, slow as anything, "my dad's out drinking at my uncle's bar across town, and my baby sister's at benzo's place with ekko --" she allows herself a crooked grin as you keen around her just as she presses a second finger into you, "they said they were studying but..." she shrugs, her eyes hooded as she watches you squirm beneath her, "i'm pretty sure they're hooking up so --" she runs a tight circle around your clit with her thumb, puffing out a breath as your thighs clamp shut around her wrist and she has to pry them back open with her other hand, pinning your knee to the hood of your car, keeping your other leg still with one of her's.

"the only person you gotta worry about coming... is yourself, princess."

car mechanic!vi who fucks you through two orgasms, eats you out for a third, before finally letting up and carrying you up to her bedroom above the auto shop, asking if you want to text your parents that you're staying the night.

you do, and vi only teases you a little bit about being such a good girl, but she lets you burrow in against her chest, lets you kiss her neck and tug her phone from her hands before planting one on her lips and trailing your way down her chest, tugging at her tanktop till she laughs and pulls it from her body.

car mechanic!vi who nearly loses her mind when you look up at her from between her legs, all wide eyes and parted lips, pressing your perfectly manicured nails into the corded muscles of her thighs and asking her in the sweetest voice to

"show me what you like -- please? i -- i wanna make you feel good too."

car mechanic!vi who fucks your face till both of you are breathless, her hips bucking up against your perfect mouth, her mind fizzling out at the edges at the way you're moaning into her cunt, the way you're grinding your hips down over nothing as she talks you through how to eat her out just the way she likes. who jerks you up and hauls you into her lap to kiss you sloppy, her fingers digging into the meat of your hips as she grinds you down over her still-throbbing clit, who fucking can't get over the sight of you riding her even as both of you tip into the realm of overstimulation, whining and keening and you collapsing onto her in the muted, twilight dark of her room.

"h-holy shit..."

vi laughs, "yeah. you can say that again."

you look up, a soft, pliant smile, "holy shit, violet..."

and the sound of her name on your lips convinces her, more than anything, that (contrary to all her big talk earlier), you're definitely the one who's ruined her for any other girl who might come her way.

car mechanic!vi who wakes up to your lips on hers, who groans into the taste of you, kissing you, rolling over to pin you beneath her even as the early morning sun spills lemon-bright and spring-water-sweet through her half-closed blinds.

"morning, princess," she mumbles against your lips.

"morning..." you giggle, gasping as she drops a tender kiss to your shoulder.

"sleep well?" she asks, trailing down the smooth skin of your chest till she can lave her tongue around your puffy nipple.

"mm --" you suck in a breath, "y-yeah -- had -- had good d-dreams -- a-ah!" you arch up into her, your body soft and warm as a daydream, and she just can't get enough.

"yeah? tell me... what'dyou dream of, hm?" vi asks, letting the world hum through her throat, rumbling over your skin like thunder across a distant horizon.

you twist your fingers into her hair, gently tracing the tattoo on her cheek before smiling down at her with a smile that looks like the shadow of the rest of her living days --

"i... i dreamt of you."

car mechanic!vi who comes downstairs to find vander in the kitchen, powder nowhere to be seen. but vander takes one look at her and grins, chuckling, rolling his eyes.

"alright then -- what's her name?"

she hesitates for a second before telling him.

"pretty name," vander muses, even as he tugs open the fridge to pull out a few eggs and a half-empty carton of milk. he pushes the milk towards vi with a pointed look.

"vander -- i -- i think she might be the one."

to which vander only laughs, cracking an egg with one hand into the oiled up pan. almost immediately, the egg whites begin to sizzle.

"this the girl with the cherry corvette?" he asks. wordlessly, vi nods. vander chuckles.

"good for you kiddo -- i always told you, haven't i?"

"that i'll know when it's the one? yeah... i -- i think i get it now." vi runs a hand through her bedridden hair, staring at the carton of milk and the ludicrously proportioned cartoon cow, advertising full fat contents within.

"well, as long as you're sure," vander says, cracking another egg, and another.

vi lets out a weak laugh, nodding as she opens the fridge to pull out some orange juice and a few boxes of blueberries.

"yeah. i'm sure."

vander nods, brows furrowing slightly as he flips the eggs with an expert twitch of the wrist.

"good. and -- how's she like her eggs done in the morning?" he asks, reaching over for a plate. vi stares at the over-easy eggs sliding from the old nonstick.

she lets out a tired little laugh, "probably like... poached, or something."

vander whistles, "got yourself a little diva, huh? well -- can't blame ya -- your uncle silco --"

"okay, thanks dad --" vi cuts him off with a deep groan, nudging him out of the way to place a small pot in the sink to fill with water.

vander chuckles, "you gonna introduce me when she comes down later?"

vi takes her time placing the pot on the stove and starting the heat.

"sure, yeah. i'll introduce her."

vander reaches over to ruffle vi's hair, cackling when she tries to duck out from beneath his massive hands.

"'m happy for you, violet."

vi stills, a helpless smile spreading across her lips like sun-warmed butter.

"yeah... me too." she says, "me too."

[em1i2a3]

Spanish Sahara

Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolt!Fem!Reader

Summary: After a rough week at the Thunderbolts Compound, the team goes out for some drinks to wind down and enjoy themselves.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI! Semi-Spoilers for Thunderbolts because Bob and other characters from the movie are in here. Fluff, and Smut are the main warnings here, Bob and Reader have an established friendship.

Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (wrap it up y’all), Praise/Worship Kink, Breast Play, …Something involving a mirror, Very light choking, Oral Sex (f! And m! receiving), Fingering, Swallowing, Bob is a frickin softie as usual because that’s hot but he definitely has his moments in this, Overstimulation, Teasing, Aftercare to the max because being taken care of after hot sex is…Wheew lol. I don’t think I missed anything

Author’s Note: I saw a lot of people requesting more smut and I thought as a nice little break from the super long fics that I’m working on (that request box has a lot of them and I’m chipping away at it as much as possible!) I’d write a nice little one-shot for y’all to celebrate a random Friday in May 😂 enjoy!! (Side note, I also had a funny little ask about how I name my posts lol, I literally just picture the songs in what I’m writing, the title changes like three times by the time I post it lol)

Word Count: 13,796

The bar was loud, crowded, and hazy with cheap smoke and too many conversations happening at once–but Bob was only paying attention to you, and attempting to look normal in his surroundings, which was always a complicated feat for him.

You sat across from him in the booth, your body framed in golden lamplight and neon beer signs like some half-lit portrait in an art museum. You looked too good to be real–flushed with warmth from your second tequila pineapple of the night, bare-legs crossed just enough to make his brain short-circuit, lips glossed a cherry red like you’d done it just to ruin him.

And maybe, somewhere deep down, he thought you had.

The others were scattered across the bar like background noise–Ava and Yelena flanking the bar with their usual chaotic grace, Walker and Alexei pounding back shots and shouting about God-knows-what, and Bucky leaning over the pool table, unknowingly feeding lines to a group of women who didn’t care if he could shoot or not.

But Bob hadn’t looked away from you in nearly half an hour.

Not when you uncrossed and re-crossed your legs beneath the table, the movements slow and fluid, like you wanted to give him something to look at. Bob’s eyes had followed the motion instinctively–drawn to the soft slide of skin, to the way your thighs shifted beneath the hem of your black tailored shorts. They were high-waisted and fitted, hugging the dip of your waist and the curve of your hips, cinched with a single gold button that glinted every time you moved.

You’d paired them with that wicked bodysuit–the one that clung to your body like second skin, high-cut at the hips and daringly low in the front, just enough to frame the soft curve of your cleavage without giving away too much. It was backless, sleeveless, and made of some silky, matte fabric that shimmered faintly in the bar light. You wore it like armor, like a challenge.

Your legs were bare, golden under the dim glow, crossed at the knee with one foot tucked behind the other–long, lean, and deliberate in how they were presented. Every detail about your look tonight felt curated–not in a fake way, but in the kind of way that said I know exactly what I’m doing to you. And Bob? Poor Bob looked like he was under your spell.

He couldn’t stop looking.

Every time your drink got dangerously low and you leaned forward–elbows resting on the table, cleavage pressing softly together–you dragged the last sip from your straw with a slow, teasing pull that made something in him twist. He watched the way your lips curled around it, how a single droplet of condensation slid down the side of the glass and clung to your fingers. He was transfixed.

You laughed at something the waitress said–he didn’t even register what–and it echoed in his chest like a bell. That sound always got to him.

And tonight, he wasn’t hiding it. Not well, anyway.

His eyes kept drifting–over your mouth, the curve of your collarbone, the smooth stretch of your exposed shoulders, down to the shadowed dip between your breasts. Then he’d catch himself and flick his gaze up like he could undo what he just saw. Like he was trying to remind himself that he respected you too much to stare, even though he’d been staring for months.

He was trying so hard to be polite. His hands were clenched in his lap, fingers tangled and twitching like they were holding back something much stronger than impulse. His posture was rigid, like his own body was betraying him one muscle at a time.

He was always like that around you–reserved, yes. But it wasn’t just shyness. It was respect. Fear. Like every thought he had about you was too big to name out loud. Like if he touched you, he’d never forgive himself for crossing that line.

But he’d already crossed it, hadn’t he? Not physically–but emotionally, because Bob Reynolds had been in love with you for a long, long time.

And you knew it.

You saw it in the way he always noticed when you were tired after a mission, the way he made you tea without asking, or stayed behind in training sessions he wasn’t even involved in just so you’d have someone to spot you. You saw it in the way he flinched when someone else made you laugh, or how his voice went into a cracked whisper only when he said your name.

He was putty in your hands. And you loved it. Not because it gave you power–but because he let you have it. Because he trusted you with it.

And as much as the friendship meant to you–deeply, intimately–you’d stopped lying to yourself months ago. Your brain was always a few steps ahead, mapping the timeline of how you’d get from here–from this bar booth and his helpless eyes–to there. To a place where Bob Reynolds was no longer just your best friend, but something closer. Something that meant yours.

So you didn’t say anything. You just watched him.

Watched how his breath caught every time you shifted. How he wet his lips nervously when you leaned forward. How the pulse in his neck jumped like he could feel your eyes on him.

His fingers twitched again, folded too tight in his lap. You followed the motion, noted the way his knuckles went white.

There was a sheen of sweat on his temple now–barely noticeable unless you were looking for it, which you were.

And poor Bob didn’t even realize how obvious he was.

So you decided to make it worse for him.

You slipped off your shoe under the table and slowly–very slowly–ran your foot up the length of his shin. A gentle drag, barely a touch, but intentional. Controlled. The kind of touch that said I see you. And I want you flustered.

Bob jolted like you’d zapped him with a live wire.

His leg knocked the underside of the table with a hollow thunk, and his hand shot out, sloshing his Coke Zero just short of the edge. His knuckles were white around the glass. His jaw dropped slightly like he meant to say something but forgot what language was.

His cheeks–already pink from the warmth of the room and the low buzz that he was getting from just being around you–flushed deeply, the color spreading up his neck and painting his ears red. You swore even his throat blushed. He pushed his light brown hair out of his face nervously, like he was afraid it would cloud his vision of you.

You tilted your head, smirking. “Cold in here?”

He blinked like he’d just come out of a trance. His lashes fluttered rapidly over wide blue eyes–those eyes, impossibly pale and clear, glassy with surprise and something raw beneath it. Want, maybe. Or fear.

“Y-Yeah,” He stammered, voice cracking slightly. “A–A little drafty.”

“Mmm.” You stretched in your seat, arms rising lazily above your head, making sure the movement pulled the neckline of your bodysuit lower. The fabric shifted with you, stretching softly across your chest, exposing a bit more of the delicate skin he’d been trying so hard not to look at.

His gaze dropped like he didn’t even mean to let it.

And then he swallowed–hard–his Adam’s apple bobbing visibly in his throat.

But Bob didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His breathing had gone shallow, his tongue caught against the roof of his mouth like he’d forgotten how to form words. He looked like he was choking on air.

You didn’t let up.

Your foot moved again–slow, deliberate, and this time it brushed higher, just right on the inside of his thigh, where the heat of his body was more noticeable. Where he was trembling.

His breath hitched instantly, and a soft, involuntary sound escaped him–a sharp exhale, half-panic, half-arousal. His fingers dug into the wooden edge of the booth like he was bracing for impact.

You leaned forward again, closing some of the distance between you, letting your arms rest on the table and your chest push together ever so slightly in the low light. He couldn’t look away.

“You’ve been looking at me like that all night, Bob,” You said, your voice velvet-soft, the tone curling up his spine.

His head snapped up like you’d struck him–eyes wide and wild with guilt, pupils dilated in the low light. His brows pinched upward with alarm, his mouth parting in a panicked breath.

“I… I didn’t mean to–” He rushed out, but it came out broken.

You reached across the space between you, wrapping your hand around his wrist before gently cutting him off

“I want you to look.”

He froze.

His whole body went still, like he was afraid to breathe. His eyes–so ocean-bright and boyishly soft–flicked over your face with disbelief, feeling your thumb run over the exposed skin of his wrist.

You smiled at him again, slower this time. Not to tease. But to reassure.

“I like that it’s you,” You said, your voice dipping into something quiet and unshakably sincere.

He blinked, slow and stunned. His lashes cast little shadows under the low-hung light, and you saw the exact moment something cracked in his chest.

“You’re the only one,” You continued, “Who’s never looked at me like I’m a game to win. Or a body to take. You look at me like I’m something you’re afraid to break. Like I’m something you cherish.”

His lips parted again–slightly dry, slightly trembling.

And you saw it. The shimmer in his eyes. That wide, overwhelmed expression he wore when you said something that hit too close to the truth. He looked like he might cry. Or faint. Or bolt. But instead…He stayed.

Frozen, but present.

You reached for your drink again with your free hand and took the last sip, dragging the straw into your mouth with deliberate slowness, never breaking eye contact.

Bob’s eyes tracked every inch of the motion. You could see the subtle twitch in his jaw, the little hitch in his shoulders, like he was physically holding himself back.

Then you licked a drop from your bottom lip.

And that did him in.

His breath faltered again, and his eyes–so blue, so open, so obviously in love with you–looked at you like he’d forgotten where he was. Like the world had narrowed down to just your lips, your voice, your body framed in shadow and gold light.

You tilted your head, gaze gentle now. That look you always gave him when he was spiraling. When he needed to know he was safe. That he was wanted.

He looked like he didn’t deserve it.

But you knew better.

And finally, after a long, shaky breath–his lashes fluttering like he was about to pass out—he leaned forward.

His voice barely rose above the din of the bar, cracked and breathless and close enough to touch.

“I…I think about y–you.”

The words came out like a confession. Like a sin.

He didn’t stop.

“More than I should,” He said, gaze darting to the table, then back up again like it physically hurt him to hold your eyes. “More than…What’s okay.”

You didn’t move. You didn’t interrupt. You let him say it.

“I just…” His throat worked again. “If I ever got to touch you–I don’t think I’d want to stop.”

Your chest ached at how sincerely he meant it. Like it wasn’t just about sex. Like it was everything, like it meant everything.

Your hand on his wrist slid down so your palm was over his, feeling the warmth of him–the quiet trembling, the softness of his skin.

“Bob,” You said softly. “What would you do if I didn’t want you to stop?”

His lashes fluttered at you–confused, hopeful, scared–but he didn’t pull away, not like he would normally. If anything, he leaned in like you had said something that brought him closer.

Your hand stayed where it was, palm against palm, but your fingers began to move–softly tracing the lines in his hand like you were reading him. Like you were studying a map only you had permission to follow. You let your fingertip trail along the length of his lifeline, then up the curve of his thumb, dipping gently between the web of his fingers. He flinched–barely–but you felt it. Saw the way his breath shuddered quietly through his nose, the way his fingers twitched like they wanted so badly to close around yours but didn’t quite dare.

He was holding himself back.

Even now, even here.

Your gaze lifted, meeting his–they were wide and glossy, pupils blown wide now, eating away at the blue, and there was something deeply aching in the way he looked at you. Like he was trying to memorize every second of this moment in case it vanished.

“Don’t look at me like that,” You murmured, your thumb ghosting over the calloused edge of his ring finger. “Like you’re not allowed to want this.” Bob swallowed hard–again. It was the only thing he could do that didn’t give him away. His breath stuttered. His fingers twitched. His mouth opened like he might say something, but no words came.

He looked at you like you were everything he’d ever prayed for and was terrified to touch.

You watched the war inside him–want versus restraint. It played out in the flicker of his lashes, the shake in his hand, the tension braced through his shoulders like he was trying to keep himself from combusting.

So you let go of his hand, and moved your foot away from his inner thigh.

For a heartbeat, his face dropped–just a flicker of devastation in his expression.

Until you stood up, and moved around the table.

Bob’s head turned like he couldn’t believe you were really coming to him, like some part of him had convinced himself this was all a hallucination brought on by too many Coke Zeros–cause he couldn’t drink–and too many nights thinking about your hands, your mouth, and your voice in his ear. But then you slid into the booth beside him, your thigh pressing flush to his. He was still frozen, spine straight, hands in his lap like they might betray him if he moved them. Your perfume radiated off of you, the one that you always modestly sprayed on yourself, the one that he loved sneaking in your room to smell when you weren’t at the compound or out on a mission–the one that smelled like sugar, berries, and ripe oranges, like a succulent dessert…Made just for him.

You leaned in slowly, brushing your arm against him. You didn’t have to look at him, you didn’t have to…You knew he was already looking at you, or trying to look at you.

When he was finally able to feel your hot breath curl over his cheek he could immediately smell the pineapple juice on your tongue. It made him want to lean in right then and there just to get a taste, just to suck the essence off of it, to drink from you, but he needed to hold himself back, to stay in control of himself before he did something prematurely.

Then–with the grace of an angel–you reached up and touched him.

Your fingers found the side of his jaw, the pads of them smoothing against his freshly shaven cheek, tilting his face gently toward you. He followed the motion like a man possessed–like you had pulled him by a leash tied to his soul. He closed his eyes at the sensation, parting his lips slightly to take in a small breath–a quiet plea.

Slowly, you leaned in, your mouth resting just close enough to graze his ear, and you whispered–low, and sultry:

”Every time I touch myself, I imagine it’s you…” Bob shattered. A noise escaped him–broken and breathless. A half-gasp, half-whimper that he couldn’t contain if he tried. His body went tense beside you, his thigh flexing under yours, his fingers twitching like they were about to snap.

But you didn’t stop there.

“I imagine your fingers,” You murmured, your lips brushing his ear, “Big and clumsy and desperate, the way they always look when you’re nervous. I imagine them moving inside me while I ride your hand, while I beg you to kiss me like you mean it.” Bob exhaled–hard. His jaw clenched under your touch, his breath fogging hot against your forearm. You could feel how close he was to breaking–how close he was to falling apart in front of a whole bar full of people he couldn’t even look at in the eyes. Your fingertips moved slowly across his cheek, your nails didn’t scratch–they ghosted, mapped, and worshipped. You traced the slope of his cheekbone, then slid down to the soft dip beside his mouth, like you were learning his face the way others learn scripture.

Bob was unraveling. Every word from your mouth was gasoline on the fire he’d been trying to smother for months. His breath caught in his chest like a prayer that didn’t know how to end, and he stared at you—lips parted, lashes trembling–like he couldn’t tell if this was heaven or the moment before he burned.

And then your other hand came to rest on his shoulder, grounding him–and pushing him closer to the edge all at once.

He was breathing too hard now. Too fast. His chest rising in shallow, shaking swells. And all he could do was sit there, hands fisted in his lap, as you leaned in and whispered into his ear again–closer this time, like you were whispering to his soul.

“I think about tasting you,” You said softly. “So achingly slow, until you lose your mind.”

Bob’s knees went weak beneath the table. He didn’t even know how he was still upright. The only thing keeping him tethered to the earth was the press of your thigh against his, the weight of your palm on his shoulder and face, and the sound of your voice curling into his bloodstream like silk-wrapped sin.

He tried to speak–tried to gather some string of thought that could resemble language–but all he managed was a broken, desperate breath. “I–” He rasped, his voice shredded at the edges.

But you didn’t let him finish.

You shushed him. Gently. Sweetly. Your thumb swept across his cheek.

“Don’t,” You murmured, so close your lips touched his ear, “Don’t talk. Just feel it.”

And God, he felt it.

Every molecule of you.

The heat of your breath melting against his skin. The sweetness of your perfume, dizzying and intimate. The way your hands touched him like he was more than a body. Like he was a secret. A sacred thing you’d been aching to unwrap.

His fingers twitched at his sides, aching to move, to reach for you, but he didn’t dare–not unless you asked for it. He’d give you anything, everything, but he didn’t want to take a single thing you didn’t offer first.

Still, he couldn’t help it–his head tilted toward your touch, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth parted in something so tender it almost hurt to witness. His throat flexed as he swallowed another breath that wouldn’t steady.

You moved even closer–until your mouth nearly brushed his. Until the distance between you was a lie.

“I want to make you lose control,” You whispered. “I want to feel how much you’ve been holding back.”

That did it.

Bob’s whole body trembled under your hands–his restraint hanging by a thread, his jaw clenched like he was trying not to whimper. He turned his head slowly, just enough to look at you, and his eyes–those soft, wrecked, worshipful eyes–were completely undone.

“Y-You don’t know what you’re d-doing to me,” He breathed, but you smiled, soft and knowing.

“Then maybe we should go back to the compound so you could show me.” You whispered back, your thumb stroking the corner of his mouth like you’d been dying to touch him there. Bob’s breath hitched.

The corner of his mouth twitched beneath your thumb like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to shape it into a sentence. His brow knit–tight, anxious–as if he were on the edge of a precipice and could already feel the wind pulling at his shirt.

“I…” His voice cracked. He turned his head slightly, his cheek brushing your palm, but his eyes–those trembling, desperate eyes–held yours like you were the only thing anchoring him to the floor. “I don’t… know w-what happens if I lose control…I h-haven’t had s-sex since before the S-Sentry serum…”

Your chest softened at the vulnerability in his tone–raw, boyish, torn straight from the deepest part of him.

“I’ve felt it before. The…Shift. T-That moment before it gets too much.” His throat worked hard around the next words. “The Sentry, he–he comes through w-when I feel too much. When I want too much. A-And I want you so badly it terrifies me.”

Your thumb stroked over his jaw again, slow and reverent, like you were trying to soothe the trembling just beneath his skin. He didn’t pull away.

“Bob,” You whispered, voice like velvet heat, “I’m not scared of him.”

His breath caught, but you didn’t stop.

“I don’t care if the Sentry shows up. I don’t care if he tries to carry me off into the sky or crack the moon in half because I kissed you too hard.” You smiled gently, your nose brushing his. “Because it’s still you. All of it. The fear, the ache, the power–none of it changes the fact that it’s your heart underneath. And I want all of it. I want all of you.”

His eyes fluttered shut, lashes wet. His chest heaved like he’d just exhaled something he’d been holding in for years. Like you’d opened a dam inside him and now he couldn’t stop it–he didn’t want to anyways.

“Y-You don’t know w–what that means to me,” He whispered, voice trembling like glass on the verge of breaking. “To not be t-the golden boy in your eyes…To just b-be me.”

You leaned in then–so close he could taste your breath, taste the sweetness of pineapple and something far more sacred.

“You were never a monster,” You said, lips brushing his. “You’re the kindest thing I’ve ever touched.”

And that broke something open in him.

His shoulders sagged forward, like a weight had slid off them, and he pressed his forehead to yours, his hands finally–finally–lifting from his lap to ghost up your sides, hesitant and aching. You felt the way they trembled as they settled on your waist, as if touching you too firmly might shatter the moment.

But you didn’t shatter. You melted. Right into him.

“Take me home,” You whispered, your hand curling around the back of his neck. “And let me be yours.”

Bob let out a shaky breath–half-sob, half-surrender–and nodded.

“O–Okay…”

—————————————

The moment the two of you stepped out of the elevator and the doors slid shut behind you, the weight of what was about to happen descended over you like dusk spilling into a quiet room–slow and golden and thick with gravity. It wrapped around your shoulders, soaked into your skin. Each step down the quiet hallway felt amplified, padded in the hush of possibility. The compound, usually so full of voices and footfalls, now felt sacred. Empty in a way that invited something tender to unfold.

You glanced over at Bob beside you–his hands in his pockets, shoulders stiff beneath his shirt like he didn’t know how to hold his own body anymore. His eyes flicked toward you, then away again. You could see it in the twitch of his fingers, in the slow rise and fall of his breath: he was fighting the urge to run and the urge to fall into you all at once.

“Whose room?” You asked softly, your voice barely more than a breath as you stopped just shy of your doors, which were across from one another.

Bob turned to face you, and for a moment he just looked at you. Really looked. As if the question was too big to answer all at once. But then he shook his head and murmured, without hesitation, “Yours.”

Your brows lifted a fraction, surprised by the immediacy of it.

His voice came again, quieter now, barely able to hold its own weight: “I want to be surrounded by everything that’s you.”

And God, he meant it. You could see it all over his face–that quiet, overwhelmed awe. That whisper of longing woven into his breath. Like being near you wasn’t just about want–it was about safety.

You opened your door with a hush of hinges and warmth poured out–soft and golden like it had been waiting for you both. Bob hesitated on the threshold just for a moment, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to step into something so intimate. But you reached back and curled your fingers around his, pulling him through gently, and he followed without a sound.

Your room welcomed him like a heartbeat.

The lights were low, softened to a muted amber by the shade of your bedside lamp, and the shadows cast across the walls were familiar, worn-in. The kind of quiet you could only earn by living in a space long enough to leave parts of yourself tucked into the corners.

There were little signs of you everywhere.

A cardigan draped over the back of your chair, still shaped by your shoulders. A couple mismatched mugs on the windowsill, half-full of dried flowers and pens that had long since run out of ink. A battered paperback with your thumb pressed into the spine, abandoned on the edge of the bed. The faintest scent of that sugary sweet skin-warm perfume. He could taste it in the silence.

And then there was the window.

It stretched across nearly half the far wall, a wide mouth of glass looking out over the city, where the skyline pulsed like a living organism–silver and gold lights blinking in lazy succession, cars reflecting off the windows threading down the streets like blood through veins. Bob walked toward it like he was drawn by gravity itself, like it called to the aching part of him that had spent too long looking at the world from above and never this close.

His reflection caught in the tall mirror near the bed–a fractured echo of himself, backlit by the skyline, a man made of longing and light. If he laid down, he realized, he’d be able to see you both in that mirror. Your bodies. Your faces. The way you might look reaching for each other.

He swallowed hard.

Behind him, you closed the door.

The soft click of it sealing shut sent a shiver down his spine–final and quiet and full of promise. He turned toward you, and that’s when he saw you undoing your leather jacket, slow and unhurried. The matte black of it peeled away from your shoulders like a second skin, and the way you moved–fluid, unfazed, and sure–made the air around him feel charged, like static clinging to cotton.

You stood in front of him now, illuminated by citylight and the low lamplight behind you. The bodysuit clung to your frame, catching the warm glow across your collarbones, your throat, the tender curve of your chest. You shrugged the jacket the rest of the way off, and it hit the floor with the softest thud.

Bob was frozen in place. Watching you like a man watching lightning hit the ocean.

He looked around your room again, slower this time. You saw it in his eyes–how he drank in the soft mess of your sheets, the collection of little rings in a porcelain dish, the stack of notes taped to your wall with scribbled to-dos and song lyrics and scraps of thought. It was chaotic and real and you, and he loved every single thing about it.

You were standing so close now that he could feel the warmth radiating off of your skin. The glow of your room wrapped around the two of you like a whispered secret.

You tilted your head slightly and whispered, “You okay?”

And Bob–whose hands were clenched at his sides, whose chest was rising like a tide he couldn’t hold back–nodded, barely. His voice was a whisper scraped raw:

“I-I don’t think I’ve ever been t-this okay.”

Your smile broke like a sunrise, and you reached up for him, touching his face. Just your fingertips at first, featherlight against the edge of his jaw, your thumb brushing along the corner of his mouth like it was something precious to you. Bob’s breath stilled at the contact, lips parting slightly, his chest fluttering with anticipation. He leaned into your palm like a man starved for warmth, even though he was burning up as he stood in front of you.

You pulled him gently toward you.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t desperate. It was something softer—something built from all the times you’d brushed hands in passing, or caught him watching you when he thought you weren’t looking. It was built from every whispered laugh, every longing silence, every moment the world made you ache for one another without saying a thing.

And now it was here. Finally.

Bob bent to meet you, slow and hesitant, his breath brushing yours like a question. Your noses bumped slightly, awkward and tender, and he let out the smallest nervous laugh—one you swallowed as you tilted your chin and brought your lips to his.

The first kiss was a hum. A hush. A held breath.

His lips were soft, unsure at first, warm and slightly parted like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to kiss you back–until he did. Until he melted into it. You felt the exact moment the tension in his shoulders unraveled, when he stopped hovering on the edge and let himself fall. His arms came around your waist–slowly, carefully–as if he was still afraid to hold too tightly.

But he did hold you.

God, did he hold you.

One hand splayed wide against the small of your back, the other settling higher, thumb grazing the edge of your exposed skin where your bodysuit dipped low. His palm was hot. Too hot. Like he was burning just from touching you, and yet couldn’t bring himself to pull away. The feel of your skin against his fingertips made his knees go weak.

You kissed him deeper.

Not rushed, not rough–just more. More pressure. More presence. You tilted your head and sighed softly into him, and Bob exhaled like you’d opened a door in his chest he didn’t know had been locked. His mouth was gentle but eager, tasting you in little swells, lips moving with hesitant gentleness as if trying to memorize the shape of you. He breathed you in like you were air after drowning.

You pulled back slightly–not apart, just enough to rest your forehead to his. The two of you stood there in that golden hush, breathing each other’s breath. Bob’s chest rose and fell against yours, and you felt it–every tremble. Every ounce of his restraint.

He looked at you with eyes half-lidded and dazed, lips flushed and glistening from your kiss–and from the remnants of your lip glass–the faintest tremor in his breath like he couldn’t quite believe it had happened.

Your voice was soft, just above a whisper. “Still okay?”

He let out a broken laugh–full of wonder, full of you–and nodded.

You leaned in again–gentler this time, slower–not because you were unsure, but because you wanted to savor the way his breath hitched when your lips brushed his. You wanted to draw it out. To feel every shiver he tried and failed to suppress.

Bob met you halfway with a soft, aching sound–something between a sigh and a whisper of your name. His hands flexed slightly at your waist, his fingers pressing just a little deeper into the curve of you. You felt how he trembled. Not because he didn’t want this. But because he wanted it so much he was afraid he might burst.

You kissed him again–deeper, slower this time, mouth parting just enough to taste him. His lips were warm and sweet with nerves, and he kissed like someone who had thought about this a thousand times but never believed it would happen. There was a reverence to it, a hush in the way he moved his mouth against yours, like he was still halfway convinced he might wake up at any moment.

Your hands left his face, drifting down–slow, steady, and full of quiet intention. You traced the slope of his neck, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse, then down the broad plane of his chest. You felt every breath he took, shallow and aching, beneath the soft cotton of his sweater.

Bob, always layered like he needed something between himself and the world, was wrapped in a slightly oversized charcoal crewneck, its fabric thinned from wear and faintly scented like detergent and something uniquely him. Beneath it, you could feel the ridges of another layer–a t-shirt, soft and well-worn, probably one he slept in or hid in on quiet mornings when the world was too loud.

You slid your hands beneath the hem of the sweater and pushed upward, your palms skimming the warm skin of his stomach as the fabric lifted. Bob made a quiet, broken sound into your kiss–like the feeling of your hands on his skin short-circuited something vital inside him. He froze for a moment, his breath catching like he wasn’t sure he could survive the sensation.

You pulled back just far enough to speak, your lips brushing his. “Can I?”

His nod was immediate. Frantic. “Y-Yeah. God, yeah.”

So you tugged the sweater up slowly, watching the way his arms lifted, watching the exposed inch of his abdomen rise with it–the pale skin dusted with soft little beauty marks, the gentle definition carved by years of holding tension. As the fabric cleared his chest, he flinched slightly, sucking in a breath like cold air had touched him, though your hands were warm.

He helped you the rest of the way, dragging the sweater and t-shirt off over his head with trembling fingers, slipping away like the last layer of armor. And then he was bare from the waist up, bathed in citylight and lamplight, all golden and blushing and unsure.

He stood there, chest bare and breathless, as if you’d peeled back the sky and found the sun trembling underneath.

Bob’s body wasn’t sculpted in the way of soldiers or statues. It was something softer, something more human. But there was strength in it, undeniable–earned. It was the kind of build that came from holding onto things that were out of his control. Broad shoulders that carried guilt and gentleness in equal measure. A solid chest dusted with faint hair and the occasional mark of time–tiny clusters of faded scars, blemishes, and bruises the world had forgotten but his skin remembered.

His collarbones were sharp under the golden lamplight, framed by muscle that swelled and dipped like lines in a poem you wanted to memorize. His arms, strong and thick, looked like they were made to hold someone through the storm–and right now, they twitched faintly at his sides like he didn’t know how to be held himself. There were scattered freckles on his biceps, a pale crescent scar on one rib that curved like the moon, and small, raised knots near the shoulder from training or trauma–you weren’t sure which. Maybe both.

He looked like a map of ache and effort and quiet resilience.

And you adored every inch of him.

You stepped forward slowly and pressed a kiss to the center of his chest–just over his sternum. His breath stuttered at the contact, sharp and startled, like he’d never been kissed there before. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe no one had thought to.

You trailed your fingers down the plane of his stomach, the muscle there tense and trembling, then lower–toward the waistband of his pants. They were a pair of charcoal slacks, slightly loose around his waist, cinched just right at the hips, but soft and comfortable like he’d chosen them to blend in. Like he’d never expected to be undressed in them.

Your fingers hovered over the button, and you looked up at him. Bob nodded once–barely, but enough–and you slipped the button free. His breath hitched, and his hands flexed at his sides again like he didn’t know what to do with them.

You dragged the zipper down slowly, deliberately, your eyes never leaving his. He looked dazed–like he was being unwrapped for the very first time, and the air itself might sear him.

The fabric fell down his thighs with a soft whisper, pooling at his feet, before he moved out of them, kicking his shoes off in the process.

Bob stood in front of you in nothing but his black boxer-briefs, backlit by the shimmer of the skyline and the amber hum of your bedroom lamp. His chest rose and fell like the sea—steady, but stirred by undercurrent. His eyes hadn’t left you since you touched him. Not once.

And now, it was his turn.

He lifted his hands slowly, reverently, like he was reaching out to something holy. His palms hovered over your hips, not quite touching, until you gave him the smallest nod. That was all he needed.

His fingertips brushed the waistband of your shorts, undoing the golden button in the front of them.

You kicked off your shoes, one at a time, and let the silence stretch between you as he hooked his fingers through the belt loops–slow, hesitant, like he was afraid of doing too much too quickly. He eased them down your legs inch by inch, watching the fabric surrender to gravity. You stepped out of them delicately, and for a beat, he just stood there, looking at you like he didn’t know how to survive the sight of you standing in nothing but that black bodysuit and a pair of simple underwear.

He swallowed hard.

His hands returned to your sides, smoothing over the dip of your waist where the fabric clung tight. You watched his throat flex as his eyes flicked over you—your curves, your bare legs, the way your body caught the light like it had been painted for his gaze alone.

When he moved to the clasp of your bodysuit, his fingers trembled. You could feel it. The concentration in him. The hesitation. Like he was unhooking something precious, something secret.

You reached up and touched his jaw gently. “It’s okay,” You whispered.

And Bob, poor, wrecked Bob, nodded like he needed your permission to breathe.

The clasp gave with a soft snap. The bodysuit loosened instantly, slackening at your shoulders. His eyes met yours again, searching, silent, and then he helped ease the fabric down your arms, over your chest–slowly, like he was undressing a memory he wanted to savor for the rest of his life.

You stood there, bare from the waist up.

Bathed in citylight and lamplight. Breasts soft and exposed, skin flushed and dappled in gold. Your breath was steady, open, trusting.

And Bob… Bob stared like he’d never seen anything so sacred. His lips parted. His chest rose, shallow and quiet, as his eyes drifted over every inch of you—your collarbones, the curve of your sternum, the soft line of your stomach. His hands didn’t touch right away. He just looked. Like the act of looking was too intimate already.

But when he did touch you–finally, gently–his hands moved with such aching care. They rose to cradle your waist, thumbs brushing just below your ribs. You watched his pupils expand, the breath he tried to hold leaking out of him in slow, reverent exhales.

“You’re…” His voice cracked. He didn’t finish the sentence.

Because he didn’t have to.

You stepped into him again, bringing your bodies closer, the warmth of his skin against yours. Your breasts brushed his chest and he nearly gasped, his head dipping low, lips brushing your shoulder like he needed a place to put all this overwhelming wonder.

Bob’s lips were trembling against your skin before you even realized he’d moved. Gentle, searching–he kissed the place where your shoulder curved into your neck, just beneath your collarbone. His mouth was warm and wet, like each kiss was a vow he didn’t know how to speak aloud. He moved slowly, dragging his lips along your skin like he was painting devotion in brushstrokes–across the dip of your clavicle, up the slope of your throat, back to your jaw.

You let out the softest sigh. A sound full of breath and want. It made him shudder.

Your hand slid into his hair, curling at the nape of his neck, guiding him until his lips found yours again. This time the kiss felt hungrier–not in haste, but in depth. In need. Like the space between you could never be close enough. He kissed you with a kind of desperation laced in awe, like he still couldn’t believe this was real. And maybe you felt the same way, because your heart was stammering against your ribs, and the heat blooming between your thighs was dizzying.

You pulled back slowly, just enough to look into his eyes–flushed and wide and soft around the edges, pupils blown so far they nearly swallowed the blue whole.

“Come here,” You whispered, voice like silk unraveling in candlelight.

You took his hand and led him gently around the side of your bed, the sheets still rumpled from a day that no longer mattered. The mirror caught both of your reflections in passing–your bare back, his bare chest, the golden curve of lamplight gilding the two of you like you were something from a dream neither of you dared name.

“Lay down,” You said, and Bob obeyed without a word. He eased himself back across the mattress, exhaling like the air had been caught in his lungs for hours. The sheets crinkled beneath him, warm with your scent, his chest rising in uneven waves as he stared up at the ceiling like it held some sort of answer for how to survive this moment without coming apart entirely.

You climbed onto the mattress after him—slow, certain, fluid like breath moving into lungs. Bob turned his head just in time to see you crawl toward him, and God, the look on his face—pure wonder, trembling with reverence—made your heartbeat skip off rhythm.

You straddled him gently, knees bracketing his hips, your hands finding their way to his chest again, palms splayed flat over the warmth of him. You felt the stutter of his breath beneath your touch, the tight coil of tension building under your thighs.

He looked up at you like you were everything.

You bent down and kissed him again—deeper this time. Your lips claimed him slow and full, your mouth parting just enough to taste his sigh as it melted into yours. One of his hands slid up your thigh, barely daring to grip, while the other cupped your hip like he was anchoring himself.

And that’s when you felt it.

Hard and hot, nestled beneath you. The growing swell of him pressed against the soaked fabric of your underwear, separated from your heat only by the thin stretch of your panties and his boxers. He groaned softly into your mouth, the sound involuntary, and it made your whole body pulse with want.

You rolled your hips forward–just once, a slow grind–and Bob gasped. His head tipped back, throat arched, lips parted as his eyes fluttered shut. His fingers tightened on your waist as if bracing against the force of it.

You did it again–deliberately, letting your clothed center slide against the length of him. The friction was hot, barely enough, almost unbearable in its precision. You could feel the tremor in his thighs, the desperate way his breath stammered in his chest.

“O-Oh m-my,” He whispered, almost like a prayer. “You’re…Oh God–”

You smiled softly against his cheek, lips brushing the corner of his mouth. “You feel that?”

He nodded, barely, eyes dazed.

“I’m soaked,” You whispered, dragging your hips once more, pressing down just enough to make him bite his lip and squeeze his eyes shut, “And it’s all for you…” You kissed the line of his jaw And then you started to move down.

His hands twitched when you kissed his throat—soft, slow, trailing heat with your mouth as you shifted backward, kissing lower, following the pulse at his neck to the center of his chest. You paused there, pressed your lips to the spot where his heart beat fastest.

He stared down at you, dazed and helpless and holy.

You kept going.

Kissed his sternum. The soft dip beneath it. The slight rise of his stomach where the muscles tightened beneath your breath. Your mouth was tender, open, slow as silk. You licked a soft line down his abdomen and felt him shiver violently. His hands moved into your hair without thinking, not pulling–just holding.

Just needing something to hold.

You reached the waistband of his boxer-briefs, and looked up.

His lips were parted, his cheeks pink with heat, his pupils huge and swallowing. He nodded without needing to be asked, lifting his hips slightly as you hooked your fingers into the band and drew it down—inch by inch, like you were unwrapping a gift meant only for you.

Bob was flushed, hard, and trembling. His cock stood against the plane of his stomach, thick and aching and already leaking from the tip. You watched the way it twitched when the cool air touched it, watched how he tried to stifle a gasp and failed.

“O-Oh god,” He breathed, like it physically hurt. “I don’t–I don’t even k-know what to do with myself–”

“You don’t have to do anything,” You murmured, pressing a kiss to the sharp line of his hip. “Just let me take care of you.” His breath hitched–shallow and wild–and his hands gripped the sheets.

And then you bent your head.

And licked a slow, deliberate stripe up the length of him–base to tip.

Bob choked on a gasp, hips jolting before he stilled himself with sheer force of will. His hands flew to his forehead like he was trying to cover his eyes, but he couldn’t stop watching.

You flattened your tongue along the underside of him again slowly feeling the way he twitched under your touch, the way his breath hitched like it was caught in the delicate space between need and disbelief.

His hand found yours blindly–grasping, desperate for something to hold on to. You laced your fingers with his without hesitation, anchoring him as you opened your mouth and took him in.

The weight of him on your tongue was dizzying, intoxicating. He was warm and already leaking, the taste of him faintly salty as your lips sealed around him and began to move–slow, deliberate strokes of your mouth, your hand curled around the base of him in rhythm.

“Y-you’re…” His voice broke, breath catching, almost like a sob. “You’re really… Oh…”

The sound he made when you took him deeper went straight to your core. It was soft, wrecked–an overwhelmed whimper that made your thighs clench and heat spill low in your belly. You moaned around him, low and throaty, and he gasped your name like it physically stunned him.

You glanced up through your lashes and saw him–his head tipped back, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted in disbelief. His free hand was fisted in the sheets now, his chest rising and falling in frantic waves.

You hollowed your cheeks and twisted your wrist just slightly, dragging your mouth back and then sliding down again, slower this time. You could feel every tremor in his thighs, the way his hips flexed involuntarily and then stilled, fighting the instinct to thrust. He was trying so hard to be good for you. To be still. To savor.

You let your hand drift lower, stroking him in time with your mouth, the slick sounds of your lips meeting his flushed skin only driving you further into the heat building between your own legs. You could feel how wet you were through your panties—soaked from the way he whispered your name, from the way he whimpered when you gave him just a little more.

“Oh,” Bob whispered again, breathless. “You feel so good. I don’t… I didn’t... I…” You moaned softly again, taking him deeper, loving the way his voice cracked, the way his fingers squeezed yours like he was hanging on by a thread.

And you didn’t stop.

You licked and sucked and worshipped him, letting the tension build, letting him teeter right there on the edge. His legs were shaking now. His hips stuttered once, and then again.

“I—I think I’m gonna…” He gasped. “I don’t know if I can…P-Please don’t stop—please—please—”

You didn’t.

You kept going. Swirling your tongue around the tip, easing him deeper again, moaning softly just to feel the way it made his whole body jolt.

He came with a sound like he was breaking—high and soft and breathless. A shattered gasp of your name, followed by a long, trembling whine as he spilled into your mouth.

You swallowed it all. Every last drop.

And even then–you didn’t stop.

You licked him gently, slowly, carefully–savoring him through the aftershocks. His body twitched beneath you, overstimulated and undone, his voice going quiet and airy.

“I-it’s too much,” He breathed, eyes wide and wet with disbelief. “Oh God—it’s so much…”

You finally pulled back, lips glistening, your breath ragged. You kissed the inside of his thigh tenderly, then wiped the corner of your mouth with your fingers and gave him the softest smile.

Bob looked at you like you’d just handed him a piece of the universe he never thought he deserved.

You crawled back up the bed and laid beside him, resting your head lightly on his shoulder, letting your hand fall to the center of his chest. His heart was pounding beneath your palm, like it had forgotten how to slow down.

He turned to face you.

And then he kissed you–without thinking, without pause.

His mouth was hungry, lips moving against yours like he wanted to pour his gratitude and longing into every stroke of your tongue. You let out a soft hum into the kiss, and his hand found your waist, curling around you like he needed you against him. All of you. Bob kissed you like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

His hand tightened at your waist as he deepened the kiss, his mouth warm and earnest, his tongue slow against yours—like he was trying to memorize the taste of your breath and the taste of himself on your tongue. Then he shifted his weight just slightly, moving over you, and your body followed without hesitation.

He rolled smoothly, gently, so that your back met the mattress and his body hovered above yours. His thigh slid between yours, his chest flush to your own, and his face hovered just inches from yours–eyes wide and wild with something more than lust. Something closer to awe.

You let out a surprised giggle, breathless beneath him, one hand slipping up to brush back the messy strands of his light brown hair. It stuck up in every direction from your earlier touch, and now it framed his flushed face like a halo that couldn’t decide if it belonged to a saint or a sinner.

He gave a small, dazed laugh too, his lips curving in wonder as he looked down at you.

And then he murmured, soft as velvet:

“It’s your turn.”

His voice sent a shiver straight through you–because it wasn’t just desire in his tone. It was reverence. Like this was sacred. Like you were sacred.

He dipped his head and kissed your throat, slow and sweet, and you tilted your head to give him more. His hand slid up your side, warm and sure, until it cupped your breast. He paused there, looking at you–asking, even now. Even after everything.

You nodded, breath caught somewhere between your ribs.

And Bob leaned down to worship.

His mouth wrapped around the swell of your breast, lips so soft, tongue teasing the peak until it pulled a soft sound from the back of your throat. He groaned at the noise, like it physically did something to him. He kissed across your chest–open, adoring–then sucked gently at the other nipple, swirling his tongue in slow circles until your fingers curled in his hair. You felt his teeth graze the sensitive skin just around your nipple–just enough to make your breath hitch and your hips twitch slightly beneath him.

You gasped, soft and surprised, and his mouth pulled back with a small, wicked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. His breath was warm against your damp skin, and then he exhaled slowly–cool air brushing across the nipple he’d just teased, and your whole body shivered in response.

Bob chuckled under his breath–low and breathless. Not cocky. Amazed. Like your reactions lit up something inside him he never even knew he needed.

Then he kept going.

His lips traced a winding path down your body–each kiss like a benediction pressed into skin. The slope of your ribs. The softness of your belly. The place just beneath your navel where you felt everything coil tight with anticipation.

You shifted slightly, drawing your knees up, thighs falling open to make space for him as he reached the waistband of your underwear. The fabric was soaked with you–already clinging, already begging to be removed. Bob looked up once, eyes wide and full of silent question, fingers brushing your hips.

You nodded. Your breath was caught somewhere behind your teeth, but your legs were already parting further, your spine already arching to help him slide them down.

He pulled the underwear off slowly, taking his time with you, watching the way the fabric peeled away from your slick heat. Your body practically glistened in the amber light, folds swollen and flushed with need. He swallowed thickly, the sound audible even in the hush of your room, and let the underwear fall to the floor like a silk offering.

Bob settled between your thighs like he’d found the center of the universe.

His hands slid up the insides of your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin as he leaned forward, mouth trailing open kisses along the tender flesh–first one thigh, then the other. You twitched at the contact, gasping as his lips dragged up the curve of your leg, warm and wet and wanting. He paused just at the crease where thigh met hip, and then–without warning–bit gently, sucking until the skin flushed pink and bloomed with a bruise.

Bob smiled into your skin. “S–Sorry,” He murmured, clearly not sorry at all, his voice thick with breath and worship. “N–Needed to leave s-something to remember me b-by.”

And then–finally–he kissed your core.

His tongue swiped through your folds in one long, slow motion, and your whole body jolted like he’d reached inside your chest and rung out your soul. You felt the flat press of his tongue against your clit, the deliberate drag upward, the way his lips wrapped around you and sucked–soft, rhythmic, maddening.

Your back arched off the bed.

Your hand flew down and found his wrist–one of the hands bracing you open–and you held onto it like a lifeline, anchoring yourself to the feeling. His other hand splayed across your stomach, warm and grounding, fingers spread wide over trembling muscles.

He licked you again–deeper now. More intentional. His tongue moved like he was mapping you, learning every reaction, every twitch, every soft cry like it was sacred text. He flicked the tip of his tongue in slow, focused circles, then flattened it again, pressure building just right, just there–

“Fuck—Bob,” ¥ou breathed, voice high and frayed. “Jesus Christ…”

He moaned against you, the sound vibrating through your body and sending another jolt through your spine.

And then you tilted your head back.

The mirror caught everything.

Your body sprawled across the bed–glowing, undone, your knees spread wide and your hair wild pointing every which way. Bob’s shoulders bracketed your thighs, his face buried between them, dark hair mussed and damp with sweat and your slick. You saw the way your stomach rose and fell beneath his hand, how your hips bucked slightly with each flick of his tongue.

And then–God–

You looked down at him.

And he was looking up at you.

Eyes glassy and wide, pupils blown with hunger. His mouth was still moving, still lapping at you with slow swirls–but his gaze stayed locked on yours like it anchored him. His brow was pinched in concentration, his cheeks flushed, his lips glistening.

It was intimate in a way that felt deeper than skin. Like he was beholding you, not just touching you. Like the act of pleasuring you was its own kind of worship–and he couldn’t look away from the way your body bloomed beneath him.

You whimpered, your hand tightening around his wrist.

He groaned softly, and the sound reverberated through you.

And then–without breaking eye contact–he slid two thick fingers inside you.

Your mouth dropped open in a silent gasp, spine arching. The stretch was slow, sweet, perfect. He curled them just right, finding that place inside you that made your breath stutter and your thighs twitch.

“Y-Yeah,” he rasped against your core, voice hoarse, lips brushing your clit between licks. “There. T-That’s it, I–I feel you…”

You clenched around them while his tongue kept moving—never stopping. His fingers pumped slow and deep, curling with every pass, and your legs started to shake.

The sight in the mirror was unholy–your head thrown back, his mouth buried between your legs, fingers working you open while your body writhed beneath him.

“Bob—Bob I’m gonna—”

“I–I know,” He whispered. “I’ve got you..Y-Y/N.”

With a sharp cry and a desperate buck of your hips, you came–shattering like glass under floodlight. Your walls clamped down around his fingers, your thighs trembling against his shoulders, your hand crushing his wrist as you pulsed around him.

Bob didn’t stop until you whined, breathless and broken, hips twitching from oversensitivity. Even then, he pulled back slowly, mouth flushed, chin slick with you. He pressed one last kiss to your thigh, and looked up at you again.

Completely wrecked.

Completely in awe.

You let out a laugh of disbelief–shaky, breathless, still caught in the afterglow of everything Bob had just pulled from you. Your body was humming, twitching with sensitivity, your thighs trembling around nothing now as he lifted his head from between them.

Bob looked like he had just witnessed a modern day miracle, a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

Then he started to move slowly, crawling back up your body on his elbows, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses into your skin as he went. The curve of your hip. Your stomach, still fluttering beneath the aftershocks of your orgasm. Each kiss was a brushstroke of heat and devotion, like he wanted to taste every inch of what he’d done to you.

When he reached your chest, he paused, nuzzled into the soft swell of your breast and pressed the gentlest kiss there too. Then higher–your collarbone, your throat, the corner of your jaw. You turned your head slightly and met him as his mouth finally reached yours again.

The kiss was warm, a little messy, but full of affection. Your taste was still on his lips, and he didn’t hide it–he kissed you like he wanted you to know he’d savor every drop.

“Y-You’re unreal,” He mumbled against your cheek. And then he gave a shy, breathless laugh. “I think I–I forgot how to breathe.”

You smiled, brushing your fingers through the soft mess of his hair, and he leaned into the touch like it grounded him.

“I’m already ready again,” He admitted sheepishly, pressing his forehead to yours. You felt it him hard and warm again between your thighs, flush against your soaked center. Your breath hitched.

But then Bob hesitated. You felt it in the shift of his weight, the tremor in his next breath.

“We could leave it at that for tonight,” He said softly. His voice was a whisper of restraint, even though his hips twitched against yours like his body was begging him not to stop. “If you don’t want to have sex—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You kissed him–deep and sure and full of heat.

When you pulled back, your voice was firm and breathless. “I want you.”

Bob’s eyes widened slightly, lips still parted in surprise. “S-Should I run and grab a condom?” You tilted your left arm back slightly, resting it behind your head on the mattress, and with your free hand, pointed to the small, barely visible scar just beneath the skin of your inner arm.

“Implant,” You said softly. “We’re good.” His breath caught audibly and his hand hovered near your arm for a second, then settled gently over it–thumb brushing once over your skin.

“Y-You’re sure?” He asked, voice low and rough, like he couldn’t bear to assume. Like he was terrified of doing the wrong thing when he finally had the chance to do this right. You nodded, soft but certain, caressing his cheek gently.

”I’m sure.” Bob exhaled like it physically knocked the air from his lungs. Then he kissed you again–and this time, it was different.

There was no hesitation. No soft buildup. Just need and wonder colliding all at once.

His mouth crushed against yours, urgent and hungry, and you met him just as fiercely. Tongues brushed and tangled in wet, open kisses, teeth grazing lips, breath caught between mouths like smoke. You could feel the way he breathed you in between every kiss–little shaky exhales pressed into your cheeks, your jaw, your mouth–as if you were the air keeping him alive.

“God, y-you taste like heaven,” He murmured hoarsely into your mouth, and then kissed you again, harder.

You moaned against his lips, your body arching into his, and he groaned right back–his hand sliding from your hip to the side of your neck, fingers splayed out over your pulse point like he needed to feel the rhythm of you.

The head of his cock brushed against your slick entrance–hot and heavy and trembling with anticipation–and he froze just a moment, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes were blown wide, lips flushed, chest rising and falling like a wave cresting.

He lined himself up with a breathless stammer of your name, “J-Just tell me i-if I do anything wrong okay?” You nodded–soft, breathless, legs flinching around him slightly as he started to push in–inch by inch. Your mouth dropped open around a gasp.

”Oh–“ You breathed, hips twitching up towards him, “Bob…” He bit his bottom lip hard, trying to hold it together, closing his eyes at the sensation of you slowly taking him in.

“You’re s-so warm,” He choked out, “I can feel all of you, I–”

And then he bottomed out, hips flush to yours, both of you trembling.

You were wrapped around him, stretched and full and gasping through the intensity of it, and Bob just hovered there, buried deep, his forehead resting against yours like he needed the anchor. You cupped his cheek, kissed him once–soft, shaky–and whispered,

“I need you to move…” He nodded at your request, dragging his hips back only to press in again with a quiet groan that vibrated against your chest. His thrusts weren’t rough—but they had weight. Depth. Like he couldn’t help but want to be as far inside you as he could get.

Each time he rocked forward, your bodies met with a soft, slick sound, heat rising like steam between your tangled limbs. He kissed you through it, messy and desperate, lips parting and pressing and dragging over yours like he never wanted to come up for air. You kissed him just as hard–your tongue sliding against his, teeth nipping his bottom lip, your hands gripping his shoulders like you didn’t want him to go anywhere.

Your fingers tangled into the back of his hair, tugging gently–not to pull him closer, but to hold. To ground. The strands were damp with sweat and heat, and he gasped into your mouth when you did it, his hips stuttering in response.

Bob groaned low and soft, the sound caught between reverence and ache. Then his hand slid up, warm and sure, and cupped the side of your throat—not tight, just enough to feel the flutter of your pulse beneath his palm. His thumb tilted your chin up, guiding your gaze back to him.

“L-Look at me,” He breathed, voice ragged with want. “I…I need to see you.”

You did. Eyes wide, lips parted, cheeks flushed and heated. You were so open for him, so undone and radiant in the lamplight–and it broke something in him, seeing you like this, needing him like this.

Then he hooked his arms under your knees and lifted.

The change in angle dragged a gasp from your throat so sharp it bordered on a cry. He slid deeper—so deep it felt like he was in your chest, like he was part of the ache and the breath and the heartbeat of you. Your mouth dropped open around a broken moan, and your eyes went glassy.

“F-Fuck,” You choked, your head falling back. “Bob–oh my God–”

Bob whimpered softly, overwhelmed by the sound of his name on your lips, by the clench of your body around him. His breath was hot and frantic, his face flushed and slack with awe.

“You feel…” He started, then trailed off, swallowing hard. “You feel s-so good–so warm–you’re perfect, I–” He kissed your cheek once. Then again. Then again, softer each time, like he couldn’t stop. Like he didn’t know how else to worship you.

And then, he saw it.

The mirror.

The two of you–tangled together, sweat-slicked and flushed with heat, your body curled around him like it was built to fit. His eyes snapped to it–and for a moment, he just stared. Breathless. Dazed. He could see the way your hands gripped his shoulders, the way your breasts bounced softly with each deep thrust. The sight of it–the raw, real closeness–wrecked him.

Your gaze flicked over his and followed where he was looking and you caught the reflection too.

“I want to watch us,” You whispered, breath ragged and full of heat. “Please.”

Bob’s breath caught hard. His hips stilled, his eyes wide, his mouth parting with something like awe and disbelief.

“Y-Yeah?” he stammered.

You nodded.

That was all it took.

He pulled out slowly–deliberately, as if the act of leaving your body was a loss he needed to mourn–and helped guide you onto your stomach, careful even through the haze of want. You propped yourself up on your elbows, eyes fixed on your reflection, hair messy, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-bitten.

He moved behind you, one knee between yours, and dragged his hand down the length of your spine in one long, aching stroke, watching goosebumps rise on your flesh before peppering a few kisses along the bare skin of your back. Then he gripped your hips and lined himself up again.

The first thrust back in was brutal in its beauty.

You let out a ragged groan–half gasp, half cry–as he sank back into you. The angle was different now. Deeper. Fuller. It felt like he was rooted inside you, like he could reach the very center of you.

Bob’s groan was wrecked.

“Oh my god,” he gasped. “You’re so…This is…Y-You’re tight–so deep, I—”

He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back, and you felt the press of his mouth against the side of your neck–just beneath your ear. Then his arm slid around your neck from behind, not choking, not tight—just holding. Anchoring. His breath spilled hot across your skin, and he kissed your jaw again, reverently, trembling against you.

Your eyes locked in the mirror.

You. Spread out. Eyes heavy, mouth open, skin flushed and glowing. Bob–bare and trembling behind you, lips parted, face slack with wonder, arm curled protectively around you like he was trying to keep you from slipping away.

The reflection made your breath catch.

He looked just as wrecked as you felt.

“I’ve n-never…” He choked out, hips still rolling slow and deep, “Never seen anything so beautiful—so fuckin’ real–“ Your breath stuttered, your chest dragging in air like your lungs were trying to keep up with the sheer intimacy of his voice in your ear, his body inside you, the way his eyes stayed locked to yours in the mirror.

And then you turned your head.

Just a little.

Enough to find his lips.

Your mouths met in a kiss that shattered the edges of everything soft and safe. It wasn’t delicate this time. It was molten. You sucked gently on his tongue when he pushed into your mouth, and the noise Bob made was nearly inhuman–a muffled, desperate moan swallowed by your kiss.

The arm around your neck tightened just slightly, his palm flattening against your shoulder to hold you a little closer. He kissed you like he needed your breath to survive, and with every stroke of his tongue against yours, he thrust a little deeper, a little harder, losing the last shred of distance between you.

The sounds filled the room now.

Slippery, wet, rhythmic. The soft slap of skin meeting skin. Your gasps–broken, high, open. His moans–low, breathy, whispered things like “fuck” and “please” and your name like it was a prayer he’d never been brave enough to say out loud until now. The creak of the mattress. The rustle of the sheets. The hum of the city just outside the window, as if the whole world had gone quiet to listen.

His hips were moving faster now, not pounding but full of momentum. Urgency laced with awe. You felt every inch of him with every push, your body keening beneath him, his cock dragging against that tender spot inside you again and again.

And still–his mouth kept finding yours.

Messy kisses. Tongue and teeth and hot breath shared like something sacred. You whimpered into him, and he swallowed it, moaning in return, his pace growing more erratic with each roll of his hips.

“G-God,” he gasped into your mouth. “You feel so–so perfect–I c-can’t–” He pressed his forehead against yours, sweat-slick and shivering, his voice unraveling into something raw. “I’m gonna–Y/N–I c-can’t hold back–please come with me–please–”

You nodded, frantic, the pleasure building low in your spine like a storm. Your thighs trembled, your mouth fell open, and you barely managed a whispered, “Yes–yes, I’m close, Bob, I’m right there–”

His arm tightened around you again, holding you together as he watched your reflection–watched your mouth fall open, your eyes flutter shut, your body writhing beneath him.

“I see you,” He whispered. “I see you, I’ve got you, just–just let go, I’m right here–”

You did.

Your orgasm hit you so fast it felt like your entire body was going to give out. It was brilliant, consuming, and it had every nerve ending singing with heat. Your body pulsed around him, clenching and fluttering in frantic waves, and the cry that tore from your throat was almost too much to bear.

Soon after Bob twitched deep inside you, thick and hot, and you felt him spill–pulse after pulse of heat filling you, his hips jerking in short, erratic thrusts as he buried himself as far as he could go. His moan was wrecked–raw and full–and it tumbled from him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. It wasn’t loud. It was low. Shaky. The sound a man makes when he’s completely undone. A whimper edged with disbelief, like he was giving you the very last piece of himself.

And just then–like the world exhaled around you–you heard it.

A faint, hairline crack.

Barely a sound.

Your gaze flicked up, dazed and hazy through the aftermath, and there it was: a thin fracture running across the mirror. A small, pale lightning bolt etched in glass, splitting right where your bodies met in reflection.

You blinked.

And then you tightened your hold on him.

Your hand clutched at the arm that held you–his forearm still locked gently around your chest–and your other reached blindly to touch his shoulder. You turned your head just enough to feel the hot tremble of his breath against your skin, the way it stuttered and hitched through parted lips still struggling to return to earth.

His entire body was shaking against yours. Not violently–just overwhelmed. The way a dam trembles after it’s burst.

“Shh,” you whispered, kissing the edge of his cheek. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

He moaned again–quiet this time, muffled against your skin, and full of something so deep it almost hurt. His arm loosened slightly from around your neck and slid lower, wrapping fully around your torso as he exhaled one long, shivering breath. His body collapsed slowly over yours, his chest pressed against your back, both of you trembling, covered in sweat and each other.

He didn’t pull out.

He couldn’t–not yet.

You could still feel him twitching softly inside you, still half-hard, still pulsing faintly from the intensity of it all. His cum was already starting to leak back down between your thighs, warmth slicking your folds, but neither of you moved to clean it up. Not yet.

He kissed your shoulder.

Then your neck.

Then the curve of your spine.

Each one slow and breathless. A vow, a thank you, a grounding touch.

You tilted your head back toward him, catching his lips with your own. The kiss was soft now. Lingering. Your mouths moved lazily together, wet and tender and full of exhaustion.

“Jesus,” He whispered against your mouth. “I–I didn’t mean to… I think I…”

“I know,” you murmured, brushing your thumb over the damp nape of his neck. “I saw it.”

His breath caught. “I–I cracked the mirror, didn’t I?”

You nodded once, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Just a little.”

A silence stretched between you, warm and golden and full of breath.

Then he laughed–quiet and stunned–and buried his face into your shoulder again.

“I’m sorry,” He whispered. “I–I didn’t mean to lose control.” You let out a soft sigh.

”It’s okay Bob…You were overwhelmed and feeling good…Let’s just hope Sentry is the one that gets seven years bad luck.” You both laughed–low and loose and breathless, the sound catching in the honey-thick air between your bodies. Bob’s chest vibrated softly against your back as he let out another stifled chuckle, nuzzling his nose into the space just beneath your ear.

“Only you,” He murmured, his voice warm and worn down, “C–Can make light of me literally c-cracking your mirror mid-orgasm.” You tilted your head slightly, grinning despite the ache still thrumming between your thighs.

“I mean… If you’re gonna break something,” You said, glancing back at him with a playful glint in your eyes, “At least it wasn’t my pelvis.”

That made him snort and he buried his face deeper into your shoulder, completely wrecked by laughter now. You felt the full ripple of it through his chest, the way his arms tightened around you just a little as if he could keep this moment stitched to the skin.

You turned your head, kissed him again–slow and sweet. No rush. Just the warm slide of lips and breath. His hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb stroking your skin as he kissed you back with the kind of quiet that said I never want to stop doing this.

After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his voice rough with affection. “I should, uh… I should pull out.”

You nodded softly. “Okay.”

He moved slowly, gently easing out of you with a quiet gasp at the sensitivity. You both hissed a little–his from overstimulation, yours from the sticky stretch of release leaving your body. He lingered there for a beat, fingers brushing your hip, as if he hated the idea of not being connected to you anymore.

He stayed close even after he pulled out, one hand resting lightly on your lower back, the other brushing your hip like he needed to reassure himself you were still there. The room was warm, quiet, the mirror fractured but the world around you whole.

“W–We should get cleaned up,” He murmured, his voice still dazed but laced with care. “D–Do you wanna…Maybe shower? With me?” His fingers twitched gently where they touched your side. “Only if you want to. I just—I don’t really wanna let you go yet…”

Your heart melted.

You turned slowly beneath him, shifting onto your back so you could face him fully. His hair was damp with sweat, curling slightly at the ends, cheeks still flushed, lips swollen. But it was his eyes that undid you. Wide and soft and full of affection. Still a little glassy. Still glowing slightly from the shock of Sentry.

“Of course,” You whispered, brushing your fingers through his hair, a soft blush rose to his cheeks, as you leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose, “I kinda wanna be held under hot water for like…An hour. Minimum.”

Bob gave you the softest grin. “I-I can do that. I’m good at holding.” His tone was still tentative, but there was pride there too. A glimmer of purpose. “You’ll be the cleanest, most held person in the entire compound.”

You sat up slowly, wincing slightly at the soreness blooming in your thighs and core. Bob immediately reached to steady you, his hands finding your waist, his brows pinched in concern.

“I’m okay,” You promised him with a soft smile, “Just a bit sore.”His ears turned red.

“S-Sorry.” He whispered.

“Don’t be,” You said gently, leaning in to press your forehead to his. “I liked being yours.”

His breath caught at that, his hands tightening gently on your sides. Then he kissed you–slow and soft and grateful. And when you pulled back, his hand brushed along your arm as he helped you out of bed.

You led the way to your en suite bathroom, flicking on the light that glowed soft and golden. The room was warm, fogged slightly from earlier use, and your spare towels were already folded neatly on the rack. You reached for two, tossed one onto the nearby counter for later, and handed Bob the other to keep nearby.

He looked at it like it was some sacred token.

You turned the water on and waited for it to warm while he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms gently around your waist and nuzzling the back of your neck.

“I could get used to this,” He whispered.

“What, showering?” You teased, smiling as you leaned back into his chest.

“No,” He said, shaking his head slightly. “Just…Being with you. Like this.”

You turned in his arms, heart thudding, and kissed him slow and sure. “Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The water turned to steam.

You stepped in first, guiding him in with you. It was small, a bit cramped–but it didn’t matter. You made room for each other. Bob pressed close, arms winding gently around your back as the water poured down over you both. His mouth found your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your lips, peppering you with soft, adoring kisses as the heat melted the soreness from your limbs.

He helped you wash your entire body. His fingers in your hair, gentle and careful as they massaged your scalp with your favorite shampoo. His palms smoothing body wash over your skin like you were something precious and breakable, his lips brushing your shoulder every few seconds just to stay close.

You did the same for him, trailing your hands down his chest, watching the way he shivered beneath your touch even now. You cleaned him carefully, quietly, the lather sliding down both your bodies in pearled rivulets. Every time you looked up at him, he was already looking at you. Eyes soft. Lips parted. Like he couldn’t believe you were real.

At one point, you turned under the spray and leaned your back into his chest. Bob immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you flush to him beneath the stream of water. His chin came to rest atop your head, his breath steadying.

“I—I feel like I’m gonna cry,” He admitted quietly, after a long silence.

You tilted your head back just enough to look up at him. “Why?”

“Because…” He swallowed. “B-Because I’ve never felt this safe. And that’s… Not something I ever thought I’d get.”

You reached up, touched his jaw, and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. “Then I’ll just have to keep giving it to you.”

His arms tightened around you, and he let out a long, trembling breath.

“Promise?” He whispered.

“Always,” You said. And meant it.

In the shower’s warmth, with your bodies tangled and your hearts steadying into one rhythm, nothing else in the world existed.

Just you and Bob. Soft skin. Steam. And the quiet knowledge that everything had changed.

[sunsburns]

Not sure where your rules are, but since it seems like you’ve wrote nsfw before, can I request luke going down on shy reader for the first time (already in an established relationship please)? If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s alright!!

oh fuck yes let’s do this right now. [nsfw 17+]

for starters, it will happen in the most inconvenient place at camp. a place where the two of you find a chance to be alone and tucked away from the peering eyes of campers, no longer needing to hear any of their chatter or whines from the younger kids who liked to tug on the hem of luke’s shirt and ask him silly questions like if crabs like to think that can fish fly.

he pins you against the wall behind the stables, his hand loosely low on your hips so he can pull you closer. as your lips lock in a slow, tender kiss, you can feel the warmth of the golden setting sun against your skin when his other hand holds the side of your face softly, finger spread across your cheek.

luke pulls away, lips swollen but a smile still wide on his cheeks as his eyes take you in. his fingers brush over the curves of your face in a feather-like touch.

when his thumb touches your bottom lip, luke’s teeth catch his own in yearning while your mouth parts just a bit. luke brushes his thumb around the shape of your lips, pressing between them and finally pulling your lower lip down to open your mouth.

he looks you in the eyes when he brushes the tip of his finger against the edges of your teeth before pressing it down against your tongue. this forces you to open your mouth wider, heat crawling to your face when he pulls his thumb out and licks the inside of your cheek. you can hear yourself groaning, digging your fingers into his curls when he kisses you deeper this time.

his mouth is soft, a permanent pout with full lips, all jokes and sly smiles. gods, you could kiss him forever.

“you're so, so pretty,” your boyfriend mutters into your mouth, his breath filling your lungs. it’s like you need him to breathe.

he runs his hands up your sides, making you mewl when he stops near your chest, thumbs messaging under the wire of your bra before he trails down again, hands stopping right at your hips. your shirt has ridden up and his palms are warm to the touch.

you can feel your fingers dip near the ridges of the scar on the side of his face. you let your hands move around, holding his cheeks, wrapping themselves around his neck and letting your nails dig into the curves of his shoulders when you feel him start to unbutton your shorts.

“luke,” you say, but it sounds more like a whine on his lips as he slowly pulls down the zipper. “luke,” you call his name again. “i want you so bad.”

“you have me,” he hums, pulling away from your mouth. “all of me,” he runs his tongue over his bitten lips before peppering sweet kisses at the corners of your mouth, your cheek, across your jaw, behind your ear and finally your neck.

luke’s hands crawl to your lower back, where he stuffs them into your pants, grabbing your ass and pulling you even closer. his hips roll against your own as he sucks a mark into your neck.

you try to reach for his crotch, but he quickly pulls away. “don't” he mutters, lips parted as he tries to catch his breath. he looks at you as if you’ve hung the stars in the night sky, like you're the reason the sun shines every morning. “i just wanna focus on you.”

his voice makes your heart sputter in your chest, and you hold your breath when he slowly kneels before you, his hands slipping from behind you and tugging gently at your pants. “please.”

you can feel yourself shaking from nerves. sure, you’ve kissed, and you've touched each other before under the shadows cast by trees in the moonlight, but the way he mouths at the pretty little bow on your panties, looking up at you with his pretty brown eyes, waiting, it all makes your heart tremble in your throat.

“you- you don't have to...” you’re choking on your words. “we’ve never- i’ve never…”

“i know,” luke says, and his hands settle on your knees, slowly pulling them apart. and you let him. “but i want to. please, i really, really want to. i promise you'll feel good.”

when you nod your head yes, he smiles, almost giddy before sucking a hot kiss into the inside of your thigh. it catches you off guard, and a moan slips out as he makes his way up higher and higher, and gods, luke castellan sure knows how to keep a promise.

[yellowbrokenblue]

Penthouse window sex with Harry

cw: smut, degrading, daddy kink, unprotected sex

His cock was sunk into you as he took you from behind, pounding into your cunt like his life depended on it.

He had you pressed against the glass window of his penthouse apartment, the only item of clothing on your body being the panties he had shoved into your mouth.

“I want the whole fuckin’ city to know you’re mine.” He groaned, thrusting his dick as far into you as it would go.

You screamed, the arousal-covered panties falling out of your mouth and onto the hardwood floor.

“Such a good slut for me. Letting me fuck you for the whole of New York to watch.” Harry said through a moan, “Bet you love the thought of people watching you cum, hm? Dirty slut.”

“Harry I’m gonna cum.”

He thrusted harder, causing you to let out the most delightful, dirty scream he’d ever heard.

“Not yet, angel. Not until I say you can.”

“Harry,” You moaned, “I can’t hold on for much longer.”

“You cum when I say you can cum, understood?” Harry growled, his hips slapping against your naked skin, “Now be a good girl and take daddy’s cock.”

You cried out as he thrust a couple more times, holding your arms tightly behind your back, sucking deep red marks into the skin of your neck.

“Harry,” You moaned, “Daddy, please.”

He moaned into your skin as he thrust into you.

“Cum now.” He said, his words immediately allowing you to reach your orgasm, “Cum on daddy’s cock.”

He continued to thrust into you as you rode out one of the most insane highs of your life, your juices dripping down your bare legs as Harry continued, soon following with his own orgasm.

“Fuck.” He groaned, “Fuckin’ hell. Love filling this tight pussy up with my cum.”

You moaned as his words, feeling his cum dripping out of you.

“Such a good girl for me.” He said, with a soft kiss on your neck, “Good girl.”

[dirty-little-mind33]

Dave, while being very inexperienced, makes that up with enthusiasm and obedience. When you teach him to go down on you, he'll look up with big nervous eyes and trembling lips. You guide him with a soft voice and gentle hand on the back of his head. Once Dave gets his first taste of you, he's a goner. He'll keep going until you push him away, far too lost in your taste to ever think about stopping. After that, he won't stop asking if he can do it again. He'll ask with a blush and stutter that you can hardly say no to. He's so needy that sometimes he won't even wait for you to sit or lie down, he'll drop to his knees to devour you! -🍒 anon

🍒 anon!!!! (assuming it's the same person as on my other blog but if not, welcome my love!!!!) i went a little overboard…

warnings: sub!dave, mention of a mommy kink, humiliation, degradation, punishment

dave lizewski being obsessed with eating pussy is so so canon (age him up please!). once he has a taste, all he asks for is more. he's so so greedy.

he'll eat you out in a heartbeat anytime you ask. prefers that to penetration sometimes and he can come just from tasting you on his tongue, his hips rolling into the mattress or humping whatever he can find.

he lives for overstimulating you and as you said, sometimes you'll have to pull him away by his hair (which only turns him on more 😔) and he'll look up at you from wherever he is, eyes wide and pleading.

"please, miss/mommy, please. i wanna taste you more. please."

he's so desperate it's almost pathetic.

you love the power you have over him and how wrecked he becomes for your cunt.

"you want me, baby? wanna taste me that badly?"

"y-yes, yes please,"

he'll beg so pretty on his knees, his curls a mess as his cheeks burn crimson. his neck is flushed as he sits shirtless and in only his bowers, the front leaking pre-cum.

"such a good slut for me. now be a god boy and kiss my pussy for a bit. no licking. not yet. and if you disobey me you won't come for a week, understand?"

[bluebutterflytattooed]

Loser Lesbian Ellie Williams x Mean Girl Reader

CHAPTER ONE

The scent of cheap highschool soap and burnt cafeteria breakfast clings to the air as you stroll down the hallway, your fingers brushing idly against the straps of your tote bag. The hum of voices, the occasional locker slamming, the scuff of sneakers against tile—it all blends together into the usual morning chaos. You don’t mind it. If anything, you thrive in it. The whole school worships you, admires you, most people are even afraid of you. Yeah, you have some friends, but they’re not close. They’re just there. No one really knows about your life. 

And you want to keep it that way. 

Some people say that you’re mean, and they may be right. You don’t tease or make fun of a lot of people, but when you do, it’s constant and cruel. Most people are just kinda weird, weird enough for you to dislike them. But there’s one person in particular that you just are relentless towards, teasing her whenever you come across her. 

And this is one of those moments. 

Ellie Williams, all flannel and denim, leaning against her locker like she’s in some indie movie about teenage angst. Her brown hair is tied into a bun at the back of her head, and it looks messier than usual today, like she rolled out of bed ten minutes before getting here, but somehow, it still works for her. She's clutching a book—one of those manga things she's always reading—and the sight of it makes you smirk. 

What a fucking loser.

You walk past Ellie slowly, deliberately, trailing your scent of cherry-vanilla in her wake. “Careful, Williams,” you drawl, just loud enough to be heard over the morning commotion. “Wouldn’t want people thinking you’re some kind of hopeless lesbian stereotype.” You toss your ever-shiny, wavy hair over your shoulder, giggling to yourself since she already is a hopeless lesbian stereotype. 

Ellie barely reacts. Just a glance, a quick roll of those pale green eyes, before she shoves the book into her backpack and slams the locker shut. She mumbles something under her breath, but you don’t quite catch it. Probably some sarcastic remark she’d pretend not to care about.

It’s fine. You have all day to get under her skin.

First period is AP Government class, and unfortunately for Ellie, fate (or the school’s frankly terrible scheduling system) has placed her directly in your orbit. You two sit two desks apart—close enough for you to take notice of the way Ellie taps her pencil against her notebook, deep in whatever brooding thoughts a girl like her has.

You lean back in your chair, letting your gaze drift lazily in Ellie’s direction. “So, what’s today’s outfit, Williams? ‘Dressed like a grunge band member’ or ‘trying to impress your imaginary girlfriend’?”

Ellie doesn’t look up. “Neither,” she mutters. “Just trying to get through the day without listening to you talk.”

You grin. God, you love it when Ellie pretends to be unfazed.

The teacher drones on about civic responsibilities, but you aren't paying attention. You’re too busy sneaking glances at Ellie—at the way she chews on the end of her pen, at the way her fingers drum against the desk like she’s counting down the seconds until she can escape. It’s almost funny. How much effort Ellie puts into ignoring her.

Deep in your heart, you know that she can never truly ignore you. Not as long as you persist with the teasing. Some call it bullying. You call it character building. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - – - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

By lunch, you find yourself by Ellie’s usual table, arms crossed, looking down at her with a smirk. Ellie is hunched over, corded earphones in, half-heartedly picking at her fries. Probably listening to some sad indie band no one’s ever heard of. You pluck one of the fries off her tray and pop it into your mouth.

Ellie sighs, finally looking up. “You know, there are better ways to get my attention.”

“Yeah?” You tilt your head, still chewing. “Like what?” You pop a piece of bubble gum between your pink glossy lips, chewing it to escape the taste of the greasy fry. You smack the gum loudly in your mouth, just knowing it will frustrate Ellie. 

Ellie doesn’t answer. Just shakes her head, a small, exasperated smile tugging at her lips as she turns back to her tray. And for some reason, the sight of that almost-smile makes frustration twist inside your own chest. How dare she ignore you? When you’re right in front of her, trying your hardest to drive her mad. I’m not someone to be ignored, you think to yourself, pouting as you walk towards your friends table, crossing your arms over your pink-tank-top-clad chest. 

Weird. 

The feeling in your chest goes away as you sit down with your friends, immediately giggling over something that your closest friend Abby is doing. Once upon a time, you and Abby had a thing together.

You no longer do, which is for the best.

You glance over at Ellie’s table, just out of the habit you have to always look for her. 

To your surprise, she’s staring right back at you. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

hiiii! this is my first work posted here, please be nice!

a few things:

both characters are eighteen here

ellie is lesbian, you are up for interpretation

this is a highschool!au so have fun with that

let me know your thoughts and ask questions!

[glassrowboat]

I Grew Up. Jing Yuan.

Summary: Before Jing Yuan was the general of the Luofu, he was just another kid who would play with wooden swords and bugs; a menace who was always ready to prove himself as a Cloud Knight. And besides him? An apprentice from the Alchemy Commission who was always ready to annoy him in his endeavors.

Warnings: Mentions of war, gore, death, there is an NSFT part (when both characters are adults), so fingering, smut, oral

Word count: 11,300+

A loud, cheery voice called out “one, seventeen, five hundred and seventy two,” as a blade swung in the air. The rustle of clothes coming with each move, every practiced hit to a non-existent enemy having a random number sang out into the air to match it. No chirping bird nestled in the trees to be had as the source of the voice had long since scared them all away. “Nine hundred and ninety nine, fifty six!”

And with each shout, Jing Yuan was repeating the number he was actually on in his head, trying not to let a certain annoyance distract him as she had done so many times before. This one's antics are just as familiar as the spot he found himself training in. Cracked stones with bits of moss growing between the once upon a time smooth concrete, a red tree providing shade from the blaring sun, and a bench only five feet away currently supporting a girl with her hands to her mouth, trying to echo out each word.

“Sixty nine! Two thousand one hundred and five!”

Her green dress was tell enough that this girl was from the alchemy commission, but they both already knew that the details of swirling clouds were so unlike the ones above the two providing shade. A shadow cast out over the courtyard, helping keep the air just cool enough that a light breeze would have anyone considering fetching a sweater. Well, anyone who's not in the middle of a training session.

“You are being a nuisance.”

Per usual.

Bringing his sword back up to practice another swing, Jing Yuan tried his best to ignore the taunting words, just begging him to chase her around the small space again. “Oh, big word for a little guy. Jingliu teach you that one recently?”

“What if she did? Master is-”

“Three hundred eighty six.”

“Master is-”

“Seventy nine.”

With a clamor Jing Yuan drops his sword in a way one could compare it to a knight getting his weapon knocked out of his hand in the heat of battle. A daunting enemy above him threatening to end his life with their own blade as he scurried to fetch it back in time before that looming presence, a terrifying face about to become the last thing his ten year old self sees. So like a prince charming in a fairy tale, his fingers would grasp the worn down hilt from the shape of his hand just in the knick of time, blocking the enemy’s strike. A triumphant hero. Except it was the complete opposite. The sword just fell to the ground from a slip of Jing Yuan’s fingers.

“Smooth moves, Yuan.”

“If you hadn't distracted me.”

“And what Cloud Knight is supposed to lose his weapon because a chicka said a few words?”

Jing Yuan had to stop himself from biting on the inside of his cheek or maybe even a scoff just so he could get out: “any knight should know that sometimes you will lose your weapon in combat and what really matters is what I do next.”

Like he could grab a hidden dagger! Or….”I could just take the blade of a defeated foe.”

“Like what? Those giant ones the mara use?” She held a hand up above her head, waving it in the air to call extra attention to it, a habit from waiting to be called on in class after listening to someone drone on for hours at a time about the medicinal properties of lily of the valley or something of the like. “I've seen those before, and they're taller than both you and I, so good luck! You'd have to spin around in circles just to give the blade any force behind it.”

A small giggle fell from her lips as she pretended to swing a giant blade, mocking the same way she would see Jing Yuan use his own.

‘Just what in the world is she imagining?’

“Just admit it, evolution didn't choose you, short stuff. So you'll just be a knight in training even when you're five hundred years old.”

‘As if!’

Picking his blade back up Jing Yuan slid it away in its designated sheathe with a satisfying click, the glare from the metal no longer reflecting on the ground beneath him as the sun peaked out from behind the clouds. “I told you that I'm going to be taller than you one day. Besides, you're only four inches taller than me, that isn't a lot.”

“I feel like I can make a joke here but it might go over your head.”

“Nope! Nope!” Not wanting to hear it, Jing Yuan smacked his hands to his ears. Maybe it would be enough to block out her shrill voice even as her steps echoed with every step she took closer to him to try and pull them off and out of place. “Just because you had to earn about that stuff for your studies doesn't mean I want to hear it. Not again. Mom already gave me the talk, and it was awful!”

“You're such a kid.”

“She was talking about things with things and wouldn't let me leave until I repeated it back to her.” Right after he had run to go try and wash his ears out by dunking his head in the water can outside his home in hopes of the water knocking the words loose.

“You're not helping your case here.”

“It doesn't matter! That stuff like kissing other people the way mom and dad do is so not on my agenda. That can be saved for your princess stories and other girly stuff.”

“Oh yeah?” A little grin curled at the corners of her lips, most likely due to having another retort right on the tip of her tongue. She even got out the words “then why are you so huffy over this stuff” before being cut off with little to no mercy by a loud call of her name. A man’s voice shouting for the girl again and again, only drawing nearer with each passing second. “Shit! I-I mean shoot. Shoot.”

Dropping his hands he stood there watching the panic come to her face. Only slightly smug. “Sure you did.”

“You're not helping!”

Quickly, her form ran over to the courtyard's many walls, green dress fluttering behind as those little legs scurried around in a panic. Her voice only picked up in speed as she tried to get the situation out of her mouth and understood as fast as possible. “Yuan, I have to go right now. I left without permission again.”

‘Of course she did. Probably to get out of those talks about being switched out to advanced classes.’

“Hoist me up!”

“And why should I? You've been doing nothing but trying to get under my skin this entire time.”

Again, another call of her name sounded. Haize’s voice getting clearer and clearer. A man Jing Yuan had only come across in passing when trying to drag a certain nuisance into playing with him. Or, a better way to put it, his friend's master.

“You motherf- I'll owe you!” Her hands were scrambling at the bricks on the wall, trying to find just the right ones to use for purchase. As if that's how scaling a flat wall would work, like rock climbing. Sure. “Just help me up or for the Reignbow Arbiter sake!”

He couldn't help the chuckle he was trying, and failing, to fight back from escaping, not with how quickly she did a 180. From teasing the life out of him (per usual) to now looking like she would plead like her life is on the line. Though with master Haize, it was hard to tell. He could very well deal out writing the same sentence a thousand times over worse. At least that's one of the lighter ones Jing Yuan has heard about.

‘One shall not leave the alchemy commission without permission’ with each ‘I’ dotted with one of her hastily drawn hearts.

“Why should I? I think this is simply karma.” Despite his words Jing Yuan was already coming over to help, eyes going up and down the wall to figure out the best way to go about it.

“You little- I'll owe you, okay?”

“I know you will.”

And just like those five years ago, when they were both kids running amok trying to help one of them escape from an unjust punishment, her shoe fell between his interlocked hands to his shoulder as she managed to swing a leg over gray tiles of the walls roofing. Admittedly, it was a bit of a blessing that at least this time, she didn't have to step on his head to get that proper step up. Last time that left a good mark of dirt in what was otherwise Jing Yuan's pure white hair as she scrambled away with a wide eyes scanning over the courtyard like she was expecting her master to pop out of thin air and a quick “see ya!”

Now, though? She was looking down at him from up high, her hand held out to help him up to follow her.

“And why are we sneaking into one of the alchemy commissions gardens when you have full access to go here?” This entire thing didn't really make sense to him, but here he was playing along even as the scent of flowers hit Jing Yuan in a way that was comparable to a woman accidently spraying her perfume in your face.

“Because, esteemed Jing Yuan, you're not allowed back here. And we have to do something to celebrate you officially becoming a cloud knight.”

Grabbing her hand the very same ‘esteemed knight’ pulled himself up and along beside her with very little help besides a tug or two to his blue sleeves. The uniform he now gets the privilege to wear with a red ribbon Jing Yuan ties around his waist every morning with pride after years of work and swinging that same blade over and over again. He swears that if he took a moment to just sit there and close his eyes while this menace of a woman jumps down into the garden below that he could feel the grip in his palm.

That is until his eyes shoot open as he hears a grunt and sees her figure kneeling on the ground, one of her hands brushing dirt off her face. Failing at that too, but for now she doesn't need to know that.

“Smooth moves.”

“Shut it.”

Jumping down after her, in a proper landing, Jing Yuan helps her up as she huffs and puffs.

“But my point still stands, cloud knight.” Knocking a hand against his chest, she turned back to the garden before them. An array of colors. Each petal is like a brush stroke on a canvas. “You got to your big goal, so we should celebrate.”

“Many of the other trainees after getting accepted were shooting the breeze with shaoxing glasses in their hands, and you choose a flower field you know like the back of your hand to take me to?”

“Fine, don't appreciate it. But I at least thought it would be nice. It's been a while since you've been allowed back here after you ruined a flower bed.”

“And last I recall you're the one that pushed me into said flower bed.”

“Anyway-” trying and failing to hide her laughter at what was most likely the memory of tripping Jing Yuan straight into a pile of dirt and seeds before her fellow classmates, she bent down to get a proper look at the blossoms before her. She probably knew every little detail about that flower, but Jing Yuan couldn't place it as anything more than just another pink one.

‘Anyway, she says.’

“Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses? Besides, if anyone catches us, I'm just here….getting a few herbs I need to dry out for a project I have planned out. The number in my dorm has been dwindling.”

Moving besides her, he sat down on the wooden walk set up to make sure no one would repeat his mistake so many years ago of mistaking where the path ended and patch started. At least that's the lie this one who thinks proper decor is bottles full of potions ultimately decided on before their scolding began. Jing Yaun’s boots made a hefty clunk as he settled down.

“And not even a drink to be had?”

“Yuan, wait until you're older. I shouldn't have to go over the repercussions of drinking before your prefrontal lobe has fully matured with you. I'll do it too.” Another huff. “It's very important for you not to touch a drop before your behavioral patterns-”

“Is this you talking or the lessons you've learned, Prodigy?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Plucking one of the flower's petals off she held the fragile thing up, studying the veins as she held it up to the full moon. The only source of proper lighting to be had when neither of you could afford to turn on the ones for the garden without being caught. Who knows what trouble could be had for you two from this even with her supposed foolproof excuse for being here.

“Carnations. You've probably seen a few as decorations at those fancy tea houses, the ones we've seen those Foxian ladies favoring so much. These can be used for their anti-inflammatory properties if you're in short supply of the normal pain meds the commission makes. A poor substitution in my book, but it's best to always have something extra on hand just in case.”

Raising his hands up Jing Yuan brings them together a few times in a short round of applause. She always did look so intense when bent over work tables with mixtures of all sorts at her fingertips, eyebrows knit together just as they are now. “You really do sound like a proper healer when you go off about this. Shame I know you for mainly cussing when you stub your toe.”

“A lady is allowed to express herself!”

“‘Lady.’”

“‘Cloud knight.’”

“You can't use that on me anymore now that it's true.”

It takes a moment, her eyes on him in silence before finally relenting and muttering a short “touche” he almost missed.

Taking the petal from those hands lacking the calloused his have Jing Yuan pinched it softly, trying to view the one little piece of life the same way she seemed to. A well of endless possibilities that could be made into something more than just a woman's perfume. “Say, I think it's time I cash in one of the many favors you owe me.”

“And what favor do I owe you, big guy?”

“Ah, someone's still petty I grew taller than them.” Chuckling Jing Yuan looked up from the petal to a face that still had the slightest smear of dirt on its cheek, barely seen in this lowlight. “What happened to those precious three inches you had on me?”

“It was four.”

“Three inches.”

“Well, it's perfectly normal for a young man to be tall. If anything, it's just a sign that you were able to grow up strong and healthy despite all the times you slid your fried cabbage on my plate.”

Something she had let him do on multiple occasions as they shared a table at either the alchemy commission when everything was stuffed full of nutrients and seemingly without a sprinkle of sugar or at his family home as Jing Yuan’s mom always slipped them an extra dessert whenever she was over.

“Well, uh…”

‘Okay, it seems we're getting off track here.’

“You owe me for helping you escape Haize when you were thirteen.”

“No, I gave you my desserts for a week in recompense. It's been paid off already, Yuan. Try again.”

Huh. Tilting his head at that his eyes rolled up to the star covered sky. The Luofu was on its night cycle meaning they could properly see the galaxy beyond the blue hue and clouds that would be overcast during the day time.

“It's pretty, isn't it?” A hand pushed his shoulder, not nearly enough to knock Jing Yuan down to the wooden path but it had him rocking in place for a moment. Tall but lanky as a certain healer had described him, right after saying he needs to eat more, then he'd properly fill out once he ages up and grows out of the awkward teenage phase. “Just say what you want. I'm fine with you owing me for once.”

“Of course you are.”

And of course he shoved her shoulder right back.

“Can you tell me what it's like to see a mara-struck up close? If I'm to meet one in combat, I should know what I'm going into, and Master Jingliu can only help so much.”

‘Master has only one perspective.’

“Good to know you're not so overconfident that you're rushing into battle with your sword raised for a charge. I didn't know you had a brain in there.”

“Seriously? You- Just back to my question.” Jing Yuan snapped.

“Okay. Fine. Impatient much. The thing is with your question…It's simply not a fair comparison.” She took a moment, eyes going from between him to the flowers that surrounded them. Lavender, marigolds, chrysanthemums, and so so many more. A field. And if he asked Jing Yuan was sure she could tell him the scientific names of each one without issue. “The ones I deal with are primed for dissection, not for a fight.”

A sigh.

“But, it's not pleasant. Master had me- let me try again. You know those gingko leaves that tree in the courtyard you used to always train in? How would they slowly turn from green to yellow only to fall off soon after?”

“I would always be tasked with cleaning them up. Part of my ‘due diligence’ and training in patience. I'm pretty sure though it was just master Jingliu not wanting to clean it up herself.”

“Well,” a small giggle came from her at that, “someone needed to do it. And if I caught you sweeping I'd always fetch a broom and spend the afternoon helping you catch up on chores.”

‘And she would always hold it over my head after.’

“I loved gingko leaves when we were younger, because they made me think of you and those moments where we were threatening to hit each other over the head with those old brooms that probably couldn't even handle a single strike. I would pick one out from the dustpan and keep it stored away in one of the many pots in my room. Like they were precious.”

“Is rambling included at this time to stop and smell the roses?” He couldn't help the little grin that came to him, lips quirked up at the edges with absolutely no effort to stop it.

“Don't interrupt me if you're the one who wants an answer. No lecturer wants a student that can't shut their fucking trap.”

“Okay, okay.” Raising his hands in surrender was automatic at this point after hearing just that pissed off voice alone. “Go on, teacher.”

“Thank you. For the Reignbow Arbiter’s sake. So,” Her hands clapped together, calling attention to herself despite the fact Jing Yuan was already paying more than enough to her, “back to my point.”

“The thing is…After my first dissection, even with master Haize watching over the entire procedure, I couldn't look at the mara-struck all at once. I was supposed to dissect it like a frog, something I've done dozens of times before, but I couldn't even just take a step back to look at the thing properly. It was a task to be objective.”

‘Couldn't look at them? Was it someone she once knew?’

“When I finally did it was at the end of the process when the master said I could wash off, and there I stood by the sink with those stupid blue rubber gloves covered in the coagulated blood of a dead body and gingko leaves.”

“I couldn't think about them the same way anymore.” Her head dropped. Eyes downcast on the very hands that had cut and opened up what was essentially, or at least should be, a corpse. “The abominations are so different from us.”

“I know.”

Even the thought of those creatures could ruin a night like this, it seems, one full of their usual antics and trouble seeking habits. The mara-struck, an inevitable fate for all Xianzhou natives if death doesn't take them first.

“Maybe you were right, maybe a drink to go with this night of celebration would have been better. Then we could be cheering about something stupid and-”

His hand was raised, reaching out to her, only stopping midway when she glanced up at him with a disapproving stare; most likely for interrupting her or getting caught off track despite all the times she's done so to him. “And you were just getting on my case about it earlier, too. Frontal lobe..something or another.” And he wiped the dirt he had been letting stick to her without a word off. The grainy texture is a sharp contrast to her own smooth skin.

“You- how long has that been there without you telling me?”

“Since you fell off the wall.”

“I didn't fall. I jumped.”

“And you're sure about that, Prodigy?”

She swatted his hand away, much like she was dealing with a pesky bug flying around near her ear.

“I hope you know that when you get hurt on the field, and you inevitably will because all you knights do at one point, they will bring you back to me. When that happens, I will make sure that whatever injury you acquired will somehow end in my fellow healers being convinced they need to chop one of your limbs off due to risk of infection. You will be at my mercy, Jing Yuan.”

‘Great, another threat.’

She's made hundreds of threats since the moment they met varying from some that had Jing Yuan stumbling over himself in shock to wondering if the best she could do was smack him over the head. Especially when he's still getting taller. Who knows, maybe one of those days she'll have to ask him to lean down for her just to be met with a solid hit to the head. The thought alone had him laughing.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Hey! What's so funny you two bit bitch?”

“You don't need to worry about it.”

Taking one of those pink carnations, Jing Yuan plucked the stem from the ground, not bothering to mind the dirt when his fingers were already dusted with it. Fragile petals and a soft hue. It truly was just a flower in his eyes, but somehow, it looked like more than that as he tucked it behind her ear as she scolded him for picking something without permission.

It was two years later Jing Yuan found himself holding a bouquet of the very same flowers after toiling over the best way to do this for hours, but they seemed only fitting. The shop owner he bought them from was nice enough to wrap them in those sheets of paper used for…well, decoration? And a red ribbon much like the very one in his hair.

The only difference being from when he bought them ten minutes ago to now is how the long stems had been wrangled as he clutched them tight in his sweating hand.

And her, staring up at them.

“Happy Luofu alliance day to you too.”

“You're all the way out here instead of joining in on the festivities?”

Papers were scattered all around her like a blanket on the grass, some clearly torn out from their notebooks as pages were frayed at the ends and others were slightly yellowed from years of use and spills of what is most likely more than just coffee stains. Scribbled notes that had Jing Yuan careful not to step on one and leave a footprint behind (for fear of being scolded, again) as he caught glimpses of diagrams, highlighted margins, and sketches of organs as he walked closer to her.

“There will be countless more years to spend in the Dragonvista Rain Hall. For now, I want to spend my one free day organizing my notes.” As she spoke she lifted up the notebook that had been on her lap in the air.

“Your ‘one free day’ being a holiday you're required to take off.”

‘Yet here she is working.’

Glancing up Jing Yuan’s eyes fell on the tree she was sitting under. Foliage far from dense enough to keep the occasional sun beam peaking through the leaves as they cast golden rays on her green dress; still wearing her alchemy commission uniform, even now.

“Did you not have to be dragged to classes once kicking and screaming?”

She would even cling onto his arm, shouting for the future cloud knight to protect the poor damsel in distress from the fearsome bad guy. That being Haize as he plucked her up from the ground and carried her out of the courtyard like a disgruntled cat. Jing Yuan’s ear would be ringing for the rest of the day, but it was always worth it seeing her so pissed off after purposefully being a frustrating little brat. Teasing him like no tomorrow.

“Times change, Yuan.” She said, her words full of laughter. “Though, I did see this poster earlier about some foxian theater troupe putting on a performance. Epic of the Old Verdant House, if I remember it right.”

“That explains why we can hear drum chanting all the way out here.”

A melodic beat full of energy that matched the chatter of the crowds down below. From here, he could see the lanterns hanging off of every pillar they could and tops of tents full of wares with people being waved in to 'come and see what we're selling, benefactors.’

“Sure does….say, I'm surprised you have the day off. Shouldn't an esteemed cloud knight be going around patrolling the streets to help keep the peace? I thought you'd jump at the chance to try and show your dedication, yet here you are not even in uniform.”

Standing there in everyday wear without a single piece of armor, Jing Yuan shifted his hanfu sleeve, the fabric stretching only to fall back as he let go. It wouldn't hinder him, but it certainly wasn't his usual garb.

“I switched out my shift with that kid you helped last week.” Though she had many patients. It wouldn't surprise him if she had forgotten about the event entirely. Things do tend to start blurring together when it's the same day after day, or at least that's what she says. “The one who got all bruised up in training, Aiguo?”

She hummed at that, seemingly to take a moment to recall. “The blond? For a cloud knight he sure does bruise easily.”

“He does…” The flowers in his hand were only wrangled up further as this conversation continued. This was besides the point. “So, rewriting your old notes then instead of going to that performance? I might have to grab a rose so you're forced to stop and smell them.”

Her eyes flicked up to him and he had to grip onto those already wrangled stems even harder to keep himself from simply choking the words out in his haste. A few white knuckles were easy enough to stand in favor of making this right.

“It's a better use of my time then watching you try and catch a goldfish at one of those scooping games again. I'm pretty sure by the time you were out of credits to waste away the vendor and I had become dear friends.”

He couldn't help but raise a brow at that. The only reason he was trying so hard in the first place was because only a week before, she was forced to get rid of her pet scorpion. Ingredients had been found in her dorm by a supervisor, and after an apparently long meeting, it was determined the thing had to go despite her begging to just let him stay in the alchemy commission.

“It was rigged.” He said, slightly shrugging as he did so.

“All carnival games are rigged. That's the point.”

‘True, but at least it got her laughing. Even if it was at my expense.’

“Or, and hear me out on this, Yuan. It could also be that you just suck.”

“Thank you, so much.”

“Oh you're so very welcome.” Picking some of the sheets of paper up she tucked them between the pages of her notebook. Brand new but it was already covered in dirty fingerprints. No doubt from her collecting samples to tie into the pages as he could already see some of her old notes with a dried out jimson weed (if he recalled the name correctly) pinned down with thin metal wire keeping it in place. “I just don't have the time to do this any other day.”

“So.” stepping in closer to her spot under the tree Jing Yuan kneeled before her, making sure they were eye to eye even if she wasn't paying him the same amount of attention he was her. “If I asked you to come down and watch me struggle to catch you another fish?”

“And do you have the credits to spend on something so lavish?”

“I can spare a few.”

“I…I'm busy. I want to get this done.”

“And I can get you some osmanthus jelly.” Lifting the bouquet up, Jing Yuan held it up to her, the end of the red ribbon softly swaying from the movement. “You preach to me the importance of taking a break, but you can't take one yourself?”

“You know I hate when you use my words against-”

And her words were drowned out by the loud sound of an engine, of a starskiff racing on by as fast as it could go. A familiar sound that would normally have Jing Yuan nodding to himself at the sight, taking in the beauty of such skilled piloting, but right now it only had him spitting out hair from his mouth as it whipped right into his face. White filled his vision as papers flew before his very eyes. A specimen of belladonna seen for only a moment before it trailed off, caught in the strong breeze the ship kicked up.

“No! No, no, no!”

Like confetti the notes she had spent years on flew away. Not even her hands snatching to grab anything proved fruitful as she scrambled up to pluck anything from the blue sky. Her fingertips barely grazed a sheet completely covered in yellow marker over the written margins before it fell to the crowd below.

Multiple people down below dressed in their finest attire, the festival masks, and waving their fans to keep cool in the generated heat of the Luofu's system were caught looking up and around them as the notes fell all around them. Ranging from the rooftops to the streets as those years she spent were tread over with little to no care, like they were nothing more than posters advertising something or another, causing her to whine at the sight.

“Fuck!”

As Jing Yuan pulled the last bits of hair from his mouth, he could see her flipping off the direction the pilot flew off in, even as it was long gone.

“Fuck you you punk ass bitch! Come back here before I shove a catheter up your dick!”

“Interesting insult.”

Grabbing a sheet of parchment from the branches of the tree, only a few of them stuck in there, Jing Yuan held it out to her.

“I hate this fucking household.”

Sighing Jing Yuan looked back at the paper in his hand as she just pouted at the sight of it. There goes his chance to confess it seems. Another day then.

“Come on, Prodigy, I'll help you find everything we can. It doesn't matter if it means spending the entire Alliance day peaking into alleyways or climbing over crates.”

“Just another favor I'll owe you.” She grabbed the paper from him as she spoke, fingers going over that messy handwriting that was no doubt scrawled down in a rush to get everything in her mind to a proper record. “Years of work.”

“No, there's no….”

‘No need for a favor.’

“Actually.” The flowers were over by the tree now, forgotten in the midst of what just happened, but did he really need them right now? Sure, this wasn't how Jing Yuan had been wanting this to go down, but what did those hours before the mirror practicing what to say as his friend, a fellow Cloud Knight, mean in retrospect when she was pouting like this? “I'd like to cash in that favor now. I’m going to ask you something, and I don't want you to immediately say no. Take your time to think about it.”

“Now that's a big ask.” She said, grip tightening a little bit more to the point the paper started to crinkle under her touch. Maybe she was worried it would grow wings and fly away on her too.

“I know.”

Grabbing her hand, careful to make sure his actions did not tear anything, Jing Yuan squeezed it softly. She had no calluses made from the efforts of swinging a blade- of wielding a weapon. No, they were soft from the amount of lotion she used from always applying some after washing her hands again and again once she was done making some new medication or concoction or another thing of the like. Somehow, that made it all the easier to hold her just like this.

“The next Alliance festival, I want to go together not as friends, or two people trying to find your notes, but as eachothers date.”

“No.”

“Now that's not taking your time-”

“Ask me again later, when I'm in a better mood; and pick an event that will happen sooner than a once a year festival.”

‘Oh…. Oh!’

Squeezing her hand a bit tighter, Jing Yuan asked: “will you go on a date with me sometime this month? We will have to figure something out between your busy schedule, Prodigy.”

“I said, ask me later.”

“Technically it was ‘later,’ just by a few seconds.”

“This is the worst confession I have ever heard and I've seen people proposing on the medical beds when one of them is so drugged they can't even understand what is being said to them.”

After a moment she added in, “you still have to help me find my notes though, then I'll say yes. And I want a better confession too, like in those romance books. Give me a whole speech.”

“Are you seriously asking me to study those girly novels of yours?”

“Yes. Or no dice.”

“I- fine.”

‘To believe that years ago I'd cringe at the thought, but here I am agreeing to it just to satisfy this bossy woman.’

“You're always a headache.”

Later that day, after spending hours combing the city to find every last sheet they could manage, Jing Yuan tied the red ribbon around her pinky, admiring how it showed she was his. as she told him she'd find the time in her busy schedule to squeeze in one little outing.

And it was that very same hand he tied a ribbon to, that he grasped that day, the very same day he played in his head again and again with a smile that could never leave him at the memory, that is now threaded through Jing Yuan’s hair.

Tugging. Pulling. Unapologetically leaving knots he'd have to comb out later.

“Patience.”

“You've been saying that for the past ten minutes, Yuan.”

The way her voice came out slightly strained had his lips tugging up. Soft little pants he was drawing out of her from those pretty lips he yearned to kiss right now even as his own were sliding along her naked thigh. Tongue just barely lolling out for a small lick before retreating once again.

She'd call him a tease. Has been, actually. But Jing Yuan couldn't barely help himself when seeing her like this.

Blankets pushed off to the side and barely hanging off the edge of the bed that was cast in only the low glow of a lamp on a desk nearby. One covered in glass bottles full of things he's been warned not to touch, and he knew well enough to listen. It was enough to have his fingers gleaming as he pulled them away again.

Much to someone's dismay.

“Stop being mean to me. Please.”

Jing Yuan only hummed in response, not minding her begging much as his teeth just barely dug into her skin; the idea of leaving a mark was so, very, tempting. To know that under her skirts in the days to come would be proof of this moment in the dark.

Her thigh tensed in response, muscles flexing before falling back to a relaxed state as his lips ran over the imprints of her underwear he had been pulling and tugging at earlier left. A garment discarded as soon as his head dipped between her thighs, yet here she was urging him to give her more.

‘How greedy.’

But he is too as Jing Yuan’s cock strains against its confines. Fabric he'd usually consider loose, breathable, and easy to move in suddenly betraying him with every shift of his hips against this old mattress. Barely providing anything friction as he breathes in the scent of sex. Of slick. Of her need for him.

Just that alone had his hips bucking forward.

His gaze moved from the way she sucked his fingers in as they slid back inside her with a wet squelch up to those half lidded eyes that flicked between him and the ceiling.

“Yua-”

A chuckle fell from him as she chased after him, her breath hitching and eyes falling closed as his tongue slid between those lips he's never had a proper chance to taste before, and oh what he would do to let those legs wrap around his fluffy white head and eat a meal he's never had before for hours just to find what would make her unravel beneath him.

Would she call his name in those final moments with her toes curled the way they are now? Would she be clinging onto the sheets with a knuckle white grip? Would her chest heave as he watches those breasts still red from being tugged and teased at fall with every breath?

Yes, they were both greedy.

“I know you're doing that on purpose.” She finally managed to say between her whines and attempt to stifle them away under her free hand.

“Am I now?”

That accusatory glance had Jing Yuan curling his fingers over a soft spot that felt different from the rest, spongy even, as he tried his best to act innocent. Not very convincing when his words are muffled by her pussy, but it was a try nonetheless.

“F-fuck…”

“I can't help but think you liked that.”

It was a wonder she wasn't trying to kick him in some way, but maybe that's just because with every movement of his fingers, her head was being thrown back into the white covers.

“Where do you…how do you even know where that is?”

“This?” Jing Yuan asked, fingers crooking even more by just the slightest amount to brush over that spot inside of her again.

She didn't need to know the real answer to that, not when she wouldn't let him live it down if she ever found out. She'd get on him until his ears turned pink, and she'd only make it worse by pinching them and saying something like “oh sweetie, you're looking sick. Maybe we should take your temperature, yeah?”

So no, he'd keep the fact that one of her fellow students in the alchemy commission went around to all the guys he knew were in a relationship during the mess hall. Lunch hour as silverware clattered against those metal food service plates while some young lad with a diagram of all things pointed out…well...where to touch a woman in exchange for a hundred credits in turn.

Money well spent in his opinion if it had her looking at him like that. Glazed over eyes enough to have Jing Yuan wanting to press a kiss to those soft lips. To let her know just how she tastes.

“Maybe I'm just a natural; a prodigy just like you.”

Wouldn't that be nice? To know just where to touch her to have his name cried out like a prayer. The Reignbow Arbiter an afterthought to his fingers, but he was willing to give her the rest of their lives together to figure this out. To have her melt in his embrace on all the nights they will have, just like this one where she sneaked him into her dorms.

The door didn't even creak on their way in.

He didn't even stop to do anything more than lock the door before Jing Yuan had pulled her into his arms. Hands playing with the fabric of that green dress as it traced over the

gold accents on her chest all the way up to the clasp keeping it shut as their lips met in hurried kisses. One after another as she tugged him along through the bedroom to help keep those heavy boots of his from accidently kicking and knocking over anything of importance as they found their way between boxes of files to the bed.

Designs of swirling mist made Jing Yuan feel like he was on cloud nine as they slid up her thighs.

She rolled her eyes as he asked about her underwear, wanting to know if it was just for him. If she anticipated this happening and wanted to look her best for him.

The thought was a sweet one.

But right now that pair was tossed off somewhere long forgotten as his face was covered in her slick, and hands forcing her legs apart as she writhed beneath him.

How long could he take without breathing in some more air? The thought only came to Jing Yuan as his ears buzzed the same way they would after staying too long underwater. She the lake he would willingly jump in even if he drowned.

“Pr-Prodigy my ass.”

A kiss to her trembling thigh, eyes locking with hers.

“Are you saying I'm not doing a good job?”

“Not at all.”

‘Of course, even like this, she's snarky.’

A whine, a plea for more met him as Jing Yuan pulled his fingers out. The curve of her plush ass he wanted to squeeze and grope at covered in spittle and arousal just like his mouth.

Maybe if she was in a sane enough mind, she'd be saying something like it's been twelve minutes now. That is if she ever got the chance as he kissed her again. Body hovering over hers, taking note of just how small she looked under him.

How easy it was to grab her wrist and pull her flush against him.

Cock brushed against her through those damnable layers of clothes Jing Yuan wore that had his head burying away in her neck to take in the scent of herbs that clung to every piece of clothing she had. Trying to bite back a groan as he did his best not to rock against her in a frenzy, but it was his Prodigy who ran a hand along his bare back and whispered in their small sanctuary of sheets and pillows “we can stop if you're nervous.”

And like an over eager fool he rushed out a no.

“No, I promise I'm fine.”

‘Worried I'll cum in under a minute, but fine.’

“Besides, you made me wait for a full year, so I'm not going to pass on this now.”

“Patience,” She teased back. Hand brushing along his cheek that he couldn't help but to press a kiss to. “Besides, it seemed only right to wait until we were both adults.”

“Is this where you lord over the fact you're three years older than me again?”

Though she hasn't done that since he passed her in height, much to a certain someone's annoyance.

“Maybe.”

Tightening his grip on her waist Jing Yuan pulled her impossibly closer. Her warmth, her laugh, her hands tracing the muscles on his back she could surely name off the top of her head like it was nothing, it was all a reminder of how much he held her dear.

“Can we….”

“Start now?” That laugh again, the curl of her lips as she looked up at him through those long lashes she has cursed everytime they ‘betrayed her’ by letting something in her eyes.

“Yes.”

It was as Jing Yuan had tugged those pants down and out of the way that she grabbed his chin to lead him into a kiss. The taste of her still there, still lingering as her lips parted into a moan as for the first time it was his cock that filled her. That they were intertwined in a way that would make the Aeons themselves blush.

And it was in that moment as his hips moved to meet hers with a wet squelch that had him biting his lip not to moan too loudly and give away what they were doing to any of her neighbors in the dorms did the words I love you fill the air.

Her hands in Jing Yuan’s hair as she whispered them right back.

I love you.

I love you.

That's what she said to him as the wind whipped around from an awaiting ship. Luggage in her hand as she looked back between the people on board who were walking back and forth from the dock to a place Jing Yuan couldn't see with wooden crates full of provisions. Behind them, he could see the cloud knights assigned to this mission, just like she was.

Shinign blue armor just like his own, but he wasn't one of the few that were chosen for this. No, she was.

A healer is always needed.

“I shouldn't even be gone long. At most maybe a year. Maybe two.”

Far from long in the eyes of a Xianzhou native, that's for sure. The denizens of the Luofu had their lives tick by as the humans who came to the ship for trade and sightseeing grew old and suddenly stopped showing up. All due to a very obvious conclusion. But two years without her?

“Why wasn't it someone else assigned? There's always Aihan.”

“That girl? She still gets squirmish during autopsies.”

Meaning: no can do.

The stomping of boots continued as men tread back and forth. Some of the knights even stopped to give Jing Yuan a respectful nod or even a wave before continuing on with their task. His brothers in arms, despite the fact he wasn't going to be beside them on the field this time.

“Besides, it's only Yaguoret. This should all be wrapped up quickly. At least compared to the thirty year missions some people are assigned to.”

A shrug, like this, wasn't a big deal at all despite the fact they both have been on a battlefield now. They both knew what it was like.

“Look Yuan, I'll be back in two years at max and when I arrive in your awaiting arms,” her hand slid along the blue fabric of his uniform, playing with the material she had sewed back together for his time and time again, “you can keep me all to yourself for a week. Just you, I, cute dates or… other things.”

“Two weeks.”

“One and a half.”

“Two weeks, Prodigy.”

The two stared at each other for a moment before she finally sighed, shoulders dropping for only a moment.

“Fine, two weeks. I'll be all yours.”

Grabbing her hand, Jing Yuan locks their pinkies together. Silly, childish really, but it always worked when they were younger. Though it was mainly her wrangling him into compliance.

“Promise me.”

“I-I…..promise.”

So why was he now sitting in her room staring up at Jingliu listening to his master say something he never thought would be uttered?

The file boxes had been taken away, the bottles that had once reflected his own golden eyes back to him as Jing Yuan asked about the contents now missing, even the terrarium for Ingredients she never bothered to get rid of was gone like it never existed in the first place. The dorm room is bare, hollow of the personality it had accrued over years of use.

Photos of them ripped from the walls leaving dark squares from the sun aging the wallpaper that once framed those cherished memories.

“What do you mean she's been exiled?”

“I mean exactly what I say, Jing Yuan. The young apprentice of the alchemy commission, student to cauldron master Haize, has been exiled from the Luofu.”

Jingliu's hand moved to rest on the empty desk, brushing over the dust that had accumulated during the past three months that no one had properly cleaned this room. It was always something he intended to do, to keep up with making sure this place was as spotless as he could make it so she wouldn't come back to dust bunnies and a fit of sneezes, but work had been suddenly thrown onto him like something was amiss. Something massive had obviously happened, but he knew better than to ask when every time those who talked about it would shut their mouths the second even a wisp of his hair was seen.

“The fact she wasn't sentenced to death is a surprise.”

Because of course no one would want to talk to him about his own partner being….

“This is a mistake!”

Getting up from bed that creaked under him from the sudden movement Jing Yuan stood before his master, eyebrows pinched together to keep himself from outwardly scowling at the woman he owes so much to after years of training with the sword.

“You know her just as well as I do! She never would have hurt anyone like this.”

“When I knew the girl best, she was a fledgling. A kid, just as you are now. Letting your emotions blind your view of the truth will do nothing to help you.”

“I've known her for fifteen years. There's no way the same woman I know who takes spiders outside after finding them would be capable of murdering a hundred knights.”

She can't even hold a sword properly. She is a healer, a woman who makes mixtures and applies bandages. Who presses kisses to his wounds as Jing Yuan tries to brush them off like they're nothing to avoid the bitter sting of hydrogen peroxide she would mercilessly apply to him with a smile like nothing was wrong. A woman like that holds no contest to men trained for combat. Some of those men who were sent out even had hundreds of years under their belt.

“Even if she poisoned them?”

Jing Yuan hissed out a breath at that, jaw tensed just the same way it would when the antiseptic met his braised skin.

“She's…she may be capable, but that doesn't mean-”

“After the soldiers died, the effects started to show in the village people that lived on Yaguoret. Even cauldron master Haize said it was the same symptoms the corpses of the cloud knights seemed to have gone through.”

Jingliu pulled her hand back from the desk, a small coating of dust on her fingers she brushed off.

“Haize has done everything he can with what he has, but the people native to that planet keep dropping faster than he can try and make new remedies.”

The two stared at each other for a moment, like Jingliu was waiting for Jing Yuan to finish what she was trying to say himself, but he bit his tongue. Refused to use it. He wouldn't say the words aloud.

“Only your partner would know the best way to go about making a poison that her own master could not find an antidote, or whatever those alchemy commission bunch need, to stop this issue in time.”

“The elders have decided this will be written off as a plague. That will be what is documented as to keep Haize from having his position looked at with suspicion, but he will be on thin ice from here on.”

What Jingliu wasn't saying is: it's a wonder the man is keeping his job at all.

“This isn't possible.”

‘She wouldn't do anything to risk her…and the promise.’

As it felt like his chest was being clawed at by an invisible hand winding its way through his mouth, past Jing Yuan throat, and ripping his lungs apart to grasp at his heart Jingliu placed a letter in his lap. The envelope it was in clearly had been torn open, but it was his name on the white parchment with the ‘I’ dotted with a heart.

The sight of it made it even harder to breathe.

“She left this behind for you, clearly. When they were cleaning out her room trying to find evidence that was stumbled upon.”

That would explain why her room is so empty.

The words why is it open then we're right on the tip of his tongue, but they both already knew the answer to that.

“Do you know its contents?”

Jingliu nodded at that, not saying a word as her red eyes flicked down to the torn apart packaging of something that was supposed to be meant for only him.

“Does it mention…”

‘Does it mention why?’

“It's best you read it yourself if you want to know.”

It was the force of habit alone that had Jing Yuan nodding as he was given one last glance by his master before she left him alone. Most likely he can process this thing on his own, but just the sight of it, the idea of what's inside, made him feel sick. Hell, he was half tempted to burn it and throw the ashes of what's left out the window so he can watch them dance on the wind the same way those specimens of belladonna and jimson weed got carried away.

Swallowing down the taste of bile licking at his tongue, Jing Yuan folded up the envelope and tucked it away in his uniform.

That… can be saved for another day.

A day for centuries later.

A day for when he was stopped short as a bird flew down and nestled upon the crook between his shoulder and golden armor piece strapped down to Jing Yuan's arm. Little chirps filled his ears as he walked through the streets of the Luofu. Sing song, a perfect background to his afternoon stroll as the few people he passed by on this path he's memorized after years of use bowed their heads.

Surely, if it wasn't for the upkeep on the potholes or cracks in the sidewalk he would have worn the shape of his boots into the white concrete long ago.

Another chirp and Jing Yuan looked down at the red beaked creature with a lazy smile. These things were always so comfortable with him, to the point he's even gotten a few comments from Fu Xuan about being a princess. Something he just nods along with without complaint.

It was amusing how much his acceptance seemed to annoy her.

“Now, now, if you're too loud you might make this old man lose even more of his heari….”

His hearing.

But there he was, stopped short, one foot in the air waiting to follow along the path only he knows the exact details of even as people try to record the goings and happenings of the Dozing General. Frozen in space, in time, like it was ice that kept him stock still and not a single image that came onto one of those many blue screens depicting today's news.

The words wanted written right under the white and red pictures of Blade, Kafka, and a woman Jing Yuan never thought he'd see again.

That old ache blooming in his chest again like a flower in a patch of dirt just waiting to be watered as her eyes were revealed to him. Even in a drawing meant to capture her image, they never changed.

Teasin, inquisitive, and seemingly filled with thoughts he never had the neverending years to dig into like he was planting his own garden.

Wanted Stellaron Hunters.

Turning on his heel the bird that was nestled against him flew off, its wings flapping away as it took flight, and he was left to stride out of Starskiff Haven with his boots thudding their way back to the Seat of Divine Foresight as Jing Yuan tried with all his restraint not to break out into a full out run.

“You're dismissed,” is all he said as he entered those old walls, loud and clear for everyone inside to hear.

Heads turned his way, some immediately moved to leave, and the blond rascal of a kid he was so fond of came up to him only to hold his tongue as he saw the look on Jing Yuan’s face. A “very well, General,” threw his way as Yanqing followed everyone else out.

Jing Yuan didn't even notice the glance back to him as the doors shut.

Now it was just him standing there on the giant board surrounded by blue holograms, banners hanging from the beams up above, scrolls stored away in their exact places, and the lion statues he himself commissioned to be built in this place.

All alone.

Just like he was with a letter he never wanted to read as his feet carried him to that desk he hovers over day after day. Fingers moving along the smooth bottom to press a button that forced a drawer open. Thin, barely able to contain anything at all. When he first got this piece and requested such an addition, the odd looks didn't bother him much, not when the carpenter didn't need to know what it was for. As far as he cared, the simple phrase ‘official documents’ would have held enough weight.

But it wasn't some folder filled with the Xianzhou Luofu's darkest secrets, well, not fully anyway. Rather, it was a torn open envelope and the messy scrawl of his name.

‘Jing Yuan’ staring back at him.

Even after all these years later and his memories fade in favor of a blanket of mist keeping all those years locked away, he knew well enough she didn't like to refer to him that way.

It was Yuan.

It was her Yuan.

The paper felt odd in his hands, despite the number of times he's pulled it out and debated opening the thing before it faded away to dust, like it was brand new. A clean sheet of paper, despite it no doubt having passed through multiple hands before something that was rightfully his possession fell into his grasp for the first time. Fingers teased over the ripped envelope as he pushed it aside and pulled out a folded note.

It wouldn't be too late to back out now, just how he has done a hundred times before as he failed to bite the bullet even his old master was able to, but then the image of her flashed in his mind again. The wanted poster was an accurate portrait, but it still felt like a character compared to the memories that were like a migraine that never ceased to ache.

‘Evolution didn't choose you, short stuff.’

‘Since when did it hurt to stop and smell the roses?’

‘I don't care if I'm busy, I'll find the time to go on that date with you. I promise.’

I love you.

I'll be back in two years.

A whirlwind of moments together, of her words, that had him just barely creasing the note.

The thought that she promised to come back quickly buried away as he, for the first time, unfolded the note he's kept all these years without her by his side.

Dear Yuan,

I have drafted this letter over ten times now, and I can't quite seem to get the beginning of this right, so I think it's best just to get into the thick of things. You agree, yes? I hope you do.

I'm sure the news of what has happened (or is about to happen, if you're looking from my point of view) has reached you now. Is this a shock beyond words, or did a part of you know this was going to happen? We do tend to let our unconscious selves be quieted and hushed away by emotions. Such is the way of any sentient creature whose instincts do not drive them. But you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me this was not something you would fully deny being something I am capable of if you weren't driven right now by what I can only guess is…betrayal.

I didn't mean to be your first heartbreak, my Yuan. No, I never wanted that at all. I wanted things to stay just the way they were when you'd take that wooden sword of yours when Jingliu hadn't yet given you permission to wield a real one and chase me around with it because I teased you too much. Or maybe back when we would turn rocks over a day after it rained so we could try and find bugs together.

Oh Yuan, I could list countless moments I wish time had chosen to freeze us both in so this outcome never had to come to pass.

But it did.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not sorry for my actions.

The words ‘I can't afford to be’ were crossed out.

Do you remember that night when we snuck into the gardens? I do. Very well at that. I hope you do too, just for different reasons. That night, to me, was being with you, of enjoying our time, until you brought up the mara-struck. Those creatures that plague us all at the end of our lives like a withering flower bound to end up as nothing more than a husk of itself as its body is preserved much like that one I keep with a red ribbon tied around it (the one you gave me when you tried to ask me out like a bumbling mess) pressed between pages as it's currently being used as a bookmark. The abominations, they have made me realize something you might not have yet.

Maybe those three years I have on you really do mean more than I would care to admit. Maybe in three years' time when you are at the age I am now, you'll realize this for yourself too. This war is never going to end. This war will taint what is beautiful in the world. We were blessed to have a loll in the time we were growing up, but that is only because of the sacrifices of many given for such peace.

But still, many died when our eyes were blinded by youth.

And when the battles did come you were a guard on some street in the Luofu as I was called out of my dorm to treat the few men who came back from their efforts in the middle of the night. Blearly, I was lacking sleep, but I did my job just as I always have. That is what I told myself when I had to dissect my first body at the age of fifteen. ‘Do your job, girly’ despite the fact I was surrounded by those older than me and even they cringed as Haize yanked some pubic hair from a corpse to store into a plastic bottle for proper collection.

It took a while for them to forget this thing before them, this hunk of meat was dead and therefore couldn't feel pain. It took me a while, too.

Back to the men…They would come in covered in blood, scratches that were left by creatures I never would have dreamed of existing before until they told me about them as I figured out all on my own how to detach a chewed up limb from a man without making it too painful.

They still passed out in the end.

One day you will know war, you will know what it's like to be on the battlefield for more than a skirmish, you will know the smell of the dead as all their bowels release and the smell of shit fills the air, just as I do now after having been called to be a medic in those poorly put up tents behind the fighting men.

Yet I don't want people to have to know about war. I don't want you to know about war despite your jumping at every chance to prove yourself as a Cloud Knight. I don't want those people of Yaguoret to know about war as we descended on their planet. But it is inevitable. They are a poor people who know little of what to do with the land they possess, and we are a civilization that sees their planet for the resources it has.

It was already discussed after the first talks with the people there after they turned away our offers of trade that they needed to be…wiped out.

Children, mothers, fathers who can't even put up a proper fight, let alone to a Cloud Knight.

So if you are wondering if I killed our men, the very people we talked with in the mess hall, or annoyed on the training grounds, or that I bandaged in the past, then I have to tell you I will.

They won't survive, of course they won't. What kind of prodigy would I be if I couldn't make a simple poison that would properly kill a man? Or a good hundred.- Sorry, I shouldn't be making jokes now. Force of habit.

There will be no war if the people trying to make a war are dead.

There is no way to enact change without sacrifices. That is how medicine is made. First, someone must come to you with an issue, a sickness, and it is their loss of life that allows you to test the boundaries of this illness.

But that doesn't change the fact that I will soon become a murderer.

Somehow, I am calm, at ease, yet the most scared I have ever been in my life.

But I have cast aside my alchemy commission uniform, for I am no longer a healer. A murderer cannot claim that title.

So, as I said before, I won't apologize for my actions, but I'm sorry I had to face this world before you did, to come to my own conclusions. I can't help but wonder if I was younger, if I didn't have those three years on you, if we could find our own conclusions together. Ones that we could support side by side that wouldn't result in this.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is-

And the last words, with a dried teardrop smearing the letters to the point they were barely legible as Jing Yuan had to narrow his eyes to read.

I am sorry I grew up without you.

[lowrisemiller]

clint flood headcanons ⭑.ᐟ

i finally watched freaky tales 😋 here’s some thots

| masterlist | clint one-shot |

⤷

fluffy headcanons ⭑.ᐟ

📼 despite clint bein a gruff bad ass man with a tough exterior we know he’s a softie.

📼 clint has a soft spot for little critters n animals:3

📼 especially stray animals :,) like i just know he has a little cat that has no home that lives behind his apartment building that he feeds at least twice a week.

📼 OLD SCHOOL GENTLEMAN 🗣️🗣️

📼 he holds every damn door open for you, pays for dinner n all your snacks “anythin you want doll.”

📼 always walks you home if you’re not livin together already

📼 killer vinyl collection we alr know he has a good mixtape so—

📼 he loves a good funky soul record and of course classic rock.

📼 we alr know he’s protective asf but he’s also protective in ways that aren’t as smothering.

📼 he doesn’t say “i love you” all the time but god forbid someone looks at you the wrong way, they’ll rethink it REAL fast

📼 bro is a good cook

📼 he makes a legendary chili (i don’t make the rules)

📼 and if he lets you in his kitchen he’s wearin a dirty apron— his sleeves rolled up and he has a focused expression glued on his beautiful face.

steamy headcanons ⭑.ᐟ

📼 clint’s the kind of guy who doesn’t need to say much.

📼 he’ll brush his fingers against yours while lighting your cigarette. tension overload. he’s smirkin.

📼 he knows what he’s doin.

📼 he’s a slow burn guy… until he isn’t.

📼 once you break through that cool, controlled exterior— he’s the type of guy to kiss you like he’s starving cmon he is starving.

📼 he’ll pin you against any surface and just envelop his entire mouth on yours.

📼 clint doesn’t beg. (whatever makes u sleep at night honey)

📼 buuuut it will be late at night after yall went out you’re gettin ready to head back to your place

📼 and he’ll be standing in the doorway, shirt half-unbuttoned, voice low and askin “you sure you wanna leave darlin’?”

📼 doesn’t beg but his big brown eyes do all the pleading and talking.

📼 post fight clint 🫦

📼 post-fight adrenaline still pulsing, he’ll pull you into the shadows and kiss you breathless, that leather jacket barely hanging on and nothing underneath. It’s hot. It’s chaotic. It’s unforgettable.

📼 after you clean him and patch him up the sex goes one or two ways:

📼 most times he’s still pumping with adrenaline and energy so you’ll be havin rough sex.

📼 pinned against his bed or the wall and he’s fucking you so fast you can barely keep up.

📼 you lost track of how many times you’ve both come.

📼 or yall will have some nice soft slow sex.

📼 missionary or riding him real nice.

📼 his rough calloused hands run over the expanse of your torso and your thighs.

📼 hickeys anywhere he can find space.

📼 big fan of car sex.

📼 clint flood more like clint flood this pussy!

📼 cli(n)t

okie that’s it .ᐟ

-sweetgirl out

[shouyuus]

please i BEG you to do a part two of the college roommate!vi when she says “dont wake me up this early for breakfast unless you’re offering yourself” (or however it was said) but the reader decides to try and test it and stands in the most revealing pajamas (or even subtle lingerie) and is like “would you care for some breakfast?” and gestures to herself (or whatever you wanna write!!)

18+, mdni, college roommate!vi cinematic universe vague continuation of this drabble

"vi...? are you up?"

you push through her bedroom door, peering around it at the vaguely vi-shaped lump of pink hair and muscle splayed over messy sheets. she lets out a soft grunt, voice scratchy as she pushes up onto her elbows.

"yeah? what's up prin -- oh... shit..." her eyebrows shoot up as you link your hands behind your back, chewing on your bottom lip, eyes cutting away shyly as you rock on the balls of your feet.

and suddenly, vi is very much awake, because there you are, framed in her doorway in the most delectable pink and white lingerie set she's ever seen -- all delicate satin and tiny bows. she gulps, her mouth dry.

"what's all this, sweet girl?"

you tug at the hem of your nearly transparent babydoll as she groans, running a hand through her hair.

"uhm... i know it's early, but --" you worry at your bottom lip before glancing shyly up at her again, "remember that one time i woke you up and you said something like 'don't wake me up this early unless you're offering yourself for breakfast' or something like that?"

vi blinks at you for a solid three seconds before she slumps back into bed with a hoarse laugh, "holy shit -- oh my god -- i did say that, didn't i?"

"mhm..."

"so now..." she sits back up with a dopey grin, patting her mattress, "you're...?" she lets her voice trail off suggestively even as you shuffle forward to slip onto her narrow bed with her. she lets out a low, appreciative moan as she looks you over, her gaze dark and hungry; she doesn't bother hiding the way they linger over your semi-exposed tits or the way her throat bobs as she reaches out to pull you into her lap.

"happy... birthday?" you say, your voice breaking slightly as her palms slide up the smooth skin of your thighs, her fingers already toying with the thin straps of the tiny little thong that's little more than three silken pieces of string connected by identical pink bows.

"mm... oh yeah. that's today, isn't it?" she says, but her voice is distracted as she leans in to press a soft kiss to your collarbone. you gasp, letting your head tip back as she mouths at your skin, running reverent hands up to the bend of your waist, hoisting you up till you're straddling her hips proper.

"y-yeah... and i th-thought -- ah -- y-you --" you let out a pitched whine as she skims her teeth along your collarbones, grinning wolfishly up at you as you tangle your fingers in her hair.

"that you'd surprise me with breakfast in bed?" she asks, hissing as she rocks you down over her, rolling your hips into hers.

"s-something like that --" you breathe out, swallowing hard as she smiles and cradles you to her, touch soft even as she trails needy kisses up the length of your neck till she reaches your lips.

"fuck -- you're so hot -- jesus --" she murmurs, peppering you in open-mouthed kisses, pressing you back till you're pinned beneath her.

"mm -- ngh -- v-violet!"

"shit," vi swears, looking down at you from beneath hooded eyes, her lips parted and pink, her fingers rucking up the thin material of your babydoll so she can tug the thin string of your thong to the side to reveal your already slick folds.

you whimper as she leans down to trail her lips along your stomach, kissing down to hover her mouth over your cunt. she looks up at you and with a teasing smirk and a wink, running a finger through your wetness to tease at your throbbing clit.

"mm -- hell yeah -- happy fuckin' birthday to me," she says, before she lowers her mouth to you and parts you with her tongue.

[em1i2a3]

Party 4 U

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI, Swearing, Established Causal Relationship Between Bucky and Reader, Avengers live in the tower all together. Smut; Dirty Talk, Fingering, Rough Sex, Light Choking, Biting, Overstimulated Bucky and Reader, Unprotected P in V sex (Wrap wrap wrap it up!), A hint of aftercare because aftercare is hot :D

Author's Note: Thought I’d do something a bit lighter than my other one-shots I’ve been working on (they’re all very long, so I’m trying to give my brain a break to write happy little stories!). I thought this would be the perfect time to write something based off of Bucky’s birthday since it was last week! I know it’s a bit late, but I did my licensing exam that day and I have been reeling from the passing mark, and celebrations really crowded my time lol. Anyways! I hope you guys enjoy!! And thank you so much for all the love you guys gave to ‘My Desire,’ do not fret, I will give y’all that little continuation (currently have it on my writing list :))

Word Count: 12,241

“I’m not going to let you go until you agree that you’re not going to throw me a party.” Bucky insisted, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you against him as you tried to playfully break away from his broad half naked body, your shirt riding up in the process, exposing your lacy underwear. He leaned his chin on your chest, staring up at you, admiring the fact that you thought you were going to be able to get out of his trap without agreeing to what he said.

”Bucky, I gotta meet Stark, you have to let me go.” He smirked, his blue eyes glistening slightly in the lighting of his room, darting all over your face before leaning in to give you a gentle kiss, his hands grabbing onto your butt, kneading the flesh beneath his palms, earning a sigh from you. He pulled away for a moment.

”There’s absolutely no way you’re meeting with Stark, there’s too much opportunity to plan a party.” He joked, peppering kisses along your face. You laughed at the wetness of his lips, bringing your hands up to his cheeks, caressing them, his eyes returning to yours, a hazy smile pulling up onto his face as his stubble scraped against your palms.

“You’re the only person that I know who doesn’t enjoy celebrating their birthday.” You replied, shifting on his lap, earning a small hum, the warmth of you pressing against his boxer shorts, feeling the muscles of his thighs flexing beneath you.

“Doll…When you’re turning an age that makes it look like the cake is on fire because of how many candles you need to put on it, birthdays really become a let down.” He explained, as you trailed your hand up to his hair, pushing the damp strands back out of his face.

“Well, that’s why we are just going to put the numbers on it instead of a bunch of candles.” You joked, your fingers tracing across his lips. Bucky let out a small rumbling laugh, his tongue darting out to lick the tips of them playfully.

”You’re absolutely relentless.” He murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your palm, “You really want to celebrate me that badly huh?” You could feel your heart skip a beat, your stomach fluttering from his words.

”I mean, someone’s gotta make you feel special. Might as well be me.” You replied, shrugging at him, your hand returning to his cheek, scratching at the stubble.

”You always make me feel special though.” He replied, quietly. You smiled at him, giving him a small kiss on his lips.

”Guess I better keep my track record going then hmm?” You could see his cheeks blush a dull red, as he shook his head, his fingers brushing along your thigh, skimming the lace of your underwear.

”You’re really not going to give up?” He asked, his eyebrows raising at you.

”I think you know me better than that, Bucky.” He let out a long sigh.

”I’m in a casual fling with a menace.” You grinned at his comment, leaning in, his breath hitting your lips.

”Takes one to know one.” Bucky narrowed his eyes, his arms tightening around you even more, just to make sure you didn’t forget the situation you were in.

“Just remember you have to somehow escape this to be able to plan your little party.” You tilted your head back slightly, tapping a finger against your lips.

”Hmm…I’m pretty sure I can manage.” You quipped, bringing your fingers over his thick shoulders, tracing down the ridges in his skin. Bucky opened his mouth to respond, but that was when you struck. In one swift movement you brought your hand down to the sensitive spot right below his ribs, pressing into it, tickling him. He yelped, his body jerking involuntarily, his grip on you loosening just enough so you could slip off his lap, and off the bed. A victorious smirk draped on your lips as the look of shock came onto his face.

”Did you just-“

“It’s pretty easy to know where you’re ticklish Bucky, I’m very observant.” You cut in, giving him a wink, grabbing your sweatpants off the ground, and quickly shimmying into them.

”I’ll get you back for this. Don’t worry.” He warned. You smiled at him.

”I’m sure you will,” You replied, tying the strings of the sweatpants as you opened his door, “I’ll see you later?” You asked, eyebrows raised, watching him closely, seeing the way he fought back a smile.

”…Yes.” You grinned at the way he responded under his breath.

”Good.” You said softly, slipping out from the room, closing the door behind you, still feeling your body buzzing from the aftershocks of your little evening rendezvous. You barely made it three steps before you spotted Natasha leaning against the wall, watching you with an amused expression, her arms crossed over her chest.

”What?” You asked, feeling your cheeks heat up under her gaze.

”You two never cease to amaze me with how much sex you can have in one day.” She commented, you let out a small laugh.

”Come on, it’s not THAT much.” You shot back, causing her to raise her eyebrows.

”Yeah? Let me rifle off the list of just today, you guys took a shower together…”

”Hey, we just do that to save water.” You interrupted, “And because it’s nice when someone can reach your back.” Natasha shook her head.

”Then you guys ran off to ‘train’, now you just came out of his room. You guys are like bunny rabbits.” You laughed a bit, scratching the back of your neck.

”I mean…Can you blame him? He’s making up for lost time.” Natasha snorted.

”Lost time?” You shrugged, feigning innocence.

”Y’know, the seventy-plus years where he was either frozen, brainwashed, or avoiding human interaction?” Natasha huffed out a laugh, shaking her head at you.

”Right, because obviously, the best way to make up for decades of trauma is to rail your girlfriend at every possible opportunity.” You smirked.

”Hey, I’m just doing my civic duty to the country to keep Bucky Barnes happy and stable.” Natasha laughed.

”Happiness is one thing. You two go at it like you’re training for the Olympics.” You pressed your palms against your face, feeling the heat in your cheeks.

”Are we really still talking about my sex life over here?” Natasha shrugged.

”The whole team talks about it. Clint calls you two ‘Barnes and Noble’ because of how much time you spend in each other’s rooms…That and you guys don’t really keep your little sexcapades a secret.” You sighed.

”Fantastic…Well…I have to go get Bucky’s birthday present from Tony, so hopefully you guys will get a much needed break from us.”

————

By the time you reached Tony’s lab he had been waiting for over twenty minutes, leaning against his workbench, sipping coffee from his mug, slurping loudly to annoy you.

”You’re late,” He remarked, “Got distracted?” You sighed, walking over to the workbench, taking a seat on one of the stools.

”Of course I did. But you would know that because you probably saw me stumbling out of Bucky’s room on the cameras.” He held his hands up in defence.

”Hey hey, I’m not that concerned about you and the soldier frolicking around like two teenagers. You’re both adults…Well, he’s technically a fossil, but still. You’re free to do whatever you’d like.” You let out a small laugh.

“Sure…Sure,” You sighed, looking at the content strewn about the workbench, your eyes falling on the long black velvet box with a silver bow on it, “Is this it?” You asked, pointing at it before picking it up.

”Yep, straight from Wakanda, pulled a few strings for you so you could get the best of the best for him.” You dragged your fingers across the velvet box, “I did the engraving for you.” He added, as you cracked it open, your breath hitching in your throat. It was everything you had described.

Inside, nestled against the silk black lining, was a custom vibranium combat knife, black and gold like Bucky’s arm. At the bottom of the handle was an engravement with his initials, J.B.B, and along the spine of it , were two sets of coordinates carefully etched into the metal, one for Brooklyn, and one for Avengers Tower. One for where it all started for him, and the other for where he found himself again and built something new. Tony could see your eyes light up at the sight.

”Pretty nice hmm?” You swallowed hard, nodding.

”He’s gonna love it.” Tony huffed, leaning back against the workbench, taking another sip of his coffee.

”You know, for someone who insists that this whole thing is casual, you sure put a lot of thought into that.” You exhaled sharply, snapping the box closed.

”Don’t start.” Tony smirked at your reaction.

”Just making an observation, kid.” You rolled your eyes, slipping the box into the pocket of your sweatpants.

“It’s just a gift.” You said, as if you were trying to convince yourself too.

“Right…Because people definitely get custom-engraved, sentimentally-loaded, personally-designed weapons all the time for their totally casual, not-at-all serious partners.” You stared at him, shifting slightly at his call out.

”Well, what matters more than your over analyzing is that he’s going to love it.” You paused, “Oh, and by the way, I’m going to be throwing a little party for him tomorrow, if you don’t mind of course.” He sighed.

”I don’t really have a choice do I?” You shook your head.

”Not really. You’re welcome to come by the way.” You said jokingly, “Just try not to scare off the guests.” You added.

”Please, I’m the life of the party.” You stood up from the stool.

”Yeah? Tell that to the last one where you made Peter cry during beer pong.” Tony laughed.

”Hey, I was teaching him the life lesson of losing.” You snorted, shaking your head, “If he couldn’t handle one loss, he’s got bigger problems.” You smirked.

”I think it was the hangover that really got him, but anyways, I gotta go hide this and start getting everything together. Thank you again, and please thank Shuri too.” He nodded.

”I’ll see you at the party.”

————

When you returned to your room you were thankful that Bucky wasn’t in your bed just yet, it gave you the opportunity to hide his gift in your closet, underneath a bunch of junk he wouldn’t care to look through. Satisfied with the hiding spot, you stretched out your back, grabbing a pair of shorts, and a t-shirt. You swapped your outfit to your sleeping clothes, knowing Bucky would be here soon. You pushed your hair out of your face, throwing yourself down on your bed, crawling under the blankets, getting comfortable before turning on the television, absentmindedly flipping through channels.

The familiar creak of your door opening echoed through your room, seeing Bucky slip in. He had a habit of just letting himself in, never bothering to knock. He was wearing a pair of black sweatpants, and a grey t-shirt that clung to every muscle on his body. You liked it when he wore casual clothes, he looked comfortable.

“Comfy already, huh?” He asked, seeing how settled in you were, your body tucked under the thick blankets, leaving only your head exposed. You smirked at him.

”Well, some of us don’t take an hour to get ready for bed, princess.” He huffed out a laugh, shutting the door behind him completely.

”Very funny.” He said, reaching for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion. You tried hard not to stare, but every time you saw him shirtless it was like the first time all over again, the way you felt your heart race when he revealed himself to you, when you ran your hands over his broad expanse of skin, kissing everywhere you could. It was hard not to be enamoured by him still, and he always caught you looking at him, with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. He smirked, his cheeks turning a blush red, as he slipped under the covers beside you, propping himself up on his elbow.

”Always staring.” He commented, as you nudged him with your foot.

”I’m just admiring.” He let out a low hum, watching as you turned onto your side to face him, his arm curling around you, to bring your body close to his, feeling his hand slip beneath your shirt, resting on your back. His sweet aftershave tickled your nose, as his scent completely engulfed you; woods, pine and a little bit of salt.

“Oh really, I guess we have different definitions of admiring.” You felt his fingers tracing slow lazy circles against your skin, as his vibranium arm slid beneath your pillow.

”And what’s your definition?” Bucky’s blue eyes flickered over you, the corner of his lips twitching up.

”My definition? When someone appreciates something from a respectable distance…Not when they’re eyeing me like a snack every time I take my shirt off.” You let out a mock gasp, pressing a hand against his chest.

“You think I’m looking at you like a snack?” He nodded, as your legs snaked around him, his thigh resting against the seam of your shorts. “Don’t discount yourself so much…It’s more like I’m looking at you like you’re a full-course meal.” He laughed nervously at your correction, still getting flustered at the way you flirted with him, shaking his head.

”You’re ridiculous.” You smiled up at him, running your hand along his chest.

”I love how flustered I make you when I say stuff like that.” He rolled his eyes.

”You do know women back in the 40’s weren’t as forward as you, right? I’m allowed to blush.” You shifted a bit, so his thigh was slotted more firmly between yours, feeling the way his muscles flexed at the contact, as a warm heat curled low in your stomach.

“I’m sure they were saying it about you behind your back.” You whispered, his fingers trailing up your spine, his nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.

“Oh yeah? You think they were writing about me in their diaries?” His voice was smooth, sultry in a way that was slow and steady. You breathed in his breath, tilting your head slightly.

”Please…With that face? Those baby blue eyes? They were probably clawing at each other to talk to you.” You responded, your fingers trailing down his chest, grazing over the muscles of his stomach.

”Man…You really think I was a heartbreaker back then huh?” You let out a soft laugh, your hand settling on the waistband of his sweatpants.

”I don’t think…I know.” Bucky shook his head, his fingers flexing against your back, pressing you closer to him, dragging you on his thigh in the process, needing to feel you on him, your lips parting slightly at the friction, his fingers grazing down your flesh to hold your waist gently.

”Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter now, does it?” His chest vibrated against yours, his breath tickling your skin, as his lips brushed against the corner of your mouth, your fingers curling around his waistband.

“And why’s that?” You asked, his lips pressing against your jaw gently.

”Because the only person I want thinking about me like that now…Is you.” He whispered, your teeth biting the inside of your bottom lip, his words pooling in the pit of your stomach. Now you were the one who’s cheeks were on fire. He was always like this when it was just the two of you- soft, unguarded.

”You think I spend my time daydreaming about you?” You teased, shifting against his thigh again, getting even closer to him, if that was even possible. Bucky exhaled sharply at the sensation, his grip on your waist tightening.

”I know you do,” He countered, watching as you leaned your head back so he could get access to your neck, your flesh prickling up at the way his hot breath fanned out over the expanse, nipping gently with his teeth, “Just like I think about you all the damn time.” Your fingers curled tighter around his waistband.

”All the time, hmm?” You murmured, your heart pounding against your chest, feeling his vibranium arm move out from under your pillow, slipping under you so he could shift on top of you gently, without putting all his weight on you, your leg perched on his waist

”Mmhmm. Didn’t you ever wonder why I always found an excuse to be around you?” You let out a soft laugh.

”I figured it was because you liked to annoy me.” Bucky pulled back, shaking his head.

”Well that too, but it was mostly because I couldn’t stay away.” You couldn’t help but smile at the way he whispered like it was some sort of secret, a hidden anecdote, even though you had known right away that he had feelings when he began wanting to be around you more. You ran your hand up his chest, tracing over the faint scars that had mapped out pieces of his past. Your touch was always gentle, reverent in a way that made him immediately settle. You leaned in, placing a kiss on his chest, right near his vibranium arm.

“You’re such a sap.” He let out a soft chuckle.

”I can top what I just said by a mile if you like sappiness.” Your lips tilted against his skin, pressing another lingering kiss to the same spot before lifting your eyes to meet his gaze.

“Go on…” You encouraged, watching his lips curl into a lopsided smile, as he brought his hand up to cradle your cheek, his vibranium hand slipping down to the top of your shorts.

”I used to think about this…” He admitted, the cool metal sliding beneath your waistband, against your skin, but not going to where you wanted him the most, not right now at least, because he always took his time with you, “Touching you like this…Having you like this.” His words sent shivers down your spine, the rasp of his voice vibrating against you, as his thumb traced the shape of your lips, his heavy-lidded eyes watching, feeling your hips moving up towards his touch, trying to guide him to where you wanted his hand.

“Bucky…” You breathed out, saying his name like it was a prayer on your tongue, your grip on his waistband tightening even more, feeling his vibranium hand travel lower into your shorts.

”Every night…I would think about what sounds you’d make if I touched you like this.” He confessed, his fingers grazing against your clit, your back arching towards him a small gasp escaping your lips. He always found a rhythm that made you squirm, and tonight was no different, he wanted to draw this out as long as he could, and wanted to unravel you in all the ways possible. His lips covered yours, swallowing another gasp that nearly escaped your throat, his tongue slipping into your mouth, desperate to taste you, as your hips moved against his fingers, adding additional pressure for yourself. He pulled back, out of breath, his eyes searching yours as your hand came up to hold the back of his, leaning into his touch.

“God you’re so beautiful...” He whispered, moving his vibranium hand lower, gathering your arousal on his fingers, before slipping two of them into you, a moan escaping your throat, trying to let it out quietly so nobody would hear. Your back arched towards him, your lashes fluttering closed, feeling his cool metal fingers curling slightly inside of you, moving them with agonizing slowness, so you could feel every ridge of the vibranium. He knew that if he wanted to he could make you finish in a minute because of how familiar you were to him, but tonight was not one of those nights, he just wanted to be close to you, wanted to cherish you for the night. He savoured every soft sound that slipped past your lips, as he leaned down peppering small kisses along your hot cheeks, trailing down the side of your throat, his stubble scraping over the skin, another breathless moan escaping you.

”I could listen to you all fucking night.” He commented, his hand falling from your cheek, coming to cup the side of your neck, “But I also would like you to look at me please…” He added, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate path along your throat where your pulse pounded against his touch. Your eyes, still heavy with pleasure, fluttered open, meeting his gaze, a small smile draped on his face.

”That’s it…” He praised, his lips grazing your temple, your hips bucking against his fingers, your walls tightening around them, “That’s my good girl.” He whispered, his voice thick with affection, as he pulled your shirt off your shoulder, so he could gently suck on the skin of your collarbone, knowing exactly where your weak spots were, the speed of his fingers slowly increasing.

“Is this what you think about when you’re alone? My hands on you, my fingers inside you, stretching you…Fucking you.” You shuddered against him, the deep, raspy tone in his voice sending shivers down your spine. Bucky’s control was maddening to you, it was perfectly measured, and perfectly torturous. You reached for his bicep, your nails digging into the warm flesh, while you continued to roll your hips against his hand. You needed more, and you weren’t above begging for it.

“Bucky, p-please.” You gasped, your voice trembling, your heartbeat shaking your chest just enough that it was intruding on your speech. Your thighs tightened around his waist. “Fuck please…I need you to go faster.” He hummed against your skin, pulling away slightly.

”You sound so pretty when you beg.” He whispered, his hot breath sticking to your bruised skin, as he appeased your request, his fingers curling more inside you, picking up the pace a bit, knowing that you would be writhing beneath him in an instant. He could feel you tighten around him, your body arching beneath him, your legs squeezing his waist, pressing desperately into his touch, into him. His movements were precise, like he knew your body better than you did, like he wanted to pull every sound from you. Your nails dug into his bicep even deeper, gripping him like he was anchoring you as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“Bucky holy fuck.” You wept, your breath coming in short, uneven breaths. He pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone, before bringing his mouth to your ear.

“You gonna come for me baby?” The rasp of his voice was all consuming, his words curling around you, pulling you into the heat of the moment, your body meshing with his. You could feel his lips press a small, wet kiss against the spot just below your ear, “Answer me sweetheart.”

“Y-Y-Yes, Bucky…Fuck.” You moaned, and then you fell off the edge. A sharp gasp escaping your throat, your body tensing beneath him, pleasure crashing over you in waves, shaking beneath him, clenching around his body and his fingers. Bucky didn’t stop, he didn’t look away, he drank up every second with joy flashing in his eyes. He loved giving you pleasure, and this was the payoff, watching you unravel, feeling you tense around him, and dig your nails into his arm.

“So perfect.” He whispered, hearing you let out a small whimper, hypersensitive to his touch, still pulsing around him, your body trembling as the aftershocks of your orgasm rolled through you slowly. You tried to catch your breath, feeling Bucky running his thumb over the column of your throat, watching you patiently, his body heat against yours, his mouth pressing soft kisses to your jaw, his fingers slipping out of you slowly.

“Still with me?” He asked gently. You swallowed, forcing your eyes open to meet his dark blue ones.

”Y-Yeah.” You managed to force out, a smirk coming up on his lips, sliding his hand out of your shorts, bringing it up into your view, showing it glistening with the evidence of your pleasure, as he slowly cleaned them off with his tongue, humming in approval.

”Always so sweet.” You were wrecked by the sight, the coil in your stomach already reigniting. You wanted to return the favour immediately. You released his bicep, your hand tracing down to the waistband of his sweatpants, making your intent clear, but the moment before you could untie the knot, he stopped you.

”Not tonight.” He murmured.

”But-“

“Uh-uh…I just wanted to take care of you tonight, that’s all I wanted…” He whispered, leaning in to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips, his wet fingers coming up to caress the side of your neck, as he slipped off to the side of you, pulling away from the kiss.

“Fine…But tomorrow I’m definitely getting you back.” He held his hands up in defence.

”You can do whatever you want, I promise, I won’t stop you.” A slow, calculating smirk formed across your lips, narrowing your eyes at him

”You better not.” You warned, your fingers trailing up the rigid planes of his chest. He let out a low chuckle.

”I mean it…You can have your way with me however you want.” You hummed, your mind already spinning with plans. He caught the look on your face, the way your lips curved, how your eyes darkened with lust behind them. He let out a breath of laughter, “And you’re already plotting something, so I guess I’ll take that as a success.”

————

When you woke up the next morning, Bucky was gone. He had left a note on his pillow, scrawled in his messy handwriting, telling you Steve and him had plans and that he would be seeing you tonight. Thankfully, you already knew about this, because you were the one that had set this up to get him out of the tower, it was to buy you time to get his party together. You slid out of bed, rolling your shoulders, shaking the exhaustion out of your body, a soft sigh escaping into the air as you slipped out of your room. You moved through the hallway, and into the living room. It was a controlled mess of decorations, with boxes of supplies stacked on the table and strewn about the floor. Natasha stood in the middle of it all with a coffee mug in hand, sipping slowly, her eyes settling on you as you came into her line of sight.

”Good morning sunshine. You look like a wreck.” You pushed your hair out of your face, making your way to the kitchen.

”Thank you, Nat. I had a late night yesterday.” She smirked over the rim of her mug.

”Let me guess, you were up giving the birthday boy his special gift?” She teased, as you poured yourself a cup of coffee, shaking your head at her.

”You’d be surprised to know that I was in fact not doing that.” Natasha raised a brow at her.

”Yeah? Then why do you look so tired?” She asked. You opened your mouth to answer, but before you could Wanda sauntered into the room, a knowing smirk playing on her lips, cradling a steaming cup of tea in her hands.

”Cause they were busy running the bases and not hitting home…If that’s what the term is of course.” Natasha choked on her coffee, her head snapping at you laughing a bit.

”Oh…So you guys didn’t have sex, you just ran the bases, is that a normal occurrence?” You groaned, rubbing your forehead with one hand while the other clutched your coffee mug.

”You two are relentless, you know that?” You commented.

”Well you never spill the beans about it, and we’re all curious because we literally hear you guys. So what do you expect us to do?” Wanda asked, taking a seat on the couch.

“Yeah, and on top of that I’m more curious about the dynamic here. You guys say you’re casual, but you sleep in each other’s beds every night, and are pretty much attached to the hip.” You sighed, putting your coffee mug down on the counter.

”We are casual…We have an understanding, an agreement, it’s plain and simple. Keep things light, have fun, and don’t make things complicated.” Natasha hummed.

“Right…Even though he worships the ground you walk on.” You rolled your eyes.

”He doesn’t worship me, he respects me, yes…But worship is extreme.” Wanda let out a small laugh.

”He absolutely does, you’re just blind.” Natasha took a sip of her coffee.

”He looks at you like you’re a miracle. He tracks you across a room like you’re the only person in it, and not only that but he stares at you…” You laughed a bit.

”Bucky always stares though, you guys are being dramatic.” You exclaimed, picking up your coffee mug again, taking another sip.

”Are we though?” Wanda challenged, tilting her head, “Let’s run through the facts, shall we? He only sleeps in a bed when you’re in it, he only lets you touch his vibranium arm, and he gets jealous when you’re talking to other guys…Remember that time we all went out to that bar downtown and that dude came up to you and hit on you? Then he was all broody for the rest of the night until you gave him some attention?” You groaned, putting the mug down again.

“Okay, fine…He got a little tense that time, but that doesn’t mean anything, he’s always been protective, you guys both know that.” They both sighed in unison.

”Fine, but what about the other things we listed for you…He’s vulnerable with you, he’s not like that with any of us, except Steve.” Natasha chimed in, as your fingers drummed against the countertop.

”Listen, he trusts me, that’s all there is to it. You guys are really looking too deeply into this, and I’m really not in the mood to defend our dynamic right now, so can we just call this a stalemate?” Wanda looked over at Natasha, then back to you.

”Stalemate it is…But just know, that when the whole casual thing implodes, we’ll be the people to say we told you so.” Wanda explained, your eyes glancing over at Natasha who smirked, taking another sip of her coffee.

”And we’re not going to be nice about it.” Natasha added.

————

The three of you worked for six hours decorating the living room, transforming it into something that actually looked like a party instead of a chaotic mess of things that got thrown together at the last minute. Banners were hung, the furniture was rearranged to give everyone more space to freely move around, and twinkling lights were strung up around the room to give it more of a laid back look. A giant “Happy Birthday, Bucky” sign stretched across the wall behind the bar, and the tables were lined with food, drinks, and an impressive-looking cake that looked too massive for the amount of people that were coming. Clint said bigger was better, so you couldn’t fault him for making that choice. Guests began to arrive soon after, which was your cue to go get changed before things got too chaotic.

You slipped into your room, shutting the door behind you, with your pulse thrumming in anticipation. You opened up your closet, pulling out the clothes that you already had set up for yourself. It was simple, a black wrap dress, thin and silky, with a deep v neckline that showed enough to tease, and a tie that held it all together. You had also prepared what you would be wearing under the dress, a matching set of black lace lingerie, delicate, and intricate, designed with the sole purpose of temptation.

You ran your fingers over the soft lace, your body already humming with excitement. The bra barely covered anything, the sheer fabric teasing more than it concealed, while the matching thong sat perfectly against your hips, accentuating every curve. The final touch was the lace garters that held up your thigh-high stockings, the tiny clasps clicking into place as you adjusted them.

Satisfied with how everything looked, you slipped into the silky wrap dress, the fabric cool against your skin. You tied the knot at the side, securing it just enough to stay in place—but loose enough that a single pull would undo everything. It was perfect, not too fancy, but not too casual, just right for the occasion, and for the after party. Just as you were putting the last touches on, your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Steve: Just pulled up with the birthday boy, hope everything is ready, he was becoming suspicious.

Your lips curled into a smirk.

You: Everything’s ready, you can come up whenever you get here :)

You put the phone back onto the nightstand, doing one last check in the mirror, adjusting the dress slightly so it fell perfectly on your body, sighing, before making your way out into the hallway. You could hear chatter, it sounded like during the time you were in your bedroom more guests had arrived, which brought you some comfort that people got your invitations. The second you turned the corner into the living room you spotted Peter hovering near the snack table, eyeing the cake, his fingers twitching at his sides like he was restraining himself from stealing a piece. You shook your head, going over to him, sneaking up behind him.

”Don’t even think about it, Spider-Boy.” Peter practically jumped out of his skin, spinning around so fast he nearly knocked over a plate of appetizers. His face flushing a deep shade of red, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing that he was caught red-handed.

”I wasn’t doing anything…Okay, m-maybe I was thinking about it but I wasn’t actually going to do it.” He stammered, glancing between you and the cake behind him, “It’s just right there, and it does look quite delicious.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Mhm…” You responded, knowing he would continue to dig his own grave. He rocked back and forth on his heels.

”Alright, in my defense, Clint did say it was big, which means we would have extra cake, so a tiny little bite wouldn’t have been missed.” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“It would be noticed. You’re not that sneaky, and I would also tell Bucky it was you.” Peter’s eyes widened.

”You wouldn’t.” You smirked, leaning in just enough, lowering your voice.

”Oh, but I would.” He groaned, “It’s called having self-control Peter, you gotta try it sometime.” You commented, patting his shoulder. Before he could argue Natasha’s voice rang through the room.

”They’re coming up! Everyone shut it and get into place!” The room instantly fell into a frenzy. People scrambled, ducking behind furniture, moving into place near the bar, and switching off the overhead lights so only the twinkling decorations remained. You hurried into position, standing near the center where you’d have a perfect view of Bucky when he walked in, hiding behind the coffee table to be sure he wouldn’t see you, your heart pounding in anticipation as the elevator dinged.

”SURPRISE!” The room erupted into cheers, party poppers bursting into the air as Steve used Bucky inside. You could see from where you were that Bucky looked completely caught off guard, his brows furrowing, scanning over the room, taking in the decorations, the banner, the crowd of people waiting just for him. Then, slowly, his expression softened.

“You guys…” His voice quieter than expected, almost uncertain, nervous even, but there was such warmth in his gaze that you could tell he was touched by the gesture. Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, grinning widely.

”Told you we had plans.” He said, laughing a bit as Sam walked up to him.

”And by we, he means her.” He nodded in your direction, Bucky’s gaze following, landing on you in an instant as you rose from your spot, with your hands up, ready to claim innocence. You could see his eyes roaming over your outfit, the way your curves were accentuated, and the amount of skin he was able to drink in.

”I know you didn’t want a party…But I just couldn’t resist.” You said, moving towards him with your lips forming a small smile. Bucky let out a soft laugh, crossing his arms over his chest as you took up the space in front of him.

”You really did this all for me huh?” You shrugged playfully, tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

”Of course I did.” Bucky sighed, shaking his head, his blue eyes flickering at you.

”There was no need to go through all this trouble.” You reached out, brushing your fingers over his forearm.

”I wanted to do this for you.” His gaze scanned over the room again, taking in the way everyone was gathered just for him. It was almost overwhelming that people cared about him enough to show up, and he could feel his heart clench in his chest just thinking about how much work you put in to get everything together within the day basically.

”Well…I’ll admit it's very nice.” He said softly, you smiled up at him, fingers still resting lightly on his forearm, dragging up the skin, causing goosebumps to form.

“Nice? That’s all I get?” You teased, tilting your head to the side, “I was hoping for spectacular…Incredible…Maybe even the best party you’ve ever had.” Bucky let out a huffed laugh, shaking his head at you.

”Alright…It’s perfect. Happy now?” Your fingers trailed a little higher up his arm, nails skimming over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the way his muscles tensed every so slightly beneath your touch.

”I’m getting there.” You murmured, biting back a smirk. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

”You enjoy torturing me, don’t you?” His voice is quieter now, his eyes roaming over you discreetly.

”I enjoy making your birthday special…How I do that is a different conversation entirely.” He squinted at you, shifting his weight, stepping just a little closer, his body brushing against yours, testing the waters.

”You keep talking like that, doll, and I’m gonna start thinking you have some alternative plans for me tonight.” He whispered, his breath hitting your cheeks, causing them to heat up.

”Mmm, and what if I do?” You responded.

”Then I’d say you’re playing a dangerous game.” He murmured, his eyes darkening just a little in the lighting, “And I gotta warn you, I don’t like losing.” A knowing smile danced on your lips.

”Well too bad for you, cause I always win.” His fingers twitched at his side, his metal hand flexing slightly before he let it settle on his hip, like he was physically restraining himself from acting on whatever thoughts were running through his mind. His gaze flickered down, just for a moment, taking in the way the silky fabric of your dress clung to your frame, how that little tie at your hip was just begging to be undone, how the lace of your bra peaked out from the neckline, teasing him, tempting him.

”You really like pushing me, don’t you?” Your smirk widened, tilting your head, your lips almost touching his jaw.

”I just like seeing how much you can handle.” You could sense the lust filling up in Bucky’s eyes, the way they softened, the way his pupils dilated, the hint of blush that dusted his cheeks…You were making him frustrated, and you were enjoying every second of it. Before he could push the moment any further, a loud cough interrupted.

”Alright you two, break it up. No need to eye fuck in the middle of the party huh?” Sam said, wrapping his arm over Bucky’s shoulders, pulling him away from you slightly, hearing him let out a low groan.

”You’ve got the worst timing, Wilson.” Sam grinned, completely unfazed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. But considering you two were about five seconds away from turning this party into an erotic novel, I figured I’d save everyone the secondhand embarrassment.” You smirked, crossing your arms over your chest.

”Jealous, Wilson?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him, causing Sam to bark out a laugh.

”Of what? Watching Barnes go from brooding soldier to a lovestruck fool in real-time? Not in the slightest Y/N.” Bucky scoffed at the comment, shaking his head before sending you a side glance.

”We’ll take this up later.” He murmured, your smirk widening.

”I’d be disappointed if we didn’t.” Before Bucky could say anything else, Sam tugged him toward the bar, waving a dismissive hand at you.

”Go on you little troublemaker, let the birthday boy have a drink before he explodes.” You watched them walk away, Bucky shooting a small glance over his shoulder, before he lost you in the crowd. You bit your lip, feeling your stomach twist, the excitement already building inside you.

The party continued in full swing, laughter and conversation filling the room, but despite the crowd, the music, and the drinks flowing freely, Bucky was the only thing on your mind. Even from across the room, you could feel his eyes on you. Every time you glanced in his direction, you found his gaze lingering, burning into you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. He wasn’t even trying to be subtle about it, and neither were you.

Then finally, you caught him while he was alone, leaning against the bar, with his fingers gripping the edge like he was physically restraining himself. You knew it was your chance to strike. You approached slowly, his eyes on you immediately, watching as you got through the crowd with ease. Finally you were in his space again.

”Enjoying the party?” You asked nonchalantly, swirling your vodka cran around in your glass, taking a small sip, licking the excess off your lips. Bucky gulped, his eyes flickering from your lips to the curve of your throat, down to where the silky fabric of your dress dipped just enough to tease.

”Am I enjoying the party?” He repeated, his voice rough, like it had been dragged over gravel. “I think you already know the answer to that.” You tilted your head, playing innocent.

”Oh? And what could the answer be?” Bucky exhaled sharply, as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.

”I haven’t been paying attention to it because I’ve been looking at you all night.” Your fingers toyed with the rim of your glass.

”Good.” Was all you could muster up to say, seeing his eyes darken, his hand clenching around his whiskey. You took another slow sip of your drink, watching him, before stepping closer, pressing your body against his, barely. You could feel his body tense up beside you.

Your nails dragged lightly up his skin, trailing the veins of his arm, over his shoulder, then lower, ghosting over the solid plane of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. He was crumbling, and you were enjoying every moment of it, because to you, the lust and his burning need for you was intoxicating. His breathing was uneven, and warm against your skin, as he cleared his throat.

”Y/N…If you keep touching me like this, I’m not going to be responsible for what happens next.” You revelled in the way his voice dropped an octave, straining, like he was barely hanging on. You got onto your tiptoes, leaning against him, your hot breath hitting the shell of his ear.

”Then don’t,” You whispered, letting your fingers trail down his stomach, his abs tensing beneath your touch. “Meet me in my room in five minutes.” You added, pulling back to see the way his jaw clenched at the instruction. His chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths, like he was trying to steady himself, but you knew…You had him in the palm of your hand. His eyes flickered to yours, dark, burning, full of heat.

”Five minutes?” He murmured, confirming it with you. You smirked at the way his voice cracked slightly, nodding.

”Don’t make me wait, birthday boy.” You replied. Before he could say anything else you turned on your heel and walked away, swaying your hips deliberately, knowing full well that his gaze was on you. Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you slipped through the crowd, weaving past the tipsy guests, going down the hallway, glancing over your shoulder, right as you entered your dimly lit room, closing the door behind you.

You let out a long exhale, tilting your head back to chug the rest of your drink, the anticipation building inside you like a burning coil. You walked over to your bed, grabbing his gift off the mattress, and hiding it in your nightstand, not wanting to give it to him just yet. Finally the door clicked open behind you, and before you could turn around the soft thud of it closing sent a shrill up your spine

“I think I waited four minutes,” Bucky rasped, pushing his hair out of his face, “Hope you don’t mind.” You smiled.

”Couldn’t even make it to five hmm?” You teased, keeping your distance from him.

”Not when I knew what was waiting for me in here.” You hummed, seeing his muscles tensing up. He was barely holding it together, and you were loving how worked up he was. Your fingers toyed with the knot of your dress, teasing without even touching him.

”Go sit on the bed.” You instructed softly. His eyes flickered with something dangerous, something dark, but he obeyed. Without a word, he walked over to the bed, turned and sat on the edge of it, his legs spreading slightly, his forearms resting on his thighs as he watched you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

“Good boy…” You praised, already seeing his pants tenting from his erection. His chest rose and fell slowly, but you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly, like he was on the verge of saying something, maybe begging even.

But you weren’t going to make it that easy for him.

You let your fingers slowly pull at the knot of your dress, watching as his eyes followed the movement with rapt attention. The silky fabric loosened, slipping off your shoulders before it cascaded down your body, pooling at your feet. His breath hitched audibly when he saw what was underneath, the intricate black lace, delicate and form fitting hugging every dip of your body, leaving just enough to the imagination to drive him insane. You took your time stepping forward to place yourself between his parted legs, your body just inches from his.

”Fuck Y/N…Look at you.” He whispered, his eyes roaming over your body. You reached out, breaking the touch barrier, letting your fingers gently travel down his shoulders, feeling the tension coiling beneath his skin, the ridges of his muscles twitching under your touch, dragging your nails down the fabric of his shirt before reaching the hem of it, tracing your fingers along it. You leaned in just a bit.

”Take it off.” Your hot breath stuck to his cheek, as you moved back, seeing Bucky’s jaw clench, seconds before he obliged, pulling off the shirt in one smooth motion, throwing it to the side, pushing his hair out of his face, his hands scraping against the stubble on his cheeks, his gaze never leaving yours. You took in a deep breath, your hand pressing against his chest, feeling the heat that radiated off him, the straining of the muscles from the resistance he was still putting up. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

”Can I touch you now?” You held his gaze, seeing the sheer desperation in his eyes, glimmering behind his blown out pupils. Your touch trailed up to the side of his neck, feeling his pulse bounding against your fingertips.

”You can touch me…” A sharp exhale left his lips, his hands shooting out before you could change your mind, immediately pulling you closer to him, his fingers digging into the lace on your hips. He placed a discreet kiss to the soft flesh of your stomach, before wrapping his arms around you to pull you onto his lap in one swift motion, your knees settling on either side of him, cushioned against the mattress beneath you, a soft giggle escaping your lips.

”Who gave you pointers on how to tease me so well?” He asked jokingly, his hands sliding up your back with slow, delicate strokes. You smirked.

”I know what makes you bounce off the walls, Bucky, I don’t need someone to teach me how to tease you…” You replied, feeling him placing open mouthed kisses along your collarbone, wetting the skin, each one sending tiny sparks down your spine. His hands stopped at the clip of your bra, tracing the trim of the lace with his fingertips as he hummed against you.

”Well you’re a fucking professional.” His tongue poking out to trail up your neck, your nails digging into his back, “And I can’t help myself because you are impossible to resist.” He whispered, his breath cooling the path of saliva on your skin. His hands, both warm and cool, pulled at the fastening of your bra slowly, loosening the garment, letting it slip from your shoulders. You slid your arms out from the straps, moving back to throw it off to the side, returning to him quickly, pressing your chest against his, your hearts beating in sync. He tilted his head up, his lips meeting yours, a slow-burning intensity pooling in the pit of your stomach. The kiss was deep, and unhurried, the both of you moving your hands along each other, touching every expanse of skin that was exposed. You opened your mouth for him, letting his tongue slip in, the taste of whiskey immediately hitting your senses, as you rocked your hips against him, earning a groan from Bucky, his hands slipping down to grip your hips tightly. You pressed against him even harder, adjusting your position so there was more pressure on his erection that was straining against the fabric of his pants.

Bucky’s breath hitched in his throat, feeling the heat of your core pressing against him, the friction alone making his head fall back slightly, pulling away from the heated kiss in the process, exposing his throat to you. His breathing picked up just a little faster as you leaned in, your lips ghosting against his jaw, while you ran your hands down his chest, reaching for the buckle of his belt.

“Y/N…” He moaned breathlessly, his fingers digging into your hips even more.

”Shh,” You whispered, placing an opened mouthed kiss against the side of his neck, your teeth grazing over the semi-healed bruise you had left a few days prior, a smile ghosting over the skin, knowing you had him right where you wanted him. Your fingers moved quickly, undoing his belt, pulling it free in one smooth motion, the leather slipping through the loops with a soft swishing sound, throwing it over to the pile of clothes that continued to grow. His chest heaved, feeling your fingers returning to the button and zipper of his pants, your hands dipping beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of his skin, and to push them off his hips. He lifted himself slightly, holding you with one hand as he pushed the pants down with the other, shaking them off his legs, his eyes still locked onto yours, bringing your body back down to his once he shook the fabric off his legs, his mouth meeting yours again in an all encompassing kiss, the both of your releasing harsh breaths, adjusting yourselves.

Your hips shifted against him, feeling a damp patch seeping through the fabric of his boxers, evidence of just how worked up you had gotten him already. You smiled into the kiss, pulling back to meet his gaze, a grunt escaping his throat.

”You’re fucking killing me here Y/N…Please god…” He whimpered, so desperate he felt like he was choking on his own breath. You reached down, dragging your fingers over the growing wet patch, over the outline of his cock, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed, his hands flexing against your waist.

“Let’s take these off hmm?” Your voice remained so calm, yet his actions were so hurried that you were almost thrown off him because of how quick he shifted his hips up to help you push his boxers down. The second the last barrier for him was gone, his hands were immediately grabbing at your thighs, dragging you close to him, pressing you down over the soft, warm skin of his erection, the wetness from his precum causing you to shiver, knowing he was aching to be inside of you. You could hear his ragged, labored breathing, his vibranium hand splaying over your lower back, locking you into place so you didn’t move against him, like he was going to cum at any time because of how worked up he was. His forehead rested on yours, closing his eyes tightly, like he was trying to refocus, or distract himself from the overwhelming sensations that coursed through his veins. You reached up, pushing his hair away from his cheeks.

“I think I’ve tortured you enough hmm?” You teased, your voice dripping with satisfaction, seeing his eyelids flutter open, his gaze dark and hazy.

“You really have, I don’t think I’ll last long.” He admitted, his fingers trailing up your thigh to the lace trim of your underwear, “Can I please take these off?” He asked, his tone on the brink of whining. You nodded, only to hear the distinct rip of lace as he tore the side of them right at the seam, moving to the other side to do the same, taking the fabric off completely, letting it fall somewhere behind you.

”Bucky!” You scolded, breathless, looking down at him, seeing a smile coming up on his face, his hands slipping around to palm the curve of your ass, bringing you against him again.

”I’ll take you shopping tomorrow,” He murmured, his lips carefully dragging across your jaw, “You can pick out as many pairs as you want…But I gotta warn you, I might just end up ruining all of those too.” He added, massaging the supple flesh of your ass, before sliding his hands onto your thighs, shifting beneath you, adjusting himself. His pupils were completely blown wide, engulfing what little blue he had left from his irises, his lips were parted, and he was blushing so much his cheeks looked like they were suborned. You could feel his hands trembling against the flesh of your thighs, his body strung so tight that he was on the verge of snapping at any moment.

You shifted, lifting yourself just enough to reach between the both of you, your fingers wrapping around his cock, feeling how thick, and heavy he was in your grasp. Bucky let out a sharp, strangled moan against you, his fingers digging deeply into the soft flesh of your thighs, your thumb running over the tip, spreading the precum that dripped from it along the head, watching Bucky’s jaw fall open.

”Fuck, please, please, I’m gonna lose my mind Y/N…I need you so bad.” The words came out so jumbled you could barely make it out, all you could hear was how his voice was cracking, like he couldn’t take it anymore. You could feel your face heat up at how frustrated he was, as you slowly guided him against you, letting the head of his cock slip down your folds so he could feel how wet you were for him, the anticipation burning between the both of you.

Then you gently lowered yourself down onto him, taking him inch by inch, craving the stretch that his well endowed member provided every single time without fail. You could feel his arms tighten around you, as he let out a shuddered gasp, his forehead falling onto your shoulder, his breath coming in short uneven bursts. Once he was fully seated inside of you, pulsing faintly against your walls, he let out another shaky breath.

”Stay still…” He rasped, his voice wrecked, “Just for a m-minute…Just…Fuck I just need a moment.” You nodded, feeling him trembling beneath you. You smoothed your hands up his back, his muscles flexing slightly, his hot breath hitting the top of your breast.

“Fuck…Y/N…You’re gonna push me over the edge if you keep touching me like that.” You smiled down at him, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

”Sorry…” You whispered, halting your movements, just settling your hands on his skin, feeling his heartbeat slamming against your chest. He let out a long shaky breath, his hands coming back to hold onto your waist. You could feel the tension coiled tight inside him, the pulsing of his cock, the way he lifted his head up off your shoulder and kissed the side of your neck.

“It’s never felt like this before…” He admitted, still taking in sharp breaths. You leaned back, looking down at him, pushing his damp hair off his sweaty forehead, watching the way his eyes fluttered closed at the sensation.

“Well I did work you up quite a lot, I don’t do that often.” You explained, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, “We can go slow though, maybe it’ll help relieve a bit of the tension.” You suggested gently, seeing his eyes slowly flutter open, looking up at you with a glistening gaze, his fingers squeezing the flesh on your hips softly.

”O-Okay.” He stuttered, holding you close as you shifted above him, moving your hips slowly, pulling off him before pushing back down, listening to him take in sharp breaths, a moan falling from his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.

“Jesus…You…” He cut himself off with a groan, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you against him even more. You leaned down.

”I what, Bucky?” You whispered, teasing, continuing your slow movements above him.

”You feel…” His words caught again, feeling your hips roll against his, drawing another sharp exhale from him, his eyes flickering up to yours, “You feel so good.” You reach out to him, holding his cheeks in your hands, leaning down to place a heated kiss against his lips, his mouth opening for you immediately, so your tongues can intertwine in a sloppy battle of dominance, your movements picking up in pace, a moan escaping Bucky’s throat, his hips pushing up to meet yours, the both of you pulling away from the kiss, lips swollen, your mouths glistening from the wetness of your tongues.

”I can’t believe this is all for me.” He rasped, one hand sliding up to cup your jaw, pulling you back down into another bruising kiss, moaning into your mouth, the hand on your jaw moving lower to hold your throat gently, squeezing just a little, making your breath hitch.

”I’m so fucking lucky…You’re so fucking perfect like this.” His hips snapping up to meet yours, the tip of his cock pressing against your cervix, a shiver rolling down your spine with how deep he was.

“Bucky…” His name spilled out from your lips, the tone in your voice triggering something in him. His vibranium arm wrapped around your waist, guiding your movements as he continued to thrust up to meet you, getting deeper each time, bottoming out.

“Tell me that no one makes you feel like this.” He whispered, holding your throat still, tightening just a little to heighten every sensation that wracked through your body.

”No one,” You breathed, “No one but you, Bucky.” A deep, satisfied groan rumbled from his chest, his lips returning to yours, his desperation evident in the way he kissed you, in the way he moved inside you, staking his claim, even though he already knew he had you just where he wanted you, feeling you slowly surrender to him, just like he surrendered to you long ago. He held you in place, rutting up into you, dragging you closer to the edge, making you tremble in his arms, your nails scraping down his back.

“You’re all fucking mine.” He growled, nipping at your bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue, “Fuck…I can’t believe I get to have you like this.” He moaned out, feeling your walls clench around him, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the room. Your nails dug into his shoulders, a whimper escaping your lips, his teeth scraping over the column of your throat, his eyes staying on yours, every single nerve ending setting on fire in your body.

“Bucky…” His name tumbled from your lips, in a breathless, broken moan and it sent his self-control out the window, his hips snapping up to meet yours, pulling you flush against him. His vibranium hand pressing against your lower back, keeping you in place as he drove into you, deeper, harder, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through you.

Your body arched, your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm tore through you, so intense, so overwhelming, that a soft, choked sob escaped your lips. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks, the sheer force of your release leaving you utterly undone. Bucky could feel your walls tighten on him, saw the way your body trembled above him, heard the way you gasped his name and clung to him, making his head spin.

“Fuck,” He growled, his fingers digging into the flesh of your back, burning himself inside you, as his own release took him under, his body tensing beneath you, groaning into the curve of your neck. You could feel his warmth filling you up in hot ropes, his body jerking against you to push his cum deeper into you. He sunk his teeth into the soft flesh where your neck and shoulder met, trying to hold himself still, trying to ground himself.

Then he felt it, the slight shake of your body, the uneven breaths…A sniffle. He pulled back immediately from your skin, looking up at you with his brows furrowed, catching sight of your glistening face, your lips parted as you tried to catch your breath.

”Shit,” His voice instantly changed, laced with concern, his hand coming up to cup your face gently, his fingers feeling the dampness your tears had left in their wake, “Y/N…Fuck did I hurt you?” He asked, panic flickering behind his blown-out pupils, his thumb wiping beneath your eye. You shook your head quickly, letting out a breathless laugh.

”No, no,” You whispered, your voice still shaky from the aftershocks, “It was just so much all at once…In the best way possible.” You could see relief wash over his expression, though his eyes still searched yours, making sure you weren’t lying to him. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but instead he just pulled you closer, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your damp cheeks, your temple, your jaw, anywhere he could reach, tasting the saltiness of your tears.

After a moment, he shifted, lifting you effortlessly as he stood up, climbing onto the bed fully, laying you against the mattress, pulling out of you slowly, before the both of you intertwined your bodies, side by side, still keeping the close proximity, his arms tangling around you. He pressed absentminded kisses against your forehead, letting the silence stretch between you, his thumbs wiping off the remaining dampness that coated your cheeks. You hummed softly, your fingertips tracing the lines of his abdomen, feeling weightless against him.

“We should probably head back out to the party soon.” You murmured, though there was no real conviction behind what you said. A groan rumbled in his chest, as he buried his face into your neck, kissing the flesh.

”I don’t think I’m gonna be able to move for at least fifteen minutes.” He admitted, the both of you laughing together in unison, as you reached up to run your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp.

”I agree with you there, honestly…They probably already know where we are anyways.” You said, feeling his arm curling tighter around you.

”Oh they definitely know,” His voice was laced with exhaustion, but also with deep content, not having a care in the world at this point, only focusing on you.

“Doesn’t matter anyways…They knew we were gonna end up like this.” He nodded.

”Yeah because you’re a little sex maniac.” You rolled your eyes playfully, leaning into him, your heart racing at the way he continued to hold onto you, running his hands over your body, in a soothing caress. But then, a thought flickered in your mind…His gift. You had nearly forgotten in the haze of everything that had transpired.

You shifted slightly, reaching over him, opening up the drawer of your nightstand, feeling around for the long velvet box. Bucky turned himself, seeing what you were reaching for, his brows pulling together.

”What’s this?” He asked, as you handed it to him, sitting up a bit.

”It’s your real gift…” You informed, seeing Bucky smirk at you.

”Are you telling me the mind-blowing sex wasn’t the real gift?” You laughed, feeling your face heat up as you shook your head at him.

”No no…That was the pregame for this.” He squinted at you curiously, before he cracked open the box, his eyes immediately widening, sitting up instantly, his warmth leaving you, staring down at the box, at the knife it held. You sat up with him, shifting closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your arms wrapping around his stomach, paying attention to the way his fingers traced the engravings. Bucky swallowed loudly.

”These are coordinates?” He asked, and you nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade.

”The top one is for Brooklyn, and bottom one is for Avengers Tower…Brooklyn because that’s where you grew up with Steve, and here because it’s where you found yourself again…Where you found home, where you…” Found family, found belonging , found me, you thought, letting the sentence kind of trail off, not being able to finish it. There was a long moment of silence where neither of you said anything, as his fingers traced over the engravings, again, and again, committing them to memory through touch alone, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath he took.

“You really put a lot of thought into this.” He said, breaking the silence, trying to process everything.

”Of course I did,” You replied softly, your arms squeezing around him, “It’s you.” Another stretch of silence followed again. You were about to say something, maybe to lighten the moment, tease him about how he’d better not lose it, when he suddenly set the box down on the nightstand and turned toward you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. The embrace was firm, his face burying itself into your neck, as he took in a deep breath.

”God I love you…” He whispered so quietly that you almost missed it. Your heart nearly stopped. It slipped out of him like he had been holding it in for so long, and judging by the way he said it, he felt like now was the best time. You pulled back slightly, just enough to see his face, the look in his eyes breaking you, seeing the exact moment where the panic set in.

”i-I didn’t mean…” He sucked in a sharp breath, shaking his head like he was trying to backpedal, attempting to put the words back into his mouth, “I mean, I did mean it but…Fuck I didn’t mean to say it like that, I…” His fingers twitched along your back, pulling back a little more so you couldn’t feel his heart hammering against his chest.

”I-I don’t want to freak you out, I’m not trying to push anything, I swear I just…” His eyes darted over your face, trying to read your expression. He acted like he’d just detonated a grenade and was waiting to see if you were going to run.

“Bucky.” You whispered, reaching up to cup his face between your hands, your thumbs running over the stubble on his cheeks, watching him shake his head.

”I’ve been wanting to say it for so long,” He admitted, “But I didn’t want to make things weird, and I didn’t want to lose you…I didn’t want to ruin what was happening between us…” You felt your heart clench at his words, the admission hitting you in waves, the questions beginning to flood your mind. You wondered how long he felt this way, or how long he kept these feelings from you. Of course you knew he liked you, he wouldn’t have agreed to the casual relationship if he did, but you wanted to know when he started feeling love for you.

Slowly, you pressed your forehead against his, feeling the heat of his breath against your lips, his figure shuddering at the contact, thinking that this would be the last time he was going to be this close to you.

”Bucky.” You murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, letting it linger, soothing the panic that was rolling off him. When you pulled back, his lips parted, and his eyes opened to search yours. He was about to say something but you interrupted.

”I love you too.” You added, a smile slowly coming up on your face, his eyes leaving yours for a moment.

“You don’t have to say it just because I did,” He murmured, his voice so quiet it almost didn’t reach you. Your heart clenched at his vulnerability, at the way he still thought this might not be real. You ran your thumbs over the stubble again, leaning down to look into his eyes.

”I wouldn’t do that, Bucky...” You replied, feeling his fingers twitching along your back.

”So…You really mean it?” He asked. You let out a soft laugh, nodding as you pressed another kiss to his lips, slower this time, more intentional, hoping that it would drive home the point. You pulled back slightly.

”Yes…” You said, pecking his lips again, “I’ve been wanting to say it too, I just didn’t know if you were ready to hear it.” Bucky let out a shaky exhale, his forehead dropping against yours.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve been holding it in,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. His arms curled around you, pulling you in impossibly close, like he was trying to mold you against him. “I thought maybe I was imagining it, you know? That maybe I was just reading too much into things, seeing what I wanted to see.” You smiled at the way he explained himself, the nervousness that still ran behind the words.

”No, I was definitely dropping some hints.” For a long moment, neither of you spoke. There was no need to. The silence wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable, it was charged, filled with the unspoken understanding between you, the realization that this was no longer just casual, that it had never really been.

Bucky shifted, pulling you onto his lap again so that you were straddling him, his hands cradling your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. His blue eyes were impossibly soft as he studied you, like he was trying to memorize every single detail. “I was so scared,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want to ruin this.”

Your fingers traced along his jaw, tilting his chin slightly. “You didn’t ruin anything,” you reassured him, smiling softly. “You just made it better.”

Bucky let out a shaky breath before he leaned in, capturing your lips in another slow, lingering kiss. This one was different from the others—not rushed, not fueled by lust or desperation, but something deeper. His lips moved against yours gently, savoring the moment.

[ingeniousmindoftune]

A Beautiful Sin, Part three.

Sinners — Smoke x Annie x You (Explicit)

Warnings: smut, explicit, rough, filthy, threesome, dark, possession, mentions of bodily fluids, etc.

18+, NSFW.

Part one. | Part two.

The sun hadn’t even risen when you stirred — body sore, heavy, aching in the best possible ways.

You could barely move.

Annie was curled against you, her hand possessively resting between your legs, her nails gently scratching the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

Smoke sat on the edge of the bed, shirtless, pants hanging low on his hips, loading his gun like he had all the time in the world.

He caught your eye and smirked — a dark, dangerous smile that made your belly clench with need all over again.

“You awake?” His voice was low, rough like gravel.

You nodded weakly, throat dry.

Annie stirred against you, stretching like a lazy cat, her body rubbing deliciously against yours.

“Good,” she murmured sleepily. “Because we ain’t finished breaking you in.”

Smoke stood, setting the gun down on the nightstand with a loud thunk. He stalked toward the bed, his presence so heavy it made you hold your breath.

“You took a good fuckin’ last night,” he said, voice dripping with approval. “But I want you ruined. Wrecked.”

Annie giggled darkly, propping herself up on her elbows to watch.

“She can take it,” Annie said sweetly, licking her lips. “Can’t you, baby?”

You nodded again, your body already betraying you — slick with anticipation.

Smoke climbed onto the bed, grabbing your ankle and dragging you toward him effortlessly. He flipped you onto your stomach again, yanking your hips up so your ass was in the air, your face pressed into the mattress.

Annie moved beside you, cupping your face, kissing you sweetly — a cruel contrast to what Smoke was about to do.

You felt the blunt head of his dick pressing against your other entrance this time — your tight, virgin hole.

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

Smoke growled low in his throat, dragging the head of his dick up and down your slit to lube himself up with your slick.

“You ever been fucked here before, baby?” Annie whispered, her breath hot against your ear.

You shook your head frantically — no.

Smoke chuckled, dark and dangerous.

“You about to be.”

He spat between your cheeks, the wet sound obscene.

Annie kissed your temple soothingly, whispering filth against your skin.

“You’re gonna love it. I promise.”

Smoke pushed forward slowly — too big, too thick — and you cried out, the burn intense, blinding. Annie kissed your cries away, stroking your hair, murmuring dirty encouragement in your ear.

“You can take it,” she said. “You were made to take it. His dick…my tongue…our hands…you were made for us.”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you relaxed, let yourself go limp.

Smoke groaned as he sank deeper, inch by inch, until he was fully seated inside your tight heat.

“Fuck, baby…” he hissed, voice strained. “So tight…squeezin’ me like a fuckin’ fist.” He started moving — shallow thrusts at first, letting you adjust, then deeper, harder, faster.

Every push made you whimper, made you rock forward into Annie’s waiting mouth.

She kissed you hungrily, her hands wandering over your body — your tits, your throat, your hips — claiming every inch of you.

Smoke grunted above you, one hand tangled in your hair, the other slapping your ass with loud, sharp smacks that made you sob into the sheets.

“You like this?” he growled. “You like bein’ used like our little fucktoy?”

You nodded frantically, gasping.

“Say it,” Annie ordered, her voice sharp.

“I…I like it,” you sobbed. “I love it.”

Smoke’s hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you dizzy.

“That’s right,” he rasped against your ear. “Ours now. Ain’t no runnin’, ain’t no sayin’ no.”

He pounded into you brutally, using your body like it belonged to him — because it did.

Annie slid down between your legs, her tongue finding your clit again, sucking hard. The pleasure-pain was too much — overwhelming, devastating.

You came with a scream, body convulsing violently, clenching around Smoke so tight he cursed and slammed into you harder.

He fucked you through your orgasm, dragging another out of you before finally pulling out and stroking himself furiously over your ruined body.

Annie moaned as she watched, her fingers teasing herself, eyes dark with hunger.

Smoke came with a deep, guttural growl, spilling hot, messy ropes of cum all over your abused ass and lower back, marking you.

Annie didn’t waste a second — she licked you clean like a starving woman, moaning at the taste of you both.

You collapsed face-first into the sheets, trembling, ruined, completely at their mercy.

Annie curled up beside you again, cradling your face in her hands.

“You’re perfect,” she whispered, her breath sweet and filthy against your skin. “Our perfect little sinner.”

Smoke lit another cigarette, watching you with that same possessive gleam.

“This ain’t over,” he said, voice low and dangerous. “Not even close.”

And you knew — deep in your bones — that they meant it.

You were theirs.

Forever.

And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[samazing0831]

One Night, No Regrets- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Bucky x Reader

When a mission goes sideways, you and Bucky are forced to take shelter in a dingy motel with only one bed, a storm raging outside, and months of unspoken tension pressing in from every angle. As old wounds - physical and emotional - come to light, so does the truth you've been trying to ignore. In the quiet aftermath of pain and fear, you offer him a choice: comfort, connection, and something that feels dangerously close to love. Just for one night. But neither of you are ready for how real that one night becomes.

1k words

The motel room was barely bigger than a closet, the overhead light casting a sickly yellow glow over the peeling wallpaper and water-stained ceiling. The rain outside hadn't let up for hours, drumming against the windows in a steady rhythm that only made the silence between you louder.

You stood near the bed - the one bed - with your arms crossed, soaked to the bone, a fresh ache blooming beneath your shoulder where the bullet had grazed you hours earlier. The adrenaline was long gone, leaving behind a tight, dull throb.

Bucky was near the door, jaw clenched, arms folded across his chest. His soaked Henley clung to him, emphasizing every ridge of muscle, every breath he was trying to control. His hair hung in damp strands over his forehead, and water still clung to his eyelashes.

"I'll take the floor," he said, voice low and rough.

You gave a dry laugh. "Face it, Barnes. We've both been in the military. It won't kill us to share a bed for the night."

He didn't answer right away, his jaw working. Then, with a reluctant nod, he muttered, "You stay on your side."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, wouldn't want to cross any lines."

The words hung heavy between you, more about everything you hadn't said than the mattress itself.

You toed off your boots and reached for the towel he'd tossed you earlier. The moment you lifted your arm, pain shot through your shoulder, sharp enough to make you hiss and go still.

"You're hurt," Bucky said instantly, stepping forward before you could wave him off.

"It's just a scratch."

He didn't buy it for a second.

"Let me see."

You hesitated.

"If you wanted me to take my shirt off, you could've just asked," you said, trying to make light of it.

That earned a low chuckle from him - barely there, but real. "Yeah, sweetheart, patching you up in a rundown motel is exactly how I imagined tonight going."

You sat down in the only chair in the room, wincing as you peeled your shirt off. He crouched in front of you with the first aid kit, his expression shifting into something softer, something focused. As soon as he saw the wound, the tension returned to his jaw.

"This is gonna sting."

He pressed the antiseptic gently to your skin. You sucked in a sharp breath, your hand flying out to steady yourself - and landing on his thigh.

Neither of you moved.

His vibranium hand settled lightly on your knee, his thumb brushing once, slow and uncertain.

"I got you," he murmured.

You didn't say anything. You couldn't. The air was suddenly too thick to breathe.

When he finished dressing your wound, he looked up - closer than he'd been all night. Close enough to count the golden flecks in his eyes, to feel the warmth radiating off of him.

"Maybe we should both lie down," you said quietly, watching the way he hesitated.

He didn't speak as he stood and walked to the bed. He peeled off his shirt - slowly, as if expecting you to stop him. You didn't.

When he sat, you crawled in beside him, neither of you touching. Not yet.

"This is dangerous," he whispered into the silence.

"Hey. It's alright." You turned toward him propped on one elbow. "It's just us. Nothing's going to happen."

You caught the flicker of something behind his eyes. Guilt. Fear. Regret.

Then it clicked.

"You have nightmares," you said softly. "About being him."

Bucky's throat bobbed as he swallowed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Yeah," he said eventually. "Sometimes I wake up and I don't know where I am. I don't know who I am."

You reached out, gently. "You trust me, right?"

He looked at you - really looked at you. "I do."

"Then trust me now."

His breath hitched. "It's not that simple."

"Then I'll take care of myself," you said. "Like I always have. How often do we train together and I land you on your ass?"

That earned the ghost of a smile. "More than I'd like to admit."

You grinned. "Exactly. So if you think I can't handle myself, you're wrong."

Bucky's voice was quiet, hoarse. "You should be afraid of me."

"I'm not," you said simply.

For a moment, he was silent. Then -

"You're dangerous, you know that?" he murmured.

You smirked. "Then why aren't you running?"

He rolled onto his side, his hand reaching for yours. "Because I don't want to."

You could feel it - pulsing between your ribs, settling low in your stomach. This pull. This want.

"Do you want a distraction from them?" you asked softly.

His breath faltered. "A distraction?"

You nodded, swallowing the nerves tightening your chest. "No strings attached. Just for us. Just for tonight."

His voice was like gravel. "You sure?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't."

Bucky didn't move for a long time. Then, slowly, his hands slid up your sides, careful to avoid your shoulder. He pulled you into his lap, his eyes searching yours like he was still waiting for the moment you'd change your mind.

"I need you, James," you whispered.

His name broke him.

He surged forward, capturing your mouth in a kiss that shattered the barrier between you. It wasn't gentle. It was hungry, starved, months of tension combusting into heat.

You fumbled for his belt as he kissed you deeper, his hands mapping the lines of your body like he couldn't get enough. Every brush of his fingers, every desperate sound that passed between you - it built into something molten.

He murmured your name like it was sacred.

And when the final barrier between you fell away, there was no more hesitation, no fear. Just hands and mouths and breathless gasps as you moved in sync, as though your bodies had known each other in another life.

He held you close - anchored you. Worshipped every inch of you like you were something holy. And when the end came, it wasn't violent or frantic - it was overwhelming and reverent, like coming home.

Afterward, he didn't move. His arms were still wrapped around you, his breath steady but not quiet.

"I'm not going to pretend this didn't happen," he said softly.

You pressed your lips to his chest, right over his heart. "Good. Because neither will I."

Outside, the storm began to ease.

But in that tiny motel room, two people who had spent their lives surviving - finally let themselves feel what it meant to live.

[kpoplustzone]

Wedding Fuck - KIM YOO JUNG SMUT

OC X KIM YOO JUNG

Yoojung sat perched on the edge of a vanity stool, the weight of the pristine white dress a tangible presence around her. The mirror reflected an image she barely recognized, a woman on the precipice of a monumental life change. The gown, a masterpiece of delicate lace and flowing silk, dipped daringly low in the front, offering a generous view of the gentle curves of her breasts and the alluring valley of her cleavage. Her fingers traced the intricate embroidery along the neckline, the cool silk starkly contrasting with the sudden heat that flushed her skin.

to buy this smut - link

All my stories are in the diamond tier of my Kofi (monthly Membership) - link

[dirty-little-mind33]

pietro maximoff?? super speed?? gf!reader wanting to know what else that super speed could do?? he would lowkey be freaky and wanna know too but i think he'd try and play it off for a little while thinking she's taking the piss out of him and then when he realises she's fr he like oh okay😋

Pietro is 100% a freak but i do think he is very careful with his speed being used in that way! like he doesn't want to hurt his girl so he doesn't know if she can handle him 😭

i think he's start slow, like vibrating his fingers when he fingers her, seeing how she'd react to him. he also wants to test his own abilities and when he sees how much she likes it, he's elated! he makes her cum SO hard 😌

next is vibrating the dick, but again, he's careful! it takes a lot of restraint to only move one part of his body, never mind his dick, so it makes him tired. he has a lot of stamina but it depletes quicker when he does that—

doesn't stop him though, it's like a finishing move 😭 and drives his girl WILD. drives him wild to see how much pleasure he can give her 😏

[potato-lord-but-not]

What is something you wish people would notice more often in your art?

Honestly I’m pretty content with the feedback I get from my art, I especially love when people go off about a specific doodle. Like they elaborate on the concept or the execution- I love reading those so much teehee

I think I only sometimes I get disappointed if I reaaalllly like a sketch, but no one points it out. Like that’s just me being petty because it’s m y fav and no one else thinks so.

uuhhhhjmmmm I think that’s it really. AND also the analysis of art is extra welcomed when it’s a comic- like yyeeeaasssss tell me which is your favorite line/panel I want to knowww tehehehehe

[gojosoups]

Who wants tutor gojo x bimbo student reader? (🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️🙋‍♀️) Giving myself butterflies and goosebumps just thinking about it

Edit: inspiration struck… gojo fingering reader fic coming out instead 😭