Meixx

TOJI just… didn’t. Not in the formal sense. There had always been some unspoken tension and underlying attraction, but that’s what comes with the dark-haired man—it wasn’t anything unusual. So when you went to bars with him, kissed him in a drunken stupor, and watched movies with him pressed to your side like a lover, you didn’t think you were dating him. He never even gave you any indication that he was only doing these things with you, even though you never once saw him do them with anyone else. He even rejected other people in front of you, but you figured he just didn’t want a new relationship. You honestly couldn’t believe it when he finally brought you to a nice restaurant with a menu so fancy they didn’t list the prices; the lights were dim and hazy, and he was wearing what you considered to be the nicest clothes he owned. It was like he was your boyfriend. When you questioned him about treating you like a date, he just huffed. “Weren’t we dating already? I didn’t think it needed to be said, baby. You’re mine.”

There’s no situation where INO would ask you out on purpose, given he hadn’t confessed already. He wanted to, so desperately it made his head spin, but he was terrified. What if you said no? Would you think of him differently? Would Nanami look at him pityingly for ever thinking he could stand a chance with someone as amazing as you? So, he waited. It burned on the tip of his tongue every time he saw you, and it made him falter in every word. Eventually, though, he was “forced” to when you were both lounging in your bed scrolling on one phone. His chin was resting on your shoulder, staring at the passing videos. You made some off handed comment about him smelling nice. He burned. You said he’d make a good boyfriend. He burned harder. You said something about talking to another guy, but he didn’t have Ino’s pretty eyes. He almost exploded. You turned to look down at his face and smiled, and before you could say another word, the fire erupted and he blurted out, “I like you. I really, really, romantically like you. I don’t know if you feel the same, but please go on a date with me. I beg of thee, my greatest and cutest best friend.” He was slightly incoherent with his medieval jabber, but you laughed, agreed, and kissed him on the cheek anyway.

GOJO asked you out so frequently and extravagantly that you thought it was a joke every time. He never made it seem like anything more, either; you’d smile and open your mouth to respond, he’d turn red, and the words “just kidding!” would spill from his mouth. You brushed it off, because that’s just who he is, even if it stung a little. Inside, though, he was screaming. Why did he default to backtracking so quickly? He knew you probably felt the same, but he was just so nervous and so slightly insecure. He attempted to ask you on a date six times before it worked. 1. He handed you flowers with a location and time written on the card, only to turn it into a “platonic picnic”. 2. He wrote “date me?” On a cake with frosting. 3. He scribbled about how much he liked you in a diary, which he conveniently left at your place after a hangout. 4. He rushed to you, covered in “blood”, with one request: kiss him to save his life. 5. Megumi’s fleeing hares spelled out “go out with Gojo… save me” on the school’s lawn. 6. You bit down on something hard in your mochi, only to discover it was a gaudy plastic ring. The seventh time, he just pulled you aside and let it spill. “I like you. I know I’ve been joking about taking you out, but I wasn’t really joking, I was just scared. You’re too cute for your own good. Please, give me a chance?”

With GETO, you had to take the initiative. Scary, right? It was downright heart-attack-inducing. You always had a suspicion that he felt the same, but it had been two years of this feeling, and nothing had happened. At that point, you thought he was more likely to ask out Gojo. He always brushed your hair away from your face, walked on the outside of the sidewalk, and checked up on you every time he thought you might be down. He was practically your boyfriend already, but you steeled your nerves and decided to make it official. Japan was beginning to transition into autumn, and due to the fluctuating weather, you had neglected to bring a jacket on your walk with Geto. When he saw you shiver, he wrapped his own coat around your shoulders. You looked up at him, then down at the jacket, and up again. You were the most scared you’ve ever been, but you cleared your throat, and said, “Suguru, I think I’m in love with you. Sorry.” His small smile widened exponentially, and he assured you that you never had to apologize for feeling the same way he did (or feeling anything, for that matter). He then invited you to the annual autumn festival within walking distance of your houses, hinting that he would keep his jacket warm for you, just in case.

“Staring again?” he asked, not even looking up.

You huffed, snapping back to your own stack of dishes. “Please. I’ve seen hotter elbow pasta.”

“Wow,” he said, voice low and amused. “That’s the best you’ve got?“

“I’d go harder,” you muttered, “but I don’t wanna hurt your feelings. Babyface like yours probably bruises easy.”

That made him pause. You didn’t look, but you felt the weight of his stare.

“Babyface?” he repeated, like he was testing the word in his mouth.

“Yeah,” you said sweetly. “You ever get carded buying matches?”

He set the pot down, slowly, turning toward you. Water dripped off his gloves. His hair hung in loose strands, steam curling around him like some sort of stupidly hot ghost.

“I’m older than you,” he said, closing the space between you two with the barest lean.

“Yeah,” you breathed, keeping your smirk even as your pulse jumped. “And I’ve still got more authority in this kitchen.”

“You think I’m cute.”

“I know you’re cute,” you corrected, poking his chest with your soapy finger. “That’s the problem.”

He raised a brow. “You really wanna start this game?”

“Please,” you teased. “You’ve been looking for an excuse to flirt with me all week.”

He leaned in. Really leaned in. So close you could see the water beading on his jaw, the tiny scar near his lip. His voice dropped.

“If I wanted to flirt,” he said slowly, “you’d already be melting against that sink behind you.”

Your breath caught. Just for a second. Then you scoffed, turning back to your dishes like your knees weren’t about to give out.

“Careful, Ino. Big talk for someone who got flustered when I called you adorable yesterday.”

“You called me a cinnamon roll with biceps,” he shot back.

“And I stand by it.”

He grinned. “Keep talking, princess. You’re gonna be the one melting.”

You didn’t reply—just kept scrubbing the plate in your hand while your whole body buzzed like a live wire. But the tension clung to the air thick as the steam, especially when he stepped back beside you, humming under his breath, pretending to be unaffected.

Except you saw it—the way his throat bobbed. The way his eyes kept flicking to your hands.

And oh yeah—you had plans for those gloves later.

The shifts kept coming. And so did the chaos.

Water sloshed. Dishes clinked. You mocked him for everything—his gloves, his stupid hair, the one time he dropped a fork and caught it mid-air like it was a grenade and then bowed like he’d saved the restaurant.

“Drama queen,” you muttered, flicking suds at him from the sink.

He didn’t look up from drying a plate. “Says the one who screamed when the dishwasher beeped.”

“It was loud!“

“It was standard volume.”

“I felt it in my soul, Takuma!”

He smirked like you were his favorite kind of entertainment. And then, casually, with zero remorse, launched a soaked sponge at you like a missile.

It slapped your shoulder. You gasped, clutching your chest.

“You animal.”

“You started it.”

“Oh, I’m finishing it—”

You lunged, but he was quicker. Slipped past you with a cocky little grin and—oh. Oh no.

He jabbed his gloved fingers right into your side as he passed, tickling just long enough to make you jolt and squeal.

“Ino—!”

“Sorry,” he said smoothly, not sorry at all. “Dish duty makes me handsy.”

“You’re gonna die.”

“You threaten me like it’s not foreplay.”

You flicked water directly at his neck.

He froze. Slowly turned. Wet hair falling in his eyes, eyes narrowed, lips twitching. He stepped forward.

You stepped back. But he kept walking. Until your lower back hit the metal counter behind you and he didn’t stop.

Now he was in your space. Hot breath. Damp gloves. Smug little smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“You like messing with me?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Obviously.”

You raised a hand and flicked his neck again. He didn’t even flinch. Just… grinned. Close. Too close. That warm scent of soap and sweat and faint cologne sticking in your lungs.

Your eyes dropped—just for a second—to his mouth.

He noticed. He leaned in, slow, testing.

But just as you felt your lips part—“Hey! Are the dishes done yet?” The boss’s voice cracked through the air like a whip. You both froze.

He pulled back instantly, clearing his throat, suddenly Very Focused on drying a fork. You turned back to the sink with burning cheeks, trying not to throw yourself into the soapy depths.

Your boss didn’t seem to notice, muttering something about stock deliveries before vanishing again.

Silence. A breath. Then— “That was close,” Ino said softly, drying another plate like nothing had happened.

You risked a glance. He was watching you from the corner of his eye, a little pink creeping across his cheekbones—but smug.

Always smug.

“You flinched,” you muttered.

“Only ‘cause I thought you were gonna kiss me.”

“You wished I was gonna kiss you.”

He shot you a grin. “Yeah. Kinda do.”

You dropped the dish in your hand.

The days dragged—but also didn’t.

Time warped around Takuma Ino.

Every shift with him was like walking a tightrope between homicide and kissing him senseless. He was so annoying. So smug. Always smiling like he was three steps ahead. Always with those damn gloves, sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing while he scrubbed something aggressively like it owed him money.

You kept teasing him. He kept teasing you right back.

And you were starting to think this little thing you had? Wasn’t so little anymore.

“Wow,” you said one evening, dragging a bin of used napkins and glasses past him, “you missed a spot. Again. You really are just here for eye candy.”

“Sweetheart, I am the spot,” he replied smoothly, not even looking up from the sink. “People come here for the soup, stay for the forearms.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, okay. More like stay for the secondhand embarrassment.”

But he just grinned, slowly pulling off his gloves with a snap that definitely didn’t need to be that suggestive.

Your stomach did a small flip.

You ignored it. Later, while he was walking past, you flicked his neck.

He flinched. Turned slowly. “You little gremlin.”

“You like it.”

Another day, you flicked a towel at him. He retaliated with a wet sponge to your hip. You’d launched water at his shirt. He’d tickled you. Everything was touch and grab and dodge. A game. A very dangerous, stupidly hot game.

Tonight he was on dish duty. And you were feeling bold.

You waited until the last table had cleared out, until the kitchen quieted down into nothing but soft humming and faucet noise. He was already at the sink, gloves on, back to you. His hair was falling into his face again, messy from the heat. The shirt clung to him. His sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, and his hands moved in steady, precise circles.

He didn’t even turn when he heard you approach.

Just said, “Don’t even think about it.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna do anything,” you said sweetly.

You walked around the corner, a towering stack of dirty plates in your arms.

Then slammed it all down into the sink beside him.

Water splashed everywhere. He froze. Very slowly turned his head to look at you. Gloves off and expression blank.

You grinned like a devil. “Little something to keep those arms busy.”

Without a word, he reached forward, grabbed you by the back of the neck—gently, but firmly—and shoved your entire head straight into the sink full of foamy water.

“—TAKUMA!!”

You came back up, spluttering, hair soaked, water dripping into your shirt, soap in your eyes. His hand still lingered at the base of your skull.

He just blinked, unbothered. “Sorry. Misunderstood you for a dirty dish.”

You stared at him. Dead in the eye. Then grabbed him by the collar, soaked fingers curling into his shirt, and dragged him down.

Your lips crashed into his with no warning—hot and furious and wet. He didn’t even hesitate.

A grunt rumbled from his chest as his mouth opened against yours, one hand slipping around your waist, the other fisting into your wet hair. You bit his bottom lip—he growled.

The sink edge dug into your hips. Your shirt clung to your body, cold and soaked. His forearms bracketed you on either side, breath ragged, mouth greedy. When you finally pulled back, panting, lips pink and swollen, he didn’t let go. Just leaned his forehead against yours, both of you dripping.

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered.

He smirked. “Took you long enough to kiss me.”

“Dunk me again, I swear I’ll drown you in the fryer.”

“I’d die happy.”

His hands slide from your neck to your hips, gripping tight, dragging you closer until your legs bump the open dishwasher.

You grip his face. “Still think I’m a dirty dish?”

His mouth ghosts over yours. “No. Now I think you’re dessert.”

Your eyes dropped to his lips again. His thumb was still on your neck. And neither of you had moved since the kiss exploded like a storm between you.

You breathed in. Tilted your chin.

“…Well,” you whispered, “we’re alone.”

His grin was slow and wicked, like the smirk of a man who’d waited weeks to hear that exact sentence.

“Yeah,” he said, stepping back just far enough to lace your fingers together. “We are.”

Then he tugged you—dragged you, really—out of the kitchen like a man possessed.

The locker room door slammed behind you both, echoing off the tile walls. You didn’t even get a second to catch your breath before he pressed you up against the cold metal of the lockers and devoured your mouth.

It was messy, frantic, tongue and teeth and soaked hair clinging to cheeks and necks. You gripped the back of his shirt, yanking him closer, grinding against him as his hands slid down your back to grab your thighs.

“Fuck,” he growled against your lips. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“You dunked me,” you shot back, tugging his hair so hard he moaned.

“You deserved worse.”

“You’re about to get worse,” you hissed.

He laughed then kissed you so hard your knees gave out.

One of his hands caught under your thigh, lifting your leg as he pressed into you, hips rolling instinctively against yours. You felt him hard through his soaked pants, hot and heavy, and it made you whimper.

“You think I haven’t been thinking about this?” he murmured between kisses. “You walking around all bratty flicking me, soaking me, talking back?”

You bit his lower lip, hard enough to make him curse.

“Don’t act like you weren’t begging for it,” you panted.

He growled and slammed his hand against the locker beside your head, caging you in.

“I was.“

The next kiss was rough. His hands explored every soaked inch of you cupping your face, dragging over your waist, up under your shirt to feel the heat of your skin.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, legs trembling.

At one point, he pulled back just enough to look at you, flushed and breathless, hair wet and wild, lips kiss-bruised.

“You’re unreal,” he whispered, genuinely dazed.

You smirked and tugged him back in. “Shut up and keep going.”

And he did. With both hands on your hips, grinding into you like he was trying to fuse you together. Lips trailing down your neck. Soft, open-mouthed kisses at your collarbone.

Steam curled off your soaked shirts as the heat between you burned higher.

And the locker room? Reeked of soap, sweat, and something much, much filthier.

The air in the locker room was humid, your breaths uneven, bodies still pressed too close.

You sat on the bench now, legs spread lazily while Ino crouched in front of you, gently wringing out your hair with his hoodie like it was the most natural thing in the world. His gloves were long gone. His sleeves still rolled. His cheeks flushed. His voice quiet.

“You good?” he asked, tone softer than you expected.

“More than,” you murmured.

You looked down at him how his brows furrowed in focus, how his shirt clung to his chest, how his hair curled at the edges from the water. He looked up just as you licked your lips.

Your heart thundered. And before you could talk yourself out of it, you said “Come home with me.”

He blinked. A beat.

Then you added, calm and slow, “I need a shower. And you do too.”

What followed could only be described as a blur.

You had never seen a man clear a restaurant that fast in your life. Kitchen? Spotless. Lights? Off. Doors? Locked. Trash? Already out. It was like the universe fast-forwarded.

Ten minutes later, you were unlocking your apartment door with damp hair and adrenaline still zinging in your veins.

You barely had the key in when his hands slipped around your hips from behind—hot, firm, slow.

“Kitchen’s clean,” he whispered into your neck. “I’m not.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling, but your pulse kicked up anyway. “You’re the worst.”

“Say that again in five minutes.”

You opened the door. Stepped inside. He kicked it shut behind you without even looking.

Then you turned, about to say something—but he was already on you. Mouth hot, hands everywhere - under your shirt, on your ass, gripping your waist like he didn’t care if you made it to the shower or not.

You kissed him hard, pulling at the hem of his shirt, fingers dipping under to feel the slope of his lower back.

“Off,” you mumbled into his mouth.

He didn’t hesitate. Arms up. Shirt gone.

You broke the kiss just to look at him—chest flushed, hair dripping, freckles you hadn’t even noticed before. His abs flexed as he stepped toward you again, dragging his belt loose with one hand.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, voice rough, “and we’re not making it to the bathroom.”

“Oh, we are,” you said, grabbing his open belt and pulling him toward the hallway. “I’m not letting you drip all over my floor.”

You walked backward, leading him with a smug grin. He followed like a dog on a leash, mouth already back on yours, one hand sliding into the back of your pants.

Halfway to the bathroom, you popped the button on his jeans. He hissed into your mouth. You tugged the zipper down next. He groaned. “I hate you,” he muttered between kisses.

“No you don’t.”

“You’re right,” he gasped, kicking off his shoes. “I don’t. I’m obsessed.”

You shoved open the bathroom door. Dim lights on. Steam already rising. And when you turned back to look at him shirtless, panting, half-hard and flushed from head to toe—he stared at you like you were the only thing that had ever made sense.

He stood in your bathroom doorway shirtless, hair damp, cheeks flushed, belt still hanging loose, pants undone and clinging low to his hips. Steam curled up from the running water behind you, wrapping the whole room in heat and silence.

You stood still, heart racing, body aching in the best way.

And then he came to you. Not rushing—savoring—each step slow, eyes fixed on you like you were something he didn’t quite believe he had in front of him.

His hands rose to your waist, so gentle it made you ache.

“Okay if I…?” he murmured.

You nodded.

His fingers slid under your shirt, lifting it inch by inch. His palms dragged softly over your sides as he peeled it off and tossed it aside. Next, he moved behind you, tugging your soaked pants down carefully, kneeling just long enough to help you step out of them. His knuckles brushed your calves, then up the backs of your thighs. Reverent. Warm.

When he stood again, you were in just your underwear, damp and clinging. He reached out, kissed your collarbone first—then your shoulder.

You looked up at him, teasing through your breathless smile. “You’re hotter than I thought, Takuma.”

That bastard grin made a return. “You think this is me trying?”

You smirked, fingers toying with the waistband of his pants, then yanked them down. He hissed, cock springing free—already flushed, heavy, leaking. His belt clattered to the tile floor. And yet he didn’t rush. Didn’t even move.

He just looked at you like he was grateful. And then he stepped forward, hands sliding under your thighs to lift you effortlessly into his arms. You squealed, arms looping around his neck as he carried you into the shower.

The heat from the water hit you both instantly, cascading over your bodies. Your hair plastered to your cheeks, his fringe stuck to his forehead. You expected him to slam you against the wall.

Instead, he set you down gently, both hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing small circles.

You didn’t even think—you just grabbed his face and kissed him, deep and slow and desperate. And he kissed you like you were his whole world.

His hands stayed high—touching your ribs, your jaw, cupping your face like you were made of glass and gold. You felt his cock throb against your stomach, slick and hot and aching—but he didn’t move. Didn’t rut. Didn’t beg.

Instead, between kisses, he whispered, “You’re unreal… I don’t even… fuck, you feel like a dream.”

You panted, breath fogging the air, lips swollen. His forehead rested on yours.

He was trembling. And still didn’t push.

So you reached down between you. Fingers curling around his cock. His whole body jolted, muscles flexing under your hands.

“Holy shit—” he choked, hips twitching. His hand flew to your hip to steady himself, and the other slid down lower until his fingers brushed your heat.

You gasped against his mouth.

His fingers slid through your slick slowly, teasing before slipping inside. “Fuck,” he breathed, voice cracking, “your moans are so cute… I can’t get enough of it.”

His words tumbled right into your mouth as he kissed you again, deep and slow, both of you panting, hands moving together.

And nothing had ever felt so hot. Or so good.

The water beat down around you both, but neither of you noticed anymore. You could barely breathe.

Your hand was wrapped tight around his cock, slick and pulsing hot in your palm. He was twitching in your grip, jaw clenched, muscles tight, moaning into your mouth every time you stroked him just right.

But it was nothing compared to what he was doing to you.

“F-fuck—Takuma—”

His fingers slid deep inside you, curling perfectly, finding that spot so fast you nearly collapsed against his chest. His thumb circled your clit slow, then faster, until your hips bucked into him with a whimper.

“Yeah?” he breathed, lips brushing your cheek, your jaw, your throat. “That good?”

Your head dropped back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut.

He stilled. “No, hey—look at me.”

You blinked, gasping, your eyes fluttering open.

His stare locked with yours.

And he did not look away. Not once.

“Don’t you fucking look away,” he whispered, almost broken. “You’re so beautiful like this, baby I want you to remember who’s doing this to you.”

Your breath caught. And then he moved again.

Faster.

His fingers thrust up into you, hard and deep, thumb circling tight and steady, relentless as your legs trembled. Your moans came loud, ragged, messy—falling from your lips without control. Wet, echoing off the tile.

You jerked him faster in return, grip sloppy, hips grinding down on his hand, mouth hanging open with every whine.

“Shit—your hand—feels so—fuck, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he panted, eyes burning into yours, breath hitching. “Keep going, you’re doing so good.”

You were falling apart. Your thighs shook, your moans turned high and needy, nails digging into his shoulder. He kept his hand right there—deep inside you, thumb circling your clit just a little faster, coaxing every sound out of you. And he never broke eye contact.

“You’re losing it, huh?” he whispered, grinning now, voice trembling as you stroked him tighter. “You’re gonna come just like this, in my hand. So messy. So fucking loud. You like it like that. Don‘t you?”

You cried out sharp, high, broken—as your body jerked. And then it hit you.

Hard.

Your whole body arched into him, toes curling, thighs clamping down around his wrist as your orgasm tore through you, leaving you breathless and soaked in more ways than one. Your mouth opened but no sound came—just the echo of your own moans ringing in your ears.

He groaned at the sight, head falling to your shoulder, still pumping in slow circles as you twitched through it.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, cock leaking against your thigh. “You are insane—” And you didn’t stop. You stroked him faster, now watching him lose it.

His hips stuttered, he looked at you shortly with his mouth open, grip on your waist going white-knuckle as he moaned your name into your shoulder and came hard across your stomach with a broken, breathless growl.

The water ran warm and steady as your heart slowed in his arms.

Takuma held you close, one arm around your waist, the other gently carding through your wet hair under the stream. He kissed your temple. Your cheek. The corner of your mouth.

You sighed into him, relaxed and glowing.

“I’m never gonna recover from that,” he murmured, voice low and awed.

You chuckled. “Didn’t plan to let you.”

He tilted your chin up and kissed you slow—nothing rushed. Just lips brushing, sighs shared, skin warm under water and softer in his touch. His hand moved to your back, palm splayed, grounding you.

You stayed like that for a while—making out lazily, trading smiles between kisses, until the steam was too much.

He helped you towel off, both of you giggling as he dried your legs with fake seriousness, then tossed the towel aside and followed you to bed.

You collapsed first, the sheets cool on your skin.

He crawled in after you, fully naked, damp hair clinging to his neck. He pulled you into his chest, one leg sliding between yours, one arm wrapped around your back.

His mouth found yours again. Slower now. Sleepier. Sweeter.

Your fingers traced the line of his jaw as you kissed, quiet and unhurried, hearts beating in sync.

“I should’ve kissed you weeks ago,” he whispered, nose brushing yours.

“Yeah,” you smiled, curling into him, “but I wouldn’t have gotten dunked.”

He laughed softly, arms tightening around you.

“Best mistake I’ve ever made.”

You fell asleep like that. Wrapped in him. Wrapped in warmth. Every inch of you tangled, kissed, and calm.

Sunlight bled through the curtains in soft gold, casting quiet warmth across your sheets.

You stirred first—naked, limbs tangled in cool fabric, body still buzzing faintly from the night before. The air smelled like skin and sleep and him.

You didn’t open your eyes until you felt the bed shift.

Takuma, crawling over you slowly, lazy and quiet. Hair a mess. Lips slightly parted. His body hovered over yours like he belonged there, like he’d always meant to wake up like this—with you. He didn’t say anything.

Just settled himself between your legs. And you didn’t stop him. You parted your thighs instinctively, sleepy and slow, letting him slide in close, your skin brushing his, his half-hard cock heavy and warm against you.

Neither of you moved. But you felt everything.

You looked up at him, eyes half-lidded, hand reaching up to push back the strands of hair clinging to his forehead. Your thumb brushed softly over the faint scar just above his brow.

He didn’t flinch. He just stared at you. So full of want it made your stomach flip.

“You always get hard this fast,” you murmured, voice raspy, “or is it just me?”

The second you said it—you felt him twitch against you.

A sharp throb of heat, thick and unmistakable, right against your slit. His jaw clenched.

Eyes darkened. And your smirk grew slow and dangerous.

“Thought so.”

His cock throbbed again, flush against your folds and he exhaled, jaw tense, clearly trying not to rut against you like a man starved. But his eyes never left yours. He leaned down slowly, bracing himself on his forearms. His lips brushed your cheek, then your ear.

“You okay?” he whispered.

You nodded, but he didn’t move. His voice dropped lower, barely a breath. “Can I have you?”

That hit you low in your gut, soft in your chest. You tilted your head, whispering just as quietly, “Yes.”

He kissed you then sweet and slow before pulling back just enough to look at you. One hand slid down between you, guiding himself to your entrance, but he didn’t push in yet.

Instead, he murmured, “I wanna see you. When you fall apart again. Look at me.”

Your heart kicked up hard. And then he pressed in. Slow. Deep. All at once, but careful, like he didn’t want to miss a second of how you reacted.

Your mouth fell open as your body stretched around him, heat blooming through your core like fire under silk.

“F-fuck—Takuma—”

“Eyes on me,” he breathed, hips stilling once he was fully seated inside. He held your cheek, thumb stroking just under your eye. “There she is…”

And when he started to move slow and deep, hips rolling steady—you felt it in your soul.

He stayed close, forehead brushing yours, eyes locked on yours while he thrust in again, and again. Each stroke filled you so perfectly it made you whimper.

“You’re so tight,” he whispered, voice thick with restraint. “Still so wet for me. Can’t believe I get to do this.”

Your hands curled into his hair, lips brushing his between moans. He kissed you between every thrust murmured how good you were, how beautiful you looked like this.

And he never looked away. Not when you moaned his name. Not when you clenched around him. Not when your breath broke and your thighs trembled.

He just kissed you harder. And whispered “Fall for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

His hips were moving deeper now—slower, but intentional, every thrust dragging his cock right where you needed it most. The air was thick with heat and your whimpers, his breathy groans, the soft slap of skin on skin as his body rocked against yours.

You were close. He knew it. And he never stopped watching. Never stopped talking.

“That’s it, baby,” he whispered, voice shaky and low, lips grazing your cheek. “You’re doing so good… letting me in like this… fuck—feel how good you’re taking me…”

Your walls fluttered around him, and he felt it, gasping softly, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re shaking,” he breathed, stroking your cheek, still moving inside you. “You gonna come for me again?”

“Y-yeah,” you choked, hand gripping his forearm.

“Look at me.” Your eyes met his—glassier now, wide and soft and full of something deeper than lust. You couldn’t hide. And he didn’t let you.

“That’s it… there you are… so beautiful like this,” he groaned. “Come with me.”

His hand reached between you, thumb circling your clit with perfect pressure. The sound you made was ruined.

“You can do it, baby,” he panted, thrusts faster now, his voice starting to fall apart. “Just like that, hold me—fuck—squeeze me—come with me, come on—come with me—”

And you did.

Your body snapped, every muscle locking tight as you moaned out something high and helpless, clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered. You felt yourself pulsing around him, slick and hot and soaked—and then—

He followed. With a desperate groan into your neck, hips grinding deep, cock twitching hard inside you as he filled you, breath shattering in your ear.

“Fuck—mh, I’m—I got you, it’s okay—yes, baby, yes—ride it out, I’ve got you—”

His arms wrapped around you, hips barely moving now, just pressing as deep as he could, whispering into your ear through every tremble and twitch of your aftershocks.

Your eyes welled up. Not from pain.

Just—too much.

Too much love. Too much safety. Too much of him.

He kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips. Soft, breathless.

“Still with me?” he whispered, smiling like his whole life just shifted. You nodded, barely. Eyes dazed, breath stuttering.

He kissed you again. “I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” he said softly. “You completely fucking wrecked me.”

You just clung to him. And he held you there, still inside, still buried in warmth—like he never planned to let you go. Wrapped in sheets. Wrapped in him.

And for the first time in forever, you felt like home.

You read all of that. Interesting.

The Masterlist is here, pretty thing. If you still want more, Requests are open.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ © ᴠᴇʟᴠᴇᴛɢʜᴏᴜʟ

Takuma Ino was not a desperate man.

At least he hoped he didn’t come off that way whenever he crossed paths with (y/l/n) (y/n).  He really hoped he didn’t.  Because every day he spent at Jujutsu Tech, he went out of his way to ‘accidentally’ bump into her as many times as possible.  

His personal best was twenty-five.  That day he’d stayed well past sunset to finish the paperwork he’d neglected, but he still stands by his choices.

Nanami claimed that if he had a crush on the young manager, then he should just ask her out already, but Ino didn’t think it was that easy.  Not because he was  nervous- of course not! He just wanted to be certain that she would agree to go out with him before making a move.  That wasn’t a ridiculous notion, was it? 

It wasn’t ridiculous.  It just meant things moved… slowly.

“Ino, hey,” 

(y/n’s) drawn out of her conversation with Maki when she sees the Grade Two Sorcerer approaching in the hall.  There’s a soft smile of familiarity on her face, unlike the student beside her who rolled her eyes and slumped against the wall, knowing that it would take twice as long to have her paperwork looked over.  This wasn’t the first time Maki had witnessed the perfect distraction that was Takuma Ino.  It was already the fourth time this week, and just like every other time, (y/n) fell for it right away.

Just as he approaches the both of them, a look of confusion flashes across (y/n’s) face, and she tucks the forgotten paperwork against her chest as she tilts her head at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on your way to Yokohama? I thought you were assigned to that Grade One curse with the whole…” She pauses as she makes an indefinite shape with her hands, “Explosive thing?” 

“I’m about to head out for it now, but, you know,” He shrugs his shoulders, a smile forming on his face the longer he looks at her.

The first time he’d laid eyes on her he’d done a cartoonish double take, which unfortunately Nanami bore witness to.  She’d been walking and chatting animatedly with Ijichi- who seemed less passionate about the conversation but was an attentive listener nonetheless- and every time he’d seen her since, Ino felt the same lurch in his heart that was the desire to linger near her just a little longer.

Before he could finish his thought, Maki was speaking up first.

“You just wanted to show up late?” She asked dryly, her expression anything but amused by the sight of young love.

“I’m not late,” He chuckles nervously, shaking his head.  “I just wanted to stop by my good luck charm before I left” He claims with a little more confidence before he grins at (y/n).

She laughs at the comment, and Maki can’t help but roll her eyes just a little bit.  Typical.  Surely she’d swoon over the flirty comment and then drop it completely, just like she always did.

“Yeah yeah,” She mused, just like Maki expected.  “Go, don’t get yourself in trouble again.  I don’t think Nanami will keep vouching for you” 

“Sure he will,” Ino waves a dismissive hand, but judging from the way he’s already turning away and breaking into a jog, (y/n) and Maki can see through the nonchalant act.  “But it’ll be quick! I’ll have the shortest report ever for you!” He hollers from down the hall.

(y/n’s) still chuckling once he’s out of sight.  Maki huffs in aggravation.

“I can’t believe you lead that guy on.  You’re gonna have to let him down easy if you don’t want him to have a stroke”

“What?” (y/n) shakes her head at the student’s accusation.  “I don’t lead him on, we just get along” 

“You lead him on” Maki deadpans.  (y/n) holds her paperwork a little tighter against herself, and the defensive action doesn’t go unnoticed.

“This isn’t appropriate, I won’t allow for this to be a silly rumor of some s-” 

“Gojo Sensei says that he’ll never make a move unless you do it first” Maki shrugs.

All professionalism flies out the window in an instant as (y/n’s) face goes blank, her eyes blinking wide as she stares back at the student in utter disbelief.

“He did?” She mumbles.  

Maki nods in confirmation.

(y/n) glances around herself to ensure their conversation would be a private one, before shuffling forward and lowering her voice.

“Well… what else did he say?” ___

To say that (y/n) had a bit of a crush on the Auspicious Beast Summoner would be an understatement.  From the day he’d fallen in front of her- literally, he fell down half a flight of stairs and she’d rushed to make sure he was alright- there was something exciting about him.  He was so kind, and funny, and he so obviously went out of his way to talk to her that she slowly found her heart fluttering more and more whenever he was around.

All this time she’d thought he was just friendly, and was eager to have a companion at Jujutsu Tech that was his age.  Why else would he spend so much time around a manager when there are much cooler, much stronger people around? It was no secret what he thought of Nanami, and while (y/n) was proud of her work, she simply couldn’t compete with the skill of a sorcerer.

Usually she wasn’t one to listen to rumors, especially from a source like Gojo Satoru.  He may have been a friend-of-sorts to her, but that didn’t mean (y/n) trusted him for a second.  Gojo was a good guy, but he was the kind of guy to stir the pot when he was bored, and playing matchmaker was just a game to him.  So despite everything Maki had told her, she didn’t necessarily believe it.  She was just curious, that’s all.

And the only reason she was headed off to Ino’s office after being notified he’d returned from his mission was just to address the rumors, that’s all.  She was doing him a favor by letting him know what the other sorcerers were gossiping about.  There couldn’t possibly be an ulterior motive laced in there as well.

His door is open when she reaches the small workspace, but he doesn’t seem to notice when she appears there, leaning into the door frame while she takes in the crude office.  

Calling it an office didn’t even feel correct.  There was a desk and a computer, and a semi-comfortable looking rolling chair that Ino was sitting in.  He hadn’t realized there was a visitor at the door seeing as he had his head hanging over the back of it, his mask pulled down and his hands pressed into his face.  (y/n) had to bite back the chuckle that threatened to come out of her, assuming there was more to report in his paperwork than he’d assumed and was now overwhelmed by it.

With a soft tap of her knuckles on the doorframe, (y/n) makes her presence known.

“Need some help?” 

Ino jolts up so suddenly his chair is sent backwards, rolling away from the desk and tipping out of balance too, but he’s quick to steady himself, staring at her sudden figure at his door with wide eyes.  It’s the only part of his expression she can make out, seeing as he’s still got his mask pulled over his face.

“(y/n)!” He greets her louder than he intended, but he had yet to shake off his surprise in seeing her.  A fond smile tilts the corners of her mouth, unable to be helped as she watches him awkwardly scramble in his seat.  “How long have you been standing there?” 

“Long enough to consider leaving if you were crying under there” She teases, finally stepping foot into the room.  Her eyes wander the bare gray walls, a slight frown taking over at how empty the whole space feels.

“No, I’m not-” Before he continues, Ino’s quick to yank his mask off his face, pulling it off his head completely and dropping it on his desk.  “What brings you here?” He changes the subject completely, his eyes never leaving her figure as she wanders around the room as if looking for something.

He realizes then that she’s never seen his office- not that there was much to see, as she was coming to find- but nonetheless it’s odd that she’s the one approaching him for once.  It was always Ino searching around the halls of Jujutsu Tech for her, not the other way around.

“So empty,” (y/n) comments quietly, and he’s not sure if she was talking to herself or him.  “You don’t like to decorate?” She asks, this time turning to him.

“I’m not in here very much,” He admits, a sheepish smile on his face.  “I take most of my paperwork home.  If I’m here I’m not usually in the office” 

“Yeah,” (y/n) smiles softly, ducking her head to hide the way her face warms up.  “That’s cause you’re usually trying to bother me” 

She doesn’t see it, but Ino’s face lights up.  He bears a wide grin and his eyes gleam with excitement.  She was acting quite out of character today.  Usually he was the one teasing her.  This was a real treat.

“Bother?” He repeats, standing up from his chair and rounding his desk to lean against it, completely ignoring the half-written report on his computer that he hadn’t hit save on in a while.  “I don’t seem to remember ever bothering you” 

She rolls her eyes, finally looking up at him, and Ino thinks he could combust from excitement.  She’s blushing, which he’s not sure he’s ever seen before, and he can tell she’s fighting back a bigger smile behind the small one she shows him.

“Well what would you call it then?” She asks, still struggling to bite back a grin that mirrors his.  So much joy poured out of him it was difficult to fight the way it took her by the soul and forced her to feel nothing but warmth and butterflies.

“Obviously I was romancing you,” Ino replies without missing a beat, surprising even himself with the blunt truth.  Besides the way her eyes round into saucers, (y/n) doesn’t really react to the statement.  “Not my fault you’re a hard person to flirt with sometimes” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, and then tucks his hands into his pockets.

(y/n) blinks a few times, staring him down like she was suddenly an expert in body language.

“I am?” She asks, a small laugh escaping her at the suggestion.  “Because maybe I didn’t know you were flirting” She says with a shrug of her own.

Ino gapes back at her, unable to keep up with the chill facade when she says something so ridiculous.

“What do you mean you didn’t know?” He asks, and she laughs again, finally losing the battle to the grin on her face.  “Was I not obvious enough? You know that even Gojo was trying to get me to-” 

“Yeah, I know,” (y/n) says quietly, but it’s effective in getting him to shut up.  “One of his students might’ve told me some rumors they heard from him” She explains.

“What!?” Embarrassment floods his features.  “Who? I want names-” 

“Can’t, teacher-student confidentiality and all” She teases.  

She’s learning it was quite fun to not be on the receiving end of the playful banter.  In the past it was always Ino with the perfect quip or joke to have her flustered for the rest of the day, even if she wouldn’t show it.  Knowing he was actually incredibly easy to mess with felt like knowing his weakness.

“You’re not a teacher” He deadpans.  She laughs again.

“Well, I actually came to let you know that certain sorcerers here were spreading rumors to slander your good name,” She tells him matter of factly.  “But it appears those rumors are actually true, so they’re not really rumors, huh?” 

Ino rolls his eyes, but it’s in no way directed at her.  He makes a mental note to bring this up to Nanami to add to the very long list of grievances caused by Gojo Satoru.

(y/n) steps close to him, linking her fingers together behind her back as she finds the courage to hold eye contact with him.

“Why didn’t you just ask me out?” She asks.

He hates that she tilts her head to the side just so.  She did it on occasion when she was confused about something, and Ino’s sure that she’s not even aware that she had that tendency, but every time she did it he was so overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her that most of the time he had to completely walk away from her.

But they’re in his office, having a conversation he really didn’t want to walk away from.  If he ran now, there would be no coming back from it, and his intrigue in how she felt about him outweighed the aggravation she caused him when she looked that pretty.

He’s staring at her without saying anything, and he knows it’s been a few seconds too long to be comfortable, but it’s hard to care.  She’s close enough to him that he can smell her perfume and see how every strand of hair falls over left shoulder and he can’t help but take in every pretty sight of her.

He once swore he wasn’t a desperate man, hence his patience in waiting while he tried to figure out how she felt before he made a move, but standing here now, what’s one promise in the grand scheme of life? 

So he leans forward off his desk a bit, desperation getting the best of him.

“Would you have agreed?” 

She raises her chin, the apples of her cheeks getting rosy in color despite her trying to play it cool.

“I asked you first” 

“I asked you second” 

That had her bursting out in laughter, hands falling to her hips.

“Oh, real mature!” She says through a fit of bubbly giggles.

It’s cute.  It was so cute in fact, Ino just couldn’t take it anymore.  The fun banter he’d tried to establish had now warped into his own personal hell.

And hell didn’t even have any boring office decorations, no succulents, no photo frames, not even a calendar.

“Just answer the question,” He says, and it comes out as more of a plea than he means for it to, but he doesn’t bother trying to compensate for it, or taking it back.  “Would you have agreed to go out with me?” 

He has a hopeful look in his eye that only seems to gleam more with every second that passes without her response.  (y/n) softens, the warmth in her chest spreading throughout her entire body and making her melt like putty.  It was almost pathetic, how quickly this little crush she’d harbored for the sorcerer had grown into something more genuine than she’s ever felt for anyone before.

“Yeah,” She answers simply, quietly, barely nodding her head along with her confirmation.  “Yeah, I would have” 

The smile he wears is so sweet and pure that she’s mirroring it in a heartbeat.

“Okay,” He thinks he’s going to pass out if he doesn’t hurry this up, so he rushes the next string of words out so fast (y/n’s) lucky she managed to understand him.  “You wanna go out then? Tonight? For drinks? And then maybe dinner?” 

She’s laughing as she nods, her hands nervously fiddling together.

“Okay,” She repeats, rocking back and forth on her feet just once.  “But you should finish your report first.  So, call me when you’re done?” 

He wants to protest, but he knows she’s right.  So as he hands her his phone to add herself as a contact, Ino mentally starts going through what he has to finish so he could get through it as quickly as possible.

She’s still grinning when she hands him his phone back, already eager for the day to be over.

“I’ll be quick, promise” He beams back at her as she makes her way out of his office.

“You pick where we go for drinks, and I’ll pick where we go for dinner,” She decides, lingering at the doorway for just a moment longer.  “Sound good?” 

“Sounds perfect” He’s back in his chair and clicking away at his keyboard as he writes nonsense into his report.  

(y/n’s) gone with a little wave and a blush that only burns brighter the further away she gets.  She just hopes she doesn’t run into anyone in the meantime.

Ino tries to work on his report after adding some meaningless fluff of things that didn’t really happen, and weren’t really necessary for the report.  He really does try.

For five whole minutes.

But then he can’t help but open his phone to check on the contact (y/n) had just made for himself, and seeing the little orange heart emoji she’d added next to her name has him swooning way too hard- over an emoji, at least.  But that’s what she reduced him to, mush.

(y/n’s) just reached the front steps of Jujutsu Tech when her phone starts blaring her ringtone in her pocket.  She makes a face at the unknown number calling her, but it’s washed away as soon as she picks it up.

“Would you believe me if I said I finished already?” Ino’s speaking right away, without so much as a greeting.  

She giggles into the receiver, because no, no she doesn’t.

“That’s quite impressive work” She praises.

“I think you’ll come to find I’m quite an impressive guy!” He responds, and then quickly follows it with, “Not in, like, a douchebag way though!” 

She fights the urge to laugh any harder, not wanting to put him through any more embarrassment than he’s already suffered today.  They still have an entire evening ahead of them, after all.

“Of course not,” She murmurs softly.  “Meet me at the front steps, then? We can go into town together” 

And when Ino’s there in under a minute, trying desperately not to show how out of breath he is, she doesn’t tease him for it.  Not until later in the night after a few drinks in, anyways.

___

i mean ino's been over to your place so many times that he calls your parents mom and dad. and you've been over to his house so much that takuma's mom practically jumped for joy every time you burst through the front doors with a "guess who's home!!!" so it was completely normal that you guys knew the ins and outs of each other's rooms, right?

"kuma, baby," you started with a sigh, reveling in your best friend's repetitive motions. running his hand through your hair, ino looked down at you, eyes showing that he was listening. "i'm scared, what if we don't–"

"ah-ah-ah! no negativity here!" he cut you off, pushing you off his lap and grabbing the letters you left on his desk. "listen here beautiful," takuma says, bringing a hand to your cheek, his heart swelling when you subconsciously leaned into it, "we're gonna take each other's letters, and open them," he handed you a white envelope, the logo of both of yours dream university on it, "starting with, kyōmei."

taking a well needed deep breath, you nodded. "okay," you and ino began to open the envelopes at the same time, only looking at each other when you saw the status. "accepted or rejected in 3...2...1..."

"ACCEPTED"

"ACCEPTED"

cue the mandatory silence before the screaming. "holy shit. you got in." "you got in." "WE GOT IN!!! WE'RE GOING TO KYŌMEI!!!!" you two practically flew off the bed, jumping up and down in celebration. peppering his face in kisses, you nuzzled your face into takuma's neck. "i'm so proud of us! i mean, kyōmei," you pulled away from his neck, shaking his shoulders harshly, "the kyōmei?!!!"

anyways, soon enough, you both realized that you'd have to move away, resulting in a seven hour search for apartments near the university's campus. and just as takuma was about to give up, you found a listing for units 19A and 19B, right in the heart of the city and just a five minute walk from kyōmei

and with that, it was moving day, well, days is more like it considering that the whole process took like ten days... finding cute furniture is really hard! and moving all of it is even harder!! and don't even get me started on the appliances! although, you and takuma found a way around it

like what do both of you need a microwave for? and there isn't a reason to have two dishwashers, there wasn't even a reason to have one! y'all kept your fridges though... who was gonna be banging on the other's door in the middle of the night for some cold water??

with time, it came for the highly anticipated freshman formal, an welcome event hosted by kyōmei itself, and of course, you had to go. so here you were, staring at your figure in the mirror as your best friend's large hand rubbed your shoulder, the other zipping up your black dress. "all done!" he breathed, taking a step away so that you could see for yourself. "i look so cute~" you giggled, hearing the clack of your heels as you twirled. "you do!" he paused, looking you up and down, "when did you get that dress?"

"your mom gave it to me a couple days ago! where'd you get that tux? i don't think i've seen it before," you walked over and straightened takuma's suit, as he laughed in response, "your mom gave it to me..."

"this was planned."

"this was definitely planned."

"we should send a picture in the family group chat!"

"we should!!! but, hair first!"

notice how i said family group chat, singular, not plural. and that's because there's a gc for both of your families! it's name was a mix between "ino" and your last name, since, in all seriousness, your families were close

so here you were, sitting pretty on takuma's lap as you focused on straightening the front pieces of his hair, because that's what best friends do!

"okayyyy sexyyyy," you squealed, moving out of the way so that takuma could see himself in your vanity mirror, "damnn, i look hot!" he smiled as he checked himself out, his hand firmly on your waist (to make sure that you wouldn't fall, of course!). "i knew i was fine but, did i always look this fine?" he asked, looking up at you with his big dark brown eyes, a playful smirk evident on his face. "yes, takuma. you're the sexiest man ever. just a bit of eyeliner on you and we'll be on our way, okay?"

turning back to your station, you grabbed some brown and black pencils before starting to lightly draw over ino's outer eye corner, "do men as sexy as me really need eyeliner?" a look from you was all he needed to know to shut up and close his eyes

and oh, how he loved being so close to you. not just emotionally but physically as well. like, not every duo can say that they barge into the other's apartment to steal snacks! and speaking of snacks... let me just say, there's a whole cabinet in his kitchen reserved for your favorite foods and! he keeps your favorite ice cream flavor stocked in his freezer

you, on the other hand, have a little space where you hide takuma's favorite anything. chips, gummies, takeout menus, you name it, you have it. because your best friend is oh-so-optimistic, it can be harder for him when he's just not having the best of days. which is why when you go your (not so) separate ways at the end of the day, you pack up a basket for him. ribbons in his favorite color, his top 15 favorite snacks from that one time y'all bought one of everything in a nearby convenience store and ranked them, takeout on the way, horror flicks he's been wanting on dvd because he said "its cooler that way", and a handwritten letter from you, for my kuma, scribbled on the envelope

dropping off the basket at his door and retreating back to your place, you'd press your ear against the wall separating your units, physically feeling your heart break when you heard sniffles. that was all you needed to practically fly over to his, a few boxes of tissues in hand. because that's what best friends do!

and don't even get me started on how many belongings y'all have at the other's place... like that one time takuma walked into your apartment announcing his presence, only to be met with silence. let me set up the scene for you. you are taking a relaxing shower when you hear a knock on the door followed by four more and then three more. "come in!" you called out, unbeknownst to you, ino's voice was closer than you thought

"already in here..., anyways. is my shampoo in there?"

"the one with the purple cap?"

"yeah, thanks babe!"

"wait, can you get me my towel?"

or that time when you causally opened the door to his unit (because it was basically yours too) and greeted him with a simple pat on his head before skipping off to find those jeans you thrifted

slight cohabitation aside, the university life was definitely... something. it was clear and obvious that you two were close, a blind man could see it. but close is a really really really vague word, and it's surely not the word that describes the way the two of you act. in this friendship, terms of endearment drop like rain from clouds. every. other. sentence. contains a "babe" or "baby" or "sweetheart" or "darling" WE GET IT OKAY...

and it seems like if y'all go a single day without touching each other, a bomb will fall from the sky and earth would blow up. his hands are constantly on you, his favorite places (when in public) being your shoulders and arms, and when at home it was without a doubt your waist and thighs. just imagine how difficult it must be for people speak to you both on campus when his arm is slung around you and your hand is holding onto his side. the rumors practically created themselves....

and when i say people were shocked, i mean they were SHOCKED when y'all were like "haha, no, we're not dating!!! we're best friends!" everyone was thinking: yeah best friends who FUCK. best friends who are IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER. y'all became the campus' it couple without being a couple. how does that happen??!??

however... there were a couple of people who were particularly excited to hear that you both were single. a few girls approached you one day while in the general area, asking if it was true that you and ino weren't dating. "we aren't... why?" one of the girls shifted on her feet, clearly nervous. "well... could you um... give this to him for me?!" she bowed, presenting a pretty pink envelope. you froze, staring at the item before giggling. "i see what this is about! don't worry! i'll make sure this gets to him safely!" long story short, that letter was never delivered

and on ino's side, he had some classmates pestering him about you. asking for your favorite show, candy, date style, everything under the sun. "guys, guys! she doesn't even want a boyfriend right now!" takuma shouted, even though two days prior you were complaining about how spending too much time with him was scaring all the hotties away

but let's get into the real stuff... the realization of love

for takuma, there wasn't a "wow, i'm in love with her" moment. what he does know though is that he started feeling something different for you a few months before college admission season. to him, the world was always bright with you by his side but now... it was so much brighter. it was like looking directly into the sun; it hurt but he couldn't look away, he doesn't want to look away. you're the best thing to ever happen to him, and the mere thought of ruining what you have just for some feeling—no matter how intense—isn't... right to him

and you figured it out after a dream you had one night back in high school. you dreamt of being in takuma's arms, the ones you snuck glances at when he wasn't paying attention to you. in not dream world, all you had to do was ask and he'd gladly envelop you but the vibes in this dream were different. there was tension. and it was thick. his beanie was off and thrown somewhere on the bed, your bed. looking back at him, your breath caught in your throat, "hey pretty," he slurred, drunk off tiredness. ino's called you beautiful more times than you can count; he made sure to do it at least once a week, so why... just why did this time make your stomach heat up and your heart race? you woke up with a flushed face, queasy feeling in your gut, and a deep understanding. it wasn't just platonic love anymore

"hey," you started, eyes trained on the movie in front of you, but your mind was focused on something else, "y'know how everyone thinks we're dating?" ino nodded as you reached over to grab the bowl of popcorn. "i've been thinking... maybe they're onto something..."

takuma's gulp could be heard from miles away, "wh-what are you trying to say?"

"what are we? seriously. because i can't sit here and pretend like i don't wish we were something more."

"something more like...?"

"now's not the time to be oblivious! don't you get it?! i'm—"

"i'm in love with you,"

it was like time stood still as you looked at your best friend. his face was lit by the tv screen a couple feet away, his hair was a mess, and slightly prominent dark circles were under his eyes, but... he's never looked more beautiful to you. "have been. for a long time. we've basically been dating for like four years already. four more and then we'll get married?" he flashed his signature smile

"oh, shut up," he brought your face millimeters away from his, whispering "make me." before kissing you deeply, not on your cheek, or your forehead, or your shoulders, but on your lips this time. and all the times after that too

because that's what best friends lovers do, right?

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mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo whose favorite thing is making you beg. She'll have you on your knees, pretty mouth stretched around her strap while she pets your hair and mocks you in her sweet and condescending voice. "You can go deeper, sweetheart. You were so loud on the phone earlier telling me how empty you felt. Now you're acting like you can’t handle it?" She pushes her hips forward just enough to make you gag, then laughs when tears prick your eyes.

mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who, after she's got you all worked up and dripping, she flips you onto the bed like you weight nothing, the size difference always makes you throb. She's a special grade sorcerer and you're just... you. It turns you on so much you get stupid for her. You end up face down, ass up, whimpering her name while she fucks you hard from behind, one hand fisted in your hair. "That's iiiiiit, moan for me louder, stupid girl. Let me hear how much you love getting that tight pussy ruined."

mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo whose aftercare is soft in the filthiest way. She pulls you into her lap, still buried inside of you and makes you cockwarm her while she feeds you snacks and strokes you back. Yo2u get all clingy, nuzzling into her chest, you hear her chuckle and say: "Look at my cute girl. Don't worry, princess, your mom will never find out how much of a whore you are for me."

mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who loves the risk. It makes everything hotter. Sometimes she'll text you while you're having dinner with your mom, describing exactly what she's going to do to you later. You have to sit there blushing and trying not to squirm while Yuki sends messages like gonna fuck that pretty mouth until you forget your own name. You always end up excusing yourself early with some lame excuse just to run back to her.

mom's best friend!yuki tsukumo who still can't believe how shy you get even after all the times she's fucked you stupid. When you're riding her she'll grip your hips hard enough to bruise and force you to look her in the eyes. "Don't hide that face. I wanna see how dumb I make you." You always end up a teary mess, telling her how she owns you and how you'd let her do anything.

You heard her door open across the hall. The heavy sigh of her jacket hitting the chair before she even stepped inside fully. Before she could unbutton her shirt more than halfway she was already knocking on your door. Sharp and eager. You answered fast. Cheeks warm, dressed in those tiny shorts and the thin tank top that showed the soft curve of your breasts, summer air making everything sticky sweet.

"Hey." She said, voice low and tired but lighting up the second her eyes landed on you. Her uniform shirt hung open, white bra peeking through. Work pants still hugging her hips and high heels barely kicked off. "Join me for dinner, babes?"

You smiled, and gave her a nod. Already closing your own door behind you and padding barefoot across to hers. The burritos waited on the counter like a promise, then she pulled you in for a quick hug, her body warm from the long shift, her hands left your waist a second later, eyed you quickly once."I'm gonna shower first. I'm disgusting after today," she murmured quietly, then turned on her heels and headed to her bedroom.

You settled on the couch, reaching for the remote, fingers brushing the cool plastic, flipping through channels, the tv hummed softly in the background but your mind wandered to her… the water had turned on, a steady rush that made your stomach tense.Then her voice called out, muffled but clear. "Fuck babe. I forgot my towel. Can you bring it for me?"

Your feet moved before your brain caught up. You grabbed the soft towel from her bedroom, heart pounding as you stepped into the steamy bathroom. The air was thick with heat and the scent of her soap. You tossed the towel over the rack, but the shower curtain slid open before you could pull back. Her wet hand grabbed your wrist, firm and sure. Blonde hair tied up in a messy bun. Water streaming down her toned body and hazel eyes sparkling with that familiar hunger.

"Join me please, pretty girl?" She pouted, then a smile curved her lips playfully.

You didn't even pretend to hesitate, your hands lifted your tank top over your head in an instant. Breasts bouncing free in the humid air. Yuki's eyes darkened, she hooked a finger into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down slow along with your panties. Letting them pool at your ankles. Kicking them aside as she pulled you under the spray, water soaking you instantly, warm and relentless.

Your cunt was already dripping, slick with excitement that had nothing to do with the shower. Yuki pressed you back against the cool tile, her hands on your waist holding you steady, kissing your neck first. Open mouthed and greedy, tongue tracing the pulse there. You whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as her mouth traveled lower. Sucking at the swell of your breasts, teeth grazing one nipple until it pebbled hard under her attention.

She moved back up…slowly, kissing your chin, then hovered just before your lips. Her brown eyes met yours for the first time properly that evening, she really looked at you, her hands cupping your face, thumbs stroking your wet cheeks.

"So pretty." She whispered, soft like a secret meant only for the steam between you.

Then she leaned back in and kissed you deep, hot and steamy as she stole your breath. Her tongue licked into your mouth. Claiming, tasting… while one hand drifted down your body, fingers teased over your stomach then lower. Until they cupped your cunt, sliding through your folds with ease, you moaned into her mouth, hips bucking against her palm.

"Missed this." She breathed against your lips. Breaking the kiss just enough to speak. "Missed you waiting for me with dinner and that cute little note. Fuck. You spoil me, chef."

Your soft laughter turns into a gasp as she circles your clit with two fingers, unhurriedly and savouring. Water cascading over your joined bodies, making everything slicker and hotter. Your hands roams her back, nails digging into her shoulders as she pressed a thigh between your legs. Giving you something solid to grind against.

"Yuki." You gasped. Voice echoing off the tiles. "P-Please."

She chuckled low, the sound vibrating through you. "Always so polite even when you're this wet for me." Her fingers dipped inside you, curling just right. Thumb still working your clit in tight circles, you rode her hand shamelessly. Head falling back against the wall, mouth opened in soft cries.

Dinner waited outside. Probably getting cold, but neither of you cared. She kissed you again, hungrier this time. Biting your lower lip as she added another finger. Stretching you open under the spray. Your legs trembled but she held you up easily. Strong from years on the job, murmuring praises between kisses. "Good girl. Taking me so well. My pretty little neighbor who aaah- cooks for me and lets me fuck her senseless."

Yuki kept kissing you, deep and slow. Her mouth hot against yours while her fingers worked your tight pretty cunt open, your twitching clit throbbing under the press of her thumb. Slick and needy in the falling water, she pumped her fingers in and out with steady rhythm, curling them just right against that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes. Your eager pussy clenching around her, still so tight even as you dripped down her hand.

You leaned forward into her, pressing your wet body flush to hers. Your lips found her neck, tasting the clean water mixed with the faint salt of her skin from the long day. She tasted like safety and heat all at once. You sucked softly there, then bolder, leaving little marks she would tease you about later.

"Gonna be a good girl and cum all over my fingers?" She teased. Voice low and rough in your ear, her breath sent fresh shivers racing down your spine.

"Yes." You moaned. The word broke apart. "Ahh fuck gonna… haah- cum Yuki."

She spread your legs wider with her thigh, opening you up even more as she fingered your cunt proper now. Two thick fingers plunged deeper and faster, thumb circling your swollen clit without mercy. The wet sounds of her hand working you filled the shower, mixing with the steady rush of water and your broken whimpers.

"That's it, pretty girl. Let me feel you." She whispered. Kissing along your jaw. "So tight for me. So wet. My sweet girl."

Your hips rocked desperately against her hand, chasing every thrust. The tile felt cool at your back but everywhere Yuki touched burned deliciously hot. She kissed you again, swallowing your cries as your pussy fluttered and squeezed around her fingers. Pleasure coiling tighter in your belly, sharper and overwhelming.

Your body tensing up, then you came hard with a loud moan that echoed off the walls, whole body shaking in her arms. Your cunt pulsed around her. Gushing slick heat that faintly washed away in the spray. Yuki didn't stop right away, she kept stroking you through it. Gentling her touches until you slumped against her chest. Breathing fast and ragged.

She held you close under the water as her hand stroked your back while the other stayed cupped between your thighs, possessive and tenderly. "Good girl." She murmured again. Pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "My favorite way to come home."

Slowly she drew her fingers out from your tight fluttering hole, slick kept dripping from your cunt, clinging desperately as if it didn't want to let her go. Every tiny tug made your walls pulse around nothing. She leaned in and kissed your lips, soft little presses, trying to distract you from the stretch.

You whimpered into her mouth, then your body finally relaxed. Her fingers slid free with a wet sound. Thick strands of your cum and slick stretched between your swollen cunt and her glistening digits. The mess shone under the low light.

She glanced down at the creamy evidence of your pleasure. Her eyes darkened with hunger. Then she looked back at you, at your parted lips, and smiled.

"Open your lips for me, princess," she murmured, voice husky and sweet.

You obeyed without thinking, she brought her cum-coated fingers to your mouth. The scent of your own arousal filled your nose.

"That's it, pretty," she cooed as you wrapped your lips around her fingers. "Suck them clean."

You moaned around the taste, tongue swirling eagerly. The salty-sweet flavor of your cunt coated your tongue. She watched you with heavy-lidded eyes, clearly loving the sight.

"Good girl," she praised, her voice low and warm. "Such a good girl for me."

Then slowly she eased her fingers free from the heat of your mouth, but before you could catch your breath she kissed you again, deeper this time, sharing the messy aftertaste of your own juices, licking into your mouth like she could never get enough. You melted against her, trembling and needy all over again.

After a moment Yuki turned off the shower and reached for the towel. She patted you dry with slow careful strokes. Her touch lingered on your breasts. Down your stomach. Between your legs where you still felt sensitive and warm. You shivered under the gentle friction. She wrapped the towel around herself next, tucking it tight over her curves. 

She then took your hand and tugged you into her bedroom. You stood there by the foot of her bed as she opened her closet and pulled one of her soft t-shirts out and a pair of cute cotton panties for you.

"Here pretty girl. Put these on." She said. Voice warm and low. She helped slide the shirt over your head. Her fingers brushing your nipples on purpose. Making them peak again. The fabric fell loose around your thighs, the underwear hugged your hips snug. You felt claimed. Comfortable, all hers.

The burritos were now warmed enough after a quick reheat. You both ate together. But you didn't sit across from her, instead you climbed right into her lap on the couch. Legs straddling her thighs, the plate balanced between you as she fed you bites from her fork. You did the same for her. Soft giggles mixing with the quiet tv humming in the background.

"You spoil me every time." Yuki said between bites. One hand resting on your lower back. Holding you close. "Coming home to dinner made by my favorite chef. Then getting to kiss you in the shower. Best part of my day."

You leaned in, kissing her softly and tasting the spices on her lips. "I like taking care of you. Especially after you work so hard." Your voice came out shy but happy, body melting against her chest.

Dinner finished slow. Plates set aside and you stayed curled in her lap. Cuddling deep into her warmth, with her arms wrapped around you tight. One hand slipping under your borrowed shirt, cupping your tit. Thumb brushing lazy circles over your nipple and she kissed you again. Deeper this time, her tongue sliding against yours while her body pressed fully to you.

You felt her heartbeat steady under your palm. Her fingers kneading your breast gently, no rushing. Just owning the softness there and you sighed into her mouth. Hips shifting a little in her lap. The summer heat outside forgotten, only the cool apartment air and her touch mattered.

"Stay with me tonight." She whispered against your lips. "Your Mom won't mind if you sleep over again. We can say you crashed after cooking."

You nodded. Already drowsy from the shower. The food. The way she touched you. Your eyes fluttered shut as she kept kissing you. Hands on your tits, body pressed to hers. Safe and wanted in her arms.

Sleep came easy as you drifted off right there on the couch. Head tucked into her neck, her fingers still tracing lazy patterns over your skin. Yuki held you through it all. Pressing occasional kisses to your hair, murmuring how pretty and perfect you are.

Later she carried you to bed. Tucking you under the covers and sliding in behind you. Big spoon to your little. Her hand snuck back under your shirt. Resting possessively on your breast again. You smiled in your sleep, feeling her warmth. Her strength, the way she made every stolen moment feel like forever.

In the quiet apartment across the hall from your mom's place. This was your comfort. It lied with Yuki. The older woman next door, The one who let you cook for her, fuck you breathless and fall asleep knowing you were her pretty girl. Always.

You had an ass in the same way that everybody else did, but nothing comparable to the pin-up poster Yuuji tore down when you two started dating. Or his celebrity fascination, Jennifer Lawrence (which also mysteriously stopped being mentioned when you two started dating).

Rather, your body was much more endowed in ways that made Nobara tease as you passed lingerie stores with hot pink lighting and black walls and heavy busts plastered in the windows. She’d snag you by the sleeve and point, just to watch how you scoff and look away.

Yuuji pointedly ignores those stores. He ignores everything in relation to them.

You’d picked this shirt just for tonight. It dips low into your cleavage, just tight enough to still push up the tender meat of your breasts. Not to mention the color - deep crimson, Yuuji’s favorite. Well, at least the closest you’ll ever get to a favorite color with his indecisive nature.

Yuuji sits across from you at the scratched table. When his eyes aren’t scavenging the conveyor belt for small, shiny, colored plates serving anything that may catch his eye, they’re on your face. And only your face.

Normally something you’d absolutely cheer over - if this were a first date, but the fact is that this is one of many dates. And after so many dates that you can’t count anymore, you’re starting to want Yuuji’s eyes to drift.

You want him to look and you want to watch him sweat and go red. You’re starting to need it.

The need only grows more apparent mere days later.

Yuuji keeps his hands stubbornly on your hips, barely making an imprint from outside your clothes. But you choose not to make a fuss since he’s otherwise fully engrossed with keeping his lips pasted to yours. Your hands are sweaty and hot on Yuuji’s cheeks, you just know they are, but he doesn’t seem to mind when he lets you hold him close and grind on him.

Yet his palms are stiff against you. They don’t feel warm or cold or clammy or moist. They just… are. He chokes back every groan and huff and you almost feel embarrassed to be letting out hitches and breathy moans so freely in comparison.

Puffing your chest out, you can feel your breasts pillowing against Yuuji and you’re hoping to tempt him to move his hands up. Under your shirt and bra with bare skin on bare skin. The idea makes you mewl, dragging your hips harder against his and further pushing out your tits for him to grope.

And suddenly, his stiff hands are picking you up off his lap, sliding you beside him on your couch. Yuuji grins, standing and swiping his hands down the legs of his sweatpants before planting a kiss on your forehead, “Sorry, gotta pee.”

“Oversharing!” you call after his retreating form.

When Yuuji returns, he sits down and rewinds the movie you two had put on earlier. He frowns and murmurs about how much the both of you missed. When you don’t turn back to the TV immediately, Yuuji smiles again and kisses your cheek.

Your gut twists unpleasantly.

And that need festers into utter desperation by just the next afternoon.

“Hey, Yuuji,” you come up from behind your boyfriend, arms dangling over the back of his couch and framing his shoulders. You place your chin on his head, staring at the intense cooking competition he’s watching, “So, I know I just got here… but! I’ve got a small, teensy errand to run.”

“Mhm?” he tilts his head back to meet your eyes, “Want me to go with you?”

His offer has you nodding, trying to smother down the bright simper he threatens to drag out of you, “Yeah, if you’re not busy.”

Sucking in air noisily through his teeth, Yuuji gestures out to the show he lazes in front of, “I dunno, babe, I am watching TV.”

“Very funny,” you back away from his couch, already heading to the door to tug your shoes on, “Just saying, you don’t have to come with if you don’t want to,” Yuuji always wants to come with, you like that about him, “Just getting some new bras.”

Your current ones are fine, but maybe a stuffy changing room is that nudge he needs.

“Oh,” your boyfriend pauses, eyes widening, “Uh. You might want to take Kugisaki for that, she’d know more than me,” he can’t even look at you, “I’m not really the kinda person you’d want around for that.”

You almost ask what he means by that, but the rejection has fried your brain to a gray, crunchy crisp. The kind of fry that looks like it could flake apart with a harsh jab. Again, that terrible, awful knotting in your stomach returns, but you carry on. Because if you claimed to no longer need this errand ran, then he might know what your scheme was - and that was far worse than whatever this hell was.

So you nod slowly and meekly call out that you love him before exiting the door. He says he loves you more.

You really wish you asked what he meant.

Finally, desperation comes to a head when you meet Yuuji’s friend - Todo, Aoi.

Todo, Aoi, who stares at you - eyes narrow as he judges each wrinkle in your clothes and jitter of your muscles - then turns to Yuuji, and asks point-blank, “Did you lie about your type, then, brother?”

Yuuji rips the hand in his pocket out and cuts it across his neck in a slicing motion, mouthing a couple of rude ‘shut up’s. You lean into Yuuji’s side, squeezing the hand he lays in yours tighter. It isn’t sweaty. And it isn’t very warm, either.

Aoi doesn’t seem very upset at the idea, “I’m happy you’re happy,” you look down at your shoes when he glances back over at you, “I was excited when I thought we had the same type.”

No, you weren’t very tall. And no, your butt wasn’t exceptionally big. You fell on the more mediocre sides of those categories, the thing you excelled in (what you thought most guys were thrilled over) was having a large bust.

“Dude!” Yuuji hits Aoi in the shoulder. Hard, “Shut up!”

He squeezes your hand so tight you think it might bruise.

“Sorry, brother,” Aoi, you were warned, was extremely unusual - little to no boundaries and almost inept at social interactions outside of fighting. He does seem sympathetic enough, turning to you, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

It’s all so sickening. How you wish Yuuji would hurry up and show interest in shallow things. How you place personal esteem on this whole fiasco. How right Aoi is. How badly you’re letting everything affect you.

The ringing in your ears, for example. The way you no longer think you can stomach whatever Aoi was cooking tonight. The shortness of your breath.

You try to push it down. Tonight is supposed to be fun.

Yuuji shoves his friend, much more lightheartedly than his previous blow, and goes to kiss your forehead - but hesitates. His smile is uneven, “Don’t listen to him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he squeezes your hand, “I love you,” then, apologetically, he smooths his thumb over the sore spots where he clenched your hand, “I love you so much.”

And you know that. You know it like you know your favorite movie.

Tonight was supposed to be fun.

He loves you, you know that - what you don’t know, is if he wants you. Doesn’t he get sweaty palms like you? Doesn’t he feel his intestines tie into bunches of little knots like you? Doesn’t he get all hot in the face like you? Doesn’t he want you like you want him?

It’s humiliating to imagine that he doesn’t, and the mere idea makes you so nauseous you think you might hurl at this very moment.

Maybe your boyfriend just doesn’t find you as attractive as you want him to.

Maybe you should give up this repetitive scheme.

The car is quiet, unbearably so. Your knees are angled away from Yuuji defiantly, legs pushed to the far side of your seat so it’d be a hassle for him to reach out and hold your thigh. You used to think it meant something when he did that, but now it seems as though he’s doing it out of duty. Like holding the door for someone behind you. Or offering your seat on the bus to elderly passengers. Simple acts of simple kindness.

The most basic peacekeeping, if anything.

Yuuji peeks at you without turning away from the road, hands tightening around the steering wheel, “Are you upset?”

You could be snippy. You could even opt to not respond.

But you do neither, “Yeah.”

He sighs through his nose, “Seriously, don’t listen to Todo. He doesn’t know anything.”

Now, you’re a little snippy. To point out that Aoi’s being stupid isn’t uncalled for, but to claim he doesn’t know exactly what stupid shit he’s saying is.

“He has a point.”

“Huh?” Yuuji turns his head fully to look at you, something he only does because the quiet backroad home is empty, “What’re you talking about?”

Only flickering, crooked, rusty street lamps are witness to your impending breakdown. Your boyfriend returns his stare to the road. Crickets sing outside and the wind flattens over long grass that shines under moonlight.

“Yuuji,” sinking into your seat, you ignore his eyes, “You can’t seriously say you have no idea,” he’s quiet, lips pressed thinly, “Since we met, practically everybody has known your type. I knew you had a type! It was a shock to our friends when we got together! And now that we are…”

Pulling off into the grassy plain lining your way home, Yuuji slips the key from the ignition and unclicks his seatbelt to really examine you. His eyes scramble over you, every part the sensitive, concerned boyfriend you know and treasure. He pouts, but it’s in earnest; hurt simply because you’re hurt.

“And now that we are?”

“Why don’t you look at me?”

“I look at you!” he rubs the back of his neck, now quirking a brow at you, “I look at you all the time.”

“No,” you whine like a petulant child, hands coming up to cover your face, “It’s different!”

Aoi’s words just won’t stop creeping up your spine. Yuuji setting you aside on the couch. Yuuji insisting that you bring Nobara to a lingerie store instead of him. He was lying to someone, right? Was it to Aoi or you?

But everybody had seen that poster, and everybody could hear him declare his preferences.

“It’s way different,” you’re so humiliated you’re nauseous, your voice wobbles.

Yuuji tenderly takes your wrists, dragging down your hands. His smile is squiggly, brows high to his forehead, “Talk to me, pretty girl. You want me to look at you?” you nod, “So tell me what you mean by that.”

You almost hate how soft his voice is. It makes it so hard to be upset.

“I’m not your type,” your eyes trail the way Yuuji’s fingers dance around yours, “And every time I try to… you know, get you to think of me as something other than just cute or pretty - you turn me down. I feel like you don’t find me attractive.”

“Oh, like sexually?”

“Mhmm,” you nod glumly. When he’s quiet for just a couple of seconds too long, you ask, “Did you know what I was trying to do?”

“Kind of,” Yuuji’s cheeks are growing red, eyes now abandoning your entwined hands to stare out the windshield, “I do find you attractive - that’s a little bit of the problem.”

“What?”

He sucks in a breath sharply, engulfing your hands completely with his and squeezing (much more mindfully this time), “I’m crazy about you,” he can tell you don’t believe him, “It scares me a little,” he pulls his hands away and cradles his own over his lap, “I’m worried that if I give in, I’ll scare you off… like I’m too eager or something.”

“Yuuji!” you adjust in your seat, moving sideways and finally letting your knees face your boyfriend again, “You wouldn’t scare me off by being eager about my body! That’s a good thing, right? When we’re both into each other, that’s good!”

“No, I mean,” he’s gone rouge all the way up to his ears now, a fire bright in his chest, “I want you so bad it makes me feel like all my skin’s burning. My hands get all gross and sweaty so I have to wipe them on my pants, and- and I can’t think straight,” he’s still not looking at you, but the way he’s pressing his arms down on his crotch tells you he wants to, “Even now, I think I’m going crazy just imagining you…”

You sit up on your knees, leaning over the center console just to watch your boy squirm at the invasion of space, “Imagining me?” he nods shakily, “Imagining me how?”

He whines, turning his head and pressing his scorching face into your neck, “You know how.”

“Come on, pretty boy,” you kneel over the console entirely, squeezing behind the wheel to settle on Yuuji’s lap - slapping away his hands from the growing tent in his baggy pants, “Entertain me, please?”

“Imagining you under me, on me, between my legs,” his hands fly to your hips, palms slipping up under your shirt, and, God, his palms are sweaty, “Any way you’ll have me,” you cup his cheeks and press messy kisses to his lips. Yuuji’s hands roam further up your shirt, fingertips teasing under the cups of your bra, “Any way I can see your tits.”

“I thought you were more into ass,” your bravado falls under his admission, suddenly bashful.

Yuuji closes his eyes, swallowing hard while pushing his hands under your bra, he can feel his heartbeat all the way at the back of his throat. His rough palms cupping the soft, fleshy fat on your chest, “As if that matters,” his brows knit, hips subconsciously jerking up into yours, “I’m a horny guy: my hot girlfriend has big boobs, and I’m obsessed with her big boobs.”

“Just ‘cuz you’re horny?” you tease, grinding down on the bump of his hard cock. His loose pants let him spring up under your skirt, knocking into your panty-clad cunt.

“Nah,” his eyes flutter open, sweaty palms moving around your back and clumsily unhooking your troublesome bra. It takes him three tries, “I like every part of you all the time…” the tip of his tongue parts his lips in hard concentration, “Your whole body makes me feel like I’m full of bugs.”

“‘Full of bugs?!’” you snort, lifting your arms so Yuuji can yank off your shirt and bra in one ungraceful motion.

“In a good way,” he promises, eyes locked on your heaving chest. You can hear the thick breaths he struggles through, “‘m so nervous and horny at the same time, it feels like bugs in my stomach.”

“What’re you nervous for?”

“‘Cuz I wanna make you cum, but I’m worried I’ll cream my pants before we even get to it,” he finally looks into your eyes, he smiles at you with flaming cheeks and palms at your breasts, “It was so hard making sure I kept it together… Been jerkin’ off every night thinking of you - ask Sukuna, he’ll tell you. It’s been embarrassing.”

“Augh, Yuuji!”

“It’s true!”

It makes your palms hot and sweaty, the image of him so desperate. All for you.

“Hm,” you croon, grinding against your boyfriend’s cock, back arching to press your tits closer to his face, “Yuuji...”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Yuuji sucks one of your nipples between his lips and laves it with his tongue. He bucks up against your wetting panties. Pulling away from your nipple with a soft pop, Yuuji stares up at you with another earnest, flustered pout, “Can you take it out for me?”

As if you could forget what he’s talking about, he humps you again.

“Please, take it out,” he cranes his neck to run his warm, wet tongue over your other, unattended nipple.

“Aw,” you didn’t think seeing your big, energetic boyfriend act so pathetic would set you on fire the way it does. One of your hands stretches down between you and Yuuji, wrangling down his pants with him lifting his hips to help, “Do you want me to play with your cock?”

He hums against your breast, nodding eagerly, “Yuh- yeah- ! Please?”

Your fingers wrap around the warm softness of Yuuji’s erection, thumb playfully nudging his mushroom tip’s slit. He throws his head back, ricocheting against the car seat headrest with a throaty groan.

Giggling, you lean in to kiss the sensitive spot just under Yuuji’s jaw, hand still working up Yuuji’s weeping cock, “Having a good time, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” he unwinds his arms around you to grasp your hips once again, fingers bruising at your sides, “Feels so good - so, so good…”

“Who’s making you feel good, Yuuji?”

“You!” his right thigh twitches under you, “You, you - ‘s always you!”

“Always me?”

His chuckle breaks off into a slack-jawed moan, “Said I jerk off to you every night, didn’t I?” he reaches for your wrist, “Wait, wait!”

“Were you…?” so soon?

“I told you!” now he’s the one whining like a petulant brat, “I don’t wanna cum before you, but you just make it so hard.”

So soon.

Your thighs squish around Yuuji’s, hips grinding on nothing - desperate in search of friction.

“You like that?” he sounds breathless, staring at you as you watch his bobbing cock. All red at the head and straining against your hand, “You’re so mean, babe.”

“I like it a lot,” you sit up, lips finding Yuuji’s drool-slicked ones, “I like knowing I have that effect on you.”

“Since I first saw you, I think,” he admits, hands skimming under your skirt now, “Can I… ?”

You nod, holding tightly to Yuuji’s shoulders while you lean on one leg. You could, theoretically, drag your panties down your lifted leg by yourself - but Yuuji stubbornly joins your hand all the way down to your ankle.

Before trying to slip inside you, Yuuji cups your hot sex. His chest tightens, middle finger shakily tracing along your soaked cunt. Tongue lolling back out of his mouth, Yuuji tucks your nipple back into his mouth when he inserts his finger in your hole. Trying to keep his mind as busy as possible so he can stop thinking about how badly he needs to bury himself inside you.

“Yuuji,” your breathing is ragged, already lowering yourself before he even pulls his finger out of you, “I’m so past ready.”

“You’re so wet,” he mumbles against the swell of your tit, teasing his teeth against the full flesh, “I dunno if I’ll be able to get in…” he chuckles to himself, lightheaded when he taps the head of his cock against your clit, “Might slip right out, huh?”

“Stop teasing,” you cradle Yuuji’s head to your chest, arms thrown around his neck, “You’re the mean one.”

“I know, I know,” he lowers in his seat, pressing himself finally, finally, finally inside your pussy. Your tits press even closer to his face when you gasp at the stretch, “I’ve been ignoring my poor pretty girl this whole time,” he says it so mournfully, so heartfelt, “So selfish, just thinking of my pride - I didn’t even wonder how my girl felt.”

“Ahh, Yuuji,” you moan, piercing your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m sorry, pretty girl,” he pushes down on your hips, lowering you on his stiff cock until your thighs are flush with his soft pants. They’re a little wet. You don’t care much, and you don’t think Yuuji does either right now. He screws up into you, one arm tight around your waist to pull you down into his thrusts and the other hand finding your slippery clit, “I’m so sorry, angel, can you forgive me?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” his fingers work quick circles on your nerves as he fucks you and you’re barely able to scramble together the words (let alone carry those words out in a sensible form), “Yes - ah! - yes, Yuuji!”

There’s something in the way he twists his hips this time because his cock beats into a particular spot that sends white sparks through your veins. You snap back, head hanging and forcing your bouncing tits directly in Yuuji’s face. Before you can even begin to beg, your big, energetic (and maybe a little pathetic) boyfriend is already nodding to himself.

“Right there, angel?” his fingers leave your clit to press down on where his cock batters your insides, “Is that it? Want me right here?”

“Please!” you squeal, thighs quivering and lungs fresh out of air.

“Uh-huh,” he keeps nodding, head too empty to realize he doesn’t need to anymore, “Uh-huh, anything for you… fuckin’ anything…”

When your lower half burns out, Yuuji keeps you upright - fully fucking up into you at that same spot he pushes down on your tummy. The need to cum burns every nerve in your body - it burns and burns and burns until it changes.

Something fuller and more familiar - in a more daily-life kind of way.

“Ah, Yuuji,” your hands perch on his shoulders, body bouncing with the weight of Yuuji’s hips slinging into yours, “I think- ! It feels like- !”

“Talk to me, angel,” dumbly, he looks up at you, almost snickering, “‘Entertain me.’”

“Feels like ‘m gonna pee,” you try warning him, you really do.

But something behind his eyes just shines brighter, grin widening and he actually laughs, “Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“Fuck yeah,” he stares, wide-eyed, at where you’re creaming on his cock, “You gonna squirt on me, baby?” his foolish nodding quickens with his hips, “Squirt all over me, angel, I want it - want it so bad. Soak my car, oh,” his pretty mouth circles into an ‘O’ just at the thought, “Please, please soak my fucking car!”

Your head jerks back, nails digging into Yuuji’s shoulders, throat snapping raw as you cry out braindead mixtures of your boyfriend’s name and pleas for more and harder and his cum.

He moves the hand on your tummy to swish your clit and spread your mess as far as he can, mouth popping open almost instinctively just to catch stray droplets of your cum in his mouth. One day (tomorrow) he might regret (will definitely regret) intentionally making you spray cum all over his front, and even back, seats, but right now he couldn’t possibly imagine not doing it.

“‘m gonna cum,” he grits his teeth, moans choked back in his throat, “‘m gonna cum - where?” before he can ask again, you find the strength to swivel your hips down on him, “Inside?”

“Inside!” you sob, chest tight and eyes watering at the overstimulation of Yuuji still swirling a thumb on your clit, “Cum inside, Yuuji!”

“Fu- ck,” he squeezes the word out of his chest, seating you fully on his lap when his cock throbs. He juts his chin out towards you when he starts cumming, “Kiss me?”

And you waste no time throwing yourself forward to press chaste, sweet kisses on Yuuji’s drooling lips. He hums and whimpers into your mouth, greedily drinking in the taste of your lips on his. As if he’d been starved of it his entire life.

Yuuji keeps you against him, the both of you slowly coming back down to Earth.

His sopping pants are beginning to cool underneath you.

“Ugh,” you groan at the feeling, “I think we made a mistake.”

“Yeah…” Yuuji sighs, “Oh well. Can’t unfuck in the car now.”

You’re kind of dreading pulling off Yuuji’s soft cock - if you hadn’t done enough to ruin Yuuji’s pants before, then that most certainly will.

Yuuji sighs again, heartier, hands coddling your hips and tenderly rubbing circles into your bone. His eyes fall to your breasts and remain there, “I really am sorry, angel. I- I never, ever wanted you to feel like I didn’t want you.”

Because he does. Good, God, he always does.

Every time he sees you, his hands get all sweaty and his cheeks are hot and his stomach twists into jumbles of knots.

“It hurt,” you admit, “but it’s fine now,” you giggle at the idea of him apologizing over trying to be respectful, “It isn’t like you were being a dick, you know?”

“Yeah, but! Ugh!” he clenches a hand over his heart dramatically, frowning, “I hurt my girlfriend’s feelings. My sweet girl :( “

“You’re cute,” you kiss one of Yuuji’s fiery cheeks, “Okay, help me off.”

“Oh, yeah, huh,” he stretches over your shoulder to wring your panties back up your leg, “It’ll be unpleasant, but I think you need to wear these back to your apartment.”

“I’ll live,” you pick at the elastic to Yuuji’s pants and snap them back against his sweaty thigh, “Can’t be worse than this, pee pants.”

“Hey, it’s not pee,” he pouts once again tonight, “And be nice.”

Before you knew it, words became irrelevant as the electricity between you grew stronger. The room suddenly felt too small, filled with this untouchable tension. The attraction between you was palpable. Without hesitating, you closed the distance between you, your lips gently meeting in a passionate kiss.

The taste of his lips was intoxicating, exactly how you’d imagined. Your bodies pressed together, wrapped up in the intensity of the moment. Without warning Yuji pushed you against the wall, his hands gripping your thighs and lifting you up against the wall so he can capture your lips more evenly.

Suddenly he pulls his face away, looking at you intently. “S-sorry. Is this-okay?”

You don’t say anything, you just nod. His puffy swollen lips looks so adorable, and his body feels warm against yours. You answer him by wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him closer. He smiles before his lips are on yours again and you tangle your hands in his hair, wrapping your legs around his waist.

You can feel the growing bulge in his trousers as his body grinds up against you, his hands softly trailing up your thighs underneath the very short dress that he swears you wore just for him.

“Fuck. I’ve wanted to do this for so long. You have no idea.” His lips trail down your neck, leaving tiny hickeys in their wake as his hands slide all the way up your dress his fingers teasing the pantie line. “Can I touch you?” He asks, a pleading look in his eye.

“Please.” You nod in response and you feel his fingers slide along your folds. You let out a soft moan as he teases your clit, lightly swiping his thumb across it before circling it, his teeth sinking into your neck.

“Yuuj?” you pants, as your fingers tug lightly at his pink locks. “I want you to fuck me.”

He whole body goes numb. He removes his lips from your neck and looks at you, his thumb and his pointer take your chin in his hands affectionately forcing you to look him in the eye. “Fuck. You’re sure?” he says and he’s unable to hide the excitement that’s creeping into his tone.

“Mhmm.” you whisper in his ear. “Please Yuuj, wanna feel your cock fill me up.”

His head spins when those words escape your lips, his cock twitches in his pants and he can feel like wet stain of precum that’s leaking into his boxers. He thinks your words alone could send him over the edge, he’s thought about this for so long. His fingers digging into the flesh of the juicy ass he’s surprised you’ve never noticed his gaze linger on. His cock sinking in between in your legs.

And that’s precisely what he does, sinks his cock into your pretty pussy, and fuck if it isn’t even better than he imagined. You’re clenching around his cock and his fingers dig into your ass as he fucks you into the wall. He’s glad everyone’s at the party because the sounds of your moans coupled with your back hitting the wall, over and over, are too loud. But he doesn’t care, not when he’s ball deep inside you, not when you’ve got pretty little whimpers escaping your lips. Not when your screaming praises.

“Your s-so big Yuuj, filling me up so good.” You try to pull at him but he grabs your hand and pushes it against the wall. “Fuccck Yuuj…fuck.” Your moans ring out and his hips thrust into you rapidly as he softly traces your thumb with his.

The juxtaposition of his soft touches and the way he’s shoving his cock deep into your cervix are enough to make you climax, hips rutting into his as you cum all over his cock.

The minute he feels the way your body shakes, and sees the way your back arches he’s cumming right there. He doesn’t even bother to pull out, he wants to fill you with his cum. Let you slide your panties back and walk into that party stuffed full of him.

“You’re squirmy.” He grumbles, glaring at you in the dark. “No one ever teach you to sit still?”

You stick your tongue out. “No one ever teach you to mind your own business?”

“Hard to mind my business when you’re movin’ all the cushions, doll-“

“Then go sit somewhere else, robot man.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches. “I’m not a robot.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m not-“

“You act like one.” You snap, and Bucky closes his eyes. Like he’s fucking praying.

“I was here first.” He mutters. You don’t balk.

“Congratulations.”

You hold his glare, and Bucky lets out a heavy breath through his nose. He narrows his eyes, tongue flicking over his lips. His full lips. Pretty and chapped, but in the perfect, soft way-

Get a fucking grip.

“There’s a chair over there.” You point across the room, sinking back into the cushions. “Go sit in it, if I’m so squirmy.”

Bucky scowls, and opens his mouth, but whatever jab he’s got for you, you don’t want to hear it. You reach over and unpause the movie—probably another one of Sam’s this is what you gotta catch up on, Barnes suggestions, because there’s no way Bucky picked out the Goonies himself—and fix your glower on the TV screen. You hate this movie. You’re going to watch it all the way through, just to show Bucky that he doesn’t bother you.

You spread your own legs wide, too. If men are allowed to do it, so are you. Bucky grunts as your knee pushes over his thigh, and you smirk at the TV.

It has nothing to do with the thick muscle you can feel under his sweatpants, that you keep your legs like that for the rest of the night. Bucky’s fingers flex a few times, and brush over the inner curve of your knee and the top of your thigh, like he’s thinking about just shoving you away. At one point, you hear him grunt, and look over with mockingly raised brows.

“Everything okay?” You almost simper, and he grunts and nods.

That’s all you get. Bucky fixes his anger on the movie, you win this round, and you get to be close to him without thinking about it.

You’ll think about it later. In the comfort of your own bedroom, you’ll think about it and think about it and think about it all night. You’ll think about it until your wrist hurts. But Bucky doesn’t get to know that.

As far as he needs to be concerned, you never spare him a second thought. It’s all he spares you. And you’re not going to be the pathetic girl who falls for someone who only thinks of her as a buzzing gnat around his head. Who worships the ground of a man who would step on her like a flower into concrete, not because he was seeking to hurt, but just because he didn’t notice you were there at all.

Although Bucky does seem to notice where you are.

The farmer does like to keep track of pests in his crops.

“You skipped the mission briefing.” Bucky grunts in the morning, glaring at you over a cup of coffee.

Something soft in you swells like a prodded bruise. He noticed where you were.

You ignore it in favor of flipping him off.

“I was busy.”

“Too busy for your job?”

“It’s not my job-“

“Your name was on the roster.” Bucky slams the folder down on the table, and your lips twitch.

“Have you been carrying that around all day?”

“That doesn’t matter-“

“Yes, it really does-“

Bucky hisses your name. There’s a fury under his tone, that makes your mouth snap shut. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“You need to be there, Steve was talkin’ about safety shit, and if you don’t know it you could get killed-“

“I know how mission briefing work, I’ve been here longer than you have-“

“Really? ‘Cause you don’t act like it-“

“I don’t act like it?” You snort. “Last I checked I’m ranked higher than you, Sargent.” You raise your chin, letting your lips curl. “Which is why I’m allowed to defer missions, and you’re not.”

Bucky blinks, recoiling slightly. “Defer? What, you-“

“I’m skipping.” You shrug, grabbing an apple from the counter. “And if I’m skipping, I don’t need to be at the briefing. But thanks for checking on me, dad.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. You expect him to snap something about experience and you not being responsible enough or needing to care more.

But instead his fists curl and uncurl at his side. His nostrils flare. He grabs the counter, his scowl burning right through you. You take a large bite of your apple, and his gaze darts down. Juice drips down your chin, and you wipe it off with light fingers. That only seems to make him angrier.

“Why’re you skipping.”

You shrug. You should say none of your business. But part of you is childish. A very big, loud part that wants him to react to something you know he isn’t actually going to care about.

“I have a date.”

“A what.” It’s not a full reaction. He’s mostly staring at you like he didn’t understand the word. Maybe they called it something different in the 40s.

“A date?” You roll your eyes, a little meaner than you mean to be. He always bring that out in you, though.

Bucky always brings everything out in you. It’s incredibly annoying.

“You know.” You push mockingly. “Where you go out with someone. And flirt like people, instead of robots.”

“Robots flirt.” Bucky grunts, and you snort.

“Yeah, but they don’t have sex-“

The counter cracks. It’s loud, echoing through the kitchen. You start and twitch, and Bucky blinks at his metal hand, like he’s just as surprised as you are. He looks back to you, shakes his head, and takes a large step back.

“What’s-“

“Steve’s callin’ me.” He mutters, and you blink.

“No, he’s not-“

“Have fun.” Bucky ignores you. His words sound pushed through his teeth. “On your human date.”

Then he’s gone.

And you’re left in the kitchen with your apple and a cracked counter, staring at where he’d vanished through the door. You don’t care about the date.

You just need to know what the fuck that was.

There’s a part of you that feels bad, for the man Natasha set you up with. She’d picked him out specifically because he had a vague resemblance to Bucky—because you’ve never told her your secret, but you didn’t need to, she’s Natasha—but it wasn’t enough.

He didn’t have the underlying accent, or the gleam in his eyes. You made a sharper edged joke, and he just laughed. He didn’t spar. He didn’t push your buttons in a way that made you light up. He just smiled at you all night—wrong smile, too—and then didn’t pay. Bucky would’ve paid.

You have no evidence of that. It’s just a feeling, that comes from how he still opens doors for you, even when you’re at each other’s throats. All polite and handsome and insufferable. You hate him.

And there’s not a single point during the night, where you’re not thinking about him.

“We should do this again.” The Date—you’ve forgotten his name, and it’s certainly not a good time to ask—says at the end of the night.

You’re shivering. Bucky would’ve offered you his jacket. He did once, on a mission in the Andes. You got all cold and he rolled his eyes and muttered that he told you to bring another layer, but still gave you his jacket all the same. This man is just grinning at you after not calling you a cab and saying he wanted to stand outside in the misty, chilly night. He said he wanted fresh air, and now your freezing, and he thinks he’s getting a second date.

At the very least, you feel a little less guilty about only thinking of Bucky and the mission the whole time. He deserved it.

“Sure.” You smile, because even with superstrength, it’s easier to tell a man yes and then vanish than it is to deny them to their face. “Have a good night.”

He tries to hug you. Your phone buzzes, and you duck away to check it.

The mission is over.

Two days early.

Your jaw tightens.

Most people would think that a job being done early is a good thing. That it means the team was just so focused and coordinated that they sped through every single step, and ended in a total victory. But you’ve been on this job too long. Early mission conclusions only ever happen for one reason.

Something went wrong, and they have to come back.

You rush back to the compound with barely a goodnight to the Date. It’s mostly because you forget, in the blur of worry. You’d skimmed the mission files before they left, just to make sure it wasn’t anything too dangerous. Bucky had been mad about you not going with them. Maybe he’d thought they’d need the hands, but it had just looked like a retrieval mission. Old Hydra facility with some data Tony wanted. Nothing too hard.

But they’re back early.

And if someone’s hurt, you could’ve stopped it. You could’ve been there, instead of on that stupid fucking date. Which also means that Bucky was right, and that’s incredibly annoying. He’s going to weild it over your head, and the mocking is going to turn you on more, and you’ll have earned it which isn’t going to help anything at all. 

You get back to the compound, and it’s not in lockdown. There aren’t med staff flooding the grounds or emergency sirens blaring. You go right to the hanger, and find that it’s already been cleared out. The jet isn’t being quarantined.

Maybe they really did just… Finish early.

You’re heading back to your room when you slam right into them.

Steve and Bucky, standing in the middle of the hall, arguing in hushed voices.

“You need to go, Buck-“

“I’m fine-“

“No, you’re not. You can lie to the docs, don’t lie to me-“

“I ain’t lyin’, I’m fine-“

Your too lost in your own head, barely even hearing what they’re saying. You barrel straight into Bucky’s back.

He goes rigid. You stumble a little, and he grabs your upper arm.

His hand is hot.

Not sexy hot—although it’s also that—but literally, physically hot. Almost searing, against your shivering skin. You look up at him, and swallow.

He’s flushed. There’s sweat clinging to his brow, and an exhausted shadow over his features. His eyes are so blown out they’re almost fully black. You blink at him, and his mouth falls open in a ragged pant.

“Hi.” You whisper.

His throat bobs. “You’re back.”

“I- I got the alert.” You glance over to Steve, who’s gone oddly pale. “Did the mission go okay? It was fine that I wasn’t there, right-“

“Yep!” Steve almost shouts, and you blink. “I mean- We were all good. Wish you were there, we all missed you, but- We were fine. Right, Buck?” Steve grabs Bucky’s shoulder. “We were all good.”

Bucky doesn’t look away from you for a single second. He grunts, and his grip tightens on your arm.

“Let go.” Steve mutters, and Bucky shoots him a glare.

He releases you like you burned him, then wipes his hand on his pants. You scowl. He was the one touching you.

“I was gonna.” He grumbles, and Steve sighs.

“I know, but-“ You get a weary look. Like Steve doesn’t want you to hear their conversation. “I think- You know what I think-“

“Steve-“ Bucky cuts himself off with a groan, running a hand over his face.

He still hasn’t looked away from you. Or moved that far out of your proximity.

“I’m fine.” He says, low and under his breath. You’re rooted to the ground under his gaze, unsure what you could even think of to say. “It’s- I’m fine.”

Steve’s lips press in a thin line. Bucky takes a large, jerking step back. Like he’s dragging himself away.

“How was your date?” He grunts.

“Bucky-“

“I’m just askin’ a question.” He snaps, still not sparing Steve a look.

The attention is getting to be too much. Bucky is looking at you like he wants to eat you alive, and it’s making your body almost buzz in anticipation. You want to jump on him and feel those hot hands all over your body. His nostrils flare like he can smell your arousal. If he can, you might jump off a bridge.

You hope he’d catch you, then fuck you until your can’t even walk.

Get a fucking grip.

“Bad.” You cross your arms over your chest, trying to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest. “He sucked.”

And that’s the kind of thing Bucky would usually mock you for. Skipping a mission just for a bad date.

But a low, rumbling growl falls from his chest. His tongue darts over his lips. He takes a half-step forward, and you lean in to the gravity of his stare.

“We have debriefing!” Steve shouts, grabbing the collar of Bucky’s suit. “Bye!”

Before you can even register it, Steve’s dragging Bucky down the hall. You swear you hear another feral noise, and a crash after they turn the corner.

Something had to have happened on the mission. You just have no fucking clue what.

Bucky’s only been acting stranger. You’d pretend it didn’t bother you, if you could get away from it for a single fucking second.

You walk through the compound, and he’s somehow more everywhere than he was before. Around every corner, in the library, on the grounds, even in the control room while you’re going through the mission files.

“What’re you doin’.” He grunts, and you sigh.

You’re not surprised he’s there. It’s the fifth time today that he’s snuck up on you.

“I’m going through the reports on the mission.” You drawl. “Don’t you have better things to do than follow me around?”

Bucky grunts. It seems to be a no. You roll your eyes and go back to poking through the system. It’s hard to pretend that you can’t feel his presence behind you. There’s heat almost rolling from his body, and thick, spicy and musky scent that’s filling the room. It’s making you a little dizzy. It’s all you can do, not to look back at him.

That would be dangerous. He probably still looks feverish and animalistic. You might moan.

You find the files for the mission, and try to open them. Big, read access denied, contact your handler for permission to these files flashes over your screen. Your mouth falls open, and you whip back to glare at Bucky before you can think about it.

Mistake. Just like you’d thought, big mistake.

He looks even worse and better than you thought. He’s wearing just a t-shirt and sweats, and they’re clinging to his sweaty body. His eyes are hooded and his lips are parted. His attention is so wholly fixed on you that it almost makes you fall out of your chair. You almost forget you’re annoyed with him. Every single nerve in your body is alight, and your fingers are itching to comb through his sweaty hair.

You somehow—just barely—fight it.

“Why can’t I access these files.”

Bucky leans over you, his nostrils flaring. If you reach up, you could trace the stubbled line of his jaw. It’s hard to maintain your glare.

“Barnes-“

“You weren’t on the mission.” He mutters. “Not your files to see.”

You scowl. “I can access the files of every other mission I was on-“

“Steve should change that.”

God, you wish he wasn’t so pretty. It would be easier to think about punching him.

“I know something happened out there.” You hiss, sitting up a little taller. “You can’t hide it from me. I’ll figure it out.”

Bucky chuckles. It’s a low, raspy sound that runs through your body, making you shiver.

“Sure, doll. Have fun with that.”

You shoot to your feet, and Bucky lurches back. Another one of those deep, rumbling growls rolls from his chest, and for a second you think he’s going to pounce on you.

And then you blink, and he’s gone. Leaving you with only that hazy smell, and desire rolling through your veins.

You wish that was the extent of it, but it’s barely the start. And it only gets worse.

Bucky doesn’t do his movie nights anymore, which means you get the TV all to yourself. You watch what you want, and try not to look at the spot next to you. Where your body feels like he’s supposed to be. You stretch out your legs, but they ache strangely without his touch. You get more restless without him. Around midnight, you shuffle to the kitchen, hoping one of those soothingherb thingys that Wanda says help with her nightmares will be there.

Instead, you find Bucky. 

He’s drinking a glass of ice, with a little bit of water. He freezes when he sees you, and moves further behind the counter.

You sigh. You’re too tired to fight him.

“Can’t sleep?” You mumble.

He just nods.

You sigh, and walk over the cupboard.

“You want hot chocolate?”

A grunt. Better than silence. You make two mugs, one for you, one for Bucky.

And maybe it’s just that you’re really starting to worry, but you don’t bother pretending to hate him. Your fingers brush when you pass him his mug, and his body seizes like you shocked him, but you just offer a tiny smile.

His mouth falls open. He stares at you like he’s spent years only looking at the muddier reflection of stars in the water, and has finally thought just to tilt his head up. You let out a small, shaking breath. He’s still burning up. You can feel it from your place a foot away. But you don’t dare to push it.

Not when he’s looking at you like this. The way you’d always, secretly and shamefully, dreamed he would.

“I’m watching Star Wars.” You mumble. “You wanna…”

You trail off, and Bucky’s throat bobs.

He nods again. A new tendril of worry blooms, overlapping with the growing tangle of them in your gut. He might not be able to speak.

But he follows you to the living area, and takes his place on the couch. His knee pushes against yours. He’s breathing awfully shallow, but you’re a selfish coward that wants him close, so you don’t mention it.

You barely pay attention to the movie. All you can focus on is Bucky at your side. How he doesn’t even seem to be sparing the TV a glance. He’s not really touching you, save for that place where your thighs are always pushed together, but every time you shift he grabs your knee. You blink at him, and his throat just bobs. He still hasn’t said a word. You’re afraid that when he does, it will break this fragile illusion.

That he wants to be here.

Near you.

He passes out near the end of the movie. His head falls against your shoulder and his body goes limp, almost a blanket over yours. You don’t move, just staring at a lit up, black screen. He looks more peaceful than you’ve ever seen. His fever isn’t breaking, but it does seem to be easing. You run your fingers through his hair, and he makes a low sound like a purr.

Then he takes a deep inhale, right against the crook of your neck, and a different noise leaves him.

It’s almost a moan.

You swallow. Suddenly you need to move. You don’t know what’s going on with him, but this can’t be what he actually wants. To be asleep almost in your arms, purring and moaning. That’s not a part of him you get to have.

But when you try to move, his grip around you tightens.

You feel almost sick.

It takes almost an hour, to roll off the couch without him pulling you back. When you’re free, you still cover him in a blanket and press a hand to his brow. Just to check. You can’t really help it.

His fever is building again.

You wish he would just tell you what was wrong. Even if he thinks you hate him, he can’t think you wouldn’t care enough to help.

When you start to walk away, he moans again. You could swear it sounded a little like your name.

You force yourself to go to bed. You’re not sure if you want him to remember in the morning.

If anything, you just pray he gets better. It’s hard to hide your undying care for him, when he’s in pain. Impossible to ignore how much it bothers you, that he’s hurting. ‘

But it is Bucky.

And he’s never going to make anything that easy.

You walk out of your room in the morning, and he’s right there. Lingering in the hallway, staring at you with those blown-out eyes, working his jaw like he’s trying to bite his own tongue off.

“Hi.” You say lamely.

He stumbles back like you punched him. “You- You’re-“

“Bucky, are you-“

“’M fine.” He says it mostly to himself again. There’s sweat gathering on his brow and bags under his eyes.

You’re not going to tell him, but you’re getting worried. This is the third morning in a row you’ve found him here. The first night you asked if he’d slept there, and he’d scowled and stomped away.

But from the look of him, you don’t think he’s been sleeping at all.

“Do you need something?” You ask. You sound soft, but you can’t help it. The worse he looks, the more your heart tightens. “I can call Steve-“

“Don’t get Steve.” He steps back. The same jerked movement from the first night. It’s the only way he’s been moving around you, lately. “I’m fine.”

You give him a doubtful look. His tongue flicks over his lips. You take a step forward, and he takes another step back. Like you’ve got a polarity field around you. Like he can’t even stand to breathe the same air.

And yet he’s here. Outside your door, and breathing through his mouth like an animal.

“Bucky-“

“Don’t.” He shakes his head, stumbling another step back. “Just- Don’t.”

You swallow, and don’t give chase when he walks away. Jogs away. He yanks himself away, then runs like he thinks you’re going to catch him and drag him back. You won’t.

But you do go right to Steve.

“What happened on the mission.”

Steve flinches, gagging on his sandwich. You’re glaring down at him with your hands on your hips, and you think he knows his little charming smile isn’t going to work on you here. That doesn’t seem to stop him from trying anyway.

“Hey, um- Do you want a cookie-“

“Steven.” You hiss, and he swallows. “What happened.”

Steve winces, avoiding your gaze. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”’

“What do you mean you’re not supposed to tell me-“

“I mean I- I can.” He mutters. “But then Bucky will kill me. And I don’t want Bucky to kill me.”

You scowl. “Tough shit, because guess who’s going to kill you if you don’t tell me?”

Steve sighs. “Is it you?”

“Yep.”

He stares at his sandwich, like it’s somehow going to get him out of this situation. You wait for him to realize it won’t. You have plenty of time.

“I’m really not supposed to tell you-“

“I really don’t care.”

“Well- You will.” Steve looks up with a sad little puppy eyes.

You don’t have the same reservations about punching him in the face, that you have with Bucky. He’s basically asking for it right now.

“Steven, I swear to fucking God-“

“I can’t tell you.” He cuts you off with a shake of his head, and you scoff.

“No, you just won’t tell me-“

“That’s not- I can’t, okay? Please stop asking me to-“

“Why, because Bucky doesn’t want you to?” You leer. “Because last I checked, you’re the Captain. And if Bucky is your friend, you should be telling his teammates he’s in danger so they can help-“

“That’s the problem!” Steve shouts, and you blink. “You- Look, you’re going to want to help, and I can’t let you.”

“You can’t let me help?” You echo, and Steve winces.

“I know how it sounds-“

“Do you? Because what I’m fucking hearing that your best friend is in danger, and you won’t let me fucking help-“

“Why do you even want to help?” Steve fixes you with a pointed look. “All you ever do is complain about Bucky and how he’s annoying you. I would’ve thought you didn’t care.”

You narrow your eyes, and Steve raises his brows. You know what he’s doing. Smug fucking asshole. 

“That won’t work on me.” You grunt, and he shrugs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Steve-“

“But,” he says causally. “If I did, I’d say that’s why I can’t tell you. And you know that.”

You hate it when he speaks in riddles. Like you’re just supposed to read between the lines when your brain is fogged with worry about Bucky.

“I- I don’t-“ You let out a slow breath, looking down to your shoes. Heat is flooding your cheeks. It’s annoying. “It’s not- I’m just- Please.”

Your voice cracks suddenly. You’ve been losing more sleep over this than you’re ever going to tell anyone. You almost feel ill with it—like the worry is an infection, knotting up your stomach and making your heart pick up—but that might just literal exhaustion. Something happened. No one will tell you what. It’s making you feel useless and hopeless and torn up to tiny, useless shreds.

“Bucky.” You say slowly. “Is- He’s not okay. I know he’s not okay.” You force yourself to meet Steve’s gaze. “Just- Lie to me and say he’s fine, and fix it, or tell me and let me help. But I- I can’t just-“

You don’t even know how to finish the sentence. There’s a burning feeling behind your eyes and a lump in your throat. You’re so worried. Worried this is something that’s going to kill him, and you’re going to lose him forever.

And there’s pity, in Steve’s gaze. It’s enough to make him break, his voice softening completely.

“Alright.” He murmurs. “But- You can’t tell him I told you.”

You nod quickly. “I’ll say I just got into the files, or- Something- Please.”

Steve sighs. “Okay. Okay.” He shakes his head. “It was on the mission. Bucky was distracted the whole time, and when we got jumped he wasn’t being controlled with his punches. He swag to hard on an Hydra agent. Knocked them back into some vials, and- Well they burst. All over both of them. We put the agent in containment, but he was displaying worse symptoms. Bucky- I think it’s the serum, or just… Bucky. But he’s been controlling it better.” Steve grimaces. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not still knocked up with stuff.”

You nod slowly. That’s not that bad.

But Steve didn’t want you to know for a reason.

“What are the symptoms?”

Steve won’t meet your gaze. “Fever. Nausea. Hormone flares. Um- Increased… libido.”

Your eyes widen, your mouth falling open. “What.”

“Hydra makes some weird stuff. Tony thinks this was, um- A breeding drug. We don’t know why they were developing it, but- There’s no other name.” Steve’s nose wrinkles. “The agent- His cell is disgusting.”

“But- Bucky-“

“I told you, he says he’s got it under control.” Steve shrugs, but doesn’t really sound like he’s convinced himself. “The agent has been, ah… begging for anyone. Bucky doesn’t have the same liberty with what will help. He says it’s going to pass, and he’ll be fine.”

“And will it?” You breathe. “Pass?”

Steve shrugs. “It did for the agent.”

“Before or after the mating?”

Steve’s silence is an answer. You swear under your breath.

“Why wouldn’t you tell me this, Steve? We- We need to get him to someone, this could fucking kill him-“

“I know that!” Steve snaps. “I know that just as well as you do! As he does! But- Jesus.” He shakes his head. “He won’t take anyone. He’ll only- Well- You know.”

“I know? I don’t fucking know, none of you have been telling me shit-“

Steve says your name plainly. You blink.

“What-“

“Nothing. Just- Why do you think he’s been lingering around you?”

You stare at him. He raises his brows, and you swallow.

“Steve-“

“I didn’t say anything-“

“Yes, you did-“

“Nope.”

You press your lips in a tight line. He can’t mean what you think he means. That would be to easy. Too good. “Bucky- He doesn’t- That’s not how he feels about me.”

Please don’t say it is. It’s not fair if you’re lying.

“Funny.” Steve shrugs. “He says the same thing about you.”

This is a bad idea.

Bucky hasn’t left his room in a day. You’d spent all of last night replaying your conversation with Steve, trying to pick it apart for a single reason he didn’t mean what you thought he did. What you hoped he did. What you’d always hoped for, only in the dead of night where no one would ever find out.

But it didn’t matter how you turned or picked at Steve’s words. There was only one conclusion. The beautiful, horrible one that you can’t even fully wrap your head around. It would mean you spent years hating him for no reason. Year thinking about kissing his stupid face, when you could’ve been actually kissing him. If Steve’s right, you’re going to kill Bucky.

After you fix this for him.

If Steve means what you think, you can fix this for him. He just has to let you.

Which is why this is a horrible idea. If Bucky turns you down, you’re going to have to quit your job and change your name and  move to Indonesia.

But if he doesn’t turn you down…

You steel yourself and knock on Bucky’s door. It’s worth the risk, just for him. Always just for him.

“Fuck off, Stevie-“

“I’m not Steve!” You call, and for a second there’s no response. 

Then there’s a muffled banging, and you almost fall forward when Bucky yanks the door open.

He looks even worse than before. And better. And hotter, and oh God, your knees are already weak.

His shirt is gone, and his broad, muscled chest is shining with sweat. His hair flops over his eyes, mussed up and soft looking. He’s breathing through his nose, even as his swollen mouth hangs open. His metal fist is curled against the door, making the wood crack under his fingers. Standing through his sweatpants is the long, proud outline of his cock.

You swallow, your mouth watering. Bucky says your name, and you can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a plea or a prayer.

“You shouldn’t be here-“

“Steve said you need me.”

You stare at each other. Bucky’s tongue flicks out, and you chew on your lower lip. This is it. If he turns you down, you’ll walk away and live. A new life, across the world. You’ve never been to Indonesia, but you hear they have good food and community, and you’re sure you’ll be able to fit right in over time, and if you don’t at least Bucky will never find you to make you relive this humiliation, because it’s been almost two full minutes and he hasn’t said anything, so you should probably pull out your phone and start researching Indonesian names-

“Steve shouldn’t have told you anything.” Bucky growls, and you swallow.

“I- I made him.”

He sighs. You could swear his dick twitches. “Of course you did.”

“I was worried about you-“

“You don’t have to be, doll. I’m-“

“If you say I’m fine, I’m going to fucking punch you.”

Bucky scowls. You scowl harder. You have a feeling neither of you are going to back down.

“You’re sick.” You say plainly, and Bucky lets out a sharp exhale through his nose.

“Maybe. But it’s not the kinda sick you can help with-“

“Steve says it’s the kind of sick only I can help with.”

He’s silent again. You risk a tiny step forward, and he takes one back, muttering your name. It’s a warning. A plea.

“Don’t do this.” He mutters, fists balled at his side. “Not outta pity, not for me-“

“It’s not pity.” You stop in his doorway, making your voice soft. “I want to help, Bucky. Let me help.”

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “No, you- You just- You don’t feel like that for me-“

“You don’t feel like that for me.” You breathe, and Bucky’s body locks up.

“Who says?”

“You’re an ass to me-“

“You’re an ass to me.”

“I don’t mean to be.” You whisper. “I- I don’t- I’m not good at… You know.”

Bucky’s throat bobs. He still doesn’t move.

“Me neither.”

You nod. “But…”

“Yeah.” He swallows. “Yeah. I do.”

You take a deep breath. His whole room is filled with that musky, spicy smell. The heat is almost rolling off his body.

“Please ask me to help.” You don’t bother to hide the desperation in your voice. He needs to know that you mean it. “I- I want to, Bucky, I want you so bad-“

Bucky muffles your pleas, crashing forward and pressing his mouth over yours.

It’s not the soft, loving kiss of your fantasies. It’s rough and desperate, the kiss of a man finally letting his leash snap. He grabs your neck and scrunches his fingers in your hair, dragging a moan from the back of your throat. It turns into a hungry cry, when he pushes his tongue between your lips. Your knees wobble from the bruising force of it. You grab his shirt for balance, scrunching the fabric between your fingers.

Bucky grunts, pressing further over you. One arm drops to wrap around your waist, and the other slide up to cradle the back of your head. The touch his shockingly gentle, for the demanding way he’s almost eating your kisses. You’re standing nowhere near a wall, but he’s caged you all the same. There’s nothing to do but feel the way his cool, metal fingers dig into your hips, and the unrelenting heat of his mouth.

You kiss until your breathing is ragged. He tastes like mint and salt, and it’s a little addictive. Even after you’re light-headed and whimpering, Bucky sucks on your lower lip and takes just a little more. You whimper, gasping for air that he doesn’t seem to need. He tugs on your hair, forcing you to tip your neck back, and he plants open, hungry kisses over every place he can reach.

“You gotta be sure.” He murmurs against your skin. “Tell me you’re sure, doll, ‘cause- I don’t think I can go easy.”

And oh God, isn’t that lovey thought. Bucky not going easy. Combined with his tongue flicking over a pulse point, you almost fall over from the pure thought of it.

But he’s asking real permission. His hold on your hip is getting tighter, and his shoulders are squared and tense. He’s keeping himself from taking what he really wants, until you give him total permission.

You didn’t know you could want him more.

“I- Oh-“ Your eyes flutter, as he nips on sensitive skin under your jaw before kissing away the hurt. “I’m sure, Bucky, I- I don’t want you to go easy.”

For some reason, that only makes him more tense. He takes an uneven breath, pressing his brow against your head and almost pulling you off your feet as he hugs you tighter. You wait, slowly wrapping your arms around him and dragging your nails soothingly over the nape of his neck.

Bucky draws himself back, his expression unreadable as he scans over your face. You offer him a tiny, nervous smile, and he lets out a shaky laugh.

“You- You got no idea, do you?”

Your face falls to a pout. “I have a lot of ideas-“

“No, you don’t.” He drops his brow over yours. “You got no fuckin’ clue, what you do to me.”

And your brain stalls. It gets all gooey and soft, as you just blink up at him. You’re already on unsteady legs. You never thought he’d catch you if you fell, but with the way Bucky’s looking at you right now, you think he’d dive off a cliff to be at your side.

“Bucky…” You breathe, and he drops his forehead against yours. Your noses bump. His gaze darts between your lips and eyes, and you think you might be burning alive.

“You smell so good.” He mutters, before leaning down to press a soft, sweet kiss to your lips. “Taste better than I imagined.”

“You-“ You almost whimper, when he pulls away. “You imagined?”

He chuckles, kissing just your upper lip. You’re already putty under his hands, and you might turn to just a steam of desire if he doesn’t stop kissing you so softly.

“Didn’t you?”

You nod, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“Bet I imagined more.”

And you doubt that, but Bucky’s kissing you again before you can tell him that you imagined so much it scared you sometimes. The way you were sure that you’d never be able to recover, from an addiction to a drug you’d never even taken.

You’re certainly never going to recover now. Kissing Bucky is even better than you’d let yourself dream about. His lips are just as soft as you thought. Even with the way he’s holding himself back, his touch is possessive. He traces your sides like he’s trying to memorize them, and kisses you the same way.

“Got no idea what I’m gonna do to, either.” He rasps against your lips. “If you let me, doll… You shouldn’t- But-“ He groans, pushing his nose into your cheek, kissing over the slope of your jaw. “Fuck, I want you to.”

You want him to. You want to feel those sloppy, devout kisses everywhere, to get that infernal tongue between your legs. His cock is almost bursting through his sweats, protruding into your thigh. He’d be heavy on your tongue, and split you better than the toys that you’ve used in his place before. The ache in your core throbs from just the idea, and you can feel your heart trying to burst all out of your throat with confession of desire and adoration. But you’re not sure if he’s going to believe them.

“Tell me.” You whisper. “Tell me what you’ve dreamed about doing to me.”

Bucky pulls back, and you worry you’ve stepped on an invisible landmine. That you’re going to be shoved out of the room, the door slammed in your face instead of behind you, locking you out of the room you’ve longer to be in since you met him. Bucky stares at you. You open your mouth to apologize and take it back, but he loves to move faster than your lustdrunk mind can understand.

You squeal as he walks you backward, but not out of the room. He kicks his door shut as you pass it. It slams, right as Bucky pins you between against the wall. He kisses you before you can protest or ask questions, and keeps going until you’re squirming against him and unsure if you should pull him closer or push him away. His kisses wander your cheeks, over your nose and hairline and back down to your ear.

“I wanted you just like this.” He chokes out, and your swallow. He sounds wrecked, and you’re not even kissing anymore. “Wanted you everywhere. Would see you in a meetin’ and think about bending you over the table. You’d get under me on the training mats and I’d wanna get in a headlock between your legs. Bet you taste so good.”

He shudders, pressing his face into the crook of your neck. His dick has shifted to push right near your core, and it’s almost too much pressure, while not being nearly enough.

“Would sit next to you on the plane and think about gettin’ on my knees.” He rasps, beard ticking against your skin. “Worshipping your pussy like it deserves. Makin’ you- Fuck- Call my name-“

Bucky moans, his hips jerking forward. A tiny moan escapes your lips, and Bucky almost whines and does it again. You don’t think he can help it.

“Wanted to stuff your pretty little lips with my cock.” He thrusts again, his whole weight almost collapses over your body. “You’d get all mouthy and I- I jerk off to the idea of puttin’ you over my knee or gettin’ you lying in my bed. I’d- I’d fuck you so nice, doll, I swear I’d be good, but- Fuuuck-“

He’s rutting between your thighs, and seems to forget the story he’s supposed to be telling you in favor of sucking on your neck. You whimper, pushing your hand between your bodies. Not to stop him—never to stop him—but to wrap your fingers around his cock through his sweats.

Bucky moans, his voice breaking with raw, starved relief. You try to pull him back to kiss him, but he just wraps closer around you. He’s almost shaking. You think he’s trying not to fuck your hand.

You can’t have that.

“It’s okay.” You drag your fingers over the line of his cock, and he whimpers against your neck. “I- I’ve thought about it too.”

Bucky slams forward, and you smile at the air.

“Wanted you to shove me down and fuck me stupid. Wanted to ride you until I passed out. I bought a dildo, baby, just to pretend it was you.”

You use your free hand to pet the back of his head, slowly sliding his sweats down to give yourself better access. Bucky’s thick and heavy in your hand. Your fingers don’t even come close to wrapping fully around, and whenever your nails graze his balls, he bucks forward with a strangled moan.

“Wasn’t as big.” You breathe, stroking his dick in long, tight motion. “You’re so big, Bucky, I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

He grunts, his teeth grazing your neck. “Gonna- Fuck-“

You squeeze him at the base, and he doubles over. He’s almost fully collapsed against you. You want to feel him come apart.

“Gonna make it fit.” He hisses in your ear, and you hum.

“How?”

“Open you up.” He mutters, words slurred like he’s drunk. “Get you all over me, doll- Wanna watch you cum over and over and- God-“

His dick is twitching, and you giggle. He’s working himself up.

“You think this is funny?” He rasps.

You smile, swiping your thumb over the weeping slit of his dick. “A little. You wanna make me cum but you won’t even touch me.”

He makes an annoyed sound, and tries to push off of you. You tug his cock a little harder, and he falls back over with a moan. You giggle again.

“You- You’re a fuckin’ brat-“

“I’m helping you, Barnes.” You whisper in his ear.

He chuckles, and the sound rolls through your body. “Helpin’ me would be sitting on my face- Fuck-“

Bucky’s whole body shakes, when you squeeze him one last time, and his control slip. You pet him through his orgasm, unsure if you want him to notice how you press your legs tighter to try and get more stains of his cum. He pants and groans against your skin, his lips latching back around that one bruise he seems to be obsessed with.

There’s so much cum. Bucky grinds into your fist, and it just keeps coming and coming and coming until your fingers are sticky and drenched. The idea of him doing that inside you is almost a little terrifying. You’ve never wanted anything more.

A choked sound like your name comes out, muffled against your skin. You smile, leaning back to try and meet his gaze.

Bucky seems to need a second. You hope you didn’t already wear him out.

“You okay?” You whisper, and he tenses.

Bucky pulls back, and your pulse picks up into a drum.

Whatever he’d been before, it had been tame compared to this. His jaw is clenched, his attention fixed on you like a predator. His chest heaves, his hands limp at his side. You swallow, feeling a lot smaller than you did a second ago.

You can’t stop yourself from looking down. It only makes things worse.

He’s bigger than he felt. His cum is dripping down his thigh, and it’s barely been a minute, but he’s already getting hard again. You drag your eyes up the expanse of his chest—all flushed skin and muscle—and realize he hasn’t stopped staring at you. You lick your lips. He mimics the movement.

“It won’t fit.” You says again, but your tone has lost all the teasing mockery of before.

And Bucky’s smirk is dangerous. A thrill rushes through you at the sight of it. You’ve gotten exactly what you wanted.

“Gonna make it fit.” He growls.

You yelp, as he grabs your wrist and yanks you forward. You don’t even slam into his chest before he’s lifting you off the ground with another mind numbing kiss. It’s a distraction. You know that. You don’t really care, though, returning it in a second.

Bucky carries you like you’re a doll, your knees bent like some princess and his warmer arm locked around your waist. He leans over, lowering you to the mattress with a shocking care. For a second you’re fully lost in him. The gentle motion of his lips over yours, the way his hands wander and map your body as he settles you into the mattress.

“So soft.” He mutters. “All that bite, doll, but I knew you’d be so fuckin’ soft for me.”

You’d like to protest, and say that you’re not soft. But Bucky’s kisses are making your head spin, and no single, clear word can make it out of the daze. All you manage is a high, long whine.

Bucky chuckles. His hand pushes under your shirt, almost tickling over your sides.

“You like that?” He tease, his knuckles tracing over the underside of your boobs. “You like bein’ my sweet girl?”

You are not sweet. You try to snap that, but it mostly just comes out a feral grumble. You don’t know how he’s the one with a sound mind right now. You’re not under a sex drug.

You’re just under Bucky. Where it’s very, very warm, and sticky, and nice. His cum is dripping over your clothed core and midriff. You shiver as it hits bare skin, and Bucky smirks against your lips.

“Say it and I give you more.” He rasps. “Say you like it.”

And it’s a game. You know that you like it. He does too. But he’s poking and teasing you, trying to get you spar with him. To get you to play.

So you glare at him when he leans back, spreading your legs wider at the same time. You keep your mouth stubbornly shut.

Bucky grins. He traces the curve of your hips with massive hands, his thumb angling to smear his cum over your navel.

“Look at you.” He mocks. “Beggin’ for me and then can’t even admit she likes it.”

You wrinkle your nose, turning up your chin. Bucky smacks your inner thigh, then rubs his metal palm right over your pussy. The sudden sting then harsh pleasure make your hips push off the bed with a cry. Bucky takes his hand away to splay it on your abdomen, shoving you back down.

“You like gettin’ tossed around, too?” He laughs, and heat floods right to your core. “I’ll toss you around, baby. Make you into a nice little cockslut for me, even let you put my in that pretty mouth.”

He grabs your jaw, and you part your lips in a second. Bucky groans, his cock getting impossibly harder.

“Already listen so well.” He mutters, teasing his two forefingers over your mouth. “Just can admit you fuckin’ love it, do you? Can’t be a good girl and tell the truth.”

You narrow your eyes in defiance, and pretend to bite down on his fingers. It’s not a real bite. Just teeth grazing knuckles. But Bucky understands what it means.

Permission to go further.

His eyes gleam. His cock is already leaking with pre-cum.

“Alright, babydoll.” He rubs your thighs, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. “Have it your way.”

In a single second, Bucky rips off your clothing like it’s paper. You barely have time to feel the cold of the air before he’s grabbing your waist, flipping you onto your stomach, and dragging your ass up in the air. You yelp, fisting your hands in the sheets, and try to twist and see where he is.

A dazed part of your brain that doesn’t remember his hands on your hips sees no one behind you, and almost freaks out.

Then the first stroke of Bucky’s tongue hits your pussy, and you collapse fully into the sheets.

“Oh my-“ Your eyes roll back, as he teases the very tip of his tongue around your clit before dragging it through your folds. “Oh my God-“

“Sensitive fuckin’ pussy.” Bucky muses, and you feel the stubble of his cheek pressing against you thigh. “Barely even touching it. Wonder if I-“

 His thumb drags circles just around your clit, and you squeak. He kisses the curve of your ass, going a little fast. You whine trying to drag your own ass in circles to match his motions. You can’t see him. Can’t know if you’re doing well outside of his lips tracing your thigh, and the pleased hums against your skin.

Bucky jerks his thumb suddenly to the side, pushing directly over your clit. You scream, your knees sliding back. Bucky grabs them and pushes them back up, fully exposing your pussy to the air.

“Look at you.” His breath is warm, over that most sensitive spot. “Bet I don’t even need to fuckin’ prep you. You’re so wet, you’d just…”

He makes a deep, rumbling sound, and you almost sob as he drags his tongue right back between your puffed pussy lips. You clench around nothing, his stubbled scraping your clit. Bucky angles his face, letting his tongue flick over your clit. It goes back and forth and back and forth, toying with it before pressing flat. He sucks, hard like a lollipop, and you almost sob into the mattress.

“Sweet.” Bucky whispers, his metal arm wrapping around your legs. “So fuckin’ sweet.”

“Bu- Bucky-“

“Shhh.” He kisses right over your pussy. “Wanna taste, pretty girl. I gotta fuckin’-“ He moans, and the vibration shoots right up your spine. “Gotta taste-“

Bucky presses his face fully into your cunt, and the sound that leaves you almost isn’t human.

He’s good at this. So good at this. It’s a little unfair. Your mouth can’t do anything but hang uselessly open, as Bucky works his jaw against you. He eats you like he’s starved for it. Like he’s a man that wants to drown of an insatiable thirst.

Two hands hold you up in the air, as his tongue plunges ruthlessly in and out of your cunt. You keen, trying to push further back, and the warmer hand wraps up to your spine and shoves your stomach down. It’s a tighter fit like this. Bucky drags his tongue around, and it hits every sensitive area. His beard tickles and scratches, and cold fingers tease your skin.

You get more and more sensitive, with every flick and suck and groan. You’re so wet it’s almost drooling down your legs, mixing with the stains of cum he’d gathered from your midriff and smeared over your legs. The dual heat with his cold hand makes all your nerves stand on end. You pussy clenches again, and Bucky chuckles.

“That’s right.” He mutters, making out with your clit as you gasp for air into the bed. “That’s it, baby, you’re already lettin’ go, aren’t you.”

You whine, and Bucky nips at your ass.

“Aren’t you?”

“Ye- Yes.” You mumble. “’S good, Bucky- So good-“

“I know.” He grunts, pressing his cold, metal thumb down into your clit. “Fuck, baby, I know.”

You whimper, and Bucky starts up on your dripping pussy again. He’s lapping at it, pushing his tongue into your tight hole as he plays with your clit, and white lines your vision.

“I- I’m gonna- Fuck- Bucky-“ You scratch at the sheets. “I’m gonna- Oh God-“

He smacks your clit, spits onto your pussy, and resumes with double the effort. You cry his name, as your orgasm wracks your body. You can feel yourself seizing around him, twitching and writhing in his tight grip as your vision lines with white.

And Bucky doesn’t stop. You’re making a mess all over his face, and he’s rising up, but it’s just pushing you further into the mattress. You whimper, your cunt too sensitive, but he doesn’t even come up for air.

“Shit- Bucky- Oh- Ohhhhh-“

The ache quickly fades into pleasure again. Blinging pleasure that’s just on the wrong side of too much, but pleasure all the same. You squeal, and Bucky just moans against your cunt.

Then you hear it. The slam of his fist against his cock.

He’s jerking off while he eats you out.  He’s fucking himself so hard you can hear it, hear the slap of skin, feel all his little moans and grunts right against your pussy, and the thought sends you right over the edge again.

Bucky moans louder, as you cum on his tongue. Just like before, it seems to make him more and more feral. You have a feeling what lucidity that let him tease you before is gone. He’s eating you out the same way he’s kissed you, with rough lips and a fervor that’s almost animalistic. You’re boneless and whimpering into the sheets, taking it over and over as Bucky just keeps working his mouth against your cunt, and fucking his hand.

Then, suddenly, he’s gone. You whine from the lose, trying to roll over and look at him, but he just shoves you back down with a growl. The sound of his hand is getting faster and faster, and a hot weight drops over your back. Bucky presses his face into your neck, and takes a deep breath. You whimper, and he groans. His hips must be rocking, with how the bed is shaking.

“Smells good.” He rasps. “Gonna- Fuck-“

Bucky snaps back up, and you feel him cum more than you even hear it. Hot ropes spurt over your ass and back, seeping down the back off your thighs and into your pussy. You moan at the sensation, pushing back on trembling hands. There’s always just more of it, until you’re so marked up with him you’re sure you’ll never be able to wash it off.

You don’t want to.

With how Bucky grabs your hips and spreads the stain over your skin, you don’t think he does either.

“Shit.” He breathes out, and you hum in agreement. “Gotta- Flip for me, c’mon-“

Bucky helps you roll over. His touches are gentle again, but the gleam in his eyes hasn’t faded. You blink at him, flat on your back with your legs spread. Bucky traces the lips of your cunt, then slowly pushes two fingers inside you. Fucking his cum back into your tight hole. You mewl, eyes fluttering. Your head tosses back, and Bucky smiles

“Good girl.” He coos.

You try not get all gooey and weak just from the praise. Bucky laughs, and you think you might’ve failed.

“Strangling my fingers, doll.” He teases, pulling them right out.

You whimper. You’re too wet and ready not to take something. It’s really not fair to make you wait.

“I know.” He kisses your brow, voice rough. “Trust me, I fuckin’ know. You just gotta tell me you like it, then-“ His cock drags between your folds, and you keen. “All yours.”

You blink at him, opening your mouth to comply.

But you’re at an advantage.

Bucky’s hard again. His body is wound so tight above you, and his every word is thick. Like it’s an effort to speak. He’s still trying to fight against the drug running through his veins.

You want him to give in.

So you close your mouth, and give him a defiant glare.

Bucky growls again, and there’s no more teasing.

His mouth pushes over yours, and it’s not a loving kiss. It’s rough and quick, stealing your breath in seconds and distracting you as Bucky grabs your knees and shoves them back. You try to chase his lips, when he pulls away, but he shoves you back down with a grunt.

“Wanna be a brat.” He grunts. “Gonna get fucked like a brat.”

You almost beam. Yes, please.

Bucky folds you under him, your knees pressed to your chest and your cum-stained pussy on full display. He doesn’t waste time, tapping the head of his cock against your clit before slamming right inside. You’re so soaked you take it with only a hitched breath, but that doesn’t mean your eyes don’t roll back.

He hits right against you pelvis, when he bottoms out. His heavy balls sit on your ass, and the stretch of him is just enough pain to heighten the pleasure. Bucky kisses all over your face as he lets you adjust, but your pussy is greedy. He’d prepared you too well. You’re more than ready within seconds.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You gaps out, and he growls against your neck. “Move.”

If he’d told you to wait, you wouldn’t have been surprised.

But the drug seems to have overtaken him again, and all you get is a noise like a snarl against your throat before Bucky draws almost all the way out, and slams back in.

The air is knocked clean from your lungs. This time, he hit right against your g-spot, and your whole body seizes up. Bucky makes a low, deep noise, and repeats the motion. Again, he drives right into that gooey spot deep inside of you. You clench around him, and he doubles over, rutting deep inside of you.

“The- There-“ You whimper, fingers scrambling in the sheets. “Fuck, baby, right there-“

Bucky grunts an agreement, and starts to fuck you into the mattress. The angle is so deep you’re worried he’s going to permanently rearrange your guts. Every slam of his cock into your makes you see heaven, and Bucky pants over your, his eyes locked onto yours as your face contorts with pleasure.

He’s not even fucking you like a brat. He’s fucking you like a doll. He grabs at your limbs and moves them below him like you’re just a sleeve for his dick, and he needs you into just the right spot. One hand fists in your hair, forcing your neck a little up so you can watching your arousal gleam on his cock every time he pulls out. He moans every time he pushes back in, and you watch your cunt swallow his dick whole. A wet, smacking sound filling the room as he drills into you. He bends you even further to kiss over your neck and breasts, his tongue dragging in rhythm with his dick.

You try to clench around him every time he bottoms out, but your head is sort of empty, and now you’re just a drooling pussy around his massive cock, moaning his name and happily milking every bit of pleasure.

“Oh- Oooooh-“ You mewl, smiling like a cockdrunk idiot at the air. “Buuuucky-“

His mouth presses back over yours, and the kiss is strangely soft. His fucking hasn’t slowed or relented, but there’s a care with how his lips move over yours that makes you feel worshipped.

That’s what he’d said he’d do. Worship you. And you can really feel it here.

Bucky draws back, and the hand that had been fisted in your hair moves to your jaw. He squeezes again. You open for him easily, and his lips twitch.

“Good girl.” He coos, even if the words are tighter than before.

He spits into your mouth. You swallow obediantly, and open again when he squeezes your cheeks. Bucky slams forward with a groan, looking like a man wrecked.

“You fuckin’ like it, don’t you-“

“Love it.” You gasp, unable to even think to deny him again. “Love you, Bucky- Oh- Oh my god-“

Bucky makes a ragged, choked sound, and cums almost without warning. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, as he pumps you full of his release. It feels like even more than before. Like you’re going to burst with how full you are, spurts of it still being forced out as Bucky fucks you through. You’ve never felt so totally claimed, with him all over every inch of your skin. He kisses you and you giggle, dazed and almost high on the feeling.

And he’s not even done.

The period of lucidity between orgasms gets shorter before it gets longer. Bucky’s ability to control himself almost vanishes all together. You get a kiss and broken mumble of your name before you’re being flipped back onto your stomach and fucked from behind. There will be handprints on your ass and thighs in the morning, and the sheets are stained with your drool from how Bucky railed you from behind.

You’re dragged into his lap right after, and he pushes his thumb into your mouth, then ruts up into your gaping cunt. You’re all moans and ditzy smiles by that point. When rolls you back onto your stomach and sits up on his knees, you just take it with moans and giggles and cries of delight.

He hasn’t just ruined you. He’s pulled you apart a million times over, until you’re just a puddle that sings his name.

You don’t even fully realize he’s done, when he kisses pulls out that last time. You whine, and clench around nothing, but expect to get filled right back up.

Then Bucky kisses you, and it’s slow. Savoring and sweet. Romantic. His voice is hoarse, but it’s lost the strained quality. He’s fully teasing again, smiling against your lips.

“So soft.” He coos, rubbing your thoroughly abused pussy with his warm hand.

You writhe, trying to get further and closer at the same time. Bucky chuckles, and kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Jesus, doll. You’d think you were the one that got sex drugged.”

You try to glare at him, but forget why the moment you see his pretty eyes, shining on yours.

They’re blue again.

“You’re back?” You breathe, and Bucky grins.

He ducks down, and presses another quick kiss over your lips.

“I’m back.”

 You’re ordered not to move, while he cleans up. You don’t think you could if you tried. Your body is jelly, everything is sore in the best way, and your head is spinning with too many thoughts of what the fuck happened.

You told Bucky you love him. You told Bucky you love him. You’d never even fully admitted it in your head and he just fucked it right out of you. You said it fast, too fast, he thought you hated him four hours ago and now he must think you’re some kind of freak for just saying you love him.

He makes you drink water and go to the bathroom. Draws you a bath and brings you a snack and changes the sheets. You manage to find the strength to stand out of the tub and dry yourself off, wrapping the towel around your body before shuffling out in the center of his room.

God, he’s so handsome. All tan muscles and scars you want to trace with your tongue. Too bad you fucking blew it, and now you’re never going to get to touch him again-

Bucky turns, and smiles when he sees you. You swallow, bracing for the worst as he crosses the room.

He takes your face between his hands and kisses you. Deep and gentle and maybe he just forgot-

“Love you too.” He says against your lips. “Just- Uh- While we’re saying it.”

Oh.

Or that. That’s nice.

You throw everything you have into kissing him back, but end up tackling him down onto the bed with the sudden surge of strength. Bucky chokes out a laugh in surprise, wrestling you over onto your back with kiss and wandering hands. You giggle, trying to push back, and he nips at the tip of your nose.

Then he pauses, and pulls up with a small, worried frown.

“You’re stayin’ the night, right?”

You almost snort. There’s no getting rid of you now. You’re going to stay forever, and as long as he’ll allow after that.

“Yeah. I’m staying.”

✦End note: this was longer than my college thesis btw. and i. put more effort into it.✦

✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦

✦Buy me a coffee!☕️ (and get early access!)✦

Embarrassing. He knows he’s not the brightest, but he’s at a record high of self-embarrassment since he’s met you.

Yuuta finds himself chuckling when Yuuji spins around and goes back to prodding Megumi with questions. When you turn to face him again, it’s with a shy smile.

“I told you you’d like him,” Yuuta grins—the kind that seems sweet and innocent, but has just a kiss of that all-knowing tease to it; the kind that reminds you that he’s truly related to Satoru.

“Oh, be quiet,” you grumble, tucking your legs in and resting your chin on your knee. You spare another glance in Yuuji’s direction, for once, grateful for the language barrier between the two of you, when you turn back to Yuuta to proclaim: “I can like someone and not do anything about it. You’re real good at that, aren’t you?”

Yuuta’s slightly cocky grin falls into a scowl, and now you get to smile when he argues back, “We said not to bring up he who shall not be named in the presence of my friends!”

“Then don’t bring up my he who shall not be named in the presence of him!”

“Aren’t Americans all about forging new frontiers and chasing after your dreams?” he taunts, “Well, your dream is right in front of you.”

“My dream right now is to kill you.”

“Lucky for me, you’re going to have to hold off on that because your lover boy is approaching.”

You don’t have time to argue back with Yuuta when Megumi and Yuuji approach the living area with snacks in tow. Yuuta scoots to the tail end of the couch under the guise of giving Yuuji space to place the popcorn and nuggets in the center of the coffee table, but he has just enough time to flash you a wink before Yuuji settles in between. Megumi opts for the loveseat closets to Yuuta’s end of the couch, and you do your best not to reach over Yuuji and strangle Yuuta.

The boys decide on watching a movie you’ve never heard of, but Megumi reassures you it’ll be easy to follow and has English subtitles. You don’t mind, settling in to your corner of the couch with a handful of popcorn just as the title-screen for Human Earthworm 3 rolls across the TV.

You can follow along well-enough—even without subtitles, you get the gist of the movie. What you really find entertaining is Yuuji, who occasionally blurts out a comment or exclamation, or audibly coos whenever something sad is happening on screen. He’s almost as animated as the characters; you’re more of the silent-watcher type, but you find yourself endearing by this commentary, even if you can only understand parts of it.

You particularly appreciate the way that after every comment, he either motions to Megumi, or turns to you himself to repeat his thoughts in his best broken English, and even when you don’t understand his words, you understand him. His emotions are all on his sleeve: frustration, happiness, confusion, curiosity—communication between you two should be more difficult, but Yuuji makes it easy.

It gives you the confidence you cough out your own observation, “You, um… you’ve… seen the others? You seem to like this series.”

Across the room, Megumi and Yuuta hold their breaths, opting to not translate for you when you switch from Japanese to English. Yuuji is quiet for a moment, turned to face you with a slightly confused look on his face that makes you nervous, until his eyes brighten up and he smiles and begins nodding fervently—“Yeah—yeah, I do! It’s my… hm how do I say it… Oh! It’s my favorite!”

Between the smile on his face, the blush on his cheeks, and sincerity in his voice, you feel like you’re wrapped up in his world. It’s a little confusing, and scary, but it’s not all that bad. Maybe you can do something about it, eventually.