ᨳ(｡ ˘ ³(´ ˘ `｡)

"No," you gasped, but it came out more like a maybe with extra breathlessness. First date. First. Date. You had standards. Or at least, you pretended to, when you weren’t currently dry-humping a man who smelled like whiskey, leather, and the kind of trouble that left you walking funny.

Dean’s smirk was a sin wrapped in a dimple. "So you’d rather just rub up on me like a cat in heat in my baby’s backseat?" His fingers flexed on your thighs, pulling you tighter against him. "Because, sweetheart, I ain’t complainin’—but the way you’re ridin’ me right now? C’mon the real thing would be twenty times better."

You huffed, but the sound turned into a choked moan when he rolled his hips just right, the denim of his jeans scraping against your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. Thank God for skirts. "Shut. The hell. Up," you hissed, burying your face in the crook of his neck. The scent of him—gunpowder, sweat, and that stupidly good cologne he swore he didn’t wear—clogged your brain like a shot of cheap whiskey. Your nails dug into his shoulder, the other hand yanking his off your hip and bringing it up to your chest. "Touch me."

Dean’s laugh was dark. "Damn, you’re a handful." But his palm was already cupping your breast through your shirt, thumb circling your nipple like he’d mapped the damn thing in his sleep. You arched into him with a sound that was half gasp, half fuck it, and his cock twitched beneath you, thick and demanding. "Bossy little thing, aren’t you?" His lips trailed up your throat, hot and wet, like he was branding you. "Kinda love it, though." His teeth grazed your earlobe. "Feel like you’re just usin’ me to get yourself off."

"Mhm. And?" you shot back, rolling your hips down on him again, because fuck, the friction was obscene.

"And," he rumbled, "that’s the hottest damn thing I’ve heard all week." His free hand slid up your thigh, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your skirt. "But if you keep doin’ that, I’m gonna cum in my jeans like a loser, and nobody wants that."

You grinned, wicked and breathless. "I want that."

Dean groaned, his head falling back against the seat. "You’re gonna be the death of me."

With his head tossed back against the seat, you took full advantage, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat. The stubble scraped against your lips, and you felt the way his body twitched beneath you, his cock jerking like it was begging for attention. "Fuck—okay, jokes over," Dean groaned, his voice rough and needy, "Please, please let me fuck you." The whine in his voice was almost cute—if it wasn’t so damn hot.

But you weren’t giving in that easy. Hell no. Instead, you shook your head, a smirk playing on your lips as you grabbed his hand off your chest and guided it down to between your legs. Dean’s breath hitched when his fingers brushed against the soaked fabric of your panties, his lips parting in a way that was half shock, half smug. You let go of his hand, giving him free rein, and damn did he take it.

His fingers slipped beneath the lace, finding you already dripping for him, the heat of you practically burning his skin. He didn’t waste a second, dragging his fingers through your slit like he was memorizing every inch of you. Then, with a smirk that was pure, unfiltered sin, he pulled his fingers free, glistening with you, and brought them to his mouth.

"Fuck," he muttered, his voice thick as he sucked them clean, his tongue swirling around his fingers like he was savoring the finest damn whiskey. A satisfied hum rumbled in his chest, and you could feel the way his cock pulsed beneath you, like it was approving of his actions. "Sweet as pie," he murmured, his voice dripping with approval, before his hand dipped back into your panties, his fingers finding your clit like it was the only thing in the world he wanted to touch.

The second his fingers made contact, you were done for. Your mouth fell open, a broken gasp escaping as your eyes fluttered shut, your hips rolling against his hand like they had a mind of their own. Dean watched you with a hunger that was almost feral, his fingers working you with a skill that had you seeing stars. "That’s it," he rumbled, his voice dark and encouraging. "Ride my fingers, sweetheart. Show me how bad you want it."

And God, did you ever.

The others had gone out hours ago—all off on some mission that didn’t require a second vigilante or the person Adrian Chase currently could not stop staring at. You.

You were sitting on the couch, legs tucked under you, lazily scrolling through your phone while the dim lamplight flickered across the peeling walls of the safehouse. The air smelt faintly of gun oil, stale pizza, and whatever cheap air freshener Harcourt had pretended not to buy.

Adrian sat on the opposite end of the couch, a little too upright, his mask sitting crooked on the coffee table beside a half-empty can of coke. He drummed his fingers against his knee like someone who’d never been left alone with their crush before—because, well, he hadn’t.

He cleared his throat once. Then again. Then again, louder.

Nothing from you.

“So, uh,” he started, voice a little too bright, “did you know that jumping spiders do little dances to impress mates. Like, actual dances. With their legs and everything.” He mimed an awkward eight-legged wiggle. “And they’re really good at sneaking! Are you good at sneaking? You seem like you’d be good at sneaking. You’re quiet. Like—” He squinted. “—really quiet.”

Still nothing. Just a faint hum of acknowledgement as you scrolled.

Adrian smiled nervously, like a kid trying to fill a silence that wasn’t asking to be filled. “I mean, that’s cool. Being quiet. People like that are mysterious. You’re probably mysterious. Do you have secrets? You totally do. Everyone does. Mine’s that I once cried during Shrek 2. Donkey’s friendship arc really got me.”

You glanced up then—just for a second—and he brightened immediately, grinning as if that brief flicker of eye contact had powered him back on.

“Yeah, you laughed, I saw it!” he said, pointing triumphantly. “See? You get it! You’ve got great taste. I can tell. You’re, like, the kind of person who doesn’t need to talk a lot to make an impact, you know? Like, if you do say something, it’s probably really smart or funny or both, and then everyone’s like, ‘Wow, what a legend.’ Meanwhile I’m just over here talking about tactical capes for ten minutes straight.”

You gave a faint smile, just enough to make him light up again.

“Okay, okay, hear me out,” Adrian said, scooting forward slightly. “Tactical. Cape. It’s like a regular cape, but with utility. Hidden knives, smoke bombs, maybe a snack pocket. Because, like, fighting crime burns calories, and no one ever thinks about mid-battle hunger. I could keep a granola bar in there. Or a Pop-Tart. Pop-Tarts are top-tier fuel for justice.”

You huffed a soft laugh through your nose. Adrian heard it like a victory fanfare.

He leaned back, more relaxed now, rambling freely. “I’ve been thinking about new gadgets, too. Maybe something like Batarangs, but sharper. Vigilant-er. Or a grappling hook that doubles as a taser! Oh, and I saw this video once about a guy who made armour out of carbon fibre—actually, you’d love it. You seem like you’d appreciate cool tech stuff. Do you?”

You looked up again, meeting his gaze briefly. You didn’t answer, but there was a softness in your expression, something patient. He smiled faintly, words stumbling to a slower rhythm now.

“I like that you listen,” he said quietly. “Most people don’t. They tell me to shut up. Which, you know, fair, because I talk a lot. But you don’t. You just… listen. And I guess that’s kinda—nice.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks a little pink beneath the warm light. “I don’t really know how to be quiet around people I like. I just start talking and… keep going.” He chuckled nervously, then looked at you again. “It’s weird, right? The more I like someone, the more words fall out of me like a busted vending machine.”

You tilted your head slightly, eyes flicking up from your phone. There was the faintest smirk tugging at your lips. “People you like, huh?”

Adrian froze.

“Oh—uh—yeah! Like… like, you know, people in general,” he said quickly, words tripping over each other in a frantic stampede. “Friends. Teammates. Uh, colleagues. People with… good moral compasses. And cool hair. Not that your hair isn’t—wait—”

He winced, realising he was digging himself deeper, hands flailing helplessly. “I mean, your hair is great! Not that I look at your hair, like, a lot. I mean, sometimes. Not in a creepy way! Just in a… observational way? Like—scientific!”

He was unraveling fast. You set your phone down, eyes glinting with amusement. “So you like my hair?”  

He stared at you, wide-eyed, mouth slightly open. His face went redder, if that was even possible. “I—uh—no! I mean yes! Not like that—well, not not like that—oh my god—” He buried his face in his hands with a groan. 

You laughed softly, a quiet, melodic sound that sent colour rushing up his neck.

“Oh my god, I sound like a lunatic,” he muttered, half to himself. “Why am I still talking? Stop talking, Adrian. Stop—talking—Adrian.” He actually smacked himself lightly on the side of his head for emphasis, groaning.

You only stared back at him, perfectly calm, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re cute when you panic, you know that?”

“I just meant,” he said in a rush, hands flapping like he could physically wave the embarrassment away, “that you’re—uh—you’re nice to be around! Yeah! That’s all I meant. You’re quiet, and calm, and not a jerk! And sometimes you smile at me, which is… kind of the best thing ever, honestly—wait, that sounded weird again—”

You let him flounder for another moment, quietly amused, until you leaned back with an innocent expression. “So… you like me?”

His brain short-circuited. There was a beat of silence where his mouth opened, closed, and opened again like a confused goldfish.

“I—uh—what? No! I mean—yes! Wait, no! I mean—” He pressed both hands to his face, muffling a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a squeak. “Oh my god. I’m so bad at this. Forget I said anything. Just, uh, delete that from your memory. Men in Black style. Flashy thing and everything.”

You couldn’t help it; you laughed—properly this time, shoulders shaking.

Adrian peeked through his fingers, expression mortified but also faintly hopeful behind his slightly crooked glasses. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you? You think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”

You shrugged lightly, smile still lingering.

He sighed dramatically, dragging his hands down his face. “Great. Fantastic. Adrian Chase, master vigilante, feared by criminals, brought down by one quiet person with a nice smile. Classic.”

Your chuckle softened into something gentler, and his shoulders loosened a little. You didn’t speak, just watched him ramble, his words tumbling out in anxious bursts. The more he talked, the more flustered he got—cheeks flushed, glasses sliding down his nose, hair sticking up from where he’d run his hands through it too many times.

And yet… there was something oddly magnetic about him like this.

His glasses had slipped a little to one side, catching the light. They framed the warmth in his eyes—eyes that, despite his nervous fumbling, held nothing but sincerity. His words might have been tangled, but his feelings weren’t.

You found yourself smiling without meaning to.

He noticed immediately. “Oh god, now you’re smiling. Is that good? Bad? Are you laughing with me or at me? Because I can handle either, honestly, I just—well, actually, I’d prefer ‘with.’”

You gave a small shrug, the tiniest nod—as if to say, with. He let out a long, shaky breath, like he’d just defused a bomb. “Okay. Cool. Yeah. With is good. With is great. I can do ‘with.’”

A moment passed. His rambling slowed, the energy around him softening. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter—almost shy. “So… yeah. That’s me. The guy who can’t shut up around people he likes. Wait! Not like-like —”

You tilted your head, feigning a frown. “So you don’t like me?”

Adrian’s entire body went rigid. “What? No—I mean—yes! Wait—not no yes, but yes yes! I do—like you—but I didn’t mean to say it like that, because it sounds, you know, serious. And not that I wouldn’t be serious if you wanted serious—oh my god, stop talking, Adrian.”

He physically winced, clapping a hand over his mouth. His other hand waved frantically as though he could swat his own words out of the air before they reached you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying hard not to laugh. He looked so hopelessly frazzled—his glasses sliding further down his nose, eyes wide and bright and completely out of his depth.

“Okay, uh,” he continued weakly, voice muffled through his hand, “just to clarify, I absolutely like you. Probably too much. Like, it’s getting medically concerning. I think about you a lot, which isn’t creepy—well, maybe a little creepy, but in a cute way?”

You stood. Adrian blinked up at you, mid-rant, tracking your movement like a confused cat. His head tilted to one side, brows furrowed as you crossed the short distance between you. “Wait, are you—are you leaving? Please don’t leave. I swear I can be less weird if given, like, a five-minute reset. I just need to—”

You stopped right in front of him. He looked up, words dying instantly in his throat. Without saying anything, you reached down and adjusted his crooked glasses, straightening them gently on the bridge of his nose. His breath caught—sharp, soft. The world seemed to freeze around that small touch.

His voice came out barely above a whisper. “Oh.”

You smiled faintly, your hand lingering for a second longer than necessary before you lowered it. Then, with quiet confidence, you moved—settling yourself down onto his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Adrian went absolutely still. Every muscle in his body locked up like someone had hit the emergency brakes.

His eyes darted between your face and the wall and back again. “Uh. Okay. Cool. Yep. This is—wow. This is happening. You’re—you’re sitting on me. That’s new. Not bad-new! Great-new! Like—best-day-ever-new!”

You didn’t say anything. You just watched him, amused, while he tried very hard to keep breathing normally.

His hands hovered awkwardly in the air, unsure where they were allowed to go. “Is this—are we—do I—should I—”

You leaned in slightly, just enough for him to swallow his next half-formed sentence. He blinked, looking at you like he was trying to solve a riddle written in an alien language.

“Adrian,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked rapidly. “Yeah?”

“Breathe,” you smiled, gently cupping his jaw.

“Oh. Right.” He took a quick inhale, a little too fast, coughing once before exhaling. “Okay. Breathing. I’m breathing. Definitely not dying of happiness. Nope. Totally fine.”

Your hand fell from his jaw and brushed his shoulder, and his entire face went a shade deeper. You could feel the nervous energy humming beneath his skin—the kind that made him fidget and ramble, but now it was channeled into stillness, anticipation.

For once, he wasn’t talking.

You smiled, tilting your head. “You were saying something about liking me?”

He made a strangled noise that might’ve been a laugh. “Yeah, I, uh… I still do. Like, like-like. Just—just to clarify. In case that wasn’t obvious by, you know…” 

He gestures vaguely at the entire situation and you laughed quietly—the kind of soft, genuine laugh that made him melt.

He grinned helplessly, eyes shining behind those now perfectly straightened glasses.

“I… have absolutely no idea what to do with my hands,” he admitted, voice small.

You reached down, taking one of them in yours, resting it against your knee. He looked at it like it was a miracle. Then, after a beat, he looked back at your face, his grin returning—softer now, still a little shaky.

“Just so you’re aware,” you whispered, leaning in just a fraction, close enough that your lips brushed against his ear. “I like you too. Like-like.”

Your confession hit him like a flashbang. His mouth fell open—no words, no jokes, not even a nervous laugh. Just shock. You pulled back and saw how his pupils were dilated, how his breath stuttered, and how, for once, Adrian Chase—the man who could talk through gunfire, chaos, and a nuclear countdown—was completely, utterly speechless.

You tilted your head, amused by the silence. “What’s wrong? Did I just break Vigilante?”

He blinked twice, a quiet, breathless laugh finally escaping him. “I—uh—no, I’m fine. Totally fine. Just—wow. You—uh—wow.”

You smiled. “You say that a lot.”

“Yeah, but—” He shook his head, a dazed grin spreading across his face. “This time I actually mean it. Wow.”

He looked at you for a long moment, wonder softening every sharp edge in him. Then, almost timidly, he whispered, “You really mean that?”

You nodded. “Every word.”

Adrian let out a shaky breath, his laugh breaking halfway through it — part disbelief, part joy. “Okay. Cool. Great. Totally normal reaction. I’m just gonna sit here and, uh, internally combust for a bit.”

You smiled and rested your forehead against his, your voice barely above a whisper. “You talk too much,” you teased.

He grinned, dazed and glowing. “Yeah,” he breathed, “but apparently you don’t mind.”

You smiled and leaned closer. “Hmm, I suppose not,” you whispered, placing your hand at the base of his neck, gently scratching there.

Adrian shivered slightly at your touch, eyes widening as he caught your gaze. Your lips hovered for a moment before connecting with his.

His hands froze midair, unsure where to go, and then settled tentatively on your waist as if trying to anchor himself to the reality of the moment.

When you pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his, he let out a breathless laugh, cheeks flushed. “You just kissed me.”

“Did I?” you feigned shock, tilting your head, eyes wide as if the idea were utterly scandalous.

Adrian’s entire body froze. His hands hung awkwardly in the air for a second before settling back on your waist, almost as if holding you in place might stop the world from spinning. “Uh… well… yeah! I mean—wow—yes! You did! That’s… I don’t—”

You pressed a finger lightly to his lips again, cutting off his panicked ramble. “I’m messing with you, you dork,” you whispered, a small teasing smile tugging at your lips.

“Right,” Adrian mumbled behind your hand. “I knew… I knew that.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head and letting your hand fall from his mouth and onto his shoulders before leaning back in and connecting your lips once again.

This time, Adrian didn’t just pause to savour it—he leaned into it with way too much enthusiasm, tangling his fingers in your hair as if he was afraid you might vanish. You gently tilt his head back, deepening the kiss. 

His tongue slid tentatively against yours, and he made a soft, muffled noise of delight against your lips. Your body shuddered, allowing him to explore and taste every inch of your mouth. 

Adrian’s hands moved down to your sides, holding you just a little too firmly, his mind racing faster than his mouth ever could. He instinctively pulled you closer causing you to grind down, feeling his cock throb against your core through the layer of his jeans.

You pulled back from the kiss, a heavenly moan eliciting from your lips. Adrian dropped his head onto your chest, slowly losing himself to the pleasure. One of your hands settled on the back of his head as the other gripped the couch behind him. 

His palms hesitantly glide up and down your thighs, gripping them ever so slightly. The both of you wanted more, neededmore. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension building between you like a storm about to break. Your body begged for it as his thighs trembled while you circled your hips.

“I’m so turned on right now,” he mentioned breathlessly, his lips moving up to graze your neck.

“That’s kind of the point, Adrian,” you rasped, grinding down onto his crotch again.

No matter how good the friction felt—it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. You huff, pulling back and getting to your feet. Adrian stared up at you, furrowing his brows and wondering if he had done something wrong.

Before he has a chance to open his mouth, you take a hold of his hand and head to your room. He stumbled a little, his mind a mix of disoriented surprise and genuine anticipation. Adrian gave you a sidelong glance as you led him inside and locked the door behind him. 

“Why are we in here?” he asked, his gaze settling on you once you stepped in front of him once again.

“Sex, Adrian,” you deadpanned, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t particularly fancy anyone catching us in the act, do you?”

Adrian froze, completely taken off guard. His face flushed a bright red, the colour spreading over his ears and neck. He stumbled over his words, his brain short-circuiting for a good few seconds.

“W-what?” he finally managed to croak out, his voice a little higher-pitched than usual. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” you whispered, going on your tip toes to brush your lips against his ear.

You trail a finger down his chest, feeling the contours of his abs before settling on the waistband of his boxers. You slowly pull at them before allowing them to snap back at his body.

Adrian let out a small, weak groan. His heart hammered against his ribcage, his breathing shallow. You grin, pulling his top up slightly and exposing his slight happy trail. Adrian gulped, trying to regain his composure. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, a mixture of uncertainty and overwhelming desire. 

“Take this off,” you murmured, gently tugging at his top.

His breath hitched at your command and the need to feel more of you, to be skin against skin, won out. His fingers curled around the hem of his top, and he tugged it off in a swift, nervous movement. 

His chest rose and fell with each laboured breath, the muscles under his skin shifting with every movement. His heart beat faster under your gaze, anticipation mixing in his eyes.

Adrian’s breath hitched as your hand rested on his chest, his skin burning under your fingertips. He swallowed, the muscles in his chest tensing beneath your hand. His eyes were wide and unblinking, fixated on your face. 

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from you, trapped in the intensity of the moment. His own hand unclenched from his side and moved higher, fingers trembling slightly as they brushed the underside of your breast. 

“Watch it,” you teased.

His fingers halted immediately, his cheeks flushed scarlet. He swallowed, his throat bobbing with the movement. He tried to maintain a façade of aloof assurance, but the rising colour on his face and the slight quiver in his voice betrayed him.

“I—er—” he started to say but his voice caught in his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I didn’t mean to—” he started, but his fingers flexed involuntarily again, his touch still lingering too close to your breast.

“I’m joking,” you laughed softly, running your hand over his shoulders. 

A puff of breath escaped him, half a sigh and half a nervous laugh. His shoulders relaxed under your touch, the roughness of his skin contrasting with your soft fingers. 

Adrian could feel the warmth spreading from the places you touched, the goosebumps erupting where you absentmindedly trailed your fingers across his skin.

His hand on your waist inched up a little more, the tips of his fingers grazing the underside of your breast again.

“You can touch me, you know?” you smiled, running your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck.

A shiver ran down his spine at your words, heat spreading across his face. He gulped, the sound loud and audible in the silence between you. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, his fingers twitching against your skin as his hand moved higher, his thumb now grazing the nipple underneath your shirt.

He swallowed, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

"You... you mean it?" he asked, his voice a whisper, his body stilled with hesitation and hope.

You nodded and his hand moved again, fingers grazing over your nipple intentionally this time. He couldn't tear his eyes away from your face, his breath hitching as he watched your reaction to his touch.

His fingers closed around you, squeezing your flesh slightly. His eyes darkened with desire, his heart pounding in his chest.

"God, you're gorgeous," he murmured, his voice rough with a mix of awe and yearning.

"You're not too bad yourself, handsome,” you panted, arching your back into his hand.

Adrian’s heart raced, his whole body feeling taut with anticipation. He couldn't believe this was happening, that you were allowing him to touch you like this. But he couldn't resist the temptation, not when you were offering yourself to him. His fingers flexed again, this time squeezing your breast more firmly. His eyes locked onto yours, a mix of awe and hunger in his gaze.

His breath hitched as your fingers brushed against the waistband of his sweatpants once again, his eyes widening in surprise. His grip on your breast tightened reflexively, squeezing your flesh between his fingers.

His heart raced, his body tense as he tried to hold back the rush of desire that swelled within him. You smile at his reaction, your hand moving to gently palm him. His body tensed under your touch, his eyes closing involuntarily as he fought off the urge to roll his hips into your hand. He bit back a groan, his fingers clinging to your breast like a lifeline.

"F-fuck..." he hissed, his voice a rasp. He tried to steady his breathing, but it was difficult with your hand palming him through his jeans. He felt himself growing harder under your touch, his heart pounding in his chest at a dizzying pace.

"Someone's excited," you purred.

Adrian was lost for words, his eyes dark and dazed with want. He swallowed, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips. His brain couldn't conjure up a coherent response, his mind fuzzy with the mix of nervousness and desire. All he could manage was a small nod, admitting to the truth in your words.

You chuckle, undoing the drawstring and sinking down onto your knees. You pulled down his sweatpants and boxers in one go. His cock springs free, the head already slick with precum. He’s bigger than you expected, much bigger.

“You… you don’t have to…” Adrian stuttered, his eyes clouded with residual desire. 

"Do what?" you raised a brow, running your tongue up his cock.

He let out a strangled moan, his eyes closing again. His body trembled as your tongue traced a path up his cock, his breathing quickening with anticipation. He tried to articulate his thoughts, but his mind was a fuzzy mess of pleasure.

“T-that…” he gasped, tilting his head back when you took his tip into your mouth.

His hands clenched at his sides, trying to ground himself.

He swallowed, trying to find his voice as he whispered, "You... you're really doing this."

"Hm,” you hummed, pulling from his cock with a wet ‘pop’. “You're a lucky boy, aren't you?"

Adrian's mind was a dizzying haze of need, his heart pounding like a drum inside his chest. He tried to form a coherent thought but all he could manage was a rasp.

"Please..." he whispered, his voice roughened with want.

"Please what?" you taunted, your hand slowly stroking him up and down.

His voice was a rasp, rough and low as he managed to stammer out, "Please... just..."

He swallowed, unable to put into words the things he needed you to do to him. His eyes pleaded with you, silently begging you to understand his unspoken pleas.

"I need words, Adrian,” your thumb ran over his slit, collecting some precum and smearing it over his cock.

He struggled to find his voice, his mind a blurry mess of desire. His eyes searched yours, trying to find the elusive words he needed. His breath hitched as he managed to whisper, "I need your mouth."

The words were out, the barrier broken. Adrian could see the satisfaction in your eyes, the hunger that matched his own. One of his hands tangled in your hair, gently guiding you as you took him in your mouth once again. 

"You're killing me," he rasped, his words a mix of longing and need. "It feels so good."

Your tongue moved to his tip, swirling it in your mouth causing Adrian to moan softly. His head rolled back as wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, leaving him breathless and trembling.

You took more of him into your mouth and Adrian’s eyes widened. He tilted his head back down and watched you bob up and down. Adrian felt as though every nerve in his body was on fire as the tension in him built.

“Don’t stop,” Adrian moaned, his voice rough with yearning. “F… fuck…”

You gagged slightly, feeling his tip hit the back of your throat. Adrian’s eyes widened with worry but you just hummed around him, the vibrations making goosebumps rise on his skin. 

He tried to form words, but all that came out was a string of uneven breaths mixed with hushed gasps. "Oh... God... please..."

You sucked harshly and Adrian let out a guttural moan. His grip on your hair tightened, his hand trembling with anticipation.

His eyes rolled back in his head, his mind a blur of unbridled pleasure. His whole body tensed. His eyes flickered open, locking onto yours as he tried to form words, his voice a strained rasp.

"Oh... oh God... I'm..." He gasped, his hazel eyes pleading.

His body trembled, his words catching in his throat as he fought to keep control. He tried to pull you off him, but his grip was unsteady, his whole body tension-laden and on edge.

It was as if something snapped inside Adrian, the tension coiled deep in his core exploded in a wave that sent white-hot pleasure coursing through his entire body. His release spurted down your throat, the taste salty yet satisfying.

After swallowing every last drop that he had to offer you, you pulled back, kissing his tip with swollen lips and standing with a smug smile. 

Adrian felt completely boneless, every muscle in his body felt like jelly. He was spent, his body undone from the pleasure you had bought him. 

“You okay there, space cadet?” you whispered teasingly as you adjusted his glasses.

Adrian gulped, nodding dumbly in response as he didn’t trust his words.

“Good,” you murmured, slowly pulling him over to your bed.

You crawled on the bed, leaning back against the pillows and noticing Adrian staring at you—his gaze hungry yet nervous.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” you wondered, tilting your head.

Adrian’s heart thumped furiously against his ribcage, a shiver running down his spine at your words. His eyes darkened with a mix of nerves and excitement as he swallowed hard.

“Can I…” he stuttered, clearing his throat before starting again. “Can I make you feel good?”

“Of course you can,” you chuckled, gesturing him over.

He settled down onto the bed and you pulled him over you. For a moment, he froze—his weight balanced carefully on his hands, hovering above you like he was afraid to get too close. His breath came in shallow bursts, eyes flicking between yours as if waiting for permission to breathe.

Your hands slid gently to his shoulders, grounding him. “Hey,” you hummed, “it’s just me.”

Something softened in him then. The tension in his jaw eased; the tremor in his breath steadied. Slowly, cautiously, Adrian leaned in—his forehead brushing yours before his lips found you in a tentative kiss.

It wasn’t practiced or smooth; it was unsure, sweet, and full of quiet longing. The kind of kiss that said I’ve wanted this for so long, but I don’t want to ruin it by wanting too much.

You smiled against his mouth, feeling his nervousness melt into something gentler. One of his hands came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing along your skin like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes were wide and a little dazed. “I, uh… that was… wow,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion.

You laughed softly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. “You’re allowed to do that again, you know.”

A small, crooked grin tugged at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, nodding.

He let out a shaky breath—part relief, part disbelief—and leaned down again, slower this time, his lips finding yours once more. 

The second kiss lingered longer than the first, a little deeper, a little braver. Adrian’s fingers trembled where they brushed your jaw, his thumb tracing slow, uncertain lines across your skin. The closeness made his heart race—every exhale caught between you, every tiny movement magnified until the world felt impossibly small.

You felt him start to relax, his lips moving with more confidence now, though his breath still hitched whenever your hands found their way to his shoulders. The tension between you grew, not in haste but in warmth—like a match catching slowly, carefully, before the flame took hold.

You shifted beneath him, and his breath stuttered again. His body went still, hands hovering as though the wrong move might shatter the moment. “Wait,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and uncertain. “Is this—am I going too fast?”

You opened your eyes to find him staring down at you, worry etched into his features. For all his bravado, for all the sharp edges that came with the name Vigilante, this was Adrian—unmasked, terrified of doing something wrong.

“Adrian,” you said, reaching up and cupping his jaw. “Your cock was in my mouth five minutes ago, if anything you’re going too slow.”

A deep blush creeped up the back of Adrian’s neck at your words and you chuckled softly at the look of pure shock on his face. You sit up on your elbows, nipping his jaw teasingly. You keep your eyes on his and slowly pull your top over your head.

His gaze drops from your eyes to your breasts and he has to bite the inside of his cheek from letting out a groan. You lean back into the pillows, taking a hold of his hand and placing it on the valley of your breasts. 

“No bra?” he whispered weakly, staring at you in awe.

“No bra,” you repeated, your voice carrying a teasing lilt.

Adrian gulped, moving his hand and cupping your breast. You tilt your head back in pleasure, moaning softly. He alternated between each breast, giving them his utmost attention. 

As amazing as his hands felt on your breasts, you needed more. Slowly, you reached your hand up and curled your fingers around his wrist. Adrian paused what he was doing and furrowed his brows.

You paid his confusion no mind as you slid his hand down your body and into your panties. He froze when his fingers came into contact with your core. 

“You either move your fingers right now or I’ll do it myself,” you huffed, bucking your hips into his hand.

Your words seemed to snap Adrian out of whatever trance he was in and he gently trailed his index finger through your folds, gathering your slick before plunging his finger deep inside you.

You let out a lewd moan, tilting your head back. Your reaction seemed to spur something inside Adrian and he repeated the action again—this time with two fingers. 

As Adrian pumped his fingers in and out of you, his lips trailed kisses down over your jaw, down your neck, across your collarbone, over your breasts and further down your stomach before pausing at your pubis. 

Adrian tilted his gaze up to you and you locked eyes with him, giving him a small nod of approval. He let out a small grin, slowly undoing the button of your jeans and pulling them down with your panties. 

His gaze roamed hungrily over your body. The sight of you, bare and vulnerable, was enough to make his breath catch in his throat and heart race. He threw your clothes into some corner of the room before reaching his hands out to touch your hips, gripping them tightly as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. 

"You're so damn beautiful," Adrian whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "So perfect."

He goes to take off his glasses but you stop him, your hand catching his wrist mid-motion.

“No…” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “Leave them on.”

Adrian nodded, taking a deep breath to try and calm the nerves that were fluttering in his stomach. He ran his hands up and down your thighs, his touch gentle and reverent. He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he slowly kissed his way up your sensitive inner thigh.

Shivering at the feeling, you watched as he slowly moved to your core. He licked a long stripe up your slit, locking his mouth around your clit and sucking.

“Fuck,” you choked out, your fingers coming to his hair.

He continued to suck and lick, his movements slow and deliberate. His need to make you feel good grew even more at the sound of your moans.

He pulled back for a moment, looking up at you, his mouth wet and shining in the low light.

"Am I… am I doing good?"

You laughed a little at his eagerness to please and the way his mouth glistened with your slick, “mm-hmm, so good.”

Adrian felt a rush of pride, knowing that he was doing what you liked. He dived back in, his tongue flicking out against you as he continued to pleasure you with his mouth.

He was determined to make you feel good. Your head was thrown back now, your fingers tangled in his hair. His glasses fogged up from his breath as he continued to please you. 

One of his hands splayed over your stomach, holding you down, as the other stroked his cock. 

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, "I.... I can't get enough of you."

You whimpered slightly at his words, pressing his head down into your cunt, needing to feel his tongue again.

Adrian’s breath hitched in his chest as he felt you pushing his head back down, his mind clouded with desire. He buried his face in you, licking and sucking, as he tried to give you as much pleasure as he could. 

Your fingers tugged at his hair, your head thrown back against your pillow. Your body arched and your legs trembled and despite every cell in your body protesting, you pushed his head away and pulled him up so you could kiss him.

Adrian hummed against your lips, his tongue sliding into your mouth so you could taste yourself.

“Why’d you pull me away?” he asked, pulling back from the kiss to nip and suck at your neck.

“I need you inside me,” you panted, your nails scratching down his back.

Adrian’s eyes widen when he feels your hand slide between your bodies and line him up, rubbing the head along your wet folds. You’re soaked. Arousal slicked your thighs as you finally aligned him with your entrance. 

Unable to control himself, Adrian snapped his hips forward and immediately thrust into you. The intrusion makes you gasp but you gladly take every inch of him, slowly accommodating to his size. 

“A little warning next time would be nice,” you groaned softly as your eyes fluttered shut.

“M’sorry,” Adrian rasped, his head lolling onto your shoulder. “I couldn’t wait… you—fuck—you feel incredible.”

The feeling of his breath tickling your neck and the way he was deep inside you made your brain go blank. When Adrian finally moved, your hips rolled in time with his thrusts, feeling every inch and ridge drag inside you. 

The sounds the two of you made were completely unholy. It was wet and obscene as skin slapped skin. Adrian gathered you up gently, your knees folded up toward your chest. The stretch burned in a perfect way. He was nestled so deep inside you it was almost impossible to form a single syllable. 

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” Adrian murmured, his voice full of aching intensity. 

He braced one hand beside your head—the other, warm and slightly calloused, splayed over your stomach to keep you in place. Your nails dug uselessly into the hard muscle of his shoulders. 

He doesn’t flinch, in fact, he welcomes the pain. He kept you there—folded open, your body twitching under the weight of him. The length and thickness of him sinks through you—the drag of every thrust giving your belly the faintest swell each time he bottoms himself out.

“I'm not gonna... I'm not gonna last," he gasped, his words hushed. "I need... I need you to..."

You managed a weak, “Adrian…” before he rolled his hip deeper, hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur. 

Another moan escaped you and it encouraged him to keep going. He leaned closer, his forehead touching yours. The hand on your stomach pressed down lightly, feeling the way he was filling you up. 

His thumb found your clit, rubbing in slow, taut circles and it's enough to send you over the edge. You moan his name, clenching around him as you finally reach your high.

Adrian’s hips stuttered and he followed your release a few thrusts later, whimpering your name into your ear as he pumped his cum deep inside you. He let out half a moan and half a chuckle as he looked down and watched as both yours and his release leaked out of you and around his cock.

After a few seconds, Adrian pulled out of you and flopped onto the bed beside you. His shoulder nudged yours and you hummed softly in response. His chest rose and fell quickly, like he hadn’t quite figured out how to breathe properly again. His glasses were slightly askew, fogged at the corners, but he hadn’t moved to fix them yet.

You turned your head toward him, smiling lazily. “You okay?”

He blinked, as if your voice had pulled him back to Earth. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, totally. I’m… good. Great. Fantastic, even.”

The words tumbled out too fast, too loud, and he immediately winced. “Sorry, I just—wow, that sounded weird. I didn’t mean like fantastic in a braggy way, I meant in a ‘holy crap, that just happened’ kind of way.”

You laughed quietly, the sound making his face turn a deeper shade of pink. “Adrian,” you said gently, “breathe.”

He did—one big, exaggerated inhale, then a shaky exhale that made you laugh again. He grinned sheepishly. “Okay. Breathing. Nailed it.”

For a moment, he just stared at you—hair mussed, eyes soft, mouth curved in that tiny post-smile that always gave him away. His hand moved hesitantly, brushing a thumb along your cheek, tracing the outline of your jaw like he was committing it to memory.

“You’re looking at me like I’m gonna disappear,” you murmured.

He swallowed, his voice quieter now. “Just making sure you’re real.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his mouth opening like he wanted to say something big—something that scared him—then closing again. He just sighed, tucking you closer instead, his nose brushing your hair.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, still blushing, still grinning to himself like he couldn’t quite believe his luck. And then, after a pause, you felt his chest shake with a quiet laugh.

“So…” he murmured, tilting his head so he could look down at you with that mischievous glint returning to his eyes. “You have a thing for my glasses, huh?”

You hummed with a shrug, smirking. “Maybe.”

because now, theres his relentless and intense stares that make doing your job all the more difficult, adrian waiting with bated breath for whole minutes at a time for you to make eye contact with him from across the room on a daily basis.

it just that the strength of his gaze alone creates a charged atmosphere that you can't ignore even if you tried. you always end up meeting his eyes, no matter how far away or how close he is.

and every time without fail, when adrian realizes he's captured your attention, you can practically see the way his body straightens up, he perks up at the eye contact, as if there was a shock of electricity running through his body.

he always smiles in response. dopey, sweet and giddy. triumphant too.

adrian never once flinches or blushes at being caught in the act. he wears that shit like a badge of honor.

and no matter how much your coworkers snicker about him, call him names, run their mouths about how creepy he is. you can't ever stop the upwards twitch of your mouth at the sight of his.

now it's him lingering by his car almost every day, standing in the darkness of the parking lot just outside of the restaurant. waiting patiently for you to come out at the end of your shift.

adrian is eager to know about your day, your plans, what songs you're listening to at the moment. anything and everything just to keep you around for a while longer. he tells you about cool new animal facts he’s learned, he tells you about a new movie that he watched or a new video game he’s playing, he gives you hints of what his life is like outside of work but he always keeps it vague enough that it accidentally starts making you intrigued about him.

like some kind of black hole, adrian's gravitational pull is fucking merciless once you get close enough.

"honey, you need to stop encouraging him. he's been looking at you like that for 5 minutes now." one of your coworkers had worried out loud to you once.

and sure, not encouraging him sounds easy enough-

but adrian just so happens to be- well, adrian. pretty big eyes behind dorky glasses, soft curls and bright toothy smile.

he's also just disarmingly endearing, and silly. funnier when he’s not even trying to be. he makes you laugh so easily, the noise always startles you with how quick and how loud it escapes your body around him.

you can't help it, the way you cave in to his relentless pursuits at trying to get to know you better, entertaining his silly and sometimes pointless conversations, inadvertently getting distracted by the cuteness of his canines, the little curls that bounce on his forehead and the softness of his hands while he rambles on about how much you would love his collection of beanie babies in his secret room.

that really should have been a red flag all on its own truly. but your brain was all too worried with thinking: god, he's cute.

so no, you cant really blame anyone but yourself when adrian starts pulling stunts like this. far worse than what anyone ever warned you about.

now, he's started following you outside of work too.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

"the creepy busboy from your job is here again" you hear the worried whisper of your friend against your ear, when you turn they're already nodding towards him

adrian, who stands all the other way across the bar with a bottle of beer in hand, nodding his head to the music

he's out of his busboy attire of course, wearing a simple, long sleeved green polo shirt and jeans.

you cant help the way your eyes trail over his frame. it's not that his clothes are incredibly stylish, they're just distinctly adrian. comfortable, practical and dorky. but you think they fit him, and so so fucking well.

"you want me to get rid of him for you?" your friend suggests when she doesn't get an immediate response from you. theres a hint of disgust in her features once she realizes how your face hasn't turned with disgust at all. in fact, she thinks she might have seen a small little pleased turn at your mouth.

it's embarrassing, how sharp and how final your "no!" is in response. its so impulsive you quickly feel the need to elaborate "i mean- it's ok- i- i can handle him."

funny, you're not exactly sure how you're planning on handling him at all.

when you approach adrian you find that his eyes are entirely too focused on nothing in particular for it to be considered natural, as if he were actively and ridiculously trying to avoid looking in your general direction.

he clearly hadn't expected for you to walk up to him first.

its just that, usually, adrian was the one 'bumping' into you.

"oh hey- funny seeing you here!" he always chirped. flashing his canines at you with a big smile.

it's happened a couple times now though, so it might as well be fucking hilarious at this point.

"what the hell are you doing here adrian?" you ask, forcing yourself into his field of vision, his mouth falls agape, he stares at you in shock of your confrontational tone of voice.

you've never been this severe to him before. a mistake on your part, thats for fucking sure.

"im listening to some sick ass live music! what do you thin-" adrian responds defensively, his scowl heavily pronounced as he gestures with his beer around the venue.

“oh really? do you even listen to this band at all?” you snap, folding your arms over your chest in challenge

“uh yeah”

“since when?”

“since forever”

“you don't seem like the type to be into them”

“and why the hell not?” he scowls, hilariously raising his voice at you.

“well- you’ve always been more pop inclined”

“i'm inclined to whatever fucking rocks actually” adrian answers with a sassy little twist of his head “i'm a dude of very diverse and complex taste in case you forgot”

and damn it, you laugh at that. its natural, it's escaping your lips before you realize its even there, like all the other times he's managed to wring it out of you

the edge of his mouth tugs upwards at the sound, looking far too proud of himself, his eyes start gleaming at you in a way that makes your breath hitch.

"are you following me again?" you ask, desperately trying to wipe the smug look off his face, absolutely not buying his answer at all.

theres a quick flash of worry that shows on his features, a subtle gulp in his throat, a drop of his mouth, eyes widening in a way that makes them look like two giant orbs.

it fades away just as quickly as it appears.

"what? fuck no!" he lies.

and he could have left it at that too, but of course adrian will never not elaborate and make things worse for himself. "besides- how do I know you’re not the one following me huh? creep? did you ever think of that maybe? i should probably call the pigs on you"

you hate it, how you can't hold back the snort at his outrageous response.

the absurdity of it all is incredible, you can't fucking believe him.

but of course all adrian can see is your smile now, the victory in having amused you. he gets that satisfied look on his face again, the one that for the first time in forever is actually making your entire body feel like its burning from the inside out.

maybe its the music thats having this effect on you, maybe its the drinks, maybe its the fact that you're evidently growing weak against adrian's infuriating charisma, all you know is that you have to snap the fuck out of it, quick.

"my friends are starting to recognize you y'know?" you say, at a loss for anything else that could scare him off.

of course it doesn't get the desired effect.

"you told your friends about me?" adrian's face lights up, his stupid smile reaches his eyes in a way that makes them crinkle. "that's like- so sweet"

and maybe it is because you’re down a couple drinks, but you swear you see adrian leaning in close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

"adrian, dont change the subject-" you warn, placing a hand on top of his chest to stop him from inching any closer, you're not even convinced he was leaning in at all but the panic surfaced either way

you dont expect to feel how his heart is literally thrumming inside his chest, the loud thumps hitting against the skin of your palm, almost in sync with yours. the knowledge of him being just as affected by you as you are of him keeps you frozen in place, unable to walk away and stop fucking touching him.

when your gaze lifts up from where your palm rests over his shirt and towards his eyes again its when you realize that yes, he has in fact, moved in a lot closer.

so close you see how his cheeks are turning rosy pink at your anchored hand on him, you notice how his glasses are almost imperceptibly crooked on the bridge of his nose, you also dont think you ever realized how toned and how big he actually is until now.

it dawns on you like a pile of bricks over your head, that not only is adrian stupidly and boyishly handsome. he's also just hot, in the most objective and straight forward sense of the word.

he's hot. so hot it continues to silence the little voice inside your head that's trying to remind you the hot guy in question has basically been stalking you this whole time.

it's maddening, how he makes your stomach twist and flutter even when he makes your skin crawl.

"i’ve told my friends about us too" he adds, with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "chris thinks you're awesome by the way-"

wait. what? who the fuck is chris?

"us?" you ask, because it's all you can do to try and process the implications of what he's saying.

"yeah, y'know this thing-" he quickly gestures between you and him with a nod of his head, he smirks at your hand still weighing on him "- we have going on. you know what I'm talking about"

'adrian, we don't-" you start, but you cant explain why the words die in your throat instantly when his face starts falling sullenly in response. instead, your brain chooses another avenue. because you're a fucking coward apparently. "how long have you been telling people about this?"

"i dunno” he giggles, lifting his index finger to adjust the glasses on the bridge of his nose far too casually for your liking “couple weeks maybe."

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

theres a burning shame that settles in your stomach, it's strong, but not strong enough to stop you from digging your hands in adrian's hair and pulling until he gasps out a surprised laugh.

you know somewhere around the bar your friends most likely have already gotten a glimpse of the little scene you've been putting on, how you grabbed at adrian by the sleeve of his shirt and dragged him away to a secluded corner of the bar.

your friends now know what it looks like when you're making out heavily and nastily with adrian chase

because for the life of you, you just cant fucking stop.

you're kinda grateful for the booming loud music, otherwise the people around would be getting an earful of something waaay to obscene to be happening in public.

the way he moans eagerly straight into your mouth is not helping at all either.

adrian kisses like the world is ending tomorrow, like maybe he hasn't kissed anyone in his whole life and he probably never will again. but even though its sticky, messy and its clumsy you're responding with your own needy noises with every nasty swipe and flex of his pink muscle over yours.

it's embarrassing, the many times you daydreamed about doing exactly this, every time you stared for a little longer than necessary while he waited tables at the job, always moments before adrian could notice you were just as enthralled by him as he was of you.

wait- wasn't there a reason you had approached him in the first place? before you started bitting off his mouth?

"you can't keep showing up wherever i am, its creepy" you say, breathless, trying to raise your voice so it beats the loudness of adrian's whine in annoyance of you even daring to part from his kisses

"okay sure, if you say so-" he says with a little evil smirk, trying to lean in quickly to press his lips on yours again.

oh, so he admits it.

"adrian-" you squeak out like you want him to stop, but your arms are still wrapped around him, keeping him captive and close to you by the neck "adrian!"

"what?!" he groans in irritation, separating just enough so you can talk but only just, eyes still zeroed in on your glistening mouth, his spit is smeared all over it and he loooooves how that looks.

"promise me you'll stop it?"

"i dont think you want me to" he states, not teasing, only matter of factly.

"what?"

"i mean, yeah- i followed you here, now you're sticking your tongue down my throat. i think its a pretty obvious conclusion here-"

your stomach drops, the words die at your throat, the shameful feeling you were trying to push down only burns all the more brighter on your skin, it morphs before your very eyes into something that makes you wild with need. almost like adrian grabbed this hidden part of you forcefully by the hand and pushed them out into the light before you could stop it.

its the terrifying notion you tried so hard to shove away, that you thrived in his nearly deranged unwavering attention, that you craved to have adrian trailing after you like a lost little puppy in need of love, you loved it, you fucking want it so bad it has you seeing bursting hearts over his head

theres a beat of silence before a helpless curse slips from your lips, before you pull him down to bite at his mouth once more, defeated and relinquished.

god, how the hell are you supposed to see adrian at work every day after this?

now that you know exactly how it feels when his hands circle around your waist and he clumsily pulls you flush against his body. now that you know what it feels like when adrian follows your lead with every swipe of your tongue agains his.

it's like you're turning a dial to the max inside his head, adrian responds in turn to your every bite and every kiss, progressively matching and then outmatching your already frantic rhythm until it makes you dizzy.

his hands wander aimlessly inside your shirt, his spit is making a home inside your mouth with how messily he slides his tongue over and past your lips.

adrian’s burying himself to the hilt inside you in some filthy bathroom, smiling into your mouth happily every time you cry his name, he's staring at you with the same intensity he always has only this time the shock of electricity that strikes up his back is coursing through him nonstop, and it's coming not only from the eye contact but from where the both of you meet, from where he keeps thrusting in with uncoordinated and unmeasured snaps of his hips until he hears your yelps getting louder.

"fuck! fuck! fuck!, adrian-" you whine, the urgency and the frenzied edge to his movements inside you have you brainless and already fucked out, at a loss for any coherent words that aren't his name and needy desperate moans.

"holy shit you're so noisy-" adrian mocks with a snicker, staking his final claim by bringing his digits up to your mouth, sliding two of them in until you're feeling them all the way down your throat and pressing over your tongue.

frank's too busy counting under his breath as he moves through another set of pushups, palms flat against the worn concrete floor, muscles shifting beneath the faded black shirt he’d abandoned halfway through the workout. now it’s tossed over the back of a chair, forgotten.

you tell yourself not to look.

he's moving through the pushups effortlessly. every rise and fall is measured. shoulders tense, forearms flexing, old scars catching your attention.

“you gonna keep staring, or you got something to say?” his voice cuts through the room.

heat climbs straight into your face. “I wasn’t staring.”

“yeah?"

“yeah, I wasn’t.”

frank pushes himself upright in a single motion and grabs the towel hanging off the chair, dragging it across the back of his neck. he chuckles under his breath, low and rough, and sits on the edge of the battered table. “you’re terrible at lyin', sweetheart."

frank reaches for the water bottle beside him and takes a drink without breaking eye contact. “what was so interesting?” he says eventually.

you blink, too stunned to speak. he lets the silence stretch and lets you sit in it. you lift your chin, trying to recover some dignity.

“I was just… making sure you weren’t overdoing it.”

he raises an eyebrow. “that’s your excuse?”

“yes.”

"yeah, okay, sure- whatever you say."

you clear your throat and make a show of looking around the room instead, as if the peeling paint on the walls has suddenly become interesting. your face feels warmer by the second, and you can only hope the dim lighting hides it.

he shakes his head once, the ghost of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth before he drops back into position on the floor.

“c'mere.”

you blink again. “what?”

“c'mon.”

you eye him suspiciously. “why?”

“need more weight.”

you laugh. “you’ve lost it.”

“get on my back.”

you stare at him for a second, waiting for the punchline but it never comes.

“you’re serious.”

“I don’ joke about no workouts.”

from the other room, micro calls without looking up from his screens. “he really doesn’t.”

you glance between them. “you’re telling me to… sit on you?”

frank plants his hands more firmly on the concrete “what, you deaf now?"

there’s enough certainty in his voice that, after another hesitant second, you step closer. carefully, awkwardly, you shift your weight onto his back, expecting him to wobble or complain. once you’re settled, he adjusts his stance by a fraction of an inch.

“comfortable?”

“frank, are you sure about this?”

“watch me, sweetheart."

he lowers himself in one swing and pushes right back up effortlessly. your eyes widen.

“no way.”

the movement is so controlled that you barely feel yourself rise and fall with him.

“you’re kidding.”

“counting’s easier than talking, doll” he replies between repetitions. you shake your head in disbelief as he keeps going, steady as ever.

“you’re making this look easy.”

“cause' it is.”

from behind the monitors comes an exaggerated sigh “I leave the room for five minutes,” micro mutters, “and we’re inventing new gym equipment.”

frank finally finishes the set and pushes himself upright one last time. “all right,” he says evenly. “hop off.”

the moment your shoes hit the floor, you feel it properly - the difference between being held steady and suddenly being on your own balance again. frank watches you for a second, expression steady again.

“next time,” he says, “you can try not starin' so obviously.”

your face warms immediately. “frank! I said I wasn’t-”

“oh, please." he rolls his eyes and shakes his head, bringing his hand up to massage in-between his eyebrows. “it’s distractin'.”

you go still for a second, confused. “me?”

“yeah,” he says simply, picking up his shirt from the chair and tugging it on. “you.”

frank reaches the sink, turns it on, and leans forward slightly as he splashes water over his face. his shoulders are still relaxed, like he didn’t just shift something in the air between you. like he doesn’t feel it lingering at all. he turns off the tap, wipes his hands on the towel, and without looking back once, heads out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind him.

only then do you exhale properly, staring at the empty space he just left behind like it’s malfunctioning.

You lay sprawled on your back in the middle, chest still heaving as you came down from the high of your last orgasm. Your thighs trembled faintly, muscles sore in the best way and you could feel the warm, slow trickle of their combined release leaking out of you onto the ruined sheets.

Steve was glued to your left side, his massive, muscular frame taking up more than half the tiny mattress. His broad chest pressed against your arm, one thick arm draped heavily across your waist, fingers lazily tracing little hearts on the curve of your hip. His blond hair was a sweaty mess, sticking to his forehead and his baby-blue eyes were half-lidded with satisfaction.

Bucky claimed your right side like he owned it, one thick, powerful thigh thrown possessively over both of your legs, pinning you in place. His fingers rested just below your navel, right above where you were still tender, swollen and leaking their mess.

“Fuck, baby,” Bucky murmured, his voice gravel-rough and low against your ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell. “You took us so goddamn well tonight. Like you were made for it. That tight little pussy squeezed us both so perfect… swallowing every inch, every drop. Greedy girl.”

You hummed happily, too blissed out for full sentences. Your body felt deliciously used, thighs sticky with drying cum, lips swollen from kissing and sucking, neck and breasts covered in little love bites and fingerprints. Steve nuzzled into your hair, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple, his breath warm and steady.

“You still with us, sweetheart?” Steve asked, voice warm and gentle, the same tone he used when he watched you study for exams during the late nights in the dorm. He nuzzled into your hair and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“Mhm.” You smiled lazily, tilting your head to kiss the sharp line of his jaw. Then you turned the other way, catching Bucky’s mouth in a slow, lazy kiss. His tongue slid against yours, unhurried now, tasting like sin and the faint hint of the cheap whiskey the three of you had shared earlier. They both smelled like sex and you. The realization made something warm and possessive bloom deep in your chest.

For a while, only the sound of your combined breathing and the occasional wet shift of sweaty skin filled the small dorm room. The ceiling fan spun uselessly overhead, doing nothing to cut through the thick, filthy atmosphere. Outside, the distant sounds of a Friday night party echoed from another floor, laughter, bass-heavy music but in here, the world had narrowed to just the three of you.

That’s when the thought bubbled up, unbidden but insistent after weeks of watching them together, playful wrestling in the quad, shared glances, the easy intimacy of two men who had known each other since forever.

You trailed your fingers down Steve’s broad, sculpted chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart, then over to Bucky’s side, tracing the raised lines of old scars from a motorcycle accident he’d told you about once. Your voice came out soft, a little shy but curious. “You two… Have you ever… done anything together? Just the two of you?”

The silence was immediate and heavy.

Steve’s hand froze on your hip. Bucky lifted his head, arm shifting as his sharp blue eyes narrowed slightly, studying your face.

“Together?” Bucky echoed carefully, voice still husky from earlier moans.

“Yeah. Like… sexually,” you admitted, cheeks warming even after everything you’d just done. “I was just curious. You’re so close. It’s hot to think about sometimes.”

Steve let out a low, surprised chuckle that vibrated through his chest. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with a mix of amusement and something darker flickering in his gaze. “Baby, no. Never. We’ve been best friends since we were awkward freshmen sharing a shoebox room in the dorms. Not like that. Though I gotta admit… the way you’re looking at us right now is making me wonder what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“Fuck no,” Bucky agreed, but his thigh tightened possessively over yours, pressing you deeper into the mattress. His fingers drifted lower, teasing through the mess between your legs, spreading it lazily. “Steve’s basically my brother. We’ve never crossed that line. We’ve shared a lot- food, clothes, even girls back in sophomore year- but never each other. Why, tutor girl? You got a dirty little fantasy brewing?”

You bit your lip, squirming under their combined attention. The casual way Bucky’s fingers kept playing with their cum, pushing some of it back inside you, made heat pool low in your belly again. “I don’t know… you’re both so you. Big, strong, protective. And you’re both mine now. It just popped into my head. Watching you two wrestle on the couch last weekend… the way you pin each other down. It made me think about what it would look like if you pinned each other for… other reasons.”

Steve’s hand slid up to cup your breast, thumb brushing lazily over your sensitive nipple. “You want to watch us together… or do you want us to try it right here, with you between us?” His voice had dropped, low and rough. “Be honest, sweetheart. No judgment. Not after what we just did to you in this tiny bed.”

Bucky smirked against your neck, nipping at a fresh hickey he’d left earlier. “You imagining me on my knees for golden boy here? Or Stevie bending me over your desk while you watch and touch yourself?” His fingers pressed deeper, two of them sliding into your slick, used cunt with obscene ease, curling just right. “Because I gotta say… the idea of making you lose your mind while we figure it out is kinda doing it for me.”

You gasped, hips twitching. “Maybe… all of it. I just think it would be so fucking hot. You two are already so in sync when you’re inside me. The way you coordinate, like you can read each other’s minds. Imagine if that extended to… touching. Kissing. More.”

Steve groaned softly, his cock twitching against your thigh where it was already starting to harden again. “Jesus, baby. You really are filthy under all those good-girl study sessions.” He leaned in, kissing you deep and slow, tongue claiming your mouth while Bucky’s fingers continued their lazy thrusting. When he pulled back, his eyes were dark. “We’ve never done it. But for you? I’d consider it. Only if Buck’s on board.”

Bucky’s smirk widened into something predatory. He withdrew his fingers and brought them to your lips, letting you taste the three of you mixed together. “You want a show, doll? Want to see your boys cross that line for the first time while you’re still dripping our cum?” He glanced over at Steve, the look between them charged now, testing. “What do you say, punk? Think you could handle my mouth on that big dick of yours while our girl watches?”

Steve’s breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand tightened on your waist. “Only if you can take it as good as she does, jerk.” He looked back down at you, voice rough with fresh arousal. “This what you wanted, sweetheart? To turn your innocent curiosity into us ruining each other while we ruin you all over again?”

You nodded eagerly, heart racing as the energy in the room shifted from satisfied afterglow into something even filthier. “Yes. Please. I want to see it. I want to be part of it.”

Bucky chuckled darkly, already moving, his metal hand guiding your thigh wider. “Then spread those legs wider, baby. We’re just getting started. College is for experimenting, right?”

The three of you tangled together again, laughter mixing with moans as hands began to wander between all three bodies, boundaries blurring under the glow of the fairy lights. The wrecked dorm bed creaked beneath you, and the night was far from over.

You reached up cupping both their jaws, Steve’s smooth, strong jaw on one side, Bucky’s stubbled one on the other. Your voice came out breathy and sweet, eyes wide with lust and affection.

“I want to see you kiss.”

The air in the tiny dorm room went electric, thick with the scent of sweat, sex, and the faint laundry detergent from the sheets they’d wrecked hours ago.

Steve’s eyebrows shot up for half a second, but then that golden-boy smirk spread across his face, slow and cocky as hell. He leaned down, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip. “Oh yeah? You wanna see us kiss, sweetheart? Thought you’d never ask.” His baby blues sparkled with confidence, the same one that made half the campus swoon during his games.

Bucky let out a low, filthy chuckle right beside him, fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip. “Fuck, doll. Been waiting for you to say that. You think we’re just gonna be all shy about it? Nah. We’ll give you a show. Make it real pretty for our greedy little tutor.” He winked, voice dripping with that Brooklyn swagger, like he’d been planning this for weeks instead of hearing it for the first time.

You bit your lip, thighs pressing together at their sudden bravado. “Yeah? You’re both so sure?”

“Baby,” Steve drawled, already shifting higher on his knees, chest puffed out, “we’ve been through worse than a kiss. This is gonna be hot. You’re about to see why they call us the dream team.” He shot Bucky a look, all challenge and heat.

Bucky grinned, sharp and predatory, crawling closer until their shoulders bumped. “Damn right. C’mere, punk. Let’s give our girl what she wants.”

They leaned in like they owned the moment, cocky, sure, mouths hovering with that practiced ease they used on you. You held your breath, pussy still fluttering from the way they’d tag-teamed you earlier, bodies buzzing with anticipation.

But the second their lips actually met…

Steve pulled back first, blinking hard. “Wait- shit. That felt… weird.”

Bucky jerked away too, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes wide. “Jesus, what did you put on your lips?”

Steve blinked with a confused little laugh, still half-leaning over you. “Wha- I used one of her lip balms earlier. My lips were chappy after that long practice in the wind, alright? It’s just strawberry-”

“Dude,” Bucky groaned, making a face like he’d bitten into a lemon. He wiped his mouth again, dramatically. “Strawberries and regret, Rogers. What the hell? Tastes like you made out with a fruit salad and then rolled around in her vanilla body spray. This is weird as shit.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed bright pink under his messy blond hair. He rubbed the back of his neck, that cocky grin completely gone. “Oh come on, it’s not that bad. You’ve eaten worse things off my plate in the dining hall. Remember that tuna melt incident sophomore year?”

You giggled beneath them, the sound bubbling up despite the ache between your legs. They looked so big and ridiculous up there- two massive, naked guys suddenly awkward as teenagers.

Bucky groaned, dramatic as ever, dropping his forehead to Steve’s shoulder for a second. “This is your fault, doll. We were cocky two seconds ago and now I feel like I’m kissing my damn brother. Or worse.”

Steve shoved him lightly, but he was laughing too, the sound warm and boyish. “You’re one to talk, Buck. Your stubble’s like sandpaper. And you still taste like that cheap whiskey from the party earlier. We’re really doing this?”

You stroked their thighs, heart melting and core throbbing at the same time. “You two are the cutest idiots alive. Please? Try again? For me?”

Bucky sighed, long and theatrical, but his cock was already twitching back to life against your thigh. “Fine. But only because you look at us like that. And you’re buying us breakfast tomorrow. The good diner, not the crappy campus one.”

Steve nodded, still pink-cheeked but determined. “Yeah. For her.”

The second attempt was pure comedy. Noses bumped. Bucky tilted left when Steve went right. Their lips barely brushed before both men pulled away again, muttering curses.

“Fuck, that was worse than the time we tried double-teaming that chem lab project,” Bucky complained, wiping his mouth.

“You kiss like you’re afraid of commitment, Barnes,” Steve shot back, but his ears were red. “All teeth and no game.”

You were laughing so hard tears pricked your eyes, but your hand had slipped between your legs without thinking, rubbing slow circles over your swollen clit at the sight of them, flustered, naked, bickering like an old married couple while their bodies stayed hard and ready for you.

“Third time’s the charm?” you whispered, voice husky. “I’ll make it so worth it. That tiny black skirt you both like… no panties… all weekend.”

That got their attention. Bucky’s eyes darkened. “You drive a hard bargain, minx.”

This time they committed. Steve cupped the back of Bucky’s neck, firm and steady, and pulled him in. Their mouths met properly, soft at first, testing. Then Steve tilted his head, deepening it with a surprised, low groan that went straight to your pussy. Bucky made a wrecked noise in his throat and pushed forward, fingers digging into Steve’s broad shoulder.

It turned hungry fast. Tongues slid together, wet and exploratory, the obscene sound of lips smacking and heavy breathing filling the cramped dorm room. Steve’s hand landed on your stomach, warm and possessive, thumb stroking your skin as he kissed his best friend like he was starving. Bucky’s free hand found your breast, pinching your nipple just right while his mouth stayed locked with Steve’s.

You whimpered loudly, fingers speeding up on your clit.

That flipped the switch completely.

The awkwardness burned away in the heat. They kissed harder above you, chests brushing, muscles flexing and gleaming with sweat. Bucky’s hand trailed lower, thick fingers sliding through the cum still leaking from your well-fucked pussy, pushing two inside you easily alongside Steve’s. Steve broke the kiss just long enough to growl against Bucky’s lips, “She’s clenching so fucking hard already. Our dirty girl loves this.”

Bucky laughed breathlessly into Steve’s mouth, nipping his bottom lip hard enough to make Steve hiss. “Told you she was filthy. Look at her- rubbing that pretty clit while we make out like horny idiots.” He stroked deeper, curling his fingers just right while Steve’s thumb found your clit, taking over with slow, perfect pressure.

You moaned, arching up, free hand reaching to wrap around Steve’s thick cock. It was fully hard again, heavy and hot in your palm. Bucky noticed and grinned wickedly against Steve’s lips. “She wants more, punk. Touch me while you kiss me. Give her the full show.”

Steve didn’t hesitate this time. His big hand wrapped around Bucky’s cock, stroking him in time with the fingers fucking you. The three of you moved together, messy, filthy, perfect. Their kisses grew sloppy, tongues visibly tangling, spit-slick lips shining under the cheap dorm lamp. Every moan they shared vibrated through their bodies and into yours.

“Fuck, your hand feels different,” Bucky muttered, hips rocking forward into Steve’s grip. “Bigger. Rougher.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, jerk,” Steve replied, voice wrecked as he kissed him deeper, tongue fucking into Bucky’s mouth while his fingers scissored inside you. “You’re leaking all over my fist. She’s got us both so worked up.”

You came the first time like that, shaking, crying out their names as their combined fingers and the sight of them devouring each other sent you flying. They didn’t stop kissing through it, only slowing their hands to work you through the aftershocks, trading soft, lingering pecks mixed with filthy whispers.

When you came down, they were both staring at you with matching expressions: soft affection mixed with raw hunger.

“Best fucking girlfriend in the world,” Steve murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your lips, tasting like Bucky.

Bucky kissed you next, deeper, then pulled Steve back in for another slow, exploratory kiss right above your face. “She’s still dripping. Think she wants round two of the show while we fuck her again?”

You nodded frantically, glowing. “Kiss each other the whole time. I want to feel it when you do.”

They obliged. Steve slid back inside your pussy first, thick and perfect, stretching you open with a shared groan. Bucky positioned himself behind Steve, one hand on Steve’s hip, the other reaching around to stroke you where you were joined. But they kept kissing, messy, open-mouthed, tongues sliding as Steve started thrusting slow and deep.

The dorm bed creaked under all three of you. Bucky’s cock rubbed against Steve’s ass and your thigh with every movement, leaving wet streaks. Their moans mixed, Steve’s deep and rumbling, Bucky’s rough and edged with that Brooklyn accent. Every time their tongues met, Steve’s hips snapped harder, driving you closer to the edge again.

“God, she’s so tight when we do this,” Steve panted against Bucky’s mouth. “Feel her, Buck- put your fingers in with me.”

Bucky did, stretching you even fuller while they made out sloppily above you. You came a second time, vision whiting out, clenching around both of them as their kisses turned almost violent with need.

They kept going like that for what felt like hours, switching positions, trading who was inside you, but never stopping the kisses for long. Bucky fucked you from behind while Steve knelt in front, feeding you his cock and kissing Bucky over your shoulder. Then Steve took you missionary again, Bucky straddling your chest so you could suck him while they leaned in and kissed each other right above your face, spit and moans raining down.

Filthy comments kept spilling out between kisses:

“His mouth is actually fucking addictive,” Bucky admitted, laughing breathlessly as Steve sucked on his tongue.

“Told you I was good at everything, asshole,” Steve shot back, then bit Bucky’s lip and made him moan loud enough to probably wake the neighbors.

You lost count of your orgasms. By the end, all three of you were a sweaty, cum-covered mess tangled in the sheets. Steve and Bucky finally collapsed on either side of you, still trading lazy, soft kisses across your body, your breasts, your neck, your lips before meeting in the middle again just because you asked.

“Love you idiots so much,” you whispered, voice hoarse and happy.

Bucky nuzzled into your neck, then kissed Steve once more, slow and sweet this time. “Love you more, doll. Even if kissing this punk still feels kinda weird in the best way.”

Steve smiled, soft and sated, pulling both of you closer. “Worth every awkward second. Round three?”

You grinned. “Only if you keep kissing.”

The three of you eventually collapsed again in a sweaty, sticky pile, still buzzing with endorphins and laughter. The tiny dorm bed creaked under your combined weight as Steve reluctantly untangled himself to grab water bottles from your mini-fridge. Bucky stayed behind, lazily stroking his fingers up and down your thigh, tracing little patterns through the mess still leaking out of you.

When Steve came back, balancing three bottles, he bumped clumsily into the edge of the bed and knocked over a small cardboard box you’d stashed underneath weeks ago. A couple of worn, well-loved magazines spilled out across the floor.

You sat up on your elbows, eyes widening. “Wait… you still have those?”

Bucky glanced over and barked out a loud laugh, throwing his head back. “Shit. Our old Playboy collection. I thought we lost those during the move. Looks like they found a new home under our girl’s bed.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, equal parts embarrassed and amused, his cheeks flushing that adorable pink again. “We were like nineteen and horny as hell, okay? Don’t judge us, sweetheart. It was before you tamed us.”

You reached down and picked one up, flipping it open with shaky fingers. The glossy pages showed beautiful, barely-dressed women in seductive poses, lacy lingerie barely covering full breasts, long legs spread teasingly, sultry eyes staring back at the camera. You bit your lip hard, flipping slowly. Your thighs pressed together as fresh heat pooled low in your belly, your sore, used pussy giving a needy little throb.

Bucky noticed immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing with delight. “Ohhh, look at that face. You getting wet again already, baby? Just from looking at pretty girls?”

Steve leaned in closer from your other side, voice low and teasing as he handed you a water bottle. “You like looking at pretty girls, sweetheart? Didn’t know our innocent little tutor had a secret thing for soft curves and lace. That’s cute as hell.”

“I- I just…” You turned another page, cheeks burning hot. The model on this spread was gorgeous, voluptuous hips, perfect tits barely contained by sheer fabric, lips parted like she was mid-moan. Your nipples tightened and you shifted restlessly. “They’re really pretty. Like… really pretty.”

Bucky grinned, propping his chin on your shoulder so he could look at the magazine with you, his breath hot against your ear. “You ever think about doing anything with a girl? Like… Nat, maybe? She’s always in those tight little tank tops when you two study. Bet she’d look real good between your thighs.”

Your head snapped up. “Bucky!”

Steve chuckled warmly, sliding back onto the bed and caging you in from the other side, one massive arm wrapping around your waist. “Come on, don’t get shy now, baby. You just made us kiss like horny teenagers. Fair’s fair. You ever thought about Nat like that? She’s hot as hell. We’ve seen the way you two giggle and whisper during those late-night study sessions.”

You hid your face in your hands, but you were smiling, thighs rubbing together as slick heat continued to build. “You two are the worst. I can’t believe you’re teasing me about this after what I just watched you do. You were literally making out while fingering me.”

Bucky gently pulled your hands away, kissing your knuckles with surprising sweetness before nipping at one. “Hey, we’re not complaining at all. You look so fucking cute all flustered and turned on. Your nipples are so hard right now. Keep looking if you want, doll. We’ll watch. Hell, we’ll help.”

Steve’s big, warm hand slid up your inner thigh, spreading your legs a little wider as he kissed your temple. “Or tell us what you’re thinking about while you flip through those pages, sweetheart. We can make it part of the lesson. Tell us which girl is making that pretty pussy clench.”

You peeked at them through your fingers, still sticky and sore but undeniably, shamefully aroused again. The sight of your two naked, flushed, muscular boyfriends, cocks half-hard against their thighs, looking at you like you were the center of their universe, combined with the glossy, filthy magazines in your lap made your head spin.

“Maybe… I’ve thought about it a little,” you admitted quietly, voice trembling as you flipped to the next page. This model was on her knees, ass up, looking back over her shoulder. You whimpered softly. “Not Nat specifically, but… girls are so pretty. Their bodies are so soft and curvy. I wonder what it would feel like to… touch.”

Bucky’s grin turned wicked and hungry. He reached over and turned the page for you, revealing a stunning redhead with her legs spread wide. “That’s our girl. Always full of filthy little surprises. Look at you getting worked up. Your thighs are shaking, baby.”

Steve’s fingers teased higher, brushing lightly over your swollen, leaking folds. “You’re soaked again just from looking at tits and pussy. That’s so fucking hot, sweetheart. You want to touch a girl’s soft tits while we watch? Or maybe you want one to sit on your face while we fuck you?”

You moaned quietly, hips twitching toward Steve’s hand as you kept flipping pages, eyes glued to the images. Bucky leaned in and sucked a mark onto your neck while his metal hand cupped one of your breasts, rolling your nipple.

“Tell us more,” Bucky murmured against your skin, voice dripping with teasing amusement. “Which one’s your favorite? The blonde with the big tits? Or the brunette who looks like she’d eat you out real slow and sweet?”

“I… I like the way they look so confident,” you breathed, voice getting higher and needier. Another page. Another gorgeous woman touching herself. Your clit was throbbing. “They’re so sexy. I feel all warm and tingly just looking…”

Steve chuckled darkly, sliding two thick fingers back inside your messy cunt, curling them perfectly. “Listen to you. Our innocent tutor is dripping down my hand because of some magazine tits. You ever watch girl-on-girl porn, baby? Bet that would really get you going.”

You whimpered loudly, clenching hard around his fingers as you turned another page with shaky hands. The images were blurring together now, lips, curves, fingers disappearing between thighs. You were so worked up you could barely think straight.

“I… I don’t even watch normal porn,” you confessed in a tiny, embarrassed voice, cheeks flaming.

The room went quiet for half a second.

Bucky pulled back, eyes wide with genuine surprise before a massive, predatory grin split his face. “Oh shit… yeah, I forgot. Our sweet little good-girl doesn’t even watch porn. Fuck, that’s adorable and so goddamn hot.”

Steve’s fingers stilled inside you for a moment, then started moving again, slower and deeper, his voice dropping into a rough growl. “You serious, sweetheart? You get this worked up just from looking at magazines and making us kiss? No porn at all?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip hard as another wave of heat crashed through you. Your hips rocked shamelessly against Steve’s hand, chasing the pleasure while your eyes stayed glued to the magazine in your lap. The latest page showed two women tangled together, lips locked, hands exploring soft curves. A broken whimper slipped out of you.

“I’ve never… needed it,” you admitted breathlessly, voice high and shaky. “I just… get like this with you two. And now… with them. They’re so soft and pretty and- ah!”

Bucky laughed low and filthy, nipping at your earlobe while his fingers joined Steve’s between your legs. Circling your swollen clit with perfect pressure. “Listen to her, Steve. Our innocent little tutor’s never watched porn but she’s soaked just imagining girl-on-girl. Bet you’ve had some real dirty thoughts during those late-night study sessions, haven’t you, baby?”

Steve leaned in and kissed your neck sweetly before sucking a fresh mark right below your ear. “Tell us, sweetheart. Be honest. When you’re alone in this dorm bed, do you ever touch this needy little cunt and think about pretty girls kissing? About soft tits in your hands? About a girl going down on you while we watch?”

“Yes- fuck- maybe,” you gasped, flipping to another page with trembling fingers. This one had a gorgeous dark-haired woman touching herself, head thrown back in pleasure. Your thighs started shaking. “I… I think about how their skin would feel. How they’d taste. It makes me so wet but I never… I never finish to it. I just get all worked up and then you two come over and-”

“And we fuck the thoughts right out of you?” Bucky finished, voice dripping with teasing delight. He pressed his metal fingers harder against your clit, rubbing tight circles while Steve fucked you deeper with three thick fingers now. “Poor baby. So pent-up and curious. Never even seen girls eating each other out on video. That’s criminal. We should fix that.”

You moaned loudly, the sound downright pornographic in the small dorm room. The combination of their filthy words, their hands working you open, and the glossy images of beautiful, naked women had you right on the edge. Your free hand grabbed Bucky’s thigh, nails digging in as your back arched.

Steve kissed your temple, sweet and loving even as his fingers curled relentlessly. “You’re clenching so hard, baby. You really like this, don’t you? Looking at pretty girls while your boys play with you. So cute and filthy at the same time.”

Bucky grinned against your neck, voice low and taunting. “Bet if we put on some girl-on-girl porn right now you’d come in seconds, huh? Our pure little tutor losing her mind over lesbian shit while we finger-fuck her. Say it, doll. Tell us how bad you want it.”

“I- I want-” Your words cut off into a desperate whine as they sped up, perfectly in sync like always. The magazine slipped from your fingers onto the bed as your head fell back against Steve’s shoulder.

Bucky leaned in close, lips brushing your ear, voice dark and promising. “Well, damn. Then we’re definitely going to have to do something about that…”

— yours truly, ѕℓυtdιεr.

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