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“But what if it’s not fine,” you’d pleaded. “What if there’s a- A storm, or more people than we thought, or- Or Bucky gets hurt-“

“Who is in charge of Bucky’s health?” Yelena had cut you off with a pointed look, and you’d swallowed.

“I’m not- I wouldn’t say in charge-“

“You make him eat vegetables. That is in charge.”

“I make all of you eat vegetables-“

“You don’t make me eat vegetables,” Walker had muttered, and you’d flipped him off.

“That’s because I hate you.”

Walker had scowled, Ava—pressed against the wall of the room and clearly trying not to be involved in this conversation—had snorted, and Yelena’s mouth had twitched.

“See,” she’d given you a winning grin. “You are a natural leader. You will be fine.”

“I will not be fine-“

Bucky had said your name, and everyone in the room had gone still. He’d been left out of this meeting. From Yelena’s wide eyes and Ava’s smirk, it hadn’t been hard to work out that it was on purpose.

“What isn’t going to be fine,” Bucky had muttered, and Walker and Yelena had an exchanged sharp, you do it looks.

Walker had lost the glare off, sighed, and turned to Bucky with a wide, winning grin.

“You’re taking the scout on her first mission, buddy, congrats- Shit- Hey-“

Bucky had stormed forward, metal hand flexing like he was thinking about wrapping it around Walker’s throat. He’d stopped himself, shot you a strange look, and jerked his head.

“Out,” he’d grunted, before pausing and adding, “Please.”

The please hadn’t been necessary. You’d almost run out the room with a nervous look back, a little worried you were going to come back to a bloodbath. The glass was supposed to be fully soundproof. You’d still been able to hear muffled, furious shouting. 

Bucky had stormed out after almost an hour, given you a tight look, strange look, then stomped down the hall. Yelena had given you a thumbs up. You’d—foolishly—hoped that meant you were off the hook.

It hadn’t.

You’d been dropped in Norway with Bucky a week later, an hour after planned—Alexei wanted to bring his camera, and wouldn’t hear anyone tell him no—with plans to be picked up in the morning.

“Stay close,” Bucky had muttered, not meeting your gaze. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You’d nodded, your voice barely more than a  breath. “James, I- I don’t know what you’d do.“

“Then don’t do anything.” He’d snapped.

You’d shrunken into yourself. You knew he didn’t like this—you weren’t a big fan either—but the bristling, electric anger almost radiating off of him, it wasn’t anything you were used to. Bucky was usually kind to you. He opened your doors and brought you muffins from the bakery down the street. You made him watch movies when he couldn’t sleep, and he asked you questions about pop culture when he was confused. You had a good—confusing, but good—relationship.

Yelena likes to tease that he like likes you. You try to punch her in the face, and always miss. He doesn’t. He couldn’t. He’s Bucky Barnes, and you’re a dork with a computer that he’s nice to because he’s a good man.

A kind, handsome, perfect man with a jawline you’d kill to kiss and hands you’d die to hold. A man who remembers your birthday when you sometimes forget, and knows your coffee order, and lets you push him around even thought he could crush you with a single hand. You’d like him to crush you with that hand. Maybe pin you down with it and split you open and kiss you with those soft lips that always ghost with a smile at your stupid jokes.

You never should’ve told Yelena about your tiny, little, totally manageable crush on him to begin with. It’s going to be the death of you. You’re sort of starting to worry that this was Yelena’s grand plan to finally make you talk to him. If it was, you’re actually going to kill her, or hire someone who can.

Because it started raining. And after it started raining, lightning cracked through the sky, and thunder followed, and you and Bucky got slowed down. Slowed down enough that—combined with the weather conditions—Alexei couldn’t come pick you up. And you had to find a hotel in Norway.

And the only room left had one bed.

And you’re going to jump off the balcony and pray that Bucky doesn’t catch you.

“You should take a shower,” he mutters, tossing your bag onto the couch. “I’ll go find some extra clothing.”

You nod, pulling at the sleeves of your drenched shirt. “I- I can take the couch-“

“No.”

You sigh. “Bucky-“

“I’m on the couch,” he shoots you a stern look, bracing his hands on his hips. “And you’re on the bed.”

You swallow, and nod. Arguing with him right now doesn’t seem productive. You’re lucky he’s still talking to you after the mission.

It didn’t go poorly. In fact, given everything, it actually went better than you could’ve hoped for. But Bucky is still looking at you like you’re a problem, and it’s making you sort of sick. You don’t want to be something extra that weighs on his shoulders. Don’t want to be an extra layer of ice, pressing down on his chest when he’s already the one keeping you both together. It’s already cold enough as it is.

You shower. Bucky finds clothing—an oversized, thin fabriced shirt that just drapes past your thighs—and follows after you. Neither of you say much, and you try not to let the silence feel like poison, but it’s hard. He’s never been quiet with you this long, but you’ve also never been in this kind of situation with him before.

“Alexei will get us in the morning,” he mutters, stepping out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist. “Then we’ll get you home.”

“Oh- Okay.” You flush, staring down at your hands. His chest is broad, and bare, and warm looking. The rivers of scars over his shoulder and pecs look like they’d be easy to map, and the dip of his towel show off the strength of his stomach. Thick and muscled, soft in all the right places, probably easy to wrap yourself in, and-

Bucky mutters you name, and you’d stopped staring at your hands without thinking. You clear your throat and slide into the bed, grabbing your phone with shaking fingers and pretending to be deeply invested in the blank lock screen. In your periphery, Bucky doesn’t move for a long moment. You dare to look at him under your lashes, and find him staring back.

“Bucky?” You ask softly, and Bucky’s throat bobs. “Are you-“

“You did good,” he grunts, and you blink, heat rushing between your thighs.

“I- I did good?”

He nods tightly. “Today. You did good.”

“Oh.” You swallow, unable to break his gaze. “I- I didn’t do much-“

“You got me through the lab. You listened.”

“Anyone can listen, James.”

Bucky’s jaw twitches, and he huffs something close to a laugh. “You’d be surprised,” he mutters, grabbing his warm clothing off the arm of the couch. “And don’t sell yourself short, doll. You listen real well.”

Your mouth falls open, and you think you might be frozen in place. Bucky retreats back to the bathroom, and you’re not even sure what to do with yourself. You’re sure he didn’t mean it like that, but god, it would’ve been nice if he did. Your head certainly takes the thoughts and runs with them. Bucky over you in this same bed, that metal hand pressed against your stomach, cooed praise and light orders of take it and make some noise for me, doll. The gleam in his eyes when you’d listen, the way he’d feel buried inside of you, the burn of blue eyes as he’d watch you come apart, driving into your cunt over and over and over-

“Night,” Bucky grunts, and you blink at him through the dark.

“Night,” you breathe back, and for a second, you just stare at each other.

Bucky’s gaze softens slightly. You could swear is does. And maybe it’s just a trick of the light, but his gaze drags down the fabric of your sleep shirt, catching on your bare thighs and spread legs. His tongue darts over his lips, and you press your thighs together, shifting nervously on the mattress.

He looks back up to you, jaw working tight. 

“Night,” he mutters again, and you swallow.

He goes for the light, and you glance at the couch. It’s small. More of a sectional than a functional piece of comfort.  

“Bucky?” You say, before you can think better of it. “Do you- Do you want to sleep in the bed.”

Bucky freezes, his hand on the light switch. You swallow, pulling the sheets higher up your body, and Bucky mutters your name. “You don’t have to-“

“Are you going to be able to sleep on the couch?” You whisper, and his jaw ticks again.

“That’s not your shit to worry about-“

“Alexei’s going to talk the whole ride home,” you push, and his throat bobs. “And you- You get really grumpy when you don’t sleep.”

Bucky chuckles. “I get grumpy, huh.”

You nod, and he sighs. His hand curls into a fist, and for a second, you’re sure he’s going to tell you no.

“I- I really don’t mind-“ 

“Alright,” he cuts you off, words short and clipped. “You win.”

You blink, and try not to smile when he hits the lights. The streetlamps outside let you see his figure, walking over to the bed. You force yourself not to hold your breath, and lie down like everything is perfectly normal.

The mattress dips. Bucky lies flat and stiff on his back, slowly pulling the sheets over his body, and you turn away, trying to hide the flush blooming over your face.

This was a mistake. That’s clear now. You adore him too much, and you wanted to help, and it made you forget about the actual consequences of Bucky being right there, next to you, wearing only sweats and emitting heat like a furnace. The bed feels smaller than it did a moment ago, but that might just be the size of him. Your fingers brush, and his hand jerks away like he thinks you’re going to burn. You twist further over, pulling the blankets with you.

“You’re hogging,” Bucky grunts, and you pull your knees a little into your chest.

“Sorry,” you mumble, trying to loosen your grip. “Just- Cold.”

It’s not cold. It was, before he climbed in next to you. Now it’s impossibly humid, like you’ve been dropped in to a hot spring. Bucky sighs, and doesn’t take the slack of the sheets you offered. You shift in the bed, trying to make yourself smaller, trying to offer him more space.

The minutes crawl past you. It’s been an exhausting day, but you’ve never been more awake. You’re worried he can hear your heartbeat. You’re worried he can smell the arousal, pooling between your thighs whenever your feet brush. You’re almost curled fully into a ball, the sheet wrapped around you like a cocoon. A restless, anxious pill bug of a cocoon, trying to find a spot on the bed where you’re not painfully aware of Bucky’s presence.

His hands, brushing near your spine when you roll the wrong direction. The steady sound of his breath, that should be calming but only works you up more and more. The line of his jaw when you risk a look, and the flutter of his lashes as he stares at the ceiling. At least he’s not sleeping either. You can be grumpy together, in the morning.

“You’re movin’ too much,” Bucky grunts, and you’re flushing so deeply you’re worried you’re going to light on fire.

“Sorry,” you breathe, and he sighs.

“’S fine.”

You think he might just give up and go back to the couch, but he doesn’t. You consider taking the couch yourself, but you’re stubborn. You asked him to do this, and if you try to go to the couch, Bucky will just throw you back to bed and take the couch himself.

That’s a nice idea. Strong arms wrapped around you, manhandling you, folding you over and tossing you wherever he pleases like a fuckdoll.

You risk another look, and almost whimper.

He’s staring at you in the dark, that strange, hooded look gleaming in his eyes. Your heart pushes into your throat, and your fingers dig into your hips as you hold yourself. Neither of you seem to be able to think of anything to say. Bucky licks his lips again, his eyes darting down to the arch of your neck, and your breath catches. The air seems to be pressing over your skin like a shroud. You’re not sure what to do with yourself but try to breathe.

This must be a dream. Bucky wouldn’t look at you like that during the day. And if it isn’t a dream, he probably doesn’t mean it the way your sleepy, addled brain thinks. He’s always had the same effect on you as a strong drink. Making you a little loose-lipped and foolish and delusional. There’s a reason you don’t go out with him. You’re not trying to ruin the good, steady friendship you’ve had for so long.

“I’m sorry you got stuck with me,” you whisper, and Bucky frowns.

“Stuck with you?”

“On- On the mission.”

His frown deepens. “I’m not stuck with you, that’s-“

He cuts himself off, rolling onto his back with a groan. He runs a hand over his face, and you swallow, pushing up a little to hold his gaze.

“It’s okay, I- I get it-“

“I wasn’t stuck with you,” he cuts you off, tone surprisingly stern. “I mighta been- Harsh,” he lets out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “But listen to me, I’m never- I like havin’ you around, alright? Never stuck with you.”

“But-“

“You matter,” he grunts, staring firmly up at the ceiling. “I don’t like this ‘cause you- You’re not supposed to be in these kinda situations, doll. That’s it. Don’t think it’s anything else.”

“Oh- Okay.” You whisper, and Bucky’s eyes dart to yours.

“Got it?”

You nod, and he sighs, looking back to the ceiling. His arms are still crossed, and he doesn’t look cold, but just lying there without blankets, it can’t be comfortable.

“Bucky?” You say softly, and he grunts. “Do you want the blankets?”

“I’m good-“

“We could share,” you add quickly, and he shoots you an amused look.

“I tried to share. You’re the one who kept yankin’ them away from me.”

You flush, wrinkling your nose. “They’re small-“

“They fit the mattress. Should fit two people.”

“Well, they didn’t think one of those people would be you.”

Bucky raises his brows, and your eyes widen.

“I- I just mean- You- You’re very big, and- I’m smaller- The sheets are smaller, and you’re big-“

“Said I’m big already,” he drawls, and you’re going to smack him.

“Well, you are,” you snap, yanking the sheets fully around you. “And now I’m not sharing. Because you’re being a butt.”

You flip over, burying your face in a pillow when Bucky laughs. It’s a low, deep sound that rolls through your body, almost making you dizzy. You feel the mattress shift behind you, and curl further into yourself.

“Your heart is racing,” he mutters, low and rough, and you’re sure you’re dreaming now.

“Your heart is racing.”

Bucky chuckles again. That’s a dangerous sound. He shouldn’t be allowed to make it.

“You’re bein’ bratty tonight,” he murmurs, a large, light hand tracing over the curve of your hips. “It’s cute.”

You want to roll over and hit him or something. It’s not fair to do that. Not right now, not to you. “James…” You whisper, and he hums.

“Love when say my name like that,” he toys with your hair between, and you bite back a moan. “You know you’re the only one I let say it, right? Only one who could get away with damn near anything ‘round me.”

You make a disgruntled, confused little sound that’s a mix between a moan and whine. You’re really not sure what the fuck is happening, but you’re terrified to ruin it. To move wrong and break from the dream.

“But Christ, doll,” Bucky wraps his hand slowly around the back of your neck, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning back into the touch. “I’m tryin’ real hard to be gentleman, and you’re not making it easy.”

His thumb drags over the base of your hairline, and the mattress dips again. Your breathing becomes shallow, as Bucky leans down. His lips brush near your ear, and you whimper, clinging onto the sheets for dear life.

“I can smell you,” he says, and you’d like the mattress to just swallow you whole. “Can smell how you get fuckin’ wet looking at me, how you gush whenever I touch you,” he squeezes that back of your neck gently. “Tell me to back off. Before I do something real stupid and selfish.”

You roll over slowly, and try not to moan at just the sight of him. Hanging over you in the dark, broad shoulders and parted lips, staring at you like he wants to eat you alive.

“Selfish?” You manage to breathe, reaching up to rest your hand, flat against his burning chest. “James, you’re not-“

“Don’t.” He catches your wrist, but doesn’t push you away. “I want you all to myself. I’d call that selfish.”

You shake your head, your heart pounding your ears. Your nails scrape over his skin, and his whole body almost shudders with restraint. He mutters your name, cupping your cheek, his thumb dragging against your lower lip. 

“Please,” he rasps. “Don’t look at me like that, doll, c’mon-“

“What if I want you to look at me like that,” you whisper, and Bucky’s fingers flex against your jaw. “What- What if I want you too.”

Bucky’s gaze drops back to your lips. His tongue flicks out again, and when he looks at you, you can feel the desperation, tight as a wire between your bodies, begging to be snapped.

You’re not a brave person. You have never been. But under his attention, you feel like you could do anything. You drag your hand over his shoulders, and he shudders. You hold him, trembling with anticipation, and tug him down. He lets you, lowering until your lips are just brushing, his eyes lidded and features blown out.

“You sure?” He mutters, letting out a sharp breath when you nod. “I’m not- One night ain’t gonna be enough-“

“Good,” you whisper, and Bucky groans, fully dropping his brow. “Bucky- Please-“

Bucky kisses you, and you’ve dedicated countless hours to dreaming of this moment. You’ve played it out in a million scenarios, a million different ways, with a million different results. You never dared let yourself think that the reality would be better than the dream, and yet you’re here. And Bucky’s kissing you, and you didn’t know anything could feel so good.

He’s slow. Almost cautious, like he’s trying to test the waters of just how much he’s allowed to take. His lips are chapped and warm, working softly against yours, lighting a little fire with every single, teasing kiss. His tongue brushes over your low lip and you suck in a sharp breath. Bucky hums, pressing a little further down, caging you beneath the mass of his body, trapping you beneath him.

You’re exactly where you want to be. You open your mouth when his tongue presses on your lower lip, tugging gently on his hair to coax him on. He moans down your throat, weaving his fingers into your hair and tugging ever so lightly back. You let him guide you, clinging to his shoulders, getting swept away in the mass of him, the feeling of having him everywhere. His free hand drags down to caress your side, and you arch into the touch with a soft, uncontrolled sound.

Bucky groans, and his kiss gets sloppier. His movements become shorter, his lips demanding against yours. You’re already out of breath, but you don’t dare to push him away. You’ll let him kiss you like this until your head is spinning, until you pass out from the pleasurable, burning ache of his kisses and touches.

“Jesus,” Bucky mutters against your lips, kissing between every word as if he can’t stop himself. “You’re so fuckin’ soft for me, doll, so sweet and easy.”

You whine and Bucky chuckles, kissing you deep and long and so torturously slow. His hand drags further down, tugging the hem of your shirt up. Your legs spread mindlessly, all the thoughts in your head being sucked away by Bucky’s kisses. Cool, metal fingers drag up your sensitive thigh, and you gasp, whole body shivering under the touch.

“You like that, huh,” Bucky kisses one corner of your mouth, then the other. “Tryin’ to take it nice and slow, but you’re already begging for a little, more. Look at you,” he kisses up your cheek, over your jaw. “Gonna take real good care of you, doll. Make it feel real good for my pretty, needy girl.”

Words are already failing you, and you’re getting a little worried for what kind of boneless, fuckdoll puppet you’re going to be when he’s done with you. It’s an electric, hopeful fear. You hope you can feel him when you sit down tomorrow. You hope you can’t walk straight for a fucking week.

Bucky kisses over your nose, then your neglected cheek, and down your jaw. His teeth graze against you, his hand in your hair angling you around so he can suck little bruises right under your jaw. Those thick, metal fingers are still teasing along the inseam over your panties, and when his thumb brushes against the embarrassingly wet spot against your core, he groans against your skin.

“So wet,” he mutters, kissing over the sore mark under your jaw, then attaching his lips near your pulse point. “All for me, isn’t it? Thinkin’ about me fucking you, nice and slow.”

His tongue flicks against your throat, and you make a borderline pathetic noise.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You cry out, wrapping your arms fully around his neck. “Just for you- Only for you- Please-“

Bucky groans, pushing his face further into your neck. His thumb drags back against your clothed slit, teasing the lightest amount of pleasure until you’re clenching around nothing.

“More,” you try to demand, but it’s breathy and broken. “James, I- I need more-“

You roll your hips up, and Bucky’s thumb bumps right up against your clit. Your thighs try to push together and hold him there, but he grabs them forcing them back open and pushing his knee right against your core.

“Demanding,” he presses a quick kiss to your lips then pushes back up, tracing his thumb over the curve of your swollen bottom lip. “You wanna try that one again?”

You swallow and shake your head, trying to push him just a little, just to test what will happen. Bucky’s jaw ticks. He pushes his knee further forward against your cunt, and you cry out, rolling your hips to chase a little extra friction. Bucky lets you, his thumb pushing a little further into your mouth.

He groans when you take him, swirling your tongue and sucking as the need between your thighs builds impossibly high. He keeps hitting against your clit, but not with nearly enough pressure, and he’s planted against your fluttering cunt, but you need him in you. You need to not be able to think, outside of Bucky all around you. If you were stronger, you’d try to pull him back down, but you’re not. You’re  a messy, fluttering mess beneath him, unable to remember how cold it was moments ago as you suck on his thumb like a whore.

Bucky presses on your abdomen, pushing you deeper into the mattress, and you grab his wrist. You give him your best, watering, pathetic eyes. You need more of him the same way you need oxygen. His knee isn’t enough, no amount of him is enough. If you don’t get to drown in the pine scent and massive strength of him, you might start actually screaming.

“Look at you,” Bucky mutters, leaning over your body with a smirk. “So pretty like this, doll. Could drive a man fuckin’ crazy.”

You whimper, eyes dropping to his crotch. To the thick, massive tent pressing against his sweats, and the slightly dark spot against the gray fabric. You moan around his thumb, and watch it twitch slightly. Bucky groans, leaning further down so the head of his cock drags against your soft thigh. He pulls his thumb away, smearing a line of spit over your cheek, then ducks down and lick it away. You moan, turning your face to try and meet his lips, and he chuckles.

“That’s right,” he mutters, indulging you with a slow, gentle kiss. “I know what you need, baby. I’ve got you.”

You hum, eyes fluttering closed and Bucky goes back to kissing you like you’re something priceless. You’re still fucking yourself on his knee, the feeling spreading like a warm, rising tide through your body. Bucky hums, his now free hand slowly dragging under your shirt. Teasing up your side, under your breast, then pinching your nipple between two fingers and rolling it in tight, fast circles.

He swallows the cry that leaves your lips, flicking your nipple before soothing the hurt with his thumb.

“Easy,” he mutters. “Nice and easy. Let’s get you ready, huh?”

You nod, thinking back to that tent in Bucky’s pants. You’re going to need to be ready to take that. And whatever he has to do to get you there, you’re more than willing to let him.

Bucky pulls back up and slowly guides your t-shirt over your head, tossing it off to the side and helping you settle back into the mattress. A low groan rumbles through his chest as his eyes rake over your body, and your arms instinctively go up to cover yourself from the unrelenting, almost feral gaze.

He catches your wrist and pins it over your head, giving you a stern, knowing look.

“Don’t hide,” he scolds, his metal hand slowly trailing down your exposed body. “Most gorgeous fuckin’ girl I’ve ever seen, trying to hide her pretty little body from me.” He grabs your waist, squeezing the soft skin before massaging it, holding your gaze the whole time. “Been driving me made for years, baby. Thinking you were right there and I’d never get to have you like this.” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Torture. Goddamn torture.”

Your mouth is hanging open, your breaths coming out in short helpless pants. You’re not even really sure what to do with yourself but lay there, and you’d feel worse about that if it didn’t seem to be exactly what Bucky wanted as well.

“Thought about just fuckin’- Living with my face here,” he palms at your breast, the cold of his metal hand a sharp contrast to the fire, brimming under every inch of your skin. “Marking those up until the whole world knew that you were mine. My needy little slut.”

You whimper, and Bucky’s lips twitch.

“Yeah, I know you like that,” he flicks your nipple, watching with dangerous attention as your body seizes up. “Always could smell you gettin’ wet when I’d tell you what to do. Drove me out of my mind, you got no idea.”

You think you’ve got some idea. His grip on your hands is tight like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together, and his every muscle is rippling with restraint. You let out a low, soft whine of his name, and Bucky makes that deep, hungry sound again.

“This pussy,” he mutters, dragging his hands back down your body, cupping your pussy and grinding the palm of his hand against your clit. “It’s mine, isn’t it, doll.”

“Ye- Yes,” you whisper. “It’s yours, James- Please.”

Bucky grins, hooking two metal fingers around the ruined fabric, knuckles bumping against your needy pussy, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Damn right it is.”

He rips your underwear off in one motion, and you don’t even get a second to adjust to the feeling before Bucky’s shoving his ring finger straight into your cunt, pressing his thumb down over your sensitive clit. You make an embarrassingly loud sound, almost bucking off the bed, but the metal hand is impossibly strong. He pushes you back down, crooking his finger deep inside of you, and laughs when your eyes roll back in your head.

“Come on, doll. Eyes on me,” he pumps his finger once, twice, the slaps your sensitive cunt before shoving his hand back in. “Eyes on me.”

You force your eyes to open back up, locking onto his as you try to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. It’s just one finger. One thick, massive, metal finger that you can feel straight through your core and to your toes. The cold makes every sensation starker. Bucky’s forced eye contact makes you feel raw and exposed, like a meal he’s about to savor.

“Good girl,” he coos, pulling that finger almost fully out, swirling his thumb around your clit, and pushing it back in.

“Buckyyyy-“ You moan, lashes fluttering as he bumps right against that gooey spot deep inside of you. “Don’t- Don’t tease-“

“I’m not teasin’,” he leans over you, his hand picking up the pace. “Keep those pretty eyes on me, baby. You can do it.”

You try. God you try. Bucky fucks his finger into you like a machine, reangling his hand so the metal palm is slapping against your clit, working you open more and more and more until you’re whimpering and unravelling beneath him. It’s so overwhelming, you’re almost forgetting to breathe. You strain against his hold on your hands, but it’s hopeless, and you just end up wiggling below him, tits bouncing in his face.

Bucky groans at the sight of you, his hips jerking and cock dragging against your sensitive inner thigh, but he doesn’t slow down or offer you another kiss. He just keeps you pinned beneath him, drawling out praise and mocking words, shoving in a second finger when the first starts to slip in and out too easy.

“Greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he rasps, eyes burning against yours. “Bet my cock is gonna slide right in, doll. Made to take me like the pretty slut you are.”

You moan again, every last bit of dignity slipping through your trapped fingers. The eye contact makes it too intense, and the second finger is bullying you open just right, offering a little extra pressure against your sensitive g-spot. Bucky’s eyes flash, when a tiny, hitched noise leaves your throat, and presses down harder.

“That’s it, isn’t it,” he mutters, watching every twitch of your face, every flutter of your wet lashes like some kind of incubus sex-hawk. “There’s the spot, baby. Feels so good, I know you want to cum.”

You whimper, nodding desperately. Bucky grinds his hard palm against your over-stimulated clit, and your think you’re going to explode.

“It’s alright, babydoll,” he coos. “Let go.”

Your orgasm snaps through you like a rocket, ripping every nerve of your body and making your vision go white. You thrash and scream as you pussy gushes and clenches, your eyes still unable to leave Bucky’s. His jaw is hanging open, his face lust-drunk and predatory, and it just makes your orgasm crest higher. You think he could shove his whole arm in you and you’d be able to take it, with how he’s unraveled.

If the size of his cock in his pants is any indication of what’s coming. That’s for far better than worse.

You’re trembling when you come down, tears streaming down your cheek and broken mewls escaping your lips. Bucky leans down slowly, kissing your cheek, then your closed eyes, then your open mouth.

“You’re doin’ so well, baby,” he murmurs, letting your wrist go so he can cup your jaw. “Gonna fuck you so good, my sweet girl.”

You make a pathetic, eager sound, and Bucky’s faint smile ghosts over your lips. He leans back up, his thumb dragging against a hickey he left on your neck, and his shoulders shake.

“No idea,” he mutters. “No fuckin’ clue what you do to me.”

He pulls a little further back, tugging down his sweats, and you squeak at the sight of him. You didn’t think dicks could actually look like that without steroids or surgery or something. Thick and veiny, a good amount of hair cropped around heavy balls, his thick, angry head twitching as he fists himself and drags his thumb over his slit.

You look up at him, almost drooling. “You- You’re-“

“Big?” He teases, and you try to scowl, but it’s more of a pout.

“Shut up,” you whine, and he laughs, crawling slowly over your limp body.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bucky leans down, kissing you like you’re not both sex-addled, ruined wrecks of people. It’s the kiss you imagined when he would be a knight, and you’d be a princess, and he’d sweep you off your feet in your dreams. Slow and loving, more of an oath than an act of need. Trying to say things neither of you know how to articulate with words. You reach up, cradling Bucky’s face between your hands, and he lets out a shuddering breath, muttering your name.

“I’m not gonna be gentle,” he warns, and you smile against his lips.

“Yay.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but kisses you again, holding onto that soft, honey-sweet moment. His cock rubs between the lips of your pussy, and your breath catches.

“You’re so big,” you whisper, and it’s not a joke anymore. He’s nudging against your entrance, and a sting is already building back up behind your eyes. 

“I know,” Bucky mutters, kissing away your tears. “But you can take it, doll. Know you can.”

You nod, letting Bucky kiss you into the mattress. He’s holding you down with the weight of his hips, stopping you from squirming or crawling away as he nudges in the first inch.

“Fuuuuck,” he groans. “So tight, doll, shit-“

Another inch, and you’re struggling for air. The stretch burns in the best possible way, making your head spin and your mouth hang, agape and useless. Bucky kisses your open lips like he can’t help himself, and you can feel his control already slipping as he groans, pushing a little more inside.

His thumb fumbles to find your clit, rubbing tight circles, easing you further and further open. Bucky moans when he bottoms out, his whole body tensed as he tries to hold himself still, giving you time to adjust.

Your eyes cross, and your toes curl, and slowly the pain shifts into a warm, desperate pleasure.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You whisper, scratching at his back. “Move, please.”

He grunts, and pulls his hips fully out before driving them slowly back in. You moan, and he grabs your jaw, forcing his mouth back over yours.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he grunts against your lips, repeating the long, torturous motion. “Sweet fuckin’ doll, gonna milk this cock, aren’t you. Let me fuck you however I want.”

You mewl and nod, a molten puddle in Bucky’s arms. The sheets are long tossed to the ground, so you grab his bicep, blinking up at him with needy, pathetic doe eyes. Bucky groans, his pace picking up slightly.

“That’s right,” he grunts, finding an angle that makes him bully your g-spot, a rhythm that pushes broken moans out of your throat. “So sensitive, gorgeous when you cry for me, shit-“

Bucky groans, pressing down to kiss you, all bruising force and spit. You let him, unable to think outside of the consuming way he’s around you, the brutal split of his cock inside your abused pussy.

He’s fucking you so that the bed creaks, so that everything feels floaty and light and impossibly good. His abdomen presses against your clit and his dick hits every good spot inside of you, rearranging your guts and turning you into pure putty.  It’s embarrassing, how quickly you’re getting to the edge again. Bucky notices, and doubles down, slamming his hips down just a little harder.

“Like that, baby?” He grunts, watching your slack, cockdrunk expression. “Like bein’ fucked like this? Wanna soak my cock, show me how fuckin’ good it feels?”

You nod, another wrecked noise escaping your throat. Bucky snakes his metal hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit in small, tight circles.

“Again, doll, cum on this dick,” he spanks your clit, then goes back to the circle. “Cum for me-“

You shatter with a cry of Bucky’s name, pussy clenching and fluttering, body arching off the mattress. Bucky groans and doubles over, pressing his face between your breasts and mouthing at them like an animal. Your hands shoot into his hair as you try to hold onto something, your orgasm just cresting higher and higher as Bucky keeps fucking into you. You can feel his cock pulsing inside of you, his shallow thrusts desperate and uncontrolled, his moans vibrating against your skin and making your whole body twitch.

“Bu- Bucky-“ You sob with pleasure, pressing his face further into your body. “Fuck- James- Oh my god-“

Your orgasm doesn’t seem to be settling. It just builds higher and higher as Bucky keeps fucking into you, desperate and rough. You rock beneath him, overstimulated and dazed, and his wraps his mouth around your nipple, sucking hard as his thrusts start to get jagged.

You pet his head with trembling fingers, gasping every word with a hoarse voice. “Come on, James, pleaseee-“

Bucky moans your name, and crashes back up to your lips as he slams home, and cums deep inside your cunt.

There’s so much of him. He kisses you with tongue and long moans, and you’re barely even able to return the affection as he empties himself into your warm cunt. You can feel him in your throat, in the tips of your fingers, almost bursting out of your tummy and seeping through your pussy lips. Bucky fucks you through his orgasm, slower and slower with every thrust, panting against your lips. You clench around him and he buries himself back in with a grunt, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you up into his lap.

You kiss his slowly, everything a little bit of a haze as you finally float back down from your long orgasm. Bucky kisses all over your face as the last of him spills inside of you, then presses his face against your neck, letting out a shaky breath.

His tongue flicks against another one of those bruises he left, and you shiver.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, and you hum, leaning your cheek against the side of his head.

“’S okay.”

Bucky sighs, leaning back to meet your hooded, starry eyes. You’ve never been so exhausted, but fuck, you don’t care. You’ve also never felt so close to someone. To Bucky. You never want to let go.

“That’s gonna hurt in the morning,” he mutters, and you’re not even sure which part he’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter, so you just shrug.

“Worth it.”

Bucky swallows, glancing down at your lips. Like he’s suddenly not allowed to just kiss you.

You lean forward for him, and he immediately melts over you. You smile into the kiss, curling into his chest, and he lets out a low, rough groan. You should probably get off the bed soon. Neither of you are going to be able to sleep in it now. But you really don’t care. If you could, you’d just stay here forever.

Bucky leans back, tracing his thumb over the corner of your mouth. He’s looking at you like you’re a dream. You hope he thinks you’re looking at him the same way.

“Might be a little late,” he rasps. “But can I get you dinner?”

You giggle, and nod. Bucky’s shoulders sag.

“Thank god,” he mutters, leaning back in for another kiss. “Got no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this, doll. Really.”

You hum, and just kiss him back. You’ll show him that you know exactly how long later, because you’ve been waiting even longer. For now, you just let him kiss you. You’re going to have all the time in the world, to ruin other beds. You don’t want to waste a single second of his heat and ease in this one. Finally, in Bucky’s arms.

✦End note: it can't believe i've never done this trope before it's amazing i love it here✦

✦If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3✦

✦Buy me a coffee!☕️ (and get early access!)✦

The clock on your wall ticks past midnight, its soft rhythm in the back of your head. You've been pacing the living room for almost an hour, unable to settle after the reports running through the streets- another brutal night for the punisher: bodies found in places, blood on the streets. These few years of knowing Frank, you'd seen enough darkness in this city to know the moment when worry twisted into something that kept you from sleeping. Especially when it involved him. And it was happening now.

The first aid kit sat ready on the kitchen counter, stocked with everything he might need. You told yourself it was just habit. But deep down, you know it wasn't. It was months of attachment and building love that had you waiting like this.

Before you know it, he knocks three repeated bangs that rattle the door in its frame. Your heart beats against your ribs- you know that knock. You cross the room quickly, your bare feet slapping against the cool wood as you hurry towards the door, then throw it open without checking who it is. Of course, it’s frank who fills the doorway, rain dripping down his bleeding face and off his black jacket as he clutches his front in pain.

Blood streaks his temple, and his posture tells you that his pain is fresh. His shoulders are hunched, and it breaks you, seeing him in so much pain, but his fists are still clenched like he's ready for anything.

He doesn't wait doe you to invite him in, he just steps inside, tracking mud across your rug with his boots. The door slams shut behind him, sealing the two of you in the dim glow of your lamps. Your cozy apartment- with its mismatched couch and bookcases suddenly feels invaded, and it makes your chest tighten. This is your space-he's come here, bleeding and broken, like always, waiting for you to fix him. And the worst thing is you wouldn't want it any other way. You need him to need you like this.

"Frank," you say, as you hurriedly move toward the kit. "Shit- are you okay?” Your breath hitches, “Just- sit down before you bleed all over my floor.” You sigh as you look through the kit. “God, why do you do this shit to yourself?” you frown, hurt at seeing him in this state. Hurt is an understatement, his pain is your pain now.

He ignores your suggestion, and shrugs off his jacket with a grunt. You can tell he’s hurting. It hits the chair with a wet slap, revealing his dark shirt underneath, which is torn and stained dark red across his ribs. His deep eyes sweep the room once, then lock on you. You gasp softly at the state of his chest. For a split second, something vulnerable flickers in his eyes, buried fast under layers of anger and not caring. Only for a second though. "Didn't come here for a damn lecture. Or your pity." he sighs, looking away.

You frown in confusion, but grab the antiseptic and gauze anyway, anger already simmering low in your stomach. Months of this. Months of him showing up half fucking dead, letting you patch him up, then vanishing like you don’t mean shit. You'd fallen for him in these months- in the rare times his hand would brush yours for a beat too long, the way his voice softened when he spoke of the past. You’ve become hopelessly in love with a man who carries revenge like it’s armour. But tonight, something feels different. You aren't in the mood for his shit.

"Pity? That's funny" you say calmly, balancing the gauze along with other things in your arms. You step closer, about to reach for the hem of his shirt. "You show up at my door looking like this, and I'm meant to ignore it?" You sigh, closing your eyes before opening them and taking a deep breath to calm down. “Just let me help, Frank. Stop being stubborn and sit down."

“Whatever” he sighs, hovering above the chair, watching you ask you walk over. Something about you just makes him feel different. You make him want to be different. You reach your hand forward and whisper, “Just let me help.”

That seems to ignite something in him. He catches your wrist before you can touch his shirt, his grip firm but gentle. Rainwater drips from his hair onto your floor and god, is he is sight to see. "I can handle my own shit.” he begins, not even raising his voice, which throws you off. “Don't need you playing nurse like I'm some stray dog.”

Strangely, the words sting, but you pull your hand free. "I've been here for months helping you and sitting through your silences when you disappear. And you call it playing nurse?" Your voice rises, sharp with frustration that had been building too long. "Just let me look- you're bleeding through your shirt, for fuck's sake."

He doesn't move, towering over you in your own kitchen, watching your gentle face twisted into frustration, deep down he wants to be gentle with you, tell you it’s okay, and thank you darlin. But he can’t. Who will it be helping to get you more attached to eachother? Instead he stays silent, the air thick with the tang of blood and rain. Finally, he let you peel the fabric aside. The slice is deep enough to need stitches, and you aren’t sure you can do them without him flinching.

Your hands work quickly, cleaning the edges of his wound with the antiseptic that makes him hiss through his teeth. Your touch is meant to be clinical, but your fingers linger on the scarred skin around his wound, feeling the heat of him. God, you love him. Even like this. Especially like this.

But the sadness doesn't fade. It coils tighter as your hand shakes, holding the needle to his skin. You begin stitching him up, the once quiet room filled with groans and cursing. Frank tilts his head back in pain, with a groan of, “Ah fuck.”

You gently wrap a bandage around the stitched up wound, trying to be soft despite your frustration. "There. Now tell me why you came if you're just gonna push me away again."

Frank straightens up, wincing, and paces a little in the small space. The rain lashes harder against the windows, mirroring the tension between you. "That's what this is." he chuckles. "You wanna collect people who are broken. Fix them." His voice is flat, rough as concrete. Your eyes water instantly at the accusation, hot tears pricking unbidden. It hits like a slap, after all the nights you'd stayed, all the quiet ways you'd shown you cared.

He notices the glistening in your eyes, the way your lashes clump together with moisture. Internally, Frank curses himself to hell.

Christ frank, you piece of shit. She’s standing there heartbroken because of you.

The thing is, he loves you hopelessly, like a drowning man loves air, but he’s gutting you to save you. He needs to push harder. Make you see you deserve better than him. Than his suffering and pain. But his face stays the same, no crack in his armor. No softness.

"And they all leave eventually," he goes on, relentless. "Even the ones who don't die first." Your eyes are glistening, you're trying so hard not to cry- but his words are killing you. "Maria did what she could with what I was. You? You're young. Got years ahead of you, and they don't have to end in blood darlin’."

For fucks sake, why does his brain work like this?

"You gotta leave, or I drag you down with me. That's the truth. Being strong means cutting this off before it poisons you too." He shakes his head, looking down before dragging his palm down his face in frustration. He's still pacing back and forth.

Tears are spilling down your cheeks, but your anger is stronger. You swipe them away angrily, stepping infront of him to block his pacing. You wish he would just listen, just reason.

"You show up here bleeding and expect me to just fix you and send you off?" Your voice climbs and you're shouting now, echoing off the apartment walls. "I'm not collecting anyone- I'm here because I care- more than you fucking know. I see you under all this rage. I see you as the man who fights for innocent people, even when it costs you everything." You feel hysterical, flailing your hands around, trying to get something into that thick skull of his. "Let me help carry it, stop acting like being a man means suffering alone."

He looms closer, his dark eyes blazing. "You don't know the half of what I carry. Sweetheart, I push because I don't want to hurt you. Strong is handling my war alone. Not leaning on some kid who has a life ahead of her."

"Kid?" You shout louder, shoving at his chest with both hands. He doesn't budge, but the contact sends sparks through you- anger and that hopeless pull. "I'm not some fucking teenager. I've sat with you when you had nothing. Don't you fucking dare dismiss me like that." Your voice cracks with raw emotion, tears streaming freely now. The apartment suddenly feels smaller and you can't breathe. "If I'm such a burden, why the fuck do you keep coming back?"

The argument spirals back and forth. You pace after him, pouring out your heart. How his silence hurts more than words, how his rare touches leave your heart aching. Frank counters in that low, gravelly rumble talking about the blood on his hands, the enemies who’d target anyone close to him. "Darlin, I’m too old for this fantasy you're spinning. You'll wake up and see.”

“Fantasy?” You yelled, voice hoarse but fierce, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I’ve bled worry for you every time you’ve vanished! I’ve cleaned wounds that should’ve killed normal men! I know your pain, Frank, and I still choose to stand here and reason with you.”

He grabbed your wrists again, holding them steady against his bandaged ribs. His heartbeat thunders under your palms betraying the uncaring mask he’s put on. Inside, the love claws at him. You’re everything. Your fire, your stubbornness, the way you see him. He’s in love with you so deeply it terrifies him. But you’re young. He’ll ruin you.

Push her away you bastard. Save her.

“Why do you care so much?” he finally growls, the question shooting out of his mouth like a bullet. Your face drops. “Why the hell do you keep doing this to yourself- to me?”

The moment swells, emotions fill the room. Your chest heaves, tears burning down your cheeks. All the months of swallowed feelings explode suddenly. “What the fuck do you want me to say, Frank? That I’m in love with you? That seeing you like this kills me? That I would do anything for you, even stand here and shout because I can’t fucking walk away?”

His lips part as you shout, but nothing can leave his mouth. He watches you spit words out furiously as you cry, and all he can say softly is, “darlin’-” while he is still holding your soft hands against his chest.

“Don’t fucking call me that” you cry, face screwed up in anger and sadness as you try to get out of his clasp, but you can’t. “For months, every goddamn time you fucking showed up like this, every scar I’ve touched- it was love! And it hurts like hell because you won’t let it in! It makes me feel like a fucking idiot Frank. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Your words echo like a gunshot in the quiet apartment. Silence fills the air right after. His grip tightens slightly on your wrists, his plain expression slipping for a heartbeat. His eyes widen with raw pain and his jaw clenches against the shoot of emotion that goes up his chest. That same agonising love roars inside him, matching the depth of yours. He loves you achingly, you’re a light in his shitty world. But that only makes him have to push you further. You’re too young, too good. He’d destroy that light.

He releases you slowly, stepping back like your confession burned him. “Look, you’re not thinking straight,” he says, his voice edged with frustration, as he forces the words out like it hurts. “What do you know about love? You’re young. This isn’t love- it’s just attachment. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you sweetheart, full of possibilities.” He looks at your tear stained face as you stand in front of him, and his heart breaks at your sweet face. “I know what love is- you don’t. Love breaks you. I’m pushing you away because I don’t wanna drag you into my hell.” A heavy sigh escapes him, and his shoulders slump, showing how defeated he is.

All the while, you shake your head, violent tears still running down your face. “You think this doesn’t break me Frank?” You swipe furiously at your eyes, not wanting to cry anymore. He already thinks you’re a kid and you can’t add on to that. “You pushing me away hurts, no matter why you do it. My heart aches because of you.”

He sighs, dragging a hand down his face again in frustration. He doesn’t know what to do in this shitty situation, he cares for you so much, but he just can’t risk it. “I can’t have this conversation.” he says calmly, turning around, a hand on the back of his neck.

“Of course.” you scoff bitterly. “Why am I even surprised.”

He shakes his head, broad back still to you as he scratches his neck and says defeatedly, “Just cut it out.” Your breath hitches in disbelief, you just can’t understand how someone can be so fucking stubborn. “You’re too young and that’s the end of that.” he says, but his words kill him too.

You feel your blood boiling again, and you don’t know whether to cry or shout or hit him. “Fuck you frank.” You finally say, fighting back the endless tears. “Fuck you for hiding behind that, using my age as an excuse.” You sniffle, moving your hair out of your face. Frank turns back to face you, his broad chest glistening ever so slightly, and it’s like he’s punched in the gut again when he sees your beautiful face crying. You see his expression falter, and his eyes sadden. “What are you so fucking afraid of?” you finally whisper demandingly, watching his broad figure move towards the glass table besides his chair and lean over it.

As he hovers over the table, he slouches forward, holding himself up with his muscular arms, his head lowered. “Just stop it” he sighs, defeated. He’s trying so hard to bottle it all in. He calls your name softly in protest, begging you to end this conversation.

But you won’t accept that shitty response. “No, answer me.” you demand.

“I said cut it out please.” he groans, and it’s like he’s holding himself back from something.

You shake your head, “No, why are you so fucking scared to let me in?” you shout.

And abruptly, you hear a shatter. Your eyes search for Frank and you forget everything. Once they find him, all you can see is red. The table beside him is in pieces, and his hand is in a fist, blood dripping onto the empty frame, and the floor. “Frank.” you gasp, your breath hitching.

“Because I care about you too much.” he roars, and you realise you’re terrified of him in the moment. “Everyone I love dies. ‘Cuz of me.” he shouts, wincing as he holds his bleeding hand in the air. “If anything happened to you I’d never fucking forgive myself for it.”

Your lips part, and you want to talk but you’re left with no words in your mouth. No air in your lungs. The only thing you can say is the cursed name that’s had a hold of you all these months. “Frank…” you gasp, walking towards him. He turns his head, eyes threatening to spill tears, but he doesn’t shout or dismiss you, or even walk away.

You move your hands to his bare chest, trying to be careful with his stitches, and his now bleeding hand. “Frank,” you say again softly, “look at me.”

And how could he ever deny that soft voice of yours? You’re the only light in his life at the moment, the only thing he thinks of besides pain and hurt and regret. You’re his only escape. He turns his face to you, looking down at your doe eyes and croaks out, “I can’t lose you too.” with a soft shake of his head.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to gather yourself together. “You won’t Frank,” you say softly, taking hold of his forearm and guiding him to sit back down on the chair. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper, almost to yourself more than him. He sits down, yearning for you as he watches you sit infront of him, pulling out more bandages and things of the sort.

He’s so tired. So tired of being himself, of pushing you away, of regretting his choices. You’re all he wants, and he’s selfish enough to know it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll take any action. No, you deserve better. You deserve someone young who can give you what you want. Someone who is capable of loving and caring.

He groans as you pulls the shards of glass out of his hand, putting them to the side with a clink. You work gently of course, but with the you-shaped wound in his heart, everything is too much to bear today. He nearly cries when you pour alcohol over his hand, throwing his head back with a low wail. “Shh, I’m sorry.” you whisper, hushing him gently.

He straightens himself up as you grab some bandages, watching your slender fingers work quickly to unravel it. Eventually, you put your hand out, asking for his in return. Slowly but surely, he gives you his wounded hand, grunting as you start wrapping it up. He stares at you carefully as you finish the task, and strangely, raises his hand to his head, with yours still holding his. His eyes flick to your face without you seeing, then with a tilt of his face, he presses the most gentle kiss to your hand. “Thank you.” he croaks, and a pang of emotion shoots through your heart.

“That’s not fair,” you say softly, not moving your eyes away from his. He lets go of your hand slowly, like he’s suddenly aware of what he’s done, and whispers, “I know.” You nod your head disappointedly, turning away and walking out the room, your footsteps growing more distant.

You don’t know what to do, or what you can do, but lock yourself in the bathroom to stop and breathe. Because God knows you haven’t been breathing properly with him here, like this. He curses quietly to himself as he hears you leave, wondering what the fuck is wrong with himself, why he’s doing this to you- to himself.

Once you’ve locked the bathroom door, you turn to the mirror and give yourself a shitty smile. You breathe slowly, feeling stupid for letting a man do this to you. Except he’s not just a man, he’s Frank and you care for him, maybe you even lo- yeah. But your emotions are stronger and before you know, you’re sniffling, gently dabbing at the mascara under your eyes. The past hour has been insanity. And you’ve witnessed scarier things of course, but this? Finally telling Frank how you feel?

You’d only just stopped crying too, but now you’re hovering over the sink, hot tears dribbling down your face again, silently this time.

Franks head perks up, and he can hear you shuffling around the bathroom. He doesn’t stand get up to check, but he can hear you sniffling. Not only is he angry at himself for being the reason for your tears again, but the worst thing is, you’re alone in the bathroom, trying to hide it. You’re in there trying to be silent. He doesn’t want you to feel like you have no one, because you have him. He would do anything for you. He’d die for you, live for you, even live for you.

He wishes he could tell you that. Tell you what he wants most in this world is to be yours and live with your beautiful heart everyday. But he can’t get close to you, closer than he already is, because he’ll hurt you. He can never protect the ones he loves, and if anything happens to you, he won’t see the point of living anymore.

Before he can realise what he’s doing, he’s stood up, and his feet have led him to the bathroom door. He lifts his hand to knock, before stopping himself and letting it fall to his side, too conscious of his own every move now. He squeezes his eyes shut in concentration, then calls your name, trying hard to sound softer. “You alright?”

You sniffle an unconvincing “Yeah,” and he furrows his eyebrows in frustration with himself. “You sure darlin’?” he calls back, and your heart clenches.

“I’ll be two secs,” you say, carefully pressing your finger to the corner of your eye, drying up rogue tears. You smile again at yourself in the mirror, tucking your hair behind your ears, and stepping towards the door. It clicks open, and Frank is greeted with your red raw face.

“I’m sorry.” he says, eyes flickering as he looks over you. He wants to talk, but his mouth is glued together. You shrug, wiping your eye again, acting like it’s no big deal. Like he isn’t breaking your heart by just standing there. “Frank, it’s whatever.”

He shakes his head, and he’s quickly filled with emotion too. “No, it’s not.” You look up at him, eyebrows furrowed a little, patiently waiting for him to talk. His mouth opens, and your heart patters in anticipation. But it just closes. You nod, feeling like a fucking idiot again, stepping to the side, and walking away. He freezes, standing in the empty door frame, eyes hovering over the spot you left.

Frank remains rooted to the spot long after you’ve brushed past his bare torso. The doorway feels too small for all the things neither of you can say. You make it halfway down the hall before you hear him move behind you. “Hey,” his voice is quiet, almost uncertain. You stop, but you don’t turn around. “Please,” he whispers, the word hitting harder than it should. You look back slowly, and Frank’s still standing there, shoulders tense, hands hanging uselessly by his sides.

“What?” you ask, and the exhaustion in your voice surprises even yourself. His jaw tightens. Then loosens. Then tightens again. You almost laugh at the repetitiveness of it. “That’s exactly what I mean.” you sigh, shaking your head, and his eyebrows pull together. “You keep looking at me like you wanna say something.” you shrug exasperatedly. “And then you just- dont?”

He glances away, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks genuinely stuck. Not awkward, scared. The realization only makes your chest hurt more. “Forget it,” you mumble, about to turn away.

“Wait” he says, the reply coming fast enough to stop you. You freeze as he takes a step forward and soon enough, you’re stood in front of eachother. He raises a hand and lets it rest on the side of your face. “Oh god,” he sighs, and you can’t help but nuzzle your cheek into his warm hand. He lets his hand slide lower, smoothing over the line of your jaw, then gently moving it higher, dragging his thumb across your bottom lip. “Darlin’,” he groans, as you look up at him with those pleading eyes.

He moves his hand to the back of your neck, fingers laced between your hair, the other hand creeping to the small of your back. Frank pulls you closer, and for a moment you’re relieved, this is all you’ve been thinking about for the past few months. But it’s not fair for you, when this isn’t even real.

His lips brush over your hairline, but he doesn’t kiss you. He just lets you feel him, loving you without having to say it. “I’m so sorry baby.” he sighs, softly tilting your head back to look at him, hand still in your hair. “I only push you away to keep you safe. I can’t live without you- I can’t risk losing you.”

“But you won’t lose me Frank,” you sniffle, “I already said, I’m not going anywhere.” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head as he looks away.

“You don’t know that sweetheart. The world fucks over everyone, even if they’re good.” He looks back down at you, eyes skimming over your soft lips, your glistening eyes.

“I know Frank, but you can’t live in fear.” You press yourself against his bare skin again, inhaling his comforting scent. “You have to try. Is your fear stronger than the love you have?” you ask him, desperation dripping off every word. He’s silent, reflecting on your words, before he shakes his head.

“No,” he says firmly, lowering his face, letting his lips meet yours. The kiss is desperate, like he’s been holding back forever. You groan into it, splitting your lips to let his tongue slide wetly over your bottom one. His hand is still on the back of your head, keeping it safe as he walks you both to the nearest wall, pressing your body against it. He devours you, need pouring out of his mouth, out of every part of his body.

Frank presses his calloused hands against the wall, trapping you between the cold surface and his muscular chest. His mouth trails to your jaw, peppering wet kisses along it, moving down to your neck. You moan as he kisses you passionately, his lips on your collarbone now. He’s exploding with desire, needing to love every part of you. His hand hooks beneath the hem of your sleep shirt carefully, and once you whine, “please” he slips it off, lifting your arms to get it over your head.

“My sweet girl,” he moans in awe, his mouth loving every bit of you now, jaw grazing over your chest, creeping lower over the fabric of your bra. “I’m so sorry,” he mutters. He presses a kiss to your breast over the lace, lowering himself to lick and nibble down your sides, over the flat of your stomach.

“You’re an angel baby,” he whispers, hands on your soft thighs as his mouth trails lower. He’s on his knees, looking up at you with those deep brown eyes as you slip your fingers through his short hair. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Please Frank,” you whimper, and he doesn’t waste any time.

“i know baby, I know,” he coos, hands moving up, caressing your skin beneath your sleep shorts. “I’m gonna take care a’ya okay?”

You nod desperately, brows knitting together as he starts to pull your little shorts down your legs. His eyes flick up to yours again as he hooks his thick finger into the side of your panties, making sure you’re okay with everything. He drags them down slowly, with excruciating care, then stuffs them in the back of his jeans as you look down at him.

He’s level with your core now, hands on the back of your plush thighs as he pushes his soft lips to your inner thighs. “Frank” you gasp, and he continues dragging his lips over your thighs. His stubble grazes the skin of your inner thigh, sending a wave of shock through you as you whine, needing him closer.

His breath is hot against your skin as he chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through you. “Easy, baby. I got you.” Gently, he squeezes the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you steady as he finally moves his mouth higher. Slowly, his tongue drags a hot trail up your slit, savoring the your sweetness with a deep groan that makes your knees buckle. You cry out, fingers tightening in his short hair as he licks again, a little firmer this time, circling your clit with the flat of his tongue before sucking it gently between his lips.

“Oh god- Frank,” you moan, hips twitching toward his mouth. He doesn’t pull away. Instead he keeps lapping at you, tongue flicking and swirling to explore every fold while his calloused hands keep you pinned to the wall. His stubble scrapes deliciously against your inner thighs with every movement, making your back arch even more. He looks up at you through dark lashes, eyes heavy with adoration as he watches your lashes flutter and your chest heave.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he murmurs against your core, the words muffled as he slides a thick finger inside you, curling it till your face is screwed up. “Let me hear how good it feels.” he coaxes, adding second finger and pumping slowly, his tongue working at your clit in devastating strokes. Your thighs tremble around his face, pleasure hot in your belly as he worships you, completely lost in the taste and sound of your pleasure.

You haven’t came yet, but he moves back, pressing a kiss to your clit and pulling back. You whine, breathless and needing release, but he just stands back up on his feet, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You deserve better than a wooden floor baby” he says gently, tilting his head as he strokes your cheek. “Could you show me to your bedroom? Is that okay sweetheart?”

You nod bashfully, unsticking yourself from the wall as he watches your beautiful body. He presses a paw to your lower back, respecting your bare body, and follows you as you start walking towards your bedroom. He’s right behind you, his expression softening at the sight of your room. It’s sweet and warm, just like you. Your bedding is white and pure, a few stuffed animals scattered around it. Your bedside table has a book in it, with a cute little alarm clock, and a photo frame of your family. The walls are decorated with more pictures, and posters too. He can’t hurt you, not when you’re still young and pure and have a beautiful life to live.

“Thank you for letting me in your room darlin’, it’s beautiful” he smiles, rubbing your back. You shrug sheepishly, cheeks flushed as you mumble, “mhm.”

“C’mere,” he whispers, pulling you close again, but then hoisting you up, hands holding your thighs steadily. “Let me show you how sorry I am.” You wrap your legs around his waist, throwing your hands over his neck as you’re almost skin to skin, besides that damn scrap of fabric you have over your breasts. Before you know it, he’s loving on you again, lips all over your neck, under your ear. He’s whispering apologies into your neck, telling you how much he needs you, and how sorry he is. He forgets about his stitches, ignores the pain of you rubbing against them because his pleasure overpowers it.

He takes a few steps towards your bed, carefully leaning forward to place you on your back. “Oh babydoll,” he croaks, looking at you like you’re a gift for him splayed out on the bed, an angel of some sort. “You’re so beautiful.”

He places his hands on both sides of you again, leaning down to kiss you passionately, like he can’t live away from the taste of your mouth. His hand trails down your body, then skims back up, hovering over your chest. “Can I see you fully, baby?” he asks. Once you nod, he lifts your torso ever so slightly, so he can unclip your bra, and throws it off to the side. His lips part in awe as he sees the soft swell of your breasts, and he runs his hand across them both. “You gotta have the most perfect tits I’ever seen sweetheart.”

You can’t do much but blush again, and then moan when his mouth is leaving wet trails over your chest. “I think they need some lovin’ too” he coos, hand cupping a breast and beginning to knead, the other one tucking your hair behind your ear. “That okay sweet girl? That feel good?”

You whine “mhm” desperately, unable to form words with how overwhelmed you are with need. “I’ll make you feel so good doll, don’t you worry your little head,” he says, pulling away, hands trailing to his belt. You watch his muscles flex as he works at the clasp, then pulls it off, unbuttoning his jeans now. You don’t know how you managed to control yourself to not pounce at him till now, while he’s been walking around your house all night, shirtless.

He’s bare now besides his boxers, and those are only on in respect for you. You shift yourself up a little, head on your pillows and he climbs into your soft bed, his chest hovering over yours again. “Tell me what you want sweet girl. I’ll give you anything you ask.” he coos, brushing your cheek with his thumb again.

“I need to feel you,” you whimper, and he nods, lifting you up and sitting you onto his lap. He presses another gentle kiss to your hairline, cherishing you so softly.

“Are you sure doll?” he asks, making you know that you can take it slow. “You’re still young, we don’t have to rush.” You shake your head firmly.

“I’m sure Frank, I want you to make love to me- please.” you say, leaning further into him, your skin pressed warmly together. You’re careful not to press against his stitches, so as not to hurt him. He groans, hands resting over the swell of your soft ass cheeks while you straddle him.

“Alright, since you’re saying it so sweetly.” he smiles, tilting his head to look at your shy face. “Just like this?” he asks, looking down at the two of you, bodies pressed together.

“Yeah,” you agree, as he admires your beauty, “I wanna feel you while we do it.” He smiles softly at your words, nodding as he gives you another gentle kiss, this time on the side of your mouth. He lays you back, freeing himself to pull off his boxers, then moves back beside you, his back pressed against your headboard. His cock rests stiff and sore on his thigh, and he gently pulls you onto his lap. You can feel his need under you, but he doesn’t rush anything, only goes with what you want.

You gasp when your hot need finally meets his, and he lets out a low groan, feeling you wet against him. “Whenever you wanna start,” he whispers, like it hurts to speak, and places his manly hands on the sides of your waist. You nod, lifting your hips so he can free himself, and he takes his cock into his hand, breath stuttering as he groans. “Okay, now sweetheart?” he asks, affection on every word that leaves his mouth.

“Please Frank, I want you so badly,” you whine, and he nods, one hand beneath your ass, the other guiding himself to your entrance.

“Alright baby, shh shh sh” he whispers, sliding his sore tip back and forth against the slick of your pussy. His eyes meet yours again and he says lowly, “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”, checking to make sure you’re ready. He knows realistically- it’ll hurt. He doesn’t have much of an ego, but it’s obvious he’s big, and he knows that without proper care, you’ll end up sore and gaping afterwards.

His mouth falls open with a low groan as he finally slips inside you, gently pushing you down onto his dick, inch by aching inch. “There’s my girl,” he croaks, caressing your sides as you finally sink into him fully, plush ass against his thighs. “Fuck- you feel amazing doll.”

You moan at the feeling of being overwhelmingly filled, needing something to be your anchor. All you can do is press your hands against his chest, careful not to move the bandages right below. You shudder in pleasure, and Frank tells you softly, “I’m gonna move now sweetheart.” He starts to buck his hips up into yours, and your eyes close in pleasure.

“Oh god,” you moan, feeling him deeper at every buck of his hips. Frank groans throughout it, whether because of the pain beneath his chest, or this pleasure- you don’t know. You lean forward, wanting to feel his body around yours, and he gets the memo. Carefully, he leans forward, off the headboard so that he can hold you. His big, bear arms wrap around your torso, and he ignores the shooting pain beneath the bandages. “I want my pretty girl in my arms,” he says quietly, only for you to hear, stroking your back as he keeps you covered with his arms.

You grind back and forth a little, trying to make it easier for him. The friction on your clit is driving you insane, and all you can think of is to keep moving to reach that pleasure. “You’re doing so well f’me,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “My best girl.”

His words go straight to your core. All you wanted was to be his girl, and now- you just might be. You keep grinding, chasing your high as he makes love to you, hands caressing your back. “I can’t lose you,” he croaks into your ear as you move, “you’re my whole life.”

“Frank.” You moan as you feel the pleasure building, your body loosening with contentment, knowing you’re safe here- with him. “I’ll always be here, I promise.” His manly arms squeeze around you even tighter, like he can’t risk letting go of you.

You moan helplessly, on the verge of release, and Frank can tell. “That’s it, we’ll get you there” he reassures, helping you grind on him. He leans further into you, holding you skin to skin as his cock drags up and down your walls, filling you completely. He leaves wet trails all along your neck with his mouth, your hair tangled around his face. Neither of you can think of anything, just the feeling of eachothers bodies.

“Frankie,” you moan crudely, your hips slacking, “mm- I’m so close.” He nods understandingly, pushing your bodies forward to rest you on your back, making sure not to pull out. He strokes your forehead with his thumb, softly dragging his lips along your jaw as he whispers, only for you to hear.

Frank keeps a thick arm braced beneath your back as he gently lowers you down, never once slipping from your heat. The shift changes the angle instantly- deeper and fuller. You gasp sharply, legs falling open around his hips. He follows you down, covering you with his broad body like a warm shield, careful of the bandages on his chest but refusing to let even an inch of space come between you.

“Easy, baby, that’s it,” he murmurs, voice low with adoration. His forehead rests against yours, eyes locked on your face like he’s memorizing every bit of you. One of his big hands slide down to grip the back of your thigh, spreading you wider for him. “Gonna take care of you now. Just let me make you feel good.”

He starts moving again, slow at first, but eventually building with purpose. He fucks you deeply, thrusts dragging his cock against that spot inside you over and over. The wet, obscene sound of him sliding in and out of your soaked pussy fills the room, but Frank doesn’t seem to notice anything except you. His free hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly across your bottom lip.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” he breathes. “Wanna watch my pretty girl come apart for me.”

You try to keep your eyes open, but it’s hard when every thrust punches the breath out of you. He’s so thick and deep, hitting places that make your back arch off the mattress. Frank groans softly each time you flutter around him, praise dripping off his every word.

“Attagirl, you’re taking me so well.” He leans down to kiss you, his tongue slowly tongue sliding against yours in time with his hips. When he pulls back, his voice is wrecked. “That’s my baby. Let it build, okay? I gotcha.”

His pace quickens just enough, still loving and controlled, but relentless. He angles his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust, the coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing perfectly against your sensitive bundle of nerves. The pressure inside you coils tighter faster than you expected. “Frank- frankie-” you whimper, hands flying up to clutch at his shoulders.

“I know, I know,” he soothes, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your throat. “Come on, angel. Come for me. You’re so close, I can feel it.” He reaches between your bodies, calloused thumb finding your clit and circling it with firm strokes. The sensation of his thick cock driving into you deep, and his thumb working at you shatters the little control you had left.

Your orgasm crashes over you hard. A broken cry tears from your throat as your body seizes up, thighs shaking around his waist. Waves of pleasure rip through you intensely, your pussy clenching desperately around his length. Frank keeps moving through it, fucking you through every pulse, his voice keeping you conscious.

“There she is, that’s my girl” he coos, stroking your cheek through it, “keep going, baby, let me feel it all.” His thrusts grow a little sharper, chasing the way you grip him, but his hands ate gentle, stroking your sides, cradling your face, whispering endless praise against your skin. “I’ve gotcha. I’ve always gotcha.”

Even as you break down around him, Frank doesn’t stop moving. He rides out every aftershock with you, slowly, kissing the tears of overwhelming pleasure that escape the corners of your eyes.

When you finally start to come down, body lump and exhausted, he stays buried inside you to the hilt and holds you close, murmuring loving words into your hair. “You did so good f’me.”

You whine like a desperate animal, brain mush from the pleasure. Softly, his thumb brushes beneath your eye again, collecting the stray tears. “I’m sorry for pushing you away baby.” Your breath hitches as you’re caught off guard by his words. “You’ve only been good to me sweetheart, you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“It’s okay Frank,” you say quietly, “you were just trying to keep me safe.” He nods as you speak, but you can tell he disagrees. He inhales deeply, clearly upset with himself.

“But I wasn’t, was I? I was only hurting you more.”

“Frank,” you start. You know he’s right, and that his actions weren’t logical at all, but you also know he’s sorry now, and that there’s no changing the past. You don’t want him to dwell on things that have already happened. You’re good now, you wanna keep it that way.

He cuts you off, shaking his head. “No baby, I was wrong.” He sighs, still holding himself above you, he’d crush you if he fell. “I’m gonna spend every day making it up to you, okay? I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay Frank, it’ll be okay,” you reassure him, moving the back of your hand across his cheek.

He leans down, kissing your mouth softly, before moving back. Gently, he starts to pull out, hushing you as you moan at the feeling of being empty. “Easy baby, easy.” He flops down onto your side, dick still hard, his tip blazing red.

“Frank,” you say, a little shocked, leaning onto your side, “you didn’t cum.” He shakes his head, dismissing the sentence.

“Wasn’t about me, s’bout you doll.” You frown, sitting up as you watch him, selflessly just laying on his back. “What baby?” he chuckles, looking at you pouting, “it’s not important.”

“Of course it’s important!” You protest, sitting there with your arms crossed. He just chuckles, sighing relievedly, knowing how much he loves his girl. He lies there on his back like it’s the most natural thing in the world, a thick arm draped over his eyes, cock still heavy and against his stomach, glistening from you. He looks completely content just having taken care of you. But that’s not fair.

You crawl to him slowly, thighs still weak. He lifts his arm just enough to peek at you when the mattress dips under your weight. “Baby?” he murmurs, voice rough. You don’t answer with words. Instead you lean down and press a soft, open mouthed kiss to the underside of his cock. Frank’s breath catches hard, and before he can say anything, you drag your tongue up the full length of him, them taking him into your mouth.

A deep groan rumbles out of his chest the second the wet heat of your mouth envelopes him. His hips twitch upward instinctively before he catches himself. “Fuck-”

You don’t let him protest. You want to make him feel as good as he just made you feel. One of your hands wrap around the thick base he barely fit inside you earlier, stroking with slow bobs of your head. Your tongue swirls around the tip as you suck gently, then firmer when his groan turns into curse words.

Frank’s hand finds the back of your head, not pushing, just resting there, fingers threading through your hair like he needs something to hold onto. “Jesus Christ, baby- you don’t have to-” You hum around him, taking him deeper and relaxing your throat as best as you can. The vibration makes his thighs tense and his other hand fists the sheets beside him.

You pull off just long enough to look up at him, your lips shiny with him. “I want to, Frank. I want you to cum.” His eyes are dark and whatever he was going to say dies in his throat when you sink back down, working him with eager strokes. You pour every bit of love and gratitude you feel for this man who just spent his time making sure you came apart first.

His breathing grows ragged, hips starting to rock up into your mouth despite his desperate effort to stay still. “Ohh- you’re so good, angel. So good to me.”

You moan around his length, the praise making heat bloom low in your belly again. His groans turn deeper, and mofe desperate, the hand in your hair tightening “Baby- I’m gonna-” he warns, voice wrecked. You pull away, taking him in your hand and working him until he’s shaking.

Frank comes undone with a groan that seems to rip out of his soul, his hips stuttering as thick pulses of cum spill across his stomach. You keep touching him through it til he’s trembling and panting beneath you, whispering your name between shaky breaths.

When he finally starts to soften, you pull away, pressing a gentle kiss to his abs before crawling up his body. Frank immediately hauls you against his side, arm wrapping around you like he never wants to let go. His heart is hammering under your cheek.

“Christ, doll,” he rasps, pressing kisses to the top of your head, your temple, anywhere he can reach really. You nuzzle your face in his side, wishing you could just melt into him. You breathe together, heartbeats synchronised as you lay on your soft bed. “Hey,” he whispers softly, “you okay?”

You nod a quiet “mhm”, opening your eyes and giving him a small smile before you nuzzle your head back into him. “Of course I am.” But despite the calmness of the moment, he can’t stop thinking about what just happened before.

“I’m sorry for everything” he says quietly, almost ashamed, “you didn’t deserve none’a the shit I put you through.” His words throw you off guard slightly, your brain still caught up in the softness of this moment.

“Frank, it’s okay-”

You got to protest, but he doesn’t let you. “I pushed you away when I shoulda been grateful you even wanted to help me." He runs a rough hand through your hair again, letting it rest on your back. "You deserved more than that. You deserve love and gentleness." He sighs softly, the next words hesitant to leave his mouth. "I know I'm not exactly the epitome of that, but I'm gonna try."

"Frank," you call softly, hand smoothing over his bandages carefully, down to his stomach. "Thank you." But he just sighs, like he's still disappointed with himselt.

"I hurt you, and I'm gonna make it up to you every single day, if you let me."

“I know Frankie," you whisper, kissing his side, "you're a good man, you're just stubborn. He chuckles softly, nodding at your words as he circles his thumb on your back.

"Yeah baby, I'm a stubborn bastard. And a stupid one, pushing your sweetness away like that." He sighs again, but the weight is lifted slightly off his shoulders. He feels like he can breathe again. A quiet moment passes as he watches your face, lashes fluttering in the moonlight shining through your window, the sheen of sweat on your forehead.

"You know I love you?" he says quietly, breaking the silence filling the room.

Your heart patters softly at his confession, not because you didn't know, but more because you're surprised he's admitted it to himself. "I love you too Frank" you breathe, closing your eyes against him. "I promise you won't lose me."

“I know I won’t baby. Not if I can help it.”

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, holding you a little closer. For a moment, neither of you says anything, content to listen to the quiet hum of the night. "Good,” you murmur, a small smile in your voice.

As you’re wrapped in each other's warmth, the weight of your old fears feels a little bit lighter, and before long, sleep finds you both. You drift off, Franks arm still steadily around you, keeping you close to him.

Ignoring the fact that you make up for it most months, it is all the more annoying to see him lounging around as soon as you get home. Especially when the house feels like what you imagine the inside of hell's darkest ass crack to be. Too much movement would surely result in one of you passing out from overheated exhaustion.

It's with great urgency that you strip yourself of your things, purposefully making an unnecessary amount of noise as you toss your keys onto the nearby counter. The sound seems to pull Toji's attention away from the TV ahead of him, earning a lazy turn of his head as he glances back to you.

He can't even get a full greeting out before you scoff.

"Toji," His shoulders slump in instant reaction to the sound of scolding in your voice. It's way too fucking hot for you to start an argument with him now. "You've been home all day and you still haven't fixed anything."

He grunts from across the way, turns his attention back to the TV, and then rolls his eyes, "Can't work in the heat, doll."

"You wouldn't have to if you fixed it as soon as I said something months ago." You throw back at him, pulling your body through hot air just to get to your fridge.

You wanted to be disappointed to see that there's no water in the freezer nor fridge, really. But when you look back over to where Toji's been sitting on his ass all dat—spotting more empty water bottles than you can count—you find an expected wave of disappointment slither into you.

"Said sorry for that already, didn't I?" He asks, the lack of true care in his voice doing nothing to ease your irritation with him.

At this rate, you'd be sending out offers for a new roommate by tomorrow morning.

The freezer is opened back up for a moment, your hand diving in to try and get some sort of cooled relief, even if only for a second. Unfortunately for you, that seems to be yet another thing in your apartment in need of fixing.

You let the freezer door slam and your forehead follows after it as you rest yourself against its outside. Sighing, "Sorry doesn't fix anything, Toji."

You couldn't see it but he was smiling at that. The only reason he's lasted this long in this apartment with you is because he doesn't mind your nagging too much—it keeps him on his toes most times. But after not listening to you for months, he wonders if he'll actually get in trouble with you this time around.

When he turns to get another look at you, he's met with the sight of your back as you make way towards the bathroom. Toji figured you're off to shower in hopes of cooling yourself off in the process.

Unfortunately for you, the building you live in has the opposite issue most complexes do and instead of running out of hot water, your place has an issue producing cold water. This wouldn't be so bad if the person who showered before you was conscious of how much he used.

But when annoyingly mild tempered water hits your fingers, you're left knowing exactly who to blame. Again.

He may enjoy living with you because he doesn't mind hearing you cold him, however you are slowly starting to dread sharing this apartment with him more and more as each day lugs on.

——

After a warm shower, you tuck yourself off into your bedroom only to find that it is undoubtedly the hottest room thus far. You try to ignore it as you pull on some shorts and a t-shirt that won't have you drenched in sweat come next morning but naturally it's difficult to do so once you lay yourself down.

You toss and turn against your sheets—comforter practically tossed to the floor, and body already beginning to perspire in a thin layer of sweat—until you manage to doze off for a solid ten minutes. Apparently that was all it took for your body to decide that sleeping under this heat was going to be impossible.

Which is how you end up out in the living room. Toji wasn't occupying the couch anymore so you tried to sleep there, figuring that if he could spend the whole day in one spot, you could spend a night sleeping there and it would provide you just the slightest bit of coolness in comparison to what you bedroom had given you.

Yet, every slight shift in your movement somehow made you impossibly hotter. The couch cushions did nothing but toast your skin and the humidity in the air led you into peeling yourself right off of the furniture and trudging towards the last known resort.

Toji's bedroom.

Now, you're no stranger to your roommate being quite the pervert—which is why you avoid his bedroom at all costs—but sometime back during the winter season, you do recall a few weeks were your apartment's heating system gave out and it was established then that Toji's bedroom had been the chilliest. He ended up sleeping in your room for some nights because of that, cuddling up against you in the name of sharing body heat.

So now that it's summertime, you're standing outside of his door hoping that something similar still applies to the temperature of his room. Your room is obviously the hottest, the living room and main area of the apartment barely fairs any better, and all that leaves his room to be hopefully a few degrees lighter than everywhere else.

You push his room door open sluggishly, nearly doused in sweat from head to toe as you trudge towards his bed and smack at his foot while you walk by. "You up?" your voice cuts through the air carelessly, earning a low grunt from the man sprawled out across his mattress. "Cool, move over."

That seems to wake Toji right up. His eyes peel open and he lets out a huff heavy enough to add to the heat occupying the rest of the apartment, but neither of you have the energy to say anything about it. "Why're you in here?" he asks as he scoots his large body over to give you some room.

For a short moment—and a short moment only—Toji wonders if the heat has finally made you come to your senses where he's concerned. He hoped that maybe a wet dream involving him brought you into his bedroom.

The weight of your body makes the bed dip in a bit as you shuffle onto his sheets right beside him, instantly melting into the faint frigidity it provides, and letting out a short sigh. "It's cooler in your room, so I'm sleeping in here tonight. You better get that shit fixed tomorrow."

Toji looks over and feels the excitement he had to share a bed with you rapidly die inside him as he's met with the sight of your back facing him. This wasn't the worst scenario possible, but he was really wishing for something more interesting to have led you into this position next to him.

He doesn't say anything in response to you with his mouth and decides on letting his eyes speak for him with the way they slide down your body. The shirt you have on was hugging your torso due to how much you'd been sweating, glued to every slight curve and dip of your frame, and leaving him unable to look away quickly enough.

It didn't take a genius to see that you were at ease beside him rather quickly. Toji is suddenly very appreciative for the slightly chiller conditioning of his bedroom. Technically it's still hot—as too much movement could quickly result in exhaustion just as it would in any other area of the apartment—but with you laying beside him in shorts small enough to drive him insane, he figures it's all worth it.

Meanwhile, you don't have to be facing Toji to know his eyes are on you. You could practically feel the way his gaze crawled over you, eventually settling onto the scarce fabric of your shorts that did little to conceal the entirety of your ass. There's a sudden and prominent urge to adjust the way your clothes are sitting on you, and Toji watches as you slowly move a hand to tug your shorts down an inch.

The scar at the corner of his lips shifts as his mouth twitches and he fights off a smirk.

He would never touch you without your permission or anything like that, but he was aware that you knew the real effects you had on him. Even laying beside him was enough to make his hips shift against the bed.

There was only so much space between your body and his, and his mattress wasn't the largest thing in the world so most movement was easily acknowledgeable. Even so, you decided to ignore it as best as you could.

Even though you could tell his hand had lifted from his side and moved somewhere towards his legs. Your eyes squeezed shut and you hoped silently that Toji wouldn't do what you figured he was about to.

Surely it was too hot for that.

Right?

At first he wasn't going to do anything. It started off as his fingers going off to pinch and tug at the fabric of his gym shorts, giving the steadily rising erection in between his legs some space to breathe. Then he told himself he wouldn't give it any attention and try to sleep it away.

Toji was on the same page as you in the beginning, he really was. Jerking off with you trying to sleep beside him was way too hot of an activity under all this warmth.

And yet, he's palming at his dick within the next twenty minutes. You drifted off just enough for him to be able to move without you noticing, and while he didn't touch you, he did lean over to glance over your shoulder to make sure you were fast asleep before his hand had wrapped around the bulge that'd formed against his shorts.

You'd shift around in your sleep a little and he'd twitch against his hand, watching the way your hip looks adjusting against the bed. Oh, the things he'd give to perch his hand there instead, turning his body over to cup yours and rubbing the outline of his hard cock up against the natural curve of your ass instead of his palm like some loser.

The thought alone brought his bottom lip up in between his teeth. Then he was moving his hands beneath his shorts and letting out a quiet breath of air. He didn't intend to jerk off like this. Seriously.

When his hand first makes contact with his dick, he shudders. Toji's tugged at his cock in thought of you over the years more times than he could count, but somehow this was different. He'd never done it next to you like this, where leaning over a couple inches brought your scent into his nose and the natural warmth of your body closer to intertwine with his.

Even back when he'd shared a bed with you during the winter he managed to control himself each night and refused to stroke himself. Well, right next to you, at least. He most definitely got off like a whore the very second you were gone.

Toji ends up spitting into the palm of his hand as quietly as he can manage before he pulls his cock free and rubs at the head whilst staring at your body. You seemed so upset with him earlier, sending those slight jabs his way. He's sure if it was a bit cooler, you would've cursed him clean out like you normally do.

But just the thought of the few comments you'd made thus far is enough to have him leaking into his hand as he finally wraps his fingers around his thick shaft and jerks off. The sounds of his actions are a bit loud, schlick after schlick after sopping schliiick. Technically you should've woken up, but the fact that you didn't made him all the more horny.

He knows you'd get annoyed if you caught him like this—the fact that he can't even handle you sleeping in his bed is definitely enough to piss you off.

Little did he know, you were pretending to sleep the entire time. You were in and out of your slumber, sure, but you certainly weren't able to get a full night's rest when the sound of your roommate touching his wet cock next to you was loud enough to drive any woman insane. There was an image of it somewhere in your head, courtesy of accidentally walking in on him in the bathroom a couple times in the past, so it was a little difficult to sleep with those thoughts combined with his strokes all in one hot night.

Not to mention the way he was panting behind you with not one care in the world for how noisy he was. Hell, some of his breaths managed to slither towards the back of your neck.

You made the mistake of adjusting yourself again and accidentally pushed back towards him, your ass nearly making contact with the side of his body. Toji had to grip at the base of his dick to stop himself from cumming just then, his next breath choking its way out of him before he could help it, and his other hand moving to pull his shirt up.

He went to bite down on the fabric to hopefully help with the sounds threatening to spill from his lips but it didn't help much.

The man resumed with his strokes and it wasn't long before you felt something land on your butt in thick spurts.

Despite the fact that you already had your eyes closed, they squeezed shut a little harder as you fought the urge to flinch. You hoped desperately that what you just felt wasn't what you thought it was. There was no way Toji managed to cum on your ass while you were "sleeping", right?

You figure that right then is as good a moment as any to stop pretending to be asleep and let yourself yawn—giving him a sign that you've stirred awake. Toji's body tenses up almost immediately, his eyes widening a fraction as he realizes what exactly he just did. He gulps, frantically looking around the bed to see what he can use as an excuse for the white mess currently drooling down the side of your ass.

Fairly enough, he has half a mind to snap a picture before you turn over. Just so he can have something to remember this by, y'know?

He doesn't though, considering how he moves to tuck his dick back into his shorts and clears his throat.

After which he moves to prop himself up on one of his elbows, and you feel something brushing against your butt. You can't help the way your eyes broaden.

Then you peek back at him from over your shoulder, and your gazes meet for a breif moment. There's not an ounce of guilt on his face and he only holds the eye contact with you for a few seconds before he looks back down to focus on what he's doing.

You follow along with the redirection and angle yourself back just enough to catch sight of what exactly is brushing against you. You see a cloth in his hand and watch silently for a few seconds as he wipes you clean.

Somewhere in your mind, you wondered if he was going to casually explain that he just came on you and then try to go to sleep like it was no big deal.

To your surprise, neither of those things happen.

The next bit of eye contact that's exchanged between the two of you is awkward. He's still wiping and you're just starring at him as try to figure out what you're supposed to say to him. What exactly was the proper way to react in this situation?

You're too hot to argue, too tired to be disgusted, and fainly aroused since you've always had a mutual attraction for the man that you've been trying to ignore for as long as you've been living with him.

“Sorry,” Toji’s the first to break the ice. “Had this in the bed,” he moves his other hand up and within it is a convienent bottle of lotion. Part of you wanted to laugh at him because of course he has enough junk in his bed to use as a cover up for what he'd really just spilt on you. "Saw some of it got on ya'," he finishes off with a half-apologetic grin on his lips.

You obviously knew that wasn't true since you heard every little detail of what he'd been doing—from spitting into his hand, to thoughtlessly huffing out your name under his breath. Toji wasn't fooling anyone here, but you'd let it slide for now.

“Might wanna change out of these,” he suggests in reference to your shorts, tapping at your butt once he's done wiping you off, “I could lend you somethin’, or—“

“No, it’s fine.” is all you say before you turn your head away.

With no warning, Toji ends up watching how you slide your hands down and swiftly remove your shorts—tossing them off the bed and then laying yourself back down as if to sleep.

He blinks.

Then his eyes unfortunately find themself on your panties because surely you were doing this on purpose now. Coming into his room this late because of the heat, sleeping next to him and nearly rubbing your ass against his body, and now clad in nothing more than a thin shirt and even thinner panties?

If he squinted hard enough at the right angle, he swears he'd catch sight of your pussy.

You heard him scoff behind you, then the weight in the bed shifts around as he decides to pay no mind to your attire this time. He already got off, so naturally there should be no need to go again.

…Even if you're clearly testing his patience.

——

Minutes fly by. Neither of you get a wink of rest.

You're starring blankly at the wall in front of you and Toji's left blindly looking up at the ceiling. Both of you tried to go to sleep, honestly.

But Toji kept adjusting his legs to stop the constant twitching of his cock and you repeatedly rubbed your legs together as if to lightly soothe the ache that'd came about after that whole fiasco of his seed ending up on you.

At this point the only thing occupying Toji's bedroom were two idiots in heat. Whether or not that meant heat in the literal sense or in the physical sense was beyond understanding to either of you.

After thirty minutes of you two staring into space and waiting on the other person to make a move, both of you manage to get some rest.

Though, it doesn't take much longer for you guys to realize that this was the worst possible outcome. Somewhere in your sleeping, your bodies naturally find one another. You'd think that under the hot air some distance would be created, but it seems as though you both had unintentionally different plans.

The next time you wake up, it's to the steady sound of something thumping against your ear. When your eyes flutter open, you're met with a naked chest and the feeling of something weighty wrapped around you.

The weight in question seems to be Toji's arm and the thumping you hear is coming from his beating heart. You lift your head a little to look up at his face and he's already giving you a half-lidded, groggy stare.

“It’s hot as shit in here ‘n you decide to lay on me? You’re tryin’ to kill me.” He mumbles, the very vibration of his deep voice involuntarily causing you to shift against him.

Both of your limbs are already tangled with one another, so the next movement of your body wakes you up fully as your clit presses somewhere up against his thigh.

You try to nudge at him playfully to distract yourself from the sensation that invoked, “No one’s trying to kill you, Toji. Hush.”

None the wiser, your roommate tries lifting his legs to move over a bit and accidentally grinds the firm muscle you'd already been pressed against, into you. You turn your face away just in time to hide the expression that tugs out of you, but fail to swallow down the sound that follows.

“Mmnh,” The sound floats out of you before you can control it.

Then Toji's brows scrunch up—as if he has any room (literally) to be confused, “Fuck was that?”

Your head shakes, “Nothing.”

That singular word flips some type of switch in his head, resulting in that same leg lifting up a few inches in between yours, and simultaneously pushing your body further up against his whilst rubbing between the dampened fabric concealing your core. Your jaw falls open helplessly this time and Toji eyes the way your hand flies down to his chest as if to grab at it.

Technically you were trying to brace yourself, but the breathy bit of air you release along with all the movement makes him cock a brow.

“You sweatin’ down here?” Toji asks bluntly, now dragging his leg back down just to cop a bit of a better feel than the first time.

It would be obvious to anyone with eyes that neither of you were in your right mind at the moment. He was openly teasing you and you weren't shutting it down like you normally do. Perhaps it was the heat or the lack of proper rest under it—but either way—the two of you were clearly falling victim to the same sensations.

Your lashes flutter again and you hunch forward towards him a bit, “That’s not-," his leg adjusts again, the bulky muscle in his thigh flexing, "Toji.”

“What? That’s not what?” He grabs at your chin and tugs your face up to look at him properly, “Talk to me, doll. Tell me what that is I’m feelin’.”

The forced eye contact makes you throb. You suppose right then that the heat had finally gotten to you. Otherwise you wouldn't be feeling the way you do at the moment.

Right?

Your body adjust against him slightly and you fight the urge to let your eyes fall back as pleasure jolts throughout your body from the feel of your clit catching the firm build of his leg. “It’s not sweat, Toji.” You admit honestly.

There's a singular beat of silence that passes, filled only with your hardly discreet way of grinding against his leg, and him aiding you through every faint gyration.

“Mh.” His hum rumbles lowly, “So, you’re horny.”

You drop your face down into his chest out of embarrassment and you playfully smack at him, “Don’t say it like that!”

“Say it like what? It’s true." Toji cocks his head over and watches how your body is betraying your embarrassment. Then he finds himself smirking all over again as he his face back toward you, lips angling to your ear, "Your pussy’s droolin’ all against my thigh right now—should I have said it like that instead?”

You almost moan, “N-No."

“Hah.” Now he's smirking in full force, hands having gone to your sides just to feel your body twitching as they slide lower and lower, “Go ahead ‘n move your hips—rub one out against me, baby.”

There's a groan that snakes out of your throat in response before your hand curls into a frustrated ball against the planes of his abs, “Don’t call me that.”

Toji's hands grip at your hips and his voice seductively caresses itself throughout your eardrums, “Want me to do it for you?" Your head shakes in response to his question and he tuts, "Alright then rub that pussy against me, lemme feel her real good.”

And what more permission did you need?

You pluck your body away from being sandwiched to his, sitting up at some half-angle and let your hips buck forward just once. Toji smiles and wastes not one second in dragging his clammy palm around to properly grope at the fat of your ass.

“Mhm,” he hums encouragingly, to which you let off an airy sound that has his cock aching for attention all over again. “There you go. Keep making yourself feel good, pretty girl.”

“Toji," his name leaves you in something just short of a moan, and it's overtly apparent now that both of you are overcome with a mutual neediness.

His hand squeezes at your ass with each rock 'n shy rut of your hips—guiding you with your steady grinding over his thigh. Then you feel your clit roll at a rather juicy angle, quickly resulting in your upper half flopping back down against Toji.

He feels a hot pant fan out across his chest and he has to bite at his lip again to stop himself from making all kinds of noises. This was everything he'd fantasied about and more if he was being completely honest.

“So fuckin’ sexy,” Toji compliments with a greedy tug of your body, weeping a webby lather of precum from the slit of his cock in reaction to having your tits pressed against his naked skin—your perked nipples rubbing against him in a fashion near to the way your clit traveled his thigh beyond your panties. “My dick’s gonna start hurtin’ if I don’t do something. Can’t keep watching you like this.”

You're the one holding back responses now, instead answering him with a sudden kiss against his left pec. Toji's lips separate and he breathes out something soft once your hand slips down to the waistband of his shabby shorts.

“Can I?” You whisper against his skin, lips smearing.

Toji looks at you like you just asked him the dumbest question in the world. Then he scoffs, “Go ahead.“

You waste no time in dipping your hand beneath the dark fabric to haul his cock free. In your hand is a weight nothing could've prepared you for.

Toji's got a freakishly heavy cock, to say the least. It's massive within your fingers and when you look down at it, you almost moan from the sight alone.

Even though his room was rather dark, there was enough moonlight spilling in from the distant window to have the cum gathered around his plump head glistening. Your thumb pushed up and slipped right against that pretty slit of his, earning a sharp crack in his breathing.

Toji feels your the pad of your thumb applying pressure before he groans. Then you stroke downwards towards his base, feeling the dark, sweaty hairs of surrounding it tickle your skin.

“Shit," You mutter.

He—annoyingly—starts smirking at you again, “Big, ain’t it?”

Your eyes roll, then you turn your head back up to look at him, “Shut up.”

The next few minutes consist of you jerking him off whilst you continue grinding against his leg. Toji mutters filth under his breath that you're too horny to hear, and both of you are now sweating against one another for entirely different reasons.

Toji expects this act to be the very peak of his expectations, but amid your perfected strokes—because fuck if your hand isn't the best thing he's felt around his dick in weeks—your mouth meets his chest again, and he's quickly caught off guard by the way your lips wrap around one of his nipples. Your tongue swirls aimlessly, tugging the bud further past your lips whilst indulging in two other fruitless acts of pleasure simultaneously.

For a while you were convinced that Toji's laziness translated in the bed as well since he damn sure wasn't doing much aside from letting you rub all over him in every available aspect.

That was until he felt your breaths coming in shorter and your hand gripping at his cock a bit tighter to brace yourself for something. It was rather adorable how quickly you tensed up against him as your orgasm approached. All he could do was sit there and swallow down his groans as you gripped his cock and moaned against his nipple, clit throbbing at his thigh and cunt leaking your panties into a soaking mess.

The moment your body starts to convulse and he realizes you're cumming, his hand slides under your panties and he palms the bare skin of your ass before applying a hefty bit of pressure—weighing your body harder down against his thigh so you have no room to run from the orgasm that crashes over you.

Feeling you cum against his leg is easily one of the best feelings in the world in his opinion. He would have the air conditioning broken for months if this would be the result every night.

Not that he tells you this, of course.

As you're panting and trying to steady your breathing, Toji finally decides to stop being lazy and causes your hand to fall away from his length as he suddenly shifts about to push you over.

You land on your back and gasp, blinking rapidly before he's positioning himself above you—cock dangling nastily and sloppily kissing against the skin of your naked thigh. Toji's big arms bracket the sides of you body and you stare up at him innocently, as if you didn't just rub one out on his thigh and leech onto him throughout the entire ordeal.

“What’re you doing?” you ask.

“You want me to fuck you, right?” Toji hums, abruptly hooking an arm under one of your knees and lifting your leg up. Then he's doing the same to your other leg and your breath is tangling around somewhere in your lungs. You're barely given a proper moment to process what's going in before he's dipping down in between your clammy legs as if it's second nature, "Gotta make you cum for me first."

"But I just—"

"Nah," Toji's smiles once he's got a face full of your pussy in front of him—your flimsy panties the only thing between his starving mouth and what was about to serve as a refreshment for him, "Not like that. On my tongue."

That's the only warning he gives you before diving in.

It should've been too hot for half of the things you two had done so far and yet here you were anyway—letting him grind the entirety of his mouth against the gorgeously swollen mound of your pussy, his teeth baring out to tug your panties over to the side so he could properly suction his lips to you. Your underwear is kept to the side by a singular thumb that he angles over, and his mouth is nothing short of disgusting against you.

In fact, the entire lower half of his face is nasty when met with your pussy. The tip of his nose nuzzles against your frazzled clit, and his lips motion outwardly before he sucks the slick out from in between your folds—tongue coming through to lap at it as if rewarded. When he groans, you feel the sound thunder against the entire lower half of your body.

Toji's busy going to town until you both are a mess of mixed sweat and pleasureful tears. Your hand found his hair somewhere in between his long tongue curving up inside you, and since then you've been grinding upwards against him, practically riding his face whilst he fucked you right back down into the matress with his mouth alone.

The same mattress of which rocked with both of your combined movements. The volume of your moaning and his groaning was surely enough to earn a noise complaint from a nearby neighbor the following morning but obviously neither of you cared.

Between Toji's tongue and the heat that continued to make you sweat into his sheets at a ridiculous rate, your next orgasm comes far heavier than the first one had. So much so that you were squirming all against your roommate, trying to push at his head as if you didn't want to cum—your poor mind scrambled from everything that'd taken place thus far.

It's not until after you spill something weepy into his mouth that he peels his mouth off of you and wipes at his mouth, licking the remnants that smear across his hand immediately after.

Yet even then Toji doesn't give you much time to recover. If anything, he gives you no time to recover whatsoever.

Your eyes are still stinging from prickly tears of pleasure, and as you're blinking them away, you catch sight of him crawling his way back up over you. Next thing you know and his mouth meets yours in a singular, haphazard kiss that consists of a slanted tongue sloppily breaking past your lips and a groan pouring into your opened mouth.

Then his cock slips against your exposed folds, a thumping vein felt mapping the outskirts of your sensitive clit before he angles one hand down to grip his base. Your body latches onto his all over again, arms wrapping around his neck despite the sweat on your skin making the both of you slip 'n slide against one another.

Toji smiles into his next set of smooches, trailing his kisses down to your jaw, and eventually the warm side of your neck before feeling you roll your body upwards—cunt kissing the head of his dick as he slides it downwards in one heavy motion.

“Awh, look at you grindin’ on my tip like that. You want this fat cock inside you, huh?” His voice slathers itself into your skin and it's making you impossibly hotter underneath him, but you couldn't be bothered with it right now. Which is exactly why you nod in response, and he leans up a little to look you in the eyes whilst releasing his length from his grip, “Yeahh? Here, take it then—let me see you put it in.”

No seconds are wasted as you dip your hand down and comfortably wrap your fingers around him, giving him a couple tugs that he can't help but glance down at. Toji eventually obeys your short tugs 'n pulls by letting his body follow the motion until his tip is getting snagged by your goopy entrance—globs of slick sobbing all over his first few pudgy inches.

The very moment he starts sliding into you, you're whining and he's left moaning above you.

“Ohmygodd,” His dick easily stretches you out a bit more than you were expecting it to, the sheer girth of him jerking a gaspy little call of his name out of your lungs, “Toji-, Toji!”

“What, what? What’s wrong?” He pauses rather quickly to ensure he's not hurting you or something, hardly even halfway inside you and staring down at your twisting face with worried eyes.

You’re panting, nails having moved to dig into his arms already, “You’re too fuckin’ big.”

That makes Toji grin before he huffs, “No such thing.” and pulls back to spank your cunt with the weight of his cock a couple times. He only tops to spit at his four fingers before smacking you with his dick again, inching in afterwards and reassuring you with a rather gently murmured, “She can take me.”

Your head shakes but there’s an eager glimmer in your eye whilst you whisper back to him warningly, “Just… go slow.”

“Mmmh, I’ll try,” He tells you before leaning down to kiss your cheek and whispering, “Just for you.”

Then he's nudging his way into you—inch by inch until his chubby balls are left flush against your sweat-glossed skin and his tip is bumping against your hilt.

He looks down and sees his cock bulging against your skin. Then he thumbs at your clit and tutts—popping a pout at how puffy your pussy lips are around his dick already. “Look at that slutty pussy—she knows how to take cock juuuust fine.”

Your walls constrict around him just once and the next thing you know, Toji's rocking himself in 'n out of you perfectly. Your insides seem to mold to the shape of him in a matter of minutes, getting used to his wide size and taking him in deeper as he moves along.

The sounds of sex practically cloud the room, his cock fucking into you faster than you can keep up with and your mushy walls sucking him in farther than he can comprehend. Sweat drips off of his body and onto your and the both of you are an utter mess of one another.

Every now and then he'd lean down to kiss you but the gesture always comes shabbier than the last, lips maligning across one another whilst warm saliva is exchanged and left across both of your faces.

Your hand makes the mistake of moving to his lower abdomen and pushing at his body just a few seconds after he starts fucking you down into the mattress—the bed rocking and shaking beneath your bodies—and Toji seems ticked off for half a second.

Then he nods his chin at your wrist, "Move your fuckin' hand and feel it, feel that dick inside you. Stretchin' you out real good."

He's not entirely sure if it's his words or the way he starts plowing forward even faster, but the slippery squelches one of those invokes from you most certainly is not something he imagines. Then your moans increase in volume and Toji figures he doesn't need a neighbor scolding the two of you for this tomorrow so he brings a hand up to your chin and then props his thumb up to your bottom lip.

“Open up, doll.” He orders plainly, to which you take his finger in without him even having to ask. Toji smiles at the sight, “Atta girllll, now suck on it.”

You do exactly that for him, the action suppressing how loud your moans are for a while until his cock knocks across your cervix and leads you to bite down on his thumb. The sensation is sudden and sharp, which nearly makes Toji's eyes cross for a moment.

Words couldn't describe what that little bit of pain did to him, honestly. All you both know is that within the next few seconds, something creamy is flooding your insides and making you two many degrees hotter than you'd been earlier.

Your brains turn off in sync after that and he's just thrusting mindlessly for another minute or two, as if to make sure he's properly bred you or something. Then his fingers move to the side of your neck and his thumb slides out of your mouth—leaving a thin trail of saliva in its wake—and his entire hand goes off to cradle the back of your head.

You gasp once Toji lifts you up from the bed in one, freakishly strong tug, still humping his dick into you slightly before your mouths collide somewhere in the air. You're hauled all the way up until he's sitting back on his heels and you're appropriately sat on top of him. Both of your arms and hands are everywhere on each other's body, and it feels like something utterly depraved as taken over.

The kisses you share is a slop of tugged lips and sucked tongues, mingled with breathy moans and murmurs of your names until his hands find the underside of your thighs and move to bounce you up and down on his cock.

A whine is punctured directly out of you as you're lifted, gravity aiding Toji in plopping you right back down onto his cum-smothered base. Then his mouth finds one of your tits and he's drooling all over you.

You thought you were unsure of what had gotten into you but apparently Toji was far worse off. It's like the heat of the room was of no concern anymore. The only thing that mattered to him was having your body be thoroughly appreciated by every part of him he had to offer.

He's even mumbling into you while his tongue swirls around your nipple, “So fuckin’ hot it here,” he puffs, “Making me lose my goddamn mind—fuckin’ you like this. Hahhh.”

You're babbling nonsense with your arms wrapped around hims head, “Tojiiii-, aanh! You feel s-so good inside me.”

Which, makes him feel all proud inside for the nth time tonight, “I know I do." His hands grasp at the thick of your hips again and he squeezes your skin just once before moving you vertically around the sticky inches of his length, “Feel good when I bounce you up ‘n down my dick like this too?”

You’re nodding stupidly. Then his hands find your asscheeks and he's groping you the way he's always wanted to.

Plap after plap after plap bounces against the walls and his cum has evenly started to leak down against his balls and drip onto his sheets—which were already a mess to begin with.

Then his head flies back and his hair is sticking to his skin due to sweat, “Fuuuck, I’m gonna cum again." He warns, tipping his chin down a moment to meet eyes with you, "You ready for it, doll? Hm? Gonna fuck it into you.”

He earns another dumb nod of your head as you press into him. Whimpering, “Fill me up, Toji. Pleeease?"

The next and final load that he shoots into you comes in uneven bursts, painting your walls in a sluggish fashion before both of your bodies go still against one another. Well, safe for you shuddering as you release right along with him.

You're still hugging his head and he's still got his arms wrapped tightly around you but that only lasts for a few seconds before both of you feel another wave of heat draft over you. Then, for the first time in forever, you're remind of how you ended up in his room to begin with.

Toji lifts his head up to kiss your shoulder, “I uh-, fuck." He snorts into your skin—regretting it directly after since the sweat on both of your skin is beginning to make your bodies feel glued to one another, "I would’ve put on a condom but uhm… s’too hot for that.”

You scoff at him, “Liar, you ran out of condoms three weeks ago.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He mumbles back.

Then he realizes there's no way you'd know that unless you were just as much of a disgusting pervert as he was and had been tracking the number of condoms he had in the same way he'd been tracking how many pairs of panties you'd allowed to go missing over the past month.

Pulling away from your shoulder and blinking, “Wait a damn minute.”

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