#tbh I could go on about a lot of his build | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ohbother2 · 2 months

Note

hi i’m helluvapoison!! (also a side blog, so APPARENTLY i can’t send asks with it? rude, tumblr) anyways i wanted to say you’re amazing, phenominal, show stopping. i love your writing so. much.

i humbly request a nsfw lucifer/ reader (however you feel like formatting it) where he tries to cancel date night because reader looks too good, he’s gotta have em then and there. reader takes this and runs, spends the evening riling him up and maybe making him beg for it, if you could? i love sub luci but wanna give you creative freedome as much as possible

ok ok i hope you have a fantastic day buh bye and keep being amazing!

You're making me blush srsly

Also I absolutely loved this idea and couldn't help but immediately start planning a fic around it - I absolutely love how your mind works

This is kinda long, and is part 1 of 2 (sorry), but I personally much prefer the build up and think it needs enough time to really get going (wink wink) to make the pay off worth it

*ahem* not quite smut? It's toeing the line tbh - Minors DNI

Lucifer x f!reader - He Wants to Cancel Date Night

---

It wasn't a particularly significant day that Lucifer had chosen to designate your upcoming date, he had simply picked a random free day in his calendar, asked you if you were free, and then giddily instructed you to doll yourself up nice and be ready for 7pm to go out for dinner. He hadn't told you where you would be heading, but when Lucifer did decide to take you somewhere purposeful for a date, and not just take you for a leisurely stroll and a candle-lit picnic, he always went full-out, so you knew to dress to impress.

It had been a while since your last date night, the two of you often prioritising your time together and trying to organise something at least every two weeks. Due to both of your busy-ness with reconstructing Charlie's new hotel project after the last extermination, and the exhaustion that settled into your bones and muscles after a long day of construction, it had been a month since your last 'official' date.

Yourself and Lucifer had been dating for several years by now, but the early-stage giddiness remained, and you still loved impressing him when you dolled yourself up, and you honestly lived for his reactions when you wore something particularly nice. It had been a while since you had both indulged yourselves as a couple, and tonight, you wholly planned on blowing him away with what you decided to wear, and hopefully a lot more.

You had missed him a lot. Unbeknownst to you, he had missed you much more, and he himself had spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready for tonight.

You currently sat at your vanity table, makeup and hair products strewn about its entire surface as you fixed up the finishing touches of your makeup in the large illuminated mirror attached to the desk. Your hair had been styled in an elegant updo, with curled strands of hair framing your face and caressing your rosy cheeks, not a strand out of place after the many hours you had spent perfecting the look. Your whole outfit had been coordinated purposefully, with the intention of wearing a ruby and gold jewellery set Lucifer had gifted you on your first anniversary, a favourite of yours, and a set which never failed to grab his attention. The elegant ruby pendant sat snug against your chest nestled amongst a gold chain, with a pair of ruby and gold earrings dangling from your ears to match. You adorned an equally vibrant ruby dress which cinched tightly at your waist and hugged your bust enticingly, clinging to your hips tightly and its hem digging lightly into your upper thigh. You pucker your rouge lips in the mirror, ensuring an even application as your bright eyes focussed intently, framed with smoky eyeliner and shimmering gold.

You stare at yourself contemplatively, scrutinising your appearance and tugging at a strap of your dress. You had no reason to be nervous, you were already dating the King of Hell, and he took every opportunity to show his devotion to you, but butterflies still swarmed in your stomach as you readied for the date, desperately wanting to impress him. In your eyes, Lucifer was a devastatingly handsome man, with the beauty of an angel despite his fallen status, able to sweep you off your feet with a disarming smile and his silky-smooth voice. He was an amazingly attentive and caring partner, and you could never ask for someone as understanding or perceptive, and god he really did still have the same effect on you, the butterflies only swarming more in your stomach as you thought about the blond man.

Speak of the devil: you jump lightly when you hear a gentle knock at your front door, and you give yourself one final glance in the mirror, a hand carding through a lock of loose hair before you respond.

"One second, Luci!" You call, prepared for him arriving a few minutes early, as he always did, standing from your seat and grabbing a small clutch-purse and a pair of gold heels from beside your bed as you hurry out into the hallway.

You place the items in your hands thoughtlessly on the staircase in the hallway, pausing before the door to straighten your dress, tugging the hem further down your thigh minimally and taking a deep breath before your hand lands on the doorknob. You swing the door open with a little too much enthusiasm, but the staggering smile that greets you has your worries subsiding as Lucifer beams at you, both of his hands rested atop his cane as he waits expectantly.

He had dressed himself incredibly well, a white suit with a burgundy shirt and pin-stripe burgundy waistcoat cinching at his unfairly trim waist, accentuating his broad shoulders and lean physique. He had abandoned his hat for the evening, and you feel your breath leave you at the way he had styled his blond locks away from his face, not a strand out of place and curling around his ears as he smiles oh-so-innocently, the apples of his cheeks rosy and pronounced with the way his grin stretched across his face.

Within his own mind, Lucifer was having an internal battle as his thoughts devolved to a jumbled and rather sinful mess at the sight that greeted him, your bright smile and rouge lips having his heart stammering in his chest as his fists enclose around his cane. You looked positively other-worldly, and the many compliments and greetings he had at the tip of his tongue die in his throat as his gaze flits up and down your body, not all that subtly. The dress left little to the imagination, and his gaze follows the long curve of your legs hotly, the shimmering stockings you wore seemingly accentuating your height. His gaze finally lands on the pendant nestled between your breasts, and a primal heat gathers in the hollow of his stomach when he immediately recognises it as the one he had bought you all those years ago. God, he loved when you wore his gifts, and he's even more ecstatic to see the matching earrings as his red gaze finally returns back to your face, a vision of beauty greeting him, looking far too happy to be in his presence as you smile lovingly.

"Angel, you look positively stunning." He immediately compliments you, bending at the waist and taking a hold of one of your hands in his gentle grasp, pressing a long, purposeful kiss against your knuckles, refusing to breaking eye-contact the entire time. You smile down at him, closing the door behind him as you comment.

"I love your new suit, it's unfair how handsome you are." He practically preens at the compliment, grinning at you as he leans against his cane, trying to make himself look as big and enticing as possible.

"I just need to grab some last minute things, if you wait in the living room I won't be long."

Ah yes, the date, he had nearly forgotten about that. You really did reduce him to a useless, thoughtless, mess. He hums as you walk past, eyes shamefully travelling down your torso as you walk away, not leaving your figure as you bend down to grab your heels and clutch from the staircase. Your dress really did leave little to the imagination, not that he had to imagine. He pulls his gaze away before you turn back around towards him, and he purposefully strides into your living room, pretending that he definitely was not just checking you out shamelessly, and that his throat definitely wasn't growing tighter and dryer with every second.

It had been so long since you both had been able to spend some much needed quality time together, usually spending your days around the habitants of the hotel as you worked, and then just returning home and collapsing into respective heaps after the many hours of labouring away to make Charlie's dream come true. He really was looking forward to this date, and he had been beyond ecstatic to be able to spend so many hours with you, and only you, after so long, but now that the time had finally arrived, he truthfully didn't want to leave these four walls.

Truthfully? He wanted to absolutely ruin the makeup and hairdo you had doubtlessly spent hours on, and he wanted to be out of his brand new suit as quickly as his hands would allow. He tries not to stare too openly when you enter the room, breathing in deeply at the strong smell of your newly sprayed perfume, watching with slitted eyes as you fuss around in a drawer, looking for something he didn't think you needed. He already knew it as soon as you had opened the door and knocked him back on his ass with that dazzling smile; he did not want to go on this date, he wanted you, and hopefully, you felt the same.

"I've missed you so much sweetheart." He practically purrs as he steps behind you, cane left leant against the back of the sofa as his hands land on either of your hips, chest pressed against your spine as he watches your reflection in the mirror hung above the side table. Your gaze flits up to meet his in the mirror, but your hands remain searching as you smile gently at him. You can see the way his eyes are heavy-lidded, his lilac-hued eyelids more visible than before as he stares into your own bright eyes intensely, and you immediately know where his mind had headed.

"I've missed you too, I'm so glad we've finally got a night to ourselves." You mutter, enjoying his warmth pressed along your back, tucking the little comb you had been searching for into your clutch. "You're not being subtle, I know that look."

"What look?" He questions coyly, and you can see his mischievous grin over your shoulder as he props his chin against you. "I'm simply in awe of your beauty." He presses a kiss against the column of your throat, and your head tilts to allow him to press another open-mouthed kiss just beneath your ear. "And can you blame me?"

"Luci," You warn, turning in his grasp. His hands follow your movements, now resting against the small of your back as he grins at you, practically nose to nose. "we have a table booked."

"I'll re-book for another night, it's me, they'll fit us in whenever." He comments, prideful as ever. One of his hands comes up between your bodies to play with the ruby pendant nestled between your breasts, a finger running along the jewel and using the chain to pull you minimally closer.

"I've spent hours getting ready." You practically whisper, you can feel his breath fan across your neck as he studied the pendant.

"And you look absolutely ravishing," He purrs, eyes matching yours once again. "so this is all your fault really." He leans in for a proper kiss, but you turn your head so that his lips land against your cheek.

"You'll get my lipstick all over you for the dinner." You were finding it increasingly hard to tell him no, especially with the way his gaze heated across your face, sultry eyes enticing you invitingly.

"I don't mind." He hums, and you feel his grip tighten against your waist. "In fact, I think I'd love to be covered in your lipstick."

"What happened to the gentleman who was at my front door not only five minutes ago?"

"I am a gentleman!" He defends, smile quickly delving into something devilishly cheeky as he comments. "I'd return the favour, put your lipstick on me, darling, and there won't be an inch of you left uncovered."

You laugh to dispel the tension in your chest at the image, and how sinfully enticing that notion was. At the same time, Lucifer begins to laugh, commenting how 'gentlemanly' that action would be.

"You, are terrible." You push him away gently, and he follows your hands with a childish frown he doesn't even bother to conceal.

"If I ask nicely enough can we stay?" He leans back against the back of the sofa, puffing out his chest in the way he knew you loved. "I'm not a Saint, I don't think I can make it through a meal with you looking like this."

"Like what?" You ask deftly, enjoying toying with him as you begin fastening your heels.

"Like I could just eat you up." You immediately know what he's insinuating, and the point is only proven more with the way he cups his chin with his hand as he watches you, fingers placed purposefully either side of his lips. Anyone else wouldn't pick up on the concealed gesture, but you know him better, and you narrow your eyes at how hard he was chipping away at your resolve.

You had half a mind to just say yes, hike your dress up and have some fun right in the middle of your living room. But no, you had been looking forward to this meal for weeks, and you rather enjoyed the idea of toying with him throughout the meal - really, if he didn't want you to tease him all afternoon, he shouldn't have come across so desperate so quickly. You'd get your revenge for all this teasing, you definitely would, and it made it even better that you knew the thought wouldn't even be crossing his mind yet.

He grins to himself as he watches you closely, an idea forming in his head. "Let me help with your heels, at least."

"No." You comment quickly, beginning to tie the second golden heel.

"Wha- why?" He questions, sounding offended.

"Because I know you, and before I know it you'll be under my dress and we won't make it to our dinner."

"I can indulge in a little starter, I bet you're much more delicious-"

"Luci, you are-" Your words cut off at the shit-eating grin he adorned, clearly enjoying riling you up. "making this incredibly difficult."

"Is it working?" He all but sings, wiggling his brows as you step towards him, now a little taller than him with your heels fastened. He was having far too much fun at your expense, and you couldn't allow that. He looks up at you with a ridiculously fond smile, which only grows when your hands smooth the lapels of his blazer.

"Maybe." You hum, and you avoid his lips once again by pressing a single long kiss underneath the crook of his jaw, your left hand cradling the back of his neck to keep him in place. He sighs out a moan, relaxing back into the sofa and hands clenching against the fabric behind him, believing that his persuasions had finally won you over.

"Really?" He asks as you pull away from his throat, still tantalisingly close. Your eyes don't linger too long, but the bright red lipstick stain has you fighting away a grin at the achievement. And to think, he was none the wiser. He sounded so hopeful, and you nearly back out of your plan. But no, you were looking forward to this meal, and you were looking forward to making him suffer for the next few hours even more.

"No, now come on, we're late."

"What?" His voice immediately loses all of its confidence, a shattered whisper as he watched you with despondent eyes. You could see the way he deflated as you pull further away from him, beginning to head towards the door. His hands were still gripping the back of your sofa, but this time to keep him propped up at the devastating news. "Darling, that's evil. We can't leave now!"

"Patience, baby." You reprimand, and he pouts playfully to hide the disappointment in his chest. "Good things come to those who wait."

"Good things could be happening right now." He tries to reason, voice low as he tries to encourage you to change your mind. He was still propped against the sofa, and you hesitated at the doorway to the hallway, looking back at him with a torn look. You had made up your mind, however, and he wouldn't win so easily.

"Are you coming? Or am I attending our date alone?"

"Fine." He groans, picking up his cane and twirling it in his hands to try and distract himself as he follows after you, pausing in front of the mirror to check his appearance. He had spent a long time on himself, after all, and next to you he needed to look every bit the charming devil. He doesn't really intend to pay too much attention to himself, but the pronounced cherry-red lipstick stain pressed under the crook of his jaw in the unmistakeable form of your lips has him nearly snapping his cane in half as soon as he spots it.

"Sweetheart!" He calls immediately, voice an octave higher than it had been a moment before. You grin to yourself as you shrug on your sheer shawl, knowing he had seen your little gift. His head pokes around the doorway, and you can see how his eyes have widened to the size of saucer-plates as he hurries towards you, knuckles of his left hand white against his cane as he reaches for you. "You can't do that and then drag me to dinner." A hand reaches for you, but you're already opening the door with a laugh. "We're staying."

His hand misses you as you step outside, and he pauses at the front entrance, glowering down at you with a tight jaw and furrowed brows. He tries one final pathetic attempt. "I feel ill."

"You're a bad liar." You laugh, holding a hand out, waiting to take his arm expectantly, and you can see how he works his jaw as he realises he really had to go to this meal. "We've got all night to ourselves, you'll survive for a few more hours."

"I don't think I will with such a pretty thing on my arm." He mutters more to himself, but you still feel heat creeping to your cheeks at the compliment. Your resolve wins over, however, and Lucifer locks your door and pockets the key before offering out his arm, beginning to lead you towards an awaiting taxi. Oh, tonight would be fun, and the best part was, Lucifer had no idea how much fun you were about to have.

---

The drive to the restaurant had gone smoothly, and Lucifer had guided you to an incredibly elegant restaurant, far outside what you would attend by yourself, nestled deep within the centre of the Pride Ring where those with wealth and status liked to play and mingle. Lucifer had practically glowed with pride when you had openly gasped in the restaurant's foyer, and had kept his hand on the small of your back the entire journey to your table; a booth directly next to the inside balcony that looked over the lower two floors of the restaurant, with a great crystal chandelier hanging parallel.

Now, you both sat at opposite sides of the table with a menu each, a bottle of some expensive-sounding wine placed in the centre of the table and your glasses filled. Lucifer was happily chatting away, meanwhile you had been storming your mind to begin enacting your revenge.

"-I don't know why he's so stubborn about it! He's literally the embodiment of lust, how embarrassing can confessing feelings be after, after doing that." Lucifer pulls a face as he sets down his menu, wafting his hands about as he continues. "It's ridiculous! And after the way he treated me when I was panicking about asking to court you! That man is the biggest hypocrite in all of Hell, and I should know."

"He's probably just embarrassed, Luci." You hum, still looking over your own menu. "Sure he's the embodiment of lust, but being sexually attracted and emotionally involved are two completely different things."

"They've been sleeping together for years by now, surely someone must have let something slip during all those times. He's told me about everything they've done, despite me not even wanting to know, and they've done some, some absolutely-" He hesitates, searching for the correct word. "'questionable' things. I mean, you can't do all that and remain," A pause. "indifferent."

"Physical attraction is a lot more removed, I think." You comment, resting your menu against the table and looking over at him. "It's a lot easier to just be interested rather than involved, you're putting your heart on the line not just your pride. Like, as an example, we slept together way before we ever said 'I love you'."

"But I-" The blond's face pinches slightly, as if remembering something embarrassing. "I knew I loved you before we even got together, so that doesn't count."

"You didn't tell me though, that's the difference." You smile softly at him, heart swelling at the little confession. His sweetness really was making you rethink your plan for the evening, but then you remembered the way he had prepositioned you to skip starters altogether in the taxi in favour of something else, and your sympathy quickly dies. "If Ozzy actually says the words, Fizz could say no-"

"He won't, that man's even more obsessed than Ozzy." Lucifer slumps a little in his chair, looking at you hopelessly, as if you had all the answers to his dear friends' worries. "I don't know how much more of his pining I can take, I might have to confess for him at this rate."

Throughout the entire conversation, you had been slowly shimmying yourself lower in the booth you sat on, which was incredibly hard with the way the skirt of your dress tugged against the soft velvet fabric beneath you, trying not to accidentally flash yourself as you worked. Now that you were low enough down, but still looked as if you were sitting upright, you slowly reach your right leg out, uncrossing your legs to give yourself some extra reach. You nod along to Lucifer's lamenting, smiling distractedly as you search for his legs underneath the table with your own.

Finally, the tip of your heel brushes against a soft fabric, and your smile brightens for seemingly no reason as your foot hovers near Lucifer's ankle, tapping against it gently, once, twice. If he notices he doesn't indicate it, carrying on with his complaining, now having moved onto Fizz and away from Asmodeus. Your foot rests gently against his calf, pressing minimally into the light white fabric as you respond to him.

"And how long did it take you to confess to me, hm?" Your head tilts as you smily cheekily, and Lucifer pouts when he realises exactly what you were about to say. "If it's longer than whatever they've got going on, I think you deserve to be his confidante. I'm sure you put him through it yourself."

"I-" He sighs, unhappy with the reality. "But it's- it's so painful watching them! I think it pains me more because it's Asmodeus. If anyone in hell has the courage to do something like that, it's him."

Your foot inches higher, slowly, and you're now midway up his calf. He's still too enraptured in his own friends love life to realise.

"He's the embodiment of lust, not love. This is as far out of his comfort zone as anyone else."

Your foot continues to inch higher, and as Lucifer thinks with a slightly downturned lip, you heel presses inward towards his knee.

"I'd argue they go hand in hand! I don't see how-" He suddenly stops talking, eyes honing in on you and lip falling into a firm line. "What are you doing?" You continue to smile mindlessly, watching as he stares at you contemplatively, hands fiddling with his menu as he becomes startlingly aware of exactly how high your foot had managed to inch.

"Whatever do you mean?" You tilt your head innocently, foot inching upward again and resting on the inside of his calf, just below his knee. "Has the wine gotten to you already?"

You jest with a jovial smile, but Lucifer is staring at you as if he had just managed to crack the Rosetta Stone, skin paling under the warm glow of the candlelight, and mouth falling open slightly. Realisation of what this night would be hits him like a tidal wave, and he stares hopelessly as he finally understands your eagerness to come to the meal. His eyes were large and lightly panicked, and that panic only increases when your foot shifts higher, pressing into the side of his knee playfully.

"Y/N, sweetie, you can't be serious-" He sounded like a man who had just figured out he had been sentenced to deaths row, and he certainly looked as if he had just received the news. ''you- you told me later."

"I'm not doing anything!" You grin devilishly with your chin rested atop your interwoven hands, and in that moment Lucifer knew he was in for a world of trouble. He stares at you tensely, silently pleading with you to let him enjoy the meal in somewhat peace. It was hard enough looking at you, nevermind with your foot inching higher and higher and beginning to press pleasantly against the lowest part of his inner thigh. "So, do you think Fizz will confess first?"

"I think coming to this restaurant was a mistake."

"I'm really enjoying my time." You chirp around a laugh, grinning as he shifts in his seat, your foot beginning to rub against his inner thigh slowly, up and down, each caress inching higher and higher. "Relax. I'm sure you'll enjoy yourself once the food arrives."

"I think I should've locked the door behind me when I arrived and kept you in the living room." He laments to himself, and you have to hide the way the comment has heat rushing up your neck. No, you were playing with him tonight, not the other way around. To prove a point, your foot presses harsher into his thigh, and you watch as he glances at his lap before settling his sight back on you.

"It really is a beautiful restaurant, and you booked a wonderful table, so secluded. Very romantic."

"I think you're enjoying this too much."

"Oh, I am."

The smile you send him has him nearly standing from the table, grabbing your hand and dragging you from the restaurant and into the nearest alleyway. It was a look that promised so much more than he had planned for this meal, and the fact that it was aimed at him had him sweating under his collar and regretting his teasing earlier in the night. He really was at your mercy, and he knew that you were aware of that, and that you had no intention of making this meal easy on him. He glowers at you from across the table, more upset with himself than you: he should've begged harder at your doorstep.

The waitress takes that moment to return with a smile and a writing pad, asking about starters and entrees and how you both were finding the wine. Lucifer goes to open his mouth to cancel the afternoon but you are two steps ahead, as always, ordering your meals with a sickeningly sweet smile and then redirecting your attention back to him, who now has to order food he doesn't even want for the sake of saving his image.

"-and I was wondering about the bourguignon, is it possible-" He nearly smashes his knee against the top of the table when you press the toe of your heel to the highest point of his inner thigh, grazing dangerously against his bulge and tugging his trouser material taut. He splutters for a moment, making a show of clearing his throat to hide his absolute shock, and clears his throat as he attempts to smile at the concerned waitress. "Ah, sorry, I'm a little under the weather but we've had this meal planned- anyway, could I please have that w-without-" His voice audibly warbles when you rock your foot slightly, pressing directly into the side of his bulge and continuing to watch the interaction with a grin. He has to clear his throat again. "without mushrooms please."

You continue to toe against his bulge as the waitress recites your orders back to you both, his hands clenching against the edge of the table as he attempts to nod along to whatever the waitress was saying. His hips attempt to shift away from your agonising touch, but you only stretch your leg further, pressing harsher and continuing to rock at that agonisingly slow pace.

"Excellent, thank you." He maintains his unsteady smile until the waitress is long gone, and then he's staring at you and breathing a little harshly as your foot continues to rub against him.

"Darling-"

"You look stressed, baby. Is something wrong?"

"Is this why you wanted to come to this meal? Just to toy with me?" He sounded like a woman scandalised, and something in his jaw twitches when you drag your foot back to the curve of his knee, before caressing as far in as you could reach.

"Depends, is it working?" You parrot back at him from earlier, and he takes a deep breath as he realises this was entirely his own fault.

"Of course it is."

"I thought you wanted to indulge yourself before our starters? Relax, indulge yourself."

"This-" His voice cracks again when you completely leave his thigh and toe directly against the centre of his problem, rocking up and down instead of side to side. His shoulders tense as his legs instinctively part at the contact, knees spreading slightly despite the agonised look he adorned. "isn't what I had in mind."

"Huh, this is exactly what I had in mind."

"Think about this," His breathing had become slightly harsher, and his hips twitched when your heel tugged the material of his trousers a little too tight, a dull pleasure slowly spreading that he was desperately trying to ignore. You laugh loudly at the desperate way he had already begun to plead, and to think, your starters hadn't even arrived yet. His voice drops as he whispers at you. "you want me walking out of here with ruined trousers? Because keep this up and keep looking at me that way and that's what's going to happen."

"I've barely done anything Luci." You shake your head feigning disappointment, foot stopping its ministrations and just resting right against his centre. "But don't worry, it wouldn't be much of a punishment if I did."

"Punishment?" He whispers bewildered, leaning forward in his seat and across the table to emphasise his disbelief.

"You're too pretty to throw yourself at me before our meal and expect me to just get over it." You tut, grin widening as he continues to gawp. The rosy hue of the apple of his cheeks had darkened considerably after the compliment. Oh, this was too easy. "If I have to spend the rest of this night in," You pause, leaning forward and dropping your voice to whisper seductively. "ruined underwear," A pathetic little sound catches in his throat, and you grin wickedly as his hips twitch against you. "I think it's only fair I have some fun."

"We could've stayed, I could've taken care of you." He really did have the sweetest way of wording things. In reality, he was envisioning you pinned beneath him on the sofa as his tongue and fingers set to work, and he was growing increasingly infuriated that he wasn't doing just that right now.

"You've not even let me kiss you yet." He begins, a hand reaching out to caress yours across the table, and you tilt your head playfully when you feel his breath fan across your face. "Isn't that punishment enough?"

"And you won't if you don't start behaving." The way your voice had taken on an authoritative tone has heat climbing up the nape of his neck, and his fist clenches tighter against the fabric draped across the table. "How can you expect me to behave when there's such a handsome man pleading with me? You're the gentleman, you should woo me until a much more acceptable time in the evening. This is a date, after all, where's the gentleman who asked me to come here?"

"You killed him when he saw you wearing that sinful outfit."

"Pity, because he won't see what's underneath until he returns." Lucifer can feel himself twitch within his trousers and it takes a great degree of self control to stop a whine from leaving his dry throat. You really had no idea just how you were effecting him, and he tugs at the collar of his shirt to try and get some air to the nape of his neck, he was surely going to combust soon.

You couldn't leave it there, and your fingers caress his own outstretched hand as you release the killing blow. "Understand?"

"God," He groans around a shuddering breath, pupils dilating as he shifts back in his seat. His trousers were growing increasingly uncomfortable, and the heavy weight of your foot against him made him startlingly aware of how little control he actually had. "yes."

"Good." You grin, completely unfazed by the entire conversation. Lucifer, however, had taken on a rather sickly complexion, with his cheeks and neck startlingly red against his pale pallor. You immediately steer the conversation in another direction when you notice the waitress heading towards your table with your starters, and the blond's despondent look as you begin chattering about something else has your ego inflating and satisfaction brewing in your chest. You were right, this was going to be a fun night.

---

You had let up with your teasing throughout the starters and the wait for the entrees, and Lucifer had returned to a far healthier appearance than before. He hadn't fully recovered, however, with his own imagination running off and assaulting his mind with downright sinful images as he tried to focus on his food and converse with you. Currently, he was rather lost in a fantasy of ducking under the table, pushing your underwear to the side, and actually eating something he craved, and not relenting until you had finished every scrap of food on your plate. He had had to shrug off his blazer, which now lay neatly folded next to him, and his burgundy shirt sleeves had rolled up to expose his forearms and try and get some cool air to his heated skin.

Yes, you had relented with your teasing, but you had given his mind all that he needed to have him thoroughly wrecked for the rest of the evening. He was doing a poor job of controlling his thoughts, and truthfully he didn't want to.

"Mmm." You hum, bringing the first forkful of your meal to your lips and humming as the flavour reached your tongue. "This is amazing, I don't think I've ever tasted anything better."

He watches with heavy eyes as you bring another forkful to your mouth, and his chest raises when you make direct eye contact with him as you moan again, a quiet little sound that no one else in the bustling restaurant would hear, but that he could pick up on like a gunshot through a forrest. He watches as you do the same again, and his forked tongue comes out to lick across his lips as he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, gnawing on it as he thinks about the sounds he could entice from you if you just let him. This time, you hum slightly louder, making a show of playfully rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you close them, savouring the flavour on your tongue. Lucifer has to spread his legs under the table to make room for the half-hard bulge he'd been fostering that was now beginning to grow again. He loved you, but you were a cruel woman.

"Not hungry, Luci?" Your question was innocent enough, but all he could envision was throwing the plates to the side and dragging you on top of the table to have his way with you. Reputation be damned, he would do so if you gave him the nod.

"Positively starving." His voice was uncharacteristically low, not even sparing his food a glance. He hadn't even picked up his cutlery yet.

"Your meal looks great, I'm kind of jealous. If we ever come again I think I'd order that."

He wasn't paying attention to a thing you said, instead watching as your hands wrapped unusually around the top of your wine glass - a fancy looking tall slender intricately designed glass that emphasised the restaurant's heightened status - taking a negligent sip, and then placing it back down onto the table. You didn't place it down normally, however, and you watch Lucifer closely as your hand remains clenched around the glass, stroking all the way down to its base before tapping a polished nail against it. You can see the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, and you twist your wrist and hand around its base before letting it go.

"Everything okay, baby? If there's something wrong we can send it back."

"You," He takes a deep breath to compose himself, his nails digging into his palms as your foot resumes its gentle caresses against his inner thigh in some semblance of a comforting notion. "are something else, sweetheart."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"And I think you're going to kill me before I can ever ask for the bill."

"I'd hope not, I've been looking forward to dessert all day." You purr, foot once again resting in between his legs. His eyes nearly roll at the contact, and his fists clench tightly around the cutlery he had just picked up as his mind absolutely runs with the possibilities after your meal. "Something sweet, I think. Apple crumble, maybe?" His gaze snaps from the piece of meat he had just skewered with his fork to your dark gaze, the gold framing your eyes glinting enticingly and churning his stomach. "I think I'd rather just have the apple, really."

His hips involuntarily jolt towards the pressure of your heel against him, and the food he had brought halfway to his mouth is thoroughly forgotten as you grin at him from across the table, taking another sip of your wine.

"I-" He stammers, scrambling for the suave flirtatious version of the King of Hell as he tries to muster a response. "that can definitely be arranged, darling."

You smile as he finally begins eating his meal, seemingly intent on finishing it as quickly as possible, but that upturn of your rouge lips turns dangerous when you decide he was rushing this meal far too fast. This was an expensive restaurant with some of the finest foods in hell: he should savour it.

"Ah!" You yelp in surprise, your knife 'falling' from the table and clattering against the floor. "Sorry- you distracted me." You lie not that convincingly, but Lucifer is too distracted in his own mind and too prideful that his stumbling attempt at flirtation has you so flustered to question your behaviour.

You smile at him innocently as you lean down, commenting loudly about how you couldn't see the knife as you lower yourself completely from your seat onto your knees and under the table. You wait a moment, spotting the knife immediately and crawling over it as you reach for Lucifer's legs, your cheeks hurting with the size of the grin that stretched across your face. Both of your hands come to rest on both of his ankles, gripping them firmly as he jolts, pinning them apart as you hear his cutlery clatter from above you.

The darkness under the table is suddenly illuminated as he tugs the table cloth up, a pair of wide bright yellow eyes immediately gazing down at you as your fingers slowly travel up his shins.

"Darling, what are you doing?" He all but hisses, but his voice is high pitched and airy and resembles more of a desperate whine than a genuine question.

"Shh." Your hands rest on either or his knees, and you push them further apart as he gapes down at you. "Continue eating, I won't be long."

"No, no." He stammers, but his legs fall open easily. You can see his eyes jerk back up to survey the little entrance to your secluded booth, terrified of being caught. "Please, don't. I can't do this."

"Yes, you can." You encourage, hands resting heavily on his inner thighs, feeling the heat of his legs from beneath the thin material. "All you have to do is sit pretty and be quiet. I've got the rest."

"I can't." And as if to prove his own point, a choked wet sound catches in his throat when you prop your cheek against his knee.

"You're right," You contemplate, and he breathes a sigh of relief that quickly withers in his throat when he sees that you have no intention of coming out from under the table. "you have to keep talking or someone might get suspicious. Tell me a story."

His mouth falls open in disbelief, but you tug the table cloth from his hands and push it up against his lap to fully hide what you were about to do. He stares doubtfully at the white tablecloth that hid you from view, fists clenching atop the table as he swiftly regrets ever trying to convince you to stay at your home.

"Sweetheart, please-"

"I'm not leaving until you tell me a story, so you better make it a quick one." He doesn't move for a moment, and neither do you, but your nails dig into his thighs when you hear him pick his cutlery back up with a tense sigh.

"I don't- God, I can't think with you-" He mutters quietly, voice hitching when your palms slide up, fingertips caressing his prominent bulge straining against the white cotton of his trousers. You press a kiss to his inner thigh, careful not to leave a lipstick stain behind, and you grin when he moans and spreads his legs, hips pushing closer to your searing touch.

"The hotel? I saw you arguing with Alastor earlier." You offer helpfully, a palm resting flat against the outline of his dick and fingers curling around him horrifyingly lightly. You twist your wrist slowly, featherlight touches caressing through the white fabric as your other hand snakes lower, cupping his balls and squeezing.

Another choking sound, and you can feel the way he sucks a deep breath into his lungs.

"Y-yes. He was being his usually horrid self-" You press a kiss against the tip of his bulge, and this time a whine heaves from his throat that he silences by biting into his fist, face twisting in pain as he breathes deeply. He pushes his hips towards you, and your hands grab either of his hips and pin him in place as your brows furrow disapprovingly.

"That's not very gentlemanly of you." You tut, and you know he hears you when a choked whimper reaches your ears. Above you, he shakes his head to clear his thoughts, blond locks beginning to unravel from their neatly combed style as he steadily loses his composure that he had been clutching to all evening. You rest heavily against his thighs and hips, hands clenched into his belt loops and preventing him from shifting as you gather saliva on your tongue.

"Uh- He was moaning about some- some furnishing-" His voice cracks when you lean forward, licking a defined line straight across his length. He can't feel the wetness, but he knows exactly what you did.

"Honey, please-" He had stopped trying to barter with you altogether, plainly begging in that small voice you loved, breath hitching around every word.

"You've not finished your story."

"Ngh-" He groans to himself, panting and staring at his half eaten plate. It is then he realised your plate was completely empty, you didn't even need the goddamn knife. His shoulders and neck are impossibly tense, and his jaw aches with the way he clenches his teeth to stop any more sounds from spilling past his lips as one of your hands leaves his belt to cup his balls once again. "I-I don't want to talk about him while you're doing that."

You giggle to yourself from under the table. He loved the sound, but it was the furthest thing from innocent he had ever heard. "And who else would you rather talk about?"

"I don't." He practically whines, trying to lower his voice back to some degree of normality. "I want you. Please can we leave."

"Oh, no no." You shake your head with a laugh. "You think you've been good enough? You've been nothing less than a mess all evening, not gentlemanly at all."

Suddenly, his hands are gripping your wrists and yanking you from his beltloops, and you're about to tell him off before you hear another woman's voice chattering above you. You sigh to yourself, collecting the knife and beginning to crawl back into your own seat.

You sit back up with a gentle smile, fluffing your hair as the waitress glances at you, a perplexed smile on her face. "Sorry, I dropped my knife. I'm so clumsy it's terrible, isn't that right dear?"

Your gaze finally lands on Lucifer, and your chest expands in pride at how disheveled he looked. The familiar flaming heat had once again licked up his neck and cheeks, both of which were a startling red as he sucked deep breaths into his lungs. His shirt had become slightly wrinkled from the way that he had gripped at his tie, and some of his blond locks had fallen from their neat style. He was still an utter vision of sophistication and charm, but the frays at the edges were beginning to simmer inwards.

"Oh, honey," You feign surprise, but Lucifer's jaw works when he sees the utter lack of sympathy in your eyes. "maybe you really weren't lying earlier, you don't look well."

"I'm fine." He all but grits out, voice having lost some of that chipper charm it usually carried, a muscle in his jaw tense. "I was just saying how lovely the food has been and how I think we're done."

"Ah, yes. It really has been amazing." You smile at the waitress, who had begun clearing the plates away and piling them into her arms. Your gaze shifts back to Lucifer, and his brows furrow lightly in confusion at the sickly sweet smile you sent his way. "We were actually hoping to try some of your desserts? I think we decided on the apple crumble and the cherry roulade, right dear?"

If he hadn't been such a composed man, Lucifer may have started crying then and there. He felt as though the world had been tugged from under him and that he was falling into a baseless abyss, and the little composure that he had been clawing to his chest nearly tore in two as he realised he couldn't say no without looking like an absolutely terrible date. He stares at you with disbelief for a moment, brows raising as he tries to muster the courage to agree with you.

"Uh, yes. If you wouldn't mind that'd be great." He hands the waitress a side-dish, eyes looking incredibly watery all of a sudden. "Thank you."

With a nod and a comment about the time you'd both have to wait for the dessert, the waitress takes her leave, leaving yourself and Lucifer in deathly silence.

Lucifer was staring at you as if you'd just torn his heart from his chest and stomped on it right in front of him, with large wet eyes watching your hopelessly as you continued to sip from your glass of wine, smiling over at him with your rouge lips. For a moment, it looked as though he had stopped breathing altogether, but then his tongue wets his lips and he opens his mouth, a small sad dejected voice coming out.

"When you were talking about dessert-"

"Yes, the apple crumble, I can't wait to try it!" You chirp happily, and it takes all of your restraint not to laugh openly at the way his eyes fall down to his lap despondently. "What happened to your hand?"

His lips purse as he flexes his right hand atop the table, the unmistakeable mark of teeth red and glinting in the candlelight. You can see two prominent fang marks across his knuckle and thumb as you lean across the table, tiny droplets of blood having crusted along their surface. How you wished you could've seen him do that, you cross your legs tightly at the images conjured in your head. Truth be told, your own teasing was getting to you as well. From the looks of it though, Lucifer was crumbling much faster.

His desperate gaze lands on you. You knew what had happened to his hand.

You laugh, a hand coming up to cover your mouth when he doesn't respond.

"I'm sorry." He leans forward as he talks, and your eyes alight with something indistinguishable as he tries to appeal to your better nature. "You have no idea how sorry I am for earlier. I'll do anything- please can we take our desserts home? Sweetheart, please."

Your head tilts, faux confusion flashing across your gaze. "I appreciate the apology Luci, but I don't know what you're apologising for. I'm just carrying on what you started."

"I can't sit here for another moment." His voice had taken on that whiny pitch you loved, and your tongue wets your lips as both of his hands grasp one of your across the table. "Please can we go home."

"Of course," You hum, and he perks up in his seat before you begin talking again. "as soon as we've finished. I've been looking forward to this dessert all month. You've made it this long, one more course won't hurt."

His throat tightens painfully as he continues to grip your hand in his own grasp. The aching in his trousers was becoming unbearable, and to have you deny him after toying with him so openly gave him a sort of whiplash that had him nearly shoving his own hand down his trousers to just give himself some sort of release. He had been wanting since the moment he first saw you that night, and he was so close and yet so far from actually having you.

"Look, dessert's here now. Won't be long."

You both pull away as the waitress approaches, settling the two desserts in the centre of the table.

You immediately tug the apple crumble towards you with a grin, and Lucifer watches with the little self-restraint he had crumpling into an ashen heap as you immediately spoon a hefty helping of apple into your mouth, humming as you swallow. He doesn't even try to hide his thoughts anymore, eyes watching the column of your throat as you swallow, hands weekly pulling his own dessert unhappily towards himself.

"This really is an amazing restaurant Luci." You comment, leaning across the table and watching as he begins his own dessert, your own spoon dancing from your fingertips. "I'm so glad you brought me. In fact, I think this is my favourite date we're ever been on."

He hums at you, eyes squinting playfully as you continue to tease him.

"And you look so good, I can't lie you nearly won me over before we left my house, but I'm so glad I convinced you to come out. I've loved every minute."

You were being downright cruel, and the compliments went straight to the flaming heat in his boxers as he shifts uncomfortably, trying to give himself that tiny bit of friction he desperately craved. He tries to remain composed, despite his flaming cheeks and the sweat that beaded along his back and chest, resting his head on his left hand, munching slowly on the chocolate and cherry dessert. It really was an amazing restaurant, but he hardly remembered any of the food he had eaten, his thoughts and senses completely enraptured by you the entire evening.

"I would love to try your dessert though, it looks like you've ordered the better thing every course." He glances from his plate to you, confused at what you were insinuating. The last time you had spoken about dessert, he had been sorely mistaken, and so he sits, too apprehensive to really do anything for fear or disappointing himself.

You place your spoon down, leaning across the table and pushing your chest out tantalisingly, pearly white teeth visible as you smirk, a hand reaching forward and fingers curling around his collar. His eyes flicker between your sultry gaze and your heaving chest, and yet he remains rigid in his seat, absolutely terrified of raising his hopes.

"Darling-?" He questions softly as you tug him closer, following your hands with ease as your breath fans across his lips.

"Just a small taste."

And then your lips are on his and he openly groans into your mouth as you finally give him what he wants. His hands leave the table ledge to cradle your jaw, pulling you in closer as his lilac-hued eyelids close, tilting your head to give him better access as his brows furrow. Your tongue darts across his lips, and he invites you in willingly, another moan catching in his throat as you hungrily lick into his mouth, his tongue battling with yours as one of your hands clenches into the hair at the nape of his neck. You pull away all too soon, and he collapses back into his seat a red, panting, mess, lips glossy, gazing at you with disbelieving amber eyes, utterly and completely smitten. He watches you pick your own spoon back up from its place on the table.

"The cherry's nice, but I do think I prefer the apple."

As soon as you finish the last spoonful, Lucifer is calling the waitress over and requesting the bill, practically vibrating in his seat as you watch him leisurely. This had been one of your favourite dates, and you didn't intend on letting this be the end of your fun.

---

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #Lucifer x reader #Hazbin Hotel Lucifer smut #hazbinhotel smut #Hazbin Hotel smut #lucifer morningstar #Lucifer magne #Lucifer Morningstar x reader #Lucifer Morningstar x reader smut #smut #lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin lucifer

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yunhoszn · 2 months

Text

motive

PAIRING choi san x f!reader

WORD COUNT 3.37k

GENRES kinda fluff ig﹒smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, friends to lovers, reader is lowkey down horrendous, but san is too i guess, um tbh this is just porn with minimal plot… 😭, reader gets jealous, Tension, i can’t think of anything else for the tame aspect so, making out, exhibitionism, soft dom!san, marking-ish, scratching, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, they’re like kinda clumsy in the way that everything is a fucking joke to them, actually a lot of kissing, san’s a sweet talker, public sex, shower sex, unprotected sex (pls be safe), creampie, cutesy ending

SUMMARY it’s annoying that your gym partner constantly gets flirted with right in front of you, especially when you have a crush on said gym partner. good thing your gym partner has a crush on you, too.

MORE HELLO oh my god okay, this is my first written fic on this blog and im actually so nervous posting it… but fuck it! we ball! this wasn’t originally the first fic i was gonna post but,,, the other one is still marinating in the drafts so you get mr. choi san instead <3 ALSO THANK U SM FOR 100 FOLLOWERS HELLO. my blog is 2 weeks old that’s insanity 🤕 big thank u to the loml @kimsohn for betaing for me ilysm maya <<3 pls reblog if u enjoyed and pls moot me :( i need more atiny friends 💔

“Wow, San, you’re so strong,”

You scoff to yourself as you watch the trio of girls surround him, dainty fingers touching anywhere they can. He laughs sheepishly, shifting his seat on the weight bench. You think it’s funny, really, the fact that he was eating up their attention and acting like he was so shy about it. He was supposed to be your gym partner.

With a small grunt, you take the dumbbells in front of you and focus on your form in the mirror. You make attempt after attempt to ignore the commotion behind you, but ultimately fail. How could you not stare with all the obnoxious giggling? Even as you lunge, eyes zeroed in on the perfect 90° angle your legs make, you can still make out the group’s reflection in the mirror.

Every drag of a manicured nail along his bicep, each twirl of hair, it was pissing you off. You had no real right to be mad, though. It’s not like San was your boyfriend or anything. You were just friends, and he’d volunteered to help you out when you mentioned struggling at the gym. What started as him spotting you when needed and giving tips to help improve your workouts, turned into waiting around for him to stop flirting with the girls who flocked over to him.

Maybe you were being a bit dramatic. It’s not like this happened every time you came to the gym, but it was enough to be irritating. There was also a very high probability that it ticked you off so much because you had a crush on San yourself. Your infatuation was less superficial, however. Yes, he was an attractive man, that was one fact that couldn’t be refuted, but there was more to him than his big muscles and handsome face.

You’d known San since you met in your first year Anthropology course. This was way before he started hitting the gym and building his physique. He used to be this thin, pretty boy. Girls thought he was cute, but that was about it. No one was jumping at the chance to ask him out, or giggling at his every word. No one except for you.

He was not only cute, but he was sweet and funny and just about every good quality you could think of. You didn’t want to be one of those people who thought you were special because you knew him before his insane bodily transformation, though in a way you were. San was your good friend above anything else, and you had a fear instilled in you that that’s all he would ever be. The idea made your stomach churn.

”Do you think you could bench me?”

A sigh pushes past your lips when you see one of the girls get a little closer to him. You’re over working out at this point, ready to just call it a day and go home. What were you doing here if your partner was going to ignore you the entire time? You set the dumbbells back on their respective rack, grabbing your phone and water bottle while simultaneously turning up the volume on your headphones to drown out everything around you.

You don’t bother telling San that you’re leaving, making your way into the changing rooms to grab the rest of your things from your locker. The frown etched onto your face as you do so serves as a reminder that he would never see you in that way. Perhaps you were perpetually stuck as the girl space friend. With a giant emphasis on the space.

There’s a gentle grasp around your wrist, making you jump in surprise. You turn around with wide eyes, pushing your headphones off your ears. San stares back at you with an unreadable expression, lips slightly pursed.

”God, San, you almost gave me a heart attack,” you hold a hand to your chest, heaving up and down a little.

”I tried calling your name, but you didn’t hear me,” he shrugs, releasing your arm and shoving his hands into the pockets of his athletic shorts. “Why didn’t you tell me you were ready to leave?”

”You looked busy.” Really, you wanted to hide the jealousy and bitterness from your tone, but ultimately failed, even throwing in an unintentional scrunch of your nose. It feels like your heart dropped to your stomach, resembling a prey caught by its predator when you realize the connotation behind your words.

San smiles at you, a smug grin that’s so out of character for him, you’re a little nervous now. He takes a step forward and you back up until you reach the lockers, one of his hands coming up to rest on the surface near your head. A small chuckle breaches the sound barrier, his eyes drinking in your figure like he might never get the opportunity to do it again. “Y/N… are you jealous?”

Instinctively, you shake your head. What he doesn’t know can’t kill him. But then he’s raising an eyebrow in question and you feel like a puppy with its tail between its legs. You blink up at him, nails digging into your palms to keep your composure. “Should I be?”

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, that same cocky smirk on his features. He knows what he’s doing, you think to yourself. He has you cornered and he’s using it to his advantage. The hand that isn’t holding his weight comes up to your face, fingers gliding along your jaw with a feather light touch. “No, I don’t think so. The only girl who’s attention I really care about is right where I want her.”

Your breathing stutters, halting in your throat and momentarily winding you. Choi San might very well be the death of you. Especially with that darkened look in his eyes, the chocolate brown color now resembling the night sky. His thumb swipes across your lower lip, letting it resume its original place. “What do— what do you mean by that?”

He was giving you a bone, a hint that he could potentially feel the same as you, but you wanted to hear him say it. You wanted the words to leave his mouth and verbally confirm that for you. Want wasn’t even good enough. You needed it.

“There’s no way you don’t know,” San says, voice hushed. “No way that you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted you since first year.”

Something similar to a choked groan departs from you, your pulse racing in your ears, thumping beneath your chest. You’re too stunned to move, frozen in your spot in case this is all some fucked up dream. It doesn’t even occur to you that someone could walk in, doesn’t even cross your mind that you’re in too public of a setting for this conversation or where it could go.

“I don’t— I didn’t…” Your eyes attempt to stay on his, but keep flickering down to his mouth.

“It was so hard for me to play nice guy for so long,” he whispers, a pout adorning his expression. “And today? I couldn’t even stare at you shamelessly because of those damn girls. It’s so fucking annoying when they bother me while I’m trying to flirt with you. But since I’m Nice Guy San, I can’t be rude.”

“You flirt with me?” You snort, your shell shock wearing off and a goofy smile worming its way onto your face. He laughs along with you, tilting away to hide the warmth blooming on his cheeks. The tension is still present, but it’s a lot more bearable.

”I guess I’m not very good at it if you couldn’t even tell,” he glances down at his feet, the confident San from before long gone and now replaced by a bashful version. “Am I going crazy, or is this gonna go somewhere? I don’t want to misread anything and ruin what we already have. The ball is entirely in your court.”

It’s your turn to be shy, shrinking in on yourself slightly. Acknowledging that you had feelings for San was a separate can of worms. There was a big difference between him confessing to you and vice versa. You know if given the stage, you’d just start blabbering on and on about how you feel for him, and that would just be embarrassing for both of you. So instead you say, “Can I show you?”

When he nods, your fingers raise to his jaw, cupping it gently as you lean up. Your lips brush his softly, barely grazing them. His eyes flutter shut, a shiver running down his spine simply from your kiss. A pleasant buzz courses through your veins from your lips to the tips of your fingers. You’ve wanted this forever, you don’t think you could ever go back.

You pull back and San fists the fabric of your t-shirt on your waist, eyes still closed as he chases your mouth. “Fuck, Y/N, can I kiss you again?”

“Please,” you whine, enveloping your lips with his as soon as you get the green light. This time is desperate, noses bumping each other. You’re going lightheaded and dizzy, already intoxicated by him. Your back presses into the lockers behind you, arching into his chest for more.

He deepens the kiss and it’s almost too much. You’re overwhelmed by the emotions taking control of you, not at all prepared for what would come with actually being with San. It had always been a distant fantasy, something that felt so completely out of reach that you didn’t dare let yourself indulge in the notion for too long. The way his lips lock with yours, fluidly and synchronously like missing pieces of a puzzle, you think you can die happily.

“As hot as it would be to fuck you right here, I’d rather not get kicked out of this gym,” he chuckles breathlessly. “And since we’re both sweaty from working out, I think we could use a shower. Don’t you?”

You leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, nodding frantically at his suggestion. Though you imagined your first time with San being in a bed, slow and sensual, you’d be so stupid to complain about this. Fucking in one of the gym showers, where anyone could hear you? Go big or go home.

He scopes the area to ensure the coast is clear before hauling you into one of the stalls, dragging the curtain shut. You kiss roughly between removing articles of clothing, San turning on the water while his lips make quick work of your neck. Goosebumps form on your skin when the cool water hits it, your fingers combing through his wet hair as he sucks harsh marks into your collarbone and sternum.

“You’re so gorgeous, babe,” he mutters into your skin, nipping lightly at the tops of your tits. One of his hands travels south, sliding through your folds with ease. He rubs tight circles into your clit, prodding at your entrance with his ring finger. “I need you to cum for me once before I fuck you for real, okay?”

“Mhm,” you moan quietly, hiking one of your legs around his waist. His finger pushes inside you to the knuckle and then curls. Your eyes all but roll to the back of your head, back arching off of the tiled wall. “Feels so good, San…”

“Yeah?” He smiles against your skin, trailing pecks up your neck and along your jawline. You whimper in his ear, cunt sucking in his finger greedily. He adds a second, the middle one, and applies pressure to your clit with the heel of his palm. The sight of you falling apart by his hand alone is sending blood rushing to his brain.

Your body feels hot to the touch, risking a downwards glance at where his fingers disappear into your pussy. It forces another whine out of you, your head tossing back. You tug at the strands of hair that stick to the nape of his neck, steeling yourself the only way you can in this position. San just seemed to know you, to know exactly what you needed without you having to tell him. Either he was really good at guessing, or everything he did seemed to be perfect, because you’ve never climbed to the summit this quickly before.

There’s a knot in the pit of your stomach that weaves itself tighter and tighter with each curl of his digits and each swirl of his thumb on your clit. You think you could cry from how attentive he was, from how determined he was to provide you pleasure. Your cunt contracts around his fingers, and he can sense the precipice of your orgasm, speeding up his pace.

You squirm around in his hold, allowing him to spread apart your thighs so he can brush the pads of the digits buried inside of you up against that spongy sweet spot. You’re trembling now, nearing the edge of that familiar cliff. “San, baby, I’m— god— I’m so close,”

“Let go for me, my love.” He coos into the corner of your mouth, hushing your moans. He doesn’t slow his assault, inching you further and further towards your release like it was his own personal mission. That knot in your belly begins to unravel until it slips through your grasp completely, your orgasm rocking into you like a tidal wave.

San aids you as you ride out your high, already spent before he’s even gotten the chance to be inside of you. He kisses you tenderly, pulling out his fingers with caution since you were still so sensitive. Your nails claw down his front, scratching his abdomen with a purpose. He shudders beneath you, lips curling up into another soft smile.

“What?” You ask with a giggle, mirroring his expression when he wipes water from your face.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, grin unwavering. “You just look really pretty like this.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get into my pants, Choi San.” You tease, yanking him down for a saccharine kiss. He reciprocates without hesitation, drawing his palm on your thigh so he can wrap it around his waist again.

“Me? Never…” He laughs along your mouth. “Is it working, though?”

You roll your eyes playfully, reconnecting your lips. “Are you gonna fuck me for real now?”

“What kinda question is that?” He glides the tip of his cock between your folds, shutting you up instantaneously. He’s heavy where he sits, slipping the shaft through your lower lips. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, you forget where you are, baby.”

Before you can even let out another sound of appreciation, he’s stretching you out, cock thrusting up into your pussy without warning. You jump up a bit to hook your other leg around his hips so he’s supporting your whole weight. The new angle makes it easier for him to delve deeper in your cunt, his dick accessing places you’d never knew existed.

After he’s sure you’ve adjusted to his length, he starts to move, pistoning in and out of you much more forcefully than he did with his fingers. Your lips part for a voluminous moan, but then you hear a group of loud girls entering the shower area and San slaps a hand over your mouth. He makes no effort to stop, fucking into you without a single care for the people on the other side of the shower curtain.

“Did any of you see where San went? He disappeared so fast.”

You recognize the voice as belonging to one of the girls who was openly flirting with San while you were working out. Not even needing to see her, you can picture the exaggerated pout on her face based on her tone alone.

“He probably followed after that stupid bitch he’s always with.”

Your half lidded eyes meet San’s but he still pays no mind to them, digging his nails into your plush thighs. He pulls all the way out, just to slam his cock all the way back in. His pace leisures, but his power doesn’t, abusing your cunt with every snap of his hips.

“I think I’m gonna ask him out next time I see him. I have to stake my claim before someone else does.”

He holds back a laugh, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You drown out their conversation after that, too focused on the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls so deliciously to even worry about those idiot girls. Little did they know he was closer than they thought…

Thankfully, they leave not much longer after that, and he uncovers your mouth. You gasp for air, panting feverishly when he picks up his speed again. Your bottom lip quivers with a whine, too fucked out to conjugate words that make sense.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. Taking me like a fucking princess,” San praises. He groans, water droplets slipping along the valleys of his sculpted chest and abdomen. It drips with every roll of his hips and every thrust of his cock into your pussy. This was what he had been building up to, what he’d been dreaming of for years. “Who’s fucking you like this?”

“Mmm,” you moan, supping him in deeper, further, as cavernous as humanly possible. “You, San— fuck— y-you are.”

You arch your back, sneaking a hand in the middle of the two of you and pressing the pads of your fingers harshly on your clit when you do so. San holds you closer to him so your pelvic bones nearly clash each time he punches into you. The change in depth that he fucks you has your cunt squelching, any semblance of coherent thought escaping you.

Your vision goes blank, stars decorating the backs of your eyelids as your second orgasm blindsides you. Not a sound leaves you after it knocks into you, cumming with so much force you think you might pass out in San’s arms. When you’ve finished, you let out a guttural groan, walls fluttering around his cock.

“Gonna cum— shit— where do—“ you interrupt him with a whimper.

“Cum inside of me,” your begging tone has him spilling into you practically on command. He fills you up perfectly, a moan from deep within him reaching your ears. You both stay like that for a moment, skin sticking to the other’s due to the thin sheen of sweat coupled with the steam of the shower coating your bodies.

You can feel the rise and fall of his chest when he breathes, one of your hands coming up to caress his back gently. He pulls out with a wince, palms resting on either side of you as he recuperates. He breathes through his nostrils, forehead glued to your shoulder. His hands rub up and down your sides soothingly.

“It’s safe to assume you’re gonna turn that girl down when she asks you out, right?” You ask suddenly, attempting to diffuse whatever’s in the air between you now. San laughs into your shoulder.

“Y/N, I’m turning down any girl who asks me out from now on,” he stands upright, biting his lip before kissing you gently. “I don’t think my girlfriend would appreciate that very much.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Girlfriend?”

“Am I being too overzealous?” His nose scrunches up.

“You’re being the right amount of zealous, I think,” you brush away a strand of wet hair that falls into his eyes. “But I think your ‘girlfriend’ would like it if you actually asked her to be your girlfriend.”

Choi San is the prettiest man you’ve ever set your sights on, but somehow, he looks even prettier smiling down at you after having sex with you in a gym shower. It’s a feat that should be considered illegal, and you should receive restitution for the distress it’s caused on your heart.

“Will you be my girlfriend, Y/N?”

And well, maybe you’d deal with that later. It was kind of difficult to ignore that sparkle in his eyes, especially when it was directed at you. You nod without a second thought.

“I would love nothing more.”

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez san #ateez choi san #choi san #choi san x reader #choi san smut #san x reader #san smut #yunhoszn

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libraryraccoon · 3 months

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The Demon Of Cancellations : A Contract Canceled For Husk

P1 -> P2 <- P3

TW : English isn't my first language, bad english.

Gender of the Reader : Male/GN

Pronouns used : He/They

Husk didn’t believe that a demon, that isn’t an Overlord, can cancel contracts. And, if they can, he didn’t believe they can cancel contracts made by Overlords.

But, when Angel Dust, from all, come at the hotel, happy, and said that The Demon Of Cancellations cancelled his contract with Valentino ?

Yeah. He start to believe that a demon can do that.

Alastor seemed intrigued by the news, probably wondering if the demon could cancel the contract he (Alastor) had made.

But Husk didn’t give him too much attention.

Husk asked for the address of The Demon Of Cancellations before flying to the building.

Yes, flying. He used his wings for a total of five minutes of flying, entering through the demon's window.

It was hard to tell if the demon was shocked or not, a black blindfold covering their eyes. They were as Angel Dust had described them, h/l h/c, black blindfold covering their eyes, dark academia style, a trench coat,... The demon he was looking for !

“You’re The Demon Of Cancellations.” It wasn’t a question. “I need you to cancel a contract I have made years ago with Alastor.”

They had no reaction, seeming, in a way, to expect it.

“Take a sit. Tell me your name, and what have you give to Alastor.” Said the demon, professionally.

Husk take the sit in front of the desk, looking in their black blindfold. “Husker. My soul.”

Husk didn’t care how he act, he just want that double hell that is the contract with Alastor to end. He want to be free.

“That will cost 350$.” Said The Demon Of Cancellations, making appeared his contract before making it disappear, cancelling it.

Husk could feel it, feel his soul being free again after all that years. It feels like a dream, but that wasn’t one. That was the reality. An happy reality, where he is free.

“Finally.. I’m free..” was all Husk could said.

He didn’t know what to do, where to go, now that he’s free.

So he give the 350$ to the demon before leaving, going to the hotel, the only place he had.

_____________

It wasn’t a surprise that Husk act like that.

Y/N have heard some things about him, about him being a calm barman.. And he know how calm people who are stuck for a long-time act when they can be free, and how they act after.

Someone will do all for liberty, even if that mean changing to someone themselves don’t recognized.

Husk was one of them.

Y/N can easily said how this story will continue.

All Y/N had done for him, was starting his story. The best thing he could ever done.

___________

One week after his contract was cancelled, Husk was more smiling.

And by that, I mean that he change his depressed and jaded barman to a free, calm and happy barman. He wasn’t always happy, yeah, but sometimes he is ! It’s a good evolution !

Charlie was happy for his friend, being free and all.

“Hey Vaggie, do you think I should go see that Demon Of Cancellations ?” ask Charlie to her girlfriend.

“No, why ?” ask Vaggie confused.

“Well, they help two of us friends, so maybe we could thanks them for that.” Explained Charlie. “Especially that they cancelled their contracts ! Somethings I never thought possible before !”

The Demon Of Cancellations was the first demon in history that can cancel all contracts, even those that aren’t their.

“Well, we can always meet them if you want.” Said the ex-angel.

What they didn’t know, was that a demon of the radio was listening them behind the door.

________________

The Part 3 will be the end of that little "series". I don't know how to write Husk tbh. Like a lot of Hazbin Hotel.

#hazbin hotel husk #hazbin hotel #male reader #gn reader #hazbin hotel x gn reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #husker hazbin hotel #husk #husker #Raccoon is writing

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multifariousqueer · 10 months

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Yandere Miles Morales( 42 & 1610) headcannons

A/n: Okay, so I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I was wondering, if the Miles’ were yanderes, which ones would they be?? So, here are my headcannons/Drabbles on the Miles as yanderes

Warnings: Yandere behavior, toxicity, stalking, possessiveness, manipulation,

Miles Morales(1610)

Our miles is definitely the stalker/manipulative Yandere

When Miles found out where your dorm was, it was over for you.

He would come by your house every night and watch you sleep before and after going on patrol

Memorized your entire schedule and your dorm location before you two actually met because he was so infatuated with you

I feel like this man says that y’all are gonna get married even before y’all start talking. Like he’s telling Ganke that you two are gonna get married

“Dude, does she even know you exist”

“Yes. She glanced my way and she was wearing Jordan’s identical to mine”

“That doesn’t mean anything man”

It means everything to him

When y’all do start talking, he moves really quickly. Like he’s holding your hand on the first date and calling you his girlfriend on the third

You mostly got with him because you felt bad but he manipulates you into having feelings for him

He’s very persuasive tbh

He makes a good impression on your family and everyone is convinced that y’all are going to get married

When he reveals himself as Spider-Man, all hope is out the window of being safe

It doesn’t matter what you say or do, In his mind, you two are in love and you’re gonna be together forever

If you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile.

Will try to separate you from your family and friends

Will start dressing you up like a doll

If you try to fight back, he’ll just say “calmate Mami. It’s okay, I’m here and we’re gonna be together and have kids and we can wear matching clothes and everything will be okay”

If you disagree with something, he’ll just say, “it’s fine, I just thought you loved me” and will make you feel like shit for not going with his flow

If you go crazy enough on him, he will just web you up and kiss you until you calm down

Earth 42! Miles

Earth 42! Miles is the possessive/ crazy Yandere

Will just not let you leave the house alone and he will not let you go anywhere

If you end up in his dimension and you look like his s/o that died, forget it.

This man is not above kidnapping. Like Yk that box from You that Joe kept Beck in? Yeah, he’d build that for you

“Where do you think you’re going, Mami?”

Will not let you wear your own clothes, especially in public

He would spoil you and use it as leverage

“You think that cabròn would buy you that, hm? Nah princesa, I do that. I take care of you”

He forces you to be dependent upon him

“Oh, princess you need something, hm? You need food? You’re hungry? Let me get you some food”

This man has prowler advantages. Like he could kill anyone and no one would know but you

Will give you everything you want but it always comes with a price

“I’ll get you that necklace, mi amor if you promise me that you’ll stop listening to your friends and family’s opinions about me” “sì Papi”

Has a tracker on you at all times in the off chance he lets you leave

Hates your friends and family because they don’t like him

Will isolate you from everything and everyone you know until you’re nothing but his piece of clay, ready for his moulding

This man would kill anyone that came too close to you

Yeah lmk if there’s any that I missed 🩷

Divider- @firefly-graphics

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oscalesoffeeling · 2 years

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thinking about dance in relation to my f/os.......

#outside of dancing together but that's lovely as well.#i like dancing a lot when i can (i have health problems that make it difficult sometimes) and well.#i find it invigorating. it really truly is a great form of emotional expression.#one of my preferred methods of getting the funk out when i'm overwhelmed/understimulated tbh #just thinking about my f/os supporting me n enjoying watching me go ya know :)#i make dances for them ya know. not necessarily for them to do but dedicated to them or just. about them. lol #sometimes it helps to dance out my blorbo feelings okay. i'm in the process of writing a couple of things about a couple of them involving #dance performances so dancing helps me choreograph what i want in the final picture obvs.#typically i like to build dances around my songs. and i just so happen to write a lot about my f/os so yeah. they definitely influence my #dances lol. pink calls me his tiny dancer btw jsyk. i could make dances for his songs too!!#i mean. i have before. it's not really a 'could make' it's more of a 'have made.'#ellie rambles about stuff #think pink (tag)

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healmydesires · 5 months

Text

it’s warming up ꕤ (a.s)

pairing: anakin skywalker x sub!f!reader

summary: anakin edging you. that’s it.

genre: smut + fluff , tbh pure filth sorry! (mdni! 18+ only)

word count: 1,5k

warnings/tags: pxrn no plot sorry <3, established relationship, sub!reader and soft dom!anakin because … that’s just my thing, use of vibrator, edging, vaginal fingering, oral!f receiving, dirty talk, begging, praise kink,, after care is heavily implied. lots of pet names.

a/n: this came up to me this morning and all I could think about all day was anakin edging you 😭 this was supposed to be a short blurb but I can never restrain myself with writing smut so here you go. 💘 enjoy!

dividers by @saradika <3 thank uuuu for making these 🫂

ao3 • masterlist

Anakin is cruel.

He’s been keeping the toy on the lowest setting and every single time you are about to spill over the edge he would abruptly withdraw the vibrator from your pussy and stop your oncoming orgasm.

You’ve lost count of how many times he’s been edging you this evening.

“Please, Ani,” There’s a sharp gasp lodged in your throat, fighting to be released as you grapple for oxygen. The buzzing and steady vibration overwhelms you as he continues to hold the vibrator close to your cunt. Anakin’s body is still hovering over yours, his eyes transfixed on the way your face contorts with every movement he controls.

“You like that angel?” Anakin smirks as you can’t seem to form a coherent answer as pleasure consumes you. “Poor little thing, she can’t even talk.”

Every now and then he changes angles, moving the massaging head of the device to your already fluttering hole, leaving you a whimpering mess. Your pussy is aching and throbbing for release. Then he presses the device right into your clit as he leans down to capture your mouth in another heated kiss, swallowing all your little noises.

“Anakin, please… it hurts.” you whimper desperately while pulling away from his lips, as he presses the toy ruthlessly against your clit.

The man chuckles lightly in amusement as he shakes his head. He then pulls away completely as he notices you getting close again. A broken mewl escapes you as he edges you for what feels like the eighth time tonight.

You’re hot all over, feeling extremely dizzy. You whine in frustration as you grab the sheets beside you. “Please, Ani, I’m sorry.”

“What exactly are you sorry for?” He lifts his gaze as he looks directly at you, his eyes full with lust while he furrows his brows at you. Anakin then turns the vibrator to the highest setting as he presses it lightly against your clit. Slowly, his lips curl into a wicked smirk as your body jolts at the action and cry out.

“Are you sorry for acting like a brat the whole day?” He sighs dramatically before looking at you pointedly. “Or, are you only apologising because you want to come?”

“No!” You try to squirm out of Anakin’s grip but you should know better than that. He’s a lot stronger than you after all.

“No?” He raises one of his eyebrows.

“I—”

“Oh sweetheart,” Anakin tuts with a dangerous smile. “I know exactly what you mean.”

You know better than to believe him when he says he understands. Despite his devious expression, you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Y-you do?” You whisper as you look up at him with wide eyes.

“Oh yeah, I do.” He smiles down at you. As the man above you holds eye contact with you he presses the vibrator against you while it’s still on the highest setting.

“Ani, fuck!” You scream as you throw your head back. You squeeze your eyes shut as the pleasure overwhelms you once again. Tears well in your eyes as the tension in the lower pit in your stomach starts building all over again. Quickly.

You try to grasp for breath as he every now and then presses the vibrator harder against your sensitive clit.

He chuckles as you rock your pussy against the toy, as you try to find release. Your hips bucking up to meet the movements of it, your eyes squeezing shut as your climax feels so close again. “So desperate. So needy.”

“Only for you.” You gasp as you writhe underneath him.

Your poor pussy is soaking, your hole begging to be filled and your clit pulses heavily as the love of your life continues to press it against the sensitive spot.

“Ani,” you whine, hoping he will let you cum this time, “please can I cum? I can’t do it anymore. Jus’ wanna cum, Anakin, pleasepleaseplease.”

You’ll never be afraid to beg for what you want. Especially when it comes to Anakin. But if he’ll actually take mercy on you, that’s something else entirely.

“I don’t know, baby,” he coos, “do you think you deserve it?”

“Y-yes! I d-do.” You whimper as frustrated tears slide down your cheeks.

He shakes his head with a sigh, “I don’t think you do.”

“B-but I’ve been nothing but a good girl now.”

“I guess you’ve been doing good,” Anakin hums before he leans down to lick a stripe up your neck, making more whines to spill out of you. “But, I’m not sure you’ve been good enough though.”

“Please, I can’t—”. A broken gasp leaves your lips as you feel one of his fingers at your entrance. Your hole clenches around nothing as it begs for his touch.

He chuckles as he continues to tease your wet hole, almost penetrating it with one of his fingers every now and then. Your hips move against him, as you try to chase his gentle touch, to feel more of him. A devious smile stays on his face as he takes you in. You’re so desperate. He finds your pleading truly amusing as you attempt to convince him.

He then turns off the toy and pulls his touch away from you entirely once again.

“No!” You cry out. Tears continue to slip down your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Pleasepleaseplease pleaaaaase. Ani—”

Moments later a surprised moan falls off your lips as he licks a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dips his tongue into your entrance before he travels up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet tongue and sucking your overly sensitive button into his mouth.

You practically scream at his actions, arching your back slightly off the bed. Your body trembles as you try to grind your pussy slowly against Anakin’s lips.

“I know baby, I know.” He whispers against your pussy as he looks up at you intensely from between your legs.

Strong arms then move, locking around your thighs, securing your hips with his biceps, holding you still despite your attempts to grind your pussy against his mouth again.

As Anakin buries his face in your cunt, he continues his ministrations on your clit as he gets lost in the feeling of your scent, taste, and your moans and whines fueling him on.

A finger of his then travels down to your slit, slowly sliding inside. Pumping the single digit into your wet hole, his mouth remaining on your clit, circling around the bud with the tip of his tongue.

“Please,” you whimper.

You’re a mess of his name, you chant his name over and over again. Eyes are squeezing shut as tears continue to well in your eyes, his arms press into your hip bones to pin you in place as you buck into him again and again, trying to get closer to that feeling of his tongue lapping on your clit and pleading him to let you cum.

You are so close. Suddenly you feel his fingers and mouth retreat from your core and you whine at the loss. This makes Anakin chuckle.

“Hold it.”

You were so close. Tears slide down your cheeks as he pulls another broken moan out of you. “Ani, please. I can’t do this anymore.”

“What did I say?” He whispers harshly before he leans down again. He licks up a single stripe up your slit. “I said hold it.”

Then, he slides his tongue into your entrance, curling the muscle upwards to brush your walls.

You feel so dizzy. Moaning and whining, you writhe underneath him. “Fuck, Aniiiii.” You whimper when he begins thrusting his tongue in and out of you just as his fingers had been doing moments before, hips bucking uncontrollably into his mouth as you repeatedly whine his name.

You try, you really try so hard not to come as his tongue continues to pleasure you. But it seems impossible.

Everything feels so fuzzy as you whine, rambling, pleading with him once again.

Anakin slips his tongue out of you, his gaze softening as he takes you in.

“Alright baby, you can let go. You’ve earned it.” he whispers before his lips wrap around your clit.

With one last harsh suck on your nub you come with a loud cry, your back arching. Your vision turns white and your ears ring as your whole body racks with such intense pleasure, you almost think you might pass out.

Gasping out his name, hips stuttering until the final waves of aftershock pass. Your body tenses before it relaxes back into the soft mattress. Gently, he laps at your release until it’s getting too much.

“So good.” Anakin whispers as he presses a final kiss on your hip bone, then slowly crawls back up to you, his lips leaving kisses in his wake.

You’re still trying to catch your breath, trying to keep your eyes open as he finally hovers over you.

“My good girl,” he whispers before both of your lips meet, the kiss soft and gentle, making you feel all fuzzy inside.

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viperbarnes · 2 years

Text

No Strings Attached

Ex!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: “Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come,” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth. “Every. Time.”

Warnings: smut! language, hurt, exes to lovers <3

Notes: this is one of my fave oneshots i've ever written tbh. i really love the trope of people breaking up, because of xyz issue, and then the person with xyz issue actively works to resolve or change it, but with no expectation of reuniting, just because they want to be a better person. so ye, that's basically this whole fic lmao

Words: 15,849

You make a sort of doe-eyed blank expression as you listen, that makes your building’s security guard duck his head a little lower into your line of sight and wave his hand.

“Ma’am?” You blink suddenly, snapping out of your spiralling thoughts and focus back on the man’s face.

“Huh?”

He smiles sympathetically and repeats himself.

“I asked if you had anybody who might come stay with you tonight? Super said he can’t get a hold of anybody who can change your lock…” You sigh and look around him at your door, it’s lock busted and breaking through the wood of the door.

You’d arrived home to find it like that, although the cops the security guy had insisted on calling said that it looked like no thief actually made it inside, probably got spooked. Seeing as none of your stuff was stolen or out of place, you’d have said they were right.

You run a hand over your hair and sigh.

“Uhm. Yeah. Yeah I do.” You nod your head, not actually coming up with a name off the top of your head, but you’re sure you’ll think of someone once you have a moment to breathe. The security guard nods.

“Do you want me to wait until they get here?” You smile and shake your head.

“Oh, no, no… it’s fine! I’ll be okay until then!” You assure him. You know he got paid for every hour he spent on the door, and not for any he didn’t.

He checks with you twice more before he leaves, and you shut your busted door behind him, slipping your side table in front of it in the meantime before you fumble through your bag for your phone.

You stare at your home screen for a solid two minutes, mind going over the people you’d feel comfortable calling, who you’d actually feel safe having stay with you overnight, and for the life of you, you can only come up with one name.

Unfortunately, this name belonged to your ex.

It wasn’t as if you and Steve Rogers hadn’t broken up amicably, or at least, you hadn’t ended badly, but for a moment you debate with yourself on if you really need to call anyone at all. You think about sleeping, knowing your apartment door was basically open.

You bring up his contact.

The first thing you see is a list of past calls and texts, the date signalling that the last time you’d called him had been almost seven months ago, and for a moment your eyes linger on that.

Seven months? It hardly felt like it, really.

You and Steve had met through work. You worked in the forensics at Avengers Tower, and so you’d occasionally see each other when the team had lab work to be done. It had been a slow progression for him to ask you out, and when he had, the two of you dated successfully for an entire year. Things were always slow with Steve, due in part to his schedule making it hard to really get anything done. If he wasn’t on a mission, he was resting from a mission, and the times you did go out or see one another were a lot less than you would have liked.

It’s why you broke up.

Steve was a great guy, the best you’d ever dated, but his work was his first true love and honestly? You required more attention than he could give. You weren’t needy exactly, but when you made a plan, you tended to expect to follow through. Steve’s last minute missions, or his cancelling and rescheduling was understandable in his line of work, and if had only been every so often, you’d have been just fine.

But it wasn’t, and you weren’t.

And so… you’d broken up. You’d explained to him that while you really liked him, you just didn’t mesh well together. He’d been understandably upset, but had told you he got it. You’d parted on good terms, with only a residual sadness lingering behind. Even now, you felt a small jolt of angst at even seeing his name written. Really, Steve was your perfect guy, and if he’d ever been around, you might’ve been able to experience more of that perfection.

You shake your thoughts aside and tap the call button, bringing the phone to your ear and waiting as the dial tone rings out. You can’t help but chew your lip as you wait, anxiety beginning to well up.

What if he didn’t answer?

What if he was on a mission?

What if he saw your name, and then didn’t answe—

“Hello?” You nearly gasp at hearing his voice, seven months suddenly feeling longer than before and you swallow thickly to remember why you were even calling in the first place.

“Steve… hey, it’s uh, me…”

“Yeah, I… I have caller ID on this phone.”

“Finally switch from the flip, huh?” You can’t help but shoot back, smile covering your features when you hear his warm chuckle on the other side.

“Yeah, it was time to change things up… Is everything okay?” Maybe he can hear it in your voice, or maybe he’s just that confused as to why you’re randomly calling him at ten on a Tuesday night, but you hear a note of concern in his reply that makes you want to curl up into a ball.

“Um… not really, no… I got home a little while ago and someone had tried breaking into my place—”

“—What? Are you okay? Did they take anything?!” You chuckle awkwardly at his immediate worry.

“Yeah, no— I mean, yes I’m okay, no they didn’t take anything.” You assert, and can practically see him letting out a breath.

“Uhm… I do have a favour to ask though, and I wouldn’t call if I had anybody else, but—”

“—Of course, whatever it is, just let me know.” You let out a shaky sigh and swallow again.

“The lock on my door is busted, and my super can’t get anybody in to fix it until tomorrow… I just… really don’t want to sleep here alone, with a broken door…” On the other side of the line you can hear keys clinking, and feel your tummy flop in dangerous ways.

“I’m coming out now. You want me to stay on the line?” You could fall to your knees and praise every god in existence for the special kind of beautiful Steve Rogers was.

“No, I’m okay, I just don’t wanna be alone later…” You cringe a little at how that might sound like a proposition, but Steve only hums.

“‘Course. I’ll see you in ten.”

When you hang up, you stare down at your phone for a few seconds.

And then you promptly drop it, head whipping around your messy living-kitchen space and quickly get to work tidying it to a presentable degree.

—-

Steve arrives almost exactly ten minutes later, the light knocking on your door followed by his voice.

“Hey, it’s just me!” He says, and you hurry to slide your end table out of the way, your door pretty much swinging open by itself.

For a moment you can only stare at him, dark blue jeans, white t-shirt, brown leather jacket. He’d grown his beard out since you saw him last, thick and golden and groomed just right to hit you in the lady parts. He seems fixated on you as well, though recovers far more gracefully, eyes dipping to look at your splintered door and he whistles.

“When you said it was busted, you meant it huh?” He asks, and you laugh, a little awkwardly, pulling the door wider as you usher him inside.

“Yeah… cops said they must have gotten scared off before they got inside. None of my stuff is missing or moved.” You explain, closing the door behind him, and when he sees you move for the table, steps forward to help you, looking at your makeshift barricade up and down for a moment when you’re done.

“Good. That’s good.” You look up at him again as silence falls upon your apartment, and find he’s already looking back at you. Realising you hadn’t even changed from work yet, and you’d cried a little bit after discovering the break-in, you attempt to smooth your hair down and wipe any potential makeup from under your eyes.

“Jesus, I must look like a mess.” You sort-of apologise, trying to play it off with a chortle, but Steve shakes his head, smiling kindly.

“Not at all.” Is all he says, and you hate the fact the completely non-committal sentence makes your belly flop again.

“Oh, uh, can I get you anything? Coffee, tea? I think I have a six pack in the fridge…?” You gesture to your kitchen, but move for your fridge anyway, Steve shoving his hands in his pockets as he follows, shrugging his shoulders. You find the beer behind your salad, and pull it out.

“Well, I’m having one.” You tease, setting the pack on the counter as you attempt to pull a bottle from the plastic rings. Maybe you’re just too exhausted, maybe this particular plastic was just stronger than you, but it doesn’t budge and Steve steps forward, hands already out.

“Let me…” He offers, even as you let him take your chosen bottle from you, tearing it out as if it were nothing. It likely wasn’t, for him, and you swallow, the room feeling warmer suddenly.

“Thanks. Help yourself.” You nod to the pack, a little thankful he takes one too, placing the rest back in your fridge.

“I uhm, I might go shower and change, I haven’t even thought about that yet…” You gesture down at yourself again, and Steve nods.

“Whatever you need.” He tells you, and then points to your couch.

“Mind if I watch the game?” You frown, but nod anyway.

“Who’s playin’?” You both move over into your living room, and you quickly find and toss him your remote.

“Mets vs Giants.” He says, and you ‘ah’, watching for a moment as he flicks to the right channel, your eyes finding the score and you wince, turning back to him.

“Hope you don’t have any bets on your boys.” You say, faux-sympathy dripping from your voice. Steve gives you an unimpressed eyebrow, pointing at you.

“We’ll come back.”

“If it makes you feel better.” You tack on, but burst into a laugh as he rolls his eyes, making himself comfortable on your couch. You note with mild amusement he takes the same spot he would always take up, before you’d broken up. Apparently one of your couch cushions was just comfier than the rest.

You leave him there to go get cleaned up at last, and relish in the hot water as you do little more than just stand under it for ten minutes. Despite your stress from the past few hours, you feel oddly light, Steve’s sudden reappearance back in your life, in your apartment making you feel a little woozy, but only in a good way.

You try to tell yourself that it was only because your breakup had been so amicable, if he were any of your other ex’s you wouldn’t be feeling the way you do…

You dry off and dress quickly, throwing your hair up before stepping back out into the living room. Crossing your arms over your chest in some subconscious way of shutting yourself off to how damn good he looked, you take a seat on the opposite end of the couch, grabbing your beer again and tipping it back.

“Cops get the security footage from the hall?” He asks, one hand around the neck of the bottle he rests on his thigh, the other thrown over the back of the couch toward you, almost invitingly. You blink for a moment as you process his question and hum.

“Yeah. But it’ll probably get written off if the guy didn’t, you know, look straight into the camera or something. You know how they are.” Steve tears his eyes from the TV and looks at you with a frown.

“You get a case number? I’ll follow up tomorrow, make sure they—” Before you can really stop yourself, you cut him off.

“—Steve you don’t have to do that.” The blond shuts his mouth, and you can practically hear the words unspoken.

‘Because you aren’t my boyfriend’. For a moment you can both only stare, until Steve nods and looks away, his brow smoothing out as he relaxes, but the tick in his jaw tells a different story.

“Well, let me know if you need to…” You can’t help but smile a little, behind the rim of your beer, and you take another sip before turning back to the game.

The Mets make a comeback and you finish the night cursing under your breath. You weren’t a Giants fan by any means, but you made a habit of rooting for anybody going against the Mets.

Steve helps you pack away the light snacks and empty beer bottles, all the while wearing a smug grin, and you can’t even stay too annoyed. Smug and playful was always a good look on him.

As you put away the last of the rubbish, you yawn a little and check the time.

“I might head to bed… I’ll get you some pillows and stuff…” You announce, and ignore when he looks up at you in favour of making for the linen closet. You do however grab the pillow from your bed that you know he used to favour, and lay it all out on the couch. When you look up again, Steve is pulling his jacket from his shoulders, and laying it over the back of the opposite couch.

“Uhm, if you need to leave, could you just wake me up?” You ask, stepping back, and Steve frowns deeply, cocking his head.

“Leave? Why would I need to leave?”

“I don’t know… if you’re needed, I guess…” You shrug, shifting awkwardly and for a few seconds Steve’s face filters through a few emotions. Confusion, concern, offence, and then some sort of resignation.

“I— you know if you really needed me, I wouldn’t leave… right?” He asks, and you feel something stir in your chest. It isn’t exactly positive like all the other feelings you’d been having tonight, more like a sting of annoyance, of hurt and you purse your lips, shrugging again and looking to the side.

“I don’t know. You’re important, I’m sure people would need you a lot more than me.” You don’t mean to sound so passive aggressive, but you can’t help it.

He’d never made a point of making sure he’d be around before, the fact you even caught him on an off night is surprising to you. Steve’s brow dips and he opens his mouth, but you cut him off once again, pointing to the kitchen.

“Feel free to take whatever you want from the fridge, I’ll make sure not to sleep in too much… goodnight, Steve.”

You turn on your heel and don’t wait for a reply, shutting your bedroom door behind you. You know he can still hear whatever you do perfectly, so you don’t let out a sigh, or groan at your own fat-headedness, instead you switch off all your lights and settle under your covers.

In seven months you hadn’t felt out of place once in your room, but now, with Steve sleeping in the next room, your bed suddenly feels all too big.

—-

Strangely, despite your pass-agg comments, after that night you and Steve actually begin speaking again. At first it was just his texted check ups, making sure your door got fixed, making sure you were alright, making sure the cops did their jobs… it was sort of nice actually, to be friends with Steve again. He’d even shown his face down in forensics. You know his lack of attendance, Nat, Sam or Bucky showing up in his place, hadn’t been coincidental post your breakup, but the first day he shows up to deliver evidence for testing, you almost sigh at how much you’d missed seeing his face down there.

You actually think you become closer than you had been before, platonically that is. Steve doesn’t seem to make any moves toward rekindling your romance, and honestly? You were just fine with that. Steve was a great guy, but you couldn’t deal with his schedule… even if he did seem to be around more these days.

You don’t ask. You don’t even really think about it, instead chalking it up to good timing and coincidence.

You were wrong though.

Steve clinks the top of his glass with Sam’s as the man passes him his refilled drink, and the three men, including Bucky, settle back down around their seats on the Tower’s balcony.

“So, hey, can I ask you something?” Sam clears his throat some, and Steve cocks his head, gesturing for him to go ahead.

“You and Doc… are you guys like… getting back together, or…?” The blond squints, his face scrunching up a little as he looks off, sighing some.

“We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, but I mean, you went from not talking at all to hanging out again.” Bucky chimes in, and Steve shrugs, eyes finding his shoes.

“I don’t think she’s interested anymore. If friendship is all she wants, it’s what I’ll give.” Sam and Bucky make eye contact, sharing a frown between them and Sam leans forward slightly.

“Sure, but man, you changed up your whole shit for her… You don’t even wanna try again?” Steve sighs and finally looks back up at them.

“It wasn’t necessarily for her… but she was right. How am I supposed to foster any sort of relationship if I don’t make time for it? What we do is important, but I have to be able to prioritise other things. It’s not fair on anybody in my life.”

Bucky hums. He for one was glad Steve had taken a slight step back from the Avengers. Not only did it mean Sam and Rhodey were given more chances to lead, but it had upped the pressure on everyone slightly, in a good way. Previously Bucky would have felt anxious going on a solo mission with another member who wasn’t Steve or Sam, but now he regularly went on ops with Wanda, his bonds with other members growing immensely.

He clears his throat and reaches out to squeeze Steve’s shoulder some.

“I know how you felt about her, but I think you did the right thing.” Steve gives the dark-haired man a long look and a soft smile, ducking his head.

“What was that thing your Ma used to say?” He asks, and Bucky frowns a moment, before his face lights up again in recognition.

“‘Some folk only bless your life so you can learn from them’.” He says, and Steve hums, raising his glass.

“I’ll drink to that.”

—-

It’s late, you should really be asleep by now, but you’ve been lying awake for hours now. Springtime in New York made the night air warmer than you were used to, and the slightly hot feeling of your body was not helping.

You growl in annoyance and switch your vibrator off, tossing it lightly into the open drawer of your bedside table. Between your thighs your clit still throbs slightly, but you hadn’t been able to make yourself cum in the almost two hours you’d been trying, and your hand was going numb from all the vibrations.

You were damn near desperate. You needed to be fucked, good and proper and thoroughly. With only a moment's hesitation, you reach for your phone and tap out a text.

You up?

Steve: Is everything alright?

It’s fine. Come over?

There’s a minute or so where you see the three dots appear as Steve begins typing, before they disappear, and then reappear, only to disappear once more. You almost smile to yourself. He was unsure.

Come over, pleeeaaaseeee?

Steve: … Are you alright?

You huff this time, and purse your lips. You could be forward here and now, giving him an out, or you could wait till he arrived, which might be far less convenient for your pride if he rejected you.

I need you… please…

This time Steve doesn’t type and then retype his messages, instead you’re forced to stare at your read receipt for a full two minutes before a reply comes back, your body lighting on fire the second you process the four little words.

Steve: Be there in ten.

Anticipation builds in you like a storm, and you quickly straighten your sheets, spritz some perfume, fix your hair a little, and pull on a gown, all in time for the knock on your door. The sound is curt and tense and you swallow thickly as you hurry to answer it, sliding your locks back before swinging it open.

Steve stands once again in dark jeans, this time with a dark grey sweater on. His hair was slightly damp still, messy, and you figure he must have just gotten out of his the shower when you’d texted. His eyes find you quickly, a little wide, a little confused, and with all the desperation from the past two hours fueling you, you pounce on him.

You’re lucky he’s as stable and strong as he is, you throw yourself bodily at him, arms wrapping instantly around his neck, your lips pressing to his own hungrily and he returns in kind, one hand steadying you around your middle, the other tangling up into your hair at the back of your head. You almost mewl at the way his hand clutches at your scalp, and you let him walk you back inside, his foot kicking your door closed behind you.

You keep moving, until your back hits your kitchen bench, and you take the moment to pull open your gown, letting it fall to the floor as your hands move for his own sweatshirt. The fabric is quickly discarded, and you’re a little surprised to hear Steve’s groan at your skin on skin contact, his hands beginning to roam more adventurously now. You weren’t keen on messing around for too long, and you make quick work of his belt, letting him kick his shoes off before he shucks the jeans down himself, stepping out of them, all without pulling his lips from yours.

You sigh into his mouth as he captures your tongue with his own, bearing down on you intently, his hands holding you tightly against his own body like he was trying to pull you into himself. You let a hand drop from his face to the hardness against your abdomen and allow yourself to relish in the soft gasps Steve lets out when you pump your fist over him several times, before increasing your pressure, making him all out moan.

His lips fall away from yours, instead he trails sloppy kisses along your cheek and down your neck, pausing to adjust, widening his legs some. With your mouth free, you find the time to speak.

“This… this is just sex, alright? It’s not… it’s just sex…” You tell him, feeling how for a moment he pauses, and you dread it for a second when he pulls away a little to look down at you. His expression is unreadable, but he’s nodding soon, and you breathe out in relief.

“Gotcha.” Is all he says, and you’re forced to release his length as a moment later you’re hoisted up. Your legs wrap around him, even as you’re set on your countertop, and his mouth moves back to yours. It’s your turn to gasp when his hand drops between your thighs, fingers immediately dipping into the dampness at your core, a touch you’d been craving for too long.

“You really needed it that bad, you had to call me?” His voice is low, and you shiver. Steve’s bedroom talk was always amazing, and now, for some reason, the fact you weren’t even together makes it better. It felt dirtier, more obscene, and you nod, panting as he pulls his lips away from yours, his eyes falling to watch his hand slide from your folds.

You swallow, leaning back on the counter as he becomes more purposeful, two fingers prodding at your entrance, his thumb gravitating to your clit, already overstimulated. When he pushes his two fingers inside you, you let your head fall back and your eyes close, widening your legs even more to give him room to work as he begins slowly pumping back and forth.

“F-fuck…” You breathe, toes scrunching as his fingers move a little faster, curling them slightly to run along your g spot and you feel your legs start to quiver already. He seems to anticipate your squirming though, and uses his free hand to hold one leg, the other he keeps open with his own thigh, moving quicker now. A slower moment lets him insert another finger, and soon you’re clutching around his neck again, needing something tangible to hold on to as he strokes you to finish.

“Steve! Steve, fuck, don’t— please don’t— ah!” You try to catch your breath before you even lose it, but you only swallow down more air as you cum, your hips shaking involuntarily against his hand as he continues to ride you through it, thumb never letting up over your clit until your head lolls back once more.

You’re about to speak, praise him perhaps, when his fingers pull away, taking your hips instead and any words you have are punched out of you with the feel of his hands drawing you onto his cock. You scramble for a hold again, gasping and moaning at the same time as you wrap your arms tightly around his neck.

“Holy fuck…!” You whimper, Steve already curling his hips up and into you, all the while lifting you from the counter itself to bounce you against his standing lap.

He liked this, you remember, liked being able to hold you up all on his own, control the pace, control his movement and yours.

“That okay?” His lips move against your cheek and you nod vehemently, a hand carding through the back of his hair.

“Yes! Fuck, fuck, I need it!” You squeeze your eyes closed as he really starts setting a pace, and you feel that deep spot inside of you that hadn’t been touched in months begin to light up. Regardless of your relationship issues, Steve had always been good in bed, his body fitting into your perfectly, his desire matching up with yours similarly so.

“Yeah? You need it, baby? … shit, I’ll give it to you, sweetheart.” His voice is like molten honey, running over you warm and sticky sweet, and you can’t help it, you pout a little, nodding at his words.

“Please… please!” You whine. You know how much he loved to feel needed, in and out of the bedroom, but that didn’t mean your mewling was all for show. You’d finished once, yes, but you were so pent up you were still rearing to go and Steve’s cock pounding into you hurriedly was only spurring you on. You needed release and he was going to give it to you. Your mind always went a little hazy, a little blank when he’d have you like this, you’d do practically anything he asked, and he knew it.

“Come on, sweetheart, one more, wanna feel you squeeze me…” You whine again with his added words, his lips nipping your ear and you nod, face falling into the crook of his neck as he continues to pant and puff with effort. Your sounds start becoming shorter, more gasped and as he slows to level you with long, deep strokes, your orgasm rolls over you, gentler than the last, though powerful still, amplified by the feel of your cunt actually clutching, gripping onto something as your muscles tense and flutter.

Steve groans, keeps up the longer, slower strokes until you begin to relax again, and with little warning, pulls out. He presses his cock against your inner thigh, but pumps with one hand until he’s sighing airily, thick hot streams of cum streaking over your thigh and abdomen as you watch.

For some reason, all you can think about for a few seconds is how he’d never come on you before. Always inside you, condom or raw, and the change in behaviour confuses you for a moment, but you don’t intend on asking.

You both pant heavily, still partially leant against one another as you catch your breath, and you feel a slight awkwardness settle over you. Would things be weird now? Would he expect more from this? For a moment you have to admit it was nice being back in his arms, nice to pretend he was yours, but reality sets in and you cool off.

Even if he was still your boyfriend, he would never really be ‘yours’. Not while he shouldered so much of the world’s responsibilities.

Steve settles you back on the lip of the counter, and you jump slightly at how cool it feels against your bare skin. As you finally make eye contact, a pit opens in your gut. Steve after sex was always a sight to behold, his hair hanging in his face, his cheeks flushed red and his lips swollen and parted… it makes your stomach lurch in longing, and you quickly clear your throat, gently pushing him back so you can stand.

Finding your robe on the floor, you quickly pull it on despite the sweat covering your skin, and look back toward Steve, though you avoid his eye contact.

“Uhm, do you want to wash up before you go?” You know if sounds a bit harsh, but you’d made it clear to him before you’d properly gotten started that this was just sex. You couldn't bring yourself to expect anything more from him, and risk another broken heart.

Steve blinks, and you see a brief moment of hurt flash across his features before they harden somewhat, and he straightens, tucking himself back into his pants gingerly and collecting his sweatshirt.

“It’s alright, I… I’ll clean up at home.” He says, and you have to cross your arms over your chest at the tight feeling that begins constricting you.

“Okay.” Steve hesitates, looks at you a moment too long before he nods to the door.

“I’ll get out of here.” He says, sounding far more casual than he had a moment ago, as if nothing at all had just transpired between you, and you latch onto that ease, making it easier for you to play along too.

“No worries…” You trail him to the doorway, holding it open behind him as he steps through and turns around. His mouth is open, poised to say something but for some unknown reason you decide to cut him off, a hand shooting out to land on his arm, and you squeeze just a little.

“Thank you, Steve.” You want to cringe at the sound of thanking somebody after sex, but really, it was more about the fact for the second time in a row he actually came when you’d needed him… even if the second was a far more rival affair…

Steve blinks at you slowly from under his long lashes, in that dreamy way he does when he’s thinking something sweet or mushy, and again your insides twist. He only ducks his head further and swallows, a small smile pulling at his lips, far too innocent for the acts you’d just committed barely inside your doorway.

“Of course, uh, anytime…” You snort a little bit, rolling your eyes, but he gives you a final little wave before you shut your door behind him.

You’re left staring at your living room and kitchen counter, eyes fixated on the spot you’d been hauled up against just minutes ago. Your mind immediately begins the playback and you groan, remembering the mess still on your thighs and between them, suddenly more bothersome and uncomfortable than it had been previous, and you retreat to your shower, questioning yourself on if sleeping with your ex, who you’d only just begun talking to again, was a good idea.

—-

You walk in on Steve almost kissing someone.

It’s one of Tony’s parties, the big ones, where he invites everyone and absolutely insists everybody comes, even if he’s only on face-name basis with them. It was actually the first gathering you’d been to with the Avengers since you and Steve broke up, certainly the first since you’d started fucking again. It was good to see Sam and Bucky and the others outside of a work environment, and you think from their genuine smiles and the way Sam keeps talking you into one more round of pool, that maybe they missed you too.

You finally manage to duck out from under Sam’s arm, in search of a bottle of water, when you stumble into the private kitchen, where you’d been told the fridge was stocked full. At first your brain lights up.

Steve was in here! You’d hardly spoken to him all night! But then his hand registers, more specifically, the hip his hand is on registers, and your eyes suddenly piece together the scene before you.

A young woman, pretty, you think you know her from HR actually, leans with her back against the counter, her hands both wrapped around Steve’s biceps. One of his arms is around her waist, the other on her hip and they’re both smiling softly, if not shyly, heads so close their lips are barely apart when you accidentally squeak in surprise.

Steve pulls away instantly, even before he’s seen it’s you, and you realise that whoever this woman was to him, it was new. Steve was always a little skittish with PDA with new relationships. You’d seen it with Sharon, before yourself, and then again with your own relationship… and now with this.

“Oh! I—!” You feel your face go warm and you mouth wordlessly for a moment as you point to the fridge. The woman ducks her head in slight embarrassment and awkwardness and you do feel terrible, despite the wave of grief that overcomes you at the fact Steve was actually moving on.

Not that he wasn’t allowed to… you just hadn’t thought he’d do it first.

“Uh, just, water…” You stutter, suddenly feeling rather sick. Steve follows your pointing, even as you begin to move, avoiding his eyes. It shouldn’t be so weird! The situation the two of you had was strictly no strings attached! Steve was allowed to start dating, so were you! Still… that didn’t mean you wanted to walk in on him about to lay it on a woman that wasn’t you.

You rush out of the room with your water before anybody can gain enough sense to actually talk, and you tuck yourself back between Sam and Nat quickly.

You spy Steve and the woman leaving the kitchen a short while later, and though you don’t see even a bit of smudged lipstick or beard burn, your mind starts to whir in anger. But you know it's unjustified, and you curse yourself for being nearly a year out of your relationship, and still jealous. You consider breaking it off with Steve in the coming week, but your mind wanders back to the way he’d tipped his head back in a moan only days before, the thick column of his throat bobbing as he swallowed, his hands bruising on your hips as you rode him hard.

You decide instead that you’ll just act as if you’d never seen anything at all in the kitchen.

—-

Moving on is… hard.

Not necessarily out of some romantic idea that Steve was ‘The One’, in fact you’re more resolved against anything romantic with him now than you were before, more so because you were… picky.

Even if you lower your standards, every guy you seem to give a chance ends up firmly in your ‘no’ pile after a few dates or less. Most of the time it was because your interests didn’t align, you found them boring or you just weren’t attracted to each other, but occasionally one slips through.

Tom, his name was and Tom was nice. He was polite, handsome, you could talk about both shared interests and your jobs (he worked for the city morgue). Tom was good. You were still unsure of anything long term, or anything serious at all for that matter, but for someone to hang out with and occasionally be kissed by, you could do a lot worse than Tom.

He takes you out almost like clockwork every Friday or Saturday night since you’d met (that was four dates so far), you’d get dinner, maybe some drinks, walk around for a bit, and then he’d kiss you goodbye at your door. It was sweet. Tonight though, tonight you aren’t after sweet at all.

A SHIELD agent you know has her birthday, or maybe it’s a joint party? You aren’t sure, all you know is that it’s at a club, you look hot as hell, and if Tom doesn’t put his hands on you later you’ll burst at the seams.

The club is dark and loud, meant for dancing and drinking, not conversation and polite small talk, and the moment the bouncer sees you inside, you grab Tom by the hand and drag him along, a wicked smile thrown over your shoulder. You do the customary rounds, saying hello to people you know, introducing Tom. You even manage to figure out who the birthday girl is, and give her a hug. You’re aware when you lean over the table to do so that your already short skirt rides up further, and you’re aware tom is standing right behind you, watching.

You make sure not to drink much, you had plans for later after all, but you act a little giddier than you are, letting your hand linger on Tom’s thigh, holding on to him more than normal. You coax him out to the dance floor and that's where you get him. Hot bodies writhe to a beat, pressed up against one another, it doesn’t seem as obscene in the dark. You grind your hips back into Tom’s, his hands snaking their way around your hips and you smile, because you know.

In the dim light and through the throng of bodies, a flash of familiar stops you for a moment. Blonde hair, wide shoulders, beard, beer in hand, untouched… You swallow for a second as you make eye contact with Steve. He must have been invited too, must not have had a mission to go on to get out of it either. Before he can lift an eyebrow or do anything at all, you look away, wrapping your arms around Tom’s shoulders, you lean into his ear.

“Let’s get out of here.”

This… this had not been what you’d had in mind.

Your bedroom is lit only by a spare few candles that flicker your shadows against the wall, and you watch them absently for a second longer, before dropping to rest on your elbows, your body moving in the rythmeric back and forth each time Tom’s hips gently buck into yours.

He can’t see your face since he’s got you on your hands and knees, and you’re glad for it, because you’re not sure you could fake it even if you tried. It wasn’t that it didn’t feel good, it was just… you aren’t sure… he touched you like he wasn’t supposed to, and if you’re honest it felt less like he was having sex with you and more like he was just having sex. You could be anyone right now, and he probably wouldn’t care.

Tom pants and moans and then stops, his hips stuttering gently before he pulls out and away from you.

“Bin in the bathroom?” He asks, and you plaster on your best post-sex look, and nod, rolling over in time to see him disappear into your ensuite to dispose of the condom. When he returns, you go about cleaning yourself up.

“That was great.” He chimes, and you offer him a smile. At least somebody had fun, though you note a little bitterly how he hadn’t even asked about you. Maybe Tom wasn’t so nice.

“Yeah!” You enthuse. You already knew he wasn’t going to stay the night, he’d made sure to tell you as much before you’d begun. You pull on a gown and help him dress and gather his things.

At the front door he kisses you chastely, and tells you he’ll call in the morning. Mentally, you cross him off your list, and close your door.

You seeth while you change your sheets, getting angrier and angrier over your situation. You should have known from the start there was no spark with Tom, you shouldn’t have tried to kid yourself! And he should have at least tried to make you cum!

A quick glance at the time tells you it's not too late, and you send off a text, expecting a gentle refusal.

What you don’t expect however, is Steve arriving at your apartment twenty minutes later, angry as all hell, and he all but pushes past you when you’ve opened the door, coming to stand in your living room with his hands on his hips, his brow low and his lips in a thin line.

“Are you serious?” He asks at last, when you’ve stood staring at one another for long enough. He gestures absently, but his hand comes back to his hip.

“Wha—”

“—Don’t.” He says sharply, and you shut your mouth. This was different… you’d never really seen Steve angry before, let alone angry with you… it doesn’t at all help your current situation though, and you swallow, adjusting your stance.

“You know damn well I saw you leave with him earlier! I can smell the sex in the air. You haven’t had enough already tonight?” The words are harsh and hurt lances through you momentarily, before defensiveness takes over and you cross your arms over your chest, lifting your chin a little.

“Excuse me? Who I spend time with and how is none of your business!” Steve scoffs and looks off for a moment, a mirthless smile on his face.

“Right. But you still want me to fuck you after anyway.” The vulgarity is new as well, and it occurs to you in the back of your mind, that he must be really pissed with you.

“If you didn’t want to come, you should have just said no!” You say, your voice sounding a little more shrill and a little more crackly than you want it too. All your bravado aside, Steve was imposing when he was angry, and the fact that anybody yelling at you, let alone him, was enough to make you cry, gives your voice a shake you didn’t ask for. Not to mention that you really hadn’t expected him to show up at all, especially angry.

Steve looks back at you, his fuming expression not exactly subsiding, but it softens some, and he drops one hand from his hip to rub at his brow before he looks back up at you, more exasperated now than anything else.

“Why did you call me?” He sounds tired, but you know an olive branch when you see one, and you snatch it, stepping closer, ducking your head.

“Why do you think…?” You shrug and purse your lips before looking up at him again.

“He was shit. You aren’t.” His shoulders square just a little at your words, and you know it's a bit of a low blow, any guy was likely to be more inclined to having sex with you if you compared him positively incomparison with another man. Steve cocks his head, lids dipping slightly and you know you’ve got him hook, line, and sinker.

“Is that right?” You’re right in front of each other now and you let your hands wind up around his neck, playing demure as he fixes you with a knowingly amused look, his hands landing firmly at your waist.

“Mhmn.” You hum, nodding, shrugging once again.

“He didn’t know how.” You say, pouting as Steve dips his face closer to yours, and again you find yourself pretending that this wasn’t just sex, that these arms where ones you could be wrapped in whenever you wanted.

“Didn’t know how to what?” Steve asks, voice deep and rumbly in his throat, his breath coasting over your lips, and you lean in quick, nipping at his mouth chastley, feeling his hands tighten at your waist.

“Didn’t know how to take care of me.” Magic words, really. Steve is on you in seconds, mouth devouring your own, the warmth of him engulfing and you let yourself sink into the fever.

Perhaps some of that anger still simmers under the surface, because he fucks you hard, his thrusts just a little more pointed, his fingers digging a little deeper into your skin. His teeth nibble at your lower lip making you keen for him with another gasp as his hips snap against yours once again.

He’s covering you completely, chest to chest, his arms rest around your head, caging you in, and you grasp onto him wherever you can, hiking your thighs higher around him as he drives into you quickly.

“You know, if I wanted to make a point,” Steve begins, his voice raspy and puffed slightly, and you peel your eyes open to look at him, his face so close to yours it almost makes you cross-eyed.

“I’d not make you cum either.” He finishes, and you start, a slight wave of panic setting in, and you open your mouth to preemptively beg, but then he’s shifting, a hand sliding between your sweaty bodies, fingers pawing until they find your clit, and you suck in air sharply.

Steve wears a lazy but wicked grin, and he begins swirling his fingers over your bundle of nerves, dropping his face low enough that when he speaks his lips brush over yours.

“But I like watching you cum while I fuck you.” As your breathing shallows, Steve seems to swallow down each short breath, eyes never leaving your face as you quickly feel your release creep up on you, his harsh, deep strokes combined with the rough pads of his fingertips rapidly spinning circles and you’re falling.

Steve uses his body to hold you down, prevent you from shaking or jerking too much as you topple over the edge of release, your pussy clutching onto his cock even as he grunts, continuing to grind into you as you call out his name over and over.

He drops his face to your neck as your senses come back to you, your brain feeling light and your eyesight a little dimmed from the sensations. You know any second now he’ll pull out, jerk himself until he spills on your stomach or thigh like he always seemed to nowadays, but something ticks in your brain, raw and primal and you hook your ankles as best you can behind him, raking your fingernails over his back in marks that will disappear by morning.

“She tighter than me, Steve?” You feel his head start to lift a little, but you gently bite at his earlobe, stopping him.

“Does she feel this good when you’re fucking her?” Something switches then in the atmosphere of the room, he picks up his pace again, and you jump when one hand fists in the back of your head, pulling your neck back and away. Steve glares down at you, though his game is half given away by the grunt he gives a second later.

“Shut up.” He says, though it isn’t half as harsh as you expect, and he rolls his eyes some, dropping his lips down to your exposed throat now and you feel a thrill run through you.

“Does she let you fuck her like this or is it gentle missionary only?” You press on, yelping a little when teeth scrape at your skin warningly, and the hand in your hair tightens, pulling.

“Because you know I’d let you have me any which way… on my knees, under you, over you… fuck,” You pause, panting a little with effort as he fucks you even harder, each word punched out of you.

“Fuck, I’d let you have my ass if you brought the lube…” Triumph colours you as Steve groans, gasping almost, his fist at your scalp a little painful as he curls his hips deep once, twice, three times more before you feel him finish, and he stills.

Your bodies are hot and sticky with sweat against one another, and you can feel him shake a little in his come down as he finally relaxes.

Like always, in the aftermath you’re both silent for a few moments before Steve lifts his head, his chest heavy against your own, and he fixes you with a unconvincingly unamused expression.

“Thought I told you to shut up?” He asks, shifting to hold up more of his own weight, and you pretend to not hear him, cocking your head.

“Towel?” He seems to relent, rolling off of you and sinking into your mattress as you hop up, moving to your bathroom to grab a spare towel.

When you return, you almost falter for a few seconds in the doorway, swallowing thickly. Steve lies on your bed, one arm hooked under his head, naked as anything, looking like he belonged there. Your chest lurches, and your stomach falls to your knees as you force yourself to keep moving, gently tossing the towel at him as you gather your gown once again.

You’ll shower when he’s gone.

“Really that bad, huh?” He asks when he’s drying his hair, his underwear now pulled up around his hips, and you sigh, smiling slightly.

“Honestly… I think I’m pretty forgiving, but he didn’t even try. I’m the one who had to suggest we change positions even!” It’s easy to fall into this routine with Steve, especially after you’ve both been satiated, but it’s not really a dynamic that exists anywhere else at any other time.

At work you were friendly but professional, around friends you were polite but never seemed to stray too close (neither of you wanted a particular redhead in your business), and you made a point of not hanging out outside of that. You were already sleeping together, that was more than enough. Anything more would just make you hope, and hope would only let you down.

Steve was still Steve. He was still the guy everyone turned to in a crisis, he was still the man on the ground nine times out of ten. You broke up for a reason, and you needed to keep that in mind.

Steve shoots you a wince and scrunches his nose as he pulls his shirt over his shoulders and pops his head through the hole.

“I’m sorry for… yelling.” He says after he’s pulled on his pants, and you frown, looking away.

“Don’t be… I probably shouldn’t have called you.” You say, missing the dip in his brows when you don’t look away from one of your flickering candles. Steve purses his lips as he threads his belt through his pants, but shrugs.

“You should just tell him, if you like him”

“Nah… I don’t think there’s much there for me anyway. I don’t know.” You wave him off and stand as he pulls on his jacket. This part was always the most awkward.

“Whatever you want.” He readies his keys and you move with him to the door. You always felt like you were missing something in your goodbye’s, but a hug or a kiss or a thank you was the exact last thing you wanted to do.

Keep it casual.

Steve pauses at your door, his expression unreadable and you fold your arms over your chest, flashing him an easy smile.

“Drive safe, Steve.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

—-

“Wait, what?” You turn in your seat to look at your coworker Lucy, who nods, and finishes her mouthful of yoghurt.

“Yeah, right! Two in the morning and I’m getting calls to analyse samples as if I’m at the off—”

“—No, I meant…” You trail off, mind whirring, trying to think over the details you knew already.

“I didn’t know they’d gone on a mission…” You finish with instead, sitting back in your chair.

It wasn’t like you knew the Avengers schedule off my heart, or that it was your job to know everytime they left the tower. It made sense as to why Steve hadn’t been talkative the past few days though… Still, he’d confirmed that your ‘meeting’ was still happening this afternoon, even though you’d just gotten word that the team was landing in two hours.

Lucy chitters on until your half-day ends, at which point you quickly pack up your things and make your way to the elevator. You consider calling in to the upper floors, the residential ones, to speak with the man himself, but you decide against it. It wasn’t like you were a regular up there, it would be weird and raise questions, not to mention that given his recent return from a mission, he was likely in debriefings or writing up his reports.

You pull out your phone instead and send off a quick text.

‘Just heard you got in from an assignment… Do you want to reschedule this afternoon? I know you’re probably tired as hell…?’

Steve doesn’t reply right away, and honestly you don’t expect him too. You make it all the way home before your phone buzzes, and you find yourself staring for several minutes at the words on the screen.

S: ‘I’m happy to come over, if you’re still free. I’m totally fine.’

You send him a quick confirmation, but can’t help but chew on your lip. Part of you wonders why he’d bother. You know he was lying about being fine, super soldier or not, everybody liked their downtime after an extremely stressful few days, and coming to your ex-girlfriend’s house for a hookup wasn’t exactly that… then again, maybe he really needed his itch scratched. Who were you to judge?

You’d finished your day at two, which was nice, and you do a quick clean up of your apartment before Steve was set to arrive at four. You shower and change and throw a little bit of makeup on, finishing just as your doorbell rings.

When you open the door, you can see right away that he’d been lying about being fine. Maybe nobody else would notice, but you had spent a considerable amount of time around Steve, and you could pick out his undereye bags straight away. To anybody else he’d look completely normal, but his shoulders slump just so, his smile just a little too tight.

“Hey.” He greets as you step aside, letting him kiss your cheek as he enters. You don’t know when that became a thing, but it was something you’d seen him do with a few of his female friends, so you let it slip, knowing it wasn’t just you.

“Hey…” You shoot back, suspicion slightly etched on your words. Steve immediately rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he hangs his jacket on the back of your couch.

“I’m fine.” He tells you pointedly and you decide that you can’t be bothered arguing. It was his choice to come, if he didn’t really want to, then he’d have to deal with that like a big boy.

Casual conversation ensues, he asks about your week, you tell him the hot goss in the forensics lab, and then somehow from that very enticing subject, you end up on your bed, Steve hovering just over you, lips pressed hotly against your own. Despite yourself, not all your hook ups with Steve were hot and heavy and quick. You missed making out with someone, the build up of it all, and even though you told yourself it was dangerous territory, you went there anyway.

Steve’s hands trail slowly up your body, feeling you over your clothes, and then under. You get rid of his shirt fairly quickly, his shoes kicked off already, and not for the first time, you just relish in being held, the fantasy that this was real, and you weren’t casually sleeping with your ex-boyfriend. Steve plants his knee between your legs when you scratch at the back of his head, a groan following shortly after as his fingers work to find the bottom of your shirt and get it up. You part for only seconds when he pulls it over your head, throwing it to the edge of the bed. You hadn’t bothered putting a bra on, leaving you already exposed. Steve may be Captain America, a symbol of a nation and whatever else, but he was still a man, and the second he can, he’s got his lips pressed to the skin of your neck and rapidly descending, hands groping appreciatively at your breasts.

His mouth leaves hot kisses down your throat, over your chest, and you’re so ready to feel his lips take over from where his thumb brushes over your nipple when the doorbell rings.

You both pause a moment, Steve lifting his head and you groan, scrunching up your face as the bell is joined by rapid knocking. Steve smiles, cheeks a little pink, and shifts off of you, already reaching for the nearest shirt. It’s his, but you don’t think he’ll mind much as you slip it over your head and shoot him an apologetic glance as he makes himself comfortable on your pillows, placing an arm behind his head.

“Sorry, just… give me a moment…”

“It’s fine.” Steve waves off your apologies as you jog from the room to your front door.

It’s a package you have to sign for, but the courier brings up the wrong electronic form, and you’re forced to wait impatiently as his slow device loads the correct one instead. You’re trying to remain polite, trying not to tap your foot or your fingers, but by the time you’re closing your door again, you don’t even stop to look at what the package is, chucking it onto your couch and all but racing back to your bedroom.

“Just a courier, but while I’m up, do you want a be—” You cut yourself off, coming to a stop in your doorway, eyes landing on the sight laid out before you. Steve lays against your decorative cushions, shirtless, his arm no longer behind his head, instead now he’s curled on his side, another pillow stuffed between his arms where he squeezes it, eyes shut tight, mouth slightly ajar.

Your heart skips several beats, the urge to squeal at how adorable he looks only overruled by the odd stirring in your stomach at how much you missed seeing him in your bed. And then that thought is cancelled out by your guilt.

For Steve to actually fall asleep unintended, he must have been exhausted. You really should have insisted on rescheduling…

He stirs a little, humming softly and adjusting his hold on the pillow he was cuddling and you start. You should wake him up and send him home. You weren’t dating, you were only tentatively friends. You were just sleeping together, nothing else.

But you don’t.

Instead, you move to your laptop in the living room. You had stuff you could stand to get done. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

You end up logging back into your work server and ticking off several tasks on your to-do list, losing track of time in the process. It isn’t until nearly seven when you notice, at which point you send a glance back to your bedroom doorway, before pulling up your local pizza places’ online ordering site.

Steve wakes not too long after, his footsteps purposefully loud, and you turn again to look at him as he exits your room, scratching his head and looking for all the world like an embarrassed child.

“For someone who wasn’t at all tired and was totally fine, you sure did take a midafternoon nap.” You tease and he gives you a thin, apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry… I—”

“—It’s fine, Steve. Besides, I ended up clearing off my schedule for the week, so that’s nice.”

He still looks bashful, even as he takes a seat opposite you at the table.

“Do you want me to head out?” He asks, and you wave him off, standing up to move to your fridge.

“Nah. Unless you want to. But I ordered pizza a little while ago. Figured you’d be hungry. Beer?”

Steve blinks and you see him processing his choices, but he eventually nods, and you pull two bottles, cracking them open and handing one to him as you take your seat again.

“Beer and pizza isn’t exactly how I’d expected tonight to go, but you know, it’s up there.” You shrug, and Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

“I’m never going to live this down, am I?” He asks.

“I’m just saying, I’ve had some interesting sex in my time, but I’ve never actually had a guy fall asleep on me before…” You both laugh, and trade jabs until your food arrives.

Steve offers to get it, which you don’t protest, grabbing some plates and moving your drinks to the couch instead. You realise, when you take a look back at him handing some cash to the delivery guy, that you’re still wearing his shirt, and groan internally.

You change quickly, pulling on your own clothes, and chucking Steve back his own when you return to the living room. He’s sat in ‘his’ seat once again, and he only lifts an eyebrow at you when he catches his shirt, before pulling it on. You don’t even pretend to not stare at the way his body stretches and moves when he does, and he doesn’t pretend not to notice.

“You know, I was gonna ask for it back when I woke up.” He tells you as you both start grabbing slices to put on your plates.

“Oh?”

Steve ums, and settles back in his seat as you search for something to play on the tv.

“But I kinda miss seeing you in my clothes.” He says, and you pause.

You fight the urge to look at him, and even though your heart beats loudly in your ears at his confession, you try to go on as if what he’d said was totally normal.

“Um, have you ever seen this one?” You point to the screen, displaying the rundown of a show you’d heard some of your coworkers talking about, and Stev shakes his head.

“Clint talks about it, but I haven’t had the time.” He shrugs and you press play.

Eventually, you find yourself relaxing again, one of you occasionally piping up to chat some shit about how unrealistic or contrived the show was, and eating your fill (and then some) of pizza. It’s weirdly casual, in a way you truly haven’t felt around Steve in a long time, but just like when you’re doing far less casual things together, it’s easy to just pretend for a while.

You fall asleep on your couch sometime after midnight, and in the morning wake up in your bed, your living room devoid of beer bottles and pizza boxes, all the remains plated and covered in your fridge. You want to be angry at yourself for allowing your interactions with Steve to go beyond the physical, but you can’t.

For the rest of your day there’s a lightness in your steps and a softness to your thoughts, as you permit yourself this one, silly, selfishness.

—-

One pizza and netflix night turns into two, and then somehow your hookups with Steve become less about sex and more about the company. You still sleep together, of course, but more often than not, you’ll find yourselves too tired for anything. Steve sits on your bed and borrows your laptop to type up reports, and you beside him, a friendly distance away, scrolling through your phone or finishing the latest book you’d started.

You don’t think about it.

But it’s nice.

Natasha and Bucky stop by your lab on a friday night and subsequently invite you to join the rest of the group for drinks that evening. You don’t even feel hesitant to accept, and you don’t think about that either.

You can’t be bothered going home to change and then come back, so you head right up when you clock off. The team is already in good form, lounging around a set of coffee tables on the upper level, several empty bottles already littering the space. The huge glass sliding doors that lead to the balcony have been pulled wide open, and Sam and Clint stand at the grill, trying to out-fry each other.

“You look nice.” Steve tells you, greeting you with a casual half-hug. He foregoes the kiss on the cheek this time, and you don’t think about it.

“Really?” You ask, genuinely amused.

“I came straight from work and I feel like I’ve been sweating in this dress all day.”

Steve grins and shrugs.

“You look nice.” He repeats, eyes not leaving you until Nat calls your attention away.

“Geez Rogers, she’s been here for five seconds and you haven’t offered her a drink?!” The redhead teases from behind the nearby bar, and you laugh, playfully shoving Steve in the arm.

“Yeah, where are you manners?!”

Steve holds up his hands in defeat, still smiling, and you move with him to the bar.

“Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you.” Natasha winks, and you wave a hand, letting her mix you some concoction you don’t catch the contents of.

“I may regret this in the morning but; I trust you.”

Nat only laughs again as Steve reaches over the bar to grab himself another beer, and you watch, unconcerned with who could be watching you. When your drink is made, you clink glasses, and move to where the others all sit. His hand grazes your lower back as you walk, but you don’t think about it.

Night falls and food is served. More drinks and more laughs, and when you’ve returned to the bar to fetch a couple more martinis for the fellas now crowding around the pool table, one Sam Wilson slides against your side.

“Good to see you make it tonight.” He nods, his signature grin spread across his face. You chuckle and shrug.

“I really needed to take a load off.”

Sam nods and looks over his shoulder as several cheers erupt from the ongoing game, before he’s staring back at you once again.

“You and Steve back on or…?” The question doesn’t totally shock you, but you still give a friendly scoff, and shake your head.

“No… Definitely not.”

Sam’s brow furrows and he cocks his head.

“We’re just friends again. That’s it. Steve’s a great guy, but…” You trail off, and shake your head once more. Sam shifts to face you and lifts an eyebrow.

“You guys aren’t subtle, you know that right? And I know you ain’t calling him to come fix your sink every other night.”

Your face grows warm and you roll your eyes.

“So what? Doesn’t mean we’re together. We just know each other. It’s comfortable.” You shrug and Sam hums in a disbelieving way.

“Look, Steve is… Steve. He’ll always be more tied to his work than anything, or any one else, and that’s fine. I just know I can't expect more from him than… this.”

Sam watches you for a moment, eyes searching your face until he looks away, nodding his head, relenting.

“Whatever you say. I’m just saying maybe you should give it another go… with the three of us now rotating leadership, things might be different.”

You frown at that, as Nat finishes with the drinks you’d asked her for, and cock your head.

“What do you mean ‘the three of you on rotation’?”

Sam sideyes you.

“Steve stepped down as our sole guy, like, a year ago now. Rhodey, he, and I take turns. We got a week each on rotation.”

You blink at the information, and wonder why Steve had never mentioned it before.

Him stepping down as the Avenger’s go-to leader was… a pretty big deal. Actually, you’re kind of shocked by it. Steve had always been, as long as you’d known him, unable to walk away from a fight. If a situation was going down, he had to be there, at the front taking charge. It was literally the reason you’d broken up. He didn’t know how to take a break, and in his life, you’d always be second, maybe even third priority.

Sm nicks one of the drinks in front of you, and you half-heartedly scold him for it as you attempt to carry the other three back to the pool table, Steve putting his cue to the side and stepping up to help you when he notices.

Sam’s words continue to spin around your brain as you settle back in to watch. It isn’t until Bucky elbows you gently in the side that you realise you were being spoken to, and you blink around.

“We were saying that we forgot to set a prize for the game.” Sam re-explains, and you hum.

“I said maybe you’d give the winner a kiss.” Bucky adds, his face clearly joking, but in that ‘only joking if you are’ way.

You scoff and roll your eyes.

“Jesus, what is it? 1955?”

Bucky shrugs and sips at his drink. He’d always been a flirty drunk, not that he was drunk-drunk, but his serum seemed to affect him in slightly different ways to Steve. If he really tried, he could get a pretty decent buzz.

“And besides, I doubt Steve would see that as much of a prize, and last I checked, he was wiping the floor with you chumps.” You wave a hand and Sam cackles. Steve lifts an eyebrow at you, catching your eye.

“Don’t be so sure, sweetheart, a prize is a prize.”

You hardly hear his words, it's his expression that draws you in, makes you forget about the company around you. The air feels hot all of a sudden and you really wished you could drag him off. You shrug.

“Well maybe I’ll give you something else if you win.”

If the others pick up on anything other than friendly banter, they thankfully choose not to mention it, simply laughing and moving back to the game. Steve’s cheeks tint a little pink, but he throws you a wink when he takes his next turn, and you have to laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity.

Steve holds the lead for two rounds, but Bucky, fuelled by Nat’s martinis, makes a comeback, and as the final scores are tallied, he leans in, tapping his cheek expectantly. It’s all in good fun, and you roll your eyes for the hundredth time, but make good in your promise of a prize and instead grip him gently by the chin and plant a quick kiss to his lips. Bucky lifts his drink in achievement, and you playfully shove him away.

“I’m sure Freud would have something to say about that.” Steve says teasingly, plopping down beside you, and you scoff.

“Nobody listens to Freud, and you and Bucky aren’t actually family.” You almost add that you and he aren’t actually dating either, but you stop short. Steve throws you a grin and relents.

“You finish that book yet?” He asks, referring to the Freud book in question that you’d been halfway through the last time he’d been over.

You shake your head.

“No. And I don’t think I will. I can put up with a lot of batshit crazy things, but I draw the line at him.”

Steve laughs, and takes a swig of his beer. A thought occurs to you then, and you turn to face him, squinting.

“Did you lose on purpose?”

“What?”

“The game. Did you lose on purpose?”

Steve blinks sheepishly at you in the same way he did when he was formulating some kind of believable lie, and you roll your eyes, smacking his arm.

“You’re so full of shit!” You laugh, watching him shrug and shift awkwardly.

“I didn’t want you to feel awkward.”

You sideye him with another huff of laughter.

“I mean I offered, in front of our friends, mind you, to give you a blowjob if you won… how awkward did you think I felt?” You watch Steve’s cheeks light up again, and he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at you this time.

“Was that what you meant?” He asks, as a sort of recovery, but you can see he’s still a little flustered. You chuckle, and lean into him, resting your hand on his upper thigh and squeezing just slightly.

“Maybe next time.” You wink, and watch his expression shift, his eyes flickering down to your lips briefly, and you just know he’s imagining what would be happening right now if you weren’t surrounded by at least ten other people.

Again, you feel the urge to drag him away, but you keep your cool, leaning away from him and removing your hand as Tony and Rhodey make their way over to the couches.

As the night wanes on, Steve’s arm ends up over the back of your seat.

You don’t think about it.

—-

“Are you sure you don’t have anything better to be doing?” You ask, a little exasperatedly.

It wasn’t that you weren’t thankful, but Steve was too good to know when to say ‘no’. Not that you’d even asked him, he’d offered and then showed up at your door bright and early anyway, regardless of your non-committal answer.

He just shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Day off.” He tells you. You squint. You know now thanks to Sam that he wasn’t lying, but it still makes you squirm a little.

“Well, whatever. Don’t come complaining to me about splinters.” You snark, moving ahead to inspect the branches of the next pine tree along.

Steve pouts.

“But you know those tweezers are too small for my fingers…”

“Oh, what a hard life, Steven! You never get sick and are basically invincible… except for those damn pesky tweezers!”

Steve nudges you in the side, as you laugh.

“Don’t let the bad guys know about that.” You side-eye him and he gives you his best puppy-dog eyes.

“You’re the only one who knows my secret.” He says, with over-the-top sincerity.

“I trust you.” He adds a moment later, and you snort.

“Well, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

You continue to sass and snark at each other as you walk down the rows and rows of trees, not even really looking at the pines, until you realise that an hour is probably too long to spend tree-shopping, and pick out the nearest half decent one.

Steve carries it to his car, as he’d offered to do in the first place, and you strap it up tight before getting in.

The conversation flows easy and light on the drive back, and when Steve’s phone rings, you switch instead to staring out the window at all the Christmas lights and decorations the city had put up in preparation.

“Hello? Oh, yes…?” You can only hear Steve’s side of the conversation, not blessed with super-hearing like he was, but you turn your head, intrigued when he seems to falter.

“Today? Well I… in twenty minutes? Oh, um…” He looks over at you, a frown pulling at his brows.

“If you need to stop somewhere…” You whisper, waving a hand to confirm you were okay with the detour, and he shoots you a tight smile, before setting his eyes back on the road.

“I can do that, no problem. Okay. Thank you. Bye.”

“What was that about?” You ask immediately, curious now that you were seemingly being dragged along.

“I had to get a suit altered— for Tony’s christmas party on the weekend…” He begins and you ‘ah’. Tony had declared all attendees go all-out. No jeans were allowed, it was supposed to be a strictly formal event.

“But the owner of the store just realised my appointment clashed with her flight out of the city this afternoon.”

“So we’re going to pick it up?”

“Yeah.”

You hum, and nod, fiddling with the radio now as you drive past the turn off for your place. Steve had promised to help you carry your tree inside, and given the time, it would probably take too long for him to make his appointment if he took you home first. You didn’t mind though.

The tailor he’d chosen wasn’t some fancy, high end retail store, but you never expected it would be. Instead, Steve holds open the door to a small, mom-and-pop type shop, with dark wooden interiors that just screamed old-school class. You enter and promptly take a seat in the showroom as Steve is whisked away to try on his suit for a final inspection.

You’re staring mindlessly at your phone when he steps back in, a little awkward, clearly asking what you think.

“Well, well, well Rogers… So you do clean up nicely after all!” You tease, standing and moving closer as he rolls his eyes at you and faces the mirror. You watch him smooth down the suit jacket, looking a little self-conscious if you’re being honest, but then his eyes find yours again in the mirror.

“You’re going, right?”

You nod, shrugging your shoulders a bit.

“I think Tony would have my head if I made up an excuse… and I kinda like christmas parties… dressing up, mistletoe and all that.” You wave a hand, and Steve turns back around to face you.

“Come with me.” He says, breathily, like he’d been holding the words in for so long he just couldn’t keep them anymore. You freeze, staring up at his hopeful expression, feeling for all the world like your veins had suddenly turned to ice.

“What?” You can’t help but ask, and the blond shifts on his feet, lifting his chin a little more confidently this time.

“Come with me. To the party.”

You aren’t sure how you hear him so clearly when your heart beat thunder loudly in your ears, and suddenly, the walls in the room begin to close in on you. You shake your head with a frown and take a step back from him.

“W-what? No, Steve, I…”

Steve straightens a little, his brow furrowing now and you struggle to speak, panic rising in your chest.

“Steve, we’re— we’re just friends. This isn’t— we aren’t dating!” You stress, still shaking your head, and still stepping away from him. Steve ‘s jaw sets a little and he gets that look on his face like when he had something to say, but he knew it would be incendiary.

“Maybe not, but I don’t think we’ve been just friends for a while now, and you know that.” He says instead, voice tight, and you suck in air sharply.

You knew this was a mistake.

You knew doing anything outside of your agreed-upon interactions was dangerous, and yet, like an idiot, you’d gone there anyway.

“Steve— I am—” You lower your voice somewhat, remembering where you are, and hold out a hand.

“This, what we’re doing now, this is fine. Nobody gets hurt, it’s fun and—”

“—Who's getting hurt exactly?” Steve cuts you off, and you barely refrain from yelling at him.

“Me! I am not going to sit around, waiting for you to find the time to see me! I’m not doing that again. I’m not playing second fiddle to your job!” You explode, immediately pulling back at the flash of grief that lances across Steve’s face.

You look away from him and rub at your temple.

“Every time you’ve called me, I’ve come.” Steve says, voice thick with hurt, and you clench your teeth.

“Every. Time.” He repeats, and you finally bring yourself to look at him.

“I am sorry that the lines got blurred. But I am not—” You stutter a little, choking on your words, but you clear your throat.

“I cannot do this again.”

And you leave.

You run away, because it was less scary than whatever Steve wanted from you. Less scary than opening yourself up and getting hurt like before.

And you were an idiot for it.

You hate yourself for crying when you get home, sans christmas tree now, and a big part of you is glad Steve doesn’t follow you, or try to call. A bigger part of you cries that he doesn’t, and at the fact that despite trying to keep things casual, keep him at arm's length, you’d gone and gotten all tangled up anyway.

It was a mistake.

You knew from the start, but you can’t even revel in your own self pity for too long, because soon enough you’re coming to your goddamn senses.

You were a complete and total bitch.

Steve had hurt you, yes, and maybe springing a date on you like that wasn’t the best way, but even you aren’t dumb enough to not notice his change. He had hurt you, and then he’d changed. He’d taken a step away from leading, to be more present, to be more around, and he was right, he had come every time you’d needed him, for whatever reason. He’d kept your scheduled meetings, even when he was dead tired and really could have called them off.

He’d done everything you could have asked for.

And you hadn’t even asked for it.

—-

Your nerves nearly consume you when you step through the doorway and into the open space of the residential floors. Tony had gone just as nuts with the decorating as you’d imagined. Not a single corner of the room looked like Christmas hadn’t thrown up all over it. Yet, even your love of this time of year couldn’t trump the anxiety that rolls back over you as you look around the room.

You’re actually glad that you can’t spot him right away. It lets you relax, greet other people, ease into the nerves you feel. Besides, if your little meltdown had sent him back into the arms of whatever-her-name-was, you might just be sick.

The jig is up however, when Sam Wilson slings an arm around your shoulder, bright smile betrayed only by the knowing glance he gives you.

“Didn’t think I’d end up seeing you tonight.” he says casually, leading you toward the bar, and you shrug as best you can.

“I’ve got to grovel at some time. Christmas party seemed dramatic and cinematic enough.”

Sam gives you a sympathetic look and squeezes your arm.

“He isn’t upset with you.”

“He should be.” You say, shaking your head and dropping your gaze.

Sam sighs and removes his arm from you so that he can signal the bartender.

“He’s upset with himself.”

You roll your eyes.

“Of course he is. Cause he’s so damned good.” You kick the bar lightly in frustration, and sink a little more into self-hatred. Sam slides a shot of clear liquor toward you.

“Courage.” He says, tipping his own back seconds later, and you relent, plastering on a tight smile before pouring the contents of the glass down your throat.

It burns, and fills your nose with the distinct taste of vodka, and you scrunch up your face, Sam laughing at you when you put your glasses back.

“I’d like less courage next time.” You tell him, and he shrugs.

“I doubt you’ll be saying that in five seconds.” His eyes skip over your shoulder and you frown.

“Wait, why?” A quick glance behind you makes you panic, wide eyes finding a grinning Sam once again, who is already slinking off.

“Sam!”

It’s useless though, he’s gone in seconds, and quickly you become very aware of the man who’d come to stand a small distance away from you at the bar. Biting the bullet, you swallow thickly, and turn to look at him.

Steve looks much like he had the last time you’d seen him, which really only makes your stomach churn more in memory of the way you’d acted.

“Hey…” You greet, worried perhaps he might ignore you, even though you know damn well he could hear you over the crowd. But he doesn’t, eyes swivelling to find your like it was what he’d been waiting for. He gives you a conservative smile and nod.

“Hey.”

The one word alone, filled with so much simple sadness makes the damn break, and before you even realise what you’re doing, you’ve stepped right beside him, hands wringing in front of you.

“Steve, I am so sorry. What I said— I was just— I was a bitch.” You finish lamely, but he only looks down at you, slightly bewildered, as if he really hadn’t expected you to say anything about what had happened.

He turns in to face you, feeding off of your distressed body-language, one hand coming up to touch your arm, and he looks around concerned for a moment before back at you.

“You wanna go somewhere else…?” He asks, and again, you wallow in self-hatred at the way that he so quickly seemed ready to defend your clear anxiety. You swallow, and nod, letting him lead you away from the bar.

He guides you through familiar rooms just as decked out and just as full with people, until you reach a small, quiet staircase, one you know leads up to the private floors.

You’re well aware of how long it had been since you’d last stood in his apartment, and it only spurs your nerves on more. Maybe you should have waited… maybe the christmas party wasn’t the ideal time…

“As far as I’m concerned, you have nothing to apologise for.” Steve says, which only makes you scoff, rounding on him where he stands.

“Steve, you’ve got to be kidding!”

He only shrugs, sad eyes turning down and you sigh.

“Everything I said was… I shouldn’t have said it. You were right. Things haven’t exactly been ‘casual-hookups-no-strings-attached’ for a long time.” You fiddle with the hem of your sleeve and shuffle on your feet.

“I… I like what we had. Just… hanging out. You’re… you’re so easy to be with, and I like that, Steve. I never feel like we’re on different pages, you always get me, you’re great in bed… I— I like being with you, so much…” You pause and take a shaky breath.

“And I know that you’ve been trying. You’ve… frankly, you’ve changed more than I was even asking for back when—” You cut yourself off and shake your head.

“My point is. I’m sorry. I was a bitch because having you in my life in some way is better than not at all, and if things ended the way they did last time, I wouldn’t be able to even look at you— Am I even making any sense?!” You drag a hand over your hair and sigh. Steve moves toward you, slowly, and you force yourself to look at him.

“Yes.” He says, stopping just in front of you.

“I think.” He adds a moment later and you can’t help but laugh. You shake your head.

“I’m sorry.” You say again, and watch him stare at you, before nodding.

“Thank you. I’m sorry too.” He says, though you can’t even imagine what for right now.

“Is it too late to retroactively accept your invitation to the party?” You joke, and his face breaks into a smile, a light chuckle leaving him.

“I think so… Didn’t get to pick you up or anything…”

You click your fingers in an ‘oh shoot’ gesture, and Steve grabs your hand before you can drop it again. You watch as slowly he brings it to his lips, kissing the backs of your fingers.

Your breathing gets shallower at the action, and you wonder if him bringing you here, to his private rooms, was really a good thing after all. You rescind your earlier thoughts. You’re glad you didn’t wait, you’re glad you decided to do this during the Christmas party.

He pulls you closer in a way that feels only natural, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t have to pretend that any of this is real, you don’t need the fantasy.

Steve kisses you long and sweet, his hands firm and secure where he holds you, a silent promise. You think it feels different to how he normally holds you, but you think it’s probably just in your head. You bite at his lower lip, pulling on it just slightly, and his chest rumbles, his hands moving then, squeezing and pawing at you, feet blindly guiding you, moving towards his bedroom.

Clothes are peeled off and set aside, when you try to move atop of him, he only grabs your wrists, trapping you in place against his mattress, and you don’t even care. Steve was here, with you, in his room, and it was real.

He has you face down, pillow raising your hips slightly, his body draped over yours warm and heavy, sweat slicked and firm. Your thighs are only just parted, enough for him to slip inside you, so close, so deep you think you see stars with each thrust. He moves slow, arms caged around your own, hand splayed out against your throat, lifting your head up and back so he can kiss you as he moves, taste each moan he creates as he creates it.

You feel overwhelmed and utterly saturated in him, picked to pieces and pulled apart, his cock sheathed so deep, his weight bearing down on you, you’re drowning in him.

He kisses the back of your neck and shoulders, resting his forehead against you as he picks up his pace, driving faster and deeper, your desperate words of filth and want muffled into the pillow you hold tightly. You think your nails might’ve ripped a hole in the fabric, but you aren’t sure.

You come together, heady cries filling the air before dissipating into heavy, breathy sighs. He doesn’t leave you, stays right there atop of you, still inside you as you both come down. He kisses along your spine again, sweeps some hair out of the way to reach your neck, and that place behind your ear.

“Am I too heavy?” He asks a moment after, voice muffled in the skin of your shoulder, and you laugh, shaking your head, and peering up at him as best you can. He was atop you, sure, but his arms still held most of his weight, never too rough, always just enough.

“No. I like it.” You say, feeling a little shy. All the times you’d slept together, in a relationship, and out of it, this felt real, like all else before was just practice. Steve shifts his hips a little and you suck in a sharp breath.

“Yeah?” He asks, eyelashes fluttering just slightly. You nod.

“I like when you’re here… like this. And you don’t hold back on me.” He lifts his head a little and raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t think I’ve ever held back on you, when you’ve asked.” He reminds, and you hide your face, laughing into the pillow.

“Well maybe sometimes…” He admits, likely referencing all the times you’d beg him for ‘harder’ and he’d adjust his angle instead, already fucking you as hard as he felt comfortable with.

After a few seconds, he lets up a little to allow you to roll over, though he still hangs over you, chest to chest.

“I never liked leaving after.” He admits, dropping his lips to your cheek.

“I hated going back to my own bed, knowing you wouldn’t be with me in the morning. I don’t think I’ve ever said it but,” He lifts his head again and you stare up at him.

“Waking up with you in the mornings after we’d stayed together, it always felt like a battle to get up and leave. I always thought ‘today I don’t need to run. You can take a break’.”

“But you never did?” You wonder, and see the regret flash over his features.

“I should have. Maybe not all the time, but… I should have.” You purse your lips and try to catch his guilty eyes.

“Steve… I never wanted you to completely overhaul your life. I still don’t want you to do that. That part of you, the part that wants to help people and be there for them, I love that. It’s what fundamentally makes you you.” You push back the hair that hangs on his forehead and sigh, tracing the edges of his face now instead.

“I don’t care if six out of seven days a week you need to get up before me, as long as I have that seventh day…” His face softens from the self-judgement you could see reflected in his features and you smile.

“I just… I don’t know, I want to feel like at least a bit of a priority. I know that’s not always going to be possible, I get that… but…”

“I know. I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you weren’t.”

“And last-minute cancellations should be the exception not the rule!” You joke, and he hangs his head again, but chuckles against the crook of your neck.

“Understood.”

You lay like that for a while, just relishing in one another's presence, feeling your chest’s rise and fall against each other. When he moves next, it’s because his phone buzzes loudly on the bedside table, and you watch him reach blindly out to grab it.

You play with the hair on his arm as he checks the message, the amused sigh he gives off a second later heavy against your chest.

“It’s Buck,” He tells you.

“Says the fellas are getting ready for a round at the pool table…” He trails off as another message comes through, and this time you see him roll his eyes, and chuck his phone to the side.

“He wants to know if you’re going to kiss the winner again.” Steve’s voice is amused still as he finally crawls off of you, and helps you up. You both know you can’t, and shouldn’t stay locked up here all night.

“Well, I tell you what, Rogers, you don’t go easy on Barnes again, and I’ll give you what I promised last time.”

For a moment Steve just frowns in confusion, but as it slowly dawns on him, a challenging, determined glint fills his eyes.

“Better start keeping score then, sweetheart.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers/you #steve rogers/yn #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut

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iwrotetheilliad · 1 year

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Girls Need Love~

♡ You are well aware that your boyfriend’s a busy man, but that doesn’t change the fact that you still need him desperately.

Genre: P WITHOUT P ;)

CW: DACRYPHILIA !!! THIS ONE IS HUGEEE!! Praise kink, reader is a horny fuck, oral sex (m! and f! receiving), lotsa hickies, a little bit of body worship, if you squint a little, dry humping, Isagi kinda manhandles the reader at various points, mentions of choking (reader doesn’t get choked, but he puts his hand around her neckline), unprotected, penetrative sex. I’m pretty sure that’s everything, but please be wary cuz this is smut!

Characters: Isagi Yoichi

A/N: Ive made a playlist for Isagi ^_^! A lot of the songs on it are something you would probably find on a smut playlist tbh, but it’s not my fault if this man just radiates sex energy the same way Nagi radiates bde ;)

The city outside of your floor to ceiling windows is alive. Lights from neighboring apartment buildings, headlights of the traffic, stoplights, and whatever else the world gets up to at night contrast the quiet, gentle glow of the lamps in your apartment. You step out of the shower, letting water drip everywhere. Lately, a need for your boyfriend has been crawling through your blood, taking over all your senses. Nothing could be done about this desire though; Isagi’s always busy. You dry yourself off, trying to get the image of his hands caressing your skin out of your mind. Drying your hair, moisturizing your body, and slipping your nighttime shorts and shirt on, you leave the bathroom with the horrible need still pulling at you to relieve yourself somehow.

Grabbing, a small snack from the kitchen, you stare down at your phone, the time glares back at you mockingly. Isagi’s late, again. Honestly, there’s nothing special about today that would make his absence an inherently negative thing, if it weren’t for the burn in between your thighs.

Sighing, you switch your phone off, and head into bed. Throwing the fluffy white covers back, sleep is the last thing on your mind. For a moment, all you do is stare at the mattress, the ache only growing. Your hand slowly starts moving up your body, cupping your tits from through the thing white fabric. You can feel your nipples getting hard, as you play with them through the cotton. Finally, after massaging yourself through your shirt, you move to your shirts, pulling them down your thighs. The baby blue lacy panties that Isagi bought for you mask your pussy from the world, but are getting soaked through by the second.

Collapsing onto the bed, you grab a pillow, and placing it in between your thighs. Slowly you begin grinding yourself along the length of the pillow, trying desperately to offer yourself some type of relief. It’s a mildly successful endeavor, when sometimes you grind yourself just right, sending shockwaves of pleasure shooting through your entire body, but it’s not enough. You need Isagi desperately- you might even go crazy if you don’t have him tonight.

Moans and whimpers escape your mouth, before finally you give up and collapse back on the bed. You stare up at the ceiling, extremely dissatisfied. You’re about to try and force yourself to go to sleep, when you remember the kitchen light is still on.

Reluctantly rising to turn it off, you don’t make it out of your bedroom’s doorway before you hear the lock click and the front door swing open.

There he stands, sliding his shoes off, the answer to all your problems. Isagi’s frame is slightly crouched over as he removes his shoes, and when he glances up, his smile fades as he takes in your current state.

“Babe, what-”

Just hearing his voice is enough to break you, and tears fall down your face as your thighs begin to shake. Immediately, Isagi is beyond concerned.

“What happened, are you okay?” he asks rushing forward and trying to cup your face.

Before his hands can caress your cheek though, you grab his wrists and move them to your boobs, letting him grope you instead.

“Please…” you mewl. “I need you so badly, please Yoichi.”

Understanding replaces the worry in his eyes, and a breath later, that understanding is replaced with lust. Isagi bends down to meet your lips, before moving his hands to your hips, squeezing reassuringly.

“Don’t worry,” he mumbles before pressing his lips against yours. “I’ll take good care of you.”

He scoops you up in his arms and carries you to the bed, hungrily kissing you. It’s sloppy, it’s wet, his tongue licks your lips like they’re ice cream.

You moan into his mouth, finally feeling that satisfaction you had craved just moments ago. When he throws you down underneath him, a new rush fills your blood, and you gently cry out as he immediately covers your body with his. Isagi sucks marks into your neck, and you grip his hair with iron-strength. The tears have slowed, but when he kisses this one spot of your neck, water fills your eyes again and you all but cry out.

“Yoichi, please, just take me,” you whisper breathlessly, as he moves down to wear your shirts collar starts.

“Relax, Y/N,” he mutters, running his hands along your curves under your shirt. “Just let me take care of you.”

You grab his hair again as he massages your tits, and bring his head up to continue making out with you. As the two of you passionately kiss, you feel his sweatpants begin to rub against your underwear. The friction sought after in the pillow is finally here, and your hips greedily snap into motion, taking everything that your boyfriend is offering, and trying to get even more. The two of you’s hips move like waves, in perfect push-and-pull movements that have the wet spot of your panties growing by the second.

“Babe,” you murmur when he finally pulls away from you.

He growls savagely, before making his way back down your neck. Suddenly, he grabs your shirt and with a loud tear, your chest is exposed to the cold air. Isagi’s mouth immediately starts sucking hickies around your chest, covering your torso with pretty purple and red marks. Signing contently, you relax into the bed, letting your boyfriend continue pleasuring you to his hearts content. Isagi finally lets up with one final kiss to the rib before dropping to his knees. His hands hook underneath your thighs, and he pulls you with all his strength to the edge of his bed. His nose brushes against your clothed clit, and you yelp.

“You poor thing,” he coos. “You must’ve been so pent up for days, look at how wet you are,” he places soft kisses against your panties. “Look how pretty you look in this lingerie I bought you, I knew you’d be perfect.”

You hum at his praise, raising one of your hands to cover your eyes.

Placing one last kiss on you panties, he commands, “Lift your hips for me, love.” When you do, he hastily pulls your underwear off, grinning at the sight of your glistening cunt. “You’re so perfect baby. I’m gonna make you cum so hard so many times.”

Before you can respond, Isagi licks a line straight up your pussy. You cry out and tighten your already impossibly tight grip in his hair, pushing him closer, urging him to never stop even though he’s just begun.

In between gentle kisses and starving licks, Isagi manages to mix in praise of, “You sound so pretty love,” and, “Lemme stay here forever.” When you start to feel the rubber band in your stomach begin to reach its limit, your thighs close in around Isagi’s neck, almost cutting off his air supply.

“Yoi- oh my fucking god, yes, please!” You cry out into the night, as you release everything all of his tongue. He greedily drinks it all, like it’s water blessing dried out plants. “I love you so much,” you obscenely moan. “Please, yes, yes, ugnnnn~”

When he finally breaks free from your cunt, your fluids, drip down his chin. Grabbing the collar of his shirt, you flip him over so that he’s underneath you now. You climb over his lap, and yank his shirt off, revealing the body he spent months and years delicately crafting. Rubbing your hands over his pecks, slowly you make your way down to the tent in his sweatpants. Sliding off of him, you slide his bottoms off and let his pretty cock flop out.

Licking your lips, you grab it and slide the tip of it into your mouth. Isagi moans out a sound fit for a porno, and tosses his head back. When you slide your mouth down the rest of his length, his adam’s apple bobs. He glanced back up to see you beautifully suck him off and swears that he almost cums right then and there with how eagerly you bob your head up and down his dick.

“Oh my god, baby,” he groans, “that’s it, just like that. You’re so good for me…”

You release his dick with a pop, and dirtily like up his cock, before sucking again on just the tip. He grabs hold of your hair, twisting the locks around his hand.

“Oh fuck yes,” he groans, not daring to look away for even a second. You don’t stop until his moans, “Y/N, I’m cumming-” prompting you to take him out of your mouth, and stick out your tongue so that he can see the thin stripe paint the inside of your mouth. His hips twitch and his lets out whatever he can.

Slowly, you stand and he grabs you, pulling you next to him, kissing your shoulder and back.

“Yoichi…” you whisper hotly, turning your head to try and look at him.

“Can I fuck you?” he all but begs. “Please, let me fuck you.”

“Yes,” you sigh, scooting a bit away from him. He follows you up the bed in a trance, and watches your body underneath him. Your hair is a mess, your lips are swollen red, and some of his cum stays on them. Your chest is flushed red, and his hickies look like flowers in a garden against your skin.

“Yoichi,” you say, snapping him out of his haze, “fuck me.”

Isagi wastes absolutely no time, and immediately spreads your legs, sliding his dick into you. The two of you cry out. His hands rest against the bottom of your neck, covering your collarbone, to inches away from choking you. He smirks as he watches your slutty face contort in pleasure as he begins moving.

He doesn’t wait for you to get used to him, he starts going fast from the get-go.

“Made for me,” he slurs. It sounds more like he’s saying it to himself than you.

It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling the same tightness that you’ve been experiencing for the past how long. It doesn’t matter anymore though. Nothing matters except for this moment right now-how amazingly he’s drilling himself into you, how pretty his hair looks when the sweat beads at the tips, dripping on his face and your body. You grab his wrist with both your hands and let yourself rock back and forth as your boyfriend fucks the life out of you. The headboard begins banging against the wall and with his free hand he grabs it. The floorboard creaks with every moan you release, and soon you start sobbing again. Everything is so good, you just can’t help it! Every sense is alive as it takes in the sensations of Isagi.

“Like it that much?” Isagi jokes, leaning in closer to you.

Words don’t exist. Nothing does that can quantify just how much you like it. All you can do is take your hands off his wrists, cover your face, and nod vigorously. Isagi chuckles hotly and moves his hand to the bed, fisting the bedsheets getting stained with sweat.

“My pretty crybaby,” he sighs, feeling another orgasm forming in his lower stomach. “Cmon baby, I’m almost there.”

“Me too,” you mumble, shaking. You take your hands off your face and wrap your arms around his neck.

Nails dig into his shoulder blades as he says, “Cum with me my baby.”

As if on cue, you cum, and not even two seconds later, he releases inside of you too. He pants and you whimper, feeling so incredibly full. He starts to pull out, but you cry in protest and wrap your legs around his hips.

“Stay,” you sniffle.

Isagi’s heart does a funny thing. It doesn’t break, but it aches in an odd way that feels like it’s breaking. He knows that because of his job, he’s practically never around home, and he wishes he could be. He knows it must drive you crazy being cooped up all alone at home, and there would never be enough words to express how sorry he is because of that.

His smile is kind and warm, and he slowly lowers himself on top of you. “Of course, my love. However long you want.”

If you got the reference I made in this, ILY ToT.

#isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #bllk isagi #blue lock isagi #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x you #isagi x you #isagi smut #isagi yoichi smut #bllk smut #blue lock smut

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kekeke32 · 1 month

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TOUCHSTARVED trailer theme theory??

Hi guys, hi everyone. Hope we’re doing well!

SO the full version of the trailer theme is finally out on YouTube and holy shit??? It goes so HARD!!! Give it a listen here.

After rewatching it over and over again, I noticed something so I’ll map out which lyrics appear with which character for y’all to see:

Wish I could’ve added more ss but I’m on the mobile app 🥲 Anyways, I really don’t think the dev team added the characters photos randomly ‘cause check this out:

In Ais’s part, the lyrics are about a certain weakness (ik the lyrics “my weakness” refer to a person but I chose to ignore that jskdksk) and survival. This may be a reach BUT doesn’t this reminds you of Ais’s official character description? Specifically of this part: “Ais seems capable of curing you...but a sick sense of dread surrounds him. He's beginning to suspect that he may not be as in control of his powers as he thought. Can you save each other, or will he drag you down to the abyss with him?" This so-called “weakness” could be his very own powers and he’ll need the player to help him, to “survive”.

Now, about Vere’s part, I don’t have much to say tbh other than the fact that the lyrics “Cause everytime we touch” appear for the first time in his part and I guess you could say it’s related to his frequenting at the brothel? (iykwim 😏) Oh! And you could also see him being touched by a lot of different hands in the trailer. Besides that, his part ends with the lyrics “need you by my side” sung softly by the singer hmm…

Kuras’s part on the other hand, starts strongly (I suck balls at describing music so pls listen 4 urselves, you’ll know what I mean😭) and at 1:59 mins the lyrics are “Cause everytime we touch” then his face darkens a little and it stars an instrumental interlude. I don’t know what that really means but he’s sus

Mhin’s part is sung very softly as well and the lyrics “We’ve been through them all. You make me rise when I fall” are so sweet more so because I think in their route they’ll open up more to the player after going together through incomprehensible horrors and we’ll learn how to support each other <33

Finally, Leander’s part!! Now, LISTEN. His part is the reason why I even made this post in the first place lmao This mf is way too sus but first of all, the building synth progression at 2:58???? oh my god I got CHILLS. literal chills. *ahem* Moving on, his part, starts strongly the same as Kuras’s part did. Their parts are the only ones sung like that… Weird, huh? Anyway, after the lyrics “I can’t let you go. Want you in my life” at 3:49, the song gets SUPER intense and starts sounding very desperate ig?? (kudos to Dan! love his voice frfr) and Leander’s part ends with “Need you by my side”. Okayy y'all… Y'ALL. THIS IS CRAZY. In his part we have both the lyrics "I can't let you go. Want you in my life" AND "I want this to last. Need you by my side". AHHHH Leander you obsessed little bitch (affectionate)

In conclusion, there’s no fucking way the red spring team didn’t assign the certain parts of the lyrics very and I mean VERY purposefully to each LI. The parts suit them specifically well so I highly doubt it’s random but it could also just be me reading too much into this

Whatever!!! Good morning/Good night to this fandom only ^_^

#IT HAS A MEANING #this game makes me lose my goddamn mind in the best way possible #touchstarved #touchstarved game #touchstarved theory #touchstarved leander #visual novel #indie games #leander touchstarved #vere touchstarved #touchstarved kuras #ais touchstarved #touchstarved mhin #red spring studios #theory #all the leander theories give me life.#fandom

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willowser · 5 months

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now i wake up by your side—

bakugou x f!reader

wc: 2.8k+

tags: u.a. college au, canon-compliant, reader has a telekinesis/telepathic quirk, references (and potential spoilers) for the current arc in the manga, angst, a lot of secret hidden feelies

tysm to @alrightberries for giving me the opportunity to bring this lil thought of yours to life 🥺 your patience and understanding during the time it took me to write this is so appreciated it, and tbh you're the reason i'm even still here right now LOL you're so sweet, and i hold your kindness so close to my heart. i wish i could convey how much it means to me. i hope i did this even a lil justice !! happy birthday dear !!!! 🥺🩷✨️

Sero dreams of watching the sunrise on top of the Roppongi Observatory.

It’s a beautiful sight, one you’ve never seen with your own eyes, but you soak in the warmth flushing across his cheeks and the anticipated break of morning through the clouds. When he takes in a hefty breath, you feel the spring chill sting inside his chest, crisp and clear, like it’s you breathing instead of him, and it’s almost comforting enough to lull you to sleep, too.

But a clay pot shattering against a nearby bench has your eyes springing open, ripped from the haven you’d been lost to.

You have to blink several times in order to fight through the exhaustion wearing you thin, but the evening returns to you in small, bleary doses. It’s the middle of the night—or at least it was when you’d first wandered out to the training field, and you can’t be sure how many hours have passed since then. Across the yard, you’ve successfully managed to carry four pots from the garden plot near the entrance all the way to your feet with your Quirk— but number five sits in pieces in the grass.

You’ll have to clean that up by morning or Eraser will make you run laps until you puke. Again.

Kirishima flits through your mind in a suit and tie: not as a Hero, but a spy of some kind, chasing down men with masks covering their faces and wielding a gun that looks odd in his hands, even in his own dream. Despite being back in the dorms, stories up and near the end of the hall, you can see it—hear him yelling out at the criminal to stop, feel the thud of the ground under his feet. His own determination blares through you like a freight train, as strong and damning as he is, and you fight to force yourself back inside your own shoes as you try to carry another pot.

Recovery Girl used to tell you that you did this to yourself: all your worry about losing sleep psyching yourself out of it completely, chasing it away before it even had the chance. When everyone is getting ready for bed, heading out of the common room and hitting the showers, you can feel that suspense building; what will come across tonight while everyone dreams? Fantasies? Or nightmares?

During the day it’s easier to drown out the foot-traffic of everyone’s thoughts—you do it without trying, now—but your brain needs rest, too. Letting go of control for even a second, just to get some shut eye is—

Something frightening is outlined in your peripheral vision, the dash of a pale shape you aren’t able to discern before it’s gone. The air turns metallic and stale and you can hear water sloshing, though you’re nowhere near the pools. All your blood rushes in your ears and your fingers curl, like you’re gripping your seat—gripping the edge of the couch in the common room, where you’d been sitting beside Mina when Kaminari put on that horror movie. The one with the—

“The hell are you doin’?”

Your eyes snap open for the hundredth time that night—show over, credits rolling—and it’s Bakugou. Standing only feet away from the new set of clay shards of your failure, tangible and real and staring at you with an intensity not even your dreams could mimic.

You blink, eyes stinging and heavy. You must look insane. “Oh, hey,” the voice that comes out of you is far-away, chartered off to distant lands, and he notices immediately, focus razor-sharp despite how late it is. “What did you say?”

Bakugou wrinkles his nose, like he’s offended at having to repeat himself. “I said, what the hell are you doin’? It’s nearly 2 in the morning and you’re out here throwin’ shit around in your fuckin’ pajamas.”

Almost on cue, the breeze brushes past your legs, chilly enough to have you shivering, and you peek down at them as if you don’t know what they look like. The sweater you’re wearing is from second year and the U.A. logo is half-worn off, but it’s the comfiest thing you own and if you’re going to be plagued all night by the forced intimacy of your classmates’ dreams—you at least want to be cozy.

When you look back up at him, Bakugou is pointedly looking away, taking interest in something other than your wimpy state of dress.

It dawns on you then that he’s out here, too, in sweats and a simple back sweatshirt, hair a messy, golden halo in the pale, buzzing field lights. If you didn’t know any better, you’d almost think his face was a little rosy, but—maybe you’re seeing things.

Still. Being out and away from everyone, alone with Bakugou, makes your stomach tighten horribly. Like you’ve done too many sit-ups.

You try to brush off your sudden bout of shyness, because you know he’ll clock that in no time, too. “Well, I could ask you the same thing.” At the raise of your eyebrows, he only tchs, and casts you a filthy look. “But I think maybe I’ll just mind my own business.”

The face he makes is so awful and hot-blooded that you laugh, truly and earnestly, enough that a headache pulses to life. You wince, and the stream of pain that shoots down the middle of your skull brings back that image of Kirishima’s action-thriller: blood and knives, the sound of skin on skin, a fist against cheekbones, the ugly snap of breaking—

“Oi.”

Bakugou is closer than before, when you’re grounded back inside yourself. At least no pots have been broken this time. Less to clean up.

“Sorry,” you shoot him an apologetic smile that you know he must hate. “It’s just so—” your hand feels like it’s made of lead, but you drag it up to massage slow circles into your temple, trying not to grit your teeth and worsen the pounding in your head. “So loud sometimes.”

He’s silent until the pain ebbs out, and when you can blink without flinching, you peek up to catch how intently he’s watching your face. In the night like this, his eyelashes seem darker, longer, a kind of haunting beauty you would dream about, if you could get some sleep.

Again, you think of Kaminari’s horror movie, legs pressed against Mina’s under the heavy comforter she’d brought down from her room. It’s warm, the kind of pink, fluffy thing you’d imagine a girl like her to have—but it didn’t stop you from shivering every time you chanced a glance at Bakugou and found him already staring back.

The heat in your cheeks spreads to the back of your neck, so immediate that you think you might start sweating. “Dreams and stuff,” you murmur, by way of an explanation, “nightmares, sometimes.”

Bakugou's frown deepens, the muscle in his jaw tightening once as he grits his teeth. “What, you can just…hear that shit all night?”

“Usually,” you shrug, “It just comes in, you know? And I—” you steal another glance at him, aware, then, of just how intrusive you might sound. The veil of privacy is thin between you and others, and they don't often like being reminded of that. “Not for you, though. I don't—I don't get anything from you.”

And it's true, frustratingly enough. Not that you are ever intentionally peeking into anyone's head, but things slip through, occasionally—sudden reactions, wild, loose trains of thought.

Bakugou's face twists, regardless, and you're reminded of all the times you've been forced to spar together, at Eraser's behest. One of the smartest in your class, quick on his feet and never without a plan; every time you've managed to get a hand on Bakugou, there's been nothing but a sea-shore calm.

It's hard to do and, at this point in your life, you've seen a thousand people try it—but he's the only one that's ever succeeded in keeping you at bay.

Nothing in his expression changes, but all your nerves spread to your voice until it shakes. “You're—I don't look in there, of course, but it's—you've always been…” Bakugou is terrible at taking compliments, you know that, almost as bad as you are at giving them. “Pretty, I guess.”

Awful, at giving them.

Embarrassment floods him, suddenly stained pink as he curls into himself. “Piss off,” he barks, and though he’s scowling at you in what must be disgust—you can’t help but to smile at how aggressively bashful he is.

You almost get the guts to make matters worse, just because you can. Admit how handsome you’ve come to find him, after the last few years, until his face is steaming in the sweet nighttime chill; the kind of intimacy you wouldn’t mind dreaming about again and again.

The absence of his thoughts are a comfort for your tired mind, has all the harsh edges of night fading into something a little easier to swallow, to breathe in. You know he does it on purpose as a strictly defensive move, but you almost want to thank him. For the quiet.

You don’t know if it’s from you or him, but when you reach a hand up to hover near his temple, the air buzzes between you, gently. Charged with that same thing that had you unable to look away from him in the common room only days ago. “In here, I mean,” you murmur, and the smile you pull on feels lame, but it’s as genuine as ever. “I don’t know, I don’t know how you do it. But it’s…nice.”

You’ve seen him die a thousand times.

Mostly in Midoriya’s dreams, sometimes in Eraser’s when he nods off during last period, but that horror—like many others, from that day—stains you all. When dinner is put away and showers are finished and the lights go out and the flood gates open, someone almost always relives the ugliness of it all; you’re more familiar with that moment than you are with any of your own.

Here and now, you close your eyes and see Jirou staring back at you, face beautiful and full of hope. You see Kirishima’s torn suit jacket and the blood on his cheek and the empty gun in his hand, the most dedicated secret agent. Aoyama is dreaming of his mother, something warm that makes you feel like you’re dazzling, too.

And yet—Bakugou is silent. Even right in front of you. Even after everything.

If anyone deserves the peace and quiet, you suppose it ought to be him.

“When’s the last time you got any sleep?”

You blink until his blurry figure is clear, and it’s like you can physically feel whatever energy you had left seeping from your body at the mere mention of sleep. “Maybe a morning or two ago,” you tell him truthfully, “I usually pass out after a few rounds of ‘throwin’ shit around’.”

Bakugou only stares at you as he digests the words, and once he’s gotten them down, he shakes his head before looking out over the mess you’ve made of the training field. With his head turned like this, you can take in the full weight of his scar—the one that’s wide and still baby-pink across his cheek.

You almost get the guts to tell him he’s handsome. Almost.

Frustration is evident on his face when he looks back at you, but his voice comes out softer than you expect, like he's struggling to get out any words at all. “Can’t keep doin’ this,” he chastises. “Can’t be a Hero if you’re half asleep all the time. Gotta figure this shit out.”

“I am,” you give a lazy wave to your pots, “What’s wrong with this solution?”

“It's ass.”

“Alright, you have any better ideas, pretty boy?”

He bristles, visibly enough to have you snickering, and—you’re not sure what you expect of him; to continue his griping or leave you to your own devices, building his walls up high as he always does. Ever the fighter, ever the protector; maybe it’s a good thing, you tell yourself, because you’re weak like this and one of you needs to be thinking straight.

Despite his flush, there’s a playfulness to his grouchy expression, his raspy tone—and it has you leaning too far into things you don’t know how to name.

You never know what to expect of him.

There’s the slightest brush of skin against the back of your hand, and when you drop your eyes to the slowly-dwindling space between you—the rough pads of his fingers are touching you, gently. Softly enough to be the breeze, if it weren’t so warm.

You’re afraid to look at him, suddenly, like it will break whatever spell the night is casting over both of you; instead you press your lips together to stop their wobbling and the smile fighting to give you away. You’re waiting for that sea-shore calm, that quiet comfort, whatever it is he’s trying to offer you, strangely enough, in this moment. When you turn your hand over to catch his, the air buzzes again and the blood rushes in your ears.

You focus and—all you can see is your own face staring back at you. In a flash, like he’s cycling through his cards in a hurry, trying to find the best one.

You, across the arena during the entrance exam. You, in the locker room before the Sport's Festival. You, sitting in the common room during Christmas. You, ruined with tears and your own blood and covered in grime, on the darkest day of your life.

You, now. On the field in the stale light, prettier than you think you must look, for being so exhausted, the lines of your smile deep as you grin up at him.

—And then there's nothing.

The absence of noise is louder than anything. A stark, white silence that cuts through; a different world trickling away. A single touch and a little focus is all it takes to take root inside someone’s head and that’s always felt like a weapon, but now it feels like coming inside from a snowstorm, relief shuddering down your spine. Everyone else's fears and nerves and heartaches dissolve until they’re only a bitter taste at the back of your throat. Something far, far behind you

There’s just Bakugou. A strong silence that feels impenetrable, invulnerable to the outside. The steady beat of his heart is comforting in a way you didn’t realize it would be, has that bloody, dead-eyed image of him shifting into something else: another moment in Midoriya’s memories, of his silhouette standing in the sun, tall and fierce and alive.

Returned. Here and now with you, after numerous, unforeseen turns of events. You wonder if the ease surrounding you is his own, something else he’s sharing—or if this is just how it feels to be with him after so long. Maybe in the past it was different—you know it was; during the entrance exam, during the Sport’s Festival—but now you feel more relaxed than you ever have. A reminder that, no matter how dark the nights get, the sun is only just beyond the horizon.

Returned, comforting and quiet.

(You won't know this until much later, but your hand will go slack in Katsuki's and his fingers will tighten around your own because he's not ready to let go yet. When your knees buckle, he'll already be there, awkwardly holding you up against his shoulder as his face flames and his eyes dart around the empty field, checking for any shitty snoops.

Ears is always up damn late, too, and there's a decent chance he'd get caught trying to haul you back to your room on the third fuckin’ floor, so there's really no better option than to gently lower you both to the grass. After a couple of minutes with no movement, the field lights will shut off and only the distant glow of the stars will remain.)

(You won't know this until much later, but Katsuki will arrange the both of you so that your head isn't slumped on the hard ground, but resting on the plush of his bicep, an arm around your shoulders so that the warmth can be shared between you both. His heart will pound hard enough in his chest to be worrisome, and every time you shuffle and scoot closer to him and nudge your nose into his sweater—Katsuki will fight to stay open and true, only honest with you in this wordless way.)

(You won't know this until the sun rises high behind your lids and your bones ache and he’s shown you things he could never say, but it's the best sleep you think you've ever gotten. With him, under the stars, surrounded by his calm and his constant.)

(You won't remember this but in your dream—your real dream, born from with solace Katsuki offers you—the morning will rise and settle in and he'll walk you back to your room despite the stares and in the elevator when you're alone, his lips will touch yours and you'll feel his heart in your chest and his nerves in your stomach and his fear and relief all in one.)

(And right away, when you wake up, you'll finally have a name for this thing that's been blooming between you both for as long as you can remember—and he will, too.)

#i was so nervous about getting the quirk right kahfkahf #and then i was so nervous about it being fluffy enough bc the first draft of this was too angsty ??#SO I REWROTE IT LOL #i hope this is okay !! 🥺#i love the idea of bakugou being able to express how he feels in emotion only #that the fear he doesn't know how to name or how to explain or understand is conveyed to you somehow #whenever he touches you #🥺#tysm for giving me the chance to write it !!!#literally no but seriously you're the only reason i haven't privated this blog again LMAOOO tysm 🥺#✿ willow writes #✿ one shot: bakugou

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kingkatsuki · 2 years

Text

Locked Up | Kirishima Eijirou x Reader

I apologise to all my other WIPs. Blame Kitten.

Summary: As a nurse inside Musutafu correctional facility, you’re not naive to the threat the various inmates pose, but you manage to catch the eye of one of the most dangerous- a high ranking member of Dynamight’s gang, Red Riot.

Pairing: Kirishima Eijirou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, pwp, not proof read, semi-public sex, dirty talk, manipulation, a sprinkle of degradation, potential dubcon (just to be safe- Kiri lies a lot) but tbh he just proper fancies reader, no prep, no protection, creampie, panty theft. If I missed anything lemme know!

Word Count: 6.6k.

Musutafu correctional facility was a place where some of the most hardened criminals were incarcerated. The barbed wire fence that surrounded the building was designed to look intimidating, and it did– but nothing could compare to how menacing the men looked inside. There were men from all walks of life, some that had just been handed unlucky cards in life and been led down the wrong path, others who would never step free again– sentenced to serve the rest of their lives behind bars. Others were in for shorter stays, completing the final parts of their rehabilitation programs before they were integrated back into society.

And then there were men like Kirishima Eijirou.

You’d heard stories about why he was inside, rumours that constantly circulated around the cold four walls that were hard to ignore. News report after report backed up a lot of the outlandish claims, things you wouldn’t even believe were true unless you’d heard them so vividly spoken so many times. He was part of the biggest gang in Musutafu, Dynamight’s right-hand man. He’d been inside almost a year, and still had six left to serve, although he seemed confident that his expensive lawyer would have him out in two.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Kirishima smiled as he stepped up to the window, his calloused fingertips brushing your hand as he took the small paper cup from you, “Stayin’ safe in here, yeah?”

He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat that gave his skin a dewy glow as his arms flexed beneath the stiff polyester shirt, clearly just done with a workout in his cell. Often you’d catch him doing push-ups when you were being escorted by one of the guards to do your rounds, or doing pull-ups using the metal stairs to the upper cells. The soft grunts that left his lips did nothing to satiate the ache you felt for the man as you’d give him a subtle smile. Looks that didn’t go unnoticed by the hulking man who would often show off in your presence. Increasing his pace, or adding to his weight whenever you were near. The other inmates would catcall and heckle you whenever you were in their wings, calling out to you to show them your panties or come and give them a checkup. But Kirishima was always respectful, watching silently whenever you walked by. You were always told to remember that these were dangerous inmates, not the usual patients that you’d get when you were working at the not-for-profit, but sometimes men like Kirishima made it difficult– you couldn’t imagine him doing the things they wrote about in the papers, he just seemed so nice.

“Always,” You smiled.

It wasn’t unusual for the inmates to try and intimidate you inside the facility, a sick sense of power and dominance gained from the way that meek, sweet women would shrink away from them in fear as they gained a boost to their egos. And you could admit there were many men inside that would make your skin crawl, whether it was the reasons why they were in prison in the first place or the rumours you’d hear circling inside. Kirishima was one of those inmates that should’ve made you scared, the stories most definitely preceding him. His long rap sheet is enough to have him locked away for the rest of his life if it wasn’t for the expensive lawyer his boss Bakugou had hired. But there was something about the redheaded man that had you curious, the normal fear that whirred in the pit of your stomach was rarely there when you spent time with him– in fact, it was quite the opposite. Butterflies fluttered against your ribcage whenever you spoke to the man, almost feeling yourself receding into a cute, blushy schoolgirl.

Kirishima grinned as he raised the medication to his lips as you offered him a cup of water to wash the pills down with but he refused it, grinning as he lay his elbow on the counter to lean forward. Opening his mouth as he stuck his tongue out for you to see the back of his throat, lifting it before slipping it back inside his mouth. You had to fight the heat that rose inside you at the sight as you imagined his tongue against yours, and against other parts of your body. Clenching your thighs together to try and ignore the throb emitting from between them, but it did little to quench the ache. Absentmindedly handing a cup of pills to the next man in line as you watched Kirishima walk away, the prison-issue shirt tight on his frame as he towered over the other men.

You knew that fraternising with inmates was strictly forbidden, not only would you lose your job but it would prevent you from working in the field. But it didn’t hurt to look— his long mane of red hair flowing down his back as his natural colour grew at the roots, an indication of how long he’d been inside. Continuing to hand out medication as you let yourself daydream of Kirishima bending you over this very counter.

You were almost done with the line of inmates waiting to take their scheduled medication when you heard shouts begin to break out throughout the block, the sound of fists banging on metal as you looked to the centre of the room to see Kirishima standing tall, his muscles flexing as his normally shiny ruby red eyes darkened. Blood was running down his face as another man lay on the ground in the foetal position, arms protecting his head as other inmates kicked and punched him. A loud voice boomed over the tannoy, instructing the men back to their cells as guards rushed to the scene to try and break it up. Watching as the inmates all moved to their fronts on the ground as they continued to shout and jeer, another guard came into the small doctors' office to escort you back to the hospital wing as you nodded, giving Kirishima, who was now lying flat on the floor a final look before you followed him out.

It was thirty minutes later when there was a knock at your door, a guard escorting Kirishima into the small medical office as you looked up from the paperwork at your desk. A burly guard escorted Kirishima into the room, his arms bound behind his back as he shouldered through the door, sitting him down on a chair at the side of the room as he connected his cuffs to the back of it so he couldn’t move around. Keeping him in one spot as the guard finally turned to acknowledge you gruffly.

“He’s got an abrasion on his head, reckon you can give him the once over?”

“Uh, sure.” You smiled, filing the paperwork away for confidentiality before you stood from your desk, busying yourself with gathering the supplies that you’d need to treat him.

Situating yourself beside Kirishima as you tried to still your racing heart, now close enough to him that you could smell him. The musky scent of sweat and blood filled your nostrils as you took a closer look at the wound on his head, doing everything in your power not to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did you’d forget all those years of medical training in an instant and revert back to that blushing schoolgirl.

“Can’t I get a little privacy?” Kirishima gave the guard a look as he stood by the door.

“Ain’t no privacy in prison,” The blond guard scoffed as he crossed his arms.

“Come on man,” Kirishima almost whined, “This is about my medical history.”

“And?” The guard scoffed.

“What if she tells me I got a month left to live?”

“Then I’d be fucking lucky.” The guard scoffed, “One less asshole to worry about.”

“It’s okay,” You smiled, “You can give us a few minutes. He’s cuffed.”

The guard seemed to ponder the decision for a moment before he opened the door, stepping out into the hallway as he told you to call out if you needed anything. You waved a ball of cotton wool at him and nodded as you turned your attention back to Kirishima. The blood that had been spilling from a wound above his eyebrow had stopped flowing, leaving dried blood against his cheek and chin as it darkened and cracked against his skin.

“Thanks,” Kirishima murmured as you soaked the cotton wool bud in rubbing alcohol, “It’s nice to get a few minutes of privacy in here.”

Giving him a kind smile as you leaned forward, gently holding his chin in your hand as you angled his head slightly to get a closer look at the wound. It was a gash through the tattoo that sat above his eyebrow, the word ‘Riot’ in cursive. And with any luck, the damage wouldn’t be deep enough to scar, not that it seemed like this man cared. The marks that covered his body were all evidence of the fights that he’d been in prior to this one, an indication of just how dangerous the man in front of you could be.

“This is gonna hurt,” You spoke softly as you felt his warm breath fan against your face as he let out a soft chuckle.

“I can take it, sweetheart.” But the moment he said that you pressed the bud against the abrasion as Kirishima’s teeth clenched in a sharp hiss, his nose scrunching as you continued to dab at the wound.

“What happened?” You mumbled as you continued to clean the cut, watching it soak the white cotton wool and stain it red as he hunched his shoulders.

“Was nothing.” He mumbled.

You knew often inmates wouldn’t talk to you, often they saw you as another narc. So you were used to men avoiding the question, but you’d hoped that Kirishima would be different. He’d seemed so happy when he left you after taking his medication, and suddenly now he sat in your office after starting a large block fight.

“You got any painkillers?” He asked as you moved to pick up another cotton bud, shooting him a look from the side of your eyes as you tried to gauge whether he was really in that much pain or not, “Think they’re taking me to seg after this, I don’t think I can be comfortable in there without ‘em.”

Often inmates would fake the pain to try and score free medication in the hospital wing instead of having to trade their commissary for it, but you decided his head was probably throbbing and he wouldn’t be able to go to commissary or request them from you if he was being moved into isolation after this. So you picked up two pills as you reached up to give them to him, your fingertips brushing against his lips as you broke protocol and dropped them straight into his mouth, hands lingering as ruby eyes watched you intently. Once again his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed both without water before you’d even had the chance to offer him a glass.

On instinct, his tongue slipped from his lips as he showed you that he’d taken both and he wasn’t hiding them. But this time, having him so close had you struggling to focus. Trying to ignore the heat swiftly rising inside you as you continued working at the wound on his head.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He whispered as you smiled softly. Even in the chair he almost towered over you, his head at your height as you stood between his thighs.

“It’s not deep, so you don’t need stitches.” You plastered it up to ensure the mark wouldn’t split open as you began to clean the dried blood off his cheek, “You bleed a lot though. I don’t remember seeing that on your chart.”

“Yeah, my tattoo artist said that too.” He replied with a grin, watching as you began to fill the paperwork out about his medical visit as he took the opportunity to take in the sight of your curves.

“How many tattoos do you have?” You smiled, slowly filling in each box as Kirishima began to shake his knee.

“A few. If I didn’t have these on I could show you.” You heard him jiggle the cuffs behind him as you laughed, shaking your head.

“They were talkin’ about you.” Kirishima continued, making you pause your writing as you turned to stare at him.

“What?”

“The pricks in rec.” Kirishima continued, “Were saying nasty shit about you.”

“Like what?” You shocked yourself that the words left your lips, the morbid curiosity of wanting to find out what the other inmates thought about you even though it shouldn’t matter.

“Sayin’ how pretty you’d look on your knees, how much they wanna fuck you-”

“Oh,” You weren’t even sure what to say to that, unsurprised that men who had been locked up for long periods would have these thoughts about any woman that they saw, but it still didn’t explain why Kirishima got a blow to the head.

“Knocked that fucker out, he deserved it.” Kirishima scoffed, “He said all that shit, but I’m the one that’s gonna end up in seg. Fuckin’ assholes.”

“Why’d you hit him?” Kirishima gave you an incredulous look, as if to ask ‘are you joking?’

“The shit he was saying about you- pissed me off.” His nostrils flared and you felt your clit throb, he looked so angry, so possessive.

Kirishima knew he shouldn’t be doing this- you were so sweet, so innocent, so pure. It didn’t take much for him to rile you up, and it made him feel powerful. Even more so because he was in a facility designed to strip that power away, to try and strip men back to nothing. But Kirishima still held all the power, even here. Being the right-hand man of one of the most dangerous men in Musutafu had its perks, giving him the extra freedom to get away with things without putting extra time on his count. Some of the guards inside are just as corrupt as the gang he was a part of, allowing him the luxury of continuing his line of work from the inside.

He should’ve just let you be, he’d almost feel guilty for getting you wrapped up in him. But it had been so long since he’d felt his cock nestled deep inside a wet, warm cunt and there was something about you that had him desperate to know how yours felt. There were only so many times that fucking his fist would relieve that itch, and he was almost at his limit.

Kirishima knew he should feel bad for doing this, but he didn’t.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” Kirishima smirked, “I know you want me, sweetheart.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you refused to meet his gaze, but your body responded to his words. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you squeezed your thighs together to try and ignore the sensation, this was completely against protocol and something you’d never done before. Of course, there was a long line of inmates that had tried- almost every single one in fact. Taking away the chance of doing something just made men want to do it even more, so you’d become used to treating men while they sported tents in their prison-issue pants– but Kirishima? He was different.

This time you wanted to.

“We can’t.” You hummed, leaning over to stack some of the items you’d used to patch him up back on the shelf as Kirishima watched your every move.

“Aww come on, sweetheart. Don’t you want me to feel better?” He pouted and you bit your bottom lip, you did.

“I bet you’re dripping in those little panties.” He ignored you completely as he spread his thighs further apart, as though beckoning you closer, “What colour are they?”

“W-what?” You were flustered by the question, remembering the simple pair of cream panties that you’d put on this morning. Appalled at yourself for even debating whether to answer the question as you wished you’d chosen a sexier pair to wear, the ones you had on were far more functional than aesthetics.

“Bet they’re white, huh?” He prodded, fastidiously attempting to get you to answer.

“Cream.” You mumbled, avoiding his eyes as you stared down at the grey linoleum beneath your feet.

“Fuck, I bet they look so pretty on you.” Kirishima continued, shifting his hips slightly on the plastic chair as he tried to relieve the tightness in his pants, “Why don’t you c’mere?”

“I can’t-” You stammered, “The guard might come back any second-”

“Just one kiss,” He teased, with his hands cuffed behind his back, he tried to pull you closer with his body as he hooked an ankle around the backs of your knees, bringing you to settle between his thighs, “Please?”

You gasped from the sudden movement, your hands bracing themselves on his shoulders as you stared into his ruby eyes. Trying to calm your racing heart as you chanced a look towards the door to the office, it wasn’t locked and it meant anyone could walk in and see you in such a precarious position.

“Come on, baby.” His lips were now hovering over yours, mere centimetres and you’d connect them, “I know you want to.”

You worried your lower lip between your teeth as your fingers squeezed at his shoulders, trying to hold on to the last ounce of resolve that you still held inside you. But it was so difficult when he was in such close proximity to you, looking into your soul with those gorgeous eyes as you felt yourself moving closer to him. It was as though you were no longer in control of your body as your eyes darted down to his lips, his tongue peeking out to wet them as he tilted his head to the side, finally closing the distance as your lips met his in a soft kiss. You hummed gently when you felt his calloused lips touched yours, feeling them curl into a smile as he deepened the kiss. His tongue pushed past your parted lips to delve deeper as he brushed against your teeth, capturing your moans in his mouth as your hands tightened their grip on his shoulders.

“You got no idea how long I’ve been thinking about doing that with you, sweetheart.” He whispered against your lips as you broke for air.

“You have?”

Fuck, you really were so cute. You sounded so hopeful, so eager as you asked for the subtle affirmation. Kirishima couldn’t wait to ruin you-

“Of course I have, baby. Have you seen yourself?” He pressed his lips to yours in another sloppy kiss, “You’re so beautiful.”

You felt giddy as his thighs moved closer on either side of yours, squeezing them gently as he couldn’t wrap his arms around you, tilting his head back as if to invite you closer. The movement allowed you to see the intricate tattoo that covered his collarbone and followed beneath his shirt. You’d seen it before when he’d been working out shirtless in the rec area, a huge dragon that spanned from his pectoral all the way into a colourful arm sleeve. The beautiful ink marred with a gunshot wound where he’d narrowly avoided death, another indication of just how much danger you were potentially in.

“Sit on my lap.”

You’d consider yourself to be such a strong, independent woman- you had to be to survive in a job like this, but Kirishima had you questioning everything as you bit your lip. Suddenly feeling so shy as you debated whether to move closer or not.

“Come on, sweetheart.” Kirishima pouted, “For me?”

“Fuck,” He rasped as you straddled him, your dress riding up as you pressed your crotch against his. Giving him the perfect view of the tops of your stockings as you tried to hover yourself on top of him to avoid brushing yourself against his cock that was currently straining through the scratchy material of his prison-issue pants as it rubbed against your bare thighs, “You feel so fucking warm.”

Even with his hands restrained he still tried to maintain control of the situation, his hips thrusting up to make you lose your balance as you were forced down onto his crotch so you could feel his hard cock against your clothed slit. Making sweet moans tumble from your throat as his tongue swiped against your lips, eagerly pushing his way inside as he deepened the kiss.

Your hands moved to the back of his head as you let your fingers comb through his long hair. Fingernails scratching at his scalp as you began to match his movements, grinding yourself down on his crotch as he groaned beneath you as you let yourself fall into him.

“Wish I could touch you, princess” Kirishima moaned against your lips, “Wanna play with those pretty tits.”

His words had you tugging his hair at the root, making him groan as you pulled yourself away from him. His lips moved forward eagerly to press wet, warm kisses against your neck.

“Can I see them, please?” He asked softly as his nose nuzzled the soft skin at the apex of your neck.

Kirishima was a monster for corrupting someone so adorable, so innocent. But it wasn’t his fault- there was no reason why a girl as sweet as you should be working in a scummy facility like this. It was like putting you on a shelf for any sick fuck to come and ruin you- but lucky for you he’d got there first. Oh, he’d still ruin you alright, but at least there was a chance you’d enjoy it now.

“What if-” You began to contend, but Kirishima was quick to cut you off.

“They won’t come in for at least another fifteen unless you make noise.” He murmured, “And I can help you keep quiet, sweetheart.”

You leaned back on his lap as you began to unbutton the top few buttons of the standard dress that you wore, exposing the plain white bra that you wore below. Every piece of clothing was to regulation, wishing you had a sexy piece of lingerie on for him to see. But Kirishima didn’t seem to mind, the sight of your plain, white bra had his cock throbbing in his pants as your breasts fit perfectly inside. Leaning forward as you pulled the fabric down, letting your tits spill from the cups as Kirishima watched them bounce slightly, your nipples hardening into peaks in the cool air of the nurses' office. A deep, guttural groan sounded from deep in his chest as he committed the sight to memory, craning his neck forward to capture one of your pert nipples between his lips.

“Shit,” You whined, grasping his shoulders to stop yourself from falling backwards as his tongue circled the bud, cheeks hollowed as he sucked harshly. Certain he could make you cum from this alone as you kept grinding yourself on his lap, the desire continuing to build inside you as you were desperate to get off. Your hands became bolder as you moved them to the back of his neck, pushing him deeper as you began to imagine how his lips would feel on other parts of your body.

“I was right, they are fucking perfect.” He pulled away from your nipple with a ‘pop’ as he looked at the surface glistening in his spit as he moved to the other one to give it the same attention, “You’re perfect.”

You were hanging on to his every word, pleasure running through your veins as you forgot about the repercussions if you got caught, focusing only on the pleasure he was giving you. Continuing to roll your hips against his as you felt the hardness of his cock catch against your puffy clit, creating delicious friction as you used him to get yourself off.

“You feel so warm,” Kirishima groaned, jerking his hips so you could feel him push his cock against you, “Gotta help me, sweetheart, yeah?”

“Yeah?” Your mind was hazy from pleasure as you gazed at him through lidded eyes.

“Pull my pants down for me?” Kirishima wriggled his hips for emphasis as he moved back as much as he could to give you room.

Your fingers lifted the hem of his prison-issue shirt as you felt the soft black hair of his happy trail as it disappeared beneath his pants. Your fingers delicately hooked under the elastic waistband as you began to tug at the material, Kirishima lifting his hips from the chair to give you the freedom to tug his pants and underwear down just enough to free his aching cock. You gasped in surprise when you saw it for the first time, the way it flopped against his thigh a sheer indication of the weight of it as the bulging tip oozed pre. You weren’t sure you would be able to wrap your hand around it fully, never mind fit it inside you. The veins that forked along the underside only served to make him look even bigger as you wondered whether you’d get past the tip. His balls hung below, round and full with his cum as you subconsciously licked your lips at the thought of him filling you with cum.

“You think you can take me, babe?” Kirishima asked smugly, already knowing the answer. Most women struggled to take his size, and perhaps you were no different.

“Yeah,” You shot back swiftly, trying to sound confident but the doubtful look in your eyes betrayed you.

“Good girl,” He grinned, “Now take those panties off for me.”

You’d almost forgotten that you were still almost fully clothed, standing up from his lap for a moment to slip your hands beneath the standard-issue dress as the fabric slipped up around your hips, giving Kirishima a view of your cream panties as he watched intently.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned at the sight, noticing the large wet patch that stained the crotch as you tugged at the hem, pushing them down your thighs until they fell to the ground at your knees, stepping one foot out of them as you moved to get back on his lap.

“Hold on, sweetheart, hold on.” Kirishima spoke quickly, stopping you from sitting on top of him, “Spread yourself open for me, please? I wanna see-”

You felt embarrassed at the request, but somehow your hands betrayed you as you looked at the sweet look on his face.

“Put your foot here- that’s it-” Kirishima instructed you, uncaring that you’d put your heeled pump on his thigh as you moved your hand between your thighs. Your palm pressed against your mound as your fingers split into a v-shape, strings of your slick glistening as you spread yourself for him, giving him the perfect view of your bare cunt.

“Fucking hell,” He groaned, throwing his head back, “You have the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen, sweetheart. I wanna be inside you right now.”

“Oh,” You mumbled, “I don’t have condoms-”

Condoms were considered contraband in the facility, there was no need for you to be handing them out as inmates shouldn’t be fraternising, and neither should staff. Thinking that this was it between you and the attractive inmate you moved your foot from his thigh as your dress fell back around your knees.

“It’s okay, baby. It’ll be fine,” Kirishima cooed, “I’ll tell you when I’m about to cum, okay?”

You bit your lip as you debated what to do, you knew the pull-out method wasn’t always effective, but you trusted him.

“Okay,” You moved back onto his lap as Kirishima smiled, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as you leaned down to wrap your hand around his thick cock, feeling the weight of it as you held it upright.

Easing your hips forward as you brushed the leaking tip between your messy folds, coating him with your slick as his pre mingled with your wetness. Kirishima hissed sharply from behind his teeth at the feeling of your hand around his cock, feeling you line him up with your tight entrance as he saw the uneasy look on your face.

“I’m sorry I can’t prep you like this,” His wrists jiggled the chains for emphasis, “Just stop me if it hurts, alright?”

He shouldn’t have said it, Kirishima knew there was no way he was going to fucking stop. Especially when there was such little time left- he just wanted to feel that tight little cunt wrapped around his cock.

He didn’t stop, he couldn’t. But it’s not like you were asking him to stop either, your cunt was practically dripping down his length, pooling around his balls.

You let out a lewd groan as you began to lower yourself on his cock, the noise catching Kirishima off guard as he began to shush you, his eyes instantly focused on the unlocked door in case the guard outside heard anything.

“Shhh, come on, babe. Do you want him to come in and see what a slut you are?” Kirishima hissed, brows furrowed as you bit down on your bottom lip hard to try and stop yourself from making noise. Tears clinging to your lashes as you tried desperately to hold back the tears, but every inch felt like your walls were burning.

“It hurts, Kiri.” You whined, trying to blink back tears as your walls burned from the stretch.

“I know, baby. I know- but you’re doin’ so good, almost there-” You weren’t, Kirishima could see not even a third of his cock had disappeared inside your cunt as he feigned sympathy. You were so wet and warm he wasn’t even sure he could last- the tightness hugging him enough to have him cumming like this. But he hadn’t worked you for weeks to get a third deep, no. He wanted all of you.

Kirishima couldn’t lie, he felt guilty when he rut his hips up into you, he did. The whimper you made when he felt you take more of him sent shameful jolts directly to his cock as he whispered for you to bite down on his shoulder to keep quiet. You complied so easily, teeth latching onto his shoulder through the starchy fabric as he felt your spit begin to slick the material. Or it could’ve been your tears- but at that moment he didn’t care.

Giving another sharp thrust of his hips as he fucked himself deeper inside your tender pussy, feeling your walls flutter around him as he began to feel the resistance start to dissipate.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, so tight.” He groaned, “Doin’ so good for me.”

The stretch was unreal, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. None of your previous partners had been this well endowed, and even your largest dildo couldn’t contend with his size.

“Fuck, give me a second, sweetheart.” Kirishima continued, “S’been a long, long time.”

You were grateful because you weren’t sure you could take it if he had just started moving. Pulling your teeth away from his shoulder to take a deep breath, holding the air in your lungs as you felt Kirishima begin to move his hips.

“Oh, shit.” You gasped as you felt the tip of his cock hit the deepest depths inside of you, certain it was nudging your cervix as he began to start a sloppy pace.

“You feel so good,” Kirishima grunted, beads of sweat beginning to appear on his brow as he positioned his feet flat on the ground as he leaned back against the chair, using the position for leverage as he began to piston himself in and out of your tight cunt.

Your nails dug into his back through his shirt as you clung to him to prevent yourself from falling backwards, your tits bouncing from the force of his thrusts as he pounded into you. His cock dragged against every inch of you with each rut of his hips as your mouth fell open in a constant whine.

“So noisy.” Kirishima teased, “My cock feel that good?”

“Y-yeah,” You managed to get out between breaths, certain the sound of his balls slapping against your skin was louder than you were but you were in no position to argue.

Kirishima continued to lead from the bottom as he used your body as his own personal cocksleeve, completely focused on his own pleasure as he felt his balls begin to tighten.

“Not so loud, sweetheart.” He whispered gruffly, “Don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

You didn’t, there was too much at stake if anyone was to come in and see you in this position, but the thought of it happening had your walls clenching around Kirishima’s cock. The image of someone, anyone coming in and seeing you in such a depraved position sending you closer to your release.

Kirishima continued pounding into you from below, a sheer display of his strength that each thrust had you almost completely off his length before gravity had you dropping back down, struggling to keep your thighs on the chair as you moved your feet to hook over Kirishima’s thighs by his knees.

“Fuck, that’s it.” He growled, “Take it.”

“Oh my god.” You gasped, your walls trembled at his words as you felt yourself slipping closer and closer to your bliss.

“Fucking take it.” He snarled, tears spilling down your cheeks as you felt yourself teetering on the edge. Leaning forward to latch your teeth onto his shoulder again to silence yourself as you screamed, the noise muffled by the rough fabric as the coil broke inside you. Crying out as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure, your orgasm surging through you in harsh waves.

“Good girl,” Kirishima grunted, your walls milking his cock as he fucked you through your climax, your cunt even tighter, even wetter now that you’d found your release.

He continued his rough pace, selfishly searching for his own ecstasy as he felt himself closer and closer to his end.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect.” Kirishima moaned, your pussy clamping down around him, “Gonna fuckin’ cum inside this slutty pussy.”

“Wait-” You gasped, trying to lift yourself with tired arms to look into his eyes but it was too late.

Kirishima knew it was an asshole move, that he’d promised you that he’d pull out, but your cunt just felt so good wrapped around his cock. And truthfully? He’d never had any intention of pulling out- the thought of filling your cute, little pussy with his cum was too good an opportunity to pass up.

“Oh, fuck.” A guttural moan left Kirishima’s lips as his balls tightened, pumping hot ropes of cum inside your quivering cunt. Painting your walls white with his release as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts inside your warmth before he stilled on the uncomfortable plastic chair.

His chest heaving as he basked in the afterglow of his release, cherishing the final few pulsations from your spent cunt before you moved your hands to his shoulders to pull yourself off his spent cock, grimacing when his cum dripped from your stretched walls and onto the linoleum floor.

“You were fucking amazing, sweetheart.” Kirishima grinned as you glanced towards the clock in panic, moving to pull his pants back up around his ass as you huffed in frustration as he made it hard for you by barely moving his hips, “I knew that pussy would be good, and I wasn’t wrong.”

“He’s gonna come back in at any minute,” You mumbled, moving to pull your panties back up as Kirishima stopped you.

“Put them in my pocket” He flicked his chin, indicating towards the cream panties that were now around your ankles.

“I can’t,” You gasped.

“Come on, please?” Kirishima gave you that same puppy dog look and it had you falling even deeper under his spell.

“What if you get caught?” You asked the question as though you weren’t already taking them off from around your ankles and slipping them into his pants pocket.

“I won’t, promise.” He stole a kiss from you as you hovered over him, “Having these will get me through seg.”

He wished he hadn’t lied about being sent to isolation, in hindsight he probably didn’t even have to. He would’ve managed to get inside your panties without the little white lie, but either way, it had worked. He leaned forward to steal one more kiss from you before you began to smooth your dress out, almost forgetting about his cum that was now dripping down your inner thigh uncomfortably and hitting the floor.

“Oh, shit,” You moved to grab a paper towel before the sound of the door opening stopped you, keeping you frozen in your tracks as you watched the guard walk in without warning.

“What? No knock first?” Kirishima snarked as the guard stepped into your office, praying that he couldn’t feel the warmth in the air or the stench of sex and sweat as he moved towards his prisoner.

“Keep telling you assholes, this is fuckin’ prison. You don’t get shit.” The guard shook his head, keys jingling in his hands as he moved to the back of the chair to unlock Kirishima’s cuffs from the chain at the back so he could stand, his hands still bound as you tried to stand in front of the mess you’d made on the cold floor, praying that the guard hadn’t noticed.

“Is he ready to go back to gen pop?” The guard turned to ask you, and you felt your heart pounding against your chest.

“Y-yeah,” You mumbled, hoping the guard wouldn’t come around your table to see the mess the inmate had made of you. Kirishima did you a favour as he walked around the table and towards the guard as he was marched out of the room.

“Thanks, nurse.” He gave you a cocky smile as he left, “I feel much better.”

Kirishima followed the guard back to the general population as he stopped by the main door, waiting for the guard to unlock the cuffs as he was finally able to move his arms back to his front. Smiling smugly as he noticed the deep red marks around his wrists from where the cuffs had rubbed from his frantic movements. Making a beeline for the phones as he tapped another inmate on the shoulder, the man instantly turned around with a fist up before realising his mistake. Seeing Kirishima behind him as he instantly hung up the phone, apologising before walking away.

Kirishima picked the phone up as he smashed the keys, dialling a number as he leaned a shoulder against the wall as the phone rang. An angry voice sounded from the other side.

“What fuckin’ time do ya call this, Kiri?”

“Hey, I’m sorry man. I was a little preoccupied.” Kirishima schmoozed, a grin on his face at the memory, his cock still covered in your slick and your panties secure in his pocket.

“Yeah, well the drop is ready to go. We’re just trying to sort someone to do pick-ups.” Bakugou grunted on the other side of the phone, “The last guy was a fuckin’ pussy.”

“You know what, man. I think I might have someone-”

“Someone on the inside?” Bakugou pushed.

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Do you think he’ll do it? I can get Sero to meet him before he comes in-”

“Oh yeah, she’ll do it.” Kirishima grinned, “I know she will.”

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