I Think I'm Crying.

You up?

You Up?

Summary: Y/N bugs Bucky to get a phone. With help from your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, Bucky learns something new and shoots his shot…

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Warnings: sexual themes, swearing

Masterlist

“Why?”

“Because.”

“That’s not a good reason.”

“Well it’s the one I’m giving you.”

Y/N and Bucky had been at this all morning: she thought he should get a phone and he did not see a point in doing so.

How their team meeting for weaponry stock turned into this? He’d never know.

“Y/N, the only people I talk to are in this compound. With Stark’s tech what do I even need a phone for?”

Y/N sighed, okay Bucky was right but that wasn’t the point.

“I just think it’d be good for you. Times have changed and you’re behind on getting into the groove of the 21st century Buck. Think about it: you can stay in contact with people, catch up on events prior to this time and current!”

Though this was true, Y/N mostly just wanted to watch Buck struggle with social media and the weird-ass humour that developed with this new generation. 

“I don’t even know what these are! Is it mee-mees? Is that how you say it?”

Y/N laughed at the memory before turning back to the issue at hand.

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just the tip? - choso kamo; no nut november "i don't think i can do this," choso mumbles, burying his face into your neck and ignoring the movie in the background. "jus' the tip. please, baby, lemme have this," he whines, grabbing a handful of your hip and squeezing. "cho, pay attention to the movie." you murmur back, tugging on a strand of his hair, and he only shakes his head and fumbles for the remote. "no, baby, i can't do this challenge, its hard..." his cock is already painfully hard and swollen in his pants as he palms your thighs, pouting. "need t'have you...please..." and chosos drowsy eyes meet yours, and he looks so needy, that you cant tell him no. his fingers pull your panties to the side just enough, and he cant stop himself from hastily shoving down his sweatpants and he whimpers when he gets to slide his tip against your sopping cunt. hes kissing you, messy and wet and grabbing at your flesh as best he can while he pants against your mouth. he cant wait, he said just the tip, but- his hips stutter forward, sinking into you another inch and making him babble mindlessly against your lips. "oh- please, so good, she's suckin' me in-" he drawls, tears gathering on his eyelashes as he whimpers against your chest. his swollen, blushing tip is kissing against your walls, weak, delirious cants of his hips pushing just a little further into you and making him groan against your neck. choso was so sure he'd survive no-nut-november. when you first told him about it, he thought it would be easy. "she's so loud f'me, baby," hes breathing into your skin, fevered pants and open-mouthed, sticky kisses to your neck. it wasnt easy. he made it a week, but now, he barely thinks he can last a minute with your pretty little cunt sucking him in. he doesn't even realize hes crying and hiccupping through his moans. his vision is white with stars while hes twitching inside you, finally bottoming out inside you and almost immediately losing himself in a nauseating climax that makes him swear he'll pass out. but he doesnt, his eyes lidded and his breath ragged as he rolls his hips into yours again and again, his cock hilted snugly inside your cunt while he tries not to crush you under his weight. the whole time, hes whining into your shirt, babbling about how pretty you look, how good your sopping walls are sucking him in and taking his whole load as he presses his face into your chest.

when he gets ahold of himself, hes kissing you all over your face, smiling deliriously and making sure you cum just as good as he did with his rough thumb to your clit and slow, tantalizing rolls of his hips into yours.

he probably wont be doing no-nut-november next year.

This is going to be the start of a new obsession

"Well, for one thing, he couldn't stop staring at my boobs." Part One: when I'm near you

Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Summary: Takes place after the androids gain freedom. Connor continues working with Hank at the police station, trying to adjust to his new emotions when Hank’s old partner, a bright young detective who is close with Hank returns and Connor becomes enamored with her. Connor x reader, lots of fluff, smut in later chapters ;)

A/N: This is my first time posting a fic here so any feedback to better it is welcome! Thanks if you read through it, I hope it makes you smile or at least exhale out of your nose.

“Hank!” A light voice called out across the police station. The Lt. looked around for a moment, clutching his head that no doubt was thumping with a hangover. But, his eyes that were squinted in annoyance at the sound of his name being called opened wide, and a grin spread across his face in a way Connor had never seen before, he found it fascinating how fast the Lt’s mood had shifted.

Not as fascinating it seemed to Connor’s now buzzing circuitry as the young woman who just walked in.

“Y/N!” Hank replied cheerily. He practically leaped up from his desk chair to wrap you in a bear hug. Hank pulled away and held you by the shoulders to look you over.

“Look at you! I heard you made detective already!” He said proudly.

“I did! And as it turns, I convinced the Captain at my other station that I would be most useful detecting things back home.” You smiled. Connor sat awkwardly across from Hank’s desk, observing the interaction as if he were watching a scene on a Tv show, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of the lead actress. His eyes traveled across your body, down your back, and over the curves there, he began to memorize your shape, you were a petite young woman, but you seemed to carry the confidence of a man twice your size with the way you carried yourself. Your eyes glanced up to meet Connors briefly before focusing back on Hank, the passing moment caused him to conduct an additional maintenance check on his thirium pump, it seemed to stutter when you looked at him. Connor noticed a slight blush crawl across your face, it made him smile, for reasons he was unsure of.

“So you’re back, back?” Hank asked leaning against his desk.

“Certainly am, and I pulled some strings and convinced Fowler to make me your partner again!” You told Hank. The Lt. released a relieved sigh and clapped his hands together.

“This is a godsend, no offense Connor but this is the best partner I’ve ever had. Y/N, Connor, Connor, Y/N.” Hank introduced you two as he plopped back down in his seat. Connor stood quickly, maybe too quickly, maybe not quickly enough? His mind seemed to stall; his processing time stunted.

“Ahem, Connor.” Hank coughed loudly and broke Connor out of his confusing thoughts and noticed with embarrassment that you had been holding your hand out to his ever since he stood up.

“Oh! My apologies, I was finishing… a report. Yes. A report. It is my pleasure to meet you Y/N. I look forward to working with you and Lt. Anderson on further investigations. I have done a quick search into your records and I am thoroughly impressed with your marks at the academy and at your hefty contribution to the rapid decrease in the crime rate at your last station.” Connor finished. For some reason his tie felt too tight, although he had no respiratory circulation to be cut off, it still felt like he was suffocating.  He managed to work up enough courage to look you in your eyes, but he feared he had made a mistake because now he didn’t wish to look at anything else. Connor cocked his head slightly, feeling overwhelmed by how your very presence was affecting him. His eyes now studied your hair, following the soft waves down your shoulders and to your chest where you wore a black tank top under your dark blue leather jacket. His eyes lingered there a moment too until a familiar slap to the back of his head brought him back.

“Connor! Let go of her hand goddammit!” Hank scolded him. Connor glanced down and saw he was still in fact shaking your hand.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Connor said immediately releasing your hand and looking to his feet, unsure of how to proceed. But just as he considered retreating into some other part of the station, he felt the weight of his social blunder slide off his shoulders, just by the sound of your laughter.

“No need to apologize, it’s a pleasure to meet you too Connor, Hank has told me quite a bit about you.” You say as you lean against Hank’s desk and crack your knuckles, making Connor frown.

“I haven’t harmed your hand in any way, have I?” He probed.

“Hm? Oh no, you’re fine, it was nice actually. I like men with firm hands.” You replied with a coy smile on your lips. Connor blinked nervously a few times, his LED flashing yellow before a reply could form.

“And your hands are extremely soft. I found the experience to be extremely pleasurable.” Connor said attempting to regain his composure.

“Pleasurable?” Hank asked with a sharp edge to his voice.

“Pleasant! An oral typo to be sure! I will join you both later. Pleasant to meet you Y/N.” Connor said and rushed off to another part of the station, leaving you and Hank alone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------You and Hank watch with amused smirks as Connor retreated to the evidence room, to the holding cells, then to the break room, seemingly scrambling for any available task to be done.

“I may give him hell but Connor is a good kid Y/N. He’s a little…off but he’s still trying to figure himself off.”

“No, I like him.” You say quickly without thinking but Hank doesn’t seem to notice.

“Now that you’re back, I can stop doing all the work, finally catch a breather.” Hank yawned as he put his feet on his desk.

“Really? Connor seems like a good cop, very…observant.”

“How do you mean?” Hank asked with a raised brow.

“Well, for one thing, he couldn’t stop staring at my boobs.” You grin.

I don't think I've ever read something so real, so angsty and so beautiful at the same time. I know it's quite literally fanfiction, but I think everyone can learn something from this story; no matter how hard life gets, never give up. There will always be someone there to love and support you every step of the way.

As It Was III: True

Summary:  The last chapter of As It Was, told from your perspective.   

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N:  Thank you for all your support! This is, so far, my favorite (mini) series I’ve ever written. I’m so glad to have done it. I hope you liked it as much as I did!! 5.2k word count. Angst. Healing. A lot of Bucky love. 

You haven’t always been soft.

It used to be hard and fast, scorched and salted earth, with your troublesome heart throwing you headfirst into every fight. In the past, your recklessness was a running joke with the team after they lost you in Alaska and upon the third hour of searching, Steve and Bucky came upon a burning semi with you standing nearby, shuddering in the polar night.

They had rushed forward, grabbed the back of your suit and tore you from the truck before it could explode. In-between clipped and frozen breaths, you screamed, It’s dark as shit! And cold! I had to set that thing on fire! You found me, didn’t you?!

Did you have to? Bucky rolled his eyes as the vehicle burst apart, blazing shrapnel whizzing through the black, or did you want to?

Steve snickered, pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. Baby, you’re a mess.

It used to be a bruising kind of love, raw and open, and all for Steve. He saw and knew every facet of you from every angle, even the ones you hid away. You let him dig inside of your rib cage, wrap himself around your heart, and sleep in your blood until you couldn’t untangle which part was you and which part was him.

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Imagine this but with Zayne.

This fic just received a 5 hour standing ovation from me in my room

Me and The Devil | modern day sorcerer!sukuna x sorcerer!reader

summary: when you first meet him, you have no idea what his technique is. all you know is that he's this big, beefy guy covered in tattoos—an absolute unit. he's the cockiest out of all of special grade sorcerers though, so it has to be something good. based off this blurb

content & warnings: AFAB reader, graphic depictions of violence, profanity, explicit smut, sukuna abuses his curse technique (he transforms into his true form self mid-fuck), p in v sex, hair pulling, creampie

w/c: 5.6k

a/n: i think this just might be my most annoying sukuna yet LOL. anyways, this was just an idea i had, based in a world where gege either has a heart or just doesn't exist. enjoy sukuna being a little slut!!

The jujutsu world sucked, but transferring from the Kyoto branch to the Tokyo branch made it suck a little less. Now that you think about it, all of the special grade sorcerers are based in Tokyo. 

Two of them are actually teachers—Gojo and Geto. 

It wasn’t an easy road getting here though, Gakuganji was not happy when you turned in the transfer papers, and made it known during those last two weeks through the missions you were assigned.

You were a grade 1, so you obviously had the ability to take on tougher cases when need be, but he made your life a living hell by giving you missions back to back– from 8:00 am to 8:00 pm, you worked. 

You’d think an old man who’s covered in piercings and listens to black sabbath would be chill, but he’s a petty bitch, just like the rest of the highers up. 

Even the students here are nicer and it’s probably because Principal Yaga was actually a good person, which is rare in this industry. It makes your life easier with the upcoming promotions. You offered to take a couple students under your wing, in turn you will be recommending them. 

You say taking them under your wing lightly. In reality, you’re just making them do your missions for you. If they for any reason need help– which they shouldn’t– then you’ll step in to exorcise the curse yourself.

“Ready to go Megumi?” You ask as he walks up to you. You were taking him with you to a mission that was out of town, it was around 2 hours away via train ride. 

“Yeah.” He gruffly responds, as angsty as ever. You have no idea how he’s gotten along with Gojo all these years, they’re the complete opposites. Not that you’re complaining, he’s a smart kid, he won’t be asking you any dumb questions on the trip there. 

“Wait!” You both hear someone call out from a good distance. From the way they yelped it out, you can only guess it’s Ijichi. 

You both stop and turn around. “We were ju–”

Megumi cuts you off, “WHAT?!” He yells at the man who’s already struggling to catch up, the scowl on his face continuing to grow. He’s spent a majority of his childhood having to wait on his benefactor that was voluntarily late for everything—in turn, he hates wasting time.

You had to hold back a laugh, he didn’t have to be that rude. You’re guessing it's learned behavior from Gojo. Ijichi runs a little faster, you have no idea how he’d let a teenager just bully him like that, but you guess it’s from the years of a certain sorcerer breaking down his spirit. 

“I just received some new information about the mission you’re headed to.” He says, out of breath, trying his best not to keel over.

“Is it being given to someone else?” You ask. 

“Kind of.” He says as he stands upright, heart rate finally settled. “One of the curses is actually special grade– we decided that you two could stay on it, just as long as a special grade sorcerer went with you. That way, Megumi can have two recommendations and get that promotion.” 

“Well that's good. Who’s going with us then.”

“The only special grade sorcerer available right now is Sukun–”

“Oh great.” You scoff. 

“Is.. there a problem with that?” Ijichi nearly squeaks out, he’s not used to getting an attitude from you, you’re usually nice to him.

“No.” You sigh, not sounding very convincing to him or the younger sorcerer. “When is he coming?”

“He said he was on his way, he’ll be here in about 15 to 20 minutes. He also said to meet him at the front of the school.”

“Kay.” You cross your arms and turn to walk towards the stairs at the entrance. “Let’s go Megumi.” You order the kid.

Usually he’d show some sort of pushback from being told around like that, but nothing scared him more than a woman in a bad mood, so he quietly followed behind you.

Sukuna is the last person you wanted to go on this mission with. You had hoped Yuki would’ve been the one to come along– luck has never been on your side though. Truth be told, you didn’t even know he was a sorcerer, let alone a special grade when you first met him.

It may have been a little prejudiced of you to immediately brush off the fact that he could’ve been a part of the jujutsu world based on the way he dressed, but can anyone blame you? He dresses like a bum– not even bothering to wear normal clothes, let alone jujutsu uniforms! Every single time you’ve seen him, he’s in a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt.

On top of that, he’s an arrogant asshole, he thinks he’s the shit, as if he was gods gift to earth. You still don’t even know what his technique is, everyone just says he’s “a beast”, whatever the hell that means. 

You would ask, but the last thing you want is to have a conversation with him, it’ll probably just end with him asking you what your bra size is, because he’s a fucking pervert. And you fully believe that from all the encounters you’ve had with him so far– the last one being just downright embarrassing.

The worst part about it was you didn’t even do anything. You had just gotten back from a full day of exorcising curses, turning in your paperwork, more than ready to go home afterwards. You were exhausted, yet you still had to wait for Principal Yaga to finish up an interview he was having with a potential new student. 

So there you were in the common area, staring off into space, because you were tired– then you hear the voice that you’ve grown to feel agitation towards whenever it infiltrates your ears. 

“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” 

You almost immediately snap out of it. “Huh?” 

“I said my eyes are up here,” Sukuna points at them as he repeats himself. “You’ve been staring at my ass for the past five minutes– a lil’ perverted don’t you think?”

“No I wasn’t.” You grimace at his accusation. 

For someone like Sukuna, any sort of reaction makes him want to tease you even more. “What were you staring at then?”

“I wasn’t staring at anything, I just dozed off.” You try to explain yourself. He believes you, but he’s bored and you’re fun to pick on. 

He nods as if he understands your struggles, then continues to add to them. “You took one look at it and started daydreaming, huh? How flattering” 

“Nobody’s staring at your fucking ass!” You snap at him and he looks rather pleased with himself. Geto just laughs, knowing damn well that it just encourages him to keep going.

Your heart drops when he starts walking towards you, grinning like an idiot. “Nope.” You say out loud, getting up from your seat. 

“Whad’ya mean no? C'mere.” He chuckles, getting closer. “I know you want some of this.” He says, holding his arms out, shamelessly offering himself to you. 

“You’re so fucking delusional, Sukuna.” You scoff, starting to walk away from him. “Stay away from me.” 

That all happened a month ago, and is still fresh in your memory. You’ve been dreading the thought of seeing him again, and now you’re supposed to spend the entire day with him. You really hated being a sorcerer sometimes.

At the 17 minute mark, he pulls up in a black BMW. It does not surprise you one bit, he makes a shit ton of money. 

Without a word, you and Megumi get in. You were hoping he’d sit in the front seat, but he for some reason decides to actually be respectful towards adults today, and sits in the back. There’s already a smile on his face when you open the door. It’s not sincere, it’s antagonizing and you want to smack it off of him.  

“Always a pleasure seeing you, sweetheart.” He drawls out, ignoring the teen in the back. 

“Wish I could say the same,” you mumble back, buckling your seatbelt.

Megumi apprehensively looks back and forth between you two from the backseat. The tension between you both is a thousand times worse than the tension between Gojo and Utahime.

“Still butthurt over last time?” He asks, picking up where he left off last time in terms of annoying the shit out of you. 

“What happened last time?” Megumi cuts in. For once you wish he’d mind his business and go on his phone. Nobara was right, he is a little gossiper. 

“I caught her st–”

“Nothing, Megumi.” You stop the man from finishing that sentence. You reach in your bag and take out a small pack of rice crackers and hand them to him, Gojo said they were his favorite snack. “Here, it’s gonna be a long ride, just relax until then.”

“Got any more for me?” Sukuna asks. 

You ignore his question and answer with a question that was actually relevant. “You have the address right?”

“Of course.” He says, pulling it up on the gps. 

“Great.” You let out a sigh, allowing your body to relax despite how much the special grade asshole triggers your fight or flight response. Thank god for earphones, you popped them in before he could find another way to mentally torture you. 

The only brightside to having him drive you both to the site is that it took 45 minutes instead of 2 hours, freeing up a couple hours of your day. In this line of work, there’s nothing you appreciate more than extra time. 

“Alright, we're here.” You hear Sukuna announce through the earbuds, prompting you to take them out.

You look out the window to look at the old, abandoned hospital. You had your work cut out for you today, not only is there a special grade curse in there, but it’s riddled with weaker ones ranging between grades 1-3.

The three of you step out of the car and scan the outside of the building, it’s one of the more eerie places sorcerers get sent to in terms of missions. You think about your younger, first-year self and how terrified she would’ve been of this place— thank god you’re not that girl anymore. 

Sukuna takes the initiative to cast a veil before leading you two to the closest place you could get to hell on earth. He’s not fazed by it, he walks into the eroded building without a care in the world, he’s taken missions like this a million times by now. 

Megumi knows the drill by now– weaker curses attack first, so you and Sukuna stand back while you watch him exorcise all of them one by one. He tries to start small talk with you, to which you pretend not to hear him. When he raises his voice in order for you to hear him, you tell him you’re trying to watch Megumi because you are his temporary guardian for the day. 

It’s whatever, he’ll get his chance to bother you again, eventually. 

30 minutes in, you’re fighting alongside Megumi because the stronger curses had finally started to reveal themselves. All while Sukuna continues to stay back and “observe”. Apparently he’s “reserving his energy” for when the big one pops up, but truth be told, he thinks he’s way too good to fight the more menial curses, leaving you and the boy to it. 

Neither of you were injured or showing signs of struggles anyways, he tells himself that you both had it all under control. 

Curses stop popping up… eventually. Both you and Megumi looked battered– clothes dirtied, a couple bruises here and there, out of breath because at one point they literally wouldn’t stop coming at you. 

And then there’s Sukuna– completely unscathed. Now that you think about it, the curses completely avoided him, you wonder why. 

“It’s here but it doesn’t wanna show itself.” He says, referring to the last one. “Guess I’m just gonna have to pull it out of hiding.” 

At this point, the three of you were in the back of the building, it allows Sukuna to completely flatten the place with just a flick of the wrist. You were about to finally ask what his technique was, but you don’t get the chance because an absolute behemoth of a curse pops up. 

The thing is huge, you have no idea how it was able to hide within the old hospital, it was about ¼ the size of what the building used to be before Sukuna demolished it. 

“Step back.” He looks over his shoulder and grins, “I got this.” He says, lazily walking up to the thing. 

You don't miss the way the curse takes a step back, as if it were reluctant to fight him. It made you think of when the curses from earlier were avoiding him and going straight to you and Megumi. It brings you to the realization that they were all afraid of him, including this one.

“Why is he taking his shirt off?” You ask Megumi, who’s not fazed one bit by Sukuna’s rather bizarre action.

“Just wait.” Megumi mumbles, studying the man intently—trying to see if he can learn something from him. Meanwhile there’s you, who is also studying Sukuna, but your attention’s more so on how godly his physique is. 

As if he couldn’t be anymore striking looks wise– his chest and back were even more defined than you’d imagined them to be, both adorned with tattoos. He even has nipple piercings. Some people just had it all, and Sukuna was unfortunately one of them.

Your attention’s taken off of his nipple piercings when he gets into a defensive stance and does some weird hand sign—something similar to Megumi whenever he summons his shikigami. The ground beneath him begins to thrum, flames start to spark all around him.

So his technique’s been fire this whole time? You think he's going to lay out his domain, but it's something much more interesting.

His body changes– taking on a monstrous form. A second pair of arms emerge from the flames, an extra pair of eyes burned through his face. He looks like something that came straight out of hell, but why's he kinda…

“Holy fuck.” You mumble under your breath. No wonder why he dresses the way he does, it finally clicks.

“Yeah.” The teen agrees with you. There’s a reason why he didn’t protest like he usually would when Ijichi said Sukuna was coming along, getting a front row seat to watch him fighting was rare. “He’s the only one that rivals Gojo-sensei.”

You notice his bottom eye glancing at you right before charging at the curse, you swore the curse let out a little yelp too. You almost felt sorry for the thing, it literally tried to run from him, but barely got the chance to turn around before Sukuna stuck all four of his hands into it and ripped it in half.

It was gruesome, you never want to hear the noise it made ever again– but that was a lot to ask for in your line of work. 

In the end, it took him 2.5 seconds to exorcise it– you don’t know if you should be impressed or annoyed. You all could’ve been out of here a long time ago had he helped from the beginning.

You continue to watch him, he’s just staring at his blood stained arms and hands before he burns them off– cleaning himself with fire. Once he was done with that, he comes striding back with the usual smug look on his face. 

“You enjoy the show?” He asks. 

Megumi immediately says yes, like a fucking fan. A part of you almost feels betrayed since he doesn’t realize how much time was wasted from him not helping earlier. 

You scoff. “If it was that easy for you, why couldn’t you just help us out earlier?!” You immediately grill him and he just snickers like a fucking asshole. 

“It’s a group mission, sweetheart.” He reminds you as he walks up, still in his monstrous form. “You two handle the curses in your grade, I handle the one in mine.” He flashes a smile, even his teeth are sharper. 

He’s breathtaking.

Not that you’d ever admit that.

“Whatever. You can turn back now.” You avert your eyes from him as you let him know. Why is it getting hot all of the sudden?

“What's the rush for?” He teasingly asks. “Does this form make you nervous? Don’t worry sweetheart, I don’t bite.”

“I’m sure you do with those chompers.” You mumble in return, still refusing to directly look at him. 

“Ooof. You wound me baby.” He says, rubbing his ridiculously chiseled chest as he takes a step closer towards you, well aware of how overwhelming his presence can be in this form.

“Okay ew.” Megumi cuts in, he's had enough of whatever the hell this is. “Can you two wait until I’m not here before you start fucking flirting with each other?”

“We weren’t fl–”

Sukuna cuts you off, “Sure thing.” 

Megumi mumbles something under his breath about how disgusting you two are, you don't really catch it though. You were more focused on calming down, which was hard because you could feel Sukuna still looking at you as if he were going to tear you apart next.

His eyes linger on you a little longer before taking his attention off of you completely. 

Where did his t-shirt even go?

He flung it to the side, it couldn’t have gone too far. It takes him a couple minutes before he finally finds it– turning back into his original form and putting it back on.

The car ride back was filled with Megumi asking him a bunch of questions while he gladly answered them. You had your ear phones in again, pretending like you weren’t listening, but you were, in hopes of maybe learning something.

To your surprise, you actually do. Your curse technique was air manipulation, you’re pretty sure you can come up with your own version of cleave if you amplified it.

You grudgingly admit to yourself that time really does fly when one’s having fun, because before you knew it, he had pulled up in front of the staircase that led to the school. Megumi was quick to get out, because let’s face it, he is still 15 and more than ready to relax and play video games– or do whatever he likes to do in his free time.

You’re also more than ready to relax, but Sukuna locks the doors right when you reach for the handle. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I was thinking,” he leans over the console. “You and I started off on the wrong foot.”

“And who’s fault is that?” You brows knit together.

“No ones,” he so innocently says. “I just never knew that you’d take first impressions that seriously.”

“You made fun of me for a whole 20 minutes after finding out what my technique was.” You remind him. 

He clicks his tongue in response, completely gaslighting you over what had happened. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You started calling me Aang and The Last Airbender!” You yell and he bursts out laughing because he still finds it funny. “It’s not fucking funny Sukuna that was my first week of working here.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry–” He holds his hands up in defense. “I couldn’t fuckin’ help it, it was too easy.” He continues to laugh, not showing an ounce of regret. 

“And then you continue to straight up harass me every time you see me!” You continue, hoping he’d get why you’re not the biggest fan of his. 

“I don’t harass you,” he continues to deny, what he would consider, accusations from you. “You just held a grudge from that day and never gave me another chance after that.”

“Yeah, because you’re a dick. You wouldn’t even help out during the mission.”

“Let me make it up to you then. How about let’s go grab some drinks or something while I’m still in town, I’ll even pay.” He offers, acting almost as if he were doing you a favor. 

“You wanna grab drinks?”

“Mhm.”

“Like a date?”

“Exactly,” he nods. “You catch on pretty quick.”

You try your best not to laugh in his face, he really doesn’t even try to hide how arrogant he is. You’re about to say no, you really should say no, but then you remember the nipple piercings and the way his back muscles flexed when walking up to the curse earlier.

“I’ll think about it.”

You still hated him for the way he treated you during your previous encounters, but there was nothing wrong with leaving the door open.

—

When you said you’d “think about it”, Sukuna already knew you weren’t going to be reaching out to him anytime soon. 

Which is why he didn’t immediately return the bracelet that you dropped at the curse site. He saw it glimmering in the rubble and immediately knew that was going to be his golden ticket to your heart… and other parts of you. 

He waited 3 days, for no reason other than to let the thought of him simmer in your mind, maybe hate him a little less. But he was leaving for another overseas mission in 3 days, he’ll be gone for two weeks– surely you’d want your bracelet back before then, right?

He pulls out his phone and dials the number he harassed Ijichi for, watching the bracelet dangle from his hold as he patiently waits for you to pick up. He also got a peak of your schedule this week (thanks Ijichi), you shouldn’t be busy at all right now. 

After the third ring, you finally pick up. “Hello?”

“Yo, it’s Sukuna. You left your bracelet in my car.” He cuts to chase, slightly twisting the truth while he does so.

“Oh… thanks?” You say apprehensively, thanking him felt weird. “You can just drop it off at the school tomorrow.” 

“No need, I'm outside your house.” He shamelessly reveals and your heart drops to your ass. 

“Wh– how do you know where I live? How did you even get my number?” You frantically ask. He imagines you panicking over his surprise visit and it brings him a sick sense of satisfaction. 

Another unhinged sentence flows out of his mouth as if it were normal, “You really think Ijichi would say no to me if I asked for your information?” He chuckles. You can hear him shut the car door through the phone. “Gonna let me in or what?”

“Fine.” You huff out before hanging up the phone, there was no point in staying on the phone with him if you were going to see him in a second. You hop off the couch and take a deep breath.

It’s just Sukuna, no reason to be nervous, you hate him, remember? You wipe your hands against your shorts– no clue as to why they clammed up all the sudden– before turning the door knob. 

You nearly startle out of your skin, he is standing way too close to the fucking door and he is so much taller than you remember. Even as he slouches against the doorframe, he is still towering over you, you can also smell the Dior Sauvage radiating off his skin. Even when he does nothing, he's still entirely too much for you. 

“Fuckin’ finally–” He groans and lets himself in. “It’s hot as fuck out there.” He states the obvious, you’ve had the AC blasting all day. You watch him in disbelief as he makes himself comfortable in your home, going straight to your fridge to see if there is anything for him to drink. 

He’s worse than Gojo. You guess that’s just a quirk that comes with being a Special Grade Sorcerer– they demand space rather than worry about taking up too much of it. 

He pulls out a beer, “Can I have this?”

“Surprised you’re asking when you didn’t even ask if you can look in the fridge.” 

“Good point.” He says before effortlessly popping the cap off the bottle using his teeth, you continue to stare at him in disbelief. “Gawkin’ at me again.” He points out and takes a sip of his (your) beer. 

“Sorry, I don’t know how to exactly act when a coworker, who’s barely a coworker, barges into my home and raids my fridge.” You nearly pout as you cross your arms. 

He smiles and takes one more sip before setting it down. “So sensitive.” 

You roll your eyes at his lack of care. “Can I have my bracelet back now?”

“Oh– yeah.” He acts as if he almost forgot, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out the dainty gold chain that has a pink butterfly on it. “The clasp was broken, so I fixed it.”

“Really?” You take it from him and inspect it. Looks like he actually did, the clasp was slightly darker than the rest of the chain, no one would notice though. “Wow, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He looks way too proud of himself. “Consider it my apology for that one time.”

“It wasn’t just one time.” You kindly remind him.

“No need to bring up all the other times,” he uses the same fake-pleasant tone as you. He takes the bracelet from you and clasps it around your wrist. 

“Such a gentleman, Sukuna.”

“I’m a feminist too.” He adds, flashing that million dollar smile of his.

“Okay, cut the shit.” You stop him from saying anything else. “What do you want?”

—

“Taking me so fucking good baby– y’know how long I’ve wanted to see you like this?”

You’re not exactly sure what it was that he said that got you in this position, or if it was even words themselves that led to this. 

Maybe it was the way he looked at you. 

Or the way he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you in, slipping his tongue in your mouth the moment his lips touched yours.

All you know is he promised you’d enjoy yourself somewhere along the way and now he has you in the world's meanest arch— ass hiked up nice and high, pulling you back to meet each and every one of his powerful thrusts. He digs his nails into your hips while you grip the sheets, holding on for dear life as he delivers the backshots he promised.

You thought he’d be one of those guys that would try to stay quiet in bed, he’s not. He lets out the most deep and sinful moans each time you tighten around his unbelievably thick cock, he tells you how much of a good girl you are, he chants your name like it’s a fucking prayer. 

“Kuna– w-wait,” you whine out.

“What’s wrong?” He asks mockingly. He grabs you by your hair and pulls you up, not letting up on his harsh thrusts. “Want me to stop?” 

“N-no, I–” You falter, not knowing exactly what it is that you actually want. He wraps his free hand around your neck and pounds into you even harder.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought,” He mutters in you ear, you can feel him smirking against you. “Just be a good girl and let go for me, yeah?”

You pathetically nod because anything else would’ve come out as a strangled moan– all that can be heard right now is harsh slaps and wet squelches while he continues to drive his cock into you. You’re pretty sure you came for the 4th time just a couple seconds ago and he thinks so too, drawing a chuckle out of him. 

He knew you’d like his dick. 

“Gonna let me cum in you? Fuuuck—want me to fill you up?” He groans, thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you shamelessly beg in between moans. “Fuck yes– give it to me, fill me up Kuna.”

“Fuck– alright,” he sputters out with a smile, shaking his head– not expecting you to start begging like that, at all. 

He lets go of your hair and wraps both arms around your waist, doubling over while keeping up the sloppy pace. His breath tickles against your ear as his groans become needier, whinier. He tries his best not to bite down when he buries his face into the crook of your neck– not quite sure if you’re into that kinda shit. 

Maybe next time. 

“Fuck!” He slams a hand down onto the bed, holding you both up while he starts pumping you full of his cum. 

It so much, it’s begins to seep out of you before he’s even done cumming and he keeps fucking you well after the fact– making your toes curl, crying out his name as he overstimulates you both.

He doesn’t come to a full stop and takes his time to come down from his high, slowly rocking back and forth inside you. 

“You good?” He softly murmurs in your ear, slowly pulling out of you– keeping in mind that you might be a little sensitive right now.

“Yeah.” You sigh, trying to catch your breath, collapsing face down on the bed. 

He chuckles, “Don’t tap out just yet– m' not done with ya.” 

“What do you mea–” Your questions cut off from a familiar thrumming noise, making your words get caught in your throat. 

You reluctantly turn around to find him in his… other form, with a smug grin on his face. You swear you feel a part of your soul leave your body when the mouth appears on his stomach. “Don’t look so scared, sweetheart.” He laughs at the visible shock on your face. “Lookin’ at me like I’m some kinda monster.”

He makes you wrap your hands around his neck while one pair of his arms holds on to your waist. The other pair grab the backs of your knees and push them up to your chest. You didn’t think he could reach inside of you any deeper, but he does as he continues to fuck you without a care in the world. 

You feel everything, every inch, every vein. 

The grip he has your waist and legs is strong while he uses you like his own personal fuck toy, continuously slamming you down on all 10 inches of him. While you’re a crying mess, he’s in absolute heaven– moaning your name, not shutting up over how good you feel wrapped around him. 

The whole thing’s just insane, he drops your body down on to his length when he fucks up into you, the tongue on his stomach laps at your clit. You were a fool to think he was nasty before—having him use your body like this, giving you inescapable pleasure, just feels downright sinful. 

It almost feels wrong, but the thought slowly gets swept away each time his fat tip slides against your sweet spot, each time that hot, wet tongue swipes against your clit. 

He loves the way you clench around him when his extra tongue flicks harshly against your sensitive bundle of nerves, the way you stare at it in disbelief– nothing but concern on your face, yet your moans say otherwise. 

“Feelin’ good baby?” He asks. 

“Mhm,” you frantically nod, you couldn’t even hide it if you tried. “Is this even l-legal?”

“I have no idea.” He laughs through the loud slaps and wet squelches that filled the room. 

He fucks you for hours, in multiple positions.

Positions you didn’t even know were possible, but he made happen with the extra limbs he had. 

Sukuna’s just as ruthless in bed as he is in a battle, he was ripping you apart like he did with that curse, just in a different way. 

You don’t even remember passing out, let alone what time you fell asleep. The last thing you remember was him praising you for squirting on him for the nth time– he wore you the fuck out, broke you in like a brand new pair of shoes. 

Your usual alarm goes off at 6:00 am, like it does on every work day. You let out a sigh and shove your face in the pillow, trying to drown out the noise of the repetitive beeping. It’s become easy to ignore after all these years. 

What’s hard to ignore is the foreign grumbling you hear right next to you, making your head pop up and eyes shoot open. 

You’re immediately met with a messy head of pink hair, sprawled over your bed– taking up more than half of it, as if it were his. The blankets are just barely covering him, you can see his ass crack peeking through the sheets.

“Turn that shit off.” He boyishly complains with a fucking frown on his face. 

You immediately get up, reach over his body, and slam the alarm clock off. “Get up.” You snap at him. 

He apprehensively opens one eye, trying to gauge how annoyed you are at him for spending the night. You can’t possibly be mad at him for this, he was tired too!

“That’s no way to treat a guest.” He says in return, pulling you in to lay on top of him and closing his eyes again. 

“It is when the said guest overstays their welcome.” You hiss back, trying to get up but the hold he has on you is just too strong. 

“So mean.” He complains. “Thought I fucked the attitude outta’ ya last night.”

You groan at his laxness, saying something along the lines of how fucking irritating he was. He doesn’t seem to care and even goes as far as to almost falling asleep again, but you keep him from doing so by slapping his chest. 

“Let go, I have work in two hours!” You began to whine at the big brute of a man. 

“I doubt you can even walk right now.” He stubbornly responds.

“Yes I can.”

“Alright.” He lets go of you. “Let’s see it then.”

You already struggle to push yourself off of him and he catches you by your arm when you almost fall off the bed. “Told you so.”

“Last night was such a fucking mistake.” You began to say to yourself, it sounded like a whimper to Sukuna and he snickers to himself.

“Fuckin’ drama queen.” He continues to laugh and shakes his head. “How about this– I’ll heal you and help you out with your missions today.”

“You know how to use RCT?” You ask, interest now piqued.

“Of course I do.” He scoffs. “Fuck I look like to you?”

You hold back on saying something mean, because you’d really like to get healed right now without having to tell Shoko how you ended up like this. “Alright, fine. But just a heads up, Inumaki’s going to be with me for the day.”

He groans into the pillow, obviously not happy with that piece of information. “Do you have an iPad?”

“...No. Why?”

“I don’t understand anything that kid fuckin’ says.” He complains. 

“You’ll be fine.” You pat his shoulder. “Now get up and heal me already. We have a long day ahead of us.”

notes: fun fact! i was listening to the kyoto x im god mashup while writing this. i had so much fun making this version of him. i feel like if he had been born in the same era as the rest and was (somewhat) nurtured as a child, he’d have so much fun with his life LOL. just completely unserious, making fun of people all the time, and just overall living his best, slutty life.

anyways, i may or may not turn this into a series 🫣 idk, we’ll see. i’d have to drop one of my current ones though.

All rights reserved © 2024 yenayaps. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

PINK BOWS | NANAMI KENTO

syn. your boyfriend is scared of intimacy, but for all the reasons you never expected.

── virgin!nanami kento & fem-bodied!reader, established relationship, panty kink, masturbation, sexual fantasies, accidental vouyerism, etc | 3.1k words ( minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact )

note. a fic i found in drafts that i never got around to posting.

Nanami had been raised to value his future career-wise over all else. Taking his parents’ teachings to heart, he solely focused on his career, making sure that he followed the path to becoming someone who was financially stable and didn’t need to stress over bills and obligations. However, that seemed to be the only merit to it— not having to worry and being able to live a lavish life. They didn’t mention the exhaustion he would experience, putting excruciating hours in working behind a desk. They didn’t tell him how robotic it would feel to wake up for most days to get ready, go to work, and come back home at late hours to only eat takeout and fall straight to sleep. 

Barely a social life because all of his friends and the people close to him are always busy and when they do have the time, he unfortunately doesn’t. It was such a period of lonesomeness for Nanami, surviving but never really living. It wasn’t until a rare occasion of getting off of work early that he found himself in a bar, hitched up at a stool and slouching over the counter with a glass of whiskey nestled in his hand. He let out a deep sigh as he felt like this is the most rest he’s gotten ever since becoming a salaryman. In his blue button and animal print tie, he loosens the decorative piece and unbuttons the first few of his shirt as he slouches.

The sound of jazz playing through the speakers and the voices of other customers piling in on the Friday evening. He’s unaware of the pair of eyes that have settled on him this evening, the fine dime that watches two seats to his right. In a cute black backless dress that hugs every curve, you admire the blonde beauty that seems so exhausted. The way he composes himself, you can tell that he’s a reserved man and if anything, you’d have to be the one making a move on him. In your hand, a Sex on the Beach, the fruity drink gets disposed of in a few chugs before you’re standing on your heels and pulling out the stool right next to him. The scraping of the chair legs finally calls for his attention as his chestnut-colored eyes come into view. 

He wonders how you were able to do it so quickly. The many times he’s been approached by women in the office, he was always quick to turn them down. However, with you, he didn’t feel that inclination to deny you. You spoke as if it was your right to have him, the way your eyes twinkled as you smiled up at him and started an easy conversation beginning with a simple “hey!” You had so much charm to you that it loosened him up, and while you carried on most of the conversation, he found himself deeply captivated by you as you were him. 

At the end of the night, both of you exchanged numbers. You gnawed on your bottom lip, eyes flickering to his with a desire that he wasn’t used to seeing. You started to inch closer in hopes of something more, but you felt his body tense up when your lips ghosted him as you stood on your tippy-toes as he backed away. He cleared his throat, quickly dismissing the failed kiss and bidding you a farewell. “Have, uh— have a lovely night,” he stammered out before his leather shoes clicked on the hard concrete and he turned his back on you. 

Leaving you alone in the chilling night, you were grateful for the lack of people to witness your embarrassment before your heels clicked against the sidewalk as you walked in the other direction. He remembered feeling such guilt for leaving you hanging like that, and he felt anger within himself for doing the same to him. He’d love to have a taste of those plump and glossy lips of yours. Do they taste as sweet as you look? However, that curiosity died as his anxiety overcrowded his brain and spoke against his better judgment, his mind chastising him for a week as he stared at your phone number, neither one of you having the strength to message first. 

It’s pathetic how he deprives himself of something— someone— he wants. Someone he needs. Because only the heavens know how much Nanami needs this. Thankfully the gods listen to his pleas and his incessant whining, granting him the courage to finally message you first and ask you out on a date. It took you a couple of hours to respond back, debating with yourself if you should really go out with a man who backed away from a kiss. However, you figured that you were only being too fast and he wanted to take things slow. 

  He took you out to a food mall, a large building backed with restaurants, bakeries and cafes all in one setting. It proved that he was truly paying attention to you when you were droning on and on back in that bar. Dressed in a pink sundress that flowed down your body, each strut you took had Nanami mesmerized when you got excited and ran off to look at something. Your eyes would sparkle as a worker would come and hand you a little skewer to try. And for once Nanami was happy with his job, grateful to be able to spend ample of money on a pretty thing such as yourself. He didn’t care how much he spent on you, as long as he got to see the way your eyes lit up as you beckoned him to follow right behind you. 

Winning over each other’s hearts, you placed the titles of boyfriend and girlfriend on each other. Nanami was content with it, happy to spend time with you— to hug and hold you close whenever you came to visit him and vice versa. However, while he was complacent in the place where your relationship stood, you weren’t. When you finally managed to kiss him, they were always a peck and never lasted for too long, and even when he held you, that felt awkward. 

You could never rest on his lap, your head always against his chest. When you tried to deepen the kiss, he’d always pull away. Dammit, when you tried to take it even further, thinking that you were ready to sleep with him, he’d always break that sexual tension that lingered in the air, cutting his visit short. 

He treated you so well in almost every aspect except for the ropes of intimacy. Were you doing something wrong?

—

Nanami felt guilty for how he’d pull away, and deny you of what you wanted. He really did, but you really didn’t understand what you do to him. He felt weak and pathetic about how just being in such close proximity to his girlfriend made him feel. How his cock would create a tent in his pants and he struggled to conceal it. How had you not noticed? His body would shudder every time you tried climbing on his lap, his entire body stiffening as you’d do so. When you tried to deepen the kiss, he felt like he was a high school boy again, near to releasing in his pants. Things would escalate and he was afraid of the possible embarrassment he would feel for his inexperience. 

He should know better. He should know that you, his sweet little girlfriend, would always be so understanding and love him regardless. Something that he shouldn’t be so ashamed of. What was there to be? For you to know that your boyfriend loves you so much that he finds your presence to be an excruciating turn on? That a simple peck on his lips drives him crazy? That a single hug made him want to devote the rest of his life to you? He knows this conversation will happen sooner or later. But, for right now, he’d prefer it later. 

Standing outside your apartment door, he unlocks the door with ease, pushing it gently open. Your car’s not outside, but you should be home soon according to your work schedule. He had forgotten some work from his last visit, wanting your company while he caught up on the tedious workload, but ultimately forgetting it by the time that he left. Entering your small abode, the chill of inside greatly contrasts the heat of outside as he shuts the door behind him. He kicks off his shoes, a habit of his as he makes a beeline straight to your bedroom. Your bedroom door is wide open and he can spot just what he needs right on the desk that he claims as his own as you barely use it. 

He reaches for the stack of paper when he takes notice of a flimsy piece of fabric lying on the ground. Letting go of the documents, the sound of his footsteps echo through the room. Bending on his knees, he picks up a pair laced white panties with a pink bow right at the center. It has pink trimmings and in Nanami’s hand, they feel silky to the touch. He curses to himself for this type of intrusion. You’ve come to trust him so much to give him a spare key to your apartment, but here he is violating it to hold your dirty pair of panties and having the nerve to get hard while he’s at it. 

“Fuck,” he curses, looking at the crotch of your undergarment to see a dirty patch of your discharge. The way he can feel his cock strain in his khaki work pants makes him feel embarrassed and dirty, his face heating up in a shade of red. However, he never throws down the flimsy garment. He doesn’t stop himself from bringing it up to his nose, taking a heavy waft to know what you smell like. The musky scent of sweat and the pungent scent of your discharge overflowing his senses is overwhelming, feeling how his cock twitches inside his pants. He lets out a stuttered breath, his free hand going to cup his erection in some sort of attempt to let go of some of the tension. 

Veins protruding his hands as he palms himself, hands running along his girth. He can feel precum leaking from his tip. He hisses with how the urethra runs against the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs, wanting relief from its confined torture. He used to think of himself as a better man than this, a man who wouldn’t succumb to lust. However, the longer he withholds himself from you, the stronger the urge and his resolve is breaking— or, it has already broken. 

He finds himself sitting on the very edge of your bed, toes curling as he brings himself to undo his belt, letting the buckle fall as he loosens it. He unzips his pants, providing further relief to himself before he’s shimmying out of his pants and underwear. His work shirt rides up, revealing the blonde happy trail that leads to his cock. A dark shaft in comparison to his bright pink head, it’s swollen with lust as he continues to drip of precum. 

Nanami glances at the clock sitting on the ivory-colored nightstand. You’ll be back in less than an hour, which should be ample of time to get himself off before disappearing. He just has to make sure that he cleans up after himself well. His heart races at the excitement, which only makes him more turned on for this endeavor. Cupping his balls, he fondles them before letting your panties drop, them landing on his lap before he drapes it around his length. It looks pretty like this, he can’t help but think. He fixes the next hole down his cock before gripping the base of his length. Spit pools in his mouth before it lands on his pelvis, making him swipe the glob down. He smears it down his length, painting himself with the innocent body fluid. 

The palms of his hand are cold, making him tense up as he hikes up one leg for the pad of his foot to rest on the edge of your bed frame. The metal digs into the heel of his foot as he sets a moderate pace, toes curling as he can only think about you. He imagines your plump lips wrapped around his length, taking him in so slowly as those beady eyes of yours would look at him so innocently. Batting your eyelashes at him while you have your mouth open, on your knees so pliantly as he guides his cock to your lips. Precum smeared over your lips just how you like to decorate your lips with gloss. They’d shine so beautifully and smell just like him, too. You’d work your mouth like a pro, taking him inch by inch and making his mouth fall open as he’d throw his head back. 

This is all he thinks about when he’s pumping his cock, his grip tightening as he can only imagine. It’s shameful with how quick that coil in his stomach approaches, a choked up gasp leaving his lips as his cock twitch. His hold tightens around the base as he uses the next hand to cup at his balls with your panties wrapped around it. He can imagine you wearing these, how they’d hug you so cutely.

You’d be stripping out of your clothes slowly, in an effort to tease. They’d work, too. Shredding each layer of clothing until you’re in nothing but those same pair of panties before sauntering over to him seductively. And when you’re in front of him, forcing him to look up at you as you push him to lay down. You’d crawl over his body, your bare breasts hanging freely as you rest your ass down on his pelvis. You’d grind your hips so sweetly wearing those white laced panties, pink trimmings and a pink bow right in the middle, telling him to claim his prize. 

You’d grind your hips amazingly, putting him in a trance as you have his cock aching for more than the rock of your hips. His fingers digging into your flesh before trying to bring you even closer to him. You’d manage to make him whimper out the most pathetically filthy whines and whimpers known to man. He knows it. He just knows it. 

He knows it by the drawn out moan he makes when he releases on the white tiles, spurting out a load that should be stuffed inside of you. He throws his head back, nearly slipping off the bed before he catches himself. It feels euphoric to let himself go, to give into his cravings for you. If only you were here though, he sighs. It feels pointless to voice that if the person he craves the most isn’t here. 

But, speaking of the devil, you’re parking next to his silver Lexus, your 2010 Honda looking shabby in comparison to the up-to-date vehicle that belonged to your boyfriend. You hum in content, your eyes lighting up in anticipation to see your boyfriend. Parking the car, you reach for your handbag as you climb out the vehicle. With the click of a button, your car is locked as you climb the two-story flight to your apartment. You’re out of breath by the time you’re in front of the door and fishing for the right key off of your keychain. 

He promised himself that it would be quick, but Nanami’s still fucking his fist. His carnal desire for you pouring throughout in this moment, not hearing the shuffle of the locks from your front door. So absorbed in this lustful moment as he squeezes the tip, his fingers coated in his seed as he quickens the pace. 

You can see his shoes resting in the right corner while you hang your bag on the rack and shimmy out of your cardigan, kicking off your flats gently. While he can’t hear you, you hear him— the deep sounds of his voice grunting and panting from afar. With furrowed eyebrows, confusion fills you before realization as you near your bedroom. The wet sounds of plat, plat, plat echoing as you take careful steps. Your heart races as your eyes widen when you take a peek inside of your bedroom to see the compromising state of your boyfriend. 

Sitting on your bed with his pants resting a bit above his knees. His cock, spent as he strokes it. You can see the jagged line of his cum squirted out on the floor, strays catching his pants and the rest dripping from his fist. Arousal pools immediately as you silently watch, clenching your thighs together as you shuffle on your footing. You’ve been unknowingly holding your breath, your face heating up as you watch this moment. Your mouth dries up, gulping as your eyes flicker to his length as you watch his languid movement. His hip bucking in further need. It’s then do you see the strikingly bright shade of white and hints of pink, falling under realization that he’s jerking off with your panties wrapped around him. Shit, you curse as you start to heave. You cup your heat in need, thighs trapping your hand as you grind into your digits. 

“Shit,” Nanami curses, calling out your name as he can feel his balls tighten and his legs stiffen. “Fuck, I need you.”

With another orgasm, it’s not as copious as the previous, the trail following a shorter path as he paints his hand in his seed. Hips stuttering, he brings himself to lean back, using his cleaner hand to hold up his weight to bring himself back to reality. A fog full of stars and ecstasy clouding his vision before it’s all cleared up. He thinks he’s alone. He thinks the coast is all clear until he’s sitting up and right at the door way you’re standing there. He gasps, calling out your name in shock.

You feel like a deer caught in headlights, but this is your apartment after all. Eyes dilated as your hand is still stuffed in between your legs, you let out a heavy breath. It’s nice to know that all your worries about your relationship seem to get relieved at this moment as you quickly become elated. 

You start to saunter towards him, just as he envisioned. Only, you’re fully clothed when you push him down on the bed. His eyes widen as he calls out, “Wait. I—”

You cut him off, taking his cum-coated hand and bringing it to your lips. Tongue sticking out, you clean him all up and all his worries dissipate as he curses once more, fuck. “Whatever it is, promise that we work through it together, ya?”

Nanami nods, speechless and he puts all of his trust in you and his cock hardens again. He was a fool to be so worried. Finally, he’s able to mutter out a single word. “Yeah, okay.”

subscriptions ── @r0ckst4rjk @kasukuna @satsattoru @blcknebula @tojirin

15K OF PURE FANFICTION DON'T TELL ME THIS DOESN'T HAPPEN IN ONE OF THE MULTIVERSES

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.”

satoru pushes his tip inside you and cries. like literal fat tears because your pussy is so damn addicting.

"mmh fhhuck! missed my sweet pussy so much, baby," he whimpers.

"ah! but we just fucked an h-hour ago."

"felt like a week to me. shit. ahhh, taking me so well." you feel something wet fall on you skin, almost like a sweat drop but when you look at his face, your angel boy is crying. you try to get him off you to figure out what's wrong.

"no no no, baby. where you goin'?" he pulls you back into his embrace and onto his dick. "don't go ngh–gonna make you feel so good, i promise."

"toru, are you crying?"

"c-can't help it. you make me go fucking crazy, princess. sweet. fucking. cunt. making me cry. who woulda thought—holy shit."

you are convinced this is the highest form of appreciation you have ever gotten. pussy so good, made the strongest sorcerer cry.

i think that the blue lock fandom needs more raichi enthusiasts