Floaresta

he’s aware of how pathetic this is.

he’s aware that he, ryomen sukuna, who has a reputation for being the most terrifying person on campus, who once made a guy cry simply by looking at him, is currently sitting here like a lovesick teenager in a bad rom-com. he knows damn well that if anyone — really, anyone — caught him staring at you like this, his entire carefully constructed image would crumble into dust. but he can’t stop; he’s never been able to stop.

you’re just so . . . so you.

composed and unflappable and impossibly graceful, even when you’re stressed out of your mind. sukuna has seen you handle a student council meeting where half the members were at each other’s throats, he has seen you smooth over a crisis when the spring festival almost got cancelled, he has seen you calmly talk down a furious professor who was threatening to fail an entire class. you don’t raise your voice. you never panic, you just . . . handle things, and sukuna thinks that’s the most attractive thing he’s ever witnessed.

he’s been in love with you since day one, and he’s been too much of a coward to do anything about it.

it’s not that he’s scared of rejection — okay, fine, maybe sukuna is terrified of rejection, but that’s not the main issue! the main issue is that he has absolutely no idea how to approach you; you’re the student council president, busy and important and constantly surrounded by people. you don’t go to parties, you don’t hang out in the quad, you don’t do anything that would give him a natural opportunity to strike up a conversation. and even if you did, what would he even say? hey, i’m the guy who’s been pining over you for two years, want to get coffee? no. absolutely not.

so he’s settled for something more subtle; something that, in his mind, is a grand romantic gesture but in reality is just deeply, deeply nerdy.

sukuna has been leaving you paper flowers.

it started last semester, when sukuna found himself in the art building for a general ed class he was barely passing. he’d wandered into the sculpture studio while waiting for his professor, and there’d been a stack of origami paper sitting on one of the tables. he’d picked up a sheet without thinking, his fingers moving on autopilot, folding and creasing until a small paper rose sat in his palm; it was clumsy and lopsided and missing a petal, but something about it made him think of you, so he’d left it on your usual table in the student union, tucked under the corner of your laptop, and he’d practically sprinted out of the building before you could see him.

the next day, the flower was gone, and sukuna’s heart had nearly stopped on the spot.

he’d stared at the empty spot on the table for a solid minute, wondering if you’d thrown it away, wondering if you’d even noticed it, wondering if he was the biggest idiot on the planet. but then you’d walked in, and there it was — the paper rose, sitting next to your coffee cup, carefully propped up so it wouldn’t get crushed. you’d touched it gently when you sat down, a small, soft smile flickering across your face before you turned back to your paperwork.

and sukuna had felt like he was floating.

that was three months ago.

he’s left you a paper flower almost every day since, each one slightly better than the last. sukuna has gotten embarrassingly good at origami, spending hours in his small apartment folding and folding until his fingers ache. he’s made you roses and lilies and tulips, each one carefully crafted from sheets of paper he buys in bulk from the craft store. he never leaves a note — that would be too obvious and too direct — and he always makes sure to leave before you arrive, so he can watch from a distance as you find his little offering and smile that soft, private smile that makes his chest ache.

it’s the closest sukuna has ever gotten to you, and it’s simultaneously the most wonderful and most torturous thing he’s ever experienced.

today, he’s got a new flower in his bag, a delicate paper camellia he spent two hours on last night. his fingers are twitching with the urge to go place it on your table, but you’re already sitting there, which means he’s going to have to wait a little until you leave for your next class. sukuna checks his watch — you usually head to the library around ten, so he’s got about twenty minutes.

twenty minutes of sitting here, pretending to drink his coffee, trying not to stare too obviously.

well . . . sukuna fails miserably.

you’re wearing a sweater today, something soft and cream-colored that makes you look impossibly cozy. your hair is a little messier than usual, like you ran out the door without checking a mirror, and there’s a tiny smudge of ink on your cheek. sukuna’s fingers itch with the urge to reach out and wipe it away. he wants to touch you so badly it’s almost painful. he wants to know what you feel like, if you’re as warm as you look, if your skin is soft under his calloused fingertips. he wants to hear your voice directed at him, not at some other student or professor, he wants to see those calm, steady eyes looking at him for once.

sukuna is so lost in his thoughts that he almost misses it when you start packing up your things. he jerks upright, nearly knocking over his coffee, and watches as you slip your laptop into your bag and stand up. you pause for a moment, glancing around the room, and sukuna ducks his head so fast he nearly gives himself whiplash.

he can feel his face burning, he can feel the heat creeping down his neck, and he presses his palms against his thighs to stop them from shaking.

when sukuna dares to look up again, you’re gone, and the table is empty.

sukuna moves before he can think about it, crossing the room in a few long strides and finally dropping the paper camellia onto your table. it lands perfectly, right in the spot where your laptop was, and he’s about to turn and flee when he hears a soft voice behind him.

“you know, i’ve been wondering who’s been leaving these.”

sukuna freezes as his blood turns to ice.

his heart stops, then starts again at double speed, hammering against his ribs like it’s trying to escape. he turns around slowly, painfully, and there you are, standing a few feet away with your bag slung over your shoulder and an expression on your face that he can’t quite read.

you’re looking at him. at him. your eyes are steady and calm, just like he always imagined, and they’re focused entirely on his face. sukuna’s mouth goes dry. he opens it, closes it, opens it again, and absolutely no sound comes out.

you tilt your head slightly, and there’s a little hint of something — amusement? curiosity? — in your gaze.

“you’re ryomen sukuna, right? the guy who made a freshman cry last week for stealing his seat in the lecture hall?”

sukuna winces.

“that was—he was being an asshole,” sukuna manages, his voice coming out rough and strained. “he sat in my seat and then he laughed about it. i just—i looked at him. that’s it. i didn’t even say anything.”

“and yet he cried,” you say, and there’s definitely amusement in your voice now. a tiny quirk at the corner of your mouth. “you must have a very intimidating look.”

“i don’t—i mean, i’m not—that’s not—”

sukuna is aware that he’s babbling. he’s aware that his ears are probably bright red, that his hands are shaking like crazy, that he looks like a complete and utter idiot. he’s also aware that you’re still looking at him, and you haven’t run away screaming, which feels like a minor miracle.

“that’s not who i am,” he finally manages. “i mean, i’m not—i don’t go around making people cry. that was a one-time thing. he just—he really pissed me off.”

“i believe you,” you say, and sukuna’s poor heart does a triple axel. “so . . . the flowers.”

“the flowers,” sukuna echoes weakly.

“they’re yours, aren’t they?”

you step closer, and sukuna’s breath catches in his throat. you’re close enough now that he can smell your shampoo, something floral and warm, and he has to resist the urge to lean in like a complete creep.

“i’ve been getting them for a few months now. every time i come to this table, there’s a new one. i thought it was someone in the art club at first, but they said they didn’t know anything about it.”

sukuna is trying very hard not to pass out.

“it’s—yeah. they’re from me.”

“why?”

the question is simple, direct, and utterly devastating.

sukuna opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. his brain is screaming at him to say something smooth, something charming, something that won’t make him look like a complete fool. what comes out instead is;

“i wanted to give you flowers, but i didn’t know if you were allergic to real ones, so i made them out of paper. because paper flowers don’t cause allergies. and they last forever. so you can keep them as long as you want, and they won’t die, and—and i just thought they might make you smile.”

sukuna is not really sure when exactly he started rambling, but he can’t seem to stop. you’re still looking at him with that unreadable expression, and his face is so hot he’s surprised his skin hasn’t melted off.

“i didn’t want to be too obvious,” sukuna continues, his voice getting higher with every word. “i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. and i didn’t know what to say, or how to say it, so i just—i kept making them. i didn’t think you’d notice. i mean, i hoped you’d notice, but i didn’t think you’d—you’re always so busy, and you’re the student council president, and you have all these important things to do, and i didn’t want to bother you, and—”

“sukuna.”

he stops, his mouth still open mid-sentence.

you’ve said his name . . . you’ve said his name! the world feels tilted, slightly off-kilter, like he’s standing on a ship in a storm.

“you don’t bother me,” you say, and there’s something soft in your voice now, something that makes his chest ache. “i’ve been looking forward to these flowers every day. i have all of them. i keep them in a box under my bed.”

sukuna’s brain short-circuits. “you—you keep them?”

“of course i do.”

you reach out and pick up the paper camellia he just placed on the table, turning it over in your fingers. your touch is gentle, almost reverent, and sukuna feels like he’s going to combust.

“they’re beautiful. i’ve never seen anyone make flowers like this. the detail is incredible.”

“i practice a lot,” sukuna says, and immediately wants to sink into the floor. “i mean—i just—i like making them. for you. i like making them for you.”

you look up at him, and there’s a smile on your face now, a real one, soft and warm and absolutely devastating. sukuna feels his heart stop for the second time in five minutes.

“do you want to sit down?” you ask, gesturing to the table. “i have some time before my next class. i’d like to talk to you.”

sukuna is going to die.

he’s absolutely going to die, right here in the student union, and his last thought will be about how pretty your smile is.

“yeah,” he manages, his voice barely above a whisper. “yeah, okay. i’d like that.”

you sit down, and sukuna sits across from you, his long legs folding awkwardly under the table. his heart is pounding so loud he’s sure you can hear it, and his palms are sweating, and he’s pretty sure he’s making the most pathetic expression known to man. but you don’t seem to mind. you just look at him, that soft smile still playing on your lips, and sukuna feels like the luckiest person on earth.

“so,” you say, leaning forward slightly. “tell me about yourself, ryomen sukuna. other than your impressive origami skills.”

sukuna swallows.

his throat feels tight, and his huge hands are still trembling, and he’s never been more nervous in his entire existence. but you’re looking at him like you actually want to hear what he has to say, like sukuna is not just some scary-looking guy with a reputation, and that gives him the courage to open his mouth and start talking.

he tells you about his major — history, because he likes the stories — and about his shitty apartment off-campus, and about the stray cat he feeds even though he claims he’s not a cat person. he tells you about his tattoos, the meanings behind them, the way the ink felt on his skin. he tells you about his family, or lack thereof, and the way he’s always felt like he had to be tough to survive.

and you listen.

you actually listen, nodding along, asking questions, offering small hums of acknowledgment. you don’t flinch when he talks about the harder parts of his life. you don’t look at him like he’s a monster. you just sit there, patient and warm, and sukuna feels something crack open in his chest.

“what about you?” sukuna finally asks, when he’s run out of words. “tell me about yourself. the real stuff, not the student council president stuff.”

you blink, and for a moment, your composure wavers. it’s the first time he’s seen you look anything less than perfectly put-together, and it makes his heart squeeze.

“i don’t know,” you say, and there’s a hint of something vulnerable in your voice. “i feel like i’m always the one people come to with their problems. i don’t get a lot of chances to just, you know . . . talk.”

“then talk,” sukuna says, and he sincerely means it. “i’m here. i’m listening.”

you look at him for a long moment, and then you smile, small and shy, and sukuna’s heart melts into a puddle.

you tell him about the pressure you feel, the weight of everyone’s expectations, the loneliness that comes with being in charge. you tell him about your love for old movies and the way you stay up too late reading, and about the dreams you have that you’re too scared to chase.

and sukuna listens.

he listens like it’s the most important thing he’s ever done, because it is. he watches the way your hands move when you talk, the way your eyes light up when you describe something you love, the way your shoulders relax just a little bit, like you’re finally letting yourself breathe.

“i’m glad you’re the one who’s been leaving those paper flowers,” you say, and sukuna’s breath catches once again. “i always wondered what kind of person would go to so much effort for a stranger.”

“you’re not a stranger,” sukuna says, and his voice comes out rough and earnest. “you’ve never been a stranger. i’ve—i’ve been watching you for two years. not in a creepy way,” he adds quickly, when your eyebrows raise. “i just—i see you. i see how hard you work, how much you care. i’ve always wanted to tell you that. i just didn’t know how.”

your cheeks flush; it’s a tiny, barely-there pink, but sukuna notices it. he notices everything about you.

“well,” you say, and your voice is slightly breathless. “you’re telling me now.”

“yeah,” sukuna says, and he’s smiling, a real smile, one that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “i guess i am.”

the silence between them is comfortable, warm, filled with something that feels a lot like possibility. and when you reach out and touch his hand, just a brief, feather-light brush of your fingers against his, sukuna feels like he’s flying.

“the camellia,” you say softly, looking down at the paper flower. “do you know what it means?”

sukuna shakes his head, his throat too tight for words.

“it means gratitude,” you say, and you look up at him, your eyes shining. “thank you for letting me see the real you, sukuna. and thank you for the flowers. i think this is the best gift anyone’s ever given me.”

sukuna’s heart is so full it feels like it’s going to burst.

he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to express the way he’s feeling, so he just squeezes your hand and deeply hopes you understand.

and when you smile at him, soft and bright, he knows you do.

A/N: I was too excited to wait until tomorrow, this was my first dilf!bucky story after all 😭 hope you'll enjoy!

The retail store is too bright and colorful compared to the stormy sky outside. 

You and your friends have been coming here ever since middle school. Back then, Yelena’s older sister was the only one with a driver’s license, piling all of you into her car to take you wherever you wanted to go. Halloween has always been your favorite excuse to spend time together, with Kate opening her doors for your annual sleepover: a night of mildly scary movies, gossip about the cutest guys in town, and enough junk food to leave all of you clutching your stomachs by midnight.

By the time you started high school, your older neighbor’s extravagant Halloween party had become the talk of the town. Hosted in her massive mansion, it was the kind of event people counted down to months in advance. You’d never considered yourself much of a party girl, but it was the perfect excuse to dress up and show off the elaborate costumes you and your friends spent weeks planning.

When college began, the four of you ended up scattered across different universities around the state. Nearly a year passed without shared laughter in the canteen and a morning dose of tight hugs to begin your days, until you finally agreed to reunite this October. It would probably be the last chance for you four to meet for a long time. With everyone caught up in their own schedules and studies, moments like this had become rare, that’s why you were determined to make the most of these three days together.

The store looks exactly the same as it did ten years ago: fake cobwebs dangling from the white ceiling, evil-looking pumpkins staring down at customers from the shelves, racks of masks and toys that once felt endless. Now, you swear everything seems smaller than it used to be.

The air still smells of dust and cheap plastic. Strangely, it’s that sharp, chemical tang coming from the latex masks lining the walls that makes the place feel so familiar.

The first room is completely devoted to rows and rows of children’s toys, while the second—normally a storage space—is crammed with costumes and accessories messily thrown together. From the ceiling, a dozen paper bats sluggishly sway in the cold draft slipping through the old windows, while somewhere on the counter, a motion-sensor witch clutches a plastic pumpkin-shaped bowl of sweets, cackling like a banshee every time someone reaches for a piece. The sagging orange letters spelling HAPPY HALLOWEEN are stuck to the front of the counter, crooked and peeling at the edges, and you’re pretty sure the owner has left them there all year round since you can remember.

It definitely looked scarier and quieter when you were younger, the fact that it’s located in an isolated area of the town near the woods didn’t really help. Now, it’s just the kind of place that tries too hard to be spooky, only to end up looking a little tacky.

Wanda has been wearing a perpetual scowl since she started browsing through racks of angel wings and synthetic, overly lavish princess gowns, searching for something less glittery and darker. A few rows over, Yelena tries to give you a heart attack by silently hovering behind you, switching between different clown masks each time you turn around. Kate, on the other hand, is determined to find a Wednesday Addams costume—she’s been completely obsessed with the show lately.

You already have your outfit at home: a short skirt and a lace top paired with sparkling boots, the colors an homage to your favorite Barbie doll. You’re still bitter about missing Rachel’s Halloween party because of the chickenpox you caught from Kate in senior year. You had everything ready down to the smallest detail, that Barbie costume was flawless. Instead, you spent the night in fleece pajamas, curled under the covers as you peeked from behind your pillow at Art the Clown mauling people on screen, while the muffled music from the neighboring mansion made your walls vibrate.

Still, you decided to tag along for old times’ sake.

“Black or maroon?” Wanda holds up two identical dresses.

Kate hums, absently twirling a wig between her fingers as she studies the fabric. “Black.”

“Maroon,” you say without looking up, inspecting a bloodstained lab coat before placing it back on the rack with a grimace. “It suits your hair.”

“Lena?” Wanda turns to the blonde, who’s currently trying to stab her own palm with a fake knife to test how real it feels.

“Is that even a question?” She lifts her eyebrows, gaze landing on her dark red coat.

“I know, but it looks cute in both colors.” Wanda hesitates, eyes flicking between the dresses before finally putting the black one back with a sigh. “Alright, I’m done. Have you found anything interesting?”

“I can’t believe they don’t have a Wednesday costume,” Kate frowns, rifling through plastic bags for the third time. “It’s like, one of the most popular shows ever.”

“You know online shopping exists, right?” Yelena shoots back, tossing the knife into a display bin. “Just buy a black dress with a white collar.”

“But I wanted the school uniform, not some generic dress.”

The blonde rolls her eyes, already fiddling with a pair of popping-eye glasses.

“Hey, is Nathan coming to the party?”

You flinch, almost dropping the fake vampire teeth in your hand, not expecting Wanda standing so close beside you.

“Yeah. He has some things to take care of at his apartment first, so he’ll meet us at Rachel’s house.”

A disgusted ugh echoes behind you, and that makes your lips curl into a small smile despite the clear vitriol on the blonde’s features.

It’s no secret that Yelena can’t stand your boyfriend, Nathan. They’ve only met once, but that was enough for him to immediately pick up on her dislike. He often tried to get an explanation out of you, but you always brushed it off, claiming that your friend is just like that.

In truth, you know exactly why every word coming out of his mouth sounds like a fork scraping against a plate to her ears.

During the first months of your blooming relationship, Nathan had a habit of disappearing, ignoring your messages for days—sometimes for an entire week—only to come back with grand gestures as if nothing had happened. It left you confused and anxious, and Yelena more than anyone spent entire nights on the phone trying to calm you down, warning you about how unreliable he was. After a while, you convinced yourself he was just the type to get bored easily, the kind of guy who discards the “old toy” the moment a new, shinier one comes along.

Then, just before Christmas, he stood at your dorm room door with the biggest bouquet of flowers you had ever received, and an apology on his lips. He explained—almost shamefully—that his behavior stemmed from his parents’ toxic relationship. He didn’t go into details, only that their divorce had been messy, something that left him with a warped sense of commitment. Still, he insisted he liked you, that he was finally ready for something real.

Yelena had been furious. Not only did you let him off far too easily, but there had been little to no groveling—nowhere near enough to make up for the emotional whiplash he’d put you through. She was certain, deep down, that he would hurt you again someday. And your best friend didn’t want to see you that miserable ever again, especially for an asshole like Nathan.

You can’t really blame her for feeling so strongly. She was the one who comforted you during those sleepless nights, listening as you tried to make sense of his sudden distance when everything had seemed to be going so well.

It’s not like she brings it up all the time, but whenever his name comes up, she can’t help slipping in a sarcastic remark or two—ones that, despite yourself, make you laugh.

“Oh, so Casper finally decided to show up.”

That’s another thing: she refuses to call him by his name. Back when you used to cry over him, she’d come up with ridiculous nicknames just to lighten the mood. Casper is the latest, because of how little you see him these days. Always busy, always somewhere else. Fleeting like a ghost.

“His professors are giving him hell, cut him some slack, Lena. He’s practically living in the library nowadays.” Wanda glances at you with quiet sympathy, nodding along as you speak. “I always tell him to text me when he gets home, but some days he’s so exhausted he forgets. And the few times he does remember, it’s like three in the morning.”

Yelena’s eyebrows lift at your explanation. For once, though, she doesn’t argue. She just shakes her head with a resigned half-smile.

You met Nathan at the beginning of your first academic year. He and his dad had just moved to your hometown; apparently, his father had grown tired of the chaos of the city and decided to start working from home. Home, in this case, meant his mother’s hometown—the place where Mr. Barnes’ parents met years ago, during a summer visit to their relatives. After marrying, they moved to New York and never really came back.

When the divorce happened, Nathan stayed with his father and eventually enrolled in the nearest university to remain close. Once your relationship grew more serious, the two of you started traveling back and forth together, mostly because he had a shiny, fully functioning car, unlike you. And that’s when he finally introduced you to his dad, James Buchanan Barnes.

Now, Nathan is undeniably handsome and after meeting Mr. Barnes, you can clearly see where he gets his looks from. The difference is... his father is on another level. It’s not just that he’s handsome. The man is hot. Yes, there are streaks of white in his beard, and crow’s feet appear whenever his smile softens his features—but those details don’t take away from his looks. If anything, they only make him more attractive.

He’s big, too: broad-shouldered, towering over you with an ease that’s both intimidating and… not unwelcome. And he’s a real gentleman. Every time you stayed over for lunch or dinner, he served you first, firmly refusing to let you lift a finger, insisting his son is more than capable of cleaning up after himself.

The first time he pulled out a chair for you, your heart dropped straight to your stomach.

Since February, your boyfriend has been buried in projects and assignments, and you’ve often gone back home alone. Because of that, you stopped visiting Mr. Barnes—it didn’t feel right showing up when Nathan wasn’t there.

That is, until you ran into the older man at the local supermarket one day, and after his usual gentle hug, he looked at you with his kind, blue eyes, his voice as warm as a cup of hot, creamy chocolate, “You know you’re welcome to visit anytime, right? It doesn’t matter if Nathan’s home or not.”

Despite your initial hesitation, you went. And then you went again. More times than you’d like to admit.

Conversations with him drift so effortlessly from ridiculous stuff he sees on the internet yet doesn’t quite understand, to more serious topics. At some point, you even started confiding in him. No matter the problem, Bucky always seems to know exactly what to say to soothe your worries. More than anything, he treats you like an equal, an adult. He doesn’t tiptoe around your age, or reduce your personality to his son’s girlfriend. With him, you’re just… you.

It’s almost unsettling, when you think about it—how often he’s been there for you compared to your boyfriend. Nathan replies late, often too late. There’s always an excuse: a project he still has to finish, a study session that ran too late, outings at the bar with friends he supposedly never sees. The times you try to ask about his day, he brushes it aside, steering the conversation back to you after a two-word response, until eventually he disappears again for hours.

At first, you had your doubts, and you hate yourself a little for it now.

You never told anyone—not even your closest friends—but once, you went to his faculty library. Not to spy, you told yourself. Just to... check, to make sure he was actually there.

And he was. Completely absorbed in his books.

You left with shame burning hot on your cheeks. That night, when he texted you to let you know he was home, you couldn’t even bring yourself to reply. The guilt only got worse when you realized how often your thoughts drifted to Mr. Barnes throughout your days. Over something small, like seeing a cat minding its own business in the streets—because he once told you he used to feed the strays when he was a kid, but his chance to adopt one of his own is now long gone since Nathan is allergic—or when you need advice on an assignment. He’s always there. Even when he’s busy, Mr. Barnes still takes the time to send a quick message, apologizing for delayed replies. You told him he didn’t have to do that, you understood he had work, responsibilities... Yet he just smiled and kept putting you first anyway.

During one of your weekly video calls, Kate asked about Nathan, mentioning she hadn’t seen him in the background for a while. You brushed it off pretty quickly, explaining how busy he’s been with his studies, and the conversation ended there. 

Later, while talking about food, you casually mentioned a restaurant Mr. Barnes had recommended. He’d made a habit of suggesting places he’d tried with his colleagues, knowing how much you and your friends enjoy exploring new cuisines together.

The silence that followed was mortifying.

Your gaze slowly lifted from the blanket you were knitting to find your friends staring at you, half amused, half shocked. Promptly waving off their nosy questions, you insisted you just saw each other from time to time. That he’s kind, funny, easy to talk to. Still, they teased you about having a tiny crush on your boyfriend’s dad.

The joke got out of hand the following week, when you accidentally admitted the blanket you were working on was for him—Mr. Barnes had discovered your hobby and casually mentioned that he’d love to have something made by you some day.

Yelena nearly lost her mind. At one point, she actually dropped to her knees in front of her phone, dramatically begging you to leave Nathan and just sleep with his dad.

You awkwardly laughed it off, your face burning as you resisted the urge to hang up and disappear under your covers.

In the end, Wanda stepped in, declaring there was nothing wrong with being friends with your very attractive almost-father-in-law. That helped… a little. Because you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re just two adults who get along, who often text each other for hours between a good morning and a good night. Who share an occasional cup of tea when you’re back in town that promptly turns into you staying for dinner because he is a great cook and always has a new recipe he found on Pinterest that made him think of you.

It just so happens he’s your boyfriend’s father.

You do like Nathan—a lot. And he wants you just as much. You’ve been together for two years now, for fuck’s sake! Life just… gets in the way sometimes. Things will settle down once he graduates in winter and you both understand where you want to go from there.

Every relationship has its ups and downs.

This is just a rough patch.

This year, your neighbor truly outdid herself. Rachel was the ultimate popular girl: indulgent parents, cheer captain of the only high school in town, and glossy dark waves that every girl tried so desperately to imitate. Everyone wanted to be her, but few had the privilege of sitting at her table. She wasn’t the stereotypical mean girl—just ambitious and filthy rich. Her pretty features had sharpened since the last time you saw her. After enrolling in one of the most prestigious law schools in the country, many thought her days of excessive drinking and wild nights were behind her.

Apparently not.

The rumors of her Halloween parties had spread far beyond your town. Everyone counted on her keeping the tradition alive, and now she returns each year, bringing more and more people with her, to host the biggest party in the county.

One look at the claustrophobic living room, now a dance floor, makes your lungs constrict, the strobe lights not helping at all as they blind you while flashing across the sticky floors. Costumes blur together: you saw at least a dozen demons, three cowboys, and Rachel and her two best friends as the iconic Plastics. Though every time you think you see the flash of Nathan’s leather jacket, it turns out to be a stranger. He had texted an hour ago that he’d just parked, having thrown together a leather biker jacket and black trousers to pass as Danny Zuko from Grease, but so far, no sign of him.

Laughter ripples through Rihanna’s Disturbia from a group leaning against the kitchen counter, the walls of the lavish mansion rattling along the pulsing bass. Someone spills a drink in front of you, narrowly missing your top. Your temples pulse with an excruciating headache when a group of guys holler like animals after completing a keg stand: they each wear a plastic bag with a condom sign attached to their chest, hugging each other in victory. Yet you can’t help but imagine how Nathan would’ve laughed at the scene.

Right. Nathan. Where the fuck is he?

“Hey!” Your shoulders jump at the shout over the beginning of Thriller. Yelena and Wanda appear at your sides, pulling you toward the open patio windows overlooking the huge backyard without much ceremony.

“Have you seen Nathan?” You ask while scanning the crowd by the punch bowls.

“Nope.” Yelena mutters something else under her breath, but you decide to ignore it. It must be another one of her tailored nicknames for your boyfriend.

The cold air sharply hits your face as they lead you outside, goosebumps prickling your skin.

“Why are we here? It’s freezing and I still need to find Nathan. He got here an hour ago and—”

“I’m starving!” Wanda cuts in, practically skipping across the grass. “C’mon, they’re grilling sausages! Hot dogs! Want one?”

You squint at her, confused. Her rambling is classic Wanda, nervous energy spilling out at a mile a minute.

“Wanda, stop, for fuck’s sake.” Yelena snaps, planting her feet on the ground firmly.

“What’s going on?” You glance back and forth between the two of them, but they are too busy staring each other down to acknowledge you, a silent conversation you can’t follow unfolding in frowns too subtle to catch.

Wanda shakes her head, addressing you with a polite, closed-lip smile. “It’s nothing. Let’s just eat.” She reaches for your hand, but you step back, glancing at the other.

“What’s going on, Lena?” Her jaw clenches.

“There’s no need to make a scene right now.” Wanda hisses.

“There’s no need—” The blonde sputters outraged. “This is fucking insane, what is your problem?”

You step between them, grabbing their wrists. “Hey! I don’t know what’s gotten into you, guys, but I need you to calm down and tell me what’s up.” You bark. “Kinda feeling left out here.” Your attempt to lighten the mood is entirely overlooked as Wanda tilts her head, silently begging the blonde to be patient.

“She deserves to know.” Yelena grits out.

“Not now! It’ll just make things worse for her.”

“You think it’s better if we wait?”

The argument draws a few stares from the patio. Kate, watching from the door, clumsily invents a story about a lost lipstick to defuse tension, quickly making her way to you as most people shrug and return to their drinks.

The air suddenly feels heavier, tension crawling up your spine and settling in your shoulders.

“Someone tell me what the fuck is happening. Right now.” Your voice shakes despite your effort to stay calm. “Is Kate okay? Did Nathan do something?”

Yelena simply exhales a long breath, pushing her tongue into her cheek in annoyance. Wanda takes your hand at once, her eyes pleading.

“It’s not about Kate. She’s fine. We’ll explain later, okay?”

“No,” you snap, wrenching your wrist free. “Explain now.”

Yelena huffs. “You’re just making it worse.”

Wanda’s auburn hair swings as she faces her, her voice turning serious. “Me? We know you hate his guts, Lena. You’ve been waiting for him to fuck up since the moment they started dating. But could you please put your fucking ego aside for once and think about her wellbeing? We’re in the middle of a party and you’re ruining her night.”

“Oh! I am ruining her night? You have been kissing his ass since the very beginning. And you talk about my fucking ego? You’re such a bi—”

“I saw Nathan upstairs making out with a girl!” The words pierce through the booming music like thunder.

Yelena and Wanda go abruptly still, all their annoyance vanishing at once as they slowly turn to face you with wide eyes. Kate is standing behind you, half-squirming as she watches you with something akin to desperation.

The ominous pit of nervousness you’ve been carrying in your stomach for the last hour suddenly doesn’t feel so irrational.

“I’m so sorry.” Kate whispers after a heavy pause, fingers fidgeting.

“Upstairs… where?” The words taste bitter on your tongue.

“In one of the bedrooms. The one closest to the bathroom.” She looks mortified, unable to meet your gaze.

You shove past her before you can even fully digest what’s going on, barreling through drunk students and ignoring their startled stares.

The strobe lights fracture the room into flashes of color—violet, red, sickly white—laughter spiking through the air in uneven bursts. The sharp tang of beer clings to everything, mixing with the artificial sweetness of fake fog that curls low around your ankles. It should feel alive, electric. Instead, it dulls to a distant, muffled hum as Kate’s words settle heavy and cruel deep in your chest.

Step after step, heavier than the last, your chest tightens, each breath catching halfway in, sharp and fast. For a moment, it feels like the world simply... pauses. It’s just you and the growing ache in your throat, threatening to spill over.

You hear Yelena screaming your name as you burst into the bedroom on the left. It’s empty, dark, and the bed is intact. Heart hammering painfully against your ribs, you storm into the next room, scaring a couple of people lingering nearby for a moment of intimate quiet. The door slams against the wall with a splintering bang, and in that moment you swear your heart stutters—one missed beat, maybe two—before it kicks back in, pounding wildly like it’s trying to break free. The sound rushes up into your ears, a violent, dizzying thrum that makes your head spin.

You stand there, frozen in the doorway, not knowing whether to scream, to run, or to crumple right there and let the floor open up and swallow you whole.

Maybe throwing up seems the best option as you take in the disgusting scene before you.

Nathan turns, confused by the sudden commotion. A girl is straddling him, but the light is too dim to recognize her, though you can clearly see how her skirt is bunched at her hips, exposing her lower half. The moment his eyes meet yours, he roughly shoves her away, causing her to squeal as she falls on the other side of the bed. Nathan’s weak voice calls out your name, but you are already turning away. 

The scene is quite pathetic, Yelena thinks, as Nathan clumsily tries to run after you, but he keeps stumbling into the pants creased around his ankles.

“Wait—fuck, baby wait! It’s not what it looks like!” He shouts as he runs in the living room, fingers clumsily trying to zip up his pants.

“Shut up, Barnes.” Yelena’s voice cuts sharp from the stairs, Wanda and Kate close behind her. The music fades further, letting nearby partygoers witness the drama.

With a sharp inhale, you stop right in the entryway, fingers curling into fists at your sides to steady the chaos inside you. You refuse to give him the satisfaction to see you cry.

In the spur of the moment, you decide to turn around, lips parted to tell him to go to hell, but a shriek erupting from the top of the stairwell stops you.

“You’re an asshole!” The girl stands there, mascara smeared and skirt hastily pulled down.

“Jesus Christ.” Wanda tiredly rubs the bridge of her nose.

The girl’s face seems familiar, but you can’t place her. Maybe she used to go to high school with you? One of the many forgettable faces of your past.

“You’re a fucking liar, Nathan Barnes. You promised you’d tell her about us. You promised me you’d leave her.”

Someone in the crowd gasps, but it barely registers.

“What the fuck, Nathan?” You grimace, repulsion tightening your chest.

“I—I didn’t…” His voice falters, head turning back and forth between the two of you, a mix of shame and panic flashing across his features.

“I’ll tell you what he did, since he’s too much of a coward.” The girl interrupts, slowly stepping down the stairs. “We’ve been dating since March and he kept promising me he’d break up with you. He told me he did it as soon as he got here... But apparently it was just another lie.” She throws him a look of disdain, arms crossed to her chest.

Since March.

He’s been dating another girl for eight months. No. He’s been cheating on you with another girl for eight months.

The floor crumbles under your feet.

The constant busyness, the unanswered texts, the lack of intimacy, all the weekends you decided to come back here and he never once seemed to care about tagging along, not even texting you to make sure you had safely arrived, knowing your car is literally a jalopy.

The image of her straddling him flashes behind your eyes over and over again, cold sweat rushing down your back as you realize how many times they have acted like that undisturbed, how Nathan was about to have sex with her while his girlfriend was in the same house, waiting for him downstairs.

You refuse to meet some stranger’s pitiful eyes, or worse… their small smirk, the amusement dancing in their eyes. Somewhere nearby, people keep laughing, dancing, kissing, while you stand there, in front of the person you wasted two years of your life on, feeling like the butt of a scornful joke. 

Guilt has been eating you alive since you doubted his words that day, yet he has been betraying your trust all along. Something shatters inside you at the realization that maybe everything you shared at first—the whispered plans for traveling the world together, the way his hands always found yours under the table, the warmth of him wrapped around you late at night—was never real at all.

You feel exposed, far beyond anything physical. The rawest parts of you burn under all these curious eyes, laid bare in a way you can’t hide from. You need to cover yourself, to disappear behind something—anything—a blanket, a jacket, a closed door.

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, you force out one last question.

“All the assignments, the projects—were they real at all? Or were they just a cover to fuck another girl behind my back?”

Nathan opens his mouth but doesn’t answer. His pleading brown eyes only stoke the fire in your veins, looking at you like he deserves your sympathy.

Shaking your head, you sprint toward the door, ignoring your friends’ desperate calls of your name. They try to reach you, but there’s too many people gathered there to watch the scene like a movie. By the time Yelena, Wanda, and Kate get to the front yard, you’ve long vanished into the dark.

Yelena curses out loud in Russian, stomping back inside to give that asshole a piece of her mind, and Wanda and Kate can only hurry after her, trying to stop the blonde from sending Nathan to the hospital.

Walking in the biting October cold clears your mind a little, even as the tears keep flowing. You hadn’t even noticed them until you had to slow down, your feet hurting in those damn boots. Sniffling, you keep your head down; despite being alone in the dark, that mix of humiliation and disbelief still makes your skin burn in shame. You didn’t do anything wrong, yet thoughts of how stupid you’ve been cloud your mind.

How could you have been so blind? All the signs were there, and you chose to ignore them.

That girl… she went to your university, which is why she felt so familiar. She’s pretty, you can’t deny it. And yet, was that enough for you to deserve that? Was she funnier than you? More caring? Better in bed? What were you lacking? You’ve always considered yourself average-looking—decent, sure, but not someone guys have ever fought over. You flirted, went on a few dates, but it never went beyond that. Maybe someone had a crush on you at some point, but you never knew.

It hurt your confidence, of course, but then Nathan happened, and that was your first mistake, probably—tying your self-worth to the way he treated you.

And now you can’t even go home and cry yourself to sleep. Kate was the only one with a purse, so you left all your belongings with her, except for your phone since you were waiting for Nathan to text you.

Going back is not an option, it feels like walking into a cage full of starving lions, especially since Nathan will probably be there still—either with her, or already laughing the whole thing off. She didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by his betrayal. If you were in her place, you’d be questioning him, wondering if you’d be on the other side as well someday.

You’ve seen it before. Your aunt was miserable after forgiving her cheating husband. He begged, cried, swore it was a moment of weakness. She was too busy with her job and he needed her, that’s how he justified himself.

So he fell into another woman’s vagina.

Your mom refused to speak to her for a while after her decision to not divorce him. Your dad then eventually convinced her to change her mind: that good-for-nothing was likely to do it again, and she couldn’t risk leaving her sister alone and vulnerable. Four months later, your aunt came home early from a work trip to surprise him—but she was the one whose heart fell to her feet.

He was in their bed with one of her closest friends.

After witnessing and experiencing that kind of pain first-hand, you can’t bring yourself to wish the same hurt on her. Even if she knew Nathan was already taken, even if she willingly started a relationship with him. But why would a single girl like her worry about your relationship when your boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend—didn’t seem to care in the first place?

You sigh, thinking of your parents. They’re out of town for your dad’s birthday. You can’t call them at one in the morning to tell them what happened. It wouldn’t be fair; you know they’d drop everything to come home if they knew and you can’t ruin the rare time they decide to treat themselves. After working so hard, this trip is the only moment of peace they are willing to indulge in once a year.

The back of your hand brushes over your raw cheeks in a useless attempt to clean yourself a little, tears still clouding your vision as you stare down at your phone screen, your finger hovering over that one contact that could save you, but shame pins you in place.

How can you face Mr. Barnes? Calling him now doesn’t just mean worrying him, but also possibly interrupting his night with… well, a woman. He’s a single, attractive man with a big house all to himself. Nathan was supposed to stay over, so who knows what the older man had planned for tonight?

It also means telling him about what happened.

The possibility of him defending his son makes a lonely tear slide down your cheek. No, Mr. Barnes would never justify a cheater. He’s too smart, too emotionally intelligent for that, even if the cheater in question is his own child.

Taking a deep breath, your mind races, torn between desperation and hesitation. The thought of disturbing him like a little kid makes you want to crawl into a hole and never get out, but it’s freezing outside and you are starting to not feel your toes. Your finger trembles with indecision above the screen, until reflex takes over. It presses the call icon.

You gasp, quickly bringing the phone to your ear when it immediately comes alive with his muffled voice.

“Sweetheart? Are you okay? Do you need something?” His deep, serene voice eases the wild thumping in your chest at once.

Right, another thing about Mr. Barnes. He calls you sweetheart, and seldom, other cute pet names slip by that make your traitorous heart flutter and your cheeks burn.

When you sniffle, he calls your name urgently.

“Are you busy?” You swallow, biting your trembling bottom lip.

“No. Never for you. What happened? Do you need me to come get you?”

You nod, then let out a frustrated huff when you remember he can’t see you. The faint clink of keys reaches your ears, a small, shaky smile tugging at your lips. You haven’t even replied and he’s already getting ready to come for you.

“Please… if you’re not busy.” You mumble.

“I told you I’m not. Don’t worry.” You hear a door close. Moments later, his voice returns. “Are you alright? Are you safe?”

You glance around, telling him you’re sitting on a bench in front of Ms. Garcia’s house. From his silence, you can gather his shock—you’re almost thirty minutes away from Rachel’s place.

“Why are you there, sweetheart? Is Nathan with you?” His words are slightly distorted by the rumble of the car engine.

“No, I’m alone. He’s still at the party.” You shiver as the cold metal of the bench presses against your bare thighs. “And I’m alright. Just tired.”

He doesn’t need all the details right now. The least you can do is explain in person.

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he murmurs under his breath. “You’ve been crying.”

You simply hum at his statement, expecting him to hang up, but instead he waits, respecting your silence, keeping the line open rather than leaving you alone in the dark.

When the familiar black SUV pulls up in front of you only a few minutes later, your body reacts instinctively. You hang up and watch as Mr. Barnes steps out. Before you can even find the right words to thank him, he’s around you, holding you close against his broad chest. Your lips part to whine out a pathetic apology, but the sound dies in your throat. Tears fall again, soaking his shirt.

“I’m so sorry… I didn’t know who to call,” you sniffle, swallowing an embarrassing sob. “My parents are out of town and Kate has my keys, but I didn’t want to go back there—”

“Hey, hey.” He gently pries your head away with a hand on your cheek, enough to examine your devastated eyes. “I’ve always told you I’m here if you ever need something. Anything. So don’t you dare apologize. I’m so proud you remembered that and called me, sweetheart.”

Your gaze drops at once on a random spot on his neck, unsure what to say next.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” His other hand cradles your left cheek now, thumbs brushing away the lingering tears at the corners of your eyes. You shake your head lightly, jaw tightening at the thought.

“Alright, alright. We’ll go at your pace.” He frowns. “Do you want to come home? It’s freezing and you’re—”

The next words die in his throat as his blue eyes sweep over your body like they are acknowledging the rest of you for the first time that night. Now you feel so foolish for not bringing a jacket. Despite the cold, you’d known Rachel’s house would feel like a furnace, packed with sweaty dancers and drinkers. A dramatic escape in the middle of the night was not in your plans and yet here you are.

Even in the middle of your internal scolding, you can easily notice how Mr. Barnes blinks, seemingly snapping out of whatever thought had caught his entire attention, only to quickly glance back up at your face. Being under the lamppost, it’s easy to spot the blush creeping across his cheeks.

You’re his son’s girlfriend, of course he would feel awkward with you so close and barely covered.

“I guess you didn’t want to hide your pretty outfit.” He comments instead, amusement lacing his tone. Your eyes widen. “You’re always beautiful, by the way. A jacket wouldn’t have ruined it.” He winks as his hand comes to rest on your back, guiding you toward his car. You’re still processing his tone and its meaning as he opens the passenger door to help you inside.

He’s never explicitly called you beautiful before, compliments used to stop at your outfits or your makeup.

Once inside, the engine hums to life, but before he takes care of anything else, he makes sure to turn on the heat. You shiver, muscles slowly loosening as the warmth seeps through your chilled body.

“Better?” He glances at you, receiving a simple, grateful nod as answer.

“Fuck, should have thought about bringing you one of my jackets.” He was probably talking to himself but you catch it anyway, pressing your palms lightly to your thighs. It’s just a jacket—nothing grand—but the thought behind it makes you breathe slightly more easily.

Bucky maneuvers the vehicle on the roadway, unhurriedly driving back the way you came from. A sense of dread abruptly washes over you at the realization that you are about to pass by your neighborhood, right in front of Rachel’s house. You try to be as subtle as possible when you slide down the seat, at least to not be completely recognizable from the outside, your head turning toward the window as if that could be enough to disappear completely. Bucky notices anyway, keeping a careful eye on you as you drive by the mansion looming chaotic in the dark.

“I saw Nathan with another girl.” You blurt out once Rachel’s house is at a safe distance. The car swerves slightly, your stomach twisting with a hint of fear as your hand instinctively reaches to grab the edge of the seat. Your worried eyes fly to Bucky, meeting his shocked gaze.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry.” He clears his throat. “How…”

You take a deep breath, eyes back on the road, feeling too ashamed to face him.

“Kate caught him in one of the bedrooms upstairs. When I opened the door… a girl was straddling him. They were kissing, and… probably about to do other things.” Another lump swells in your throat. “Apparently all those assignments and projects were just an excuse.” You scoff out a humorless laugh, the back of your hand already brushing a lonely tear away.

“They’ve been together since March, and he promised her he’d break up with me soon.”

Each word feels like biting broken glass.

From your peripheral vision, you see his body stiffen, knuckles whitening around the steering wheel. Apologies form on your tongue as a reflex, but why? For calling him to pick you up? For having to be the one to reveal such a horrible thing about his son? You don’t even know, yet his crushed expression is enough to make you feel terribly guilty.

Then, something happens that completely catches you off guard.

His hand reaches across the console, covering yours, fingers intertwining.

Mr. Barnes is good with words, yet that simple gesture is worth more than any speech right now. Tears come back with such a violent speed that shocks even you, but you try your best to bite them back, mortified about the whole situation.

Confused, you watch the car steer, eventually coming to a stop at the roadside. Bucky exhales heavily once the engine is turned off, plunging you both into darkness. His body then turns toward you as best he can in the cramped space.

“Can you look at me, sweetheart? Please?” His voice is barely a murmur, fingers squeezing yours gently. Reluctantly, you lift your chin, catching him in your peripheral vision. “Thank you.”

“I know you’re hurting right now, and words might feel meaningless in the face of this betrayal, but please… listen to me carefully.” His blue eyes burn fiercely. “Sometimes people don’t know how to treat something good the way it deserves, but that says nothing about its worth. I’m deeply disappointed in Nathan. I didn’t raise him to behave like this, and believe me, I will have words with him. Very strong ones.” You squeeze his hand back, the corners of your lips lightly lifting despite pain stabbing your chest.

“Don’t blame yourself, Mr. Barnes. Your words are never meaningless to me,” you murmur, frowning at your knees. “He is an adult, responsible for his own actions, and still chose to do this. He could’ve ended things with me before starting something with her, but instead took the easy way out without remorse.”

Bucky slumps back against the seat with a slow sigh, staring absent-minded at the dashboard. Eventually, a humorless laugh falls from his lips. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Your eyebrows jump up at the bitterness in his tone, and he allows a rueful smile. “My ex-wife cheated on me. That’s why we divorced.”

Your jaw drops.

“Nathan was thirteen and he still had to witness how much his mother’s choices affected me. It wasn’t easy for him. I never spoke badly of her, never kept him from seeing her... but he still chose to stay with me.” He sighs tiredly, head softly falling back against the headrest. “They only went back on speaking terms a couple years ago. Nathan felt like she betrayed him as well… refused to even text her at Christmas.” His neck turns just enough to look at you. “Has he ever told you that?”

You shake your head, swallowing.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, Mr. Barnes. I didn’t know… Nathan never talks about his mom, much less about your divorce.” Your words are not louder than a whisper.

His hand squeezes yours. “No need to apologize, sweetheart. The scars are there, but they don’t hurt anymore.”

Mr. Barnes straightens up after that, looking more resolute. “My point is, I’ve been through that kind of betrayal. For a long time, I was miserable, frustrated with her for ruining what we had, and with myself for missing the signs. And Nathan… he was the only good thing to come out of that marriage.” His gaze is fixed on yours with newfound strength, his voice tender. “Some days you’ll be angry at the world. You’ll stay in bed and cry your heart out, you’ll even miss the happy moments with him. But it won’t last forever.”

You clear your throat at that, staring down at the glove box for what feels like minutes. “Is it wrong,” you start quietly. “That I’m more upset about him betraying my trust than actually losing him?”

“What do you mean?” He tilts his head slightly, the simple gesture letting you know he’s here for you, ready to listen.

“He was always busy, and deep down I knew something was off. I guess… unconsciously, I’ve been trying to distance myself emotionally so I wouldn’t get hurt.” Your eyes widen at once, quickly trying to correct yourself as you realize you are still talking to his dad. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked Nathan and I’m shaken by what he did. He built a whole, new relationship behind my back. But…” You sigh, shoulders falling in dejection.

“I’m not actually sad about losing him.” You whisper. Saying that out loud only makes you feel more uncomfortable, causing you to shift your weight in your seat in a last attempt to ground yourself. “I don’t even know if I’m making any sense right now.”

“You’re angry because he made you doubt your self-worth.” He says softly.

“Yes!” You exclaim, facing him with surprise.

Bucky nods pensively. “And you’re upset because he betrayed your trust.”

“Exactly.” The dam breaks. “I’ve been feeling guilty since that day I followed him to the library to see if he was actually there to study. I felt awful for a whole month! I was doubting all the work his professors piled on him while he was breaking his back on those damn books. But in reality he was just fucking someone else the whole time.” Your hand flies to your mouth as you hear him chuckle, eyes wide at your own honesty. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be so crude.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I feel so bad whenever I curse around you.”

You share a soft, meaningful laugh, before the car falls into a comforting silence.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You murmur, taking a deep breath. He returns your smile, squeezing your fingers once more before starting the engine.

“You know I’m here for you. Always.”

He claps his hands lightly, and somehow it feels like that dark cloud pressing on your head has finally lifted. “C’mon, let’s get you home so you can get more comfortable and rest. You had a long night.”

“Are you sure you’re not busy? I don’t want to crash your free night—”

“Are you kidding? I love your company. And you didn’t interrupt anything, I was just watching a movie and eating some leftover candy, waiting for a text that you got home safely.”

Once the car is parked in its usual spot, Mr. Barnes is quick to get out and jog to your side to open your door. You whisper a shy thank you, still not used to all these caring gestures.

“Alright, here we are.” He breathes out, shoulders relaxing as if the familiar smell of his home alone is enough to soothe any worries. He leaves his sneakers in the shoe rack by the entrance and you follow suit, placing your boots neatly in the space he vacated for your shoes long ago, back when Nathan had started bringing you over more frequently.

“Are you hungry? Wanna shower first?”

You press your palm to your temple, eyes closing briefly. “A shower would be perfect. I feel sweaty from the party and I’m pretty sure my clothes still smell of weed.”

He doesn’t ask if you drank—he knows you despise the taste of alcohol, but also any type of substance that could make you lose control. He simply leaves a glass of water and some Advil on the kitchen counter, then jogs upstairs to grab some clean clothes for you. You take your time finishing the glass, savoring the simple act of rehydrating after walking and crying for so long in the cold.

Once you are alone in the bathroom, the reflection in the mirror makes you flinch. Your makeup is completely ruined: lipstick smudged at the corners, eyeshadow streaked under your eyes, mascara melted. The thought of Mr. Barnes seeing you like this has you shuddering in shame, but you push the embarrassment aside for now. You’re too drained.

A sealed bottle of micellar water and a package of cotton pads on the counter catch your eye immediately. With a relieved sigh, you remove the ruined makeup, silently making a mental note to thank him for his thoughtfulness.

The warm water cascading over your skin and the floral scent of the products tidily lined up on the shower caddy are enough to ease the strain in your muscles. Once dry, you pull on the black shirt he left on the small stool and a pair of boxers, adjusting them according to your comfort. You are actually so relieved he provided you with his own clothes, instead of Nathan’s. Making sure you’re presentable enough before heading downstairs, you glance at your reflection in the mirror one last time, before you have to take a second look. Because on the far left of the counter sit unopened some products you recognize too well: a moisturizer for your skin type, a gentle cleanser, some neutral-smelling deodorant, and a purple toothbrush. All pristine and unopened.

Did he buy all this for you? Even after nearly a year since the last time you slept here?

Your chest tightens at the thought of someone caring enough to remember such simple, forgettable things about you, taking a deep breath before diving into your skincare routine.

When you enter the kitchen, the breathtaking sight of Mr. Barnes’ broad back makes you pause momentarily. The domesticity of it all—him cooking for you, the quiet familiarity of being surrounded by his smell in his home—fills you with a strange fuzzy feeling that leaves your skin pleasantly warm and tingly. You’ve never been here at this time of the day, alone with him, clad in his clothes.

Turning around, he places the plate he was previously arranging on the table, before he glances up at you. Smiling, his lips part as if he wants to say something, but the words die on his tongue when his blue eyes fall on your naked legs. Clearing his throat, the man abruptly turns back around to swipe the counter.

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thank you for the clothes.” You sit, eyeing the plate with interest. “And the sandwich.” You add with a smile. Your stomach aches a little from all the sugary soft drinks, so a proper meal will only do you good.

“They look good on you.” He mumbles, glancing down. Then, with a playful smirk. “Still, I miss the Barbie outfit.” You giggle, unsure whether he’s teasing or truly means it.

“Oh, and the hygiene products—thank you for those as well. When did you get them?” You quip, devouring half of the bread as if you haven’t eaten in ages. 

“I’ve been stocking them since you started staying over, just in case you forgot something.” He shrugs with another effortless smile.

Bucky knew you were going to spend multiple nights here and wished for you to be comfortable and safe in his home. Simple as that.

You had to pack an overnight bag with all your things whenever you went over to Nathan’s apartment. It never occurred that you could just leave something behind, because it was so sporadic for you to spend the night there. Plus, he lives with three other people, so you didn’t want to intrude. Yet, now that you’re realizing how much Mr. Barnes has been going out of his way to take care of you, you can’t help but think about how many things Nathan took for granted.

Only when you finally settle on the sofa do you realize how much your body has been hurting from all the dancing and the walking. It instantly becomes one with the cushions.

Your phone lights up once on the coffee table, half of Wanda’s message visible from here. You texted the group chat to let them know you’re safe with a friend. Yelena will understand immediately, you are certain of that. Your eyes mindlessly catch a really sorry, but you don’t have the energy to deal with the situation right now. They know you’re alright and sheltered from the cold, and that’s enough for tonight.

The TV drones on in the background; a mediocre horror movie is playing on cable, but you can’t bring yourself to focus on it—or anything else, for that matter. Not when Mr. Barnes is sitting comfortably beside you, the warmth of his body tempting you to move closer. For a moment, it feels like he’s glancing at you as intently as you’ve been watching him.

The moment you properly look up and he doesn’t shy away, the air between you hums with an unspoken, charged tension. You must be imagining things, half delirious from exhaustion, because he keeps glancing back and forth between your eyes and your lips, something akin to desire burning hot in his eyes.

You don’t know who leans in first, but suddenly the space separating you disappears. The first touch is tentative, a timid brush of hands, and then, as soon as the tips of your noses touch, he is pressing against you like he’s been craving your lips for ages. One of his hands cups the back of your head, guiding you closer until your fingers tangle in his shirt.

It shouldn’t feel this good. It shouldn’t feel this right. It shouldn’t...

It shouldn’t happen.

“Wait—” You gasp, abruptly pulling back. Your eyes snap open, staring at him with horror dawning on your features. “W—What… what are we doing?”

“Shit,” Bucky mumbles under his breath, chest heaving as he tries to regain a crumb of control on his raging heartbeat. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

“Oh my God, I’m a terrible person!” You slump forward, hiding your face in your hands as hot tears threaten to spill again.

“Hey, c’mon now sweetheart.” His shaky palm smoothes over your back. “Why would you be a terrible person? You did nothing wrong.”

Your head snaps towards him, regarding him with red and glassy eyes.

“I just kissed my ex-boyfriend’s dad!”

“If anything, I kissed you.”

“We both leaned in!”

Bucky moves closer, taking your other hand in his. “Okay, okay. Let’s take a deep breath now—”

“Oh God, if Nathan finds out—”

A firm call of your name has your shoulders fall down in defeat. Bucky’s hand travels to the back of your neck, gently turning your face until you are forced to look at him.

“You know you don’t owe him anything, right?” His voice is grounding, calm, but it’s not enough to quell the storm in your head.

“Why are you so calm? You’re his dad! I shouldn’t feel—” You pause abruptly, swallowing thickly. The way his eyes are wide with hope makes you want to sob in his arms.

“Feel what?” He urges, squeezing your hand.

“I…” 

“Feel what, sweetheart?” Shame keeps your throat closed, physically unable to utter any sound. So Bucky takes the matter into his own hands, cradling your cheeks with both rough palms.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day you ran in here, smiling about your A on that paper about online language evolution you spent weeks stressing over.” Bucky admits softly. Your breath hitches.

“You looked at me with stars in your eyes,” he continues with a proud smile. “And I felt so lucky to be part of such a happy moment for you. And then you hugged me and believe me, I tried to ignore it, but I just felt… complete.”

His voice drops to a whisper. “I felt like a dirty pervert whenever my eyes fell on the curve of your waist. Whenever I imagined the adorable sighs you’d make against my lips. Whenever you strutted here in my house with those damn revealing shirts, jealous that the whole neighborhood got the chance to admire your beautiful cleavage.” Sighing, his eyelids flutter shut for a second, as if trying to focus.

“You were Nathan’s girlfriend and here I was, resenting my own son for getting to have you like this. For being the one to call you his.”

He lets his words hang, heavy with honesty. “I promised myself I’d keep my distance. But no one ever compared to your pretty eyes, your passion, your energy.” He swallows, kind eyes flicking once between your eyes and your parted lips.

“Nathan had his chance and failed to take care of you, to love you like you deserve. He was so cruel, baby, and I can’t allow myself to stand by and watch you suffer when I’m right here, begging you to let me show you how much I am enamored of you. Let me be the man you deserve by your side. Someone who knows what you need just by looking into your eyes.”

“And what do I need now, James?” His breath hitches, not expecting his first name to sound so right on your tongue.

Bucky, James, Jamie… He doesn’t care. He just needs you to demolish that already fractured wall of propriety that has kept you apart all along. 

“My lips on yours.” His blue eyes shine, smitten, and that is enough to give you that confidence boost you’ve been looking for a while. Your fingers graze his jaw for a fleeting moment, before they grab his shirt to pull him forward.

You meet him in an urgent kiss, your other hand tangling in his hair, pulling just enough that the guttural sound clawing out of his throat has your thighs squeezing close. His tongue roams freely in your mouth, until oxygen leaves you entirely. You kiss for what feels like a lifetime, your lips fitting together like the final two lost pieces of a puzzle.

His palms fondle the curve of your waist until he finds the courage to guide you on his laps with a hand on your thigh. A moan is muffled against your mouth when your covered core comes into contact with his crotch, his bulge the proof that you’re not the only one affected. One hand sneakily trails up your torso, resting ultimately on the side of your breast, a gentle squeeze of your flesh eliciting a gasp out of you, so you take the chance to grind down on Bucky, the teasing movement leaving him moaning under you.

When you separate, he regards you with blown pupils, his chest raising and lowering with ragged breaths. 

Your fingers finally allow themselves to do what they’ve secretly wished for since the moment you sat on this couch: starting from the gentle creases on his forehead, they tenderly trace down his dark brows, until they reach the sharp profile of his nose, his blushing cheekbones, the trim stubble on his jawline. His mouth parts just a fraction when your thumb strokes his bottom lip, his next breath shaky, frightened to interrupt this sublime, quiet connection. 

“You’re stunning, James.” You utter softly with a faint smile. His eyes flutter shut with a sigh when your fingers move then on to his collarbone. Shivering, the older man wraps one muscular arm around your back, bringing you close, until he can comfortably lean in to return the favor, lavishing the column of your throat with wet kisses. Your head falls back, brokenly gasping each time his teeth gently graze your skin.

“You’re driving me crazy with all these cute, sinful sounds.” He growls, a grin blooming on your mouth at his poorly concealed desperation. The hand firmly resting on your ribs slowly travels down to your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind; then over your half-bare thighs, until it lands on your covered ass. Your gasp gets promptly swallowed by his mouth when he hungrily squeezes the flesh, encouraging the circular movements of your hips against his erection. The sound of his low groan makes your pussy throb, suddenly shifting your focus on the embarrassing dampness of the boxers you’re wearing.

When was the last time someone touched you as if you were their most precious treasure?

This time your kiss is more animalistic, all teeth and tongue, than the ones you previously shared, a testament of your growing arousal. 

“Baby,” he breathes out, cradling your cheek to assure you’re making eye contact. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you know that, right?”

“Mmh?” Your movements are a little more lethargic after the way his hands have gently played with your curves, your fingers weakly curling into the fabric covering his broad shoulders. The ghost of his palms on your chest and thighs still tingles on your skin, and you slightly tilt your head when he starts talking again, regarding him with half-lidded eyes.

“We can do whatever you want. You wanna watch a movie? I’m already opening Netflix. You wanna sleep by yourself? I’ll make the bed in the guest room right away. We can cuddle all night if you’d let me—” 

“What if I want you to fuck me?” The words feel like cotton candy in your mouth, yet you don’t miss the way his eyes widen.

There is a brief, meaningful pause.

“Are you sure?” His voice shakes a little as his hands squeeze your hips. 

“Please.” Your sigh almost has him maneuvering you on your back to see what other sweet sounds he can coax out of you. Just for him.

“Yeah? You’ve been thinking about it, sweetheart?” You simply hum, slowly nodding. “About all the ways I could make you come on my tongue?” He whispers, towering over you as his firm fingers keep your chin raised, preventing you from hiding.

Squirming in his lap, you are forced to look him in the eye as your slick steadily soils his boxers, cheeks scorching hot with a hint of mortification.

“Did you think about me when you were fingers deep into your sweet pussy? Imagining it was my cock making you scream?” He continues calmly. “Did you come like a good girl with my name on your lips, mmh?”

You whimper, nodding jerkily. “I was... so lonely.”

“Well,” he chuckles smugly. “You won’t have to worry about that anymore, pretty girl.”

A squeal claws out of your throat as Bucky lifts you without much of a fuss. You keep your legs tightly wrapped around his waist, your arms circling his neck with newfound strength. Moaning, he has to stop multiple times on the stairs as you can’t resist leaving small pecks all over his jaw, teeth softly biting the most sensitive spots.

It’s the first time you cross the threshold of his bedroom, yet it doesn’t feel as awkward as it should. 

You completely ignore the big walk-in closet and his en-suite bathroom as soon as you are placed in the center of the large bed, his six-foot frame covering yours without actually resting his full weight on you. Your lips meet again and this time, his palm travels under the shirt you are wearing, finding your bare chest. 

“James, wait—” You moan, hips twitching up as his fingers graze your already erect nipple. You’re now fully lying on your back with his hard body straddling you, but a weak push against his chest is enough for Bucky to immediately lift his torso up. 

“Are you oka—”

“More than okay, I feel so good. I just—I need to make something clear.” This time it’s you who cradles his jaw, swallowing thickly. “I like you, James. I think I have for a while, actually. It wasn’t just... pure admiration, or friendship. And this,” your finger wriggles between the two of you, pointing at your chests. “It’s not a one-night stand for me. I don’t want you to think you’re... some sort of revenge; much less a rebound.”

“This is a dream come true.” He mumbles against your lips, caressing the back of your head in awe. 

“I’m gonna make this right, okay sweetheart?” Bucky kisses your forehead, then focuses on both cheeks. “I’m gonna take care of you.” His mouth trails south, on your neck. “Play with your sweet pussy until you are nice and ready to take me.” Your eyes roll back, shuddering at his low voice whispering right in your ear.

“Worship your body until you are left shaking and gasping in my arms, orgasm after orgasm.” The fingers trailing up your thigh finally reach the inner part, his thumb stroking the wet fabric right where you need him the most.

“Then I’m gonna fill you up,” your hips buckle up, causing him to huff out a chuckle. “Yeah? You like the sound of it, angel? Like the idea of me stuffing you full with my cum until you can’t take a step without it sliding down your thighs?” 

“Bucky, please.” You breathe out, trembling fingers squeezing his forearm. 

His shaky exhale gives his excitement away, despite his confident and collected behavior. He makes sure to look in your eyes for his next words.

“Gonna take you on a date tomorrow, alright?” You simply nod, swallowing as his other palm traces your bare stomach, lifting the shirt up and up, until your ribs are exposed to the warm air of his bedroom. “Give you everything you deserve and more.”

His smirk grows when you whine at his hands moving away to take off your top. A low groan falls from his lips when your naked chest is finally exposed. His large hands cup your tits without much thought, the pads of his thumbs brushing over your nipples, eliciting another whimper out of you. You finally look up at his face, biting your bottom lip when you notice the way his eyes have turned darker, just like the ocean abyss, as they marvel at your breasts, perfectly fitting inside his palms. 

“Such gorgeous tits, sweetheart.” Your cheeks instantly heat up at the praise; overwhelmed by the sudden attention on your naked torso, you try to turn your chin away, but Bucky is faster. Cradling your cheeks, he turns your head until you are forced to stare right at him.

“None of that hiding shit.” He mutters against your breasts between kisses, your back arching the moment his tongue starts lavishing your nipples, until they are both raw and turgid. 

“You’re going to lie back and watch me as I ravish you, darling.” 

The boxers are suddenly discarded on the floor. It’s electrifying, being so open for Bucky to freely admire you. You’re quivering under his devoted gaze and tender smile, your breath hitching each time his fingers stroke a patch of burning skin as he takes his time in appreciating every single curve, every aspect that you might consider a flaw. To him, they’re new features to cherish. A way to learn you in the most intimate of ways.

You don’t even notice your eyelids fluttering shut. The rustling sound of fabric is what drives you to open them, just in time to catch Bucky throwing his shirt somewhere on the carpet.

He truly is handsome, with his strong physique and his muscles still defined, even with the small layer of fat covering most of it. 

With a lewd twist of his lips, his hands guide your legs up until your feet are firmly planted on the mattress and your knees bent. You are certain your heart is going to come out of your chest if Bucky doesn’t hurry up, rather focusing on pressing sweet, delicate kisses from your ankle to your thigh, just stopping short of where the skin turns wet with your arousal. His smirk is devilish when your breath hitches in frustration, taking his time in giving the same reverent treatment to your other leg.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

By the time he finally lies between your spread thighs, you are a shaky, sensitive mess, palms instantly covering your face when his nose almost touches your clit as his thumbs delicately part your folds.

Bucky lightly gasps. “Look how pretty you are. Already so wet for me, pretty girl?”

To be fair, you think this is the most aroused you’ve been in your whole life.

It’s mortifying how quickly your first orgasm approaches, it only takes Bucky a few languid circling movements on your clit and you’re already clenching, shivering against the beige bedsheets. 

Breathy moans and whimpers fall from your parted lips as his fingers toy with your nub some more. “You’re so responsive, darling.” He marvels, licking his lips. “But not yet.”

Your pathetic whine once he focuses on your hole only fuels his teases.

“I know, sweetheart.” He soothes, a thick finger gently tracing up and down the seam of your entrance. “Just a little more. I promise it’s going to feel so good later.”

And just like that, one of his digits is inside you. Your limbs go rigid, before his other arm comes up to rest on your belly, his thumb finding a leisure yet firm rhythm as it rubs your clit, grinning when your body melts at once against the cool sheets.

You sigh at the heavenly sensation, and Bucky feels the exact moment it starts feeling good, your hole slowly making room for another finger.

“There we go, pretty girl. Is that the right spot? You are gripping me so tight, darling, bet it feels so good, right?”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you can only manage a nod, your own hand shooting down to anchor itself to one of his shoulders as the tip of his tongue replaces the finger taunting your nub. The first swipe makes your head fall back. 

“Bucky!” A loud moan resounds through the dimly lit room, making his cock twitch. 

“Jesus Christ.” His growl vibrates pleasantly against your tender core. “Has anyone ever tasted you, baby?”

“No!” You sob at his fingers pushing against your sweet spot. 

“Fucking fools.” He snarls. “I’ll take care of you from now on, sweet girl. You won’t have to worry about anything.” He rasps out, feral with the thought of you making a mess on his face now that he has been blessed with your taste. “Just need to sit back and be good for me.”

You sniffle, the muscle of your stomach clenching to keep your orgasm at bay. You’re completely enraptured by his gentle yet solemn voice, not so different from the way his fingers play with your body. You subtly rock back on them, drawing him deeper and deeper.

“Oh I know, I know baby. I can feel you want to come.” Your hips twitch up, but the arm blanketing your belly keeps you nice and still as he enjoys his meal. His stubble leaves crude marks on the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the rough friction causing your back to arch as high as his heavy arm allows.   

“You know, sweetheart felt like the safest option.” He pants, coming up for air, his lips glistening with your arousal. “Now I can finally call you whatever I want.” 

“Baby,” he leaves a kiss on your mound, half-lidded eyes fixed on your crumpled features. You couldn’t be more grateful for Nathan to have his mom’s eyes. “Darling,” his lips move on your clit next, sucking harshly. “Pretty girl—oh.”

You hoped he wouldn’t notice the way you clenched at that, but of course the smug bastard does. 

“You like when I call you pretty girl?” You toss your head back as his thumb goes back to flick your nub. He can only coax out an embarrassed squeak that vaguely resembles a yes, but it’s enough to make Bucky smirk with pride.

“Yes, my pretty girl?” He relishes in the way you clench again, knowing you’re at your limit now. 

“Give it to me, angel. C’mon,” he growls, ravaging your clit with steady suckles. “I’ve been too well-behaved and patient.” 

Your head falls back against his pillow as your eyes fall shut, your first orgasm of the night hitting you hard and leaving you whimpering and dizzy under his palms. Your body tightens as wave after wave of pleasure seeps deep into your bones. Bucky groans at the sight of your pussy practically swallowing his damp fingers. You have never felt so good you could cry, the added sensation of his coarse beard against your sensitive core making your thighs tremble precariously around his head.

“Gorgeous.” Your nails cling onto his shoulder as you ride it out, humping his face with abandon under his soft grunts of encouragement. Bucky’s hips have been twitching against the mattress for a while now, unable to stay stoic in front of a goddess like you unraveling so sweetly before him. With a final teasing kiss to your clit, his thick fingers finally pull away.

You’re still breathless when Bucky lifts himself up, enough to pull you into another hungry kiss. Tasting yourself on someone’s tongue is definitely new, but not unpleasant. Not when a pathetic sound—half moan, half whine—claws out of your throat at your tongues dancing.

“Wish I could stay between your thighs all night.” He mumbles against your lips. Kissing Bucky… It’s just so lovely. Particularly like this, when he is towering over you, so close that the trimmed hair on his chest softly brushes your nipples as it heaves against yours. Your body lurches at the light stimulation on your raw nubs, completely missing the way one of his hands abandons your hip to swiftly discard his boxers. 

It’s only when Bucky gets into an upright position that you can finally catch a proper glimpse of his body. Even his cock is beautiful, for fuck’s sake, all flushed and thick, proudly curving up toward his belly. You gulp thickly at the sight of how majestic he looks, naked and kneeling for you, before you promptly shy away at the amusement twinkling in his eyes. His strong arms wrap around your thighs without a word, dragging you closer to him until his length lightly nudges your core. His tongue is inside your mouth before you can even let a full gasp out. Whining, your fingers slip into his hair as he teases the seam of your entrance with the tip. 

“So impatient.” He chuckles at your eager hips, before extending his arm towards the night stand.

“No!” Your fingers shoot forward and wrap around his bicep, causing Bucky to freeze entirely.

“I’m clean, got tested last month, and I’m on the pill.” You wheeze out, suddenly fearing your implicit request will be rejected. 

Bucky scrutinizes you with open surprise, before a long, pensive exhale slowly leaves his nostrils.

He places a sweet peck on your forehead. “I’m clean too. But are you sure, sweetheart?” His brows furrow in worry.

“I’ve never let anyone else do it without.” You swallow nervously, taking his hand in yours to guide it to your cheek, unconsciously leaning into his palm.

“Want you to be the first.” You whisper. 

“Fucking hell.” He grits out, letting his forehead fall on your shoulder. It’s your turn to smirk now, until you feel the bulbous head of his cock insistent against your hole.

“Oh.” You squeak out once he slides in halfway without much resistance on your part. The sight of your glassy eyes rolling back has him groaning.

“Feeling alright, doll?”

“Fuck—yes, fuck, it’s just—big!” You gasp, stiffening at the burning stretch. “More... More, I need more please.”

Despite your begging, Bucky feeds you his cock gradually, fearing he could hurt you and possibly scare you away forever. Once he bottoms out, his jaw clenches at the mere realization of finally being inside his girl. Attempting to calm the both of you down is difficult, yet he finds the strength to still, his lips finding yours at once. His self-control weakens precariously the more your body grows pliant under his, your walls hugging his cock so tightly he can feel every little, eager movement. The lewd, wet sounds of your mouth moving against each other only spur him on as his hips involuntarily jerk forward.

“Bucky.” 

“Yes, yes, I know sweetheart.” He coos at your ragged breaths. “Gonna make the ache go away, mmh?”

Dragging his hips back slightly, Bucky carefully studies your expression, and only when he finds no sign of discomfort he lets himself slip right back in, harder. 

“Oh, sweet girl.” He grins at you clinging onto his shoulders. “That feels good, right? Hear how she sings for me?” Leaning in to plant his lips right over your damp brow, he allows his hips to slowly move back, biting back a loud groan at the squelching sound.

“Need to see you fall apart on my cock.” He grunts.

“Please, need—harder.” You cry out, eyes rolling back as the tip nudges your sweet spot. Your moans grow higher and louder once he starts pounding you earnestly, your slack body trapped under his broad one, sliding up and down the mattress with each brutal thrust. 

Bucky loses himself a little the moment he buries his nose in the damp skin of your neck, licking and kissing away the salty tang of your sweat, finally fucking you properly. The slapping noise of your skins meeting shamelessly fills the bedroom, mixing with your labored breaths and desperate moans. 

“Shit, doll.” His growl vibrates against your pulse. “Need this all the time, need to hear your sweet squeals as I carve a place for my cock inside your cute little pussy.”

The way he kisses your mouth like a starving man, and how his cock fits so perfectly inside you, stirs a warm feeling inside your chest, far too tender compared to the throbbing ache in your belly. 

“Such a good girl for me, taking all of me so well.” He gushes deliriously, smiling at your connected lower half. “My girl. My pretty, sweet girl.”

“Come with me?” You whimper, your nails digging into his soft skin as pleasure threatens to swallow you whole.

“Want to give you another one.” He pants, slowing down just enough to properly look you in the eye. “I’m not so young anymore, sweet thing.” The back of his hand brushes your cheek with such tenderness you almost forget the hard length plunged deep inside your pussy, before Bucky resumes his punishing pace, coaxing moan after moan out of you. 

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, your body tensing as your back arches, finally letting yourself go.

“That’s it!” He draws the words out, keeping his eyes firmly on your face. Your legs feel like they are falling to pieces, sore but still squeezing helplessly his waist.

“So tight, so good for me. You look like an angel, sweetheart. A pretty, fucked-out angel. Wish you could see how beautiful you look with a big cock giving you exactly what you need.” He can hardly fend off the devastating orgasm threatening to make him fall apart; yet he keeps going, wanting to prolong your pleasure as much as he can. It’s only when your whimper borders on painful and your palms shoot down to push at his chest, that his hips gradually come to a stop.

“Holy fuck.”

Your lower half is pleasantly aching by the time you are coming down from your earth-shattering climax. Bucky is still trying to dominate his instincts, jaw clenched and nose lightly tracing the soft skin of your collarbone, breathing in your scent. The primal urge to make you his violently rattles at the cage of care and protection that Bucky scrupulously crafted day by day, just to keep it contained. He’s at his limit, yet he always makes sure to take such good care of you first... your stunning, kind Mr. Barnes. 

But now it’s your turn to have your fun with him.

“Get up.” You mutter, pressing on his pecs. Panic briefly crosses his features as he clumsily lifts up on shaky muscles. You don’t let him go too far though, gently pushing him until he’s laying on his back. When you land directly on his crotch, cock still snuggled inside you, his eyes widen in astonishment. 

Everything feels more sensitive like this.  

You don’t care about your aching joints, nor about your sensitive and sore body still going through the aftershock, immediately setting a fast pace. You bounce up and down, biting your bottom lip as you stare at his parted lips. Your combined ragged breaths make you clench around his length, loving the way you sound together. Bucky is too busy pawing at your hips with one hand and groping your breast with the other to rationally think about something clever that would surely turn this debauched doll in his laps into the timid sweetheart he likes teasing.

You’re not sure how long it has been, but what makes you still is definitely not the sudden uncomfortable stiffness in your lower back, but rather a loud, muffled noise.

Like something falling, or... a door slamming shut.

You stop at once, your wide eyes meeting Bucky’s astonished gaze. His shock, though, has short life, as his hands land on both of your thighs with a resounding smack, encouraging you to go on.

“Bucky!” You reprimand him, gasping at the abrupt stimulation against your sweet spot. The older man under you slowly lifts his torso up, encircling your waist as he gently guides you down with him, until your forehead rests against his.

“We have already established that we like each other and that this,” he points between you two just like you did before. “Is not a one time thing.” You nod quickly, still panting and alarmingly aware of all the noises coming from downstairs: bare feet thumping against the tiles, a cabinet closing, a small sigh of relief after drinking some water.

“Don’t you want to give him a taste of his own medicine?” You can’t believe the shadow of malice falling over his eyes.

“He’s your son!” You whisper-shout, partial to his proposal but still too timid to go along with it.

“And you are my girl.” He growls with the same heat, his fingers digging into your skin bruisingly. “The same girl he cheated on for eight months.” 

Something shatters inside your chest. You don’t know if it’s the reality finally catching up to you, or the humiliation gradually mutating into a fiercer, hotter thirst for vengeance. Or maybe it’s the way this absolutely lovely man just defined you his girl so easily. No shame, no reservations.

Your palms press against his shoulders, urging him to fully lie back down. The slow smirk forming on his lips matches your playful smile.

“Fuck.” Your hips resume their pace with a newfound strength. 

“You’re doing so well, angel. Look at you, taking all my cock in your tight little pussy. My pretty girl, all mine.” His dirty words only spur you on, taking his hands to guide them back on your curves. In the meantime, the stairs creak under careful yet not-so-silent steps, as Nathan warily makes his way up. 

“Oh my God. Mr. Barnes, ’s so big.” You gasp, completely forgetting about your ex probably standing just outside the door. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s breath hitches at the name you used to softly utter with so much admiration and respect, now sounding so beautifully obscene as you cry for his cock. Faintly grinning down at him, you squeeze the hand fondling your breast, Bucky immediately looking up from your core engulfing his length so well. 

“Yeah? And whose pussy is this, mmh?” His fingers settle on your clit with determination, careful to put the right pressure, and you respond at once, riding him faster. 

“Yours! Fuck, always been yours!”

"Good girl.” He groans, using every bit of self-restraint to not succumb to the heavenly feeling of you desperately gripping his leaking cock.

“That’s it.” His jaw locks. “Come for me, my beautiful girl.” Your third climax of the night is the most intense. You shatter with a breathy shriek, collapsing against Bucky’s chest as he promptly catches you. The urgent noise of footsteps climbing down the stairs and the final bang of the front door slamming shut are completely disregarded as you fall apart in the most delicious of ways.

“Fuck, you just tightened so fucking hard, baby girl. Feel so fucking good coming all over my cock, you were made for me.” His head falls back, exposing the refined line on his throat. “Taking it so well.” You cling to his large frame, shaking and whimpering as his hips ruthlessly chase his own pleasure. 

“’M gonna ruin you for anyone else, angel.” The crack in his voice tells you he’s close, his hands keeping you nice and still as you try to relax, letting him use you.

“Bet you’ve never looked this lovely with him,” he hisses, his thrusts frantic and sloppy. “Never came this hard—shit, you’re gonna be leaking my cum from now on.”

With one last effort, your chin lifts enough for you to whisper right into his ear, “’M yours, Mr. Barnes. Always have been.” 

His grip around your thighs borders on painful, but you don’t care as long as his filthy groans turn louder and needier. His hips thrust up once, twice, and then he is holding you down as rope after rope of his cum reaches the deepest part of you. Your content sigh at the surreal sensation of finally being filled soothes Bucky a little, his body finally falling back against the mattress as his cock keeps twitching inside you.

“Shit,” his next exhale is harsh, tired eyes staring dumbfounded at the ceiling. “I’ve never come this hard in my life, sweet girl.” His palms trace a slow path up and down your back, and you silently thank him for staying inside you. You are not sure you’d react well if Bucky were to part from you at once after what you just did.

Your weak body settles on his little by little, until you are completely pliant in his arms.

“C’mere and give me a kiss, I miss my pretty girl.” His mouth moves against your temple, before his thumb and index finger tenderly hold your chin to coax you out of your hiding place.

You lazily yield, meeting him in a languid kiss that is more tongue than lips. 

“The best.” Kiss. “Prettiest.” Kiss. “Girl.” Kiss. “You’re so good to me, took it all inside and didn’t waste a single drop.” He playfully growls against your jaw, eliciting a tired giggle out of you.

“Bucky, it tickles.” You squirm slightly, wrinkling your nose when he leaves a gentle peck right on the tip. He couldn’t be more proud of how serene you look, safe and thoroughly fucked as you lie drowsily on his chest.

“So,” he sighs after a while, arms squeezing your waist as he beams up at the ceiling. “About that date…”

— ⟢ END NOTES: thank you so much for reading 💕 my masterlist → winteryn's masterlist

I mentioned it before but the inspiration for the title comes from this spectacular meme, of course lmaooo

And it was a rhetorical question - something to make your bottom lip wobble oh-so-cutely just the way he liked. 

But when you’re steeling your hazy gaze on him and shaking your head? Oh, if Toji was any lesser man then he might’ve just cum right then and there. 

Aching shaft throbbing out a rapid little ba-dump–! right around your gummy ring of muscle. Stretching you out agape, Toji’s of such staggering size that he has to splay out his feet flat on the springy mattress - rutting up in sloppy strikes to your mushy walls just to fit inside. 

He takes a fat few fingers to pry open your leaky maw, thumbing apart your kiss-bitten lips until your tongue lolls out automatically for him to spit-

“See that?” Toji thumbs away the see-through splatter sprayed at the edges of your cockdrunken grin, murmuring. “Show me- show me.”

“Ngh- s-so dirty, Toji.” You whine, jittery body wracking with shivers after every inch he slipped inside of you. After every moment spent basking in his heady gaze, willowy eyes narrowing down when you dart out your tongue to put that webbed mass of saliva all on display. 

“H-heh, yeahhhh, atta girl. Mine inside n’ out now.” Your eyes slide allll the way to the back of your weary lids when he splats your tastebuds with- not one, but two more weighty wads of spittle. Closing your slackened jaw shut with one hand, the other finds itself cushioned underneath his sweat-dampened locks. Biceps flexing sexily, your stomach tightens in need. “Ride yerself stupid on me now, why don’t ya- Make that pussy cum.”

He’s pounding up into you like he hated you - like he hated those stupid memories of faking your orgasms in the years before. Wanted to prove himself with every syrupy peck at goopy pussy. 

Breaths spilling out in clouded puffs, your nose crinkles at the way that you’re stumbling to take such copious inches of him. Every bounce swabbing Toji’s rounded mushroom tip at the deepest sponges of your cervix, “Shit- shit, s-so big–”

“Yeah? Big, huh? Just big?” 

Babbling away, “Really, really big.”

And that only made him harder - bulging out your tautly stretched walls until you were wrapped around him like a clingy second skin. Until you were molding to every bit of his circumference and bumpy veins. Meeting your pap! pap! papping! cadence with mean bucks of his own, Toji wastes no time rolling the plump hill of his thumb across your clit. “See her? That cute, needy clit? Ever had her played with?”

“O-only on my own.” You’re sinking your teeth into your quivering lower lip to stop the overspilling squeals - but it doesn’t work. Not when every lil’ calloused heart being drawn on your bundled nub makes you see stars, “Feels so good Toji—”

“What’d I tell ya, silly girl?” Oh, he’s so smug. Stray hand grazing down your spine in a little massage that makes your hips stutter down even harder. Faster. With a quirked brow, Toji feels himself grin at the wet little slurps slurring from between your bloated lips. Your other ones. “Damn, real hngh- chatty she is- hold on, you’re gonna loooove this, doll.”

Your head bobbles stupidly, mewling. “Love wh-wha- oh.”

In the split-second it takes the honeyed syllables to fall from your mouth - Toji’s fucking them out just as fast. With a jagged, drilling thud! of his fattened cockhead against your g-spot. 

For the first time ever.

“Tha’s your g-spot.” Rovering up the globed pad of his index all up your tummy, you flinch when he presses hard down where his length was striking the very bottom of your pussy. “My favorite.”

“H-hit it again-” 

“Tch, greedy.”

Your throat is rendered so very parched with every soppy French kiss he planting on your magical spots. Once. Twice. Thrice. You were addicted. So many times that you can’t help but lose count and drool- “Fuuuuck. Oh my god, th-there. There- I’m so close.”

“Shush, girl.” A bulky hand plasters over your noisy mouth, seeping Toji’s steaming hot skin with glossy lathers of your spilling saliva. He nods downwards, where you were screaming out squelches. “Give ‘er some respect, she’s bein’ fucked properly for the fist time n’ wants to speak.”

You were being fucked properly for the fist time.

And it seemed like Toji had no thoughts of stopping - no thoughts of even slowing down from the way he was spearheading every tender orifice homed inside of you. Making you dizzier and dizzier and dizzier with each passing second-

“Toj- mmpf- Toji-” you’re sobbing, like a little mantra. Like the only thing in your mind right now - and he knew it, smugly. 

Pulling the curved edges of his fingers away with a slick few strings of juices connecting them, it’s the last thing you register before the solid spank. “Cum.”

You were so pretty when you hit your high. He thinks he might be in….love.

All throaty moans of Tooooji, and your lashes glazing with thick layers upon layers of tears. Hitting headfirst into the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had, it’s all you can do to throw your head back and clench around Toji’s thick, throbbing length tightly. 

Dirtily. Until he was hissing and fighting to drag you n’ your gripping cunt with one big, beefy arm to fuck you through your high.

“Tha’s why you couldn’t ngh- c-cum, doll.” He spits into your open mouth, letting you claw and bite and ruin the steamy plane of his sweat-simmered flesh. “Wasn’t fucked properly- wasn’t- s’alright. Toji’s here, Toji’s makin’ you cum. Gonna take gooood f-fucking ah- care of you.”

And your vision tinges with black, treacly slit grinding back against the delicious curve of his plumpened balls. Head static, entire body still wracking with shivers when you feel it-

He’s teasing an innocent kiss near the curled corner of your mouth. Feverish. “Now…have ya ever heard of squirting, doll?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Ladies first.

“Never?”

“Never.” 

Fuck- a gorgeous girl like you and none of those boys have ever even made your pretty pussy cum? 

Your coworker finds himself gulping, thickened digits trekking up to his yellow tie and loosening. He feels so…feverish at the thought.

Thank god it was just the two of you working overtime tonight.

And even clearing his throat doesn’t make that ragged edge of his words bate, doesn’t make him sound any less feral. Eyes molten and hot on yours, you catch the way the tips of Nanami’s ears scorch bright red. “I-if you would like, darling…I could show you how a real man fucks.”

That’s how you found yourself like this - pinned face-down on your corporate cubicle desk, maw leaking saturated waves of drool onto documents you were sure were important. Struggling to squirm against the shackles of his tie with every pressurized pound-

Ptwah! A messy wad of something slick and slippery strikes your overstuffed pussy, spittle smeared across your bulging folds with a sultry swipe of Nanami’s fat thumb. 

“Kento–”

“Almost hah- almost there, my love.” He’s gruffing out in a roughly condensed pant from behind you, hot breath hitting the back of your neck and making your skin simmer with goosebumps. The doughy curve of his length twitches, “Just a little longer.”

“L-longer?” You’re babbling away stupidly through flooding strings of saliva, head able to lift only a few centimeters off of the cool plane of your office desk. “Are you gonna c-cum too, Kento?”

“Ladies first.”

And, shit- Nanami Kento might be known around the office as the perfect gentleman - but when he fucked, he fucked you so filthy. Like no one else ever had before.

You swear you could feel your goopy walls contracting and molding to every hot, weighty square inch of him.

Curling a few dexterous fingers underneath where your wrists were pinned haplessly behind your back, all it takes is the tiniest of jerks for Nanami to lift you cleanly off the desk. With one hand, weightless. 

Pressing a sweet, sweet kiss against your sweaty temple, he was hunched over you so close now with the changed angle. And you could count every flex of Nanami’s thick thighs pushing you from behind, every scratch of his tawny happy trail against the jiggling curve of your ass.

Humming, “Mhm— this cute cunt’s tellin’ me that she’s gonna cum right about…” One soft peck at the corner of your mouth, and then another one from his globular tip against your g-spot. Hard. “-now.”

And when has Nanami ever been wrong?

It takes one- two thuds! of his bulky tip crashing into your most tender spots before your vision closes and you see black. Jaw dropping open to gape n’ close soundlessly, brows furrowing at the heat in your tummy because shit, it feels so good.

Your melty walls clinging onto his shaft so cozily- “Fuck, s’f-fucking tight. Can barely even fuck you through your cute high. How are ya even ngh- taking this big fucking cock, darling?”

“Wait-” you’re trilling away like his favorite song. Every dab of his weepy orifice into your cunt making you sob, “Oh my god- feels so- so good. So fuck! D-does it always feel like this, Ken–?”

“Awww, poor girl missin’ out.” Nanami’s glissading pecs stick to your back like a cushion, rumbling. Hips hitting yours with a thwack! thwack! thwack! that leaves you craving carnally for more. “Gotta teach her proper- teach- teach her properly.”

Before you can even ask what he means - before you can even register Nanami’s moans - he’s latching on a few fingertips onto your plump clit. Rolling over and over in lazy circles-

“Cute lil’ clit- poor thing’s never been given ngh- loving before.” Oh, he’s been holding this back - heart racing at the way you’d cum all over his cock and nothing but his cock. And Nanami sounds desperate now. “Clench ‘round me, my love- clench. Please.”

Heedlessly, you’re listening to his exact words before you even register them.

Dewy walls squeezing around Nanami’s girthy length, massaging every lightning bolt of his veins. His slit. Everything. And he’s losing his fucking mind- 

“Ohhh—” Planting kiss after kiss on your neck, he tugs you with that lecherous tie wrapped around your wrists until you were just plastered all across Nanami’s Herculean front. “Good, huh? Good? Can you say biiig stretch?”

“B-big-”

“Mhm?”

“Biiig s-stretch-” God, he was fucking you until you felt shy.

“Atta girl.”

“Feels so w-weird, Ken–” You’re yelping, pearly gumdrop of tears welling up behind your lids at the way you feel so raw. Your sensitive walls pried apart with Nanami’s flaming red tip, probing inside until it felt like he was jackhammering your very lungs. “M’all- ngh- extra s-sensitive and- ah!”

And you don’t know what you expected Nanami to do - you don’t know how you expected him to react. But it certainly wasn’t for him to snicker. 

Octaves higher, reverent. 

“Awww, my overstimulated girl.” Murked clouds hit your prespired neck, and it’s as if his strokes get impossibly deeper. Faster. Sloppier. So, so messy on your clit that your syrupy ribbons of slick puddle on the ground with a spattering splat! “Don’t worry, m’g-gonna make it allll better- ya here? Gonna make you feel so good.”

You can’t even think at this point. “Good?”

“Mhm–” Within only a few blinks, a tannish veiny forearm takes up your blurry vision. Nudging your slobbering lips, “Now bite.”

Your teeth sink into his muscled mounds of flesh before you can stop yourself - and Nanami’s letting his head fall before he can. A grated f-fuck! escaping him once he graces your snug pussy with a thrust so harsh that it leaves your legs dangling in midair. 

You think you’re cumming again for the second time - you think you’re blanking out. But the only thing you can feel right now is the scorching hot dripping of Nanami’s warm cum seeping into each nook n’ cranny inside you.

Overspilling from your puffy lips. Sloshing around with every drilling stab-

“Now that’s called a c-creampie, darlin’.” He’s groaning out - and you know what it is. You can feel it swashing down in buttery rivulets from the insides of your thighs, sticking to your warm innards like a sloppy second skin. And he’s still pounding you utterly stupid- “Say ngh- ‘creampie’ f’me?”

You’re whimpering, wrung so tautly that it felt like you were about to snap. “C-creampie.”

“Good…good girl.” Nanami’s purring, sneaking in a thumb to pattern little drawings all over the ivory splatters of cum topping your clit. Plugging those very same fingers into your mouth- “Now can you ngh- say ‘Ken, please b-breed me’, my love?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Never enough?!

“S-Suguru, I’m gonna-”

“Damn right.” He’s spitting glinting speckles of spit past your slackened lips, narrowed eyes boring down at you deeply through an inky curtain of bangs. The look in them is animalistic. “Again- cum f’me again. Cum goddammit-”

With your head striking the ends of the puffy pillow with a thud! you swear your entire body shivers as if shocked by a thousand volts of electricity. Crashing headfirst into so many white-hot peaks of bliss that it makes your head spin.

Over and over.

And it’s just about all you can manage to force your boneless limbs right now to throw your hands around Geto’s sweat-glistened back and claw your way back to sanity. “M’cumming m’cumming m’cumming.”

“Fuck!” He hisses at the agonizing sting that only makes Geto’s puffy cockhead twitch ‘round your gooey insides. Tight. “Got ya fucking addicted now, huh? Needy lil’ slut.”

It could’ve been your fifth orgasm of the night - hell, it could’ve been the five-hundredth and you wouldn’t have known at this point. 

Because Geto Suguru wasn’t just making up for a single round of missed orgasms - he was well and fully intent on making up for all of them.

And you’ve barely stolen back heady clouds of your breath, barely even blinked the woozy vision back into your eyes before Geto gives your fluttering cunt a sharp spank. Snickering mercilessly at the way you’re flinching your spine into a deep curvature. 

Cute. 

Padded kneecaps smearing your helpless thighs ever-wider in a mating press so filthy it couldn’t even be called one right now. You can only watch as Geto’s toned hips slow down until he was barely even grinding. Lazy, sensual drags of his swollen shaft up n’ down your tender walls. 

He smears the doughy fringes of his fingertips all over where you were simply bulging to desperately accommodate his size, “Not gonna s-say ‘thank you’ for your fifth orgasm, gorgeous?”

“Wh-wha- thank- ngh!” Your veins boil with embarrassment at how you can only gurgle and gasp right about now, a thick stream of drool flooding from the edges of your mouth. “Sugu—”

“Oh?” Before you know it, there’s a searing grasp on your scalp - Geto. His perfectly manicured fingers clawing onto the sweat-dampened crown of your head and dragging you mercilessly off of the drenched mattress. All the way until your tears cooled with his murked puffs, “What was that?”

Teeth drawn, canines glinting. He was snarling. 

You’re squirming impatiently, jostling his split-ended tip in wet swivels around your greedy cunt. Still throbbing. Still unmoving. “Said- ngh-”

Bent alllll the way back - he’s angling his ears to face your fucked-out face with a grin, tightening that shackle-like hold on you until you were keening. Enjoying this way too much. “What? What was that? How bad do you hah- want it because m’not moving an inch.”

You didn’t even know if you could cum at this point - whether you could physically even handle it. Stringing endless beads of tears from your eyes, skin breaking out with heaps upon heaps of shivers.

Sensitive. 

“Can’t- can’t even-” And the only time you’re seeing his rude façade splinter is once your trembly fingers trek upwards to clasp around Geto’s own slender throat. Tight. His breath hitches, bumpy Adam’s apple bobbing underneath your touch-

Fuck.

Fuck.

And he can’t fucking stop himself from giving in to slash your slick-buttered cervix with a sudden thrust. Arching off of the soaked-through bed with a slightly singing creak! the clammy skin of Geto’s pelvis sticks to your own like glue. Smearing and oh-so-sloppy.

All that it takes for the words to be fucked out of you cockdrunkenly, still twitching with the remnants of your previous orgasm. “Th-thank- Thank you, Suguru–”

Oh, what a sight it was.

With Geto’s eyes glazed over, long Stygian lashes flickering like they were about to screw shut. High cheekbones radiating off scorching waves of his bright blush, and- and he was drooling. 

A thin, silvery line of saliva that spattered from the edges of his oh-so-feral snarl. “Y-yeah?” Oh, his pretty baritone cracks many multiple octaves higher. “Now you can sh-show some fucking ngh- appreciation, can’t you?”

“Sugu-”

“Shut up.” One push. Two. Three. Until it felt like the scratch of Geto’s drenched black happy trail against your pelvis was going to brand permanently on your skin, scratching something deep and primal seated inside of you. He darts out his candied pink tongue, “Suck on m’tongue.”

And when you do it’s like your favorite bubblegum candy, he tasted so sweet - and he was fucking you the exact opposite. Quick, rugged thrusts that rendered you speechless-

“S-stupid girl- isn’t that right gorgeous?” Muffled and mean. It takes you a few tizzy seconds to realize that Geto wasn’t even talking to you at this point - clouded amethyst eyes locked on your saturated pussy. The way she was swallowing his reddened length endlessly, “Doesn’t even know what she m-missed out on ngh-”

Each pressurized force of his pounds left your heart racing, swabbing to leave geysers of pre in softened spots that you didn’t even realize you had - hell, you might just be falling in love. 

Fingers dipping away from the prespired column of his flushed neck, just a mere slippery inch before you’re startled by his parched voice. Shaky. Begging. “No- nooo you d-don’t-” Geto’s clasp on your wrist is bruising - permanent. Wrapping your fingers back where they were beginning to form red banded marks ‘round his throat. Tightly. “Ch-choke me- choke me while I make you cum a sixth time, gorgeous.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Sweet Expresso

“Oh, baby…” Choso’s drawing out in a sweet, simpering sigh - entire mouth just watering at the sloppy bucketloads of slick pouring from between your sappy folds. It was like he had his favorite meal all laid out in front of him. “Baby baby baby—”

Your legs splayed apart on the soft mattress, twitching ever-so-slightly with every hot cloud of breath that your awestruck best friend was panting out. 

In love with you. In love with your drooling cunt.

Back arching off of the sticky sheets, you’re lifting your hand to run over Choso’s long mahogany locks. Lower lip jutting out in a way that makes him almost whine- 

“T-told you, Cho- no ex of mine has ever made me cum before by eating me out- ah!”

And Choso Kamo wasn’t one to interrupt his lovely lady. He wasn’t one to cut off the pretty noises you were making before they’d finished ringing in his ears - but now?

Oh, now he’s promptly bludgeoning his clammy head between your heated thighs. Stealing a hypnotized little kiss right on the edge of your puffy clit. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“F-fuck.” He’s gurgling in a hoarse little tone all the way from the back of his throat, a thin line of drool spraying from the upturned corners of Choso’s plump lips because he just couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m gonna m-make you cum, baby- me.”

You’re almost breathless at the way he sounded so desperate that it was pained; dark chestnut brows scrunching together as if in prayer. “R-really?”

It didn’t matter to him what your tch- exes have failed to do before, he neve thought they were good enough for you anyway.

Choso saw a pretty pussy he wanted to kiss over n’ over again and he couldn’t stop. 

Pointed peak of his button nose pressing right into the perk of your clit, the scratchy pads of his tastebuds everywhere. Every vibration of Choso’s tremoring your snug outer ring, whimpering. “Yeah. Yeah, want you to cum- need- need you to cum.”

“Seems like you want me to cum more than ngh- I do, Cho–” You’re giggling out, eyes hazy with the curling swashes of his mouth pressing repeated French kisses on your puffed-up pussylips. 

“Ngh-” God, he sounded so pretty - whining the very moment you comb your trembly digits through Choso’s velvety strands. Cheeks painted red with a delicate blush, his breath hitches just darting his eyes up to meet your own. Fully heart-eyed. “I do. Need to show m-my best friend what she’s been missing, baby.”

Thumbing apart the gluey fringes of your folds with a squelched pap! You’re feeling his plump tongue swirl out saturated hearts right on the sultry target of your clit - and he’s never looked more like he’s in heaven. 

“Gonna f-fuck her now, m’kay–?” Just the thought of filling your snugly winking cunt up with his tongue is enough to have Choso’s hips rutting down on the mattress mindlessly. Groaning. 

Needy.

He wanted you so badly - he’s been wanting you so badly for years and years and years - that you’ve barely even started your lazy nodding before he snarls back his teeth to swipe swiftly into your leaky hole. Ragged texture of his tongue swiveling into every ridge and crevice-

“S-so warm–” you hiccup, fingers tangling into Choso’s perspiration-matted hair because he was moving ravenously. Animalistically. Your oh-so-gentle best friend- you couldn’t even control him at this point.

And he couldn’t control himself.

Pinning you down with his powerful upper body, the curve of his sculpted deltoids dig into your rutting mounds of flesh once Choso grinds his chin underneath your treacly slit and roughly shoves your thighs apart. Further n’ further until it burned. 

Groaning into the weepy mound of your cunt, his tongue slashes in an urgent in and out that makes your hips jerk- shit, you can’t help but think mindlessly that you wanted this…forever. 

“H-hold on–” Choso darts out one hand to guide both of your own - allll the way until you’re steering the soft spheroids of his dishevelled spacebuns. Tightly. “Hold on t’me, baby. Use me- use me.”

He wanted you to use his hair to guide him. Faster. 

And doing it so fervently. Folding to your every want and whim when you’re angling your hips into a tempo just the way you like it - Choso’s chin clacking into the base of your pussy, his nose rovering all over your sensitive clit. With squelch after squelch, you swear you feel him stall over that fleshy nub to take a loooong sniff of your cunt-

“Shiiiit- d-didn’t know you were s-so good-” You’re practically shrilling out, ogling the bob of his Adam’s apple after every gulp of your sweet, sweet sap. Your slick overfloods his mouth and puddles right up to his cheekbones. “Where did you even learn this?”

And for perhaps the first time ever in his life, your best friend doesn’t answer you immediately. 

He doesn’t do anything but let the bed sing out splintering creaks! when he increases the speed of his motions - until you’re rendered spellbound. 

You’re tugging more forcefully on one of his knotted spacebuns and he gives you the sweetest full-bodied whine. 

“I i-imagined it.” Comes the shy answer, and a long few inches of two of Choso’s ringed fingers pumping your goopy cavern doubly full. He makes your tummy lurch just by gliding over your pretty g-spot, whispering. “With…you. With you all the time.”

And you don’t know whether it’s that little confession, you don’t know whether it’s the sudden press off of his doughy fingerpads into the sweltering hot bullseye of your g-spot - but something about it makes you cum.

All of a sudden.

“Choso-” Your breath hitches, pushing him ever-deeper between your legs. Spine electrifying with something white-hot, seeing fucking stars. He was right - you were missing out. “Choso.”

And if you were surprised, then Choso was enchanted. 

Hips coming down hard to hump against the puffy sheets on the bed - feral. Through the crack in your woozy eyes, you sneak glimpses at the way his dark eyes twinkle, tips of his ears blazing red.

So pretty. The sight was enough to make your hips twitch with more and more sparks of euphoria - yeah, you were really missing out before this.

Long tongue slithering out to gyrate over and over fucking you through your high, your skin beads with blissed-out sweat with every peak he’s trawling out. Brows furrowed, Choso just couldn’t decide between licking his lips for the voluminous ounces of slick clinging onto his skin or fucking his wet muscle back into your wet mess again and again and-

“Fuh-fuck—” You’re hearing from above you, still so numb from your orgasm that it takes you a long few seconds to even realize that Choso had pulled away from his favorite spot making out with your pussy. And was now hovering over you with his red, furious cock clasped in one fist-

Your mouth lacquers with a fresh wave of greedy spit, dryly. “Cho?”

“Fuck fuck fuck m’sorry m’cumming–” He’s spitting hotly, fingers flying furious down the tender edges of his girth. Hunching over until his washboard abs were rippling almost painfully, every inch of skin burned an aroused red. “I can’t stop- I can’t stop, baby—!”

“Give it t’me.” You’re managing out, giggling at the strained whine it makes Choso spill out into the air. “Give it all to me, baby.”

His hulking body jolts like he’s been shocked with a million bolts of lightning at the mere sound of your voice. Gasping, “Don’t- don’t call me that or m’gonna-” 

But it’s too late. 

He’s not even given the mercy of finishing his sentence before Choso’s frosting your open entrance with such thick globs of cum. Ribbon after ribbon that sprays over your drooling slit in such a viciously syrupy sheen. 

“Look- look what you’ve done.” He babbles away, slurring over the very curve of his mushroomed tip down your pussy - and it makes such a mess that Choso just can’t help but imagine how much messier it would be if he plugged you full of his seed from your deepest innards. Coral pink mouth slacking into an oh! at the puddles oozing below you. “Fuck- cumming jus’ from eatin’ ya out- ngh- o-only you, my baby.”

Sloppy.

But what was even sloppier was the way that it takes only two seconds for Choso to sift down till he was back lips-to-lips with your ballooned pussymound. Smiling. Giggling to himself. 

You can only watch in awe when he takes a looong lick up your overstimulated slit, purposefully showing off the creamy layers upon layers all over his tongue. So much of it that you can barely see any usual bubblegum pink-

“C-can we kiss, baby–?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Big, big O

“Hm? Have I got ya babbling like a cockdrunk lil’ slut already or what, ma?” Sukuna’s entrapping your cheeks between two fat fingers in an embarrassing little pout. The curled edges of his nails poking your heated skin, and he looks into your heart-eyes deeply. “Because I swear I heard ya say no one else has ever made ya cum.”

“I-it’s true–” you’re stuttering out, barely louder than the sappy squelches ringing from below. Your hips were rutting almost mindlessly into his and he found that so cute. 

Well, if he wasn’t fucking irritated right now, that is.

Not at you - no, never at you even though he’ll never ever admit that. More so at those pesky lil’ losers before him that didn’t know how to work your pretty pussy properly.

So instead the king of curses slouches back on his decadent throne room, and if someone was to walk into his court - let them. 

He’s leaving a stinging little swat! right at where your pussylips were spewing out the most ribbons of sloppy slick. Tugging your plump folds apart to give a thorough few slides of his dually aching cocks, “Stupid girl. I’ll be fucking damned if I never make my human cum.”

“Wh-wha-” Your eyes are snapping open with a gasp, immediately darting down to where Sukuna’s lengths stood hot and throbbing. He was certainly staggeringly bigger than anyone else you’ve had before…both of him. 

“Nuh uh- are you second-guessing your king, girl-” Pointed, you’re rewarded with numerous spanks upon spanks that leave your perked clit stinging. His globular tip cleaning off the geysers of slick leaking out of you, “Now spread those legs n’ take it.”

Hands clawing precariously onto the mountain of his broad shoulders when Sukuna’s meaty thighs start bouncing to inch you down-

Fuck, you can’t help but lean all back and- god, it felt like you were being split apart. Two plummy crownheads mazing past your snug entrance, Sukuna was bullying up into every single sensitive orifice inside you without even trying. 

“Gonna do more than make you c-cum, brat- just you fuckin’ wait. ” He’s spitting out into your drunkenly open maw, face twisted into a feral growl. “Just watch, ohhh just you watch.”

So hot inside of you, every wiry string of precum leftover in your gummy walls after each papping ride was scorching - and the only thing hotter was that fat, glutinous brush of something wet. Squelching. 

Sukuna’s cushy pecs rumble instantaneously with a thunderous groan, “Mmm tastes as sweet as sh-she looks.”

“Wh-what is–” And you don’t know where to look - Sukuna’s handsome face, where he looked so very fucked, or down where his second monstrous mouth was making out with your overstuffed pussy. 

He’s inching back even further on his throne to let the large glistening tongue - almost the size of your face - loll out. Drawing deft little circles on your teary slit, honing down right on the button of your clit. Tasting you. Savoring you. “Oh.”

“Oh? Oh?” Rolling his crimson eyes, “That all you can say? Maybe I really have fucked ya stupid.”

“N-no, I–” But you were - ah, you were. 

All it takes is for Sukuna to lurch off of the sticky cushion of the throne with a creaking schwaf! Sultry hipbones smacking into the backs of your thighs, up n’ down. He’s hitting the very back of your dewy cervix with a resounding thud! drawing long, long lines with the sprinkling ends of his cocks. 

God- pounding into places you never even knew existed before. Rubbing his puffed-up veins against the grazing area of your tender g-spot. Sukuna was having the time of his life making you break-

“H-heh, yeah right— S’that why you’re all drooling f’me, ma?” A plump palm comes down on your spit-flooded mouth to lather itself in a filthy glaze of saliva, all trickling n’ spilling down the sides of Sukuna’s wrist. “As if the king wouldn’t be able to make this pretty pussy cum- a-as if m’like those useless bastards.”

Speaking more to himself than you at this point. He’s muttering underneath his breath, light coral bows pinching together and concentrating. 

Concentrating on striking your bulging magical spots with each second of his ruthless staccato - he wasn’t letting up just because it was your first time about to orgasm from someone else. He wasn’t going to go easy on you- no, you only find yourself growing ever-spellbound with each slip n’ slide of his matchingly rock-hard shafts.

Plap! The curved edge of his tongue swirls around your clit, and you all but sob. “F-faster, Kuna—”

Kuna, huh? He’s finding his brows quirking up - and if there was a faint pinkish blush breezing across his cheeks, well, then he was just glad the increasing pace of his hips is enough to drive you crazy ‘nough not to notice. Growling, “Greedy greedy.”

With two hands latched onto your hips, and another on the crown of your head to push you rudely into each one of his incoming thrusts, you’re being fucked like he had a point to prove. 

“H-harder—” Your arms wrap in a wobbly semi-circle looped around his thick neck - and if there was anything that could get you even wetter right now, then it was a firsthand eyeful of your size difference. 

“As you wish, ma’am–” Gazing down at his slobbery second tongue below, “Jus’ that way- make her scream.”

Scream you did. 

Because Sukuna was monstrous, in both size and the rugged circular brandings he was leaving on your cervix. And the drag of his scratchy tastebuds down your pulsing clit- Oh, you could feel your thighs starting to shake already.

“S’gonna be a big one–” He’s tittering from above, something dangerous glinting in both sets of his cursed eyes. Peering in even closer - until you could count each heady pant of his - something catches Sukuna’s eyes and his breath hitches. “Oho? A reeeeal big one.”

And when he meant big - he meant big. 

Because in only a few merciless hits, you’re not just cumming - you’re squirting. In thick, generous heavals of sloshing slick that drip down the sides of his sculptured front. It glazes all the way down to puddle at his throne, it makes such a slobbering mess that you can’t rip your ogling eyes away from it. 

Gasping for air, head lolling from side to side at the sheer intensity. The buzzing electricity that sprints down your spine goes on for ages. 

“What’d I tell ya? Love when you’re filthy, ma.” Sukuna gives your quivering cunt another spank of good job with the flattened base of his velveteen tongue. 

Shit, how his second mouth was enjoying every peak of your orgasm.

Lapping out graciously to catch every fountaining squirt, the entirety of his pinkish muscle coats with a lather of pure gloss. He was drinking you in like he was addicted.

He is.

And you thought that might be it, you didn’t think with all your cottony mind that he would continue edging his tongue to slip right past your mushy hole. Smearing your entrance widely agape until your vision was flashing blissful white, “Do that f’me on my hah- tongue again, ma, n’ I’ll breed ya until you can’t remember your name.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - “She jus’ came.”

And that’s what makes you finally pry your gluey eyelids apart, batting tearily up at the filthy, filthy image of Gojo still plastered to your phone. 

Pert, bubblegum tongue peeking out when he plugs his puffy pink head between your bawling folds and lets out a drawling sigh— “Fuck- y-you get me so hard, sweetheart.”

It’s almost as if he’s forgotten the yelling from your ex on the other end of the phone already. Forgotten everything but how warm n’ soft you were - you always did have that effect on him. 

And it’s with leisurely, drunken motions that the strongest takes a looong few seconds to swab the doughy edges of his pale thumb over your slit. Up n’ down. Making you throb in a rapid ba-dump–! as soon as he smears the scorching hot ounces of sappy slick escaping from you. 

Before darting them into his parched mouth with an exaggerated slurp! 

There’s another tinny crackle from the call that makes Gojo’s pretty features twist in dark delight-

“T-Toru…” You’re squirming your hips impatiently, giving his pre-glossed, oozing tip treacly peck after peck. You might’ve just cum, but with Gojo your body always wanted more. “‘Nough teasing.”

“Ohhh? What’s that? This c-cute cunt wants me that bad, huh?” He’s snickering out into the speaker, a cute lil’ dimple embedding itself onto the edge of his smirk. “Bet you never had her begging for you like that, huh? Not when you’ve never even made her cum.”

Shit, as if to prove his point, he’s leaving a few generous heaps of sappy precum on your bloated folds. 

Streaming out layer after layer that makes Gojo slide in even deeper. That makes him swipe down a few fingers across where you were most puckered and forcing out a saturated squelch. “Heh, that’s the sound of ‘er agreeing with me.”

Gasping, you’re swatting at the bulging curve of Gojo’s bicep - something that only makes his mushroomed tip even more achingly hard. 

“Ah ah- hold on, buddy.” Before you know it, you’re feeling the sultry pap! pap! pap! of Gojo’s rounded thumb circling your overwhelmed clit. Sensitive. Buzzing with a few stray dredges of cursed energy, “M’about to do something your loser ass had never even hah- heard of.”

You were so pretty like this - his gorgeous girl. And you only ever deserved the best. So what if he made a show for that bastard ex of yours that just wouldn’t stop blasting your phone with calls?

He was going to make you his star.

“Prettyyyy fuckin’ pussy.” Gojo’s whispering - low, hoarse. Almost to himself when he slips apart your adhesive-like lips to steal a solid eyeful of your perked hood. “You’re missing out real bad, y’know?” 

He really, really can’t help the few vibrating sparks bleeding through his thickened digits. Pressing down hard on that buttony tip of your clit, twisting n’ turning in all the right lazy circles, over and over. Just a single ounce of Gojo’s touch is enough to make your tummy lurch heedlessly, to make your thighs shake when he rovers ravenously to your nub-

And pinches. 

“Sh-shit.” You’re gurgling out, head bent stupidly backwards into the velvety pillowcase. Hands clawing red all over the supple mountains of his deltoids. And you swear you can count each and every flex- “Toru- Toru, I’m–”

You don’t even get to finish your sentence before Gojo’s narrating it all. 

Cerulean eyes glazed over with something…feral, coral pink lips loosening into a stark oh! Ones that Gojo himself has to lick over before he can even begin to rasp, “O-oh? Look at thaaat-”

Your maw slackens with free rivers of saliva that Gojo leans in and licks clean off. Giggling - giggling - once your gooey walls clench around the rock-hard crown of his cock, snug with that fat circumference. “Made her c-cum with jus’ my ngh- tip in her. She had to ngh- fake that all the time with you, didn’t she?”

He was in awe.

You wonder whether he’s even breathing at this point. Thinking.

But it was like Gojo had lost all control of his body - moving yards and yards in front of his melty mind. Because as soon as you can manage to jerk your head off of the perspiration-drenched pillow, he’s moving. Washboard abs tensing deliciously. Rutting. 

All hot, plump inches of Gojo’s shaft rub your every tender orifice through and through. He’s pushing and pushing past your weepy pussylips like he never ever wanted to stop. Couldn’t stop.

“Fuck yeah–” You’re startling at the sudden syllables wrenching out of Gojo’s bobbing Adam’s apple, a slow line of sweat starting to trickle down his throat. But he simply flashes you one more sleazy grin, and two more pinches. “Show me wh-where I am, sweetheart- can you do that for Toru?”

“Y-yeah.” You’re whining, and somewhere in the distance sounds a gasp. The unsteady ends of your fingers curve all the way to about halfway up your tummy, pressuring a nudge at the cylindrical globe of Gojo’s crownhead mazing through you. Only halfway still. “Here, all the way u-up in my ngh- womb.

“Good girl–” He’s holding your mushy folds tighter together in a squeeze, so that his veiny cock was smearing even cozier - even louder. Squelch after squelch. Voice hardening, “Hear that? Fuck- fucking lucky you didn’t video call.” Slurring with every rugged thrust, it’s so hot inside you that he feels like he’s melting. Head lolling ever-so-slightly, “M’about to hit her cute g-spot now, but you wouldn’t know h-heh anything about that, right?”

If there was a response then you didn’t hear it. You can’t, because your ears are popping the very next second. Blurry vision tinging with black no matter how much you fluttered your heavy lids-

You think you’re cumming again. Once more. Twice more - so many years and years of missed orgasms crashing into you all at once until all you can do is latch onto Gojo’s muscled back and whine. 

And he loved every second. Meaty thighs massaging against yours, your boyfriend pounds you through every peak. Harshly. 

Tears bursting from the edges of your hazy eyes, head oh-so-cottony with the sheer burning stretch - it takes you a few seconds to realize. 

To realize that he’d finally, finally bottomed out with a stinging plap! of skin-on-skin, brushing a fat glide down that magical spot. And Gojo finds himself shivering, he finds himself hunching over.

SLAM!

Your veins boil greedily at the way you get even wetter once he reaches up to strikes a powerful hand down on his mahogany headboard and splits it in half. Easily. Tensing abs rubbing down your front, “That sound? The s-sound of me about to make her my wife n’ fuck her full of my ngh- kids, asshat.”

Then suddenly your ears resound with that familiar ending tone. And it was just you two.

Eyes darting syrupily upwards, “G-glad he’s never going to c-” 

Oh. 

You were fucked. 

Because Gojo’s eyes were blown wide - crazed. Smiling, and you think he’s never looked more like he was about to rack up a kill list higher than could be counted. 

Stray bolts of lightning curl at the ends of his snowy lashes, flickering when Gojo leans down to give the tummy bulge he was fucking into you a slow kiss. 

Lips grazing over his outlined puff, your heated skin gets hit with the splat! of something…wet. And it’s only then that you realize that you just made Gojo Satoru so pussydrunken that he was drooling. 

“Jus’ you n’ me now, girl.” His chuckles make your most sensitive spots vibrate, and Gojo bucks into you mindlessly. Half-way through, like he couldn’t even bear the thought of pulling out. Could never. “Jus’ say the word n’ you can use the hah- s-strongest like a fuh-fucktoy.”

♡ HIGURUMA HIROMI - EMERGENCY, DR.~

“Hm, labia majora and minora are supple and soft.”

“Dr. Higu-” You barely even have the time to catch your breath before you can catch the tail end of your sentence. Voice breaking off into a lecherous whimper the moment the stern man hovering above you swipes a thick thumb over your throbbing clit. 

Humming at the glossy rivulet of slick that seeps from between your puffed-up lips, it slathers a thick coating down his digits. “Good lubrication, clitoris is reactive, too. Spread yourself nice and open f’me?”

Before you even have the time to blink, Higuruma’s leaning back mere inches to take a looong, solid look at your splayed-out legs. You’re arching off of the cool examination table like such a slut-

“And above all–” He’s drawling away, and you swear you catch his lips quirk up into a sultry smirk. Dark brows arching, his strawberry pink tongue nips out at the heavenly sight of you. “-she’s pretty.”

This inspection was both such torture and heaven for you. 

You’re whining, fists balling up mindlessly in his cottony medical coat - you can’t think. You can’t even say anything other than a few clouded pants of, “I- I need it- I just want to cum, but no one else has ever…”

“Ohhh, s’that so, sugar?” Your bottom lip wobbles like heedless jelly as soon as he caresses the side of your cheek. So close now that your tits heave against his rock-hard pecs, he’s boring into your yes so deeply. Pretty. “Then let Dr. Hiromi here help you.”

It took only mere minutes for Higuruma to have your face bullied down into the chilling plane of the table, a puddle of drool already ever-growing when he swabs his tip sensually down your slit. 

“Easy there, easy there- spread your legs f’me.” Just about all you can do to listen to listen to his every word, your capped knees smear until Higuruma was getting a sinful eyeful of your glistening cunt. Already aching and so, so wet. “Atta girl- so needy…so, so needy.”

You’re flinching - full-bodied and gasping - the second he strikes your slick-flooding entrance with three exact wads of messy spit. Rolling the wadded mess over your bloated clit, “Pubovaginalis is tight- reeeeal tight, heh. Wonder if I’d even fit, angel–?”

Veering your head back to catch sight of his painfully hard cock, your eyes travel down his veiny length - the way it seems never-endless. Massive. 

And suddenly you can’t help but let your mouth water at the way you want him inside you oh-so-badly. 

“Oh?” Higuruma’s deep bass sends shivers running down your spine, and you can’t believe how you’re so positively soaked and he hasn’t even put it in yet. “Lubrication increased significantly- s’this turn you on, sugar?”

“Yes- yes.” You can’t even lie- fuck, you can’t even stop yourself from pushing your hips back in repeated ruts that graze Higuruma’s slender, expert fingers against where your core was the hottest. 

Needy.

Cooing down at you, “Awww, s’alright—” The very sounds sends your heart racing, and your thighs shivering once he measures out a looong few inches from the very base of your treacly entrance to about halfway down your tummy. “S’gonna fit- m’gonna make it.”

Your jaw loosens as if you were stunned, “W-were you measuring out just how deep you’d be inside me- ”

“Of course, angel.” Dark tone much too smooth for the way that Higuruma was swashing aside his formal white coat to make room. “The muscularis will feel better ah- raw…” You needed him. To barely crown your drooling hole with the very rotund fringe of his fat tip, pushing. “Count now. Count every inch m’inside you.”

And a sudden dab into a bundle of nerves in your weepy orifice told you that he was serious. “C’mon- with me now. Oooone–‘

Your voice shaking as you whimper, “O-one…two.”

“Good girl.” Comes the response, and of course Higuruma was a good doctor. Of course he was rewarding you with a pinch to the hood of your nub, “Keep counting. Three–”

Drawing little patterns of his name right where you were most sensitive, he was poking his swollen veins saccharinely into every nook and cranny inside of you. Scouring. 

It just makes you melt. 

“Four- six?” The disbelief just kept piling on, and with a low moan into the hard surface of the table you’re bucking. Eager to find out for yourself just how many inches he was hiding away, grinding the plump of your clit over into his palm - all slathered in an oozing layer of slick now. “Sev- eight…eight!”

You swear you hear Higuruma snickering, “Close, but…” Right before he sucks in a sharply condensed breath and ruts- “-it’s nine.”

Bottoming out - finally. Until your spongy cervix recoils back with the sticky French snog of his readily puckered head, until your clit stings with the impact of his buxom balls thwacking!

And when Higuruma strikes, he hits. Dead-on into the bulging target of your g-spot, he’s laying on long n’ girthy inches that take up every square centimeter of space inside your snug pussy. Stretching out your glutinous walls to his exact shape until you almost feel like sobbing- “Hiromi–”

“Rhythmic muscularis contraction, body heart, heart rate increase- There we go, thereeee we f-fuckin’ go-” 

Did you just make Higuruma Hiromi stutter? You don’t know what you’re reeling from more - that, or the fact that you didn’t know who was cumming first. You feel him shiver above you, “You’re cumming, angel– congratulations.”

Were you? Fuck- you were, riding your hips back into his swollen inches to drag out the burning stars bursting behind your heavy lids. 

And Higuruma was just collapsing right down with you, his muscular body pinning you helplessly. Washboards abs practically melding into you and making your orgasm only increase with intensity.

Your mouth wrenches open with breathless whimpers upon whimpers and drivel, ones that Higuruma plugs up easily with just a few fingers over your maw. Tutting, “Hydration is important, sugar- though, you’re already like fuckin’ waterpark d-down hah- there.”

Not just with your own sugary juices - but Higuruma had cum, too. 

Sloshing around a warm river of cum that knocks on your womb, it was so thick frosting your hole and way down into your thighs below. Streaming out until you felt like you were bawling from below, feeling the weight of his seed stick to your walls all filthily.

But Higuruma doesn’t mind the mess - he fucking loves it. Loves how it paints glistening rings on his bulky base, loves the way your cunt twitches once he scoops the escaping ribbons back in with two fingers. “Now for a full body check-up, sugar.”

he doesn’t utter a single word once you snuggle up to his chest. you’ve taught him how to cuddle during the first time you asked him to hold you. sukuna was awkward with showing any type of affection back then.

he still very much is.

“hug, please,” you remind him.

the cold-hearted man scoffs, though listens to your polite request. all four of his arms imprison you against his chest, your small body nearly disappearing behind his limbs.

that’s what you like most about those cuddles you share together; how you fit so perfectly in his strong arms. it’s much more comforting than you thought it’d be.

a pair of hands rests on your waist, the other pair on your hips. sukuna glances down at you and immediately notices that smile on your lips. even after all this time, he still can’t fathom why you’re so carefree around a monster like him.

and that inability to understand you and your love for him is accompanied by an urge to push you away.

“you got your hug, now get up,” sukuna interrupts the silence.

his voice is cold and devoid of emotion—he uses that voice when he talks to other people. not with you, “i have better things to attend to.”

it hurts when he talks to you like that. like you’re not the person he secretly cherishes most. though, you remind yourself of sukuna’s own words. the ones you heard him say a while ago.

‘love is meaningless’, he said.

you remember. and yet you kept hoping that he’d change his mind about that statement. you hoped and eventually saw exactly that: your presence and your affectionate gestures mellowed his heart of steel.

but all that effort seems to go down the drain every time sukuna pushes you away.

you know it’s because he’s unfamiliar with the feelings of love. he may not say it nor show it, but you know that sukuna’s afraid of hurting you. so, he creates a gap between you two every now and then.

you know and yet you’re patient.

“oh, ‘kay,” you nod in understanding. you pull away from his embrace and get up from the bed. your bottom lip trembles.

sukuna is not gullible. he’s anything but oblivious. especially if it’s about how you feel and act. he notices every single change in your mood; whether you mask it or not.

you walk to the sliding doors—ready to open them and step out into the hallway. your eyes are a bit watery, but you quickly blink the tears away and take a deep breath in. you reach for the door.

“. . . come back here, woman.”

sukuna’s booming voice makes you stop. you glance at his form over your shoulder. he’s leaning against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

is he. . . upset?

“why? you said you had better things to attend to.” you answer with a shrug. you try your best to not make it seem like his earlier words had effected you.

you turn your head towards the word with a huff, “go on, then.”

sukuna narrows his eyes. he sucks at communicating what he actually desires—what he actually wants. right now that want is for you to stay. even though that completely contradicts his previous words.

he doesn’t know what to do. when you’re with him, he pushes you away out of guilt. when you’re away, he wants you back with him.

love is complicated.

“you. . .” sukuna grunts in frustration. all those feelings for you inside of his heart are playing with his rational thoughts. he doesn’t like seeing you upset. he wants the usual you back, “tsk. fine then.”

silence, followed by the creaking of the bed frame. seems like sukuna’s getting up to do whatever ‘business’ he needed to attend. at least, that’s what you thought.

you slide the door open and set a foot outside of the chambers. before the other can follow, you’re suddenly lifted up in the air by a strong pair of hands. your vision turns upside down as your body is effortlessly hoisted onto a shoulder.

“woah!” you gasp and feel the blood go to your head.

your eyes are fixed on the broad back you’re facing. you kick your legs in protest, but only get a smack to your ass in response.

you whine at that, “ngh, put me down!”

“watch it, doll,” sukuna hisses at your fierce demand, a warning to fix your tone. he puts you back down on the soft mattress. he’s surprisingly gentle when he settles you in place—not throwing you on the bed or anything similar, “should’ve listened when i told you the first time.”

your eyes meet sukuna’s and you notice how much they’ve softened. that alone makes the lump in your throat disappear. your love for him isn’t one sided—you’ve always kept that in the back of your mind—yet your thoughts made you overlook the little things he does for you.

his actions speak louder than his words. that’s the kind of man he is. sukuna’s trying to open up more, though that process is slow. you’re fine with that.

especially when there’s that faint pout on his lips as he stares at you. his eyebrows are still furrowed, his crimson eyes sharp yet warm.

“oooh… you want me back in bed this bad?” you tease once you get the opportunity.

the man in front of you clicks his tongue and grabs your cheeks with one hand, turning your head up to face him.

sukuna’s eyes are focused on yours. the eye contact is intimidating, but you’re hypnotised. you physically can’t look away.

he leans in and bites your bottom lip with his sharp canines, “shut up.”

that raspy whisper alone confirms your assumption. you giggle at his attempt of refuting your point. you’re used to all those intimidating words and actions he pulls to get you to stop your teasing.

those empty threats—it’s becoming rather cute with how hard he tries to deny everything. he fails nearly every time, however.

“come,” sukuna lays back against the pillows after placing a quick and sloppy kiss against your lips. he pulls your body against his and presses your head against his chest, right where his heart is beating, “continue with your.. ‘cuddling’ thing.”

he put your ear right above his heart, because he remembers listening to his heartbeat calms you down. you told him that a while back. sukuna doesn’t understand why you like it, but his fingers massage your scalp either way.

that’s also something that brings you comfort.

you’re surprised by how much he knows about you, but appreciate it anyway. he remembers both the big and small things about you.

‘and that’s how he probably shows his love,’ you conclude silently.

and when it came to aftercare?

he wouldn’t let you go if you did try.

that feeling itself was home, even if sometimes it got a little overwhelming. your back pressed flush against his chest, breathless as his arms wrapped heavily around your stomach, hugging tight. you squirm in his grip, but it only makes him press you further into him.

“mmhf— jason, i love you, but move over,” little conviction in your words.

jason, ever the possessive and clingy man he is, he kisses the curve of your neck and loosens his grip slightly, “i can’t help that i want to eat you alive,”

pulling away from him, you laugh, “you know you sound like a killer when you say that stuff,”

but he’s turning you to face him and adjusting you upward already, heavy hands over your hips.

“i mean, i am so infatuated with you,” planting tender kisses over love bites he’d left earlier.

bare skin flush against yours and his calloused hands urging you to sink back down onto him, a heavy sigh of relief escaping and he swallows them quickly from between your lips. like a beautiful practiced routine, you lean down onto him as he inches the rest of him deeper and the warmth welcomes him home again.

parting from his lips with a soft gasp of air, his breathy voice takes yours, “i need to have you in every way that matters.”

nearly choking at the implication of his words, you sit entirely upright in his lap, bubbling with nerves of overwhelming emotion you couldn’t quite name. heart pattering as he’s got you in the most intimate position.

nervously you smile, “that’s a lot of pressure.”

he’s shaking his head with a look in his eye that borders on absolution and fear. the honey tongued words spoke like it was only meant for you, running his calloused hands that felt impossibly soft against your skin. leaving soft wet kisses along the side of your neck, tickling you with his breath as he spoke.

“you don’t understand, i’m completely undone by you and you don’t even have to do a thing.”

you could never deny him, really. like it’s sunday morning and he were the sun, you easily tilt your neck for him, giving him more surface area to work with. leaning back down, trying to glue yourself to his body while he continued his soft ministrations, teasing in the most delicious way as your slumber reassumed itself.

“can we just stay like this?” he mumbles against your neck.

you crank your neck towards him, “isn’t that uncomfortable for you?”

he looks genuinely taken aback, “are you kidding? i could die again as long as it’s inside of you and i wouldn’t complain.”

wiggling his face back into the crook of your neck, still buried deep as he sighs against you—as if there was absolutely nowhere else he’d rather be.

“i would, and that is definitely creepy babe,” you try but your eyes are already closing as his grip tightens all over again.

he doesn’t entertain your rebuttal, instead he lets an “mmhmm” out as he runs his hands in soothing paths up your back. you melt into him and catch the sight of the soft red streaks on his forearms from how you’d been scratching at him earlier. begging him—whether to stop or go on, you can’t recall. this time you don’t complain, and the smile that takes over your bruised lips doesn’t bother you.

the warmth felt familiar and safe, and despite your earlier protests, the gentle tug of deafening slumber pulls you under with the help of his thumping heartbeat just beneath your ear. slowly he let himself fall into the quiet of your breathing, both of your breaths synchronizing, mingling together and dancing in the lovers' embraces that could not be seen with the naked eye, or naked anything for that matter.

you fall asleep faster than you’d like to admit.

a/n: sweet dreams beloved reader <3

& i miss you husband (jason todd), come home 🫩

he’ll stare up at you with hearts in his eyes and a look that could only be described as puppy like. then he rasps, “please.”

desperation evident in his tone and a break in his voice that struck deep. running your fingers through his hair and he practically moans. you nod your head and bite your lip when his eyes fall to it.

it’s enough to spur him on immediately.

before you knew it he was on his knees, fingers curled around your thighs like a brace to keep you there. his roughened hands hold you tight while he’s kitten licks at your clothed core. groaning like it hurts when you buck up into him yet not letting you get any further. he doesn’t let you shut your legs when the sensations are too much. jason won’t let you run from how it feels and he won’t let himself get off yet either. pressing himself hard against you when he lifts your hips, guiding you closer to his mouth like he could devour you whole.

it’s a miracle you remember that he genuinely can go on like this for hours before you pry him off—again, to no avail.

“jay—fuck, babe just take it off of me.” gasping as you try to push at his head and buck into him at once.

instead he moans against you like he’s the one getting off. “mmhf, give me another minute.”

struggling to find the words and clamping your legs around his head, you pull him up by his hair. it dawns on him then that he was absolutely drunk on you and didn’t seem to care. whining his name again, jason buries himself deeper between your legs. lapping desperately as your hips lift completely off the cushion. you mutter under your breath and gasp for air when he holds your hand in his and groans again. the fabric of your panties wet from arousal and his ministrations all at once. clinging tightly to your skin and he sucks in pulses. your free hand jumps to grab at him, at something to ground yourself from the feelings rendering you helpless.

it builds up higher as he takes both of your wrists in one of his big hands and holds it over your stomach. his other hand coming to wrap around your thigh and pull it further apart, deepening his movements instead of just taking it all off. flicking and flattening his tongue against you.

you’d feel embarrassed if it wasn’t jason. but the warmth pools in your core and if he wasn’t holding you down, you’re sure you’d be jumping around the place. he knows your body better than you do at this point.

“it’s okay ma,” groaning into you and parting just to speak. “just let it happen.”

when you turn your head to the side, trying to hide in the throw pillow there, he tugs you further down the couch. hoisting you up as he sits on his knees, only your upper back touching the cushion now. the tension snaps like an elastic band, the overwhelming force ruining you and probably his shirt too as you let go. but jason doesn’t stop eating like his life depends on it. he keeps humming as you shake in his grips. looking down to him, the high mixed with this one making you feel like you’re floating over yourself, watching him commit this filthy act with a smile on his sweaty face. 

he doesn’t relent, instead he continues his ministrations while you whine beneath him. weakly pushing at him while simultaneously aching for more. jason finally puts a finally kiss to your puffy clit and stands, trailing his lips up your bare torso til he sucks at your breast. moaning egregiously at how pliant you’d become, he finally reaches your face and locks lips with you.

the kiss is heady and sweet, utterly yours in a way that made you shiver. he’s twisting his tongue around yours as he pushes the taste of you so fat down your throat that you could help but feel impossibly filthy. while he’s got you there, his hands move on their own accord. finding his belt and clinking it open when you move quickly to push them down his legs. he lets you take a little control then, kissing passionately while you fiddle his belt out of the loops and shove his pants and boxers down with them. that’s when you hear the faint flicker of your lighter on the table and jason pulls back to place the joint between his lips.

eyes boring into yours as he takes a long drag, not wavering his gaze on you. he pulls you up by your chin and the rest of your follows breathlessly. leaning up into him until he brings his lips over yours, just ghosting there. then he exhales and the smoke fills your lungs slowly. sucking the intoxicating air in as he follows you back down too your back hit the cushions again, sealing the moment with a kiss.

the high only intensifies when he puts the joint on your lips and nods to make you do the same. the air that lifts from your mouth and touches his, you watch as his eyes fall to your lips and the thick cloudy smoke follows up into his parted lips. for a moment his eyes rolls back and the tuft of white in his hair that was stuck to his forehead looks similar to the milky white cloud that gathered around you as jason exhaled again.

you feel something thick and heavy on your clothes core again as he pushes your sweaty hair out from your face. a heady smile on his face and his red rimmed eyes nearly a a lot with how high he’d gotten. he leans up a little to kiss your forehead, but the drag is devastating on your sensitive bud. you grasp at his shoulders.

“wait, not yet.” gripping tightly while he only smiles and pouts.

“what?” he taunts. “too sensitive princess?” continuing the tireless dragging with his hand firm in directing his thick length.

it catches on you again and you gasp sharply. throwing your head back while trying to buck up into him and nodding.

“v—very.” the word a breathless sound on your tongue.

jason hums as he leans forward again, keeping you still beneath him despite how you try to feel him again. instead he’s pressing his full weight down on you while he smiles, pretending like he doesn’t know how hard he was against you now. his lips part on gasp just as yours do, almost like he’s mimicking how you move.

the next words were raspy as he said it and you knew you were done for. “too bad. you’ll be okay.”

his hand continues to drag his length over and over against you, the fabric doing nothing to barrier you from the other. the cotton now wet with arousal and precum, the slippage gives him more room to tease. watching you breath hitch and falter, he pulls himself up to drop it back down and let you feel he weight of him. when you try to hide from him again, he turns your head back to look between you. to see the squelching mess that you’d created from how he was making you feel.

“you see that? that’s all mine.” he moans as he just drags his length a little harder against you.

he uses his free hand to paw at your breasts, mouthing at you relentlessly like it was the last time. practically slobbering over your chest as he drops his mouth to the other and rolls the peak with his thumb.

crying out as the overstimulation peaks, you feel a tear rush down your face. though he only continues again, the look in his eye that told you he meant business. jason moans again your skin and the vibrations made everything intensify even more. he makes a broken sound then, sputtering as he says your name and his movements turn messy. his hips buck mindlessly as he breathes hot against your chest.

one of your hands come up to grab his hair and hold him there as you reach the peak once again, crying out his name as he comes undone. with a harsh gasp, he comes in thick ropes, painting your panties with his spend as the rest lands onto your stomach and thighs.

jason collapses against you, kissing up the side of your face as he catches his breath. finally pulling away to look at you, breathing heavily and melting into the cushion. a blissed out expression on your face and the lingering scent of skin, weed, and vanilla in the air. the intoxicating scent of you that he breathes in was riling him up again before you even spoke to him.

he breathes your name, “you okay ma?”

taking a thick swallow from how worked up you’d gotten, you nod, rasping a quiet, “yeah.” before he quickly got up and grabbed the water bottle on the counter. pulling you up while he rested his back on the seat and held you close to his chest, bringing the water to your lips.

you drink quietly, the room quiet beyond the soft sound of your music playing from before and you gulping hard. when he brings the bottle down, you drop your head to the crook of his neck and sigh. “you’re the worst.”

that only makes him grin and kiss the top of your sweaty head. “you mean, i’m the best?”

effortlessly lifting your hips just to pull your ruined panties off you finally and place you back onto him. letting his palm lay flat over your core, whether in silent apology or quiet possession, you weren’t sure. but you didn’t complain regardless. with no energy to argue, you just sigh softly into his neck and shut your eyes. jason holds onto you tighter as hums to your playlist like he knows every one because he does. he listens to your music so he can know you even more intimately than he already does and when you smoke with him, he adds them to his playlist.

he keeps the bottle close to where he sat on the table for when you taped him to pass it to you again because he knew you would. after a few minutes passed in steady silence where you only laid on him while he listened to you breath, you lift your head ever so slightly when he’s already looking down at you, bottle in his hand with the cap screwed off.

asking if you’re, “still thirty baby?” even though he knew you were, he was just waiting for you to ask.

when you smile weakly at him, he brings it up to your lips while he brushes your hair back with a tender touch.

while you fall into your exhausted slumber, you’re left wondering how you got so lucky to have him and he thinks exactly the same while watching his world drift asleep.