#I’m trying so hard to hold it in and work on myself as you work on yourself but day by day it gets more difficult and I break a little more

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　TOO MUCH

chris sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt and Nick say some hurtful things to Chris during a fight, bringing his insecurities to life and causing him to turn to his anchor, Y/N.

WARNING: Insecurities, fighting, crying, anxiety attack.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The noise in the living room had escalated from playful teasing in front of the camera to sharp, biting words. Chris stood behind the kitchen table, his hands clenched into fists at his sides as he glared at Matt and Nick, who were both looking at him from the other side of the table with expressions caught between frustration and exasperation.

"Do you ever think before you act, Chris?" Matt's voice was, surprisingly, raised, an edge of impatience in his tone. "We can’t get through one day without you doing something childish and making a scene, or worse, making our videos look like shit because of it!"

Chris’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond immediately, his eyes darting between his brothers, trying to make sense of how things had gotten so out of hand.

"I wasn’t trying to do anything." He muttered finally, his voice barely above a whisper laced with hurt. "I was just... being myself."

"Yeah, exactly." Nick jumped in, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "And that’s the problem. You’re always yelling and doing the most, Chris. It’s just... exhausting, okay?"

Chris clenched his fists, jaw tight as he glared at Nick, feeling himself crumbling a bit because sure, he’s too much. Sure, he speaks too loud and had opinions about everything and wasn’t afraid to share them, even if they were about the silliest things. Sure, he feels cornered and childish and immature and annoying, and most of what they're saying is probably true, but hearing his own brothers say it out loud... it pains his heart.

"You know, that’s actually rich coming from you." He shot back, his voice carrying a frustration he couldn’t hold back, trying to disguise his pain with anger. "You’re always the first to say that people watch us because we’re different, because even though we look the same, we're still different. But all you ever do is complain that I’m not just like you or Matt!”

Nick’s expression shifted, taken aback by Chris’s words. But Nick wasn’t one to back down, his voice snapping back almost before Chris had finished speaking.

"That’s not what I’m saying at all!" He fired, eyes narrowing. "Is it so insane to want you to stop yelling and acting like a literal child in every video? We’re trying to be professional, Chris! People like us, yeah, but they won’t if you keep acting like-"

Chris dragged a hand over his face, pressing the heel of his palm into his forehead, trying to shut out Nick’s words, trying to drown out the overwhelming feeling of being misunderstood.

"... and we can’t keep dealing with it, Chris. Grow the fuck up."

The youngest felt his chest tighten even more. His greatest insecurity - one that clawed at his chest every night when he couldn’t sleep, when the silence around him became deafening - was now on full display, brutally brought to life by the people he trusted most.

The internet was relentless in labeling him as "the weird one", the "annoying triplet", just because he was loud and talked too much, just because he was unapologetically himself. He’d laugh it off, of course, joke about it even because it was easier to pretend it didn’t bother him. But deep down, those words haunted him, scraping at the edges of his self-worth, making him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t enough.

And now, hearing Matt and Nick throw those same words at him... he felt hollow. Like all the air had been knocked from his lungs. They knew. They knew how those comments got to him, how hard he tried to ignore it, to rise above the criticism.

"Fine." He said bitterly, hating how his voice trembled slightly as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "I’ll get out of your way, then."

He pushed his weight off of the table, preparing himself to get out of there, but as Chris stormed away, Nick's frustration boiled over, and he turned to Matt, his voice sharp and incredulous.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He hissed, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

But Chris kept walking, his shoulders tense as he made his way to the stairs, refusing to let himself look back. His brothers’ voices felt like static at this point, blending into the background as he forced himself to keep going.

Behind him, Matt muttered under his breath, an edge of impatience creeping in.

"Why is he being so dramatic?" He called, exasperation evident in his tone. "Chris, just come back, man! Let’s finish this video."

But Chris didn’t even slow down. Each word felt like salt in a wound he was struggling to ignore, a constant reminder that he wasn’t on the same level as them, that they were all looking at him like he was the problem.

Maybe he was.

As he went down the stairs, his mind was racing, every emotion simmering just below the surface.

His hands trembled slightly as he reached his bedroom door, a mix of anger, shame, and sadness twisting in his chest, his breath hitching as he struggled to keep it together. He wanted to scream, to push all the hurt away.

Finally, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Y/N - curled up on his bed with notebooks spread around her and laptop balanced on her knees - looked up instantly, a huge smile spreading across her face as she noticed him, her expression so genuinely happy to see him that it made his heart ache even more.

"Hi, honey! How was filming?" She greeted brightly, unaware of the turmoil written across his face.

But her smile faltered quickly as she took in his red-rimmed eyes, the way his face seemed almost haunted, his body tense and trembling as he stood frozen in the doorway. She blinked, worry flashing across her features.

"Chris? Hey, what happened?" The girl whispered, and her words were like a lifeline, breaking the dam he’d tried so hard to keep in place.

She was quick in put her work together, placing her notebooks and laptop gently onto the floor beside her, leaving it all opened for her to come back to it later, her arms instinctively opening up to him.

"Come here, baby."

Without another thought, Chris crossed the room and collapsed into her open arms, sinking onto the bed as if the weight of the world had become too much for him to bear alone.

His arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face burrowing into her shoulder as if he could somehow hide from everything that had been clawing at him. His legs slid between her thighs, his body curling into hers, every part of him drawn in close, seeking refuge in the only place that felt safe.

Y/N didn’t say anything at first. She could feel the way his shoulders shook, the silent sobs racking through him as he tried to hold back, his breath catching painfully against her neck. She held him even tighter, her hands slipping up to cradle the back of his head, her fingers threading gently through his fluff hair as she pressed soft, reassuring kisses to his forehead, his temple, anywhere she could reach.

"Shh... It’s okay, sweetheart." She murmured softly, pressing her lips to his line of hair. "I'm here. You're safe. Just breathe, Chris. Just breathe, baby."

But Chris felt anything but safe in his own skin. Shame and hurt twisted inside him, tightening like a vice around his chest. He tried to fold himself even smaller, curling tighter into her, trying to somehow look smaller for a 5'8 grown man, pressing his body as close to hers as he could.

He wanted to disappear, to melt into her embrace, and let the world live freely without his presence. The words Matt and Nick had thrown at him - the very same words he read online, the labels he was used to brushing off - felt so true, so much a part of him that he couldn’t deny them.

Childish. Annoying. Immature.

He hated himself in that moment, hated how much he cared, hated how the words dug under his skin, making him feel unworthy, unloved.

"Am I... am I really that annoying?" He whispered, his voice cracking and sounding more horse than it should. "Do you... Do you think I’m too much, too?"

Y/N’s heart twisted painfully as she heard his words, the broken way he spoke them. She frowned deeply, pulling back just enough to look down at him, her hand cupping his wet cheek as she met his gaze, her thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down his face.

"Oh, sweetheart..." She shook her head gently, her voice laced with disbelief and fierce love. "No. No, Chris, of course not. You’re not annoying. You’re not too much. You’re everything I could ever want. You’re perfect exactly the way you are."

He clenched his fists, gripping onto Y/N’s hoodie - or better, his own blue hoodie -, his knuckles white with the force of it as he tried to agree with her, but her words didn’t seem to reach him. His brow furrowed, his eyes filling with fresh tears as he choked out.

"They said... They said I’m always yelling, being loud, making a scene... like I’m always... embarrassing them." His voice caught on the last words, his breath hitching as he fought to keep from breaking down completely.

Y/N held him tighter, her hand moving to the bottom of his white shirt, traveling inside of it only to rub soothing circles along his naked back as she spoke in a soft, steady tone, hoping her words would anchor him.

"Chris, they love you. They’re just... they don’t understand how much their words hurt sometimes. But that doesn’t mean you’re a burden or that you’re too much. You bring so much joy and energy to everything. That’s part of who you are, and it’s one of the things I love most about you."

He shook his head slightly, his breathing coming faster as anxiety started to build again, overtaking him.

"I... I just don’t get it. One minute, they’re saying people watch us because we’re different... and then they tell me I should be more like them. I don’t... I don’t know how to be that. I tried so hard to be like them, you have to believe me, but I don’t know how to change who I am-"

Y/N felt the depth of his frustration in the desperate way that he begged, wanting - no, needing - her to believe him. She cupped his face gently, urging him to look at her.

"You don’t have to change, Chris. Not for anyone. You’re enough just as you are, baby. And you’re not a burden. Not to me, not to anyone who really sees you and loves you for who you are."

He nodded slowly, finally trying to take a deep breath, only to feel like his nose was closed and his throat was being chocked by invisible hands. He closed his eyes forcefully, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tried to breathe in a gulp of air that never seemed to be enough. Chris could feel his heart tightening, his chest struggling in the quick movements of going up and down too many times in a second.

"Can't- I... Please-" He tried, tightening his hands around her hoodie, panicking with the anxiety attack that seemed to come so suddenly.

"Hey, hey, Chris. Sweetheart, you’re okay." Y/N whispered softly, her voice a calming presence against the storm inside him. She shifted slightly, one hand now resting on his chest with a firm press as she guided him through deep breaths, her own voice slow and steady. "Come on, just breathe with me, okay? In... and out... Nice and slow. I’m right here with you."

Following her lead, Chris pressed his eyes tighter in a way that made him see stars behind his eyelids, focusing on the rhythm of her voice, the rise and fall of her own breathing against his fists. With each exhale, he felt a bit of the tension release, his chest loosening as he tried to match her calming breaths.

Gradually, his racing heart began to slow, the adrenaline draining from his body, leaving him feeling heavy, exhausted.

Y/N smiled softly, brushing her fingers through his hair as she pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"There you go. That’s it... Well done, my strong boy. Now, just relax. I’ve got you."

As his breathing evened out, Chris opened his eyes slowly, his blurred gaze meeting hers with a vulnerability that tore at her heart.

"You don’t have to carry all of this alone, Chris. I’m always here for you, no matter what. You’re safe with me, okay? I love you... so much." She leaned down, pressing another kiss to his forehead as she held him close, her voice soft.

The gentle reassurance, the quiet love in her words wrapped around him like a blanket, pulling him further into her warmth. His eyelids grew heavier, the tiredness finally catching up with him as he let himself surrender to the comfort of her arms, a quiet whine escaping his throat.

"I know, honey. Sleep." Y/N whispered, a tender smile on her lips as she cradled him closer, holding him like a mother would hold her kid, her hands tracing soothing patterns along his back. "You can rest. I’ll be right here when you wake up."

As she continued to whisper soft reassurances, her fingers running gently through his hair, Chris’s breathing finally evened out, his body relaxing completely in her arms. His head rested on the curve of her neck, his arms still wrapped around her waist as he drifted off, his pain and worries slipping away in the safety of her embrace.

Y/N leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss to his hair before laying her cheek against his head, her arms wrapped securely around his body as she watched over him.

"I love you, sweet boy."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

A couple of hours had passed, the sunsetting casting a soft, warm light over Chris’s room, where he and Y/N lay wrapped together on the bed. Chris’s face was nestled against her shoulder, his breathing steady and calm now, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers.

Outside the room, Matt and Nick exchanged a glance. They’d been standing in the hallway for nearly five minutes, trying to muster the courage to knock. Their earlier argument with Chris had weighed heavily on both of them, guilt twisting in their stomachs as they replayed every hurtful word that had left their mouths.

Finally, Matt raised his fist and knocked softly on Chris’s door, the faint sound echoing in the silence. When there was no answer, he hesitated, glancing at Nick before slowly pushing the door open.

They both froze at the sight before them. Chris and Y/N were curled up together on the bed, Chris’s face still damp from tears as he lay against her, completely relaxed in her arms. Y/N had one arm around his shoulders, her fingers resting in his hair, while her other hand was hiding inside his shirt, holding his back, cradling him protectively. They looked peaceful.

Matt’s heart clenched at the sight, guilt intensifying as he took in Chris’s tear-streaked face. He glanced over at Nick, who was staring down at his feet, clearly feeling the same crushing remorse.

"Let's go. We can come back later." Matt muttered, pulling Nick towards himself before starting to back out of the room, thinking it might be best to give Chris a bit more time.

But just as they were about to close the door, Chris stirred, shifting slightly in Y/N’s arms. He nuzzled his head on her shoulder, his face just inches from the gentle slope of her neck where he could still catch the faint, familiar scent of her perfume mingling with the natural warmth of her skin.

He moved slightly, careful not to wake her, though his movement caused her to pull him in closer, her fingers instinctively brushing over his back. The feeling of her hand tracing small, soothing circles over his shoulder as if it was a muscle memory grounded him further, coaxing a soft sigh from him as he nuzzled deeper into her embrace, pressing a gentle, barely-there kiss to her neck.

When his sleepy eyes finally traveled around the room while gently stretching his legs between hers, he finally caught Matt and Nick's figures standing in the doorway.

His face fell the instant he realized they were there, his peaceful expression replaced by a guarded, distant look. Carefully, he eased himself up, making sure not to wake Y/N as he pulled himself away from her arms.

"Came for round two?" He looked at Matt and Nick, his sleepy voice laced with bitterness as he asked.

Nick swallowed, words catching in his throat as he struggled to find the right thing to say. What an irony. He opened his mouth but only managed to mumble, stumbling over his words as he tried to get them out.

Finally, Nick took a small step closer, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Chris, I... we came to say... We just..." His pearly teeth caged his bottom lip momentarily, taking a deep breath. "We love that you’re different."

Chris stared at him, incredulous, eyebrows raised as he scoffed softly.

"Different? That’s what you’re leading with?" His eyes narrowed, hurt simmering just beneath the surface. "So now I’m the ‘different’ one? Funny, ‘cause that didn’t seem to be a good thing a few hours ago."

Nick faltered, his face flushing as he realized his words weren’t coming out the way he intended. He tried again, tripping over his explanation.

"No, no, I... I didn’t mean it like that. I just-"

Chris took a deep, shaky breath, his gaze lowered as he avoided Nick and Matt's eyes, interrupting Nick.

"Look, I want to apologize, alright?" He started, his voice barely more than a murmur, thick with emotion. "I know it was all my fault and that I’m a lot to handle. I get it. I can be too loud, too... everything, really. And I know I’m not like you guys. I’ve tried so hard to be, but it’s just... not me." His words hung heavy in the room, his fingers twisting anxiously in his lap. "I feel like sometimes I just ruin things because I don’t know how to turn it off. You two seem to have this balance, you know when to joke and when to be serious, and I’m over here just... always pushing things too far."

He exhaled deeply, finally lifting his eyes to meet his brothers', the weight of insecurity and years of self-doubt written all over his face.

"I’m sorry if it feels like you have to put up with me. I’ve tried to be more like you, but it’s never enough. And sometimes... it just feels like who I am isn’t what anyone wants." His voice cracked at the last words, his vulnerability laid bare, and he quickly looked away, bracing himself for whatever they would say.

Nick and Matt shared a look, each seeing the guilt mirrored in the other’s eyes as Chris’s words sank in, cutting through them like a blade.

Matt felt his chest tighten, a pang of regret settling heavily in his stomach, making it hard to breathe. How could he have let Chris - his little brother, the boy who was always loving him no matter what - believe, even for a second, that he wasn’t wanted exactly as he was?

His legs moved on instinct, carrying him back into the room before he even registered it, straight to Chris, who looked so small and hurt, slumped at the edge of the bed. Kneeling down, Matt reached out, placing a steadying hand on Chris’s knee, his fingers gently pressing into his brother’s skin as if trying to ground him.

"Chris, you’re our little brother. I don’t ever want you to feel like you’re too much for us." He swallowed, his voice wavering as he continued, willing Chris to see and feel every word. "I love you, man. We love you for who you are. You don’t need to change a thing. It’s your energy, your spark that makes everything better. You have this way of bringing life into everything, and that’s something I wouldn’t change for anything." He looked into Chris’s eyes, his own gaze filled with a raw honesty. "We need you to be you, Chris. No one else."

Nick’s heart clenched as he watched, his own guilt building with every second. Gaining control over the hurt and regret flooding him, he crossed the room in long strides, dropping down beside Matt. He looked up at Chris, his throat tight with emotion, the sight of his little brother so closed-off, so wounded, cutting deep. He was supposed to protect him, not hurt him.

"Yeah... you being another person? That’s not what we want at all. We’ve never wanted you to be anyone else. You’re perfect the way you are, Chris." Nick’s voice shook, filled with a determination to make Chris understand the truth, to undo every careless word he and Matt had thrown his way earlier. "I'm so, so sorry that we said all of those things and made you think so bad about yourself."

Chris’s defenses wavered, his resolve crumbling as he glanced between his brothers. Their sincerity seeped through, but doubt still clouded his gaze. He let out a heavy sigh, loosening his grip on his hoodie just a bit.

"You promise?" His voice was barely a whisper, fragile and laced with uncertainty, his fingers twisting anxiously into the fabric of his sleeve.

Without hesitation, Nick reached forward, taking Chris’s hands in his own, intertwining their fingers and squeezing firmly.

"We promise. We love how wild you are, how you’re always the one bringing the energy. You’re louder, sure, but that’s not something bad, it's exactly what makes you, you. You’re the happiest out of the three of us, Chris, and we wouldn’t change that for anything." He gave Chris’s hand another reassuring squeeze, feeling the smallest hint of relief when he saw the younger brother begin to relax, if only slightly.

Matt nodded, adding gently.

"And hey, I don’t think we need to be professional or act in a type of way for our videos to be good. The viewers love us for who we are... the mix of chaos and calm. That’s what makes us, us. It’s why they stick around."

Chris took a shaky breath, letting their words settle over him, feeling the weight of them begin to ease some of the pain. Slowly, he nodded, his fingers curling back around Nick’s reassuring grip.

"Okay."

Matt leaned forward, placing a hand on Chris’s shoulder.

"We’ll do better, alright? We’re brothers. We’re gonna mess up, but that doesn’t mean we won’t have each other’s backs. Always."

Chris exhaled deeply, finally letting the tension melt away as he leaned into their touch, the comfort of his brothers grounding him in a way only they could. Straightening himself, he managed a small, tired smile, his heart feeling a bit lighter.

"Yeah... always."

"Well, I’m really glad you guys are okay again." Y/N’s soft voice broke the silence, bringing all three heads up in surprise.

She moved with a quiet strength as she sat up and brushed her hand tenderly through Chris’s hair, watching his face light up as he realized she’d been awake all along.

"But just so we’re clear... if either of you hurt my baby like that again, you’re going to have to answer to me." She turned her gaze to Nick and Matt, a playful but fierce glint in her eyes.

"Y/N..." Chris dragged the last letter of her name in a whining tone, feeling flustered with how she called him 'her baby' in front of his brothers - even though they were more than accustomed with it.

Nick’s eyes widened jokingly with her threat, a chuckle escaping him. He lifted his hands in mock surrender, glancing at Matt as if to say, 'Well, we better watch out'. Matt nodded, eyes a bit sheepish, scratching the back of his neck.

"Alright, alright, no more ganging up on Chris. You have our word, Y/N."

Content with their promises, Y/N turned her attention back to Chris, opening her arms and pulling him into her embrace once more. He let out a soft sigh, sinking into her warmth, his head nestled against her shoulder. Her arms wrapped around him protectively, fingers tracing soothing circles along his back as she whispered.

"I told you they didn't mean it." He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him, the last bits of hurt melting away.

Nick and Matt watched the two of them, a fondness softening their expressions.

"You know." She murmured, pulling Chris's head away from her chest and looking at him with a mischievous grin. "You’re pretty lucky to have all of us wrapped around your finger."

Chris laughed, a real laugh this time, the sound full of relief and love.

"Yeah, I know. I just... I guess I forget sometimes."

"Well." Nick started, squeezing Chris’s shoulder with a grin. "We’re not going anywhere. So next time, just remind us if we’re being idiots, alright?"

Chris nodded, glancing gratefully at each of them, feeling more grounded and cherished than he had in a long time.

[sudoka]

Outpacing the Dawn

Blackwood Mountain is unforgiving. At night the mountain glows with a strange blue shimmer. One that threatens to consume everyone on it. Is tonight the night you confess to Josh? Or has your fate already been sealed?

Ao3

Washington Lodge. 7 Hours Until Dawn. 

Rust and blood. The pungent smell filled your nostrils. Pain exploded behind your eyes, and sparks swam in your vision as you opened your eyes. In front of you was an old welded lever and just beyond that, a chain link barrier holding… two figures in the distance. You sat up, picking your groggy head up, the bare concrete cold on your hands as the two figures came into focus. Matt and Josh. 

Memories flooded your head. Coming to Blackwood Mountain, warmth, awkwardly diverging from the group to relax,  and then… nothing. You had sprawled out on your bed to finish your current read when it happened. The Psycho. 

“Good, you’ve finally joined us.” You looked up and around, seeing no one else. The voice was muffled. Calculated. Standing up, sparks came into your vision again, but you pushed the pounding in your head aside. 

The name said your voice, but your eyes were trained on the two boys in front of you. They were shackled to a wooden board, feet dangling. And then Matt coughed. Josh tilted his head. They were alive.

“Matt!” You rushed forward, trying the door, but to no avail. “Josh!” You began rattling the door handle harder. Slammed your body against the door frame. It shuddered, but there was no give. “Are you guys okay?” 

And then you saw it. Your stomach dropped. Right in front of them was a horizontal saw. An image of the grotesque skull mask flashed in your memories. This was his doing. And you didn’t like where this was going. 

“We’re okay! What’s going on? What is that?” Matt turned his head towards you and shouted your name. Josh’s eyes fluttered, he seemed to be fuzzy. 

Before you could respond, the Psycho’s voice filled the room again. “So kind of you to join us. When you go in there, be honest with your feelings. Say your goodbyes. Have fun.” 

Click. 

You pushed onto the door and fell onto the floor. Hard. Scrambling up, you ran over to… your mind stopped. How did this affect this guy’s sick game? It was clear whatever happened in here would affect the outcome. How in the everloving hell would it be determined? 

Your stomach sank lower than you thought it could. Be honest with your feelings. There’s no way this crazy guy would know- 

“I’ve been dreaming of having Matt all to myself lately. We’ve only ever kissed, but I think he’s going to ask me out after winning the big game. Obviously he’s going to win.” Hot isn’t even the word to describe the feeling etching across your face at the words filling the silence. 

“W-What is this?” Matt looked at you. 

You couldn’t form any words as the Psycho’s voice continued to echo around the room. 

“He said he wants to play varsity, and I really think he’s going to make it big. Is there room for me there? I’ll just focus on tonight and hopefully it ends with me under him.” 

Matt’s eyebrows furrowed and you took a step towards him. “That fucker must’ve stolen my journal. These were from a really long time ago. You know the night.” You cringed at your own words. 

“Good to know it’s from a long time ago,” Matt replied and shifted his body uncomfortably, trying to wrestle himself out of the shackles. Your heart panged. He didn’t deserve to hear these words, especially since your relationship with him didn’t pan out. 

And the person who really didn’t deserve to hear those words was the current person your heart belonged to. Josh glanced between you and Matt wordlessly. His eye caught yours and the contact sucked you into a vortex of the past. 

Washington Residence. Two Years Ago. 

“Thank you for doing this for me. You’ll have lots of fun, I promise.” Matt gave your hand a squeeze. 

“Okay, okay. No need to pile it on. I’m happy to be here for you.” With a returning squeeze, you smiled at Matt. It was a humid August night, the remaining crickets of summer still flitting about. Matt and the rest of the football team won their first big game of the season. And as Matt’s not-quite girlfriend you were obliged to go. 

The relationship started innocently enough. You both had a world history course together, one Matt was flunking. The teacher assigned you to be his tutor as one of the star pupils of class. And strangely enough, it turned out Matt wasn’t too dumb to keep up with the course, he just needed to focus less on sports and more on school. With nothing to really teach him, tutoring sessions became more of a rendezvous. 

Now, here you were. Holding his hand publicly and entering a stranger’s huge house. It honestly felt more like a mansion with a spiraled staircase and multiple hallways you looked like you could get lost in. Matt had never quite asked you out, but at some point between the make-out sessions you both knew you were exclusive. He always mentioned his ragtag group of friends, with whom you were familiar with from various classes, but never really interacted with. 

Within minutes you had already lost Matt. He gave you a quick peck on the forehead and began to chum it up with the rest of his team. You had smiled and motioned encouragingly, but now found yourself alone. Awkward and with no familiar faces, you decided to go to the bathroom to freshen up.

It took you a little longer than you would have liked, with seemingly endless doors, but eventually someone pointed you in the right direction. Finally opening the bathroom door, you were surprised to see a brunette with her head out of the small glass window. 

“Hey, are you okay?” 

The stranger coughed and you saw smoke permeating around the glass window. “All good! Mind closing the door on your way out?” 

“Yeah, sure, I’ll find another bathroom, no problem.” You rolled your eyes and shut the door. It wasn’t a big deal, but what if you had to actually use the bathroom? There had to be another one in this place. 

Matt being away was no big deal, but gosh you had no idea what you were doing here. You shook your head just as you heard your name being called. Turning towards the sound you saw one of your classmates, Sam, waving at you excitedly with a disgruntled looking blonde next to her. 

“Heyyy, Sam,” You drifted over, excited to see a familiar face. She was ecstatic to see you, bringing you into an emphatic, but brief hug. “Didn’t strike you as the party kind.” 

“I’m not, I’m here for moral support,” she elbowed the guy next to her. He had his arms crossed, his glasses acutely perched on his face. 

He coughed and then muttered out, “I’m Chris.” His tone was off, his eyes scanning the crowd. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s not usually like this. We just can’t find our friend Ashley.” Sam gave you a pointed look and catching her drift, you nodded. “What brings you here?” The question caught you off guard. 

“Oh I uh… I’m here with Matt actually.” Both blondes snapped their attention towards you. You floundered under their inquisitive gazes. “We uh…”

Thankfully, a reprieve was here. “What is up, party people!” You turned to see a new face. His features were strikingly unique with sharp blue eyes, and a humble bravado.  He donned a big smile, slinging his arm around Chris. Your eyes met his and startlingly, your heart rate was quickening despite your inhibitions. 

“Oh, Josh! This is one of my classmates,” Sam introduced you by name. 

“Pretty name,” he said casually, a teasing smile on his face. You couldn’t help but return his smile, a faint heat creeping onto your cheeks. Then he turned back to Chris. “Why are you pouting, man? Drinks? Drinks?” He turned to you and Sam. You wondered if he was sober himself. Chris shook his head, but a light smile danced on his lips. 

“I’m good,” both you and Sam said simultaneously. Josh threw his hands up in defeat. 

“Alright, well, I gotta go make sure Matt and Mike don’t break anything from the keg stands.” And just as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared, swallowed into a sea of people. 

“Did you want to go with Matt too?” Sam asked you. You thought for a moment and then shook your head. “I was actually looking for a bathroom. The last one I was in had some girl literally through the window.”

“Oh, god, not again,” Chris muttered. “Was it downstairs?” His question seemed odd as you were all still on the first floor.

“It was… why?” 

“Crap, that must be Ashley again. Last time she got stuck,” Chris sighed in exasperation. “Sam, come help me?” 

“Why me?” She laughed, seeming to already know the answer. 

“Last time she got stuck I- listen, I can’t just grab her.” 

“Alright, alright, I’ll come.” After taking a step, Sam turned towards you. “You can come with if you want.” 

Her offer was kind, but you shook your head. “Thanks, but I don’t think having a stranger there for this is the best idea.” 

Chris was practically pulling Sam the second your conversation wrapped up. She turned her head and yelled over the deafening music. “We’ll be back!” 

Then you were alone again. It wasn’t too bad, but so many people milled about. You were mulling over whether or not to find Matt when Josh bumped into you. 

“Whoa, sorry,” he said, grinning cheekily. Whatever was in his cup sloshed over between you both onto the floor.

“No problem,” You laughed, his smile utterly infectious. 

“Can I get you something?” He asked, his voice tinged with concern. “I know you said you won’t drink, but we have like… lemonade. Can’t have people over to mí casa and leave em’ dry.” 

“Oh, this is your place?” Your eyebrow shot up.

“Yup. I know, an impressive place for an impressive guy.” He brushed off his shoulder proudly.

You shook your head in amusement. “Sure, I’ll take a lemonade. I was looking for the bathroom earlier, but it was occupied. Are there any other ones?” 

He relaxed at your request. “There’s one up the stairs and to the left. I’ll go get your drink.” He had a sort of restlessness about him, but he was proactive, you’d give him that. 

Upstairs was daunting and vast, the muffled sounds of the party blaring below your feet. Despite this, the respite was quite nice. Eventually, you found your way to the bathroom and entered, looking into the mirror. This night was not going the way you wanted it to. From Josh’s words, Matt was doing… keg stands. Not exactly the most admirable act. 

But you shrugged it off, patting your cheeks with your hands. This night was going to be over soon. Enjoying the solitude, you started to wander the halls. The carpet was plushy, the walls lined with family photos of Josh, who you assumed to be his parents, and two younger girls. Sisters, you figured from the striking resemblance they all bore to each other. 

The lights were dim, sconces that were not in your tax bracket lining the walls. Something in you told you to turn back after making headway through the halls, remembering Josh was bringing you a drink. The last thing you wanted was to be seen as a creep, especially with Matt’s friends. You had just turned around when voices cut across the night. 

“C’mon Hannah, you look fine!” 

“Fine is not the word to describe this!” 

You froze as two figures made their way down towards you. As they got closer, you realized they were the same girls from family photos. 

The one with glasses and longer hair marched right past you, her face clearly red even with the soft lighting. She went into a nearby room and slammed the door shut. 

The other girl looked at you sheepishly. “I’m so sorry about that. She’s just… a little sensitive. I’m Beth.” She touched your arm softly. “I hate to ask this of you, but I need to find my brother. Can you just… stay with her for a second? You don’t have to go in or anything, but I’d really appreciate it.”

“Sure,” you said, not sure what to think. In a flash, Beth was gone. You stood there for a second, rocking on your heels when you heard a soft sob from inside the room. Taking a deep breath, you decided to knock softly. 

“Go away, Beth!” The other sister, whom you assumed was Hannah yelled out. 

“It’s not Beth,” you cringed at your own words, not knowing what else to say. 

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity, she responded. “Come in.” 

Pushing the door open, you saw her sitting in front of a vanity, her nose and face still red from tears as she looked at you through the mirror. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, concern etched on your face. 

She wiped at her face as you stepped closer. “I just wanted to look cute tonight… and no matter how much I look in the mirror, no matter what I do, none of it feels right.” 

“I know the feeling,” you said, now standing behind her at the chair. 

“This is going to sound so stupid, but I really wanted to impress my crush. Look good for him,” she said with a half sob. 

“No… that’s not stupid at all…” You inhaled. “You look so beautiful…” You said softly, not wanting to overstep the boundaries of someone you just met. 

She smiled sadly at that. “Thanks… I don’t even know you, but you’re really nice.” She leaned back in her chair. “I just feel like a huge fool. Look at me, dorky glasses, frayed hair.” 

“Your hair’s not that frayed,” you said, crossing your arms. “But if it bothers you that much, I do have an idea,” you offered, looking her over. She really was pretty, her soft doe eyes enlarged by her glasses. 

Hannah turned towards you now, picking her head up. “Really?” 

With a nod, you took a strand of her dark hair in your fingers tentatively. She turned back to the mirror to watch as you started a crown braid on her hair. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself and here you are doing my hair. I’m Hannah,” she said. You offered your name in return, laughing softly. 

“We do stupid things for boys. For instance, I’m here for one too.” 

“Who?” She asked, leaning forward. You averted her gaze from the mirror, shaking your head. 

“That’s fair,” she laughed.  “But since we’re friends now, I’ll figure it out.” You laughed at the family’s overt comfort with people. First Josh, then Beth, and now Hannah, none of them backing away from engaging with people.

“You are just like your siblings. I step foot in here and you guys are everywhere.” You started to work on braiding the other side of her hair. 

“It’s a Washington thing,” she giggled. “So you’re friends with them?” 

“I actually just met all of you for the first time. I came here with Matt.” Your fingers faltered as the words fell from your lips. 

“I knew it!” She exclaimed. “He was acting really coy these past couple of weeks.” She noticed the blush creeping on your face and settled back down. “Well, my crush is Mike so…”

You smiled at her confession, finishing her braid and joining the two strands together. “Well, I heard they were both doing keg stands, so who knows if they’ll even recognize us. But…” you said, grabbing a nearby butterfly clip she had strewn on the dresser. “Mike is bound to recognize someone as gorgeous as you.” The clip laid neatly in her hair now, pretty, ornate blue and gold now adorning her head. 

A blush crept on her face and she bowed her head. “Thank you…Actually, I know just how to thank you.” Without warning, she grabbed your hand and pulled you through the halls. You followed closely, laughing breathlessly as she brought you into a bedroom. 

As you oriented yourself, Hannah busied herself in a dresser drawer. You looked around, the walls of this room covered in horror movie posters, the bed in the middle covered in blue checkered bed sheets, little classic monster figurines lining any shelf space available. It should’ve been overwhelming, but you found it had a certain charm. Your eyes widened, this had to be Josh’s room. 

“Aaand, here!” Hannah turned towards you, holding out a flowery silver ring. It looked as if the band was made of branches, intricately winding over themselves. The ring was breathtaking. She noticed the hesitation on your face and pushed it into your hands. “Don’t worry about Josh. He owes me this. Please, take it.” 

Your fingers closed over the ring. “I really don’t-” 

“Uh-uh!” Hannah held up a hand. “You help me with Mike, I help you with Matt. A ring that pretty belongs on a girl like you.” She broke out into a grin and took your hand again, leading out towards the stairs. Her sudden energy was contagious and you both spoke in hushed whispers about updating each other on how the night goes. 

Right before the stairs were Beth and Josh, making their way towards you both hurriedly. Both Beth and Josh looked at you and Hannah and then back to each other. 

“Hannah?” Beth asked bemusedly. 

Hannah stood up straighter. “I am sorry for how I acted earlier, Beth. I am a new woman. And it helps that I had help from someone” Hannah smiled at you appreciatively.  Josh stood there silently, a similar look on his face as Beth’s.

Beth nodded, too astounded to speak. “You are a wizard,” she said to you, pulling Hannah towards her. She mouthed a thank you over her shoulder as they left. 

Now with just you and Josh, you turned towards him. “What happened?” He asked you incredulously, a light smile playing on his lips.  

“I just went in and offered to braid her hair. She really needed it,” you said, shrugging. “And she also declared us friends.” 

“I see that,” he said with a laugh.”Y’know she doesn’t get along with people that easily, so I’m surprised she even said that.”  He extended his arm, offering a red solo cup. “As promised, one lemonade.” 

“Thank you,” You reached to take the lemonade, your fingers brushing against his you took the cup. “I- um…” You looked at him, feeling flutters spread through your body, as if there were butterflies in your ribcage, bursting to escape. His gaze locked onto you, and the rest of the party became drowned out by the beating of your heart. 

Josh cleared his throat, drawing his hand back first. “No problem. Like I said, can’t have anyone high and dry at my place.” 

You nervously took a sip of the lemonade, trying to still the beating of your heart. You were here with Matt, you reminded yourself. And then you remembered the ring Hannah had handed to you. 

“Oh!” you said, reaching into your pocket. Taking the adorned silver ring out, you held it out to Josh. “Hannah gave this to me, but it looked like it was yours.” You flushed at your words, hoping he wouldn’t be upset. 

Instead, Josh looked surprised, his eyebrows shooting up. “It is hers actually, it’s a Washington heirloom.” He sighed. “Did she go digging in my room? All she had to do was ask.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, your fingers curling over the ring nervously. 

“No, no,” he waved at you. “Keep it. It suits you,” His eyes drifted down to the ring in your hand, and he laid his hands on yours, pushing your fingers to hold it. The contact sent electricity into your body. 

“Are you sure?” You asked, tilting your head. 

He nodded, his gaze unwavering from the precious silver in your hand. 

“I’ll take good care of it, I promise,” you said, unsure of whether to put it in your purse or not, weighing the least awkward way to do this with your drink in your hand. 

“Ah, here,” he said, reaching out. Your hand instinctively moved the cup towards him. Instead, he had taken the ring and was now slipping it gently onto your index finger. For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you looking down at the ring on your finger. It felt comfortable, sliding onto your finger like butter. But it wasn’t too big, settling just right. The cold metal was in stark contrast to the heat of Josh’s hands, still warmly holding yours.

A loud crash from downstairs broke the moment. You both laughed nervously, and you drew your hand back. 

“I-I should go check on that,” he said. 

You nodded, letting him go a few paces ahead of you, gripping the railing as you went downstairs. The heat of the moment didn’t escape you, and your head swam. Going back downstairs broke your feelings of solitude, an arm immediately slinging itself over your shoulders. 

“There you are, babe.” Your face flushed at Matt’s familiar voice calling you babe. You turned towards him, a delirious look on his face. He was clearly inebriated. 

“Hey, stranger,” you joked, leaning into his touch. Matt brushed his lips against the side of your head, and you froze. “What’d I miss?” You asked, taking a cautious sip of your lemonade. This was the first time Matt displayed PDA with you, and of course, it was when he was drunk. 

“Nothing at all, this party was so boring without you,” He clumsily nuzzled his face into your hair. Your body shifted, feeling the room sway. Despite being sober, the music felt like too much. It was pounding. 

“Didn’t look like that when I heard you did keg stands.” You turned to look at him, taking in how his eyes had a distant glaze to them, his head bobbing with tipsy movement. 

“‘Ts not like that,” He slurred. You frowned, your mind growing worried about his current state. 

“Alright, stud, we should get you home,” You said, patting his shoulder. Matt blanched, shaking his head adamantly. 

“No, I didn’t get to introduce you to my friends,” he shook his head. 

“I met some of them, don’t worry about it,” I offered, pulling Matt’s hand in an attempt to lead him to the door. But he just shook his head again. 

“But we didn’t even-,” He cut himself off, his lips having much too fluid movement for someone as drunk as he was. His mouth was on your neck, trailing up to your ear. His breath was hot and warm. “Please,” he begged. You didn’t know what to say to his words, so you just let the moment overtake you. All of the months of creeping around, of the small dates and stolen moments culminated into this. Your desire and need for Matt took over your head and body. Before you knew it, he was pulling on you, and you were being swept into his arms. 

His lips met yours over and over clumsily. Your heart beat in your chest, knowing you had wanted this for so long. You let him take you upstairs, your mind swimming as you both entered a dark room. All that mattered in this moment was you and Matt, letting him push you down onto a soft bed. Yet, somewhere in the haze of making out, a sneaking suspicion grew in the back of your head. You hadn’t made it that far past the staircase… As you opened your eyes, you froze, seeing the dark shelves and shadows around you. Without thinking, you pushed on Matt’s shoulder with your hand. This was- 

“Are you okay?” Matt paused, pulling back from you. You had completely froze. The light leaking in from a nearby window caught on the silver ring, glinting as it laid against Matt’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” you answered as you tried to catch your breath. “This is um, it’s just, this is someone’s room, I don’t feel comfortable going any further.” 

Matt visibly relaxed at your words, a small grin forming on his lips. “Don’t worry about it.” And then he was leaning back in again, any worries exiting his body. You looked up at him in concern as he dove back in, calculating how to stop him just as the sound of the door being opened and the flood of light switching on caused both of you to go rigid. 

“Oh c'mon man, I said the guest bedrooms!” Your body stiffened as the familiar voice sunk into your head. Your eyes squeezed shut, embarrassed of the position that you were in. 

“Sorry, your room was just the closest!” Matt responded, unfazed. His heat suddenly left you as he moved to get up. Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you realized you couldn’t just lay here. Moving to get up, you couldn’t help but catch Josh’s eye. Matt took your hand in his to bring you both out of the bedroom, out of Josh’s bedroom. 

“I’m sorry-” you started, but stopped as you noticed that Josh’s gaze was averted as he stared off onto the floor, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Despite just meeting him, your heart panged. Whatever connection, or spark, or whatever you had felt earlier had just been snuffed out, and it was clear from his expression he felt the same way. 

Washington Lodge. Present. 

Now, here you were. A full two years later, making the eye contact you had desperately craved with him, but for all of the wrong reasons. This time, his eyes didn’t tear away from yours. They were searching for something, and you felt your stomach flip with dread. 

Without warning, the Psycho’s voice filled the dimly lit room again. “Why does Josh look at me like that? It’s like he knows that my heart’s about to beat out of my chest and I can’t take it anymore. He’s so headstrong and arrogant and yet all I want is to kiss him. To hold him. To be held. I can’t keep writing like I’m a teen anymore. This is so embarrassing. I feel something so deep for him that I just feel like imploding.” 

“I-” You floundered under Josh and Matt’s gazes as your deepest thoughts were now floating around in the room. Nothing made any sense. Why was this psychotic guy attempting to reveal your innermost thoughts? 

Say your goodbyes. The command sent a shiver down your spine. And then it was suddenly like it all clicked. He was going to make you choose. And this might be your last time talking to either one of them. Or both if this sick guy didn’t get the show he wanted. 

You approached Matt first, as he was the first subject matter of the entries. “Look, I know things weren’t always perfect for us, you have Emily now, but I wanted you to know that I never held anything against you. And I’m sorry this guy is getting his sick kicks from watching all of this. I care about you, I really do. I was naive and stupid and so many things I can’t take back.” Your breath hitched as you confessed this to Matt. 

Matt met your gaze, a certain softness growing in his deep eyes. “I made mistakes too.” 

You wrung your hands nervously, your palms beginning to tingle from your next action. It was now or never to get closure with Matt. Closing your eyes, you leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed as he savored the feeling. 

When you pulled back, you filled your lungs with a deep, shaky breath and faced Josh. Kind, warm, thoughtful Josh. The Josh who never missed an important date in your life, who you spent many nights with just talking for hours or watching cheesy movies. The one you just heard how much gravity was between you and your ex boyfriend. 

Wordlessly, you moved over to him, placing a hand on his cheek. He looked at you, his brows furrowed and spoke before you could say anything. “Did you write that?” He almost whispered, seemingly stunned. 

“I did… recently actually. Josh-,” You ignored the feeling of Matt’s eyes on the scene in front of him. You had moved on a long time ago and so had he. “-I know you probably don’t feel the same way, but I need you to know how I feel about you.” In case this is our last time together, you said to yourself. Even if anyone got released, who’s to say there wouldn’t be more. You shoved the thought down and decided not to waste another single second.

“I’m so sorry it had to happen this way.” You pressed your lips against Josh’s. He was warm, and everything you had imagined. He kissed you back eagerly, and you felt all of your reservations go. The kiss was affectionate, and sweet, and you felt as though you could kiss him for eternity. You pulled back from the kiss to see his reaction, every part of you burned to know how he felt, you needed to hear it. 

Words formed on his lips before the world was plunged into darkness again. Your blood ran cold. Someone was pulling you away roughly, your feet dragging on the hard concrete as cold leather gripped your skin. “No!” you exclaimed, struggling against who you knew was the psycho. His show was over. The next thing you knew was the increasingly familiar scrape of the cold concrete against your skin. 

The lights flicked on again and so did the saw, whirring to life in a roar. 

“Good job, that went about how I expected.” The psycho’s dismembered voice filled the chamber. You got up and gripped the chain fence separating you from Matt and Josh.

“No, please, I’ll do anything you want,” you begged, shaking the fence. The saw started to move and your heart plummeted. You moved to the door again, trying desperately to make it move. It didn’t even shake in its frame. 

“You made your choice,” the Psycho drawled. 

“Bullshit, I made no choice!” you yelled, throwing your weight against the door again. “Let them go!” You kept rattling the door, but you couldn’t help but look at Matt and Josh, both struggling against their restraints as the rusty saw reached what looked like a fork in its track. And then it turned left. Towards Josh. 

“No, no, please!” Tears filled your eyes as you got more frantic against the door. Slick sweat on your palms caused your hand to slip from the handle. 

The sound of Josh saying your name caused you to turn your attention towards him. His eyes were widened in fright. “I want you to know that I-” but his words were too little too late. Screams pierced the air as the blade plunged into his stomach. From you. From Matt. And from Josh himself. The sight and smell of heavy iron filled your nostrils. The smell was nauseating as Josh yelled, his entrails being spilled out onto the floor as the saw cut deeper. And deeper. His body went still, his head limp. 

Click. 

You tumbled onto the floor, your vision swimming as you began to feel light headed. A blurry vision of Josh’s body filled your sight. Of what was left of him. He was silent. And you couldn’t comprehend it. 

“Josh!” You shouted, pulling yourself up. You were going to go to him. He had to be okay, this wasn’t real. Something fastened around your waist. 

“We have to go,” Matt said, pulling you against him. 

“No, we have to help him,” you said, tears blurring your vision as snot began to drip from your nose. 

“He’s gone. He’s gone and we have to go. Now.” Matt’s voice was gentle, but he was firm. Everything in you struggled against him, your hand reaching out frailly towards Josh’s motionless body. Your knees were weak as you fought against Matt. 

Nothing was real. You had just kissed Josh. Felt his warmth against you. He was just there, alive and breathing. 

In your weakened state, Matt was able to drag you out of the chamber. The door swung closed and clicked behind you both, a sharp sign of no return. 

“I can’t leave him here,” you cried out, shaking in Matt’s arms. He was warm, blood from his letterman jacket seeping against your skin. It was hot and sticky. And that’s when it hit you. This was Josh’s blood. Still warm. 

“We have to go,” Matt said. He tightened his grip on you. “If that sicko comes back, what then? We need to find the others and get out of here.” His voice was empathetic, but unwavering. He wasn’t going to let you go.

You nodded, letting your body go slack despite everything in your body screaming at you to go to Josh, even if you couldn’t. You wanted to just rot here with him. Everything moved in a blur as Matt guided you both out of the basement. The lodge felt ice cold, devoid of all life. Just hours before you had been talking to Josh on the couch, your legs curled up as you hung onto his every word, the fire softly roaring. And now, there was nothing. 

The weather had begun to pick up outside, the snow and wind swirling. At this rate, it would be an arduous task to make anything out. The trees cast long shadows on the night, engulfing everything in darkness. Both you and Matt walked quickly, your scraped knees burning from the cold under your jeans. Tears flowed from your eyes, still unable to process everything they had just seen. They felt like daggers of ice dragging across your face. 

“It’s going to be impossible to find the others like this, " Matt said, raising his hand to his face to shield his eyes against the poor visibility. 

The others. You had almost completely forgotten that the entire friend group had collected on the mountain. Sam, Chris, Ashley, Mike, Jess, and Emily… 

“Shit,” you replied. A shiver passed through your body, both from the cold mountain air and the thought of the others with the psycho killer on the loose. Were they okay? Were they safe? You didn’t think you could take any more losses tonight. 

Matt softened for a moment as you shivered, and took his jacket off, draping it onto your shoulders. It was little comfort, but you appreciated the sentiment nonetheless. The worn out letterman jacket was warm, the right sleeve completely drenched in blood. In Josh’s blood. Your stomach churned at the thought and you fought to keep the nausea down as you traversed the woods with Matt. 

You looked over at Matt silently. Taking the jacket off left him in nothing but his jean jacket and gray sweater. Despite losing the bloody jacket, splatters of blood still trailed over his face and neck, his right sweater arm stained with red. He looked over, catching your gaze and offered his clean arm. You took it gratefully, happy to have something to ground you. 

The moment was short lived as a sudden crunch in the distance caused you both to snap towards the origin of the noise. Was it a friend? Or worse, had the psycho followed you both? No, it couldn’t be the psycho, there were three frames now emerging from the darkness. 

You released your breath as the figures came into view in the pale moonlight-  Chris, Ashley, and Emily. 

“Whoa, what the hell happened?” Chris rushed forward first, taking in the sight before him. 

Ashley started to chip in, “Are you guys ok-” 

“What the hell is going on here? Where were you, Matt?” Emily stepped forward, pushing past Ashley and Chris to look at you and Matt. Her eyes narrowed at the sight of you- Matt’s ex-girlfriend, clutching his arm in his jacket. 

Matt’s words tumbled out in quick succession with yours. 

“There’s a killer on the loose, and he’s after us all-” 

“I can’t, I don’t know. Josh is- We need to leave,-” 

Emily’s eyes widened, and she moved closer to you and Matt. “Holy shit, is that blood?” Her cold demeanor dropped as she shifted closer in concern. Her words caused you and Matt to fall silent. This is not what you had expected from her. Emily usually treated you brusquely. You couldn’t really blame her given how Matt was not known for concise story-telling. Now all three sets of eyes gazed at you both intensely. 

“That’s what we’ve been saying. There’s a killer here and he’s after all of us. We barely escaped with our lives and he’s probably going to try to catch up to us.” Matt shook his head, and stared down at the ground. This was affecting him more than he was letting on. 

Chris and Ashley exchanged silent glances. 

“And… where is Josh?” Ashley asked quietly, placing her hand on Chris’ faintly. Your chest heaved. All eyes were on you. You could feel your heart constricting as the words refused to leave your throat. 

“He’s… he’s…” You kept trying to shove the words out, but they wouldn't come. 

“He’s gone,” Matt stepped in. “He’s… Josh is gone.” Your grasp released from Matt’s arm as his words hit your ears. 

“Oh god,” Emily said, placing her hand over her mouth. Ashley leaned into Chris sorrowfully. 

“We need to go. Right now, we need to find a way off of this mountain,” Matt said, the urgency in his voice picking up. 

“What we need is to go get help,” Emily interjected. 

“And what about Sam?” Ashley piped up. Her head turned toward the lodge frantically as she spoke. “She’s still in there.”

Silence fell on the group with these words. It was as if everyone froze, unsure of what to do. 

Finally, Chris spoke up. “Okay, Ashley and I will go find Sam, Jess, and Mike; the rest of you contact the authorities.” 

“Okay, but we need to go. Right now. There’s an old radio tower in the distance we can probably get to,” Emily pressed. She dusted the snow off of her leather coat. 

You sheepishly nodded. You were in no condition to try to go back into the lodge, the images still fresh and pervasive in your mind. 

The group split, Ashley and Chris towards the lodge; you, Matt and Emily towards the old radio tower. The three of you moved in hurried silence, the wind howling as it picked up through the trees. Your hand had dropped from Matt’s arm, instead Emily resuming her place and holding his hand. 

Things weren’t particularly tense between the three of you, both you and Matt had made things clear to Emily, his new girlfriend, that things were over. 

“I’m sorry about what happened to Josh,” Emily said, glancing over at you again. Her gaze was empathetic, but her eyes glossing over the bloody letterman jacket didn’t escape you. 

“Em,” Matt said tautly. 

“What? How she felt wasn’t exactly a secret,” Emily whispered much too loudly. 

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” you lied, releasing a small breath. “I appreciate it, Emily, really.” That part was true. Even though you and Emily didn’t have the best relationship, she was surprisingly amicable about your past with Matt. Her concern here was a welcome one. But you couldn’t help but feel a stab of resentment at her part in the drama the last time you all were gathered here on the mountain. 

The silence returned. Your thoughts became a mess. Every Washington you had grown to love was gone. Every single one cruelly ripped from your hands. And it was all this psychopath's fault. A growing anger bubbled up inside of you. If you ever faced this guy again, you knew you would tear him a new one, even if it was the last thing you did. The cold rippled through you and you pulled Matt’s jacket closer into you. The blood from the sleeve was now cooled, leaving an uncomfortable sticky feeling on your skin. 

Thoughts of Josh floated around in your head. His smile. His laugh. The way he always put others first. Even when they didn’t deserve it. Your fingers moved to idly play with your silver ring, the one he had placed on you that first night you met. Hannah’s gift. You had no idea how much things would change, that your relationships with them would deepen so much. That this small token would be all you had left of your best friend and her brother that you were in love with. You had never taken it off, it was like a permanent fixture on your body, and now a permanent reminder of all of your losses. 

As the silence stretched on, you all passed a gate. It was locked, offering no shortcuts and no easy passage on the cold, desolate trek. That is, until you stumbled upon a small outpost. 

“Finally, something,” Emily exclaimed. 

“Yeah, something,” you replied, a sudden glaze in your eyes as something shiny reflected in them. Matt and Emily followed your gaze as you pulled an axe out of the outpost door. 

Matt frowned as the axe came off of the wood cleanly. You turned it over in your hands, feeling the hilt. It was a little heavy, but nothing you couldn’t handle with the sound of your own blood pumping loudly in your ears. 

“Nice catch,” Matt said with your name. “I’ll hold onto it.” He reached for the hilt, and you bristled. 

Matt paused as you drew back, caught off guard. You coughed and pulled the axe closer to you. 

“Finders keepers,” you joked weakly. Your grip on the axe tightened. A whole new web of possibilities opened up with uncovering the weapon, the feeling fluttering in you. “Actually-” you started slowly, testing the waters. “- I think with this, it’d be best if I found the others. Ensure their safety.” 

“What?” Emily turned towards you. “No way, we found it, it should be protection for us. Matt.” She looked at Matt, whose frown had only deepened. You bristled again, feeling as if he could read your every thought. It was as if he could sense the pure anger flowing through you, despite your calm exterior. 

“She’s right, Emily.”

“What?” Both you and Emily looked at him incredulously. Anyone in their right mind would want to keep the axe. You knew that much. 

“She’s lost enough tonight. We’ll be okay, I’ve got enough brawn for us both,” Matt flexed his muscles, laughing haphazardly. You cracked a soft smile at his attempt to diffuse the situation.  

“Unbelievable.” Emily threw her hands up. “You two are the worst do-gooders I’ve ever met in my life. It’s us, or the psycho.” 

“Don’t worry. If I come across him, I’ll take care of him.” The glint returned to your eyes as you gazed at the axe. “Better that than letting him find us.” 

Emily shifted uncomfortably. “Fine, just make sure you swing hard.” You nodded, your lips pressed into a hard, thin line. With the axe, you had a new power. One that was going to take what you wanted. It would save you all. 

Matt saying your name momentarily pulled you back to reality. “Please be careful,” he said, eyeing you nervously. “I wouldn’t let you go on your own, but we need to get help.” 

“Good luck,” you said, a sense of finality in your tone. This might very well be the last time you saw either of them, and you knew it. With your new weapon in hand, you trudged off towards the lodge, a renewed sense of vigor in your step. This was your chance to set things right. It wouldn't bring them back, no, but it might sate the bubbling in the depths of your stomach. The feeling gnawed at you, hungry for more. Hungry for revenge.

[butnotbubblegum]

using the tags to vent my current emotional state into the void bc ig story feels like a bad plan for this, read at your own risk.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

they call me the griever because halfway through a thing I enjoy I’m already sad that it’s closer to being over

[hobisexually]

x

[deactivateddsstuff]

Please take all the time you need…I will wait for you..

I will do anything even start from the beginning…just for you…

Whenever you feel the moment is right…I will wait for you..,

[chazz-is-a-zelda-fan]

can’t post this on insta considering a good chunk of my irls follow me there and they wouldn’t get this but i’ve been doing a lot better this week about keeping up with myself, i think

[stonesandswords]

.

[faithfromanewperspective]

the thing is, when I think about graduating from my degree in 18 months time, I think of the relief of finishing high school that we felt when we realised we’d never have to do some of those subjects again. don’t get me wrong, I love what I’m studying, but the endless pile of tasks and assignments and new information I’m bombarded with and everything being on my computer and in my notebooks and doing nothing with my hands—that I could do without. at work I always struggled with the fact that I don’t have an end date—there was no end of semester when all my assignments were done, it was just another task on top of another task and up to me to manage how I fit them into my schedule and they’d often roll over the summer break too—there was no big celebration when each task was done, and I need to celebrate the satisfaction. I also need to see a time on the horizon when all of the things taking up my mental load are finished, and in an office job, you don’t have that. but with a university degree, you do.

I’ve come to realise that maybe I’m good at thinking and solving problems and shit but when it comes to basic tasks, maybe I just cant do them and maybe that’s okay. sure, there are more medications and I can work through my traumas that distract me all day when I don’t feel the drive of purpose and the promise of relief from at least one of my burdens more than I have—but in the end, it’s going to be years and years of struggling for something I may never be good at and there is no obligation associated with sunk cost. I’ve done all the studying I need to to start up a not for profit and I’ll probably work a few contract gigs in the industries I’m trained in but damn it I need an end date in every job that I work for anyone so I can know I won’t feel like this forever.

this is why any kind of non white collar job is so enthralling to me. anything that’s about helping people and you get to see the reward when it’s done and you have a happy client and money in your pocket that I can see and actually associate with the job that got done. it’s like doing the laundry, in theory at least. I know people are going to judge me. I know my universities are going to be disappointed in me. but I can make my degrees useful in my not for profit and I can also choose a life for myself that’s simpler on my brain—which is always going to be hyperactive and laser driven on altruistic causes to the point of neglecting anything else. and you know what? if I can earn money at all that’s a win. if this is what it takes to design sustainable cities properly—and I can simply reach out to people working in industries I’m training for rather than working for them forever too—while having a perspective that no one else does because who the fuck does a trade after a master’s degree—then maybe I’ve found the gap in the market or whatever you want to call it. if I have to be cold and emotionless in a job, at least I can do something where I’m in contact with the people living in communities and sustain myself off making them feel better. at least I won’t have to rein in my active hands as well as my sidetracked mind. at least maybe I can see new places every day. maybe there’s a life for me where it’s better than the suffering of the manic grind I’ve put myself through for almost two decades.

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

oh it’s possible I am experiencing dissociation

[floral-hex]

Another night I feel like my world is ending, so I went for a drive. Tried to sleep earlier. Nothing doing. Took a couple antianxieties. Surprisingly, not much help. Made me a little sleepy, cried a little, maybe a little more relaxed, but still…. blegh.

So, I’ve got my beeg drink, a podcast going, and I’m sitting in the Kroger parking lot because it’s 4:30+ in the morning and I need to see actual humans walking around. I don’t know how to explain it. Seeing other people continue on with their lives helps calm my doomer anxiety.

This sucks.

[fingertipsmp3]

I will never understand people who post tiktoks of them being mansplained to in the gym or someplace and they’re just nodding and smiling at the guy or being civil with him.. I’d end up being filmed by some bystander absolutely shrieking my head off as soon as the guy tells me I need to lose 50 pounds or that I’m doing the wrong workout

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Is refreshing my Spanish more useful in my day to day life? Yes. Do I end up doing that? No, because I’m a fucking idiot who can’t focus properly unless I’m into something. I keep saying “I’ve taken three Spanish classes through elementary and highschool. Re-learning it has to be easier than learning a whole new language!” and then when I open Duolingo I go like “ooh, Norwegian. I would love to be able to read that!” and take the Norwegian lessons instead 😑

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐮𝐩!”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! creampie/fucking his previous load of cum into you, mating press, toji is a mean teasing bully, pussy slapping, choking, taunting/degradation, hints at cock warning, light size kink, praising Toji, daddy, begging, pain kink

fey: let’s see if tumblr likes this better!

“Look at all that cum drippin’ out.” He squeezes your thigh making it harder for you to move your weak legs.

Digging your nails into his hard pecs, you’re pleading with Toji “Please move! Please! You’d said if I could make ya cum you’d fuck me please! You’re cock is so hard inside me, please fuck me! Please!” Grinding your hips, it feels so good to have his thick cock pushing some of his cum deeper into you.

You feel like a dirty whore already full of your husband’s cum yet craving more. You couldn’t get enough of Toji, his deep voice, his large hands and fat veiny cock are addictive.

Toji tucks an arm behind his head, his muscular biceps subtly flexing, “Ya really want me to fuck ya still, you’re that much of a whore? You’re already filled with my cock n’ cum, what more do you need?”

You beg, “For you to move please! You started this by rubbing on me telling me how you’ve been thinking about cumming in me. N’ I've been so good fucking myself on your cock!” He smirks when you try to pout whilst bouncing yourself on his cock.

“And whose is the pathetic slut who gets wet for me so easily?” He roughly grabs your throat and hip, holding you to him. It’s effortless how he gets off

“And whose is the pathetic slut who gets wet for me so easily?” He roughly grabs your throat and hip, holding you to him. It’s effortless how he gets off the bed with you in his grasp and his cock buried in your cunt.

He presses you against the wall, holding you there by your throat as he pulls his cock out. Roughly slapping your cunt, “C’mon tell me ya stupid lil whore otherwise I won’t let you cum.” Your body jolts from each harsh slap making your soaking wet cunt sting. His thick cum drips when your cunt clenches nothing. As you claw at Toji’s large hand, desperate to answer. You pathetic attempts making him smirk down at you.

He lines himself up, “Too late! I guess you don’t wanna cum.” Rocking his cock into you with a quick roll of his hips. Filling your sloppy wet cunt up, his fat head rubbing your sweet spot making your toes curl.

Toji loosens his firm hold on your throat, with any air you get you’re pleading. “Please lemme cum! I wanna cum on your cock! It feels so much better when you help me cum! Please I’m a greedy slut who gets turned on by you too easily.”

He grabs your thighs pinning you in a mating press. There is no where to run, trapping against the wall his massive muscular body so he can bully your cunt with his cock however he pleases.

“You’re so hot n big! I love the scar on your lip, how your hands feel when you grope me. Please daddy! I wanna cum on your cock lemme cum I’ve been a good slut! I’ve rode your cock till you came in me please!” He leans down quieting your pleads with a rough kiss.

You slip your fingers into his dark hair making him groan when you tug on it. His kiss softens when you whine, it’s so loving and sweet the way he’s making out with you. Contrasting his merciless rough, steady thrusts that are perfectly ruining your sloppy wet cunt.

Biting your bottom lip before he pulling away. Toji looks down to watch your soaking wet cunt take his fat cock. “I’ll give you another chance, how badly does my stupid brat wanna cum on my cock?”

all works!

[readwritealldayallnight]

“I just can’t believe it Si…”

“I know, lovie. Me either.”

“They’re so perfect…” you mumble dreamily, only half aware that you’re still going on about the sight in front of you, an overjoyed smile stretched across your lips as you lean back against Simon’s strong, muscular chest. He has his arms wrapped around your middle, chin resting atop of your head as he also gazes down before you both. “I can’t believe we actually made them. We made these perfect little things…”

“Dunno about we, I think you’re givin’ me too much credit there.” He admits, adjusting to press a quick kiss into your hair, craning his head so that now his cheek is smushed against the crown of your head.

“Don’t sell yourself short mister,” You laugh, leaning your head back to try and catch his eye, reaching a hand up behind you to run your fingers through the hair at the base of his scalp, earning a satisfied hum in return, feeling the vibration of it going through his chest into you. “You definitely were a part of the process, Simon. Couldn’t exactly have planted those seeds myself.” You add with a wink.

“Oh I remember, love, I was there.” He chuckles as well, his eyes meeting yours, the overwhelming feeling of pure contentment radiating off you both, the love he has for you reflected back at him in your own shining gaze. “You that did all the hard work though. Growin’ ‘em til they were ready.”

“Yeah but they’re our babies, Si.” You insist, his grip tightening around you at yours words.

“That they are. That they are.” He agrees, glancing down at the baskets set before you.

A moment passes where you continue to hold onto one another, enjoying the bliss that is existing alongside each other, feeling the other breath, heart beats falling into rhythm, both simply appreciating the view in front of you. Though you can’t see him behind you, Simon’s smile is wavering, unsure how to pose his next question, not wanting to sound as though he’s making fun of you.

“We are going to use them at some point though, right?”

“Eventually.”

“M’not sure how long berries last, lovie. And Johnny’s countin’ on that pie we said we’d-”

“Simon,” you cut him off. “Johnny’s damn desert can wait. I’m admiring my children.” You decide, casting another glance towards the baskets full of fresh blueberries, strawberries and raspberries you’d spent so long growing, the very literal fruits of your labour, the first successful pickings from the garden you and Simon planted outside your new home.

“Oh, so they’re your children now, are they?” He teases.

“If you’re talking about eating them so soon then yes, I will take custody.” You joke right back.

“Why’re you so gorgeous when you’re bossy?”

“Probably a side effect of the military, my love.”

“Well maybe we can look at having me plant a different kind of seed soon, aye? Kind that takes about nine months to grow?”

[thevillainswhore]

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

Warnings: Bucky POV, revenge plot, age gap, older!reader, flirting, cheating, kissing, smut, mommy kink, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), ass play, spanking, p in v sex, recording of sex, cum play.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Dividers by @saradika. Hi, lovelies! It’s been a while 🤍 This is by far not my best work, but I started it at the beginning of the year and finally finished it and decided to let it go before I convince myself not to post it.

Also, I have little to no knowledge about the education system outside of the UK, since I’m British. So please excuse any facts I may have gotten wrong, this was purely for the smut 😅

The arms of the leather chair Bucky was sitting on creaked, straining under the tense grip of his fingers. Fury coursed through every muscle of his body, boiling his blood until he was sure steam was blowing out of his ears. 

He had been sitting in his professor’s office for thirty whole minutes and not once had the man had the decency to look him in the eye and tell him a good enough reason for the C- marked on his most recent assignment. Thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure if his professor had ever made eye contact with him before; certain that he wouldn’t be able to recognise him if he ever looked at him. 

Bucky was a straight A student, working towards the perfect GPA to graduate with full honors and claim the job of his dreams. And yet, the second since his professor had licked his finger and slapped the stack of papers — stained with a ring of coffee that wasn’t there when he handed it in — on Bucky’s desk, his whole world had been turned upside down. 

He remembered his frenzy, the whirlwind of erratically flicking through each page and trying to find a single comment or suggestion that could help explain the low grade. But there was nothing. Only a forbidden red-inked C- that had taunted him ever since. 

Immediately, Bucky had booked an office session, since his professor was strict on the rules of when and where to discuss anything other than current class material. There must have been a mistake he reasoned with himself in the beginning — maybe a mix up with another student or maybe his professor had missed a chunk of his work because surely that godforsaken C- wasn’t right. 

However, Bucky soon came to realise in the thirty long minutes of his office session, that it wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was the most generous grade received of the whole class. 

“Sir.” He attempted once again to get through to his professor. “With all due respect, I worked extremely hard on his assignment. Every variable is valid, I ran through each test multiple times to gain an accurate representation. My method has been executed perfectly.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat. “I can’t understand why I’ve been graded so low.” 

Dr Parker couldn’t have seemed less interested if he tried, the keys of his computer clicking away aimlessly as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. “For the last time, if you don’t understand what is wrong with your assignment, then I can’t help you.” 

Bucky discreetly gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. The logic his professor spewed made absolutely no sense. He took a calming breath before he responded. “I’m not sure I can understand what exactly is wrong with my work if there’s no feedback to go off, Sir.”  

Dr Parker sighed, seemingly fed up with the conversation. “It's not for me to serve you on a silver platter. If you want a mentor who gives you a free ride or has to hold your hand through a grade then it seems like college isn’t the place for you, James.”

The material of the chair almost ripped where Bucky’s nails began to furiously dig in. He never wanted a hand to hold or a free ride during his time in college; the bare minimum he expected was to at least have some kind of evaluation or support that offered more than a lousy grade that wasn’t fair. 

Out of options, he desperately pleaded with his professor once again. “Sir, all I’m asking for is a reason for my grade being low. My GPA has been perfect all year and this assignment has made it take a huge hit. Please understand.”

Still, Dr Parker continued uselessly typing away without looking at him. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky’s words came out jumbled as he jumped to offer an alternative. “What about— What if I did something for extra credit! You know? Just for— to boost my GPA back up?”

“That won’t be necessary.”  

Bucky was at the end of his tether and his throat began to tighten. “Please, Sir—I need—“ 

“What you need to do is move on from this assignment and work harder on the next one.” Dr Parker interrupted him coldly as he suddenly stood, packing his papers into his satchel. “My office hours are over and I have somewhere to be, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door behind you when you leave that would be great. Goodbye.” With that, his professor walked around the desk and out of the door without a second glance. 

Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes while he sat there, staring mindlessly at the now empty chair behind the desk in front of him. He forced the lump building in his chest down, never having felt so defeated in his life. Throughout his years of education, he had sacrificed, placed everything that wasn’t important on the back burner; holidays, parties, normal friendships, just to put his future career first and for what? For one complete asshole to decide he didn’t care enough about his job or students to fuck him over? 

He shot out of his seat and paced over the carpeted floor. All of his dedication to his studies had been pointless — the thought burned through his mind and wounded him. All his life he had worked hard and this is how he had been repaid. The soles of his shoes thudded heavily until he came to a stop, running his hands down his face in despair. 

When Bucky opened his eyes, he blinked until his blurred vision became clear, finding himself in front of the floor to ceiling bookcase that panned over the length of the full wall. Sighing at a complete loss on what to do, his eye flitted over the polished ornaments in front of him.

As he trailed over the neatly placed trophies and certificates, a scoff left his mouth — bitter and venomous. Every one of the awarded achievements built his resentment even more. The pretentiousness was aggravating. 

He was about to walk away, go for a stroll with some fresh air to try and cool himself down and think properly. But just as he was going to leave, his eagle eye caught a small wooden picture frame shoved to the very back corner of the shelf, hardly noticeable with everything else taking front and center and ultimately hiding it. 

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, making sure his professor had really left before stepping forward. His nosiness had gotten the better of him and now his interest was peaked. Careful not to knock over any ornaments, he plucked out the frame and blew off the dust that had accumulated over the picture for god knows how long. 

To his surprise, it was a photograph of Dr Parker, many years younger and dressed in a tuxedo. Next to him, a stunning woman with the biggest smile on her face, dressed in an ivory, white dress. 

Bucky’s eyes flew wide open while his jaw unhinged in shock. 

Dr Parker had a wife?

Now that he thought about it, his professor did wear a gold band around his finger; one that the sun caught during a lecture one time and blinded Bucky enough to choke while he was drinking his coffee. 

Studying the photo some more, Bucky only focused on the woman, one with kind eyes, pretty lips and a body to kill for; silhouetted in a gown that complimented her figure amazingly. He was utterly blown away. 

The picture was at least ten years old, he summarised. His professor looked way younger than he did now, with frown lines and dark circles underneath his eyes. But he couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife was and how the hell he had managed to snag her with his douchebag personality. His mind ran a million miles per hour. 

For all Bucky knew, you could have been just like your husband; just as dull and just as unbearable. It was only rational, because no one in their right mind would willingly be with a man like that. 

He stared at you through the glass and tilted his head in thought, until the cogs started to turn. What if? he asked himself. What if he got his comeuppance somehow? 

As soon as the thought presented itself, he batted it away, shaking his head and placing the photo frame back in its place. 

But as he stood the frame upon the shelf, his hand stayed with it, unable to let go of the nagging idea that had now taken root in his mind. 

What if you were his perfect route for revenge? 

Looking out towards the window of the office, the setting sun beamed in. Bucky followed the streams of light that shined through, one landing on another photograph, larger in size of a chocolate haired boy with bright eyes. While he resembled Dr Parker, the boy’s eyes were all yours, kind and filled with light. The kid looked around the same age as himself, in a lab coat that had the same emblem as Bucky’s college. 

A plan began to quickly form in his mind, each piece and detail intricately connected together to create the most beautiful retribution. The biggest fuck you to his professor for screwing him over. 

Bucky sheathed his hands into his front pockets, running his tongue over his teeth with the most evil grin on his face. Dr Parker was going to get what he rightfully deserved. 

Vengeance.

Having met up after their last classes of the day, Bucky followed Peter into his home when he opened the door, the droolworthy aroma of a home cooked meal slinking into his senses and making his stomach grumble. 

It was now routine for him to come round to the Parker residence every week on a Friday afternoon. Once you found out your son had a new friend at college, you had extended the invitation to Bucky as Peter had recited. And of course, it would be rude of him to refuse. 

The execution of his plan had come together seamlessly, almost too perfectly. It was just his luck that a clumsy Peter Parker happened to bump into Bucky on campus in a rush to his next class, spilling his coffee onto the ground and offering to buy him a new one. 

Since then, he had made it his mission to become closer to Peter and soon enough, it was the night of his first dinner with you. 

Before that first meeting, he had drilled it into his head that his scheme of revenge was strictly business; to get in and out and call it a day. But that went down the drain when he rounded the corner to the kitchen to introduce himself and he choked on his words when you spun around on your heels. 

Bucky still remembered that moment, the first time he laid eyes on you in the cutest sundress, decorated with daisies that hugged your waist sinfully. The way your tits practically spilled out the damn thing stuck with him too. 

You were a vision, a sight for sore eyes — the photograph in his professor’s office did not do you justice even with ten years added on. Then, as soon as you bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his dick hard, his initial intentions went out the window. He was a goner and he knew one time wouldn’t be enough of you.

However, when it came down to dinner, Bucky was admittedly nervous. It wasn’t only just meeting you in the flesh and having his expectations blown out of the water that threw him off balance, the inevitable of seeing his professor outside of college worried him. His plan for revenge could have fallen through as soon as he met him. They almost did. If that would have been the case, Bucky wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.  

But when he sat down at the dining table, his professor had only just noticed another guest in his home. Bucky remembered the slight sweat of his palms, the dryness of his throat as your husband looked at him over his newspaper and cocked his head; a familiarity brewing between them. Those couple of seconds lasted longer than he cared for. Then, unexpectedly, Dr Parker brushed him off and went straight back to reading his paper — evidently deeming Bucky unrecognisable and only a new friend of his son’s.  

That memory still offended him slightly. There wasn’t a hint of recognition, even though he had fucked Bucky’s chances of attaining his dream career. 

Snapping out of his memory, Bucky quickly shook his jacket off, taking care to hang it neatly on the coat rack and made a beeline to the kitchen. 

“Dude. I know you like my mom’s cooking but damn.” Peter shook his head with laughter but Bucky ignored him in favour of something of much higher importance. 

Stepping into the kitchen, he immediately found you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the spice rack on the highest shelf. The skirt of your dress inched up your thighs and he couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at a sneak peak of your white g-string. 

Clearing his throat, Bucky held out his arms wide and acted casual with a wide smile. “Where’s my favourite girl?” 

His heart jumped as you snapped your head around, grinning wide once you saw who it was. “Bucky!” you cheerfully sang. “Hi, sweetie. I’m so happy you made it.” 

You have no idea how happy I am to see you too, he groaned internally. “What do you take me for? Like I would ever miss your cookin’, Mrs Parker,” he teased aloud. 

Raising an eyebrow playfully, you cocked your hip and crossed your arms over each other. “What have I told you about that, hm? Call me Honey, sweetheart. All my friends do.” 

Bucky held his arms up to placate you. “Forgive me. Your food is too damn good to pass up, Honey.” 

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly and turned back around to try and pluck the thyme from the top shelf. “You and that charm, boy. You’re gonna be the death of some poor college girl one day.” 

Noticing your struggle, Bucky took the opportunity to come up behind you and reach over your head. His lips perfectly aligned with your ear and so with a sly hand to your waist, he grabbed the jar of herbs and placed them onto the counter in front of you while he whispered, “What if I’m not into college girls?” 

Bucky heard the sharp inhale you tried so hard to smother, but it was useless with the proximity between you. It was instinct to then squeeze your hip, listening for your sweet whimper he lived to be the cause of. 

The moment lasted only a couple seconds longer until Peter called out for you from the hallway. “Hi, Mom. We’re home if you hadn’t already noticed.” 

Breaking away from Bucky sharply, you held a shaky hand to your chest. “H-Hey P, how was your week?” 

Small incidents as such repeated themselves every week. You and Bucky would find yourselves — or he would create them — in intimate, dangerous positions that wouldn’t be explainable to your son or your husband should they ever catch you. 

Which only made the game all the more exciting for him.

“Mom,” Peter whined while he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please not call me that when I have friends around?” 

Bucky held his laughter behind his hand when you passed your son by, pinching his cheek and putting on a baby voice. “Oh, but you’re just so cute!” 

However, that smile was soon wiped away from his face when the front door opened, immediately slamming shut with a loud bang. “I’m home, Honey,” your husband yelled. 

Your name on another man’s lips left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth. He had come to learn that your nickname was born from your old college roommate who had affectionately bestowed it upon you after your love of baking dessert treats. 

The story was adorable, one he had soaked in with all the details you offered him. But your husband and his boring, monotonous tone turned even the sweetest name into something unpleasant. 

With his keen eye, Bucky had spotted the fake smile you plastered on your face to greet your husband, even when he walked straight past you without a hug or a kiss and into his usual chair at the dining table. 

“Glad your home safe, love,” you quickly offered him a half assed hello and headed back towards the kitchen to grab the meat out of the oven. 

“Hey.” Bucky shot forward before you could grab the handle and slid the oven mitts laying on the counter onto his hands. “I got this, don’t worry about it.” 

You paused to look at him like he had grown another head. “Bucky, I've done this a million times. I’m perfectly capable.” 

“I know you are, beautiful.” He didn’t miss the way your lips parted from his compliment, reserved for your moments alone. “Doesn’t mean you should have to. Lemme do it, please.” 

It didn’t take much for you to relent, already flustered enough to give in to him. Stepping aside, you made room for Bucky to take the dish out of the oven and place it on the worktop. 

“Smells fuckin’ delicious, Honey.” You gently swatted his arm for his colourful language, but he couldn’t help test the waters as he stared directly into your eyes. “Hopefully tastes as good as she looks.” 

What he didn’t expect was for you to retort back with a quick wit. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s as juicy as they get.” 

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. “I bet she is.” 

“Where the hell is this damn food, woman? I’m eating away here!” your husband barked from the dining table. 

Bucky gritted his teeth while he watched you bow your head in embarrassment. “Just plating up now. It won’t be much longer, dear!” 

Turning back to Bucky, you smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, he gets a little grumpy when he’s hungry.” 

He couldn’t believe you were apologising for that son of a bitch, though this was a regular occurrence by now; excusing your husband’s wrongdoings even if you were ashamed of it. 

Placing his hand over yours, Bucky told you firmly, “Don’t think for one second that you have to apologise to me, Honey.” The next words he grumbled under his breath. “Especially never on behalf of that fucker.”

Your free hand smoothed over the skirt of your dress, a nervous habit of yours when you were upset. 

Bucky recognised your unease and took initiative to derail the conversation. “What do you need me to take?” he asked while rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. 

You looked at him then, quick to protest and shake your head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve done enough, honestly. Go sit down and—”

“Honey.” Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll help you. I’m all yours.”

Sighing defeatedly, you nodded your head to the foil covered dishes on top of the counter. “The vegetables and mashed potatoes could do with taking to the table.” 

Bucky grinned wide, all teeth and brought your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Good girl.” 

A shudder ran down your spine that he didn’t miss, the hitch of your breath that blew the front strands of his hair giving you away. With a wink, he backed away to grab the dishes, piling them in his arms, along with a couple extra to take to the dining table. 

Soon enough, a full roast dinner was set out, steaming hot and ready to be eaten. 

Peter was already sitting on the chair by his Dad’s side, speaking animatedly about his recent discoveries on his science assignment for class. You always sat opposite your husband, which meant the only free seat that Bucky could take was opposite Peter and next to you. 

Not that he was complaining. 

He steadily pulled the chair out and sat down. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that he brushed against you, not when he shuffled his chair as close as possible to you without raising suspicion. “Everything looks incredible,” he whispered as he leaned into you. 

The grip you had on your cutlery faltered. Bucky reveled in your bashfulness, always competing with himself to see how much he could make you squirm. So he smirked when you gulped, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “T-Thank you, Bucky.” 

Your son‘s voice brought you out of your flustered state “—So I was right, Dad! My results actually confirmed my hypothesis.”

You cleared your throat and chimed in cheerfully when your husband only answered with an uninterested hum. “That’s amazing news, P!” With a stern tone, you addressed your husband this time. “Aren’t you proud of him, love?”  

But instead of congratulating him, your husband turned the page of his newspaper while shoveling food into his mouth. “Mhm. He did good, I guess.”

Luckily, Peter didn’t notice or bat an eye to his father. Bucky had witnessed over the few weeks he had been invited over for dinner that your son had enough support from you alone to keep his spirits uplifted. 

You decided not to bite and move on with the conversation, mouth open about to speak when your husband suddenly laid his newspaper down and spoke over you. “You know, I’ve had the worst week at work.” 

Frustrated, your fingers clenched tightly around your knife. “Oh yeah?”

Dr Parker blew out an irritating sigh. “The students this week—god—I had a flock of them at my door, complaining about their grades being too low.” 

Bucky felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. Normally he would tune out the grating voice of your husband, but he couldn’t help but listen to something that directly involved him — unknowingly to his professor. 

“I mean, I can’t help that their work isn’t up to par. What do they want me to do? Mollycoddle them?” he scoffed. “If they come crying to me for help all the time then they may as well cut their losses and drop out. They’re only wasting their own money.” 

The loud clink of your cutlery dropping against the plate cut through the tense atmosphere. “Are you serious right now?” 

“Dad,” Peter cringed, obviously uncomfortable. “You can’t say that.” 

“I’m not saying anything that’s not true.” Dr Parker shrugged. 

“It is your job to guide your students—who are paying thousands for their education by the way—and give them feedback to help them improve,” you shot back, heatedly.

Bucky’s chest puffed out in pride. Though he couldn’t outwardly say anything, he was proud of you for inadvertently defending him — even if you didn’t know it. 

Your husband’s tone turned biting towards you, however. “I’m not their babysitter, Honey.” 

But you stood your ground. “No you’re not. You’re their teacher and they look to you for guidance. It's the bare minimum your job requires.” 

A weighted silence fell over the dinner table while you and your husband glared at each other until the chime of a text cut through the awkwardness. 

Dr Parker retrieved his phone from his pocket and read his message. After a couple of seconds, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto  his plate. “I’ve got to go back into the office. Emergency.”  

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “But you’ve only just come home.” 

“Well, unlike some, I can’t just slack off at home all day.” 

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as your mouth dropped open in shock at your husband’s barely hidden jab. Unrestrained anger filled his veins as he had to hold back. Though the urge to fly over the table at Dr Parker was hanging on by a thread. 

Is this what life was like at home for you? A husband who so obviously didn’t care for you while you made his life as comfortable as possible. And Peter, a son who held his tongue while he stiffly carried on eating his dinner and not defending his own mother?

Bucky looked to you as you quickly regathered yourself, blinking away the tears building over your waterline and pretending like you weren’t hurt. 

Your husband passed over his harmful statement as nonchalantly as he said it while lifting out of his seat. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late.” 

And just as rudely as he came home, he walked out, the slam of the door reverberating through the house. 

It wasn’t a minute after that when Peter also received a text. After reading the message, his eyes lit up with excitement. Bucky knew well enough what that face meant — Peter was getting lucky. “Hey mom, is it okay if I go out? Hang with my friends for the night?” 

The dinner you laboured over had already gone out the window once your husband had ruined it. Of course it didn’t bother you as much that your son wanted to leave too. “Of course, sweetie.” You stood up and collected the half empty plates from the table robotically. “Just be careful and let me know when you’re there.” 

With a dejected sigh that only Bucky noticed, you gathered the rest of the cutlery and took them to the kitchen, beginning to fill the sink to wash up. 

Peter waited until you were out of ear shot to whisper, “Dude, MJ asked me to come round tonight. I think she finally wants it!” Bucky held back a cringe. “You think it’s cool if I shoot off? You can make your own way home, right?” 

Bucky couldn’t have given a single fuck where Peter went or what he did right now. All he cared about, as he shot discreet glances of you in the kitchen washing the plates, was your wellbeing. “Sure, Parker. I can figure it out.” 

“Awesome!” Peter laughed before whipping out of his seat and running towards the door. “Catch you Monday, pal!” 

The house grew silent apart from the departing slam of the door, this time by your son. As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky instantly left his seat to join you. 

He leaned his shoulder against the archway of the kitchen. “You okay, Honey?” 

Looking towards him in surprise, your eyes held onto a last tendril of hope that someone hadn’t let you be alone. “Sweetheart, I thought you would have left with P.” 

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile, the curls at the top of his head bouncing with the movement. “Of course not. I’ve got nothing better to do with my Friday night than spend time with a gorgeous woman.” 

He caught the tightening of your lips, as though you were holding back your flustered smile. “Oh, stop that. You flatter me.” 

“I can’t help it. You make a man go weak. What can I say?” 

“Are you flirting with me?” you laughed incredulously. 

“And what if I was?” Bucky noticed the way your eyes latched onto the sight of his shirt, tightening over his arms as he crossed them over each other. “Would you like it?” 

Your eyes flicked up to his, holding his intense gaze for a few seconds before you huffed a breath and began cleaning the dishes again. “You’re cute, Bucky.” 

Bucky licked his lips and ravaged your form silhouetted in your fitted dress. “Wouldn’t exactly be the word I would use, but I’ll take it from you.” 

A rare giggle, only let out in his presence, escaped you. “Scram would you? You don’t want to be spending your Friday night with your friend’s mom, sweetie.” 

Testing the waters, Bucky let slip exactly what was on his mind. “Actually, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”  

Your hand stilled, chest rising and falling at a faster pace than before. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger,” you chuckled quietly to yourself, not expecting for Bucky to overhear. 

Jackpot, he smirked to himself. 

Walking to the kitchen island, Bucky leaned his elbow on the counter beside you. “What would you do, Mrs Parker?” 

You jumped with a yelp, visibly surprised to have received a response so close; eyes blown wide as they flitted over Bucky’s face in panic. “E-Excuse me?” 

Bucky closed the distance between you even further. He leaned over the sink to turn the running water off. “I said,” he whispered huskily, keeping consistent eye contact with you. “What would you do if you were twenty years younger?”

“I—I um,” your breathing started to become heavy while Bucky stared shamelessly at you. “It’s just an expression, sweetie,” you laughed, shaking your head to try and brush the comment off. “I d-didn’t mean it like that—“ 

“No?” He watched carefully as your eyes darted around, trying so hard not to look at him. “How did you mean it then?” 

The spotlight Bucky was intentionally putting on you made you falter, even more so when he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger over your collarbone. 

“C’mon, tell me. I don’t bite.” A sadistic smirk adorned his face while you stared at his lips. “Unless you want me to, of course.” 

“I s-swear, Bucky.” Your voice was breathless with the heat of his stare. “There was nothing behind it, I—”

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. “I think,” he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. “That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless.” 

The wind was audibly knocked from your lungs as you gasped. Words failed you, stuttering over yourself which was most amusing to Bucky.

Nonetheless, your eyes still followed him with a glaze, hooked onto every word that left his lips. “I think you’d let me take you from behind. Stuff your pretty pussy full with my fat cock.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. “You feel that, huh? How good it would feel to take all a’me, pretty mama?” 

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered and you bit your lip — the last of your reserve hanging by a thread. One more deadly blow to your empty head and you would be putty in his hands.

Any remaining distance between you disappeared as he placed wet kisses from the pulse of your neck up to the corner of your mouth. “I think—” he whispered against your lips, his next words uttered in his most seductive voice. “I think you’d let me do it. Right. Fuckin’. Now.” 

You placed your hands over the shirt on his chest to push him away; a mistake he imagined as you alternatively began bundling the material up with clenched fists. “Bucky—“ you painfully uttered with your eyes squeezed shut. You shook your head, as though that would help you. “This—this isn’t right. You’re my son’s friend and I n-need you to leave—“ 

“Look at me.” Bucky slid his hands over your neck, holding your jaw with his thumbs to tilt your head up. Slowly, your eyes squinted open and he saw the confliction clear as day in your glossy eyes, the battle you were facing in your mind. “You’re practically melting in my hands, Honey. You just gotta give in. We’ve been playin’ this game for far too long now, don’t you think?”

There was no escaping his blue eyes when you tried to look away once again and he firmly guided your gaze back to him. “None of that, now. Do as I say.” 

Your expression was tortured — torn between right and wrong, pleasure and sin. Bucky knew you were good, a dutiful housewife and loyal to a fault to a man who didn’t deserve it. 

Where had that gotten you? Whilst the revenge plan was hot on his mind — the very reason he had meticulously planned everything up to this exact moment — he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth that he was getting something extra out of this. You.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you pleaded painfully, still with a wild spark in your eye. “We can’t do this.” 

“You know what I’m not hearing, Honey?” Bucky asked. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to do it.” 

You shook your head frantically with wide eyes until he tightened his grip on your cheeks. “I’m gonna give you one chance to answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Desire rolled through your eyes as your thighs clenched together. Though you still tried to deny your need for him. “Bucky—”

“Ah, ah. I want an answer.” 

Bucky watched as your throat bobbed. Your nostrils flared with your harsh breaths and your breasts heaved up and down with exerted force. Seconds went by, the two of you staring at each other before you finally answered. “Yes.” 

The two of you burst into the master bedroom — the one you shared with your husband, kissing erratically while your hands fumbled through Bucky’s hair. 

He moaned deeply, pushing you against the wall, and turning feral over the feel of you as he kneaded your body. “You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he hummed against your lips. 

Your head thumped back against the wall, chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. All of Bucky’s attention was drawn to your chest. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most perfect tits?” 

Choking on your spit, you stumbled over your words, so adorably oblivious to your own attraction. “I—I didn’t realise—um, t—thank you—”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head before quickly ripping down your dress to your waist with force. Your upper body was bare, free for him to roam his rabid eyes over your naked tits.

“Bucky!” Your squeal of shock was followed by you hastily trying to cover your chest with your hands. 

But a scowling Bucky immediately ripped them away; offended you would dare try to keep them from him. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cover yourself up, Honey.” 

He could tell it was intense for you, to be so thoroughly desired and the thought that you had never received this much attention before made him angry once again. 

“It’s been a while,” you mumbled. The mousy confession only heightened Bucky’s fury towards your pathetic husband.

Delicately, he kissed you and began to trail his lips down the slope of your neck. “Ain’t gotta worry about that. I’ll take care of you.” 

Slowly descending, Bucky laved his tongue over your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop. Your breast bounced with the motion and he squeezed his dick over his trousers with a groan. “Look at you, Honey. You’re a fuckin’ goddess.” 

Bucky’s tunnel vision made whatever you said next pointless. Grabbing your tits, he buried his head in between them, relishing in your softness. He peppered his kisses across to your other nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak. 

Your legs crumbled, the sensation overwhelming for you. The thought that Bucky could get you off by just playing with your tits made his cock even harder. But he had so much more in store for you.

“Why don’t you take off your dress, baby?” he murmured into your skin. “Want you to kneel on the bed for me, alright?” 

You nodded shakily. Bucky hovered over your breasts a couple of seconds more, savouring the feel of you before stepping backwards to give you space to move. 

With a deep breath, you walked on unsteady legs towards your bed, letting your dress shimmy down your body on your way. Your back was turned to Bucky and he salaciously eyed your figure, each and every curve of your body. He internally created a map of your stretch marks and imperfections that only made him more crazed for you. 

The mattress sank down while you knelt onto it carefully. Bucky watched the arch of your back intently, the flesh of your ass rounding out from your position. 

Forget the damn reason he plotted this very moment, he was just excited to finally get a taste of you. 

Your quiet murmur sounded over Bucky’s thoughts. “I’m ready.” 

Biting his lip, he strolled forward until he came to a stop behind you. Still fully clothed, Bucky desperately singed the picture in front of him into his mind. He held so much power in that moment, and it felt like a dream that he had you bent over solely for him. 

Bucky leaned over your form, beginning to place delicate kisses down your back. He basked in the goosebumps that arose on your skin. “How the fuck are you real?” he murmured to himself. 

With a shaky sigh, you whispered, “I still don’t know about this.” 

Chuckling, Bucky finally dropped down to his knees, ignoring your reluctance to eye the flimsy piece of material covering your pussy. Hooking a finger inside your underwear, he peeled it away and held it to the side. “Oh, fuck me.” 

You squirmed in place as the cold air hit you in your most vulnerable state. Your raw scent clogged Bucky’s nose and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Honey. Gotta know how you taste.” 

Surging forward, Bucky buried himself between your thighs. You screamed in retaliation to the feel of his tongue snaking its way through your folds and he was sure he hadn’t heard a better sound. 

He explored every inch of your cunt, unwilling to leave the heaven you so graciously granted him. But it was the sensation of Bucky’s tongue beginning to ease its way inside your hole that made you vocal once again. 

“My husband—“ you called out, obvious to Bucky  that you were trying to clear your conscience of guilt. But he knew you couldn’t care less about him — you didn’t even mention the fucker once while you were too busy feeling sorry for your son in the kitchen and making silly excuses to not let him have his way with you. 

Landing a harsh smack to the top of your thigh, Bucky savored your squeal of shock. “Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, Honey. Who’s the one eating your pussy this good, hm?” He ran two fingers down the middle of your folds, biting his lip at the wetness coating them. When your only answer was a moan muffled by your pillow, he spanked you again in the same place with more force. “Answer me.”

“You, Bucky!” you instantly shouted out. “You’re the one eating my pussy so good!” 

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased over the marks beginning to bloom on your skin and smiled to himself. “Call me James, though. I like it better.” 

Without letting you reply, Bucky dived back in, fucking your pussy with his tongue. You reached back to hold your asscheeks open with each hand, desperate to have him go deeper into your hole. The glint from the diamond of your wedding ring caught his attention and he smirked into your cunt; the reminder that you were married only fuelled his arousal even more. 

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke into your cunt. “You really are sweet, ain’t ya? Taste fuckin’ incredible.” 

The filthy sounds of slurps and moans filled the room. Bucky was a starved beast, held back and pushed to the edge for too long and every little bit of anger and resentment that had built in his body from your husband’s treatment was taken out on you. 

It only boosted his ego when you grinded your cunt back against him too. His cock jumped with excitement with how fucking dirty you truly were. You had been locked up too, he remembered. Stuck holding back your true self for a shitty excuse of a man. 

Bucky grunted deeply before licking a wide stripe from your clit, slowly running through your pussy lips and reaching higher towards the puckered hole that twitched with anticipation. 

“Oh!” you exclaimed aloud in surprise. Bucky thought he may have gone too far, then. But once you relaxed and backed yourself into his tongue, he smiled wickedly. 

“You like that, filthy girl?” he laughed, darkly. “Should’ve known you’d be a little freak.” 

Bucky circled the tip of his tongue teasingly around your asshole, moaning at your eagerness when you tried to reach further back with your hands and drag him closer. 

“Don’t tease,” you gasped, out of breath. “Please, I want more. Gimmie more.” 

Almost immediately, Bucky complied, ripping your hands away with vigor to replace them with his. He spreaded your asscheeks wide and lapped at your tight hole. 

“Fuck yes—oh my god, James—yes!” 

The depravity was obscene and disgusting and Bucky absolutely loved it. Never had he been more turned on and he decided then and there that this wasn’t going to be a one and done deal. He wanted you to be his. 

A string of saliva connected Bucky’s mouth to your ass as he reluctantly backed away. The slick that had poured out of you smothered his chin and cheeks and Bucky happily licked his lips with a groan. “Baby, as much as I wanna keep eating your ass, I need to feel your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.” 

You whimpered while your pussy clenched with a need to be filled. Bucky watched your cute little hole flutter. “Put it in me,” you slurred. “Need your cock.” 

He wasted no time unfastening his jeans to pull them down enough until his dick bobbed out of its confines. Bucky caught you peeking your head around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock, but he spanked your ass and bit his lip with amusement at your scream. “Not yet, baby. You’ll get a chance to see it when I fuck your throat later.” 

You squirmed impatiently, needy moans escaping you and Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing his cock, he began to push the fat head of his length inside you. 

A loud gasp tore from your throat and your pussy instantly tried to suck him in deeper. Your walls, tight and warm, hugged his dick like a vice. “You’re—oh my fucking god—how are you so big?” 

The smirk that donned Bucky’s face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him. 

“This is all for you, baby,” he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. “Get me so fuckin’ hard everytime I see you. Cookin’ in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want.” 

Your moans both fell into sync as Bucky finally slid his cock all the way to the hilt. You couldn’t stop squirming and it drove him crazy. 

“You need to move,” you begged in between pants. “Please, I can’t stay still.” 

Bucky licked his teeth with desire blazing through him. “Since you asked so nicely, Honey.” 

Without the decency to ease you into it, Bucky instantly set a brutal pace. He looked down, admiring the thick coating of your juices lathering his dick and he willed himself not to blow his load so fast. He tightly closed his eyes, adjusted his stance and began to fuck you. 

You were quick to grab ahold of whatever you could, scrambling for purchase within the sheets,  but you were useless to try to stop how your head buried into the bed. The force of Bucky’s thrusts were too violent and so you surrendered to what was inevitable, letting yourself drool over the cotton.

“Bu—CKY!” your cry of surprise when he lifted his foot onto the bed, allowing him a better angle to fuck you, was music to his ears. 

“What’s’a matter, baby?” Bucky mocked. “Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can’t handle me?” 

Your reply was instant. “I can! I can, I promise, I promise!” 

“Then shut the fuck up and take it.” 

Bucky didn’t know where to look, he was spoilt for choice. To watch your eyes roll back in ecstasy? To concentrate on the shlick shlick of your soaked cunt? Ultimately, his eyes were glued to the jiggle of your ass, his hands soon following as though he was hypnotised. How it so perfectly met his hips without a falt in rhythm.

“Fuck me—this ass is heaven, baby. You been hiding it from me all this time?” 

There was no answer this time, at least not a coherent one. Bucky was instead graced with your constant squeaks and groans — a woman too invested in a physical gratification she had so sadly been starved of. 

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t gotta answer, Honey. The sounds comin’ outta that mouth are keeping my dick happy enough.” 

He almost forgot the end goal of his proposition in the midst of the delectable feel of your cunt. With a sudden bolt of clarification as he felt a vibration against his leg, Bucky kept one hand on your hip while he reached for his phone in his pocket with the other. Keeping up the pace of his thrusts, you were clueless as he unlocked it and opened the camera app. 

“Now, Honey, I want you to really scream my name, okay? Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, dumbly. “C-Can do that for you, James.” 

He grinned wickedly and threw his head back. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.” Looking back down at you through the phone screen, he hovered his finger over the record button and brought his other hand down hard on your ass. “Go on then, baby. Put on a show for me.”

If Bucky thought you were a fucking treat before, his mind was blown once you began to take the reigns of your own pleasure. Bucky hardly had to move and you still plunged yourself onto his cock with an unmatched enthusiasm to anyone else he had fucked. He could hardly keep his hand that held the phone up from shaking. The combined sounds coming from the both of you were insane. 

None of his wet dreams could compare to his reality. “You—shit—you’re killing me, Honey.” 

You must not have heard him because you decided to torture him even more by arching your back just that little bit further. 

Bucky thought he was a goner, soon to approach his end. But he couldn’t let that happen. He was far from done with you yet. 

Propping one foot up onto the bed for better leverage, he gathered his restraint and began to drive forward once more. He felt high. 

“That husband of yours ever fuck you like this, huh?” Bucky demanded. “Can he make you leak all over his dick like a fuckin’ slut?”

You violently shook your head from side to side, like the thought of your husband left a sour taste in your mouth you wanted to get rid of. “Nuh-uh,” you whimpered, popping your ass up even more to take as much as you could. “O-Only you.” 

“Tell him, baby.” Bucky noticed too late that he had slipped up, too gone off the feel of your cunt wrapped snug around his dick. But you hadn’t seemed to realise his mistake either and the thought that you were too much of a wreck from his cock to comprehend who he was talking about made him even harder. “Let him know who’s balls deep in your tight, slutty pussy.” 

“Oh, fuck—please, please—you, James, it’s you.  Please, it’s you!” 

“Atta girl,” he cooed, hoarsely. “Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on me.”

Bucky reached down to where the two of you were connected with his free hand, sweeping the copious amount of your slick gathered in a ring around the bottom of his cock. “Here.” He leant forward, one palm up towards you with his phone still in his other hand out of your view. “Open your mouth, pretty mama.” 

You slightly turned your head with your tongue sticking out wide and eagerly sucked the juices off his hand with a long moan. 

Managing to get all of it on camera, Bucky watched as you licked between his fingers, not wasting a drop. “Holy fuck,” he grunted deeply. “You’ll really do anything I say, won’t you?” 

You bobbed your head up and down, eventually letting his fingers go, clean as a whistle. 

“What a fuckin’ filthy whore. You’re perfect for me.” 

You backed yourself onto Bucky’s cock, meeting his thrusts perfectly while the meat of your ass clapped against his toned waist. “You’re a needy little thing, ain’t you baby?” 

“Anythin’ you want,” you slurred. “Can be whatever you need.” 

“Poor mommy hasn’t been treated this good in a long time I can tell.” Bucky gripped your ass harshly with his hand, jiggling the flesh for his own satisfaction. “Women like you, need putting in their place on a daily basis. Need a good fuckin’ to keep them happy.” 

“Yes!” you agreed, firmly. “Mommy needs to be fucked like this all the time.” 

Unbelievable. Bucky didn’t even have to try to add salt into the wound. He couldn’t help the continuous conspicuous messages that he could easily pass off to you. “This is what happens when you don’t take care of your wife.”

Harsh slaps echoed in your bedroom. The two of you could only share the raw sounds that left your mouths in your haze of the thrill as the string between you pulled tighter and tighter. 

“I’m—so—close,” you murmured with all your depleted energy. 

Bucky didn’t need the confirmation when he could feel the rapid pulses of your walls that squeezed him. He knew your orgasm was clutching at its straws and he was so close himself. The blood from his head had long since made its way to his dick and his composure was swiftly deflating. 

“Want that cum,” he garbled as his mouth hung open. “I’ve been such a good boy, mommy. Give it to me, please.”

You whined loudly, like a dog in heat. But your voices became lost on each other. That didn’t stop Bucky from losing his inhibitions out loud.  

Thrust. “I’ve been such,” thrust. “A good,” thrust. “Boy.” 

The wound up ball of tension in your lower stomach exploded in a series of screams and violent shivering that overtook your whole nervous system and the very sensation brought Bucky to his defeat. 

The muscles in his legs failed him as they turned to jelly. Bucky let out the sluttiest moan he’s ever experienced in his life and all but collapsed onto your sweat slicked body. He could feel his cock shooting a constant stream of cum into your cunt with seemingly no end in sight. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered into your ear. Slowly, his conscience came back to life and the flow of his load finally came to a stop. 

The two of you laid still, only the heavy panting serving to fill the silence. After a couple of minutes, Bucky kissed your shoulder blade, before lifting himself up. He gathered the strength to gently retrieve his length from your hole that still strangled him. 

Bucky was reminded of the phone that was still recording in his hand and he quickly made sure to get the winning money shot of his load dripping out of your pulsing hole while he wholly detached himself from you. 

He was only human to push his finger into your cunt, he thought, letting himself gather himself on his own fingers. 

Flipping the camera around to himself, Bucky put his coated finger in his mouth, sucking your combined juices and humming and letting it go with a pop. He laughed, out of breath, his red cheeks and mussed hair only adding to the depravity of the video. “Y’know some people should really keep an eye on their wives. You never know what they’re up to in their spare time. Ain’t that right, Honey?” 

Bucky knew you were out of it — he watched on while you buried your head in the sheets, rubbing your thighs together as aftershocks made your body twitch. Your needy, high pitched keens bounced off the walls. “Wan’ more of your cock, James—please—need you to fuck me again.” 

He licked his lips in delight, the sight of your ass wiggling with his cum leaking out of you and your unprompted addition to the recording filling him with glee. 

“Well,” he sighed, turning back to the camera and shrugging with no remorse. “You heard the wife. Duty calls.” With a cocky wink, he ended the recording with a final farewell. “See you in class, Professor.”  

Bucky exited his camera app and quickly brought up his emails, scouring through to a saved draft and attaching the video link. After pressing send, he shut off his phone, making sure any future notifications would be silenced before throwing it to the ground with a careless thump. 

“Baby,” you whimpered, looking behind you to search for him. “What are you doing? I said I wanna be fucked again.” 

Undressing the rest of his clothes, Bucky stalked towards you, kneeling onto the bed and effortlessly flipping you over to kiss you deeply to share your combined tastes. “Don’t worry, mommy,” he breathed into your mouth. “I’ll take care of you now.” 

Meanwhile at his college, a new email popped up on Dr Parker’s computer screen, shrouding the dark office with a white glow in the late night. With an exhausted huff, he looked up from grading papers — all of them marked with a C or lower — and squinted his eyes at the bright screen. 

New Email from James Buchanan Barnes

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. The name was familiar as he thought back to the day the kid almost cried in his office, complaining about his poorly-graded assignment and his GPA; Dr Parker had gossiped with Professor Stark in his department on his dinner break, recounting the annoying way this particular student had whined like a baby. Though he couldn’t quite remember how James looked, unable to place him among the hundreds of pupils he taught.

Amused curiosity ran through him, wondering what his student had to moan about this time and so with a sadistic smirk, he clicked on the link, waiting until his message came up. 

Though that smirk was quickly replaced with a frown when the email finally loaded with an attachment. 

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet.

Just like Honey.