#i rush when i proofread

[fairysongs]

౨ৎ coming home too late﹕spencer reid .ᐟ

summary: based entirely on the song, coming home by beabadoobee. pure fluff.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

includes: soooo much fluff, spencer’s pov, spencer is in love with reader, reader is just as in love with him, very small mention of depression, reader uses she/her pronouns, reader loves to clean, established relationship, derek morgan is spencer and reader's #1 fan, did i mention spencer is in love?

word count: 1.7k

a/n: eeeek my second fic!! i got so happy writing this. maybe the most sickening sweet thing i ever did do. i love beabadoobee's music so much i kinda wanna write a million different things based on her songs. Anyways..!!! as always likes/reblogs/feedback appreciated :3

spencer reid had never felt more relieved to be sitting inside this jet than he was right now.

sure, he’s happy every single time his team is able to wrap up a case. he’s happy every single time they catch the bad guy. he’s happy every single time justice is brought to victims and their families. he’s happy every single time he gets to come home and see you. he’s happy every single time he notices the way your eyes light up when you see him walk through the door. he’s happy every single time you throw your arms around his neck and he gets to pick you up, inhaling your sweet scent as if he’d never be able to embrace you again.

but this time it was a little different. it was currently 6:54pm in california where the latest case was. meaning it was 9:54pm back home. it would take approximately five hours to fly home and another thirty minutes to drive to his apartment. meaning he wouldn’t step through his door until way after three in the morning and he knew you’d be sound asleep by then. and it was saturday, a day that never held much weight to him until he started living with you.

he found out that you grew up with a rather strict routine in your home. your parents deemed every saturday ‘cleaning day’. every saturday you did your weekly chores and that habit stuck with you as you moved on to live with college roommates, on your own and eventually with spencer.

he remembers when he first asked you to move in with him. you’d been dating for about a year and a half at that point. he brought it up in a rather nonchalant way and he was so thankful you were not a profiler and couldn’t tell how hard his heart was beating inside his chest as he started to ask.

“you know… you sleepover here a lot. i mean, you have your own drawer in my dresser, your own space in my closet…” he started one morning, sipping from his mug of sugary sweet coffee. “your skincare stuff in my bathroom, your special shampoos in my shower… your little treats stocked in my fridge…” his lips started twitching, trying to fight the stupid large smile that wanted to show on his face.

you hummed in response, your fingers tapping against your own mug that was full of tea. you hated coffee. when he learned that he bought a box of your favorite tea and kept it stocked in his kitchen. “are you… complaining?” you asked, voice sort of quiet with uncertainty.

he shook his head immediately, realizing he wasn’t being as straightforward as he assumed. “no!” his voice squeaked slightly, causing you to raise your eyebrows. “no… no, i was just… i mean, you spend so much time here and i really love it. i love you being here with me and i… if you wanted to move in i would… i mean, i want you to move in. if you want to. please.”

thankfully your heart was just as pretty as you were and you didn’t let him nervously ramble for too long. instead you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “relax. i’d love to, spencer. but i have to warn you, i’m quite a lot to deal with twenty-four seven…” he would just stare back at you, with nothing but love and admiration pouring from brown hues. he always thought you were so silly when you’d say things like that and he’d spend the rest of the morning telling you that while peppering sweet kisses to every inch of your skin.

he did learn very quickly just how serious you were about your routine. you woke up at six in the morning every saturday. you’d start in the bathroom, then make your way to the kitchen, then collect the dirty laundry from the week, then focus on organizing every little desk and shelf he had in his home. at first you wouldn’t let him help you, explaining that you didn’t want him to feel obligated in helping you with your own crazy little habit. he’d shake his head and just ask you what kind of laundry detergent you liked as he piled clothes into a basket.

“if you keep up with it weekly, then it won’t get out of hand and too big to fix.” you mumbled one time while scrubbing the dishes. “sometimes when the scaries got really bad, i used to forget to keep up with my cleaning. all the mess just made things more unbearable. keeping on top of it makes me feel more in control. even if the ‘cleaning’ one week is just refilling the toilet paper and doing one single load of laundry.”

he nodded his head in response, emptying the trash beneath the sink. spencer was nothing but soft with you, but even more so whenever you mentioned your struggles with depression or ‘the scaries’ as you called it. the two of you quickly fell into a habit every single saturday. you split the work load. you’d do the dishes, he’d carry the trash out, you’d fold the laundry, he’d vacuum the rug. he didn’t have to say it, you’d already know, but he enjoyed the structure of routine just as much as you did. the rest of your saturdays were spent on the sofa, your head in his lap while you forced him to watch your favorite childhood show. takeout food spread across the coffee table in front of you. there was so much comfort the two of you found in the domesticity of it all.

so, yes, he was a little bit upset he missed this saturday and was so ready to get home and pull you into his arms and never let go. he hadn’t noticed him spacing out, eyes focused on the same page of a book he was reading for five minutes, until he heard derek morgan’s voice.

“hey, loverboy!” spencer’s head snapped up, brows furrowing at the man giving him a cheeky smile. “you’ve been staring at that page for an eternity. what’s on your mind, huh?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

you met the whole team ages ago and every one of them adored you but derek especially admired the way you loved spencer. he’d never say it out loud, unless it was in a teasing way to get spencer to blush, but he genuinely believed you were an angel sent to the boy genius. derek noticed how blissful you made him, how gentle you were and how safe he felt with you. how could his heart not swell in appreciation for the love you gave to his brother?

“i missed cleaning day…” spencer spoke, brows pulling together slightly. there was a soft sigh that fell from his lips as he pulled his phone from his pocket. your last text saying you were gonna stay up and wait for him even though you both knew that you’d fall asleep the moment you got comfortable.

“okay… and is that a bad thing?” derek responded, leaning back into his seat with a slightly confused expression.

“well, yeah. she likes cleaning every saturday and we normally split the work between us. that way we have more time to spend together.” spencer huffed and tucked his phone away again. he closed the book he was reading. “it’s more than just the cleaning, derek. i hate being away from her, you know? we never know when we’re gonna get called away on a case like this and i like spending as much time as i can with her. and i hate coming home late. it makes me feel like i’ve missed so much.”

derek breathed out a laugh but nodded, understanding all too well what he meant. emily prentiss came around the corner, one hand holding a cup of coffee and the other resting gently on spencer’s shoulder. “spencer reid, you have become the most smitten, lovestruck man since you met that girl. and it’s the most adorable thing in the world.” everyone on the jet chuckled softly at that, even aaron hotchner, while he blushed and adverted his eye contact towards the shaded window. he knew they weren’t laughing at him, more so showing an expression of how happy they were that he was happy.

he stepped into the dimly lit living room of his apartment at exactly 3:26am. the tv glowed over your sleeping body on the sofa, arms wrapped tightly around a stuffed red panda he gifted you a few birthdays ago. the netflix screen asking ‘are you still watching avatar: the last airbender?’ shined in his face as he leaned in to shut the machine off. he walked over to your sleepy state, a tiny smile growing on his lips as he leaned in to brush some of your hair from your face. he tucked one arm beneath your knees and held the other one to your arm as he carried you to the bedroom.

you stirred, humming softly as he quietly shushed you. “shh, hi baby. i’m home now. go back to bed, yeah?”

“how was the flight?” you asked in a soft whisper, ignoring his requests. he chuckled, shaking his head and he set you gently on the cushion of his mattress.

“it was fine. too long. i’m sorry i’m home late.” he was just as quiet as you, pulling the duvet over your body and tucking it at your shoulders. he picked up the stuffed animal that had fallen beside the bed and tucked it next to you as well.

“it’s okay. we always have tomorrow.” with your eyes still closed, you smiled as he kissed your forehead.

“yes, my love. we do, don’t we? i’m gonna get changed okay? go back to bed.”

“i’ll wait for you.”

when he was changed out of his work clothes and into his pajamas, he turned back and found you soundly asleep again. he let out a quiet laugh, got into bed and pulled you right to his chest. he played with your hair until he fell asleep too, no longer upset about the day he missed with you because you were right.

he always had tomorrow.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

(guy who accidentally wrote a ~10k long chapter with the given character interactions taking up ~4k of it voice) I just don't know if these characters interacted long enough to feel real. idk it feels rushed to me

[lucalicatteart]

Poll adventure (paventure? lol) Day 15: read the small story tidbit below the poll for more details, OR just vote based on initial impression

(✦ see past poll results + further information HERE (link) ✦)

Yesterday's poll decided that The Adventurer should purchase some new shoes for himself while he's in the city...

~

It costs quite a bit of coin, but in the end he decides that having a new sturdy pair of boots will serve him well on his travels. After he's done in the shop, he rushes back to the local inn before nightfall, eventually settling into a somewhat restless sleep..

The next morning, he orders some cheap vegetable stew from a food stall, then lounges in a park as he has his breakfast, watching the squirrels weave through flowering trees and birds pecking about in the dewy grass.. When finished with his meal (and sufficiently recovered from the emotional turmoil of burning his tongue on the soup), he quickly sells his old pair of shoes to a sketchy pawn shop before finally getting back to his journey...

By his calculations, if he he walks all day, it should only be two more sleeps before he gets to his destination, so he sets out to travel as efficiently as possible. He doesn't have the money to rent a cart, or the skill to ride a borrowed horse, but, he does have some fancy new walking shoes and a renewed sense of purpose. No more meandering through fields looking for flowers, napping in the shade, or scanning the ground for cool rocks.. He's going to focus this time!

......After a few hours, he comes across a broken down carriage in the middle of the road, with few people surrounding it, seemingly stuck trying to repair a wheel or something. It's hard to discern from afar..

Maybe if he helps them, he could get a free ride.. or some coins.. or make a new lifelong friend! Who knows? Possibilities flood his mind, this is what adventuring is all about! Wandering into interesting situations and making the most out of them!! .. But, then he recalls his previous oath.. he's supposed to focus today and not allow himself to sidetracked.. And who says he has the skills to help anyway? It could always just be a waste of time... Hmm...

What should he do?

~

~

Additional Information

the adventurer's current main quest: follow his map to reach the abandoned castle ruins and see the rare animal specialist about the mysterious egg he has

[supercantaloupe]

it is 2:09 am and i have Finished my paper draft

[bloomingsalma]

bro I literally forgot to write a conclusion for my essay??? 😃😃

[barkilphedros-hat]

100% real genuine footage from this morning’s editing session

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. play fighting with your lover quickly turns into you being pounded on the couch.

tags. (assassin!)toji x female reader. smut. dōggy style. age gap implied. with plot-ish. unprotected -> p in v. size difference / kink. power trip-ish. teasing. crēampie. dacryphilia. tummy bulging. pūssy slapping. breēding mention. reader gets called ‘(little) girl, pretty, doll, slut.’ not proofread. wc: 3.4k

you let out a sigh of relief when your lover comes back home safe from another mission. toji’s risky job always leaves you anxious, knowing what could happen to him if things took a turn for the worse.

“keheh, there’s my pretty girl,” toji grins as he feels you jump into his embrace the instant he steps into the living room. your arms wrap around his waist and your head rests against his chiseled chest. he’s sweaty and bloody, yet you can’t care less. you’ve waited all day for him.

you tilt your head back and give the black-haired man a quick, passionate kiss. he returns it with equal force before picking you up and bringing you over to the couch. once toji put you down, he reaches a hand out to lazily ruffle your hair, “i’m g’nna take a shower, yeah?”

you shake your head and grab his hand before he can think of moving away. “no, want you to stay. just for a little more,” you attempt to coax toji into staying with you for a bit more.

“after i take a shower, doll. i probably smell ‘n look like shit,” the assassin mumbles in a low tone. his hair is wet with sweat, black locks sticking to his forehead. his compression shirt is torn in some places, but it’s neatly outlining his pecs, which makes him look ten times more attractive.

“nu-uh, you don’t,” you refute and tug at toji’s wrist again. he playfully rolls his eyes after giving in to your innocent request. you clearly don’t mind the sweaty state he’s in. you just want to cuddle up and talk to him about all kinds of things. “you look as handsome as ever,” you smile at him once you straddle his lap. toji’s hands find your hips, his nails ghosting over your skin to send shivers down your spine.

“heh. that ain’t nothin’ new,” your lover leans his head back with a cocky smirk. he knows how much you love it when he’s all sweaty and tired. toji never fails to spot the way your eyes wander up and down his muscular figure whenever he’s wearing that signature outfit of his. a black compression shirt that defines his pecs and white-ish baggy pants. you love it.

your fingers trace circles over his chest. you don’t seem to care about the random crimson droplets on his skin. they’re not his, thus you let it go. asking questions about the job he’s finished will only ruin the mood you’ve set. plus, toji clearly needs some distraction from the fact that his limbs are aching. he’s outdone himself today as well.

“you tired?” you ask through a soft murmur. your boyfriend nods while yawning, teasingly pinching your cheek afterwards. “mhm,” toji hums while playing with the collar of your shirt, eyes wandering down to your tits. one of his most favorite spots on your body.

you’re clearly not wearing a bra and it’s making it difficult for him to stay focused. your nipples push against the material of your pyjamas so deliciously, just begging to be touched by his fingers. he quietly clears his throat and looks the other direction to play it off.

“oh?” you giggle and tap toji’s cheek twice to gain his attention, though with no success. he’s trying his best to come off as nonchalant as possible—to remain that stoic man he’s always been. his attempts are proven futile when you press your breasts against his chest.

“come on, babe. look at meeee,” you laugh and resort to tickling toji’s belly and armpits. he freezes for a second before scoffing at your actions, his hands immediately rush under your shirt to tickle you back. you end up squirming on his lap, trying to swat his arms in attempt to defend yourself.

your lover lets out a haughty chuckle as you become defenceless because of his well calculated revenge tickles. “mm? didn’t hear ya, y’ should speak up,” toji teases you, clearly seeing how you’re struggling to talk as he makes you squeal and laugh uncontrollably.

there are tears forming on your eyes. your breath comes in short gasps when you finally find a chance to jump off toji’s lap. “shut up, fushiguro!” you call out, going back to last name basis, which you know toji dislikes. you stumble back a little and stick your tongue out at your lover before fleeing the scene. or at least you try to.

“fushiguro, aye?” you hear toji’s voice right behind you, and when you turn around to face him, he’s already got you caged in his arms. you gasp and kick your legs, hitting him in the shin. the man groans at the contact and loosens his grip a little. you take the opportunity again, jumping onto his back, clinging onto him with your legs around his waist. you encircle your arm around his neck and catch him off guard with a surprise headlock.

“hehe, got you now,” you grin smugly. toji’s not giving his best, you know that, because you’d be on the floor if he did. he’s allowing you to have fun and he’s indulging you, which you more than so appreciate. “what? cat got your tongue, big boy?” you continue challenging him, proud of your little achievement.

you’re painfully oblivious to toji's struggles. how he's struggling with his inner desires, how his hands ball up into fists at his side. he can feel your body clinging onto him, your legs wrapped so tightly around his waist. it’s adorable that you find so much joy in having the upper hand over a grown man like him.

adorable, and such a huge turn on.

toji can’t believe that he’s getting a boner from just playing with you like this. maybe it’s your body that’s pressed against him so snugly, letting him feel every feminine curve or maybe it's the fact that he knows he can easily pin you to the ground and show you what a real man can do until you're begging for mercy.

your nipples are pressed against his back and it’s so hard to act like he can’t feel that. it’s hard to believe you’re not doing it on purpose, but you truly aren’t.

“careful,” toji comments in a husky voice. the corner of his lip twitches, his eyes hidden behind his black bangs, “y’ might start something you can’t finish.” you figure that it’s just bait to scare you off, so you don’t take it seriously. you tighten the headlock a little, biting toji’s ear and nibbling on it as revenge.

“you’re not scaring me with that,” you chuckle and pinch toji’s cheek with your free hand. the older man turns his head slightly, catching a glimpse of your mischievous grin. oh, how cute.

with a swift, fluid motion, toji reaches up with both hands and grasps your thighs firmly. in a heartbeat, your positions reverse and he pins you to the nearby wall. both of his meaty arms cage you in by pressing against the concrete on either side of your head.

“seems like i’m the one who got ya now, doll,” toji murmurs, his voice low and laced with a hint of lust. he gazes down at you, your faces mere inches apart. you can feel his breath fanning against your lips. he’s itching to claim your mouth so, so bad.

but before he can capture your sweet lips with his, you catch him off guard by pushing your full weight forward, causing toji to lose balance. he tumbles backwards onto the carpet below with you on top of him.

“nope, am not giving up so easily,” you giggle as you try to grab at his wrists. you’re oblivious to toji’s desires, too focused on overpowering the man who could snap you in half. it’s fun when he allows you to take control.

however, your lover is slowly losing his rationality. you’re seated on top of his abs and he can swear he can feel the heat of your cunt through your clothes. it’s the only thing he can focus on at that moment. the only thing he craves.

“fuck, c’mere,” toji growls and rolls you over so you’re pinned beneath him on the floor. he can’t help the smirk that tugs at his lips when your laughter echoes throughout the living room. even through his lustful haze, he finds your joy thoroughly endearing.

you manage to find another opening and roll over again so you’re on top of him instead. the cycle continues for a few more seconds, your bodies lost in a tangled mess of limbs. you exchange gasps, grunts and giggles while you’re ‘fighting’ for dominance.

when you bite on toji’s shoulder as a way to catch him off guard once more, he hisses. not in an annoyed or pained way— no. he’s so turned on that you biting him sends a jolt of pleasure right down to his aching cock. so turned on that he may accidentally have developed a new kink in that same second.

either way, that little action was his last straw.

toji effortlessly lifts you up on the couch, your body bouncing a bit on the plush cushions as he turns you around on your stomach. one arm hooks around your neck, his bicep pressing against your throat. not enough to hinder your airway, but enough to send shivers down your spine.

“told ya to b’ careful,” toji grunts, his breath against your sensitive skin from behind, “y’ should start listening to me more.” his tongue flicks out and licks a stripe up your ear. his crotch is pressed right against your ass and only then do you notice his raging hard-on.

your eyes widen, cheek smushed against his muscular arm wrapped around your neck, keeping you in place beneath his big body. “oh, fuck, toji,” you let out a shuddering breath. you’re completely engulfed by his large frame—disappearing out of sight. just how he likes it.

“yeah? feel that?” toji grins as he squeezes his bicep around your delicate throat some more. you gasp and whine, turned on by him overpowering you, as much as you had been enjoying the opposite just seconds ago. he mocks your earlier words with a grunt, “think i have’ta remind my lil’ brat exactly what this ‘big boy’ can do to ya.”

and the older man wastes no time to do exactly that.

your shorts and panties are tossed carelessly on the carpet, your cheek smushed against the cushions that you’re desperately gripping. your face is contorted with pleasure, brows furrowed, eyes glazed over and your swollen lips parted to take shallow breaths.

you can feel the ache in your lower back. the arch of your spine is nearly unnatural as your ass is pushed so high up, bouncing back to meet the mean backshots your man is giving you.

“ah, ngh! t—toooji,” you mewl loudly, droplets of saliva trickling down from the corner of your mouth. you can’t deny that this entire situation has you soaked.

the switch toji went through, from being playful and letting you do what you want to reminding you who’s boss at the end of the day— it’s perfect and feels way too good. the cherry on top is the familiar scent of his body, the sweat mixed with his cologne.

it adds to the pleasure, makes you dizzy in a good way.

toji grips your waist, his manly hands trailing down to your hips every now and then for the extra leverage. his fingers dig into your soft flesh as he pounds into you mercislessly, fucking into you like you’re his personal cocksleeve. “ain’t gonna try that again, are ya?”

“dumb lil’ slut,” your harsh lover grumbles under his breath, hand smacking the fat of your ass. toji loves seeing it ripple underneath him, even more so when his hips smack against your rear with strength that leaves your flesh stinging, “bet ya love it when i remind you who owns this cunt.”

toji groans as he slides his thick cock in and out of your tight cunt. you’re gripping him like you never want to let go, like you want to milk him of every drop of the cum stored in his balls.

the sight that he’s blessed with from his point of view can make him bust a load right then and there. you’re presenting your ass to him shamelessly, looking back over your shoulder with lust-blown eyes.

and don’t get him started on the outline of his dick distending your tummy, the one he can feel whenever he reaches a hand around to press against your lower abdomen and circle your clit. too fucking lewd.

“fuck, yeahhhh. take that fat fuckin’ dick, baby,” toji throws his head back as he pushes your body even further into the couch. you swear he’s folding you in half, “let me show ya what a real man in charge can do— how a real man fucks his woman.”

toji’s cock is ruining you, reshaping your insides to fit his massive size and you don’t mind it one bit. in fact, you love it. love the feel of him, the stretch and burn of his thick cock splitting you open.

“yes, mmh, yes! fuck me!” you keen, sobbing from the pleasure. your hand reaches back to scratch at toji’s arm, trying to hold onto him, to find him even in the midst of it all. the view of your desperation and your pleas makes him lose it.

the dark-haired man scoffs, “oh, i’ll fuck ya, all right. . .”

with a low growl, toji plants one foot on the floor next to you, his other leg still bent at the knee on the sofa you’re laying at. the muscles in his arms ripple as he lifts your hips even higher up to be able to meet his thrusts.

“fuuuuuck! right there!” you wail, your head trashing back and forth on the damp sofa. from this new angle, he can drive his fat dick into you even deeper, engorged tip hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you see white.

toji revels in the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, mixed with your sweet moans. you seem so much smaller than him in this new position, your body helplessly giving in, allowing him to put you in whatever position he wants. it boosts his ego and makes his cock pulse inside of you.

he loves seeing the tears in your eyes as it nearly gets too much for you to handle. it motivates him to fuck you harder until you’re full on bawling, which he can easily get off on. making you cry in pure bliss is all he wants to achieve.

your pussy is tight as it clenches around his cock like a vice. toji’s hand slithers around to circle your clit, making your legs spasm and hips thrust back sloppily. “shitttt, y’r sweet lil’ cunt was made just for this—” he pants as his thumb presses against the nub, “to take my cock.”

all you can do is dumbly nod at whatever your partner says. “mmhm, ah yeah, made for you,” your small whines are music to his ears. the palms of your hands feel clammy as you hold onto anything you can grasp.

everything around you is a blur as the only thing you can focus on is the way his heavy cock fills you so well.

toji can feel your juices trickling down his heavy sack, soaking his thighs and yours, as well as the couch. it will leave stains, but he doesn’t care and neither do you.

“look at ya,” he huffs and slaps your clit once, callused fingers dragging along your puffy lips that are parted obscenely wide for his cock. toji brings his wet finger to his mouth to lick it clean. he hums satisfactorily at the taste, “pussy’s droolin’ aaaall over my dick. nasty girl.”

your pussy starts fluttering around his thick length as it impales you over and over. it’s a telltale sign of your orgasm, one toji has come to recognise quite easily.

“yeah? gonna make an even bigger mess on my cock?” he grins before pressing his chest against your sweaty back, blanketing your small body. the extra weight added to the ecstasy only makes you scream louder for him.

“yes, yes, yes! gonna cum!” you cry out, toes curling and eyes rolling back as you try to prolong your pleasure. even if it’s only for a second.

toji curses under his breath as his hips move faster to drive you over the edge. he can’t wait to feel your cunt get even tighter, to make it feel like you’re about to snap his dick off. he loves the pain mixed with the pleasure of your tightness.

“do it. cream all over me, c’mon, little girl. y’ can do it,” toji coaxes, delivering small smacks to your clit, causing your hips to jolt back with each slap. you can’t do it anymore— can’t hold on any longer.

you scream as you cum, your pussy spasming wildly around toji’s pulsing cock. that sensation alone has the older man gasping for air, nails digging into the flesh of your ass. no matter how many times he fucks you, the moment you cum, he automatically follows.

the way you squeeze his dick and hold onto it like you don’t want to let go is simply too much.

“fuck, fuck, fuck. g’nna make me bust a fat fuckin’ nut inside of you,” toji groans, his rhythm growing sloppy yet his thrusts are still deliciously hard, “gonna pump this pussy full of my load. breed ‘er nice and deep. shitt— take it!”

a strangled moan leaves his lips as he grinds his hips against your ass while his cock jolts inside of you. he pumps jet after jet of hot cum directly into your womb, tip rubbing against the deepest spot he can reach.

“eaaaasy, yeah, just like that. let it soak into ya,” toji hisses as his hips jerk erratically, “good girl. takin’ all of it so well.” it seems to go on forever as spurts of semen flood your insides for a good few seconds.

once your lover fully empties his balls inside of you, he feels himself grow weak. his thighs and arms tremble a bit from overexertion.

you collapse together in a sweaty heap, toji’s softening dick still buried deep inside of you. the only thing filling the room now is your heavy breathing as you slowly regain your composure. it’s quite a comfortable silence.

after a while, toji shifts. he pulls out with a wet squelch and watches with half-lidded eyes as thick, pearly globs of cum trickle down your slit. he grins lazily at the sight before turning you around.

you’re completely fucked out, it seems. your chest is heaving and your eyes are barely open. the trails of tears and drool on your face tells the man enough. toji wipes a stray strand of hair from your face with a haughty chuckle, “damn, keheh, fucked y’ real good. you okay though?”

you weakly nod in response before wrapping your arms around him. your hands rest on his broad back, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.

toji hums and hugs you back, being careful not to squish you under his weight. he presses chaste kisses to your temple as he enjoys your frame molding perfectly against the hard muscles of his body.

“y’ did so well for me, little girl,” he comments gruffly, voice deep and a bit hoarse. you smile at the praise and murmur a small ‘thanks’. nothing is better than being able to feel safe with your lover after an intense session like that.

you pull back a bit and look up at toji with a little, playful grin. “guess i need to challenge you more often. felt too good, babe.”

toji lets out a small scoff and shakes his head. a ghost of a smirk appears on his lips as he slightly pinches your side. he holds you against his chest and buries his nose into your hair, sighing as he finally relaxes his weary body.

“y’ can try. might break ya for real next time, though.”

[kurooh]

HORNY BRAINROT.

☆ includes: aged up! various characters from bnha

☆ warnings: 18+ content, reader is gn or fem depending on the scenario, drug use (weed & alcohol), somnophilia (consent given prior!!), nsfw. not proofread

thinking of izuku coming back home after a long day at the agency; he bends you over the kitchen table you were both about to eat on, and he skips dinner and goes in for dessert between your thighs.

sucking on eijirou’s cock desperately while he pushes your head down and tells you to take it. when he gets close, he yanks your head off him and you switch to jerking him off, your eyes closing as his cum sprays on your face. he groans loudly when you sweep your fingers across your wet skin and then suck on them, looking up at him innocently.

always a lover of public sex, dabi fucks you in alleyways, on rooftops, behind cars at night, and all across the city. he especially enjoys taking you from behind, your back pressed against his chest and his hand wrapped around your throat — he often fucks you like this in sight of the sky during the #2 hero’s patrols.

sometimes hitoshi can’t sleep, so he gently pulls the blankets away from your sleeping figure, admiring you in the dark. he’ll kiss your tummy, hips, and pelvis, then peel away your underwear, his tongue rushing to taste the sweetness between your folds. when you cum, you moan as though you’re in a dream, rarely waking up — occasionally he’ll make you cum so hard you wake up gasping his name.

keigo finds himself feeling overwhelmed when you ride him, his eyes rolling back and his entire body shaking each time he sees your greedy pussy swallow the whole length of his cock. as he unravels more and more, his wings represent how he feels with their wild movements. when he cums loudly, his wings rush in, wrapping around the both of you, pulling you close to him.

despite his shy demeanor, tamaki is a FREAK. he’ll have you sit in a chair, blindfolded, limbs tied to the back and the legs. then, he’ll tease you with kisses and touches, lightly slapping your thighs if you try to pull free to touch him. after a long while, he’ll spread your pussy open and spit onto your clit, then tease you further.

speaking of spitting, katsuki enjoys spitting into your pussy as well, or making you spit onto his cock to lube it up for sex or jerking him off.

i offer u: denki + hanta tag team. hanta’s on his back, your back is on his chest, his cock is stretching out your ass. while he’s thrusting up into your ass and holding you close, denki’s fucking in and out of your pussy with his overstimulated cock. his cum drips from your cunt and trickles down hanta’s cock, adding more lubrication. a threesome with these two would be insane because they would try out every position and cum once from it before stopping.

despite hating it when you edge him, shoto loves it. he’ll sigh shakily, hissing out, “ah— god, make me cum already, stop fucking with me!” but when you let him get real close, he begs you to stop and edge him. it’s confusing but ultimately he enjoys it, and always cries when he cums after edging.

drinking with katsuki always gets rowdy; he’ll show you off, get jealous more easily, and fuck you harder. after a night at the bar and way too many shots, he hops into an uber with you and heads to an expensive hotel instead of your home. katsuki books a big room, the one with the best view of the city and streets (it’s also 2-4 stories up from the lobby). when you get into the room, he practically rips your clothes off, pushing you against the big window overseeing the people and cars beneath. then, he fucks you right against the window, your tits pressed against the glass.

dry humping with eijirou in his agency office with an unlocked door, his hard cock rubbing against your pussy through layers and layers of clothing. when his precum is dripping through his underwear, and your panties are soaked with your slick, he removes whatever’s in the way, besides your underwear. when you start to get loud as his clothed cock creates more friction against you, he pulls off your wet underwear and stuffs them into your mouth, saying, “shh, baby. you have to be quiet, okay? don’t want any of the staff coming in, right?”

sharing a joint with keigo on the balcony of your shared apartment, plumes of smoke swirling around you as he spreads your legs. he always enjoys making out with your pussy before he eats you out, taking your folds and clit between his lips as he drags his tongue against you. he stares up at you with reddened eyes, desperate for your approving moans and facial expressions.

being fucked doggy style by izuku, either in your pussy or ass, as he praises you and your beautiful reflection in the mirror. “oh, you’re so gorgeous.. make me feel so damn lucky every time i look at you.” if you refuse to look, he leans over you, his pecs pressing into your upper back as he tugs your chin. he demands, “watch yourself cum” or “if you look away, i’ll stop pounding you”

shoto always cums within a few minutes of 69ing with you.. the way you desperately hump at his face and gobble down his cock always proves to be too damn much for him. he used to feel embarrassed, but now he just pushes through the overstimulation and adjusts you how he likes, slurping at your pussy loudly as you moan on his cock.

sexting with denki during his work hours, and sending him sneaky photos of your tits/ass/pussy when you know he’s busy. he’s always so quick to read your messages, and he rushes to the bathroom to hide his boner in a stall. he texts you to tell you what he’s gonna do to you, how desperate he is, or he’ll send mirror selfies, his hard cock visible through his pants.

phone sex with dabi, who easily makes you torture yourself. and god, does he sound good — he tells you what to do, rewarding you with his moans/groans or pictures. he’ll talk you through your orgasm, demanding that you keep fingering yourself or stop to ruin it. if you sob over his instructions, he’ll briefly reassure you, and then tell you to shut up and do what he says (he reminds you to be a good girl/slut or threatens to not fuck you).

god.. hitoshi loves filming you going dumb on his cock. most of the videos in his ‘us vids’ folder start off with him praising you as he moves the camera around your body, capturing every inch of you. “so pretty, god damn.” as the video progresses from gentle to rougher, his hand is wrapped around your neck, squeezing enough for you to gasp often. you’re a mess, babbling pleas as you cry his name, eyes rolling back and drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. by the time he’s cumming, you’re begging for him to fill you up, not a single other thought in your head. later, still filming, he thumbs away the saliva at the corner of your mouth; he kisses you and asks if you’re okay.

food play with tamaki, who eagerly gobbles strawberries off your tits, or the whipped cream designs all over your pelvis. even after your skin is free from all the sweetness or its residue, he licks you hungrily, then starts to bite hickeys into your skin. he blushes when you pinch one of his sensitive ears between your fingers and give it a tug — “tamaki, put your tongue to good use and eat me out.”

[classyrbf]

IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE! — GOJO SATORU

SYNOPSIS...you and gojo get into a fight after realizing that he’s been hiding something about your relationship the entire time

INFO...gojo x fem!reader, angsty, arguing, breaking up(?), not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

You slam the door to the penthouse, your heels clicking against the mahogany floors with each step. You toss your purse on the couch, hearing Gojo opening the front door and shutting it quickly. “Baby, please just listen to me.” He pleads, following after you.

“I don’t wanna hear your bullshit excuse, Satoru.” You roll your eyes, plopping down on the edge of the bed to relieve your sore feet of the heels you’ve been wearing all night to your boyfriends opening event he’s been planning for months now.

“I’m not trying to make excuses. Please.” He walks over towards you and toss your heel at him. “Stop throwing shit and just talk to me!”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” You stand to your feet, glaring daggers at him. “Do you know how embarrassing that was for me? God, you’re a fucking asshole.” You seethe, narrowing your eyes. “I sat there all alone, while you let some woman feel up on you the entire night? Are you out your fucking mind?” You scoff.

“She’s just an old friend, y/n. I swear I didn’t mean to make you feel that way.” He shakes his head at you, grabbing onto your arms tightly.

“Oh, yeah? So I when I came up and introduced myself as your girlfriend none of your friends were looking at me like I was crazy? I know we’ve been only together for a year, Satoru, but that’s fucking low.” You pull away from him. “They didn’t even know who I was. Then you got miss prissy bitch clearly flirting with you in front of me and you didn’t do a damn thing to stop it!” You brush past him, stomping over towards the bathroom.

“Slow down, y/n! Baby—”

“I’m not your fucking ‘baby’, Satoru.” You gather all of your products from the bathroom, from your makeup and skincare to your clothes and shampoo.

“Stop for just one second.” He spins you around so you’re facing him. “Don’t leave. I swear you’re the only girl for me. I know I fucked up, I know I did. I embarrassed you, made you look stupid and I am so fucking sorry. But please do not leave.” He cups your face gently and his touch feels so inviting, but you can’t forgive him that easily. “I only want you. I only need you.”

You look up at him through your lashes, swallowing thickly as you bite the inside of your cheek. “Should’ve thought about that when you let her kiss your cheek and you smiled at her. Right in front of me. Get the fuck off of me.” You push him, rushing to grab your bag from the closet.

Gojo lets out a tired sigh, following you. He wasn’t going to let you go. Not like this. “I shouldn’t have let her near me.”

“Why was she so comfortable with being that close to you, huh?” You question, furrowing your brows as you turn to look at him. “Now that I think about it. Let me guess, you two were more than just friends.” You stand to your feet, snatching your clothes off the hangers and shoving them into your bag. He looks at you, opening his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. And from the look in his eyes, you already knew the truth. A bitter laugh leaves your lips, shaking your head in disappointment.

“It was before you! Before us! We never dated it was just a small thing between me and her!” He tried to explain. “Baby, I swear! Once I met you, everything changed. I cut her off and focused all my attention on you. You’re the only who has my heart.” He grabbed your wrist only for you to pull away.

“Clearly I ain’t the only who who’s got your dick, though.” You slam the closet door shut, turning your back towards him.

“Don’t say that, y/n. That’s the first time I’ve seen her in years!”

“Yeah? Well all your friends sure know about her. She must’ve been great in bed, Satoru. Me? Well, they looked at me like I was a fucking ghost!” You scoff. “Like I was some delusional bitch who came up to you and said I was your girlfriend!” You throw your hands up in disbelief. “You must take me for fucking joke. It must be written on my forehead or something!”

“I don’t take you for a joke! You’re my goddamn girlfriend. You live with me. You have my initial around your fucking neck! I love you and you know that!” He takes a step towards you.

“Do I know that?” You ask aloud, cocking your head to the side.

“What—of course I love you. What the fuck are you saying?” He looked at you with pure confusion.

“You’re a joke. One of your friends, Shoko, pulled me aside and told me the only reason you got with me is because your little fling ended up getting a boyfriend herself around the time we started dating. You’re a piece of shit.” You revealed the truth to him, watching him stare at you blankly, lost for words. “Think I wouldn’t find out?” You ripped off the necklace with his initial, tossing it at him.

“Yes, I was upset that she got a boyfriend but—”

“So you had feelings for her. And just to cover them up, you got with me as a distraction.” You step closer towards him. “Listen to me, Satoru, don’t ever try and contact me again, keep whatever fucking gifts you bought me and return them, sell them, do whatever because I am done,” you spoke through gritted teeth.

“No, no, no, baby. You can’t leave me. Yea I liked her before, but so fucking what? I was never in love with her, not like I am with you. I was too fucking stupid. I still am! Just give me another chance to fix this. I don’t want us to end this way.” He grabs your packed bag from your hands and tosses it on the bed.

“Let me go, Satoru.”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I can’t. You’re everything to me. She’s nothing compared to you.” He sniffles, holding your hands in his. “I love you so much and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. I’m sorry I embarrassed you. And I’m sorry for entertaining the idea that she could even come close to you. She can’t.” His hands cupped your face, his heart pounding in anticipation as he waited to hear any words from you.

You reached up, pulling his hands away from your face. “Bye, Satoru.” You walked past him, grabbing your bag off of the bed. As much as it hurt to leave, you knew you had to respect yourself. Time and space was what you needed to think. With each step out the door, you could hear Gojo’s sobs, something you’ve never heard before in the year you’ve been with him. For the strong, flashily and confident man he is, you never once thought you’d see or him break down. Especially not for you.

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[tonycries]

AITA For F*cking My Sugar Daddy's Son?! - G.S.

Synopsis. When your sugar daddy just isn’t paying attention to you, can you really be blamed for fúcking his son? Especially when his son is absolutely obsessed with you.

Pairing. Rich boy! Gojo Satoru x Sugar baby! Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, jealous Satoru, créampie, dirty talk, manhandling, marking, Satoru’s dad is not really present, oral (female receiving), overstim, másturbation (male), thigh riding, cúmplay, Satoru is really really down bad and filthy for you, CEO’s son! Gojo,  pet names, swearing.

Word count. 8.1k

A/N. Will proofread later, lowkey scared to post this, but I just wanted it out of my mind. And in my mind, Satoru’s dad is FINE asl so-

The first time you meet Gojo Satoru is when you’re all dolled up for his father. 

Designer dress just a bit too tight, running on a few too many shots of tequila, wanting to be anywhere but at this stuffy gala. Everything was too bright - too polished.

And it really didn’t help that no matter how many scathing looks or whispers that followed you, you just had to be here - it was in your contract, after all. Because luckily for you, you just so happened to be the infamous little plaything hanging off the arm of the head of Gojo Corporations.

Well, usually. Right now your sugar daddy was too busy entertaining his business partners, leaving you off to the side, praying for something - anything - to save you from this-

“Damn if I’d come to these shitty galas a lot more often if it meant I’d get to see a beauty like you.”

You jolt out of your bored little reverie, eyes immediately snapping up to meet the tall man suddenly in front of you. When did he even get so close? 

You can’t help but drink him in from head to toe, from the overpriced, slightly-disheveled suit to the tiny dimple at the end of his mischievous grin. Strangely familiar white locks fell effortlessly to curtain his eyes. Eyes that were a startling blue - the kind of blue that had your cheeks flaring and knowing exactly who this was. 

Oh.

At your silence, he tilts his head with the air of someone that owns this entire venue and everything in it because, well, he did. Twinkling gaze searing into your skin as it roams appreciatively all over your body, plowing on, “Though, you look like you’re on the verge of an aneurysm around these old coots.”

You sigh, pinching your nose at the curious glances around you. Not even able to find it in yourself to put on that plastic smile anymore, “Oh y’know, just soaking up my popularity with the masses after being stranded here.”

“Oh? Here with anyone?”

“Yeah.” you blurt out, “Your father.”

You watch in amusement as Satoru’s mouth falls into a delicate oh! eyes flickering over his shades between you and the handsome man on the other end of the venue, oblivious and fully enjoying himself in the company of his secretary. A bit too much without you. 

“Y’know…” he starts, shaky and sounding only half the insufferable heir he was before, “I would say that’s a hilarious version of a ‘your mom’ joke but you’re actually serious, aren’t you?”

“Mhm. Though it would make a good punchline, huh?” You huff out a laugh at the way he was suddenly less of a smooth-talking playboy and more of a lost puppy. The gears turning in his head as he processes that oh shit you were the sweet lil’ thing his dad’s been suddenly rushing off to meet straight after work. And the reason why all those old fossils here were clutching their pearls in scandal.

He just didn’t expect you to be this…gorgeous. And for the first time in forever, he’s suddenly so intrigued.

Because ah, you should’ve known better than to think that this little hiccup would deter the infamous Gojo Satoru. No, in fact that million-dollar smirk only makes its way back onto his unfairly pretty face, like he’s about to spill the juiciest gossip of the century.  

“So you’re the latest armcandy my ol’ man has picked up, huh? I hafta say, dear old dad has good taste.” he muses, stepping in close enough that his expensive cologne makes your head spin. “Why don’t you and I ah-” You follow Satoru’s gaze to where he was staring at the way his father was now making a beeline through the crowd. Straight for the two of you. 

“Gotta run before I get my share of the company revoked.” he flashes you a quick smile, fulling intent on saving his father’s delicate ego. But not before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “But jus’ saying,” voice a pretty little purr, “I wouldn’t ever leave you standing here so alone and gorgeous, princess.”

You can only stand there, reeling from the sheer audacity as he darts into the crowd with a wink, not caring if he stepped on a few too many overpriced coattails than necessary. Wondering whether this was some bizarre dream induced by too much tequila and not enough common sense.

“Hi, sweetheart. Investors held me up, you know how it is. Having fun, huh?” A toned arm wraps around your waist as your sugar daddy finally arrives by your side. And as he went on about his latest business branch, only two thoughts ring through your mind - 1. You were seriously reconsidering this arrangement. And 2. This was going to be interesting. 

And oh was it interesting. 

Because Satoru always managed to find you, wherever you were. No matter if it was another droning function or a chance meeting at the sprawling Gojo Estate, Satoru always swooped in whenever his father was too busy for you. Which, fortunately for Satoru, happened to be a lot.  

Hell, he seemed to find you even when you least wanted him to. Like that time he had to drag you away mid-argument with a particularly rude one of his snobby aunts. That was not a fun family reunion. 

All unabashed confidence and pretty smiles where his father was cold, cold calculation. Ready with a smart mouth to bicker with you and bright eyes that seemed to linger on you a bit too long. But you didn’t mind - why would you? Because all things considered, Satoru was a very attractive man. Sure, his father was extremely handsome, too - in a clean-cut, DILF-y way, in fact. But his son was dangerously attractive.

So much so that sometimes when he swept you away from insufferable galas to talk, some strange little part of you wished it was him that you came here with instead. Just for a second. 

“So, what do you see in my father anyway? His company?” Satoru asked you one day. Draping himself over his cool office desk, so comically out of place in the stiff corporate room. Legs kicking in the air as he waits for your response.

You tear your eyes away from the way his biceps were straining so deliciously against his snug button-up to deadpan, “I mean, I am his sugar baby after all, Satoru.”

“But think about it,” he whines, batting those long lashes at you. Fully intent on driving you as dangerously close to a stroke as possible before his father finishes up an important business meeting. One that he missed - whoops. “There’s close to nothing redeemable about the man. His idea of a family bonding activity is a PowerPoint presentation on quarterly earnings.”

“Satoru.”   

“And either way- I’m getting the company in a few years, would ya be my sugar baby then, princess?”

Ah, there it was. 

It’s been a few weeks of knowing Satoru, and those little comments still made your head spin. Second-guessing the nature of this strange little…friendship? You didn’t even know anymore. Because yeah there might’ve been a few, stupid little lingering touches - like a trace on your hips, or your hand firmly in his as he led your (temporary) escape from another lonely gala. But those meant nothing, right?

“Nah, I’d poison you and take over the company instead.”

“Hey!”

Well, whatever, he was just your sugar daddy’s son. His sharp-mouthed, dangerously handsome son that just couldn’t seem to leave you alone. Not that you were complaining, really. Your relationship with his father was not exactly exclusive - you already knew that secretary of his was a bit suspiciously close - but that’s all he’ll ever be. Right?

Or, well, that’s what you stupidly thought. 

It wasn’t until one night late in the Gojo Estate, cursing those ridiculously long hallways, that you get an inkling of exactly how wrong you were. 

“Ugh, fucking rich people.” you mutter under your breath, wandering around trying to find whether the fuck the bathroom was. Because it doesn’t matter how many companies and businesses Gojo senior ran, the man still sucked at directions. You hiss, rubbing the tiny bruise on your neck - and aftercare too, clearly, even though that was in that damn contract. Something about an urgent business call with his secretary. Ugh. 

After three wrong doors, a trip around the in-home planetarium (seriously, who even needed that?), and chugging a full water bottle from the third kitchen in exhaustion, you finally find yourself walking towards what hopefully looked like the bathroom.

Hand reaching for the doorknob to swing it open. Ah, this better be the one or so help you-

Now, Satoru thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. And you - hair mussed, and dazed, standing there in nothing but a large button-up, falling just below your panties - looked like a sinfully beautiful lil’ demon here to lure him into hell. And oh how gladly he’d go if it means he got to see this ethereal view more often. 

“Ah! Wha- Sato-” 

You don’t even know if you want to scream or not - torn between taking in the sculpted chest smushed against your face and not wanting to alert security downstairs. Reeling backward you drink in the sight before you and God how you wish you didn’t - it wasn’t too good for your heart. 

Satoru’s hair was tousled, droplets of water glistening on his hair like diamonds. Skin soft and damp and smelling so delicious. Bathroom light bouncing off his rippling muscles, pecs flexing, as his strong arms reach out to steady you as you reel backwards. 

Traitorously, your eyes snake across his sculpted body. Dipping below once. Twice. Cheeks flaring as a pang of disappointment hits you at the damp towel wrapped around that slutty torso. Wondering what’s underneath-

“Y’should take a picture, it lasts longer.” Satoru grins, like the shameless bastard he is. Though he wasn’t in any better state - eyes flickering between you and any sliver of exposed skin his eyes could reach. 

“I should be saying the same to you.” you mutter, caught red-handed, shuffling your feet in embarrassment. 

Satoru lets out a low chuckle as he pulls you closer minutely, presence practically enveloping you. “Oh, me?” he says, voice dropping to a husky murmur. Thumb tracing that little spot on your neck, “S’hard not to when y’look so appetizing.”

And you don’t even try to pull away because fuck this is Satoru and he looks so good - so warm under your fingertips, even when you jolt at the realization of what exactly he was talking about. Your hand coming up to cover that tiny mark left on your skin from not-too-long ago. A shameful little reminder that this was his son. 

You grapple for some - any - sense of normalcy. Warning, “Flattery won’t get you anywhere, Satoru.”

He leans down impossibly, quirking an eyebrow. Both amusement and something unreadable flashing across his face. “Oh, but it’s got my father somewhere?”

“Why? Jealous?”

“Yes.”

You startle, taken aback by the blunt confession. So direct and something so Satoru. The word hands in the hair’s breadth between you two now, sending your mind reeling. And you can’t help but repeat, “Jealous?”

“Fucking yes.” There it was again. 

But this time, Satoru plows on, voice barely above a whisper but ringing in the thick air. “Jealous he gets to have you all to himself but still doesn’t kiss you like you should be.”

“What do you-”

“Your lipstick.” he interrupts, swiping a thumb over your bottom lip, “Why’s it as perfect as since you came in?” And, indeed, you realize with a jolt that no you really haven’t been kissed the way you wanted - not enough to leave your make-up so sinfully ruined. 

Minty breath fanning your face so dangerously now, and you barely even realize that you’re leaning into it, “If it were up to me, princess, I’d ruin that pretty lil’ lipstick of yours every chance I got.”

A delicious little shiver runs down your spine, head spinning at Satoru and his words and Satoru- And it’s all you can do to get out a shaky, “So why don’t you?”

And then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - like neither of you had the strength nor the will to stop. 

Satoru tasted just like candy, such an intoxicating sweetness that had you gasping as his soft tongue licked at the seam of your lips. Intertwining with yours as he breathes you in desperately. So sloppy. Such a sinful little mix of saliva and teeth and pure need.

His chest is soft under your greedy hands, lips searing against yours, and you could feel his hands wandering across every inch of skin they could find. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again because fuck he knows that he might just not. 

Long fingers dance delicately underneath that shirt to feel- oh fuck, you weren’t even wearing panties. Such a pretty lil’ slut and by God was he a goner. 

Groaning into the kiss, he lets you loop your arms around his neck, hardened nipples rubbing against his abs as you tug on his damp hair. Honestly, fuck that thin shirt, Satoru thinks he might just pass out right here right now.

“S-Satoru.” you whisper against his lips, legs hiking up to grind your bare cunt against the throbbing erection straining against his towel. Already so wet from water or precum, you had absolutely no idea. You couldn’t give less of a fuck in fact, needing to see if Satoru’s cock was as pretty as the rest of him right now. Hands urgently dipping below the hem, starting to tug and-

“Hey, sweetheart. Did you find the bathroom?”

Shit. Fuck. Wonderful - perfect, in fact.

You would’ve thought Satoru burned you with how quickly you pushed him away. Cheeks burning, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Almost slipping on the tile as you try to compose yourself at a safe distance - one that wouldn’t end up with you jumping his bones again. 

But all rational thoughts of that and your sugar daddy - Satoru’s father - almost go out the window once you take in the heavenly sight before you. 

Satoru’s lips swollen, hair disheveled, towel hanging slightly too low off his hips. Giving you such a pretty peak of those tufts of snowy white hair at the bottom. 

“W-we shouldn’t…” you trail off, as the footsteps get louder and louder. Something prickly and uncomfortable pooling in your stomach with each beat. 

Luckily for you, Satoru probably catches on to how you looked like you wanted the ground to swallow you whole right now. Voice low and control as he agrees, “Yeah, we probably shouldn’t.” No care in the world for his steadily approaching father as he lazily adjusts his towel, a gesture so nonchalant yet distracting. 

You swallow hard as he moves to walk past you, thinking that if this just so happened to be a dream then by God was it a good one. But of course - when has Satoru ever let you have it easy?

Because he stops abruptly in his tracks, fingers only ghosting the doorknob. Immediately turning back to walk to you with two, big steps, eyes gleaming, dimple flashing. And before you even know what’s happening, his lips are on yours. Featherlight and fleeting. But so so addictive. Nipping at your bottom lip, savoring you on his tongue.

It’s over before you know it, and a pathetic little disappointed whine leaves you as he pulls away. A smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he mutters lowly into yours, “Y’look prettier like this.”

Ah, you weren’t happy to see him leave but how you loved watching him go. Bathroom light so pretty against all the dips and curves of his figure as he walked away. White hair reflecting the warm hue, muscles flexing, hips slightly swaying with such a slutty little confidence that only Satoru could have. 

As you watch him disappear around the door, you almost forget the unwelcome visitor hot on your heels any second now and - wait - what was it that he’d said? “Prettier like this”?

Turning to the mirror and- 

Oh. Shit. 

You better have brought your make-up remover.

God, Satoru’s never ran to his room as fast as this since that time he was caught using his father’s elite golf clubs to play pool with Suguru.

Because as soon as that goddamn door is shut, he’s ripping his towel off. Letting it drop to the floor in a damp pile God-knows-where as he immediately fists his swollen cock.

With a groan, he leans against the shut door.  Eyes scrunching in such sinful ecstasy as he squeezes the base, pulsing and so achingly hard for you. A warning and a reprimand. Shit, how the fuck did he get this hard just from kissing your pretty lil’ lips?

Ah, whatever, right now he doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity to think too hard about it. Smearing the precum beading at his weeping tip, wetting his palm so sloppily. 

Neat little crescents searing into his skin where you’d grabbed him before, only thing on his mind - how would you do it?

Would you ease him into it? Or would you start up a hasty, desperate little pace like he was doing right now? Shallow, quick tugs on his thick cock like you wanted to milk him deliciously. 

Satoru’s hand was cold on his angry, hot cock. And with how many times he’s slipped his into yours, he knew yours would feel better around him. Both hands wrapped around his cock but still not covering all of it. So soft and warm, your nails scraping gently across his throbbing veins. 

“Shit. Hngh-” he breathes out, voice almost-pathetic, “J-jus’ like that, princess.” 

And what would you say? Tell him to shut up and just take it? Would you whisper into his ear as you let him fuck himself into your pretty fists? “So hard n’ big all f’me?” Satoru’s knees buckle at the thought, hand speeding up. “Y’look so pretty like this, y’know.”

Slam! Palm slamming against the poor drawer beside him hard enough to make its legs tremble, desperately trying to keep himself from collapsing. 

But oh his fist doesn’t stop. No, he doubts he ever will - not that strong of a man to keep himself from getting off so filthily to the image of you standing at the doorway of the bathroom. You looked so ethereal - Satoru couldn’t help but imagine how even more sinful you’d look if he was the one done with you. Shit, you wouldn’t even be able to stand if he had his way. 

“F-fuck, princess. M’gonna ruin you, gonna fuck you till you don’t know anything but m’name.”

He grips tighter on the base, thumbing under his slit in a way he knows your devious little hands would do. Fucked-out little grunts leaving his swollen lips each time his fingers meet his flushed tip.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he mutters hoarsely, letting out a low, broken little call of your name. “More. Need more, princess.” He wanted you so badly that it hurt.

What the fuck did that sleazy old man have that he didn’t? And that little bite? That would be nothing compared to what Satoru would do if he got his hands on you. Yeah, he thinks, body shuddering violently, he’d mark you up till everyone knows you’re his. Leave bites that peak out from your collar, all the way down to your pretty thighs.

“Y’belong with me pretty, could fuck you so much better.” Sweat drips from his brow, splashing onto his erratic fist. Thighs quivering, heart pounding wildly in his chest. 

Satoru would almost be embarrassed by how desperate he was acting if he was in any better state of mind. Head only filled with you, and your hand and you-

And fuck for the sake of his sanity he can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel inside your pretty lil’ cunt. All he can think of is the way you’d keen so prettily, mewling out a little, “Oh s’too big.” 

Would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you milk his cock? Or would he have to ram his dick into you, because shit as much as he loves that  bitchy mouth, it would look so much better gasping and stuttering as he fucks you dumb. 

“Oh yeah.” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Such a good lil’ slut f’me. Taking m’so well.” 

God his hand was so sloppy on his dick that he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore. Just wanting to fuck you and have you do this f’him. 

Ah, your plushy walls would suck him in so nicely. One hand speeds up on his cock, while the other reaches down to cradle his balls. Tugging and pulling at the same jerky rhythm they would smack your ass while he stuffs you full. 

So much better than any other sugar daddy ever could. Oh how Satoru would love to mess up your pretty pussy and your lipstick. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on if he could.

And you’d be able to do nothing but gasp and whimper into his lips, cockdrunk and dazed, “Shit shit shit- Toru m’gonna - Hah- Wanna cum. Please wan’ cum-” Oh how he’d burn down this entire fucking world to hear you call him that. 

“Fuck,” he curses, bucking into his fist, tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, princess.”

“Cum f’me, Toru. Fill me up with y’cum- wanna take all of it.”

And then he’s cumming. 

A ragged, raw moan of your name leaving his lips. Thick, hot ropes of cum that should be painting your pussy white - but, alas, he’s spilling into his fist so shamefully. And amongst the stars behind his eyes he’s sees you - you you you-

You, fucking your cunt deeper onto his cock to take every drop of his cum. You, whispering sweet little praises as his seed gushes down your thigh, telling him that oh he’s doing so well, and he’s the best boyfriend ever and you already want more-

You, at the arm of his father.

Shit, he needs to shower. Again. 

---

Ever since that little incident that night, everything changed. 

At this point, you didn’t even feel that usual little bitterness whenever your sugar daddy canceled for some urgent business. And, well, it made you blush to admit but you found yourself heading over to the Gojo Estate more and more frequently, often just to catch a glimpse of Gojo - or a quick kiss in the stuffy broom closet. Whichever left you more time to run away from looming security and his father. 

But that was exactly the problem. 

Because no matter how thick the tension lingering in the air between you two was, nothing had gone past heated kisses and touches. Either you were brought back to reality with the possibility of being arrested for indecent exposure at those galas, or someone just had to interrupt. Seriously, with how many times Satoru has had to pay off his poor personal assistant, you’ve been wondering whether he actively seeks you two out. 

And it really didn’t help that Satoru always tasted so goddamn delicious. Fingers searing on your skin, cologne heavy in the heady air, it was hard to keep your hands to yourself. 

But, hey, desperate times bring devious measures.

Which is why you were here right now - sinking into the plushiest bed at the Gojo Estate, clad in your delicate light blue lingerie. One that was custom-made in this specific shade of blue. Because while your sugar daddy preferred you in red, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind you using his credit card for other ulterior motives, right? 

You just hoped that Satoru would just so happen to get a peak when you sneak out to use the bathroom later. What would he say? Would he like it? Would his eyes roam over your body, fingers twiddling with the flimsy lace?

But more importantly - would it be enough to make him break? Even if just a little bit?

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You’re startled out of your little whirlwind thoughts by knocking on the door. Steady, and matching your racing heart. Ah, Satoru’s father, you hastily get up to fix your hair.

“Yo, princess, are you naked or can I come in? Or can I come in when you’re naked?”

That wasn’t your sugar daddy. 

Not even thinking of your current outfit anymore, you rush to throw the heavy wooden doors open to see that, yes, it really was Satoru standing at the door. All bright grins and flushed cheeks as he drinks you in. Brows raising as his eyes move down from your face once. Twice. Thrice. 

Success. 

“What’re you doing here, Satoru?” you bat your lashes deceivingly innocently. Trying to hold back the smirk threatening to curl your lips at the way he gulps.

“Uh- My father’s off to some urgent b-business.” he murmurs, scratching the back of his neck. “Told me to tell you he’s sorry and wishes you the breas- best.”

Oh. 

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Satoru’s father has canceled on you. But it would be the first time that he’s canceled on you so conveniently enough to leave you alone with his unfairly hot son. Now, you couldn’t let the opportunity go to waste, right?

You lean slightly against the door, body ghosting Satoru’s, teasing him, “Well, when is my dear sugar daddy coming back from his business? Tell him I miss him.”

It’s a joke - and both of you probably know it. But that doesn’t stop Satoru’s brows furrowing ever-so-slightly, suddenly a different man from the flustered one he was just a few seconds ago as he mutters, “I don’t think he’ll be back tonight.”

“Aww, must be some important business.” 

He clenches his jaw aggressively at that, gritting out a clipped little, “You do know that ‘business’ of his is his secretary right?”

“I know. What a shame, right? Guess I’ll just have to go home n’ wait for him then?” you mockingly sigh - God, someone give you an Oscar. Moving to close the door in Satoru’s face, only to be stopped by a large hard smacking into the doorframe - as you knew it would. 

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m gonna let you come out looking like that and let you go home without tearing it to shreds.”

And that’s all that is said before his lips are on yours.

The door is slamming shut before you know it, and you’re shoved against it. Satoru’s lips such a sloppy mix of teeth and spit. Hands just everywhere - cradling your cheek, teasing your nipples through your bra, running down to squeeze and grope your ass. He just couldn’t get enough of you. 

Fuck twiddling with the lace, Satoru seemed well and fully intent to rip it off of you. And you’d let him. Just like he was letting you shove his overpriced button-up down his toned shoulders. Soft little rips sounding in the heady air at the urgency but neither of you could give less of a fuck. 

All you could think of is the way Satoru was so pretty and muscled. Drinking in all the dips and curves of pale skin underneath your fingertips. 

“Fuck, princess. Chose this color on purpose, huh?” his fingers dive under the hem of your bra, “Wanted to drive me crazy, mm?”

“Y-yes, Satoru.” you gasp into his mouth, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. “Wanted you to look at it. Got it custom-made all f’you.” words muffled as he sucks on your tongue. Satoru was always such a messy kisser, licking at the seam of your lips and intertwining his tongue with yours with no shame or shyness. A delicate trail of drool already starting at the corner of your mouth. 

Ah, it was too much for him. Satoru almost thinks he could cum in his pants right now at your sinful little admission. 

Which is why he pulls away to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, letting out a broken little hum of appreciation into your skin. “Thought so.”

And then your bra’s hitting the floor, tits spilling out into the cold bedroom air. But only for a split-second because Satoru’s immediately groping each and every inch of skin he can find. 

“Look so fucking beautiful like this.” Rolling your swollen nipples between two fingers as he mutters - more to himself than you, “Was gonna let him see you in this slutty lil’ thing, too?” leaning down to tongue lazily little circles on one nipple. Words muffled as he wraps his lips so prettily around your tit - tugging, just grazing with his teeth, “Matching my eyes, huh? Fuckin’ gonna be the death of me shit-”

Satoru was insatiable. Wanting all of you all at the same time. And you follow his line of sight to see him locked on your dripping cunt - soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. Clenching around nothing as his pretty pink lips fall into a soft oh! at the sight. 

Like a madman, he immediately drops to his knees. But you don’t think he even feels the pain as he bites down on the hem of your wet panties. Looking up at you with dazed eyes - miles away. 

Breath ghosting your quivering cunt, tugging lightly with his teeth, “Next time, I’m gonna be the one buying you these.”

Then he’s pulling - tearing your drenched panties to shreds. Grinning so devilishly around it as he gets his first sight of your pretty pussy.  Oh you were so perfect for him. So mouthwateringly wet. 

“Shit, princess. Can’t believe you were fucking holdin’ out on me.”  he muses in wonder, eyes wide at the way your sloppy pussy was glistening in the dim lighting. 

“You were the one that-”

And usually, Satoru loves hearing you run your mouth, but this time he’s shutting you up by diving face-first into your dripping cunt. Cute little mewls leaving you as he presses so shamefully deep that his nose was against your throbbing clit, rubbing languidly as he licks a thick stripe up your swollen folds. 

And then it was like something snapped. 

Because one taste of you and Satoru’s going wild. Throwing a leg over his shoulder to lick more desperately all all over your cunt, lapping up all the juices that gush out of you. Already so addicted because shit you were so much sweeter than in his dreams. 

“Ah! Hngh- please.” you mewl, as he wraps his glossy lips around your swollen clit. All you get is a feral little grunt, his jaw parted, eyes looking like he’s on cloud nine as starts to suck harshly. Filthy little squelches filling the air as Satoru rolls his tongue across your clit. “Feels, s’good, Satoru.”

But your cute little whines turn into one of disappointment as Satoru pulls away ever-so-slightly. “Call m’Toru.” he slurs.

And he doesn’t waste any more time, tongue swishing in his mouth to spit on you once. Twice. Missing ever so slightly, and splattering on your thigh. You flinch, gasping out a breathless little, “Toru!”

“Oh shit, princess. Yeah- say m’name jus’ like that” he groans, ragged and raw. The last thing out of his mouth before he’s squeezing his soft tongue into your snug cunt. Dipping into your sloppy hole in and out in and out in and-

“He ever made you feel this good?” he moans into your cunt, the vibrations making you fuck yourself deeper into his unrelenting tongue. 

“W-what?”

“He ever made you feel this good? Cum so hard you see stars?”

You gasp out a pathetic little sob, “N-no. Want to- Wan’ you to make me cum, Toru. Make me cum around your tongue.”

And, well, what his girl wants - then she’s going to get. Because Satoru’s lapping at your cunt even more greedily than before. 

Stretching you out, breathing you in, looking up at your cute expression through his long lashes. Already so fucked-out for him. 

Nose rubbing purposefully in small circles on your clit. Fucking you with his tongue the way he wants to with his cock and he didn’t give a fuck if he suffocated in-between your thighs - he fucking loved it. 

“Hngh- shit shit shit yes!” your nails are digging into Satoru’s scalp at this point. The only thing steadying yourself to prevent you from collapsing onto the ground. And you really can’t help but angle his head just right so that his tongue curls against that one spot inside your plushy walls. 

Thankfully, he gets the memo. Because Satoru’s letting out a strangled little grunt at being so used by you as you drag your cunt across his pretty mouth. Body jerking into his as he hits that spot over and over-

“T-Toru- hah!” thighs quivering, Satoru’s grip bruising as he holds you up. “M’m gonna-” Your plushy walls sucking him up, thighs squeezing around his face. 

“Mhm?”

“Cum! M’gonna cum- ah- fuck fuck fuck-”

He groans huskily into your cunt. Throwing his head back ever-so-slightly to let your slick slide down his throat - greedily waiting for more that was to come. “Then show me how you cum, m’girl. Cum all over my tongue.”

And then you are - all over Satoru’s pretty face. And fuck he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. Holding his head in place as you rock your hips into his waiting mouth, letting him drink you in so greedily. Clamping down on his tongue like you were trying to milk him. 

And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d notice the delirious little heart eyes that Satoru was giving you, your cunt firm on his face and swollen lips letting out such pretty whines of his name. Toru Toru Toru - like a prayer as you fucking use him for your high. 

Ah, he could stay like this forever, he thinks. But no, an empty house and you all wet n’ pretty for him means there’s too much more to do. 

Which is why he’s pulling away, your slick decorating his lips so prettily. Smeared across the bottom half of his face and dripping onto the hardwood floor in a maddening little drip! drip! drip! 

And Satoru knows, with the way you watch him so intensely, mouth parted, eyes glossy. Which is why he runs a thumb along his mouth, pooling your juices on his fingers and popping them into his mouth. One by one. 

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief as Satoru licks his fingers clean, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your addictive taste. Oh he was ruining you without even touching you. 

“Not enough, princess.” he chuckles. “C’mon, gimme a kiss.”

And, really, how could you ever say no to that face? Because you’re pulling him to you as soon as Satoru stands to his full height. Capturing his lips in such a sloppy, filthy kiss - forcing you to taste yourself and you half-lucidly wonder whether Satoru loved the taste almost as much as you because it was so him.

Bodies so close that your dripping cunt was seeping into his unfairly tight shirt. Forming a lewd little dark patch when Satoru lifts you effortlessly to guide you to the bed. Tongue still entwining obscenely with yours as he splays you out on the soft mattress for him. Drinking in that adorable lil’ shock on your face as you bounce on the bed, so drunk off of him that you didn’t even realize he was taking you to the bed. 

“Shit, y’look the prettiest like this, princess. S’a wonder m’not fucking passing out right now.” he hisses into your lips.

“Toru-” you whine, and shit the way his cock jumps at the mere sound of your voice makes you think that this will be a little trick you’re using more often. “Wan’ your cock s’bad. Wanna-”

You don’t even have the patience to finish the sentence before you’re fumbling with his belt. Something hefty and overpriced but you can’t possibly think about that right now because fuck you get the first sliver of milky skin. 

Satoru’s thighs were so sculpted and thick. It made your mouth absolutely water to wonder what it would feel like to ride them to insanity.

“Y’wanna ride my thighs? Fuck princess, you really are driving me crazy.” 

Shit had you said that out loud? 

Ah, well, it doesn’t matter because Satoru’s pulling his boxers down - so tight with his swollen cock, a dark patch right where his weeping head was. And you almost pout at losing the opportunity to take them off but oh how you’re distracted by the sinful sight before you. 

Satoru was massive - so long and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Shit, you were going to have to get a lingerie set in this color one of these days. He was achingly hard and throbbing, springing up to smear precum all over his abs. 

And before you can even react, Satoru’s pulling you to him. Manhandling your pretty self so easily to straddle one, large thigh. 

“Oh- hngh, Toru.” you look up at him all doe-eyed and teary as he doesn’t even wait for you to register what’s all happening. Grip bruising on your hips as he rocks your hips so sluttily on his leg. “F-feels s’good. Ah-”

“Yeah? Y’like it? Like getting yourself off like a lil’ slut on my thigh?” he groans into your ear, low and husky with need. 

You nod wildly, sloppy pussy dripping all over his thigh, seeping into his skin as you grind your hips to meet his movements. “Like it s’much- ah-”

“Mhm? Better than anything he could ever do?”

“Yes yes yes, Toru-” you sob, cheeks burning as you realize that you’re humping him like a bitch in heat - but oh judging by the carnal little glint in his eyes, he liked it. Loved it, even. Because Satoru could feel the way your swollen folds spread to grind against him, clit pulsing so maddeningly against his skin. So filthy and messy as you used him to get yourself off. “S’much better- the best-”

He just didn’t expect to feel a soft hand wrapping around his cock. Eyes flying open to see you - all glassy-eyed, and fucking yourself on his thigh - wrap a hand around his cock. Starting to move in shallow, unsteady little motions up and down his throbbing cock to get him off at the same time as you.

“Wan’ you to cum, too, Toru.”

“Oh fuck.” he grunts, letting his hips fuck up into your fist in mindless little motions. “Y’don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

And with that his fingers were digging into the skin of your hips, forcing you to hold on for dear life as he drags your dripping cunt faster and faster across his thick. Movements erratic and frenzied now. 

Of course, you were not one to be out-done. 

Satoru’s precum spilling down your hand, your wrist now aching and wet, becoming so, so sloppy trying to get both yourselves off. But you still tighten your fist around his pulsing cock, desperately flying up and down his length. Pulling in quick, jerky motions to milk him for all he’s worth again and again and-

“You’re so oh- good f’me, princess.” he hums. “Your hngh- hands are so p-pretty wrapped around my cock. So perfect for me.” Bucking his hips wildly to meet your hand now, fucking your fist with no shame. Pulling you harsher on his thigh. “S’such a shame you had to hah fuck- meet my father first. I’d have been so much better.”

“Toru!” you squeal as one hand moves deftly from your hips to draw quick, hasty little circles on your throbbing clit. The friction from his thigh and fingers too much to handle. 

“I’d make you happier.” Your body is shaking now, hands messy and trembling around his swollen cock. “I’d make you laugh more and give you all m’time.” You can’t even look at him at this point, eyes scrunched close in ecstasy as Satoru whispers these maddening little phrases into your open mouth. 

“I’d make you cum harder.”

Oh and then you are - tears in your eyes, body convulsing into his as you cum. And of course he’s smirking smugly as he watches you ride your high out on his thigh, brows furrowed and bottom lip bitten in concentration as he holds off cumming. Not now. Not yet. 

“So, better than him or not?”

But shit was it hard. 

Especially when you raise your pretty, barely-lucid eyes to meet his, whimpering out a soft little, “I don’ know yet, Toru. Gonna hafta stuff me full of your cock if you wanna know.”

And perhaps for the first time since you walked in on him after the shower that night, the great Gojo Satoru is taken aback. Eyes widening in surprise, kiss-bitten lips falling into a soft oh! of disbelief. But not for long - never for long - because a devilish little grin breaks out across his face immediately afterwards. 

“Shit, y’really are perfect f’me, princess.”

With a low growl, Satoru is easily pulling your body - limp and boneless in his hands - to straddle his toned hips. 

You let out a yelp at the feeling of his fat tip just kissing your swollen folds, dragging teasingly along them, collecting the slick beading out of your sloppy cunt. Back and forth-

“Who’s got you feeling this way?”

“You, Toru.”

And then he’s pushing in, swollen cock bullying into your snug pussy. Thumbs drawing steady little circles on your hips - yes to reassure you but also to fight off that feral little part of himself that just wants to stuff your pretty lil’ pussy full until his heavy balls smack your ass. Not even waiting for you to adjust. 

But no. No, it was so much better when you were the one desperately trying to suck up his cock. Gasping and moaning out strangled little whimpers of his name as you sink yourself down on his throbbing dick. Inch by fucking inch. 

“S’too big- Hngh! I-is it even halfway in?” you whimper out, and Satoru could almost laugh humorlessly as he tilts his head to glance downwards and shit- he was barely a quarter in. 

“No.” 

“F-fuck” cute little tears streaking down your face now, thighs trembling, “Toru, I-I don’t think I can-”

“You can. And you will.” Fucking up into you in short, rapid little jabs to squeeze himself deeper into your tight pussy. Shit, it was such a squeeze, you were milking the ever-loving soul out of him. And it only made him impossibly harder inside you, making you whine and grind down - torn between chasing the feeling of being so deliciously full and the sheer pressure. “Shit, love when your pussy’s sucking me up so good.” 

One hand is on your hip, sliding you farther and farther down his cock, the other drawing urgent, quick patterns on your clit. Not even circles anymore because shit Satoru doesn’t have the patience nor the sanity for that. Throbbing veins rubbing so sinfully against that one spot in your dripping cunt, splitting you apart to the same rhythm as the pulsing. 

And as soon as your ass meets his heavy balls - already so wet with precum and slick - Satoru doesn’t even know if he’s on planet Earth anymore. Mind spinning, he doesn’t waste any time at all. 

“Fuck yes.” Satoru hisses, throwing his head back. “Fucking finally.” He pulls his hips back, far enough that his angry, red tip is just kissing your sloppy entrance, surging forward, forward, forward- “Y’don’t know how fucking long I’ve wanted this, princess. Needed this s’bad, so so bad you don’t understand. Shit.”

And, hey, his girl deserved to be fucked dumb, right?

“Needed this ever since I saw you at that goddamn gala.” he whispers into your lips, ragged and so fucked-out. Each word punctuated by a harsh, heavy thrust. Ones that have you keening and grasping Satoru’s broad back for support. Nails raking down his shoulders as his pace gets faster. More purposeful.

And you can do nothing but take it, barely even able to form any coherent sentences. So prettily sat on Satoru’s lap as he fucks into you, babbling sweet little nonsenses made for your ears only. “Ever since I saw that murderous little glare you threw at those snobby guests.”

His balls smacking against your ass over and over. A quick, steady little tempo that you were losing your mind to. “Ever since you let me take your hand and drag you away to that secret bar to take shots instead of champagne.”

You don’t know whether you’re even crying at this point - all you know is that your cheeks are wet and your voice is broken as your let out a little, “F-fuck, Satoru- but your fa-”

“Fuck that.” he whines, and you could almost laugh at the adorable pout that makes its way onto his face. And at that you can feel him jolt so deliciously, head snapping up to meet yours. “I’m the better one.”

And as if he’s trying to prove it to your cunt, he’s drilling into you faster. Harder. Hips burning now as he fucks you like some animal. Hitting that sweet spot over and over. “I’m the one with the personality and the looks.” Long fingers almost a blur on your clit as he matches his place. Cock hot, and throbbing inside you. 

“I’m the heir, I get the company, too, if that’s what you like.” He’s bouncing you on his cock animalistically now. Hungry gaze taking in the way you’re sucking him up so well. “And I’m funnier one, I’m the one that should be by your side.”

You see stars behind your eyes at both the pleasure and sheer overstimulation as Satoru starts fucking your cunt as best he could without fucking breaking you  - but, honestly, he didn’t give a shit if you cried. He just wanted to stuff you full and have you cum harder than you ever have in your life. 

“Fuck- fuck yes m’gonna cum Toru- hngh.” You pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “M-make ah! Make me cum, fill me up please, Toru.”

You feel him shudder inside you, balls squeezing so painfully. Hips sloppy and absolutely soaked with precum and slick. “Sh-shit, you’re not too good for m’heart. Ngh, f-fuck- I should be the one to make you cum. Over and over until you don’t know what it feels like to not.”

“Toru!” your eyes fly open, “Yes yes yes- it’s you. Only you-”

Oh, like something snapped then Satoru’s surging forward to bite down on the crook of your neck. Hard. You’d almost think he was out to draw blood. And then with a low groan, and one, harsh little thrust, Satoru’s cumming and cumming inside your pretty pussy. And you are too - back arching as you milk his cock through his high. 

Fingers digging into your skin as he holds your hips to his, letting your cunt be filled up so sloppily. Pumping thick, hot ropes of seed that dribbled out of you each time he pumped his hips into yours. Fucking it deeper and deeper inside you. 

And then you’re both collapsing, the exhaustion suddenly hitting the both of you as Satoru moves you both to lay on the mattress. Fuck, Satoru watches in wonder as his cum gushes out of you and forms a wet little pool on the expensive sheets as he starts to pull out. One round might just not be enough. 

Yet not yet - he can feel his eyes drooping, muscles aching as he pulls your sticky body closer to his. And Satoru knows he should get up and wipe you both down. But right now, he’s too drunk off the heat of your body and that angry little bite on your neck. Distracted by the cute lil’ expression on your face, so tired and thoroughly fucked out. Fingers playing with his hair, looking at him with an expression so fond - just like in his dreams. 

Nothing more is said. And all is quiet in your strange little heaven. 

That is, until - “So, princess. Wouldn’t ya wanna be an heiress instead of a sugar baby?”

A/N. How we feeling???

Plagiarism not authorized.

[vunblr]

Roots and Branches

Pairing: Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: Bucky has built a quiet life in the woods, content to keep the world at arm's length. But when a new neighbor moves to town, her presence ignites emotions he’s hesitant to face.

Word Count: About 18.6k.

notes: I’ve been wanting to write a story in a lumberjack AU for a while now, and here it is. It ended up being longer than I expected, but I have no regrets. In my mind, Lumberjack!Bucky=Beefy!Bucky.

By the way, I’m still dreaming that someone, feeling inspired, creates Bucky as an NPC for Stardew Valley. I would kiss the ground that person walks on.

The city stretched behind her, a blur of steel and noise shrinking in the rearview mirror. Relief and uncertainty warred in her chest, but she clung tightly to the thought of what lay ahead. The town had always been her haven: sunlit summers chasing fireflies, her grandmother’s laughter ringing from the porch, and the quiet that once cradled her restless mind in peace.

It had been years since she’d last visited, but the constant noise, relentless crowds, and a recent, unsettling encounter had made city life unbearable. Her grandmother’s house, nestled at the edge of a sprawling forest, now felt like her only escape. It wasn’t perfect -her uncle had warned her about the repairs needed- but she’d gladly trade peeling paint and creaky floors for the chaos she was leaving behind. Besides, without rent to worry about and the freedom of her home-office proofreading job, she had the space and time to start over, one step at a time.

The road stretched endlessly before her, winding through rolling hills and patches of dense forest. The further she drove, the quieter it became. No blaring horns, no traffic, just the hum of her engine and the occasional rustle of leaves stirred by the wind. She cracked the window, letting in the crisp scent of pine and earth.

For the first time in months, she felt her shoulders begin to relax. And then, with an ominous thunk, the car jerked to one side.

Her stomach sank as she guided the vehicle to the shoulder, the once-smooth ride now bumpier than a cobblestone street. Stepping out, she found her fears confirmed: the back tire sagged, utterly deflated.

“Of course,” she muttered, brushing a stray hair from her face. “Why not?”

She retrieved the jack and wrench from the trunk, determined to fix it herself. She wasn’t helpless, after all. But after twenty minutes of grunting, tugging, and nearly twisting her wrist, the lug nuts refused to budge. Maybe they just needed a little more effort.

Two hours later, she slumped against the side of the car, her arms aching and her patience long gone. She’d tried everything -kicking the wrench, sitting on it for leverage- everything except calling for help, though the lack of cell signal made that impossible. Her lip trembled as she bit down hard, determined not to let the tears of frustration win.

“You wanted quiet? You got quiet,” she muttered, her voice tight with irritation. Walking seemed like the only option now. Maybe she’d stumble upon a house, a gas station, anything. Resolving trying her luck, she locked the car and started forward, her boots crunching against the gravel shoulder.

The air hung heavy with stillness, broken only by the occasional chirp of a bird or the rustle of leaves in the breeze. The walk felt endless, each step feeding her doubts. What if there was nothing ahead? What if she’d made a mistake leaving the car? Just as she was debating turning back, a low rumble cut through the quiet.

She froze, breath hitching as her eyes darted down the empty road. The sound grew louder, unmistakably the steady growl of a truck engine. Relief flooded her chest, tempered by a flicker of caution.

Moving closer to the edge of the road, she raised a tentative hand to wave. Moments later, an old, sturdy truck came into view, slowing as it approached.

Bucky wasn’t in any rush. The late afternoon light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows on the road ahead. He kept one hand steady on the wheel, the other resting casually on his thigh. The hum of the truck engine was a comforting sound, a backdrop to his thoughts.

As he rounded a gentle curve, something caught his eye up ahead: a car parked awkwardly on the shoulder. He frowned, slowing the truck. From the angle it was sitting, it didn’t look abandoned, but it wasn’t going anywhere either. A flat tire, maybe? His brow furrowed. Someone had to own it, but there wasn’t another soul in sight.

He continued slowly, his gaze drifting to the road ahead, and that’s when he spotted her. She stood near the edge of the road, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her hand half-raised in a cautious wave. She didn’t look panicked, just tired, a little frustrated, and undeniably relieved to see another human being out here.

He brought the truck to a stop a few feet ahead of her, letting the engine idle as he leaned across the seat to glance out the passenger window. “Need some help?” he called, keeping his tone easy.

She stepped closer, her cautious wave lowering as she approached. When she stopped short of the truck, her polite smile faltered, her gaze locking on his face.

He didn’t notice at first, but she stared, caught off guard by the sight ahead of her. Shoulder-length dark hair framed handsome face, shadowed with a day or two of stubble. And those eyes… crystal blue, so piercing they looked like they belonged to the lead character of a romance novel rather than the driver of an old truck.

Her lips parted slightly as her thoughts ran wild. Maybe she was hallucinating. Two hours of frustration and the heat of the sun must have gotten to her, conjuring a guy from one of those pink-covered novels she’d been proofreading.

“You okay?” His voice pulled her back, laced with just enough concern to cut through the fog in her head.

She blinked rapidly, heat flooding her cheeks as she scrambled for an excuse. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Just… fatigue, I guess.” She gave a quick laugh, brushing her hair back as if that would somehow erase her embarrassment. “It’s been a long day.”

Bucky didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He nodded, his expression sympathetic. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

She cleared her throat, trying to sound more composed. “I’d really appreciate the help. The tire’s flat and the lug nuts are stuck. I’ve tried everything, but they won’t budge.”

Bucky nodded again, shifting the truck into park before stepping out. “I saw the car back there. Mind if I take a look?”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly, and she offered a more genuine smile. “Please. That’d be great.”

She couldn’t help but stare as he climbed out of the truck. It wasn’t just the striking eyes or the scruff that made him look like he’d stepped off a book cover, it was everything.

Worn jeans sat low on his hips, perfectly fitted to legs that spoke of strength and endurance. A red flannel shirt, snug across his broad shoulders and well-defined arms, hinted at a life of hard, honest work. His boots crunched against the gravel as he moved with an effortless confidence that made it nearly impossible to look away.

Yup, she thought, feeling her cheeks warm again. A lead character.

She snapped her gaze away, trying to focus on literally anything else, the road, the sky, her worn-out sneakers. But as he approached, the heat creeping up her neck didn’t fade.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked again, his brow furrowing slightly.

She blinked and met his eyes, cursing herself for getting caught again. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine,” she said waving a hand. “Just tired, I guess. Two hours of trying to fight with a tire does that to you.”

He nodded slowly, and his expression softened. “Fair enough.”

She gestured vaguely toward her car in the distance. “It’s over there. I’d appreciate the help, it’s like the universe welded those lug nuts on.”

When they reached the car, she unlocked it and retrieved the tools from the trunk, setting them down beside the flat tire. She stepped back, watching as he crouched and took the wrench in his hand. With what seemed like no effort at all, he twisted the lug nuts loose, the metal giving way under his grip as if it had never been stuck in the first place. She stared again, biting her lip as her gaze lingered on how his forearm flexed under the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel. Completely oblivious to her scrutiny, he worked in focused silence, switching out the flat tire with methodical ease. When he finished, he stood up, brushed the dust from his hands, and glanced at the car. His gaze snagged on the backseat, where duffel bags and boxes were crammed together.

“Looks like you’re movin’,” he said, his voice low and gruff.

She nodded, brushing her hands on her jeans as if she’d done any of the work. “Yeah, I am. Heading to town. My grandmother used to have a house there, I’m moving into it.”

Bucky glanced at her, his sharp blue eyes unreadable, but not unkind. “The old house near the woods?”

Her brows lifted in surprise. “Yeah, actually. You know it?”

He shrugged lightly, his gaze slipping to the ground. “Small town,” he murmured.

Unsure if his hesitation was discomfort or just shyness, she shifted her weight. “Well, thanks again for helping. I’m Y/n, by the way.”

He didn’t respond for a moment and then blinked, as if snapping out of a thought. “Bucky,” he said simply, his tone softening just enough to feel welcoming.

“Well, nice to meet you, Bucky.” Her smile was warm despite the long, frustrating day.

He nodded slightly, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips before it disappeared. “You should get goin’,” he said after a pause. “Road’s pretty empty once it gets dark.”

She nodded, grateful. “Right. Thanks again.”

He gave a short nod before turning to his truck. She lingered for a moment, watching as he climbed into the cab and started the engine, before finally slipping into her car and pulling back onto the road.

He gave her a brief nod, turning to his truck without saying another word. She stood there for a moment, watching him go, before climbing into her car.

Bucky climbed into his truck, shutting the door with a quiet click. As the engine rumbled to life, his thumbs tapped idly on the steering wheel, his mind drifting. So, she was the woman moving into the old blue house, the one the old ladies in town had been gossiping about lately.

“Fresh face,” they’d said, curious and speculative. The kind of talk he usually tuned out, but now he could picture her, standing on the side of the road with that friendly smile.

His jaw tightened as he glanced in the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of her car pulling back onto the road. Attractive, sure, but that wasn’t his business. He wasn’t in the habit of noticing things like that anymore, or at least, he tried not to.

Shaking his head slightly, he put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road.

------------

She reached the house in the late afternoon, the golden light of the setting sun painting the wooden structure in warm tones. From a distance, it looked charming, but as she got closer, the years of neglect became more apparent. A shutter hung by a single hinge, swinging slightly in the breeze, and the porch sagged in the middle, its boards warped and cracked.

It didn’t seem unlivable, though, and for that, she was grateful. The windows were intact, the roof looked solid, and the front door swung open without resistance when she unlocked it. She stepped inside, wrinkling her nose at the stale smell of a house left empty for too long. Dust coated the floors and every surface in sight, but nothing that a good cleaning wouldn’t fix.

Walking through the rooms, she made a mental list of things that needed attention. The walls could use fresh paint, the porch would definitely need repairs before it became a hazard, and a few wobbly cabinet doors in the kitchen caught her eye. It was all manageable.

By the time she returned to the living room, she realized the sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving the house in shadows. She flipped the light switch by the door, but nothing happened. A quick check of the other switches confirmed her suspicion, there wasn’t a single light bulb in the entire property.

“Figures,” she muttered, setting her hands on her hips. Luckily, she’d packed a portable lamp. Its soft glow filled the room as she set it on the floor and unrolled her sleeping bag in the corner, where the old sofa used to sit.

Dinner was a simple affair: a cup of instant noodles and a bottle of water, eaten cross-legged on the floor. She was too tired to think about anything elaborate, and the stillness of the house was oddly comforting after the chaos of the city.

Her thoughts drifted back to the day’s events, replaying the encounter on the road. Bucky’s face flickered in her mind, those piercing blue eyes, the way his long, dark hair framed his sharp features, the slight rasp to his voice when he’d asked if she was okay. She bit her lip, and the memory of the way he’d effortlessly changed the tire brought a faint smile to her lips as her eyelids grew heavy. The moving truck will arrive by morning, and with better lighting, she’ll assess the house and start making it livable. Ideally, she would have cleaned beforehand, but the moving company only had that date available, so she didn’t have much choice.

----------

Right at 8 o’clock sharp, the rumble of the moving truck echoed down the quiet street. She stepped outside, greeting the movers and directing them where to place the furniture. It didn’t take long to realize the porch’s sagging boards were going to be a problem. One mover nearly put his foot through a weakened plank, and after a few close calls, they opted to bring in as much as possible through the windows.

After tipping the movers and seeing them off, she grabbed her bag and headed into town. The general store was easy to find, nestled on the main street between a bakery and a small diner. The scent of freshly baked bread lingered in the air as she pushed open the store’s creaky door, the tiny bell overhead jingling.

Inside, the aisles were narrow and well-stocked, offering everything from cleaning supplies to locally-made jams. She grabbed a basket and began filling it with essentials: sponges, dish soap, floor cleaner, and a few staples for the pantry.

At the checkout line, she felt the weight of a few curious stares. Small towns were like that, everyone wanted to know who the newcomer was. A man in line behind her gave her a polite nod, and a couple of women nearby exchanged whispers before one of them, an older lady with a kind smile, stepped forward.

“Moving into the old blue house on Maple, aren’t you?” the woman asked, her voice warm and curious.

She blinked, surprised but not entirely caught off guard. “That’s right,” she said, returning the smile. “Spent summers there as a kid. It’s been a while, though.”

“Well, welcome back,” the woman said, clasping her hands. “I’m Dorothy. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Actually…” she hesitated, seizing the moment. “The house needs a bit of work, especially the porch. Do you know a good carpenter?”

Dorothy’s face lit up. “Sam Wilson’s the man you’re looking for. Runs a workshop just outside town. He’s dependable and does fine work. I’ll jot down his address for you.”

After paying for her items, she loaded everything into the car and headed toward the workshop. The drive was short, and soon she spotted a neatly painted sign that read Wilson Woodworks. The building was modest but well-kept, with stacks of lumber and partially finished projects visible through the open garage door.

Grabbing her notepad and pen, she stepped out of the car, hoping Sam would be able to help bring her grandmother’s house back to life.

The workshop smelled of sawdust and varnish, the soft hum of a saw cutting through wood filling the air. She peered curiously through the open entry, her gaze scanning the neatly organized chaos: tools hanging on pegboards, wood shavings scattered across the floor, and a workbench cluttered with projects in progress. Near the center of the space stood a man in a faded gray t-shirt and jeans, his sleeves rolled up to reveal toned arms. His easy smile and confident posture immediately struck her as someone who knew his craft.

“Sam Wilson?” she asked, stepping further inside.

The man turned, his grin widening. “That’s me,” he replied warmly. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi. I’m Y/n. I just moved into town, to the old blue house on Maple Street. The porch is in pretty bad shape, and I was told you’re the one to call.”

Sam gave an approving nod, wiping his hands on a nearby rag. “Maple Street, huh? Yeah, I’ve worked on a couple of those houses. They’ve got good bones but can be stubborn. I’d have to take a look before I can give you a plan.”

“Of course,” she said, relieved. “When do you think you’d be able to-”

Before she could finish, a gruff voice interrupted from the back of the shop. “Sam, I told you that damn hinge on the-”

Bucky appeared, stepping out from what looked like a storage area, drying his hands on a towel. His words faltered the moment he spotted her, his blue eyes locking onto hers in surprise. He froze for a moment, the towel still in his hand, before nodding stiffly.

“Hey,” he said, with a cautious tone.

She offered him a small, friendly smile. “Hello again.”

Sam’s gaze darted between the two of them, a knowing grin spreading across his face like a Cheshire cat. “Well, well,” he drawled. “You two already know each other so soon?”

Bucky shot him a look -half warning, half exasperation- but Sam’s grin only widened.

“We met yesterday,” she explained, glancing between them. “Bucky helped me with a flat tire.”

“Did he now?” Sam leaned back against the workbench, crossing his arms. “Man of many talents, huh, Buck?”

Bucky muttered something under his breath, his ears turning slightly red as he turned away to busy himself with a random piece of wood.

Sam laughed, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t let him fool you,” he said to her, his tone light. “He’s a softie under all that brooding.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, unable to suppress a smile.

Bucky’s muttering grew quieter as he moved further into the workshop, but Sam wasn’t done. “You’re in luck, though,” he said to her, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think you’re gonna give his wood a good use.”

She let out a small laugh, not entirely sure why but unwilling to seem rude. “Well, I’ll do my best,” she said with a shrug, hoping that was the right response.

The sound of tools crashing followed by a sharp, muttered curse that carried through the workshop interrupted the exchange, and she turned toward the source. “Is he okay?”

Sam smirked, his tone teasing as he said, “Oh, he’s just fine. Just gets a little... tense when his work’s involved. My friend here is one of my suppliers. Keeps me stocked up on the best lumber in town.”

“Oh, I see,” she replied, her gaze briefly flicking toward where Bucky had disappeared. Inwardly, she couldn’t help but think that his... thick build seemed to match with the work lumber suppliers did. “So, should we arrange a time for you to come by and look at the porch?” she asked, mentally slapping herself and steering the conversation back on track.

Sam grinned, leaning casually against the counter. “Tomorrow works for you? Say mid-morning?”

“That sounds great,” she agreed, already mentally listing what she might need to tidy up before his visit.

As her car disappeared down the road, Bucky emerged from the back of the workshop, his steps deliberate and brooding as he approached Sam.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice low but edged with irritation.

Sam raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence as he crossed his arms. “What was what?”

“You know what,” Bucky growled, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t.”

Sam held up his hands, his expression mock-innocent. “Don’t what? You’re projecting, man. She’s just a new neighbor who needs some help with her porch. That’s all.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping even lower. “Whatever your bird brain is planning on doing, don’t. I’m not... Just stay out of my business.”

Sam gave him a sidelong look, clearly unimpressed by Bucky’s gruff warning. “You think too highly of yourself, Barnes,” he said with a smirk. “I’m just trying to help the lady out, same as you did.”

The logger threw one last dirty glance at Sam, muttering under his breath. “Next cargo’s in four days,” he grumbled, already heading for the door.

Sam’s amused chuckle followed him, but Bucky ignored it, his boots hitting the workshop floor with heavy steps.

As he reached the truck, a sharp twinge in his left arm made him curse softly. He grabbed it, flexing his fingers out of habit, then glanced up at the sky. It was streaked with soft clouds, their innocent appearance at odds with what he felt brewing in the air.

A storm was coming.

It wasn’t something anyone could see yet, but Bucky didn’t need a weather report. Since his arm had been crushed in Afghanistan, leaving him with orthopedic implants and lingering aches, he could always tell when the pressure was about to shift.

He flexed his arm again, rolling his shoulder to ease the discomfort. The storm would hit soon, inside and out.

Sliding into the truck, he decided to stop by the general store on the way home. He needed a bottle of scotch. Maybe two.

It was shaping up to be one of those nights.

When she got back to the house, she dropped the bags on the kitchen counter and let out a sigh. She glanced around at the dim, dusty space and resolved to tackle it head-on. After eating a quick sandwich, she got to work.

The first task was the lightbulbs, all of them. Room by room, she placed them, swearing quietly each time she had to stretch on tiptoe or drag a chair around. Next came the cleaning. By the time she was almost finished, it was late afternoon. She stood in the middle of the living room, exhausted and sweaty, a few stubborn cobwebs clinging to her sleeves. She pushed her hair off her forehead and noticed, through the newly cleaned windows, the unmistakable sight of grey clouds gathering on the horizon.

“Great,” she muttered, dragging the vacuum to a corner. She glanced up at the ceiling, half expecting to see a stain forming already. “Please, no leaks. Just this once, let me have some luck.” The wind outside began to pick up, rattling the loose shutter on the porch. She grimaced. The house might not be falling apart, but it wasn’t going to win any awards for weatherproofing either.

She pulled the last bag of cleaning supplies toward her, determined to finish what she could before the storm hit.

The rhythmic patter of rain on the roof accompanied her as she sat at the small kitchen table, nursing a simple dinner. Her arms ached pleasantly from the day’s cleaning spree, her newly functional lightbulbs casting a warm glow over the room. Despite the state of the house when she’d arrived, it felt more like a home now, or at least the beginning of one.

The rain grew heavier, drumming steadily against the windows as she finished eating and washed her dishes. With a satisfied sigh, she headed for the bathroom. The steamy warmth of the shower was a welcome reprieve, washing away the grime and fatigue of the day. She closed her eyes as the water cascaded down, her mind meandering to the list of things she still needed to tackle.

The porch needs fixing first. Maybe some paint for the walls. And that loose shutter... her lips curled into a soft, almost dreamy smile as her thoughts drifted to Bucky. She bit her lip, suppressing a laugh at herself. It had been a while since she’d had anyone to daydream about, and maybe it was just her exhaustion playing tricks on her. Clearly, she needed a break from all these romance novels. The irony wasn’t lost on her, spending her days proofreading swooning declarations and lingering glances wasn’t helping her sanity.

On the other side of town, the rain was more than just a backdrop for Bucky, it was a trigger, a reminder. He sat on the kitchen floor, his back pressed against the counter, cradling a bottle of scotch in one hand and absently flexing the fingers of his left arm with the other. The pain in his left arm wasn’t unbearable -he’d had worse- but the weather had settled into his bones.

One would think Afghanistan’s climate rarely saw rain, but he knew better. In the northern regions, heavy rains could flood entire valleys in minutes, turning the ground into treacherous mud. It wasn’t just the water he remembered, but the chaos it brought. Mud-caked boots slipping on uneven terrain. The deafening crack of gunfire cutting through the downpour. The screams of comrades who’d never make it out of the storm, swallowed by water and bullets alike.

He closed his eyes tightly, forcing the memories away, but the rain’s steady rhythm seemed determined to drag him back. He took a long swig from the bottle, the burn of the alcohol a poor distraction for his haunted mind.

And then, unbidden, he thought of her.

The way she’d smiled at him earlier today at Sam’s workshop. Like she was genuinely glad to see him. He shook his head sharply, scowling at himself. He didn’t deserve to think about her. Didn’t deserve to let himself linger on the way she’d looked at him with curiosity instead of judgment. He was a broken-down man who knew better than to let anyone get close. The rain’s rhythm matched the pounding in his head, and he rubbed his temple with a quiet groan. Thinking about her was a mistake, one he couldn’t afford to make.

------------

The low hum of a truck pulling up broke the peaceful morning. She peeked out the window, spotting Sam hopping out with a clipboard in hand, a tape measure clipped to his belt. His easy smile greeted her as she opened the door.

“Morning,” he said, tipping an imaginary hat. “Ready to figure out what your little slice of heaven here needs?”

She chuckled, stepping aside to let him in. “Let’s call it a fixer-upper and go from there.”

Sam gave a low whistle as he stepped onto the sagging porch. “First thing’s first, this baby needs a lot of love. I’m surprised it’s holding up at all.” He tapped one of the warped boards with his boot, and it creaked ominously.

“Well, that’s why you’re here,” she replied lightly, crossing her arms.

They walked the perimeter of the house as Sam scribbled notes on his clipboard, occasionally pausing to point out things that needed attention, a loose shutter here, a weathered doorframe there. He climbed the porch steps again, shaking his head. “You’re lucky nothing major’s out of whack, though this porch... Yeah, we’ll start here.”

She nodded, leaning against the railing -carefully-. “Sounds good. So, what’s next?”

Sam grinned, snapping the clipboard shut. “Now comes the fun part, asking nosy questions while I figure out how to turn this place into a proper home. Where’d you move from?”

“City,” she said, her gaze flicking to the overgrown yard. “Needed a change. Too much noise, too many people.”

He nodded like he understood perfectly. “Yeah, city life can wear you down. And what do you do for work? So that I know if I ever need something specific.”

“I’m a proofreader,” she replied. “Not exactly glamorous, but it lets me work from anywhere.”

He chuckled. “Sounds pretty glamorous to me. Living the dream: working in pajamas, no one to bother you.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Not quite. Deadlines don’t care if you’re in pajamas.”

“Fair point,” Sam said, scribbling something on his clipboard. He glanced at her casually. “Anyone special missing you back in the city?”

Her brow furrowed slightly, caught off guard. “Uh, no. Why?”

“No reason,” he said with an exaggerated shrug, flashing his most innocent grin. “We small-town folks are just naturally curious.” Satisfied, he tucked the clipboard under his arm. “Well,” he said, turning on the charm, “I’ll put together a plan for the porch and those other fixes we talked about. Shouldn’t take long.”

“Thanks, Sam,” she said, smiling warmly.

He tipped his imaginary hat again. “Happy to help.” As he walked back to his truck, he patted the clipboard storing every little detail she’d just shared. Oh, he’d have fun with this later.

Over the next few days, she found herself settling deeper into the rhythm of small-town life. Locals stopped to chat whenever she ran errands, and she was finally starting to remember their names. The house was slowly transforming under her care, each repair bringing it closer to what she remembered from her childhood summers.

And then there was Bucky. He was a puzzle she hadn’t figured out yet. Quiet and guarded one moment, then unexpectedly kind the next. Their paths seemed to cross more often now. It wasn’t intentional, but each encounter left her feeling like she’d peeled back another layer of his carefully constructed wall.

The first time it happened, she was in the general store, arms full of cleaning supplies and pantry staples, along with a guilty indulgence or two. As she stepped into the checkout line, she spotted him just ahead of her with a modest basket of items, his broad shoulders blocking most of her view of the cashier.

As she shuffled forward, her eyes drifted to his basket. Among the practical items -bread, coffee, and what looked like a pack of nails- sat a brightly colored box of dinosaur-shaped mac and cheese.

She couldn’t help herself. “Didn’t peg you for the novelty pasta type.” She quipped lightly, a teasing smile curling her lips.

Bucky turned his head sharply, caught off guard. He glanced at the box, then back at her, a faint pink tinting his cheeks, as he muttered “They’re easy. And cheap.”

The combination of his flustered tone and stoic expression made her grin. “Hey, no judgment. Dinosaurs are awesome. I’d pick those over plain elbows any day.”

His lips twitched, just slightly, but enough to count. “You’ve got good taste,” he said, the faintest trace of a smirk softening his features.

The cashier rang up his items, and he moved through quickly, nodding politely as he passed her. But as she finished paying and struggled to balance her bags, she found him lingering outside near his truck.

“Need a hand?” he asked gruffly, though he was already moving toward her.

She hesitated for a moment before relenting. “If you don’t mind.”

Without a word, he scooped up the heaviest bags as if they weighed nothing. She blinked at the sight, muscles flexing under his worn henley.

“Thanks,” she said, slightly breathless, trying to keep up as he strode to her car.

“Welcome,” he said simply, setting the bags in her trunk with ease. His gaze flicked to her briefly, and he almost looked like he wanted to say more. Instead, he just gave a curt nod and walked back to his truck.

It was only a few days later when they ran into each other again, this time at the post office. She had just picked up a package that was almost comically large, far too awkward for one person to handle easily. Balancing it against her hip, she tried to maneuver her way out of the building without dropping it, muttering a steady stream of curses under her breath.

Just as the box tilted precariously, a hand appeared to steady it, large and sure.

“Careful,” came the familiar low drawl.

She blinked, startled, and looked up into a pair of blue eyes she was starting to recognize all too well. “Thanks,” she said, exhaling in relief. “Starting to think you have impeccable timing.”

His lips twitched, that almost-smile she was beginning to appreciate flickering across his face. “Just passing through.” He replied, shifting his grip on the package and effortlessly hoisting it up, carrying it like it weighed nothing at all.

“Oh, you don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” he stated simply, his tone leaving no room for argument. He glanced at her car and walked toward it.

She trailed behind him as he easily strode with the package. By the time she unlocked the trunk, he deposited the box neatly inside, brushing his hands off quickly.

“Thanks,” she said again, feeling a little useless but sincerely grateful.

“It’s nothin’,” he replied, already stepping back. His eyes lingered on her for a second longer than usual before he turned toward his truck, parked a few spaces down.

She watched him go, following the deliberate, measured way he moved. Just as he reached his door, she called out impulsively, “I owe you one, you know.”

He paused, glancing back at her with a quirk of his brow. “I’ll hold you to it,” he said, the hint of a smirk tugging at his mouth. And then he was gone, leaving her with a warm, unexpected feeling she carried all the way home.

The days that followed were quiet but productive. Between finishing work assignments, and tinkering with small projects around the house, she hardly noticed how much time she spent indoors until her eyes began to ache from staring at her laptop screen for hours on end.

One crisp morning, the allure of fresh air proved too strong to resist. She decided to take a walk in the woods, craving a change of scenery. It had been years since the last time she’d wandered those familiar paths, but she still remembered some of the trails from her childhood summers.

As she wandered along the narrow dirt trail, the sunlight filtering through the canopy in golden shafts painted the forest in a warm, serene glow. She hadn’t expected to encounter anyone out here, but the steady, rhythmic thwack of an axe meeting wood broke through the quiet, catching her attention.

Curiosity stirred, and before she could think better of it, she found herself following the sound, her footsteps light on the soft earth.

There he was, in a small clearing just off the trail, splitting logs with effortless precision. Bucky’s axe swung high before coming down in a clean arc, the sharp crack of splitting wood breaking the stillness. A neat pile of firewood grew beside him, while fresh rounds waited in a haphazard stack.

He hadn’t noticed her yet, too focused on his work, and she found herself lingering longer than she should have, watching the way his muscles moved beneath his shirt and how his hair stuck to his forehead.

When he finally glanced up and spotted her, her stomach flipped. His brows knit together in mild surprise, and he straightened, propping the axe against a nearby stump.

“You lost?” he asked, with a low and even voice, though his tone wasn’t unkind.

She stepped closer, shaking her head. “No, just wandering. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” he said, grabbing a rag from the pile and wiping his hands. His gaze lingered on her for a moment, like he was trying to piece together why she was there. “Trail gets tricky up ahead. Lots of roots and uneven ground.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she replied, glancing around the clearing. “This your spot?”

He nodded once. “Helps to stay busy.”

She looked at the pile of wood, then back at him. “Looks like more than just ‘staying busy.’”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Winters here are rough.”

There was a pause, not quite awkward, but heavy. She shifted her weight, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Well, it’s impressive. I mean, you make it look easy.”

“It’s not,” he said simply, picking up the axe again. “But you get used to it.”

She lingered, unsure if she should say more or let him get back to work. He tilted his head slightly, watching her with a curious expression.

“You like the woods?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling softly. “It’s peaceful out here. Different from the city.”

His gaze flicked back to the axe in his hand. “It is.” There was a weight to his words, hinting at something deeper than just the stillness of the woods, but she chose not to push.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” she said finally, offering him a polite nod.

“Careful on the trail,” he said again, his voice softer this time.

As she turned to leave, she couldn’t resist glancing back over her shoulder. He was already back to work, the axe slicing clean through another log. She bit her lip, shaking her head at herself as she continued down the trail.

He sighed. Winters are rough? That was the polite answer, the one people accepted without a second glance. The truth was darker, heavier. Every time the weight of old memories clawed at him -screams, chaos, the suffocating fear that came into walking a dark tunnel that could bury him alive- he found his solace in the rhythmic swing of an axe. Splitting firewood was his refuge, the repetitive motion carving out a rare emptiness in his mind.

He kept chopping, waiting until he was sure she wouldn’t glance back again. Then, he let himself linger, his eyes following her retreating form.

He was interested.

Shit.

Sam hadn’t been helping either, dropping “innocent” tidbits about her, like breadcrumbs, every time they crossed paths. How she worked from home. How she wasn’t seeing anyone. How she seemed to be settling in, though she was still getting used to small-town life. Bucky could tell Sam was trying to nudge him, but it only stirred something conflicted in him.

On one hand, he was drawn to her, from her curves to the way she smiled, also, the way her voice provoked a warmth in him he hadn’t felt in years. On the other hand, the thought of pursuing something -anything- good for himself felt... wrong. Like he didn’t deserve it.

And then there was the matter of simply not knowing how.

He was out of shape when it came to people. Always had been, even before life turned upside down. Now, with scars inside and out, the idea of approaching her felt like staring down at a puzzle he didn’t have the pieces for.

What would he even say? What would she think if she knew the mess he was?

Bucky swung the axe harder, the sharp crack of the log splitting echoing through the clearing. He flexed his fingers and tightened his jaw.

For now, all he could do was chop and hope the noise drowned out the voice in his head whispering that he wasn’t enough.

Over the next couple of months, the little town started to feel less like a temporary retreat and more like a place she could call home. The older women gushed over her porch restoration project and eagerly shared gardening tips, while the crowd closer to her age welcomed her into their fold with invitations for coffee dates or potluck dinners.

And then there was Bucky.

Though technically part of that age group, he was absent from most social gatherings. She couldn’t picture him at a potluck, anyway, sitting around sharing recipes or small talk. It just wasn’t him. Yet, in his own quiet way, he’d become more present in her life.

Bit by bit, he seemed to uncoil from whatever tension held him so tightly. He started to linger longer during their chance encounters, sometimes surprising them both with a dry, unexpected joke. Other times, he’d pitch in with simple acts of kindness, like carrying eventually heavy stuff to her car, or even fixing the wobbly step on her porch when Sam got busier and asked him to do it. He could have said no, but he still came, quietly getting the job done without any fanfare.

-----------

Then, the announcement of the annual town festival brought a new wave of excitement. It was the event of the season, where everyone came together to celebrate the town's founding. Without much hesitation, she signed up to contribute, deciding to sell pies and baked goods. Not only was it a way to contribute to the celebration, but it was also a chance to make a little extra income for the ongoing repairs to the house. The porch was done, but there was still plenty of work to do: fresh paint, creaky floorboards, and other little fixes that added up.

So, she rolled up her sleeves and got to work. The week leading up to the festival was a whirlwind of flour-dusted counters and the comforting aroma of cinnamon and vanilla. She tested each recipe to make sure they were just like her grandmother used to make.

The excitement of the upcoming festival settled over the town, and she felt like she was becoming part of something bigger, a tradition, a community.

Meanwhile, word had spread that she was setting up a booth to sell her pies. Sam, always the one to keep an ear to the ground, couldn't help but tease Bucky one morning while they were working on a new batch of supplies for the festival booths. They were building the structure for several of the vendors, and Bucky had come by to help with the heavier lifting, always lending a hand when needed.

“She’s doing a booth, huh?” Sam asked with a knowing grin as he hammered in a final nail. “Maybe you should swing by, get yourself a little sugar, hm?”

Bucky’s response was as sharp as ever. “Shut up, Wilson,” he grumbled, his eyes narrowing as he worked, but Sam could see the way his shoulders stiffened, the way he held himself a little straighter.

He stayed silent for a beat, focusing on the sturdy plank of wood he was planing down. The rhythmic scrape of the tool seemed to be the only thing keeping him calm. Sam, however, was never one to let a good opportunity slip by.

“I’m just saying,” Sam pressed on, leaning casually against the workbench, “she’s single, she’s sweet, and she seems to like you.” He smirked, his tone teetering on playful. “You could, y’know, take a shot. Maybe buy a pie while you’re at it. You can’t live on just dino-shaped mac and cheese.”

Bucky huffed a humorless laugh, setting the plane down with a bit more force than intended. “And what would I even say to her, huh? ‘Hi, I’m good at chopping wood and screwing things up.’ That’s a real winner.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “You don’t have to lead with the self-deprecating monologue, man. Just... be you. You’re a good guy, Buck, even if you refuse to see it.” He straightened, resting a hand on his hip. “And she’s clearly got some interest. Not every woman looks at a guy like he’s the only steady thing in a storm.”

Bucky shot him a sharp look, the tips of his ears unmistakably pink. “She doesn’t-“

“Oh, she does,” Sam interrupted with a grin that widened at Bucky’s growing discomfort. “And you’d see it too if you didn’t spend so much time convincing yourself you’re not worth her attention.”

For a long moment, Bucky said nothing, his jaw tightening as he flexed his left hand, a tell Sam recognized far too well. Finally, he sighed, leaning his weight on the workbench. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is,” Sam agreed, his tone softening. “But you don’t have to figure it all out today. Start small. Talk to her at the festival. Buy a pie. Hell, buy the whole booth if you have to.” He clapped Bucky on the shoulder, eliciting a grunt. “Just don’t let this pass you by.”

----------

The day of the festival arrived, and the town square buzzed with life. Booths lined the streets, each one bursting with local goods: handmade crafts, fresh produce, and jars of preserves. Children darted through the crowds, their faces painted like butterflies or superheroes, their laughter weaving through the cheerful hum of a local band playing in the distance.

Her booth stood out in its simplicity, decorated with gingham tablecloths and jars of freshly picked flowers from her garden. The pies were the centerpiece, their golden crusts glistening in the sunlight, flanked by trays of cookies and jars of homemade jam.

She adjusted the sign that read “Baked Goods – From Granny’s Recipe Box” and stepped back, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

The day unfolded in a whirlwind of chatter and laughter. Her booth was busier than she’d dared to hope, a steady stream of customers stopping to sample the pies or chat about the sign. Compliments came easily from the townsfolk, praising her buttery crusts and spiced fillings. Each kind word felt like a little victory, her heart swelling with the realization that she was becoming a part of the community.

The sun climbed higher into the sky, casting warm golden light over the bustling festival. Her booth remained busy, the stream of smiling faces keeping her occupied and distracted, though not enough to stop her from glancing through the crowd now and then.

By mid-afternoon, Sam strolled up, hands in his pockets and an easy grin on his face. "Well, well. Look at you, baking queen," he teased.

She laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Hardly. But I’ll take it. Want a slice?”

Sam leaned on the edge of the booth, scanning the offerings. “Tempting, but I might be here on more of a reconnaissance mission.”

Her brow lifted. “What kind of mission?”

“You know, checking in, seeing how you're doing, and maybe scouting for a certain broody lumberjack.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes with a chuckle.

“Let me guess, he sent you to grab a pie?” she joked, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Bucky? Nah.” Sam’s grin dimmed slightly, and he gave a small shrug. “Didn’t see him around earlier. Honestly, he might not even show. Festivals aren’t really his thing.”

She tried to keep the disappointment off her face, focusing instead on adjusting a jar of jam on the table. Sam caught the subtle shift in her expression, his teasing smile softening.

“He’s around,” Sam said casually, leaning an elbow on the edge of the booth. “Bucky’s just… not much of a crowd guy. Give him time.”

Her fingers paused on the jar, but she didn’t look up. “I wasn’t-”

“Sure you weren’t,” Sam interrupted with a knowing grin. “But I wouldn’t hold it against him. People aren’t really his thing. Except, maybe, certain people.”

She rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a small smile despite herself. “And you’re just full of insight, aren’t you?”

“Hey, I’m just observin’.” He straightened up, grabbing a cookie from the tray. “And I’ll take one of these for the road. Festival’s not complete without snacks.”

She shook her head, amused as Sam strolled off, leaving her alone to greet the next customer.

The hours passed in a blur of chatter and sales, the sun dipping lower in the sky. She’d almost stopped scanning the square for him when, late in the afternoon, a familiar figure emerged.

Bucky walked slowly, his hands buried deep in his jacket pockets, his gaze flicking over the booths like he wasn’t sure where to go. Then he spotted her. His shoulders straightened, and their eyes met across the square. For a moment, neither moved. Then, with an almost sheepish hesitation, he started toward her.

Each step closer felt like a mistake, and yet he didn’t stop. His eyes took in the sight of her booth, tidy and charming, and then her. She wore a casual dress under a cardigan, and a frilly apron tied neatly around her waist, the image of a vintage housewife. The dress fit snugly at her chest, the fabric pulling slightly when she moved to rearrange something on the table. It wasn’t anything overly revealing, but it didn’t matter; all of the visual information seemed to bypass his brain entirely and head directly to the south. He swallowed hard, trying to redirect his focus before he embarrassed himself.

“Hey,” he said when he reached the booth, his voice a little softer than he intended. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing briefly at the display of pies and jars before forcing himself to meet her eyes.

“Hi,” she replied, her face lighting up in a way that made the whole awkward journey worth it.

“I, uh... thought I’d stop by,” he continued, the words fumbling slightly as he fought the urge to retreat. “Looks like business is good.” He gestured vaguely at the booth, trying to seem casual, though his pulse was anything but.

“It’s been steady,” she said, her smile warm. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

Her words made him hesitate, but only briefly. He nodded toward the pies, his lips twitching into what might have been the beginnings of a smile. “Figured I’d see what all the fuss is about.”

“And?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye. “Are you finding the fuss justified?”

He looked at her then, his gaze lingering in a way that made her shift her weight slightly. His lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “Seen a few tempting products,” he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

Was that... a double meaning? She wasn’t sure, but the way her stomach flipped at his tone left her biting her lip to suppress a smile.

“Well,” she said, leaning slightly against the booth, “what might you be interested in, then?”

“Got any plum jam?” he asked after a moment, his eyes scanning the jars displayed on the table.

She winced apologetically. “Sorry, sold out this morning. It’s a popular one.”

He gave a small nod, not seeming too put out. “Guess I’ll settle for a slice of apple pie, then.”

“You won’t regret it,” she said, quickly cutting a generous slice and placing it in a little paper dish. As she handed it to him, their fingers brushed briefly, a small, electric jolt of contact that she tried not to overthink.

“Thanks,” he murmured, his gaze flickering back to hers for a split second before focusing intently on the pie. He took a bite, and the deep, guttural groan that escaped him had her blinking in surprise, and then staring at him, very much not with pure thoughts.

Her gaze dropped helplessly to his mouth, where a small dollop of apple mush clung stubbornly to the corner of his lips. Oh, how she’d love to help him clean that up, maybe even by lapping it up herself. The thought had her throat going dry. “Uh, you have... there,” she managed, signaling to her own mouth because words failed her entirely.

He frowned slightly, his thumb swiping at his lips. When he missed, she gave a quick, stifled laugh, shaking her head and pointing more precisely. His next attempt was successful, and when he scooped the apple filling with his thumb and licked it clean off, her breath caught.

That should be illegal.

“Damn,” he said, glancing down at the pie with newfound respect. “Guess you can marry now.”

She blinked, startled. “What?”

His ears reddened as he fumbled for an explanation, suddenly realizing how strange that sounded. “Uh... my ma used to say... I mean, like, if a woman could cook well, she’d be ready for marriage, or something… uh, forget it.” He waved a hand, suddenly looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Oh no,” she said, crossing her arms and quirking a brow, her lips twitching in amusement. “Now I really want to know what your ma used to say.”

“My ma used to say,” he admitted reluctantly, “a woman who can bake a pie like this could keep a man happy for life.”

As the words left his mouth, he realized -really realized- what he’d just said. Bringing up marriage, even indirectly, in what was supposed to be casual conversation? A new low, even for him. His inward grimace was immediate, a mortifying mix of regret and disbelief at his own lack of subtlety.

She blinked at him, her head tilting slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. “Well,” she said slowly, the edge of her lip quirking up, “Bet she was the kind of person who made everyone feel at home.”

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, she... she was something.” Hoping to steer the moment away from the awkward territory he’d stumbled into, he gestured vaguely to the booth. “Anyway, uh... pie’s great. Really.”

“Thanks, Bucky. I’m glad you like it. It’s one of my granny’s best recipes.” She smiled warmly

He nodded, his lips twitching into something close to a smile. “She taught you well.”

That earned a soft laugh from her. “Yeah, she’d make me practice until I got it just right. Burned a lot of pies before this one.”

The conversation lingered as they eased into a rhythm, the earlier tension giving way to something more relaxed. She asked about his work, curious about how he supplied Sam with lumber, and he surprised her by sharing a bit more than usual talking about the care it took to choose the right trees and how the process wasn’t just chopping wood but understanding the forest itself.

“You make it sound like an art,” she said, tilting her head thoughtfully.

“Guess it kinda is,” he admitted. “You’ve gotta respect it. If you don’t, it shows in the work.”

Before she could respond, a familiar voice interrupted, cutting through their moment like a buzz saw.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to show up!”

Sam’s broad grin was radiant as he strolled up to the booth, hands tucked casually into his pockets.

Bucky groaned softly, his shoulders slumping a fraction as if bracing himself for whatever teasing was about to come. “What do you want, Sam?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Sam said breezily, his eyes darting between the two of them. “Just thought I’d check in, maybe grab some pie, see what’s happening over here.” He smirked. “Looks like I picked the right booth.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. “Careful, Sam. You’re gonna run me out of inventory if you keep showing up.”

Sam leaned on the counter, grinning. “Don’t worry, I’m here only to make sure Bucky doesn’t scare off your customers with his broody face.”

Bucky shot him a glare, but Sam only shrugged, completely unfazed.

“Actually, Buck, some of the people are starting to pack up. We should get a head start on breaking down everything so tomorrow’s not such a hassle,” Sam continued, his tone shifting to business mode. “Don’t give me that look, I'm not the one who strolled in here right before closing time.”

Bucky sighed but didn’t argue. “Right, right,” he muttered but didn’t seem eager to leave just yet.

She chuckled softly at their dynamic, watching as Sam started to organize a few things, seemingly trying to speed up the process of wrapping up.  “Well then, I’ll just get the last of these pies packed up.” she said, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll make it a little easier on yourself if you let us take a couple of those home,” Sam said with a grin, his eyes scanning the remaining trays. “For later, of course. Can’t let all this deliciousness go to waste.”

Bucky didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on the last few slices, making it clear he wasn’t about to pass up on some baked goods.

“Yeah, well, I suppose you’re right,” she said, laughing. “Guess you both deserve some for your hard work on the structures.”

“I’m not gonna argue with that,” Sam said, grinning as he reached for the remaining slices of pie. “Besides,” he said, gesturing toward Bucky, “look at him. He must be starving. You don’t know the amount of food it takes to keep all that going.”

Bucky froze mid-chew, his fork hovering just above the plate, and gave Sam a pointed look, equal parts exasperation and disbelief. “Seriously?”

“What?” Sam shrugged innocently, though his smirk said otherwise. “It’s true. You’re always munching on something. Remember last week? Three sandwiches in one sitting, and you still stole my fries.”

Bucky’s glare sharpened, but it only fueled Sam’s amusement. “You ate half my wings, Wilson,” Bucky said dryly, his tone low and unimpressed.

“Details,” Sam said with a wave of his hand, his grin not fading. “Point is, you’ve got the appetite of a bear coming out of hibernation. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t go hungry.”

She laughed as she placed the box of pies on the counter. “Well, I can’t have that on my conscience,” she teased. “Take as many slices as you need, Bucky. We’ll call it a public service.”

Bucky shifted on his feet, his gaze darting between her and the pies. The faintest flush crept up his neck as he mumbled, “Thanks,” and slid another slice of pie onto his plate. His eyes lingered on the cookies for a moment before he reached for one, his movements a little hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure how much was too much.

“You sure?” he asked, glancing up at her, his voice quieter now.

She smiled warmly, waving off his concern. “Positive. Consider it payment for all the heavy lifting.”

He huffed a low laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching up in what could almost be called a smile. “Appreciate it,” he said, his words rough but sincere.

Sam clapped him on the shoulder, almost making Bucky drop the cookie. “Alright, big guy, let’s get out of her way before you clean her out completely.

Bucky shot him a half-hearted glare but allowed Sam to steer him toward a cluster of tables nearby, his plate balanced carefully in one hand.

She watched them go, her lips curving into a smile as Sam said something that made Bucky shake his head in exasperation.

With a deep breath, she turned back to finish packing up, though her gaze flicked toward their working spot every now and then.

That night, she lay in bed, the exhaustion of the festival weighing her body down but leaving her mind buzzing. Every detail of the day replayed like a film reel, but one moment stood out above all: Bucky and his awkward, utterly endearing comment about marriage.

She groaned, burying her flushed face into her pillow like a teenager. Guess you can marry now. The memory of his hesitant, almost panicked attempt to explain himself made her toes curl, not in secondhand embarrassment but in something far warmer, more thrilling. And the way he’d looked at her as he said it... that fleeting vulnerability, his ears burning red. She shook her head, biting her lip against a smile.

An idea came to her mind while sipping her morning coffee, staring at the half-empty box of baked goods and preserves she hadn’t packed into the car the day before. She’d thought she was carrying too much, but now she saw what she’d left behind: two jars of plum jam. The very ones Bucky had wanted at the festival but hadn’t been able to get.

She turned one jar in her hand, smiling faintly. It wasn’t much, but it felt like the right thing to do, a small gesture to thank him for all the ways he’d helped her. A friendly token, nothing more. The thought made her nerves tingle anyway.

Shoving those thoughts aside, she packed the jars into her backpack, laced up her boots, and headed out. She made her way toward the spot where she’d found him last time, the rhythmic thwack of his axe cutting through wood still vivid in her memory. She tried not to feel disappointed when the clearing came into view and she didn’t see him right away, but then a faint rustling sound caught her attention.

Bucky was there, further back, crouched near a stack of neatly cut logs, inspecting a wedge that had splintered unevenly. He looked so at ease in his element, that she almost turned back. But then he shifted, his head tilting slightly as if he’d heard her approach.

“Hey,” she called, her voice lighter than intended.

He stood, turning to face her. His brow furrowed slightly in surprise, but it softened quickly. “Hey.”

“I, uh...” She adjusted her backpack strap, suddenly feeling awkward for tracking him down like this. “I had some leftovers from the festival, and I remembered you wanted plum jam. Turns out I had two jars I didn’t even bring.” She opened the backpack and pulled them out, offering them with a tentative smile. “Figured I’d bring them to you as a thank-you for all the times you’ve helped me out.”

Bucky stared at the jars, his expression unreadable at first, but then his lips tugged into the faintest hint of a smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she said, shrugging lightly. “But I wanted to. It’s just jam, anyway.”

“Just jam,” he repeated, taking the jars from her hands, his fingers brushing hers briefly. He glanced at the labels, then back at her. “Thanks. Really.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, feeling breathless under his intense gaze. She stuffed her hands into her knitted jacket pockets, trying to play it cool. “Hope it’s as good as my pies.”

His lips twitched, that almost-smile appearing again. “Guess I’ll have to let you know.” For a moment, neither of them moved, then he cleared his throat, gesturing toward the logs behind him. “You walked all the way out here just for this?” he asked, slightly lifting his brow.

“Pretty much, yeah,” she admitted, her voice softening as a hint of shyness crept in. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, suddenly very aware of how much effort she’d put into this small gesture.

Bucky’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, “That’s... thoughtful of you.”

Her cheeks warmed under his quiet scrutiny, but she forced a casual shrug. “Well, I figured it beats letting them collect dust in my pantry.”

“Still,” he murmured, “thanks. Means a lot.”

“You’re welcome. I, uh...” She glanced at the jars in his hands, suddenly unsure of herself. “I won’t take more of your time. Just wanted to...” She gestured vaguely toward the jam, the movement almost bashful.

Bucky’s gaze softened, his grip tightening slightly around the jars. Before she could step away, he called after her, his voice rough yet almost hesitant. “Hey.”

She turned back, catching the flicker of something earnest in his expression.

“Thanks again,” he said simply, holding up the jars slightly.

Her smile softened, more genuine now. “Anytime.”

Bucky stood there for a long moment after she left, staring at the jars in his hands. The deep, rich purple of the jam glinted faintly in the sunlight filtering through the trees, but his mind wasn’t on the contents. It was on her. The way her voice had faltered, the slight hesitance in her movements when she handed them to him, like she wasn’t sure if he’d even want them.

Why the hell wouldn’t I? he thought bitterly, his jaw tightening. He shifted the jars to one hand, his free one dragging down his face. Damn it.

The easy confidence he used to have, -the kind that once let him charm anyone he wanted- was long gone, worn away by years of service that had left their mark on his body and mind. His scars, both visible and hidden, weren’t just marks; they were reminders of a life split into before and after. He set the jars carefully on a stump, picking up his axe again and turning back to the log he’d been working on.

The first swing came down harder than necessary, the wood splitting with a satisfying crack.

What if Sam was right? What if she really did like him? What the hell would he even do with that? He couldn’t imagine someone like her -a woman who baked pies for town festivals and brought plum jam out to the woods- being happy with someone like him. Someone who carried more baggage than he knew how to unpack.

The axe came down again, the sharp sound echoing through the clearing.

She deserved better than someone like him. Someone whole. Someone who didn’t wake up in cold sweats or flinch at loud noises. Someone who could stand in a crowd without feeling like the walls were closing in. He couldn’t even have a simple conversation without fumbling over his words like a damn teenager.

Another swing and the log finally gave way, splitting clean in two. He adjusted the pieces and started again, the rhythmic motion grounding him even as his thoughts spiraled.

And yet... there she was, walking through the woods just to give him something she thought he’d like. Her smile was genuine, her laugh soft, and for a moment, it had felt almost normal, like maybe he wasn’t the broken mess he’d convinced himself he was.

Don’t kid yourself.

The axe paused mid-air as his gaze flickered to the jars again. She wasn’t just being polite, was she? There had been something in her eyes, something he didn’t know how to name but felt keenly.

God, I used to be good at this, he thought, lowering the axe and resting his hands on the handle. Before everything went to hell, before the nightmares and the scars and the sense of being completely out of place in a world that had moved on without him, he’d known how to read people. Known how to charm them.

Now, he couldn’t even tell if the kindest gesture he’d received in years was just... friendliness.

Bucky exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the axe. He had no answers, only doubts, and a feeling in his gut that maybe, just maybe, he was about to screw this up like he did everything else.

----------

The afternoon sunlight filtered through the living room curtains as she sat cross-legged on the couch, her laptop balanced on her knees. She rubbed her temples and glared at the screen, rereading the same sentence for what felt like the hundredth time. The latest manuscript she was proofreading was a Highlander romance, complete with a Marie Sue, a couple of brawny warriors, and more plaid than a fabric store. It wasn’t that she disliked the genre, but this one was so cliché-ridden it was almost impressive.

“And then his emerald eyes bore into hers, as if he could see the depths of her soul,” she read aloud, her tone dry. She let out a groan, rolling her eyes for what felt like the fiftieth time that day. “Of course he did.”

Still, it paid the bills. She took a sip of her now lukewarm tea and leaned back, debating whether to power through or take a break. That’s when a knock sounded at the door.

Her brows furrowed. Dorothy, the old lady he met at the general store, had mentioned bringing over some plant bulbs today, and it was her signature to show up unannounced. Closing the laptop with a sigh of relief at the distraction, she stood and padded to the door.

“Dorothy, you didn’t have to-” she began, opening the door with a welcoming smile, only to have the words die in her throat.

It wasn’t Dorothy.

Bucky stood there, one hand gripping a well-worn toolbox and the other shoved casually into the pocket of his jeans. The red henley he wore was snug enough to highlight the curve of his shoulders and the breadth of his chest, but not enough to look like he was trying. His hair was slightly mussed, as if the wind had tussled it just before he knocked, and the faintest hint of stubble shadowed his jaw.

For a second, neither of them spoke. She blinked, her surprise evident, while he cleared his throat and offered a small, almost sheepish nod.

“Hey,” he said, his deep voice tinged with a hint of hesitation. “I, uh... remembered you mentioned during the festival needing to fix a couple of roof tiles.” He lifted the toolbox slightly as if to emphasize his purpose. “Thought I’d stop by and take care of it. For the jam.”

It was a perfectly logical explanation, but the sight of him on her porch, looking like an ad for rustic competence, left her momentarily speechless.

She groaned inwardly, the warmth of embarrassment creeping up her neck as she registered her current state, an old pair of sweatpants and an even older shirt with a faded logo, complete with a jam stain right across the bosom. Great. Just great.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she finally managed, her voice brushing off the initial surprise as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

Bucky shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching into a small, easy smile. “Figured I owed you one. Besides, it’s no trouble.”

Despite herself, her lips quirked in a smile as she stepped aside and gestured toward the side of the house. “Well, okay then. The tiles that need fixing are just over there.”

He nodded, his movements purposeful but unhurried, as he turned toward his truck. “I’ll grab my ladder and get started.”

As he walked away, she shut the door with a quiet click and let out a soft exhale, leaning her forehead briefly against the cool wood. A glance down at her outfit made her wince. Nope. There was no way she was standing out there in this while Bucky Barnes fixed her roof looking like a walking ad for rugged, small-town charm.

She bolted for her room, tearing through her wardrobe with newfound urgency. A simple casual dress with a V neckline and cardigan was the winning combo, comfortable enough for an impromptu chat but still presentable. She smoothed the fabric over her hips and checked her reflection in the mirror, brushing her hair back into place before heading back to the living room.

The faint clink of metal outside signaled that Bucky was already at work. Feeling slightly more put-together, she made her way to the kitchen to make some lemonade, hoping she didn’t look like she was trying too hard.

Once the lemonade was ready, she poured a glass, her movements steady as she tried to keep her thoughts from spiraling. It wasn’t a big deal. Just a neighborly gesture to bring him something cool while he worked. Absolutely no ulterior motives, she told herself firmly, ignoring the tiny thrill that ran through her at the thought of talking to him again.

After tidying up a few things to stall for time, she finally stepped outside, the lemonade glass balanced carefully in her hand. The sun had warmed the air, and she spotted Bucky perched on the ladder, one boot firmly planted on a lower rung as he worked to secure a tile.

“Hey,” she called out lightly, making her way toward him.

He glanced down, his hands pausing mid-adjustment. His gaze caught on her new outfit, lingering for a moment before flicking back to her face. She wasn’t imagining it, the slight shift in his expression was hard to miss.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious under his sharp blue eyes, she offered the glass with a small smile. “Thought you might want something to drink.” Then, in a rush of nervous energy, she added, “Dorothy was supposed to drop by, so I figured I should look a little more... put together.”

His gaze flickered briefly to the neckline of her dress, the height of his vantage point affording a view to skin that other way should be concealed by cloth. For a split second, his focus lingered on the swell of her breasts before he forced his attention back to her face with an unreadable expression.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, reaching down to take the glass. His fingers brushed hers for a fraction of a second, the callouses rough against her skin, and she fought the urge to shiver at the contact.

“You’re, uh, making good progress,” she said, nodding toward the roof as if that would distract from the warmth in her cheeks.

“Not much to it,” he replied, taking a sip. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank, and her eyes dipped of their own accord, watching the movement.

When he handed the glass back, their fingers brushed again, and she swore his hand lingered just a moment longer this time.

She lingered by the ladder, holding her glass of lemonade, the condensation cool against her fingers. “You and Sam did a great job building the booths for the festival,” she said, her tone casual. “Not only a provider, huh? Seems like you’re quite the handyman too.”

Bucky glanced down at her, his lips twitching into a faint smile before he focused back on the tile he was securing. “It wasn’t just us. Plenty of other guys helped out.”

“Still,” she insisted, watching the muscles in his forearms shift as he worked, “it’s cool. You don’t see that kind of dedication every day.”

He didn’t respond right away, his grip tightening on the hammer. The compliment clearly unsettled him, and for a split second, his aim wavered. The hammer came down too close to his thumb, and he muttered a sharp curse under his breath.

“Are you okay?” she asked, stepping closer instinctively. Her brows knit together with concern as she watched him shake out his hand.

“Peachy,” he muttered with a gruff voice, though the faint pink creeping up his neck gave away his frustration, whether from the near miss or her watchful presence, she wasn’t sure.

Her lips twitched at his tone, but she held back a laugh, not wanting to poke the bear. “Alright, then. I’ll leave you to it before I distract you into taking off a finger.”

He glanced down at her, his blue eyes sharp but not unkind. “You’re not a distraction,” he said after a beat, his voice softer this time.

Her stomach did a little flip, but she forced herself to keep her tone light. “Still, I’d hate to be the reason you get hurt. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned back to his work, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

She stepped back toward the house, clutching the empty glass tightly as she crossed the threshold and shut the door behind her.

With a deep breath, she returned to the couch, her laptop waiting for her where she’d left it. But even as she opened the screen and stared down the next line of plaid-covered Highlander melodrama, her thoughts drifted back to the man on her roof and the way his gaze lingered just a second too long.

---------

The knock at the door startled her out of the repetitive loop of her manuscript edits. Leaving the laptop on the coffee table, she stood, smoothing the fabric of her dress instinctively. When she opened the door, there he was, a faint sheen of sweat on his face and his toolbox in hand.

“All done,” Bucky said, his deep voice a little quiet, as though he wasn’t entirely sure how to say more. He gestured vaguely toward the roof with his free hand. “The tiles should hold up fine now. No leaks to worry about.”

Her smile was warm as relief and gratitude washed over her. “Thank you, Bucky. Really. That was so kind of you to come by and take care of it.”

He gave a small shrug, his lips twitching into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Didn’t take long. Figured it’d save you some hassle.”

“Still,” she said, stepping back to open the door wider, “you didn’t have to. Can I at least get you something? Another drink, maybe?”

He hesitated, his hand tightening slightly on the handle of the toolbox. “You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” she cut him off gently, her smile unwavering. “Please. It’s the least I can do.”

After a beat, he nodded, stepping over the threshold with a cautious ease, as if unsure of how much space he was allowed to take up. She led him to the kitchen, motioning for him to sit at the small table while she poured a fresh glass of lemonade.

He sat stiffly, setting his toolbox carefully by his feet and rubbing the back of his neck. The kitchen smelled faintly of citrus and sugar, a scent that mingled oddly with the outdoorsy hint of sawdust and sweat he carried with him.

“Here,” she said, placing the glass in front of him before sitting across the table. “I hope it’s still cold enough.”

Bucky nodded his thanks, taking a sip. The silence stretched for a moment, not uncomfortable but loaded with unspoken thoughts. She was the first to break it.

“So, how long have you been working with Sam?” she asked, leaning her arms casually on the table.

He set the glass down, his fingers lingering on the rim as he answered. “A few years. Helps keep me busy.”

She tilted her head, studying him with quiet curiosity. “Do you supply the rest of the workshops and stores too?”

Bucky let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “Not really, just a few. Don’t think anyone’s lining up to hire a guy like me.”

Her brows knit together. “I don’t know about that. You’re dependable, skilled... and clearly a good neighbor.”

Her words caught him off guard, and he looked down, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “Just doing what needs to be done,” he mumbled.

“More than that,” she pressed, a hint of teasing in her tone now to lighten the moment. “If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t believe how fast you fixed those tiles.”

Bucky shook his head, his lips twitching into that barely-there smile again. “It’s just a roof.”

“To you, maybe,” she said lightly. “To me, it’s one less thing to worry about. And I really appreciate it.”

Her sincerity left him quiet for a moment, his fingers tightening briefly around the glass. He glanced up at her, meeting her eyes. “You’re welcome,” he said finally, with a low voice.

Another pause lingered between them, she smiled, leaning back slightly in her chair. “Well, if you ever need more jam -or a roof to fix- you know where to find me.”

He chuckled softly, the sound surprising even himself. “Guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

Their gazes held for just a beat too long before he stood, his hand already reaching for the toolbox. “I should get going.”

“Of course,” she said, standing as well, though she didn’t move to rush him out. “Thanks again, Bucky.”

As Bucky made his way toward the door, his gaze swept briefly over the living room, pausing on the open laptop resting on the coffee table. His steps slowed, curiosity flickering across his features. “What’s that you’re working on?” he asked, tilting his head toward the screen.

She followed his gaze and let out a soft, sheepish laugh. “Oh, just... proofreading a manuscript.”

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly. “What kind of manuscript?”

Her lips parted as if she might dodge the question, but his steady, inquisitive look made it clear he wasn’t letting this one go. “It’s, uh... a romance,” she admitted, her voice almost shy.

His brow lifted a little higher. “About?”

She hesitated, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. “It’s... okay, it’s one of those super cheesy historical romances. You know, with a rugged Highlander and a maid who’s swept up in some dramatic, forbidden love affair.” Her words tumbled out in a rush, her cheeks warming as she spoke.

Bucky’s expression shifted. First skeptical, then mildly amused, and finally landing somewhere between disbelief and intrigue. “And that sells?”

“It’s a very popular topic,” She nodded, already cringing inwardly. “It’s... well, it’s got a lot of dramatic tension, flowery descriptions, and... other stuff.”

“Like what?” he asked, genuinely curious, his head tilting slightly as he leaned against the doorframe.

She bit the inside of her cheek, debating how much detail to share. “You know... dramatic misunderstandings, passionate declarations, epic sword fights... and, uh...” She trailed off, waving her hand vaguely. “Other... things.”

“Other things,” he repeated, his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile. “You mean... the spicy stuff?”

Her cheeks flamed, and she groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Yes, okay? That stuff. Happy now?”

He chuckled making her peek at him from behind her fingers. “Didn’t take you for someone who’d spend their day reading about shirtless Highlanders sweeping maids off their feet.”

“I don’t spend my day reading it,” she shot back, lowering her hands to glare at him, though her expression was more embarrassed than angry. “I’m proofreading. There’s a difference.”

“Right,” he said, dragging the word out like he wasn’t entirely convinced. “So you’re not secretly daydreaming about a plaid-wearing, hero coming to whisk you away?”

“Absolutely not,” she replied firmly, though the faint crack in her voice betrayed her mortification.

He smirked, finally stepping back from the doorframe. “Good to know.”

She crossed her arms, watching him as he moved toward his toolbox. “Not that you’re one to judge,” she called after him. “You seem to know an awful lot about what goes on in those books for someone who’s never read one.”

That stopped him in his tracks. He turned back, his gaze narrowing slightly, though there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I have a sister,” he said simply, as though that explained everything.

Her mouth opened, then shut, caught off guard. “Touché,” she murmured, conceding the point. Still, she couldn’t let it rest. “But honestly, this one is so bad, I don’t get how the editors went along with it.”

His curiosity piqued, and Bucky tilted his head. “And why’s that?”

“It’s just... so cheesy,” she said, her voice dipping with exaggerated drama. “Way too fluffy, the guy won’t stop talking about his feelings, and he’s clingy in a way that makes me cringe.” She shuddered a little for effect.

Bucky raised a brow, his thumb absently tapping against the handle of the toolbox. “So... that makes it bad for the genre? Or is that your personal taste talking?”

She blinked, thrown off by the question. “I-what?”

“I mean,” he continued, leaning casually against the doorframe, “aren’t romance novels supposed to be... you know, emotional? Feelings and all that? Or is it just not your thing?”

She frowned, his thoughtful tone making her pause. “I guess... it’s not the emotions that bother me,” she admitted, her arms crossing loosely. “It’s the way it’s written. This guy is just so... over the top. He’s constantly swooning over her, saying how she’s his whole world, his sun and stars... it’s too much. Like, tone it down, man.”

Bucky’s lips twitched, and he gave a small, thoughtful nod as if chewing over her words. “So, you’re more into the... brooding types?”

Her face warmed slightly at the observation, but she shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. I like characters who... don’t lay it all out at once. You know, someone with a little mystery.”

A long silence stretched between them, his gaze lingering on her as if trying to read between the lines. “Sounds like it’d be tough to figure out what they’re thinking.” He observed.

She raised a brow at that, tilting her head. “Sometimes actions speak louder than words, you know.”

Bucky seemed to consider that, his fingers flexing lightly around the handle of his toolbox. He nodded once, then glanced toward the door. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your... highlander drama.” He shifted his weight, toolbox in hand, and turned toward the door. But as he stepped through, he hesitated, glancing back. “Hey,” he said, his tone quieter now, almost hesitant. “If, uh... if you ever need something else, just let me know.”

She smiled “I will. The same goes for you, thanks again.”

He nodded, a small, almost shy tilt of his head, before stepping fully out the door. She stood there for a moment, staring after him as the faint crunch of his boots faded down the path. The quiet of her house enveloped her as she closed the door, replaying snippets of their conversation.

She had barely made it back to the couch when her phone buzzed. The screen lit up with a text from Sam:

Hey, I’m grilling tonight. You should come by. No excuses.

A smile tugged at her lips. The idea of stepping out, getting off her screen, and being around people sounded better than staying cooped up with plaids and cringy lairds. She quickly texted back her agreement.

The gathering was small, just a handful of locals chatting around the glow of the garden lights and the firepit, the scent of burning wood mingling with spiced cider in the air.

She wasn’t expecting to see Bucky there, given he wasn’t the social type but there he was, standing slightly apart from the crowd, his hands shoved into his pockets as he listened to a conversation between Sam and another neighbor.

She hesitated, her pulse quickening at the sight of him. Sam spotted her, waving her over. “Hey, glad you made it! C’mon, grab a drink.”

She made her way to the table laden with snacks and drinks, feeling Bucky’s gaze on her as she poured herself some cider. When she turned, he was standing just a few steps away, his expression unreadable in the flickering firelight.

“Hey,” she said, her voice a touch breathless. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

His lips quirked in a half-smile. “Sam can be... persuasive.”

She laughed softly “Yeah, he’s good at that.”

They stood there in companionable silence for a moment, and then, as someone started strumming a guitar on the other side of the yard, Bucky glanced at her, his blue eyes glinting with something she couldn’t quite place.

“Walk with me?” he asked, with a low but steady voice.

Surprised, she nodded, and they left the noise and light of the gathering behind, stepping into the quiet shadows of the trees that bordered Sam’s property.

As they walked, the only sounds were the crunch of leaves underfoot and the distant chords of the guitar. Finally, he spoke.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began with a cautious tone like he was testing the waters. “About what you said earlier. About liking... brooding characters.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Oh?”

His gaze stayed forward, but his hands fidgeted at his sides. “Got me wondering if you really meant that. Or if you were just... making conversation.” The vulnerability in his voice sent a wave of warmth through her.

“I wasn’t just making conversation,” she admitted softly.

He stopped walking, turning to face her fully. The firelight was distant now, casting only the faintest glow, but she could still see the intensity in his expression. “Good,” he said, his voice rougher now. “Because I don’t want to keep wondering.”

Before she could respond, he stepped closer, his hand brushing hers, tentative but deliberate. And when she didn’t pull away, he leaned in, his breath warm against her skin as his lips captured hers in a kiss that was both hesitant and deeply certain, as if he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than he dared to admit.

She melted into him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. That small gesture gave him all the permission he needed. Tilting his head, he traced the seam of her lips with his tongue, a gentle yet deliberate request. She parted her lips for him, granting entrance, and he deepened the kiss with a low, quiet sigh that sent warmth spiraling through her.

His hand slid to the curve of her lower back, pulling her closer, while the other found its way to her nape. His fingers tangled gently in her hair as he cradled her. Their kiss broke slowly, reluctantly, his lips brushing hers one last time as if he couldn’t quite let go. Bucky lingered close, his breath warm against her cheek, his nose skimming along her jaw before dipping to her neck. He pressed his face there, inhaling deeply, and his quiet, teasing voice sent a shiver down her spine.

“This too clingy for you?”

A soft laugh escaped her, though it dissolved into a breathy sigh as she tilted her head, exposing more of her neck to him. “Shut up,” she murmured, her fingers threading through his hair, keeping him close. Whatever witty retort she might have had melted into nothing as he pressed a lingering kiss to her pulse point.

Bucky’s lips lingered against her neck for a moment longer before he pulled back just enough to look at her. His fingers at her nape flexed, and then his gaze dropped briefly to her lips. Her heart stuttered as he closed the distance again, this time more demanding. His mouth claimed hers in a kiss that was deeper and hungrier. Gone was the tentative sweetness, this was need, raw and unrestrained. His hand slid from her lower back to her hip, splaying wide, pulling her flush against him as if he needed to eliminate even the smallest gap between them.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, tugging just enough to draw a low, throaty sound from him that sent a thrill through her. She arched into him instinctively, and his hand slid down to the hem of her dress, his fingers brushing her bare thigh. His touch was deliberate, teasing, but his restraint was evident. Her hands left his hair, sliding down to his chest, the soft flannel brushing her palms before she gripped the fabric and tugged him closer. He responded instantly, groaning softly into her mouth as the hand on her nape angled her tighter against his lips.

When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling in the charged silence, he pressed his forehead to hers. Neither of them moved to step away, the distant chatter and laughter around the grill fading into the background. The weight of unspoken need between them was palpable.

“We should...” she started, her voice catching slightly. Then, more firmly, “We should go somewhere.”

His head lifted slightly, blue eyes dark as he searched hers for a beat before a slow smile tugged at his lips, agreeing with a low voice.

Without another word, he took her hand, intertwining their fingers briefly before leading her away. They drifted toward the edge of the yard with casual ease, their steps slow enough to avoid suspicion but quick enough to betray their shared urgency. Once they’d slipped into the cover of the trees bordering Sam’s property, she turned to him, their bodies close in the dim light of the evening. “Your truck or...?”

Bucky’s brows shot up at the suggestion, and for a moment, the idea tempted him, briefly, wildly. Considering the insistent ache in his jeans, the thought held undeniable appeal. But then, reason settled over him like a cool breeze. Not like this. Not tonight.

His lips quirked into a lopsided smirk, and he leaned in just enough that his voice sent a shiver through her. “Your place,” he murmured, low and deliberate.

The shift in his tone left her breathless, her pulse hammering against her skin as her cheeks warmed. She nodded wordlessly, her hand tightening slightly around his as they moved with quiet purpose. The path back to her house felt electric, each step charged with anticipation.

As the door clicked shut behind them, Bucky turned sharply, cornering her against the solid wood. His hands framed her face as his lips captured hers again, more demanding this time, his body pressing into hers with a heat that left no room for misinterpretation. She gasped softly into the kiss, the feel of his hardon against her stomach sending a jolt of desire through her.

Her fingers tangled in his long hair, tugging just enough to make him growl low in his throat. The sound vibrated between them, primal and electrifying. He broke the kiss just enough to murmur, his voice gravelly, “Where’s the bedroom?”

She pointed vaguely down the hall, her breath hitching. Before she could blink, his strong hands were gripping her waist, and he effortlessly threw her over his shoulder in one smooth motion.

A surprised squeal left her lips, and she braced herself against his back, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. His hand splayed firmly over her rear to steady her, his voice teasing but thick with intent. “Easy there,” he said, the words curling with a hint of amusement.

He strode purposely through the hallway, and when they reached the bedroom, he set her down on the bed with surprising care, though his gaze was anything but gentle. He stood over her for a moment, taking her in, the way her hair fell wild around her face, her lips swollen from his kisses, her chest rising and falling with anticipation.

His tongue flicked over his bottom lip as his eyes darkened. “Damn,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with hunger, “you’re a sight.”

She shifted slightly under his intense stare, a flicker of shyness creeping in her despite her arousal. The way he looked at her, so unapologetically hungry, made her feel exposed. His lips quirked slightly as if sensing her hesitation, and he leaned down, his hand coming to rest against her jaw.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice softer now but no less intent.

She nodded, her breath hitching as his thumb brushed along her cheek. “Yeah,” she whispered.

“Good,” he replied, his lips curving into a faint smile before he kissed her again. This time, it was slower, deeper, his tongue sweeping against hers in a way that left her clinging to him, her earlier shyness melting into the heat of his touch.

Her fingers found his shirt, tugging at the hem, and he pulled back just enough to strip it off, tossing it aside without ceremony. The scars on his chest and arm caught the dim light, but the confidence in his gaze never wavered as he leaned back in, his hands sliding down her sides with deliberate, teasing slowness.

Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as her eyes roamed over him, the sheer breadth of his chest and the powerful arms flexing with restrained strength. He was a bear of a man, solid and unrelenting, and she loved every bit of it.

“You know,” he began, his voice low and rough, his fingers deftly popping open the buttons of her dress one by one. “I love seeing you in these dresses and skirts.” His lips quirked into a wicked grin, his gaze flicking up to meet hers. “Makes it so damn easy to get under them. Have my way with you.”

Her cheeks burned at his words, a mixture of arousal and shyness bubbling to the surface. “Bucky...” she breathed, but her protest was feeble at best, especially as he continued his slow, deliberate assault, parting the fabric of her dress to expose more of her skin.

“That one you wore at the festival,” he went on, his tone darkening with heat as he leaned closer, his lips grazing her collarbone. “That vintage-looking thing? Sweetheart, it drove me crazy.”

She gasped softly as his hands slid over her hips, his thumbs tracing patterns against her bare skin. “Crazy how?” she managed to ask, her voice trembling under the weight of his attention.

He let out a low, throaty chuckle, his lips trailing down to the swell of her breasts. “Crazy enough to want to bend you over the booth table,” he murmured, his teeth scraping lightly against her skin, “and fuck you right there. Pies, jam… didn’t care. Would’ve made a mess of it all just to get my hands on you.”

A desperate whimper slipped past her lips as heat pooled low in her belly. Her hands slid into his hair, tugging slightly.

He growled softly at the sensation, pressing her back against the bed. His hands gripped the fabric of her dress and tugged it down her arms, exposing her fully to his gaze. “But we’ve got all the time we want now,” he said, his voice rough, his lips curving into a predatory smile. “And I plan to take my damn time.”

Her pussy clenched with anticipation as her mind whirled, trying to reconcile the quiet, awkward man she’d come to know with this unabashedly vocal, commanding version of him. It was as though he’d been holding back all this time, and now, the dam had finally burst.

Her bra followed the dress, and his sharp intake of breath sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through her. His thumb traced the curve of her breast, slow and deliberate, before he leaned in, his lips hovering just above her skin.

“Y’know,” he murmured, his voice rough and teasing, “all I could think about this afternoon was pouring that lemonade on these.” His lips ghosted over her nipple, his breath warm. “Then drinking it straight off you.”

Her gaze widened, a sudden wave of shyness overtaking her. She let out a nervous laugh, pressing her hands over her face to shield herself.

“Don’t hide from me,” he said firmly, his hand catching her wrists and gently tugging them away. His eyes burned with an intensity that made her stomach flip. “You were the one who instigated our little escape from Sam’s party, remember?”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she couldn’t help the way her body arched toward him as his lips finally claimed the peak of her breast, his tongue swirling in deliberate, maddening strokes. Any remaining hesitation evaporated as he pressed his hips against hers, letting her feel just how much he wanted her.

“You don’t get to act shy now,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly against her skin. “Not after everything you’ve been driving me crazy with.”

Her voice came out barely above a whisper, trembling as she stammered, “I... I didn’t do anything...”

Bucky pulled back just enough to meet her wide-eyed gaze, his lips curving into a wicked smirk. “Oh, you didn’t?” he drawled, his tone laced with teasing disbelief. His hand slid down her side, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “That little dress at the festival? the lemonade with that neckline? The way you bit your lower lip every time we spoke? Sweetheart, you’ve been doing everything.”

Her cheeks burned, her lips parting as if to protest, but no words came out. Instead, he leaned in closer, his nose brushing the curve of her jaw as he whispered, “And I’ve been trying real hard to keep my hands to myself... but now? Now, I’m done trying.”

Her breath caught, and before she could respond, his lips were on hers again, claiming her in a kiss that left no room for doubt. His hands roamed her body with purpose, pulling her flush against him, his erection pressing firmly against her pussy.

Her fingers found their way into his hair again, tugging gently at the strands as he groaned into her mouth, the sound reverberating through her. “You’re killing me, you know that?” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough and filled with longing. “All I’ve been thinking about is this... you... for weeks.” He kissed her again, slower and deeper this time, as if savoring the moment.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” he rasped when they parted for air, his forehead resting against hers. “But you’re about to find out.”

He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her body, his lips lingering on every inch of skin as if committing her to memory. When he reached the waistband of her drenched panties, he paused, his hands gripping her thighs firmly to keep her in place. Pressing his face against the soaked fabric, he inhaled deeply, a guttural groan rumbling from his chest.

“God, you smell so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with hunger. His thumbs hooked into the sides of the delicate lace, slowly pulling it down her legs as he kept his eyes locked on hers. The intensity in his gaze made her pulse thunder in her ears. “You’ve been driving me insane,” he confessed, his lips brushing against her inner thigh as he tossed the damp fabric aside. “Every time I saw you in those little dresses... I thought about this. About getting under that hemline and taste you.”

Her body quivered at his words, her fingers tangling in the sheets beneath her as anticipation coiled tight in her core. “Bucky...” she breathed, her voice a plea.

“Patience,” he said again, his voice low and teasing, but there was no mistaking the edge of hunger in it. His hands spread her thighs further apart, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as he held her open. His breath ghosted over her pussy, warm and tantalizing, making her gasp and clutch the sheets. “I want to take my time with you.”

And then his mouth was on her. His tongue dragged through her slick folds with slow, deliberate strokes, before barely retreating with a sinful hum. “Fuck,” he groaned, “You taste even better than I imagined.” He paused only long enough to meet her eyes, his own dark and full of promise. “And I’ve been imagining this for a long time.”

Her breath caught in her throat as he spread her pussy lips with his thumbs, baring her fully to him. His mouth latched onto her clit, his tongue swirling in lazy circles before he nursed it with intent. The sharp jolt of pleasure ripped a cry from her lips, her hips thrusting against his mouth involuntarily.

“Bucky! oh, God!” she gasped, her voice trembling as he kept at it, alternating between sucking and flicking her sensitive nub with maddening precision. His growl vibrated against her, the sound and sensation drawing another moan from deep within her chest.

“Stay still,” he commanded, pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening. The rumble of his voice sent shivers down her spine. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Two thick fingers joined the assault, sliding slowly into her wet heat, stretching her as they pressed in until they were knuckle-deep. She gasped, her walls clenching around him as he paused for a moment, letting her adjust before starting a maddening rhythm.

His mouth stayed on her clit, tongue flicking and circling in tandem with the slow, deliberate thrust of his fingers. The combination was overwhelming, a perfectly orchestrated symphony of pleasure that had her crying out his name, her thighs trembling as she struggled to keep still.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmured against her, his voice filled with awe and lust. His fingers curled inside her, finding that sweet spot that made her hips jerk off the bed. “Right there, huh? That’s it.”

Her breathing turned ragged, her hands gripping his hair tightly as her body climbed higher and higher toward release. He didn’t let up, his tongue and fingers working her with relentless precision, coaxing her closer to the edge with every stroke.

The orgasm tore through her like an electric shock, sharp and all-consuming. Her body clenched tight, her muscles locking for a heartbeat before releasing uncontrollable spasms. Her walls clenched around his fingers, her back arching off the bed as a sharp cry tore from her lips. He growled with satisfaction, his fingers slowing but not stopping as he rode her through her climax, his mouth pressing soft, soothing kisses to her inner thigh as she shuddered beneath him.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, pulling his fingers free slowly and bringing them to his lips to taste. His darkened gaze met hers, his tongue flicking out to clean the slick from his fingers. “You’re fucking perfect.”

She barely had time to catch her breath before Bucky stood, towering over her, his eyes dark with intent. With a sharp tug, he kicked off his work boots, the thud of them hitting the floor making her jump slightly. Then came the metallic clink of his belt, the sound sending a thrill straight through her.

Her gaze was locked on him as he unzipped his jeans, the low rasp of the zipper making her stomach tighten. He tugged them down along with his underwear in one swift motion, revealing himself in all his glory. He was all broad shoulders and thick muscle. His broad chest and left arm were marred by scars that only added to the raw magnetism he exuded. And then there was his cock. Thick, hard, and so utterly intimidating that she bit her lip at the sight.

“Like what you see?” he asked, a lazy smile pulling at his lips.

She nodded, unable to form words as her cheeks flushed.

“Good,” he said, his hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking lazily as he took a step closer. “Because you’re going to feel all of me.”

Bucky climbed onto the bed, positioning himself between her parted thighs. His hands gripped her waist, firm but careful, as though he might crush her if he wasn’t mindful of his strength. His cock rested heavy and hard against her slick folds, the head teasing her entrance as he rocked his hips slowly, coating himself.

“So wet,” he murmured, his voice a husky growl that sent a shiver down her spine. She moaned softly, her thighs trembling as the thick head of his cock pressed against her opening, the stretch beginning even before he was inside. He moved slowly, agonizingly so, letting her body adjust to his size inch by inch. Her walls fluttered around him as he filled her, her slick heat clenching tightly as he pushed deeper. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as her breath hitched. “Oh my God, Bucky... you’re so-”

“Big?” he finished for her, his tone edged with dark amusement as he paused, fully sheathed inside her. He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear as he rumbled, “That’s it, sweetheart.”

Her head fell back against the pillow as she panted, her body stretched to its limit, the delicious pressure bordering on too much. But as her hips shifted slightly, the friction sent a bolt of pleasure through her that made her moan his name.

Bucky groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding to her rear to tilt her hips upward. He withdrew slowly, almost to the tip, before thrusting back in with deliberate care. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured, his gaze locked on her face as he started to move in earnest.

His pace began slow and steady, each thrust measured, but it wasn’t long before his control began to slip. His grip on her tightened as he quickened, the powerful thrusts rocking her body against the mattress. The sound of their bodies meeting filled the room, the wet slap of his cock driving deep into her pussy mingling with her moans and his guttural groans.

“Hold on to me,” he ordered, his voice rough with lust. Before she could process his words, he hooked an arm under her ass and lifted her effortlessly, sitting crisscrossed with her perched in his lap.

Her arms flew around his neck, clinging to him as the new angle made him hit even deeper. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as he thrust up into her, the force of his cock driving her wild. Her head fell forward, her forehead resting against his as she whimpered, overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure building inside her.

“Look at me,” he demanded. Her hazy eyes met his as he tilted her hips slightly forward, the firm muscles just above his shaft slapping her clit with every thrust.

She cried out, her nails raking down his back as the coil inside her tightened, ready to snap. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

He groaned, his cock swelling even harder inside her as he chased her climax. “I’ve got you,” he promised, his thrusts growing rougher, deeper. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me feel it.”

Her orgasm hit her hard, her pussy clamping down on his cock as she cried out his name, her body trembling violently in his arms, and he growled in satisfaction.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he ground out, his movements growing erratic as her spasming walls pushed him closer to the edge. “You’re mine, doll. Mine.”

With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself fully inside her, his cock pulsing as he spilled into her with a guttural moan. He held her tightly, pressing his forehead to her shoulder as they both panted, their bodies trembling from the intensity of their encounter.

For a moment, neither of them moved, the room filled only with the sound of their heavy breathing. Then, with utter gentleness, Bucky eased her back onto the bed, his body following hers as he stayed buried inside her. He braced himself on his forearms, keeping his weight off her but staying close enough that she could feel the warmth of his skin against hers.

A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced down at her, the faintest hint of mischief in his eyes. “So,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “better than the breathtaking Highlander?”

Her breath hitched before she burst into laughter, making his smirk widen. “Oh, so much better,” she stated, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a quick, playful kiss. “I find the curt and gloomy lumberjack character more appealing.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his smirk faltering just slightly. “Curt and gloomy, huh?”

She nodded, her voice turning softer. “Mysterious. Rugged. A little broody. Kind. Thoughtful. Handsome.”

He blinked, caught off guard by the weight of her words. A faint flush crept up his neck, blooming across his cheeks, and he glanced away, suddenly looking very much like the socially awkward man she’d come to adore.

“Didn’t know I was signing up for flattery,” he muttered under his breath, his ears reddening as he busied himself with brushing away a strand of hair hanging on his face.

She laughed and cupped his cheek, gently forcing him to meet her gaze. “Just telling the truth,” She said softly, her thumb brushing over his stubbed skin.

He swallowed hard, the blush deepening as his lips twitched into a shy, crooked smile. “Still not used to it,” he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Guess I’ll just have to keep saying it until you are,” she replied with a grin, pulling him down for another kiss before he could argue.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics

[gojosprettyprincess]

BESTFRIEND SATORU HELPING YOU COPE WITH YOUR BREAKUP!!

Degradation n praising, Satoru likes you. Not proofread. I hate this sm and it was rushed but oh well

ଘ ੭ ✩‧₊˚

You made your best effort to compose yourself, attempting to suppress the sobs that threatened to overwhelm you as you gently rapped on the sturdy wooden door looming in front of you. Hastily trying to put yourself together before you were met with Satoru’s familiar, handsome face.

His eyes gleamed with excitement as soon as he caught sight of you, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"What are you doing here so late babe, Shouldn't you be uhhh—having boring phone sex with your little boyfriend?" he quipped—his playful chuckle hinting with pride and maybe even jealousy laced with it.

His expression quickly changed to concernment when he saw the tears escaping your eye line. Instantly, his face softened and he moved closer, gently gripping your shoulders to get you to look at him.

"Woah, are you okay, sweetheart? Did something happen?", he asked worriedly as warm tears streamed down your face, he gently moved one of his hands to the back of your head, guiding your face into his chest for a tight embrace.

"What happened? C'mon, talk to me" he softly mumbled, feeling your sobs resonating against his chest, you sniffled and finally broke down, "No Satoru, He cheated! he fucking cheated on me—I don’t know what to do”. You gripped onto his shirt tightly as you held onto him.

His mouth gaped in shock and anger as he hugged you impossibly closer, The scent of his minty cologne enveloped you, clouding your thoughts and senses as you continued to cry in his arms.

“What??? I'm so sorry sweetheart, knew that fucking prick didn't deserve you—I'm so fucking sorry. What can I do to make you feel better?"

___

“Ahh, shit gonna lose my fucking mind in this tight pussy.” he lets out a throaty groan that resonated in the air.

Pure sweat glistened from his body, his biceps, his chest, his back—all fucking sticky and damp almost as if he was working out— well it coulddd count as a workout, technically.

“No fucking way, that dumb fucker cheated on this”, he gasped, anger coursing through him as his hand instinctively gripped onto the headboard for stability while he loses himself to the warmth of your soppy pussy compressing the life out of his cock, each squeeze pulling him deeper into your core.

His white bangs stuck to his forehead as the ends tickled his face with dampness. You mewled loudly as your face distorted with unanticipated pleasure—Pleasure that you'd never thought you could ever felt before, until this day.

He had you folded in a fucked-up mating press—insisting that the closer he is to you, the better he'd be able to comfort you.

“Fuckk! Toruu~” you moaned pornographically, your toes involuntarily curling against his toned back as your knees knocked against your bouncing tits.

His beaming blue eyes piercing through you feverishly as he stared down at you—his face just mere inches away from yours. "Fuck yeahh, moan my fucking name just like that sweetheart, that's right. I'm the one pounding this perfect little pussy” he purrs softly, smirking as drool escapes your lips.

Of course, he was unhappy and worried to see his poor best friend miserable because of the breakup. But deep down, a part of him felt…relieved?

It's not like that dumb, immature scrawny bitch could ever give you what he has to offer.

Never, Never never never. You deserved better, way better. Someone like him…

“Mmm Fuckkk, Satoruuu. stretching me s’good” you cried out in pure ecstasy as the tip of his cock rubs against your g-spot so rawly and naturally in a way that felt heavenly —your boyfriend was never able to find it.

“Yeah? You like me splitting open this pretty pussy with my cock? When was the last time you had a good fucking like this, babe?” Satoru laughed breathlessly, his cock throbbing with each thrusts.

The bed sinking as a result from his weight as he bullied his hefty cock into you—fucking you absolutely dumb, deeper into his mattress.

Your glassy eyes were now obscured by a hazy blur, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins as your eyes rolled back—Satoru thought the sight of you like this was so so beautiful. Seeing his precious little best friend whom he loveee so much getting dumbed down from his dick etched something primal in him.

His mouth gaped slightly as he moaned, his eyes full of desire and passion. He brought his face closer, his warm breath brushing against your skin before he smashed his lips onto yours.

His mouth completely devouring you as the both of you moaned in unison, lost in the intensity of the kiss—your tongues tangling together as your tummy fluttered in excitement.

His skin stuck to yours disgustingly as your boobs bounced against his chest, your fingers laced through his hair. The sensation made him groan before he eventually pulled away from the passionate kiss.

He quickly switched positions, hauling your body closer to him so your ass could slowly be arched up—resting against his thighs as he pounded your sloppy, messy cunt at the deeper angle.

A rhythmic series of “Hahhh!” fills the room—almost like a chant of pleasure escaping his lips as his gaze is fixated on where the two of you were connected—his cock completely disappearing inside your warm core at the snap of his hips as his snowy pubic hair lightly nudges against the sensitive bud of your arousal.

“This pussy is taking me in so well, fuck he could never—dunno why you were even with him–nghh! in the first place” he emphasizes on the last word with a deep, hard powerful thrust.

“I could treat ya so much better than he ever did sweetheart, better forget about him—don't ever wanna see you crying that fucker again” he smirks down at fucked out face—so cute and pretty all clumsy from his cock.

Thick balls slapping against your asshole as your slick coats both of them, forming a slippery layer that gradually dripped down onto his sheets.

“Or don't worry, heh—i’ll just fuck you into a brainless little slut, that'll surely make you forget about him” he laughs out. His tongue dragging against his lips as his fingers kneads into the soft flesh of your thighs.

Your eyes rolled back uncontrollably to his words, it was obvious to you that Satoru had a little crush on you for a while now and fucking hated your boyfriend but hearing him actually vocalizing his feelings in such a vulnerable, intimate moment made you lose your mind.

His lengthy cock dug into your pussy in such a mean manner in the new angle—his relentless thrusts hitting your cervix over and over, making your pussy overflowing with juices all over his dick, facilitating to force his dick into you.

You squealed, feeling his finger suddenly rubbing fast circles on your clit—causing your inner walls to flutter around his shaft in a euphoric response to the new wave of pleasure that surged through your body.

“Mmmfp! Yesyesyes! don't stop, s’close” you exclaimed, your fingers tightly clasping onto the sheets to anchor yourself.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my dick baby?” He inquires with a toothy grin, his bicep muscles prominently bulging, emphasizing his toned physique as his abs flexes because of the angle. Giving you the most delicious view of his body.

“Yes! Ahh, Toruuu” Your eyebrows furrowed together as you felt your orgasm approaching. Your body trembled in ecstasy. The feeling of good sex was so so refreshing to you that you started questioning yourself why you weren’t with Satoru instead in the first place?. He was charming, rich, and funny—despite his annoying personality and teasing, he was almost perfect, but maybe because you two have been best friends for all those years, you just haven’t thought about him like that.

Before you knew it, milky white rings coated his cock—overlaying every inch of his shaft and painting his balls. “Mmmmm!” You breathe heavily, almost losing your mind as you watched Satoru’s eyes roll back at the feeling of you messing up his dick.

“Yessss, that’s it baby—God, fuck, making such a pretty mess all over me” he tried to keep his composure but he miserably failed, he just fucking couldn't, hell he couldn’t even pull out quick enough before spurting his hot cum directly into your womb, making loud squelching noises filling the room as his warm, sticky cum overflowed out of your pussy.

It was so so messy, there’s no way there wasn’t a big wet patch of cum below the two of you.

“So do ya prefer our date being tomorrow or the day after—I’d prefer tomorrow because I’m not working, plus I wanna take you out as soon as possible,” he said in a cheery, out-of-breath tone, managing to catch you off guard as if he wasn’t still balls deep inside of you.

“Seriously Satoru? We can discuss this later” you muttered with a hint of annoyance—causing him to pout in response before picking up your upper body to sit on his lap—cockwarming him.

He pulled you into a sweet, passionate kiss—his hands groping your ass as you tangled your fingers through his hair.

“Fineee” he playfully whispered—you giggled lowly, feeling his smile forming against your lips as he held you close.

[webbluvrsugar]

hi! i absolutely adore your writing omgg

if it’s not too much trouble i was thinking maybe ethan landry x fem reader and continuing with that dynamic of the dom gf + sub bf in public but vice versa in bed? LOTS of size kink (if you’re comfortable writing it ofc) and maybe some degradation from ethan? ugh that would just be sooo 😩😩😩

tysm in advance, no rush in writing, and don’t forget to eat and drink water!!

— 🦚

a/n: guyyys it’s official!! I have my first emoji anon <333 and of course bae, tyyy sm!!!

proofread

﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆. ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭ casual dominance with Ethan in and out of bed

Outside of bed, it’s like you both have your roles assigned to each other, you take complete dominance, you ask him to do simple thing you could do like — carry your books, your purse and even cleaning your shared dorm for weeks and weeks without stopping, it was something he found particularly annoying, specially when you basically did nothing compared to him.

“Babe, do you think you can wash those dishes for me?” You’d ask the taller man in front of you, standing right next to the sink.

“Can’t you do them? You’re already close and I’m kinda busy right now.” He mutters, focuses on whatever project he’s working in his computer, slightly nibbling on his thumb.

“Come on… you always do them for me.” You say in indignation, crossing your arms and huffing before you sit down on the couch.

“Yeah but I’ve been doing them for weeks, and again, I’m busy.”

It almost serves as a warning, and by now, you’d stop, you’d do your own dishes yourself, but you really can’t find it in you to stop when you just want him to do one simple chore. — Why can’t he do them anyways? He’s not that busy, is he?

“Ethan are you serious? It’s like two dishes and you spend all your time in that computer, you can spare some time to do it for me, it’s not that difficult.”

See, that’s what does it for him, because he finally stops what he’s doing to look back at you, raising a brow as if daring you to keep acting that way, and when you do say something else, it doesn’t take more than two seconds for him to toss you over his shoulder and take you to bed.

He’s on top of you — all over you the way he likes it, fucking some sense into you with some quick and hard thrusts, one hand wrapped around your throat while the other gently holds your waist.

“This is just what you needed, huh?” He scoffs. “Some dick so you can finally learn to stop bothering me and do your own shit.”

You don’t respond, instead, you press your eyes shut while one hand paws at the one at your throat, moaning as you try to make him let go.

“Uh-uh, you’re gonna learn your lesson, you’re gonna learn that when I say no, it means — I’m fucking busy.” He groans.

He squeezes your neck a little tighter, bring his other hand down and slightly fiddles with your clit, loose and messy movements that somehow do get you closer.

“And after this —“ he breathes, leans down to whisper on your neck. “You’re gonna wash your fucking dishes.”

[chobunz]

── enha + make-up sex ! ּ 𓂅 ⋆ 🥛

˙✧˖ pair: hyung line (+ jungwon) ㅊ f!reader | warnings: pwp, smutty smut, angst/arguing (??), hurt/comfort, bratty!reader, they’re a little mean lol srry, punishments, d/s dynamics, mentions of crying, daddy kink, praising/degrading, thigh riding, fingering, size kink (kinda ?), piv, unprotected s.x, oral (m. rec), breeding kink, c.m swallowing | words: 4.7k (very much not proofread so i’m sure there’s plenty of typo’s lawl)

a/n. based on this request that i got !ヾ(￣□￣;)ﾉ

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

౨ৎ heeseung

“can we go to ‘phora after you finish ?”

“no, sit down.” heeseung referred to you tugging on his shirt from behind. “why’re you moving around so much today ?”

you provided a hum, quickly ending the conversation you just started. you’ve been sitting here all day, on this leathery brown sofa. you’d been needing to go to the beauty store to buy a new concealer since last week, and it’s been annoying you that you can’t go today as it seemed your boyfriend was practically almost done with this track he’s working on.

you sat on the far end of the couch, farthest from him. there’d been nobody in the studio as of now, he took a short break earlier but was barely spending any time with you. that in itself made you sorta upset, you craved his attention more than anything.

you were feeling like a burden to him by even being here, and he made it no better by not giving in to your demands. you knew he was doing something, but you hated when work inclined with your time with him— and you know it sounds extremely selfish, but it’s okay to be a little selfish sometimes…

“well can you hurry up ??” “i kinda wanna go home.” you spoke up, the agitation overwhelming your tone.

“you can wait, but if you’re gonna have a fit, step out.” heeseung, was known for not putting up with any of your shit, no matter how much of a sweetheart he was. when it comes to his work he doesn’t really play around.

“i wasn’t gonna !” you poked your lip out, pouting.

“i can hear it in your voice, babe. don’t start, i'm busy; we’ll leave in a bit..” he put an end to the commotion you were about to start, he didn’t have the time do deal with your mellow drama. that was being only if he doesn’t have to fix it himself. and he knew just how to do that. all he has to do, is wait.

“ugh, okay. but hurry..”

๑ ๑ ๑

you were still upset with heeseung about not going, and you had sparely spoken a word to him since the incident from earlier. but the guilt of it all was only eating him away inside, seeing your sulking state made him feel even worse and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“babe.. c’mere,” heeseung’s voice filled the quiet room, his tone much softer, a striking contrast from the way he acted hours ago.

you didn’t wanna give in so easily with him, not after he told you no when all you wanted was some new concealer.. you wanted to put up a little bit of a fight; but the minute he flashed that apologetic, doe- eyed look at you it was enough make you want to melt in a puddle. curse him for being so damn cute..

“m’sorry baby.. let me make it up to you,” he attempts to atone for his actions, caging his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him, “we can go tomorrow if you want.. i’ll buy whatever you want pretty.” your body trembles the minute his lips find the soft spot of your neck, playing with the hem of your short skirt.

“mmh.. hee,” a tiny moan slips from your lips when his hands get closer to your core, a surge of heat rushing through. “oh gosh,”

his fingers swirl around your entrance, collecting your wetness, bringing it up to decorate your clit before dipping them back into your entrance. he looks up at you, a chuckle on his face, so cocky and arrogant. he swipes his middle harshly on your clit, you were feeling ecstatic, already on the verge of coming as he kept up his ministrations. you begin to gush on his fingers as you writhe your hips.

“fuck..” he groans. “you only get this wet for me, right baby ?”

your eyes slightly rolled to the back of your head as you felt the slight pressure on your clit, your chest heaving, trying your hardest in collecting yourself. his palm slaps your pussy when you don’t answer him, and you whimper out a “y-yes..” quickly. he’s been doing this for what felt like hours and you swore you were going to pass out just from this alone.

he chuckles again, sounding like a curt scoff. pulling his lip between his teeth, you notice the look in his eyes, and you gulp. he pulls your thighs further apart, stretching.

you squeak at the stretch, your thighs are burning.

“stay still,” heeseung grunts out. “i don’t wanna make you cry right now, baby you know i hate that.”

heeseung takes both fingers into your pussy, scissoring them in and out of you. you watch as glob of his spit falls onto your clit as he smiles at the squelching sound of everything. your eyes rolled all the way back to your skull when you start to hear how messy it all is.

“baby.. you’re squirting,”

౨ৎ jay

“why do you keep pushing me away ?” “can you not?” jay’s voice surpassed the boundary between calm and annoyed. he didn’t seem to understand you at all today. and it’s more of a problem that you refused to talk with him about any of it. all you continue to say is ‘nothing.’

“i’m not.. it’s just, really hot in here..” you exhaled, shifting your gaze to avoid direct eye contact with him.

“could’ve just said something, i’ll go turn the ac on.”

“no !” you pulled his arm almost dragging him back onto the couch. “i don’t want to turn it on.”

“what ? aren’t you hot ?” he blinked in confusion.

you nod.

“then why not..?”

“cause i don’ wanna !” you roll your eyes in discontent, by this point you were being unreasonably stubborn for no reason and jay was quite literally over your attitude you’ve been giving him all day.

“babe, i’ll either touch and hold you while it’s cold so you’re comfortable, or make you sweat like a bitch and not care.” “but you’re infront of me, i’m gonna touch you. i don’t care. so choose.” he eyed you, face calmed but holding so much emotion. confusion, anger, love. but it’s all just mixing up like a bowl of açaí and he can’t pick out which one he’s feeling right now.

“neither !” you retaliate, but to your demise, you got his cuddly wrath anyway.

“jay ! get— hey !” you pushed and nudged but no hope. he wasn’t gonna let you go, felt like you needed comfort, but he couldn’t depict if it was just his instincts or not.

“ow !” you felt the weight of his body rise leaving you feeling like a light weight blob of mass. “y/n, did you just.. hit me ?” his face, was all misshapen. a furrowed and betrayed look caping his features in like they were a precious jewel sworn to never see light of day.

“baby— i.. i didn’t mean it !” “it just happened..” you broke a huge no-no in your book. sworn to never put your hands on eachother in a vile way, that is unless consented. meaning, the two of you should never hit one another. look at you now, your stubborn little ass is in a huge mess.

“mhm, yeah” you watched as he left the couch the both of you once sat on together. now you’re sad, cold and alone, in the once hot area.

“jay, i’m serious, ’m sorry!”

“corner.”

“huh ?..”

his hand cupped the back of your head, leading you to the nearest corner in the room, only for him to finish you off; shoving your face into the corner. “sit. and don’t move a damn inch. got it ? mrs. y/n ?”

“yes..” you sulked, look what you did, being a spoiled fucking brat. should’ve got over your little drama party when you had the chance. but look at you now.

“yes what ?”

“yes daddy..?” your voice wobbled. the mere thought or feel of being in trouble is terrible. yet you saw through your punishment and done your vile actions.

“oh ? good girl, finally using that mouth for what it’s worth. finally listening. over that pity party? huh ?” he joked, a cackle bubbling from his throat as he walked away from your smaller being.

half an hour had passed and he’d left you there to reflect on your actions, but he knew he couldn’t keep you there alone for too long. instead, he’d much rather release each other’s frustrations by fucking it out— that always works in the end to resolve your differences, doesn’t it ..?

๑ ๑ ๑

“jay, p-please slow down !” you stuttered, begging for mercy. eyes fluttering as you ride on top of his big cock. being on top with jay felt like nothing of the sort.

he still had all the control, his thickness sliding in and out, your juices leaking everywhere with each and every thrust; your entrance giving that tickling feeling that you knew all too well.

sometimes your boyfriend could be super soft and gentle with you, while other times he’d fuck you rough and mercilessly, leaving you completely dumb as you’re full of nothing but his cock. jay likes putting you on top just to fuck you like you were laying down.

he slows down just a liiittle bit... but not without leaving a light slap on your cheek. noticing the way you’re bringing your bottom lip into your mouth, tears streaming down your face. he coos at you, rubbing your thigh.

“sorry baby,” he pouts, gently rubbing your clit. “come closer.” you watch in confusion as he pants but you obey.

he pinches your cheeks with his right hand, squishing your face. you could smell your pussy wafting from his fingers. “you did soo well taking my cock,” jake hums at you proudly, “yeah ? so tight.”

“do i get a reward for being good, daddy ?” you mutter.

your boyfriend hums again, before tapping your cheek. you try opening your mouth knowing exactly what he wants. gazing into his eyes, you greedily stick your tongue out. he suddenly slams his cock back into you, making you gasp from the sudden fill.

“uh uh,” he says sternly. “keep your mouth open.”

you watch as he let’s a string of his spit fall right on your tongue.

this was going to be a long afternoon.

౨ৎ jake

“does it really take that long to unlock a door ?” your hands met your hips, knee at a bent degree, tips of your shoe tapping the ground. “i’m getting tired of standing here, c’mon !”

“does it take a lot for you to shut your pretty fuckin’ mouth ?” “shit baby, what’s your problem today, you've been acting bratty the past few hours.” his key forcefully twisted into place, giving jake a satisfying click.

“nothing..” you quickly mutter.

“really ? nothing?” “so, you’re being disrespectful for no reason ?, don’t you know where that gets you ?” his figure caged you between the passenger side door, eyes locked on yours. you knew you had no reason to be upset, and even knowing that, you were terrible angry.

“i’m speaking to you.”

“yes jake.. i know.”

“then get in the car and act fucking right.” he pulled you towards him, reaching out to open the door for you. “hear me ?”

“good.” he closed after hearing a complying hum from you before reaching over your lap, buckling your seatbelt.

you honestly couldn’t stay mad at him, look at how he treats you even after he scolds you. a man everybody wants, but only you have. and you felt ungrateful, like you didn’t deserve him.

the real reason you were so upset in the first place was only because jake had wanted you to come to these dinner reservations he made with his friends and although you really did enjoy his friend’s company sometimes, you didn’t want to go anywhere.

all you wanted was to stay in and be with your boyfriend all day but instead you took your anger and frustration out on him— which only made you harbor more guilt inside.

the car ride went completely silent for the first ten minutes, then an idea sprang into your mind. why not show how sorry you were for your attitude by giving him some road head ? you’ve never tried it before, but there’s a first time for everything you suppose. plus, you genuinely felt remorseful, and there wasn’t a more perfect way of apologizing than doing that in your opinion.

๑ ๑ ๑

“hpmh,—” your lips kiss his pinkish-red tip, when you unzipped his pants to expose his hard on, a small bead of pre-cum leaked out. dipping your tongue out to lick it up, his cock flinching at any slight stimulation. “babe— yes ! fuck..”

opening your mouth wider to take his full length, your eyes began watering when the end of his shaft hits the back of your throat. “look at you, already taking it all.. look so fucking hot like that with your mouth full of my cock.” his hand gripping hard onto the steering wheel, the other grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling hard as he forces more of himself down your throat.

you gag and choke a bit from his hips rutting into you, but that doesn’t stop you from sucking his cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do on earth. giving all your efforts to please him, looking up with bright big eyes while you deepthroat. your pussy was uncomfortably wet, you could feel your slick leaking on your thighs. moaning as you continue bobbing your head up and down, feeling him throbbing in your warm mouth from the sensations.

“yeah baby… just like that keep going.. fuck…” jake wanted to swing his head back from the pleasure so badly, but he had to focus on the road.. pulling your hair tighter as he feels himself getting close.

you could sense he was close too by his erratic movements, and you know exactly how to get him to cum. collecting more saliva as much as you could to make it even sloppier, some of it almost dripping from the corners of your mouth as you keep going. he felt like the end was nearing for him, he grunts loudly, bucking his hips up in a frenzy.

“shit- ’m gonna come�� you better swallow of all of it like a good fucking girl.” you nod, feeling him pulsate even more in your mouth, humming around the base of his length as you send him to a higher state of pleasure. the back of your throat gets hit with shots of hot cum, milking every last bit of him until you know for sure he’s done.

“you really have no idea what you do to me y/n, do you ?” he pants while trying to catch his breath, wanting to look down at the beautiful mess he’s created.

“i swallowed it all daddy, look.” you open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue to show him it was all empty.

“that’s my good girl,” jake praises you, quickly glancing down to see you looking all lazy and defeated. he wanted to say to hell with it and skip the plans, turn back around just so he could fuck you. there’s no way he’d able to last more than an hour without having his cock buried inside of you..

౨ৎ sunghoon

an hour, a whole god damn hour, you were being completely ignored, concealing all your tiny sobs. you were sorry for your actions, hell, even sorry for yourself, but also sorry for your boyfriend, the man who had to put up with all of your brattiness.

today you just decided to chose violence and pick a fight with your boyfriend for absolutely no reason other than you just felt like it. but now you were paying the consequences of those actions by his silent treatment he gave you. when he’d finally noticed you’ve been crying, he couldn’t hold anymore of this little grudge against you, he couldn’t see you like that no matter what.

your thought process was cut off once you felt a warm compress on your back. making you bawl your eyes out even more.

“babe, what are you crying for ?”

“i don’t know.. i’m—”

“you’re sorry?” his hands caressed your sides, his mouth kissing along your shoulder. “i know baby. it’s okay.”

“did i leave you alone for too long ?” he pulled you further into his build by your waist, cupping you in his hold. his tough demeanor shrinking to bits once he saw your puffy, red eyes.

“no..” you quickly turned to wrap your arms around his neck, snuggling yourself into his embrace. you can’t believe how sunghoon deprived you were for just an hour. the hold this man had on you..

“you wanna tell me what happened today ?” “or no ?” he added, hearing nothing in reply.

“maybe later.. ?” “i miss you.”

“i miss you too babe, i just don’t like when you act that that. i feel neglected, like you can’t open up to me.”

“i know.. i’m sorry, i just didn’t feel good today..” you retracted your nuzzle from the crook of his neck.

“just one of those days ?” “you know i won’t ever know what’s wrong unless you tell me, right?”

you hummed. “yes, but.. i don’t know i was just being selfish and i took it all out on you..”

“you’re a really good girl, baby, i love you okay ? you don’t have to ever close yourself off with me. ‘kay ?”

“mkay..” you reached for a kiss in which he gratefully returned.

“baby.. well, maybe.., did you check yourself?” he cautiously approached the upcoming topic. he could feel parts of his sweats sticking to his skin like rice cake on a hot day. and he had a feeling that your attitude wasn’t just an attitude.

“what do you mean ..?” your brows furrowed at the random question displayed before you.

“you know, like.. are you on ?”

“my period?” he hummed in response to answer.

“noo..? i checked earlier.. plus i didn’t feel any paining.. or any symptoms like usual..”

he nods at your reassurance, knowing how cranky you can get when it’s close to that time of the month. that’s when everything shifted, you were suddenly pulled onto his lap and kissing him roughly on the couch, his hands exploring each and every inch of your body. you knew exactly how this was gonna end— you being completely ruined by the end of this night.

๑ ๑ ๑

“babe, you’re fucking squeezin’ me.” sunghoon groaned, gripping the sides of your hips in a tight manner. “pussy still begging for more, huh ?”

“please hoonie..” you whined at the friction of his cock colliding with yours perfectly, feeling every ridge and vein. like his cock was made just for you. “want it so bad..”

he wasted no time in burying himself deeper inside you, in all honesty he wanted you no more than you wanted him. he needed you the most right now. the fact that he’d spent so long ignoring you today because of his stubborn, selfish actions left him feeling more than guilty, and he was going to show you just how much he wants you.

sunghoon’s hand pressed on your stomach with every stroke he landed in you. every curve his length went through to touch your G. “fuck..” he landed a sharp slap onto your tits.

you couldn’t help but grind your hips back up against him. a tense burning sensation sprawling throughout your whole body. it make you urge for more, like nothing was enough, even though you were in pure bliss. you were nothing but a mewling, shrieking mess.

“hoon ! ugh, please ruin me..hmm please..” your arms reached up, grasping around his neck.

“you’re driving me fucking crazy, y’know ?” he airly chuckled throwing he head back. the feel of your slick creating sticky vines across his skin whenever he’d pull out. the sound of it, the look of it. all of it turning him on even more.

your back arched at the thought of maxing out around his thick shaft. the praise you’ll get since you’ve done so well for him.

“i love you..” you mumbled bittersweet nothings one after another.

“shit, loosen the fuck up.” his hands entangled your sweaty hair gripping it in a careful but aggressive manner. “fuck, i’m gonna come.” he began to thrust into your messy cunt relentlessly, pounding you into oblivion.

“hoon— mm’nside please.. !” you slurred, drool heaping out the corner of your mouth.

“inside ? huh? you want my babies, princess ?” “you do, don’t you? want me to fill your fucking pussy with my seed.” sunghoon chuckled at your pleading. he was tired as hell, but soo turned on by you, by the thought of you bearing his children.

“ ’es yes, yes hoon !”

“whatever you want, baby.” his length pumped into you filling you up, not an empty fucking crevice in your soppy cunt.

“thank you .. daddy.. ”

౨ৎ jungwon

you know why you were in the situation you were in right now, but you imply that you don’t care, yet and still it seems like your silly boyfriend does indeed care.

“babee, talk to meee !!” he lingered the letters of the petname he’d so rightfully honored to you, on his tongue. “why won’t you talk to me ?!” he sat up, his pout where it always is. (in his greedy ass bottom lip. upper lip = TT)

yesterday night, you were in jungwon’s position. being ignored, all because he wanted to be on call and play games with his friends the whole night. he still made it up to you afterwards but who cares ?? you could do the same. he’ll get over it the moment you kiss him.

“pretty girl ??” he crawled on top on you, dodging the arms you held in the air as your eyes scanned the screen of your nintendo. “what’d i do.. ?” he talked into your neck. you can’t lie.. your hearts fluttering, it might as well fly off leaving your mouth hanging open gasping for air.

he was too cute for his own good, so soft.. but you wanted to show him the emotional castle you walked through when he sat on his game for 10 hours straight after having a date with you. aftermath cuddles where ??

your skin tingled as jungwon’s lifted himself infront of your screen to pamper kisses all over your face, “won- stop it..” you groaned clearly ‘upset’ he’s disturbing you.

“oh- so you can talk? mm ?”

you ignore his presence once more this time with your cute little furrowed brows. only this time, you could feel him burning holes through your face. “would you stop staring ?? what do you want jungwon ?”, you look away from your game to see his wide-eyed features.

“'jungwon'? really baby what did i do.” his lips swell into his signature pout.

“nothing, just move a little, you’re too close i can’t focus.” you said nonchalantly. he only caught an attitude and pushed himself back into the sofa gazing at the TV, after rolling his eyes at you.

he’d sat for so long waiting on your worry, and you got so caught up in the game and actually forgot about him sitting there.. that was until you heard his little sniffles. “baby ?” you sit up looking at him and slowly putting your nintendo away. “hm..” you could hear how annoyed he was with you. there’s no way he’s actually upset by all of this ??

at this point, you were beginning to feel really bad, but you couldn’t help but giggle just a bit, he was the cutest thing on earth !! his pouty lips, his glossy eyes, just everything about him. “i’m sorry.. i just wanted to show you how i feel when you do it to me.” you pulled him towards you and sat on his lap, proceeding to wrap your arms around his neck.

“that’s right, be sorry, you’re a mean girl ! give me kisses everywhere, here, here, here, and here !” he points all over his facial area.

you could only do as he said, how couldn’t you ? look at him ;(

“i’m sorry, do you forgive me ? huh wonnie ?”, you hugged him tightly. “hmm... no !” you felt him grow under your thin little shorts.

“maybe after you fix my boner though. maybe i will.” you pull back from his embrace, your face resembling confusions and shock. “how could you say something like that while looking so.. sweet and adorable !?” he giggled at your response.

“i dunno, but you should get to work,” he shrugged. “you wouldn't wanna waste a good tap, right ?” you could feel the heat rising.

“but-”

“but ?? shouldn’t you be begging for forgiveness?? huh, baby ?” he slapped the softness of your ass causing you to jump at the friction. “be good for me. don’t make me wait. y/n.” he glared at you, a hidden smirk on his face.

“yes sir.”

you knew he liked being called that a little too much.. you giggle to yourself sliding off his lap onto the pads of your knees.

๑ ๑ ๑

at this moment you thought of nothing but pleasing him right, your hands gripping his thighs while your head bobbed slowly on his length. once you were comfortable you quickened yourself. you loved when he’d get all whiney— especially for you. his hands gripped your hair as he groaned your name, feeling him throbbing inside you.

“mhm.. hell yeah.. just like that princess.” he praised, that moment causing you to squeeze your legs together.

you sucked him harder as your mouth slid off his tip, hands replacing it. your hand added a pressure your mouth couldn’t as you jerked him. his balls sat in your mouth and you suckled and licked until he couldn’t take it anymore of it.

“shit !” he tapped your shoulder before making lift back up onto your feet once again. “all fours, and hurry up.” he groaned, “but i didn’t fi-” you felt his hand swash against your ass causing you to yelp and hurriedly get into position.

“ah, fuck fuck fuck !” your moans grew louder the more his cock slams into your walls, the way you’re swallowing him up makes his brain all fuzzy, you feel so warm and inviting, could stay like this forever.

his insatiable lust for you was displayed even more than usual tonight as he thrusts into you deeply, thinking about the fact that only he gets to have you in this way and no one else; he should appreciate how good he has it more often. it only makes him want to pleasure you even more, changing angles and positions that have you clenching around him hard, cumming over and over on his cock.

he immerses himself in the feeling, holding your hips close and he grunts, “no one else will ever make you feel this good”, eyes closing at the way you flutter around him, “don’t forget that, yeah?”

and you can’t find anything in yourself to disagree. moaning his name out, too out of it to even talk because all you can think about is him— how perfectly his cock fills you up and how good he feels cumming inside of you, marking you as his.

“love how you clench around me baby.” he bit your shoulder compressing and moan that dared to slip from his mouth.

he deliberately pounded into you, like he wanted everyone near to know how he was ruining you. he wanted to hear you begging for a break.

“please.. won, so good..”

the sound of your bodies smacking together fills the room as he fucks you faster with his arms holding himself up, paying close attention to how beautiful you look under him.

“gonna come in your tight dewy little pussy.” he captured your waist, pulling you closer into him. “wann’ put a baby in you, want my babies, huh ?”

“yes.. in me please baby ! please come !..”

you notice his eyes lingering on each of your features and all you can do is pull him in for a long kiss, which causes jungwon to groan into your mouth and suddenly fill you up with his load, overwhelmed and wanting you even closer as he (momentarily) lays on top of you.

he swears each time the both of you cum it’s never the last, pleading to give you one more, telling you that he knows you want it from how much your pussy pulls him in, inviting him to breed you again and again..

so i’m officially back, i think ?? >-< gonna try to be more consistent on here but we’ll see….

alsoo shoutout to my besties @leeechin & @pshbites, i was thinking of y’all while writing jay and jungwon’s parts hehehe. luh y’all sososo bad <333

[sttoru]

Omg could we see reader getting jealous of Sukuna having sec with his other concubines? And maybe liek the other concubine rubs it in readers face?

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive \\ smut aspects. size difference. one tiny mention of reader being a crybaby. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’ \\ kuna’s an asshole! not proofread, excuse the grammar. no part 2. wc: 3.3k

you’ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.

perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.

missing someone.

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

but of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face. she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses—the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame. she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it was a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare. both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists. you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out. sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm. there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material. he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh. you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation. you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru. he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence. you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room. your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle. “fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.