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tonycries · 16 days ago

Text

BAD INFLUENCE

Synopsis. Summer’s in heat and so are you - luckily, your aIpha knows just how to…help.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!oméga!reader, aIpha!JJK men, OMÉGAVERSE AU, heats, knots, size kínks, matíng presses, they go FÉRAL, pheromones, spítting, chokíng, GOJO’S POWERS, true form Sukuna, dp, tummy buIges, creampíes, p talking, bréeding, losing control, best friend!Choso, matíng bites, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. OvuIation has me like this…

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Mr. Milkman

“O-oh my, mmm, Toji-”

“Quiet.” He’s swallowing down his parched throat, staring down at you through the gaps of his dark bangs- on all fours, your trembling hips rut back mindlessly into his.

Sluggishly - almost hypnotized - Toji’s nodding his head down to take a sniff of those sweet, sweet pheromones of yours. Just a tiny puff before his body’s acting on pure, primal instinct- slamming every lengthy, vein covered inch of his until he’s thumping the bottom of your core.

Your heat was driving him crazy. His beefy arm curling ‘round your neck, nose pushing into your throat-

You find yourself sobbing out cutely, “Yes- yes, please mo-”

“More?” Toji doesn’t even let you finish. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d be marvelling at the way his low, gruff baritone was breaking near the very end. At the way he could only plaster the reddened tip of his shaft against your walls and gasp—“M-more?”

Oh, now you’ve done it.

Now you were making him tighten his hold, a warm puddle of drooling splashing out of your mouth n’ all down his veiny forearm. “More, huh?” And there’s something dangerous to his tone. Something dark. Unsteady. “I’ll give you f-fuck- more.”

And before you can even register those words within your melty mind, he’s using the leverage to slam your trembling body to his-

“So much more you won’t be able to take it, doll.”

He meant it- oh, your poor, overly-stuffed cunt’s finding out just how much he meant it.

Because then Toji’s fucking you into the dampened sheets like an animal- fast. Hard. He’d been rough before, but never like this - like he’d die if he couldn’t feel the velvety ridges of your sweet innards.

Low grunts slipping after each swat of his geysering orifice, knees spreading even wider on the creaky bedsprings to feed your dripping pussy with his veiny measurement.

He pushes a hand down at the base edge of your spine and grins at the way it makes your irises stupidly whirl—“Tch, s’this it? Is this what you wanted, needy thing?”

“O-ohhh just like that.” You’re mewling, hands fisting into the silken sheets when he’s surging his hips after the recoil of each thrust. Chasing your cunt. “Yeah- just like mm–”

Toji grunts, “This enough for my girl’s slutty pussy-” One of his raven brows raise as he’s taking in just how utterly wet you were with your heat, extra layers of your slick ringing around his hilt. “-or d’you still want fuck- more, needy lil’ omega?”

Your cute lower lip wobbles and he already knows the answer- hell, he’s fucking the answer out of you just as soon as he realizes.

A large, callused hand swats down on the slippery slope of your pussy with a snicker. So hard that a slimy squelch! rings in his ears like music, “Speak up. Tell me what your heat wants.”

“Ngh- I want-” Your back arched at the warm contact of his thigh hiking up, pressing to the side of your bouncing hips to stop you from squirming. Every maddening thrust just had you so stupid that you can’t even string together a coherent sentence at this point. “I want- fuck…”

And the next few pretty noises you’re letting off aren’t from your gaping mouth - they’re from your sopping wet pussy.

Just the loudest, most lecherous slurps each n’ every time he’s opening up your every nook and cranny.

Toji has to nibble down on his scarred lips to prevent himself from whining- “O-ohhhh, I get it.” You swear you hear his lips depart with a husky giggle - a giggle. And Toji can’t help but urgently lick off the honeyed glaze of your slick all over his digits, extra sweet now. He roams them back down for yet another spank. “This heat has you hah- talking t’me from here, huh?”

Another three strikes, and another few gluey squelches.

He’s sticking the pads of his fingers against your cunt and watching as you jolt at the raw stimulation, whimpering. “T-Toji it feels so-”

“Ah ah-” Ah, for a second he’s wondering whether he’s teasing his poor girl too much- but then he’s whiffing in more of your heady scent and shit- what was he thinking about again? “If m’gonna be used for my ngh- cock, doll, I wanna talk to the lady in heat.”

Cock so, so swollen that he has to swerve his hips ever-so-slightly to bully all the way inside, your pheromones so hypnotic that every where he touched left utter bruises.

You were making him lose control.

You were making him gulp in a looong lungful of your clouded pheromones before he’s tumbling his head back and fighting for his damn life not to cream your insides already. Feeling just a pearly bead of cum escape the end of his shaft, “F-fuck, she’s gonna be the fucking death of me.”

“What are you–” You’re starting out, before flinching at the splat-splat-splat of something all wet trickling down the middle of your spine.

Snapping your head around and oh- the vision you’re seeing is something so effortlessly sexy.

He’s never been like this.

Toji- with his head lowered near your scent glands, chiseled abs tensed, darkened eyes glittered with tears. They’re travelling in a thin line down his cheeks and splashing onto your back, “Toji are you o- fuck!”

“Don’t you fucking ask if I’m okay, doll.” Oh, he’s seething. Leaned in close so your fever’s catching onto him in full effect, every ragged breath of his punctures with a harsh thrash near your g-spot. “Don’t you- fuck, look at her n’ ask if I’m okay-”

Mindlessly, your head lolls down to watch as he slides in n’ out of your folds relentlessly. Your pussy bulging wiiidely agape, struggling to take in his sheer size.

And Toji’s thighs tremble as he’s groaning, “Begging to be filled up- begging to milk me dry. This omega’s begging to be bred by me, and you think I’m okay?” Jade peripherals dilated, canines honed, he was gone. “S’what you want, right?”

The circular divot on top of his mushroom tip pushes against your sweet spots and you scream, “Yes- yes yes yes-”

“Shush, doll- can’t hear…” Trailing off, Toji grows quiet- well, as quiet as he can be when he’s making you squeal out after each jackhammer. “Oh…y’know what she’s saying now?”

“What?”

“Mmm—” Manhandling your head to splay out across his collarbone, he’s pointing straight inside his mouth. Grinning, “Spit in my mouth if ya wanna hear the answer, omega…heh.”

And it’s not difficult - not even a bit when you’re slobbering out pathetically with every tiny graze of his veiny cock. Hitting his ripe, pink tongue dead-on-

“She says–” Gasping once he’s lazing down his sloppy cadence just enough to make you feel the thick, swollen curve surrounding his base. So round and girthy that it was making your knees weaken - his knot. “-we’re havin’ a daughter this time, doll.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - DILF!

“Kento, are you-”

“No no–” Comes his breathy answer, and you’re catching the way that Nanami’s bass hitches with each slip n’ slide of his cherry-red tip between your folds. “I’m quite alright, darling.”

And oh- you’ve known your husband long enough to tell when he’s lying.

Known him long enough to feel the way that his geysering shaft plumpens up inside of you, the shaky muscles of his thighs gluing to yours. Nanami drinks in another breath of your heady pheromones and thinks he can feel a part of his sanity genuinely splinter-

“O-on second thought…” He gulps, slightly-quivering fingerpads pushing up on the metal frames of his glasses. “-your heat might be affecting me a bit-” And you’re making his poor, husky tone break when you clench, temples glistening with a thin line of perspiration. “-more than expected.”

Your hands wind their way around his broad shoulders with a pout, “You can go rough all you want, y’know?”

“My love, you’re just talking out of your heat-”

“I want you to go rough.” And oh fuck- oh, you knew every single one of his weaknesses. From the way that he’s gasping at the slight pout of your lips, to the shuddering of his fat, bulging mushroom tip when you whinily add—“Please?”

And Nanami’s big - more than big. He’s so prolonged n’ girthy with his shaft that it usually takes him hours to be able to bottom out, to even dare to try.

But right now with your heat, all it takes is a singular, solid slam for his tawny happy trail to scratch your poor clit raw. For him to glue the pointed end of his shaft against the sponge of your cervix and draw a loooong glissade down, “Fuck fuh-fuck–!”

“Mmmm just like that-” You’re blubbering out, thighs thrashing when he’s starting to push a sensual, loving massage of his veined length. “Harder, Ken.” Too teasing that the only thing you can do is claw your way down to one of his wrists and mewl- “Harder.”

“But-”

And you knew he was being the sweetest. You knew it would make him break when you’re letting off a scorching breeze of your pheromones, watching in real time as it makes his pupils dilate.

You’re tucking in one of his thick fingertips past your swollen folds, feeling the startling cold of his wristwatch - still on - make your outer pussy gush with saturated slick. “D-do you not want to-”

“Never think like that.” He huffs, he pants and that only makes the primal whirling of his head even worse. Slightly ragged. Slightly out of control.

Nanami’s kneeing your thighs apart from his previously romantic missionary position into something lecherous that’ll have his slimy cockhead rovering the deepest. Banging the curvy end of his shaft dead-on into your most favorite spot until you’re seeing stars, “You don’t- you don’t know what this scent- this pussy does to me-”

A smug smirk starts tugging at the corners of your spit-glossed lips, and you can feel your scent glands beginning to heat up once more. “Oh, really—”

“Don’t-” Barely even able to let off a single cloud of murky pheromones before a sudden, engulfing hand comes slamming down on your throat so that he can squeeze. “Don’t you- fuck!” So he can cover up your scent- at least, that’s what it was meant to be, but in reality Nanami’s using that rude hold to manhandle your entire body to slam back into his.

Rougher. Harder.

His leaky tip probes into every one of your battered orifices until you’re left speechless, gasping at the sheer force makin’ all the air depart from your lungs.

“You want your alpha, don’t you?” He spits into your open mouth, and you can only gape because your husband’s never talked to you like this. “Wan’ me to haaaa- fuck this pretty pussy through your heat?” Never hiked his powerful knee up until he could pin down one side of your restless inner thighs with it. “Well you have no idea how you make me- ngh- lose my mind.”

And Nanami Kento, usually so put-together, couldn’t stop babbling from now on.

He’s leaving half-moon nailmarks down the side of your throat, “Have no idea how rock-fucking hard you m-make me.” Twitching so hard inside of you that the sensitive line of his slit engraves into the roof of your pussy, “Have no idea how I hck! ran all the way from the fucking office here.” He did - the very second you’d called him, right in the middle of his work day. Ran out, in fact. “And it m-makes me wanna…”

Your chin is positively glittered with drool at this point, and you can only whine—“Wh-what…?”

Your husband shakes the blond tresses out of his clammy forehead, like that will help clear his mind. “N-no, forget about it, darling I—” Only for all that work to be undone by a single clench of your gooey, circular-shaped insides. A single slip of his hands on your glands and he’s gasping, “-fuck! Wanna get you pregnant.”

And you don’t know whether it’s your heat driving him mad or simply you.

The way your skin burns up twofold with high temperature, heels locking at the dimples homed on the base of his spine to pull.

All your mind was craving, “Please- want- ngh- want it.” Eyes tearing up in an adorable way you’d definitely be embarrassed about if this way any time but now, your scent screams need and that makes him salivate. “Unless you don’t-”

“You’d be pregnant with our tenth kid n’ even then I’m hah- gonna fuck you stupid, my silly omega.” The straight edge of his nose bridge crinkles in amusement. Head tilted, Nanami smiles down through half-lidded eyes as you’re taking up every solid thwack! Every grind. Every spurt of dewy wet pre, “The only thing I ever want is my pretty lil’ wife ngh- all round and glowing with my seed.”

And before you can even blink your tear lathered lashes, he has his hand teasin’ your drivelling cunt. Hard. Sloppy. You swear the tint of his hazel irises only grow carnally darker when you’re pouring out around him.

Thumbing down the crevice of your pussylips before pressing deeply on your clit- one hand driving you crazy, the other interlacing with yours so that he can bite down into your left ring finger. “So stop thinking stupid things and jus’ open up oh- reeeeal wide f’me- fuck.”

It’s so much- only one, two, three straight barrels of his ruddied tip until you’re crashing into your high. Taking over you like a wave - and just as wet, you’re hiding your eyes in the back of your head and squirting.

Mouth ajar, pussy quivering.

Thick, translucent splashes straight onto the lines of his toned hips. Formulating such a steaming hot puddle that clings onto your thighs in a sheen, shit, he has to stop himself from craning his head down to taste-

Nanami’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs with a swallow, “Fuck…” Roaming his tips to stir the lines of his veins across your sweetest spots, so good that it makes your toes curl- “Fuck. You’re lucky if we stop at ten kids, my love. ”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Drunk-daze…

“Mmm–” Geto’s mouth glues onto your clit after each sodden kiss, amethyst eyes barely even visible through his unruly bangs. “Yer even sweeter when you’re in hah- heat, gorgeous.”

And so much wetter, too- a gush of your slick streams down the side of his chin and leaves your inner thighs all flooded.

You can only clench your legs ‘round his sweaty scalp and whimper with every flick of his slimy, rovering tongue. He’s slipping them between your folds and lapping up every milky ounce of cum you have leaking out of you from all those hours before, oh-so-filthy. “Please- ngh- want-”

And he’s finding the way your hips buck up uselessly so cute- not that he’d admit it out loud, of course.

Sniffing out a chuckle, “Wha’s thaaaat?” The way he blinks his dark lashes up at you is almost hypnotic, pussydrunk. “Open that pretty mouth and use it for me, omega.”

He knew - oh, he knew what you wanted so badly.

He could smell the pheromones dripping from you, the way your gorgeous eyes were all glassy with need. Every tiny slip n’ slide of his expanding tongue inside your hole only making you want more more more- you were still in heat.

“Want- please-”

And Geto’s teasing with the way he’s languidly getting up to hover over your jostling body. Fat, knotted cock spanking down between your plump pussylips, exactly thrice. Geto seeps out his own calming jasmine scent as he’s rubbin’ your clit with the swollen base of his length.

Watching your sloppy hole wink up at him and crave the stretch, “Heh- m’only here to serve. Tell me what you ngh- want, gorgeous—”

Your mouth sticks together slightly with a few syrupy strands of saliva as you flap them open, starting—“Sugu, I-I want- oh, fuck.”

You can’t tell him - you can’t even breathe once he’s waiting just long enough that your whiny voice is beginning to babble- and then pushin’ the curvaceous ends of his cock inside with all his might.

Inside, swabbing his way until your slicked walls bulge.

It’s tight - hot. Your swollen folds are pried apart around the sheer circumference of Geto’s mushroomy tip, and the only thing he has half the mind to do is throw your legs over his shoulder to rut and rut and rut-

“Whoops.” Your boyfriend has the audacity to giggle - giggle, only stopping once he’s registering the sour stubborn scent of your pheromones. Apologetically thumping the flared ridge of his crown right against the roof of your cunt, it’s enough to have you shrilling. Tone lilted, “My heh- mistake. Promise I’ll be nice, tell me now- still in heat, hm?”

As if to prove his point, he’s slowing down just barely enough that the mazing direction of his shaft stops short of your g-spot. Where you wanted him the most. Croaking out in a panic, “Ye- mmmpf-”

But, of course, Geto Suguru was never that nice.

“Hmmm…don’t talk.”

In just mere sultry nanoseconds, he has your mouth stuffed with two of his lengthy fingers, your cunt overfilled with his cock. Bottomed-out. And yet, still pushing like he wanted that weepy hole of yours to remember his exact measurements-

Spitting.

Twice - once straight into your mouth, and the second time a great, glittering dollop against your cunt. “No need to when you just wanna be mmm fucked, don’t you?” Geto’s spitting out in pure raw hunger against your sensitive ear lobe. Jamming the doughy crowns of his fingertips in circles along your cheeks, in sensual unison with the circular motions of his rummaging cockhead. “Isn’t that all you ngh- want? Isn’t that what this fiilthy fucking pussy’s been beggin’ for?”

Hissing out ravaged whispers every time the globular end of his cockhead thumps your g-spot. Geto turns his head and gnaws down on the shell of your ear just because he’d already bitten you all over your glands.

“Fuh-fuck, Suguru- more- gimme more…”

“More?” Almost open-mouthed, staring at your fucked-out expression, you’re releasing such sweet, sweet pheromones that make the knot homed on his cock swell. That makes him gasp, shiver. “If you want more then take it, gorgeous.”

“Sugu-”

“C’mon.” Urging you with his sinful hips, he’s just so prolonged in his size that every shovel of his solid inches makes your eyes roll. It’s like he’s never-ending. “S’that all you can do?”

And you might be desperate, but he’s gone.

All but melting his toned body on top of yours, the ridges of his abs glissade down your front and Geto keens once your hands claw greedily down his core. “Tch- harder now. Harder- I thought you were in heat, omega.”

Fingers digging in so hard that it’s almost like you’re trying to draw blood. “I-I am.”

“Yeah right.” Nostrils flared, reddened cock furious each time he swipes it down the entrance to your womb. And teasing you was the only thing that kept him from fucking whimpering- “As if you can even handle this big stretch.”

Your breath hitches humidly, and you’re not sure whether it’s the heat or the pure yearning after the way his thick, throbbing kisses your treacly cunt. “I can handle it.”

“Oh yeah? Say it then.”

“What do you-”

“Say it-” Geto croons, head tilted down with such a sleazy smile. Smug. But you catch the way that the ends of his rosy lips twitch, the way his dark brows furrow, the way his strawberry divot spurts. “-say you want that hck! biiiig stretch, gorgeous—”

“I want it-”

Scoffing, “Want what?”

And he’s not just fucking you until your eyes swirl in pathetic circles- he’s slamming the curve of his rotund knot. Making sure to grind it in a way that just grazes your clit, “Say it f’me~”

Maddening.

“Big- ngh-” Mewling, “Want that big stretch-”

“Stretch her out for me, hmmm–” Toying, he can only watch as your trembly fingerpads smear open your pussylips. Aching for more, your thighs twitch at the way his knot was pushin’ and pushin’ trying to fit, the girth so big- “Now how about you say ‘pretty please-’”

And you can’t take it anymore.

Before you know it- before Geto knows it, you’re saddling your heels into around his lean spine and flipping the two of you over. Slamming him down by his muscular shoulders, shovelling his proud knot right inside like you were going to wring him dry-

“O-oh.”

Ah, you made the proud alpha stutter. Puffing out something raw from the end of his throat- eyes widening. Breath catching. Cock flinching as he’s shocked.

He can only watch as the glazed, cherry-pink spheroid of his tip pushes past your entrance and slips all the way back down. And you swear the infamous Geto Suguru whimpers, you swear he’s smiling. “Ch-choke me, gorgeous?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Knotty boy?!

You were riding Choso crazy, you were riding him dry n’ the only thing he can do is cling on helplessly to the bouncing sides of your hips. Spit drivelling between his unfastened maw after each bounce, “Fuck- fuck! Baby, I don’t know if I even can-”

“But m’not done yet, Cho— ” You’re cooing, brushing away the chestnut strands of your best friend’s bangs. He’d agreed to help you through your heat- and here he was, fucked-out and blushing.

Throwing his head back every time the rovering edge of his tip pushed against your womb, Choso’s chasing your cunt with his toned v-line. Letting the insides of your thighs squish his pelvis, “Please-”

“Hmm—?” You cock your head just as soon as he’s dredging up one of your hands with both of his own. Guiding it all the way up to his clammy neck- “Please, what, baby?”

You don’t even have to do it for him - Choso’s tightening your pretty hands ‘round his neck and letting you choke him. Drunken eyes whirling inside the whites of his eyes, he’s breathing in the air of your pheromones and it’s enough to make his plump knot throb. “Please- please, use me then.”

Oh- oh, his nose is just so sensitive to your heat. To you.

And the only thing you have to do is throw your head back to bare your scent glands- to let a murky puff of it reach his lungs, and he’s cumming.

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” Husky voice strangling in his throat, it’s all Choso can do to smear his meaty thighs further open and hit your sponged cervix. Letting the puckered, weeping hole at the end of his shaft plaster against the bottom of your pussy and flood.

In long, creamy swipes of his cock that leave your walls all bruised n’ battered. He’s milking himself on your cunt, trying with all his might to bead out every ounce inside of his balls.

But there was only one problem-

“Cho—” You’re gasping, once his orgasm didn’t feel as sloppy as usual. It’d been hours now, and Choso had always loved to make such a mess that would leave your entrance overspilling for minutes. And yet, now…“Did you just cum dry?”

“No-”

Yes.

He did, and it makes his dark, dewy peripherals glisten with a hot welling of tears. “No, nghhh- no no no no- ” With one hand creeping down to cup his aching hot hilt and help rut upwards. “M’such a hck! useless alpha.”

You’re cooing, “Awww- don’t say that-”

“But I am.”

And he couldn’t be- he won’t be. All those days and nights dreaming of having you, his pretty lil’ best friend, like this would be for nothing if he couldn’t even help you through your damn heat.

With your sweetened scent thoroughly fogging up his mind, Choso’s fingers twist into a few cursed shapes- and suddenly you’re feeling the air between your sheened thighs buzz. You’re feeling it crackle with cursed energy.

But more importantly, you’re feeling him harden. Gasping at the way that his red, bulging tip was now more than rock-hard, Choso’s prolonging his rovering cock so much that it was painful. “Oh, baby, don’t tell me…”

“Blood manipulation technique.” He’s giggling, thick lashes fluttering with every push of his hardened shaft into your springy insides. His mushroomed cockhead recoils from the back of your cervix and Choso almost whimpers at the loss of contact- just that pussydrunk. “It’s my duty, I hafta ngh- fill her up. Make her t-take my knot.”

Oh, he was going to have you so stuffed with all his cum that it was going to form a puddle right there on top of him.

And Choso’s already swiping away the glistening stripes of your slick spilling down his abs, pumping it back in with a free thumb between your folds.

“Come on-” Panting. Heaving in your scorching scent. Bullying the fattened curve of his digit past your first ring of muscle, you’re letting off such shrill whines every time you’re hitting your pussy down to meet his touch. “Come on come on- take me. Use me.”

The mere words are enough to have your heat flaring up twofold, the tastebuds on your tongue sizzling with saliva after each impact of his veiny cock. “You want me to mmm- use you?”

“Yes! Use me use me- s’what I’m made for, please. Don’t know if I can even do anything else anymore.” He whines, and suddenly you’re too-aware of the rotund, pulsating girth of his knot.

So big that a chilling shiver runs down your spine, it’s the sheer circumference that has your thighs twitching with need. Your treacly cunt already fucking back in your sloppy cadence to try and take him on.

“You want to hah- knot me, Cho?”

Your fingers tighten on Choso’s flushed neck as he gulps- “Yes- please-”

Pretending to think for a few sultry moments, “Hmm, well–” Even though you already knew that everything from the thickly saccharine pheromones to the way your cunt quivered at his cursed energy told him that you wanted it greedily. “Only if you bite me, too.”

And Choso Kamo looks like he’s just entered heaven.

“I…I can mark you?”

You’re barely even motioning out your nod, barely even starting before it takes him one ripple of his muscular body to flip the two of you over.

Sprawling you out on your back like such a slut, pushing your legs bent until your knees strike your tits, snapping his cock deeply inside before he squirts.

Not just cumming for an nth time - but Choso squirts, in thick, honeyed sloshes that take over your cunt. You swear you can feel it welling up all the way at your throat, and every sloppy drag of his cock only pumps it deeper and deeper and-

“Smells so good- feels so good.” He’s rasping out, a hand toying on your clit- just because it made you clench in a way that eagerly gobbled up his creamy dewdrops of cum. “O-oh, you’re gonna push me into a rut.”

Oh, fuck- your eyes widen, that was it.

That was the reason for the sweet chocolate pheromones taking over the air alongside your scent. That was the reason why Choso was more animal than man- more feral when he’s teething over your cute scent gland. He was in rut.

Hand twitching on your nubbed clit, just as unstable as his voice was when he’s uttering—“Need you to c-cum now. The momma should ngh- cum if we want a baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Heian-Era Hard

“Keh, fuuuuck—” Any and every time that Ryomen Sukuna might have teased you for your humanly stamina was thrown out the window. He’s bending you into a lecherous full nelson with two hands, and swiping his sweaty forehead with another- “Makin’ even the king break a sweat-”

You’re blinking, teary gaze wafting over your shoulder, “Wh-what?”

“Nothing.” The garish mouth across his abs bites one side of your hips, just a little punishment.

Honestly- your heat was just so strong that it had your tight pussy drooling all over the royal bedsheets. Sukuna’s dual cocks absolutely lavished in a thick gloss of your slick each time he’s spearheading you full, “Tch- but honestly, how much more d’you want, spoiled brat?”

Though, he wasn’t complaining.

Oh, never- not when he had you like this. His ruby-red tips rubbed raw down the soft surface of your cervix, Sukuna swats a hand over your mouth just as you begin to babble out an answer.

“Don’t answer that- you’ll only talk outta yer ngh- fucking pussy, anyway.” Rolling his crimson eyes, he’s smearing the wiry ribbons of saliva escaping your mouth and gluing to his palm with a grin. “Messy girl, you’re drooling everywhere-”

“Mmm- I’m- mmpf-” And it’s as if just the sound of your voice was enough to send zaps of electricity racing down his spine.

Breath catching, the matching girths of his cocks pumping up even harder- fuck, the smell of your sweet pheromones was already bad enough. He couldn’t handle having you whimper in his keen ears, too- “Why don’tcha just kiss me proper now, human.”

And before you can even think, he’s manifesting his second mouth to slash across his palm. Letting the thick, slimy tip of his tongue lap between your mouth and latch on in such a filthy, filthy French kiss.

“There—” Sukuna coos in his gruff baritone from behind, and the swell of his balls tighten at the sloppy visage of you. “Hah, this heat has made you even more messy than usual, mama. Look at you.”

You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to, because the rough hold that the King has on your face lets him tug your chin downwards. Showing you the bulging orifice of your cunt in all your stuffed glory, singing out the loudest slurps! every time he squeezes his two tips past your entrance.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

Again and again until your legs twitch sensitively at the scrape of his winding veins down your walls, “See?” He has the audacity to snicker- “S’it make my human- my pretty omega into a cockdrunk little slut? Aw…”

“M’n-not-” You’re fighting to gasp through the slight gaps of his spit-polished hand, hips squirming at the way he’s probing your every hidden crevice deep inside. “But I do like…well…”

“Tha’s a lot of words to just say ‘take it’, heh.”

And he was making sure you did, your heat doesn’t even have the time to flare up and ask for more before Sukuna’s giving it to you. Pummelling it. Holding your legs pried apart with his beefy, tattooed arms that just make your mouth water, one more covering your mouth. And the last?

Oh, he’s creeping his fouth n’ final palm vertically down your tummy. Glissading across the tender, cylindrical outline of his cocks, being thrashed against your womb and fucked right through your walls.

Pushing down-

He’s gnawing down on your bottom lip like cute bubblegum, “Oh, fuck! Kuna- oh my god, mmm-”

“Yeah, take it.” With a grunt, Sukuna’s thumbing his clawed digit over those precise matching bumps. He could feel the way they thumped two proud, circular bruises against the back of your dripping pussy. “Take it- take it and more, mama.”

If you weren’t stupidly cockdrunk before, then you surely were now. Dazed pupils heart-shaped and criss-crossing every time he was swiping down your g-spot.

“You have to take it take-”

You claw at his wrist, “I-I am-”

“I know. Yer in heat- can’t go a single second without feeling my biiig fucking cock, can you?” And at this point, Sukuna’s only grateful for how gone you were because your pheromones were simply making him babble. Jackhammering into you like an animal, “Want it all deep inside-”

You’re whimpering, steady streams of tears watering down your face when he presses his fingerpads even harder against the fragile spot of your tummy bulge. Your womb. “-here?”

“Yess- yes!”

“Mmm—” Sukuna pretends to ponder, for just a split-second, even though all he could think about was the suckling sensation of your cunt and just how feverish you were. “Well, m’feeling generous today, brat. So I’ll let you pick.”

Confused, your chin hits your chest as you follow his line of sight. “Pick what…oh.” You knew what. You could feel it.

All the way between your legs and nudging against the bawling entrance to your pussy, both of Sukuna’s knots were fat and aching for your touch. Throbbing each time they skid past your slick-sprayed thighs, stronger. Harder. “Eeenie meenie, lil’ human. Hurry up.”

“W-want…” You’re babbling out, and he can’t stop himself from hunching over with his towering frame to listen in. Struck with the full force of your candied scent, his favorite. “-both.”

Oh.

It’s a tiny, sinful gasp- and it rips from big, bad Sukuna’s lips before he’s realizing.

Before the words finally sink in and he finds himself grinning, oh, this was why he loved you. “Cheh, then…”

And he knew you were talking out of your heat, he knew it would be a tight fit, and he also knew your poor, soppy pussy might not even be able to fit all of him. But that was what your grouchy alpha was here for - to make it fit.

And he’ll do it.

“O-oh, fuck.” It makes you dizzy, it makes you wail- just the feeling of Sukuna’s second mouth enlarging across his tense core and wriggling the tip of its tongue between your pussylips. Stretching. Bending dexterously inside just to try and push his knots past your cushy folds.

Half-rutting, mindless.

He’s barely even pulling all the way out before planting his feet flat and spanking your cunt with the expanse of his lengths. Slap after slap- hell, you think you’re seeing one of his own hands slither downwards to pry your entrance oh-so-open.

The stretch so mind-numbingly delicious that you can feel your vision splotch, your mouth whining–“Kuna, I-I don’t think it’ll-”

Only to be cut off by the raw, lecherous plop! of two hot, heavy knots being bullied into you. So thick that you can feel the velvety layer of your walls twitch each time he throbbed inside of you.

And at this point, you’re not even sure you’ll make it out of this alive-

“And now-” His booming voice snaps you out of your little reverie, Sukuna’s scorched divots geysering out steady drops of pre. Blushing- and so was he. “-the fun begins.”

♡ INO TAKUMA - “P-pretty…”

It’s the one thing that can depart from Ino’s mouth other than the plea to simply set him free because your sweet, syrupy pussy was holding him hostage.

Already having stuffed his aching knot inside of you mere minutes ago but still yearning for more, more, more-

Gasping. Whimpering with every slick swivel of his mushroomed tip probing every spot inside your cunt- “Pretty, oh-oh, I need to fuck you- again- can’t stand being like this.”

“Again, Taku?” You’re mewling once his hips start pulling back from the lewd mating press he’d bent you in. Trying- failing because the girthy circumference of his knot was just so much, so big. “Baby, your swelling’s still not down.”

“I know.” And he’s oh-so-tortured by the fact, breathing in your heat. You. “But I wanna- need to fuck you again, sweetness.”

Cooing, “Need to?”

He’s nodding- nodding and nodding until you’re wondering whether the long column of his neck doesn’t ache. “Yes, please- ngh, fucking hell, I have this sweet cunt all on top of me n’ I can’t even fuck you?”

You’re almost starting to giggle, the determined wobble of his lips just so cute where he held you- that is, until Ino’s fighting against his silky knot. Reeling backwards, he can barely even move at this point- only slow, sluggish humps that tug on the first ring of muscle at your cunt as if he was the one in heat.

And the stretch is so good that it makes your thighs weaken, nearly falling from their perch on top of his shoulders-

“No!” Startling you with a gasp, he swats his aching cockhead against your g-spot and watches you squirm. Panicked. Urgently holding your thighs back up, you can’t be finished- you can’t. “No no no- no- we’re not done yet, pretty, let me– let me…”

He’d read up online that heats can last about a week and he needed to fuck you till he physically can’t anymore. Till your slicked walls had memorized him.

Until he was wrung dry and raw, Ino’s plump thumb comes snaking down to press on the cute tummy bulge he was fucking into you. All bumpy with the solid press of his cock, doubled up on his wads of gooey cum, “Oh, sweetness, you’re not done with your h-heat yet, right?”

You’re shaking your head- difficult, with the way that his delicate grindings had your mouth watering with scorching saliva. Scent flaring, “N-no, still have more to go, baby.”

“Yessss—” Oh, you wonder if he even realizes what he’s doing when he’s using a free hand to pry apart your swollen folds. Letting out the rawest carnal squeeeelch! just as soon as he eases his knot out. “C’mere then- milk me dry.”

And he’s sensitive - so, so sensitive that those prettily blushing cheeks of his streak with tears by the time you’re bucking your hips up. Voice drunken, “Are you- ngh- okay, Taku?”

“Yes- yes, m’fine.” Stubbornly, he’s fucking his slender hips back in tiny, mindless ruts. Barely even pulling out, barely even able to handle being even inches outside of your warm cunt.

It felt like fucking heaven inside of you with every wad of cum webbing your walls, your pussy greedily sucking up each thrust - and it wasn’t just the heat, Ino was completely n’ utterly pussydrunk. Prattling through his flooding mouth, “F-fine, tooootally fine- jus’ helping you through your ngh- heat like a good boyfriend, sweetness.”

Oh, but Ino’s sing-song voice was toppling, his toned chest heaving.

Each singular swat of his geysering divot reached into your deepest depths and made you keen, “B-but you just- your knot-”

“And I can give you another one-” Tilting his head down to drink in your syrupy scent, it’s making him almost crazed. Almost feral- the entirety of his body runs stiff with a shiver once you throw your head back and clench- “Gonna give you all of them- so many- everything- make it so you c-can’t even walk-”

You’re being fucked into the rickety bedsprings like never before- and you can’t help but ogle at the way that Ino looked so pretty during it, too.

With half-lidded eyes boring deeply into you each time he’s bulldozing your g-spot, bangs gluing to his sweaty forehead like a curtain, rosy lips pursed and trembling-

“R-right?” He almost sounded as if he was on the verge of tears as soon as your cockdrunk reverie lasts just a tad too long. Eagerly tugging on your clit to goad the answer out of you- fuck, your heat had him ruining himself on your pussy. “Right, pretty?”

“Nghhhh– yes, Taku-” Each split-second punctuated with the constant motioning of his sloppy cadence, again. And again. And again and again and again until you’re losing count of how many bruises circle your poor cervix.

Ino doesn’t have the patience, he doesn’t have the need to even give you the time to think.

Big, pearly teardrops of overstimulation clinging onto his tawny lashes, “S-so you’re gonna be mine, aren’t you?”

His- his mate. It’s what he was begging for, it’s what he’s rovering his slimy tip between your folds and making you gush for.

“Yes-” Cooing, your back arches into the perfect curvature once a buttery glide of pre slips into your cunt at the answer. “Yes yes yes-” Your teeth skim across his throat and his ravaged cock flinches-

Clawing at the sheets himself, you could smell his own pheromones pitch up in response to yours. The temperature in the room sizzling so many degrees higher, the tips of his canines digging into the side of your neck hard enough to drag blood-

“Oh- oh, fuck–”

It could’ve been seconds later- it could’ve been hours.

But you could feel the way that Ino’s mouth trickled thin lines of saliva once he stares at the now-marked scent gland at your neck and drools. Knot dangerously smoochin’ your puckered folds now, “And our kids are gonna be the ngh- absolute fuckin’ cutest, sweetness.”

Oh.

♡ GOJO SATORU - PLEASE ME, BABY

“P-please.” Gojo’s spitting through the gaps of his long, honed canines- snowy brows scrunched and staring at you through such heady partially-lidded eyes.

He slicks out a thin trail of drool from the corner of his lips when another wave of your sweltering pheromones hit. Grunting. Pushin’ and pushin’ his face into the scent glands at your throat just to sniff—

“You’re not- ngh-” Whimpering. Shaking each time the gooey mess of your cunt was clenching ‘round his fat cock. He perks his slender hips up just enough to dig out a syrupy, ivory wad of cum from between your pussylips, “-you’re not done yet, right? This pussy’s still in h-heh…heat, right, sweetheart?”

It’s been hours by now since your heat had started - hours, maybe even days. The strongest had bitten you across every inch of your skin and was still ravenous for more.

You’d stuffed Gojo’s thick, black blindfold between his pretty mouth for that, just to make sure that you made it out of this alive. And yet, he’s still pumping his red, bulbous cockhead between your folds like an animal, still gasping in the perfume of your heat.

He growls, “Oh, please- please don’t you t-tell me s’over already.” Gnawing down on the fabric- he couldn’t help himself.

“F-fuck!” You mewl, clawing down the sweat-glazed mounds of his muscular back. Oh-so-feral. “Toru, it- ngh-”

But the strongest wasn’t letting you answer, as if he couldn’t even bear to hear a ‘no’ fall from your whiny lips. He swats the raw, reddened curve of his tip over n’ over repeatedly against your g-spot to make you salivate all stupidly down to your tits.

“Right?” Drunkenly, he’s sliiiiding his nose across your neck and gasping in the sweet scent of your pheromones. Voice cracking. Octaves higher. Eyes wild. “Right? She’s still in heat, my girl? She s-still needs me?”

The dangling edge of his dampened blindfold strikes your chin and you moan, trembling with each rovering of his numerous inches. “Yes- yes yes yes- I’m still mmm-”

And that very answer seemed to make his big, beefy frame shake on top of you. Like you’d just broken him.

You’re making him so weak- and he’s just so large with his white-tufted pelvis squishing down on your hips, until the skin surrounding his base was all rawly pink. Letting go of the blindfold, “O-oh…”

Collecting his breath for a mere second, Gojo sticks his clammy fingertips to the undersides of your thighs. Hoisting them with his strong arms onto his deltoids, he drags one palm behind his neck and keeps them locked - biceps bulging as he pushes you down, down, down.

A mating press.

“Perfect.” Keeping you pinned with only one hand, you can only watch as his handsome, flushed face tilts down with such a sleazy grin. “Mmmm, of course she does—-”

Of course. Of course. Trembling, he swipes the thick end of one of his thumbs down your slippery slit. “Look at her, she wants to be hck! filled up so badly.” The mere sight of those pearly white beads of seed from hours prior dribbling out of you, making his ravaged length twitch. Rolling over your clit, “Wants to be plugged up with my fat fucking knot, huh?”

His knot was just so achingly desperate where he was pushin’ it constantly against your treacly cunt. Again. And again. And again just teasing your first ring of muscle with the incredible circumference.

And it was a joke - partly. It was him babbling off of the top of his overheated scalp as he fucks you furiously into the rickety mattress.

But you’re throwing your head back and sobbing at the sheer stretching pressure put on your hamstrings.

“Please-” Gojo’s knot was just so big, the sheer girth enough to have your pupils roll dazedly in silly circles. You tremble, “Wan’ it ngh- inside again, Satoru.”

“Whoooo–?”

“…”

And Gojo has the audacity to giggle whilst he dredges up whatever’s remaining of his scattered brain, “C-c’mon, pretty omega- what do you call me~”

“…Alpha.” Pouting stubbornly, your pussy clamps eagerly down his base and he damn near creams himself right then and there. He’s swervin’ his v-line just right to stir your melty insides, slipping out husky grunts at every slap of his pre-glazed tip into your deepest insides.

“That’s right.” He breathes- pecs heaving, tone airy. There’s almost something fragile in the way he is right now. “Your heh- alpha’s gonna take care of you, sweetheart—-”

You could feel him rummaging your quivering cunt, wads of sap sloshing side-to-side after every one of his direct hits. They were just so accurate and making your toes curl. “Close- c-close, Toru.”

And he’s just growing more ruined on your saturated pussy by the second. At this point, you weren’t even sure which one of you was in heat - you or him.

Definitely him- you’re realizing through your addled mind when he’s whispering, “And m’gonna be the ngh- best alpha- the best…dad, too.”

Both you and Gojo - lightly - gasp in sensual unison, just as bewildered as you were.

Echoing out through a shallow breath, “The best dad…” His hazy peripherals fizz with slight bolts of cursed energy, like he’s following the rovering of his slimy tip inside of you like an x-ray. “Gonna- gonna wash the kids- oh, dress them, mmm h-help you feed them-”

Whimpering, once he’s cupping one of his free hands over the bouncing area of your tits. Groping. Parched mouth sucking—

“B-but I want some, too.”

The stimulation throwing you into such a frenzy, your wailing whines are practically feverish at this point. Eyes sparking with pure white behind your lids, “Please- not gonna mm last.”

“And m’gonna cook for them- and you, sweet momma-”

“Fuck-”

“Gonna take them to school, come right back home and ngh- fuck another one into ya all over again.”

“Satoru-”

“So cum-” Gojo groans, voicebox scratchy. His pale lashes flutter as his Six Eyes work into overdrive, he knew it wouldn’t be long now. He could see it. Smell it in your sweet, sweet pheromones. “Cum now because you’re gonna end up s-soooo pregnant already.”

And maybe it’s just because of your heat, maybe it’s because it’s him - but you’re cumming, easily.

Thighs twitching with each flash of your high, you’re sticking them to the side of Gojo’s toned obliques to let him pound you maddeningly through it. The only thing you can fucking do as he’s hunching his washboard abs into you with what sounds like a whimper. “Yeah- yeah yeah yeah- take it- fuh-fuck.”

Gojo counts exactly five solid pushes against your g-spot before he’s able to bully his thick knot inside - and oh, does it break him. He throws his head forwards, leaking enough cursed energy to make your bedroom lights spark, sapphire eyes tearing up glassily at the feeling of your warm, cushy walls.

Before you know it, before even he knows it- he’s sinking his gleaming fangs into the side of your neck and finishing.

Your pussy was just greedy, swallowing up every long creamy wad of his cum - layers upon layers being painted down your channel. There’s a noisy, lewd squelch! when it’s too much and you’re flooding out a puddle of ivory.

Finally, you’re blinking, your heat was was starting to bate-

“S-sweetheart…I think m’in rut.”

A/N. UGH I could take them all at once (not in a fight-) Also this song has been in my head omg-

Plagiarism not authorized.

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danysdaughter · 1 month ago

Text

I Think I Love You

pairing | fwb!bucky x new!avengers!reader

word count | 5.4k words

summary I You agreed to keep it casual—just sex, no feelings. But when loving Bucky in silence begins to break you, walking away is the only thing you can do… even if it destroys you both.

tags | Thunderbolts Spoilers??? I guess, tower fic, 18+ (MDNI), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, obsessive!bucky, fem!reader, miscommunication, dumbasses in love, platonic!bob x reader

a/n | new acc, this was to cute to write. Enjoy! REQUESTS ARE OPEN

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

divider by @cafekitsune

It was always like this.

His body above yours, surrounding you, drowning you in heat and hunger like you were oxygen to him. Like fucking you was the only way he knew how to breathe. Like if he didn’t bury himself inside you right now, he’d come apart at the seams.

Bucky kissed you like he was starving—mouth hot and bruising, tongue claiming yours with an edge of desperation that never quite dulled. His hands were everywhere, rough and sure, sliding under your tank, gripping your waist, dragging you beneath him like he was scared you’d vanish if he didn’t anchor you down.

You didn’t fight it. You never did.

Because this was the only version of him you could have—the one that came alive behind closed doors. The one who groaned your name like a curse when you kissed down his throat, who pulled your panties down with shaking hands, who slid into you with a sound like it hurt to finally be inside you.

“Fuck, doll,” he rasped, forehead pressed to yours, hips grinding into you deep and slow. “You always feel so fuckin’ good. You were made for me.”

God, it sounded like love. It always did.

His mouth found your neck again, biting gently, sucking bruises into your skin like a claim no one would ever see. And your hands clutched his back, nails digging in, legs wrapping tighter around his waist as you rocked your hips up to meet every thrust.

You wanted to believe this was real. That it meant something more. That the way he looked at you—eyes dark and blown wide, lips parted, breath ragged—wasn’t just lust.

But you knew better.

You’d agreed to this.

No feelings. No mess. Just heat and need and late nights tangled in sweat-soaked sheets.

Still, you craved it—him—in ways you couldn’t admit. Not even to yourself.

Bucky fucked you like you were a secret he couldn’t bear to keep. His metal hand gripped your thigh, forcing it higher around his hip, while his other tangled in your hair, tugging gently to expose your throat. He licked a stripe up your neck and groaned when you whimpered.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” he said, voice low and rough. “Wanna hear you.”

You moaned for him, because you always did.

And he gave you everything. Thrust after thrust, deep and controlled, like he was trying to memorize the shape of you from the inside out. Your bodies moved together like muscle memory—practiced, perfect.

You cried out when he hit that spot, again and again, stars bursting behind your eyelids as your orgasm built too fast to control. He felt it—knew it—and his grip tightened, pace faltering just slightly as he pressed harder, deeper.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he growled. “Come on, give it to me.”

You shattered.

Your body seized around him, nails raking down his back, mouth falling open in a silent cry as pleasure tore through you in waves. And Bucky? He didn’t stop. He chased his own release through the pulsing grip of your cunt, moaning your name like a promise he’d never make aloud.

“Fuck—gonna come—shit, fuck—” he gasped, slamming into you once more before spilling inside with a groan so raw it made your chest ache.

He collapsed against you, face buried in your neck, his breath hot and ragged.

You held him, like you always did. Tangled in the afterglow, skin slick with sweat, hearts still racing. And for a moment, you let yourself pretend.

That maybe this time would be different.

That maybe he’d stay.

That maybe he'd roll off of you, cup your cheek, and tell you he couldn’t keep pretending this didn’t mean something.

But instead, he sighed. A soft, satisfied sound. Then rolled onto his back, pulling his arm behind his head.

He didn’t look at you.

He never did after.

You stared at the ceiling, heart pounding in your throat, your body warm and full and hollow all at once.

And all you could think was:

I want him to touch me like that in the daylight.

I want him to want me when we’re not naked.

But he didn’t. Or wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.

You weren’t sure which hurt more.

The kitchen in the tower was quiet, save for the soft clatter of a cutting board and the low simmer of something bubbling on the stove. You stood at the counter, knife in hand, carefully dicing onions while Bob sat beside you, his own cutting board a chaotic mess of uneven pepper slices and cucumber spears.

He was squinting at the vegetables like they’d wronged him personally.

“I swear,” he said, furrowing his brow as he tried to slice a tomato without completely demolishing it, “these things are out to get me. Slippery little bastards.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You don’t have to help, you know.”

“No, I want to. It’s… nice.” He shrugged. “Domestic. Also, I read somewhere it builds team trust or something. Shared food prep.”

You snorted. “Where’d you read that?”

“A Reddit thread about Dungeons & Dragons, actually.”

You laughed for real that time. “Of course.”

The smell of garlic and rosemary floated through the air. The oven clicked softly as it preheated. Outside the window, the sky was grey and moody—classic New York—but there was something warm about the kitchen. Safe. Familiar. Even with the quiet ache in your chest that you were pretending wasn’t there.

You kept chopping. So did he. Or tried to.

“Y’know,” Bob said after a beat, holding up a mutilated chunk of bell pepper, “I don’t think I’m ever gonna be a culinary genius. Might have to accept that my gifts lie elsewhere.”

“Like sitting on the couch and watching TV?”

“And comic relief,” he added proudly. “Two very underappreciated superpowers.”

You gave him a sidelong look, smirking. “You’re not wrong.”

He grinned. Then, more softly, “I like this, though. Being part of a team. Even if it’s weird sometimes. Even if people yell. Or punch through walls. Or if Alexei keeps pitching us matching uniforms with capes.”

You snorted again, setting down your knife. “He has been obsessed with that lately.”

“Right?” Bob said, picking at a cucumber slice. “But even with all the chaos, it’s good. I never really had this before. A group. People who give a damn. Who check in. It’s like… like being part of a weird, violent little family. And I know I’m not the most… stable, but I feel like—like I’m seen. Cared for. Loved, even. Not in the romantic sense—though Walker did call me ‘acceptable’ once, which I’m counting as progress.”

You laughed softly again—but it was different this time. Quieter. Shorter.

Bob didn’t seem to notice.

He kept talking, absently stacking pepper pieces into a leaning tower. “I don’t know. It just hit me earlier when Alexei dragged me to look at fabric swatches, and he was complaining about the thread count like we were planning a wedding. I was like… this is insane. But also—this is nice. Like I matter. Like I belong.”

The sting started slow. So faint you barely noticed it at first.

A tightness behind your eyes. A pull at the corners of your mouth. Something twisting low in your stomach like a warning bell you were trying very hard to ignore.

Bob looked over at you with an easy smile, still speaking, voice gentler now. “I guess I just wanted to say… I’m glad I’m here. I’m glad I get to be around people who give a damn. That’s why I love being on this team.”

And just like that—it cracked.

The sting sharpened. The pressure behind your eyes pulsed hot, and your throat closed up around the sudden, suffocating weight of it.

Because all you could think was:

God, I want that too.

To feel loved. Chosen. Not just useful when someone needed to blow off steam. Not just fucked behind closed doors and forgotten in the light of day.

You bit the inside of your cheek hard, forcing yourself to blink fast, to keep your head down, to move your hands like nothing was wrong. But the tears came anyway—silent, slow, slipping down your cheeks before you could stop them.

You tried to wipe them away subtly, turning toward the sink, pretending to rinse your hands. But it wasn’t subtle enough.

“Whoa—oh no,” Bob said, his eyes going wide. “Did I—did I say something wrong?”

You shook your head quickly, facing away. “No. No, it’s not you. I swear.”

He stood up beside you, hovering awkwardly, clearly panicking. “Is it the peppers? I knew I was butchering them. I knew they looked sad but I didn’t think they were tear-worthy—”

A shaky laugh broke out of you, even as you tried to wipe your face. “Bob, no. Stop. It’s not your fault.”

He hesitated, frowning deeply, hands fidgeting at his sides. “Is it—do you want me to go? I didn’t mean to mess anything up—”

You turned to him, eyes red, cheeks wet, and smiled—small and painful.

“I just… needed to hear that,” you said softly. “What you said. About being seen. Cared for. Loved.”

Bob’s face softened immediately. “Oh. Oh. I get it. I’m sorry.”

“No,” you said again, shaking your head, voice barely a whisper now. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He reached out, then hesitated, then finally rested a hand gently on your hand. “For what it’s worth… I think whoever’s making you feel like you’re not those things is an idiot.”

You gave him a wobbly smile, another tear slipping free. “Yeah.”

Bob didn’t ask more. He didn’t need to. And you were grateful for that.

Instead, he just stood with you in the quiet hum of the kitchen, as the smell of dinner simmered in the background and the sky outside darkened to evening.

And all you could think—over and over—was:

I can’t do this anymore.

The second the quinjet touched down, Bucky unbuckled and stood, impatient fingers already tugging off his gloves. He barely registered Yelenas's debrief, or the way Ava elbowed him and muttered something about getting sleep for once. He just nodded and walked out, barely hearing her call after him.

He didn’t want sleep.

He wanted you.

He’d been thinking about you the entire mission. About the way you always curled up on the couch when you thought no one was watching. The way you’d made blueberry muffins the morning before they left and snuck him one while everyone else was busy fighting over the coffee machine. The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled—just for him.

No one had to know.

No one did know.

And that made it easier to pretend this wasn’t killing him.

That this wasn’t something he wanted every damn day.

He reached your hallway before he even realized how fast he’d been walking. It was late—11:07 by the glowing red digits on the hallway clock. Most of the tower was asleep. But your light was still on.

He exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders back, nerves flaring. He always got like this before seeing you. Like some teenager with a crush instead of a 100-year-old ex-assassin who’d watched entire countries fall.

But you made him feel… different. Human.

He raised his hand and knocked, soft and firm.

And then the door opened—and there you were.

A soft lime green nightgown hugged your body in a way that made his breath catch. It clung to your curves, all sleepy and ethereal and warm, and for a second, all he could do was look at you.

His chest ached.

God, you were beautiful.

He didn’t wait. He didn’t think. He reached out, cupping your face in both hands, drawing you in like a man starved for warmth and memory. His lips found yours—soft, reverent, desperate. He kissed you like you were the last safe thing he had.

And then your hands pressed against his chest.

Not pulling him closer.

Pushing him away.

He pulled back, blinking. His brows knit together. “What’s wrong?”

You looked up at him, eyes already glossy, mouth parted like the words hurt too much to say. “Bucky… we need to stop.”

His stomach dropped.

The hallway suddenly felt ice cold.

“What?” His voice cracked, quiet and rough. “What do you mean?”

You looked down, fingers curling into the fabric of your nightgown, and stepped back just slightly. “What we’ve been doing… this… it needs to end.”

It hit him like a punch to the ribs. All the breath knocked from his lungs.

“I—I don’t understand,” he said. “Did I do something? Say something? If I—”

“No,” you cut in gently, and it broke him how kind your voice still was. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why?” He was still holding your gaze, desperate. “Is it… is it someone else?”

You hesitated.

That was enough of an answer.

You nodded once. “I’ve… met someone. And this would complicate things.”

The lie hung between you like smoke. Fragile. Choking.

Bucky swallowed hard. His hands had dropped to his sides, and he clenched them into fists before forcing them open again. He was trying to stay calm. He had no right to be angry. You weren’t his.

You’d never been his.

But still, the ache that bloomed in his chest was unbearable. His heart was thundering, cracking in real time as he stared at you, unblinking.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell you that no one could touch you the way he could. That no one could possibly know you the way he did. He wanted to grab you, beg you not to leave him in the dark again.

But he didn’t.

Because you deserved better than that.

You always had.

He cleared his throat, voice suddenly hoarse and distant. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”

You blinked at him, a flicker of pain crossing your face. Then you leaned in, so gently it almost made him flinch, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Soft. Final.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

You stepped back inside your room.

And the door closed.

He stood there for a long time.

He didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

Just stared at the closed door like he could will it to open again. Like maybe if he stayed still long enough, this wouldn’t be real.

But it was.

And all he could think was:

You found someone else.

You—the one person who made him feel like maybe he wasn’t ruined. Who baked for the team. Who held him after nightmares without asking questions. Who looked at him like he wasn’t just the Winter Soldier, or some washed-up relic, or some broken man with too much blood on his hands.

You looked at him like he was worth something.

And now you were gone.

He backed away slowly, footsteps hollow against the corridor floor, heart pounding like it was trying to claw its way out.

It was just supposed to be sex.

It was never supposed to hurt like this.

It started small.

You weren’t avoiding Bucky—not outright. But you were pulling away, and he felt it in every single subtle shift like a blade under the skin.

No more soft smiles in the hallway.

No more plates quietly set in front of him when you made dinner.

You still said “hey” in passing, still nodded when he entered the room, still asked if he wanted coffee when the whole team was around—but your eyes didn’t linger anymore. You didn’t touch him. You didn’t look at him the same way.

And that quiet, gentle retreat was worse than a clean break.

Because it gave him just enough to hope. And not enough to hold.

It drove him mad.

He tried to play it cool. Tried to remind himself that you’d made your choice—that you’d moved on. That there was someone else. But the words haunted him like a ghost he couldn’t punch, couldn’t outpace.

Who the fuck was he?

Where did you meet him?

Was he better than Bucky? Was that it?

Was he stable, normal, sweet? Did he hold you in the morning, trace your spine with soft fingers, kiss your forehead and mean it?

The thoughts ran wild in his mind like wildfire. And soon, it stopped being curiosity. It became need. Obsessive. All-consuming.

He started watching. Not you—he couldn’t stomach how far away you already felt. No, he watched everyone else.

Was it someone on the team?

Someone new?

Someone from missions? The tower? That goddamn bar you liked downtown?

He noticed every time you laughed at someone else’s joke. Every time you left a room too quickly. Every time your phone lit up and your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. It was driving him insane.

And it didn’t take long before he cracked.

──────────────────

“Seen her with anyone lately?”

Ava didn’t look up from the security feed she was reviewing. “What?”

He cleared his throat, leaned against the console like this wasn’t eating him alive. “Y’know. She’s been… out more. Wondered if you’d noticed her with someone.”

Ava gave him a look that said you have five seconds before I tear this conversation apart with a crowbar. “She’s not a suspect, Barnes.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “Didn’t mean it like that. Just—wondered.”

She paused. “You checking up on her?”

He shrugged. “Just being observant.”

“Then observe your own damn lane,” she muttered, turning back to her screen. “She’s allowed to have a life.”

──────────────────

The next day, he tried John.

“Any idea who she’s been seeing?”

Walker blinked at him, halfway through microwaving a bowl of instant mac and cheese in the lounge. “She told you she’s seeing someone?”

“Yeah.”

John stirred his pasta slowly. “Huh.”

Bucky waited.

John shrugged. “I mean, good for her, I guess.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. “That’s not helpful.”

“Neither is asking around like a jealous ex.” He looked up. “You okay, man?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky snapped.

John gave him a long look, then went back to his mac and cheese.

──────────────────

Yelena was less gentle.

“Are you drunk?” she asked, one eyebrow raised as she watched him pace the kitchen while you chatted with Bob across the room.

“No.”

“Then you sound like a madman.” She sipped her tea. “You are obsessed.”

“I’m just—”

“You had her,” she interrupted, calm and sharp as a knife. “You had her when it counted. And now you’re circling like a lonely wolf because someone else has her?”

“You knew about us?“

“I am a literal spy, Bucky.”

“I just don’t know who it is.”

“You’re not entitled to know,” she said simply, and walked away.

──────────────────

Alexei was worse.

“She has mystery man, huh?” he said, delighted, cracking open a beer like they were old pals trading war stories. “Ah, young love! Reminds me of my fourth love—no, fifth. It was confusing time. She had beautiful thighs. We met during a snowstorm, and she carried me to safety like bear.”

Bucky stared at him, hollow-eyed.

Alexei clapped a massive hand on his shoulder. “You cannot compete with new love, my friend. It is fire. It is danger. But! Sometimes fire burns out. And when it does, you be there with flowers. Or your shirt off. Both work.”

Bucky did not thank him.

──────────────────

And then there was Bob.

Goddamn Bob.

Bucky cornered him while he was grabbing cookies from the kitchen. Big mistake number two. He tried to sound as casual as possible.

“So, uh. You and her hang out sometimes, right?”

Bob blinked, brow furrowing. “Uh… yeah? She’s awesome.”

“She’s been acting different. With me.”

Bob fidgeted, clutching a cookie like a shield. “I mean, she’s been normal with me. Maybe a little sad? But also like, really pretty. But she’s always pretty, so that’s—uh—not relevant.”

Bucky stepped closer. Bob stepped back, hitting the counter.

“I was joking, Bucky. Please don’t punch me.”

Bucky took a deep breath, backed off. “Sorry.”

He didn’t mean to scare him.

He just couldn’t take it anymore.

──────────────────

It didn’t help. None of it did.

Because no one knew—or if they did, they weren’t telling.

And every time he saw you, something inside him twisted.

The way you laughed with Ava over your shared playlist. The way you sat on the arm of the couch next to John during a debrief. The way you ruffled Bob’s hair like a big sister, patient and teasing.

He saw you with everyone.

And he didn’t know which of them you were fucking.

Which of them made you smile when you looked at your phone.

Which of them got to hold you the way he used to—like you were theirs.

And it was killing him.

He started losing sleep. His nights were spent pacing his room, replaying every kiss, every laugh, every small moment with you. He couldn’t go to the kitchen without thinking of you cooking in it. Couldn’t walk by your room without hearing your voice.

Because the truth was, he hadn’t stopped wanting you.

Not for a second.

But he hadn’t thought he deserved you.

He’d told himself it was better this way. That he couldn’t be what you needed. That he was too broken, too guarded, too haunted.

He didn’t want to drag you into his shadows.

But now you were in someone else’s light.

And Bucky Barnes—super soldier, ex-Winter Soldier, world-class killer—was unraveling.

One glance. One silence. One laugh that wasn’t his to earn.

At a time.

It had been two weeks.

Two weeks since that night at your door. Since you told him you were seeing someone. Since your lips brushed his cheek like a goodbye that had already been decided, like the end of a story he hadn’t realized was even being written.

And still—no one.

Not a name. Not a face. Not even a damn clue.

No late-night laughter through thin walls. No footsteps sneaking down hallways. No signs of you sneaking off to a date. You still had the same quiet routines. The same soft smile when Bob told one of his nervous jokes. The same stretch in the mornings when you walked into the kitchen with sleepy eyes and socks that didn’t match.

But different.

He still watched you.

Not like before—when he’d admire the slope of your shoulders, the way your nose scrunched when you were concentrating, or how your hands always smelled faintly like vanilla and cinnamon. No, now he watched you with something closer to desperation.

He was trying to catch you.

Catch you in a lie. Catch you with him. The one who apparently meant enough to end everything you and Bucky had.

But nothing ever happened.

Instead, he saw things that confused him more.

You started going out on your own more often—midday errands, little walks, solo grocery runs even though there was food delivery and team shoppers. And he followed once.

Not to spy, he told himself.

Just to know.

You walked into a bookstore first. Wandered the aisles slowly. Bought two paperbacks and left without speaking to anyone. Then you stopped by a florist—picked out a single bouquet of fresh lilies, something subtle and quiet.

He expected you to deliver it to someone.

But instead, you brought it back to the tower and placed it on the dining table. Just something to brighten the space, like you always did.

You went to the park next. Sat on a bench. Ate a pastry. Fed the ducks.

Alone.

He watched from across the street, feeling something cold settle in his chest.

When you returned, he waited a few hours before asking Yelena—casually, as he always did, which fooled absolutely no one anymore.

“You know where she went today?”

Yelena raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “She went to clear her head. Like normal people.”

“Not with anyone?”

“Do you think she is incapable of being alone? Because that says more about you, Barnes.”

He didn’t answer.

He stopped asking questions after that.

Because it was dawning on him—slowly, painfully, in pieces—that there was no “someone else.” There never had been.

You hadn’t lied to hurt him. You’d lied to protect yourself.

And he had made you feel like you had to.

The thought made him sick.

He started noticing more, then—not just your absence, but the echo of what used to be. How you still made muffins for the team on Mondays. How you always passed out Advil after training. How you left soft music playing in the kitchen while cooking like you didn’t know anyone was listening. How you still took care of everyone except yourself.

He noticed how tired you looked sometimes. How your smile faltered when no one was looking. How your laugh had a hollow note now—like it had to fight its way out.

He noticed how you stopped meeting his eyes entirely.

And he finally asked himself what he had been to you.

Not just the sex. Not just the soft groans in the dark or the way your body curved into his like you were made for him.

But the mornings.

The muffins.

The hand you placed on his back after nightmares.

The way you listened when no one else could see he was slipping.

The way you waited—patient, hopeful—for something more from him.

And he hadn’t given it.

Not because he didn’t want to.

Because he thought he couldn’t.

He had told himself he wasn’t ready. That he was too broken. That he would only ruin something good and pure if he touched it too deeply. But the truth was, he’d already touched it. You had given him your heart in small, quiet ways, and he hadn’t even noticed until it was gone.

And now you were hurting, silently, because of him. Because you’d fallen for someone who told you not to. And he’d let you think he didn’t feel the same.

Until now.

He couldn’t sit still.

He’d tried. For two days. Two full fucking days since the realization broke through him like a goddamn lightning strike—and he’d tried to be patient. Tried to breathe. Tried to think.

But he wasn’t thinking anymore.

He was moving.

Searching.

Every room. Every hallway. The kitchen, the gym, your room—empty. He was spinning, chest tight, mouth dry, pacing like an addict itching for a fix, until finally—

Laughter.

The living room.

His boots hit the floor fast. He rounded the corner and stopped.

You were there. On the couch.

You, Bob, and Yelena.

Golden Girls was playing—Dorothy mid-quip, the volume just low enough to keep conversation alive. You were laughing, body relaxed, tucked into the corner with a blanket over your legs and a mug in your hand.

And he didn’t hesitate.

He walked straight in. Right past Bob’s curious look. Right past Yelena’s raised brow.

Straight to you.

You looked up immediately, your smile faltering when you saw his face. The tension in his shoulders. The storm in his eyes.

“Bucky?” you asked, sitting up. “Are you okay—?”

“I think I love you.”

It spilled out of him like it had been waiting behind his teeth for weeks.

You blinked.

Bob’s mouth dropped open mid-sip.

Yelena turned fully toward him, brows lifted to her hairline.

He didn’t care.

“No—” Bucky swallowed hard. “No, that’s not right. I know I love you.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, lips parted slightly. Stunned.

Bucky’s heart pounded against his ribs, chest tight and burning. “I know it’s not the way I should’ve told you. And I know I don’t—fuck, I don’t deserve to say it after everything I didn’t say before. But I need you to hear me now.”

You still didn’t say anything. Just stared.

Then your hand twitched. Slid to your opposite arm.

And you started pinching your skin.

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “What… what are you doing?”

Your voice was breathy, soft. “Trying to wake up.”

“What?”

“I’m pinching myself,” you said, barely louder than a whisper. “Trying to wake up. Because there’s no way this is actually happening.”

Bucky felt something in him break.

He took a shaky breath, stepping closer, dropping to his knees in front of you. His voice was rough but steady now.

“It’s real. I swear to you, it’s real.”

You stared at him like he was a ghost. Like he wasn’t allowed to be saying this.

“I’ve been losing my mind,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “Thinking there was someone else. Trying to believe you’d moved on because it was easier than facing the truth.”

You swallowed hard, but didn’t speak.

“And the truth is—I was scared.” He laughed, humorless, shaking his head. “I thought I wasn’t enough. That I’d mess it up. That I couldn’t give you what you deserve.”

He looked up at you now, eyes wide, glassy.

“But then I realized… you are what I deserve. You’re everything. You’re the reason this damn place feels like home. You cook for us even when no one thanks you. You remember everyone’s coffee orders. You make playlists for Bob and knit Ava a goddamn scarf even though she acts like she doesn’t care. You bake when you’re anxious, and I fucking love when you bake. You hum when you clean. You take care of everyone and let yourself break when no one’s looking.”

He reached up, brushing your arm where you’d been pinching.

“And I didn’t see it. Not really. Not until it was too late.”

A beat.

Then, softly—“But maybe it’s not too late.”

Yelena had stopped breathing. Bob looked like he might cry. But none of them mattered right now.

Just you.

Bucky’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I love you. And I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out. But I know it now. And I’m not running from it anymore.”

You didn’t say anything for a long moment.

Just looked down at him.

And your eyes… your eyes were full.

You couldn’t breathe.

He was on his knees in front of you, staring up with those wide, heartbreak-blue eyes, his voice still echoing in your ears like a song you hadn’t heard in years but somehow still knew all the words to.

I love you.

And now he was waiting—watching—like his whole world depended on what you were going to say next.

Your throat felt thick. Your heart was pounding so hard you were surprised no one else could hear it. You blinked fast, trying to keep your vision clear, but the tears were already threatening to fall.

You stared at him for a long moment, lips trembling, and whispered, “Promise me this isn’t a dream.”

Bucky’s breath caught. He reached up, brushing your cheek so gently it made your chest ache. “It’s not,” he said, voice wrecked. “It’s not, baby. I swear.”

And then you saw the moment he broke.

The last thread of restraint snapped, and suddenly he was rising—leaning in, closing the space between you before you could even think.

His lips met yours, soft and trembling at first—almost reverent—then deeper, hungrier, like he couldn’t bear to hold back another second. You gasped into his mouth, one hand flying to his jaw, the other looping around his neck, pulling him in like you were afraid he might vanish.

He groaned against you, like the sound of your mouth opening for him undid something inside him.

And then he climbed onto the couch, practically on top of you, bracing one knee beside your hip as he leaned down, his hands burying themselves in your hair. Your back hit the cushions, breath caught in your throat, and the world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the feel of his body pressed into yours, the desperate, perfect weight of him finally, finally there.

His thumb stroked the line of your jaw as he kissed you again, deeper now, and you let yourself sink into it. Into him.

Until—

“…Guys?” Yelena’s voice cut in, dry and deeply unimpressed. “We are still here.”

You froze.

Bucky pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead to yours, his lips still hovering over yours, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run ten miles. You were both breathless, giddy, flushed.

“I forgot they were here,” you whispered, blinking up at him.

“Me too,” he said, smiling against your cheek.

From the other end of the couch, Bob cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “Sooo… should we leave now?”

“No,” Yelena snapped immediately. “We were here first. This was very sweet two minutes ago, and now it’s making me deeply uncomfortable.”

You laughed into Bucky’s shoulder, muffling the sound.

He just chuckled and kissed your temple before whispering, “Still not a dream, I swear.”

You smiled up at him, and for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like something you had to fake.

It felt real.

Because it was.

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