Title: ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ 
Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Reader
series masterlist || series playlist || chapter song
Summary: Drowning in women and designer drugs, Bucky Barnes of Valkyrie’s Revenge is in a race to rock bottom. Fed up, his bandmates give him an ultimatum—straighten up, or fuck off. In a last, desperate bid to maintain his place, he agrees to return to the one place he swore he’d never set foot again—home.
Warnings: Angst, Drug Addiction, Mental Health issues, Toxicity, Recreational Drug use, Hard drug use, PTSD, Dealing with trauma, Slow Burn, Fluff, MINORS DNI, [More to be added]
A/N: another installment down! i’m really eager to hear what folks are thinking and feeling, so please don’t hesitate to hit my inbox with comments or questions! divider by @firefly-graphics
series playlist || chapter song
This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘
You don’t sleep until the sky starts to turn from deep purple to pink at the edges, waiting for your phone to ring, or the doorbell, or a fierce knock—but nothing comes. You begin to slip down into slumber as the dawn stretches bright fingers up the faded wallpaper of your bedroom, and your anxieties follow you in.
You’re in the car. Why are you in the car? The window is cool to the touch beneath your fingers—it’s winter. It was winter. Maybe here it always is. Someone squeezes your hand—Bucky, you know it without looking. You know him so well that even the guitar callouses on his fingertips are as known to you as the folded pages of your favorite book.
You stroke your thumb over the creases in his skin. They are the familiar lines of a map you have learned down to the letter—every scar recorded to memory.
Why are you in the car? Rebecca is there too, her face blurred in the mirror as she leans over to whisper something to Bucky’s mother. You can’t hear her, like she’s speaking from under water.
“You think you’ll ever come back here? When you get famous?” You know how this goes, you remember this part—
“When we get famous, you mean.” The world tilts on its head and suddenly you are standing in the rain on the shoulder of the road, staring at the smoking, twisted metal—
Your eyes are slow to open, like your body doesn’t actually want start moving again so soon after falling asleep. Iris is perched on the edge of your bed, her wide gray eyes searching your face.
“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” you sit up onto your elbows with a huff. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late.” You hadn’t slept at all, really, but your daughter doesn’t need to know that. “Were you up long without me?” She shakes her head.
“No.” She looks so much like Bucky as she cocks her head at you, her eyebrow lifting ever so slightly as she regards you. It’s almost laughable how many of his mannerisms she’s seems to have inherited despite never being around him, how much of him is in her.
Iris crawls up to the head of the bed and scoots underneath the blanket with a little sigh. You wrap your arms around your daughter, pressing a tired kiss to her forehead.
“You sleep okay? Any bad dreams?”
“No. I was a mermaid in my dream.” Iris replies seriously.
“Oh? Did you see anything cool down there under the ocean?” As she begins describing the intricacies of her subconscious, you start trying to ready yourself for the day. It’s Saturday—one of your only full days off. Generally, your off time consists of taking Iris to absorb what little culture Meridian and the surrounding counties have to offer, but today, you’re dragging.
You haven’t dreamed about the crash since after Iris was two, but you know you shouldn’t be surprised by it’s reoccurrence, not really. The past has a way of biting your ass when you least expect it, your grandmother had said that to you when you were young, and you found it still held true. First Bucky, then Steve—it had been bound to happen sooner or later.
You can’t stop thinking about it as you slide out of bed, only managing to half listen to Iris as she describes the flavor of kelp ice cream to you over freezer waffles.
Following Bucky back from the softball game, riding in Steve’s truck because Winnie’s tire blew out on her sedan—Bucky was going to go back and pick it up later with the spare from the garage.
Kissing him and telling him you’d see him at home, that you loved him.
Watching the drunk driver plow headfirst into Bucky’s truck.
Bucky pulling his mother and sister from the wreckage, and screaming, so much screaming—
“You’re sad today, mommy.” Your head snaps up, your fingers loosening on your fork in your shock. It clatters against the plate, but Iris doesn’t blink. “I can tell.”
So fucking much like her dad.
“I guess I am,” you say after a moment.
You’re not sure what to say—you certainly can’t tell her that you’re thinking about the crash. The one almost exactly a year before she was born. You can’t tell her that that’s when everything fell apart, when Declan Forge’s truck jumped the divider and slammed full speed into Bucky’s Dodge.
But you don’t want to lie to her either.
“Something… bad happened, just before I found out I was pregnant with you. There was an accident, and some people I was very close to passed away.” Iris knows what death is; you’ve never shied away from some of the harsher truths, but this one is still hard for you to stomach. Iris looks like she’s thinking hard, her little brows scrunched up as her nose wrinkles.
“I’m sorry you’re sad, mommy.” Your chest goes painfully tight when she places her little hand on your cheek. “You shouldn’t have to be sad.” There’s a simple, childish wisdom in her words that makes you want to protect her, keep Iris just like this forever—but the concern written in the lines of her little face tells you otherwise.
You wipe at your tear filled eyes, fixing Iris with a soft smile. “Thanks, kiddo.”
You bundle Iris into the shower as she talks a mile a minute. There’s barely enough time to answer one of her questions before she’s firing off others, each thought biting the tail of the next as they rush to get to her mouth.
“Are we going to the center today, mommy?” She asks as you towel her off. “Miss Kitty said there’s berry picking today.”
Truth be told, you don’t want to spend any more time at the community center than you have to, these days—especially now that Bucky practically lives there. You’re bound to run into him—Meridian is smaller than a goddamn speck—but you don’t want to do it more than you have to. If Steve is already noticing the uncanny likeness between your daughter and his best friend, you don’t want to add more opportunities for Bucky to do the same.
“Wouldn’t you rather go to the park?” You suggest, but Iris shakes her head. “Or maybe the library? Or we could go see—”
“Mommy, I want to see my friends at the center,” she whines, scuffing her foot against the bathroom tile. “Please?” You can’t deny her trembling lip and wide eyes, and you heave a sigh as you draw the wide toothed comb through her hair.
“Sure, sweetheart. We’ll go see your friends at the center.”
Steve’s house is better than the studio apartment Tony had rented in his name, Bucky’s grateful for that. Waking up from the withdrawal induced nightmares to stare at the creepy painting of cherubs by his bedside was driving him crazier than the cravings. And now, there’s more than one place to sit around all day parsing out what a piece of shit he is—there are options; the kitchen, the porch, the living room, the den; all laid out for his choosing pleasure.
Bucky is currently parked on the porch, smoking what he thinks is either his fifth or eighth cigarette of the morning—he can’t remember. He’d been up early enough to watch the sun rise over the old warehouses in the distance, stretching golden fingers through the streets until it passed beyond the dead-end cul-de-sac where Steve’s mother used to live.
He’d missed that funeral, too. Bucky tries to recall where he was when Sarah died, tried to dredge up the memories—but they’re too cloudy for him to sort through. What a good friend, he thinks sourly, shaking either his sixth or ninth cigarette loose from the carton. Don’t even remember when my best friend’s mom kicked the bucket.
“Hey.” Steve’s voice makes Bucky turn, squinting in the bright morning sun. “You’re up early.” Bucky appreciates that Steve doesn’t comment on the fact that Bucky’s always awake, knees trembling as he picks the cuticles on his hands down to the quick.
Steve sits down beside him, shaking his head when Bucky offers him a cigarette. He’s not sure when Steve quit smoking, another memory lost to the shuffle.
“You going down to the center today?” Steve asks, and Bucky’s lip curls as he exhales smoke. He doesn’t much fancy going down there to wallow in self pity and regret. Easier just to do it here, where there isn’t anyone to ask him how he’s processing it all.
“If I said no would you make me go anyway?” He asks, and Steve actually laughs.
“Probably wouldn’t be too hard,” he replies with a chuckle. “You’re skinny as shit.”
When they get to the center, Kitty is already there and going strong. She gets an almost religious fervor about herself as she speaks, her eyes bright as her lips move impossibly quickly. It reminds Bucky of what it was like on stage, the crowd’s attention and devotion like a steady morphine drip. He wonders if that’s Kitty’s addiction—being the center of attention.
“We talked about rock bottom last meeting,” she says, clapping her hands. “Now I want to talk about moving up. I want to talk about moving forward.”
No forward for you, the demon mutters. Just under. Six feet, right?
“Obviously today’s session isn’t mandatory, but it’s still useful. We’re going to give back to our community today, the community that has held us through these tough times.” Bucky’s not sure which community she’s talking about, considering that most of the folks inhabiting Meridian are no better than rabid dogs, but he keeps that little thought to himself.
“There’s a local business in need of a little assistance, they’re short staffed this quarter, and we’re going to assist! Isn’t that wonderful?” Bucky wants to shake his head, but refrains from doing so—barely. “Raul’s Berry Farm, out north on 49.”
Kitty’s rented a van for today’s excursion, but Steve volunteers to drive him, which Bucky is thankful for. He’s not really sure how many more “uplifting” and “inspirational” stories he can handle. He gets back into Steve’s pickup, leaning his head back against the headrest. Steve pulls out into traffic, following the van. His fingers drum nervously against the wheel, tapping out an anxious rhythm Bucky’s not even sure he notices. Steve’s always been fidgety when he’s nervous, though, ever since they were little.
“What?” Bucky asks, and Steve turns to look at him like he has three heads. Bucky gestures at Steve’s fingers, tap-dancing across the dashboard. “What’s the problem?”
Steve shrugs. “Nothing.”
“You always were a shit liar.”
Steve scowls at him. “It’s nothing, Buck. Seriously.”
The berry farm is a Meridian institution, one of the local businesses that had been around since before the town was a town. Bucky doesn’t think that’s a particularly impressive resume, but he knows better than to mention it when he hops out of Steve’s pickup and down into the dusty parking lot. Kitty gestures for everyone to circle in, clapping her hands excitedly.
“Alright everyone. We’ve got some little helpers here today too,” she points at a short yellow school bus that Bucky assumes also came from the community center. “I think we all know how important it is in the process to make amends not only to ourselves but to our community!”
Can’t make amends to people who are dead though, can you?
Bucky picks up his five gallon bucket and starts down a line of blueberry bushes. He pops a few into his mouth, tart sweetness bursting over his tongue. He doesn’t wait for Kitty to deliver instructions—after all, how much directing could they possibly need to pick berries? The smell of the hot sun, the laughter of the children racing up and down the rows—it’s nostalgic. Bucky had been here many times himself on school field trips, the farm being one of the only “historic” locations within forty-five minutes of Meridian.
A group of children rounds the corner, flying down the dirt path at top speed. One of them crashes into his legs, and then lands back on the ground with a soft oof.
“Easy, kid.” Bucky reaches down to help her up, and his heart leaps into his throat when Iris beams at him.
“Hi, Mr. Bucky!” Her wide smile is missing a couple of teeth. “I’m sorry I runned into you.”
“That’s okay.” He glances around, looking for you, but he doesn’t see you. “Where’s, um. Where’s your mom?” She cocks her head at him.
“She’s talking with Miss Kitty.” Iris points back towards the parking lot, and then makes a face. “Grown-up stuff.” She looks so much like you, wrinkling her little nose with distaste the same way you do. He can’t help but wonder who you’d found after him, who had tried to help you pick up the pieces because Bucky wouldn’t.
And perhaps that’s the worst part of all, that when he’d broken you, he expected you to stay that way. But you hadn’t. You’ve moved on, you’ve grown, while Bucky is stuck in the same mud pit, nursing the same old wounds. Or maybe he isn’t nursing them at all, just tearing them open again and again because he knows he doesn’t deserve peace.
If he did, he’d be in the ground same as Beccs.
“Do you, um. Do you like blueberries?” Bucky asks lamely. He doesn’t know how to talk to kids, not really. Iris looks around conspiratorially, before gesturing for him to lean in close.
“They’re mommy’s favorite,” she stage whispers, and Bucky nods. He remembers that, at least. “She’s sad today. If I bring her something she likes, maybe she’ll be happy again.” Iris says resolutely, secure in the soundness of her childish reasoning. It makes Bucky’s heart ache a little, though he isn’t sure why. “Can you help me?”
Bucky rubs the back of his neck. He knows you probably don’t want him anywhere near your kid. He looks around, searching for you, but he doesn’t see you.
“I dunno, kid, I mean… your mom, she…” Bucky stops, unsure of what to say. He can’t exactly tell a six year old that he’d nuked their relationship, can he?
“I guess I could… help you get a few.” She chatters aimlessly at him, and Bucky struggles to keep up and respond to every loose thought that seems to fly from her little mouth up to his ears. Iris is so much like you—and it isn’t just the fact that in more than a few ways, she could be your twin. She reminds him of you before.
His fingers are stained purple by the time Iris’ bucket is even a quarter of the way full. Bucky can’t believe he even remembers how to do this, gripping the soft fruit gingerly and twisting it off of the vine. Iris’ mouth and hands are purple too, though that’s more from eating than picking. She stands up away from the bucket and waves at someone Bucky can’t see, crouched underneath the thorny vines the way he is.
“Hi mommy!” He pulls hurriedly away from the bush, wincing as one of the thorns catches his finger. You look less than pleased, but not angry. Panicked might be a better way to describe your tight expression, the frantic way your eyes move back and forth between Bucky and Iris.
“Hey, sweetheart. I was looking for you,” you reply. The weak smile on your features grows strained. “Hello Bucky.”
“Mr. Bucky helped me get lots of berries, mommy, see?” Iris reaches indigo stained fingers into the bucket, and lets a handful of berries fall through her tiny fingers like gold coins. “Lots!”
“Woah! That’s so many,” you agree, placing your hands on your knees as you bend over to peer into her bucket. “I thought maybe we could head out, sweet pea. Maybe go for dinner? My friend made reservations for us somewhere special.”
“Is it Andy?” Iris replies, her nose wrinkling again. “I don’t like him, mommy.”
Who the fuck is Andy? The live-wire of jealousy that flares to life within him is neither logical nor fair. It’s the same one that had sparked when he’d found out you’d gotten pregnant, moved on, had an entire life without him while he was drowning in pills. But you like pills. The demon’s sly whisper makes him wince. More than anything.
“Okay. Well, why don’t we talk about that in the car, hmm? You should go say goodbye to your friends.”
“I don’t want to,” Iris whines. “I don’t want to go to dinner, I want to stay and—” You crouch down in front of Iris, grasping her hands in yours.
“I know, sweetheart. I know you’re frustrated because you want to stay and play, but it’s time to go. But you’ll see all your friends next week after school, won’t that be fun?” Iris’ pout is gut wrenching, her little lip poking out and trembling as she stares at you with watery eyes.
“Okay.” She scuffs her foot against the dirt, kicking up a few pebbles. You massage your temples as you watch her go.
“Sorry about that. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.” You stuff your hands into the pockets of your jeans, making small talk.
“No, no. She’s, um. She’s great.” Bucky says, shaking his head. “So… Andy.” He can’t help the bitter tinge that colors his words, he can only hope you don’t taste it too. Your jaw tightens at the mention of his name, and you blow out a breath. “The um. The police guy.”
“Yeah.” You look away. “He’s nice.”
“I didn’t think badges were your type.” He scoffs.
“What would you know about my type?” You fire back, hackles already up. Bucky’s lips draw into a thin scowl, and he opens his mouth to loose more venom, but stops, and deflates.
“Nothing, I guess.” He says after a moment, shrugging. He attempts to steer the conversation back into safer waters. “Your kid, she’s, um. She’s really something.”
“Yeah.” You hook your thumbs through the belt-loops of your jeans. “Even if she does announce my business to the world.” Bucky laughs at that.
“That’s what they’re for, right?” He says, and for the first time since he’s been back you really smile at him. Bright and wide and beautiful, like you used to. His chest goes tight. “Looks just like you.”
You shake your head, laughing. “She…” You hesitate, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as the two of you watch her gesticulating enthusiastically at another group of kids her age. “She looks like her dad.” It hangs in the air uncomfortably between you. He wants to ask. He wants to ask so badly, but he knows it’ll just make you throw up another wall. He wonders how many you’ve built just because of him.
“I didn’t know they would put you guys to work like this,” you say quickly, as though forcing more words out will cover up the ones that went before. “Is that legal?” Your stiff joke lands, and the corners of Bucky’s mouth turn up.
“I don’t know. Probably not. Pretty sure there’s hazardous chemicals in the sheds that we could use for nefarious purposes.” For a moment the two of you are laughing together, and Bucky feels the clock rewind—and then it’s over, dirt crunching under Iris’ sneakers as she approaches.
“Okay mom,” she says decisively. “We can go.”
“Oh, well, thank you very much,” you reply, shaking your head a little. You glance at Bucky over your shoulder. “I guess I’ll, um. See you. Around.”
“Yeah.” Iris looks back at him too, giving him a wide smile. She tugs her hand out of yours and jogs back over to him, reaching conspiratorially into her pocket.
“I saved you some,” she says, and then holds a purple stained finger over her mouth. “Don’t tell, okay?”
“Okay,” Bucky whispers back, nodding seriously. “I won’t tell.” The berries are a little squished and hot from the heat of her palm, and they stain his fingers with fresh purple juice. He watches you go, Iris bouncing excitedly beside you as—Bucky grimaces. He remembers Andy well enough, his manicured beard and sharply pressed uniform hard to miss. Bucky gets a perverse sort of pleasure watching Iris’ lukewarm greeting, and the way you turn your face so that he gets your cheek when he drops his head for a kiss.
At least he knew Andy wasn’t Iris’ father. That would have been a much harder pill for him to swallow, and all the more distasteful. Who is her father? The question plagues him as they head back to the community center. It’s like a rock in his shoe, impossible to ignore no matter how many times he shifts it’s position. There are other rocks too, ones that make him narrow his eyes as he stares out the window at the passing countryside. Iris’ allergy, her age…
He supposed he had been trying not to think about it, the thought playing at the edges of his conscious mind. Mainly because it would be unthinkable—you’d agreed, both of you had agreed that you would get an abortion.
So Iris couldn’t be his.
What if she didn’t? The oily smooth voice at the back of his mind whispers. What if she didn’t?
Steve’s pickup rumbles into the driveway, and Bucky sits in it vacantly for a few minutes after Steve hops out. The thought eats at him, won’t leave him alone.
“Buck, you’re pacing.” Steve comments from the doorway of his room. “I can hear you downstairs.” Bucky scrubs a hand down his face.
“I’m sorry.” He perches on the edge of the bed, his hand tapping nervously against his knee. “I just, I can’t stop thinking, you know?” Usually he has the pills to help with that, to dull the anxious turning of his mind. But now, he has nothing.
“Yeah?” Steve moves to sit beside him. “What about?”
“About Jellybean, and the kid, and fuck, what if it’s mine? And I never fucking knew this whole goddamn time? That would fucking serve me right, wouldn’t it?” Bucky barks out a humorless laugh. He looks at Steve, waiting for him to say something, anything. “Right? I mean it’s not possible, right? It-It’s not.”
It’s so silent, Bucky reckons he could hear a pin drop. For once he’s thankful to be out of the haze, because it lets the puzzle pieces slide together almost disgustingly easily. His face contorts as he jumps up, away from Steve.
“Oh my God.” He presses the heels of his palms into his closed eyes as he shakes his head. “You fucking knew.” Steve holds his hands out placatingly.
“Buck.” He reaches out to place a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but he shoves him away.
“No, you shut the fuck up,” Bucky says, shaking his head disbelievingly. “You fucking knew.” His voice cracks, just a little.
“She asked me not to say anything. I swear, I didn’t know before we got back—” Bucky’s already running down the stairs, the sound of his pulse roaring in his ears blocking out the sound of Steve frantically shouting his name. He doesn’t realize he’s leaving the house until he’s already outside, rapidly fleeing into the coming evening before Steve has a chance to follow.
I have a daughter.
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grapes and wet dreams
bucky barnes x fem!reader
word count: 4,027
warnings: age gap, swearing, smut
author’s note: new writing blog here :P feedback is greatly appreciated, also i didn’t proofread so i apologize in advance for any errors. enjoy :)
Sighing heavily, you slumped backwards until your back hit the bed. You had just showered and took your time getting ready when you realized that you had nowhere to go. Ever since you began your training at the Avengers headquarters, they had insisted that you stay inside until the chaos started to die down. If it were any other day, month or year, you might have been able to escape this makeshift prison. But, your impeccable timing of enlistment now resulted in complete, utter isolation.
At least your days weren’t completely lonely, being surrounded by everyone else who was forced to cooperate with this temporary confinement. Natasha spent most of her time binging shows accompanied with a bottle of wine, or training with Steve. Sam and Bucky made the hours go by in the training room together, casually sparring or spotting each other while weightlifting. Then there was Wanda, who spent the majority of her time curled up with Vision on the couch, watching television. You were often finding yourself alone with the exception of the training.
Mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you were startled by the bombardment of notifications that began to flood the Avengers group chat. You opened your messages to see a plethora of selfies of Natasha and Steve binging on alcohol. The messages that followed were variants of the pair looking for company, followed by a bunch of random emojis.
It had been a while since you had spent quality time with the other members, so you decided to join them. You stood up to make your way toward the doorway, quickly becoming startled by the door across from you opening roughly.
It was Bucky, and he looked tired as hell.
“Look who’s up,” you said jokingly.
He grunts, then rubs his eyes before making his way down the stairs.
You followed shortly, subtly letting your eyes gaze over the man in front of you. You had never noticed how nice of a back he had. Sure, you knew he was stupid hot. That was obvious from the start, and made more painfully obvious through your occasional one on one training sessions with him.
He was wearing a loose white T-shirt, which was made not so loose against his broad shoulders. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, especially Natasha, sometimes not even yourself, but there was a small part of you that was attracted to Bucky. And not purely in a hormonal kind of way. You sometimes had intrusive thoughts of, sure, sex, but also bringing him a cup of tea because “you brewed too much in the kettle,” brushing away a stray eyelash while sparring, or sometimes even just wanting to reach out and smooth out that crease in the back of his white T-shirt.
However, you’d die before any of that ever became known to him. Not only was it embarrassing enough that he was a good chunk of years ahead of you, you were also the kid newbie. The Avenger-in-training. You were sure that everyone, especially Bucky given his age, thought of you as a kid.
Your thoughts were interrupted by two very drunk Avengers. “Look who decided to join us!” Steve laughs, taking a swig of whatever alcohol was in the glass cup in front of him. Natasha was sitting in a stool across from him, holding a bottle of beer in one of her hands.
“Whoa, slow down, Nat,” he laughed as you caught a glimpse of Natasha downing the rest of her beer. “You’ll regret it in the morning,” he said while slowly moving the bottle from her hands and onto the dining table.
You heard a deep chuckle emerge from the kitchen, who you recognized as Bucky. Wiping the sweat off your palms which you didn’t realize were sweaty, you made your way into the kitchen to join him.
As you stepped into the threshold, your eyes were met with Bucky slabbing meat onto two pieces of bread. He looked up at you for a second before turning to open the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of mustard.
You awkwardly rested against the kitchen island before opening your mouth to speak.
“Need any help?”
He doesn’t look at you when he speaks. “I got it, thanks.” He finishes spreading the condiment over the bread, using the same knife to cut the sandwich in half.
Damn, he had really nice hands. You also couldn’t help but notice how tiny he made that knife look.
“What, you want the other half or something?”
You also didn’t notice you were staring.
A blush started to creep onto your cheeks before you nodded and said, “Sure.”
He handed you the other half while meeting your gaze and taking a bite of his.
“Thanks,” you said shyly. He didn’t respond and made his way out into the living room, where the rest of the family was still residing.
You followed suit after regaining your composure. Why did he make you so nervous? It’s not like he was famous or anything. Well, he was the Winter Soldier. Is.
Your thoughts were interrupted with a drunken Natasha.
“I’m so bored,” she said, jutting her lip out to feign a pouting face. “Let’s do something fun.”
She stood up to make her way to the kitchen, snatching multiple glasses from the cupboard and a bottle of cheap vodka before skipping back over to the living room.
“How creative,” Steve said through a laugh while Natasha gave us each a glass, giving him a playful glare.
“Ha, ha,” she feigned, sitting down and flicking the cap off the bottle. Bucky was sitting next to Steve at the table, just finishing his sandwich. You were too busy admiring him to notice Natasha had poured you a week’s worth of alcohol in your glass.
“No, no, Nat–” you started.
“Yes, Y/N,” she stopped pouring once she was satisfied and looked at you with a cheeky grin. “You’ve been with us almost a month now, it’s time for all of us to know all your secrets through the coaxing of alcohol.”
Steve laughs at that, “Agreed,” he raises his glass in front of you expectantly. You realize embarrassingly late before raising your glass and tapping it against his.
“Cheers!” Natasha says, joining in on the clink, and downing her glass. You take a deep breath and hold your nose before downing the entire, probably two shots worth of vodka that Natasha poured you. Your eyes are still closed while you put down your glass and scrunch your face, opening them to see an impressed Steve and giggly Natasha looking at you.
“Damn, Y/N, didn’t think you had it in you,” Steve laughs.
“I did,” Natasha says before giving you a nudge on your shoulder. You raise your eyes to Bucky to see him also looking at you with a slightly impressed look, although it’s hard to tell with him. He shifts his eyes away to down his own drink with ease, then gets up from his stool.
“Alright guys, time for me to call it.” Bucky says through a subtle groan as he stretches his arms behind him. You try to keep yourself from drooling.
“What?! No!” Natasha whines, “We’re just getting started!”
“Yeah Barnes, you a wimp or something?” Steve jokes.
Bucky doesn’t turn back as he says, “Spare me Rogers, I could drink you under the table.”
Steve laughs heartily before issuing the first challenge of the night.
“Prove it then, old man.”
Bucky looks back at the three of us, meeting my own gaze for a second before saying,
“Fine, why the hell not,” he sits back down and sighs.
Within the hour, the four of you were nearly finished with the vodka that Natasha had lugged from the kitchen. This was the first time in a while that you had been drunk, so your tolerance was much lower than you had anticipated. Probably shouldn’t have been so eager to down that drink she had given you.
Natasha had probably drank three times what you had and was still more sober than you, unsurprisingly.
“Let’s play a game,” she said. In the back, you caught Bucky stifling a laugh.
“Like a board game?” you asked. Steve chuckled and turned to interject.
“Let’s play Truth or Dare,” he said. “I’ve never played it but hear it’s fun.”
“Yeah, if you’re in high school,” Bucky joked before taking a swig of his drink. Natasha’s eyes lit up at Steve’s idea.
“Yes! Let’s do it,” she said, giggling and shifting to move closer to the group.
Half an hour went by and so far Steve had been dared to take off his pants, Bucky had been dared to drink ketchup, and neither you or Nat had been dared to do anything out of the ordinary yet, only mildly embarrassing questions.
Steve came back from the bathroom, an entire roll of toilet paper adjourning his figure.
Bucky shook his head while Natasha thought it was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.
You giggled along with her, your feeble attempt at a dare turning out to actually be hilarious.
“My turn!” Natasha said, her words starting to slur. The drunk redhead turned to face you, barely being able to stop giggling before speaking.
“Y/N,” she paused to take a quick drink, “Truth or dare?” Her words ran together to the point of being nearly incomprehensible. You stifled a laugh before answering confidently.
“I dare you to…” she opened her eyes for a moment before looking at you, slowly turning to Bucky, then back at you. You quickly figured out what sort of thing she was thinking as a playful smirk began to play on her lips.
“Shit,” you thought. You knew she had some sort of gross dare up her sleeve that involved Bucky. You didn’t know exactly what sort of thing she was thinking, but you were apprehensive about anything that had to do with him. He was the subject of your fantasies, and he wanted nothing to do with you. Quite an awkward situation.
She held your gaze before speaking. “I dare you to make out with Bucky,” she said before taking another drink.
You shut your eyes tightly as if to mimic yourself enthralled in a nightmare, opening your eyes with the hope of waking up in your bed. Instead, you were met with Natasha with a stupid grin on her face.
You turned to look at Bucky, who was already looking at you. Your eyes locked and he broke the tension by taking a sip of his drink and setting it down on the table.
Natasha looked between you two before saying, “Well? We’re waiting,” with a laugh before filling up her glass yet again.
Bucky got up from the table to make his way over to you on the couch.
You felt your cheeks getting hotter as he made his way over to you. Was this really happening? You had expected him to scoff and dismiss Natasha’s stupid, embarrassing, kind of hot dare.
He took a seat next to you, his leg falling on top of the other as he leaned back nonchalantly.
“Well?” He asked, “Let’s get this over with. I want to get to bed,” he said gruffly.
You swallowed thickly. Should you initiate it or should he? You’re probably thinking too much about it. Just do it. You’re drunk anyways, it’s not like–
Your thoughts were interrupted by Bucky’s lips.
You couldn’t believe it. You were actually kissing him. His lips were strangely soft. A bit chapped, and he smelled like mint and whisky. You probably smelled like a mustard sandwich and vodka. Oh god.
His lips left yours briefly, his face still intoxicatingly close to yours so he could say, “You gonna play along or what?”
Your face was probably impossibly flushed at this point. “Sorry, I–” you stammered.
“Do you not want to?” he asked, almost seeming like he was actually concerned.
“No, no, it’s just, I–”
“Good,” he grabbed the side of your face and pressed his lips against yours again, forcing a surprised gasp out of you and you could have sworn you felt him smirk against your lips.
Something about this kiss was different than the last, besides the glaring obvious of you actually kissing him back. The way he kissed you almost felt like a game, like he was playing with you. Well, you two were playing a game. But the way his lips moved against yours and the way his tongue was forcing its way into your mouth, prompting the kiss to become ever so slightly sloppy was making your head spin.
He took your bottom lip between his teeth, dragging it out far enough so that he could meet your eyes for a split second, before letting it bounce back and kissing you again. You were losing your mind. Your hands seemed to have minds of their own as they made their way to his chest, feeling the expanse of his muscles and god how badly you wanted to just feel him without the T-shirt.
He began to mimic your actions by trailing his hand down from your face to your shoulder, squeezing there before moving below to your waist. His hands were warm and each subtle graze he made was fueling a fire down below your stomach. You were growing more and more desperate with each touch, each movement from Bucky’s lips, hands, everything, and you almost started to move onto his lap before you were interrupted by Steve.
“Jesus, get a room, you two,” he laughed.
You startled easily by this, pulling away and retracting your hands from their active state. Oh god, I almost forgot we were in a room full of people.
Bucky seemed unbothered as he chuckled and got up to retrieve his drink, sitting back down at his previous stool at the table.
The silence was broken by Natasha and Steve laughing. You regained your composure on the couch before pulling out your phone to check the time, seeing it was after midnight. Rising to your feet, you hastily said your “goodbyes” and “goodnights” and made your way up the stairs and to your room. You shut the door and leaned your back against it, closing your eyes and heaving a much needed sigh. You shook your head and slipped off your clothes, grabbing a tank top to sleep in before peeling back the covers of your bed and laying down. You were so hot that you couldn't even bring yourself to put the covers on. Your mind relived the events of the last 20 minutes about a thousand times before you were able to drift asleep.
“Such a dirty little girl,” he says, curving his fingers inside of you, “Getting off on my fingers.”
You whimper, continuing your pitiful grinding against his fingers, begging him to go deeper.
“Please,” you whimper.
“You’re my dirty little whore, huh?” he asks, adding another finger into your soaking heat.
“You like riding my fingers?” You can’t bring yourself to answer as you continue to grind against his long digits, breathlessly attempting to get him deeper.
You feel him add another finger. “I asked you a question,” he says darkly.
“Yes, please,” you moan. “Don’t stop.”
You feel yourself approaching your climax, shamelessly fucking yourself on Bucky’s fingers.
“Just like that, fuck,” you breathe. Your moans become higher in pitch and louder in volume as he impossibly begins to fuck you deeper with his fingers, all of them curving deliciously against your walls.
You awoke suddenly, sweat sticking to all sides of you even though you had no blanket on.
You grabbed your pillow harshly and groaned into it. Why, oh why, does your subconscious decide to give you the very last thing you need when living across the hall from the man you’re deathly attracted to? And doesn’t even have the decency to let you finish?
You sigh, deciding to pack away your shame and shove your hand in your panties.
The next few short minutes are a combobulation of thoughts from earlier, remnants of your dream, and some moans of Bucky’s name. You finish embarrassingly fast.
You decide that you probably aren’t sleeping for the rest of the night, so you make your way down to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
You’re filling a cup with tap water and lost in your thoughts when a voice interrupts you.
“Bad dream?” Bucky’s voice is as clear as day from behind you. You almost drop your glass in the sink, spinning your head around to see him sitting at the counter behind you.
“Jesus!” you exclaim, clutching your glass to your chest.
He chuckles, grabbing a grape from the bundle in front of him.
“Didn’t mean to scare ya,” he pops the grape in his mouth. How did you miss him sitting there when you walked in? And how does he still look so good at 3 am? You probably look like a sweaty mess.
You glare at him before regaining your composure and continuing to fill your glass with water.
“What was your dream?” he asks. He’s normally not this chatty, especially at this hour.
“What?” you say, confused and also still trying not to focus on how good his arms look in that shirt.
“I’m assuming you had a bad dream to be up this late,” he glances at the watch on his arm. His very muscular arm.
“Oh, I just–” Why is it so hard to lie to him? “Couldn’t sleep,” you say simply.
He eats another grape before brushing his hands on his pants and rising from his spot at the counter.
“You know,” he starts. He gestures with his hands to the upstairs. “This place has pretty thin walls,” Oh god.
He saunters over to you, slowly placing both hands on either side of you at the kitchen sink. “So you should probably think of a better lie before letting the whole headquarters know you’re fucking yourself to me.”
If you didn’t have a death grip of nervousness on your glass of water you probably would have dropped it. A hot wave of embarrassment washes over you and you don’t think you’ve ever been this ashamed and turned on at the same time. Your thighs subconsciously press together and you have to hold back a whine as his presence lingers over you.
“Tell me what you were thinking about,” he says. His breath fans over your face and you glance over to see his arms straining against the counter. He’s wearing the same shirt from earlier but it somehow looks sexier on him now.
“I–” you’re at a loss for words. He knows you were thinking about him, but hearing you say it and hearing him say it are two completely different things. How can you let the Winter Soldier know you were thinking about getting off on his fingers?
“I was--thinking about,” you take a deep breath. “I was thinking about your fingers,” you say shakily. His arms feel like they’re moving in closer even though they’re at the same spot and your breaths are getting shorter.
“What about my fingers?” he asks. His voice is completely composed but his body is telling another story. His arms seem like they’re fighting to stay in one place. His chest is heaving heavier than normal, and his eyes are dark with lust.
“Riding them,” you say, a whine barely escaping your lips as your thighs are desperately clenching to create any kind of friction.
Bucky takes notice of your feeble attempts of satiating yourself, prompting him to move his head down to kiss the expanse of your neck, and then down to your exposed collarbone, which is easily accessible through the neckline of your shirt.
He moves down to your clothed stomach, gripping your waist with both hands before sliding your shirt up just enough to kiss above the hemline of your panties. He’s watching you as intently as you’re watching him.
His kisses get slower and slower until he reaches your clit, still covered by your underwear. He places the softest, slowest kiss there before moving down to your thighs. His kisses begin to get harder as he starts to lick and suck his way back up to your panties, not breaking eye contact the entire time. Jesus christ.
His hands find their home on your thighs, and your eyes melt shut when he places another soft kiss on your clit, which soon turns into a firm lick. Before you know it, he’s tonguing the spot where your clit would be through your panties and you didn’t realize how hard you were grasping the edge of the counter.
His right hand moves from its spot on your thigh to shove your panties to the side. Your eyes flutter open to look at the man below you, who in turn looks at you, flashes you a smirk, and dives back into his work.
If you thought what he was doing before was good, you took yourself by surprise by letting out a loud whine at the first contact of his tongue.
He stopped his work to look at you, “Gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he says, his voice husky.
You nod quickly, “Sorry,” you’re hoping he’ll resume faster if you comply.
Your wish was granted as he wastes no time in working his tongue on you, using his dominant hand to work two fingers inside you. You moan again almost immediately, to which he doesn’t stop to scold you this time.
Your hand flies up to cover your mouth as he begins to curl his fingers, earning more moans from you which are now muffled by your palm. Your hips subconsciously start to grind against his fingers and you’re starting to feel dizzy from the double stimulation.
You feel his mouth leave your clit but his fingers remain inside you. “This what you wanted?” he asks, fingers pumping deliciously against your walls. You can barely speak as you’re trying to stifle your own moans with your hand. Your hips are practically bucking against him at this point.
“I asked you a question,” his fingers start to go faster. “Answer me.”
“Yes,” you say through a pitiful wine. You’re sure you probably said that too loud, but you’re too close to care. You want to come so badly on his fingers, and on his mouth, and god everywhere.
His mouth goes down to suck on your clit, nibbling softly and then going back to using his tongue. It feels like a million different sensations and your head is somehow dizzier than before and you are definitely about to come, and Bucky can tell. Your hips are getting sloppier and your breathing is jagged, and your moans are getting louder through your weak attempt at suppressing them.
“Gonna come,” you say through breaths. Bucky doesn’t say anything, just continues fucking you with his fingers, before adding one more and then curling them inside you, and oh god you’re coming. You’re coming on Bucky’s fingers.
Your legs lock and your hands are gripping his shoulders like you’re on a rollercoaster, and chants of Bucky’s name are falling off your lips like it’s second nature. The hand suppressant technique is long forgotten and you’re sure the entire headquarters just heard you come.
Bucky’s head is leaning against your thighs, his fingers softly moving inside you, eventually slipping them out. His eyes meet yours and everything is still a little blurry, but you swore you saw a smile on his lips.
“Did so good, doll,” he plants a kiss on your thigh before rising from his knees.
“Hope that helps you get some sleep,” he says, leaving you a pile of putty against the kitchen sink. You watch as he walks away from you, grabbing another grape from the long forgotten bundle on the counter, popping it in his mouth and licking his fingers.
“Tastes sweet,” he turns his head to remark, and you feel a blush creep across your entire body.
That was definitely not the last you dreamt of Bucky Barnes.
Summary: Mafia!Bucky celebrates his first Halloween with his family. And his sweet little Bee has the time of her life.
Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader
CW: Thinly veiled reference to smut, fluff, dad!Bucky being the best.
AN: Beta'd by the lovely @lfnr-blog-blog-blog.
Part of the Bumblebee Series.
Bucky smiles down at his dancing baby holding his finger, her excitement is contagious, growing more and more when she steps into the tailor's shop. She’s been waiting to talk with Enzo about her Halloween costume all week.
The stocky man ambles out of the backroom, measuring tape in hand. “Welcome back Mr. Barnes. What can I do for you two?”
Bucky bends down, lifting Bee onto his hip. “We have a special request. You want to tell him?”
Bee flashes him a toothy grin. “I wanna be a dinosaur and a fairy. Pwease.”
Enzo raises an arched brow, appraising her critically. Bucky clears his throat in warning, his eyes narrowing at his lifelong tailor. Enzo ignores the menacing pakhan, placing his hands behind his back, he strolls around them, pausing to lift her shoe with two fingers, he gingerly shakes it making her giggle. He does one more pass, this time glaring at the stuffed animal tucked beneath her arm.
“Dis is Mr. Tato,” she states, waving one of his legs at Enzo. “He likes your mustache.”
“He has good taste.” He replies, stopping in front of the smiling Bee. “You will be the best dinosaur fairy to have ever existed and your Tato will be a pumpkin,” he announces, walking off to the back as she squeals out a gleeful tank you.
He fires off orders at his assistants, demanding materials and pins and equipment. In an instant, there’s a flurry of activity and conversations, phone calls being made, and rolls of fabric being tossed around. Bee thinks it’s all fascinating, loving the way they move about the store, letting her touch anything she wants.
Bucky sends you a video of her standing on the platform, her small arms up as she’s being measured, it takes a little longer than anticipated because she’s so ticklish, shying away from the tape measure in fits of giggles.
By the time they leave the shop, she’s exhausted, half asleep before he can buckle her in her car seat. She struggles to stay awake when they get home, wanting to tell you all about her ‘venture’.
Two days later, she stares wide-eyed at the black bag holding her costume. Bucky lets her take a quick peek and her reaction’s worth every penny. Moments like this, being able to make his little family’s dreams a reality are why he works so hard.
After she gets home, she runs with the bag in her arms to find you, hopping in place while you carefully unpack her ensemble, babbling away so fast you can barely understand her.
You help her get into the costume and you can’t decide what you like more. Her chubby padded belly, the way the jaw frames her small face, the top flopping over her forehead with every step. The angelic wings are a fluorescent green laced with strands of gold and you have no idea how Enzo did it but the entire thing just works.
You take Bee to the mirror and her mouth drops open, for once she’s speechless. For a second anyway. Then she’s wiggling out of your arms and waddling off, calling out for her Papa to come to see.
“Bye Bee,” you laugh watching her turn the corner, almost tipping over as her padded feet skid across the hardwood floors, her small tail hitting one of the tables lining the hallway, knocking over a vase, the priceless crystal rolling away unnoticed by your eager child.
“Bye, mommy.” Her voice fades away, then you hear a faint “dab it door, not today.”
As you collect the only slightly chipped vase off the ground, you hear his office door open and Bucky tell her she's the prettiest dino fairy he's ever seen.
Bucky wasn’t too keen on the idea of letting her walk around the neighborhood for a multitude of reasons, the main one being her little legs wouldn’t be able to handle the long pathways to the doors and he knows she would insist on walking.
You both decided to let her go to her uncles homes since they were close and then she would do the rest at home.
In typical Bucky fashion, he had the entire downstairs decorated with mini stations framed by doors that were exactly her height. He hired actors to dress as her favorite characters and wait for her behind each one.
After she got a whole bag of Twix from Uncle Steve and an even bigger bag of M&Ms from a competitive Uncle Sam, you took her home for the real fun.
The first station was set up in the living room. You and Bucky wait near the side, letting her take the lead. Glancing at your husband out of the corner of your eye, you honestly can't tell who's more excited tonight.
Bee stands in front of the bright red door, shifting from foot to foot. Her brows furrow and she tightly clutches her pail. “Papa?”
“Can you hold my hand pwease?”
You witness your husband melt faster than cotton candy dipped in water, he immediately crouches down taking her costumed hand in his tattooed one. “Okay now I’m weady,” she grins, knocking on the door. “Happy Halloween. Trick or treat!”
“Hi Bumblebee!” The door swings open and her eyes light up. Her face brightening, the infectious smile causing her adorably chubby cheeks to stick out, even more, she pushes her dinosaur head back and just stares.
For the second time today, she’s speechless.
You snap the perfect pic of her surprised face next to Bucky’s pleased one, their matching grins are beautiful, you wish you could stay in this moment for a little while longer, you find yourself taking a few more pictures, memorializing each precious second.
“Say hi to Elmo,” Bucky encourages, nudging her closer.
“Hi Elmo,” she shyly replies, hiding her face behind Bucky’s shoulder. She holds out her bucket and laughs when Elmo pretends to eat her candy before plopping several pink Starbursts into the bucket. She leaves one for him before taking off to the next door.
This time she doesn’t hesitate before knocking. “Happy Halloween,” she calls out, bouncing on her heels.
When the door opens, she shrieks one of her favorite Disney princesses waves at her. “Hi, Bumblebee.”
“Hi! Oh, Mommy lookit, lookit, she’s like you,” she says excitedly, swinging her candy bucket towards you, a few pieces tumble to the carpet as her outstretched hand reaches for you. “My Papa says my mommy’s princess,” she declares.
You almost start to say you’re not but you see the gleam in your husband’s eye and know you’d never win that conversation.
She continues her trek around the house, and her excitement and happiness grow with each character she meets. One of the best parts of the night had to be the sweet way she reacted when she entered the kitchen to find Francine and her bodyguards waiting to give her candy too, giving the trio the exact same enthusiasm as when she saw her favorite characters.
By the time she meets Winne the Pooh and Piglet, she’s yawning uncontrollably, her grip slipping on her overflowing bucket. She says her goodbyes and you carry your weary toddler to her room.
You prepare her bath while Bucky carefully puts up her costume under her and Mr. Tato’s careful supervision.
“...I had so much fun and did you see Elmo mommy? He was going to eat all my candy but papa would'ta got him.” She rambles on while you tuck her into bed. “And I-see Papa“ her cheek sinks into the pillow, eyes closing, her next words lost as she falls asleep.
Bucky presses a kiss on her cheek, helping you stand up. The two of you gaze down at her, his chin on your shoulder, arms around your waist. “Tonight was amazing. Thank you.”
You feel his lips curve into a smile, his beard grazing your skin. “You never have to thank me Malyshka. I love to spoil my girls ” His fingers tap, tap, tap on your belly, and something heady and hopeful flashes in his blue eyes, his smile turning into a knowing smirk before he continues. “So how much of her candy do you think we can take before she notices?”
“'S'my candy” Bee mumbles in her sleep, her adorable tone groggy, hugging Mr. Tato tighter to her chest, she stretches but her heavy eyelids don’t open.
Laughing softly, you take a handful out of her bucket sitting on her colorful dresser as you stroll out of her room. “Don’t worry Barnes, I’ll just blame the missing candy on you.”
Bucky smirks, rolling up his sleeves, he pockets a few pieces of candy. “If I recall correctly, you still owe me for the froot loops Malyshka.”
You’re not quite ready to discuss that though, so you unwrap a piece, brazenly popping it into your mouth. “You can’t prove that. You won’t get a single word out of me.”
He strides across the space in three quick steps, gaining on you before you have a chance to run. Your giggles comes out on a breathy gasp when his lips graze your ear and he curves his hands around your waist, pulling you into his firm body.
“That’s fine. You don't have to say anything, I’ll settle for making you scream for me, Malyshka.”
All That Glitters is Gold
Pairing: Soft!Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Type: AU One-Shot??
Warnings: Y’all know I love me some fluff!
Summary: The one where Y/N takes a chance on the mobster.
Note: This could become a short series but idk yet. I’m awful with deadlines, especially since I’m in college. But let me know what you guys think! Dividers by @firefly-graphics
You wrapped your apron around your waist as you looked in the mirror in the back of the restaurant. You were admittedly tired and wished anyone could’ve picked up your shift tonight. It was just another reminder that maybe your co-workers didn’t deserve you picking up theirs. At least you would be making decent money tonight. Working at an upscale restaurant did have its perks financially. At least you would be working with your favorite co-worker and roommate.
“I thought you weren’t working tonight,” Natasha mentioned as you walked past her.
“Yeah, well you’re the only person I can depend on to take my shifts, believe it or not,” you slightly chuckled as you picked up a ticket pad, pens, and straws to place in your apron. “But hey, at least the tips are usually good, right?”
“That’s the only reason I’m still working here,” Nat laughed. “That and because Manny in the kitchen still gives me free meals.”
“Well Manny is literally in love with you, and you gotta stop leading him on, Nat.”
“What? He makes food, I eat food; it’s completely transactional.”
You playfully rolled your eyes at your friend before seeing someone get seated in your section. “Okay, well don’t be surprised if he asks you out soon,” you noted before approaching your first table. It looked like a couple on a date, probably a first one by the looks of it.
“Welcome to Prime. My name is Y/N, and I’ll be your waitress tonight.” Before you could continue man looked at you. Looked was the wrong word. He was looking you up and down, checking you out in front of his date who couldn’t even bring herself to look at you. Her eyes were practically glued to her menu. It was almost intimidating the way he looked into your soul. You cleared your throat, “Can I get either of you something besides water?”
“What can you tell me about the house red?” the man inquired.
“It’s a sangiovese imported from central Tuscany. The blend is earthy and highly acidic with a medium-body. It’s semi-sweet, but it pairs nicely with all of our prime cuts on the menu,” you explained.
The man listened tentatively with his ringed fingers stroking his chin, “And your honest thoughts on it?”
It was rare for anyone to ask for your thoughts on anything on the menu. Everyone that ate here always thinks they know better. “Uh well, truthfully, you can get the same taste and body from our Napa Valley Zinfandel for less. And the zinfandel tastes better in my opinion.”
“Let’s just get the house wine, baby,” the woman finally spoke up. She batted her lashes in his direction. There were more expensive wines on your menu, but unlike most places, your house wine was still pricey. “You said you’d treat me to the best tonight, James.”
The man you now knew as James nodded, “We’ll do the house then.”
“Right away.” You turned on your heels to retrieve the wine for the couple, but you could still feel his eyes on you. And the most certainly were.
The rest of the night went like any other. They ordered an appetizer and entrée; they even polished off that bottle of wine. But whenever you approached the couple, you could feel all of James’ attention on you. You had to admit, if you could have any man’s attention, you weren’t upset that it was his. Most of the men that brought dates or colleagues here were older and lack boundaries when their hands would touch your hand or lower back. The attention that James gave you didn’t alarm you. He was clean cut almost as if he came out of a Versace magazine. Sometimes he would catch you looking at him as well. A smirk would fall onto his lips before he gave attention to his date again.
“Oh my god,” you heard Nat say from behind you. You turned to see her shocked face. “Do you know who that is?”
You shook your head, “Should I?”
“I know you’re new to New York, but you gotta keep up,” she told you as she led you to the back near the server station. “That is James Barnes. He has…a reputation.”
“What kind of reputation?”
“Some call him a businessman, one of the most powerful in the state. Others, and that may include myself, call him a mobster,” Nat explained. “It’s like a family dynasty that’s been running for generations. It’s kinda like a ghost story about the Barnes family and how they’ve been pushing drugs and other shit in big ways; nothing’s been confirmed, obviously, but that’s probably because he has half of the NYPD and the government in his pocket.” Your eyes went wide as Nat told you the tale. “He’s dangerous, Y/N. Handsome but dangerous. He probably has his goons all over this restaurant.”
You nodded in understanding. You looked back at him to see him talking to his date. You couldn’t make out the words, but after what Nat had told you, you could only wonder what this man was capable of, the things he’s done, the things he’s seen.
“I’d jump his bones though,” Nat slyly mentioned.
“He’s pretty good looking, I guess,” you muttered, your eyes still on him. “But he’s on a date, so might have to get in line.”
“I mean look at him! You know he fucks.”
You noticed James’ date got up after their meal was done, probably going towards the bathroom. James had requested the bill as you walked past him before she got up. She was beginning to get a little handsy, so you only figured they both wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.
You placed the bill on the table, but before you could walk away, James spoke.
“What are you doing tomorrow?” James asked you.
You furrowed your brows, “Excuse me?”
“I wanna take you out, darling.” He said. This man was dripping with confidence.
You slightly chuckled and leaned against the table, “Aren’t you on a date now, James?”
“First date. I can tell it won’t work out, so why waste anymore of my time. My time is very valuable.”
“So is mine.”
“And I won’t waste your time, Y/N. Let me take you out.”
You remembered what Nat had told you, and it made you hesitate. He was more than just handsome, and you definitely had gone out with worse looking men. But James was different.
“James, I’m flattered, but I’m not really in the dating scene. I’m still trying to get settled in New York and—” Before you could finish your statement, James was pulling out a small wad of cash. What was owed for the dinner, he placed on the bill itself. The rest of the cash you placed in the middle of the table. “What’s this?”
“A tip,” he simply put as he stood up.
You couldn’t even comprehend what to say, “But— I…you’re leaving like a $1,000 tip?”
“Don’t put a question mark where I put a period, darling.”
On that note, you saw his date come back from the bathroom, clearly ready to go. “Let’s go James!” she spoke, sounding slightly irritated with her arms crossed.
Once again, you were at a loss for words. James took the bill and quickly wrote some numbers on the bill and winked at you, “I’ll be seeing you real soon, Y/N. Have a good night.”
James left with his date, leaving you breathless.
“Well, if you didn’t tell me all that stuff about him, maybe I would’ve said yes,” you groaned. Nat was giving you hell at the end of the night about not immediately saying yes to the unconfirmed mobster. In any other situation, you would’ve said yes. He was charming, well dressed, and confident. But you had to be at least cautious about this guy.
“I get it, but this could have been huge for you,” Nat whined. You rolled your eyes and nudged her. “Okay, but if you wanna apologize, you could split that big ass tip with me.”
You both laughed, but both knew the money was going straight to your rent. Living in New York was no joke after all.
You both walked out of the restaurant, discussing what you were going to do when you got home. Granted, it was 11pm, so all you really wanted to do was sleep. Nat on the other hand, thought about catching up on some shows on Hulu. There were still a few cars in the parking lot, including Nat’s. Some of your co-workers had cars, but none of them looked like the SUV parked near the back. It was incredibly new and had someone standing in front of it. It was parked right next to Nat’s car. The light in the lot above her car must’ve gone out during the day; neither of you could make out the features of the figure. Regardless, both of you tried to ignore whoever was in front of it.
“I’m not here to hurt you, Y/N,” you heard the voice say.
You immediately identified the voice James’.
“I’m not gonna hurt either of you.”
“James, what are you doing here? You left hours ago with someone in fact,” you reminded him. “Don’t tell me you’ve waited all this time.”
He chuckled and shook his head, “I never got an answer from you, darling. I still wanna take you out.”
“Well, you can’t wait at my work, bribe me with a tip, and then expect me to go out with you,” you scolded him. “That may have worked for you in the past, but that’s not happening here.”
James only stared at you. You didn’t look away this time; you stood your ground. But damn, his glare was intense.
“I’m Natasha, by the way,” your roommate interrupted. Neither of you broke your gaze at each other. “Just thought I’d introduce myself before giving you guys some privacy. Let me know if uh I can be any help,” she shyly mentioned before entering the car and starting it up.
It was just you and James now, standing in the dark parking lot.
“I know who you are, James, and frankly, I’m not sure I wanna associate,” you admitted.
“You know of me, doll.” He took one step closer to you. You immediately felt smaller. “You don’t know me though, but I want you to. And I wanna get to know you. What’s wrong with that?”
“Call me Bucky.”
You sighed and crossed your arms, “Bucky, we are very different people, and I just don’t think it’ll work out, okay?”
He placed his hand in his pockets and nodded, “Let me take you to dinner. You’re new here; let me show you my favorite spot.”
“If I go, will you stop bothering me?”
“I’ve barely bothered you, doll, but yes. Let me take you out, and if you want, I’ll never bother you again.”
A part of you didn’t believe him. He looked like a man who wasn’t used to hearing the word ‘no.’ Yet, you rolled your eyes but nodded.
“Fine. One dinner and then you leave me alone.” Bucky couldn’t help but to smile at your words. At this point, you’d do anything just to go home. “Give me your phone. I’ll give you my number.”
“I already have your number, doll,” Bucky smirked. “I just wanted your permission to use it.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes; you were sure if you rolled your eyes any harder, they’d get stuck. Of course this weasel had your number already. “I'll see you tomorrow, Y/N. Unless, you want a ride home?”
“If you give me a ride, I’ll consider it our date,” you shot back.
Bucky immediately raised his hands in defeat and laughed, “Well, I don’t wanna waste it. I’ll pick you up at 6:00 from your apartment,” Bucky told you as he began to get back in his car.
“I’ll send you the address.” Bucky gave you a look and smirked, before you quickly understood. “Right, you know that already.”
He winked before entering his car. He quickly drove off, leaving you in the parking lot, once again breathless. You entered Nat’s car, and she immediately looked at you waiting for you to spill everything.
“We have a date tomorrow.” Nat squealed before beginning to drive off. “Calm down, he has one chance or there won’t be a second one.”
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
You looked at yourself in the mirror again for the 4th time with a different outfit on and it was already 5:30. You liked how you looked in each outfit, but you were completely unsure where you were even going. It would make sense for Bucky to take you to a nice restaurant; that definitely felt like his speed. You were very used to going out for coffee for first dates, not 5 star restaurants that had $18 cocktails.
You grabbed your phone, finally deciding to send Bucky a text. He had sent you a text last night in hopes that you got home safely. You only sent a thumbs up as a response, but at least you had his number now. But who’s to say that this is his only phone?
Y/N: Where are you taking me? I don’t know how to dress
You threw your phone back on the bed just to hear it chime as soon as it hit the mattress.
Bucky: Just dress nice.
You scoffed at his response.
Y/N: I feel like we have very different definitions of the phrase “dress nice”
Bucky: You could wear exactly what I saw you in yesterday, and you’d still be the best looking woman in the place.
You felt your cheeks redden a bit. But you couldn’t let him know that he was making your heart flutter.
Y/N: I’ll just wear a trash bag I guess
Bucky: Can’t wait to see it. I’ll see you at 6.
Bucky was the perfect mix of charming and infuriating. In the few hours you’ve known him, he has managed to make your skin crawl and leave you breathless. It must’ve been a record. You decided to just go with a simple, strapless black dress. You’d at least be prepared for anything this man had in mind.
You kind of wished Nat was there to at least hype you up before your date. At the very least, she could get this zipper that you were struggling with. But to be fair, she did enough of that last night when you both got home.
By the time you had gotten yourself zipped up, found shoes, and decided on a purse, 6:00 was just a minute from rolling around. You took one last look in the mirror to fix any lingering imperfections. Truth be told, you hadn’t been on a date in almost a year. When you left home to move to New York, you left your previous boyfriend there too. You just couldn’t handle small life living anymore, and that’s all he wanted. There was no bad blood, but it had prevented you from dating in your new city.
You were pulled out of your thinking as soon as you heard a knock at your door. You looked at your phone, and it was exactly 6:00.
Punctual little shit.
You approached the door and looked in the peephole; you could see Bucky looking right at it. You opened the door to be greeted by Bucky in a fitted charcoal suit and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You were taken aback. The suit you expected, and it looked damn good, too. The flowers were unexpected; you couldn’t even remember the last time you received flowers from a man.
“That’s a beautiful trash bag, doll,” Bucky joked while gazing upon your body.
“Yeah, it’s Hefty Ultra Strong, actually.” You both couldn’t help but to laugh at your lame joke but at least he laughed. “Uh, the flowers also weren’t necessary, but thank you. Let me put them in some water, and then we can go,” you smiled as you took the flowers.
You walked back into your apartment, towards the kitchen, but Bucky just stood in the doorway looking pensive.
“You can come in, too, if you want,” you chuckled. Bucky muttered an “oh” before stepping in and looking around a little bit.
“How long have you been in New York?” Bucky asked as he looked at the framed photos on the wall. Some of the photos were Nat’s but some contained you with family, graduating, and with friends.
You were attempting to grab a tall vase from the top of the cabinets, straining a bit, “About 10 months now. Was just looking for a new start, y’know? And if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere, I guess.” You groaned as you tried to reach for this vase but you were having no luck.
“Let me,” Bucky said from behind you. He reached over you, easily grabbing the vase and placing it on the counter. You felt your heart skip a beat when you could smell his cologne and his pelvis almost grind against your ass. “And yeah, this city isn’t for the faint of heart.”
You quickly had to get out of this trance that Bucky’s cologne had put you in. You distracted yourself by putting water in the vase. “Yeah, but I’ve been working at Prime in the meantime. It’s decent money for now.” The vase quickly filled with water and you plopped the flowers in there, placing them nicely on the counter. You turned around to Bucky, and slightly smiled. “So, shall we?”
He returned the small smile and nodded, “We shall, doll.”
Bucky had arranged a driver to take the both of you to dinner. You both kept the conversation light, but truthfully, you were a little uncomfortable. Not because Bucky was creepy or anything, but you weren’t used to this type of treatment. The flowers, getting dressed up, a chauffeured ride, it was just a little overwhelming.
The car pulled up to Luxe, one of the most sought restaurants in Manhattan. People made reservations months in advance.
“You just happen to have a reservation at Luxe?” you scoffed, looking over at Bucky. “Do they shove another couple out when you call?” you joked.
“You don’t have to call when you already have a table,” Bucky mentioned before stepping out of the car. The driver opened your door. As you began to step out of the SUV, you were met by Bucky holding out a hand for you. You put your hand in his to help you exit the SUV. Bucky whispered something to the driver before taking your hand in his again, leading you to the restaurant. “Stick around, doll. You’ll get used to it,” he winked.
Bucky was definitely right, there was a table for him. It was actually in a room that looked secluded from the restaurant. There were a couple of what looked like high power men and women. Some nodded to Bucky as he guided you to a table.
Yeah, you definitely felt out of place.
The hostess sat you at a table, leaving you both with menus. Just by glancing at the prices, your eyes widened greatly.
“You seem tense,” Bucky finally mentioned.
You lightly chuckled, “Is it that obvious?”
Bucky reached his hand out to yours, holding it, and then giving it a squeeze, “Everyone in this room has had to fake it because they didn’t think they belonged at least once in their life. It’s uncomfortable, and frankly, sucks.” You chuckled. “Now, it's your turn, Y/N. Just imagine that it’s just you and me here.”
This thumb grazed your hand, bringing you a sense of comfort. You took a deep breath, “Okay,” you muttered. Bucky smiled at you before letting go of your hand. In that moment, you kind of missed the contact. “So, you’re telling me that even the great James Barnes had to fake it once?”
He nodded, “As soon as I graduated college, I joined the army as a lieutenant. I did that for a few years, but when I was discharged and came home, my dad wanted me to take over his business,” Bucky explained. You were genuinely surprised. Bucky as a lieutenant was an entirely different view. “I went from some college frat guy to a lieutenant in the army to a businessman. I didn’t know where I belonged for the longest time, y’know? So, I just started to pretend that I belonged everywhere, even here.”
“No, I get what you mean, and that’s smart,” you smiled, but you knew you had to ask. “And by business, you mean…”
Bucky huffed and smirked, “Building Barnes Construction, actually. Why do you ask?” he asked, giving a knowing look. This was a question he was used to. He was aware of his reputation.
You smirked as well, “Well, you know how people like to gossip.”
As drinks and dinner were ordered, the conversation between you and Bucky seemed to flow easily. You discussed work, your childhoods, your goals, and you even squeezed in some jokes here and there. You were pleased to know he was still close with his parents, especially his mother and had a sister. He was more family-oriented than you imagined. And to your surprise, Bucky was surprisingly funny and knew how to take a joke; he definitely knew how to dish ‘em too. There were a few moments when either of you would laugh too loud, drawing attention from the other high rollers in the place. But neither of you cared. Like Bucky said: it was only you two in the room right now. Often, Bucky would touch your hand, a sign of affection or reassurance. But overall, it was the way Bucky looked at you. He looked at you like he needed to draw your face from memory later and listened if every word mattered. It was nice for once, maybe one of the best dates you had been on. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought you were on a date with a regular guy.
You even suggested dessert as a last ditch effort to keep the date going. Usually, after a date, you wanted to get the bill and move on, but this was different. Bucky happily obliged; he also wanted to extend this date for as long as he could. But neither of you would admit that.
“I’ve never had crème brulee, but that was damn good,” you gushed as Bucky handled the bill.
“This isn’t even the best spot for it,” Bucky told you as he placed cash on the table. “There’s this place by my townhouse, and it’s almost as good as getting it in France,” he mentioned as he stood up.
“Well, I can’t afford authentic French crème brulee, but I’d always be down for something local,” you admitted.
Bucky took your hand into his as to help you up, “Maybe that can be arranged.”
He walked you out of the restaurant to be exposed to the night sky and the fresh air. Bucky texted his driver to pull around, and he moved with a haste, pulling the car up within a minute. Bucky got you in before joining you in the back seat.
On the way back to your apartment building, you and Bucky just discussed upcoming plans in your life mainly when you both were working next. But for the love of you, you just wished this car would drive a little slower. As much as you wanted to see Bucky again, you weren’t exactly ready to eat crow and admit it.
The SUV pulled up to your apartment, and Bucky was adamant about walking you up to your door. You felt like you had no choice but to agree, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
“I hate to admit, but I had a really great time, Bucky,” you told him.
A smile creeped on his face. Bucky bit his lip in order to contain it, “Yeah? Well, what are the chances I could get a second date?”
The elevator door opened and you and Bucky walked down the hallway. You felt your cheeks go red and smiled, “Uh well, they aren’t low, presay.”
“I don’t gamble often, but I’d say I like my odds.” You both finally approached your door and you turned to face your date.
“I like them, too.” You couldn’t help but to look at his lips as he smiled at your comment. “Well, this is me.”
Bucky nodded and took one step closer to you, “So, I guess this is good night?” he questioned. You nodded slightly. “It doesn’t have to be, doll.” He pulled you closer by the small of your back.
You breath hitched in your throat when you felt the contact and his pelvis very dangerously close to yours. Bucky was looking for your reaction, any sign of resisting. But you just looked up at him through your lashes. He tilted your chin up with his ringed finger, his lips within reach of yours.
That was enough for you to make contact yourself. It was soft and slow. It was the chance for you both to explore each other a little more on a different level. Bucky’s left hand stayed on the small of your back while the other gravitated from your cheek, his thumb just grazing the pulse on your neck. You had your right hand on his chest while the other dragged along his bulked arms that his suit couldn’t even hide.
You didn’t mean for the kiss to last this long, becoming more hungry as you both continued. At this point, Bucky was all in, dragging his tongue across your bottom lip, practically begging for entrance. You didn’t mean to let that happen either, but you were melting under his touch.
“I think…I think I really…need to go,” you muttered between kisses, trying to catch your breath.
Bucky backed off a little bit, resting his forehead on yours, “Yeah, yeah…that’s probably best…” The hand that was caressing your cheek was now trailing down your waist, sending chills down your body. “Right?”
“Right. What kind of a girl do you take me for, James?” you jokingly asked.
“The kind that obviously is trying to get in my pants,” he jokingly shot back.
“Then I don’t see why I have to try so hard.” You both shared a laugh as you unlocked your door and opened it. “Have a good night, James.” You gave him a smile before closing the door, leaving Bucky on the outside.
You took a very deep breath and tried to compose yourself after that kiss. That kiss, that date, you were sure it topped that $1000 tip. You turned around just to see Nat in the living room, staring at you with her eyes wide. You stared back, the excitement and details about to come out like word vomit.
“How the hell was it?”
Bucky felt like he was on top of the world as he rode down the elevator. It took him everything in his power to not sleep with you. There was nothing wrong with sleeping with someone on the first date, but he also didn’t wanna give you the wrong idea.
As soon as exited the elevator, he pulled out his phone to make a call. The phone rang as he stepped outside until he finally got an answer.
“Hey, Ma. How’re you doing?” he asked, his Brooklyn accent really kicking in. “That’s great, that’s good. But uh listen. I met this woman, and ma, she’s…I can’t even describe her, ma. It’s like fucking heaven talking to—I know, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to swear! I just think I understand what you and dad would also talk about when you met, y’know?
And for the rest of the night, both you and Bucky gushed over each other. But of course, neither of you would admit that to the other.
I’m a slut for feedback so send me some! xx
Bucky: You need a hobby, Steve.
Steve: I have a hobby, buck.
Bucky: How many times do I have to tell you that stalking Y/N is not counted?
Daddy doesn't look very impressed with you, Lau 🤭😏
Game, Set and Match
Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x 18+F!Reader
Summary: Flirting with your tennis instructor in front of him didn’t exactly go to plan. Or did it?
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, stepdad trope, heavy daddy kink, cheating themes, excessive dirty talk because i can't help myself, name calling (princess, bitch, slut, baby) anal sex, outdoor sex, risky sex, anal creampie, gaping, possessiveness, teasing, 18+.
Word Count: 1.1k
A/N: @lookiamtrying this is all your fault and I'm not sorry. Thank you to @cockslutpadalecki for reading this through for me 💕
All my works are 18+. If you click the read more tab, you are agreeing that you are 18 or over, have read the warnings and take responsibility for your own media consumption. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted anywhere else.
"I told you what would happen if you kept walking around here with your ass on display, didn't I?" He teases, fingers digging into the rump of your ass so hard, it has you keening from the pressure. The gravelly wall scratches against your stomach, your tennis skirt flipped up around your waist. "I told you if you didn't pull that fuckin' skirt down, I'd tear you a new one. You think I was lying?"
"No," you bite back quickly with a look over your shoulder, warmth fluttering in your chest cavity at the sight of his flushed cheeks and the focus in his pretty eyes. They're fixated on the stretch, your asshole molding around him as he eases in, his thumb caressing the skin where dick meets muscle.
"Oh, so you were hoping for this, mm? That why you've been bending over and flashing this little cunt to me all afternoon?" Bucky asks, spreading your cheeks wide and grunting lustfully at the way you take him, swallowing his dick whole, so deep you swear you can feel him in your guts.
"Ah! Yes, fuck, yes daddy." You'd agree to just about any statement, your nerve endings aflame with desire and pride. Pride that you can please him like this. Pride that you're the only one that will give him everything he wants. Any hole, any time. Whenever he fucking wants it. "Fuck me with your fat cock. Make it hurt. Punish me for being a little slut."
You knew exactly what you were doing when you took it upon yourself to flirt with your tennis instructor that afternoon. You'd felt Bucky’s eyes on you from the viewing platform. Fun is the last thing you usually have at Acre Oaks country club but not today. Today you took full advantage of his distant possessive stare and, well, it certainly paid off.
“You’re a nasty little bitch, aren't you? Trying to piss me off and get your own way.” The breeze has your skin prickling, your toes curling in your tennis shoes and your knees shaky. The blissful burn of his cock easing in and out of your asshole has your eyes flickering closed, a heady, desperate moan muffled by his palm as it curls over the lower half of your face. “Lucky for you, I just can’t resist, huh? How am I s’posed to when I know how fuckin’ tight this little hole is.”
Your inner thighs coated with slick, cunt clenching with an empty ache, you arch your back; tilting your head back so you can look at him. You smirk against his dewy palm, teeth grazing against his skin mischievously, gloss smearing across your cheek. “Fuck it, daddy.”
“God, you’re bad," he laughs, cock pulsing inside you and his thrusts quickening, your hips pushing back against him and your fingernails breaking against the wall in front of you. One hand braced on your waist, the other slips down between your sodden thighs, two fingers strumming back and forth over your clit. He fucks into you with a carelessness that has you shaking. “Want me to fill this tight ass up, Princess? Gonna spend the rest of that tennis lesson with my cum leaking outta you? Should’a worn panties today. That’ll teach you.”
“I wan’ it, daddy. I want your cum. Please, fuckin’ give it t’me.” At any moment you could be caught. You both know it. You’re hardly being discreet. And neither of you seem to give a solitary fuck about the fact. His balls slap against your pussy, only serving to heighten your pleasure, your stomach churning with a heavenly warmth that you’ve grown addicted to. “M’so close. Please. Fuck, please lemme cum.”
“Think you deserve it?” He hums, a deep groan eliciting from his throat as he nears his own end. Mild panic ensues within, the thought of walking away from him dissatisfied causing you to rut back against him like a bitch in heat. “If I let you cum, you gonna quit flirting with that asshole? Huh? Gonna remember who you belong to?”
“His name is Hal. Ah!” You yelp, his fingers straying from your pussy and digging into your inner thigh. “I mean, yes. Fuck. Yes, I swear. Please. I can’t--”
“Alright, I gotcha.” Bucky’s fingers return to your sensitive nub, rubbing expertly and his cock bottomed out inside you, hips grinding salaciously against your ass. You feel so fucking full. Its heaven. It’s everything. It’s filthy and desperate. Just like you. “C’mon, Princess. M’gonna fuckin’ bust.”
He falls forward, face buried in your neck and his hot, heavy breaths scorching your skin. You lose it then, shattering against the wall, caged between the harsh surface and his strong body. Safe. The feel of him flooding your asshole with his cum has you reeling, cunt tightening and a symphony of blissful moans slipping from your lips. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you.”
“There she is. There’s my girl,” he croons, nipping at your ear and jutting against you, emptying his balls and throbbing against your insides. “Better hurry, baby. He’s probably wonderin’ where you got to, isn't he? Lemme see the mess I made first though, mm?”
You whine when he moves to spread your cheeks apart, slowly pulling his length free of your fucked out hole. Bucky lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed with himself as he inspects the impressive gape. His cum oozes out instantly, dripping down onto your tennis shoe, the chill of the afternoon air sending a shudder through your trembling body. “Look at that. See? She’s wide open for me. Bet she’s grateful, too. You could learn a lesson or two from her, couldn’t you?”
With a swift kiss to your cheek and a light tap of your rear, he wipes his dick on your skirt and tucks himself away, leaving you to pull yourself together.
As you walk on bambi legs back toward the tennis courts, you can’t help but wonder what would happen if you ignored his warnings altogether. How much fun would he have punishing you if you did?
“Hey, sweetheart. Thought you’d done a disappearing act on me,” Hal grins, his white polo shirt tight against his abs and chest, hair floppy against his sweat-slick forehead. “Lets get back to it, shall we? Gotta work some more on that swing.”
You take the racket from him when he hands it to you, Bucky’s cum drying against your skin as you reach up on the balls of your feet and kiss Hal chastely on the cheek, the salty taste staining your lips. “Yes, Sir.”
Looking back over your shoulder, your eyes finding him as he stands on the veranda with a drink in hand, you smirk.
Yeah, you’re in for it tonight.
I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary, and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕
Bucky Barnes x f!Reader
word count: 800 ▪︎ masterlist
The reader and Bucky have a 4am encounter.
You scramble out of bed, groggy from sleep. Having woken up half an hour ago, you've just been lying there, staring at the ceiling, thinking of what Natasha said to you earlier.
"I have it on good authority that one Sergeant Barnes has his eye on you."
"Oh? And whose authority is that?"
"Mine, of course," she winked, "The only authority you can trust in this compound, mind you."
Your footsteps make no sound as you quietly walk to the shared kitchen on your floor. Everyone's sound asleep, or potentially out at some bar, if they were coaxed into it by Sam. Potentially world-ending events, terrorist threats, homicidal purple aliens. Whatever might come, Sam's enthusiasm to grab a drink and lay back will never wane. Everyone's best friend.
The panel to the kitchen slides open, F.R.I.D.A.Y. scanning and recognizing you. You blink through the haze of sleep, and proceed to rummage through the fridge. Tony's cheeseburgers, Wanda's borscht, Nat's carefully planned meals. And an obscene amount of beer. Taking one, you shuffle around for the bottle opener.
"Need some help with that?" A deep voice asks, startling the shit out of you. The bottle slips from your fingers, but a metal arm catches it just before it empties out on the floor.
"Fuck!" Your eyes meet Bucky's in the faint light, "you really do move like a ghost, don't you?"
"Actually, the name's Buck," he hands the bottle to you, with a cheeky smirk, "and yes, I've been told that before."
"Funny," your heartbeat still races, but no longer due to the almost-accident.
"Here," he reaches forward and deftly twists the bottle cap off with one hand, and clinks his bottle to yours, "Cheers, babydoll."
You take a huge gulp of beer to stifle your awkwardness. Damn him and his hulking form and his sensual musk and his steel blue gaze.
"What was that you called me?" you leaned back against the counter to steady yourself, "Don't think you've said it before. Not to me anyway."
"Hmm, what? Babydoll?" There's a playfulness in his eyes, as if he's aware of how he's making you feel.
"Yeah, it sounds... nice."
He takes another swig of his drink, "Glad you think so. It suits you. Anyway, I'm sorry for scaring you like that. I was just sitting over there," he points to the couch in the dim corner of the room, "and you didn't seem to notice me."
"Couldn't sleep either?" You peer up at him, and let your eyes run over the faint lines around his. You make a mental note of how beautiful it is when he smiles and they appear like sunburst. It took a long time for Bucky to come back to himself, but he truly has let go of the Winter Soldier.
"Mmm," he leans against the counter beside you, and you're even closer than before, "sleep doesn't come easy to me. But at least I bumped into you now, eh?"
"Were you looking for me, Barnes?" You don't know where you've found the courage to flirt, but you're not dwelling on it.
"I just," he hesitates, pausing between his words, "haven't seen you around so much. And... I wanted to. See you more, that is."
Was Bucky getting flustered around you? Perhaps Natasha was not kidding, after all. You already hoped, but it's different to see it now, unfolding in front of you.
You smile, and his lips slowly curve upward while looking at you. "Why is that?"
"Y'know, the last person I called babydoll was this dame called Dot. I took her on a couple dates, back in the 40s. I liked her quite a lot then, so I suppose I saw fit to call her by that little name."
"Oh?" You mull over his words, confused as to why he's telling you about another girl. And then...
"Oh." You whisper once more, "So you..?"
He sets his beer on the counter, and stands in front of you. Bracing his hands on your waist, he lowers his lips close to your ear, "I like you quite a lot now, babydoll."
Blood rushes to your face, and you feel lightheaded. Definitely not due to the alcohol.
"And, I actually have it on good authority that you like me too," he adds.
Realization hits you, and you can't help but fondly roll your eyes, "Tell me, Buck, does this 'good authority' happen to be a certain redheaded former assassin?"
"Yeah, how did you..." His eyes widen slightly, "Oh, of course. She told you, didn't she?"
"That's our Nat," you smile, and testing the waters, you interlace your fingers behind his neck.
Sunburst lines erupt around his magnetic blue eyes, "So I take it she was telling the truth?"
"Oh, just kiss me already."
First ever Bucky blurb. I've always loved his character, but why did I feel like I was cheating on Aemond or Daemon? 😭 wow, I need therapy..
Not me thinking, 'Aemond would be so jealous right now.' Hahahaha it's a problem.
Oh my gawd that gif gave me dirty thots of desperation taking hold and getting off with roommate!Bucky in his/your car
That Lee gif was hot (that was the gif you were talking about, right?!) and I had to do something.
Pairing: Roommate!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: You help Bucky relieve some stress after a long day.
Word Count: Almost 1.7k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (m. receiving), dirty talk, swearing, established relationship, teasing, mechanic roommate!Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?).
A/N: More from Stud and Smartie! Beta read by the beautiful @sweeterthanthis , but any and all mistakes are my own. Banners by @its-just-may. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!
It was quiet at the shop and the parking lot was empty, which was likely why Bucky finally took a break. And judging from the way his massive shoulders didn’t relax as he vented to you about asshole customers (he refused to give you their names) and how he kept running a hand through his hair as he huffed, he had a long day. That’s exactly why you stopped by to see him. You knew he needed you.
Roommate and girlfriend instinct.
“Sorry,” he sighed once he was done, tilting his head to gaze at you with tired eyes. My poor Stud. “I doubt you wanted to spend this visit sitting in your car and listening to me bitch about customers. And now my fucking break is almost over.”
“Please, don’t apologize. I vent to you about school all the time,” you pointed out, turning in the passenger seat to fully face him. He was always there to ease you through things and it meant everything to you. And you liked the moments you two shared in your car, good or bad.
“Isn’t the same,” he argued, running his hand through his soft, dark hair again.
“It is the same,” you swore, reaching over to take his calloused hand. Fuck, his hands are huge. “What can I do to help?”
“I got to see your beautiful face, so you’ve done plenty,” he smiled gently, making your stomach flutter with butterflies only he could put there.
“That’s not enough,” you said, not allowing him to placate you when you knew he was still stressed. You checked the time again and did a quick look around. There’s enough time. No one is here and I wouldn’t care if anyone was. That's part of the excitement. “Lean your seat back a bit.”
“Why?” he asked as he moved the seat.
“Because I want you to be relaxed for the rest of the afternoon,” you explained, removing your hand from his to palm his crotch. Rubbing him slowly, you felt him harden beneath the fabric. It was a powerful feeling, knowing what your touch did to him. “But we need to hurry. Your break time is almost over and you need to fuck my mouth.”
You made quick work of popping the button on his pants and unzipping them before the words seemed to register to him, his eyes widening as your hand tugged his underwear down enough to release him. Lightbulb. There it is. “Fuck your mouth?”
“Mm-hmm. What do you say, Stud?" you asked all too innocently. "Fuck my hot, wet mouth and use it the way you need to?"
"Shit. You should already be back at our place studying or relaxing," he told you, which meant he didn't want you worrying about him. You also knew if the roles were reversed, he’d have his head between your legs or his cock shoved so deep in your pussy you’d forget everything except for his name.
Why not return the favor?
“I am studying. We’ll call this Anatomy,” you smirked as you undid your seatbelt and leaned over completely. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but you didn’t care. Maybe I'll let him drive over the weekend so we can have some real fun. You licked your lips as you took a moment to admire his hard length, eager to taste him and get him off. He deserved that.
"Fuck," he hissed as you gripped the base of his cock and pressed a kiss to the head. "You plan on teasing me, Smartie?"
“Not today,” you promised. "And don't try to get me off like I know you want to. This is for you," you added before wrapping your lips around him. No promises for later.
"You really want to take care of me, don't you, doll?" he moaned, affection mingling with the husky tone as your mouth lowered down. Always. Your tongue swirled as you came up slightly before sinking back down again, taking him in a bit more each time. Okay, maybe I want to tease him a little. Most of all, you wanted him to feel good.
“Jesus fuck, your mouth feels amazing,” he breathed out, moving a hand to the back of your head. He gripped it, but didn’t push you down the way you expected. You knew he was trying to stay in control.
Fuck that. I want you to lose it.
The groan of pleasure he let out when you picked up your rhythm made you hum in reply. Keeping your jaw slack, you took more of him down your throat. The heavy weight of his cock as it slid across your tongue almost made you reach between your legs. But this wasn’t about you. It was about him and you wanted to take care of him, just like he said.
But he’s still holding back.
Bucky groaned again when you pulled off. “Are you okay?” he asked, his cock twitching as you tightened your grip on the base.
“I can still talk clearly, so I’m fine. You’re not fucking my mouth,” you answered bluntly as you glanced up at him.
The blue of his eyes darkened as he let out a shuddering breath. “I’m not treating you like a whore. Not here.”
You smiled as you leaned up, giving him a quick peck on the lips. He doesn’t care what the guys say about him. He doesn’t want them talking about me if we get caught. “But you’re not treating me like a whore. I know I’m more than that,” you reminded him, licking your lips as you glanced back down. “I’m your whore. So use me the way you need to.”
You didn’t give him a chance to argue as you swallowed him back down, your cheeks hollowing out. “You can’t just say shit like that,” he warned as his hips thrust up. You moaned eagerly, urging him to do it again, before you pulled off.
Almost there. Just another push.
“Oh, yes,” you grinned, licking away a bead of precum. “I can. Unless you can’t handle giving it to me, Stud.”
Bucky’s resolve finally snapped with a small chuckle, getting your message loud and clear, as he forced your head down, almost making you choke on him. Your pussy liked the idea of that, clenching around nothing, as your boyfriend simply held you there. You knew to tap his thigh three times if it was ever too much. “Since you’re so eager for me to use you, fucking take me. There you go. Fuck, think your friends know you love my cock buried in your throat and pussy when you aren’t buried in a book?”
Tears burned your eyes as you moaned, willing your throat to relax more as he began to fuck your mouth in earnest. Everyone knows. The grunts and moans that filled the car nearly had you dripping down your thighs. Why did I tell him not to touch me? You loved Bucky in moments like these when he threw self control out the window and took you the way he wanted to.
The way he had countless times all over your apartment.
“Such a sweet fucking mouth to ruin,” he breathed, pushing your head faster to meet his thrusts. “Gonna ruin my sweet pussy the moment I get home. You better be ready. On my bed, naked. Ass up. You fucking hear me?”
You hummed, wishing his shift was over. You wanted him to fuck you now. No, no, no. This is about him and what he needs. Which is his massive, fucking cock in my throat. Fuck, he’s close. I can feel it.
“That’s a good girl. My good girl,” he praised, making a tear fall. Why does it always feel more genuine and meaningful when he compliments me? “Fuck, doll, I’m gonna come. Stay there and swallow it.”
Your heart raced at the command, reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, when his lustful moan hit your ears. It drowned out your whimper as he filled your willing mouth. Pleasure had a sinful taste as you swallowed it down. Maybe that’s why you were always ready for more.
Bucky whined as he lifted you off his cock, your tongue slipping out to catch one last drop. His heavy breathing made you smile as you looked at him. His mouth was open, his cheeks flushed and eyes dazed. It’s a good look. “C’mere,” he rasped before he brought his lips to yours. His tongue slipped in easily, making you gasp as he swirled it around to taste himself. Your fingers gripped his shirt as he kept at it. Can he make me come just by doing that?
The kiss shifted to something gentler, both of you savoring what little time you had left. “Thank you,” he whispered against your swollen lips, finally letting you go so you could sit back in your seat. You stretched a little, the slight discomfort totally worth seeing him more at ease. “You good?” he asked as he tucked himself away.
“Good,” you croaked, pointing to your bottle of water at his feet. That was the truth. He felt better, so you felt better. And I'll need to change these panties when I get home since they're soaked.
He smiled as he handed it to you. “Wait. Something else you need,” he added, digging around in his pocket.
“Breath mint?” you teased, taking a swig of the water before he tossed a small roll in your lap.
You picked up the closed wrapper of candy as you raised an eyebrow. “SMARTIES?”
Bucky smirked as he took it back from your hand, winking as he opened it and popped one in his mouth. “Tastes sugary sweet. Just like my Smartie,” he smiled before he saw the time and a car pull into the parking lot. Perfect timing. “Fuck, I gotta go. Sorry. You're the best,” he said quickly, his large frame stretching over to give you one more kiss. “And don’t forget. Ass up on my bed when I get home. Need to make sure you really ace Anatomy.”
More from Stud and Smartie soon. Love and thanks!
⤿ word count : 730
⤿ summary [also requested by anon (thank you!)] : sebastian shows his newborn in his new online interview with don saladino.
warnings : just fluff, dad!sebastian and husband!sebastian
*feedback is appreciated. please reblog so it can reach more people♡
'We have to do this sometime, actually.'
It's not going to be that easy now...
Suddenly, Sebastian was brought back to his old, bachelor days... How life was different back then.
But those days were now long done and they were replaced by even more exciting ones. Days as a married man, days as a father. His life before you didn't matter anymore the moment he saw you.
Maybe it was some kind of nostalgia that has set over him since the beginning of this Zoom Call with Don. It was probably caused by the questions from the type of how he got where he is now and what he does to keep a steady mindset. Sebastian didn't care about that. All he knew was that he was extremely happy with the place he is currently sitting in his life.
He could only replay those moments in his head. His high school days, the days in Austria, the new world of the big New York. But still, that was enough.
Sebastian laughed at the emojis which popped up in the chatbox in the upper corner of the screen and the funny responses. Don was laughing uncontrollably but still trying to look professional.
'Well, you know how it is. Got married and now have a kid.' Sebastian chuckled, and every muscle in his body swelled with proudness. This proudness in him, was caused by the thought of your baby sleeping in the room next to his and the little screen of the baby monitor sitting next to him.
He was alone with his baby girl because he wanted you to have a day off only for yourself. He knew how much you needed that since you had just given birth a little over two months ago and were basically glued to your daughter.
Even with you protests that he was supposed to have a peaceful time with his interview, he knew that Don would understand if he first needed to take care of his baby. With lots of reassures that they will both be fine, you left your shared apartment to go shopping with your best friend.
'I know, I was there for the wedding and the baby announcement.'
'We know, Don!' Sebastian giggled. 'You even had a special place at the wedding.'
'All the best for -' Don was interrupted by a loud cry coming from Sebastian's microphone.
'Duty calls!' Sebastian excused himself and lifted his body from the stool he was sitting on to go to the room on the left where his baby had just woken up.
Don was carrying on with the interview so that people had some entertainment while waiting for Sebastian to return.
When he did return the chatbox filling with all kinds of 'awh', 'look at them!' and heart emojis.
Sebastian sat in the chair again with his baby girl resting against the left side of his chest, supporting her head with his free hand. She looked soo fragile in the hug of his big, veiny palms resting on top of her back.
But even with that fragileness in mind, she seemed entirely protected from her father's body. Sebastian was holding her like she was about to break, yet, as she could disappear, and that showed just by looking with one eye at the screen.
'She gets a little fussy when she wakes up.' Sebastian said with that father's tone in his voice. The ultimate feeling of proudness.
'I'm really sad cause I still haven't seen her in real!' Don exclaimed and gestured to the tiny baby in Sebastian's embrace.
'I know! But you will see her next week.' He answered and started gently rocking her back and forth. 'Also look at this.'
He carefully removed his palm from her back revealing the little logo of Gym Mafia spread across his daughter's soft pink onesie.
'She is a hard fan!' Sebastian laughed. 'There is the logo in the front as well but she is already falling asleep so I won't move her. Thank you, Don! You made her this, so shout out to Don Saladino, everyone!'
'Awh, she is perfect, Seb.' Don awed after seeing his merch on her.
The interview continued until Sebastian whispered 'Someone is heavily knocked out' and the Zoom Call ended with some final goodbyes so he can go and put his baby girl in her bassinet.
Okay , onto my Frank request then! Being Frank’s friend and he’s all over the place but he’s attentive when it comes to you . He makes sure you’re okay and looks out for you . One night , he’s driving you to your place . He pulls you close in the front seat , cuddling his side while he’s holding a cigarette and driving with the other hand. When he stops at a red light , he turns to you to tell you how beautiful you are . One thing leading to another , you’re making out and when you reach your house , he’s picking you up by the back of your thighs and carries you inside . He makes you scream that night and then you fall asleep on his chest . But when you wake up , you’re in an empty bed . You’re so upset , thinking Frank treated you like any other girl he takes home for the night . You’re crying and you don’t hear the door opening or a worried Frank rushing to your side after picking up breakfast
18+ minors dni
Oh this sexy menace? Fuck yes.
Frank x f reader
"I don't ca-
Franks eyes grew wide, grabbing the phone from his friend to answer his call; he usually lets it go to voicemail but never with you.
"Hey peanut, you okay?"
"Mhm, m'fine" You slur out and he's on his feet making his way to his car. You said you were having a girls night and at least it sounded like you enjoyed yourself.
"Where are you right now"
He comes and grabs you, smirking when you stumble out of the club, right into his arms. He carries you to his car and buckles you in, you have a goofy grin plastered on your face and he's definitely taking a few pictures to tease you with for later.
Once he reaches your place, he has you in his arms again, chuckling at the way you cling onto him while he carries you to your room. He carefully removes your lashes and does his best to take off your makeup. He slips you into one of his shirt's you've stolen, tucking you into bed before crashing on the couch just in case you get sick in the middle of the night.
He knows he can be a bit of a mess but not when it comes to you, not his favorite little peanut.
“I told you it was good” You sass, while Frank shakes his head, taking another drag of his cigarette, driving you home. “Just admit it”
“Fine, it was okay”
“It was more than okay!” You poke his arm, the both of you coming back from a movie you had insisted on going to. If anyone else had told him to go, it would have been a hard no, but for you? He was at your door within minutes. That didn’t mean he wanted to admit it was actually a good movie.
You continue rambling on about the movie, which makes him smile. Everything about you makes him smile. Your voice. Your smile. The way your nose crinkles when you laugh. He takes another long drag of his cigarette, he can’t stop the way his mind is racing; you’re so beautiful and sweet. You’ve been the most consistent person in his life, you’ve been there for him in more ways than he can count. You’re stopped at a red light and he can’t even stop the words tumbling out of his mouth.
You roll your eyes, you were not new to Frank’s flirting, this was nothing new.
Hm. He never used your name. You gasp, feeling his arm pull you closer to him, making him look at you. “You’re so beautiful...”
Your face is near his, you can feel your skin heating up with each passing second. He leans in slightly and before you can stop yourself, your lips smash onto his. His tongue slips past your lips, his fingers tugging your hair gently, as if something he had contained for ages was finally releasing.
You moan, feeling his lips trail down to your neck, whining in protest when he has to reluctantly pull away after the light changes. There's only a few more blocks till you get to your place, but you’re more desperate than ever.
As soon as he pulls up to your drive way, he’s ran around to the passenger seat before you can even unbuckle yourself. He easily lifts you to wrap around his waist, your thighs hugging onto him tightly and his lips are on you again, heading straight to your room.
“Y/n, give it to me baby, just one more sweet heart, c’mon”
Sweat is beading at his forehead, his cock fucking in and out of you, he wants to cum so badly but not until you cum one more time for him. His hands are toying with your clit the other holding your waist while he gazes down at you. His lips are brushing against yours while he rolls his hips, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot each time.
He’s already made you cum twice (the benefit of being friends, you’ve told him what you like and he definitely paid attention during that conversation). The sheets are damp, your mixed arousal dripping out of you, making a mess everywhere. Its sloppy and desperate, pent up tension between you both reaching an all time high.
“F-FR-ANK” you cry out, clenching and squeezing around his cock, your orgasm right on edge. Tears are prickling your eyes, pleasure is surging through your body, because of him. Your walls and fluttering and you can feel his cock throb.
“Cum with me baby, milk my cock, you feel so good baby-fuck-can’t hold it”
“I-fuck-I’m CUMMING” You cling onto him, your pussy making it impossible for him to hold off any longer, he can feel your slick gush out of you and he’s only going to fill you back up.
“Gonna cum so hard for you y/n, FUCK” You can feel his warmth fill you up, his pace unrelenting trying fuck you through your high.
You can barely move afterwards, hardly able to feel the warm wash cloth between your legs. You feel his arms wrap around you to pull you into him; he places your head onto his chest. He’s cradling your head, gently stroking your hair while you fall asleep, you’ve never felt so complete.
The bedside his empty.
His clothes are gone.
You don’t see his wallet anywhere.
You should have known. You were no different. You knew exactly who he was last night, he’d shown you who he was time and time again. Why did you believe you were any different.
Maybe because you actually loved him.
You thought he maybe felt the same.
You curled into a ball, tears streaking your face as you cried, your face buried in your knees. You didn’t even hear the door open, crying harder when you thought about all the times you wished he was yours.
"Peanut? Hey, hey baby" He rushes over to your side, immediately pulling you into his lap. His heart is beating out of his chest, he’s hardly ever seen you cry, mostly because he’s always there to stop the tears before they even start.
"Baby what’s wrong"
"I-” You stop yourself from speaking, your skin heating up while he brushes your hair away from your face waiting for you to answer. You feel can’t bring yourself to tell him why your upset, not wanting him to think you’re clingy, especially if there's nothing more here. He looks terrified, wondering if he hurt you or if you felt pressured into doing something you didn’t want in the first place, he’d never live with himself if he hurt you.
"Baby? Did I do something wro-
"No!" You bite your lip, worried about telling him more. "I-I thought you left" You whisper, looking down at your lap, refusing to look at him.
"No sweet heart, I just went to grab us something to eat, thought you'd like those waffles from the diner" He’s rubbing soothing circles on your back, pulling you to lay on his chest, just like he did the night before. "Why would I leave you"
You shrug, not wanting to tell him you thought he saw you like every other girl he takes home, fearing that really was how he saw you.
"I'd never leave you peanut"
You snuggle into his chest, still feeling unsure. He wraps his arms around you, his lips brushing your forehead. He’s thought about this moment 100 times over, and nothing compares to how perfect you feel, sitting against him.
“You promise?” You whisper, smiling softly when he tips your chin to look up at you.
“Baby, if you haven’t pieced it together already-
He hesitates. He might had said this haphazardly in the past before but this is real. He means it. He doesn’t want to screw this up.
“I love you”
You blink up at him, gasping when he comes down to kiss you, the sweetest softest kiss anyone's ever given you. He stays with you the whole day. Many days. and nights. and you’re always safe. you’re always loved. in his arms.
Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyes @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchy-whore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @peaches1958 @kingfleury @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @samfreakingwinchester @xnorthstar3x
Pairing: Soft Dark! Bucky Barnes x Reader
Kink Prompt: Cut [Knife play]
Word Count: 1,944
Summary: You haven’t been having the best luck on dating apps, but you’re willing to try again.
Warnings: AU: Dark, Noncon, Stalking, Obsessive behavior, Possessive Behavior, Knife play, Marking, Dead Dove: Do not eat, MINORS DNI!
A/N: i’m super excited to share this one with you all, i had a lot of fun fulfilling the brief. hoping you all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! divider by @firefly-graphics
Your date’s eyes flick up over your right shoulder for the umpteenth time that night, a spark of nervousness growing in them.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, a small but reassuring smile on your lips. You turn around, but there isn’t anything out of place at the restaurant. The tables surrounding you are all full of people laughing and chatting amicably, not one of them paying attention to either of you. “See someone you know?” You joke, but Phil’s responding laughter is hollow and anxious sounding.
“No, no,” he says, shaking his head. “I just thought—you know what? Never mind.” Phil dives back into the conversation full force, asking you about your likes and dislikes, your family and friends, your dating history. “No boyfriends I should know about?” He leans forward, and you get the impression that this light-hearted joke somehow isn’t light-hearted at all.
“No.” You say with a short laugh. “Why would I be on Tingle looking for a boyfriend if I had a boyfriend?” You take a sip of your wine as Phil chuckles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.
“No, totally, of course. I’ve just, you know. Heard some real horror stories on 6Space.”
“Hah, yeah,” you say, thinking of your latest string of failed dates. “Horror stories.”
“You have some of your own, I take it?”
You heave a sigh, downing another generous sip of your wine. You shift a little in your seat, thinking uncomfortably of the last date you’d been on. James—Bucky, he wanted you to call him Bucky—was nice, but… intense. His charm and passion had been underscored unpleasantly by a deep, aching need, one you didn’t—and still don’t—think you’re qualified to fill.
“I guess you could say that.” Going back to Bucky’s place with him had been a mistake. One that left you weak and sore for days afterward, and you’d swiftly blocked his number before re-installing the dating app last week.
You’re just perfect, doll, you know that? Fucking sweet and tight and all mine, isn’t that right?
The entrees come without issue, and you eat half of your falafel before you’re tapping out. “I love this place, but the portion sizes,” you complain lightheartedly, and Phil laughs, nodding in agreement.
“Let me get it,” he says, grabbing for the bill. You watch Phil pat his pockets, his expression turning worried as he searches. “What the f—Okay, I totally had my wallet before I went to the bathroom.” He rises from the table and flags down a waiter. “Has anyone found a wallet? I can’t seem to find mine.”
“I’ll check with the host.”
He sits back down, cheeks red with embarassment. “This never happens,” he says, laughing nervously. “Can I, um. I can Cash-mo you, if that’s okay.”
You place your own card in the book, nodding. “Of course.” The waiter swings back by to grab it, and shakes his head apologetically at Phil. He swipes your card through the reader while Phil mutters that maybe he left it in the taxi, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You tuck your copy of the receipt into your purse and stand.
“So um. I was thinking, maybe we could get a drink at my place?” Phil asks, a distinctly unattractive pleading note in his voice. “No pressure for anything else, of course, and—”
“You know what, Phil? I think I’m going to call it a night.” You offer him a tired smile, one you hope masks your dissatisfaction with the date. “But maybe we can hang out again?” The offer is a false one, made to round off the hard edge of your rejection. Phil deflates.
“Y-yeah. Of course,” he replies defeatedly, irritation setting itself in the displeased curl of his lip. “Another time.”
The walk back to your apartment is dreary, made all the worse by the cold drizzle and your own bad mood. Your fat orange tabby greets you at the door, yowling hungrily as he winds his way around your legs. You kick off your damp heels by the door, rocking gratefully on the balls of your feet. You reach down to pick up the cat, and he twists in your arms to butt his head against your face.
“I don’t know, Oliver,” you sigh, picking your way over the pile of your shoes by the front door. “Maybe this dating thing isn’t for me.” He chirrups in your arms, kneading you through your clothes as you head for the kitchen, intent on feeding him.
“Probably not. You strike me as a one-man kinda gal.”
“Fuck!” You shriek, dropping a yowling Oliver as you turn to stare fearfully into your darkened living room. You squint, feeling around in your purse for the little canister of mace you keep there. The outline of a figure—tall, broad shouldered—folds his arms across his chest, and steps a little closer to the light. Your mouth drops open with shock.
“Bucky?” You glance at the door and then back at him. “W-what are you doing here?” He cards a hand through his dark hair, teeth sinking into his plump lower lip as he contemplates his answer. His slate blue eyes catch the light as they fall on your face.
“I wanted to see you.” His mouth twists. “But you weren’t here.” You swallow, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. You don’t know how he got in without breaking your lock or a window—and furthermore, you don’t remember ever giving him your address.
“I-I think you should leave.” He doesn’t respond, watching you silently with an expression you can’t accurately read. “M-Maybe we can hang out—”
“Another time?” He says dryly, raising an eyebrow at you. “You use that line a lot, doll.”
“You’ve been watching me,” you say accusatorially, but Bucky only shrugs.
“A guy’s got to keep an eye on his best girl.” You hear the snikt of a knife sliding open, and you heart leaps into your throat as the blade gleams in the darkness. “I made you feel good, didn’t I, doll?” He asks, flipping the knife and catching it by the handle with his metal hand. When you don’t answer, he scowls. “Please, sweetheart, I’m talking to you.”
“Y-yes.” You croak, flinching as he steps closer. You’re pressed against the wall with fear, unable to look away from the cruelly curved blade in his hand. You try to inch along the wall, matching him step for step—but his hand crashes against the wall beside your head, trapping you. He turns the knife in his other hand, a look of consideration on his face. You can’t look away from it, your eyes jumping between his distracted gaze and the blade.
“You know,” he says, spinning it around one finger before catching it by the hilt, “it really hurt my feelings when you didn’t call, Sweetheart.” The breath in your throat escapes in a shrill little squeal as he slides the flat of it against your bare arm. His eyes flick up to yours. “I really liked you.”
“You blocked me.”
“You scared me,” you whimper. He drags the blunt side of the knife down your arm and goosebumps spring up in its wake. “W-we’d been on one date, a-and you were talking rings and marriage, it-it was—”
“So knowing what I want’s a bad thing, now?” There’s a subtle note of accusation in his voice that you don’t miss. “You know, years I had other people in my head.” The knife reaches your wrist, and he turns it, pressing the edge against your pulse point before dragging it back up. “Telling me what I wanted. What to do.” You flinch as he presses the tip against your chest, just above the collar of your dress. He drags it down, and it slices through the chiffon of your dress like butter, parting the layers in a straight line until it falls off of you.
“I don’t understand,” he says softly. He cups your chin with one hand, all while he draws shapes on your belly with the tip of the knife. “Didn’t I make you feel good?” You feel each pass with crystal clarity, shivering as your nipples tighten from the cool air. Bucky sees it, licking his lips as he flicks his thumb across the tip of one, following it with the blade.
“Yes.” You’re afraid to move, to breathe. He draws the tip over the curve of your breast, tracing it down your side and hooking it beneath the elastic of your panties. It snaps against your skin, and you wince. He sighs, tracing it over your hip. The knife is so sharp that it doesn’t even hurt as your skin splits when he applies the tiniest bit more pressure, your blood welling up on the blade.
“I want you to understand, doll.” His voice is eerily calm. He swipes his thumb up the flat of the knife, collecting the thin line of crimson on his finger before popping it into his mouth. “You’re it for me.” The tip of the knife presses dangerously into the fleshy curve of your thigh, but Bucky pulls it away before it can break the skin. You gasp as he cups you with his flesh hand, parting the cleft lips of your cunt with thick, practiced fingers. He chuckles pulling his fingers from between your thighs to show you the wetness at their tips. Your stomach curdles with shame as he flashes his teeth in a triumphant grin.
“Knew you liked me, doll.” The knife-tip leaves your skin tingling and oversensitive as you strain to feel where next it’ll touch down. You stare up at him with glassy, disbelieving eyes as he reaches back down to thumb at your clit, his other hand drawing oblong shapes with the knife. Down, over the curve of your belly, over your hip, tracing the side of your face—he doesn’t stop. There’s nowhere for you to go, pressed against the wall with Bucky’s body blocking you in, nowhere to hide from the sensation of his fingers twisting in your core and the sharp silver blade leaving trails on your flesh.
“G-God, Bucky s-stop—” The rest of your plea dissolves on your tongue as your body jackknifes, hot currents of electricity washing away conscious thought. His voice is dark in your ear, egging you on as you convulse in his arms.
“Good girl, doll, so good,” he coos, the stubble on his cheek rasping against your own as he nuzzles you. “So pretty when you cum, baby. Could watch it all goddamn day.” He pulls his drenched fingers from your core with an embarrassingly slick noise. Your knees are trembling, barely holding you up, so it’s no task for Bucky to sweep them out from under you, cradling you to his chest as he walks toward the bedroom.
He lays you across the bed with surprising gentleness, and then kneels on the floor by the foot of it. Your legs are dangling over the edge, but not for long before Bucky rests them on his shoulders. His breath puffs against your slick, sensitive folds. You whimper as the tip of the knife presses into your hip again, and even with it’s wicked sharpness, you feel the blade bite into your flesh. You writhe, whimpering, and Bucky hushes you gently. He leans forward to lave a wet, sloppy kiss against your cunt.
“Stay still, sweetheart,” he says, and you feel him bear down on the knife again, drawing a straight line, and then a curve. “Don’t wanna mess up my initials.”
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Power Over Me
Summary: Bucky has a thing for sundresses, he loves it when you wear them for him. All you have to do is saunter around in his favorite one and he’s willing to do whatever you want.
Pairing: Beefy Biker Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Smut, Bucky being a 6′4″ menace, sex against a wall, praise kink, implied body worship.
A/N: Based on a tiktok about sundresses, written on my phone. Comments, reblogs and likes are cherished. Sinday drabble.
This is not the fic about the first time he saw you in a sundress, oh no he was way worse that day.
Bucky loves it when you wear dresses, you look beautiful in the classic little black he bought you for a party but his favorites are those colorful sundresses. The ones that show off your luscious curves, and slide across your ass with every step, highlighting your body in ways the other dresses can’t.
He goes feral every time he sees you in them. He likes you in sundresses more than you like him in those grey sweatpants.
You can get him to do anything you want if you ask him while wearing the one red with the thin gold straps. Granted, he’s going to do whatever you want anyway, but he appreciates the extra motivation.
And he knows, he absolutely knows, what you’re doing when you saunter around the house, wearing a new sundress. Enticing him with your pretty smiles and even prettier eyes as the soft material sways around your hips.
It doesn't matter because he’s always ready to give you anything including giving you the moon whenever you want. He's just waiting for you to ask.
That's the power you have. And he loves it.
Bucky's trying to behave, he really is. Even keeping his eyes on the manual he's studying, telling himself to stay focused while you moved around the living room.
All you're doing is rearranging a few things, a couple of candles on the mantle, sprucing up the wilting plant in the window, nothing too special expect for the fact that its you doing these mundane tasks.
Yet he can’t help the way his gaze keeps straying from the page, wanting a glimpse of you.
You're alluring, addictive. Without even trying.
He’s about to return to his work when you lean over, picking up a stray pillow off the carpet, the hem of your lacy dress riding up your thighs and he sees that you’re not wearing any panties.
His reaction is instantaneous.
His body moving towards you, like you're the sun, pulling him into your orbit. Just like that everything else is forgotten as he gazes at you.
Bucky swears that every time you do this to him, it’s like being struck by lightning. He can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t think for a minute, just drinking in the sight of his gorgeous girl showing off her perfect body.
He inhales deeply, attempting to get a handle on the torrent of emotions swirling inside him, happiness, potent lust, and a tinge of possessiveness.
“So I was thinking...” you start, glancing over your shoulder unaware of the effect you’re having on your boyfriend, your eyes widen when you see his bulge hardening, his eyes darkening.
Bucky leaps to his feet, tossing his Harley manual on the floor. “Yes.”
You laugh as he grabs you by the waist and spins you around. Your hands land on his chest and you tip your head back to look into his oceanic eyes. “Bucky, you don’t even know what I was about to say.”
“Gorgeous, the answer is still yes. You don't have to say anything else, I'm still going to say yes." Bucky says over your shocked giggles.
"It’s yours, you can have it, I’ll do it, I’ll make it. I'll get it, Yes we can go. The answer is always yes when it comes to you," Bucky continues, his large hands sweeping under the hem of your dress, and the feel of his calloused palms, makes you shiver, goosebumps trailing behind his deft fingers.
His hands curve under your ass, squeezing your soft skin as he picks you up, without any effort.
Hours working in the garage and in his home gym have sculpted his thick body into the masterpiece it is today, allowing him to manhandle you with ease, always making you feel weightless and small around him.
“You can have whatever it is you want, you know that,” he says, a smile lifting the corner of his lips. It’s true. Making sure you’re happy and taken care of has become second nature to him.
Providing for you is more natural than breathing.
He backs you into the wall, framed pictures rattling and threatening to crash to the carpet below, not that you notice or care, laughter pinging between you, the both of you pushing and pulling at each other clothes. Your dress is bunched up around your waist, his pant falling to his ankles. What’s happening is wild and chaotic and irresistible. Just like Bucky. You need him right now, you can’t stand going another second without him inside you. Your hands reach between your bodies to find his thick cock hard and ready for you while he keeps a firm grip on your hips.
“Fuck,” he groans when you slide him through your drenched folds, coating his veiny cock in your slick arousal. “Is that all for me?” His deep voice is already strained and gravelly. “This pretty little pussy wet for me Gorgeous?”
“All for you Bucky," you sigh. "Always for you."
You’re reminded of the feeling you get when you’re sitting at the top of a rollercoaster and then it drops, going 100mph, your stomach plunging to the ground and excitement laces around your racing heart. That's how you feel when he looks at you, when he kisses you, touches you. And it's how you feel every time he first stretches you, giving you inch after inch until he's so deep inside your pussy, you can't think. You can only feel him.
And he always makes sure you’ll feel him for days after he’s done with you.
"Good girl." He keeps his hands around your hips, holding you up, his head dropping down so he can watch you guide his thick length inside you. "So good to me. So fucking tight for me, wish you could feel how good you are."
Bucky’s eyes bounce between your joined bodies and your face, unable to decide which sight is sexier, the way you’re taking him or the way your eyes are rolling back, mouth slack as moans and sighs spill from your lips.
Every sound you make spurs him on, his pace increasing from the need to hear you scream his name so loud the entire block knows who’s making you feel so fucking good.
You gasp, a soft shuddery noise that slips down his spine when he rolls his hips, hitting that one spot only he can find.
“That’s it Gorgeous,” he rasps out, “that’s it, fuck you’re doing so good for me.” His head drops to the curve of your shoulder. The wet schlick sounds of your pussy gets louder, more vulgar with every deep, frantic stroke.
You cling to him, letting the pleasure wash over you in thick, sultry waves. "Right there, right there," you cry out, you don't have to tell him not to stop.
Not when you're holding him so tight.
The same sensations tightening the coil in your belly are crawling up his spine, he has to adjust your hips, needing to go a little deeper, so greedy for the way your tight wet cunt wraps around him, knowing you can handle him. You feel so good he has to hold back, refusing to cum before you do. He slips a hand between you, and his thumb rolls over your clit, once, twice before circling it in an intricate pattern.
You jerk back, stomach tensing as the edges of your orgasm surround you. “Bucky,” you choke out, unable to say anything else. You’re so close it hurts. "Buck-oh god"
“I know, I know, go on and let go for me,” he encourages with a particularly deep thrust that nearly tears you in two, a cascade of pleasure bursts inside you, scattering through your veins and you clench down on his cock so hard his pace stutters.
“Fuck, that’s what I want,” he laughs breathlessly, grinding slower, deliberately drawing out your pleasure. “ You're doing so good. Cum for me, please cum for me Gorgeous," he pleads, snapping his hips into yours.
His filthy, sweet praise is all you need to fall over the edge, your orgasm slamming into you. His name leaves your lips on a broken gasp, your nails drag down his bare, sweat laced back, thin red lines marring his tattoos.
A few more languid strokes inside your spasming walls and his pace becomes erratic, sloppy, his lips finding yours, the deep kiss broken by his harsh grunts of I love you as he loses control, pounding you into the wall until he goes taut, his muscles constricting, a low of hiss of fuck yes followed by warmth blooming as he spills inside you.
He stays like that for a few long minutes, holding you in his strong arms, resting his forehead on yours, relishing in your warm, soft body, his lips brushing against yours, giving you sweet chaste kisses until his breathing evens out, your hands rubbing his back, smoothing over the scratches you left.
“So what did you want?” He asks, a bright smile etched across his bearded face, as he pushes away from the wall, pulling out of you with a low groan before easing your trembling legs down one at a time.
Keeping one hand on your waist so you don't slump to the ground, he slides your strap back over your shoulder.
"Um..." You have to think for a second. Your brain’s still addled from the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. "Oh right! I was going to ask if you were hungry." You pause, tapping his bottom lip. "What if I was going to ask you to shave your beard or get rid of the motorcycle?" you ask, mostly out of curiosity.
"I meant what I said. It's always a yes when it comes to you. I would shave it and sell it for you." He replies sincerely, his love for you is apparent on his face. Your heart twists and you feel even better than you did a few minutes ago.
"Now about lunch-" A smirk slides across his lips and he tugs your dress up so he can get a good view of your messy, swollen pussy. He couldn't hide how much he wants you if he tried, his voice deepening as he stares down at you. “I know what I want to eat.”
You playfully slap his chest, chuckling. “Food, real food Bucky. Maybe we could try that new Thai place for lunch?”
Bucky gives you an incredulous stare as he drops to his knees. “Gorgeous, you got a five-star dessert between your thighs. Why would I want anything else?”
“Bucky.” You try to keep your voice firm but it's hard to maintain your composure when he's looking at you with such adoration. “We talked about this.”
“Fine, how about I eat you, then we’ll both eat and then I’ll have you again for dessert.” he bargains, gazing up at you with hopeful blue eyes, placing your leg over his shoulder.
You’re not going to say no to that.
Word Count: 1.8k
Summary: Couple and co-stars, Sebastian and actress!YN do the WIRED Autocomplete interview.
Sebastian Stan & Y/N Y/L/N Answer the Web’s Most Searched Questions | WIRED
The 11-minute video started with you and Sebastian grinning before you attempted to stifle your giggle, eyes getting a little tearful before you burst out laughing.
Sebastian’s head leaned backward, eyes crinkling as he grinned, “Damn it!”
A swift transition was shown as you were then shown, sitting beside each other on your chairs.
“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you smiled.
“And I’m Sebastian Stan.”
“And this is…” you trailed, glancing at Sebastian as to give him the cue.
“Wired’s autocomplete interview,” you both said in unison as a search bar was displayed on the screen, keyboard clicking sounding as the words were written out.
“That was good,” Sebastian said, smiling at you.
Background music started playing as the screen changed to a grey background, a text in black written over it:
Autocomplete suggests the most common searches on the internet
“I’ve never really googled myself,” Sebastian cleared his throat, shifting in his seat.
You rolled your eyes, “That’s like part of his bedtime routine,” you joked, pointing at him, “If you go to his search history, you’d find stuff like: Sebastian Stan hottest man alive, Sebastian Stan tall,” you continued, pretending to tap on a phone.
With a smile, Sebastian shook his head, tilting it at you, “That’s yours and you know it.”
You giggled, “As if you don’t google our names.”
“I do that,” he nodded, “We do that together. It gives us a good laugh.”
“Sebastian Stan and Y/N Y/L/N with mystery baby,” you joked.
The video then cut off again to another grey background with a text:
So WIRED asked Sebastian Stan & Y/N Y/L/N some of the internet’s burning questions
The video cut to you and Sebastian again, you holding the styrofoam board that had a list of googled searches that were half-hidden.
“Is Y/N Y/L/N,” you started, peeling the white sticker from the rest of the sentence, “single,” you read before looking at the camera, “Why is that the first search?” You asked with a slight laugh, glancing at Sebastian who had a smug smile, looking at you. “I hope not,” you answered.
“What is that answer?” Sebastian laughed, “What is that?”
“What if you don’t think it’s serious?” You joked.
“We’ve been together for two years, I think it’s pretty serious,” he played along, giving you a look and a nod.
You looked at the camera, “Then no, I’m not single.”
“Zero points for you,” Sebastian pointed at the camera, “Ten for me,” he pointed at himself with a playful smug smile.
“Is Y/N Y/L/N,” you said as you peeled the sticker, “In Marvel,” you read, “No,” you answered with a dramatic sigh.
“Who would you like to play if you were?” Sebastian asked you, a genuine smile on his face as his eyes were on you.
“Probably Wanda,” you answered, “I have a thing for troubled characters.”
“Can’t be me,” Sebastian joked.
You scoffed, “Yeah, sure,” you rolled your eyes at him. “Is Y/N Y/L/N a dancer?” You read, “Yes!”
Sebastian laughed, watching you dance a little in your seat, “Look at those moves, look at those moves!”
You laughed, leaning forward a little as you did before you took a breath, “Seb and I are patiently waiting to be cast in a dancing film. Anything at all, we’ll take it. We’re open.”
“Especially if we’re in the kitchen,” he said, “Then it’s over for everyone else.”
You nodded, “Quality performers,” you added before looking back at your board and peeling another sticker, “Is Y/N Y/L/N a Disney kid?” You read.
“What does that even mean?” Sebastian chuckled, “Like songs? Like do you like Disney songs and movies?”
You shrugged, “Beats me, I don’t know. I do like Disney though, if that’s a recurring thought you have,” you told the camera.
The video then cut to Sebastian holding a board, the words “What is Sebastian Stan” shown while the rest of the sentence was hidden by sticker.
“What is Sebastian Stan,” he said before peeling the sticker to show the rest, “Nationality,” he read, “Romanian-American,” he answered.
“That’s a hot combo,” you mumbled, looking at him.
Jokingly, he wiggled his eyebrows at you, giving the camera a smug look before looking back at his board.
“What is Sebastian Stan first movie,” he read before looking at you, “Do you know that one?”
“Black Swan?” You asked.
Sebastian shook his head, “A little earlier than that.”
“Earlier?” You repeated, “How old were you?” Your eyebrows furrowed, “Was it Gossip Girl?”
“Nooo,” he dragged with a chuckle, “Earlier.”
“I have no idea.”
“It was actually 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance,” he said.
Your eyes widened, “What on earth is that?”
“It was in 1994,” Sebastian told you, “I was like, 11 or 12.”
“I didn’t know that,” you pointed at him, “I had no idea you started this young. Wow, you’re old.”
Sebastian made a face, closing his eyes for a moment as you giggled before he looked at you, “You’re so sweet to me.”
“No problem,” you quickly gave him a side hug.
“What is Sebastian Stan,” he trailed, “Net worth.”
“Like 10 dollars,” you joked.
“She puts the food on the table in this relationship,” he went along, “Gives me shelter and food.”
You nodded along.
“What is Sebastian Stan known for,” he read, “I think I’m mostly known for being Y/N boyfriend, to be honest. And maybe for Bucky.”
“That’s the dream,” you said.
“No complaints,” Sebastian said.
“What is Sebastian Stan doing now,” he read, “He has just finished reading that sentence.”
The video then cut to Sebastian holding a new board, this one being for you.
You leaned, “Can Y/N Y/L/N,” you read before peeling the sticker, “Sing.”
“Define singing,” Sebastian joked, glancing from the camera to you.
“I give a mean performance, admit it,” you pointed at him before looking at the camera, “We both do.”
Sebastian nodded, “She’s really good,” he said before looking at the board, “Can Y/N Y/L/N,” he read, peeling the sticker for you, “Speak Romanian?” He finished before beaming, looking at you.
“Te iubesc,” you said, smiling, “Means I love you,” you looked at Sebastian, whose smile mirrored your own.
Dramatically, Sebastian leaned closer to you with a gleeful smile still on his face, his face looking like a happy child’s, “Ești dragostea vieții mele,” he said. [You are the love of my life]
At the sight of you looking flustered and bashful, it was obvious that you knew what he meant, making you giggle slightly before the video cut to you peeling the sticker.
“Can Y/N Y/L/N drive?” You read, “I can.”
“You’re a really good driver,” Sebastian said.
“Thanks, ba-Seb,” you made a face, laughing afterwards after having caught yourself from calling him a pet name.
“Can Y/N Y/L/N act?” Sebastian read. He jokingly sighed, shaking his head, “Tough question.”
“Right?” You played along, “I’m awful at what I do. I can’t act, no,” you shook your head, “I go on set and people think I can act but I’m actually just being myself and I have no idea what’s going most of the time.”
“That would be something to remember if you ever get cast in a horror movie or something,” he laughed, “Or a movie where you play a psycho.”
“Then no, I’m not myself. I don’t know who I am,” you yanked the board from his hands, throwing it behind you dramatically. “I’ll hold that one for you,” you said, taking the new board from a crew member for Sebastian.
“Does Sebastian Stan have kids?” You read after peeling the sticker.
Sebastian’s eyebrows went up, shaking his head, “I don’t,” he answered, “But we do have a cat.”
“Groot,” you said with a grin, “He’s the cutest. Groot if you’re watching this, we love you,” you blew a kiss to the camera.
“Please don’t break anything while we’re gone,” Sebastian added.
“He likes to do that,” you said.
“Broke one of Y/N’s vinyls once,” Sebastian said, “Was it the Harry Styles one?”
You nodded, “The debut album,” you confirmed.
Sebastian sucked a breath, “Sad times.”
“You got me another one though,” you said quietly and softly, smiling at him.
He gave you a bashful shrug, “You like that record.”
“I do,” you hummed.
The video cut to you peeling the sticker to another question.
“Does Sebastian Stan have TikTok?” He read, “I actually don’t, but Y/N does so I know what’s going on there all the time.”
“He knows the trending sounds,” you said.
“You’re so active on TikTok,” he said, “It’s like–she wakes up, and first thing she does is just go on her phone and stays on TikTok for, like, an hour.”
“Does Sebastian Stan have tattoos?” You read for him, a smile making its way to your face as soon as you finished asking.
Sebastian caught your smile, smiling one of his own, “I got my first one two weeks ago actually,” he answered, taking off his jacket to sit in his white t-shirt, extending his arm to show the camera. He held out his arm, showing the inside of his right bicep, where a small, minimal heart was, “I was given one.”
“That’s one hell of a tattoo artist,” you joked, raising an eyebrow as you crossed one leg over the other, “Now, that’s a design.”
Sebastian’s head lolled back a little as he laughed before he put his jacket back on, “The art,” he pointed at his arm, “The artist,” he pointed at you.
You gave the camera a smile, to which they added a bling sound effect to.
“Does Sebastian Stan,” you read, peeling the sticker, “Like Tom Holland?” You laughed.
Sebastian sucked a breath, his face contorting to a serious expression as he slowly shook his head, “Why should I?”
You cupped a hand around your mouth, “He loves him. This is fan behavior,” you said, not being discreet.
“Absolutely not,” he said, trying to stifle his smile.
“It’s all jokes until Tom decides to come crash at our place,” you laughed.
Sebastian nodded, “Uninvited might I add.”
The video cut to Sebastian peeling the last sticker, “Does Sebastian Stan like Y/N Y/L/N?” At that, he laughed, looking at you, “I don’t know, I’m not so sure,” he joked.
You shrugged, “I heard amazing stuff about her though. You should definitely give her a chance.”
“I’ll actually–I’ll think about it,” he teased, taking the board from you and throwing it behind him before he wrapped an arm around your waist, “We’re done!”
“That was fun,” you said, looking at him as you placed your hand on his thigh.
Sebastian nodded, smiling down at you as his eyes went from your eyes to your lips, to your eyes again. With a bashful smile, you turned to look at the camera.
“Thank you for having us, Wired,” you smiled.
“And thanks for watching!” Sebastian beamed.
Y/N: We're just...
Y/N: Yes! We were just working... together... independently...
Bucky: So... you two work without your clothes on?
Pairing: Alpha!Lee Bodecker x Omega!F!Reader
Summary: There's only one thing that can ease the ache in your bones in the middle of the night, and you're about to take it. Whether he invites you to, or not.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, a/b/o dynamics, daddy kink, dubcon (sorta), a little somnophilia, belly riding, slight mess kink, teasing, light degradation, Lee’s slutty mouth. 18+.
Word Count: 1.5k
A/N: Thank you so much to my friends @cockslut-padalecki and @howdoyousleep3 for making believe in myself enough to dip my pinky toe into this beloved trope. And thank you to @dreamlessinparis , @sgt-seabass and @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for looking this over for me. Love you all!
All my works are 18+. If you click the read more tab, you are agreeing that you are 18 or over, have read the warnings and take responsibility for your own media consumption. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted anywhere else.
You wake from your unsettled slumber with a groan, your skin prickled with a familiar warmth, one that you hadn’t been expecting for another week or so yet. The moon peers in from between the drapes as they ruffle in the breeze, but the cool air does nothing to sate your clammy face.
“Hmmph,” you whimper, pressing your thighs together to try and make the ache go away. You know how hard he’s been working lately, how difficult things have been down at the station with so few hands on deck. Wiping at your brow with the back of your hand, you find yourself grinding your behind down into the mattress below you - not that it does anything to relieve the thumping arousal garnering in your gut.
Your Alpha’s soft snores fill the room, his chest rising and falling. You can’t help but reach out and run your fingernails through the smattering of dark hair there; so soft. Your brain feels like it’s pounding against your skull. You need him.
“Daddy,” you whisper, edging closer to his side, his arm instinctively reaching out to pull you into his embrace. Your cheeks heat at the subconscious display of affection, the strength of the protective instinct he has for you. Your bare chest against his ribs has your nipples pebbling, your thigh hooking up over his as you let your eyes roam his nearly naked form.
Every inch of him is perfect. You’ve always thought so.
From his thick, muscular thighs, the soft roundness of his belly, the broad chest, and the strong arms that keep you safe. That’s without mentioning those beautiful, cerulean eyes, his strong jawline (that was currently littered with stubble), and his plush, perfect lips. Even without the primal bond the two of you share, your attraction to him would linger. Of that you were absolutely sure.
The scent of him is potent in the air. All leather, pine and that faint undertone of tobacco that swarms your senses and sends your already bubbling arousal soaring.
“Hmm,” he mumbles in his sleep when your hips roll against his body, your eyes wandering to the visible outline of his dick beneath his underwear. Long, thick and teasing you just by merely existing. Lee filled you like nobody else ever could, knew exactly how to fuck you, and precisely how to play with your body as if it’s his own personal fucktoy. The thought sends another rush of heat to your groin, sweat glistening against your skin as mild cramps twist in your abdomen.
You can’t take it any longer. Carefully, you sit up on your knees with your hand resting gently on his stomach; fingertips grazing the soft flesh gently. A sinful thought enters your head, and you can’t stop yourself long enough to think it through. You know he doesn’t like to be woken when he’s had a hard day, unless it’s with your mouth wrapped around his cock.
You straddle his waist, and you’re surprised he hasn’t thrown you off him yet and given you a spanking. Your Alpha’s eyes are still closed, but deep down you know his instincts are finely tuned enough to wake at the slightest disturbance. Your white cotton panties are damp against your cunt, almost to the point of itchy. You can’t stand it.
You can feel his cock jut up against your ass, letting you know that at the very least, his body appreciates your weight on top of it. You don’t miss the way his fist grips the sheets beside him, but you don’t care. Too strung out on lust and need to give a single shit.
“Daddy,” you whine again, reaching down and curling two fingers inside the gusset of your panties, tugging it to the side to expose your naked core to the welcome chill of the air. The sound your cunt makes when you roll your hips down against his belly is filthy, and you can’t suppress the moan that tumbles from your lips. You want relief. The kind of love only his rough, yet tender, hands can provide. You need him to touch you. “Alpha.”
Your clit throbs against the spot just below his navel, and you arch your back in delight at the pang of bliss that ripples through your body at the contact.
"Baby," Lee mutters, voice thick with sleep, low and husky.
"Please. Daddy, please." You're not even ashamed of your pleas. You'll do anything to rid yourself of the viscous intensity inside of you. "I need you."
You swear you almost cry when you feel his fingers wandering up your inner thighs, kneading your flesh softly and barking out a yawn as his eyes open just a touch - hooded and dark with lust.
"What did I tell ya 'bout wakin' daddy up, my lil’ 'mega." His southern drawl is deeper than usual, his brain still hazy with slumber and his lips pouted. Lee's fingers replace yours, holding the thin scrap of cotton to the side so he can swipe his thumb across your nub. "You all worked up, baby? Thought you'd come hump Daddy a lil’ while he was sleepin'?"
He’s teasing you. He knows what his filthy mouth does to you, how it drives you absolutely fucking insane. Lee’s eyes fix on your pussy, his tongue snaking across his bottom lip as he watches you work it against his stomach - his skin wet from the desire that leaks from your core.
“Love how desperate you get f’me,” he purrs, his hand cupping your breast and squeezing, pinching your nipple between his fingertips. The friction is glorious, but it isn’t enough. Your insides churn as your bones ache for more, your face scrunching up in pleasure and frustration as he chuckles at the sight before him and tuts you mockingly. “S’matter, ‘mega? Ain’t enough for you? Maybe I should stop spoilin’ you and remind you how lucky y’are to have such a good Alpha, hmm? Maybe then you wouldn’t be climbin’ all over me in the middle’a the night tryin’ to get that little pussy off.”
You're shameless in your movements now, winding your hips down and gliding your cunt in slow circles against his stomach. The tip of Lee's index finger lingers at your clit, just gently swiping back and forth as it throbs at the sensation of his touch.
You're so worked up and sensitive, the flames stoking in your belly already. He knew exactly how to touch you to get your blood thumping through your body, your mind hazy, and your toes curling.
"Well, c'mon now." He leans forward just a little, enough to grab a handful of your ass and guide your rutting, the sound of your slick against his skin making you groan with contentment. "Get yourself off on Daddy's belly, and we'll see 'bout feedin' that hunger, how 'bout that?"
The noise that escapes your pouted lips is desperate, yet saccharine sweet and dripping with lust. Your eyes hooded, you brace your hands on his broad chest as you begin to grind yourself down onto him with abandon.
"Fuck," you whimper, knowing he hates it when you curse. But you can't help it, not with your insides churning and your skin glistening with sweat. You need the release, and all you can do is chase it while he stares proudly up at you. "M'so close, Daddy. Wanna cum. Please, please let me cum."
"Never said you couldn't, did I?" Your Alpha smirks, his hands wandering to cup your breasts possessively. He pinches your nipples, twisting them just a little - enough to have your hips bucking against his soft, strong body. "Can see that pretty little pussy twitchin'. Come on, baby. Cum all over Daddy."
His words have your eyes rolling back, your fingernails digging into his pecs and your thighs trembling; body caving to pleasure and basking in the white hot waves of intensity that only he can bring you.
You're babbling, you know you're not making any sense - but you can't help it. Every nerve ending is alight with nirvana, and yet you still can't sate the ache inside you. There's only one thing that can.
"Need your knot, Daddy." Your hips still above him, hand reaching behind you to graze the solid, thick bulge beneath the thin fabric of his underwear.
You squeak when his hand reaches to grip the offending wrist from behind you, yanking you back down against him as his lips graze yours lightly. A deep inhale has your mind floating. He smells like home.
"My lil' 'mega made a whole mess, didn't she? Be a good girl n'clean it up, and I'll give that cunt the poundin' it's achin' for."
A/N: I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary, and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕
sugar pie, honey bunch
Pairing: Steve Kemp x F!Reader, A suprise guest x F!Reader
Warning: this is straight up a dark ass fic and i don't want to give everything away so read at your own discretion. some potential spoilers for Fresh (2022), but only the vibes. cannibalism obviously. smut. rimming. oral. gore. kidnapping.
Summary: He knew she would be different. He’d known it the second he saw her.
A/N: title from the Four Tops song, which lyrics slightly work with this Steve
“Let’s talk about fear,” he says as his eyes slide all over her. “Let’s talk about your lack of it.”
Because that’s why he likes her. She isn’t responding how any of the other girls did. She didn’t cry. She didn’t curse him. She simply ducked her head as she stretched her feet out - wiggling her toes. Spreading out on that flat mattress. The chain around her had seemingly not been worthy of her attention.
He knew she would be different. He’d known it the second he saw her.
His attraction to her had been sudden and consuming. Her face had knocked him flat and he had caught the dimples in her flesh as she scanned the fruit section at the Natural Foods Market. The elegant line of her neck. The unmarked skin. He’d lingered on the swell of her sweet-giving tissue that sat in all the right places.
She could be acting. She could be in shock. No. He didn’t think so. She played it too well.
“Let’s talk about fear. Let’s talk about your lack of it.”
Her doe-eyed expression flutters up at him like an obedient pet - a glass doll - a rare piece of cattle. No! A prized piece and shouldn’t prizes be kept - be cherished and nailed down to show off. He didn’t want to share her, which is why they were even having dinner. The candlelight. The thousands and thousands of dollars of meat he was showering her with. The air swells of nineties rock because he’d memorized her Spotify and wanted to play something she’d enjoy.
“What would fear do?” she replies bluntly. “What would fear do, but hinder me?”
They were talking in patterns. Repeating phrases. The circle lights embedded in his ceiling streams down upon her like a spotlight. He’d made her wear that bow - that prim pink confection at the crown of her head.
She bites her lip - spearing her fork into a green bean. “I wanted to be clear-headed here. I wanted to be able to understand you.”
She was billboard beautiful. Glossy. A myriad of colors. Or was she simply beautiful to him? Could she really be plain? No. No. He didn’t think so. She was hydrated. Moisturized. Bare. Organic. Sweetgreen fed. Oat-milk creamers. Yellowtail sashimi. Almond butter. Blueberries. Collagen peptides. She was good at taking care of herself. He could barely find a mark on her as he’d worshiped her in her white linen bed.
He’d tasted her cunt - lapped at the soft folds - curling the tip of his tongue inside the clenching hole of her sex so that he could really get the vintage. He’d even eaten her ass - forcing her onto her hands and knees as he wedged his face between her cheeks and tried her there. She’d sobbed through every orgasm - grinding back into the sharp line of his nose and his giving mouth.
He didn’t do that - not normally - not with anyone else. But she was utterly attractive to him and she spoke like her words were tangled in bubble wrap. They fell like drops of rain on long grass.
“So - what do you do, Steve?”
“What do you like?”
“How do you want me?”
“Oh - Steve - right there. Shit - you do that so well.”
“Baby - baby - oh my god -”
They had palpable chemistry and he enjoyed fucking her. A lot. He had even felt sad the second the jig was up - the moment he had to drug her and chain her and confess. She’d taken it all in stride. Her brow furrowing as she followed everything he had said, understanding what he meant.
She had looked adorable. Lush. He had almost regretted it.
She smiles demurely at him now as he brings her the next dish. “How’s your leg?” He didn’t want to ask - didn’t want to remind her that he had cut a piece off of her body. But he thought it had to be done. Get it all out in the open. They could joke about it now and maybe he’d have her watch him eat that slab of gorgeous flesh. The transference of her to him. He wants to possess her - have her inhabit him. Your body and blood. He’d treat it with the same sanctity of religion - of ritual. It was love - it was true -
“Better,” she replies as she studies her plate. There’s no anger - not even a sliver of disgust at what he’d done to her. Perfect.
Dinner goes on and he finds himself desperate to touch her. He wants to kiss her - plunge his cock into that molten slick heat as she arches beneath him. He wants her digging her nails into the muscles of his back - scratching down his ribs.
“It must be hard,” she observes - scanning the large table - the spacious sunken living room. “It must be lonely to do this here - all by yourself.”
Fuck - she gets him. She really does.
“To not have someone here - with you - sharing in your passion.”
“Well,” He leans forward - tone conspiratorial. “You’d be surprised at the kind people who also enjoy this. Very few, of course. But - all insanely powerful. The one percent of the one percent.”
She grins - meeting him halfway - her knees knock against his own. He can smell the perfume he’d given her - a whiff of roses. She raises an eyebrow - her expression mischievous. “Could you tell me?”
“No!” He chuckles as he grabs his wine glass and swirls the mulberry liquid in a tight circle. He wants to press his fingers to her clit and do it with that same rapid, stiff pace - get her all juicy so that he could just glide inside her. “They’re my clients.”
She shakes her head - still smiling. “I think you will,” she teases. “I think I know how to get what I want.”
He frowns. “I’m not that easy.”
But he is. He is for her.
She does what she does without any grace. She does it in a way that her partners would probably go green over. Her plan was a bit unorthodox, but whatever. She doesn’t care. C’est la vie and all that.
She lets Steve (Brendan) fuck her down on his cock.
She rides him slow - hips sliding over his thighs as the skirt of her dress rasps and crinkles against their bare skin. She lifts herself up as he braces his feet and follows - impaling her - spearing her apart. There is the muffled wet slap of his body making contact with her own. His fingertips will leave bruises with how viciously he’s clinging to her.
He’d bedded her easily. She’d gone without complaint. They’d danced to three of his synthesized love songs as he beamed down at her with that buttery warmth. His smoothness clashed with the manic crack in his coiffed veneer. His eyes were too black - glassy and bright. An unhinged twinkle. He was beautiful until he wasn’t - until he grit his teeth or the muscle in his jaw popped. Okay - he was still handsome then, but her standards were skewed.
“Feel so good,” he growls as his thumb finds her clit - as he presses down while snapping up and piercing a very pleasurable place inside her core.
He avoids the bandages along her thigh. He doesn’t know that her flesh is already growing back - that it will heal - that she could be an endless piece of meat for him if he would like.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs and she curls her lips into a radiant smile that makes him shudder. He picks up his pace - the slick sounds of him entering her echoing in this mid century fiasco hideout. She supposes that this little hobby of his makes him at least slightly more interesting. Her mind had wandered on their first date - had drifted off as he joked about his cursing nieces and boob jobs. She’d wrapped her tongue around the olive from her martini. She’d focused on wiggling the pimento out of it. He’d been lying - his stories carefully picked and chosen to endear her to him. His jokes. His self-deprecation.
“You’re so fucking boring,” she wants to say as she rides him harder - to a gallop. She shoves him onto his back - muscles tightening up around the unforgiving length of his dick. “Patrick Bateman isn’t a personality,” she’d finish with, but doesn’t.
His fervent blue eyes widen at the force behind her push. She smiles again - teeth white and sparkly. She briefly wonders if he knows - if he’s tapped into that animal instinct - that hearty hypothalamus hopefully screaming at him to realize that she isn’t so succulent - so soft and cream-sweet.
Not yet though. Not yet. Make him happy - safe.
She needs to change course because it isn’t time.
“Fuck,” she moans loudly as she grabs fistfuls of her tits and continues to grind down on his lap. Her dress has fallen around them - covering where he’s sinking into her. She’s disturbingly wet - a fact that makes something buzz behind her nose. She buries it deep where she can dissect it later if she ever does.
“You’re so big, baby,” she whimpers - expression crumpling like she’s in pain. She can’t remember what name he even wants to go by - Brendan - Steve -
She falls forward - bracing her palms on either side of his head. She circles her pelvis - feels him buck and twitch inside her - cock thickening and swelling as it drags through the channel of her sex. She clamps down on him - strangles him with enough force to make him choke. The carpet is burning her knees. The mood lighting drips over his golden skin - his wanting expression.
“You gonna cum?” she murmurs - nudging her nose along his cheekbone. He smells good like musk and aftershave and really expensive cologne. She’s so used to guys who think their sweat is sufficient - who rely on ivory soap and two-in-one shampoo and the odor that Kevlar leaves.
“Yeah, gorgeous,” he groans. She twists her hips again and he grunts - his hands flying to her thighs to keep her steady. It’s a push and pull. A fuck or be fucked.
She’s waiting. He’s late.
She probably shouldn’t have screwed him again, but she wanted him vulnerable and begging. She drops her head to kiss his jaw and he tries to get to her mouth. “Please,” he whines and she has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. She leans forward and his other hand finds the back of her head - he yanks her down - forcing their lips together in a messy, wet collision. She can taste the fat on his tongue - the stink from those carefully prepared dishes with their basil puree and garlic foam and fucking breast meat.
He kisses her frantically- fucks her by way of her mouth. His tongue matches the pace of his cock driving into her over and over again.
He palms the back of her scalp roughly. She scrapes her teeth across his lower lip - drawing a bit of blood. He hisses - grunts. She sucks the plump tissue lewdly while making eye contact. That gets him. He jerks beneath her - a low, rattling sound from his chest. She savors the burst of copper in her mouth. He thought she’d never tasted flesh before, but he didn’t know that she had tasted blood all the damn time. That it was a pitfall of her job. Things could get messy and often did.
He breathes her name in between rutting. He slaps her ass.
Your art is ugly - she wants to say.
This house. Your carefully constructed visage. Your very palpable loneliness. Pathetic, Stevie.
And yet she was fucking him. She peeks up at the glass door and her reflection gleams back at her. That bright pink bow sits prim and perky in her hair. Her face is dramatically screwed up in pleasure. Her mouth is parted around a perpetual moan. Overkill. He’s late.
“Gonna come,” he pants - hips chasing hers - cock punching into her so hard that it almost hurts.
“Good boy,” she coaxes and oh his features ripple and spark with satisfaction and lust and awe.
I’ll make him fall for me.
You shouldn’t. You don’t need to.
No. He’s easy to read. This kind of stuff is my specialty.
Is it? I mean…really?
It was a honey pot mission. She just kept feeding him the honey. Big spoonfuls. She’s being a little too nice.
She thinks he’s a poser - dolling up all that meat with gourmet shit. Blackberries. Aioli. Chickpeas. Tarragon. Sweet potato fucking gnocchi. What’s the point of that? If you’re gonna go hard then go fucking hard.
She’ll show him - her handsome Ken-doll psycho. She’ll show him how he really should be.
She feels him go rigid - his chest heaving as he stares up at her. His cock spits deep - warmth blooming through the cradle of her pelvis. He’s still thrusting - rocking up into her - getting the very last gasps of her pussy that’s shivering with its own climax.
She leans forward - her face molded into yearning and he reaches up - pleased with himself - pleased with her - soft and yielding and bare. She gently moves his head aside before latching her mouth to his throat - her tongue tickles the skin and he laughs. She bites down. She bites down very fucking hard.
He doesn't scream - it’s more like a loud vibration from his windpipe. His hands are furiously pushing at her and she sinks her teeth deeper. His skin and meat are silky and tender and there is the hot rush of arterial spray that fills her mouth. It’s a bit salty.
She wrenches her head away and takes a chunk of him with her. She spits it over his gorgeous brown hair. She wonders if it’ll piss him off to waste it. His mouth is opening and closing like a fish as purple-red spreads beneath his head. It’s staining his rugs - the pristine geometric vibe to his home.
She cocks her head and licks her lips. The rush of iron - like licking a battery or a pipe or a penny. Ew. She’s sticky with him. He’s still inside her, too - deflating as she throbs around his softening dick. It’s a little fucked up.
Okay - it’s a lot fucked up.
He reaches for her as he slowly dies. His fingers curl - come hither - and she goes even though she doesn’t understand why. There’s a darkness they share, she supposes. He may have tapped into it just enough that she noticed - just enough that she willingly fucked him again. So what? So what if she basically climaxed from ripping out his throat? Violence was a piece of her - a main food group in her make-up. Blame all the shit she underwent in the labs. Blame her very sad, broken childhood.
Oh Steve - she thinks - we could have had something.
She sighs before swiftly climbing off of him. She feels a rush of spend between her thighs as his cock falls out of her. She’s achy there - a brush raw. She smooths her dress down before inexplicably crouching over him to fix his pants.
Don’t look at me like that. I just didn’t want to stare at your naked cock, Steve (Brendan).
She jumps as an enormous figure crashes through the sliding glass door. The sound thunders through the room - explodes. The man’s silver arm glints - his dark makeup running rivers under his mask and smearing into his stubble.
“I thought your whole thing was stealthiness?” she deadpans - toeing at Steve’s blood-drenched hair. His eyes stare up at her blankly - the whites like eggshells. His handsome face frozen in a startled expression as if he couldn’t quite believe that she had hurt him.
I did like you a bit, you stupid creep.
“He had steel fucking doors!” Bucky explains as he flicks glass off his shoulder. “The whole place was on lockdown.”
“Who has steel doors and then a wall of glass?”
“You can’t break the glass easily.” Bucky lifts a small black circular object. “I had to use this tool Shuri made to splinter it..”
“Which you then proceeded to crash through?”
“Thought I’d make an entrance.”
She purses her lips. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”
There’s a long silence between them until Bucky inhales sharply - like he’d just registered her appearance. There was blood in her hair - all down her chin. He marches over to her - kicking Steve’s limp head away. Something cracks. He’s gentle as he cups her cheeks - his metal palm cold and shocking against her feverish skin. He tilts her skull, searching for injury.
“Did he hurt you?”
There’s the muted pain in her leg. It’s just a chunk. It’s growing back. Bucky will inevitably find out, but she doesn’t need him scowling about her getting maimed for the next five hours. It’s part of the job.
“I’m fine,” she reassures him. “I got the list.” She gestures to the thick folder on the coffee table.
It had taken a bit to get that out of Steve. She’d just rubbed herself all over him and plied him with wine. She devoured the dishes he set in front of her - shutting her eyes as she swallowed with obnoxious hums of approval. Her stomach turns over at the memory.
“Good,” He touches her temple lightly - his ice-blue eyes searching hers. “I still wish you’d just let me beat it out of him.” He glances down at the corpse - his lips curling in disgust.
They’d been removing different Hydra cells across the globe. Picking the leaders off one by one. They’d discovered that a top agent of Hydra had been a member of an underground society that specialized in human meat. It didn’t take too long to track the source and it took even less time for her to catch his interest.
She had fucked him more than once. Did she regret it? No. It was the job. Kind of. Would Bucky care? Yeah, probably, but he’d never say shit. Nat would find it inventive. Sam would stop her at the mention of “women flesh” and “human meat trafficking”. Rogers definitely would flip. She couldn’t wait to watch him read her report after this and try and stammer through all the gory, vulgar details.
She raises her shoulders before dropping them. “It is what it is.”
He narrows his eyes - looking closer as his gaze darts between her mouth and Steve’s neck. Christ - it took him long enough.
“Did you - did you rip his throat out?”
“With my teeth,” she quips as she wipes the back of her hand over her lips - her chin. She feels hot - her veins pumping and swelling under her skin. Her nerves are on fire. Her pussy throbs between her legs, which she intends to blame on adrenaline. Not the murder - not the primal bite she took out of the man she was still fucking - still getting off on.
Bucky blinks at her - a touch horrified before he attempts to tamp it down. It’s sort of adorable. ‘We should call clean up in - then get on the jet,” He grabs her wrist and tugs her away from dead Steve (Brendan).
Au Revoir, lover. We could have had it all.
But she’s already forgetting him. He’s already slipping her mind - blending into all of the other colorful memories of all the terrible terrible things she’s done.
She leans against Bucky’s shoulder - cheek sliding against the creases in the Vibranium. They’re not together together, but she wouldn’t mind if he wanted to fuck tonight. She’s still twitching with arousal - burning up from the inside. They screw three times a week anyway. Post-mission stress relief.
He threads his fingers through hers, reassuring her that he isn’t totally creeped out that she killed a man with her teeth.
“Can we get food?” She squeezes his hand - flesh sliding against metal. “I’m suddenly starving.”
“You’re a damn weirdo.”