Desperate part 2*
Word count: 2763
A/n: I’m sorry to have made you wait so long for part 2, but here it is! I hope you enjoy💘
*the imagine is just for aesthetic*
“I'm gonna fuck you so good you won't be able to look me in the eyes for a week without blushing."
He looks you straight in the eyes and your mind is blank, you just want to be fucked so good and not think about anything.
“Cat got your tongue? I've barely touched you and you're already all stupid! You just want my cock in your little pussy, don't you?”
You nod not having the strength to speak, but this isn't enough for him.
“Words, baby. I need to hear your beautiful voice. Is that what you want?”
"Yes, yes. I want you!"
“Oh is it, pretty girl? You want me? Who expected that the good girl who knows how to cook such good pasta would actually hide a dirty part! But don't worry, now I'm here to scratch your itch, I'll treat your pussy so good I'll ruin you! Are you ready pretty girl? There’s no turning back.”
“Yes, I want it so bad!”
“Good girl!”
And so, he sticks his cock in you and it's like the rest disappears. You lie there with your mouth open making little moans because of the feeling of his big cock opening you up and stretching you out to make his way in your pussy.
“This is all you’re good for, just a hole for me to fuck. Such a nice, wet little pussy for m-“
The sound of your alarm clock wakes you up from your wet dream. You open your eyes trying to adjust to the light coming from the windows. Last night you forgot to lower the shutters and you're mentally cursing yourself for it.
The memories of your dream are still in your mind that you can even feel your panties getting wet.
It's been a week since your first meeting with Harry and it's been a week that you only have him on your mind.
This isn't the first time you've had a dream like this. And you know it won't be the last either.
You desperately want to take care of yourself but you don't have time because you promised your mother to go out and do some shopping together.
You decide to go take a cold shower trying not to think about the all too real feeling of Harry fucking you.
Then you choose an outfit for the day and go down to the living room where you find your mother fully dressed.
“I'm so happy to have a mother-daughter day! It's been a while since we went shopping together. I'm sad your sister isn't here too, it would have been nice to just be girls!” Your mom says as she grabs her purse and keys.
“Yeah, but she’s like Dad, she doesn't like shopping,” you follow her as you leave the house.
“I really don't know how she doesn't feel like going out and buying new clothes!” She laughs.
“I always ask myself that too!” You laugh along with her.
You both head towards the city center and start entering various shops.
After spending an hour trying on clothes, you decide to go into Sephora, a place you can't resist, and while you're debating whether or not to buy the Rare Beauty blush you hear your mother's phone ringing. She spends a few minutes on the phone and when she hangs up the call she looks at you with a sad look.
“They just called me from work. They said they found a motive against the other defendant in the trial. I have to go to the office. I'm so sorry to have to leave now, I even thought about going to brunch together.” You can tell she wasn't happy about leaving, but your mom was an established lawyer in your city, and she was now working on this very important case, she couldn't do anything about it.
“Don't worry Mom, I know how important this case is for you! I think I'll take another look in here and then I'll go get something to eat quickly,” you smile at her trying to cheer her up. “Come on, don't make that face, I'll stay here all summer, we'll find many more days to have another mother-daughter moment.”
"You are right! It seems to me that I don't see you very often and I was so happy to spend this day with you! Please don't spend too much money on makeup, I know you don't have a minimum of self-control when you come in here,” she laughs as she hugs you goodbye. You hug her back and with that you see her leave the shop.
You finish your shopping trip - and you may not have exactly listened to what your mother told you about not buying too much makeup - and decide to go alone to that brunch you were supposed to have with her.
You arrive at a small place near the center called Jerome and already from the outside you could see that the interior was all decorated in pink and this caught your attention.
You had passed by here several times but you had never seen it or heard the name of the place, so you deduce that it is a new opening, and so you decide to go in.
The interior was as you expected, all pink with neon cursive writing. On the left was a wall covered in pink and white roses with large swings as eating stations, which also had a large teddy bear that you found absolutely adorable, and on the left a large glass counter showing that which, in your opinion, was paradise.
A waitress with a welcoming smile comes towards you, inviting you to take a seat in the front room and that someone will come to take your order once you are ready.
You return her smile by thanking her kindly and make your way into the room she indicated.
On the way, you find on the right side a wall covered with pink velvet and a bicycle leaning against it with another big teddy bear on it. You find this corner particularly cute so you take your phone out of your bag to take a photo.
As you open the camera app you hear a familiar voice calling you.
“Hi Y/n!”
You turn in the direction of the voice and find the protagonist of your latest dreams sitting at a table on a pink velvet armchair.
"Oh! Hi Harry!" You return the greeting by smiling at him.
He pulls back a chair as a sign to sit next to him and you gladly accept.
“Shopping day I see,” Harry tells you pointing to the bags you had to bring with you.
"Oh yes!" You laugh. “I was out with Mum but she had to run away to work, so I'm forced to go around with all these bags!”
Harry laughs back. “That's why you're here alone.”
You are about to answer him but are interrupted by a waiter who has come to take your orders.
Once he leaves - not before giving you a sweet smile - you see Harry give the boy a not-so-kind look.
You continue your conversation until within a few minutes your food arrives.
You start eating in silence and you notice that Harry keeps staring at you.
“Do I have something on my face?”
“Mh? What?"
“I see you staring at me, I asked you if I had something on my face.”
“No, no you don't have anything on your face, it's just… I don't know if it's appropriate to ask you something.”
“Ask me what?”
He takes a long sigh. “I was just thinking… if you have a boyfriend”
You stop yourself from laughing at his question. “No, I don't have a boyfriend. Why do you ask?"
“I was just curious to know I guess. It is undeniable that you are a beautiful girl and I also noticed how that boy looked at you before and I was just wondering if you have a boyfriend, that's all."
"Don’t worry. In fact, right now I don't want a boyfriend, I broke up a couple of months ago so I'm thinking more about myself now."
“I'm sorry, I didn't know you broke up recently. Can I ask why if it doesn't bother you?”
“Don't worry, it doesn't bother me. I've been with this Italian guy named Lorenzo for more or less a year and a half, except that in the last period, things between us haven't been going so well. In the last few months, I saw him as more detached, and in the end, I discovered that he had another woman... that’s the reason!" you laugh sarcastically.
“Excuse my language but… he must be a real dickhead to have cheated on you.”
“I'm big now, you can use bad words in my presence, and yes you're right, he's a big dickhead!” You laugh and he follows you.
After finishing your brunch you are the first to get up.
“Thanks for keeping me company, Harry. I really enjoyed talking to you!”
“No, thanks to you Y/n! And I enjoyed talking to you too! It could be done more often!” He tells you smiling, making his dimples appear.
“Yes, I would be more than happy to do it again. Maybe I could mention to Dad to invite you to dinner some evening.”
"I'd really like to."
And so you head towards the exit of the place with him opening the door for you like a true gentleman.
Once outside, however, you remember that you had arrived here in your mother's car and now that she was gone you didn't know how to get home. So your only option - other than walking in the July sun for 40 minutes on foot, which you didn't think was the best option - was to ask Harry for help.
“Um, Harry?” You call him. “Sorry but I just realized that I don't know how to get home since my mother left with the car, and.. uhm I wanted to ask you if by any chance, if it were possible for you, you could take me home.”
You didn't like bothering people about your things, because you always had the impression that you were annoying.
“Of course, I can take you home Y/n! I would never leave you stranded. In fact, I was just asking you if you wanted a ride but you beat me to it."
And with that, you head towards his car. And again, being the gentleman that he is, he opens the door for you to get into the car.
Along the way you are rather silent, in addition to the noise of the radio music in the background, there is every now and then an exchange of words.
Once you arrive at the gate of your house you almost feel sorry to let Harry go, and he seems to think the same as you.
You're about to say bye and thank him when an idea comes to you.
“You know I was thinking about the conversation we had that evening at my house and I just remembered that I have another book that I think you might like… if you want you could come in the house for a moment.”
“Yes, I'd like to come in but I don't want to disturb you."
“Don't worry, there's no one at home. Mom and Dad are at work and my sister is at the beach with some friends.”
“Oh…okay.”
He leaves the car in the driveway and so you go into the house.
As soon as you enter you head towards the bookcase in the living room but looking carefully among the books you don't find what you were looking for.
Going back in your memory you remember leaving it in your room; you had recently finished reading it and you immediately thought Harry might like it.
“Um…I think I left it in my room, if you want you can come with me, I also have other books there and I think you might find something you might like.”
"Yes, of course!"
So you go up the stairs and enter your room, but as soon as you enter you see the chair near your bathroom with your pajamas and underwear on it that you had taken off before entering the shower.
But the thing that immediately catches your eyes are your white lace panties on top of your clothes, and, if you look at them better you can also see a darker part on their crotch which you know well what is due to: the man next to you to you.
While you were both in your room, you felt a strange tension in the air. You look at Harry and notice the way he avoids your gaze as if he's hiding something. You suddenly feel vulnerable, remembering the embarrassing moment when you had accidentally left your panties on the chair. You wonder if he saw it.
“Sorry if the room is a little messy,” you say, trying to break the awkward silence.
He smiled faintly. “Don't worry, you told me that the book you recommended is here somewhere, right?”
Your heart beats faster in your chest as you try to figure out if he's just trying to be nice or if he's trying to avoid the awkward moment.
“Sure, it's right there on the nightstand,” you reply, gesturing to the book with a wave of your hand. “Sorry about the mess.”
He walks over to the nightstand, but in his gaze, he notices your panties casually placed on the chair. He lets out a short sigh, trying not to let his embarrassing discovery show. “Thank you,” he said, taking the book carefully.
The tension in the air seems to increase as they both look into each other's eyes, an energy filled with repressed desire and forbidden curiosity.
You try to ignore the racing of your heart as he walks away from the nightstand with the book in his hands.
“There are some really interesting parts,” you say, trying to keep the conversation light. "I hope you like it."
He nodded with a gentle smile. “I can't wait to read it, thanks for the advice.”
The silence that followed was heavy, full of tension and unspoken meaning. You both knew what was behind that embarrassing moment, but neither seemed ready to face it.
You bit your lower lip, trying to find the courage to say something, anything that would break the overwhelming tension. But the words seemed to get stuck in your throat.
Finally, he turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes you tremble slightly.
“Is there anything else you would like to talk about?” He asks you, his voice barely a whisper.
You swallow, feeling your heart beat so loudly it sounds like a drum in his ears. “Yes,” you admit in a small voice. “There is something we need to address.”
You feel your heart beating furiously in your chest as he gently approaches, creating an atmosphere full of anticipation.
“I know,” he whispers softly, his voice a seductive harmony in the air vibrant with desire.
A shiver of emotion runs through your skin as your gazes meet, communicating desires and secrets hidden deep inside.
You nod slightly, unable to articulate a sound, your breath held in anticipation of what was about to happen.
He gets even closer, so close that you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin, but without ever crossing that invisible border that separated reality from enchantment.
An instant of silence full of meaning lasts longer, time seems to have stopped as you let yourself be enveloped by the magic of waiting, aware of how powerful and precious that tension suspended between you can be.
You get dangerously close to the point where you can feel his nose touching yours, the desire between you vibrating in the tense air.
Lips a few millimeters apart, the imminent contact was like a promise of suspended passion, when suddenly the sound of the front door opening resonates in the air, interrupting the intimate moment.
You both tense up instinctively, your heart quickening its pace in your chest as your gazes meet in a mixture of agitation and repressed desire.
“Y/n! I am home!" You hear your father's voice coming from downstairs.
“Fuck,” you say as you pull away from Harry, but the heat of the barely touched contact still burned on his lips, while your body trembled slightly in anticipation of what might happen.
52 notes
·
View notes
Needs & Wants - Sex Pollen Trope Pt. 2
Bucky Barnes x Reader
**If you haven't read Pt. 1 yet, READ IT FIRST.**
Summary: You fight the effects of the chemical compound for as long as you can, until Bucky makes you an offer that your body can't seem to refuse. But, you each have a rule that the other has to follow.
Warnings: this one is a huge fucking tease, I'm so sorry (I won't be sorry when I release part 3 tonight), masturbation, talk of unprotected sex, profanity, use of y/n, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Feel free to comment and let me know if this requires more warnings.
Word Count: 4k (I just couldn't stop the build up)
Author's Note: I cannot believe the overwhelming response on part one of this, I was just in a silly goofy mood and decided to finally use my Tumblr for something other than reading y'alls AMAZING fics every night before bed. I didn't expect anyone to really even see it. My heart is racing as I get ready to post this rn lmao. PLEASEEE tell me what your fav part of this one is, I have to know. Part 3 will be out tonight, I can't make you guys wait too much.
Bucky’s resolve has been steadily crumbling for the past hour, and truthfully, he’s barely placing any blame on the chemical compound that’s interacting with the serum coursing through his veins. He’s placing the blame on you and the needy, whimpering noises that you’ve been making for the last forty-five minutes. After the video conference with Bruce and Tony ended, you were quick to lock yourself in one of the bedrooms of the safe house. You didn’t even say another word to Bucky, you just stood up from the couch with one hand clutched over your stomach, and hurried off down the hall. He wanted to say something to you, but what the hell was he supposed to say? I’m sorry that we’re in this situation? That wouldn’t help a damn thing. You’re in it and there’s nothing either one of you can do except pray that you’ll have enough self-control to make it through the night with your doors still locked.
Bucky sat on the couch for a few minutes after you left, replaying Tony’s last warning to you in his head. You won’t feel relief until your body thinks it has a chance of reproducing, until semen is introduced into your system. It made him feel like shit. He can find relief on his own, he can take care of himself tonight, but you? You’ll suffer for a minimum of eight hours, possibly nearing death, alone behind a locked door. It’s not that he thinks you can’t handle yourself. He’s perfectly aware of how capable you are at handling practically anything. He’s been your partner in the field for two months now and he’s never once had a doubt about your skills, your ability to tolerate pain, or even the split-second decisions you have to make sometimes during missions. You might give each other shit the majority of the time that you’re working together, but when it comes down to it, you trust each other with no reservations. So, why then, does he find himself so fucking worried about you?
He’s been locked in the bedroom across the hall from yours for the past hour now. He thought maybe things wouldn’t be so bad when he heard you tucking yourself away into bed, when he heard you go still and silent for a few minutes. It was smart of you, trying to sleep as much as you could before the chemical fully set in and began to wreak havoc within your body. But after only fifteen minutes, he heard the faintest sound carrying across the hall. He wasn’t sure what it was at first, thinking maybe you’d gotten up to use the bathroom and it was the creak of a floorboard or maybe a door hinge. It was wishful thinking. The second time he heard it, he was sure. You were whimpering in your sleep. For a few moments, he was able to deceive himself into thinking it was whimpers of pain, maybe from your stomach aching in your sleep. When you grew louder, the sounds of your soft, breathy moans mixing with the sound of the sheets rustling as you tossed and turned restlessly, that’s when his resolve began to break apart piece by piece. He sits on the side of his bed in total darkness. His shirt and tactical pants are strewn across the floor where he previously discarded them when the heat emanating from his body became too much to bear. His hands grip the edge of the mattress with enough force to break through the layers of fabric there, but he fears that if he lets go, the next thing his hands will grip will be either his cock or the two door knobs separating you both. Focusing on your suffering is keeping him from feeling his own pain, but the noises you’re making are making it significantly harder for him to ignore the needs that are bubbling to the surface within him. Shit. How the fuck did he end up in this situation with you?
You awake suddenly, drenched in sweat, your sweats especially making you feel like damp towels are wrapped around your legs. You waste no time throwing the covers back and ripping your sweats off, tossing them onto the floor and moving your hair to lay it across your pillow so it’s not sticking to your neck. Fuck HYDRA. Fuck Zemo for killing Dr. Nagel. Obviously, you wouldn’t have wanted him running around recreating the super soldier serum either, but if he was still alive maybe you wouldn’t be lying here in this state. You take a deep breath in, counting to three in your head as you breathe it back out. Focusing in on your symptoms, you try to make a mental list. You think that maybe if you can remind yourself of the science behind the symptoms, you won’t become an irrationally horny mess, you can just reason your way out of the most intense arousal you’ve ever felt in your life. Sweating, tachycardia, abdominal cramping, bone pain…you stupidly let your right hand slide down between your legs. Your fingertips briefly grace the exterior fabric of your black boyshort panties, feeling how wet they are adds another symptom to the mental list, not that you needed to feel it to know. Arousal.
You lean over to the bedside table and feel around blindly for your phone. The screen illuminates and you see that it’s only 10 pm. You’ve only been sleeping for an hour. The chemical compound isn’t even at its peak activity level yet and you’re already beginning to feel a type of desperation that you haven’t felt before. You need relief. Tony’s words swirl around in your mind, making you feel lightheaded and making you want to hunt him down and make him take the words back by force, like that would change the reality of the situation you’re currently in. You won’t feel relief until your body thinks it has a chance of reproducing, until semen is introduced into your system.
You could try finding relief on your own. Tony isn’t lord over all things scientific. When has he ever dealt with a compound like this before? Never. He doesn’t know shit. You’re trying so hard to convince yourself that he could be wrong. Sitting up in bed, you reach over and flip on the lamp that sits on the bedside table, casting a pale glow across the room. You will yourself to think clearly, to make a plan and implement it. You can fight this. You need something that’ll take down your body temperature, slow your heart rate, and ease some of the pain you’re feeling everywhere. A cold shower.
Bucky listens intently as you open your door and your feet patter softly down the hall. He listens as you shut and lock the bathroom door behind you and then as you turn on the shower. He mentally curses his heightened sense of hearing when he hears the tussle of your clothes hitting the floor. He’s been ignoring his hardening cock as it grows beneath the black fabric of his boxers. He’s been ignoring it because he feared if he tried to relieve himself, you’d likely hear him across the hall and he’d never let himself live it down. He can’t be the first one to break. But maybe, with you being in the shower, you wouldn’t be able to hear anything coming from his room. Why the hell are you even in the shower? He imagines the pain you’re in would make it hard for you to stand in there for very long, and it’s not like a shower is going to give you much relief at all. He can’t wonder for more than a quick moment, before the chemical begins to really cloud his mind, his clear thoughts becoming hazy behind thoughts of chasing relief. Fuck it. You won’t hear a damn thing.
Bucky sighs deeply as his lays back on the bed, still in darkness, pushing his boxers down a few inches and freeing his hard length. His flesh hand quickly wraps around it, giving it a slow stroke from base to tip, pre-cum quickly coating his fingers.
“Oh, fuck.” He groans lowly. It’s never felt like this before. It’s as if every nerve in his body has shifted, has traveled down to embed in his cock. His head falls back into his pillow, his eyes squeezing shut at the sensation of his shaft finally being handled. He works his fist up and down, picking up speed and reveling in the feeling of temporary relief. As he strokes his cock, he feels the pain throughout his body slowly dissipating, easing up but not fully disappearing. Before he can stop himself, he’s picturing exactly what you’d look like right now. Your perfectly toned body standing under a stream of water, your hands running down your smooth skin, your eyes closed as you let the shower wash away your discomfort. He feels guilty. Truly, he does. But it's as if he has no control over his thoughts when his hand is on his cock and his veins are corrupted with a potent chemical from hell. Especially not when you’re naked a mere ten feet down the hall. As Bucky nears his climax, his balls tightening and his cock twitching in his hand, a loud crash resounds throughout the house and he’s brought back to reality. He’s on his feet, his boner tucked reluctantly away in his boxers, and his bedroom door flying open in less than two seconds, fearing the worst. He thinks you must’ve passed out from the effects of the chemical, fallen in the shower, maybe split your head open. When he reaches for the bathroom door knob and finds it locked, he’s giving no second thought to breaking the door down. Hell, he decided he was going to break it down before he ever left his room. He takes one step back, ready to use his leg to kick through it, when he hears the shower water cut off and the curtain pull back.
“Y/n?” His voice is laced with concern and it takes you by surprise. You’d only been standing in the ice-cold shower for two minutes when you realized it wasn’t going to do shit for you. You aren’t usually one to lose your temper, but feeling so hopeless and helpless, your only plan failing to provide you with any relief, you ended up slamming your fist into the tiled shower wall out of pure frustration. You didn’t do it hard enough to really hurt yourself, but apparently hard enough to alarm Bucky.
“You’re supposed to be locked in your room.” You call out, your voice coming out a little timid and quieter than you intended. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you step out of the shower and examine yourself in front of the bathroom mirror. Your cheeks are still flushed, your pupils are dilated so much that you’re surprised the lights aren’t hurting your eyes yet, and your rapid pulse is nearly visible in your neck. You let your hair down from the bun you threw it up into for the shower and then pull on the same shirt and damp panties you had on moments earlier.
“I thought you fell.” Bucky says quietly, barely above a whisper. You can tell he’s standing close to the door. You’ve never heard him speak so softly. You freeze, your hands clutching the edge of the bathroom sink as your body responds to his voice, against your rational mind’s will. You feel a familiar heat gathering between your legs and you squeeze your thighs together. He needs to go back to his room. Now.
“Bucky, go back to bed.” Your voice is firm, without a single hint of hesitation. Bucky knows that he should heed the warning. He knows he should turn around right now and go back and lock his door. Instead, he stands there in the hallway with his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers and a conflicted expression on his face. You said earlier that your only option was to lock yourselves in your respective rooms and ride it out until morning. Was that really the only option though? He could easily think of a few more options, though admittedly, he might not be thinking with his brain anymore.
“You have to go back to your room before I come out.” You’re starting to sound like you’re pleading with him. As much as you want to act strong and like you have all of the self-control in the world right now, you’re worried that if you step out into the hall and see him, you won’t be able to stop yourself from reaching out for him. You want to feel his skin beneath your hands as you run your palms from his shoulders, down his chest, straight to the waistband of whatever the hell he’s wearing right now. You want to have him completely bare in front of you, with nothing stopping you from dragging him straight to your bed to find the relief that you both so desperately crave right now. A sharp pang in your lower stomach causes you to let out a soft groan, and the sudden inhale you hear from Bucky through the door doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Not until I see that you’re okay.” Bucky says, still worried that you fell in the shower or hurt yourself somehow. Not wanting to waste any more time letting the chemical stew in your reproductive system, you flip the bathroom light off so you’re thrown into darkness, before unlocking the bathroom door and pulling it open slowly. You can just barely make out his form in the dark hallway, the curve of his broad shoulders, the glint of the black and gold vibranium making up his left arm, and fuck…the ripples down his abdomen. You’ve always thought he was frustratingly attractive, but now? Just looking at him has you insatiable. You realize quickly that he’s not wearing anything except a pair of black boxers and his dog tags. He’s really not making this easy on you. Your eyes flutter closed and you sigh, telling yourself to suck it up and walk past him. Just walk past him. But now you what he looks like with nearly no clothes on, and he’s so close to you. So. Damn. Close. A foot away from you, to be exact.
“I’m fine, just go back to bed.” You whisper. You don’t trust yourself to speak any louder, worried that raising your voice might awake something much more primal within yourself.
“Look at me.” He says, matching your whisper volume. Shit. Shit, shit. Shit. No.
“Don’t—” You’re cut off by the feel of his cool vibranium fingers wrapping around your right hand, lifting it so he can see it better. You suck in a harsh breath at the contact. It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, it’s not even what you need. You need skin. You need him against you. But something about the cool metal contrasting against the warmth of your heated hand feels electrifying.
“Did you punch the wall?” He questions, examining your reddened knuckles with narrowed eyes. Your eyes remain closed as you nod your head, and he takes the moment to scan his eyes down your body. Your t-shirt skims along the tops of your thighs and he knows if you turned around, it wouldn’t even fully cover the curve of your ass. Fuck, he wants you to turn around. He drops your hand as quickly as he first grabbed it, letting it fall back to your side as he begins running his flesh hand through his disheveled hair.
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is it?” Bucky has to know. He knows how high your pain tolerance is, he knows how good you are at putting on a brave face in the worst situations. He has to know how much you’re really suffering right now before he makes an offer that he can’t take back.
“Four.” You fib, pressing your lips together and daring to open your eyes and look back at him. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark a little more and you can see the sweat glistening across his chest, his quick breaths drawing your attention straight to his pecs.
“Don’t lie to me.” His gaze hardens. He hates that you’d try to lie to him. Do you really not trust him enough to just be open with him? Jesus, he’s standing in front of you in his fucking boxers with a hard-on that you haven’t even noticed yet and somehow you feel the need to keep things from him, like he isn’t just as vulnerable as you are right now.
“Seven.” You admit truthfully. The pain in your stomach has intensified, and all you want to do is curl into a ball right there on the floor. You feel like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, you feel like someone attempted to extinguish that fire with a gallon of hot sauce, and then ran you over with a semi-truck. You reach out for the door frame with your right hand, using it for balance as your legs begin to feel weaker.
“Y/n-” Bucky starts, ready to make you an offer, but you don’t let him continue. He knows it’s crossing a line. He’s fully aware that if he offers and you say no, things could just get weird between the two of you. He’s even more aware that if he offers and you say yes, it could effectively end your working relationship. But he can’t stand to see you like this. You might give each other shit more often than you’re civil with each other, but something about you being in pain has always sat wrong with him. He worries more about you in the field than he worries about himself.
“Don’t say my name, just…” You cut him off, but your voice trails off as your eyes wander down to the front of his boxers, finally noticing the way he’s straining against the fabric, his tip resting just barely under the waistband. “If you keep standing here, if you keep saying things to me, I’m not going to be able to go back to my room. I need you to walk away before I lose the power to let you.” Your warning should be clear as day now. He needs to leave you alone.
“No.” His refusal hits a nerve, angering you more than you would’ve thought possible. You feel a rush of adrenaline surge through you as you lose control of your actions. You place your hands against his chest, shoving him back, hard. He barely moves, which just further enrages you. “Y/n, we can fix this. I can fix this for you.” His offer is out in the open now. He holds his breath as you freeze in front of him, your hands falling away from his chest and your eyes squeezing shut in contemplation.
“Do you even realize what you’re offering?” Your question hangs in the air between the two of you, and the tension in the hallway makes it feel as though lightning is about to strike the tiny cobblestone house that you stand in. You wish lightning would strike. When you open your eyes this time, the look in Bucky’s eye has changed. There’s something in place of his usual hard gaze, something that nearly draws you in.
“Yes.” He’s offering to fuck you. He’s offering to give you the relief that you so badly need, the relief that can only be found when he finishes inside you. You’re hallucinating. That’s what this is. Because there is no fucking way that he’s standing in front of you right now, the six-foot tall super soldier who you can barely get along with outside of mandatory missions, offering to fuck you raw. “I know what I’m offering.” You only take a moment to weigh your options. Go back to your room, lock the door, and suffer for the next 7-10 hours or have sex with him and hope that it doesn’t ruin your entire life. Why would it ruin your life? Because he’s the only partner that you’ve trusted enough to work with since Nat passed, and there’s no way that things can just be fine and normal after you’ve seen each other naked. Things would get awkward, it’d be hard to look at each other, hard to see each other as professionals anymore. And your work, your job, is your life. Outside of this you have nothing. No family, not a single friend that isn't connected to this damn line of work, not a damn thing to turn to when this inevitably goes to shit.
“Stop overthinking it.” Bucky’s voice breaks you out of your whirlwind of thoughts. Against your better judgement, you make eye contact with him and the way he’s looking at you gives you butterflies. Butterflies? Who the fuck are you right now? “Close your eyes.” His voice is low, making the butterflies in your stomach explode and spread outward until it feels like your skin is tingling. You don’t know why you do as he says, but your eyes close and you stand there with bated breath as the floorboards creak. He’s stepping closer to you, stopping when you feel his breath fanning across your face. He trails his flesh fingertips from the back of your left hand and up your arm slowly, drawing goosebumps to the surface of your overheated skin but leaving some kind of calmness behind. You relish the way your left arm becomes the only part of your body that isn’t in pain, the only part that he’s touching.
“Okay…” Your voice is raspy as you cave to his touch. “But I have a rule.” He pulls his hand away and you wince as the pain quickly returns to the bones deep within your arm. He raises an eyebrow at you as he waits for you to continue. “You can’t kiss my lips.”
Bucky hesitates for a second, caught off guard by your insane rule. No kissing? During sex? Do you hate him that much? Fuck, he shouldn’t have offered to do this in the first place. It’s obvious that you really don’t want this, and he won’t be able to get off knowing that.
“Who’s overthinking now?” You laugh out, brushing past him and heading straight for your bedroom door. You took his hesitation as a rejection of your rule, and if he rejects your rule then you’re not doing this. If he kisses you, you’re scared you’re going to feel something. You can have sex and find absolutely zero meaning in it, that’s not that hard. It’s just a physical act. But kissing? Kissing makes it too intimate, too much of a real connection. You won’t give that away so easily. Just as you’re nearing the door, you feel Bucky’s hand wrap tightly around your wrist and pull you back, spinning you around so you’re facing him. In less than a second, he’s walking you backwards until your ass hits the wall and your hand is pinned above your head, with his body pressed firmly against yours. His nose brushes over the tip of yours and you shudder at the feeling of his skin, his body giving off so much heat that you’re regretting having put your shirt back on earlier.
“Fine, I won’t kiss you.” He rasps. His vibranium hand is gripping your hip, holding you solidly against the wall as he moves to run his lips along your jawline. He doesn’t kiss your skin, he simply lets his lips ghost over it, making you tilt your head to the side in anticipation. “I have one rule of my own.”
“What’s that?” Your voice sounds a lot more confident than you expected it to, like you’re not fighting to hold yourself together inside. He nips at your earlobe softly and you feel the tip of his tongue against it so lightly that you’re not sure if you imagined it or not.
“You’re going to wear these while I fuck you.” He guides your right hand up over the perfect ridges of his abs, across his chest, and straight to the dog tags that hang around his neck.
Next Part
TAG LIST:
@sarcastickiddo @donttalktosposts @marygoddessofmischief @its-daydreamer23 @lightsonnoonehome @gyokujyn @kandis-mom @millercontracting @alicia-bman @littlemiss-yeehaw @sdddoobydoobydoo @a-rotten-chicken-nugget @browneyedgirl22 @charmedbysarge @i-dont-know-how-to-words @maraaaamartinnnn @hensawweston @traderjoesmints @fictionallyunavailable4ever @black-cat-2 @just-act-natural @phoenixstark1708 @ladyvenera
2K notes
·
View notes
requested
00:56
Your hand is raised in front of the door, about to knock, when the door clicks open on its own. Donghyuck doesn't seem surprised by your presence; his expression is morphed into one of indifference. He is wearing his glasses and that white Celine shirt he loves to wear on special occasions. His long hair curls at his nape, a few curly strands beautifully swaying at the front. You would call him gorgeous if it wasn't for the pressing situation at hand. He walks past you into the kitchen and extracts a water bottle from the fridge. You flinch when he slams the door shut.
“Donghyuck,” you try. He chugs the water down, ignoring you. “Donghyuck list-”
A thud, water on your feet and a gasp leaving your mouth, and Donghyuck storms past you back into the bedroom. The blue baby shark bottle lays a few inches away from your legs with a broken hinge and a crack near the top.
You bite your lips in an attempt to keep your tears at bay. You brought this on yourself, you have no right to cry. If forgetting your anniversary was not enough of a fault, you went on to blame it on your workload and blame him for being upset. Not your smartest move.
Dejected, you walk back to the couch and lay down. You haven't slept properly in ages, you really were preoccupied with an important project at work, but even that isn't a good reason to stop doing the bare minimum. Donghyuck's anger is justified.
You don't have a blanket; no amount of hugging yourself provides you the warmth that Donghyuck’s body exudes. The pit of your stomach feels hollow with dread; the guilt weighs you down and threatens to swallow your being. After an hour of twisting and turning, you give up on the idea of sleep. There's no way you can sleep peacefully without resolving this conflict. Your throat constricts and heart sinks at the prospect of Donghyuck ending this relationship for his own good.
So you walk up to the door resolutely. If Donghyuck continues to give you the silent treatment, you know your resolve will take a hit pretty soon. However, doing something to show that you care is better than doing nothing.
“Hyuck,” you start, only to hear your voice crack. It pains you as much as it pains him to have landed in such a predicament. “I'm sorry, Donghyuck, it's my fault. Please, just open the door.”
You are met with silence. Did he fall asleep already? It seemed unlikely but you couldn't rule out the possibility.
“Hyuck, are you awake? Baby? Just please answer me.”
Still no response. But then, something drops, and you hear the old bed squeak, his feet shuffle and the spring in your mattress dip. So he's awake.
“Donghyuck, love, please talk to me.” You cringe at the desperation in your own voice. “I am sorry, I know I fucked up Hyuck. Shout at me, hit me, just-”
You clutch your hair, your back sliding against the door and butt hitting the cold floor. A shiver runs down your spine. Was it winter already?
“Just don't be quiet, please.”
You bury your face in your hands in a last ditch attempt to keep the sobs under control. It didn't seem to be working in your favour. The stress at work seems to be finally catching upto you as well. Donghyuck needs space. He doesn't need you annoying him now when all this could have been prevented had you been more mindful of your actions. You accept your fate and curl into a bundle, deciding to give it a rest for now.
That's how Donghyuck finds you a few hour laters.
You are hugging your knees close to your chest, head resting uncomfortably on the hard floor. When he takes a closer look, he can see the dried streak of tears on your cheek. You are trembling, and he realises you haven't even switched the heater on. Something in him breaks at the sight of you like this.
“Hey, baby,” he gently taps your cheek to wake you up. “Baby, you can't sleep here, come in.”
You make a little noise. He is met with the uncontrollable urge to coo at you, but stops himself given the situation.
“Wake up doll,” he tries again. “You are going to have a terrible back pain at this rate.”
You blink your eyes open sluggishly after a few moments. Donghyuck isn't wearing his glasses anymore and his hair is mussed up. “Hyuck?” You ask, your sleep muddled brain still not catching up. “Is everything alright?”
Donghyuck sighs, his fingers gently caressing your cheek. He loved you too much to stay mad at you for long, no matter what you did.
“Come sleep on the bed baby. We'll talk about the rest in the morning. Come in now.”
525 notes
·
View notes