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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

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girls just wanna have fun 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, blackmail, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you're struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

You bite your lip as you look at your reflection. The ribbed top clings to your figure, the razorback cut covers your cleavage but your lack of layers if obvious. If your dad was home, he’d freak out.

What the hell are you wearing? Put a bra on!

You’re tired of telling him you’re an adult. You’re over his distrust. You’ve always been a good a daughter. What have you ever done to let him down? You kept your GPA high enough to get into college and your extracurriculars even made you a hot commodity. Yes, that’s exactly what you are.

You turn and push out your bum, running your hands over the curve. The TikToks might call it a glow up. It’s that classic era of a woman’s life when she comes into her own. When she fills out just enough, when she knows the power she has. Well, you think that’s what it is. You don’t know, it’s all still a bit confusing.

Hard to be your own woman when you still live at home, but daddy pays tuition so you play by his rules. Well, it’s summertime and you don’t need to turn in a 4.0 to make him happy until Fall. This is going to be your summer. No studying, no lame ass book clubs, you’re breaking free. Well, you’re gnawing on the bars.

Your phone buzzes and draws you away from your narcissistic revery. Before, you weren’t really into yourself. You wore a school uniform and your hair was always the same style, nails clean and cut, no makeup. Your coming-of-age at least let you take a bit more control over your autonomy. Your dad couldn’t really keep you from spending the money you made at your campus work study.

Another text from Shelby. You don’t click on the preview. It’s worse to leave her on read than to just ignore the notifications. She’s a good friend but you think you’ve outgrown her. The last time you hung out, she just wanted to play MarioKart. You wanted to go out and do stuff but she hates public places. You’re no more fond of strangers but you wanted a bikini. You ended up staying in and ordering off Amazon.

You put the phone down as the whir of a weed whacker sounds outside your window. You go to it and look out the pane. You can’t help the curl of your lips. You watch your neighbour trimming the edges of his lawn. He’s overly diligent about his landscaping. While many others hire gardeners, he’s certain to tend to every inch of his lot.

Mr. Barnes doesn’t seem the type for half-measures. You like that about him. No, you love it. You feel giddy just watching him.

You spin and lean against the wall with a sigh. You have a terrible crush. On an older man. For all the novels and movies you’ve seen, it’s a common trope, but that’s fiction and this is real life. You can’t lust after your neighbour. Especially not him.

Just because you feel a certain kind of way, doesn’t mean you need to do anything about it. You can still dream. You can pretend when you’re home alone or at night when you’re lying in bed, unable to sleep. You feel a tingle flow through you and shudder.

You get a bad idea. Nothing’s going to happen, but you just want him to notice you. Just a little. Just for a moment.

You turn to the mirror again and touch the sides of your white denim shorts, slightly distressed for effect. You wiggle your hips and clutch onto your courage. You spin and flit out before it can elude you.

You scramble downstairs and stop to push your feet into your slides. You stop and take a breath, centering yourself on your act. You pull open the front door and flurry through, squealing as you scramble across the porch and nearly tripping down the steps. You throw up your hands, shaking them as you commit to your act.

“Ew, ew, ew,” you chant shrilly and the whirring trimmer stops. “Oh god!”

You hear a deep breath and a grunt. You put your hands to your head and cringe, turning to look at Mr. Barnes as he squints in your direction. You turn your grimace to a sheepish smile and drop your arms, rubbing one shyly, certain to push up your chest with the act.

“Hi,” you poke out the tip of your tongue, “sorry I...” you laugh at yourself, “there’s a spider in my bedroom. I panicked.”

He nods and squares his jaw, shifting the trimmer as he grips it. He comes towards the low picket fence between your yards. You drop your hands and hook your thumbs in your shorts pockets, rocking back and forth.

“Sorry, didn’t meant to bother,” you push your shoulders to your ears. His eyes twitch, barely resisting a skim of your figure. Instead, he looks past you to the long drive at the other side of your lot.

“Dad’s not around?” He asks warily, his voice rocky and deep, just like you hear it in your head.

You shake your head, batting your lashes at him. Him and your father don’t get along. Maybe you have some daddy issues but you really don’t care. He’s just so hot. His slightly mussed silver hair and his still toned arms. He might have some years on you but there’s no guys your age who look that good.

“Working,” you pout, “he won’t kill them either. He just puts them out in the yard and they come right back in.”

“Mm,” he hums and leans the trimmer against the fence, “want me to take care of it?”

Yes, I want you to take care of me. Focus.

You let your eyes round and push your lip out, “if you don’t mind. They give me the heebies.”

“Heebies,” he repeats the word flatly, “huh.”

He comes around the fence and lets himself in through the gate. You meet him at the walk and step in front of him, leading him up the front steps. You can’t remember the last time he came over. Not since he moved in. Yeah, his brief acquaintance with your father ended in a city prospector measuring the lots and relaying the property line. Oof, your dad still hasn’t let that go.

You’re overly aware of him behind you as you climb the steps. You hope he’s looking at your ass. Those shorts hug it in just the right way.

The front door is still open from your feigned escape. You step inside and habitually leave your slides on the mat. Mr. Barnes pauses and steps out of his workboots.

“Um, it’s in my room,” you point up the stairs, almost shaking. You didn’t really plan this far.

“Right,” he follows your direction and you stay a few feet back, keeping up your frightful act.

He climbs the stairs and you tell him which way to go. He enters your room and looks around. Shoot. Your head is empty. Something about him just makes you dumb.

“It was in the corner,” you lie, “it must’ve skittered off. Oh no! You think it’s hiding somewhere.”

“Probably won’t see it again,” he shrugs. “Keep a shoe by your bed.”

You hum and nod. Your eyes linger on the small vibe on your nightstand. Whoops. You kinda hope he sees it too. He faces you and clears his throat.

“Eucalyptus or peppermint,” he says, “those will keep them away. Spray a little around your windows and door.” He points around the walls. He looks a little out of place among your purple walls and your fluffy aesthetic, yet not at all. You can just see him on your bed. You gulp as you realise he’s still talking. “All good?”

“Uh, yes, d—sir,” you smile and clench your teeth tight around your near slip. Had you really almost called him dad? Oh shit. Yeah, that can just be tucked away and never thought of again. “Thanks for trying.”

“Yeah, no worries,” he shrugs and moves towards you.

You just stand there. He arches a brow and gesture past you. You blink and giggle, “oh, uh, sorry. Thanks again.”

“Mm, I’ll let myself out,” he says as he brushes by you. Just the scent of his sweat has you flustered.

“Sure,” you murmur after him, your heart fluttering. “Bye, Mr. Barnes.”

You listen to him go and as the front door shuts, you spin and float over to fall onto your bed. You lay face down and groan. Ugh, that only made everything so much worse. You want him! You need him! You lift your head and reach for the vibe on the nightstand. Hopefully the battery in this thing still has some juice.

#bucky barnes #sam wilson #drabble #series #silverfox au #au #girls just wanna have fun #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #dark bucky barnes #dark sam wilson #dark!bucky barnes #dark!sam wilson #captain america #falcon and the winter soldier #mcu #marvel #avengers

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

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girls just wanna have fun 2

Summary: you’re struggle to push back against your controlling father result in a misguided crush. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson

You don’t like to think of yourself as sweaty, you’re glistening. You keep a light jog, just enough to get your heart pumping. And bouncing. Your sports bra is less than secure but you don’t mind.

Running’s another new hobby. It’s a reason to get out of the house when your dad’s being a drag. And a reason to scope out the neighbour. As you turn the corner onto your street, you slow down, coming in sight of Bucky’s yard. Disappointment washes over you as you get closer. He’s usually out by now.

“Goddammnit,” you hear him curse as he appears from beside the house, his tee shirt soaked in water, “fucking hose.”

You stop by the fence and watch him strip away the drenched shirt. He tosses it in anger, his muscles rippling under his skin, and scowls as his hands frame his wide hips. You gulp as your mouth dries out. Wowee.

He looks over as you hover near his gate. You cough and shake your head, “everything alright, Mr. Barnes?” You ask, keeping your voice perky.

“Uh, yeah,” he shakes his head slightly, “yeah, just damn thing split.”

He huffs and closes his eyes, tilting his head up to the shining sun. It’s almost as if he’s trying to match you, tempting you to do something. Your cheeks burn from more than the summer heat. You hum in sympathy.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Well, I’m sure if you really need a hose, you could stretch ours over the fence.”

“Yeah, your dad wouldn’t have an aneurysm?” He scoffs and opens his eyes, narrow those baby blues in your direction.

You step back on your heel and shrug, shuffling your feet as you run in place, “I don’t know, Mr. Barnes. Just being nice.” You turn and keep bouncing looking ahead, “gotta finish my run.”

“It’s Bucky,” he calls after you as your soles pound the sidewalk. You puff out, smiling. Bucky.

You circle the block again and come up once more to your neighbour’s walk. Again, you keep a look out for him. There’s another car in the lot. You recognise it. His annoying friend is there. The one who used to tease you about your school uniform.

You roll your eyes and turn your sights forward, only to collide with someone else. Just the person you were dreading. You stutter step back, panting heavily, chest rising and falling heavily. You don’t miss how the man’s eyes peek down before meeting your own. You don’t mind being on display, just not for him.

“Oh, hi, Mr. Wilson,” you cross your arms and he clears his throat. Ugh, gross. You drop your arms, “sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s just fine, sugar,” he smirks, “don’t mind running into a pretty girl like you.”

Ew. You could barf. It takes all your manners not to gag at him.

“Right, um, well, I should just--”

“Hey, Sam,” Bucky’s voice draws your attention from your half-baked excuse, “Corona okay? I don’t got any Heineken right now.”

“Corona? What are you? A coed? Why don’t you toss it to this little beam of sunshine?” He nudges you and you inch away.

“I got a free case. You really gonna be picky,” Bucky challenges as he comes up to the fence and holds the beer over it. “She’s too young.”

“I drink,” you lie. To be honest, you don’t. You tried a single vodka and orange soda in high school and vomited in your shoe. “You know, college.”

“Yeah, college,” Sam winks at you, “she’s really grown up, Buck.”

You glance over as his brows raise coyly and he glances over at you, the tip of his tongue poking out. You flutter your lashes and refocus on Bucky. You shrug.

“Obviously, I’m just playing around. I’m a good girl, Mr. Barnes,” you smile.

Sam purrs, just loud enough for you to hear. You repress the furrow that threatens to wrinkle your nose. You have to stay pretty for Bucky.

“I’m just fine. Dad’s got some Bud in the garage.”

“Bud, huh, you like toilet water?” Sam chides.

Your lips draw tight and you spin on your heel, “anyways, I’m going to go stretch.”

You skip down the sidewalk and through your own gate. You hear Sam chuckle, “you doing it out here, sugar? Where we can see? You know, I got a bad back, could use a few pointers.”

You just shake your head as you wave dismissively and head inside. He has to ruin everything. You don’t get why Bucky is friends with him. They have their little poker nights and all you ever hear in exchange are snipes. Do they even like each other?

You enter the house and fill a large glass of water from the fridge filter. You gulp it down, parched from more than your run. Mm, just the thought of Bucky with his shirt off, the little coils of gray hair, and the way his muscles were just perfectly lined with that extra later of pudge. The kind a man ages into.

“There you are,” your dad appears as if out of thin air, “what the hell are you wearing?”

“Love you too,” you face him as you put the glass down.

“Were you outside like that?”

You look down at your bicycle shorts and bra.

“I was exercising,” you snip.

“You can wear a shirt next time,” he sneers. “You’re supposed to clean the pool.”

“I got time,” you argue.

He sighs as he opens the fridge. He takes out his carton of egg whites and plops it down on the counter. He takes out turkey bacon as well. He swings the door shut and turns, silent as he readies his late breakfast.

“What are you talking to Barnes for?” He asks curtly as he puts a pan on the stove. You grab your glass again.

“Was being friendly, that’s all,” your heart deflates. Fun’s over.

“Mm, and he’s friendly? He knows how to be?”

“Ugh, whatever’s between you has nothing to do with me,” you rebuff, “he’s nice.”

“Sure,” he sniffs doubtfully, “he’s a bitter old bastard.”

You’re one to talk. You don’t put the quip to voice, instead draining what’s left of the water. You turn and rinse the glass and put it in the dishwasher.

“If I clean the pool, can Shelby come over?”

“Shelby? What, so you can blast those video games again?”

“No, so we can swim,” you say. “Duh.”

“Duh,” he mimics in a whiny voice. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Well, can I? Please?” You soften your tone, “I’m so bored.”

“Mm, fine. No more wet towels on the lawn though.”

“Yes, sir, will do, sir.”

“And cut the attitude,” he warns as he peels bacon strips from the package, “and put a shirt on.”

You spin and stomp away. You take your slides from the front mat and carry them to the back door. You’re not putting a shirt on, you’re going to be cleaning the pool. There’s no point in that.

You go out and grab the net, extending it long. You lazily skim the water. It doesn’t really need a cleaning. It’s still sparkling and clear.

As you stare into the blue depths, the shadow of the leaves above rustle over you. You glance up and over to the disturbance. You see a head poking over the top and nearly shriek. It’s Sam, watching you.

“Ew, what are you doing, perv?” You accuse.

“There’s tree rot up here,” he points to the trunk, “told Buck I’d take care of it. Let his old knees have a rest.”

You frown and turn back to the pool. You know he’s watching you. You feel the weight of his gaze. The same sensation you long for when you pass by Bucky.

“And the view is nice,” he slithers, “you might wanna reach a bit... right there. Little leaf,” he points over the fence, “bend just a little bit, sugar. Arch that back.”

You can’t believe what he’s saying. You retract the pole and turn to scowl at him, “you’re gross.”

“Ah, come on, don’t act so innocent with me? What happened to the plaid skirt and those cute little stockings?”

You glare at him, “I’m an adult.”

“Sure are,” he agrees.

“What do you want?” You snarl, “I’m busy.”

He grins and leans on the fence. He tilts his head and bats his lashes, “’oh, Mr. Barnes, I’m a good girl. I would never drink your beer. But yes, I’ll sit in your lap, show you what a good girl does’,” he mocks as he pretends to fix hair longer than his trimmed style.

“Well, happy to see one of us is grown,” you retort.

“Ah, sugar, you can’t deny it. I see right through you. You weren’t wagging that ass for me but you will,” he eyes you up and down and licks his lips, “you want a bite of Bucky, I can get you it. There’s just one catch,” he pulls back slightly and looks down, “and it’s hard and throbbing.”

You’re stunned. Speechless. Blistering at being caught in your pathetic flirtations but worse, being called out so crassly.

You recoil and turn back to the pool. You’re not really considering his offer. As much as you dream about Bucky, and touch yourself, and cum about him, it’s just no, you can’t. It’s a fantasy, nothing else. That’s all it can be.

Besides, you wouldn’t know what to do. It’s all so much easier in your head.

“That’s okay, you take your time,” he slaps the fence, “I got work to do. But first,” he puts an arm over the wood, “think I’ll watch you do yours.”

#bucky barnes #sam wilson #dark bucky barnes #dark sam wilson #dark!bucky barnes #dark!sam wilson #bucky barnes x reader #sam wilson x reader #series #drabble #au #silverfox au #girls just wanna have fun #mcu #marvel #captain america #avengers #falcon and the winter soldier

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