TW for Eddie getting hurt (but he's okay). And Human Trafficking.
Link to part Two
Steve leans against Carol's desk, "here are your messages, I fobbed off the Times interview - they're going to email you their questions instead." He's listening to Carol, but he's watching, frowning.
There's a man in his office.
"Lunch call with the Singapore office is on. Your suite for the gala is back from the dry cleaners, it's in your bathroom."
"Right, the gala," Steve answers absently. It's a corner office, lots of glass, so it's impossible to miss the man in his office. The man who is calmly, right now, looking at the framed photo Steve has of his parents. It's basically a prop, Steve never got on with them, but that is not the point. Some random guy is touching Steve's shit.
"And my nine thirty?"
"Had to move it, don't worry, they were fine about it."
"Right," Carol's leaning over the desk now, watching the man right along with Steve, "I assume that's why you had to cancel my nine thirty."
"Uh hu," she's tapping her nails on the top of the desk, and she's so fucking infuriating, if she wasn't so fucking good at her job Steve would have booted her years ago.
"You're going to make me ask aren't you??
Carol gives him a massive shit eating grin, "ask what, sir?"
"Jesus fucking christ," Steve sighs, "who is that in my office."
"Not sure," Carol shrugs, grinning because she's pleased she's being such a dick, "security brought him up," she leans over the desk, whispering like she's imparting a secret, "pretty sure they said something that sounded like FBI."
And then she sits down, tapping at her computer and painting her nails or doing whatever it is she does all day. Harassing mail boys, probably. God she's like a fucking shark, but that what Steve gets, he wanted a competent secretary, what he got was a fucking guard dog.
Steve's not complaining. He'd been weary of hiring a female Alpha and then shoving her behind a desk, but it turns out Carol is terrifyingly efficient and fucking fearless, so it's kind of a win win.
Steve stares at the man in his office for a second longer, trying to figure out what the fuck he's done. he wonders if he's somehow accidentally committed major tax fraud, or something. He's pretty sure he hasn't, but the panic spiral is sitting there, looking inviting, anyway.
Steve goes into his office, and the man turns. He's tall, well built, kind of portly with age, maybe, but Steve still wouldn't fuck with the guy. He's not wearing blockers of any sort, so Steve's office now smells of strange, uninvited, Alpha. Great.
"Jim Hopper," he says, extending his hand, "FBI."
"Steve Harrington," Steve replies, even though he's certain it's pointless, this guy knows exactly who he is.
The guy is already producing paperwork as Steve takes his seat on the other side of his desk, "standard non disclosure, Mr. Harrington."
Steve gives it a once over, he's signed enough of these, and been involved with the legal team enough, that he feels confident enough. He signs it, knowing he won't get any answers until he does.
"I'll get right to it, time is tight. I've been working to dismantle an Omega trade ring for nearly eighteen months now. We're almost ready to move, teams are in place, inks drying on the warrants, cells are all picked out."
Steve nods, okay. He knew Omega trade was a thing, a barbaric, highly illegal thing. Human trafficking of the worst form, he gestures for Hopper to continue.
"If we go in now, we will likely get a few of the higher ups, we'll rescue approximately two dozen Omega, it'll be a success." Steve goes to speak, wondering what the fuck this has to do with him, Hopper waves him down, "we've been here before; I've made this mistake once before. If we don't get the people at the top, this thing will grow back in a years time. I want them all."
Steve gets that. His head is spinning a little. He knows things like this go on, you see about it on the news, but it does sound a bit...like a spy movie.
Hopper puts a photograph on Steve's desk, "you know this man?"
And Steve does. They're not what Steve would call friends; more of a good tempered rivalry. And yeah, Steve had Daddy's money, but Tommy had his Daddy's company. They came up at the same time, went after the same deals. Move in the same circles, Steve's known him for years. Steve's disliked him for years, "you're not suggesting Tommy Hagan is...the head of some sort of, human slavery outfit?" Knowing how ruthless Tommy can be, how questionable his methods are...Steve's still struggling to see him as...this.
"I'm not suggesting it. I'm telling you as fact. You've known him a long time, and we have to move fast. The charity gala tonight, you'll both be there."
"Right, sure, but I don't exactly see what I can do about this."
"Hagan moves the...high end product. Very exclusive, very expensive. They keep them at a ranch, just out of state," and that's kind of uncomfortable, because Steve's been to the ranch for a business lunch, so he knows exactly the place Hopper is talking about. And, jesus, Steve had thought at the time Tommy had a lot of Omega staff. A lot of really well behaved Omega staff - at the time, Steve thought Tommy was just being his usual dick self. Just showing off wealth. Fuck, if some of those Omega were actually, like, prisoners- "drop a hint to Hagan, tonight. Tell him you're getting itchy, fancy yourself an Omega. A traditional one, timid. Say whatever you need to say, get yourself an invite out there."
Steve takes a deep breath, nodding. He can do that. He can play that; he might have to wear blockers, his opinion of Tommy is in the gutter on a good day, never-mind this.
"That's all you need?"
Hopper shifts forward in his chair, "look, you're ideal. On the periphery, you've known each other a long time, but not well. He knows exactly the kind of clout you have, your bank balance, you're the perfect person to do this."
It's not hard to find information on Steve Harrington, he's thirty first on the Forbes 100 list, but clearly Hopper, at the very least, has taken notice.
"How do you know I'm not already involved?"
Hopper snorts, "kid. We know. Also, you just asked me that question, and your balls ain't that brassy."
Steve can't deny it, he shrugs, "so, what else?"
"Get an invite. Go there wearing a wire. Meet Tommy, pick an Omega. You'll be trusted; we will fit a listening device. Hagan's wriggled out of this sort of thing before; evidence like that, there'll be no court in the country that won't convict him."
Steve feels awkward. He knows there's a device on him somewhere; Hopper had taken his phone for ten minutes, and brought it back with a different suit jacket for him to wear.
That had been at half five this morning, standing on Steve's back porch. And as he pulls into the ranch, he has the air con on full blast because fucking hell, he's sweaty when he's nervous.
Hopper had made this sound easy; the ranch is pretty safe. Only a couple of armed guards. Plus, he's Steve Harrington; you can't just disappear a guy like Steve.
Hopper had sounded so certain, the cherry of his cigarette bright in the pre dawn mist. He'd even slapped Steve's shoulder, told him he was saving lives. Steve had felt like a fucking super hero for about twenty minutes, until reality and fucking nerves had swamped him.
But here he is, walking up the front steps to the ranch house, Tommy Hagan grinning big, "hope you brought the black card," Tommy jokes as they bro hug.
Because that's not creepy.
Tommy had given Steve a smirk at the Gala last night, was confident he had exactly what Steve was looking for. Knew, for the right price, exactly what would scratch Steve's itch. Not like he was talking about real fucking human beings or anything.
Steve's real glad he went thick on the blockers; he's certain Tommy would be choking on the scent of his disgust by now.
They bring them in during lunch. Steve sitting, eating fucking cornbread and home made slaw and he just can't. He nibbles, feeling sick with nerves. Tommy doesn't even seem to notice. Steve can't help but stare at him, someone he's known most of his life and now...he's been revealed as something vile and subhuman. Steve has to work hard to keep the disgust off his face.
Something that gets even more difficult when the Omega are brought it and lined up, all wearing the same diaphanous nightdresses regardless of gender. Every single one of them could be a contender for the most beautiful thing Steve's ever seen. Every single one of them could be a model, or something.
They're lined up in height order; the last one in, the tallest, a male Omega. He's limping.
He's leaving bloody footprints on the fancy parquet flooring.
Tommy must catch Steve's face, "the unruly ones need to be disciplined, and that one is more...difficult than most. Refuses to learn. And we don't want to damage the product anywhere that'll be visible, obviously."
Steve has to breathe through his nose so he doesn't throw up. All the Omega are wearing blockers; probably because the scent of Omega distress would be so off putting.
Tommy waves a hand, "get him out of here, he's bleeding on the rug," and the Omega winces, as he turns. he's got lots of shiny dark curls. Everything about all the Omega is pristine, perfectly maintained hair, nails, flawless skin. The smear of blood on his ankle is even more stark for it, and Steve can't help but stare as the Omega gamely takes what looks like a very painful, shuffling step away again.
"Him," Steve says before he can stop himself, "I want him."
The Omega turns back, looking at Steve with huge, beautiful brown eyes. He's hopeful and fearful all at once, and it tears Steve up inside. He wants to buy all of them, get all of them out of here, but knows he can't. If he does anything to raise suspicion he could fuck the whole thing.
At least he has Hopper's word that the rest of them will be out of here by the end of today.
Tommy scoffs, "Steve, come on, have a proper look. Don't pick that one. Get a pretty one."
Steve wants to swear at Tommy because they're all fucking pretty, ridiculously so, "no, he'll do."
"Oh," Tommy laughs, "I get it, just gonna' wreck him anyway, right? That's fair, can always get another," and he's laughing again and suddenly Steve is dragged into a very detailed conversation about how to move funds - from where and to where, which Steve does. It's an amount of money that under any other circumstances would make Steve's eyes water - but in the face of a human being in pain, Steve doesn't even blink.
It doesn't feel like Steve takes a breath until he's on the interstate, the Omega curled up on the seat next to him. No possessions, no clothes, no bag.
Nothing.
And that had gutted Steve as much as anything else.
"Look, uh, hey, you have a name?"
"Eddie," the Omega answers quietly.
"Right. Eddie. So. This is...well it's going to sound a bit wild but...I'm kind of here for the FBI. I mean. I don't work for them, or anything, but...I was...asked, I guess, to get evidence. So don't worry about everyone else, they're getting rescued later so. That's. A thing, I guess?"
Eddie's just blinking at him.
"Yea. Yeah, I guess that's a lot to take in. But we can talk about it...later? Do you have family? Like, shit, do you have somewhere to go? I'm pretty sure I wasn't supposed to actually like...buy, a person. Couldn't leave you there though."
"I've...I've got an uncle. Haven't seen him for years. I don't...know."
"Right, right okay. We can talk to Hopper about it," Steve spots a drive through, "you hungry?"
Eddie turns and sees the McDonald's, "oh fuck me yes," he breathes with such vehemence that Steve laughs, "I haven't left the ranch for two years, and they never let us eat anything like that, it's bad for our skin. Plus, we have to stay thin and pretty."
That kills Steve's laughter stone dead.
Hopper rubs at his forehead, "you were not supposed to buy a human being."
"I know but-" Steve turns, Eddie standing behind him, which on it's own makes Steve wince. Eddie's barefoot on the asphalt, half hidden behind Steve, still wearing nothing but that scrap of white fabric. It's now a little smeared with the fry grease Eddie had shamelessly wiped off his fingers. Steve hands over his phone and the suite jacket.
Hopper waves him off, "you did good."
Hopper does something to the back of Steve's phone, peeling something away from it, before giving it back, "somewhere I can take you kid? Any family?"
"I only have an uncle, but I don't...it's been years, I haven't seen him since I was little."
Hopper rubs is hand over his face, the rasp of stubble loud, before he lights another cigarette, "I'll have to find you a motel somewhere while we figure this out."
"He can stay with me." Steve's volunteering before he can really think it though, "I've got...a lot of space," he trails off. He did just rescue this Omega after all, he's not just going to abandon him to be alone somewhere. Somewhere that might not even be safe for a lone Omega.
Hopper raises an eyebrow at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, "not like I've had any better offers lately."
Hopper snorts, but he hands over a business card, "this is highly unorthodox, but...I don't care. I've got bigger things to worry about. Text me any details the kid can give you on the uncle. I'll be in touch."
And then Hopper just...drives away. It's maybe an hour and a half drive back from here, since Steve had to go out of his way for this clandestine meeting in an abandoned car lot.
"So is there anything you...want? Need?"
Eddie seems to think about it for a second, plucking at his nightshirt, "I mean, I don't have any cash, obviously, and I heard how much money you shelled out- I mean, do you think you can comp me from the FBI? Man, you didn't even get a receipt for me."
Steve starts laughing first, then Eddie joins in.
At Eddie's request they get milkshakes on the way home.
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Ghoul imagine Cowboy!Ghost going to the thrift/antique store in town because all his work pants are testing the limits of the Theseus’ Ship paradox with how much mending Duck has had to do on them.
There’s literally only one pair of jeans in the entire store that fit him (his legs are a mile long, thick as fucking tree trunks, with a bakery to match, that’s a tall order for a rural town) and so he buys them without a second thought. Doesn’t really pay mind to the way the owners great grand daughters eyes widen comically when she sees the brand patch on the back. He’s not very familiar with American brands anyway, and these’ll get demolished by the end of the week, why should he care who made it.
Of course it all comes together the next time him and Goose have sex. Her brain practically short circuits as he unzips his jeans, revealing a faded red patch that reads “☘️LUCKY YOU☘️” in a bold font.
Yes this mountain of a man bought Lucky brand jeans from the thrift, no he didn’t really realize what they were (not like he has to look at his zip every time mkay it’s fucking muscle memory), yes they fit him like skinny jeans, and yes Goose fucks his absolute brains out that night.
Maelstrom the wizard you are to make the worms squirm the way you do...
Your mom's a miracle worker for sure, but she's not God, and when Simon sets his ratty jeans on her kitchen table she just stares at him. You let your lovely, change averse, husband know that you will attempt to order him a new pair of the exact same brand but he needs something else in the meantime. Begrudgingly he agrees, and tugs on a pair of fatigues to go find a new pair of work pants in town. A tall feat when your few clothing stores mostly cater to women, and it's only very recently that your town has seen such an influx of... men his size.
You drop him at the church's little resale shop and tell him to find something denim that fits. You don't think about it more than that as you walk into the feed store. You don't even think about it when Simon climbs into the truck cab with a pair of jeans.
You do think about it the next day when he pulls his new jeans on. They're tight, and your eyes track the way he has to hop a little to get them up his thighs. You honestly could drop to your knees just watching him adjust himself in the denim. There's never a time you forget that Simon is a big man, but there are certainly moments you're reminded of it. You're drooling a little just eyeing the bulge of his cock against the fly of his jeans. He may as well be vacuum sealed into those suckers. You're not complaining, but...
You have to remind yourself that these were probably the only jeans he could find in his size. It's the only way you're able to keep your mind off your husbands tree trunk thighs while you're corralling cows.
You're eating lunch when Simon crouches down to pat the dog and you very nearly spit out your coke at the way the denim stretches over his ass. Soap stops his walk to the chicken coop and you have to throw your can at him to stop him from wolf whistling at your husband. Jesus Christ, ok, new problem has just arisen. You survey the jeans as Simon stands, the hug of denim around his thick thighs, the curve of fabric over his ass that cups it something sinful. You narrow your eyes at the offending garment. There's no way those fit comfortably, but Simon isn't complaining so you can't say for sure. He shifts his wait, settles a hand on his hip to watch the dog run in circles, and you have to physically hold yourself back from smacking his ass.
"My love," You try, earning a hum from Simon. You both know you only call him that when you're really trying not to call him something else. "Do those fit you?"
"Fit enough," Simon grumbles, bending to grab the tennis ball Mav brings him. You wince at the way the seams seem to be holding on for dear life. You try to remember if you knew Simon was toting around a whole bakery back there as he straightens and throws the dog's ball.
"Are they-" you hesitate, eyes stuck on him, "-comfortable?"
"They're fine," He bends again for the ball, and you keep yourself sinfully silent against the heat rising on your cheek, "shopped at enough charity shops." He throws the ball, and you- you sort of hope the jeans you ordered get lost in the mail.
You barely make it to dinner before he splits a seam. There's a little pop and you look over your shoulder to see Simon poking at a new little hole on the inside of his knee. You feel a little like you're seeing a victorian lady's ankle the way your heart pounds at that little inch of skin. Simon grimaces and pinches at the seam with a sigh. You flick the burner off and wipe your hands on a nearby towel.
"Lemme get a look, see if I can patch it." You offer, you're not as good as your mom or Soap, but you're a decent stitch. Simon stops his fussing and straightens his leg so you can crouch down and inspect the damage. Not too bad, you can fix it. You sigh, so much for hoping the ordered pants go missing, you'll be lucky if these things make it through the week. You glance up at Simon, catch his apologetic smile and shake your head. "Let's get 'em off and I'll throw a stitch on 'em while the pasta boils."
You don't bother standing, waiting for Simon on your knees is habit enough you don't even think about it. You watch him unhook his belt(as if the denim painted on him is going anywhere) and tug his zipper down. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head at the red "Lucky you" that greats you. It's entirely possible your brain might have fully leaked out of your ears after a full day of your man walking around with practically nothing on. You don't think this denim even counts as pants at this point. Not when you can trace the outline of his cock, and see it twitch as you lean forward to press your lips to the embroidered zipper.
Simon's hand finds your head immediately, his fingers scratching down to your scalp to hold on. "All that starin' finally got to ya, huh?" He rumbles, his voice lowered to that lovely register he only finds when he wants to fuck you. Your eyes dart up to meet his, your tongue darting out to lick at his boxers. His other hand pushes his jeans down, the fabric bunching around his muscular thighs and holding tight. You don't think about what a pain these things are going to be to get off, you just wiggle your head closer, drag your lips over the soft cotton and inhale the smell of a hard day's work.
Shit it must be nice just having his cock not clamped against his hip. You don't usually get that relieved sigh unless you've been teasing him. You drag your tongue over the soft warm length of him, wetting the cotton of his boxers with your spit until you can feel his cock harden under your ministrations. Your hands slip up Simon's thighs to tug at the denim, it barely moves and somehow that turns you on more than the hand fishing his thick cock from his boxers.
"Bad as Johnny with all your pantin'," He hums, "think I can't see you starin' sweet'eart?" You tip your head back, your mouth open and your tongue out, just so he can smack his cock against it.
Of course he'd catch you, but you weren't exactly stealthy about it. You're allowed to check out the man you love, that's not a crime. Especially if he looks as good as he does. If it were you, you wouldn't have even made it out of the house this morning. You take too long thinking, too long waiting and sinking into that lovely soft space Simon pulls you into, because you gag on his cock as it pushes down your throat in one quick stroke. He pulls it out, spit stringing between your tongue and his length and rubs the head over your lips.
"Gonna put it away if you can't pay attention." Simon scolds, and you can't have that. Your tongue laps at his head, lips stretched wide as he feeds you his heavy cock. You swallow around him this time, blinking the tears from your eyes when he hits the back of your throat. It's uncomfortable, but a quick jerk of his hips forces him down past your gag reflex, where you can feel him bulging out your throat. He holds you there, letting your throat work to try and push him out, before he pulls you off.
You gulp down a breath and slide your hands around his hips to grab that lovely ass you'd been oogling all day. Simon chuckles, watching you open your mouth wide, slurping at his cock with each bob of your head. He holds still, lets you pull off to lick long stripes up his length, watching the way his cock rests against your lips, against your nose when you make your way back to lick at the base. Seeing how big he is compared to you, knowing you'll let him fuck your throat despite the way it makes you hoarse in the morning... what a perfect partner you are.
(If Ghost's honest with himself there's something intoxicating about having the woman he loves be so openly attracted to him that she'd spend all day staring. It's the same heady rush that hits him when you look up at him with his cock down your throat, the same rush that he gets seeing your nose run and your eyes water as you fight down the urge to gag. He's never met someone that makes him feel so completely wanted the way you do.)
Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, laps at the the vein running along the bottom, you hold it out of your mouth to lick along his heavy length with each bob of your head. You pull back only to spit on his cock, the foamy drool that drips off of it is quickly pulled back into your lips as they slide over him. Your nose buries itself in the wiry blond curls at the base of his cock, and you shake your head to get his deeper. You suck on the way up, cheeks hollowed to slurp at the soft skin in a way that makes Simon groan.
It's absolutely filthy the way you blow him. You're such a mess, slobbering on his cock like it's the best thing you've ever had in your mouth, drooling and slurping. Your pretty lips puffy and your eyes shining. It's cute, you look like you're on the verge of tears just taking him down to the base. Simon taps your cheek with his fingers and you hold still, let him fuck your mouth the way he wants. His hips thrust shallowly into your mouth, easing you into the feeling before they snap and your gag is stopped by the thick cock stretching out your throat. You know what he wants. Know that by the time he's done the breaths you suck in so greedily with each pull out won't be enough to keep your nose from running, or the tears from spilling over your lashes.
You know that by the time he pulls you to the base and holds you there, his come spilling down your throat as he spits a low swear of your name, you'll look a wreck. And you know that he'll tap your nose when he pulls out, and crouch down to tell you what a good job you did. Except when he does drop to your level you're met with a smirk, and a:
"Lucky you, eh princess?"
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Hi there 🫶🏻
I read Shadow of the past and it was awesome oh my god!!!
If you are taking requests, I have actually two prompts that I would love to see it, written by you 🥹
1- just a smut, pure smut, lovely smut. Bucky being an angry dom, frustrated coming to home and giving his frustration on female reader
and he's to obsessed and rough that reader need to you safe word, and then its a bit angst, cause Bucky feels terrible, but fem Reader reassures him that everything is okay 🥰
2th prompt in next ask 👁️
A Bad Day
Summary : Basically "you pissed me out, I'm going to fuck the shit out of you."
Pairings : Bucky x F!Reader
Words : 5,7k
General Tags : NSFW, Smut, 18+
Tags : Angst, Hurt, Comfort, P in V, Unprotected Sex, Safe Word, Bucky is a dom, Choking, Spanking, Angry sex, After care, Make up sex, Shower sex, Slight Handjob, Fingering, Playful Banter, Fluff at the end
A/N : Hi, thank you for the request. While this still leans into the smutty side, I've woven in some plot and fluff to enhance the overall experience. Enjoy!
My masterlist
It was one of those days. When you could tell Bucky was stressed about something, but wouldn't tell you what it was. You knew not to push him, but you wished he'd talk to you instead of keeping it bottled up.
You were sitting at home watching a show on Netflix, while you waited for him to get back. It was almost 10 o'clock. You'd made dinner earlier, but since he hadn't eaten it yet, you had put the plate of food in the microwave. It was probably cold by now, but you were sure he was hungry and would eat it anyway.
It had been days since he talked to you. You missed his voice and his touch. But the way he had been treating you lately was making you angry. You knew he was stressed and needed to be left alone, but you needed attention too. You couldn't remember the last time he'd kissed you. The last time he'd told you he loved you.
When you heard the front door open and shut, you stood from the couch and walked to the kitchen. He was just taking his coat off.
"Welcome home," you greeted, leaning against the counter.
"Hey," he mumbled, hanging his coat up and walking past you to the microwave. He grabbed the plate of food and pulled it out, before grabbing a fork. "Thank you for dinner."
"You're welcome." You watched as he sat down at the table and started eating. "Are you okay?"
Pausing mid-bite, he raised an eyebrow and met your gaze. "Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering. You've been a little distant lately," you mentioned, making your way over to the table and taking a seat across from him.
"I'm fine," he replied, before shoving another forkful into his mouth.
"Are you sure? Because you've been acting differently," you pointed out, as you looked at him, studying his expressions.
He put his fork down and let out a deep breath. "Look, I'm not really in the mood for this. Can we just drop it?"
"Drop what? I'm worried about you," you expressed, leaning in slightly.
"I'm fine," he said with a hint of irritation in his tone. "I don't want to talk about it."
A moment of silence hung between you two as you looked at him. "Do you want to talk about us? About how you've barely talked to me for the past week? Or about how I haven't gotten so much as a kiss or an 'I love you' from you?” You paused, your words lingering in the space between you. "Is that something you'd like to talk about?"
"Jesus Christ, what's your problem?" he asked, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.
"I don't have a problem. I just miss my boyfriend," you said, trying to keep the hurt from your voice. "I don't even know what's going on with you anymore. You won't tell me. It's like I don't matter to you."
"I said I don't want to talk about it," he muttered.
"Well, I want to," you shot back, crossing your arms.
"What do you want me to say? That I'm stressed? That I don't have time for anything other than work right now?” He looked at you with frustration. “Do you want me to admit that I'm a fucking failure? That I'm a piece of shit for not being able to give you the life you deserve?"
You blinked at him, stunned at his action. "Bucky-"
"Don't," he snapped, standing up. His fork clattered as it hit the table, the sound echoing through the apartment. "Don't give me the sad eyes."
"I'm not-"
"Yes, you are! You're pitying me," he yelled, the frustration in his voice escalating. "Why don't you just step away so I can have some damn peace during my dinner?" His outburst echoed in the space.
"Fine," you declared, rising from your seat. "If that's how you want to be, then I'll leave you alone."
"Fine." He crossed his arms defiantly as you walked past him, heading toward the bedroom.
You slammed the door behind you and flopped down on the bed. You felt tears welling up in your eyes and you tried not to cry. You were pissed off at him. You started scrolling through your Instagram feed, hoping to take your mind off of Bucky and whatever he was going through. You'd never seen him act like this before. Normally he would vent to you or you would talk him through it. He'd never completely shut you out before.
After a few minutes, you heard the microwave again. Bucky was heating up more food. You continued looking through your phone, until you heard him walk into the bedroom. You locked your phone and set it down, sitting up. You were expecting him to start undressing and getting ready for bed, but instead he walked over to you and grabbed you by the arm.
"Buck," you exclaimed, surprised by his actions. "What are you doing?"
"You want me to act like myself?" he asked, his hand tightening around your arm. "You want me to talk to you and be affectionate?"
"Yes," you answered, not knowing where this was going.
With an abrupt pull, he brought you to your feet. "Well, this is how I'm going to treat you."
Before you could ask what he meant, he threw you down onto the bed, causing you to let out a squeal. "Buck, what the hell?"
He didn’t answer and got on top of you. His hands held your wrists against the bed and he leaned in to kiss you. The kiss was hard and demanding. He forced his tongue into your mouth and began exploring.
When he finally pulled away, he looked into your eyes. "Bucky... we can talk about this..."
"No, Y/N. I want to fuck. I want to take my anger out on you. Will you let me do that? Will you let me fuck you like an animal?" he asked. He had never been this rough. But you couldn't deny how aroused it made you. You could feel your panties getting wet. “I’ll show you the real me.”
"Yes," you breathed out and braced yourself.
He grabbed your wrists and pinned them down above your head. His body was hovering over yours. "I'll give you a safe word. How about 'peach'? Say it and I'll stop."
"Peach?" you questioned.
"Say the word and I'll stop," he repeated, before crashing his lips onto yours.
The kiss was sloppy and harsh. He bit your bottom lip hard, pulling a cry from your lips. It felt like he was trying to suck the breath out of you. You felt out of breath when he finally pulled away. He moved his hands away from your wrists, but you kept them in place.
He brought his right hand down to your throat and lightly pressed his fingers into your flesh. You moaned at the feeling and he began to squeeze. It wasn't enough to hurt, but it was definitely making it harder to breathe. You could feel the pleasure building in your lower stomach.
You had never explored breath play. You didn't think it would do much for you, but this was incredible. He knew exactly how to make it feel amazing. Your eyes fluttered shut and your body started to writhe against the bed.
He finally released you and you sucked in a deep breath. He sat up and grabbed the waistband with both hands. With a quick yank, he ripped them right off of your body, revealing your bra underneath. Your eyes widened in shock. "Buck, what the -"
"Shut up," he growled, as he moved his hand and began unbuttoning your pants. He yanked them down, along with your panties.
He quickly pulled off his shirt, pants, and boxers. His hard cock sprung free, precum leaking out of the tip. "Hands and knees, now," he commanded.
"Bucky -"
He gripped your chin tightly. "What did I say? I said hands and knees," he ordered, voice thick with arousal. "Don't make me repeat myself."
You swallowed hard, and nodded, doing as he said. You raised yourself on all fours as he moved behind you and grabbed your hips. He smacked your ass, causing you to jump. "Don't move," he said, his metal hand moving to wrap in your hair and tug making you cried out, and he pushed your face into the mattress.
You could feel his hand rubbing your pussy. Then his fingers were pushing inside you. "Look at you, all ready for me. So wet. I'm going to fuck you so hard. I'm not gonna hold back. I'm going to fuck you like you deserve to be fucked. Do you understand me?"
You could hear him spitting and then he was thrusting inside of you. "Ah, fuck," he groaned, as he bottomed out. He held onto your hips tightly, and didn't give you a moment to adjust. His fingers dug into your hips and he began pounding into you. "Is this what you wanted, Y/N?"
"Yes, yes," you moaned. He began fucking you harder, his hand leaving your hair and moving to your back. He pushed down, arching your back as his cock filled you again and again.
His flesh hand left your hip and he slapped your ass, hard. You whimpered at the pain, the sting of the slap turning to pleasure. Your eyes closed as his cock stretched you over and over. He slapped your ass again, his flesh hand gripping your hip again. He was pounding into you relentlessly now, his pace unrelenting. You gripped the bed sheets, his cock hitting that perfect spot.
"I can feel your pussy getting wetter. You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked. He was thrusting in and out of you hard. He was rougher than he'd ever been before. It almost hurt, but there was something else there. It was pleasure and lust. You liked the way he was using your body. "Such a tight little pussy," he grunted, as he rammed into you.
He held you still as he fucked you hard. You could hear him grunting and moaning, and the sound was so erotic, it made your pussy throb. You tried to keep your voice down, but you couldn't stop yourself from crying out.
"That's it, baby. Let me hear you. You want me to fuck you like this? You want me to make you scream? You like when I pound your little pussy?"
"Yes! Please!"
He wrapped his hand around your neck and started pulling you up against his chest. You could feel his cock slamming inside you, and it felt amazing. "Remember to use the safe word, if it's too much."
You looked at him over your shoulder. His face was flushed, and his pupils were dilated. He had a wild look in his eyes, and the sight made your heart beat faster. His pace was relentless. He was like a wild animal, his body slamming against yours. You could feel the pressure building up inside of you.
Your fingers curled around the sheets and you whimpered. He reached around, and pressed his metal fingers against your clit. You jolted and gasped. He didn't stop moving, even as he rubbed circles against your bundle of nerves.
He was thrusting harder and faster, and the feeling was so incredible, you started screaming. You were getting louder and louder, and the sounds coming out of you were animalistic. "Are you close, baby?" he asked.
"Yessss," you hissed.
"Come on, baby. Cum all over my cock. I want to feel your pussy clenching around me." he demanded, his voice gravelly.
His words sent you over the edge, you could feel the tension in your lower stomach and then the flood gates were open. Your orgasm hit you hard, your pussy clenching around him. He gripped your hips and kept pounding you until you were a trembling mess.
You collapsed onto your forearms, unable to hold yourself up anymore. Your orgasm had made you weak.
"Turn over," he ordered, pulling out. You obeyed, moving so that you were lying on your back, legs spread for him. He moved back in, pushing your knees up until they were almost to your shoulders. He entered you again and began pounding into you, his hips slamming against yours. You could feel him hitting all the right places.
He was groaning and moaning. He grabbed your throat and squeezed. You gasped for air and the lack of oxygen heightened your pleasure. "I love this. You're so beautiful when you're gasping for air," he groaned.
He didn't stop thrusting, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm. Your pussy was clenching around him, and he grunted in pleasure. "Your pussy feels so fucking good."
You were starting to get light-headed, and he finally released your throat. He moved his hands to your thighs and spread your legs open wide. You were panting heavily, and he leaned down and kissed you. The kiss was softer than the previous ones, and his tongue gently slid into your mouth.
Bucky kept fucking you harder and harder. He was like an animal. He was using you for his own pleasure. You closed your eyes, the sensation was overwhelming. Your mind was swimming with thoughts and feelings. You were completely at his mercy.
"Look at me." he ordered while cupping your cheek.
You opened your eyes and gazed up at him. He was looking down at you with a mixture of lust and admiration, his pupils dilated and his eyes dark. “Keep your eyes on me while I'm fucking you." he grunted, as he thrust into you again.
You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. He had such control over your body. He knew just how to move his hips, how to angle himself so he was hitting the spot that would make you see stars.
His hand then was squeezing your breast. You moaned and arched your back. He squeezed and massaged your breasts, and you felt your nipples hardening. You moaned as he pinched your nipple.
"Your tits are so perfect, baby. I could play with them all day." he said as he lowered his head and took your nipple in his mouth. He flicked his tongue over it, and you gasped. He sucked on it, his teeth grazing over it. You felt your pussy tighten around his cock making him groaned.
"Gonna come for me again?", He continued touching and teasing your breasts, and the sensation was incredible. He pinched your nipple between his teeth, and the pain mixed with pleasure, was so intense, you screamed.
You nodded. You were close. So close.
He grabbed your chin, holding you still as his hips moved against yours. "I can't hear you."
"Yes, I'm gonna come again," you cried, your body arching against his.
"Good," he breathed. His fingers moved to rub against your clit.
You moaned loudly, your hips moving against his hand. "Oh god, baby, I'm so close. Please make me come, please," you begged.
He rubbed your clit in slow circles, his cock pumping into you. You could feel your orgasm approaching and you closed your eyes. "Look at me," he growled, his voice harsh. Your eyes flew open and you stared at him, panting.
"I'm gonna -" you broke off as your orgasm hit. You screamed, your body arching against his as he continued his relentless pace, drawing it out as long as he could.
He moaned, his hips jerking erratically. He was close. You could feel it. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. "Oh fuck." he groaned, and with one last thrust, he came. You could feel him filling you up, and you cried out in pleasure. He kept thrusting into you, as you both came down from your high. He collapsed on top of you, and you could feel him softening inside you.
He collapsed on top of you, his breathing ragged. Your heart was pounding, and you were pretty sure your soul had just left your body. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he rolled off of you and lay down beside you. "Shit, doll, I've missed that," he sighed.
You laughed, as Bucky slowly moving to lay your head on his chest. His flesh hand stroked your hair. "So have I, Buck."
You both lay in comfortable silence for a few minutes. You could feel his heartbeat begin to return to normal, as yours finally did. "Are you okay, doll? Was I too rough?" he asked.
"No." you said breathlessly, kissing his chest. "You were perfect."
“Are you really okay? I’m sorry if I was being too rough, I-”
Cutting off his words with a lingering kiss, you pulled away with a smile. "I have a safe word, remember? If I didn't like it, I would have used it," you assured him.
He sighed. "I'm sorry, doll. You know I’d never hurt you right?”
"I know," you whispered, your fingers tracing patterns on his skin. You felt another sigh escape him, and you could sense his relief. "It's okay. You don't need to apologize. I'm the one who wanted you to act like yourself."
"But I shouldn't have taken it out on you." He sat up, cupping your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted with the intensity of moments ago. "You deserve better than that."
"Hey," you whispered, placing your hand over his. "You were just frustrated. It's okay. I know you'd never hurt me."
"But -"
You silenced him by pressing a finger to his lips. "I'm fine, Buck. And we're okay," you reassured him, looking him straight in the eyes, making sure he could see you were telling the truth.
"Thank you. For everything." He kissed you softly.
You pulled him back down onto the bed and cuddled up to him. You laid there, enjoying each other's warmth. You felt like things were finally going to be okay, as if the storm had passed and left a calm in its wake. Bucky then broke the silence. "It was a rough mission.”
"I can tell. Wanna talk about it?" you asked, your fingers playing with his hair.
He sighed, and you could feel him tense up slightly. "Hydra." He said the word like it felt a bitter taste in his mouth. "There was a group of Hydra agents. I recognized one of them."
"One of the agents?"
"He was my handler, for a while." He looked at you, and you saw pain and fear in his eyes. "He was a bastard. He was always the one to do the worst experiments on me."
"That explains the anger," you sighed. "I'm sorry. It must have been hard to see them again."
"It was. It still is." He closed his eyes. "I hate that he's out there. And it's my fault. I should have captured him. But instead, I let him get away."
"How did that happen?” You tried to comfort him, but you didn't really know how to help him with his emotional pain.
"He managed to escape, and I couldn't let him get away. I had to bring him in. So I chased him." He took a deep breath, and you could feel him trembling slightly. "We fought, and I was winning. Then, I got a call from Sam. The team was under attack."
"And you had to choose between saving the team and capturing that son of a bitch?" You felt bad for him.
He nodded. "I chose the team. The Hydra agents escaped, but the team is safe."
You kissed him, gently. "Bucky, that was the right thing to do. The team needed your help, and I'm glad you were there for them. That man, he's not worth your guilt."
"But I let him get away. And if he gets away, he'll be able to continue his work." You could tell Bucky regretted that a lot, his eyes were filled with pain and regret.
"It's not your fault. You chose to save your team, and that's what matters." You sat up and put your hand on his chest. “Buck, I promise. I know you can't forget what happened, and I would never want you to, but don't let the past ruin your future. He may be free now, but that's only temporary. We'll catch him, and all the other bastards. You're the most capable person I know. I trust you."
He didn't look convinced, he played with your hair not looking straight to your eyes, "Hey, look at me." you cupped his face. "I know me just being beside you won’t help much, but let me try to help ease your worry… talk to me whenever you’re facing hardship. We’re a team remember?”
He smiled at you, "I know, sweetheart.” He went up to pulled you into a kiss, his hand slowly went to your neck as he deepened the kiss. "Thank you, doll. You always know what to say to make me feel better."
"I try." You smiled and kissed his nose.
"I'm gonna get a shower. Do you wanna come with me?" He asked.
You nodded and let him lead you to the bathroom, he was still holding your hand from when he had been dragging you out of bed.
Bucky pulled you into the shower as he turned the shower on, but the surprise of cold water made you yelp. "Cold!" you complained.
"Sorry, doll." He quickly adjusted the temperature, and as the warmth enveloped you both, he stepped under the spray, pulling you in with him.
You giggled. "We should have checked the temperature first."
He chuckled. "Yeah, we should have." You both laughed as the water warmed you up. "Better?"
"Mhmm, a lot better." You smiled and affectionately kissed his cheek.
He grinned and you went to grabbed the shampoo. "Here, let me help."
"Sure." You let him take the shampoo bottle.
Bucky squeezed some onto his hands and gently rubbed his hands in your hair, his fingers were massaging your scalp as he washed your hair. "How's that feel?"
"Really nice. You can do my hair every day." You grinned.
"I'll keep that in mind." He smirked and kept washing your hair. His hands moved gently, and you relaxed under his touch. You moaned as your eyes fluttered close. Bucky chuckled, "I think someone likes her scalp massaged." He teased, his fingers moving across your head.
"You're really good at this." You murmured, you were in heaven.
"Does it?" He asked, his fingers working on getting the soap out.
"Yeah, I love your hands." You moaned. "You're so good with your hands."
He laughed. "I've been told that many times."
Opening your eyes, you caught the cheeky grin on his face. "I'm sure there are other things that your hands are good at."
He grinned wider. "Why don't you tell me about those?" His playful tone invited your banter.
"Well," you started. "If I recall correctly. Those hands can make a girl orgasm like nothing else." You purred.
"Really? I thought it was my cock that did that." He smirked and rinsed the shampoo out.
You moaned, his fingers were still working their magic. "Oh no, it's definitely the hands."
"Maybe I need to check your theory," he mused. "Is it just the hands or is it something else that could be done to you?" He asked with a playful glint in his eye.
"I don't know." You moaned as his fingers found their way further down. "But you might have to experiment. For science."
"I might just have to do that." Bucky's hand wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you into a hungry kiss. Your hands tangled in his hair, and you kissed him back. He pushed you up against the wall and ground his hips against yours, his hardening length sliding over your clit.
"Fuck, I need you, Bucky." You whimpered.
"Not yet, doll" He smirked. "I need to wash your body first." He grabbed the soap and rubbed it between his hands to create a lather. His hands started rubbing all over your body.
You sighed in bliss as his hands glided over you. The soap made it even more enjoyable as his hands slid across your body. "Turn around." He murmured and you did as he asked.
"Good girl." He said as his hands glided over your shoulders, he slowly massaged the soap into your skin and moved down your back. His hands moved further down and gripped your ass, his fingers digging into your soft skin.
"Your ass is so amazing." He said.
"Why, thank you." You grinned. "Yours is pretty spectacular too." You looked over your shoulder and winked.
He smirked. "You like my ass?"
"Hell yeah, it's gorgeous." You smiled.
He laughed. "Good, I like yours more."
He moved his hands to the front of you and cupped your breasts. He squeezed them and his thumb and forefinger rolled your nipples. You arched your back and pressed your ass against him, feeling his hard cock between your ass cheeks.
"So responsive." He chuckled and moved his hands down. "Lean against the wall."
You did as he asked and leaned against the wall. He moved one hand around your waist and the other went down your body and rubbed between your thighs. "Fuck, Bucky. I need you." You moaned.
"Hmm, you're so wet already, doll." He asked as his finger slid between your folds and rubbed over your clit.
"Always wet for you." You replied, his fingers rubbing against your clit making your breath hitch.
"Damn right." He added another finger and his thumb found your clit. He circled the bundle of nerves as his fingers pumped in and out of you.
You moaned and rocked your hips, trying to get him to go faster. "Please, Bucky."
He kissed your shoulder and then bit down, his teeth grazing over your skin. His fingers pumped harder and faster, hitting that perfect spot. "Fuck, Bucky. You're going to make me cum." You cried out.
His other hand left your breast and moved up to grip your throat, squeezing slightly. "That's the idea, doll." He said in your ear.
Your breathing became erratic, and you felt yourself getting close. "Bucky..." You whimpered.
"Yeah, I've got you, doll." He said, his fingers still pumping. "Come for me."
Your hips bucked as his fingers continued their assault. "Ah, fuck! Fuck, Bucky!" You screamed as your orgasm ripped through you. Your legs almost gave out, but Bucky's arms kept you upright.
"That's my good girl." He cooed, his fingers slowing their movements.
"Bucky..." You moaned, trying to catch your breath. Your hand went down to stroke his cock making him groan. You turned your head and looked at him closing his eyes and moaning at the feeling of your hands on him.
"You're gonna be the death of me, Y/N." He said as you pumped him.
You chuckled. "You know you love it."
He groaned. "Yes, I do." He looked down and watched as your hand moved up and down his length. "Fuck." He stopped your hand, "You're going to make me cum, and I want to be inside of you when I do."
"Well, what are you waiting for then?" You grinned and turned to face him.
"I was being a gentleman." He smirked. He pulled you into a searing kiss and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your fingers were tangling in his hair and his hands were on your waist, he lifted you up and pushed you up against the tiled wall. You gasped and broke the kiss. "Fuck, yes." You moaned.
"Hold on to me." He said, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He grabbed his cock and lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly slid into you, his eyes never leaving yours. You moaned and threw your head back, enjoying the feeling of him inside of you.
"You feel so good, doll." He said.
"So do you, baby." You whimpered.
He began thrusting his hips and you cried out. "Harder!" You moaned. His hands held you up and he started to thrust into you. "Is this what you wanted?" He asked, his voice low and husky.
"Yes! Oh god, yes!" You moaned, he was hitting all the right spots and it was driving you crazy.
"That's my good girl. Let me hear you, doll." He grunted.
You were panting and moaning loudly as he thrust into you. Your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling of him inside you. His cock was hitting the spot that made your toes curl.
"Fuck, Bucky! Right there!" You screamed.
"That's it, baby. Take my cock." He growled. His hands tightened around your waist as he slammed into you. You put your hands around his neck and held on as he fucked you.
"Shit, I'm close, baby." He said, his hips were still moving and his cock was slamming into you. "Come with me, Y/N."
Your walls started to flutter and you felt yourself coming undone. "Oh fuck! I'm gonna cum!" You cried out.
Bucky groaned. "That's it, doll. Cum for me."
You screamed his name as you came hard. Your walls clamped down on him and your nails dug into his skin. He cursed and followed after you. "Fuck, Y/N." He thrust into you a few more times and came inside of you. His hips still moving as he rode out his orgasm.
He gently put you down, but kept his arms around you to hold you up. You were panting, trying to catch your breath.
"I fucking love shower sex." You grinned.
Bucky laughed. "I can tell. That was fucking hot." He kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth and dominating the kiss.
"Mmm, that was so good." You sighed, resting your head against his chest.
"Yeah, it was." He smiled and stroked your hair. You closed your eyes and relaxed against him. "You okay, doll?"
"Hmmm, yeah." You said. "I'm all clean, but you aren't. Come here."
You grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some into your hand. You massaged the shampoo into his hair and he groaned. "That feels so good, doll."
You giggled and continued to wash his hair. "I'm glad."
"Give my back some attention," he requested, and you eagerly complied, taking your time to wash his back, relishing the tactile pleasure of the soap meeting his skin. You enjoyed the feel of his muscles under your fingertips.
"There. All clean." You beamed with satisfaction at the completion of the task.
"Thanks, doll." His smirk reflected a playful appreciation for your efforts.
"Anytime, baby." You responded with a teasing affection.
"Let's get out of here before we get cold," he suggested, breaking the cozy spell of the shower. You agreed, the warmth of the water now juxtaposed with the cooler air outside the shower enclosure. You stepped out of the shower and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around your body.
"I love it when you're all wet." Bucky said, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you.
"You're so corny." You giggled.
"Yeah, but you love it." He smirked.
You rolled your eyes and walked out of the bathroom, grabbing a fresh pair of clothes from your dresser. You put the towel back and dressed in your new clothes.
He led you back to the bedroom, and you got dressed. "I'm really sorry, doll for snapping at you earlier."
"It's okay, Bucky." You smiled and gave him a kiss.
He frowned. "No, I was a dick."
"Well, that's not new." You playfully teased, giving a bit of humor into the moment.
He chuckled. "True, but I was an extra big dick."
"So, I should have you measured?" You quipped, a mischievous smirk gracing your face.
"You've been spending too much time with me." He shook his head, appreciating the banter.
"You say that like it's a bad thing." You teased.
"No, not at all. It's just you're becoming more like me." He laughed, but the levity faded as he grew serious. "I don't ever want you to be like me. You're a good person, Y/N, and I don't want you to become jaded and bitter."
"Bucky, it's okay. I know you're trying to be better. You're changing for the better. And if we're both together, I'm sure that we'll keep each other on the right path." You told him.
He gave you a smile and a kiss. "That's my girl."
A blush tinted your cheeks. Despite the time you'd spent together, compliments from Bucky still sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
"I'm sorry for keeping all of this from you," he admitted, his gaze carrying the weight of his confession.
"I get why you did. But it's not easy for me to see you like this and not be able to help. You are the person I care most about, and I don't like seeing you hurt," you confessed.
"I know. And I hate to see you hurt. It kills me." He replied.
"I think you're forgetting that I'm a badass." You winked, injecting a moment of playfulness into the serious conversation.
"That's true. You're my tough cookie." He grinned, appreciating the effort to lighten the mood.
"And don't you forget it." You pointed at him.
"I never could." He kissed you softly. "I love you, Y/N."
You felt your cheeks heat up. No matter how many times he told you, the impact of those three words never faded, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter in your chest. "I love you, Bucky."
You climbed onto the bed and Bucky wrapped his arms around you. He sighed, contently. "I think this is where I belong."
"Where?" You asked, confused.
"In bed with you. It's like I'm home when I'm with you." He told you, his fingers traced absentminded patterns on your back.
A small smile played on your lips. "You are home, Bucky," you gently reminded him, your touch tracing along his arm.
Bucky pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, "You're right. You're my home, Y/N."
Hi, just wanted to let you know that I'm open to requests. However, due to my ongoing commitments with school, work, and my own projects, it might take a while for me to get to them. I appreciate your understanding and am truly grateful for all the requests I've received! Thank you! xx
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