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#the two days prior to that i only had a half pbj each day and a jello cup
thestarmaker · 3 years
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Ok but eating real food with complex ingredients is a healing thing
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geminimoonbeamx · 6 years
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Sugar Rush: Part One
A/N: So I’ve kind of been dying to write any kind of Sub!Sebastian story for ages. Just because I’m obsessed with reading Stucky stories(porn) and more often then not he’s a bottom and I live for that shit. So I thought I’d try my hand at writing some real kinky shit. Also if you guys haven’t read Suga Mama by Emotchalla, please fucking do. Her story along with the massive amount of Sugar baby Stucky fics are why this idea has seeded itself into my brain and wont go away.
Also- I don’t have time to be writing another 25 chapter story lol. So this fic is going to be paced kind of fast, and at some points be one shots that are barley connected. Kind of just a way to get out my fantasies- no novels here.
Word Count: 4k+
Warnings: As with all of my stories there’s a permanent warning of cursing. I have a mouth like a sailor and express myself through the word fuck.
Summary: Bucky is a College student in his early twenties who seems to be drowning in the struggle of adulthood. When he meets Y/N, a well off Magazine CEO and gets the proposition of a lifetime, he takes on a title he never even could have imagined. Sugar Baby.
Bucky Barnes was no stranger to hard work. To the struggles of life.
He, along with his little sister Rebecca, had been in and out of the system up until he was nine; group homes and foster care were things that he was familiarized with at a young age. But so were heroine needles and that look that junkies get in there eye when the were high- he’d take sleeping in a clean bed in orphanage over listening to his mother tweak in the next room any day. He’d been adopted by George and Winifred Barnes two months shy of his tenth birthday, and they were the best people he’d ever met. Kind, and loving. He truly believes that they were heaven sent(if you tasted Winnie Barnes’ country fried steak, you’d think the same) but it’s not as though his life was suddenly a cake walk. He grew up the eldest of five- four younger sisters.
Yeah, if that sounds a little hellish, that’s because it was. He loved those little brats with all his heart, but damn, had they forced him into the “mature older brother” role.
He’d done well in High School- both athletically and academically. Played Varsity baseball and stayed on the honor roll all four years. Was it hard? Balancing the two along with his flourishing social life(because everyone love Bucky, that’s just how it went)? Yeah, maybe. But he did it.
…The hardest, most unexpected endeavor that he’d ever have to face came when he was eighteen- the car accident. The one that had left him mangled and broken. So fucked up- no one ever knew if he’d be able to recover-
But guess what? He had.
He liked to think his best personality trait was resilience. Throw anything at him. Any-fucking-thing. And he’d endure it, and bounce back.
But being a college student, living in New York City? Now this was some rough shit. If he wasn’t working at one of his two jobs, the ones that barley covered his rent, phone bill and tuition payments- he was in school. Studying his ass off, desperately attempting to get his degree. He barley had money for food most of the time. Thank fuck that he and his roomates had a “grocery jar” that they all contributed too- or else he surely would have starved. His diet consisted mostly of frozen foods and PBJ’s
He was living that early twenties struggle. The one that he knew everyone had to go through- to build character and all that. But fuck, was it killing him.
He was running on fumes, which wasn’t out of the norm, but still was starting to take it’s toll as he shook a bag of Cheddar Ruffles into his mouth. Breakfast of champions. He was listening to his roomates as he clambered around the kitchen, only having five or so minutes to spare before he had to go catch the subway and get to school.
It was a discussion they’d been stressing over heavily as of late.
Steve had moved out a month prior, finally taking the next step with his long time boyfriend, Sam- and Bucky was happy for him.
“Finally, punk” He’d grinned and slapped the back of his friends head. would he miss him? Yeah, he would. Bucky had a lot of friends- but Steve was his best friend. His first friend. But times changed, and they were getting older and Steve still lived in Brooklyn, so there really wasn’t nothing to spill tears over.
Except for the fact that now, they had to figure out how to cover that missing gap of rent.
There was still him, Scott and Clint- and now he had his own room(which he’d won fair and square in an arm wrestle, thank you very fuckin’ much) but making the nearly two thousand dollar rent payment every month was going to be harder. And it had them all on edge.
“I’ll pick up some more shifts at the café” Bucky deducts, chugging down the rest of his coffee.
“And how are you gonna’ do that? And go to school? What are you gonna’ do? Astral Project?” Clint gave him a dead pan look and Bucky shrugged. He’d do what he had to.
“How fucking cool would that be though? If you could really, you know, like astral project…why are you guys looking at me like that?” Scott ended his sentence defensively as both Bucky and Clint stared at him pointedly. Bucky with a hint of amusement, and Clint with his arms folded across his chest.
Scott was most definitely the child of the group. The one that you found passed out in the bushes at parties…which was why when they’d found out his ex girlfriend was pregnant a few years ago- they’d all, to be frankly honest, had been fucking terrified for him. He was actually a pretty decent father though. His daughter spent one weekend a month with them, and Bucky thought she was just about the cutest thing ever.
“Can you take this seriously for a second, man” Clint stressed and Bucky just sighed and grabbed his back pack. He really couldn’t handle anymore stress at the moment and he was kind of happy he had to be at his 9 o'clock lecture. At least he could escape this conversation.
“It’ll be fine, okay guys? We’ll figure it out. Don’t stress it so bad” He soothes as he walks past them, giving them each a pat on the shoulder.
“We’re going to have to become strippers! You do realize that, right?” Clint calls to him as he’s half way out of the door and he chuckles.
“Well I do have the ass for it” is Bucky’s parting statement.
The trek across the city, to NYU was as it always was. He spent it on the subway, his head phones blaring in his ears as he went over his homework and got a little more studying in, even though his eyes kept crossing from exhaustion.
He really was considering Clint’s suggestion- stripping didn’t sound so bad right now. If not for his scarred up arm, he probably would have done it ages ago. Because Bucky wasn’t a judgmental prick, and he considered strippers and sex workers as just that- workers. People trying to get by. He didn’t really care how people got their money.
He rushed across campus and managed to make it to his Poly Sci class not only on time, but early. He knew it’d earn him some brownie points with Professor Xavier. He was unpacking his laptop- which was horribly outdated, and his text books when you walked in. He’d been looking up at someone passing by his desk when he’d first laid eyes on you. It wasn’t the way you looked, although he cant deny, you looked damn good. With your sleek black pant suit that clings to your curves(and you’re nothing but curves) and bag hanging on your arm. Your makeup done impeccably and your hair shiny- you looked expensive. Well manicured. You looked like money.
No; it was more the way you carried yourself. The confidence in your strut. The way that you held your chin high, and not in a douche arrogant way…but more in an elegant self assured way. He cant help but watch you, the way that you smile brightly and give Professor X a warm hand shake, squeezing his with both of yours. When you’re introduced to the class as the guest speaker the professor had invited, Bucky grins.
“This is Y/N Y/L/N, a former pupil of mine. Former writer for the New York Post and current Editor and Chief of S.H.I.E.L.D Magazine”
Ahh, so you didn’t just look like money. You were made of it.
S.H.I.E.L.D was a global Magazine- a household name. One that covered most everything; entertainment. Fashion. Politics. He found himself flipping through one almost every day at work.
Listening to your speech was almost hypnotic. You were humble, and yet commanded the room. He learned that at the ripe age of 32, you were the magazines youngest ever Editor and that you’d worked tooth and nail to get there. You talked about the importance of public relations, and knowing what was going on in the world- no matter what subject one might go into. Covered the best ways to get into any business-
“Persistence!” You’d encouraged with a smile “I mean excuse my French, but annoy the shit out of them! Make yourselves memorable. Don’t be afraid to break away from the norm, because the most special parts of you- the ones that will get you places- are buried under your insecurities”
It was honestly one of the most interesting, engaging classes Bucky had ever sat in. You gave real tips, talked about real life in a way that was so blunt; it was refreshing. At the end, right before you were set to end your discussion, you took questions.
You were answering a girl who sat next to his question about you’re travels while writing when you catch him staring at you.
It’s a hot gaze. A heavy one. His gunpowder eyes seem to…look deep into you. Set you alight from the inside out. When you meet the gaze, boldly meeting his eyes its like…
Fuck.
It’s like nothing Bucky has ever experienced. He wants to crawl out of his skin, wants to crawl to you. Wants to taste what that gaze promises. It feels like it lasts an eternity, but really its only a few fleeting moments, before you break the stare. He feels like something inside of him breaks too, as you look away. As he packs his things back up into his book bag. As the bell chimes singling the end of the period and he leaves the classroom room.
He knows he’ll probably never see you again and that thought alone upsets him way more then it should. He hadn’t even said a word to you. Why was he such a fucking idiot? He should have asked a question- or something. As he goes on with the rest of the day, he finds himself unable to keep you out of his mind. You keep popping up. You’re pearly smile. You’re E/C eyes, and those lush lashes that framed them. He’s drifting into the thought of you as he works; making coffee for teachers and students alike.
He works at one of the many campus cafes’ part time, and today he’s behind the coffee bar. He doesn’t mind it, he actually likes barista-ing. The business of it makes time go by faster. Because everyone needs their caffeine fix, there’s never really a slow moment. He’s always busy. Which is why he doesn’t notice you when you walk in. Doesn’t even realize you’re there until you’re right in front of him, next in line.
He almost chokes on his fucking tongue.
“Um- Hey. Hi” Smooth, Bucky- he hisses at himself in his mind.
Your lips widen, grinning in recognition and his stomach flip flops.
“Hello again” You greet him, trying to reel in your own shock. What kind of fucking serendipity was this? After the entire day of giving your guest speech to class after class- you couldn’t get the stormy eyes out of your head. And now here he was. About to make your coffee. “Fancy meeting you here-” your eyes peel for his name tag.
“Bucky” He inturupts with a nervous little smile.
“Bucky? Hmm” You roll his name over in your mouth. Tasting it. He watches his name slip from between your lips and he can feel a twitch in his black work slacks.
“I like it” you decide and he chuckles and thanks you, telling you he was pretty fond of it himself.
“Well, what can I get you?”
“A large, iced skinny white chocolate mocha with extra whip, please- And what’s good to snack on here?” your eyes scan the large, clear display box full of goodies an Bucky’s more then happy to help you. Anything- to keep talking to you. You end up on a ham and cheddar bagel- he says he can testify to their delicacy. He ate two every day-
“You’re in pretty good shape for treating bagels like their own food group” You teased, but only party. He was gorgeously built- not “body builder bulky” but tall and broad shouldered, his biceps prominent under the long sleeves he wore. You wanted to bite them.
“I work at a gym part time” He chuckles back as he runs your platinum card “Gotta at least try to look the part”
He obviously misses your ogling as you give a relaxed hum in response, taking your purchases and shooting him one last heart stopping smile and goodbye as you retreat. Everything inside of him screams in fear, and its so confusing. Because he had just met you, had maybe said a dozen words to you, and yet he’s terrified of you walking out of the door and him never seeing you again. It’s that same alarm going off on his head as earlier after class. He’s relieved when you choose, instead of leaving, to take a table in the back corner of the café.
“Okay, who the fuck is that? And why did she make you react like a twelve year old boy?” Darcy, one of his co-workers, asks. Her thin, dark brow raised and her pouty lips pulled into a shit eating grin.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about”- he almost face palms at that. At how childish and unbelievable he sounds.
“Um H-H-Hey. Hi. Hello” She snarks, teasing on the way that he had greeted you and he bumps his shoulder to hers lightly, telling her to fuck off under his breath as he goes onto another costumer. Happy for the distraction.
You sit in that little café for far too long. Sipping on your iced coffee until it’s nothing but ice. Nibbling on the ham and cheese bagel- he was right it’s delicious. You pull out your tablet and get some work done- making sure that everything’s going smoothly. Checking in with your assistant. You sit there for almost an hour before you’re forced to leave and you cant help but feel a little huffy. Why hadn’t he come up to you? You can feel that intense stare of his on you. You don’t have the time to wait for him- and yet the idea of never seeing his handsome face is not something you’re willing to face. So you reach into your bag, and pull out one of your business cards and a pen.
Bucky cant seen to take his eyes off you for more then a few minutes at a time- its like you’re magnetic. The way your hair falls around your face, the way you cross your thick thighs. He adverts his eyes every time he feels like he’s about to get caught though. Darcy’s right. He’s being a twelve year old boy.
When you walk over to him, your red bottomed heels clicking, his head snaps up.
“Thanks for the bagel. It was delicious” You grin as you slide a bill and a card across the counter to him. His eyebrows pull together.
“What’s this?”
“A tip” You shrug…“It was really nice to meet you, Bucky” You purr, looking at him pointedly before you’re walking out of the door. He’s glued to the sight of your wide ass in those tailored pants for a moment- before he’s looking down at the paper in his hands.
His eyes widen, to an almost comical degree as he takes in the cash. You’d left him a two hundred dollar tip! Two fucking hundred dollar pills, crisp and neat sit under your business card. Which has your name and number printed on it in elegant scroll. He flips it over and is surprised to see there’s more.
-I know how hard tuition can get and working two jobs cant be easy.
I’d love to help, handsome. Give me a call sometime- xoxo, Y/N-
He cant believe what he’s looking at, he cant seem to draw air into his lungs to clear his head as he stares at your loopy, cursive hand writing. We’re you insinuating what he thought you were?
“Oh my god, you lucky bitch” Darcy’s voice comes from over his shoulder as she also stares down at what he’d been left “If you don’t call her, give me her number so I can!”
The first person Bucky actually does call, once he’s home and in the sanctuary of his room is Steve. Because Steve is his best friend, and Steve will know what to do with this information.
Of course, the asshole laughs at him for the first five minutes of the conversation. Until Bucky is huffing and threatening to hang up.
“I’m sorry, Buck. It just reminds me of when Mrs. Levinstien used to only pay you to mow her lawn. That dirty old lady had the hots for you so bad” Steve chuckles in defensive and Bucky grimaces at the memory.
“She’s not like that, though, Steve. She’s- she’s fucking beautiful, and successful and sexy. You should have seen her man” Bucky trails a hand through his hair as he thinks back at his interactions with you, and the mark your presence had left on him.
“Then what’s the problem?” That’s Sam who replies and Bucky rolls his eyes. Of course Steve would have him on speaker phone. Him and same we’re like connected by the tip of their dicks, so he was used to it.
“The problem with him pimping himself out?” Steve’s voice came out incredulous over the receiver.
“I mean, he already seems to like this girl. So he get to be with her and be paid for it? That doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me” Sam argues and they’re just making Bucky’s tired head ache.
“All I’m saying is that working those two jobs obviously aint cutting for you man. Call her. What’s the worst that could happen? You get to see a girl who you obviously have the hots for again? If you’re not into it, just leave. Its that simple” And when Sam say’s it like that, it really does click into place. It really does seem that simple. Even with Steve insisting that she could be a serial killer.
Bucky takes the night to sleep on it. He dreams of your lips, dreams of fucking that pretty mouth that seemed to spew nothing but charm of intelligence. Dreams of you sucking and sucking until he’s screaming. He hasn’t come so hard in his pants since he ACTUALLY was twelve. He wakes up to stickiness in his boxers and his cock pulsating and he knows he has to call you.
Why he’s so nervous? He doesn’t know…he keeps making excuses. Maybe you’d changed your mind over night? Maybe you we’re too busy to take his call…he finally musters up the balls after he’s getting off of his job at the gym a few days later, the sun setting on the city. It only rings twice before you pick up and he’s greeted with your bell chim like voice.
“Hello, this is Y/N speaking”
“Hey” His voice is too deep, gravely, but he cant help it. He’s nervous “This is Bucky- from school. I mean from the university- that you lectured at the other day-”
Why? Why does all cognitive thought leave him when he attempts to talk to you?
“Bucky, huh? I was starting to think you we’re going to call me” You tease him, but he can hear the smile in your voice.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I’ve been really busy” He lies- he’d just been a chicken shit.
“Mmhm” You don’t sound amused by that “We’re all busy people, and time is of the essence. I knew I should have gotten your number”
He chuckles at your directness “Now you have it”
“So I do. What should I do with it, hmm?”
“I don’t know… You tell me” He feels a little idiotic saying it, but he’s truly curious to what happens next.
“Why don’t you let me take you to dinner?” You’re nearly purring again and Bucky has to bite his lip to keep himself at bay. You were so straight forward, so unlike any of the girls he’d ever come into contact with in the past.
“Really?” He’s never let any one take him out to dinner. He was always the one to ask, to lead. But he had all of twenty dollars in his bank account(that two hundred you’d given him had gone to his part of the utility bill) and honestly, he wasn’t sure how he was going to stretch it til’ his next paycheck. Even if he wanted to be the one to take you out, to wine and dine you, he couldn’t.
“Mmhmm, really. Are you free Friday- at eight?”
“Um yeah, that could work” He was supposed to be working at the café that night, but he’d have someone cover him.
“Alright. Do you like Cajun food, there’s a new restaurant that opened in SOHO that I’ve been meaning to check out”
He liked any food that didn’t come out of his freezer, and so he agrees eagerly. You tell him to send you his address so that you can send for him, and he only faintly tries to protest, you reassure him that it would really be no problem.
“‘Kay then, it’s a date. I’ll see you then”
“I can’t wait” He’s overly eager, he can hear it in his own tone but the giggle you let out is warm and seeps into his bones instead of embarrassing him.
“Me neither. Have a good rest of your day, Bucky” and then you click end and he stands in the middle of the busy side walk, his phone still pressed against his ear. He feels hot all, the butterflies ricocheting in his stomach. He swallows it, pushes it down, feeling ridiculous and “unmanly” for the affect you have on him as he pushes on down the street.
Yeah, Bucky’s struggled.
But things seem like they may just be looking up.
@buchonians @papi-chulo-bucky @geekyweed @4theluvofall @peacefulwriter88 @missrobyn81 @prettybubblesintheair @lostinthoughtsandfeelings @papi-chulo-seb @shayla-markele @thatawkwardtinyperson @docharleythegeekqueen 
Okay ya’ll let me warn you now this one is going to be KINKY as a motherfucker. Prepare yourselves. And let me know if you’d like to be tagged for this little series!
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