thatdarkfanficstuff
thatdarkfanficstuff
dark fics and 18+ fics from thatfanficstuff. Minors DNI.
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Love this!
Satisfaction
Pairing: Finn Shelby x reader, Tommy Shelby x reader
Requested by: anon
Prompts: //
Summary: YN can’t help but be drawn to finn’s older brother Tommy...
AN: okay so I have VERY mixed feelings about this bc on the one hand bby Finn, but on the other hand, Tommy knows what he’s doing. So basically, Finn and YN are more friends with benefits than boyfriend and girlfriend
Warnings: smut, (sort of) cheating, Dom/sub kink, rough sex, spanking
Rolling your eyes, you turned on your side, facing away from a snoring Finn. There was no dull ache in your thighs, no love bites on your skin... you sighed, standing up and wrapping finn’s shirt around yourself as you padded to his little bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror as you washed away the sticky mess between your thighs that came all to quickly for your liking. You glared at your reflection, running a hand through your hair. You didn’t look well-fucked and you certainly didn’t feel it. Sighing to yourself, you buttoned the shirt up and slipped into your knickers again before getting back into bed.
What you wouldn’t give to have your knickers torn and your wrists rubbed raw from bonds. As Finn snored, your mind wandered... you nodded off to images of your ass getting swatted, your tits being pinched, your cunt being well and truly used... Finn was a lovely boy, and you’d known him since you were little, but... he was shit at sex. You brought it up several times, asking him to finger you or eat you out or control you in some way, but he always told you he didn’t have the time, that he had to be somewhere. It was always fast, sloppy and over in minutes. And it was leaving you increasingly frustrated.
It all came to a head a few weeks later. As you walked into the garrison, Harry asked if you could take the tray of whiskeys into the snug, as the bar was getting pretty busy. You smiled, happy to help, but when you got into the snug, your ankle rolled in your stupid new shoes, and the glasses shattered to the floor. “Fuck!”
“Now now,” tommy grinned, blowing out a puff of smoke as you got on your knees to tidy the mess up. “Such deplorable language from a sweet young lady. Leading our Finn astray,”
You glared up at him, your lips curling into a pout. “Oh piss off, Shelby,” you hissed.
“Oy. Language.” He said lowly. You stared into his eyes for a moment, unable to stop your shiver at the commanding tone.
“Yes, Sir,” you mumbled. You soon cleared up the mess and got fresh glasses, before Finn pulled you onto his lap. John and Arthur whistled, and you blushed furiously, looking down. A while later, he began pressing clumsy kisses to your neck, mistaking your squirm as you enjoying it. You soon had enough. “Ugh... Finn. Pack it in! I’m no5 in the mood,” you groaned, pushing him away slightly and pouring yourself more whiskey. Finn looked at you.
“Ah come on, YN, let’s go home...” he said, biting his lip at you slightly. He was getting cocky recently, for no rea reason. You didn’t really like it. “I’ll sort you out, eh...”
You gritted your teeth. “No. I’m not going home with you tonight Finn. I’m not in the mood,” you stood up from the table going to the bathroom to take a moment. When you returned to the snug, Finn had left. You sighed feeling a little guilty, but at the same time... you just couldn’t bring yourself to care. Eventually John and Arthur left (John to go and relive Esme of the kids, and Arthur because he was very nearly passing out with the amount of whiskey he’d consumed). That left you and tommy.
Tommy watched you for a moment as you leaned back. In actual fact, he’d been watching you since you dropped the glasses. When you pushed Finn away, saying you weren’t in the mood, he had cocked his eyebrow up. You were flustered, your brow slightly clammy... breathing heavily, irritable... oh yes. Tommy Shelby could practically feel the sexual tension radiating off you. He was confused at first- Finn had told his brothers about when he first fucked you, if he wondered in late and looking dazed... clearly his younger brother was enjoying himself more than his fuck buddy. “Finn worn you out then?” He smirked, sipping his drink. You looked up with wide eyes.
“Wh...” you began. You were about to bluff, but then you saw the stony look etched onto his handsome face and buckled, unwittingly allowing yourself to submit to him without him really trying. “No. Not in the slightest,” you murmured, looking down to your lap.
“Eyes up.”
Your head shot up and you looked at him with wide innocent eyes. He smirked. “So responsive. Haven’t even touched you yet. Come here,” he arched his brows in question, and you quickly crawled over to him. You sighed happily, letting him stroke your hair affectionately as you kneeled on the booth. “You’re practically buzzing with energy...” he murmured. “I bet you’ve never had a proper orgasm, have you pet?” You blushed slightly and mumbled, looking down. “What’s that? Speak up,” he ordered. You looked up and gulped.
“I have but... not with Finn,” you said, biting your lip softly. Tommy smirked.
“Not with Finn, ay? With somebody else then?” You shook your head and his eyes darkened. “Oh... by your own hands?”
“Yes sir,” you murmured. Tommy squeezed your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, leaning close to you.
“Like a little slut, ay? Naughty little sluts like you deserve to be punished, don’t they, Hmm?” You moaned wantonly, nodding eagerly.
“ Please...” you whispered.
***
Not fifteen minutes later you found yourself pushed up against your front door by your throat as tommy kissed you roughly while you shoved his coat off his arms. He wedged his thigh between your legs, groaning as he trailed kisses down your neck as you ground your hips on his leg.
“Look at you, already so needy,” he growled, biting your shoulder harshly. You whined out, quivering with excitement. “Tell me what you want, yn, and make sure you ask nicely,”
You moaned softly. “P-please, sir, please f-fuck me and spank me... please make me cum, please sir!”
Tommy smirked, kissing your forehead. “Good girl. Go to your bedroom. I want you naked. I want you with your face down and your pretty arse up, with your legs spread... off you go,” you moaned softly and nodded eagerly, practically running to get into position. He shook his head fondly at your innocent eagerness. He soon arrived in your room and groaned at the sight, licking his lips. “Right... YN... this will be more intense than what you’ve ever had, you understand?” You nodded. “Verbal answers,” he said sharply.
“Yes, sir,” you squeaked.
“So if it gets too much, you’re to tell me. If it gets too much, say... red, alright? Colour system. Amber if it’s getting too intense, red if you really need to stop, Green if everything is okay. So, what colour are you now?”
“Green, sir,” you said, biting your lip. He nodded and came up behind you. You held your breath for a moment, waiting for him to fuck you into oblivion.
His hand cracked against your arse and you jolted, letting out a squeal.
“Colour?” Tommy asked, rubbing away the sting.
“Still green. More, please, more!” You begged.
“Whore,” he said simply, before planting three more spanks on your arse in rapid succession. He let you calm down for a moment, before alternating between each cheek, warming up your skin. “Good girl. Such a good girl. Whose good girl are you, YN?”
“Y-yours, Tommy! Yours!” You cried out, biting your lip hard. He gave you a few more swats before dipping his fingers into your wetness. “Oh- Oh! Please fuck me, please!” You moaned, pushing yourself back on his fingers. He grinned, smearing your wetness around your needy cunt, before tasting you. He groaned softly.
“I’m going to have to have you coming on my tongue at some point, love. You don’t half taste amazing,” he moaned, unzipping his trousers, lining his cock up. Slowly, he pushed into you, groaning at your tightness while you whimpered at his size.
He left you to adjust for a moment before you began grinding your hips slightly. He grabbed hold of your hips, pushing his fingers into your flesh, starting to fuck you ruthlessly. The constant assault of your most sensitive spots had you moaning like a well-paid whore within moments as tommy fucked you. You cried out, already seeing spots as tommy pounded into you, and you whimpered when he grabbed a fistful of your hair. “You like this, eh, love? Like being fucked like a little slut?” You moaned almost embarrassingly loud, unable to stop the sound as it escaped your lips. You could barely form the word ‘yes’ and Tommy just smirked down at you. As he fucked you, he spanked your arse a few more times, loving the way you jolted and tightened your cunt around him. You were so tight, so warm, so wet... he felt his cock twitch slightly in warning and he moaned, reaching around you to rub your sensitive little clit. You cried out, your whole body shaking as you held back your orgasm, wanting this moment to last forever.
“Please!” You squealed, arching your back.
“Please what darling?” He groaned through gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming a little sloppier. Even his sloppy thrusts made your eyes roll back, you noted.
“Please may I cum? Please?” You groaned out. When tommy told you yes, you let out a loud, broken cry of sheer ecstasy, your front half pitching forward into the pillows as you muffled your sighs. You felt tommy pull out and whined from the loss, but moaned again when you felt his cum spattering against the backs of your thighs. He pushed his thumb roughly against your clit and you screamed, overstimulated but still pushing against his hand, rutting your hips against his calloused thumb until you came again, your vision blurring- whether from tears or pure pleasure (or both) you couldn’t quite decipher. After what felt like the tenth powerful orgasm (in reality it was perhaps the fourth or maybe fifth) you pushed Tommy’s hand away from your sex, moaning “enough... red,”.
Tommy smiled and wiped you clean, coming to your side. “You were a very good girl for me, YN,” he murmured, stroking the tears off your cheeks. “Very good,” you smiled lazily and let your eyes droop slightly, completely spent. Tommy smiled and tucked a blanket around you gently, kissing your forehead. You had no idea how this would affect your relationship... whether Finn would still keep asking you round for a quick fuck when he felt like it, or if tommy didn’t like to share... all that you’d sort out in the morning, but for now you were well fucked and sated, your hair a complete mess, a dull ache already blooming between your legs, lovebites on your shoulders... you were, for the first time in your life, utterly well-fucked.
Tag List: @the-makingsofgreatness @peakyswritings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack @soleil-dor @hiddensapphic @fckingpeakyblinders @snugleo @alittlebirds @satanxklaus @glamsaturn @thegirlwithoutaname87 @queenofmankind @awkwardretro @captivatedbycillianmurphy @xshinytrashcanx @hanster1998 @cheekypeakyblinders @champagneholland @moonlover-tobefree @beccibooboo @theendlessdays
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This is lovely
"She Wolf" - Tywin Lannister x Stark!Reader
a/n: first time writing for tywin. this is a request from @mrstargayen09, i hope y'all enjoy! 🩷
Summary: You are willing to do whatever it takes to save what is left of your family. Even if that means giving yourself to a man you despise.
TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, afab reader, age gap, power imbalance, idk slightly dubcon, manipulation, spanking, pussy slapping, finger sucking, p in v sex, choking, breeding kink, creampie, jaime lol
Word Count: 2,550 words
Rating: 18+, MDNI
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
You know the raven in your hands was not meant for you the moment you begin to read it. But, it was stamped with the Frey sigil. You know of your twin’s betrothal to the Frey girl, and so you wonder… Why would Robb’s ally be in correspondence with Tywin Lannister? Your eyes go wide as you read the contents of the letter.
The Boltons… The Freys… Conspiring against your beloved twin. You cover your mouth in horror, realizing that there’s no way for you to warn Robb or your mother. You remain the Lannisters’ hostage, kept in your gilded cage. It could be worse, you suppose. You could have still been forced to marry Joffrey. But, luckily, with Sansa having escaped King’s Landing with the Hound during the siege and your brother’s declaration of an independent North, the betrothal to him was broken. He is now Lady Margaery’s problem, and a rather big one at that.
Your mind runs wild with ideas, wondering how in the world you’re going to save what is left of your family. Arya, Jon, and Sansa are scattered to the four winds, Bran and Rickon are gone, and Robb leads an army though he is far too young to do so. It falls on you to save Robb and your mother. And you will do whatever you must.
The audacity you demonstrate when you demand an audience with the Hand of the King amuses him. He’s always known that you were a fiery creature from his limited interactions with you. The blood of the wolf most certainly runs through your veins, for when you enter the Tower of the Hand, you do so with your head held high, hands folded at your waist, eyes narrowed. You’re quite beautiful, he muses, though he hasn’t paid much mind to such things ever since his beloved Joanna died. Though when he looks at you, he feels a strange stirring in his belly, a fire being stoked that he thought was put out years ago. His gaze wanders to your cleavage as you step closer and greet him, dipping in a curtsy.
“Lord Tywin. I wish to discuss something with you.”
He gestures to the chair in front of him, nodding, “Take a seat, Lady Stark.”
“I would prefer to stand.”
He arches a brow, studying you. The way you carry yourself is intriguing. Any lesser man would cower under the glare you’re giving him. You do not act as a hostage, but rather, you act as a lady of your noble house. He nods nearly imperceptibly, meeting your gaze.
“As you wish, Lady Stark. Now, why is it that you so forcibly demanded to see me?”
“I know, my lord.” Tywin’s expression does not change and so, you continue, “I know of your plot. What is to happen at the Twins in a fortnight’s time. I know that there is precious little I can do to stop it in my current position, so I have come to make you an offer.”
Tywin narrows his eyes slightly, taken aback by the fact that you know of his plan. The plan to massacre what little is left of your family. It would seem that, even with the credit he gives you, he has underestimated you. To a certain degree, it’s a bit amusing.
“What is it you offer me then, Lady Stark? Why should I spare your usurper brother?”
“I am the only card you have left to play when it comes to the North,” you declare boldly, “My sisters have fled. My younger brothers have been killed. If you wish to secure any form of alliance with the North, you will need to betroth me to one of your kin. And if you do not swear that this plan will be called off, I will ensure that I take my own life and make it seem that it was your family who did it.” Tywin’s expression darkens slightly as you continue, “Make no mistake, I am a daughter of the North. I am prepared to die for my family. For what I believe in. And if my kin hold you responsible, you and your children will be the last of the lions.”
He remains silent for a long moment, pondering over your words before lifting his eyes to meet you, “You are a formidable young woman, Lady Stark. You have the spirit of your Aunt Lyanna within you.” Tywin’s gaze lingers upon your breast once again before he nods firmly, “Very well then. I will see to it that Lords Bolton and Frey do not act against your brother. After your uncle marries Lady Frey at the Twins, proof will be provided to you of your brother and mother’s well-being and then, you will marry a Lannister.” He stands to his full height, towering above you as he stares down at you with those piercing eyes, “You will marry me. One of my sons is a drunken fool, the other has pledged himself to the Kingsguard. You are young. You will bear me as many sons as I desire.”
Your blood feels like ice in your veins. This man… He cannot be serious, can he? But judging by the look on his face, he is. And deathly so. Taking a tremulous breath, you nod.
“We have a deal, my lord.”
The Lannister watches as you curtsy and leave, his gaze trained on you like that of a lion, ready to devour his prey.
Lord Tywin sends a gown for you along with a note a few days later, declaring he wishes to get to know you better in the days leading up to your wedding. He requests you to come to the Tower of the Hand, wearing the gown he has procured for you, and dine with him every evening henceforth. You let Shae help you into the dress and her brows knit together as she realizes just how much the deep red gown emphasizes your bust and hips, your breasts practically spilling from the bodice. Before she can say anything, curse the old man for being a lecher, you embrace her tightly.
“I’ll be alright, Shae. I know what I’m doing.”
She watches you go, escorted by none other than Ser Jaime, wondering why the old man couldn’t have promised you to him.
You and Jaime walk in silence, footsteps echoing through the halls. It is he who finally speaks as you reach the Tower.
“I am truly sorry, Lady Stark.”
You turn to him, giving him a curt nod, “As am I, Ser Jaime.”
He leaves you at the door, bowing his head before walking away, the sound of his armor clinking fading into the distance. You steel yourself before pushing the door open, greeting the old lion, your face a mask of impassivity.
“My lord.”
You can feel his sharp gaze on you, the way it lingers on your chest, your hips. You can’t help but feel a thrill go up your spine at his hungry gaze. You ought to hate this man for all he has done to harm your family.
“Lady Stark,” he greets, rising from his chair and walking over to you, taking your hand. He lays a kiss upon it, ever the picture of gentility, “You look stunning. It seems I chose your dress well.”
“I look like a Silk Street whore.”
Tywin smirks slightly at your candor, enjoying your boldness and wit, “Your opinion on the matter means little, my lady. What matters is what I think of you, and I think you look absolutely divine.”
“I’m sure you do,” you mutter under your breath as you sit down.
“Are you so stubborn that you will not admit how beautiful you look in the gown I chose for you?”
“I know I look beautiful,” you reply dryly, taking a sip of your wine, gazing at him over the rim of the glass, “I also look like a painted whore. The two are not mutually exclusive, my lord.”
He chuckles quietly, “You speak too freely, Lady Stark. You ought to know that there are some things that should remain unsaid.”
“I thought a woman is meant to speak freely to her husband.”
“That is only when one has something intelligent to say.”
“I apologize then, for my lack of intellect,” you reply icily as you grab a piece of bread, “I am just a Northern savage after all, my lord. We Starks are not known for mincing our words, my lord. If there is something on my mind, I would rather state it plainly.”
He should be annoyed at your defiance, your bold-faced disrespect intriguing him. It will be quite satisfying to finally put you in your place, snarling little she-wolf that you are.
“I can see that, but you may want to consider the fact that you are not in Winterfell anymore, my lady. Words carry consequences here in the South.”
“Trust me, my lord, I’m well aware of the fact,” you reply icily, your father’s head on the executioner’s block flashing like a lightning bolt in your mind.
Tywin takes a sip from his own glass, “Sometimes, the hard truth must be concealed to ensure there is peace. You may not agree with it, but the North has no idea how to rule. Your father is a perfect example of that.”
Tywin sees the way you gnash your teeth, gripping the knife at your side as if you want nothing more than to drive it through his cold, black heart. Instead, you stare down at your plate, stabbing at the venison in front of you, taking a bite. A sly smile curls on his lips as he watches you, his gaze moving between your lips and your chest. He clears his throat and beckons you to him with a curved finger. You stare at him incredulously for a moment, wondering if he’s actually serious, when he speaks up.
“Come here, girl.”
The commanding tone to his voice makes your stomach flutter as you stand to your feet and walk toward him. He nods at his servants and they leave, locking the door behind them. You swallow thickly, standing before him, feeling his cold gaze on you, as if seeing through to your very soul. He stands as well, his form dwarfing yours as he moves to trace your lips with his fingertips.
“Such a pretty mouth. Too pretty for such a sharp tongue. Bend over the table.” Your jaw drops as you stare up at him, wondering if you heard him correctly, a gasp leaving your lips when he squeezes your jaw, squishing your cheeks together, “Did you hear me? Bend over the table.”
The worst part of it all is that you want to listen to him. As if driven by some unseen force, you do as he asks, bending over the desk, anticipation building in your belly as you hear him walk toward you. You bite down hard on your lower lip as you feel him lift your dress and the slip you wear beneath it, knowing that he’s gazing at the flesh of your ass, his rough, calloused hand moving to caress it before landing a hard smack against your skin. It stings, but before you can even let out a noise of surprise, his hand flies against, landing a slap on the other side. Tywin watches as you tremble, your thighs shaking as he spanks you, a dirty smile on his face. He gives you two, three, four more before landing one on your wet cunny, making you cry out.
“My lord, please!”
He begins slapping at your wet little cunt mercilessly, not enough to hurt badly but enough to sting and stimulate your swollen pearl, moving faster and faster, watching as you squeeze around nothing.
“For such a highborn girl, you certainly act like a Silk Street whore,” he hisses in your ear, one of his hands wrapping around your throat as he bites down on your neck, making you whimper. He pushes three long fingers inside of you, filling you up in a way you’ve never felt before, moving them mercilessly, the wet squelching noises that come from you driving his desire to new heights. You’re so soft and pliant beneath him as you squeal and mewl his name, gasping as he squeezes your neck, restricting your airflow. Tywin groans, his cock twitching against his breeches, his entire body feeling like it has been lit on fire for the first time in years as you spill yourself on his fingertips. He stares at the digits for a moment before turning you around to face him, hand still on your throat as he shoves his fingers into your mouth.
“Lick them clean, little wife. My little she-wolf.”
You do as he asks, tasting yourself, eyes fluttering shut as he pushes his fingers far into your mouth, imagining your plush lips wrapped around his cock instead. You watch as he undoes his breeches just enough to free his cock, your eyes going wide as you realize he plans to take you, claim you as his own before the wedding night. Your eyes flutter shut, as he sheathes himself inside you, still squeezing at your throat, rutting against you at a breakneck pace. Tywin watches as your breasts bounce against the bodice of your dress, tugging it down enough to free them, palming at them with his free hand, so hard that it has him letting out a lewd moan.
Your cunt spasms around him as he speaks, “I’m going to fill you with my seed every night leading up to our wedding and then every night thereafter. Tonight, you’ll walk back to your chambers with my spend dripping from your cunt. And filthy little thing that you are, I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“Yes, my lord,” you gasp, your walls clenching around him like a vice, crying out when the head of his cock bullies against your sweet spot repeatedly.
You can feel your climax approaching his lips wrapped around one of your breasts as he squeezes your neck, your entire body going lax in his grip as a wave of pleasure washes over you, every nerve ending in your body feeling as if it has been set alight. He spills himself inside you shortly thereafter, his hot seed filling you, coating your insides, remaining inside you until his cock begins to grow soft, only to replace it with his fingers, pushing his spend back inside you.
“Waste not.”
You stare at him, eyes wide, lips parted as he calls for his son to escort you back to your room. Ser Jaime’s eyes go wide, surprised and filled with lust at your disheveled state, watching as you scramble to fix your dress. His father fixes him with a sharp look before turning to you.
“My son thought he would be able to wed you. To satisfy you. I trust you’ll no longer entertain such a stupid notion, Jaime. Now, walk your future stepmother to her chambers. And bring her back to me first thing in the morning. We will be taking all our meals together in the privacy of this tower from now on.”
Your thighs clench at the idea as Jaime leads you away.
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Help me decide
I'm approaching 7000 on this hellsite. How should we celebrate? Accepting any and all ideas.
Also, why can I not get my brain to understand that it is 2024 not 2023.
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Dark Hotch wasn't a thing I knew I needed. Huh.
On a random night, while still wearing his suit, he went out and committed his first murder.
Gif set credits to @darkontheotherside <3 you are wonderful
Known Subject
an unsub Aaron Hotchner ficlet
Warning: graphic murder description 🔞
There was a work of art portrayed on the screen. Different shades of red splashed over soft feminine skin like paint over an untouched canvas.
If it had a name, it’d be called Bittersweet.
To the team, it was all bitter.
To Aaron? It was all so sweet.
“Two weeks ago, a body was found…’’ JJ started, as it always did.
This was the first time the team gathered on the round table to study one of Aaron’s killings, and it brought him a rush he had no trouble hiding, naturally resting his hand over his mouth and paying special attention to what everyone had to say.
Keep reading
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Clark's not my fave but this was so good
Request for Anonymous
Gif Source: There are so many below, I went a little overboard with this request lol
Imagine being a werewolf and Clark's girlfriend and him helping you when you go into heat.
------- Imagine -------
You had been outside gardening to try and relax, the movement of your muscles and the sweat dripping on your body helping you focus and calm your racing thoughts. Focus, because you had been distracted, moody, and your muscles aching in a way they hadn’t been almost since before you turned. You should have realized what was happening. All the signs were there. You knew the lore, the history, hell had even sought many of your kind to make sure you knew anything and everything to be able to live and even thrive with this curse turned blessing. You just didn’t think, didn’t pay attention like you should have so your heat literally knocked you on your ass. You had been just about to head inside as a light rain had started when it hit you, the first wave of your stomach muscles cramping followed by a bloom of wet pleasure pain had you on your hands and knees panting. The following waves had you shuttering and gripping the wet grass under your palms as you let out a yell.
“Clark!” You yelled, pain and heat and pleasure all racking your body as you attempted to craw on the wet ground toward your house. You could feel every drop of rain on your hot skin, felt your clothes begin to stick to you as you curled in a ball giving up moving. You shuddered, hugging yourself and biting your lip so hard it bled. The bleeding got worse as your teeth began elongate and your eyesight becoming clearer as you partially shifted to withstand some of the pain. “Clark.” You tried to yell again but this time his name came out more of a moan as your body shuddered against your will.
+
He could hear your pained cry from the next town over where he had been buying groceries for your dinner. He immediately stopped and ran out the door, getting far enough away for no one to see before flying swiftly back to your house. He was soaked by the time he arrived, and when he circled your home, he found your curled in a ball on the wet grass. He approached you carefully, looking around for any threats as he moved. “(Y/N), baby, what happened?” He asked moving to wipe your hair from your face. When your eyes finally meet his they were large and glowing golden. “What do you need (Y/N)?” He asked more firmly, knowing you would have a harder time focusing the more you shifted.
+
You suppressed the moan as his hand grazed your cheek as it moved your hair aside. You could barely hear him over the blood pounding in your ears, but when you finally looked at him and he asked what you needed you didn’t suppress the moan this time. Instead, you crawled into his arms with a strength that would have knocked a human over but he simply gripped you and stood to move you inside out of the rain. “You.” You whispered as he carried you and you couldn’t help but lean in and lick the rain from his skin, his taste filling your mouth and his scent filling your nose. You heard him groan but he didn’t stop as he moved you to the inside of the house. “I need you.” You said, a growl reverberating in your chest as you gripped him tighter. Clark looked down on you, his eyes scanning over your body and you knew even with your body distracting you that he was checking you for injuries. “Please Clark.” You said and when you cupped his cheek you noticed your claws had come out. He took one more look at you and even through the haze of lust you were scared that his reaction to your partial shift would be disgust, but then you were moving, and fast. So fast, that you barely had enough time to blink before your back hit the soft down of your bed and then Clark’s much large body forced your legs open as he crawled between them.
“Fuck, do you know how you look right now.” He said as he ground his hips against your core causing you to arch and claw at his back, his skin not even breaking as a loud moan left your mouth. Your body’s needs became unbearable as Clark continued to grind against you, his cock hard against his pants as he rolled his hips. You clenched your thighs against him muscles tensing as his body moved. “Clark, please….I need…god, pleas just fuck me.” You begged, eyes watering in need as your canines ached in your mouth in the desire to bite and claim.
“You’re sure?” he asked, leaning up and using one hand to wipe the tears from your face.
“God, yes please.” You said, reaching between you to all but tear off you leggings and underthings as Clark undid his pants. He had only just done that when you pulled him back on top of you, too impatient to worry about the rest of your clothes. Clark gripped his cock and ran it against your slit. “So wet already.” He whispered and as his cockhead brushed your clit you let out a high-pitched whine. Pleas and begs came out of your mouth fast as you thrashed beneath him, no longer in control of your body. Clark gripped your hip hard to hold you still as he slowly guided his cock into you. Your body was hot, wet, and already pulsing around him as he sheathed himself fully. He threw back his head on a shout of pleasure trying to keep himself under control before curling protectively over you.
On his next thrust you cried out and raked your nails down his unbreakable skin to grip his ass and tug him harder. “More, I need more.” You begged. You lifted your hips, threw your head back, gripped and pulled trying to force him to take you harder, faster. He fought against your hold easily, maintaining a steady pace that was driving you mad. You almost cried with your next moan as you let yourself go limp against him unable to fight him. Clark’ smiled and his grip on your hip loosened. He moved his ands next to your head to brace himself and made longer, slower thrusts that had you feeling every inch of his cock as he withdrew and entered. You gasped ad grabbed his shoulders as he moved like that again and again eliciting every pleasured noise he could from you. The long steady strokes built your pleasure so painfully slowly that when you finally came every nerve in your body felt like it was burning as star bursts of pleasure exploded behind your eyes. You body quaked and you core clenched and pulsed so hard you could feel your arousal running down between your ass cheeks and spread over Clark’s balls and leg where he still moved against you.
Once the intense waves of you first orgasm passed you knew he thought you would lay limp and satiated beneath him; but that first touch of pleasure only ignited more need from your heat. You used this to your advantage and pushed with all the strength you could, only just barely managing to roll him beneath you. You had a sneaking suspicion he let you as he smiled up at you, but you couldn’t care less as you began to move yourself fast and hard above him. Clark watched as you eyes glowed brighter and you bit your lip again in need as you rolled you hips and felt his cock hit you deep. Clark groaned, his mouth opening to pant as you rid him faster. He reached up to you running his fingers over your lips until you opened for him. He thrust all his fingers except his thumb in your mouth and groaned when you licked and sucked them. “You can bite me, you won’t hurt me, and I trust you not to hurt yourself. Take what you need baby.”
“Mmmmf.” You groaned, biting down on his fingers knowing you wouldn’t hurt him but needing the pressure against you teeth to satiate your need to claim. With his fingers in your mouth, you moved faster and faster, Clark gripping your hip with his other hand to assist your movements as you took what you needed from him. Your next orgasm came just as fast and just as hard clenching his cock with unbearable pressure. Clark panted and then jerked as your felt sticky heat fill your core filling you and even leaking around where his cock was pressed against you. The smell and feel of his come had you quivering in aftershocks as your heat finally gave you a brief respite. You released his fingers from your jaw and collapsed against him.
His chest hair tickled your face as he panted beneath you and you nuzzled against it, enjoying the sweat and musk smell he gave off as your body let you rest briefly. “Want to tell me what’s going on now?” Clark asked, his breathing returning to normal as his arms came around you.
“Heat.” You mumbled, trying to rest as long as possible, knowing it wouldn’t last long until the next wave hit. Clark nodded, knowing as much as you on the subject. You had shared almost everything in the 2 years you had dated and this normally embarrassing predicament was an easy confession as you lay sweaty and exhausted and still mostly clothed against each other.
“Glad I was at least close by when it happened and not the other side of the world.” He said chuckling. The movement cause his semi hrd cock to shift in you mking you oan as you felt the heat and accompanying need slowly return.
“Clark, I don’t want to alarm you but this is far from over.”
“What do you mean?” He said slowly stroking your hair not realizing how your body was starting to react again. “A….a heat…” You said stuttering as you moved to rub your face against his chest sprading your scent on him and vice versa. “It can last for days.” You said, smiling at his shocked look before you sat up above him again.
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Since the last time I checked in my FIL died, followed by a friend and a family friend. I have family in the hospital facing serious unexpected health issues. I have absolutely zero creativity or desire to write. Sorry.
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This is kind of perfect.
New Tricks
Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Word Count: 9.5k
Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead
What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular.
Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.
Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky
Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne
Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗
These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️
I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹
Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door.
“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time, when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.
Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck.
The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again.
Excellent, you inwardly sigh.
“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level. “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.”
Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck. Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows.
Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”
His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?”
No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind.
“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.”
The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes.
“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.”
You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation.
Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic.
“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?”
Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–”
You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.
Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”
Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning.
“What the shit–“
The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?”
In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!”
Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.”
The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”
“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”
“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.
The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all.
And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?”
Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”
“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids.
“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”
Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed.
“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.”
It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone.
You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?”
You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“
“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over.
Had he been listening that whole time?
Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky may have made was a burden you did not want to bear, and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”
Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.”
The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”
“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”
His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.
With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.
“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”
The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”
“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”
Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump.
You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose. “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”
With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off.
Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips.
Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door.
With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”
Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.
Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”
He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”
You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.
“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?”
The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”
You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.”
Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf.
The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?”
“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”
You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”
“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom.
Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”
“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you.
A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.
The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence.
Though, it is short lived.
Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand.
A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works.
“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off.
You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before…
“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”
A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious.
His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you.
“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”
The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats.
Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?”
You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”
The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet.
Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.
“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”
“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.
Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company.
This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence.
Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone.
“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content.
“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”
“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets.
“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.
The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.
“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.
Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.
That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself.
“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?”
You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV.
“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.”
The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.”
Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.”
Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”
“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.”
You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”
Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it.
Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”
Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”
“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!”
He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?”
“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.
“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”
His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”
Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night.
There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus.
Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”
Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing.
“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”
“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”
“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”
A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”
“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.”
Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.”
His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face.
Okay, you think privately, so what?
Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt.
If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”
“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”
Now that catches you off guard.
Bucky… is a virgin?
Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match.
Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression.
“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”
No other words come to mind.
When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts.
You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully.
The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him.
Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession.
It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands, and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty.
From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer.
Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past. And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket.
What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?
To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs.
Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees.
“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.
The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical.
You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”
“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”
Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.”
“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting.
You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, ��Please?”
He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“
“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”
“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.
“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”
You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.
“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”
“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through.
Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek.
This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance.
You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.
He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”
“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap.
That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth.
There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves.
Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face.
“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.
There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek.
“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.
Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”
The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes.
Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.
“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session.
Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.
“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.
You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.
“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension.
A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time.
Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.
The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close.
But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard.
The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly.
Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before.
You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another.
It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you.
And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–”
To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.
Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries.
You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.
The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss.
You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move.
Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous.
It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”
Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”
Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”
Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.
“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.”
You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin.
The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet.
The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.
Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.
“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”
“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”
You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”
The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn.
“Wha– Fuck!”
You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it.
The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.
Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release.
You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle.
Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.
Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck.
You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently.
“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”
Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him.
You can’t have that, though.
Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”
Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go.
It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in.
You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?”
Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.”
“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.
You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.”
The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”
Something snaps within him.
The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure.
To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”
“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”
A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop.
“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”
“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!”
“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed.
“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”
The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.
“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat.
The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”
Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness.
After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”
“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material.
Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”
“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.
The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”
Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”
“But–” Bucky tries.
“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”
His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”
“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”
The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces.
It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”
You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands.
And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair.
You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.
“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.”
You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only–
“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala.
“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”
But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”
“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?”
That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes.
You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”
Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away.
With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”
The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky.
“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”
“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”
You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”
The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall. “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”
A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive.
“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.”
That meant only one person was responsible.
Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.
Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night.
I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake.
Love ya squirt,
Your big bro.
“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.
P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x
Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again.
“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”
Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain.
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Sigh.
I'm going to go into detail below the cut but the TLDR is life sucks sometimes and takes the creativity out of you. Hope to write soon.
For those that want the nitty gritty...Hello friends! I hope your life is going fantastic and that you enjoy your holiday season, whatever holiday you celebrate.
This has been a horrible year for several reasons. Up until June it was mainly things happening to my nearest and dearest that didn't affect me other than empathizing with them.
In June my mom, whom lives with us, had spinal surgery. She was able to do more for herself than anticipated but she helps take care of my family due to my stroke. But it was fine. We got her recovered and things went better than anticipated.
Then the last day of July my husband woke me from a sound sleep at 3am in tears and said I needed to take him to the ER. It took four weeks of doctor appointments every 2-3 days, scans two ER visits and a hospital admittance to get him diagnosed and treated for shingles. It started internal then went external. He was in excruciating pain. Tomorrow is his first day back at work since August 2.
In the midst of that on September 13 I had ankle surgery. Non-weight bearing for 4 weeks.
But I started feeling better. I posted a couple of chapters. Asked for soulmate requests (which are all plotted out, btw). Was ready to put my head down and write.
The very next day we got a call from my in-laws. My FIL who has stage 4 cancer had decided to end all treatment. They live 3 hours away and we have been physically unable to visit. Once we could, he no longer wished for visitors. At this point he hasn't eaten in four weeks and grows weaker every day. We're waiting for him to die and god it sucks. I'm working on an obituary for a man that's still alive.
Needless to say the Christmas spirit is noticeably absent this year.
So if you've read all this...yeah. I want to write, I'm hoping to write but life. But I'm around and have no plans to disappear any time soon.
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This was lovely
Pretty Little Thing - co-written with @notafunkiller
Summary: Your long-time crush, Bucky Barnes, is a regular at the bar where you work, and tonight, it's impossible to avoid serving him for the first time.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: +18, alcohol, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, no mention of y/n
Word Count: 3.8K
A/N: @notafunkiller and I merged our separate ideas into one and this is the outcome. It was so much fun to write. We hope it'll me the same while reading too.
All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.
Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it’s hate. That’s never welcome.
You thought this night would be calm and easy, that nothing significant would happen. All that changed when Bucky Barnes set foot in the bar. It’s not his first time here by any means, but until now you successfully managed to avoid him by asking the other bartender to serve his side. This time, unfortunately, you are working alone. It’s a slow night, so there’s no way you can really avoid him.
You watch him find an empty place and sit down, and you really don’t know what to do. You can feel yourself sweating already. You are so nervous. Not because you are afraid of him or anything. He doesn’t look scary. Not to you. You are afraid to embarrass yourself in front of him, but you should be able to ask for his order and serve it without messing it up. That’s not so hard.
Just keep it simple, you tell yourself.
“Hey, what can I get you?”
Bucky looks up from his phone straight into your eyes, and you freeze a little.
“Hello, do you... a draft beer, please.”
His answer confuses you. That’s not his usual order.
“You sure you don’t want something stronger? We have that bourbon.” You curse yourself internally for paying attention and not being able to hold your tongue.
He raises his eyebrow surprised. “How do you know that? There is no way you served me any drinks cause I would remember you.”
He frowns as soon as he finishes speaking. Maybe you helped your colleague or maybe you were informed about what he drinks just in case he showed up. He’s still the Winter Soldier after all.
“I never served you before.” You say with a shy smile. You hope this is enough of an answer for him.
“Do I look like a bourbon man?” He asks playfully before giving you a smile that transforms his face a little, softening his features.
“You look like you enjoy quality stuff, and between you and me, our draft beer is shitty.”
That comment makes him chuckle. You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t notice how his eyes fall straight to your breasts.
“Thanks for the tip. Normal beer then?”
“If you insist.” You smile and open the small fridge under the bar where you keep some of the beers. You quickly open it and put it right in front of him, not realizing that gesture shows off your bartender skills a little bit.
He doesn’t look away from you as he takes a big sip before placing the bottle on the table quickly.
“For how long have you been working here?”
“For the past year.” You avoid making eye contact while drying some of the freshly washed glasses.
“Oh.” He sounds kind of taken aback. “I’m surprised you never served me. I’ve been coming here for what? Seven months?”
“Eight.” You bite your bottom lip as soon as the word slips out, trying to shut yourself up so you won’t mess up even more. What were you thinking? Well, you weren't…
His eyes immediately glow, and you wonder if you fucked up for good.
“So you’ve been keeping an eye on me?” He brings the bottle to his mouth and before you can say anything, you watch him finishing it in one go.
“I just noticed you.” Of course, you kept an eye on him, but you played it down a little.
“Well, I didn’t notice you,” he says regretfully. “And I wonder how. I am pretty aware of my surroundings... especially if they are full of beautiful people like you.”
You can’t help but blush, yet you try to sound unaffected. You don’t know if you succeed or not, though.
“This place is usually so crowded and full of… people. So it’s normal.”
“Neah,” he denies immediately. “Have you been hiding or something?”
“I was just on the other side of the bar.” And you were trying to hide from him, saving yourself from this embarrassment because you knew if you talked to him you would fuck up. You were right.
“So I was on the wrong side this whole time.” He shakes his head. “Another beer, please, doll.”
“The same?” You ask while trying not to dwell on the pet name he uses.
“Yes, please. And one drink for you. Whatever you want, if you are allowed to drink, of course.”
The way he offers to buy you a drink surprises you. You feel quite nervous, but you try to maintain your calm. He’s probably just being nice, right?
“I am allowed to drink, but that’s not necessary.”
He pouts. “I didn’t mean you need to talk to me for it, doll. There are no conditions for this drink.”
“Oh.” You didn’t even think he would take it this way. “That’s not why I said it’s not necessary. I wasn’t worried about that.”
“Okay. Whatever you want... I won’t insist.”
“It’s just… I am allowed to drink whatever I want. You don’t need to pay for it.” You try to explain so he won’t take it the wrong way.
“Alright,” he says, a little distant, as you open up another bottle of beer and put it in front of him.
“I just didn’t want you to pay extra when I can get it for free.” You don’t know why you are explaining yourself like this. It’s normal not to accept drinks from customers.
“It’s fine, I totally understand. Thank you!” He reaches for the bottle immediately.
You take a fancy glass out of the rack and pour yourself one of the ready-to-serve cocktails that your colleague prepared, right in front of him. He doesn’t say anything as he keeps staring at your hands.
“Thanks for the drink.” You say while putting the bottle away.
“Me?” He asks surprised. “Thought this is on the bar.”
“Well, you gave me the idea, and if you really insist on spending your money so unnecessarily, who am I to stop you?”
“That’s a good attitude.” He smiles again before bringing his bottle close to your glass. “Cheers to a good Thursday in a lovely company.”
You clink your glass with a smile on your face. It seems like he finally understood your intention, so you feel relieved.
“How does that taste?”
“Don’t let the color fool you, it tastes really strong but delicious.” You look at him for a second and notice that got his interest. “Wanna taste it?” You offer your own drink to him, and he contemplates for a few seconds before leaning in.
“Yes, I am curious.”
You hand the glass to him. Your fingers touch for a second, and you get so excited that you worry about dropping the glass. It’s like your heart is in your throat.
“Your hands are cold,” he comments casually before taking a sip right from the spot covered by your lipstick. You gasp. You have no idea if he did it on purpose, but the way he’s drinking it… your body is responding to that so much. You clear your throat, trying to calm yourself down.
“Delicious.” He smiles, handing back your glass, and you notice a bit of lipstick in the corner of his mouth.
It creates this internal dilemma. Should you just let him know about it or act like nothing happened and let him walk around like this? The second one could cause him a lot of embarrassment, and you don’t wanna be the reason for that. That’s why you suddenly find yourself leaning closer to him, just to wipe the lipstick off. He doesn’t move an inch, not jumping like you would expect, letting you touch him. When you realize what you are doing, you suddenly feel super self-conscious.
“You…” You gulp down. “You have… lipstick on… just here.”
You keep rubbing your finger against the corner of his mouth. You feel his stubble and how soft his lips are, but you try not to think about it. He chuckles, covering your hand with his. It surprises you so much that you freeze for a second. Then you look into his eyes, struggling to see if you made him feel uncomfortable or not.
“So considerate of you. Thank you.”
You move your hand away from his mouth but not away from his touch. Somehow you can’t find the strength to do that.
What he does next, though, makes you completely breathless. He brings your hand to his mouth again, but this time he presses his lips gently against your skin, smiling right after. Your eyes open with surprise, feeling completely speechless, yet you don’t move away. You don’t even realize you are smiling slightly.
“Your hands are still so cold.”
“Yeah…” You try to speak, but it feels like your words are stuck in your throat. “They are always cold.”
“We need to change that.” He places another kiss on your hand.
*
He’s surprisingly nervous as he leads you to the living room. Based on his confidence back in the bar, you didn’t expect him to become so shy all of a sudden.
“Do you want some coffee?”
“No.” You answer quickly. The only thing you want is to feel his lips again but you keep that thought to yourself.
“What do you want then?”
It’s obvious in his tone and the way he looks at you he doesn’t ask you about drinks.
“You.” You can’t believe you said this out loud, but it’s the truth.
He doesn’t need another push as he comes closer, grabbing you by the chin. Your lips crash together with an almost desperate hunger. He takes the opportunity immediately, getting his tongue inside your mouth in a fervent exploration. The sensation is electrifying.
You let him explore your mouth while you focus on his taste. It’s so unique and tasty, you just can’t get enough of it. Your hands slowly move toward the back of his head, pulling him closer.
“Fuck,” he groans when he feels your touch, breaking the kiss just to move his lips to your neck.
“Mhmm… James.” His lips feel so good against your neck. It just sends a jolt of arousal through your body.
But then he freezes, with his mouth glued to your neck. You open your eyes confused wanting to ask him what happened, and that’s when you realize what you’ve just said.
“You know who I am?” His voice is a warm whisper against your skin.
“Of course, I know who you are.” You make it sound so natural as if there’s no way you wouldn’t know who he is. “You think I go to the houses of men I don’t know?” You say playfully.
“I didn’t mean that...” He raises his head from the crook of your neck just to look you in the eye. “I didn’t mean it offensively, I just wasn’t sure. I’m just stupid, I didn’t expect it.”
“I know who you are, James Bucky Barnes.”
“Fuck,” he groans, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip. “Say it again.”
“James Bucky Barnes or just James?”
He kisses you more desperately than before, his hands finding your hips as he gently grabs them, pulling you so close that you can feel his erection. You gasp so softly, but he hears it anyway, and you settle on his hard cock so it’s right against where you want it to be.
He moans. “Let’s go to the bedroom, doll.”
“Why?” You ask innocently as if you don’t know what he means. “Isn’t your couch comfortable enough?”
For him? Sure. But for you?
“The bed is better.”
“Okay.” You sound so obedient suddenly as you wrap your legs around his torso.
He immediately lifts you up without effort, and you smile, letting him carry you toward his room. He’s a super soldier after all. He closes the door with his foot as soon as you’re inside, then he gently puts you on the bed, like he’s afraid you might break. The way he’s acting is so endearing, but you want him to let go really badly. Even the manner he starts to take off your pants is too gentle.
You let him undress you the way he wants, though. Then you move closer to him, taking his clothes off, your movements not as gentle as his. You are impatient and needy. You see him holding his breath when you reach to touch his chest, close to where his metal arm begins, so you lean in to leave a kiss right there. You don’t know if you are crossing a line, but you have to. He should know that this is not something that would bother you, on the contrary, it turns you on even more. When he doesn’t move away from you, you keep kissing around his scars and his chest. Your hand is on his shoulder, gently caressing.
“That feels so good, doll,” he says with a sigh before he grabs your waist. “but it's time for me to eat.”
You find yourself on your back so suddenly that you don’t even have time to react. He quickly settles between your legs and you understand exactly what he meant. He lifts them enough so you can rest them on his shoulders as he gets more comfortable on his tummy. You feel a hole in your stomach immediately. You can’t believe Bucky is between your thighs, about to eat you out.
He’s taking his sweet time at first, kissing down your thighs and even smelling you before he finally brings his tongue to your entrance.
“Come on, James. Don’t tease me.” You look down just to see him smiling.
“Why not? You seem to enjoy it.”
“I would enjoy it more if you stopped teasing and started eating.”
Surprisingly, Bucky doesn’t waste more time and properly starts to fuck you with his tongue. He’s not too quick, nor too slow with his moves, and you’re shocked when he brings his fingers to your mouth.
“Need you to make them wet for me, please.” Even while saying that, he sounded a little too polite.
“On one condition,” you say, looking directly into his eyes. “Stop acting like I am made of glass.”
“But you kinda are.”
“I am not. Believe me.”
He says nothing, making sure to lick your slit before getting his tongue inside you again, his fingers, glued to your lips. You take it as a silent agreement and you open your mouth, suck his fingers, and let him wet them. When he thinks it’s enough, he gently takes them out and brings them right to your clit. He doesn’t touch it directly at first, teasing around it until you move your hips a little, needing to feel your clit stimulated.
“Please.” The way he’s taking his sweet time is so frustrating.
He lets his hand drop and instead of feeling his fingers on your clit, you feel his tongue at the same time he gets a finger inside you. You moan loudly, finally getting what you wanted from the start.
His other hand reaches for yours when he hears you grabbing the sheet, and you immediately hold it, enjoying how his cold metal feels. When you feel the second finger and he scissors both of them inside you, you’re shocked by how close you suddenly are. You can’t help but arch your back and move your hips, needing it faster.
He reads the signals pretty quickly and lets you use his mouth while he keeps pumping his fingers. It doesn’t take long for you to gasp, moan, and start to shake because of the pleasure he’s giving you.
“James! Shit. I’m- gonna… ahh… come.”
You moan louder than you expected, dropping your head against his sheets, possessed by a great wave of pleasure. You want to tell him not to stop anything, but you can’t. And you don’t need to as he keeps licking and fingering you while you ride your orgasm out, prolonging it as much as possible.
When it’s done, you are feeling so good yet you are hungry for more. You raise your head a little and see Bucky still between your legs, but this time his beard is covered with your slick. He looks so handsome. His blue eyes are shining and his hair is all messy. It makes you wanna kiss him and that’s exactly what you do. You reach down to him, and he meets you in the middle, kissing you the way he was just eating you out: with passion and hunger.
He’s less gentle than before as you feel his hands grabbing your breasts, but it’s still not enough. You cover his hands with yours and push him to grab them harder than before. You let out a muffled moan while kissing him.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
You find yourself blushing like you two aren’t having sex. To mask your reaction, you reach out to his hard cock, gently grabbing it.
“Oh god,” he groans as he instinctively squeeze your breasts harder.
“Mhmm, yes.” You lean into his touch. “Just like that.”
Bucky looks at you as if you said something shocking. Is he not used to communicating during sex?
“What? Did I do something wrong?”
“You’re surprising me for someone so delicate.”
“I told you, I am not.”
He smiles. “Do you wanna help me put on a condom then?”
“I would love to, but…” You smile. “What if I told you I am clean and on the pill?”
“Fuck, I need you.” He kisses you suddenly. “Now.”
“I am right here.” It sounds so calming. “You can take me however you want.”
You’re not only on your back in the next second, but you also have his cock lined up at your entrance.
“Jesus, doll! For a pretty little thing, you’re quite nasty.”
“I just know what I want.” And this is it.
He nods, wrapping your legs around his ass at the same time he pushes inside you. In a second, your head is thrown back while you moan loudly. The way he fills you is so delicious. It makes you feel so full but not uncomfortable.
“You’re taking me so well already.”
“Please…” You raise your hips to create more friction. “Please, move.”
He brings his mouth to your breast a little before he starts thrusting, making sure to leave a small hickey right on top of it. It hurts so good, and you moan without holding back. It is music to Bucky’s ears. He just wants to hear it again, so he does it again.
“You want it rough, don’t you?” He thrusts harder than before. “You’re so needy.”
“Yeah.” Your voice is so shaky already. “I told you already.”
“Told me what?” He teases. “I don’t remember.”
“That I am not made of glass.”
“No, you are made for me.” He brings his hand to your face to move the hair strands that cover your eyes. “For my cock.”
“In that case…” You don’t know where the sudden rush of confidence comes from. “You are made for me. To fill me up.” You move your hips again, trying to fuck yourself on him.
“Oh, god. You’re so fucking wet,” he moans. “I am, I’m gonna fill you up so much.” He kisses you suddenly, your teeth almost crashing together because of the thrusts, but you don’t care.
“Can’t wait.” You tease him. “Don’t hold back, okay?”
He says nothing, letting his head drop a little so he can suck on your neck properly. He’s definitely fucking you harder. He pulls until he’s almost completely out of you before thrusting inside you again. And again. And again. It takes your breath away. The way it makes you feel is indescribable. You lose the little remaining control you had and just turn into a moaning mess.
“Say my name, baby. C-come on.”
“James?” You sound hesitant even if you don’t mean to because you don’t know which name he wants to hear.
“Again,” he begs, his metal arm on your leg pushing it right against his ass.
“James!” This one comes out so naturally. No questions, no hesitation. You just breathe out his name with a moan.
“God, you look so beautiful. So pretty with my cock inside you.” His thrusts get faster, and you have no idea how he can speak so well while you’re a mess.
“I’m so close,” you can barely say without taking a breath in the middle of the sentence.
“What do you want?”
“Just… harder.”
“Like this?” He asks, suddenly thrusting a little harder than before. “Or like this?”
“This! Yes! Just like this!”
“You just want it hard.” He whispers against your ear. “What a dirty girl.”
You hear him, but you can’t respond. You are too busy coming all over his cock, and it feels like you are in heaven. He continues to fuck you as the pleasure fades away, murmuring how pretty you are and how good you make him feel before he comes, too, grabbing the bedpost behind you with his metal arm. It makes a clicking sound, but you don’t care, opening your still foggy eyes just to watch him.
There’s so much come. You can already feel it dripping out of you as he keeps fucking you. You expect it to end soon, but it doesn’t. It goes on and on. The way he loses control as he comes just triggers another orgasm out of you. You would be surprised how quickly you could come again if it didn’t feel overwhelmingly good. You can’t think about anything other than him and the way he makes you feel.
His come is getting all over your thighs and ass, and the bed, as he moans. “Kakaya khoroshaya devochka.” What a good girl.
You can’t help but laugh despite not understanding a word of what he says. “Is that Russian?”
He opens his eyes, and the blue you love is almost completely grey. “Yes.” He sounds confused, too.
“What does it mean?” Your afterglow can’t overshadow your curiosity. “If you don’t tell me, this isn’t happening again.” You try to make it obvious you aren’t serious with your playful tone. Especially not after those orgasms.
“Look at you, little and feisty, blackmailing me.” He chuckles before leaving a kiss on your lips. “I told you what a good girl you are. I didn’t realize I spoke in Russian.”
You laugh a little. “Say it again.” You give him the cutest look. “Please?”
“Ty moya khoroshaya devochka.” He repeats softly. You’re my good girl.
You don’t even realize how content you look as you keep smiling.
“Now, I can get used to that.”
“Say my name again, please.”
You love the neediness in his voice. “James?” You tilt your head a little. “Or would you prefer Bucky?”
“Fuck, it doesn’t matter.” His thumb is suddenly on your lips. “I can get used to that, too.”
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lovely and dare I say...cute!
Aggressively texting Bucky: "How dare you be this fucking cute?!"
Seriously! How is he so cute?!
A Couple of Cuties
Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky's cute. He knows it. You know it. You just need to admit it.
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: Flirting, tension, banter, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning)
A/N: Happy Sinday! Set in the same universe as The Rejects. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
You weren't sure how game nights became your thing with Bucky. Maybe it was because it was how the two of you got together. You looked forward to them, especially since they had a tendency to end the same way: The "loser" of a chosen game stripping and the "winner" eventually losing their clothes, too. Both of you were winners by the time you got to bed or the nearest surface he felt like taking you on. Tonight would be no exception.
If you didn't smack him first.
"It's cute that you think I'm cute. Nothing wrong with that."
You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at Bucky. He had his signature panty-dropping smirk on his face as he stared back at you from across the table. It was a battle of wills and you were determined not to blink. You refused to let him win. And you refused to acknowledge his cuteness.
I won't think about his adorable smile or his sweet laugh when I crack a joke or the way his eyes go soft when I catch him staring.
"When did I say you're cute?" You asked, finally blinking when you had to. He still hadn't, his deep blue eyes laser focused as he stared.
Of course, he beat me. Damn super soldier and his skills. How the hell can anyone go that long without blinking?
"You say it with your eyes and your smile, just like I say it to you," he replied, holding his phone up as you raised your chin defiantly. Even though his words made your heart swell, you didn’t let it show out of sheer stubbornness. "You also sent me a text. Would you like me to read it to you?"
"I don't need you to-"
"How dare you be this fucking cute?!" he read, trying and failing to imitate your voice.
I sound nothing like that. And I regret hitting "send" on that text message.
"You think because the text came from my phone that I sent it? How do you know Nat or someone didn't take my phone? I mean, face it, you have no proof that I'm the one who sent that message," you said, checking your nails to avoid his gaze. "Maybe someone wanted to give you an ego boost. Not like you need one, but good for them for the effort."
The adorable nose scrunch was out in full force as he laughed and you no doubt had hearts in your eyes as the sound bounced off the walls. The fact that he could relax around you after he faced so many horrors was a wonderful feeling. "Nat has never called me cute and I'm pretty sure she was with Steve when I got this message," he pointed out as he leaned across the table and booped you on the nose with a vibranium finger when you lifted your gaze. "But you think I'm cute and I think that's adorable."
"I'm sorry, but did Sergeant Barnes just boop my nose? You actually booped my nose. We may have to take your badass card away and replace it with a ‘boop boop’."
"No deflecting and badasses can still give and receive boops," he said as he settled back in his chair. "You sent the message. We both know it."
"I did not," you stated.
Bucky licked his lips, drawing your attention to them. You wanted to feel them against yours. You needed them on your skin and between your legs. "You did."
"I did not," you repeated, your voice steady as his gaze moved down to your chest. Can a man actually touch you with his eyes? Logic told you it was physically impossible, but it didn’t stop your body from imagining that he could do so.
"You did, but do you know what's cuter?” He asked, leaning back as he grasped the bottom of his blue Henley and pulled it over his head. “You in my clothes.”
“It’s cute when I’m wearing your clothes?” You questioned, catching the garment as he tossed it your way. The whiff of his cologne made you shiver, along with something that had to come from the serum. You noticed that Steve had a hint of a similar scent to Bucky, but the Captain’s didn’t make your heart race the way the former Winter Soldier’s did. “I was going for sexy.”
“It’s very sexy,” he promised, the praise heating up your skin before he gestured to himself. “But if you don’t admit that I’m cute, you won’t get any of this tonight.”
It was your turn to laugh as you swapped out your top for Bucky’s, watching his eyes darken as you slipped it on. You did look good in his clothes. “You’re going to withhold sex from me? Please. I have a toy with your name on it that’ll do the job just fine.”
Your boyfriend smiled at your words. “Aww. You named a toy after me? That’s flattering. Do you call him Bucky? James? Sergeant? Don’t hold back on me, doll. I wanna know the details.”
“You know, the text was your fault since you decided to send me a selfie,” you defended yourself, changing the subject. It was a cute photo of him. One of many. Of course, you had to say something.
“Maybe I can fuck you with the toy first,” he suggested, your inhale sharp and quick as his voice dropped. It didn’t take long for you to feel his hand on your knee, moving dangerously slow up your leg. “Because you look so cute right before you let go. Your mouth falls open slightly and the sweetest little whine slips out. And almost a look of surprise when you gush around me, like no one else has ever made you come so hard.”
No one else ever has.
“I take it back. You’re not cute. You’re the devil,” you argued breathlessly as your legs parted, allowing his hand to glide up more.
“If I’m the devil, come and sin with me,” he smirked, his hand stopping just before it reached the middle of your thighs. “And for you to take it back is an admission that you do think I’m cute. But if you won't say it...”
“Fine, you smug bastard! I admit it. I sent it because you’re cute. You’re fucking adorable. Living proof that you can be a beast and a sweetheart,” you said as he grinned, grasping his wrist and bringing his hand to your clothed core, the fabric soaked thanks to him. “And thanks to you, I’m all wet. So either do something about it or no game nights for a month.”
His nostrils flared, knowing it wasn’t just a threat. You also knew there was no way in hell he could last that long without your game nights. He cherished them just as much as you did. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would. I can play with my toy in the meantime if you’re not up for the job,” you smirked, grinding slowly against his hand. “Cutie.”
You would tell Bucky later just how cute he looked when he knocked the table out of the way to get to you. He would make sure you weren’t sore since he fucked you on the floor. It was endearing how much he cared for your well-being.
You expected nothing less from a cutie like Bucky Barnes.
These two. 😂 I hope you lovelies liked it! Love and thanks for reading. 💙
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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This is lovely!
A Violent Man
A drabble for @bolontiku and @magellan-88 I hope you hoes are happy. Based on this thread of chaos.
Warnings: Violence, gore, blood, the title says it all
You stood outside the door and listened as flesh connected with flesh in a steady, unflattering rhythm, knowing better than to walk into the room when Loki was working. Working was a euphemism for getting answers when someone in his organization betrayed him, but that didn’t bother you. You’d known who and what he was from the moment you met, and while becoming the woman of a Bratva Pakhan had not been what you imagined, the life wasn’t terrible. As long as you obeyed the rules, he spoiled you and gave you whatever you needed both inside and outside the bedroom.
Only once did you disobey him. Only once did you walk into a room without knocking.
Only once.
The shock of finding him standing over a man tied to a chair, sleeves rolled up, revealing the forearms you loved to admire and the blue tattoos you liked to trace when acting bored, sitting in his lap during meetings in Russian you listened to raptly but pretended not to understand, left you mute. His knuckles were bloody, the man absolutely covered in red, but how pristine Loki was, his white shirt practically glowing in the low light stunned you. And when the light gleamed off the blade in his hand, his eyes on you as he lowered it and carved traitor into the man’s chest, you didn’t wait for an explanation.
You ran. You ran right out the front door and kept going until your legs gave out.
He found you huddled on a park bench sometime later, contemplating your life. When he crouched down to look you in the face, there were no words exchanged. He held out his hand, clean of the blood, his shirt pure white, his face just as beautiful as the day you met.
There were no words needed because his eyes said it all. You were his: body, mind, and soul. You could never run because he would always find you. There was great violence in him, almost more than his body could contain, but for you? For you, there was patience. There was understanding. His hand was offered in forgiveness, not command.
You were the only person he would ever bend for, but even then, he would only bend so much.
You took his hand. He swept you into his arms, and without a word, he brought you home.
Now, a man was always stationed outside the door, but you never forgot to knock again. The lesson was hard learned but deeply ingrained.
When the door opened, you looked up and smiled. He looked pristine, but a tiny spot of blood stained his collar.
You touched it, letting him know it was there and he would need to change clothes before placing your hand against his chest.
His face was granite, his eyes so cold when he worked slowly warmed when he looked at you, ducked his head, and pressed his lips to yours, making your knees weak.
For such a violent man, his kisses were so very tender.
~The End~
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6K Celebration
*posts will be spread out so they don’t get lost.
To mark getting 6000 followers I’ve decided to do a little celebration on both blogs. I’m opening my requests for the following:
Head cannons
Gif Drabbles
Song fics
Send an ask with any of the above. Head cannons obviously need a character and situation. For the other two you can state a character/fandom or not. Normal requests can be sent to @thatfanficstuff. NSFW and dark requests need to be sent to @thatdarkfanficstuff
I need to get back into writing something other than my series so flood my inbox.
A sincere thank you to every single one of you. You’re the reason I’m still on this sometimes hell site. All my love.
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I love it! It's so cute.
first night
18+
the biggest perk of marrying your long-time best friend? he knows exactly what your dream honeymoon is.
content warning: mob!bucky x best friend!reader, mature themes, the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, my dream honeymoon is your dream honeymoon now. idc what you wanted before. this is it now. fluff, smut (daddy kink, penetrative sex, aftercare).
series masterlist
That first step off of Bucky's private jet hits you with a flutter of excitement and awe. The snow-covered mountains in the distance make your heart skip a beat, and you're glad you obeyed Bucky when he told you not to look out the window while the jet was landing.
"You did not!" You gasp as your hand finds his and clutches it tightly. "Are we really in-"
"Welcome to Switzerland, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes!" A chipper man greets you with a wide smile and outstretched arms. "We are so honored to be hosting you for this most romantic of visits!"
Bucky shakes his hand, smiling back at him. "Thank you so much, Stefan," He says warmly.
"Please, follow me!" Stefan requests as he points towards a fleet of cars. "Your private driver for the duration of your trip will be Matteo; I hope you find him acceptable."
He leads you to a black Rolls Royce, outside of which whom you assume can only be Matteo is standing. Bucky shares a few words with him before helping you get in the car, while your heart races.
"James," You whisper as the car door shuts behind him. "You really brought me to Switzerland for our honeymoon?"
He pulls you closer while the partition rolls up, with that arrogant smirk on his face you so love. "Am I not your best fuckin' friend?" He asks with a scoff. "Do I not know you better than anyone else?"
Absolutely enamored by his adoration and thoughtfulness, you cling to him. "You're the best husband I've ever had," You say dreamily, leaning up to kiss him.
"I love you, Jamie," You reply sweetly after resting your head on his chest.
He kisses you deeply, cupping your face in his hands and pulling you closer. His tongue strokes yours, sending shivers down your spine. "I love you, Mrs. Barnes," Bucky whispers against your lips.
The rest of the car ride is spent in a blissful peace, as you look out the window at the gorgeous views. Bucky presses kisses to your cheek and neck while you gape at the stunning landscape. Having only ever seen Switzerland in pictures, you feel like you're dreaming now that you're right in the middle of the real thing.
Matteo drives you to a private villa, and you're thankful that there's nobody waiting to greet you here. The luxury chalet awaits you, standing tall and magnificent. While Matteo takes your bags inside, you take in the view of the massive building, in awe.
"Do you like it?" Bucky asks you, placing a hand on the small of your back. "Or would you rather we stay somewhere else?"
Letting out a dry laugh, you gawk at him. "Are you kidding? This is incredible, Jamie!"
He grins widely while taking you inside. "I'm glad you think so, fairy," He says while walking into the house.
"I hope the villa is to your liking, Mrs. Barnes," Matteo calls out as he comes back down the wide staircase.
"And what about my liking?" Bucky asks him teasingly, raising a brow.
Reaching you, Matteo grins. "If Mrs. Barnes is happy, then so is Mr. Barnes," He tells him while patting his shoulder. "And this is the beauty of marriage!"
The two of you laugh with him before he takes his leave, leaving you and Bucky alone. In a private villa. On your honeymoon.
Bucky attacks you almost immediately, throwing you over his shoulder and bounding up the stairs. You squeal with joy as he races up to the master bedroom, undeniably excited about what's to transpire.
He gently lays you down on the bed, smiling coyly at you. Standing up straight, he unbuttons his suit jacket and takes it off, and his shirt is quick to follow.
"Why are you taking your clothes off?" You ask him innocently, tilting your head.
Bucky takes a few steps back. "Because," He begins teasingly. "We need to get dressed for dinner."
Your face falls. "Huh?"
"C'mon, fairy, I bought you the most beautiful dress to wear tonight," He says, opening the closet to reveal a lone dress hanging there. "You're making your first official debut as my wife; this is a special occasion."
Standing up from the bed, you take a few slow steps towards him. "But, Jamie..." You trail off shyly, running your finger down his bicep.
"Yeah, baby?" He asks with a frown, cupping your face. "What is it?"
"I..." Your voice lowers as you blink up at him, addicted to his body heat as his bare chest begs you to touch him. "I wanna..."
"Tell me what you want, fairy," Bucky coos, knowing exactly what he's doing.
"I wanna have sex," You mumble, gently pulling on his arm. "Now."
A wide grin grows on his lips as he folds his big arms across his chest. "You have to be patient-"
"No," You whine, bouncing on your heels. "Now, Jamie!"
"Baby," He utters lowly, cupping your cheeks in his hand. "We're having a nice dinner first."
"Jamie-"
"Fairy," His voice is cold and stern, and pulls you right out of you bratty attitude. "We are going to dinner," He repeats firmly as his eyes darken. "If you want daddy to fuck you tonight, you're gonna be my good little wife and listen to what I say, the first time I say it. Got it?"
Your breath hitches in your throat and you want him more than ever before. "Jamie..."
He raises a brow, and it's enough to shake you to your core.
"Yes, daddy," You say quickly. "I understand."
A small smile blooms on his face and his eyes soften. "That's my good girl. Now, go ahead and get ready. Our reservation's for 5."
With that, he slaps your ass before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving you with parted lips and a racing heartbeat.
There are many times in life that you've felt overwhelmed by beauty, most of them in places where Bucky has taken you, but none hold a candle to where he has brought you this time.
Matteo drove you to a castle, which was extravagant enough before a butler lead you through the halls and into a large room, the ceiling of which is made entirely of glass. In this dome-like chamber, you have a perfect view of the night sky, snowflakes falling as the stars glisten. You and Bucky sit at a table in the middle of the room while a small orchestra plays soft music to the side.
"Jamie," You breathe out as your heart flutters. "You have truly outdone yourself."
He smiles warmly, holding his hand out to you as he glances upwards. "It's pretty, isn't it?" He comments lowly, before looking back down at you. "And being here with such a beautiful woman only makes it better."
"How smooth, Mr. Barnes," You say with a smirk.
Lifting up your hand, he places a soft kiss to the back of it before shooting you a wink. "Hungry?" He asks you.
"Starving," You admit. And, right on cue, a door opens and in walk a line of waiters. They place plates of food onto the table and one of them tops up your wine.
"Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. I am Chef Hans, and I present to you the very best of Swiss food," The butler announces with a warm smile. "I do hope it exceeds your expectations."
"It looks lovely," You say with wide eyes. "Thank you so much!"
"Thank you, Hans," Bucky says, giving him a nod before the chef leaves along with the others.
"This is all incredible, James," You say, shaking your head. "It's too much."
"Too much? For my fairy?" He asks with a scoff. "Baby, you're my wife. There is absolutely no limit to what I'd do for you."
After indulging in the food and wine, you find yourself on Bucky's lap, your fingers entwined with his soft hair.
"You are so wonderful," You whisper into his ear. "My wonderful, wonderful husband."
"Always yours," He promises with a firm grip on your thigh. "And you'll always be mine."
"Prove it," You coax him slyly, trailing a finger down his chest. "Show me I'm yours."
His grip tightens and his eyes darken at your request. Thirty minutes later, you're back at the villa.
"It's our first night together, Jamie," You say nervously while the two of you make your way up the wide staircase.
"We've spent the night together plenty of times," Bucky reminds you with a smirk as you drag him into the bedroom.
With warmed cheeks, you turn to him and drape your arms over his shoulders. "But we've never had sex," You point out coyly.
Wincing, Bucky grabs your hips and pulls you closer. "I am painfully, painfully aware of that," He utters, resting his forehead against yours. "You've made me wait so long."
"You could've had me the night we met," You admit to him. "But you didn't try hard enough."
His eyes narrow as he walks forward, pushing you closer to the bed. "You're lying," He mumbles.
"Nuh-uh," You say through a grin. "I would've done anything for you, from that first moment."
"Anything, hmm?" He repeats with a quirked brow. "That's nice to hear, baby. Say it again."
"I'd do anything for you," You reiterate, bringing up your knee and gently brushing it against his boner. "Anything, daddy."
He swallows thickly and cups your face in his hands, tilting your head up. "That's my good girl," Bucky says lowly, stroking your cheeks. "Take off your dress."
You slip out of his grip and push him onto the bed, letting him sit back and watch you strip down. His eyes are glued to your body, observing the way you push the thin straps off your shoulders before letting the dress fall to the ground, leaving you in your lace bra and underwear.
Looking you up and down, Bucky clenches his jaw, a raw delight filling his eyes. "I'm so fucking glad you're finally mine," He mumbles, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer. "There's nowhere else you belong besides right here with me. Say it."
"There's nowhere else I belong, Bucky," You pledge, blinking up at him. "I'm entirely yours, forever and always."
He kisses you deeply, unable to hold back any longer. Years of tension and secret feelings have built up to this, to now. To Switzerland, the night after you stood before your loved ones and promised to love each other for the rest of your lives. Though Bucky expected tonight to be timid and slow, he realizes when you suck on his tongue that it will be anything but. Timid and slow be damned; you need to be fucked by him, now, and hard.
"Please don't make me wait any longer," You whine, digging your nails into his shoulders.
Bucky looks down at you with a whisper of a smirk. Having forgotten the meaning of patience, he needs nothing more than to take you. And so, he does.
After roughly tossing you onto the bed, he gets on top of you, grabbing your knees and spreading them apart. He slots himself between them, and somewhere within the desperate kisses, you both remove your underwear. You gasp when you feel his hard cock press against your thigh, and wetness pools between your legs.
"I wanna - fuck," He groans as his cock brushes against your pussy, a pained look on his face. "I wanted to take my time with you, fairy-"
"Just fuck me," You cut him off curtly, wrapping your hands around his neck and giving him a stern look. "Now."
"Shit," He whispers, quickly fumbling to bring his dick to your entrance. Your heart skips a beat as you feel him begin to push into you, every inch of your skin on fire. It's been a long time since you've had sex, and the fact that it's with Bucky is only intensifying your excitement. "Think you can take all of me, baby?" He asks you as he slowly inches into you, his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flutter shut.
"Yes, daddy," You reply breathlessly, arching your back against the mattress as he stretches you out.
Once he finally bottoms out, Bucky lets out a groan, falling forward to rest his forehead against yours. "Is this a dream?" He asks you in a daze. "Am I about to wake up?"
Smiling, you cup his cheeks in your hand. "Fuck me like you are," You dare him. "This might be your only chance, James."
He shudders before gathering himself with a look of determination. Fuck, you're right. This might be a dream. Driven by his fear that this could end any second, Bucky begins to fuck you, plowing into you hard and fast. Your stomach flips with every thrust, and you can barely let out a moan, let alone a coherent word.
"Oh, fuck," He growls, bringing his hand up to your mouth. "You feel better than I've ever imagined. Taking my cock so well, being such a good girl for me."
A string of squeals leaves your mouth and you tighten your grip on his neck, blinded by pleasure. Bucky slips his fingers into your open mouth, fucking your face with his digits. When you gag, he feels your cunt flutter around him, making him smirk.
"You like sucking, don't you?" He asks you teasingly. "Makes you feel good?"
You nod as best you can, moaning as your drool spills out and down your chin. Swirling your tongue around his fingers, you suck them hard, before accidentally biting down on them when he hits your g-spot.
"Fuck," He grumbles, clenching his jaw as eyes darken. "Do that again."
Gently, you graze your teeth against his fingers, scared to go too hard. He notices that you're holding back, and instead resorts to fucking you harder and faster to get what he wants. Instinctively, you bite him again, making him groan through his grin.
"You're so fucking sexy," Bucky moans as his cock, coated in your wetness, slams in and out of you. It feels better than sex ever has before, and you know it's because of how perfectly you belong together. Getting what you've been wanting after being patient for so long only makes the reward sweeter.
Bucky lets out groans with each thrust, unable to stop himself from speeding up. Neither of you have any patience left, and it shows in the desperate noises that leave your mouths. You're both stuck in a daze of pleasure, nearing your ends. You feel like you're on fire, every part of you reveling in delight. He's Bucky and he's your best friend and he's your husband, and nobody could ever change that.
"I'm close," You whisper, wrapping your arms around him.
"Fuck, you gonna cum for me, fairy?" He asks you lowly, resting his forehead against yours as he pounds into you.
"I usually last longer, I swear," You claim, making him snort.
"Just give it to me, baby," Bucky mumbles, furrowing his brows. "Oh, shit, I'm cumming."
Yearning for release, you both let go and allow your climax to take over. He lets out a loud grunt and you gasp, throwing your head back as the shockwaves course through you. Your mind is foggy as you come down from your high, and you barely even feel Bucky cleaning you up. Slipping in and out of full consciousness, you take a few minutes to catch your breath and relax.
When you feel him lying next to you, holding you in his arms, you open your eyes and look over to him. He has a smile on his face, his hair is messy and his cheeks are tinged pink. Saying nothing, Bucky leans forward to kiss you sweetly, gently rubbing your side. Today has felt like a neverending dream, but you hope with everything you have that it isn't.
"How are you feeling, fairy?" He asks you lowly, stroking your cheek.
"Amazing," You reply truthfully. "I can't... I can't believe we actually did it. We're married."
"I always knew it would happen someday," He admits with a smirk. "And it finally did. And it was perfect."
"Wasn't it?" You swoon as the memory of the wedding fills your head. "All your nephews and nieces are adorable. They were so helpful, too."
"Our nephews and nieces," He corrects you with a wink.
Letting out a content sigh, you grin. "Our family," You say, before your eyes widen. "Oh, shit. I should probably let my mom know."
Chuckling, Bucky turns to lay on his back before pulling you closer to his side. "I'm sure she's heard it through the grapevine by now," He hypothesizes.
Shrugging it off, you cast your mind away from your absent mother and back onto the love of your life. "I'm your wife now," You remind him. "What does that even mean for us?"
"It means you're still my best friend, and still the only woman I need in my life," He replies, before lowering his voice. "The only thing that'll change is that I'll be fucking you a lot more."
You grin, tracing shapes on his chest. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Barnes. Though being married is a big jump from being friends, it feels natural.
"Is there anything you're worried about?" Bucky asks you while stroking your hair. "Now that you're my wife, you're gonna be a lot more involved in my work. I won't keep anything from you, won't sugarcoat it. You'll hear it all."
"I'm not worried," You promise. "As long as I have you, nothing could ever scare me."
"That's my girl," He mumbles, turning to kiss your head. "You're gonna have a lot of power, fairy. My guys will be your guys, too. They'll do whatever you say, no questions asked. New York is yours, now. You'll never want anything, or be without. You were untouchable before, but now you're indestructible."
Lifting your head up, you raise a brow. "You should've told me all this before. I'd have married you years ago," You tease him.
He smiles warmly, cupping your face in his hand. "Before, you were all mine. Just my fairy, belonging to no one else. But now, you're gonna be their Queen, too," He utters, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "Are you sure you're ready for that?"
"What if I say no?" You question him curiously.
Bucky contemplates it for a few moments, his blue eyes hooked to yours as though searching for the answer. "Then we leave," He decides. "You're my wife now, fairy. You come before the mob. If you want out, we're both out."
"And if I want in?" You ask, your heart fluttering with excitement.
Smirking, he pulls you closer, lowering his voice. "Then you and I reign," He whispers.
Taking one of his hands in yours, you smile down at him, feeling more ready and willing than ever. "I look forward to reigning with you, Jamie," You tell him, kissing his palm. "I love you more than anything."
Your words make him grin, and he pulls you back down onto the bed before getting on top of you, making you squeal. With all the adoration in the world in his eyes, Bucky gives your lips a soft peck. "I love you, fairy," He says, filling you with warmth and peace with his promise. "Always, and forever."
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Interesting beginning!
To Gild a Lily
Part One: It Symbolizes Unity
18+
When you and your boyfriend break down in a small town, you're only expecting to be staying there overnight. But it soon becomes clear to you that there's a lot more to the quaint town and its charming mayor than meets the eye.
Content Warning: Cult Leader!Steve Rogers x Reader, mature themes, eventual dark content, Fiance! Joaquín Torres x Reader, mention of sex, slight angst.
dedicated to @forever-aria. happy belated my bby
"I told you this would happen."
Joaquín looks at you with a baffled stare. "You told me my back left tyre would rip open on a fucking spike in the middle of the road?" He asks with narrow eyes.
"I told you we'd miss the wedding if we drove instead of taking a damn flight!" You retort with irritation dripping from your tongue. "It would've been so much easier."
"And a lot more expensive," He huffs, slamming the door shut as he slumps down in his seat.
"My dad could've-"
"Don't even fucking go there, Y/N," Joaquín cuts you off coldly, glaring at his steering wheel. "I'm sick of that man paying for our shit and holding it over my head afterwards."
"That man?" You repeat with a scoff. "That man is my father, Jay, it's not that big of a deal if he helps out his daughter with a few payments. His daughter who's about to get married."
"We've been engaged for three years; that ain't a viable excuse anymore," He argues.
Sighing, you undo your seatbelt and look out into the cold, dark night. "There's no point fighting about this now. We need to figure out what we're gonna do," You decide calmly.
Swallowing his anger, Joaquín nods and replies, "Well, Internet's been out since we entered this backwater town, so I'm gonna have to ask a local where the nearest mechanic is."
"It's almost midnight," You tell him with a frown. "Nobody here is gonna be awake, let alone open for business."
He rubs his forehead. "There'll be a motel or an inn somewhere," He says. "We can at least get a good night's sleep and find a mechanic first thing in the morning, and be outta here before 10am tomorrow. We'll still be on schedule to arrive by Thursday."
"Okay," You agree, relaxing at his firm, collected tone. You're glad you planned on arriving a few days before the wedding, so as to give you a margin of delay.
Looking out into the rainy night, Joaquín squints. "That house up there still has a few lights on," He says, pointing up at a big house atop a hill. "We should ask if there's a garage nearby, or at least just ask for directions to the nearest motel."
"Are you sure?" You ask, a little uneasy with his plan.
"They're just gonna be coupla old white people," He assures you, opening the door. "C'mon, let's go. I need a fuckin' nap."
Reluctantly, you follow him up the large house, your stomach flipping with nerves. Being stranded in a small town wasn't how you envisioned this road trip going, but you have no choice but to go with it, now. The rain beats down on you both, drenching you and leaving you shivering.
A few moments after Joaquín knocks, the door slowly opens to reveal a middle aged woman with long, brown hair. Her eyes are chocolate-brown and wide as she looks you both up and down, and she's admittedly gorgeous. "Yes?" She asks curiously.
Joaquín shoots you a look and you silently urge him to speak before giving in and stepping forward. Clearing your throat, you give her the most polite smile you can muster up. "Good evening, ma'am. We are so sorry to be bothering you this late at night, but one of our tyres is fucked- uh, ripped, and we desperately need a mechanic," You explain as sweetly as possible.
A look of concern overtakes her face as she opens the door a little wider. "Oh, you poor things! You must be freezing - quickly, come in!" She says, standing to the side.
The warmth is too pleasant to deny and so you both follow her inside. Her house is nice and homely, and you immediately feel safer about your situation.
"Who is it, May?" A gruff voice calls out from the living room.
"It's a young couple, Happy!" She replies brightly. "Their car has broken down; they're after a mechanic- what are your names?"
"I'm Y/N, and this is Joaquín," You tell her, and she mouths your names silently.
Happy walks out into the foyer, a deep frown on his face. "Ah, you two ain't gonna be finding a mechanic this time of night. You'll have to wait 'til morning," He informs you while looking you both up and down.
Joaquín nods, placing his hand on the small of your back. "Yeah, we thought as much. Do you know any motels or inns that'd take us in for the night?" He asks them.
"Oh, don't be silly - you can stay here!" May assures you, stepping forward to take your hand. "Dry yourselves off, and we'll lend you some fresh clothes."
"We don't want to burden you," You say, feeling bad. "Honestly, we'll be fine with any old motel."
"Don't worry, young lady," Happy says, stepping forward. "May and I are practically a motel ourselves; we constantly have guests passing through town. You wouldn't be the first, and you sure won't be the last."
"Besides, you can't walk to a motel in this weather, and so late," May insists. "We're having car trouble ourselves, else Hap would've given you a ride. You'll stay here tonight, and that's the end of it."
You and Joaquín share a look before he shrugs and turns back to them. "That would honestly be great. Thank you," He says appreciatively.
"Don't mention it!" May says sweetly before gently patting your shoulder. "Come on, honey; let's get you in some dry clothes - Hap, take the young man upstairs and get him some pyjamas!"
Once you're dressed and dry, you make your way downstairs. Happy and May are in the kitchen whipping up some food, not hearing no for an answer when you revealed that you hadn't eaten since lunch.
You take in their odd decor and furniture, particularly interested in their mantlepiece. Above the fireplace is a picture of a man's face, more handsome than any you've before seen. His blonde hair reaches his neck, his blue eyes cold yet enticing. Around his neck is a white string dotted with gold beads. It's similar to the one you noticed around May's neck earlier, though hers had no beads.
"That's Sir Steve," May's voice makes you jump with surprise. You turn back to see her looking at the picture with a warm smile. "He's our leader. He does so much for us and our community; we are forever indebted to him."
"Leader?" You repeat with a slight frown. "You mean, like, the mayor?"
Her eyes slowly move to meet yours, her smile never once faltering. "Yes," She says simply, before gasping. "The food will be ready soon! Join us in the kitchen in five minutes." With that, she floats away again, leaving you bewildered.
Just then, Joaquín enters the living room, his eyes wide as he holds back a wide grin. "Babe," He utters, grabbing your shoulders as a few chuckles escape his mouth. "They're in a fucking cult."
"Shh," You hush him, hitting his shoulder. "It's fine; just some harmless, white people town thing. We just need to get through tonight."
"Harmless and white people town rarely go hand in hand, babe," Joaquín replies with a raised brow.
"They just really like their mayor; there's nothing wrong with that!" You whisper, mostly trying to convince yourself. "It's probably some self-love, empowerment thing. I don't wanna walk to a motel and I sure as shit ain't sleeping in your car, so keep your mouth shut."
"Okay, fine," He gives in, holding his hands up in surrender. "The second they mention anything about an orgy, though, I'm out."
"Oh, please," You mutter with an eye roll. "Like anyone would invite you to an orgy." Ignoring his offended scoff, you make your way into the kitchen and he begrudgingly follows you.
In the kitchen, Happy is setting out some cutlery and plates while May places a pot of pasta on the dining table. Before she notices your presence, she's midway through talking to him. "... he'll be more than pleased with us, honey. This is a chance for us to redeem ourselves." Her face lights up when she sees you as she taps Happy's back and gestures for you to come closer. "Just in time! Come, sit, eat!"
The food is pleasant enough, though it does feel a little odd to have Happy and May staring at you and Joaquín while you eat.
"So, where are you two heading?" Happy asks from his seat at the head of the table.
"Uh, Toronto, believe it or not," You tell him. "My cousin's getting married, so we decided to drive up there, for some insane reason."
"We thought it'd be fun," Joaquín adds, side-eying you.
"All the way from Florida?" May asks you incredulously, placing her hand on her chest in shock. "That's an awfully long drive."
"Well, Joaquín insisted on it," You say passive aggressively.
"Because I thought it would be a nice road trip for us, babe," He shoots back.
"I'm sure the flight would've been just as nice, babe," You retort coldly.
Sensing the tension, May claps her hands together. "A wedding! How exciting!" She cheers.
Turning to her, you smile. "Yes, it is. I haven't been to a wedding in a long time," You admit.
"Over here in Lilywood, weddings are an incredibly joyous occasion," Happy informs you with a grin. "We have the most beautiful ceremonies. It would blow your minds."
"Oh, yeah? You all come together and celebrate love, huh?" Joaquín asks with a smirk, making you kick his leg under the table. You swear to God, if he brings up orgies, you're gonna kill him.
"Absolutely," May replies warmly. "Love and connections are so important to us here."
"I bet," Joaquín mutters before taking a sip of water.
"So, how many people live here?" You ask, desperate to change the subject. "I saw a sign coming in that said there's a population of 150, but surely that can't be right?"
"No, it's right," Happy confirms with a nod.
"Actually, it went up to 152 last month," May corrects him, an unreadable expression on her face as her smile falters slightly. "Maureen gave birth to twins, remember?"
Realization floods Happy's face before he purses his lips, looking down.
"That explains why this place wasn't on the map," Joaquín says. "I figured we were somewhere in Pittsburgh."
"Oh no; we're just on the outskirts of Pitts," Happy informs him. "Lilywood isn't very old, or big, so we're practically invisible to the rest of America."
"Right," Joaquín nods slowly.
"Are the two of you married?" May asks, eyeing the ring on your finger.
"No, just engaged," You answer her with a tight smile.
"How wonderful!" She exclaims with a wide smile. "Do you have a date set, yet?"
Joaquín shakes his head. "Uh, no, not yet. We wanna focus on our careers and be able to afford a nice house before getting married," He says.
"Perfect," She mumbles, before sharing a look with Happy.
Once you've finished eating, May collects up the dishes and starts to wash them, while you and Joaquín stand up. "Thank you so much for dinner, you've already done too much for us," You tell her and Happy with a smile. "Uh, which room would you prefer to let us stay in?"
Happy stands up too, giving you a smile back. "You can take the first room on the left, and son, you can have the one next to it," He says, confusing you.
Sharing a blank look with Joaquín, you let out a nervous laugh. "We can share a room," You assure him.
Happy's smile drops and May puts down the dish she's scrubbing, turning to you with a blank look. "We have more than enough rooms, honey, there's no need for you to share," She says politely.
Looking at Joaquín, you raise a brow before laughing nervously. "Uh, no, really. We're used to sharing a room; we live together," You remind her, feeling your stomach flip.
A look of concern grows on her face as she walks back over to the table. "The thing is... this month is a very special one in Lilywood," She informs you.
"The first month of summer always is," Happy adds. "We use it to improve ourselves, and increase our will and strength."
With no idea what relevance this has to you sharing a room with Joaquín, you slowly nod. "Right."
Lowering her voice, May moves closer to you. "We refrain from our primitive desires where we can," She reveals. "No anger, pride, or greed. And no lust."
Taken aback, you part got lips and raise your brows. "Oh."
"Yes," May confirms with a small smile. "So, we'd really appreciate it if the two of you slept separately."
"We can refrain," You promise her. "Sharing a bed doesn't mean we'll... give in to any desires."
Looking surprised, she glances back at Happy before nodding. "Wonderful. In that case, take whichever room you'd like!" She says with a grin.
Once you and Joaquín are upstairs, you stare at each other in silent disbelief.
"We're gonna get killed here, aren't we?" He asks you with a defeated look.
"Don't be so dramatic," You say with an eye roll. "It's not a cult; just some weird belief system they have. Think of it like a religion."
He kneels onto the bed, watching as you plug in your charger. "We should fuck just to spite them," He utters with a smirk.
Sighing, you give him a blank look. "They're nice people who are doing a very nice thing for us; let's respect their wishes," You say sternly. "Besides, we'll only be here another twelve hours. Can we just get through this without any issues?"
He gets into bed with a grumble, turning to face away from you. "Whatever."
The next morning, you wake up to an empty bed. Joaquín is gone, along with his shoes and coat, and in their place sits a small note on the pillow.
heading out to the mechanics with Happy, be back by 10 x
Looking up at the clock on the wall, you see it's 9:50, which gives you some relief. The sooner he's back, the sooner you can get out of this odd little town and away from its odd little inhabitants. You also see that Joaquín left his phone on the nightstand, which makes you roll your eyes and huff.
By the time you're washed and dressed, it's already 10:20, so you make your way downstairs. When you reach the middle step, though, you hear May's voice along with a new one. From your vantage point, you have a clear view into the kitchen, where May is standing with the man from the picture above the fireplace. The leader.
"Prepared for tonight?" Steve asks her lowly, standing a little too close behind her.
She's smiling widely, closing some tupperware boxes that sit on the island before her. "Absolutely, Sir. I made lemon bars, with you in mine," She tells him proudly. "I know they're your favorite."
Moving closer still, he places his hands on her waist, lowering his left one until it's brushing against her crotch. His chin rests on her shoulder and she seems surprisingly comfortable with his inappropriate touching. "You're my favorite, Mayflower," He mumbles, stroking her upper thigh through her trousers while she lets out a breathy moan.
Shocked at what you're seeing, you stumble forwards and your foot lands heavily on the next step down, causing a loud boom. The man's head shoots up and you lay back, hiding from their view. You can no longer see them, but you can still clearly hear them.
"What was that?" Steve asks May.
"That would be my guest," She tells him, a tinge of excitement to her voice.
"Guest?" He repeats with a questioning tone. "You have a guest?"
"I'm sorry I didn't inform you earlier, Sir," She says. "They arrived last night; passing through town when they started having car troubles. A ripped tyre."
"There's more than one of them?"
"Yes; they're a young couple."
"Married?"
"No, Sir."
You aren't sure if it's your foolishness or morbid curiosity, but whatever it is drives you to walk down the stairs and to the kitchen. Joaquín will be back soon, anyway, and you can't stop yourself from wanting to meet the coveted leader.
They hear your footsteps and by the time you show up in the doorway, they're both looking at you.
"Good morning, Y/N!" May greets you warmly. "You came down at the perfect time! This is Sir Steve; he's gracing us with a visit. Sir, my lovely guest, Y/N."
Steve's eyes are glued to you as he slowly takes a few steps in your direction. "Lovely, indeed," He mumbles to himself, looking you up and down.
"Good morning," You say to them both with a smile. Admittedly, Steve is somehow better looking in person, but also more intimidating. He must be boasting a height of at least 6'5, his broad stature commanding attention. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine," He replies, his presence oddly calming. You feel safe and comfortable, and it's clear to see why the people of Lilywood trust and respect him so much. "How are you finding your visit to Lilywood so far, little one?" He asks you, the nickname reiterating just how wildly he towers over you.
"Uh, yeah, it's nice here," You say with a nod. "I haven't seen much of it, but judging from May and Happy's hospitality, you have a beautiful town here."
"Thank you," He says with a smile, and it's only now that you realize his attire. Donned in a white shirt and beige, loose pants, he looks like he's ready to step onto a beach, or yoga retreat. Admittedly, this man is incredibly attractive, and you can't say you blame May for letting him feel her up.
"I'm sorry if we've caused any inconvenience," You apologize, feeling the need to win him over for some unexplainable reason. "We'll be out of your town the second our car is fixed up."
Right on cue, you hear the front door opening. The three of you remain silent while the footsteps come closer, and Steve keeps his eyes trained on you. "There's no rush," He utters. "You can stay as long as you need to."
Happy then walks into the kitchen, taken aback when he sees Steve. "Good morning, Sir," He greets him immediately, bending his head down. Steve pats his shoulder, at which point Happy straightens back up again.
"Where's Joaquín?" You ask with a frown, hoping he's waiting in the car for you.
"As it turns out, the fix is gonna take a little longer than expected. Clint found a lot more wrong with the car than just the ripped tyre," Happy informs you. "It would've been dangerous for the two of you to continue your journey without healing it completely. Joaquín decided to stay with the car while Clint works on it."
"Oh," You mumble, feeling a little anxious. You can't even call him to ask how long he's gonna be, which leaves you in the dark while relying on Happy's word.
"I can take you to him, if you wish," Steve offers, stepping forward. The couple look shocked at his words, their eyes widening.
Not wanting to bother the obviously important and likely busy man, you shake your head. "No, thank you, it's alright," You assure him. "I'll just wait it out here."
"It's no bother," He insists. "I need to pick something up from my office, and the garage isn't too far out."
May walks over to you and grabs your hand, lowering her voice as she whispers, "If Sir offers you something, you shouldn't be so rude as to refuse."
Nodding, you look back over to Steve. "I'd really appreciate that," You say politely, making him smile widely.
"Wonderful," He replies, taking a step closer to you. "May and Happy will pack up your things and bring them to my car. Come." Holding out his hand to you, he gives you an expectant look. Automatically, your hand reaches out to take his, and then he's leading you out of the house and to his black Jeep.
He opens the passenger door for you and once the two of you are settled in, he turns to you with a warm look. "Thank you again," You say before looking over at the golden circle that sits on the middle of the dashboard with a small black triangle at the top of it. Steve notices you looking at it, and he gives you a smile.
"That's Lilywood's emblem. It symbolizes unity, which is what we value most here," He informs you, before tilting his head. "Tell you what, little one. How about I show you around our pretty town? Your husband might be a while, and I wouldn't want a precious petal like you waiting in Clint's dirty garage for too long."
Makes sense. You nod, accepting his offer.
"Perfect," Steve whispers, delight blooming in his eyes. "Now, seatbelt on, petal. While you're in my town, you're my responsibility," He claims proudly, smirking at you. "And I won't let you to come to any harm while you're under my protection."
seems like a lovely place with lovely people and a lovely leader, don't it?
steve masterlist
i no longer have a taglist, but if you follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications, you'll know when i post.
buy me a kofi <3
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Dirty and Dark Prompts
Previously used for my Mystery Prompt Requests (likely to be incorporated into my kinktober). Open to use with credit to this blog.
“I love the way you shake… it turns me on.”
“I promise, I’ll do whatever you want.”
“You don’t have to say a word, your eyes say it all.”
“I don’t… I don’t have the money for that.”
“Hold your breath, bite your tongue, close your eyes. Do whatever you need to get through it.”
“It hurts.” “I know.”
“I’ve never heard anything better than the way you cry out my name.”
“Tell me you want more. I feel your cunt begging me.”
“I did what you told me to. What else do you want?”
“You don’t leave this bed until you’ve earned it.”
“You got me so hard right now in that skirt…”
“Give me your panties.”
“What did you put in this?”
“I know he’s watching us, I hope he likes what he sees.”
“I can’t hear a word you’re saying, I just keep thinking about how good that mouth feels.”
“I can’t sleep if I’m not inside you.”
“You have everything you need; me.”
“You expect me to get any work done with you wearing that?”
“‘No’? You’re such a bad liar.”
“You want me to pull out, ask me nice and I’ll cum in your mouth.”
“Stay… that’s an order.”
“I said stay the night, I didn’t say anything about sleep.”
“I don’t care who hears, I want everyone to hear what I do to you.”
“Sit in my lap like a good girl.”
“I’m gonna be your first and your last.”
“You don’t get to cum if you can’t ask nicely.”
“If you’re not naked by the time I’m back…”
“Wouldn’t it be hot if he found you like this?”
“I like watching him fuck you.”
“If you cum, you lose.”
“You can bite me. I like it.”
“This isn’t over. Not even close.”
“Good girls get on their knees.”
“Every time I see you, I can’t help but see myself inside of you.”
“What I like most about you is my hands around your neck.”
“You don’t want me? Don’t lie to me.”
“If you want to act like a slut, you can dress like one.”
“That ass is highly unprofessional.”
“I love the way you let me use you. Like a pretty little doll.”
“Your turn. Touch me.”
“I love that look. It gets me so hot.
“You think you hate me, but you really hate yourself because you liked it.”
“Shhh, we have to be quiet.”
“Smile nice and pretty for me.”
“Don’t be stupid, I don’t do favours.”
“I want you to make our guest(s) at home.”
“Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
“We just went over the rules.”
“You need help with that mouth of yours.”
“I thought you left.”
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Hot damn. Yes please
Hi mommy Kinny. For a Steve request, how about enemy’s! Dad steve. Like the person you hate the most has the hottest dad oops 🤭
The Cheerleader
18+
The captain of the football team is a total bitch. Her dad's pretty fucking hot, though.
Content Warning: DILF!Steve x Cheerleader!Reader, age gap (around 20 yrs), smut (public sex, daddy kink, degradation kink, face fucking, rough sex, cream pie), no aftercare.
"We won't stop, we won't be beat! Falcons never taste defeat! Goooooo Falcons!"
You kick your leg straight up at the end of the chant, waving your pom-poms with a wide grin. Cheering for the football team isn't exactly your favorite part of cheerleading, but it has to be done. It feel juvenile and basic compared to the intense cheer competitions you take part in, but part of college cheering unfortunately includes supporting the sports teams.
No matter how irritating the players are.
"Make sure there aren't any of your feathers laying around, this time," Jamie spits bitterly as you and the others walk off the field. "Annoying ass chants."
"Excuse me?" You ask pointedly while Davina attempts to pull you away.
"You heard me," Jamie doubles down, glaring at you. "Get off the damn field; your embarrassing dance is over."
Rolling your eyes, you pull your arm out of Davina's grip before stepping closer to Jamie. "You know, maybe if you stopped losing so badly, game after game, you wouldn't be so frustrated," You say casually. "The only thing embarrassing about what I do is the fact that it's for such a shitty team."
"What would Coach Wilson say if he heard you talk about the team like that?" She retorts bitterly.
You start to walk away, shrugging. "I don't know, Rogers. If you ever take his dick out of your mouth long enough for you to ask him, let me know what he says."
Her eyes widen with rage as she lunges for you. "Bitch!" She yells, immediately being held back by her teammates.
Jamie Margaret Rogers is your worst enemy. It's been that way since freshman year, and you don't see it ever changing. For some inexplicable reason, the two of you have never gotten along. Something about the other sets off the ugliest side of you both, leading to blow ups and fights if you're ever in the same vicinity for too long.
"One day, one of you is gonna end up killing the other," Davina warns as she leads you over to the bleachers. "Do you know how traumatic that's gonna be for me to witness?"
"She's fucking insufferable," You mutter, slamming your ass down on an empty seat.
You manage to calm down somewhat as the game begins, doing your best to ignore the fact that you despise the captain of the team. Time passes and soon it's halftime.
"What's she doing?" Davina asks with a frown, her eyes on Jamie who is currently rushing up the stairs of the bleachers.
"I swear to God, if she starts on me again, I'm gonna rip her head off," You grumble, sitting up and preparing yourself for another round.
She reaches your row and you're sure she's about to yell at you - until she grins widely. "Dad, you came!"
Oh.
Out of curiosity, you turn to the left to watch her as she talks to her father. When you get a glimpse of him, though, you do a double take. Why the fuck is he so hot?
After a brief conversation, Jamie rushes back down to the field, leaving you with wide eyes.
"Bro," You utter, gripping Davina's forearm. "Please tell me why Jamie's dad is the most attractive man I've ever seen."
Assuming that you're kidding, Davina looks over with a smirk - before it drops completely. "Holy shit."
Blinking a few times, you release her arm and state, "I'm gonna fuck him."
She snorts, narrowing her eyes at you. "You cannot fuck Jamie's dad. He's married."
"Her parents are divorced. Remember that essay she wrote about it?" You ask, feeling your heart race. "Oh, my God."
"Have you seen him?" Davina questions you with a scoff. "As if he's single."
"I don't care," You say flippantly. "He's an older man and I'm a cheerleader; he'll be into it. I'm literally going to fuck him. This is the greatest revenge plan."
"Y/N, you can't-"
"See you on the other side," You cut her off and stand to your feet, taking in a deep breath. Letting your adrenaline propel you, you slowly start to walk up to his row. He's focusing on the game, but he gives you a couple of glances as you stand at the side. Instead of saying a single word, you simply send him a smile. When he looks you up and down, his eyes lingering on your short skirt, you know you've got a chance.
The second your eyes meet, you shoot him a wink. He raises a brow at you, and you feel your stomach flip. Fuck. He's so hot.
Sitting next to him is Pietro, your plug, so you walk over to kneel on an empty seat in front of them before leaning over the back of it. "Hey, Piet," You begin, instinctively pushing your chest out. "Can you drop off a gram to my dorm tonight?"
Jamie's dad keeps his eyes forward, doing his best to make it look like he isn't listening to the conversation.
"Sure thing," Pietro replies before lowering his voice. "You gonna pay me in cash this time?"
You laugh at that, leaning closer into him. "How about I just suck your dick again?"
He sighs, rolling his eyes. "You're lucky I have a thing for cheerleaders," Pietro mutters bitterly.
As you get up to walk away, you make eye contact with Jamie's dad who's staring intently at you. You lick your lips before walking past him, making sure to brush your leg against his shoulder as you walk up the stairs and to the back of the stadium.
It takes him four minutes to join you in the parking lot.
He pretends to have only come for a smoke break; lighting a cigarette and leaning against the fence without sparing you a glance. You saunter over to him, coyly smiling as you approach him.
"Can I?" You ask him innocently, glancing down at the cigarette.
His eyes flicker down to you. "It's bad for you."
"Who cares?" You shrug. "Everyone does it."
Turning to you, he leans down and lowers his voice. "The only thing your lips should ever wrap around is a cock," He utters. "And, judging from your conversation with your little friend, you do that plenty."
You tilt your head. "Are you calling me a slut, Mr. Rogers?"
"Depends," He replies, standing up straight. "Are you a slut?"
"Depends," You echo. "Do you want me to be?" Reaching out, you place your hand on his huge bicep. "I can be a good girl, if you want. I can be a virgin who's never so much as kissed a boy. Is what what you're into, Mr. Rogers? You wanna ruin my innocence?"
He swallows thickly before tossing his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out. Without a word, he grabs you by the throat and drags you behind one of the big buses. Clenching his jaw, he pushes you against the side of it and moves his face closer to yours. "How about I just treat you like the fuckin' whore you are?" He suggests with a growl.
You whimper at his words, bucking your hips up in an attempt to feel his crotch rub against yours.
Tutting, he shakes his head. "Look at you," He mumbles softly. "So desperate for an old man's attention, hmm?"
"Please," You whine lowly.
"Please what, little girl?" He questions you with a smug look.
"Please, use me," You whisper. "I'm worthless unless I have your cock in one of my holes."
His eyes light up as he smirks. "Such a well-trained whore," He mutters, mostly to himself. "You crave my approval, don't you?"
"Yes," You mewl, clinging onto him. "Please, Sir."
"Someone messed you up real bad, hmm?" He asks. "And now all you wanna do is make daddy proud?"
Your heart skips a beat. "Yes, please."
"You dumb little girl," He coos teasingly, stroking your cheek. "Don't you fret. Daddy's gonna give you plenty of opportunity to make him proud, alright?"
"Thank you, daddy," You say, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Looking you up and down, he licks his lips. "Get on your knees."
You obey him, wincing as the hard gravel presses into your knees.
"Aw," He says with a pout. "Does it hurt, baby?"
Nodding silently, you lift your knee up slightly to relieve it of the pressure.
The kindness disappears completely from his face, and it's as though he's become a different person. "Open your fucking mouth, slut," He orders gruffly. "I don't care if your knees bleed. Be of some use and suck my cock."
"Yes, Sir," You reply. The next few moments pass by in a blur and then his dick is halfway down your throat. Your mind is free of thought and all you can focus on is the darkening blue of his eyes which are staring down at you. His hands grab fistfuls of your hair and he uses the makeshift pigtails as handles to assist him in fucking your face.
"Fuck, just like that," He groans, watching his cock disappear and reappear in and out of your mouth. "Taking it like the good little slut I knew you'd be."
You swirl your tongue around his shaft, eager to bring him pleasure. He pulls harder on your hair, making tears spring into your eyes and shots of electric pleasure course through your body.
"Look at how much prettier you are with your mouth stuffed," He coos, stroking away a stray tear from your cheek. "I bet your pussy will be even prettier once I stuff her."
Your eyes roll back and you moan around his cock, squeezing your legs together in a desperate attempt to feel some friction. Mr. Rogers notices, and the sight makes him smirk.
"Are you getting wet for me, baby?" He asks you teasingly. "Sucking cock makes you horny, doesn't it?"
You nod as best you can, keeping your eyes on his.
"Can you feel yourself getting wet?" He questions with a sly grin as he continues fucking your throat. "That pussy's begging for daddy's cock, isn't she?"
"Mmm," Is all you can respond with, making him groan at the vibrations you send through his dick.
"Fuck," He hisses under his breath. Just as his cock twitches against your tongue, he quickly pulls out of your mouth, wanting to save himself for your cunt. With no gentleness, he grabs your arm and pulls you back up to your feet. Then, he places his hands under each of your thighs before lifting you up and pushing you back against the bus.
"Daddy," You mumble weakly, taken aback by his dominance. It's been a while since you've had good sex, and you most definitely weren't expecting to get it today, or from Jamie's dad.
"Already brain-dead and I haven't even stretched that pussy out, yet," Mr. Rogers mumbles mostly to himself. He pulls up your tennis skirt and clenches his jaw when he sees the black, Spandex shorts you're wearing underneath. "Fuck's sake." Without warning, he puts you back down on the ground before turning you around and pressing your face to the bus. "It's your own fault I have to take you like this, so no complaining about me fucking you too deep. Got it?"
"Yes, Sir," You whimper, heart racing at the thought of it. You could barely take his entire length into your mouth, and so you're more than thrilled to know he's about to drill it into you.
Your shorts are roughly pulled down, taking your panties with them and leaving you bare. They're tight around your knees, but you have no time to complain as Mr. Rogers is already sinking into your soaking pussy. Once he's a few inches deep, he wraps one hand around your throat and grips your waist with the other, keeping you firmly in place.
"Don't be afraid to be loud," He whispers slyly in your ear. "Nobody will hear you."
With that, he slams the rest of his cock into you, and you immediately let out a cry. He doesn't give you time to adjust and begins fucking you hard and fast, brushing against your cervix with every thrust. Your eyelids drop and you can't hear anything outside of his groans and your bodies slapping together, your vision blurring.
"Don't you dare pass out on me," He grumbles, bringing his hand to your cheek and slapping it, pulling you out of your head. "C'mon. I wanna hear you, slut."
"Feels so good, Mr. Rogers," You whine as he kisses your jaw.
"Mmm, that's a good girl," He moans lowly, slapping your ass. "Such a good girl, knowing exactly what you're made for. Made for taking cock."
"Yes, Sir," You respond, shivering when his teeth sink into your neck.
"Your pussy is golden," He growls, pounding into your faster. "You're gonna milk me fuckin' dry."
"Please, daddy, cum inside me," You beg him, feeling your end approach.
"Not until you cum for me, baby," He says, tightening his grip on your throat. "Rub that clit. Show me how you play with yourself when you think about older men like me railing you, like the horny little slut you are."
You're convinced that his words alone could bring you to orgasm, every sentence setting you off and flooding you with pleasure. As he ordered, you bring a hand down to your clit and begin rubbing it in fast circles, desperate to cum. Mr. Rogers looks down over your shoulder, groaning as he watches you touch yourself.
"Ah, fuck," He grunts. "Gonna make me cum so hard, baby, don't stop."
"Daddy," You whine, throwing your head back as your stomach flips. "I'm gonna- daddy, cumming!"
He thrusts harder when he feels you gushing, tightening around his cock. Unable to hold back, he lets go and cums deep inside you, letting out a guttural groan. Falling forward with his face in your neck, he thrusts a few more times, giving you every drop of his seed.
You're breathing heavily, still feeling aftershocks while you come down from your high. At some point, you feel him pull out, and immediately you realize how sore you are. Mr. Rogers helps pull your panties and shorts back up, but that's the extent of his kindness as he steps back, leaving you there to recover against the side of the bus.
After a few moments, the sound of a lighter brings you back to reality and you turn around to see him smoking against the fence. Finding your footing, you slowly walk over to him, take the cigarette from his mouth, and take a long drag. He watches as you slowly blow out the smoke, and the two of you continue sharing it in silence.
The crowd eventually bursts into loud cheers and you can tell that the game is over. Leaving Mr. Rogers behind, you make your way back to the field, hoping there aren't any visible marks on your body from the sinful act you just committed.
Jamie and her teammates are making their way to the changing rooms when you stop her in her tracks to give her a smile. "You played amazingly, Jamie," You tell her warmly, earning yourself a confused glare.
"That was a great game, sweetheart," A deep voice adds from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.
"We lost, Dad," She points out bitterly.
"You still played really well!" You insist with a grin, in a largely better mood than before.
Mr. Rogers steps forward so he's standing next to you and he places a hand on your lower back, making your stomach flutter. "How about I take you and your friend out for a nice meal?" He asks Jamie, whose face contorts at the suggestion.
"Ew, she's not my friend," She tells him with a scoff.
"That's okay, Mr. Rogers, but thank you so much," You say politely, smiling up at him. "I hope to see you at the next game."
Jamie grimaces at your words, rolling her eyes and turning away.
Mr. Rogers shoots you a wink while patting your ass. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
i no longer have a taglist, follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifs 💞
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buy me a kofi <3
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Contemplating the End
It’s that time folks.
Tumblr has made this site so very not fanfic friendly. I’m honestly not sure how much longer I will continue to post here. My posts are struggling to hit fifty notes. When you have almost 6000 followers and none of them are seeing your shit the website is failing. The work to post here just isn’t paying out in the results.
I haven’t made a final decision though it is unlikely I will post anymore series here at the very least. Maybe I’ll just disappear for a while and let them change a whole bunch more shit that might actually improve this hellsite someday. Sigh.
I post on both wattpad and AO3 under invisame. You might follow me over there.
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