Pairings: Max Burnett x Female Reader, Nick Fowler x Female Reader, Max Burnett x Female Reader x Nick Fowler
Summary: Max and Nick say you're not playing a game, but you find yourself to be a reluctant player anyway.
Word Count: Over 1.3k
Warnings: E.S.C., reference to threesome, possessive behavior, manipulation, bickering, slight feels (it's me), Max Burnett and Nick Fowler are kind of assholes (and they're warnings, okay?).
A/N: Didn't plan for more this week, but here we are! Set after The Truth Will Set You Free. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, banner by the wonderful @sgt-seabass, and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Laying in bed in the unfamiliar and impersonal room, you wondered how it came to this. True to Max's word, he didn't tell you where he and Nick brought you after their little interrogation. Though you were angry, it didn't stop you from letting them wreck you once they got you back to this room. Their stamina shouldn't have surprised you, but it did and you graciously took them up on their offer to rest.
They were even nice enough to clean you up.
Not that it did you much good. While your body needed to recoup, your mind didn't stop racing. You felt like you hadn't slept at all.
What do they want with me?
"Get up."
Nick stood beside the bed already dressed for the day in jeans and a light blue sweater. It should've frightened you how quiet could be, especially since you hadn't seen him come back into the room. You could smell breakfast on the other side of the door, tempting you to leave. Despite the small growl in your stomach, you didn't move.
"Good morning to you, too. And no. I'm sore and worn out thanks to the two of you."
Only a little sore. I could go again.
Nick sighed and extended his hand. "You're a better liar than that. And as much as I love seeing you in bed, you can't stay here all day."
"Why not?" you asked, letting the sheet fall as you sat up and stretched your arms over your head. You didn't miss the way Nick eyed the swell of your breasts with a kind of hunger that made you shiver. "I should be on vacation and it's not like I have a job at the moment."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," he said, his hand still waiting for yours.
"What? You have a job for me?"
"Possibly working with me, yes," he answered without going into more details. "Now get up. I won't ask again."
"Are you always so bossy?" you asked rhetorically.
Reluctantly, you placed your hand in his and allowed him to pull you to your feet. Instead of backing up to give you space, he tugged you close so your naked body brushed against his. You stiffened in his grasp when he grabbed your chin, but you didn't push him away.
"I can't have you uncomfortable being close to me if we're going to work together," he said as his thumb swept over your lower lip. "But I'm happy to remind you how much you liked me being inside you if that's what it takes."
You allowed Nick to slip his thumb past your lips. The stretch you felt when his cock breached you earlier was a beautiful thing. Being between his and Max's bodies, you fell to pieces. The problem is you didn't recognize yourself once you put yourself back together. You had some jagged edges before you met Max, but you were no longer your own puzzle master.
You were a puppet on a string.
Nick hissed when you bit down on his thumb and wrenched his hand free. You didn't draw blood, but you wanted him to feel a sting. It wasn't wrong that part of you felt a little vindictive.
"Not interested in working with you, Nick," you said as you grabbed his hand. Looking into his eyes, you brought it back to your mouth and kissed the bite mark on his thumb. "But thanks for asking."
"Told you so," Max said from the doorway, clad in boxers and a t-shirt.
Your stomach twisted as you glanced at him. There was still so much you needed to say to him. Was your head even in the right place for it?
Nick glared as the darker haired man. "Yeah? And you think you're in her good graces?"
"Working on it," he shrugged.
"Don't talk about me like I'm not here!" you said, your patience starting to run thin. "We still haven't talked about what the two of you did! I should be on a beach enjoying my day, but now I'm stuck here. And I don't feel like playing any games today."
"We told you this isn't a game," Max said, pointedly ignoring the fact that they played you. "And if it were, do you really think you're winning? We have your phone, ID, and passport locked up for the time being in case you try to run."
"And even if you manage to leave, you don't have access to your money. You don't have anything. Who would help you?" Nick added.
Maybe the man back home you don't know about.
"So I'm a prisoner unless I do what you tell me. And here I thought I was winning because I got the two of you. I'm so lucky. Instead of one dick to deal with, I have two."
Your heart pounded as you glanced between the two of them. Both of them smiled in return.You expected that they'd have full control over the situation. Some part of you deep down thought you deserved this. Most people in your life before didn't care if they ever saw you again.
Most. Not all. But why are these two so eager to hold onto me?
"I thought we fucked most of that brattiness out of you," Nick mused as you tried to shove him away. He didn't budge.
"That's the thing about brattiness. It comes back," Max smiled.
You would know all about that.
"You watched me," you accused Nick, not having to fake the tears that swelled in your eyes. "And you lied to me," you spat at Max.
"Don't look at me like that," he said.
"Like what?" you asked, keeping your gaze as impassive as possible as you blinked the tears away.
"Like I'm going to hurt you," Max said as he walked toward you.
"You already did," you pointed out.
"And I'd do it all over again if it means having you here," Max told you, gripping your chin the way Nick had moments ago. "But we won't hurt you again now that we have you."
The conviction in his voice had your next breath a bit shaky. You stared into his eyes, trying to see beyond the walls he built. You thought you knocked them down, but he had more right behind them.
And Nick was another story. You'd have to peel back the layers to get to the root of him. It was a matter of how to do so.
Because neither of them were sorry since they got you in the end.
"I don't trust either of you. You have to realize that," you said.
Nick brought his mouth to your ear. "We know and can't change what we did."
"But we can show you that it's better to face forward," Max said, brushing his fingers along your neck.
"Show me? How?"
"We know you won't trust our words uet," Nick said, bringing a hand to your hip. "So you'll have to trust our bodies for now."
"It felt good, didn't it? Taking both of us?" Max asked, his voice softening as you briefly closed your eyes. "You nearly soaked the sheets."
"And you did soak our cocks," Nick said as you trembled. "You can do it again."
Before you let them get any further, since your body liked the idea of being between them again, you slipped out of their grasp. "After I eat breakfast," you said, grabbing the nearest discarded shirt to put on.
"After breakfast," Max agreed all too easily.
"And maybe we can talk about the job," you said to Nick. "I'll have to have separate conversations with each of you because I'm still pissed."
Maybe I can tear you each a new one for basically keeping me hostage here.
"A maybe is better than a no," Nick smiled.
You ignored their lustful stares as you stepped backwards toward the door and left the room. You were their prey, but you could also be the predator. It was just a matter of setting the trap.
And if you truly wanted to escape these two men who seemed hellbent on owning you.
Oh, what will we do with them? Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Read Between the Lies Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
Pairings: Max Burnett x Female Reader, Nick Fowler x Female Reader
Summary: An agent from Max's past has some questions for you.
Word Count: Over 4.4k
Warnings: E.S.C., Dubcon / Soft!dark (you have been warned), fingering, dirty talk, possessive behavior, manipulation, coercion, truth serum, aphrodisiac, slight feels (it's me), Max Burnett and Nick Fowler (they're warnings, okay?).
A/N: My entry for @the-slumberparty 's Something New Challenge. Still swimming a bit in the soft dark pool, I got truth serum. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, banner by the wonderful @sgt-seabass (and MAJOR thanks for spitballing with me!), and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
The last thing you remembered before waking up was celebrating your first major score with Max. Playing the part of a down to earth girl, you got the attention of a next generation business tycoon. A few dates here and a sob story there about your deadbeat dad in debt with the wrong kind of people, that poor sap did what he could to help get your family out of trouble. Not only did you make off with more than double the intended amount, it took even less time than you planned.
You almost felt bad, but it didn't make a dent in the guy's inheritance.
You impressed Max. Made him proud. He told you that before he kissed you and danced the night away. You expected to be on a plane with him to the Bahamas by now.
Instead, the two of you found yourselves in a dark room with a single lamp and no windows, still in your clothes from the night before.
"Hey," Max said as your eyes adjusted to the dim light. He didn't look roughed up, thank God, but his hair was a bit of a mess and he was cuffed to a metal chair by the ankles and wrists. "You okay?"
You weren't hurt, minus a slight headache, but you didn't want to admit to him that you were afraid.
"I'm okay. You?"
"Peachy," he deadpanned, arching his back like he was trying to get comfortable.
"What's going on?" you asked as you tried to stand only to find yourself strapped to your chair, too. It didn't budge as you attempted to tip it since it was likely bolted to the floor. And even if you had something to pick the cuffs, you couldn't reach it. "Where are we?"
"I don't know," he said as you struggled. "Just take a deep breath and sit still."
"Sit still? Are you kidding me? We-"
"Sit. Still."
"Yes, sir," you muttered.
You weren't sure how Max was so calm, but you eventually stopped moving. Did your now "ex-boyfriend" arrange this once he realized you played him? No, Max assured you that the mark was a safe target, that he wouldn't find or go after you.
So what the hell was going on?
The single door to your left swung open and you tried not to tense up as a man you didn't recognize entered the room. You weren't sure who you were expecting, but you didn't imagine a built, gorgeous man with light brown hair to grace you with his presence. The touch of scruff on his face added to his good looks.
Why am I fixated on how handsome this guy is when I'm strapped to a chair?
"Good. You're awake," the guy said, checking to make sure you were still secure. "Max."
"Nick," he said, not giving anything away as he sized him up.
It wasn't easy to get a read on someone like Max. Most of the time, you never knew what was true when he spoke to you and what was an act. That's how good he is.
A lingering silence stretched as the temperature in the room seemed to rise. Or maybe your body began to warm up from the unease of the situation. "So, you two know each other."
"We do," Nick confirmed, placing the back of his hand on your forehead. For some reason, you didn't flinch at this touch. "Mmm. You feel a bit warm."
"Don't touch her."
Max didn't raise his voice, but something about the slight possessiveness in his voice and Nick's touch nearly made you moan. You shook your head lightly as Nick's hand fell away. Was fear bringing out some undiscovered kink? Or maybe you were going into a fight or flight response.
"I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances, sweetheart."
Sweetheart?
"What exactly are the circumstances, Agent Fowler?" Max asked, his shoulders slumped in a bored stance.
Agent? Fuck!
Nick kept his attention on you as he rolled up the sleeves of his sweater. "I work for the CIA," he told you as you swallowed. When did your throat go dry? "Your friend Max and I go way back."
You glanced at Max as Nick walked behind him, but he kept his face neutral.
"He fucked me over on a deal. Took a beating from my boss when I showed up empty handed. Had to work my way back up."
Max didn't confirm nor deny Nick's claim.
Your eyes narrowed. Max bribed cops occasionally, but you didn't know it went as deep as the CIA. That would explain why he was here.
But what about you?
"When I heard he was back in the city, I didn't take him in. I watched him," Nick continued, smacking Max's shoulders lightly before he moved beside him. "Both of you. He taught you well."
You didn't squirm as Nick looked you up and down, but something in his gaze left you dizzy.
"Congrats on the score, by the way, but you should really watch who makes your celebratory drinks."
That explains the headache. Just don't say anything. He can't do anything if you keep your mouth shut.
"You two were about to head to the Bahamas, right?" Nick casually asked.
"Yeah," you and Max said at the same time.
Max's brows pinched as you shook your head again, feeling a bit lightheaded.
Maybe he'd give you some water if you asked politely.
"So, Max may have screwed you over," you said carefully, trying to shift the topic away from the recent con. "That's why we're here?"
Nick nodded as he approached you and checked your forehead again. Why did he keep doing that? Why did his touch feel so nice?
You almost licked your lips when he smiled down at you, trying your best to ignore how handsome he was. "You know I had nothing to do with whatever went down between the two of you and I'm sorry it went south, but we can make it right."
Your gaze flickered to Max. As much as he taught you not to let your emotions get the best of you, worry crept into your eyes because you cared. You didn't want Nick to hurt him.
Max, on the other hand, showed nothing behind his blue eyes.
"I'm sure you will," Nick assured you. "For the record, I'm not sending you to jail or letting your old 'boyfriend' know where you are. I just want to ask some questions."
The chuckle Max sounded harsh to your ears. "You set this whole thing up for questions? That's dramatic."
"I guess it is," Nick shrugged.
Your eyes dropped to his hands and bit your lip when you saw the veins, reminiscent of Max's when they roamed your body.
What the hell was the matter with you?
"And what makes you think we'll answer your questions?" Max asked.
Nick smirked as he crouched down so he was at eye level with Max. "Where's Madeline and when's the last time you spoke with her?"
You never met Madeline, but you knew she took Max under her wing. They were involved for some time as well before she screwed him over. Could anyone in the game ever trust each other?
I can trust Max though, right?
Max glared, tight-lipped, as he slowly exhaled through his nose. "You tell me, agent," he said before the back of Nick's hand met his cheek, making his head snap to the side.
"Please, don't hurt him," you begged.
"All he has to do is answer me."
Max, to his credit, didn't make a sound as he glared at the agent, but he did begin to shift in his seat. His hands gripped the chair as he breathed in and out through his nose. It almost looked like he was struggling not to snap. "Oklahoma City. A year ago," he finally answered, his voice a bit strained.
"Very good," Nick grinned, smacking the opposite cheek lightly before he glanced between the two of you. "See, while you two were knocked out, I injected you both with a serum. Something we usually reserve for extreme interrogations. I know many people think truth elixirs don't exist, but they very much do. That's how I know you'll answer my questions."
You felt your heart rate increase as Max scoffed. "Bullshit. You have no way of knowing if we're lying or telling the truth."
"Oh, Max. You're so used to lying that you almost believe it. That was why your voice sounded so strained," Nick said, pushing himself up and crossing his arms. "Because while your instinct is to lie, the drug makes you want to tell the truth. Resisting it is extremely uncomfortable. Even the most disciplined of liars cave."
"So, what do you want?" Max demanded. "Revenge because I fucked you over?"
"So you admit that you did," Nick said, his jaw clenching.
Max's mouth snapped shut.
"May I have a glass of water?" you asked gently.
Nick smiled to himself, which unnerved you. "I'm sure you're feeling a bit parched, but I'll take care of that later," he said, slowly pacing around your chair. "When did you start working with Max?"
You took a couple of breaths in and out, a light burning sensation moving from your head all the way down to your toes when you didn't answer immediately. Nick wasn't lying when he said it was uncomfortable.
"About a year ago," you said, taking another breath. It wasn't as strained as Max's first answer. Maybe because he had been lying longer than you have. "I almost got caught lifting a wallet and he stepped in and helped. I haven't looked back."
Max may have both saved and damned you that day.
Nick hummed, brushing his fingers along the back of your neck. Your back bowed and the action didn't go unnoticed by Max since he sneered at the agent. "Was this your first big score?"
"It was," you exhaled, closing your eyes briefly. "He had me do odds and ends jobs to be sure I was ready."
"When did he start fucking you?" he pressed, his fingers gripping the back of your neck hard enough to make you gasp when you didn't speak right away. "C'mon. You're doing so well."
You gazed at Max through your lashes. The tingling began again like a flame was close to your skin. "Six months ago," you said after a few seconds.
"You care about Max, don't you?" Nick questioned, releasing your neck as he moved beside you. As much as you missed his touch, which was strange, you kept your eyes on Max.
"Yes, I do," you said softly, not trying to resist this time. "How could I not?"
The questions confused you. If Nick had been watching you, then he already knew you and Max were sleeping with each other. Why ask about it?
"Do you like fucking her, Max?" Nick asked.
"Of course, I do."
Why did that make you want to preen?
"I'm sure you do," Nick said, giving you an almost apologetic gaze before he asked the next question. "But you were also planning to ditch her in the Bahamas, weren't you?"
No.
A second passed followed by another. The man across from you avoided your gaze as he hesitated to answer. Max wasn't the kind of man to hesitate. He was trying to lie.
His silence was the worst kind of answer.
"At first, yes," Max admitted, gritting his teeth before he continued. "Fuck, I only saved her that day so I could use her. It paid off. I was going to leave her with enough to get by for a short time and take the rest for myself."
You deflated, unable to mask the hurt you felt as your vision blurred. You thought you meant something to him beyond the job. Of course, you were just another mark. A stepping stone for him to get what he wanted.
You should've seen it coming, yet he blindsided you.
How?
"Why?" you asked breathily even though you were upset. It was getting more difficult to concentrate. Did Nick give you too much serum?
Max held his head high. "Because that's the job. I'm not supposed to feel anything. None of us are. Feelings jeopardize what we do. So I planned to walk away from you," he explained, trying to get out of his chair for the first time. "But things changed, okay? You changed my mind."
Nick regarded you, his gaze softening as you rapidly blinked. "Were you planning to screw him over?"
A tear slid down your cheek as you looked Max in the eye. Was he worth crying over when you weren't worth a thing to him? "No," you whispered, glancing away from both of them.
"Hey, look at me," Max gently ordered. You didn't listen. "I know I'm a piece of shit, but I wasn't going to leave you. Nick is trying to fuck with your head. It's what he does."
Well, it's working.
"Bullshit," you muttered, sniffling. "I don't mean anything to you."
"I care about you so much. Fuck, I may even love you," Max said like it pained him to do so. "I can't lie about that. Look at me, please."
"I don't think she wants to look at you, Max."
"He's right. I don't," you said before you could stop yourself.
"Baby, listen-"
"No! You fucking liar!" you yelled, wishing you could fling yourself across the room and smack him. "I let you in. I gave you everything and you were going to leave me, you asshole!"
Your chest heaved as the room went quiet. You had more that you wanted to say, but already felt vulnerable enough given the circumstances. It wasn't like it would make a difference. Max probably had another job lined up and a new girl to take under his wing.
Nick moved to stand in front of you, effectively blocking Max from your view. "Look at me, sweetheart," he whispered, wiping a stray tear from your cheek. "Now you know the truth. The kind of man he really is. I'm sorry."
"Nick, I said don't touch-"
"Shut the fuck up, Max," Nick said coldly enough that you froze and he wasn't speaking to you. "He can't help himself. It's what he does."
"Don't act like you're the hero," you scoffed, wishing you could be anywhere but there. "What do you want?"
Nick didn't seem surprised that you got back to business as he crouched beside you. "Heard you two got more than double your original score. I want half."
"Fine. Half. It's yours," you agreed before Max could argue. As far as you were concerned he had no say.
Nick tilted his head as he traced a finger along your jaw. "That easy?"
Your eyelids fluttered. You needed to concentrate. "Yeah, that easy. Now if those are the last of your bullshit questions, will you let me go?"
"Do you find me attractive?"
You sputtered at the shift in topic, heat blooming between your thighs as Nick gazed at you. "Yes," you said, your eyes wide when he smirked. "Shit."
"I don't think Max heard you, sweetheart. You might want to say it again."
"Yes, I find you attractive, okay? You both look weirdly alike," you said, not looking at Max as you let out a breath. "Fuck, I hate this fucking serum."
It was strange. If Nick grew his hair out and darkened it, and shaved, he'd look like Max. God, was he related to him, or was that a coincidence?
You didn't want to examine that thought any further at the moment.
"Why did you ask me that?" you asked, whimpering when Nick's fingertip grazed the column of your neck.
"Because I want him to know that you want me," Nick said as a matter of fact.
"Why?"
"Maybe I want to fuck him over. Maybe I want to fuck you. Maybe both."
Perhaps you were the closest thing Nick could get to revenge. He could've locked Max away or beat the shit out of him, but he brought you into this mess. Even if he let you go and Max could prove that he cared about you now, that trust wouldn't be easy to repair should the two of you leave together.
You laughed because you weren't sure how else to react to the situation. Max fucked Nick over and planned to do the same to you. Did Nick want to fuck you so he could say he got his girl?
But I'm not actually Max's girl, am I?
"Well, fucking me would fuck him over."
The way your pussy throbbed, you enjoyed that idea.
"I won't tell you again not to touch her," Max said louder than before.
"You don't get a vote," you snapped, as good as it felt that he wanted Nick to stay away from you.
"Plus, she wants me to touch her," Nick said, his hand drifting down to your breasts. He barely touched you and you felt like you were on fire. "Don't you, sweetheart?"
You tried not to reply. You tried to hold it back, especially when you felt Max's icy gaze on you, but you couldn't stop yourself. Bitter desperation flowed through you at your lack of control. "Yes."
"Good girl," Nick said as he moved his hand down to push your dress up. "Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention. You may have been wondering why you feel a bit warm. Maybe even dizzy or aroused. The serum I gave you had a little something extra in it."
"What the fuck did you give her?" Max said above a whisper, practically vibrating in his seat with true anger you hadn't witnessed from him before.
"Just a bit of an aphrodisiac," Nick said with an all too proud smile. "She'll feel a little better once she gets off."
Well, fuck.
It could've been a lie, but it would explain why your body felt hot and why you were reacting to their words and Nick's touch.
Your legs parted as much as they could with an airy moan as Nick slid his hand up your thigh, the warmth between your legs smoldering compared to the icy air surrounding you. "You're an asshole."
Nick tutted as he pushed your soaked panties aside with his thumb. "Now that's no way to speak to the man who's going to fuck you dumb, is it?"
You attempted to squirm away from his touch as he brushed his fingers along your folds. Your cunt wept for him before he even brushed your clit, an embarrassingly loud and sensual sound escaping as his finger moved in teasing circles. You should've been ashamed as Max watched Nick play with you, but it turned you on more.
"You know if he hadn't fucked me over, I wouldn't have found you. Lucky me," Nick said, sliding a finger with little resistance. "So fucking wet and already twitching around me. Can't wait to feel that around my cock."
"You made your fucking point," Max said, his voice low and throaty. Maybe this was turning him on, too. "She had nothing to do with what went down between us and she already said you'd get half of the money, so let her go."
Nick pressed gentle kisses along your cheek and temple as he pushed a second finger in, your thighs shaking lightly as they plunged deep. He pressed the heel of his hand against your clit with enough force to make you cry out. "You always know how to ruin a good thing, Max. And I can't wait to ruin her. I should be thanking you."
"Fuck you."
"No, but I will fuck her," he promised, smiling against your skin. "And you'll watch."
Oh, fuck.
"She's not a slut for you to use," your partner argued.
Ex-partner.
"No, Max, you're the one who uses people," Nick reminded him, curling his fingers as you moaned and ground your hips. "And she may not be a slut, but it won't stop me from fucking her like one."
"Please," you moaned, unsure of what you were asking for. All you knew was that your body was ready to burst into flames.
"It's okay, baby," Max said, his breathing heavy as you met his gaze. "It's okay."
"How sweet. Like you need his permission to let me touch you when I'm the one in control," Nick said, his scruff tickling your skin. "Don't worry. I'll make it good for you."
Your cheeks went hot, your head spinning as he played your body like a well-tuned instrument. You weren't sure if you were eager to feel Nick inside you because of the aphrodisiac or because some part of you wanted Max to hurt. Maybe both.
"Tell her how pretty she looks, Max," Nick suggested. It sounded more like an order.
Max's tongue poked out to wet his upper lip as you panted. "You're so fucking pretty, baby. You always are."
The praise sent another wave of arousal through you.
"She likes hearing that," Nick mocked, but you were too blissed out to care. "Don't worry, Max. You'll still get your money. I get to fuck her. And it's not like she's not getting anything out of it either. We all win," he said, moving his fingers faster as the coil tightened in your lower abdomen.
Max drank in your pleasured expression with a groan. "Don't hurt my girl," he pleaded.
His girl.
Nick chuckled when you mewled. "She isn't your girl anymore, but I won't hurt her. Hell, maybe I'll even let you fuck her one more time," Nick offered like he wasn't knuckles deep in your pussy. "But I'm not letting her go. Not after I ruin every hole of hers and make her mine."
The intensity of his words made your core pulse and explode, crying out with your release. The gush of wetness soaked Nick's fingers and the seat beneath you as a fresh wave of tears threatened to spill over. He pulled the digits free once you rode out the intense orgasm, gently kissing the corner of your mouth.
"Next time, you don't come until I say so," he whispered, taking the opportunity to kiss your lips when you turned your head.
Your mind was still in a haze as he coaxed you to kiss him back. Once he pulled away, you dared to look over at Max, clenching when you saw the bulge in his pants. He couldn't even touch himself to get off.
You allowed yourself to close your eyes as you recovered, your breathing evened out after a minute as you opened them. The orgasm made you feel a little better like Nick said, but you still wanted more. Why?
"You still care about Max?" Nick asked, groaning as he licked his fingers clean.
"I shouldn't, but yes," you admitted.
Damn him, but you still cared.
Max let out a breath and actually smiled softly.
"You still want me?" Nick asked, keeping his eyes on you as he stood up, even as your gaze went to his crotch.
The guy drugged you, abducted you, took advantage of you, and didn't give you any water, but you wanted him.
You clearly had some issues you needed to sort out at a later date.
"I shouldn't want you either, but yes."
"She really is perfect, Max. Just like you said she'd be."
The air crackled with tension as Max smirked and your thighs began to shake all over again. "What?"
"Oh, baby. I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not," Max said, twisting his wrist a couple of times before the cuff came loose. He could've freed himself the entire time? "You're just so much fun to play with."
"Hey. Don't be mean to our girl," Nick said as Max got his other hand free.
Our girl?
"I guess that was rude," Max agreed, rubbing his right wrist. "I'll make it up to you."
"What the hell is this?" you asked, gripping the chair so hard your fingers ached. "What the fuck, Max?! Was this some twisted game?”
"Not really a game, but it was fun," Nick said, moving behind your chair and reaching around to grope your breasts. "See, Max really did fuck me over and I really did keep an eye on you two. It was fun watching you. Could see why he kept you around."
You arched into his touch, unable to push his hands away as Max licked his lips.
"But Nick got tired of watching and confronted me before the job was done. I offered to make things right if he let us finish it. Money. The promise of me helping with a few ops since I do have a few skills," Max explained, unbuckling his pants with a sigh. "And the cherry on top: you."
"You were going to trade me?"
Max had the audacity to look offended. "Not trade. I wasn't going to let you go. I told you, baby, I care about you."
You would've given anything to believe that, but the words sounded hollow. And if it was the truth, it didn't set you free. It shackled you, just like you were to the chair.
"So we decided on a compromise: we share you," Nick said, pinching your nipples through the fabric. "And the way you came on my fingers with Max watching, I know you want both of us. Didn't I say you'd get something out of this?"
They can't be serious.
You felt like you were going to be sick. "The serum?" you whimpered.
Was it all an act to get in your head?
"It was Nick's idea to do this 'interrogation' as his own form of personal punishment for me and he really did inject you with something to sweeten the deal," Max said unashamedly. "Even now when you're afraid and upset you still want us. You admitted it. And I know that greedy cunt of yours needs to be filled up."
Damn him for being right.
"Let me go," you whispered, needing to get far away from them. "Please."
"Let you go? Oh, you won't even be able to walk after you've had us both," Nick swore as you whined. "We'll have to carry you out."
"But we won't tell you where we're taking you. It's a surprise," Max said, his smile as cold as his eyes as he took his cock out. "Now get her out of that chair so I can watch you fuck her. I want her sobbing and begging before I fuck her, too."
Nick and Max wouldn't plot against each other down the road, would they? Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Summary: You present Bucky with an idea, a little game to play, and he agrees.
Author’s Note: So I’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while and then my beautiful friend Ali @flordeamatista hosted her Loveeeeeee Song Writing Challenge and one of Rihanna’s songs just spoke to me for this. I went with “Give it to me like I need it/Rock me out on the floor/Put your hands on me, watch me lose it”: Roc Me Out. Thank you for hosting my sweet! love you and hugs! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Both dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy 🥰
Warnings: lots of flirty fun, tension, sassiness, some language, smexy talk
GIF NOT MINE: Credit goes to @unearthlydust thank you lovely 🥰
“I want to play a game.”
At your words Bucky perks up, dropping the book from his hands and shifting so you’re now straddling his lap.
“I’m listening,” he murmurs as his hands settle on your waist, thumbs sneaking under your shirt to feel your skin.
“Don’t distract me,” you smirk and get comfortable.
Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Andy Barber x Female Reader
Summary: After everything Andy has been through, his outlook on life is a bit jaded. Until you show up.
Word Count: Almost 1.3k
Warnings: Defending Jacob spoilers/Mix of canon and canon divergent (talk of divorce, child death), slight angst, opposites attract, future smut and feels (it's me), Andy Barber (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Tenth and final day of my Naughty & Nice Nonsense belongs to new couple, Grumpy and Sunny! Set in the same AU as Hottie and Sugar, I mixed up my list a bit and plan to share Thorn and Rose at a later date. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Andy edit by the beautiful @randomagnes0210. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
If you would’ve told Andy Barber years ago that he’d be living his life today as a tattoo artist, he wouldn’t have believed you. He had his path carved out. Life didn’t care what people wanted though, no matter how hard they worked to get it.
“Um, Mr. Barber?” Jake called out to him from the desk.
"How many times have I told you to call me 'Andy'? For fuck's sake," Andy snapped.
"Sorry, Mr. Bar- Andy!"
Andy took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. He didn't mean to snap at Jake. He was a good guy. One of the nicest around. It wasn't his fault he was in a bad mood.
Which was his mood most days.
"No, I'm sorry," he said.
He wasn’t always a jaded man. Though his dad had been in jail his entire life, he thankfully had a good childhood overall. It helped set him on his path to become a lawyer, as he wanted to help others. He also made a promise to himself to be a good father if that day would ever come. He thought he had that chance to make that dream a reality with his college sweetheart, Laurie.
As a lawyer, he enjoyed his work. It challenged him and helped him grow. It was also stressful depending on the case. Long hours and seeing some people at their worst didn’t always leave him in the best headspace. But he had his wife and they had their son, Jacob.
Life was good.
Until his world got a little darker.
“This isn’t working, Laurie.”
“No, it isn’t."
Andy couldn’t put his finger on why and he wasn’t sure if it was good or bad that Laurie was on the same page. Love took a lot of work and sometimes it wasn’t enough to make a marriage last. Not that they didn’t give it a try. They met with a counselor. Neither of them stepped out on each other. They wanted desperately to make it work for their kid.
But the loss of their son solidified the end of their marriage.
“Andy, I know you blame me.”
The thing is Andy didn’t put that on her. It was the bad weather that caused her to spin out of control. But she carried guilt for fighting with their son before the crash. It was something she couldn’t let go of.
The divorce was as ammicable as it could be, but it didn’t stop him from feeling like a failure. Work couldn’t distract him either. How was he expected to help people, some who were not even innocent, when he couldn’t help himself?
Tears filled his eyes as he sat in his empty house, trying to figure out what the hell was he supposed to do with his life. He didn’t want to go back into the office. He also didn’t want to drink himself to death. In a drunken stupor he called an old friend of his.
Steve Rogers.
One of the most honorable men Andy had the pleasure of knowing. While he went off to law school, Steve joined the army. The last he heard, he became a tattoo artist with another friend and army buddy, Bucky Barnes. He felt like an ass calling when he hadn’t reached out in so long, but the inebriated part of his brain didn’t process that.
“I don’t know what to do,” was all he said on the voicemail.
He woke up the next morning with a text message from Steve: “You any good at drawing?”
It was the beginning of his new chapter.
"You are never gonna to get laid if you keep snapping at everyone," Hal winked as he walked by his chair.
"Get fucked," he said with only a hint of malice as Hal chuckled.
"I'm tryin'!"
"Give him a break," Steve said from his station, but he was smiling, too.
Like Jake, it was hard to get mad at a guy like Hal. A charming piercer who drifted from place to place before he met up with Steve and Bucky, he did some of the best work in the city. He was sure some came into the new shop just to hit on him.
"What is it, Jake?" he asked as he stood up and stretched.
"Your consultation is here about the sun tattoo," he explained, pushing his glasses further up on his nose. "Said she saw some of your work online."
Andy took another breath. He prided himself on the portfolio he built. It took him time to build and he didn't have as much clientele as Steve and Bucky, but he was slowly catching up. He was proud of the work he accomplished.
"Yeah, send her over," he said. He had a few minutes before his next appointment. "Thanks."
Jake rushed off before he could say another word, likely afraid he'd snap again. He'd have to apologize again later. He should've been happy. The opening of the shop went well. He liked his place in the city.
What the hell was his problem?
"Hi!"
Andy blinked when you stood in front of him. He wasn't used to seeing such a cheerful smile on someone’s face. Not directed at him, at least. He would've thought it was fake if not for the kindness in your eyes.
Ironic that you wanted a sun tattoo since he saw the world as much darker a long time ago.
Would the sun still shine in your eyes if I had you spread out under me?
Where the fuck did that thought come from?
He didn't lust after potential clients. He hadn't even done one night stand after Laurie. Why did seeing your happy, beautiful face make him want to change his mind?
Why did your smile get to him?
"Um, I can come back another time," you offered, as if you inconvenienced him by walking over.
The mere presence of you rendered Andy speechless until he remembered he had to speak.
"No, it's okay. Please, have a seat," he stood up to pull a chair over. "I'm Andy."
Your smile was back on your face as you gave him your name.
Beautiful, just like you.
"I just want to say real quick that I love your work,” you said as you took out your phone. “I can’t believe I was lucky enough to get in so quickly.”
"I appreciate that,” he said. The compliment meant a lot. “It’s a sun tattoo you want, right?"
“Yeah. My friends call me Sunny because I’m what they call a ‘big ball of sunshine’,” you explained.
“I can’t imagine why,” he deadpanned. You looked like you were trying to hold in a laugh as you set your phone down. “Something funny?”
“Do people tell you that you’re grumpy?” you asked curiously. "Or is it a prerequisite that at least half of the staff here have to look intimidating?"
His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he wasn’t the least bit offended. “People tell me almost every day."
“I can’t imagine why,” you echoed with a smile.
"And if only half of us look intimidating, then we aren't doing our job."
“Don't worry. I won't tell," you mock whispered.”
He actually smiled back at you before he frowned and cleared his throat. He refused to let you consume his thoughts, even if your bright aura began to chip away at his tough exterior. “Then why don’t you tell me more about your tattoo.”
He listened intently as you explained the kind of sun design you wanted and where. He had a feeling by the time he finished your consultation, he'd be in a much better mood. Even if he didn’t want to be. And your tattoo would be his best work yet.
Andy's world may be a bit brighter thanks to you. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader
Summary: You make a sweet impression on one of the new tattoo artists in the neighborhood.
Word Count: Over 2.3k
Warnings: Flirting, fluff, innuendos, brief moment of insecurity (reader's mom kind of sucks, sorry!), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Future smut, slight angst, and feels.
A/N: Because I "need" another tattoo AU, let me introduce you to Hottie and Sugar. ❤️ Thank you to @rookthorne , @sweeterthanthis, @dreamlessinparis, @11thstreetvigilante for listening to me ramble about this man and some future upcoming shennanigans. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics, and Bucky edit by the wonderful Nix. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
The first time Bucky Barnes walked into your bakery, your best friend and co-owner, Tess, assumed he was lost. Maybe because he didn't appear to be your average customer. A confident aura surrounded him, like he took what he wanted without question. You hadn't encountered a man who looked like sin incarnate before.
It took you a moment to greet him with how dry your mouth had gone.
The stranger didn't smile as he made it to the counter in a few strides. It surprised you that he got through the door with his massive frame. The dark t-shirt and jeans looked painted on and the skin you could see was littered with tattoos. A handsome package wrapped up with chestnut brown hair past his ears, short beard, and steel blue eyes.
Lust at first sight was an understatement.
It was as if he walked out of your wet dreams and into your life.
Sin. Incarnate.
You smiled from ear to ear when you saw him up close, even though he still didn't smile back. You didn't take it personally. Tess once said you were too sweet for your own good, but you replied you never knew what was going on with your customers. Maybe a bit of kindness would brighten their day.
You weren't sure if it was friendliness that he needed, but he wouldn't stop staring at you.
You admitted to yourself later that his gaze made your heart pound and it wasn't out of intimidation.
"Hi. What can I get for you?" you asked.
He blinked and looked toward the display case, giving you a chance to exhale.
When did you start holding your breath?
"Something sweet," he said, his voice huskier than you expected as he jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Those were the exact words my punk friend said."
"That's extremely helpful in a bakery," you deadpanned.
His eyebrows shot up as you dropped the serious expression and started laughing. It surprised you when he laughed with you. Not only did you consider his reaction a personal victory, but it made him look even more handsome.
How was that possible?
"Exactly what I said."
"Well, not sure if he's allergic to anything or how many of you are eating, but we can do an assortment of cookies if you'd like," you suggested, walking to the end of the case to show him the different flavors.
"That sounds good. A dozen should work," he said, narrowing his eyes as he placed his large hands on the glass and looked it over again. Was it rude to stare at him? "And since the punk didn't tell me what he wanted, surprise me."
"I'll pick the best flavors," you smiled as you grabbed a box and tongs.
"What's your favorite?" he asked curiously, folding his hands and resting his chin on top of them as you selected the cookies.
Your cheeks flamed when you realized he was watching you. You hoped you didn't drop anything. "Can't go wrong with chocolate chip. It's a classic. If I had to pick a favorite treat overall, I'd pick the caramel chocolate brownie. Simple, but full of flavor."
"I'll take one of those, too, please."
"Sure. You'll have to let me know what you think," you said, placing the best brownie from the batch in a smaller box.
"So, you're saying you want me to come back," he said with a half smile as he pushed himself off the display to follow you back to the register. "Is that it?"
Is he flirting with me? No, he couldn't be.
Your mom chastised you for ending things with your recent boyfriend. According to her, you should've appreciated that a charming, good-looking man wanted you all of all people. It hurt to hear that, but he turned out to be a jerk and you refused to settle for less than what you deserved.
You also wouldn't let negative thoughts cloud your safe space.
"I wouldn't mind," you giggled before you cleared your throat. Even if by some miracle he was hitting on you, you weren't supposed to flirt while you worked. "We like having repeat customers," you added.
"I'm sure you have plenty. It's a cute shop."
You looked for a hint of sarcasm on his face and found none. "Thanks," you said, holding your head a bit higher. The shop was your baby and you took pride in it, always doing your best to make it as bright and welcoming as you could. "And I really would like to know what you think. Always looking to improve if we can."
"It's a good thing I'm just across the street," he said as he got his wallet out. "I can sample the entire menu."
You began to ring him up when you paused. "You don't happen to work in the new tattoo shop, do you?"
Some of the other business owners on the block weren't too happy about a tattoo parlor opening up, afraid that it would attract a rougher crowd. You knew better than to judge a book by its cover. You also felt bad that you hadn't had a chance to go over to introduce yourself.
"Co-owner. What gave it away?" he asked, reminiscent of your deadpan delivery moments ago.
"Oh, just this feeling," you teased, wondering how many tattoos he had hidden under his clothes. You cut that thought off and stopped him when he took some cash out to pay. "On the house as a small welcome to the neighborhood."
He moved his hand over to the tip jar and dropped the money in. "Thanks," he gave you a half smile again as he glanced at the nametag on your bright apron and said your name.
It sounded like honey on his tongue.
"I'm Bucky, by the way. Nice to meet you," he said, taking the boxes.
"Nice to meet you, too," you smiled back, a wave of heat rolling down your chest at the thought of him coming back to see you. "Enjoy the treats."
"I'm sure they'll be as sweet as you, Sugar," he smirked.
You stood there, stunned, as he walked out of the shop. Thankfully it was a slow time of day and you had a moment to fan yourself once you remembered to breathe. You had half a mind to get a tattoo as an excuse to see him again.
"Who the hell was that?" Tess asked from behind you.
You jumped and clutched your chest, forgetting that she was in the shop. "My new crush," you answered without thinking.
"Obviously. I thought he was lost until he ordered something," she snickered as she nudged your shoulder. "You were giggling."
"Yeah. Well, I doubt he'll be back," you mumbled, going to the case to wipe it down.
"Oh, he'll be back. I saw how he looked at you," she said, moving her eyebrows up and down. "You're the sugar he wants to taste."
"Did you see how hot he is? He has plenty of 'sugar' out there and I'm," you waved your hand as you tried to think of a good comparison. "I don't know. I'm Splenda."
"Okay. First, that sounds like your mother talking, which is not allowed in here. Second, you're not Splenda. You're the whole bakery. No putting yourself down in our sanctuary," Tess said sternly. She liked to give you a hard time as your best friend, but she was serious when it came to your love life and self-esteem. "For real. You're a catch."
"Maybe he'll fall in love after he eats the brownie I gave him," you joked.
"That's the spirit," Tess said, graciously not calling you out on your deflection. "He'll be back."
You didn't want to get your hopes up over a stranger, but you did want to see him again.
You just didn't expect him to visit your shop again the very next day.
"So," he said when he went to the counter and set his hands on it, blocking out everything behind him. "About that brownie."
"Yeah?" you asked breathlessly, praying you looked halfway decent. "What did you think?"
"Best fucking brownie I've ever had," he grinned and rubbed his stomach. The praise rendered you speechless. "What else is good here?"
Me. I'm good.
You wished you said what was on your mind, but you gave him one of the leftover sample cakes instead.
It went on like that for over a week. Bucky would stop in and select a new dessert. On the slower days, he tried the treat at the counter and chatted with you. Tess messaged you on your day off to tell you how disappointed he looked when you weren't there. He bought two items when you saw him the next day.
The brownie was still his favorite.
So you decided to surprise him when he showed up at his usual time. The blue Henley made his eyes stand out more and the smile he gave you sent heat through your core. Your hand managed not to shake as you held up a plate for him. You couldn't help but want to impress him.
"Is that my brownie?" he asked when he went to greet you.
"With a twist. Caramel chocolate brownie, but I added chocolate fudge frosting," you replied, handing it to him. His fingers touched yours and you wished at that moment that the counter didn't separate the two of you. "I hope you like it."
"I'm sure I will," he said, keeping his eyes on you as he brought the brownie to his mouth and took a bite. They slipped shut as he let out a deep moan. His head fell back briefly, too.
Your fingers twisted in your apron as you pressed your thighs together. Did he do that on purpose or was it that good? You didn't think your treats were worthy of pornographic sounds.
"Fucking delicious," he promised as he opened his eyes and took another bite. "It'll hurt my feelings if you don't add this to the menu."
"Thank you. I'm glad you like it," you said, wondering if the words sounded as breathless as you felt.
"I haven't tried a single thing here I didn't like, Sugar."
"Why do you keep calling me 'Sugar'?"
"'Cause you seem sweet, like these treats you make for everyone," Bucky stated as a matter of fact. "I can stop if you don't like it."
"Please, don't stop," you said. You liked hearing it from him.
He smirked as he licked a bit of frosting off his thumb, your mouth salivating at the sight. "Not how I expected to hear those words from you."
Blood rushed to your cheeks as your brain tried to process what he said. You could play it cool. Or play along. "Well, Hottie, if you're lucky, you might hear them in a different way."
Bucky's mouth shifted from a smirk to a full blown grin. "Hottie?"
You tried to summon the ground to swallow you up, but it didn't work.
"Well. Yeah. I mean, you call me Sugar, which makes you Spice. Spices can be hot and you're a hottie," you said with as much dignity as possible before you giggled. "Or I can just call you Bucky and we forget this entire conversation."
"I won't forget. My memory can be fuzzy at times, but I'll remember this conversation," he promised, tapping his temple. "And keep calling me that. I like it."
You leaned across the counter, trying to look as enticing as possible. At least, as much as you could in your work apron. He visited the shop multiple times now and he was definitely flirting with you now. You could make a move.
Don't be Splenda. Be the whole bakery.
"Bucky, would you want to-"
The door swung open before you could finish your question, your shoulders slumping in defeat. "There you are, Buck. Andy is actually smiling at someone. Hal's trying to get a picture. You gotta see this."
Bucky's nostrils flared as he closed his eyes. "Fucking punk."
He sounds as disappointed as I feel.
"Friend of yours?" you guessed.
"That's just Steve with his impeccable timing."
Bucky stepped aside so you could get a look at his friend. The man was just as large as your newfound crush, also covered in tattoos with long, blonde hair and a trimmed beard. And he was beaming at you.
"You must be Sugar. Buck mentioned you."
"Is that right?" you asked.
"Oh, yeah," Steve smiled. "Hasn't shut up about you."
Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you gazed at the brunette. He didn't look ashamed or embarrassed as he stared back. You must have made some sort of good impression on him if he spoke to a friend about you.
"Are you working tomorrow?" he asked, ignoring his friend for the time being as he handed you his empty plate.
"Yeah. I'm opening the shop," you answered.
"If I'm not arrested for murdering my best friend, I'll come back and we can finish our conversation," he said as Steve frowned. You couldn't stop yourself from smiling. "If that's okay with you."
Who in their right mind would say "no"?
"More than okay. I'll see you tomorrow," you said, giving Steve a wave as Bucky stomped toward him. "Nice meeting you, Steve."
"You, too. Keep making those cookies! They're so good!" he chuckled as his friend chased him out of the shop.
"Oh, who the hell was that?!" Tess shouted from the back of the office.
"A friend with bad timing," you called back with a shake of your head.
"You were finally going to ask him out, weren't you?" she asked, poking her head out. "About time. Sick of hiding in the office so I don't have to watch you two flirt."
You scoffed when you caught her smiling. "You love being in the office. And tomorrow is a new day. I'll ask him."
"You better wear something pretty for your hottie."
She's never going to let me live that nickname down.
You weren't sure what you were going to wear tomorrow, but you knew you couldn't wait to open the shop and see Bucky again.
Hope you liked this sweet introduction and can't wait to share more of this Bucky and the other boys. Love and thanks for reading! 💙
Pairing: BFD/DBF!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky is your friend's dad and your dad's friend and nothing more. Until he isn't.
Word Count: Over 6.2k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), semi-public sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, light Daddy kink, age gap (reader is in early 20's and Bucky late 40's), arguing, light violence, swearing, conflicted reader (everything is consensual!), everyone is a mess, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?).
A/N: Woohoo! Stepped out of my comfort zone a bit on this and I'm so proud! Thank you to @sweeterthanthis , @dreamlessinparis , @buckyownsmylife, @targaryenvampireslayer , @christywantspizza , @sgt-seabass , @lookiamtrying for listening to me ramble about this. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you as well), but any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
***Any soft!dark undertones are unintentional as everything is consensual.***
You met Bethany Barnes your freshman year of college. While some of the girls on your floor knew each other, you went off to university not knowing a soul and had to be assigned a roommate. Your nerves shot up when you walked into the shared room. Beth, as she preferred to be called, was intimidatingly beautiful. You hadn't met any supermodels, but she could've chosen that as her profession with her tall, slender build, long auburn hair, and sparkling blue eyes.
Your nervousness faded when she smiled and gave you a hug, after asking if it was okay.
"You're here!" she smiled more when she pulled away, looking over your shoulder at who you thought was your dad. "By the closet."
You weren't normally stunned silent by looking at a person, but that was what happened when you met James "Bucky" Barnes. With the beard and quiet confidence in which he carried himself, you would've mistaken him for a professor had it not been for the fact that he was in the dormitory. Call it instant attraction or lust, but you found yourself openly staring at the handsome man as he carried a box into the room. He gazed at you, too, or so you thought. Your mind may have been playing tricks on you.
"Dad, quit staring at my roommate. That's weird."
The needle on the record scratched. Her dad. You could see where she got her good looks. He was taller and broader, his hair dark brown instead of auburn, and eyes a deeper shade of blue. One of the hottest men to ever grace the earth, if anyone asked for your opinion.
It didn't matter how good looking he was. This was Beth's dad. It put him in the "look, but don't touch" column.
Your dad, Dave, appeared moments later and introduced himself. Bucky was kind enough to help him with the rest of your stuff and even offered to buy lunch. While he didn't look the least bit upset about leaving, it was clear your dad was having a tough time holding it together and even had tears in his eyes. You understood. It was the two of you for so long and now you were out the door.
Beth put a hand on his arm and gave him a small smile to ease his worries.
"Hey. Your daughter and I will look out for each other, okay? You have nothing to worry about. Plus, I think we're going to be good friends."
She was right.
To your surprise, you discovered that Beth only lived about an hour away from your hometown. Like you, Beth didn't know anyone, but she was friendly and welcoming. Definitely more outgoing than you would ever be. Her popularity grew quickly, but the two of you were there for each other like she promised. While you had lost your mother, hers took off when she was so young she couldn't even remember her face. Bucky did the best he could to raise her. Like your dad had done for you.
Maybe that was why they became such good friends, too.
The two of you traded off different weekends at each other's houses when you left campus and spent a few holidays together. You did a couple of summer trips with your dads doing their best not to be overbearing. Eventually Beth joined a sorority and moved into the chapter's house, so you no longer lived together. Bucky suggested that your dad move closer to his place when he decided to sell the house, that way everyone could still spend time together.
"You wouldn't mind, would you?" your dad asked at the time.
You didn't at the time. It still gave everyone a chance to hang out and your dad seemed to need it more than you. He admired Bucky for being self-made, having a nice house, and a good job. It was as if the man's confidence rubbed off on him. He began to dress better and get in shape. He mentioned possibly dating again, which you encouraged. Your dad deserved to be happy.
You couldn't have predicted it would all go to hell after graduation.
You nursed your wine as you sat at the bar, staring into the abyss of the liquid as you swirled it around. Maybe if you looked long enough, you'd forget about tonight. It should have been an evening of celebration for you. Nothing major, but it was something that meant the world to you.
"I think you need something stronger."
You stayed silent when you turned to your right, slightly surprised when you saw none other than Bucky take a seat beside you. The citrus scent of his cologne filled your nostrils when he moved his stool close enough that your knees touched. Up close, even with the dim bar lightning, you could see the gray hairs in his trimmed beard and perfectly coiffed brown hair. Of all the people you expected to see, he certainly wasn't one of them.
"What are you doing here?" you asked.
"I thought you could use a friend."
"Are we friends?" You asked softly.
Hurt flashed in his eyes, which filled you with guilt. "I thought we were."
You weren't sure if you would label Bucky as a friend, but you cared for the man. He had been good to you over the years, staying up with you and watching movies when you couldn't sleep or listening to you ramble on about your papers, internship, resume, while Beth pampered herself. He gave advice when you asked and listened when you only wanted to talk.
You didn't need to be rude to him.
"We are," you wanted to assure him and you felt a bit better when his shoulders relaxed. "How did you even know where to find me?"
"You rushed off before dinner started and you mentioned that you liked this place," he replied, like it was obvious. "We were supposed to be celebrating. We didn't get all dressed up for nothing," he teased, gesturing to himself and drawing your attention to his large body as you smiled a little.
Over the last few years, you got used to seeing different looks from him. Jeans and shirts tight enough to see the muscles underneath, sweatpants that hung low enough to let the imagination wander, swim trunks when you went on vacation, and even the occasional suit. He opted for a dark blue suit tonight that matched his eyes, but skipped the tie. It wasn't a look many could pull off and he did it with ease.
You blinked and shook your head, trying not to pay attention to how good he looked. Just because you were upset didn't mean you had a right to check him out. It was wrong to be attracted to him and you refused to acknowledge it. Mainly because he was one of your dad's best friends and one of your best friend's dads.
No, she's not my best friend. Not anymore.
“We even kind of match,” he smiled to himself.
You glanced down at your short, sleeveless dress. It wasn’t revealing or flashy, but you felt beautiful in it. The shade of blue was close to his suit. Part of you felt silly for dressing up for a simple dinner.
"I guess we do," you said softly, looking at your glass again.
“Surprised the boys aren’t lining up for a chance with you,” he said.
You snorted, thankful you didn’t take a sip of your wine. You would’ve spit it out. “The boys have never lined up for me, but it’s okay. I’m used to it.”
Boys usually talked to you to get closer to Beth.
“Their loss,” Bucky said sincerely as he held up a couple of fingers for the bartender.
“And we have nothing to celebrate,” you said, not wanting to dwell on your sad dating history.
"Bullshit," he said, ordering two shots of whiskey and setting some money on the counter once the bartender came over. "You got a job at Stark Industries. I'm proud of you."
Your cheeks heated at the praise. "Thank you," you said, sparing him a glance when he passed you a glass. "I already have a drink.”
“And I said it isn’t strong enough,” he hesitated as he picked up his own. “Beth said you weren’t much of a drinker. Not even on your 21st birthday. You were a good girl, weren’t you?”
You were conflicted as you listened. Did Bucky mean for that to be an innuendo? You chose to focus on Beth instead, and how angry you felt. How many nights did you hold her hair back while she puked?
“You're right. We should celebrate."
Bucky gave you a worried look as you picked up your drink.
Your cheeks ached from your wide smile. "To my dad and your daughter fucking each other. Cheers!"
You might as well address the elephant in the room since he wouldn't.
He frowned when you downed the shot, the burn spreading from the back of your throat to your chest. You half expected him to see a clench in his jaw or an embarrassed blush in his cheeks, but he merely threw his drink back and slammed the glass down when he finished. "You sure you don't want to do another toast? I don't think the entire bar heard you."
"Oh, I wouldn't want to make a scene. I did that already, remember?"
You hadn't seen Beth in months since you graduated. Neither of you landed dream jobs right away, but you did find temporary work to help cover the rent for your new place. You wanted to be independent and your dad supported you. But your friend hadn’t even seen your place.
Any time you reached out to meet up, she made an excuse why she couldn't join you or bailed at the last minute if she agreed. At first, you didn't take any offense. You figured she met a guy. She got like that sometimes over boys, but she had never gone that long without hanging out with you.
Maybe she had outgrown you after college.
Your dad sensed that you missed Beth and assured you that you'd see her soon. He planned a special dinner to celebrate you getting a job at Stark Industries. Beth promised she wouldn't miss it. You thought it was strange how easily she accepted your dad's invitation, but you discovered quickly that she wasn't there for you in the first place.
"Sweetie," your dad began as he slipped an arm around Beth's waist. "We have something we want to talk to you about. Beth and I are, well, we're seeing each other. Now I know that may be difficult to hear, especially since I haven't seen anyone serious since your mother, but…"
Your dad used to describe you as amicable and well-behaved when someone asked him about his daughter. No matter what life threw your way, you did your best to be friendly and stay out of trouble. It could have been before your mother was always kind and you did your best to follow in her footsteps. It often meant putting the needs of others before your own, but it never bothered you.
Until tonight.
Until you saw the ring on Beth's finger.
Beth, the girl who flashed boys from her sorority house window and blew off studying. The same girl who cried with you on the anniversary of your mom's death. She was going to marry your dad.
A slow moving storm began to swirl in your mind. You managed to hear your dad say that they began seeing each other the night of graduation and promised it wasn't sooner. It explained why Beth had blown you off all that time. They were trying to figure out how to tell you, but all they did was lie.
Outrage was a foreign feeling to you and you didn't know how to channel it. Were you supposed to scream? Cry? All you knew was that it clawed at your insides until it broke free.
Whatever you yelled was enough to make your dad step back in shock and Beth grab your arm to drag you outside. The porch light illuminated her enough to see the anger etched on her face. You didn't even recognize her.
"What the fuck? You've been fucking my dad?!" you yelled, snatching your arm back from her.
"Yeah, I'm fucking your dad!" she yelled back.
"How did this even happen?!" you demanded to know, immediately regretting asking a second later.
"After your graduation dinner, we were drinking and I said I always thought he was hot and-"
"God, stop!" you shrieked, covering your ears until her mouth stopped moving. "So, you two have been sneaking around behind my back and lying to me for months?!"
"We had to because we knew you'd lose your shit! I knew you wouldn’t be mature about this!"
You trembled as you took a step back. You weren't used to yelling or being yelled at. There were times that you and Beth bickered, but it was nothing like this.
And, of course, you'd lose your shit. What did she honestly expect? Was she the real reason your dad began to take better care of himself over the years?
"Why?" You asked almost timidly, a contrast to how you shouted moments ago. "I don't want to sound cliché, but you can have anyone you want. Why him?"
"Because I want him," she said unapologetically.
Beth, in the time you knew her, was never afraid to go after what or who she wanted. She also went all in with guys. She didn't believe in doing it half-ass. But your dad was far from her type, the opposite of the fuckboys she typically dated.
"My dad isn't one of those stupid boys who does lines of coke off your ass. He's a good man."
"I know he's a good man. That's why I'm marrying him," she snapped, holding up her hand for you to see the ring again. It was beautiful. If you had to guess, it was also expensive. "We just want your support."
You wondered what it would be like at times to have a stepmom. Whenever you envisioned it, your best friend never came to mind. Your dad had to be going through a midlife crisis. God, what would your mom say if she was alive? What did Bucky have to say?
"You're half his age!" you argued, the anger starting to surface again as you stepped forward and smacked her hand away. "What do you two possibly have in common?"
"A lot, actually," she said, clutching her hand against her chest. "You never had a problem with your dad and I hanging out in all the years we've been friends. And you wouldn't give a shit about his age if this was any other guy."
"But this isn't just any guy! This is my dad!" you argued, pleading with her to understand as your vision blurred. Didn’t she realize how awkward it was? What if they ended things? "And you're my best friend."
Beth bit her lip at the sight of your tears. "Your dad and I care about each other, okay? We deserve to be happy. And I care about you, too, but I'm not letting him go. I refuse to be like you."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you demanded when you watched the sympathy leave her eyes.
When backed into a corner, Beth lashed out like an animal. Anyone who got too close got hurt. Unlucky for you, you knew you were about to be on the receiving end of her wrath.
"You spent all four years of college studying and being nice instead of living. You only had fun when I made it happen. You hardly dated. You're lucky you even got laid at all," she said, digging into your insecurities. It was tough for guys to look at you when Beth stood beside you. It made you wonder how long she felt this way about you. "Deep down, you’re just a fucking coward. Unlike you, I have the balls to go after what I want, so that's what I did. You should find a pair and do the same."
Your hand connected with Beth's cheek before you could stop yourself. Like a scene out of a movie, your dad opened the door in time for him to witness the slap. But it wasn't his hand that gripped your shoulder to pull you away.
It was Bucky’s.
Your hand stung as Beth dissolved into tears in your dad's arms. He looked disappointed in you and said as much as you tried to say something. You waited for Bucky to snap at you for hitting his daughter, but he stayed eerily silent as he looked at your hand.
Did he hate you now?
"I'm sorry," you whispered, pulling away before he could say a word.
You ducked inside long enough to grab your purse and take off before any of them could stop you. It was a coward's way out. Maybe Beth was right about you, after all.
"You didn't cause a scene," Bucky said, ordering you both another drink. "That being said, I didn't hear most of the argument, but I did see you hit Beth."
You winced a little and rubbed your palm against your thigh. It was the first time you ever hit someone. "I'm sorry for slapping her."
"Don't be. She deserved it," he said under his breath.
You didn't expect him to say that.
"Your dad is worried, you know," he said, surprising you again. "Said you aren't answering his calls."
"No, I'm not. I don't know what to say to him," you admitted, finally taking out your phone to glance at it. You had missed calls and texts from your dad and Beth, but you refused to listen to the voicemails or look at the messages. "I don't get it."
"What do you not get?" He asked curiously when you finally took your drink.
"Them," you said, allowing the alcohol to burn your throat again. "I don't get them together. Beth isn't. Well, she's not…"
"Your mother?" he guessed.
You looked in your lap with a sigh.
"No, she isn't, but maybe that isn't a bad thing. She won't try to be your mom. Just a partner to your dad," he said. Was your dad someone who could ground her? Was she someone who could make him feel younger? "They're consenting adults. And your dad is lonely. Has been for years."
It sounded like he was trying to placate you, but something in his voice kept you from calling him out. You knew your dad was lonely. Beth said something similar about Bucky.
"I think Beth is bringing him out of his shell," Bucky gently added.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve hardly seen them in months,” you mumbled.
“They should’ve made time for you,” he said, putting his hand over yours. You didn’t dwell on how nice his touch felt since he pulled away just as quickly. “I should have, too. I’ve missed seeing you around the place.”
It wasn’t his job to make time for you.
“You’ve missed me?” you questioned, warmth spreading in your face as he smiled. It was nice to hear that. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“Though I have a feeling you won't want to stop by as much now to see me.”
"If I don't, it has nothing to do with you," you said.
"Sure," he smiled a little.
You examined him with a critical eye, trying to decipher what was going on in his head. Wouldn't it be awkward for him, too? Where was his anger at the situation? Was he hiding it?
"Why are you not upset? She's your daughter."
He gave you a wistful smile and had his drink. A drop of liquid stayed on his lip and you were tempted to wipe it away. Or lick it away. You couldn't act on those urges, especially after the way you went off on Beth. It would be hypocritical.
"Just because I’m not letting it show doesn’t mean I’m not upset. Truth is, I can’t control what Beth does. She stopped listening to me a long time ago. And if I tried to force her to let Dave go, it would make her want him more," he explained, his jaw twitching. "I had a few choice words for him since he kept it from you."
"Wait," you swung in your chair and almost landed in his lap. His hands gripped your arms to steady you, but he didn't let go. "Because he kept it from me? Not you?"
Bucky gave you a single nod, making your heart crack.
"So you knew?" you asked, sadness bubbling up this time instead of anger.
"I did. I’m sorry."
Why would they tell Bucky and not you? Did they expect him to be more mature? Was he the lesser of the two evils or worse?
“How long have you known?” you asked, moving off the stool with his help. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
“I’ve only known about their relationship for a couple of weeks,” he answered, trying to stop you when you put your phone in your bag. No wonder he wasn’t as upset. He had time to process the news. “Look, it wasn’t my place. You had enough on your mind with job interviews and I was-”
“You were what? Trying to protect me?”
“In a way, yeah,” he said, making you take a step back when he stood up. “I know how my daughter can be, but I didn’t expect them to pick your celebration dinner to tell you.”
“Tonight wasn’t about me,” you said with a bitter laugh. “It was never meant to be about me.”
Age gap and weirdness aside, you didn't want to say out loud that you felt pushed out. Your dad and Beth would be wrapped up in each other from now on. They already were. How would Beth be able to talk to you about romantic issues when those very issues involved your dad? Would your father make time for you? What if they decided to have a kid?
Were you wrong for thinking of yourself instead of being happy for them?
“Come here,” he whispered, embracing you in a comforting hug.
You were close to bursting into tears, shutting your eyes to keep them at bay. What were you supposed to do with the emotions you were feeling? And why did it feel so good to be in his arms?
“I don’t want to be mad at him,” you whispered.
“You won’t be mad at him forever. He’s your father,” he said, leaning in close so his lips brushed your ear. “But he isn’t your daddy, is he?”
Your eyes slowly opened at his words.
“You want me to be your daddy?”
You nearly stumbled back, your eyes wide as you looked at him. There was no playfulness in his gaze. Nothing to give away that it was a joke. You heard him wrong or imagined that because there was no way he would ask you that. Maybe those couple of shots got to you quicker than you thought.
“What did you say?” you asked.
“You heard what I said,” he said evenly.
You laughed as you backed away more. It had to be a joke and you weren’t in the mood for games. So why wasn’t he laughing with you?
“Whatever that was, I-I can’t process this right now. I need air. I need to go home.”
“You’ve been drinking,” Bucky pointed out as you began to walk to the side door. “I can take you. Let me take care of you.
“You’ve been drinking, too,” you said over your shoulder. “I’ll call a cab.”
“Wait!”
You pushed the door open and welcomed the cool air as you walked down the alley. It didn’t bother you since the alcohol warmed you a bit. It was dark, except for the glow of the neon lights. The perfect cover to hide your oncoming tears.
You turned around when you heard footsteps behind you, but didn’t speak when you saw Bucky a few feet away. What would you say to him? It was difficult to think with him watching you, the air thick with tension. The longer his gaze lingered on you, the harder it was to breathe. If he noticed your hand shaking when you wiped at your eyes, he didn't point it out.
Such a gentleman.
"You're not going home until you talk to me," he said, taking another step toward you.
"You can't keep me out here all night. There. I spoke to you."
"That isn't what I meant and you know it. You're pissed about everything, I get it, but don't act like I'm the bad guy here."
"You're not the good guy either," you snapped, pointing back at the bar. “What the hell was that in there? Asking to be my daddy?”
“You know how relieved Dave was that I didn’t beat the shit out of him over Beth? Or that I didn’t push him away as a friend? You know why I didn’t?” he asked, avoiding your question. “Because I’d be a fucking hypocrite.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’ve wanted you since I walked into your dorm room your freshman year.”
The air rushed out of your lungs. A man who is practically sex on legs wanted you. Someone off limits and you could never have.
“Beth never wanted a stepmom and the women I dated didn’t want a bratty daughter. I almost gave up on dating and then I saw you. You were right in front of me and I couldn’t have you because you were half my age and living with my daughter,” he explained.
You thought back over the years, searching for signs in the memories that he wanted you. The late, quiet nights together. His interests in your studies. How he used to joke with your dad that the reason you didn’t date much was because the boys weren’t good enough for you.
“Been almost five years and I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve tried to be good. What’s stopping us now?”
“I. That’s not. We.” Why couldn’t you form a coherent sentence? “You’re a good man and a good looking man, but you’re Beth’s dad.”
Bucky’s bitter laugh chilled you more than the cool air.
“So, you’re going to pretend that you don’t want me? That you haven’t wanted me all these years and I’ve just imagined the looks and want between us?” he demanded, every bit the confident man you grew used to seeing. “Say you don’t want me and we’ll forget this whole thing.”
You couldn’t say that.
“Say I do want you,” you said carefully. “We just can’t.”
You backed up when he strode forward and wrapped his hand around your wrist. The touch was gentler than you expected as he turned and backed you against the wall, your bag unceremoniously falling to the ground. You were forced to look at him when he gripped your chin, pressing his body closer to yours. His eyes flickered between your gaze and trembling mouth and you wondered if he heard how fast your heart pounded.
Were his eyes always such a dark shade of blue or did you ignore the lust hidden beneath the surface?
"Why can’t we, hmm?" he asked, firmly keeping your head in place when you tried to avert your gaze. "Is it because you’re scared? You don’t have to be.”
You were scared as hell. Bucky is a man. Experienced.
"Aren't you tired of being good? I know I am."
You thought back to Beth’s previous words. How she had the balls to go after what she wanted and you needed to do the same. What better time to start than now?
You pressed your lips against his and it didn’t take him long for his tongue to slip in, tasting the whiskey as he devoured you. He moaned when your hands moved down his torso, allowing you to divulge in the thing you both denied yourselves. Some twisted part of you mourned what you could’ve had for months had you simply stopped being a good girl.
Were you truly good to begin with?
The line of his hard cock pressed against you as he rocked his hips and kissed down your neck. “This isn’t how I pictured it, but I can’t fucking wait.”
“How did you picture it?” you whimpered, rolling your hips back against his.
“I’d rather show you later,” he whispered, lightly biting down. It wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, but enough that pain and pleasure lingered. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”
He moved away enough to push your dress up around your hips, shocking you when he tore your panties off. Tucking the ruined fabric into his pants pocket, he slipped his hand back between your thighs. His fingers were cool against your slick folds and you shamelessly writhed, needing everything he was willing to give you.
“Did you touch yourself at night wishing I’d show up and fuck your pretty pussy until you cried for me? Hmm?” He said, kissing you again as you whined. The light scratch of his beard made you shiver as he nipped your bottom lip. “Tell me you want my cock.”
Your head spun at his demand. You weren’t a virgin, but the guys you had been with before weren’t big on dirty talk. Unless they talked about how amazing their cocks were.
They weren’t.
“I want your cock,” you whined against his lips, desperate for him.
You wanted him to fill you up until you were sore, aching, and forgot why you were so upset in the first place.
“I’ll give it to you,” he promised.
Your fingers twisted in his shirt when he slid his fingers into your wet slit. You couldn’t recall a time in your life you felt this hot and slick. And feeling one finger push inside, you were sure this was nothing more than an erotic, dirty dream.
“Fuck, you’re tight. And you’re gonna let me fuck you against this wall, aren’t you?” he asked as you nodded. “Dirty girl. My dirty girl now.”
His finger twisted as he added another and you nearly smacked your head against the wall, but his other hand came up to soften the blow. “Bucky,” you gasped.
“I don’t know if you really want my cock,” he teased, moving his long fingers deep. “Might need to hear it one more time.”
As if you weren’t practically riding the thick digits at this point and moaning in the dark alleyway, he really needed to hear you say it again? The squelching sound of your pussy wasn’t loud enough? But your body liked his teasing. Loved his demands.
“Please, I need your cock. Please, Bucky. Please.” you begged, almost sobbing when he took his fingers out.
“But you said we can't do this. Isn't that what you said?” he asked.
When you opened your mouth to answer, he pushed his wet fingers inside.
“Taste yourself and try to say you don't want me. I dare you,” he whispered, wiping some of the bittersweet juices on your tongue. His fingers slipped free as you gaped at him, watching as he licked the remainder with a groan. “Even sweeter than I imagined.”
The sound of him unbuckling his belt snapped you out of your stupor. “Bucky, I’m-”
“On the pill and clean. I know,” he cut you off as he took his cock out and stroked himself. “I need to fill you up, pretty girl. Need to make you mine, the way I should’ve a long time ago.”
You struggled to keep yourself upright as he guided himself between your legs, holding your hip steady when he pushed the head in. You weren’t nearly stretched enough to take him, but your greedy pussy didn’t care as he slipped in inch by inch. You moaned as he kept pushing until he was fully sheathed inside you. You had never felt so full and likely never would again.
“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours as your walls pulsed around him.
In the dark place in the back of your mind you kept locked away, you wondered how he looked and sounded when he was pleased. If he gasped when he came or if his eyes rolled back. You were going to find out though, weren’t you?
You cried out when he thrust, one hand moving up to grip his hair. The quick, hard motions felt as desperate as you did inside. You didn’t care if it was fast or dirty. You were tired of being clean. This wasn’t tender or making love. It wasn’t soft touches and kisses to your breasts or slowly building you up.
It was Bucky Barnes fucking you against an alley wall.
“Fuck, are you always this wet or is it just for me?” he asked in awe, pulling one of your legs around his hip to shove his cock in deeper. “Do I have to chase anyone else off?”
You didn’t hear the words as you cried out. It felt so good to be taken like this. The rage, hurt, confusion, all of it molded into ecstasy. You never wanted it to end.
A light smack to your thigh pulled you back to the present.
“Tell. Me. You’re. Mine.” The gravel in his voice grew with each punctuated thrust.
“I’m yours,” you moaned, helpless to the onslaught and uncaring of the implication in the moment.
Your response encouraged him to move faster, kissing you deeply with a groan. His thrusts became almost punishing, like he had to feel you let go so he could come. It wouldn’t take much more with your orgasm building the way it was. You’d be surprised if his cock wasn’t coated in your wetness once you came.
“I-I’m gonna…” you trailed off.
“I know, pretty girl,” he grunted, gripping your chin again. “Be good and come for Daddy.”
Your body seized up before you exploded with pleasure. You struggled to hold yourself up as you trembled with bliss, your vision going white from the intensity. It was so much at once and you thought you might sob from how good it felt.
“Good girl. My good fucking girl,” he encouraged as he fucked you through it, the obscene sounds drowning out your whimpers. He tipped over the edge after a few more thrusts, coating your wet walls. “Fuck, take it.”
He managed to hold you up as he finished, panting as his head fell back. Your grip on his jacket loosened as the reality of the situation sank in, like a bucket of cold water being washed over you. Why did pleasure have to be short lived?
You fucked Bucky. You let Bucky fuck you. How could you cross that line? Just because Beth and your dad had done so, why did you think you could?
God, what were you going to tell them? That you were the biggest hypocrite alive? That you were no better than they were?
What goes around, comes around.
“Hey,” he whispered when he lifted his head, both of you still breathing heavily. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
“It’s not okay,” you whispered as he pulled out of you, your mixed release dripping down your thighs. You covered your face as he fixed your dress and himself. “Oh, my god.”
You flinched and dropped your hands when he pulled you away from the wall. His expression was unreadable as he shrugged his jacket off and slipped it over your shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said again.
“W-We can’t do that again,” you whispered as he bent down to retrieve your bag.
"Why not?" he asked, picking up some of the contents that fell out before he stood up.
"Because we can't," you said with no strength behind your words.
“We’re doing this again. You can’t avoid me or this,” he said, pointing between the two of you.
“Your daughter is marrying my dad. This whole thing is fucked up and-”
“And I said I'm tired of being good. I’m fucking tired of denying myself the chance to be happy,” he said firmly as he got in your face. “So are you. I know it."
You pulled the jacket tighter around you, not backing away as he stared at you. Did you shake from the sudden cold, your orgasm, or from the thought that he wasn’t about to let you go?
His gaze softened before he kissed your forehead. “Let’s get a cab and I’ll take you home. We can talk about it once you’ve rested.”
You let him take your hand, your feet moving on their own accord to follow him to the end of the alley. “I can get home on my own.”
You needed to be alone so you could figure out what to do about everything.
“You said you’re mine, didn’t you?” he said, smiling when you stopped. “And what kind of Daddy would I be if I didn’t take care of you?”
Would love to explore more of this new pairing. 😏 Love and thanks for reading! 💙
My sweet nephew (actually cousin but we were always auntie and uncle to him) was diagnosed with a brain tumor on Saturday. He’s young, so smart, so kind hearted, so hardworking…and it’s not fair. I was sucker punched in the gut and thrown by my ptsd back to the day I found out my own son had leukemia 12 years ago. Your world turns upside down in seconds, and the normalcy you thought you had will never, ever be the same…even after you’re cured and come home.
In true Aiden fashion, he has given his tumor the nickname of Dwayne Johnson, as he was told it was basically the calcified ‘rock’ growing in his brain. 😂
He is now at the best place in the world seeing top notch neurosurgeons, and surgery is tentatively set for this Wednesday. They are hopeful that they can remove it, and hopeful that chemo or radiation will not be necessary. The only worry could be that post surgery his speech and memory could be affected…which he is kinda worried about. I would just ask the tumblr universe to keep him in your prayers if you pray, or send all the good vibes their way as they navigate a new norm.
One of their friends started a Go Fund Me for them to help offset travel, medical, and living expenses during this hard time. Thank you, in advance, for any donations or any shares!
The sweetest family that is very near and dear to my family and I ha… Dana Cressell needs your support for Medical and Travel expenses for
Warnings: Overstimulation, multiple orgasms, vaginal fingering, oral sex (f receiving), face sitting, piv sex, dbf!Bucky is wild, y’all
Words: 1496
A/N: This is a direct continuation of Didn't Say We Were Done. You don't have to read that first, but you should. If you want.
If you like it, please give it a reblog! It helps other users find my work!
Kinktober Masterlist | Main Masterlist
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“Once the party is over, why don’t you come on over? I’m three houses down, and I promise, we don’t need clothes for what I have planned for you, pchelka.”
Almost as soon as the words had left his luscious lips, you knew you’d be knocking on Bucky’s door before the night had ended.
At a quarter to midnight you trotted down the street to the house with the mailbox marked Barnes. It’s the house of your father’s best friend, neighbor, and coworker. He’s also the most gorgeous man you’ve ever laid eyes on.
You knock on the door, and it swings open almost immediately. Bucky answers, wearing plaid pajama pants, and nothing else. He grins at you, and motions you into his house.
Almost as soon as the door closes behind you Bucky pulls you against his body. “Still desperate, pchelka?”
You nod breathlessly.
“Good girl,” he says with satisfaction. He pushes you against the wall with one hand, and unties one of your sundress straps with the other. Still wearing your little bees, pchelka.” He snugs his leg in between your thighs with a thoughtful hum. “Then I suppose that means…” he trails off, one hand slipping up your skirt to slide between your legs, “still not wearing any panties. I see you really are a good girl.”
The sheer arousal you feel from his hands, his presence, has you hanging on his every word, his every movement. Your short encounter in your parent’s garage had not adequately prepared you for how intense he’d be once he was unimpeded by the location.
He frees your tits from your sundress, and seals his mouth over one of your nipples at the same time he pushes two fingers into your cunt.
Your hands automatically fly up to his head, to tangle in his soft, brunette hair. He groans his encouragement when you pull on the messy strands.
You hadn’t touched yourself at all since you rode Bucky’s lap a few hours ago. Fuck, you’d wanted to, but since Bucky hadn’t come when you did, you figured you should wait for him, the same as he was waiting for you.
But fuck you’d wanted to rub one out really quick before you left the house. Every time you looked over at him and saw his hand in his pocket, toying with the panties he’d demanded from you, you’d get a little wetter, and a little more on edge.
Which is why you can hardly be blamed for succumbing to your first orgasm no more than a few minutes after you crossed the threshold into Bucky’s house. It hits you out of nowhere, buckling your knees, and soaking Bucky’s hand where it works between your thighs.
“Fuck, you are desperate, pchelka,” he groans against your cheek. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to stay for the rest of that party with your panties in my pocket, and your come soaking into the front of my shorts?”
You shake your head no. All you knew is how difficult it had been for you, and all you had left of him afterwards was the chafed skin at the apex of your thighs, and the little thrill you felt every time you saw his hand in his pocket.
With a growl, he tugs you away from the wall and escorts you through his house to his bedroom, stopping only to push your sundress down, and leave it in a pile in the hallway.
He spins you around slowly to admire you. “Look at you. God you’re gorgeous.”
In his bedroom, he pushes you down onto a huge bed, covered with lush blankets, and soft sheets. He hovers just out of reach, arching over you, barely touching you in any meaningful way, until he bends to kiss you deeply, and slip his fingers inside of you again.
“Bucky,” you whine. You’re already dancing on the edge of another orgasm. You’d never been with anyone who was this adept at working over your body.
“I am fucking dying to taste you pchelka,” he groans.
You moan and clench around his fingers. He chuckles, “Sounds like my little bee is dying to be tasted. Give me one more, come on my fingers one more time, and then I want you to sit on my face. Can you do that for me?”
And, well, with his fingers in your cunt like this, you’d do just about anything he asked of you, so you nod.
He grins at you, and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, while he curls his fingers against your sweet spot. You sink your fingers into his hair, and come with a wail.
As soon as the last moan of your climax fades, he’s scooting onto the bed, and arranging you over his face. You cling to his sturdy headboard with both hands, whining when his tongue slides through your slit, and Bucky’s satisfied growl rumbles against your sensitive skin.
“Mmm. Just as delicious as I thought you’d be, pchelka,” he hums, and seals his lips around your clit.
He eats your pussy as if he’s been waiting his whole life to taste you, and his talented tongue is relentless in its quest to make you delirious. Another couple orgasms, and you’re squirming on top of him so much that he has to roll you over onto your back so he can hold your hips down while he tongue fucks you.
“I’m not done yet,” he scolds. “So be still, pchelka.”
“Please, Bucky,” you whine, “just need you to fuck me.”
“I bet you do,” he huffs a laugh. “But I’m not ready yet. You look so pretty, ‘n sound so good when you come. I can’t get enough.”
He slaps your clit a few times before burying his fingers in your pussy again. His skin is shiny with your juices from his cheeks down to his bare chest, and as his fingers make you squirt, it’s easy to see why.
He curses quietly. “Fuck, you’re perfect, pchelka.” He goes to dip his tongue into your slit again, and you try to squirm away from him. His strong hands clamp down on your hips, and tugs you back toward him. “Where do you think you’re going, little bee?” He slaps your mound again, chuckling when it makes you jerk and moan. “This pussy is mine now. You can have her back when I’m done with her.”
You’re strung out and oversensitive, but somehow Bucky is able to walk the very fine line that keeps you just this side of too much.
“Bucky, please,” you groan .
“What do you need, pchelka?” He pillows his head on your thigh, but doesn’t stop working you over with his fingers.
You want to ask him to fuck you, to get his cock in you, instead of his tongue and fingers. You’re too strung out to express anything quite so clever as that, so what comes out is, “I can’t.”
He pokes his bottom lip out, and tuts. “But I think you can, pchelka. In fact…” he trails off, and crooks the fingers inside of you, and you come with a sob. “...you just did.” He grins at you radiantly.
He finally pulls his fingers out of you, and rolls over to peel off the pajama pants he had yet to take off. When he knees up onto the bed again, he’s got his hand around his cock jacking it slowly. It’s ruddy, and huge, and dripping precome over his knuckles. It’s easily the most gorgeous dick you’ve ever seen.
He surveys you from above. Your body trembles with both anticipation and overstimulation, your thighs are soaked, your pussy glistens in the light, and the way you’re looking at him makes him want to keep you on his dick forever.
“Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you cream on my cock,” he groans.
“Bucky,” you whine.
He hovers over you, “What do you need, little bee?”
“‘S big,” you slur.
“Thank you,” he chuckles. “What’s the matter, pchelka? Worried it won’t fit?”
“Yeah,” you nod.
"Don't worry, I'll make it fit," and he’s dragging the tip through your slit already, and he starts pushing in slowly, groaning praise about how wet you are, and how fucking tight you're squeezing him He pauses when he’s halfway inside you, rocking his hips gently.
You’re throbbing and too sensitive. You whine, and beg him to just fuck you already. He shushes you. Tells you he will. Tells you to let him savor this for just a second.
“Now, I didn’t get to hear all those pretty noises you wanted to make at your parents house,” he purrs against your sweat-damp cheek, “and that makes me sad.”. He’s still half buried in your cunt, and he pushes forward the rest of the way, bottoming out with one slick slide, while you moan a loud curse. “There’s a good girl. Lemme hear you scream for me, pchelka.”
Thanks for reading! Please remember artists rely on readers like you to hit that "reblog" button. For you - it's free. For us - it's worth everything.
The dripping slime from my signature is by Rivermakes on DeviantArt, and was free to use with credit.
Ari Levinson x female reader; dark!Ari Levinson x female reader
Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes are also present in this fic…
summary: Being Ari’s personal assistant was supposed to come with perks, but there are challenges too. Especially when he decided to cross the boundaries and make a very personal use of you.
warnings: dub-con (extremely dub-con); voyeurism; public humiliation; public sex; bondage; use of duct tape; unprotected sex; forced orgasm; dark!Ari Levinson; mafia!Ari Levinson;
If you don’t like stories of this kind, don’t read! Check the warnings first and make a conscious choice to proceed!
AN: This story wasn’t in my plans at all. It’s a spur of a moment writing that miraculously took only one day 🤯
word count: 4.5k
Working as Ari Levinson’s personal assistant felt like a jackpot when you started. Despite how dangerous it seemed at first - your mother almost had a heart attack when you told her your friend got you a job interview for the city’s dark king.
Ari Levinson is the mobster ruthlessly ruling the city and a wide area around it, but it seems he appreciates his employees.
The paycheck is amazing, insurance top shelf, workplace luxurious. Even your work schedule can be flexible as long as your tasks are done on terms previously discussed with Mister Levinson.
You don’t use that benefit often anyway. You keep your life rather organized, fitting other matters around your work-centered timeline. Besides, you like your job.
Working with Ari is challenging at times, but in a good way. He has high expectations, works overtime (which means you have to as well), and is strict when stating orders and executing them.
He’s also the sexiest man to ever exist, in your opinion, so spending long hours with him has additional benefits. And if his face is the one you imagined alone at home when you touched yourself, no one has to know.
As demanding as Ari is, he also sports a surprisingly caring side. He had ice cream delivered for the both of you late in the evening when you stayed to polish a hectic schedule for the current biggest project.
And if you stay past five in the afternoon he drives you home, or has someone else do it.
Only the first time you tried saying it’s not necessary, but Ari’s gaze glinted something dangerous that made you stutter and shut up.
Still, it was all professional and comfortable between the two of you for the first three months of your work.
Davina's cynical comment elicits an eye roll from you while you touch up your lip gloss in the mirror. "It's fate, Davie. How can I ignore fate?" You ask incredulously, turning to face her. "He's here, on campus. I have to take advantage of this opportunity!"
She lets out a long sigh, shaking her head as she watches you put on your uniform. "What are you wearing that for?" She asks with a frown.
"He might only be into me because of the whole cheerleader thing," You explain simply. "I can't risk him rejecting me."
"He's visiting his daughter at college; if he doesn't reject you, he's a pervert!" Davina retorts, standing up.
"No, he is not!" You shoot back. "He's beautiful, and really good at sex. Will you just let me have this?"
"There's no way he's gonna have sex with you again," She reckons, not too sure herself. "How would that even be logistically possible?"
"I don't need to fuck him; I just wanna see him again," You admit with a smile. "Twirl my skirt a little, take up some space in his mind."
She lets out a sigh but gives up on trying to stop you, which you take as her blessing.
Jamie Rogers' building is on the other side of campus. It's a short walk over, and you spend the whole time buzzing. The second you saw her dad on her Instagram story with a caption about how he had surprised her with a visit, you knew you had to at least try to see him.
You know exactly where she lives, thankfully. Her apartment is right next to Pietro's, which you frequent. When you get there, you knock on her door a few times, before stepping back and smoothing down your skirt. Almost a month has passed since you last saw Mr. Rogers, and you're itching for your next hit.
The door opens and Jamie immediately looks disgusted. "Are you lost?" She asks you, looking you up and down with a frown. "Maximoff lives next door."
"I'm not here to see Pietro," You reveal with a friendly smile, holding up the poster in your hand. "I came to invite you to help out with a fundraiser the Falconettes are hosting."
Utterly confused, Jamie scoffs. "You came all the way here to give me a poster for an event I most definitely will not be attending, let alone helping out with?" She asks incredulously.
You take in a deep breath before pushing past her, casually strolling into the apartment. "It's for a good cause," You insist, feeling your stomach flip when you see her father leaning against the breakfast bar. "Hi, Mr. Rogers! I didn't know you were visiting."
A smile grows on his face as he sees you, looking you up and down. "Hello, Y/N. It's good to see you again," He greets you with a subtle smirk.
"Yeah, she was just leaving," Jamie interjects, snatching the poster from your hand. "Why should I care about this fundraiser?"
Giving her a warm smile, despite how much you just want to give her just as much attitude back, you reply, "We're trying to raise money for our flights to Nationals. But whatever we have left over is going to the Falcons, so I figured you'd be interested in helping out."
"That sounds great," Mr. Rogers suddenly chimes in. "Honey, you're always complaining that you guys don't have enough budget for a new uniform."
"Exactly!" You add on with a grin, holding your hand and taking Jamie's. "Everyone can win, Jamie, if we all work together."
She grimaces before pulling her hand back. "Why are you being so nice to me after last week?" She questions you with narrow eyes. "Get high off your boyfriend's supply, again?"
The mention of last week makes your eye twitch. At a party, you and Jamie had got into yet another argument, which ended with her dumping her drink on your head. Most of your motivation to fuck her dad again comes from the rage you felt that night, but you slap on a fake smile and keep up the act.
"Don't be silly, Jay! Bygones!" You exclaim with a soft laugh, gently hitting her arm. "And Pietro and I are just friends, you know that!"
Raising a brow, she lowers her voice. "Yeah, that's not what I heard the other night-"
"Anyway!" You cut her off, turning to Mr. Rogers. "Have you two got any fun plans today?"
Jamie huffs, giving up with trying to make you leave anytime soon. Mr. Rogers steps forward, folding his big arms across his chest. "We're gonna watch a play," He tells you.
"Right after I shower and get ready," Jamie mumbles, looking down at her watch.
"Oh. Right," You say, feeling a bout of mischief as you slowly back away towards the door. "Well, I'm going next door to hang with Piet."
"When?" She questions, confusing you.
"Uh, right now?" You retort with a frown.
"No, when did I ask?" She asks with an eye-roll, but you're too busy giving Mr. Rogers fuck-me eyes to notice her diss.
"Enjoy your shower, Jamie," You sing, before getting down on one knee and pretending to be tying your shoelace.
"Enjoy screwing your boyfriend, slut," She retorts quietly, to which you shoot her a wink.
"I will," You whisper while she storms out of the room.
When you hear her bedroom door slamming shut, you look up from your shoes to see Mr. Rogers walking over to you. You're about to get up, but he cups your cheek in his hand and lowers his voice. "Stay there," He orders with a mumble, making your pussy throb.
You say nothing, too awestruck by his silent dominance as he unbuckles his belt and pulls out his hard cock. Your other knee lowers to the carpeted floor and your lips part instinctively.
"Miss me?" He asks you teasingly, tapping his tip on your bottom lip.
"Yeah," You whisper breathlessly, already flustered into complete submission.
"Been thinking about how good I fucked you?" He questions lowly, slowly inching his dick into your mouth. "'Bout how nobody else could ever make you cum that hard?"
Your stomach flips and you know that it's true; nobody comes close to being as good as him as pressing your every button. For the past month, you've been masturbating to the memory of him, and now that you have the chance to experience him again, you're utterly overwhelmed. Fucking Pietro is nice and all, but he doesn't hold a candle to Steven Rogers.
Without warning, he begins to fuck your face. You tightly grab his thighs in each of your hands, taken aback by his rough intrusion. "Keep your eyes on me," He growls, running a hand through your hair before pulling on the ends. "That's it. Don't act so coy, baby, we both know this is exactly what you came here for."
You let out whimpers around his cock, your heart racing as it tunnels down your throat. Incapable of a single coherent thought, you simply stare up at him, letting your jaw relax and letting him use you like a toy. You feel yourself getting wetter, every one of Steve's grunts making your cunt throb. In an attempt to feel some relief, you squeeze your legs together and slightly move your hips back and forth.
"Look at you," He mutters with an arrogant smirk, slowing down his thrusts. "Getting wet for me, baby? Need me in your pussy?"
You nod as best as you can, eager to fuck him again and also keenly aware that you don't have much time with him. Jamie could jump out the shower any minute, and the two of you know that. Without wasting a second, Steve pulls out of your mouth and grabs your arm, dragging you up to your feet. Dazed, you stumble backwards, and he follows you to push you against the wall and give you a sloppy kiss.
"Haven't stopped thinking about you," He admits lowly, squeezing your hips as his forehead rests against yours. "That perfect pussy. I'm hooked, baby."
Timidly, you wrap your fingers around his dick, gently and slowly stroking it. Steve's jaw clenches as he groans lowly, his eyes darkening.
"Fuck. Come here," He mumbles before lifting up your legs and wrapping them around his waist. You rest your arms on his shoulders and your stomach flips with excitement as he brings his cock to your entrance. "Ready?"
"Yes," You whisper, before gasping when he sinks into you. Slowly, he feeds you every inch of himself, his pulsing dick filling you up.
"Oh, fuck," He groans, throwing his head back. "Shit, you're gonna kill me."
Once you're used to his intrusion, you squeeze his shoulder and nod profusely. Steve takes that as his green light and begins pounding in and out of you, fucking you against the wall and making the shelves shake. Your voice is stolen as he fucks you, and you're unable to let anything besides weak whimpers and moans out of your mouth.
"That's it, baby, you're taking me so well," Steve praises you, thrusting harder. "That's my girl."
You light up at his words, butterflies erupting in your stomach. He can tell he's already got you in the palm of his hand, and he loves it. Suddenly, he stops his movements and begins walking you over to the couch. Jamie's couch. Steve puts you down onto your feet before bending you over the back of the couch and lifting up your skirt again.
"Such a good little slut for me," He utters, slapping his tip against your pussy a few times before pushing it back into you. You feel him much deeper in this position, and it makes your toes curl when he brushes against your cervix. He gives you no time to adjust, fucking into you hard and fast once again.
Steve takes your hands in his, pulling your arms behind you as he slams in and out of you. Your moans are loud, but you don't care. Jamie's music is blasting from the bathroom, and even if it wasn't, you grin widely at the thought of the look on her face if she were to walk in on her dad railing her worst enemy on her own couch.
"You are unreal," Steve says, making you smirk at how smitten you've made him. He slows down his thrusts and cups your face, bringing you up so your back is against his front. "Tell me, baby, who does this pussy belong to?"
Through your smile, you reply, "It belongs to you, daddy. I'm all yours."
He pulls out before turning you around to face him and cups your cheeks in his hands. With a deep kiss, he lets you know exactly how obsessed with you he is, and you're glad your feelings are mutual. During the kiss, as his tongue dances with yours, Steve picks you back up and takes you over to the breakfast counter. There, he sits you down onto a stool before lifting your legs up and placing them on his shoulders.
"All mine," He repeats with a mumble, marrying his cock back to your cunt, sliding back into you. "My good little slut."
He fucks into you deeper than ever, lightly wrapping his hand around your throat. You feel dizzy, overcome with pleasure. "Daddy," You whine as your eyes roll back.
"Fuck, baby, take it," Steve grunts, pawing at your tits through your top. "That feel good?"
"So good," You reply, digging your nails into his biceps. "Please don't stop, daddy, make me cum."
Your words spur him on to fuck you harder, and soon you feel your core tighten. With a loud cry, you let go and cum, overwhelmed with a rush of bliss and intense relief.
"That's my fuckin' girl," He groans, thrusting slower. He pounds into you a few more times before cumming, shooting his load into you with a grunt. "Shit."
Shuddering, you slowly come down from your high while Steve gently puts your panties back into place and smoothes down your skirt. Once your mind is back on the ground, and you can see clearly again, you realize you're sitting at the counter and Steve is opening up a bottle of kombucha before he slides it over to you.
"Drink up, cheerleader," He says, giving you a smile.
"Fuck," You mumble, fixing your hair. "Did we really just do that?"
Smirking, Steve rests his hands on the counter. "You wanna come watch the play with us?" He asks, watching as you take a sip.
"Absolutely not," Is your instant reply.
He knows to give up, shrugging before holding out his hand. "Give me your phone," He orders, waiting for you to fish it out of your pocket and place it in his pal. "Password?"
You tell him the number code, curiously observing as he types and swipes. After a few moments, he hands it back to you.
"You're so old," You tease him.
"Call me," He says simply, to which you snort.
With an eye roll, he sighs. "Fine, text me, or whatever the fuck," He huffs.
"I will," You chirp, putting your phone away.
"When I want to," You say with a casual shrug. "Might not be a while."
"When?" He asks.
Steve raises a brow, giving you a cold look while saying nothing. It's enough to knock all the confidence out of you and you immediately lose the attitude.
"Tonight," You correct yourself, earning a smug look from him. "When will you get home?"
"I have classes tomorrow, and don't you have work?" You wonder with a frown.
"Around 9," He answers, before a mischievous glint shines in his eyes. "Come with me."
Steve shakes his head. "Retired."
"Created a banking software in my early twenties, developed it for a decade, sold it in my early thirties, invested in a bunch of companies with the money, and here I am. No need to work for the rest of my life," He explains calmly, as though he isn't describing his journey to self-made millionairism.
Taken aback, you scoff. "You're like, not even forty! How are you retired?"
"Oh," You say simply. "Nice."
Steve leans forward, resting his arms on the counter. "So, come see my big house," He invites.
With a sigh, you shake your head. "Sounds good, but I have training tomorrow," You say with an apologetic look. "Nationals are soon, and I can't let my girls down."
"So you're gonna let your man down instead?" He asks, smoothly using the possessive pronoun like it's nothing and turning you into a giddy ball of nerves. Your man.
Thankfully, before you have to say something in response, Jamie re-enters the living space, screwing her face up when she sees you. "Why are you still here?"
Sitting up, you give her a grin. "Your father and I were just talking about finance. His journey is truly fascinating, I'm a big fan of his work," You lie through your teeth.
Unconvinced, she raises a brow. "You care about finance?" She asks incredulously. "The cheerleader majoring in Excercising Science cares about finance?"
"I have a quiet passion for math," You claim, standing up.
"Whatever," She mutters. "You can leave, now."
"Aren't you gonna invite your friend to the barbecue next weekend, J?" Steve asks, giving her an expectant look.
"She's not my friend, dad," She reminds him, frustrated.
"Don't be rude, Jamie," He says sternly, before giving you a smile. "You should come, Y/N. Jamie's Uncle Bucky works in Sport Science; I'm sure the two of you will have plenty to talk about."
Storming over to you, Jamie lowers her voice. "I'll come to your stupid fundraiser. Now, will you please get out of my life?"
The twinkle in Steve's eye is holding you captive, and you can't help but smile back at him. "I wouldn't miss it for the world," You sing, before shooting her a wink.
i no longer have a taglist, follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifs 💞
Luca shook his head. “You know, if I squint at you, you look exactly like your mother. She was a beautiful woman. Charming. Not the sharpest tool in the shed. I mean no offense.”
You shrugged. “I didn’t know her. None taken.”
“You on the other hand?” Luca grabbed the cigar, took another puff or two. “You’ve got your father’s mind. You don’t miss a damn thing, do you?”
“Apparently, I do else I wouldn’t be down here trying to get you to tell me what the hell is going on around me,” you explained. “Steve doesn’t talk to me about it.”
“Have you asked?”
“Yes.” Maybe not directly. But you had.
Luca’s expression held noticeable skepticism. “I didn’t think so.” After a moment, the cook laughed. “Steve doesn’t know what to do with you, does he? He’s used to women falling all over themselves to get his attention. He has to work to get yours. Then he decided to marry you and that didn’t go the way he expected either.”
You grinned. “If this is the part where you tell me it’s my job to be a good wife and keep him happy…”
“That ain’t going to work with Steve,” Luca told you meaningfully. “You keep him on his toes. A man likes a challenge.”
You didn’t expect him to say that.
“He’s also happier than I’ve ever seen him,” the man went on. “Outside of all the business stuff going on… You want him to tell you, he will. But don’t play games with him. Just ask him.”
It sounded too easy. You’d keep his advice in mind.
“And you avoid Barnes,” he pointed a finger at you. “You’re right that he poses a threat to you. But he wouldn’t threaten you. You understand? He’d come at you a different way.”
Remembering him cornering you in the kitchen the first time you met him, you thought you did understand. You nodded.
Your friend finished packing up the picnic hamper as you watched.
“When is the next poker game?” you had to ask. You’d been wanting another shot at the cook who assured you that you’d never beat him.
Luca grinned. “Tomorrow night work for you?”
It did. But then it occurred to you. “Is Steve going to be out tomorrow night?”
“You think he’d let us monopolize your company if he wasn’t?” Luca puffed on his cigar, finishing it up. “He’s called a meeting of the heads of the families. Some bad shit went down a couple of nights ago. I’m guessing that’s why Barnes is here now.”
Don’t you love when Facebook asks right there at the top, “What’s on your mind?”
Well, a lot actually…thanks for asking! But I won’t do all that lol. Ain’t nobody got time for all that. I will tell you how I’m feeling, though: like a failure and a disappointment.
Am I either of those? No. But life has me feeling that way. All I’ve tried to do for the last 11 years is to make life better for my kids. Trying to pay off debt and save to be able to one day buy my own home for them to be able to grow in and have a stable place. Problem is, I never make enough to be able to do that. A one income house can barely function…when back 50 years ago, that’s all you had was the one person working (usually the father of the house) and one staying home. Hell, now you can barely function with a two income household.
After filing bankruptcy two years ago, I thought it was my fresh start and I could build everything back up where I needed it to be…which I was almost there. Until I’ve gotten behind again because literally the price and cost of everything has risen so high people can barely afford to live. I took a contract position with no insurance or paid time off with the hope that the higher pay would mean I could finally get ahead (HAHA) and then I could save money to pay down and buy a house whenever one came available that wasn’t outrageously priced and was one we loved. I was planning for that to happen this year. But. My plans never seem to go the way I want them to.
For the past two months I have spent every single day searching for homes and apartments and calling and applying…and wondering and worrying how in the hell I’m supposed to come up with at least $1,200 for a deposit and first months rent somewhere (and that’s on the cheaper end I’ve seen) when I can barely pay bills and gas and food and not able to save anything. It sucks and I’m depressed and barely going…but I’m still going. Because I have to…because I have kids and a cat that depend on me. Because even though I feel like I’ve let them all down, I still have to keep moving.
I feel like I’m a good person and I work hard for everything I have, but I’m so tired. So tired of nothing I try to do ever working out or being enough. So tired of being shit on by life. So tired of working my ass off and still being behind. I’m not asking for prayers or pity or money (but if you want to donate to my Find A Home fund my cash app is $KaciTuell 😂🤣)…I’m just venting my frustration out. Because I know for a fact I’m not the only person struggling or feeling this way…you’re not alone. Nothing is ever as it appears to be on social media.
Check on your friends. We’ll still tell you we’re fine, but know that just knowing there’s people out there that care even if we don’t speak often or see each other everyday is something we remember. And it matters.
I’m not that ok, but I will be. Something somewhere will work out and hopefully things will turn around for my situation. For now, quit being jerks, racists, homophobes, sexists, holier than thou judgemental pricks and just be nice to one another and live your own life and quit worrying about what Bill and Steve do with theirs next door if it’s not causing you any harm. People have enough shit on their plate without you trying to tell them how to live their own lives and be free and happy. Because YOU DONT EVER KNOW HOW SOMEONE ELSE IS REALLY FEELING or what they might be going through.
But hey, on a good note: Sonic’s got me, cause as I typed this I got my daily text that there’s a reward for a free cheeseburger in the app! I’m good for lunch! 😂😂
