Need a Ride?
Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x afabCurvy!Reader
Tags/Warning: MDNI 18+, biker Bucky, curvy reader, insecure reader, beefy Bucky because we all need him, coworker are shitheads, drinking, angst if you squint, smut in part 2 (oral!fem receiving, missionary, hair pulling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, Buckys got a filthy mouth, fingering, he literally eats you out on the bike alright)
Summary: After a shit night out with coworkers, you catch the eye of a mysterious biker who looks every part of a dirty fantasy.
Note: it’s been forever since I wrote literally anything. I’ve decided to crawl out of my hole and share a little something something as I warm my fingies. I have a mild praise kink so reblog, like it, and comment. Thanks!
Dividers by @uzmacchiato
Perhaps it’s the mystery of the unknown. Being able to see what the body looks like, but not being able to see the face, drives something deep inside your bones to sizzle.
You’ve seen the videos — the girl giving her number to a mysterious biker, posing with them for a picture, kissing the helmet before running away. Each one, you whisper I wanna do that.
If ever given the chance.
But Gods work on mysterious ways…
It’s a buzzing Friday night in New York—bars are packed, taxis flying down the side streets, drunken laughter filling the air, and your feet are throbbing from walking the uneven side walks.
Your coworkers wanted to celebrate someone’s promotion, you don’t even know who, but had agreed anyways because everyone deserves a drink.
The night started fine, honestly, but then took a left turn into fuckthisvile when all your coworkers started making odd jokes.
About you.
The first few were harmless, even you giggled at. They gradually grew harsher. Meaner. Personal.
“It must be hard shopping for your style in your size.” Dani had drunkenly mocked.
“Summers have got to be hard on you.” Tiffany chimed in.
“Oh be nice to her. She just has more to love.” Frank laughed.
You felt your skin crawl and all blood rush to your ears. Your eyes stayed glued to your drink, watching the sweat droplets slide down to your fingers.
You felt mildly insecure already, being a woman with curves, but never thought of yourself as ugly.
Slamming the last of your drink, you didn’t even give them the gratification of seeing your hurt, and grabbed your purse to leave. The liquor burned your throat, momentarily taking the focus from your eyes. You glanced at each of their laughing faces, nodded once and walked away.
The humid night air refreshes your lungs, finally pulling in a deep breath since the jokes started.
Your phone sits waiting in your hand as you go to book an Uber, when loud vrooming sounds fill the street.
Lifting your eyes, you watch as three motorcycles pull up along the curb right outside the bar. The first one is hot red with white strips along the body, and the rider in all black leather but the helmet matches the bike.
The second is blue and red, a single white star on their helmet.
But it’s the middle bike that causes your breath to hitch. All black leather, helmet, and bike. A blood red star on the front.
You can’t help but stare as your breathing becomes deeper, inhaling the fumes from their exhaust. The red bike and the white star are yelling over the middle person, who—even through his helmet—looks over the conversation.
Head tilted slightly, nodding gently to whatever song must be playing in the protective gear, and your heart feels it’s going to drop out your pussy.
You take a step forward and then freeze. He’s huge, big shoulders and arms and hands and you thought you could just waltz right up and do what?
Your brain short circuits before starting back up again as one of the bikes revs loudly. Your glossy eyes focus, and the one you were staring at now has his head turned. Looking directly at you.
Your hands clam up, your throat feels tight, and your eyes widen. His head tilts in question before lifting a finger to motion you over.
You’re frozen, ready to vomit, just as the door behinds you burst open. Your eyes close in prayer when Tiffany and Dani stumble beside you.
“You’re still here? We thought you left!” Dani pokes your arm.
You snatch it out of reach, glaring, “I was getting an uber.”
Frank materializes on the other side of you, “why are you leaving? You know we were just joking! Don’t be so sensitive.” He nudges Tiffany. “Right? We weren’t trying to make fun of you.”
The two girls cackle, stumbling into each other, “yeah!”
You shift your gaze back to the man and suddenly the New York life drowns out.
He’s swinging his leg over the seat, pulling the key out of the ignition, all while keeping his head focused on you. As he approaches, your head slowly tilts back to keep your eyes on where you think his eyes are.
The giggling has stopped, Frank has taken a step back, and big mystery man is leaning down to press the helmet to the side of your face, “Need a ride?”
Your tongue feels like sand paper so all you can do is nod.
He straightens, flips his visor up, and stares piercingly blue eyes into your soul.
Your cheeks heat, your thighs twitch, and you would give your left kidney to see the rest of his face. His voice is like smooth honey, slowly dripping down your spine.
His eyes shift to the three people by you, “You know them?” His left index finger wiggles between them.
You go to answer honestly, then freeze. No, you don’t know these people. They’re just coworkers who are treating you like a street dog. Taking a deep breath, “No. I don’t know them.”
They all start to yell at you, voices stumbling over each other, trying to defend themselves.
Big Man nods once, wraps his arm around your shoulders, “She’s with me.”
You hold onto his leather jacket, willing your heart to calm the fuck down when you realize he’s leading you to his bike. The other two riders are leaning back, staring daggers at the three assholes you walked away from.
Mystery Man climbs on the bike, “I don’t have an extra helmet on me. I wasn’t expecting to pick up a beauty tonight. So here,” and his helmet is sliding up and off his head.
You’ve ascended and are now in heaven. Whatever good you’ve done in your life is paying off right now. Gods have answered your prayers.
He’s hot. Not as in oh he’s hot. No, as in he-could-fuck-you-right-there-on-the-street hot.
Salt and peppered beard, cut jaw and cheekbones, and hair you want to feel tangled in your fingers.
When you don’t take the helmet, a sharp smirk grows on his lips, “You can look at me like that all you want, Sweetheart, but i need you to put this on.”
Your limbs are jelly, hands trembling as you slide the gear over your head. You peer at him through the open visor and can’t stop the giggle crawling out your mouth.
He licks his lower lip, “How’s it fit?”
“A bit big, but feels good.” You wink.
The man groans, “Jesus Christ.”
His hand finds yours as he helps you swing your leg over the bike. You giggle again, “Actually, it’s-“ you give your name.
He turns his head to look back at you, a sparkle in his eye, “Bucky. Now hold on, sweetheart.”
And oh do you.
Part 2
BEEFY BUCKY FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!!!!!! drooling over this fic like bucky drooling over reader. thank you.
