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.
Run-through: He keeps having to remind himself that he shouldn’t be having such thoughts about you. There are so many reasons why he shouldn’t; you work for him, you take care of his kids, you’re much younger than him, etc… But sometimes, the heart wants what it wants. And now even big bad mob bosses can deny their desires for too long.
Themes: mob!bucky, babysitter!reader, age gap (reader is in her early twenties), smut
You weren’t facing the entrance to the kitchen, yet you felt him enter the room.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ only // minors dni // nsfw content, clit play, fingering, handjob, mutual masturbation, daddy kink, orgasm denial, pet names; peaches, baby, angel, dove.
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: in which your favourite camboy is your dad’s best friend; bucky barnes.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i saw how you all ate up my last dbf!bucky fic so i have granted you another. anyways reblogs and feedback are appreciated but never pressured, thank you so much!
bucky continued to pump his cock, looking darkly into the camera lens, biting on his lower lip.
the thought of a perfect girl soaring through his mind, his dick growing harder at the image.
down on her knees, innocent eyes looking into his tired ones, plump lips wrapped around his girthy cock, taking him in down her throat.
“fuck, darlin’” he whined, throwing his head back, feeling his release come close.
a spam of hundreds of hearts continued to flood his comment section, adding to the thirsty compliments of his subscribers, his whores really.
running his thumb over his tip, he collected the excess pre-cum, spreading it all over the head, letting the viewers watch as it dripped down the sides of his cock. “mm, you’re doing s’good f’me, angel”
“be good and show daddy your fingers..” he whispered out of breath, sliding his tongue over his top lip, grinning at the camera.
the girl over the screen whimpered, sliding her fingers out of her pussy, waving them infront of her screen tiredly, obeying the instructor. “uh.. uh, daddy..” y/n mumbled, the feeling of emptiness disappointing her.
“just wanna cum for you”
“only you, daddy.”
she spoke clearly into the speaker of her phone, watching as the words started form on the screen.
breathy laughs left from bucky’s lips, hearing the sound of gold bars ding, the sound of his money rollin’ in like no other, sending a fat check to his bank account.
gold bars. they were the one way to barnes’ big ole heart.. and dick.
drowning him in your riches, begging to cum for him, that was truly the only things he loved in the world. money, cumming, and power over submissive bitches who would do anything for him.
“don’t give me that look, peaches. you know i don’t like when you pout.”
“you cum when i let you cum.”
“that pretty pussy is mine and mine fuckin’ only, and you should know that.”
“isn’t that right, angel? my pretty pussy, my pretty girl.”
shuttering, she spread her legs wider, trembling as she felt the cold air hit in all different places, sending a shiver up her spine. “a-all yours...”
“all yours, daddy.” she whispered.
“god!- look at my fuckin’ pussy, admire it, take in it’s goddamn beauty, dove, you’re so perfect.”
he praised, staring seductively into the lens. his tongue swiped over the soft palette of his bottom lip, making sure to bite it afterwards.
that look almost made her cum, fucking gush around all her fingers.
his dark eyes, messy hair, the smallest string of drool sliding down from the sides of his mouth... wet cock, large with a certain curve no one’s ever seen. body shaped by the gods, abs flexed, chest heaving up and down heavily.
“baby, look at it and tell me how pretty it is.”
shaking, she slid a finger between her folds, massaging her clit slowly. “i-i-” she stuttered, choking on a breath. “d-daddy..”
“c’mon, show daddy.”
circling her clit, she nodded her head quickly, obeying his orders once again. “promise to be good..”
Summary: An Avengers retreat takes a turn for the better when Bucky decides to eat your pot brownies… all of the pot brownies.
Warnings: 18+ language, sexual content, recreational drug use, drinking, intoxicated sex, oral sex, p in v, unprotected sex.
Credits: Beta read by @christywantspizza and a special mention to @yarnforbrains & @late-to-the-party-81 who went bonkers for this fic and gave me lots of ideas. Hope you guys like it!
Divider by @firefly-graphics
Challenges: For @buckybarnesbingo, prompt - Kink: drunk/drugged sex.
Masterlist | Bucky Bingo | Bucky
"Okay, 'fess up, who ate all my brownies?" You turned to stare down the rest of the team, admittedly a little slow on your feet already.
The scene in the living room could only be described as chaotic. When Tony suggested he fly the team out to his remote cabin for "rest, recuperation and team building", you had been fully on board. You were even more on board when he had you buy everyone fluffy animal onesies and you'd signed yourself up to a lifetime of being obsessed with your job the day you received an email to source as much weed, alcohol and Asgardian liquor as possible. Being the Avengers PA certainly had its perks.
"Not me!" Steve admitted, far too quickly. "I didn't eat them." He shook his head, sending the dog ears on top of his onesie flopping about.
You narrowed your eyes, "Well, you sure know something." He looked the picture of innocence until he pulled Sam into the conversation.
"Tell 'er Sam, we dunno nothin' 'bout brownies."
"Nuthin'" Sam shook his head too, his beer sloshing dramatically in its glass and wetting his hand. "My wings!" He steadied the bottle and brushed the stray liquid from the soft Eagle wings that made up the arms of his outfit.
"Have you spoken to James?" Natasha asked, leaning next to you and swiping crumbs from the plate, the last of the joint you'd shared placed delicately between her fingers. Somehow she managed to make the black onesie look very stylish, the arms rolled up to the silvery spiderwebs embroidered on the elbows and shoulders.
"James? Bucky?"
Organising and taking part in retreats was your second favourite part of your job. Bucky took the top spot, miles ahead of everything else with his handsome, stubbled face and gruff but gentlemanly manner. Despite being part of the team for a while, he still kept to the background, staying out of the way and keeping quiet. He was always especially polite to you, holding the door and making sure you were included all the time, even if he never really stayed that long at Stark’s parties or Steve’s team building exercises.
Deep down you hoped it was because he saw you the same way you saw him, in your dreams, surrounded by little hearts.
But life just wasn't that kind, and you took his friendship gladly if that was all he could give.
"Why would Bucky eat them, can he even get high?" You slid forwards, leaning on the counter and clutching the empty tray.
"Bambi!" The four of you whipped around, surprised. Bucky bounced into the room with an enthusiasm that Steve hadn't seen for decades. He also had chocolate on his cheeks and crumbs all down his front making him instantly guilty. You looked down at your onesie, light brown and speckled like a deer with tiny antlers on the hood.
"Ha, yeah, like Bambi." You giggled.
"And I'm Thumper!" He laughed back pulling the hood of his own pyjamas up and letting the long, grey, ears drop in front of his face.
"Because you punch people?" You were momentarily confused, your brain refusing to work and instead focusing on the too tight fabric around Bucky's arms.
Behind you Sam coughed to cover his laughter and Natasha turned away, eyes full of mirth.
"No! Thumper in Bambi!"
"The girl rabbit?" Tony dropped down onto the huge sectional couch, surprisingly sober. Although you were sure that had more to do with promising Pepper to keep the cabin safe, rather than any personal choice.
"Thumper is a boy." Bucky insisted, eyes never leaving yours, his smile boyish and relaxed.
"How would you know?" Sam scoffed, leaning over the back of the couch, positively gleeful when Steve whispered that Bambi was also a boy and they fell back laughing together.
"Because, Sam, I've seen Bambi."
"What?" Tony's snort of derision didn't go unnoticed, but you shot him a glare. This was possibly the most relaxed you'd ever seen Bucky, you wouldn't be letting anyone, including your boss, spoil it.
"I saw Bambi, in 1942, when it first came out," he said proudly.
"That's right, I remember!" Steve jumped up, the Asgardian liquor cocktail that Natasha had rustled up earlier starting to take effect. "We went with your sisters, Rebecca cried when Bambi's mom got shot and he was all alone."
"Don't spoil it, Stevie." Bucky chastised, turning back to you as quickly as possible, "Have you seen it? Do you want to see it? We could see it?”
You nodded but he ignored you, continuing to talk as he got closer and closer, backing you into the kitchen island where the empty brownie tray dropped with a clang.
"We can go, I'll take you, Saturday, you can have as much popcorn and soda as you like." His right hand swayed by his side, nudging closer to yours until your fingers touched. "What d'ya say?"
Every fibre of your being screamed yes, just as you'd internally jumped for joy whenever he came by your office or handed you a coffee. But those times you were sober, calm, collected. Now you were four drinks and half a joint deep, floating off into the clouds. Professional judgement be damned.
So you screamed "Yes!" outloud for once.
He beamed, throwing his arms around you and squeezing just a little too tight until you squeaked. “Good, gonna be my best girl, my Bambi and I’ll be Thumper, buy you lots of popcorn and - oh - you’re really soft.” His hands found the back of your hood, pulling it up to sit on top of your head, letting it fall into your eyes.
“Yeah it’s nice, right?”
“S’fluffy.” Bucky’s thumbs brushed over your lips and down your neck, just inside the hood for a moment, before finding your shoulders and arms, rubbing the fuzzy material until you felt static build on your skin. “You’re really cute, y’know,” he whispered. "My own little Bambi."
“I know.” You giggled back, picking up the joint again so you’d had something to do with your hands other than grip the front of your own outfit.
“We didn’t smoke weed back in the day,” he said, conversationally, as if he didn’t have his hands in your pockets, pulling out your lighter and a lip balm.
“No?” You took a drag, blowing the smoke to the side politely.
“Did a lot of cocaine though, keep us awake on missions.”
“Jesus. That’s…intense.”
He nodded, watching your fingers against your lips, the little pout when you exhaled.
“Can I?”
“You ate a whole tray of brownies, Bucky, I don’t know if you should have anymore.” You extended your arm away from his grabby hands, hoping Natasha would come and take it away again, but to no avail. Instead, he lifted you onto the counter, pinned your leg down and followed the line of your arm to your outstretched hand. His lips brushed the backs of your fingers when he took the twist of paper into his lips. You waved him over and he held his breath as he returned to you, leaning in close and only exhaling when you pulled your hoods together, his nose against yours.
Instinctively you inhaled, the rush of smoke and the smell of Bucky was overwhelming. You giggled again, trapping him against you with an arm around his neck and your legs around his waist.
“Haven’t shotgunned since college.” You smiled, everything was so floaty and soft, fuzzy round the edges and so fucking warm. When did it get so warm?
"You know with your floppy ears you could be-" your laughter bubbled up, cutting you off, "you could- sorry - oh my god - you could be Bucks Bunny!"
Bucky did not seem to like that nickname as much asThumper and told you so, pouting until you let him take another long drag.
Time seemed to slow down between Bucky’s words, his hands, the way your glass of wine felt in your hand and the texture of his onesie. They were a good idea, so soft, good for petting, and Bucky was petting you too. His right hand was burning hot, even through the thick material, the pads of his fingers were calloused and rough, but the palm was soft. His left hand was so rigid, making a whirring noise. When you put your cheek to the artificial bicep it ticked pleasantly and you smiled, sighing and closing your eyes so you could concentrate on the joined sounds of Bucky’s heart and his prosthesis. In turn, Bucky held you gently, his metal fingers gentle on your back where he kept you snuggled in tight beside him.
You were faintly aware of the ongoing chatter across the room, but it had faded away into background static. Your soul focus was on the way two of Bucky’s eyebrow hairs stuck out from the others, the little patch of grey forming in his stubble, the dark fleck of colour in his iris, the way his mouth looked saying your name. Oh shit, he’s saying your name, say something back!
“Uh huh, yeah, uhm - maybe?”
He tipped his head to the side, bunny ears flopping over too, and came closer again. His hands on your cheeks. “I’ll help you.” He leant forwards to rest his forehead against yours.
“What’ya doing?” You tried to look at your forehead too but your eyes seemed to stop when they got to your eyelashes. Annoying.
“Telling you what I’m thinking without saying it.”
“Oh, is it working?”
“You have to tell me that, silly!”
“I don’t think it’s working,” you whispered, loudly, and Natasha groaned from the sofa closest to the kitchen.
“These two are out, done, nothing more for them,” she declared, waving her glass of red wine.
A chorus of yes and agreed sounded from the remaining Avengers. Clint had already fallen asleep across one of the arm chairs, his beer dribbling onto his shirt from the neck of the bottle. Steve and Sam were deep in debate about the merits of Japanese whiskey over original scotch whisky and Tony was watching you both intently, his own glass of Glengoyne warming in his hand. The way the condensation formed under his fingers was fascinating, and you told Bucky as much, pulling him close to your cheek so you could get the same view.
“I concur, what did you do to my PA, Barnes?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a bad influence.”
“She’s not you PA, she’s our PA. So she's ours to influence,” he returned, proudly.
Tony just continued to stare, pointedly, sipping his drink.
“What you gonna influence me to do, Buck?” You kicked your legs against the kitchen counter, a picture of innocence, and Tony laughed into his drink.
But Bucky looked at you very seriously, bent to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck, his leg between yours, muscular and firm despite the fluffy clothes.
“I’m gonna influence you to steal all of Stark’s M&Ms.” He tried to keep quiet but ended up choking out the end of his sentence around his own uncontrollable giggles.
“Oh my god, you know he has me take the red ones out, says they’re smug. I have so many red M&Ms in my flat.”
“Hey, that’s supposed to be a secret!”
“Wanna eat all the red ones I brought with me?”
Bucky helped you down from the counter and then across to the pantry where you’d stashed the huge bags of snacks and sweets when you first arrived. Despite Steve’s shouts of leaving some for everyone, you closed the door and sat down, ready to tuck in, wrappers and chocolate littering the floor while you dug about for your favourites. Bucky sat on the floor, encouraging you to sit between his legs, keeping his hands moving over the downy material of your onesie.
“Okay, Bambi, what’ve you got for me?”
Before you could even attempt to feed him anything, Steve wrenched the door open, hands on his hips. “I think you need to sleep this one off, not eat more chocolate,” he insisted, waving at you both to get back up.
“Nuh-uh, Steve, not leaving.” Bucky tightened his arms around your waist and nuzzled into the back of your neck. “You smell like cake,” he exclaimed, happily, ignoring Steve.
“Sam! Can you help me shift Bucky?!”
“What about me?” You pouted, holding Bucky’s hands around your waist.
“You need to go to bed as well.” Natasha extended her hand to yours in an effort to pull you off the floor, but Bucky’s grip was too strong.
Eventually, it took everyone to wrestle you away from Bucky and bundle you into your room. In the corridor, Bucky howled his anger, breaking out of his room to easily find you in yours.
“Bambi! There you are! Those awful hunters took you!” he cooed, squishing your cheeks again and kissing your pouty lips. Deep down your brain registered that this was your first kiss with him, that the man who had been consuming your thoughts for months was actually kissing you, willingly, and had broken a door so he could get close enough to do so.
“Buh-kee, it was just Nat and Tony,” you drawled, your lips moving gently against his, reluctant to pull away.
“I know, but I didn’t like it, wanna stay here with you.”
Natasha, who was still trying to wrestle you into bed, gave up. “If you two stay in here together, and stay out of trouble, I won’t say anything.” She pointed at you both, eyebrows slightly raised.
“Promise I’ll be good, Natty.” You fluttered your eyelashes at her dramatically, hoping to seem more trustworthy, but she just rolled her eyes. “Fine, stay here.”
And then you were alone.
You hesitated for a moment, watching the slow movement of Bucky’s face, fascinated by the way the muscles tightened minutely when he smiled.
“I’m going to kiss you again now,” he stated, so formal that you broke out into another fit of laughter which made you hiccup and grab for his chest to steady yourself.
He ignored you, bending his head and catching your lips with his, messy and rushed.
“You taste real nice, you know?” Bucky licked across your lips again, swallowing your giggles.
“You taste nice too, ate all my damn brownies.” With a long lick up his chocolate smeared cheek, you kissed him back, tangling your hands in his hair, trying to push the too hot, stuffy, fluffy, onesie off his shoulders.
Bucky shrugged, and sat back to push the material down to his hips. Your eyes followed the movements of his hands, the way each inch of muscle revealed itself and, suddenly, you were hungry again, lunging forwards to bury your face between his pecs. Starting at his sternum, you kissed further and further down, shoving him backwards so you could climb on top of him, nipping and kissing bruises in a slow trail towards the end of the zipper. With a twist of his wrist, his cock sprang free from its confines and you bent down to lick the pearlescent precum leaking from his tip.
“Fuck, Bambi.” He dropped his head back, one hand gripping the pillows and the other cupping the back of your head while you licked the head like an ice cream. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”
You sat back on your heels, letting your fingers dance up and down his cock. “Feels soft,” you observed, thoughtfully, “Hard and soft at the same time, isn’t that funny?”
Bucky couldn’t reply, he just laid back, watching the woman he’d pined after for months finally touch him the way he’d dreamed. It seemed surreal to be here, in your bed, with your hands all over his body like you owned it. Well, he thought, you did own it, you just didn’t really understand that yet.
“I wanna touch you, too,” he insisted, “Can I?” His hands hovered over your clothes, so close to the zipper his fingertips brushed it when you breathed. You nodded and he lowered the metal slowly.
Everything seemed slow now, even his voice, mumbling against your skin when he kissed down your breasts and took your nipple into his mouth. When he bit down a little, you giggled, his fingers tickling your sides, until you were both laughing again, half in and half out of your onesies, brains full of cotton wool and lust and nerves.
“Hey, hey.” You tugged on his hair until he looked up, resting his cheek on your belly. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Yes, I’m so good with secrets!” He crawled back over your body, lowering his face close to yours. “You can whisper it or you can do it telepathically.”
“I’m not telepathic, Bucky.”
“Sure, like this.” He dropped his forehead to yours. “I know all your secrets now.”
“No, you don’t!” You shoved him, but he didn’t move.
“I do!”
“Tell me then.”
His eyes roamed over your face, from your eyes to your lips as if he couldn’t help it. “You like me.”
“Everyone likes you, Buck, you just think they don’t.”
“No you like me, you want to step out with me, be my best girl.” He looked overjoyed to have revealed your secret before you could. “Am I right?”
“Don’t be mean to me, Barnes.”
“I’m not being mean, I read your mind.”
“You know what? Fuck off.” You shoved a second time, but he still didn’t move.
“Wanna read my mind? I’ll help.” His forehead met yours again, sweat beading along your hairline from the stress of being so clearly seen by the man you’d been fantasising about for months. Before you could protest that only he could read minds while high, he was kissing you again. Slow and steady, his tongue nudging your lips gently until you opened for him, throwing your arms around his neck and letting the feeling of petal soft kisses take over you.
He moved away only enough to take off his now too warm onesie, as well as your own, leaving you both naked and tangled together on the bed. He couldn’t get enough of touching you, he felt buoyant, happy in a way that he hadn’t for months, years, and he never wanted it to end. His fingers tingled when they touched you, though it was becoming harder and harder to stay in control.
“Bucky, I want you,” you managed to squeak out between kisses, fumbling awkwardly between you both, hoping he understood.
"I want you too." He nodded, bumping your heads together.
You wriggled beneath him, guiding him between your legs until he was buried inside of you.
"Damn it, Bambi, you feel soft everywhere." His wide eyed expression made you smile.
"You're kinda soft too, Bucky." This side of him was one you'd been dying to see, unguarded and playful.
He nuzzled your cheek and began to move, tentative at first and then faster. In your dreamy state, it was hard to know where you started and ended or how long you'd been locked together.
You moved as one, slow and steady, enjoying the feel of each other's warm skin and chocolate sweet kisses, breaking every now and again to stare at each other in awe.
Bucky seemed to sense your approaching release before you did, speeding up when you fluttered around him, the erratic movement of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge of the bed until you both tumbled out. The pillows and sheets followed soon after, dropping on you in an avalanche of goose down and brushed cotton.
You both paused in shock, your giggles broken by your fall, but then he was pulling you back down on top of him and holding your hips steady.
“Bucky, I wanna - I gotta -” Your hand drifted between you again to touch your sensitive clit, just a little more pressure and you could feel your orgasm building. The tightness of your pleasure started between your legs and radiated out to your toes, making them curl against the sheepskin rug beneath you.
Bucky followed after you, unable to control himself from the onslaught of sensation your clenching heat provided.
You woke the next day in a tangle of limbs and bedding, your back sore from sleeping on the floor all night and your brain fuzzy. Beside you, still with a smear of chocolate on his cheek, Bucky continued to sleep.
accusing you of being a bitch when your response was completely reasonable, while being so fucking hateful and vile jfc i hate it here!!
i don't get why y'all can't just say "im so excited for this fic!" or "omg i can't wait to read it!" instead "when's it gonna be done" or "just finish it already" like literally it costs 0 dollars to treat tumblr writers like people
People are assholes! Fanfic writers do not OWE any of us anything, they write because THEY love doing it! Not because some idiots here feel entitled to updates, when its literally not them spending their time writing and planning them, its not that EASY to just write something and finish it in like 5 minutes, it literally takes time and energy! Be patient or just fuck off and leave people alone stop pressuring them.
accusing you of being a bitch when your response was completely reasonable, while being so fucking hateful and vile jfc i hate it here!!
i don't get why y'all can't just say "im so excited for this fic!" or "omg i can't wait to read it!" instead "when's it gonna be done" or "just finish it already" like literally it costs 0 dollars to treat tumblr writers like people
People are assholes! Fanfic writers do not OWE any of us anything, they write because THEY love doing it! Not because some idiots here feel entitled to updates, when its literally not them spending their time writing and planning them, its not that EASY to just write something and finish it in like 5 minutes, it literally time and energy! Be patient or just fuck off and leave people alone stop pressuring them.
Summary: Your history professor, Mr. Barnes asks you to stay after class for extra help which leads to...*ahem*... other things(;
A/N: I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to release this. I’ve just been busy recently and my writer's block really just said ‘fuck ya life, bing bong’ and left me in the dark. Thank you all for the support on Roadside Assistance since I put that out as well (just over 3k notes when I'm posting this!). Love you all and I'm forever grateful, xoxo.
Warnings: smutty smut, lap dancing (f! giving), oral (f! + m! receiving), aggressive blowjob, p/v intercourse, desk sex, public sex, payment (for the lap dance, not prostitution), insemination, cum rubbing (???), some dirty talk, and a soft moment.
“Alright, that’s it. You can all get out now, happy Friday,” he dismisses. Mr. Barnes, your history professor, sits on the edge of his desk with is arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he watches your peers leave the room. You throw your black bag over your shoulder and shove your phone into your back pocket, walking to the door. He watches you walk down the stairs of the lecture hall with an intense gaze. You begin to near the door before he pushes himself off of the desk and saunters toward you, closing the door.
“Sir-” you start, reminding him that you’re still in the room before he cuts you off.
“I know. I want to speak with you,” he says, his height alone enticing you to pounce on him right that second, towering over you by a solid 15 inches at least. "Privately," he adds. Your eyebrows furrow and you follow him as he walks back toward his desk, a panic building in your head.
“I think you're in need of some extra help,” he says, sinking down into his office chair and leaning back. You stammer in response. You were a great student; handed assignments in before the due dates, aced your tests, worked well with others, asked questions, etc.
“What makes you say that?” you inquire. He crosses his hands over his abdomen, interlacing his fingers and leaning his head to the side.
“Well, your marks have been dropping, you’re not asking as many questions, and a few other things,” he says. He’s clearly bullshitting. You were the only person asking any questions at all in the past week.
“Could you show me?” you ask, leaning over his desk to see his computer screen. His eyes drift down to your cleavage exposed by your tank top from your face before he opens a few tabs on his computer, showing a spreadsheet of student grading. You lean a bit farther to read the screen and he sits up in his chair, now so close that you can feel his shaky breath fanning down your neck. “I don’t understand, I have a 97% average,” you complain, looking down over at him. He tilts his head and switches his gaze back and forth between your eyes and lips.
“Well, then, maybe that’s not the problem,” he coos, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You glance at the wall behind him trying to decipher what he means it clicks. He can see the realization in your face as you reconnect your eyes. “I’ve seen you at work…” he starts. “I’m a regular,”.
Your stomach drops and hot blood swells in your cheeks.
You were a dancer at one of the bars a few blocks away from the campus. You’d never paid any mind to the people who’d shown up, though there had been times you’d seen people there that you could’ve sworn you knew. One of those people was professor Barnes, but you never said anything.
“Uh…” you draw out, trying to think of a response. He leans back in his chair again, resting his elbows on the cushioned arms.
“I could pay you for a dance somewhere more like…here,” he says, motioning around the large room. You stammer without sound before he places his hands on your waist, rolling the chair backward and pulling you with him. “If... that’s okay with you,” he draws, staring up into your eyes with a tilted head, his gaze dropping to your lips twice per moment.
“It is, sir,” you say, swallowing the dry lump in your throat. He smirks and a dark glaze spreads across his glossy ocean eyes.
“That’s what I like to hear,” he murmurs into your ear before sinking into his chair, giving you space to work. Being obligated to do so, you ask him what he wants specifically.
“I need you to tell me what you want first, Mr. Barnes,” you say with innocent eyes, your respectful demeanour being held up by a thin string as something intense possesses your moral compass. He groans and smiles widely, chuckling and dropping his head back. His head returns forward as his wide grin turns into a smaller, sweeter one.
“Keep the top, red flatters you,” he starts confidently. “But lose the shorts…”.
You obey and unbutton them, pulling the distressed jean shorts from your hips. They drop to the floor from your thighs and you step out of them, kicking them a few feet behind you. He releases a drawn-out exhale as he admires your figure, the tight red tank top and matching coloured lace underwear pressed flush against your body giving you a small confidence boost onto what confidence you had to begin with. He raises his eyebrows at you and huffs out with a small chuckle before waving you over to his lap. You trail to his hand and stand in front of him, facing him, as he grabs your hands and interlaces his fingers between yours.
“So beautiful…” he states as he runs his gaze across your body from top to bottom. “Turn,” he demands, shifting in his chair. You turn around before being quickly grabbed by the hips and pulled down to his lap. You gasp quietly as your backside collides with his tense thighs. “I know... calm, baby, calm…” he coos into your ear before wrapping his arms around your waist and running his hands from your knees to your hips agonizingly slowly, taking in the texture of your skin.
“Sorry, sir,” you whisper. He grunts lowly in response and, seemingly involuntarily, bucks his hips up into yours, making you inhale sharply. You take a quiet, deep breath to relax before spreading your legs so you can rest your hands on his knees and begin to move your hips.
His hands ‘guide’ you as you draw figure-eights on his lap and grind down onto him. Rocking your hips back and forth in an abstract pattern, you trail a hand down your side and grab his hand, leading it back up to one of your breasts. Leaning back onto him, you press his fingers down, squeezing your breast with his hand. He huffs into your ear and you begin to feel him harden against your ass. It wasn’t anything new to you. You saw it all the time at work-- you’re rubbing your ass onto someone's dick, of course they’re gonna get a boner.
However.
This was your history professor, your 'MCM', your Saturday night wet-dream. The very man you gushed over in the shower had a hard-on for you.
This was different.
You feel a sense of dread wash over you as you continue dancing on him. You shouldn’t be getting wet over a client. Or was he a client? Is he gonna pay you? A thousand thoughts clouded your mind. So much so that you didn’t realize that his other hand had moved to your clothed heat, only noticing when you felt shivers run up your spine from the brisk contact with your clit through the fabric.
“So wet, missus… all for a client?” he teases quietly. You should be telling him to stop. You should be leaving. You should’ve been home by now. But you weren’t. You loved this as much as you might wish to deny it. You lived off of it starting right now.
“Yes… but you’re not a client,” you emphasize with a smooth, low voice before swivelling around and diving down to his lips. He grabs your waist harshly and pulls you close, forcing you to bring both of your legs to one side. The smacking of lips and heavy breathing fills the echoes in the large room as he pulls you down onto him to straddle his hips. You eat each other's faces for a few minutes, pawing at clothes and removing them accordingly. You, now left in only your underwear, pull away from him, now in only his underwear, and place kisses down his torso. His breath gets caught in his throat when your lips make contact with his dick through the fabric, making you smile up at him. His eyes had been consumed in their entirety by his pupils, so dark you can see the clear details of your own face in them. You hook your fingertips in the band of his boxers and shimmy them down his thighs and toward his ankles, watching in surprise as his cock sticks up in freedom, much bigger than you’d ever thought.
His breathing increases in speed by ten-fold the second your lips make contact with his dick, planting kisses down his shaft and leaving behind faint marks the colour of your lipstick. You wrap a hand around his base and begin to pump him before getting him in your mouth. You progress to open-mouth kisses back up his shaft before licking a thick stripe up the bottom of it and ending in a big, wet kiss onto his tip. He groans, grabbing your hair and forcing himself down your throat. You gag on him at first before forcing your throat to relax a bit. Rings of your lipstick now paint closer to the base as you keep a hand around it, massaging his balls with your palm. You continue gagging, tears pooling under your eyes and some dropping as he fucks your face at an inhuman pace. He moans out and bares his teeth as he forces his cock down your throat one last time before pumping your mouth full of his tangy cum.
He pulls out of your mouth and cum drips from the side of your mouth which you lick at. He swipes his thumb across your chin and collects what your tongue failed to reach, then pushes his thumb into your mouth. You lick his finger clean before being guided back up to his face. You kiss deeply, his tongue pressing into the father parts of yours before standing without breaking the kiss and sitting you on his desk. Your ass hits the desk with him still between your legs and he slowly lowers you down onto it. He snakes down your body with a trail of kisses, stopping just before your boobs to get an eyeful of them first. He indulges himself in your breasts, sucking harshly on one while massaging and toying with the other. You moan out when he bites down lightly on your nipple and flicks it with his tongue. You grab at his forearms wrapped around your waist as he moves lower on your body, dragging his hands from your back to your hips.
He looks up at you with clearer vision before pulling down your underwear and you nod your head. He pulls them down and admires what you have to offer before running his thumb between your lips and pressing into your entrance, massaging your wall as he lowers his lips to your clit. He hangs his thumb from your hole as he makes room for his tongue to pass a stripe from your slit to your clit. You shudder as he does it a few more times before focusing his tongue on your clit and burying his thumb in you. He sucks your clit into his mouth and flicks it with his tongue as he wiggles inside of you with his thumb.
You moan pornographically as he sucks on your clit rapidly, now pumping his thumb in and out of you.
“Fuck! Sir, sir, sir..!” you chant as you feel yourself reaching your orgasm. He picks up the pace and moves his free hand from your hip up to your breast and kneads it in his palm. All of the sensations send you off the edge and you see a white light as your body convulses in his grasp. He rides you through it and slows once he’s sure you’ve finished. He parts with your cunt and his thumb slides out of you as he looks up at you from between your legs. “Oh, fuck,” you huff, still out of breath, before being engulfed in another long kiss. This time you feel his tip poking at your thigh, still completely hard. You part the kiss and look down to make sure you’re not just feeling things. He chuckles at you before lining up his dick with your entrance and renewing your consent.
“You alright with this, too?” he asks, renewing your consent. You nod your head in response but he ‘tsk’s at you. "Hm, no... I need to hear you say it, doll," he demands, grabbing your throat with gentle pressure.
“I’m alright with it, sir,” you say. He smiles to himself and presses his forehead against yours before slowly pressing his hips forward, holding his base to stay aligned. You release a broken moan at the stretch and move your grip all over his body, searching for a place to settle. His pace starts slow, pushing all the way in and pulling almost all the way out— however it grows faster and more vigorous with every few thrusts. Squelching, skin slapping, and breathless moans from the both of you fill the stale air filling the old lecture hall in no time.
The smell of sex penetrates your nose as it permeates from your bodies, his scent mixing with yours as well as his coffee breath and your long discarded bubble-mint gum. With him hovered over you, you pull yourself up by wrapping an arm around his neck. Unlike the others you’d been with before, his arms didn’t buckle at your added weight hanging from his neck-- like he didn’t even notice. By an educated guess, you would say your more vertical position was what caused the knot in your stomach to tighten very suddenly, making you cry out.
“You fuckin’ like that? Huh? Tell me, baby. Tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel,” he taunts, his hot breath tickling your scalp.
“Really, really good, sir,” you whine out. You feel tears prickling your waterline as you start to grow painfully close to your big finale. He grunts in response and attaches his lips to your neck, kissing and sucking like his life depended on it. You start to twitch your hips before moving your free hand to toy with your clit. Using two fingers to swipe it, you clench around Bucky as his pace remains relentless. He growls lowly at the pressure and places a hand behind your back to support you.
“Come on, cum for me, babydoll,” he mutters into your ear. “I’m not going anywhere, give it all to me. All you’ve got,”. His words kick your ass off the edge and you convulse in his grasp, squeezing the life out of his cock. You cry out as you reach the highest point and a couple stray tears that had built up fall down your face and collect on the edge of your jaw. “That’s it, doll, come on,” he urges, engulfing you in his arms and lowering you onto the desk once again.
As you begin to come down, his grasp stays firm around your smaller frame. His knees buckle a bit before he slams his hips into yours as hard as possible, burying himself in you and clenching his ass, holding onto you for dear life as his cum spews at your cervix. You moan out quietly from both the overstimulation and the pleasant tickling his semen provoked inside you. After a few more small, slow strokes, he slowly pulled out of you, rubbing the cum that leaked from you into your skin with his thumb.
You sit up on the desk with him still standing between your knees, both of your heart rates calming. He pushes a few loose strands of hair from your sticky face and lowers your head, kissing the top. You grit your teeth together to stop them from chattering as your body shakes from both the physical exertion and the chill of the old hall. With your eyes closed and head bowed, you find immediate comfort in the warm breaths on your scalp and his large hands supporting the sides of your head.
Your comfort bubble is popped when he pulls away from you with one last lingering kiss to your forehead before gathering his clothing from the ground beside the desk, you stare at yours for a moment before standing from the desk and picking it all up, sifting through the pieces for your undergarments. You look around the floor when you realize you can't find them until your eyes meet the contrasting red peeking from Bucky's back pants pocket. A small, private smirk adorns your face as you pull your tank top over your head and tuck the edges into your shorts-- the tough denim slightly uncomfortable on your bare crotch.
"Don't lose them," you say, grabbing your bag from the floor next to his desk. He looks at you with a confused and somewhat panicked face. "They were expensive," you finish, making him smirk at you as he adjusts his watch. You thought you had gotten the final remark in before he pulls his brown leather wallet from his front pants pocket and hands you a $20 bill.
"For the dance," he says as he passes you the bill before leaning over his desk and jotting words onto a post-it note. He passes you the yellow piece of paper and you smile as you read both his home address and phone number written messily on the sheet. "...And for the company,”.
Summary: after some drinking games with Bucky and your father, you can’t help but surrender your feelings to Bucky which leads to some more the next morning.
A/N: two things, i’m a whore for neighbour and dbf Bucky and i’m apparently a panther as per urban dictionary’s definition
Warnings: drinking, intoxication, masturbation (f!, though there’s allusion to m!), mirror play, spit kink(?), bit of a daddy kink, overstimulation, size kink, painful sex, pet names (honey, daddy), insemination, fingering, oral (f! receiving), palming
The night before was a usual hang out until Bucky found the cabinet of board games and persuaded your father to make it into a drinking game. Fast forward four hours, your father is piss drunk, you’re pretty fucked up, and Bucky’s going on strong 9 drinks deep and not even a slurred word slipping past his lips.
You and Bucky packed the last game away and made your way upstairs, using the banister to hoist yourself up as the ground began to feel like it was folding. Eventually, you and Bucky made it to your rooms, and you stripped to just your bra and underwear before climbing into bed. With your bedside lamp still on, you stared at yourself in the mirror across from your bed, wondering what you would look like if he ever did have sex with you.
Not likely.
You climb out of the covers onto your hands and knees and look behind yourself in the mirror, instantly turned on by the sight of your lace panties perfectly fitting across your ass, revealing just enough yet still covering your lips properly. The sight of your covered heat just beneath your ass made you excited to show Bucky, though you knew that wasn’t gonna happen. After all he’s your dads best friend, not to mention the 20-something year age gap.
Rolling onto your back, you spread your legs the way you would for missionary and eye the way your thighs look spread apart, showing your crotch once again. Tired of the restriction, you pull off your panties, dropping them to the ground as you climb back into your hands and knees. You spread your lips to see yourself properly and moan quietly at the sight, the clear fluid starting to leak from your entrance glistening in the lamp light.
Slowly, you gather some of your arousal to test if there’s enough there to masturbate. Making a decision, you bring your hand back up to your face and spit on your fingers before running them through your lips again, whining when you start to circle your clit.
In the mirror, you watch the way your folds move around your fingers, listening to the quiet wet noises coming from it. You moan softly, adding more pressure to your clit before pulling your hand back and sliding a finger into your wet entrance. You groan as you watch your finger disappear into yourself before sliding it back out and adding another.
You moan a little louder with the second one, using your thumb to flick your clit side-to-side, covering your mouth with the other. You know Bucky is still awake, so you try to be quiet despite the fact that you want him to hear you. With Bucky now on your mind, you glance back at the mirror, imagining they’re Bucky’s fingers disappearing into you with every swipe of your clit.
Moving your fingers faster, your care for how loud you are begins to fade away, now only thinking about how Bucky would finger you… no, how Bucky would fuck you. The louder you moan makes you concerned that you might get caught, but the fear just makes you even closer to your high. With every lewd sound from your mouth, a wave of pleasure courses through you until you cum. Hard.
You moan provocatively and very loudly into your bedsheets as you bury your fingers in yourself, forcefully fucking yourself and abusing your clit to get the most out of the orgasm that you can. As you come down, you look in the mirror and watch the small bits of fluid that leaks out of you as you pull your fingers out, moaning softly as you wipe yourself up with the same two fingers before putting them in your mouth and licking them clean in the mirror.
About to go to the bathroom, you pull your panties back on and throw a pair of pj pants on before walking to your bedroom door, stopping when you realize that it’s been opened a couple inches. Your heart drops as you realize that you may have just broadcasted your orgasm to Bucky just down the hall from you, and you freeze.
You’re frozen in place until you hear skin slapping coming from the guest bedroom. Immediately, you put two and two together and guess that he, too, is masturbating. Without a second thought, you walk straight to his room, knocking quickly on the door.
Obscenities are muttered from behind the door and a belt buckle rattles before he’s at the door, hair askew and shirtless. He opens the door a crack, hiding his hips down behind it as he stares at you pale as a ghost.
“Can I kiss you?” you ask, the liquor coursing through you making its way to your head all at once. He stops moving entirely, his breath caught.
“You’re drunk,” he says, his body tensing with restraint.
“So?” you ask, stumbling a little in place.
“So, I’m not gonna take advantage of you. Go to bed,” he says softly before closing the door on you.
You groan and drag your feet back to your room, dropping flat on the bed.
Hours later, you wake up, tucked under the covers in the middle of your bed— not at all where you remember falling asleep. You sit up in bed, rubbing your eyes before you realize Bucky standing in your doorway, leaning on the frame.
“Morning,” he says.
“Hi,” you respond, turning to the side and climbing out of bed. You grab a crewneck sweater from your dresser and pull it over yourself, knowing he’s already seen you in your bra courtesy of your poor judgement the night before.
You’re about to walk past him out of your room when a hand on your abdomen stops you. The placement of his hand makes you whimper quietly as your mind instantly wonders if that’s where he would put it while he holds you, fucking you from behind like you did in the mirror. He groans at your reaction before saying what he was going to.
“Did you mean what you said last night?” he asks, eyes already holding yours when you look up at him.
“Yes,” you respond quickly, taking the chance to pass him when his arm drops. You don’t get far before he pulls you back, kissing you deeply with a need you’ve never seen in anybody before. You kiss back instantly, clasping your hands behind his neck. He picks you up by the hips, hoisting you around his waist as he carries you back to your bed.
He places you on your back on the bed, facing the mirror the same way you did last night. He parts your lips and stares down at you as you realize where you are.
“So you were watching me,” you say, biting your lip with a smirk. He shifts with a chuckle before moving back toward your face.
“Your dad’s still asleep,” he says, just before reconnecting your mouths. “Gives us quite a bit of time.”.
Your tongues press together, lifting and swiping one another as you hold his face, running your thumbs across the stubble on his jaw. You lift your hips for him as he runs his hands down your sides before pulling your pyjama pants down. His hands knead the flesh of your hips, working toward your ass, then your inner thighs.
You pull back from him, worrying him until you pull your sweater back off, sitting up to lift his up too. He grabs his black t-shirt from the side and pulls it over himself in one motion, prompting you to trace his flexing muscles with your gaze as he breathes. He places his metal hand around your throat, pushing you back down onto the bed as he works his lips down your throat toward your chest.
Leaving wet kisses in his wake, he trails toward your breasts, unclasping your bra with his free hand and pulling it off your arms before kneading one breast and sucking the nipple of the other. You hum in response to the stimulation, grinding your crotch upward onto his jeans and moaning softly at the way his fly reaches your clit perfectly.
He thrusts downward onto you, switching breasts and crafting hickeys across your chest. His suckling noises cease when he sucks your breast into his mouth, releasing it with a groan before chuckling and kissing his way down your stomach. Your muscles tense beneath him as his stubble scratches your flesh, quickly soothed by his warm lips.
When he reaches your lower stomach, you jump your hips up, butterflies erupting in your abdomen the same way they did earlier. He laughs out a breath and smiles at you with his hands moved down and hooked in the band of your panties.
“May I?” he asks, tilting his head. You nod a couple times and bite your lip, furrowing your brows as he pulls them down, kissing from your abdomen to the edge of your pubic bone before spreading your legs apart and running his tongue between your lips slowly, sucking one of them into his mouth.
You moan when he licks a second stripe, giving your clit a couple kitten licks before sticking his finger into his mouth, coating it in saliva before rubbing it against your entrance, gently working its way in. You moan out when he begins a pattern of sucking your clit, licking it, and circling it with his tongue, thrusting his finger upward into you the whole time.
You whimper at the feeling of his tongue on you, melting into you like it’s what it was made for. He picks up the pace, fucking you with his finger faster as he just sucks your clit, ditching the pattern as you clench around him repeatedly. You moan out as your orgasm builds fast, quickly breaking through and making you grind up onto his face as you arch your back and grip the sheets with one hand and his hair with the other.
He flattens his tongue against your clit, staring up at you and letting you rub yourself off on it as he burries his finger in you as far as he can, groaning hoarsely. Once you’ve come down, he pulls his finger out of you slowly, licking and sucking at your entrance to clean you up, making you squirm. He resurfaces at your face and kisses you deeply, rutting into your thigh desperately.
You reach down, groping his hard cock through his pants before unbuttoning his jeans and unzipping his fly, pushing them down his hips as far as you can. He takes over and pulls them the rest of the way off along with his boxers, leaving the both of you entirely exposed.
You reach down blindly to rub him again, shocked by how quickly your hand meets his tip considering how much farther you had to reach before. You pull from the kiss and look down, gasping quietly. He traces your ear with his tongue before chuckling and thrusting toward your hand.
It’s not just the length that shocks you but the girth. You can just barely wrap your hand all the way around him as you try to massage his intimidating length, veins entirely visible and the tip a harsh shade of pink. He groans at the contact, moving his hips into your hand as you focus on his his tip.
You pull your hand back, spitting into it as he watches before returning your hand to him. He hisses at the coldness of your saliva before moaning into your ear as you massage his tip with it. You continue stroking him for a few more seconds before maneuvering his tip between your lips, shuddering at the feeling of his hot skin between yours.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” he says, using his metal hand to guide himself through your folds.
“Hang on a sec, actually. I wanna do something,” you suggest and he steps back, still holding himself as he watches you maneuver yourself on an angle facing the mirror. He chuckles as he places himself back between your legs, noting how the angle provides both of you with a perfect view of everything in the mirror. “I’m ready,” you say, taking a deep breath.
“Okay,” he whispers, leaning down and taking one of your hands in his flesh one, interlacing your fingers as he ruts between your lips a few more times before aligning himself at your entrance. You squeeze your eyes shut as he starts to push into you, immediately feeling yourself stretch around him with a burning sensation. You yelp a quiet sob at the pain as he penetrates you, squeezing his hand tightly and covering your mouth.
“I know, I know, honey. If you want me to stop just say so and I will. Do you want me to stop?” he asks as he pauses. You shake your head ‘no’ in response and he looks down at you with worried eyes.
“You sure?” he asks. You hum affirmatively and nod and he lowers himself back down to you, kissing you softly as he pushes himself in some more, pulling out a bit every time he meets resistance. You whine into his mouth and he groans as he continues pushing. Once he bottoms out, you moan out in both pleasure and pain, more-so the latter.
“Ah yeah, fuck,” he groans.
Giving you time to adjust he doesn’t move his hips at all, just kissing you and running his free hand down your side and up your thigh repeatedly. You wiggle your hips around a bit, moving your free hand to your clit to relieve some of the pain. You feel his cock throbbing in you as he watches you play with yourself, aching to move. Toying with your clit helps you to feel yourself relax a bit, ready for him.
“I’m alright,” you assure him.
He kisses you gently on the forehead before watching in the mirror as he pulls out of you slowly, making you squirm and whine. When he pushes back in, you scrunch your face up until he bottoms out, moaning more-so out of pleasure than pain when he pulls out again. Soon enough, he’s able to slide in and out of you with barely any pain besides the slight burning at your rim.
Watching in the mirror, you both moan as you watch the entirety of him disappearing into you then the pull of your skin when he pulls out. You moan louder when he picks up the pace a bit, his balls slapping your ass and his tip pushing behind your cervix with every thrust deep inside you.
“What a dirty young lady. Letting her dad’s best friend make love to her while her dad’s asleep just downstairs,” he taunts into your ear, losing more and more of his self-restraint with every push into you. You clench around him at his words, the idea of getting caught making you even hornier than you already are.
“Oh-o, you like that, honey? Huh?” he prompts. You moan in response, nodding your head as you drag your nails up his back, leaving red raw marks behind them. “Let me hear you,” he says.
“Yes!” you shriek, pushing your head backward into the bed as you moan.
“Yes, what?” he presses.
“Yes, Bucky!” you grip his shoulders for support as you watch his hips snap into you in the mirror and his eyes meet yours in it. He grabs your face with one hand, pushing you back onto the bed.
“No, not Bucky. Daddy. Say it”, he demands. Your eyes roll back as you moan out again, unable to control it.
“Yes, Daddy!” you shout out as you near your orgasm. He moves his hand to your clit, rubbing it fast and hard, same as how he’s fucking you. You moan out as you cum around him, your walls fluttering around him as he splits you in half. You cry out as he picks up the pace again, moving his thumb even faster now to push you over the edge once more.
“Daddy, it hurts!” you cry to him, the overstimulation too much for you to handle.
“You can take it, honey, come on. Just one more,” he urges you as his breathing becomes laboured. You cry out again as your third orgasm pushes through you. It’s mind numbing and leaves you trembling as his pace breaks down and his hips stutter before he’s spilling into you, thrusting a few more times before pulling out of you.
It takes you a moment before you can open your eyes again, when you do, they immediately find Bucky on his knees across from you, entranced by the sight of his fluid leaking from between your folds. You whimper quietly and try to close your legs, finding it difficult.
Bucky slowly moves up to you, lying next to you and pulling your figure into his embrace. You melt into his touch, trying to ignore how sore you are between your legs already.
“Sorry if I was too harsh,” he mumbles into your hair.
“I loved it, Bucky,” you respond, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you focus on the feeling of him running down your legs.
Summary: After your car gives out on the highway, you call your mechanic, Bucky, to come help you out, but he helps you out in more ways than one if you're picking up what I'm puttin' down(;
A/N: I’m just in the mood for writing Bucky in oil-stained jeans and a too-small t-shirt tbh
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, car sex, pet name (doll), use of a vibrator, insemination,
"Fuck!" you shout as you hit the edge of the steering wheel with the palm of your hand.
Your car had been acting up for a few days beforehand but today it finally crapped out. In the middle of the highway. An hour and a half from your apartment. On the shoulder of the lane, you sit in the dead car with your phone in your hand. You scroll down your contacts list until you reach 'Bucky- Mechanic' and dial the number. The dial tone plays for a few seconds before it cuts off, being replaced with a voice.
"Hey, doll. What's goin' on?" the man on the other end of the line asks.
"Hi, Bucky. My car just crapped out-- I'm on the side of the highway," you say, letting shaky, aggravated breaths out between your words.
"Ah," he clicks his tongue. "I'll be down in a bit. Sit tight, doll," he says, giving you time to say a short 'bye' before hanging up. Usually, something such as your current situation wouldn't get at you much but today was different. You had plans... with yourself. Truth is, it was getting hard to get off alone with your hands and even the showerhead. You'd tried everything, and, finally giving up, you'd gone out and bought yourself a little something-- a vibrator.
You had plans to get home and try it out, needing a well-deserved session with yourself, a successful one, that is. Bored of scrolling through social media, you remember to switch on your four-ways and lock the doors before climbing into the back and laying across the seats, planning on just chilling and listening to music rather than being cooped up in the front. Plus there was a nice blanket in the back, so that's a bonus. Resting your head on the seat, you scroll through your phone some more and edit your playlists.
—
You must’ve fallen asleep because you were woken by a thudding on the window above your head. You sit up and look around for a split-second to gather your surroundings before looking up at the sound to see Bucky standing outside your car. His hands darkened in spots with oil and his hair a mess. You rub your eyes and open the door, swinging your feet out onto the asphalt but staying in the seat. He steps to the open side of the door and drops to a knee.
“I checked everything while you were asleep; we’re not gonna be able to get this fixed before tonight,” he says up to you.
Well, there goes your evening. You grab your phone to call an Uber but, judging by the very obvious battery flashing across the screen, it’s dead. You huff as you organize the frizz out of your hair.
“Can I borrow your phone to call a ride? Mine’s dead,” you ask.
Something flashes through his eyes as he stands back up from the ground, his height towering over you.
“I could give you a ride back if you’d like,” he suggests.
Your face heats up at the thoughts that run through your head on the topic of being alone in a car at night with your hot mechanic but you manage to fluster together a semi-smooth response.
“Wha… What’s it cost?” you inquire flirtatiously, stammering.
“Cup of coffee?” Bucky flirts back.
Okay, he was a lot smoother than you, but he’s a lot more than you in every other way, too. He’s taller, cooler, richer, bigger.
“I’ll take that ride, then,” you smile at him and he returns it.
1 hour later:
You wake up from your nap in Bucky’s pick-up truck and examine the passing road around you through heavy eyes. Looking over at Bucky, he looks a bit shaken. You might’ve slept through something but unsure, you decide to make sure everything’s all good and you’re not… well, dead. And, seeing as being in a quiet car alone with Bucky at night listening to Lana Del Rey would be heaven to you, it didn’t seem impossible.
“You alright?” you ask, concerned.
Bucky’s eyebrows jump and his face expresses 110 different emotions in two seconds.
“Yeah- yeah, why?” he asks, very clearly not alright.
He clears his throat and his eyes flick down at your bare thigh, exposed like much of the rest of your legs by the short black jean shorts you were wearing. You follow his freaked gaze and notice 2 small indentations in your skin that definitely weren’t there before. You could’ve scratched yourself in your sleep but surely it wouldn’t leave that kind of mark.
“Hm, alright,” you say. You know something's up and you’re going to figure out what.
You watch him cautiously as he runs a hand through his hair, the metal rings wrapping his fingers reflecting the light from the early setting of the sun. He drops his hand back onto his thigh, steering with his left, and you look back and forth between his jittery hand and the marks on your leg.
Oh, damn.
You sit in silence for a moment, looking for other possible reasons for the marks on your leg but find none.
“Bucky,” you start.
“Mhm?” he replies instantly.
“We’re you… holding my thigh?” you finish.
He exhales deeply and slowly drifts onto the side of the road, thudding his forehead onto the top of the wheel, ashamed.
“I’ll get you an Uber,” he says into the wheel before reaching for his phone in the cupholder. You grab his wrist and his eyes meet yours in a flash— he looks disgusted, but not at you.
“Don’t,” you demand.
He holds the eye contact then breaks it, looking back at you quickly before peeling back onto the road. He switches his distracted gaze between your hand and the road as he watches as you keep the hold on his wrist and lead it back toward your leg. He stops his arm just before touching your skin before releasing and letting you place his hand on your inner thigh. His breathing quickens as he squeezes the soft flesh. This was the most wanted reason there could’ve been for the marks on your leg.
He moves his hand from your inner thigh toward your knee once you release his wrist. Guilt surges through you, yet there’s still a sexual tension building within the car.
“Bucky, I’m so sorry! I thought that was what you wanted, god, I feel like such a perv…” you sputter, holding your hands over your face.
Bucky smirks and glances over at you before re-fixing his eyes on the road.
“No, Doll, it’s not that. I just know that if we start now I’ll get carried away,” he says, consoling you, “Your place or mine?”.
“Yours,” you respond after a brief pause.
Your heart drops and you cross your legs to soothe the tingling between them— his hand follows and lands back on top of your thigh. The pressure on your heat allows you to feel the pulse around your clit and you huff out a quiet breath. Bucky notices your aroused state and removes his hand entirely, motioning to the backseat as he speaks:
“There’s something back there I think you might find useful,” he says.
You look in the back and see the hot-pink sex shop logo plastered on the black bag containing your vibrator. What. The. Actual. Fuck. This was literally your every wet dream of him and more. The burning in your abdomen and pulsing in your clit is quickly forgotten as nervousness and embarrassment wash over you after processing the ordeal.
“I swear I can explain-“ you start out of genuine reflex.
“I wasn’t asking,” he demands, turning down the radio by a few notches.
The dominance in his tone makes you wanna cum on the spot and you reach into the backseat and grab the bag, removing the boxed vibrator and dropping the bag onto the floor. You turn back around in the seat and a black-smudged and calloused hand grabs the box from you, flipping it around and examining the features. Your toes curl in anticipation as you watch him tear the box open with ease, dropping the vibrator onto his lap. He tests the different speeds on the palm of his hand, switching his gaze between the toy and the road before setting it to 2/5 and handing it over to you. You place it on the seat beside you and you don’t hesitate to pull your shorts down your legs, dropping them onto the floor in front of the seat and pulling your underwear to your ankles. The vibrator rattles against the leather of the seat and you pull your knees up, resting your feet on the dash before spreading your knees.
“Don’t change the speed, I’ll be controlling that since I’m driving,” he remarks.
You adjust your position, feeling the cool air of the gentle AC hit your cunt, giving you chills. You place the vibrator on the outside of your lips first to ease into the feeling before moving it between your folds, moving it up and down against your clit. You moan out shamelessly and Bucky groans in response. Pressing it into your clit, you slide a finger into yourself and push up against your front wall. You curve your finger in yourself and pump it in and out, wiggling the vibrator around. Squelching wet clicks fill the car besides the quiet music and you moan again, louder than before.
Bucky reaches between your legs and grabs the glistening vibrator, increasing the speed by one click before placing it back between your legs. He holds it on your clit, moving it in a circular motion as he focuses on the road and palms himself through his jeans. You insert another finger into yourself and grab his bicep with your free hand, needing desperately something to hold. You feel your climax coming up and arch your back off the back of the seat. Bucky swivels the vibrator around faster and pushes it into your clit with more pressure. You moan out a string of sounds as you curl your fingers and bury them within your clenching hole, flexing them inside yourself as your high flows by. With one final, very lewd moan, you finish completely and push the vibrator off of yourself. Bucky clicks it off and drops it back into the mangled box, releasing a guttural groan as his hard dick tests the confines of his jeans. You drive for a few more minutes before he flips on the turn signal onto a side road that leads to a hiking trail.
“Fuck it,” he says as he parks in one of the further spots at the edge of the woods.
Immediately upon parking, he smashes your faces together in an intense kiss. You separate your faces and climb into the back, knowing Bucky has to leave the car to get into the backseat. He chuckles and exits the car before re-entering into the backseat next to you as planned. You swing your legs up onto the seat and lay back, pulling your underwear back down— your shorts long gone in the front seat. He climbs between your spread legs with the door still open and reconnects the kiss.
“Mmph-” you try to speak as you push Bucky’s chest.
He lifts himself off of you in a push-up-like position and stares into your eyes, fear riddling his very existence.
“The door!” you laugh out, motioning to the open door, exposing your entire baby factory to the wild and maybe a few sunset hikers. His expression relaxes and he shuts the door behind himself, now on his knees on the seat, situated between your legs.
Thoughts came and went in your head as you watched him carry out the mundane action— when you first met him, when he gave you his personal number, and the looks you shared with each other that one time your ex’s car broke down. You’d both wanted this for a long time and, thinking about it, you don’t really know why you restrained yourselves for the amount of time you did.
He leans toward your face and sinks into a kiss. You close your eyes and move your lips toward another, only to realize that he was gone from your face and making his way down your body. You open your eyes to catch a glimpse of his smirk just before the rest of his face below his eyes disappears between your thighs.
You gasp and lean back against the window of the car door, grasping at his hair with one hand and the head rest of the seat with the other. His tongue passes through your lips repetitively, forcing a warm fluttering into your abdomen. Your moaning encourages him to press his tongue into your clit, flicking it back and forth and your moans get louder in response. You tug on his hair harshly as he inserts a finger into you and pumps it in and out. He groans into you, sending vibrations up your spine.
‘Burning Desire’ by Lana Del Rey starts on the playlist, thickening the sexual energy in the car. Your head thuds against the window as you arch your back off of the door, feeding him. He turns his head on an angle and curls his finger, pressing his face even further into you, if that’s even possible at this point. You let out one final guttural moan as you clench around his fingers and forge your fist shut on his hair, your body convulsing against the seat as you cum. He rides you through your high, staring up into your eyes as he laps up the fluids dripping from you— your juices and his saliva mixing together. The wet sounds slowing as he lays a few more small kitten-licks between your lips before removing his finger and moving back up to kiss you. You breath heavily against each other’s faces as you swallow your tongues, pawing at every piece of clothing covering you’s.
He pulls his shirt over his head before sitting back against the seat and removing his jeans, leaving him in his underwear. You sit up completely and pull your top off, your bra coming off soon after. You both soak in the atmosphere: the music, the heavy breathing, the late stages of the sunset. You ogle his body, practically drooling— his toned chest and the point where his stomach rolls from sitting, the muscles detailing his large arms, the spread of his thighs along the seat— everything.
“You gonna lose those?” you ask, gesturing to his boxers with the very prominent boner pressing through them.
He looks up from your breasts to your face and his eyebrows jump when he realizes that he’s still covered. He pulls the boxers down his legs, dropping them from his ankles onto the floor. His dick sticks up and precum rolls down the side of the contrasting pink tip. He begins to move back between your legs, but you stop him by climbing onto his lap. Looking up at you with curious eyes, he places his hands on your waist gently. You move your hand down to your heat slowly, taking some of your arousal on your fingertips before spreading it over his tip along with his precum. He inhales shakily and straightens his back at the feeling, his eyes taking a weak, submissive look.
“You ready?” you ask with a small, empathetic smile.
He nods his head and you tilt yours to the side.
“I wanna hear it,” you say.
One of his hands roams up your back and rests on the back of your neck.
“I’m ready,” he whispers before pushing your faces together in a soft kiss, swiping his tongue along yours as you slide his throbbing tip between your folds.
You both moan out quietly as you lower yourself onto his cock, your rim stretching and your walls fluttering as he enters your body. The wet sucking of your kissing fills the car as you sit on his cock for a moment, wiggling your hips to adjust to his size. You rest your hands on his shoulders for support as you slide yourself up and down. You have to lean your forehead against his to avoid hitting your head on the ceiling.
You had waited so long for this. Too long.
The slow pace wasn’t cutting it for him anymore as he grabbed onto your hips and flipped you back along the seat. You gasp as he pushes himself back into you and takes what he needs— a lot.
“Oh my god, Buck!” you cry out.
He rests his weight on his forearms as you grab at his body, first his arms, then his ass, then his waist. Wet skin slapping and your combined moans cover the music, and the once-clear glass has been fogged up. You pant like dogs as you whine out every few thrusts, nearing your climaxes.
“Come on, doll. Cum for me,” he coos into your hair, moving a hand to your clit.
He toys with your clit as he continues plowing you, sucking intensely on your neck. You feel yourself clench repeatedly as stars form behind your eyes and you arch your back into Bucky as you cum. You cry out as he brings you down from your high, still chasing his own. The car shakes back and forth more intensely as he gives a few more hard thrusts deep into you before burrying his cock in you and filling you with his cum. He groans out as he pulls out, releasing all of the built up fluids from your hole out onto the seats. You moan as his tip pops out of you and the liquid seeps down your skin.
You sit up on the seat and more juices push though your lips, instigated by the motion. Bucky pulls his boxers back over himself and reaches into the front seat to grab a box of tissues, passing them to you to clean yourself up. The two of you redress and get back into the front— you climbing over the console and him getting out of the car to get back in.
“Let’s get back to my place, now, yeah?” he says, not much of a question, before turning on the car.
The headlights illuminate the woods ahead and in the grass in front of you’s, a squirrel sits— watching you.
“Pervert,” you and Bucky say at the same time.
You burst out laughing at the coincidence before he peels the truck out of the parking lot, still snickering.
You had been driving for just over 5 minutes before either of you said something, tuckered out.
“You think that thing works on men?” he asks, lifting his hand from your thigh to point at the vibrator box in the cupholder.
“We’ll have to find out,” you respond, interlacing your fingers with his.
