Summary : Everyone on base thinks that you have the upper hand in your relationship, seeing Bradley as the golden retriever boy who follows you around, agrees to everything you say and worships the very ground you walk on. Little do they know what happens behind closed doors.
Pairing : Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Fem!Reader
Important info : Your call sign is Nitro 💨 :)
Disclaimer : English is not my first language so apologies for any grammar errors that might have escaped my proof reading ! 💞
Word count : 3.6k
‼️‼️CONTENT WARNING : suggestive, talks about power dynamics, talks about sex, sex habits, crude talks about sex, making out, sexual themes, can be explicit, but no actual smut. MDNI.
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It was a universal consensus.
Something unspoken, yet known. A belief that everyone had established as the truth. And how could they have thought otherwise when all the evidences oh so clearly pointed in that direction ?
Ever since transferring permanently in San Diego three years ago, the squad had known you as this unshakable force. And despite what people may have thought of you at first glance, everyone had quickly learned you were a leviathan, a force of nature not to be messed with. But that is what the Navy commanded of you, you thought. Nothing more or less than the resilient fighter pilot you were trained to be.
No one questioned your skills anymore, if anyone even had doubts to begin with. After countless missions where you’d been team captain and had led your squad to success without a single mistake or casualties, not even a scratch on your radome, there wasn’t much anyone could still say to you.
It had taken you some time to be comfortable around the squad, who you quickly learned was a true family, in the air and on the ground. It had been hard to leave the pilot persona behind and learn to just… be yourself around them, simply exist outside of the harsh environment of the base.
They were surprised but nonetheless pleased to discover the warmth behind your usually cold facade. Seeing you on base and ten minutes later at the Hard Deck was like seeing two different person who shared the same face. Mickey always joked that you had an evil personality that’d possess you every time you set foot on base and wouldn’t exorcise out of your body until you were at least fifty feet away from military ground.
So naturally, the news of you and Bradley dating shook the squad to their very core.
“What the actual fuck ?” Mickey had nearly shouted, startling half the Hard Deck and getting questioning looks when you had casually said you’d be going home with Bradley after training on Friday, for date night.
“Jesus, lower your voice,” Bradley chuckled while sending apologetic smiles to a few people who were still eyeing you suspiciously.
“What do you mean ‘lower my voice’ ? Are we not even gonna comment what she just said ?” He countered, pointing a somehow accusing finger at you.
You simply quirked a brow at Mickey’s outburst, he tended to be dramatic so his reaction wasn’t much indication to you. But a quick look at the rest of your friends made you realize that for once, maybe he wasn’t exaggerating.
Natasha’s jaw was hanging open in the most fish out of the water expression you’d ever seen.
Jake’s eyes kept flicking between you and Bradley, seemingly trying to coincide two realities that in his mind just couldn’t coexist due to metaphysics or otherworldly laws of some kind.
Bob simply pushed up his glasses on his nose, offering you a small smile, perhaps trying to show some warmth in the midst of the shock shell expressions your friends were harboring.
And you saw Javy, visibly confused, leaning towards Reuben and whisper a quick “did she just say ‘date night’ ?”, to which Reuben slowly nodded, like the information hadn’t totally registered in his brain either.
“Oh my god,” you let out in a small laugh, sharing a look with Bradley who seemed just as amused as you, “did you not know ?”
“Know what ? Please be precise, I cannot handle much more of this right now,” Mickey hissed, closing his eyes for a second, as if looking for peace.
“We’re dating,” Bradley said, opting for casual but the smile threatening to stretch his lips and the proud glint in his eyes clearly betrayed his intention.
“I thought it was obvious,” you added a bit sheepishly.
“Obvious ??” Natasha finally got out of her stupor, seeming deeply offended by your remark, “Y/N, I’ve never even seen you smile at the guy !”
Jake nodded vigorously at her words, “and never have I heard you call him anything other than his call sign, what kind of relationship is this ?”
“You guys look like everything, and I’m being so serious when I say that, everything but a couple.” Mickey argued, way too invested into whatever this matter qualified as.
“I mean,” you shrugged, “we do keep it professional on base.”
“That’s one way to put it…” Jake muttered out, barely audible.
“How long have you been dating ?” Bob questioned, an earnest look on his face.
You took a minute to think, turning to Bradley for help but the answer was already on the tip of his tongue.
“Two months tomorrow.”
The certainty in his voice left no room for debate as you eagerly nodded, smiling brightly at him.
“Yeah that’s it.”
“Oh he is whipped.” Natasha whispered to Jake.
To which he scrunched his nose in repulsion, “disgusting.”
From then on, the squad had been paying close attention, very close attention to the two of you.
And you were right, it was obvious. Painfully so. But not because of you, no, never.
You remained just as ever. Firm, commanding, cold blooded as much in the air as on the ground. Not sparing Bradley even just the smallest hint of affection. And while they knew of your feelings for him now, it was still hard to believe it by watching how you behaved.
Bradley, on the other hand…
It was like the man was incapable of wearing his heart anywhere else than out on his sleeve. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, gentle brown eyes holding nothing short of pure adoration as they gazed down at you. Obvious in the way he followed you around most times, sticking by your side at a reasonable distance, far enough to be professional but close enough that people were able to catch the hint of something more in the air. They had never once heard him disagree with you, or seen him be anything other than giddy whenever you were near him.
There was no doubt for any of them that Bradley was head over heels in love with you. And even that wasn’t cutting it.
And so had sparked a rumor. Upon seeing your singular dynamic in display, the squad had settled on the idea that you must had been ruling this relationship like you already ran everything on base. There was no other tangible possibility in their mind.
“She walks him like a fucking dog,” Jake muttered out, eyes trained on you and Bradley at the bar, who was insisting on carrying all the drinks back to your table on his own.
“She so does.” Javy agreed, snickering.
“I think they are cute together,” Bob jumped in, ever the joyful and sweet voice amidst chaos.
“Do you think she doms him in bed ?” Jake suddenly asked, turning back to the squad to get answers.
“What the fuck ?” Natasha interjected while Mickey and Reuben bursted out laughing. “In what world could you possibly think this is an appropriate question ?”
“What ? When you meet a couple do you never wonder what their sex life is like ?”
Natasha seemed absolutely bewildered and appalled now.
“Umm no ? I’m a normal person, so no, I don’t do this.”
“I’m with you,“ Mickey pointed to Jake, “I also do it.” He said easily, like admitting something as casual as what he had for breakfast this morning.
“Okay, is this a guy thing ? Cause it’s really fucking weird.”
“No, Phoenix, it’s a people thing,” Jake argued, “you’re the weird one for not doing it.”
She only rolled her eyes, opting to leave the conversation die as quickly as it had started, while she drank up another sip of her soon to be empty glass.
Silence fell upon the table for a few seconds, and she was about to propose a lighthearted drinking game when—
“He probably gets pegged.”
The roar of laughter that came out of Reuben, Mickey and Javy got half the bar turning heads to the squad’s table, sending mean and questioning looks their way.
“Ew Jake, seriously what is your problem ?!” Natasha hissed while clapping Bob, who had choked on his saliva as soon as the question left Jake’s mouth, on the back.
“What are you guys talking about ?” You excitedly asked when you came back to the table, having heard the commotion that your friends had caused.
Bradley handed all the drinks and wordlessly pulled out your chair, inviting you to sit. Jake’s smirk widened as Natasha sent him a deadly stare. Anyone in their right mind probably would have shut their mouth.
“We were just talking about you two actually,” Jake smiled, uncharacteristically sweet.
Bradley froze for a second, sending him a puzzled stare, as if he had sensed that Jake talking about his relationship could only mean trouble.
“Ohhh, what about us ?” You asked, giggling obliviously.
Reuben, Mickey and Javy were exchanging knowing glances, the quirks up of their lips, an obvious attempt of restraint from laughing, was only furthermore worrying Bradley.
A mischievous glint was shining in Jake’s green eyes when he finally spoke, “which one of you dominates the other in bed ?”
A little shocked sound got caught in your throat as your eyes bulged out of their socket. Bradley only rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh like this was to be expected.
“Do you have nothing better to do than gossip about our sex life ?”
Jake dramatically pointed to the pool tables and the dart boards which were all occupied, “no, I literally have nothing better to do right now. Answer the question.”
“How about that’s none of your fucking business ?”
“Why are you even wondering about that ?” You questioned in a strained voice, once you had recovered from your initial shock, your cheeks taking on the slightest pink shade.
“To be fair,” Javy started, and you knew that nothing even remotely fair was about to come out of his mouth, “your dating dynamic is quite interesting, so you know… I guess there’s bound to be some questions about you two.”
“And… what are your takes then ?” You found yourself asking, curious despite the fluster and embarrassment you felt about your squad mates theorizing on such an intimate part of your life.
Bradley’s head whipped towards you so hard he almost gave himself whiplash, “sweetheart, you’re not seriously entertaining this, are you ?”
“Well I’m kinda curious now,” you admitted with a sheepish smile, a hand squeezing his forearm affectionately, “but if you’re uncomfortable they don’t have to—“
“No, don’t worry.” He said quickly, expression softening in seconds, “If you’re okay with it, I’m okay too.” Chuckling lightly, he placed a quick but soft kiss on your temple. “Alright,” he clapped his hands, convinced by nothing more than your sweet voice and gentle eyes, “what are your theories ? Entertain us.” He almost commanded, like a king asking his jesters to amuse him.
“I think Nitro is the dom.” Said Mickey, almost too quickly as soon as he heard the authorization from Bradley, “and you’re submissive, like as fuck.”
Your shock and surprise only had a few seconds to settle down onto your features that already Reuben was giving his opinion.
“Yeah, same. Rooster, sorry man, but you do everything she tells you to do and you say ‘yes ma’am’.”
A laugh escaped you then, turning to look at Bradley, you saw the faint hint of a smile pulling at his lips. And when he made brief eye contact with you, there was a flame of undeniable hunger burning in his dark brown irises that sent a delectable shiver down your spine.
“Yeah, I might add that your go to position is cowgirl so he’s at your mercy,” Javy added, a pensive look in his eyes like that was something he’d actually given time to have a deep ponder about.
“I mean, it does seem obvious that you might be more dominant, Y/N.” Bob added, voice soft and the smallest pink hue on his cheeks.
“Damn, so all of you think I get my shit absolutely rocked ?” Bradley huffed in a chuckle.
“Actually,” Jake intervened, a smirk on his face that usually stretched his lips whenever he wanted to rile up Bradley, “it’s funny that you phrase it like that because I do think she pegs you.”
Natasha let out a groan, putting her head in her hands.
“I beg of you, Hangman, stop saying that word.”
“He asked, I merely answered his question.”
But perhaps Bradley didn’t quite had the reaction Jake was hoping for. Arms crossed, biceps almost filling up the stretched out sleeves of his opened Hawaiian shirt, Bradley was staring down his squad mate with nothing short of a pleased smile.
“That’s pretty graphic,” he commented calmly, matter of factly.
Jake’s smirk faltered almost imperceptibly. He hadn’t exactly expected for him to react so… peacefully.
“Yeah, I can really picture it, you know.”
“Are you admitting you think about me naked ? I’m flattered, Hangman, truly.”
But Jake wasn’t one to give up easily.
“I mean, it’s more your girl that I imagine—“
“Watch it.” Bradley warned, tone suddenly firm, leaving no place for anyone to argue.
Satisfied, Jake raised his hands in mock defense, “didn’t mean to overstep.”
He absolutely did.
During this whole back and forth, your eyes had been fixed on Bradley. Watching him be so comfortable with the concept of all of your squad mates somehow thinking he was absolutely submitted to you, and him being ready to jump at your defense the second someone made too crude of a comment about you ? It made your stomach flutter and your thighs squeeze ever so slightly under the table. One of your hand went to squeeze his knee, in an attempt to signal him how this whole conversation had you feeling.
Eyes flicking over to yours, he smirked at the faraway look in your eyes and the red shade blooming from your neck up to your cheeks.
“Hey,” Bob grabbed everyone’s attention, “a pool table is free.”
“Thank fucking god.” Jake sighed out, immediately getting up and rushing to the table before anyone else could claim it.
“Hey, we’re actually gonna head out,” Bradley called out, his gaze staying locked on yours a few more seconds while his heard turned towards the squad, before inevitably breaking eye contact.
Natasha uttered a chuckle for the first time all night, “yeah, you do that, have fun !”
The rest of the squad joined Jake to the pool table. Picking up a cue stick, Mickey watched Bradley leading you out the door, a protective hand on your lower back.
“You think maybe we got it all wrong ?”
Reuben frowned as he watched Jake break the balls.
“What are you talking about ?”
“Rooster and Nitro.”
Natasha’s arms raised and fell back against her sides with a dull thud, her expression a mix of exasperation and incredulity.
“Your obsession with them is getting seriously concerning.”
“Hear me out,” Mickey began, completely ignoring her, “you know how those dudes that simply smile when you tell them they have a small dick have like, the biggest one ? And those who get all angry are the ones who actually got a small dick ?”
“Where are you going with this ?” Javy chuckled, deeply confused.
“Well, Rooster seemed awfully unbothered, no ? So what if he was so calm because he’s actually the dom ?”
“Why are we still making conspiracy theories about this ?” Natasha questioned, still baffled by how much importance her squad mates seemed to hold for your intimate life.
“Rooster ?” Jake scoffed, once again completely ignoring Natasha while sinking two striped balls at once, “yeah, no way.”
As soon as the door slammed close behind you, your mouth was on Bradley’s. Eager and heated, your lips were almost feverishly moving against his, and he let out a pleased hum into the kiss.
“Is that our friends speculating about our sex life that got you this worked up, sweetheart ?” He whispered, voice low again your mouth, tongue poking out to slightly lick the corner of your lips.
Letting out a small whine, you chased his mouth, “I don’t know…” you muttered between kisses, cheeks glowing red at the thought of even admitting such a thing to him.
“You don’t know, huh ?” He smirked, lips tracing a path from your mouth down to your neck.
The faint scratch of his mustache on your skin was raising goosebumps in its wake as you gripped his shoulders, a soft moan slipping out of your mouth.
One of Bradley’s knees slid in between your legs, carefully applying pressure on your clothed core. Instinctively, you started to grind down on it. Very little back and forth movements that felt like heaven on your already wet pussy.
“Yeah… just like that, baby.” He praised, hands on your hips, helping you. “That pussy must be dripping for me, hm ?”
“Y—Yeah, fuck… ‘m so wet for you, Bradley…” you whined as your hips picked up the pace a little.
He nibbled the thin skin of your neck, immediately soothing the graze of his teeth with a languid pass of his tongue. The sensation was only adding to the delicious glide of your covered clit on his strong and steady thigh.
“It’s okay if the conversation at the Hard Deck turned you on…” he cooed, “it turned me on.”
Your hips stuttered slightly at his words, eyes widening. Bradley lifted his head from the crook of your neck, half lidded eyes, darken from lust, boring straight into yours.
“Really ?” You asked in a breathless voice.
Briefly, his gaze went down to your lips.
“Yeah.”
He leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss you eagerly retuned, your arms coming around his waist to bring him impossibly closer to you, almost trying to morph your two bodies together.
His tongue briefly caressed your bottom lip, to which you slightly opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to explore you, tangling with yours. And you let out a drawn out moan into his mouth when he pressed you down on his thigh and clenched his muscles.
“Yeah,” he repeated when he pulled away from you, voice hoarse and lips glistening with both of your spit, “I like that I’m the only one who knows how good my girl is for me. That’s what you are, isn’t ?”
Nodding hastily, you let out a cry when your clit caught just right on the seam of your jeans with a roll of your hips. You went to bury your face in his neck, but Bradley was quick to catch your chin, forcing your head back up and making you look at him.
“Say it for me, baby.”
“I’m—“ a pathetic little whine left your lips, “I’m your good girl.”
His lips stretched out in a proud smile, “yeah you are.” He cooed, pressing a kiss just under your ear.
Your hips sped up a bit as you felt your high approaching. His feverish kisses, his words, the delicious flex of his thigh under you had your head spinning.
“Bradley— fuck,” you cried out, “can I cum, please ?”
As soon as the question left your lips, he retracted his thigh, leaving the space between your legs empty. The ache in your engorged clit felt almost painful.
Whining out in pure desperation, you tightened your hold around his waist, refraining him from distancing himself further.
“Shh, shh,” he soothed you, big hands coming up to cup your cheeks and brush some of your hair back from your already sweaty forehead, “it’s alright, baby. I just think you deserve more than my thigh to cum, don’t you agree ?”
He could see your eyes illuminate as you eagerly nodded.
“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled, gently loosening the tight grip you had on his waist. “Get on the bed for me, sweetheart. Take your clothes off.”
Bradley didn’t think he had ever seen anyone get undressed that quickly. He watched you intensely, appreciative eyes raking over your uncovering form as he slowly unbuckled his belt.
You practically jumped on the bed once you were naked, sitting on the edge of it, your legs instinctively fell open for him, and he swore he saw you shiver when his belt hit the floor with a metal clink.
He made his way to the edge of the bed. Your pupils were blown wide and Bradley could see it even from this distance. Slowly, he got down on his knees as your eyes avidly took him in.
His lips traded little open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs and you could feel his smile on your skin.
“What’s so funny ?” You asked, voice strained, a bit worried he was laughing at you.
He looked up at you, “I wonder what the squad would think if they saw you like that, all spread out for me, listening to my every word…” he kissed the top of your twitching clit, “pussy fucking dripping just because I called you my good girl.”
Moaning out, you felt yourself clench around nothing.
“Bradley… please.” You pleaded, the need burning in your core becoming physically unbearable.
“Who am I to refuse when you ask so sweetly like that ?” He cooed, affectionately squeezing your thighs as he settled them carefully on top of his shoulders.
In a way, the squad hadn’t been entirely wrong. Bradley was devoted to you, in every sense of the term. He listened to you diligently, obeyed your every word, pleased your every request, worshipped the ground you walked on…
But they all thought he did it all because you commanded it of him.
And in that way ? They couldn’t have been more wrong.
Looking at you, his mouth sucked on your clit once, “eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”
Oh, fuck.
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Author’s note : just a little something short and fun to try and post more regularly ! This is not at all what I usually write, it’s almost all dialogues and very little description but I had a lot of fun writing it !!
I seriously not give enough love to my boy Bradley. Like everytime I get a fic idea for him i’m like ‘oh yeah but imagine that with Jake though’, and even in a Bradley fic he is omnipresent, sorry I’m obsessed with that guy.
Also I looove writing squad dynamics like that, I love them they are so fun !
I enjoyed trying out this new type of one shot so don’t hesitate to tell me if it sucked or if you’d like to see more !
the tie that binds (your hands) — aaron hotchner fanfic
SUMMARY: aaron’s had just about enough of his newest agent making his life hell and decides to treat her like the brat she is.
CONTENT WARNINGS: afab/female!reader, non!descript reader, reader being such a twerp (lovingly), implied older hotch - age gap not specified, boss/subordinate dynamic, dominant!aaron, bondage (hands being tied), some spanking but not much, unwrapped p in v (wrap it before ya tap it), fingering, consent color system used, dominant!hotch (he's also kind of an ass.. but lovingly!), not proofread so ignore any mistakes for my sake </3
RATING: smut / fluff - this entire blog is 18+, minors dni! <3
WORD COUNT: 3.3k
AUTHOR'S NOTES: can we tell i love dominant hotch and have had this idea for a while? anyway i just wanted to share that i'm so grateful for y'alls love on my latest fics! it truly does mean the most. any interaction with any post is greatly appreciated. thank you and happy reading! <3 also two hotch fics back to back look at me??? AUGH
This had to be one of your worst ideas yet. Well, second worst.
The first one was how you'd been acting lately. Pushing the lines to see how long it would take to get Aaron Hotchner to lose his cool with one of his agents.
Penelope told you it was a rare occurence for him to actually lose it with someone. "He's like, scarily calm sometimes. Even when he shouldn't be." She'd told you. "It honestly should be part of the academy training."
That part made you think about how little you'd seen him overreact unless it was necessary — namely when a suspect or unsub needed gentle nudging towards a confession.
You figured you would take the Reid route and perform an experiment. It wasn't like Hotch didn't deserve it: in your mind, he did. Ever since you joined the team, he had been treating you different, as if you didn't have the same amount of experience as Morgan did. Maybe it was just because it was with a different team, but it felt off to you.
You'd started off small: you'd stood closely to him during your first day in Detroit for the case you were on, making sure he felt your presence. Anytime he looked at you, you gave him a smile even if it didn't feel like you should have.
Morgan was the first to catch on, and you winked in response to that small grin he gave you over the rim of his coffee cup.
Maybe it wasn't your brighest idea to mess with the man you'd worked under for less than a year. But it didn't stop you from continuing throughout that day — pretending you had forgot one of the case files he'd ask you to bring, moving seats when he'd sat next to you in the conference room.
By the time you'd gotten to the hotel that night, you were sure he'd catch on or you would run out of things to do that didn't cross an invisible line between professional and personal. But then, it seemed like the universe granted you a gift.
JJ had approached you in the lobby of the hotel. "So, turns out, the hotel only has seven rooms. Prentiss and I are going to share, Rossi already took one for himself because of course he did. Reid and Morgan are also going to share which leaves.."
"Me and Hotch. Right." You finish that sentence for her. You accept your keycard and ride the rather cranky elevator up to the floor. Stepping inside, you notice Aaron's bag already on one side of the bed.
The. one. bed.
You pause in the doorway. Aaron, stepping out of the bathroom, takes notice of that. "I know this isn't the most ideal situation but. Welcome to life with the FBI; communication issues with hotels are not unheard of." He says.
You scoff. You can't stop it before it comes out, but you also don't want to. "Why do you keep saying things like that? 'Welcome to life with the FBI'. I've been an agent for years." You say as you step into the room and shut the door behind yourself. "You're treating me like I just got done being some rookie in the academy."
He turns to look at you, taking his suit jacket off and tossing it onto the nearby armchair. "I'm not treating you like anything." He corrects. "I'm giving you the same treatment as everyone else."
"Really? When was the last time you told Reid how to fill out paperwork? Because you did that to me last week." You point out. "Or maybe you've told Morgan before how to show your badge to someone in the field, because that happened last month. Or-"
Aaron cuts you off with a sharp exhale as his hands work to undo his shirt's cuff buttons. "I don't treat them like that because I trust them. They have been on this team for a while. And forgive me but you're new."
"Not new to the FBI."
"New to this team."
"Yeah, and you won't let me live that down!" You shoot back. "I've been an agent for as long as Morgan has, almost longer than Reid. You want me to prove myself, to make it clear to you that I'm a good agent yet you're treating me like a damn child."
"You're acting like one!" He argues. "Acting like a brat, actually."
"What the hell does that mean?" You want him to elaborate on that. He says brat like he's thought that way of you for a while and finally found the appropriate word for it. "I'm a brat?"
"Yes. A brat who frankly needs to be put in her place every once in a while." He answers as he turns, taking his tie off and placing it on the bed.
"Oh and how do you intend to do that, Hotchner?" You say his last name like it's a curse against your tongue. He looks back at you like he has an answer, before he lets out a gruff sigh instead. "Forget it. Just.. can we get some sleep, please? We have a long day tomorrow. I'll take the sofa, you take the bed."
"Oh, don't do me any favors." You say, as you grab your pillow off the bed. You walk, grabbing a blanket out of the closet nearby. "I'll take the couch. Maybe some beauty sleep will make you less of a pain in my ass."
"Oh, now I'm a pain in your ass?"
"If I'm a brat then yes you're an ass."
───
It didn't need to be said that you didn't sleep great last night.
It wasn't just the fact that the sofa was rather uncomfortable or that it smelled like some old lady's perfume, and not in a nostalgic way. It was the fact everytime you shut your eyes, his words kept repeating in your head.
A brat who needs to be put in her place. You so badly wanted to know what the hell he was trying to say with that. Why he said it like that. If that was an offer to find out what "put in her place" even meant. You were just grateful none of the team seemed to have the room closest to yours, since Morgan probably would've offered to help you figure it out.
You try to get it out as you bury yourself in the case. Proposing theories, going to the victim's houses with Reid. You even volunteer yourself to do case notes for the day, which is how you end up staying late at the precint. So late that by the time you leave, it's incredibly dark outside.
You enter the hotel room to find Aaron still awake as well. You close the door quietly behind yourself and toe your shoes off by the door, placing them by your bag. "Hi." You say first. "Surprised you're still awake."
He had his own case file in his lap, one leg crossed over the other. There was a half filled glass of scotch on the end table by the sofa. You take note of the fact he drinks scotch, then remind yourself that seems to fit the profile you'd created for him in your mind.
"Yeah well, I couldn't sleep." He says. "I owe you an apology."
"For which part? The part where you've handled me with kid gloves or calling me a brat?" You ask, eyebrows raised. You don't let it slide past, either as you take your coat off and toss it onto the bed. "I don't even care if it was meant to be an insult, I just want to know what it meant."
"What do you mean?"
"You said I'm a brat who 'needs to be put in her place'," you remind. Was that you saying you want to fire me? Was it you wanting to threaten me with something? What?"
He takes a moment. Silence. Then he chuckles. He actually laughs. It should feel insulting, part of it does. The rest of it just feels shocking that this man was laughing at you. It's quiet, it's to himself. But he chuckles at the very least.
"That, uh, wasn't supposed to come out." He admits after he stops laughing. He sighs as he stands up, looking at you as his arms fold against his chest. "I just meant.. I don't know. I just meant if you're going to act like a brat maybe someone should treat you like one."
"Oh like what? Tie my hands behind my back, teach me a lesson?"
"Yes."
"What?"
He takes a step forward, as if testing the waters. "That's what I meant by it. I don't see a point in lying, you've already figured it out even if you don't realize it." The way his eyes narrow tell you he's profiling you. "You had to know it would be a possibility. You've been intentionally driving me crazy since we got in Detroit."
He continues, another step forward. "Don't tell me you haven't thought of that being my response. You wanted to be treated like a brat, clearly. That's probably why you did it. You've figured it out, you know my response." He takes one more step forward, before he's standing directly in front of you. "What do you want as a result?"
You look at him. Truly look at him. There's no hesitation behind his eyes. You imagine there isn't any behind yours either because he's looking at you as if to silently propose a threat: challenge me. I dare you.
You didn't want to. You hadn't been sure if you had been insane for feeling something for Hotchner ─ it wasn't love. You refused to label it as that. But, God it was something.
Maybe it had just been the proximity of working closely with him; you saw it happen with JJ and Will, Morgan and Penelope (even if they were platonical, though that label didn't feel right for the amount of flirting they did). It had to be the heat of a shared conference room and mutual case.
But, like the brat you had apparently been labelled as, you speak. "I want you to live up to your threat. Treat me like the brat you think I am." You say. You look back at him with your own silent response: back out. I dare you.
You're about to shoot some sort of quip at him, before he's kissing you. Your boss, the man you'd never even see smile before tonight, is kissing you. Lips against yours, hands moving to cup your face. His touch is surprisingly gentle, as if he's testing the waters. That or enjoying the feeling of kissing you.
Your hands move to begin taking off his dress shirt. You let out a curse against his lips as you fight with the buttons, pulling away slightly to see what you were doing.
"Jesus, what a naughty mouth." He murmurs, as his own hands work to remove your clothes. It's a toss of clothes from there: his shirt, your shirt. His pants, your pants. Before long he's guiding you back to the bed and helping you lay back on it.
He flips you over on your stomach, making you let out a short gasp. You turn your head to watch what he's doing as he moves to grab his tie off the chair, and that's when it hits you. He was actually going to teach you a lesson.
He grabs your arm and puts them behind your back. It felt ironic to you that an FBI agent was currently acting like he was arresting you. The fabric is rough against your skin, borderline painful. You let out a yelp when he tightens it.
"Too tight?"
"No."
"Good. Color?"
"Green." You answer. Neon fucking green felt like a better answer, but you play it safe.
"Good." He praises as he bends down to kiss down your back. He kisses over the clasp of your bra but leaves it there, kissing down your spine. His hands move over the plush of your ass, squeezing there. One delivers a hard blow against your skin and you gasp.
"Aw, what? Brat doesn't like her punishment that she asked for?" He says. You can tell just by the way he speaks that he's grinning, you can also feel it against your skin as he kisses at the back of your neck, sucking and kissing at the back of your shoulder. "Hotchner, do not give me a hickey." You warn.
"I make no promises. And I don't think brats are supposed to talk back." He says as he slaps your ass again. He sighs dramatically as his hand soothes the red skin there. "For someone with her hands tied behind her back you sure think you hold the power here."
"Now, you going to actually behave for me?" He asks. You want to say no just to see what would happen, but the light tug of the tie around your hands as a reminder has you answering with a quiet "yes".
"That's my girl." He praises that with a kiss against your skin again. You hate the way your cunt wraps around nothing at the way he says 'my girl'.
His hands move to remove the rest of your clothing, tossing them on the carpeted floor with the others. His hand moves between your thighs, gently teasing your folds.
You have to fight back a response of a moan or a gasp, any noise really. You wouldn't give him that satisfaction, not yet. But that's alright, because Aaron takes it as a challenge. He inserts one of his fingers without warning, and that has you letting out that delightful sound.
"Already so wet f'me, huh?" He murmurs, probably talking to your cunt instead of you. He takes his time pumping that finger in and out of you, as your face buries into the mattress beneath you. You were well aware of the fact that your team was on the same floor as you, and Aaron smirks at the sight.
He takes the time to let his thumb press against your clit. That has you almost whining into the mattress, but you bite it back. Instead you whisper a quiet "fuck", and he chuckles. "Christ, you're so responsive. I should've assumed that about you though."
"What does that mean?" You scoff when it hits you. It hits you shortly after. "Are you profiling me right now?"
He shrugs. "Am I?" He asks in response. He looks down at your cunt again, watching as his digits slide out - covered in your juices - then slide back in. "God, look at her. So wet and desperate for me." It doesn't take a genius to figure out he's not exactly talking to you in that moment.
You want to respond, to tell him he was a douche if you ever met one, but you feel so close to the edge, your breath catching with each thrust of his fingers before you regain the air in your lungs. He can probably feel it by the way your walls flutter around his digits, and that's when he removes them. You let yourself audibly whine at that, and he grins at the sound. "You still good?" He asks.
You nod, catching your breath. You can barely let out a sarcastic reply asking how good you can be when he didn’t even let you finish when he suddenly flips you over.
“Jesus-!” You yelp. You adjust to the sudden change and being on your back. You look up at Aaron. “Can you seriously give me some warning before you do that?”
He shrugs. “That’s the fun of it. The unexpected, or something equally philosophical.” He says with a kiss against your collarbone. "I'll ask Reid his thoughts on it later. Color?"
"Green." You answer, watching with keen interest as he removes his boxers, tossing them aside. "You aren't asking Reid about anything that involves us. Especially not you having me on a bed naked underneath you." You say.
He presses a kiss against your jawline as he climbs overtop of you. His hand pushes your still bound wrists above your head, holding them there. Was he always that strong? He lets his hips grind against yours lightly, and that has your head spiraling.
He doesn't leave you much time to reflect on that before he's lining himself up at your entrance. He gently pushes past your folds, and that's where your mind goes blank. Every other sense is heightened, but your brain can't think of anything but a repeat of more, more. Your mouth lets out his name like a prayer against your tongue.
He lets out a groan in response. "Shit." He murmurs, as he takes time to adjust being inside of you. If the thought of kissing you felt intense earlier, this could likely kill him. “Fuck.”
“We should work on your dirty mouth, Agent Hotchner.” He treats that sarcastic quip with a sharp thrust, one that draws a moan out of you faster than you can stop it. You can feel him deep inside of you, can even see the bulge of him against your stomach.
You let your head fall back against the mattress as he continues that pace. Each thrust leaves you moaning his name, whining as your hands strain underneath the tie. You were sure you'd have to wear long sleeves tomorrow to cover up the marks the fabric was leaving.
As you feel him brush your g-spot, you urge to touch him. To at least feel something other than the same material on your hands. "Hotch, please," you whine breathlessly.
He gives a fake pout, almost mockingly. "Please what? Gotta use your words. Can you do that? Use your words f'me." He says. He may be teasing you like a well composed jackass but it was masking the way he wanted to moan every time his hips slapped against yours. His hands hold your hips in place so hard he's sure there'll be bruises, but he can kiss those better as an apology later.
Your walls tighten around his length before releasing, a sign he'd hitten your g-spot again, and the feeling is intoxicating. So much so he does it again as you strain out a response. "Wanna touch you." You say. "Please."
He obliges. How could he not? You had been on your best behavior. He lets go of your hips for a moment - but his continue slapping against yours with a pornographic sound - as he removes the restraint on your hands. You take a moment to flex your wrists before they're wrapping around his shoulder.
He feels his own climax slowly building up inside his stomach, as his hand snakes between your bodies to tease your sensitive bud. The pad of his thumb presses firmly against it before he's rubbing it. "Shit, shit, shit." You moan, your nails digging into his skin. He groans at the feeling.
"Come for me, honey." He all but demands, forehead pressed against yours. His hand that isn't giving your clit the attention it so desperately craved holds your hips in place to hit that sweet spot again. You cry - actually cry with tears running down your pretty cheeks - at the feeling.
You reach your peak, back arching slightly. He holds you down, thrusting through it. "That's it," he says through gritted teeth as he coaxes you through your high. "Doing so good for me baby." He praises you by thrusting deeply through his own high, before he's removing himself.
He strokes himself a bit before his hot white seed is spilling against your bare stomach, letting out a moan as it does. He lets his body collapse on top of yours before he's placing softer kisses against your skin.
After a few minutes, he gets up and takes you with him. He showers with you - making sure to gently wash your sensitive cunt and helping you change into some comfier clothes. He lays in bed with you, arms wrapped around your waist as your back presses against his chest.
"Think you learned your lesson?" He asks softly, a soft smirk against his lips.
You hum. "If you do all that again, I'll learn whatever lesson you want me to." You reply.
warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, porn no plot, light banter, m!masturbation, oral (m receiving), facials, size difference, innocence kink, cucking, sub!steve, soft dom!bucky, stucky homoeroticism, dirty talking, praise, pet names: "doll" "my best girl"
a/n: missing stucky hours + listening to my 40s bucky playlist inspired this fic (totally not another shameless playlist self plug)
word count: 10.1k
masterlist
synopsis:
After Steve is injected with the super soldier serum, Bucky decides to show his best friend what it truly means to be a man—and what better way to do that than through you, their lifelong childhood friend?
“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky muttered, shaking his head with a glass of whiskey cold in his hand. “Look at you. Those muscles are practically busting out of your uniform.”
If it weren’t for the dim light of the bar, Bucky might’ve caught the flush creeping up Steve’s neck. Steve shifted, gripping his own glass before bringing it to his lips.
“I don’t know why we’re even here,” Steve said, draining the amber liquid in one go. “I can’t even get drunk.”
“No,” Bucky agreed. “But I can, so we’re drinking. Just admire the notes of oak or whatever.”
Steve scoffed, but he couldn’t stop a smirk from tugging at his mouth. It was impossible to stay moody around Bucky. “It tastes like gasoline.”
Bucky threw his head back, letting out a hearty laugh. As he straightened up, his eyes involuntarily drifted over Steve’s frame. Ever since the serum had transformed his friend, Bucky found himself constantly cataloging the… substantial changes.
Steve’s chest strained against his white T-shirt, his biceps flexing against the tight sleeves every time he moved. His jaw was chiseled now, his features sharper. Back then, Steve would have choked on a sip of cheap whiskey; now, the burn barely seemed to register. Bucky watched, mesmerized, as Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow.
“So, tell me what this serum is actually doing to you,” Bucky asked, his laughter dying down. His eyes trailed down to Steve’s chest. “Other than making you outgrow your damn clothes… how are you feeling?”
Steve let out a long, grounded sigh of satisfaction, setting his glass back on the scarred wood of the table with a thud.
“I feel… good. Like everything is heightened—” he raised a hand to chest level, “—up to here. Both inside and out.”
Bucky raised his glass, blue eyes peering down to Steve’s lap just over the rim. “That so?”
“Yeah.”
Bucky took a slow swallow and set his own drink down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “So, tell me. What exactly is it about you that’s heightened on the inside?”
Steve shifted, the wooden chair creaking under his new, heavy weight. His brows furrowed as he searched for the right words.
“It’s like a mental amplification. Everything that feels good feels… great. And everything that feels bad feels that much worse.”
He swallowed hard, his fingers beginning to fidget against the tabletop—a nervous habit the serum hadn’t managed to take away. He hesitated on whether to keep going. Bucky, ever attuned to Steve’s patterns of hesitation, leaned in closer, trying to guage the rest out of him.
“And?” Bucky prodded softly.
Steve parted his lips, his face coloring slightly, before pressing them thin and shaking his head. “That’s about it, really.”
Bucky raised a brow, noting the flush as it crept over his friend’s chiseled features. There was clearly something internal Steve wasn’t mentioning—something he was actively holding back. It felt wrong. Usually, Steve was an open book around Bucky.
“Alright, well,” Bucky muttered, deciding not to pry—at least not yet. He pushed himself off the barstool with a grunt. “Let’s go show our girl your new look, yeah? She should be waiting at the park.”
Steve’s lips quirked into a faint, lopsided smile. He took one last sip of the whiskey—for courage, Bucky suspected—and stood up, his frame nearly blocking out the overhead light of the bar.
“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Let’s go.”
After the two men settled their bill, they stepped out of the bar and into the crisp night air. They made their way toward the park, the streetlamps casting long, dramatic shadows across the pavement.
There you were, sitting on a wrought iron bench beneath the sprawling branches of an oak tree. You looked like a vision pulled straight from the pages of a fashion magazine, dressed in an off-white collared blouse and a long, pleated skirt, with a simple cardigan draped over your shoulders.
The soft glow of the moonlight caught the curve of your smile as you finally looked up from your book, noticing Bucky and Steve approaching.
“Bucky!” you beamed, standing up and snapping your book shut. “Steve!”
As you drew closer, Steve stopped dead in his tracks.
It felt as though the air had been kicked right out of his lungs. His heart, now amplified by the serum, hammered frantically against his ribs. He had seen you a thousand times before, but seeing you now—with every sense dialed up to ten—was like a man seeing color for the first time.
Your scent—a fragrance he used to only catch when he was standing right beside you—carried on with the breeze, finding his nostrils instantly.
His eyes fluttered shut for a brief, dizzying second as he breathed you in.
Bucky slowed to a halt a step behind him, noticing the way Steve’s shoulders locked and how his gaze became hopelessly anchored to you.
Deep down, Bucky had always known Steve had a soft spot for you—hell, everyone did. Even Bucky had one, and he was shameless about it. But there was something different in the way Steve stiffened this time, and Bucky couldn’t help but wonder just how much that serum had changed him on the inside.
“You guys had me waitin’ forever,” you met them halfway, smiling eyes darting between the two of them. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got yourselves drunk.”
“Never that, doll,” Bucky offered you a tipsy, lopsided grin. “Our boy here couldn’t get a buzz going if he drank the whole bar dry.” He gave Steve a pointed nudge with his elbow. “Notice anything… different about him?”
You blinked, eyes drifting up to meet Steve’s. You tilted your head slightly, book held close to your chest. “Did you get taller?”
Bucky snickered as your gaze began a slow, bewildered trail down to Steve’s torso. “And since when did you suddenly start working out?”
“Jeez, you really need to start picking up the morning newsletter, doll.” Bucky laughed, slinging a heavy arm around your shoulder and hauling you into his side. You stumbled slightly against him, rolling your eyes at his familiar theatrics, but he kept you tucked firm under his wing. He pointed a triumphant finger at Steve. “This man right here just got injected with the Super Soldier serum.”
“Super soldier?” you repeated with a soft gasp. You stepped out from under Bucky’s arm, looking at Steve wide-eyed. “Steve, what on earth…?”
Your book was now tucked under one arm as your free hand reached out, hovering for a second before your fingers finally made contact with his bicep. The fabric of his usually loose T-shirt was straining and spreading tight across his muscles.
“Is that really you in there?” you teased, your hand sliding up his shoulder, then tracing the broad and wide expanse of his chest.
The propriety of your actions didn’t even cross your mind; you were simply enamored by the sheer mass of him.
You gave his forearm a squeeze, marveling at how your fingers couldn’t even meet halfway around it anymore. Just a few weeks ago, you had been the taller one—now, he was a mountain of a man, looming over you with a shadow that felt protective.
“Steve, you look great… you feel great, too—I mean, how are you feeling?” You blinked up at him, pressing your palm against his to compare their sizes.
Steve looked like he was about to combust on the spot.
The sensation of your small, soft hand wandering over his new frame and resting in his own rough palm was an absolute assault on his composure. Everywhere you touched felt like it was catching fire, the serum amplifying the friction of your skin against his until his blood felt like it was boiling.
He tried to speak, but his throat had gone bone dry. Bucky, of course, noticed immediately.
“I… yeah. Thanks. I feel good,” Steve stammered, nodding firmly as he looked down at you, a stray blond lock falling over his eyes. “I feel really, really good.”
You giggled at his familiar stuttering, finally pulling your hand away from his palm to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.
Steve, meanwhile, felt a sudden warm ache pooling in his lower stomach—a physical reaction so intense it made his head spin. Your giggle, your scent, the way you looked at him—everything he had loved about you before the serum was now heightened to an overwhelming pitch.
He shifted awkwardly, his trousers becoming uncomfortably, visibly tight, but there was nowhere to hide in the moonlight.
Bucky, standing just a few feet away, watched the flush deepen from Steve’s neck all the way to the tips of his ears. His eyes drifted down, catching the unmistakable, growing bulge that pushed against his friend’s trousers.
Bucky had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from howling right there in the park.
“Steve, you’re shaking,” you said softly, completely obliovious to his predicament as you moved your hand to the center of his chest to check his heart rate. “Is the serum making you sick? Your heart feels like it’s going a mile a minute.”
“N-no! No, I’m—I’m fine,” Steve choked out, his hands hovering uselessly in the air. He was terrified that if he actually touched you back, he’d lose all of his self-control. “Just… feels like a lot of energy. It’s a lot to take in.”
Bucky cleared his throat, a wicked little smile tugging at his lips as he stepped back into the conversation. “Yeah, I’d say he’s got a lot of energy built up right now. Might be a biological side effect—right, Steve?”
Steve returned his words with a glare, and Bucky only snickered louder.
“Let’s not stay out too late,” you said, looking around the quiet park, your voice airy and warm. “My mother baked a fresh batch of gingersnaps before she headed out for the evening. She left them on the counter and specifically told me to share them with you both.”
“Gingersnaps?” Bucky’s grin widened. “My favorite. Your mother always did have a soft spot for me.”
“For us,” Steve corrected, his voice low and territorial.
You laughed softly, playfully beckoning them with a wave of your hand as you turned on your heel. You began leading the way toward your apartment building just across the street, calling back, “Come on! They’re probably still warm.”
As you walked ahead, the long, pleated skirt of your dress swayed with every step. The fabric clung and released over the curve of your hips in a rhythm that felt far too provocative for Steve’s new, heightened senses.
He couldn’t look away.
His gaze was hopelessly locked onto the way you moved, his mind clouded with feelings that were a mixture of protectiveness and something… unfamiliar and hungry.
Bucky nudged him hard in the ribs, leaning in close enough to whisper, “Careful there, Steve. You keep staring like that, you’re gonna burn a hole right through her skirt.”
Steve stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, his face flushing. “Shut up, Buck,” he hissed, though his eyes darted right back to you the second he regained his footing.
“I’m just saying,” Bucky chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he sauntered beside his friend. “Usually, you’re the one lecturing me about being a gentleman. Now look at you—standing there like a dog watching a steak dinner.”
You glanced over your shoulder, raising a brow at their whispering. “What are you two plotting back there?”
Steve stood up straighter, and Bucky shook his hand in a dismissiving wave despite the smile he tried to fight. “Don’t worry your pretty little head, doll. Just lead the way—we’re right behind you.”
You frowned playfully, but kept on walking anyway. “I don’t like it when you two keep things from me.”
Steve felt his heart leap in his chest at the sight of your lips turned into a little pout. He was still struggling to keep his walk natural, his trousers feeling tighter with every step he took behind you.
“Trust me,” Steve said, his voice coming out a pitch deeper than he intended. “It’s nothing a girl like you would ever want to know. Just… stupid locker room talk.”
He waited until you turned your back to them before leaning toward Bucky’s ears. “Behave,” he whisper-yelled in warning.
“Oh—come on,” Bucky smiled, adjusting his jacket as he met his friend’s panicked eyes. “I’m a saint, Steve.”
Once the three of you reached the building, you led the way up the narrow, dimly lit staircase. The rhythmic click of your heels on the creaky wooden steps was the only sound in the quiet hall.
Bucky leaned back slightly as he climbed, his gaze hooked shamelessly on the sway of your skirt. A look of pure appreciation settled on his face, his tongue darted over his lower lip as he considered just how much his best childhood friend had grown up.
Steve, walking right beside him, felt a sharp surge of protectiveness at the way Bucky was cataloging your every move. He jutted a heavy elbow into Bucky’s ribs—a blow that, with his new strength, nearly sent Bucky over the banister.
“Be respectful!” Steve hissed, his jaw locked.
Bucky wheezed quietly, clutching his side.
“Jeez, Steve… watch the hardware,” he grunted, trying to catch his breath. “And don’t give me that lecture, pal. You’re looking just as hard as I am.” His eyes drifted pointedly down to the front of Steve’s trousers. “Probably harder, considering you’ve got the vision of a hawk now.”
You paused in front of your door, fishing the keys out of your purse. You raised a skeptical brow at the two of them. “What is going on with you two?”
Steve caught his breath, smoothing his expression as he closed the distance between you. He forced a stiff smile.
“Nothing,” he said. “We’re just excited for those cookies. Been thinking about them all the way here.”
Bucky let out a muffled snort behind him, but Steve ignored it, keeping his focus on your eyes.
You chuckled and shook your head, pushing the door open. “Well, don’t just stand there like statues. Come in.”
Steve crossed the threshold with Bucky lingering right behind him. The moment the door clicked shut, Steve realized that coming here so soon after the serum had been a mistake.
The apartment was a sensory trap. Away from the biting wind of the street, your scent was no longer just a trace on the breeze—it was everywhere. It was in the perfume lingering on your soft skin, the traces of your familiar vanilla scent in the kitchen, and on the lived-in warmth of the sofa.
To Steve, you were everywhere.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” you said, heading straight for the kitchen.
Steve didn’t move. He stood in the center of the living room, his body as rigid as a bag of bricks. Every muscle in his legs and back was coiled like a high tension spring. His hands were balled into fists at his sides just to keep them from shaking.
You returned a moment later, carrying a ceramic plate of gingersnaps and tea to the coffee table.
To Steve, you looked effortlessly domestic, the soft light of the floor lamp catching the stray flyaways of your hair like a halo.
As you sat on the sofa, you crossed one leg over the other, causing the hem of your skirt to hike up an inch or two higher than usual. It revealed the smooth line of your calf, covered only by a flimsy, sheer stocking that Steve felt he could easily rip with the slightest twitch of his hands.
A roar of blood rushed to Steve’s ears. He felt himself straining very painfully against his trousers, his fingers twitching with a desperate longing to touch you.
“Sit down, Steve,” Bucky prompted, giving his friend a nudge in the back toward the sofa. “Relax a little.”
Bucky sank into the armchair, leaving the spot on the sofa right next to you wide open. He looked at Steve, then at the empty cushion, and finally at Steve’s visible predicament, his eyebrows rising in amusement.
“Yeah, come here, Steve,” you said, scooting over and patting the empty space next to you.
Steve swallowed hard, taking long, stiff strides until he finally sank onto the small sofa.
The cushions dipped precariously and the wooden frame groaned under his heavy weight. He found his knees sitting much higher than usual, making him look even more like a giant in a dollhouse.
“Man,” Bucky laughed, lifting a cup of tea to his lips. “You’re gonna break the damn furniture, Stevie.”
Steve mumbled a shy, “sorry,” his face burning.
You just shook your head, ignoring Bucky’s usual teasing. You picked up a gingersnap and brought it to Steve’s lips, cupping your other hand beneath it to catch any stray crumbs.
“Say ah.”
Bucky nearly choked, a spray of tea flying back into his cup.
Steve had turned a shade of red that was impossible to hide, the color racing from his collar to his hairline until even his ears were glowing. He sat there frozen—his jaw hanging slightly as he looked from the cookie in your hand to the teasing glimmer shining in your eyes.
“Well?” Bucky taunted, leaning forward in his armchair and clattering his saucer down on the table. He was enjoying this far too much. “Don’t keep the lady waiting, Steve. Go on. Say ‘ah’ for the misses.”
Steve pressed his lips together, giving Bucky a hard glare from across the couch.
“Oh, don’t be such a spoilsport, Steve,” you teased, nudging the gingersnap closer to his mouth. “You said you were hungry, didn’t you?”
Bucky let out a low, wicked whistle. “He’s real hungry, doll. Starving, I’d say. Just look at him—he’s already drooling for a bite.”
“Bucky—” Steve’s jaw dropped in indignation at his friend’s shamelessness, and you seized the opportunity to slide the edge of the cookie past his teeth.
“There,” you hummed, reaching out to catch a small crumb off his bottom lip with a slow swipe of your thumb. “Was that so hard?”
Steve wished the worn cushions would open up and swallow him whole—because hard was exactly what he was. The simple graze of your thumb swiping over his lip was enough to make his whole body shudder. The feel of your lingering touch tingled on his lips, the sensation only making him dangerously need you more.
“Hell,” Steve muttered through the quiet munching. “Would you… please excuse me—”
He stood up so abruptly the sofa groaned. He kept his back turned to you, his hand dropping to swiftly, desperately adjust the painful bulge pushing up against his pants. He took stiff, heavy strides toward the bathroom, each foostep making the delicate floorboards thud and creak under his heavy body.
After Steve disappeared around the corner, you turned to Bucky. He was leaning back in the armchair, looking entirely too smug for his own good.
“Is everything okay with him?” you asked softly. “He’s been acting so… jumpy. Is the serum hurting him? Maybe he needs a doctor.”
Bucky let out a dry chuckle, swiping a gingersnap from the plate. He took a slow bite, savoring the sweetness before his eyes met yours, something mischevious and knowing behind those orbs.
“Hurting him? No, sweetheart. I don’t think ‘pain’ is what Stevie’s feeling right now,” Bucky said, his gaze drifting toward the hallway. “The scientists told him the serum doesn’t just change the muscles. It amplifies everything inside—his heart, his nerves, and his…” He paused, his eyes landing back on yours, “… instincts.”
You blinked, still not quite catching the drift. “Instincts? Like his reflexes?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Bucky replied with a casual shrug, dusting the crumbs off his fingers. He leaned in closer, resting his elbows on his knees to bridge the gap between you. “See, Steve was always the type to keep to himself when it came to women. But that serum? It turned him into a real man—in every sense of the word.”
You tilted your head curiously, and Bucky chuckled at your naivety before pressing on.
“Everything he sees, everything he smells… everything he feels… it’s all ten times more intense than it used to be.” Bucky paused, raising a dark brow. “You followin’ me, doll?”
“I’m trying to,” you murmured, though a slight heat was beginning to prickle at your cheeks.
Bucky glanced toward the closed bathroom door. “Usually, Steve’s got a lot of willpower. But you sitting there, feeding him and touching him like that?” A wolfish grin tugged at his mouth. “I bet it’s taking every ounce of strength in that new body of his just to remember how to be a gentleman.”
You followed Bucky’s gaze toward the darkened hallway, your lower lip poking out in a slight, troubled pout.
“But… is he hurting?” you asked, your heart aching at the thought of Steve in any kind of distress. “If the serum is making things that intense, it sounds… painful.”
Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you’re so innocent doll. That’s why we love you.” He shook his head, leaning back as he watched the gears slowly turn in your head.
“Listen to me,” he continued. “Steve is a gentleman. Always has been, always will be. He’d sooner jump on a grenade than be disrespectful to a lady—but at the end of the day, he’s a man. And a man has certain… needs. Especially when he’s sitting inches away from the person he’s been head over heels in love with since we were all knee high to a grasshopper.”
Your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping your lips as your eyes went wide to meet his. “Steve… Steve likes me? Like that?”
Bucky gave you a boyish grin. “Like doesn’t even begin to cover it, sweetheart. He’s had it bad for you for about a decade,” he teased before he tilted his head and gave you a slight pout. “Now, don’t go getting me too jealous, either. I’ve got a heart too, you know.”
A deep, hot flush crept up your neck and nestled into your cheeks. You could hardly wrap your mind around the idea that Steve… kind, stalwart Steve, actually liked you. Between that revelation and the way Bucky was staring, you found yourself shifting restlessly on the cushion, rubbing your legs together subtly as if to soothe a sudden warm itch.
Bucky’s eyes dropped, tracking the way your skirt shifted over your thighs. He let out a low amusing hum at the way you wriggled beneath his scrutiny, his own expression darkening with interest.
“If he’s feeling… uncomfortable around me,” you started, your voice small and flustered, “is there anything I can do to help him? I don’t want him to be in pain.”
Bucky watched your legs work together for a moment before dragging his eyes back to yours. “You want to help him, do you?”
“Of course,” you nodded earnestly, meeting his stare with wide, sincere eyes. “I’d do anything to help you two if you were in distress. You’re my best friends.”
Bucky’s grin shifted, wider and somehow more predatory. He leaned in an inch closer, his voice dropping deeper. “Anything, sweetheart?”
Steve walked back into the living room. He looked slightly more composed, though his hair was damp at the temples where he had splashed his face with cold water. His shirt was tucked in tight—perhaps too tight—and he kept his arms stiff at his sides as he approached the sofa. He stopped in his tracks, his frame large in the small room, when he saw how closely Bucky was leaning toward you and the stiff, flustered way you were sitting.
“Everything alright?” Steve asked. His eyes darted suspiciously between his smug best friend and your embarrassed expression.
“Are you feeling alright, Steve?” you asked softly, looking up at him with wide, concerned eyes. “Bucky said the… um, the serum… it might be making things difficult for you?”
Steve froze. He stared down at Bucky, his eyes blown wide with a mix of shock and betrayal. He opened his mouth to stammer out a polite lie—to tell you he was perfectly fine and that Bucky was just talking nonsense—but Bucky didn’t give him the chance.
“I told our girl here all about your little predicament, Stevie,” Bucky interrupted with a gravelly purr. He leaned back, relishing the way Steve’s jaw tightened until the bone looked ready to snap. “Told her how all those new nerves of yours are screaming for a bit of... relief.”
Steve’s face went from pale to a scorched, blistering red. “Buck, shut it—”
“And the best part?” Bucky continued, ignoring the warning as he looked up at his friend with taunting eyes. “She’s a real sweetheart, Steve. She told me she’s willing to do just about anything to help you out of your distress. Isn’t that right, doll?”
Steve’s gaze flickered down to you, searching your face as if he were waiting for you to deny it—or perhaps, secretly hoping for your confirmation.
“Anything,” Bucky repeated for you, his voice low and suggestive. “She’s got a real generous heart, Steve. I think she’s just waiting for you to tell her exactly what a big, strong soldier like you needs to feel better.”
Steve’s chest felt like it was closing in on his heart. Your eyes—still wide and guileless—never broke away from his, and it only made his restraint weaker.
“What do you need from me, Steve?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “If you’re hurting… if there’s something I can do to make this easier on you, just tell me.”
If you could be any more innocent, Steve swore he would lose his mind. He had a sudden, violent urge to pin you down on the couch and fuck you right there.
“I… I don’t…” Steve stammered, his voice trailing off as he heard Bucky push himself off the armchair.
Bucky stepped up behind Steve and reached out and to give Steve a firm nudge toward you, forcing his large frame even deeper into your personal space until he was practically looming over your lap.
“Look at her, Steve,” Bucky cooed next to Steve’s ear. “You’ve got the girl of your dreams sittin’ right in front of you, offering her help, and you’re not gonna accept it?”
Steve felt like he could burst right through the seams of his trousers just from looking at you. Your eyes kept flicking down to the heavy, undeniable bulge in front of you before darting back up to his, your teeth nervously strumming over your bottom lip as you fought the urge to stare.
Bucky noticed.
Of course, Bucky noticed.
He let out a sly grin before reaching around and flattening his palm directly over the straining bulge in Steve’s pants. He had done it so casually that you almost believed this wasn’t the first time he’d handled his friend.
“Fuck,” Steve’s eyes snapped wide, head turning to Bucky’s in shock but not pulling away. “B-Buck—!”
“Look at this, doll,” Bucky hummed darkly. He didn’t break eye contact with you as his fingers flexed, squeezing the length of Steve’s cock through the fabric. “You see how hard he is? How much he’s shaking just because you’re lookin’ at him?”
Steve let out a low, involuntary whimper—a sound so ungentlemanly it made his face burn even hotter. He looked down at you, his eyes dark and desperate, pleading for you to either stop this or finish it.
“P-please…”
Bucky gave Steve a firm squeeze, his fingers curling around Steve’s bulge. The pressure made Steve’s head roll back, a deep, broken groan vibrating out of his throat as his body betrayed him.
A dark, damp circle began to bloom against the front of his light-colored trousers, the fabric darkening as a heavy bead of pre-cum soaked through, marking him right where Bucky’s thumb was pressing.
Bucky let out a low, dark chuckle as he relished the way his friend was falling apart beneath his hand.
“Look at that, doll,” Bucky urged, voice raspy.
He shifted his palm slightly to smear the growing dampness into the cloth, making the stain even more obvious and Steve even more shameful. “See what you’re doin’ to him? He’s so worked up for you, he can’t even keep himself dry.”
Steve was trembling where he stood, his massive shoulders shaking as he looked down at his ruined pants before his gaze snapped back to yours—raw and shamelessly.
“Buck… stop,” he whined. It was a pathetic, needy sound, and despite every ounce of strength in his new muscles he could use to push Bucky off, he didn’t. He stayed rooted to the spot, leaning into the touch. “You’re… you’re scaring her…”
“Scaring her?” Bucky chuckled. “I’m not scaring her. Look her in the eye, Stevie. She wants you just as bad.”
Bucky glanced over at you, tilting his head with a flash of innocence that didn’t match the way his hand was still working Steve through his trousers. “Isn’t that right, doll? Don’t you want to help our poor, big Stevie?”
“How sohuld I…” you whispered, voice trembling as you looked up at the two large men looming over you. “What should I do?”
Bucky’s eyes darkened, a predatory smile tugging at his lips. “Get down on your knees, sweetheart. A man loves to see his woman on her knees for him.”
A small gasp escaped you, and you looked up at Steve as if waiting for his approval. He didn’t deny it—his brows were pinched together and his jaw hung open as his chest heaved in deep, heavy breaths. Finally, you slid off the cushions and sank onto the rug. From this angle, Steve looked like a titan, and the damp stain on his trousers sat right at eye level.
Steve swore he could bust right then and there just from seeing you on your knees.
“Now,” Bucky commanded softly. His hand finally let go of Steve’s cock to rest on top of his head, his fingers threading firmly through Steve’s blonde hair. “Open ‘em up. Nice and slow.”
“Slow?” Steve whined.
Bucky clicked his tongue. “He’s been waiting a long time for this, he can wait a little longer.”
With trembling fingers, you reached for the buttons of his trousers. The fabric was strained to the limit, and as you worked them free one by one, the rigid, pulsing heat of him began to push through the opening.
When the last button gave way, Steve’s cock snapped free, heavy and thick.
You gasped at the size. You weren’t sure how it was going to fit in your hand.
“There he is,” Bucky cooed, his hand tightening in Steve’s hair as he forced Steve's head down to look at you. “Now, wrap your hand around him. Take a good grip so he knows he’s yours.”
You reached out, your small hand barely able to meet around the girth of him. The feel of your warm, amateur palm wrapping around his skin made Steve’s eyes shutter closed instantly in pleasure.
“Jesus Christ,” Steve cursed, his hips instinctively bucking forward for more.
“Look at that,” Bucky chuckled.“Can’t even fit her whole hand around you—but it feels good, doesn’t it? So much better than your own hand.”
“So…” Steve moaned, his hips drawing back slightly before he thrusted himself into your palm, “much… better. Fuck—”
You tightened your grip, swiping your thumb over the pre-cum that gathered at his tip and over his cockhead. The friction of your palm against his over sensitized skin made Steve’s knees buckle, his large frame swaying as he looked down at you through his haze of lust.
“See that, doll?” Bucky rumbled above you. “Steve’s a man now—and a man like this… sometimes a hand just isn’t enough to please him. Isn’t that right, Stevie?”
Steve didn’t, couldn’t, give him a coherent answer. He was busy babbling broken, desperate sounds into the air, his head rolling back against Bucky’s chest. “God… please,” he breathed. “Her hand.. it’s so soft—so warm.”
Your face was on fire. You could feel yourself wetting your panties with every heavy breath and grunt that escaped Steve’s lips. And the way Bucky was shamelessly watching you, that wicked little knowing grin plastered on his face, only made you feel smaller—utterly helpless under both of them.
Bucky’s cock was practically jumping out of his pants as his eyes were fixed on the way your small hand looked against Steve.
“Shit. I think he needs more, sweetheart.” He breathed. “I think he needs more, sweetheart. Stick your tongue out. I want you to use that pretty tongue of yours. Lick it—all the way up—and then I want you to take as much of him as you can into your small little mouth.”
You hesitated, your breath hitching as you stared up at the two men.
“I… I’ve never... sucked before—” you confessed, tiny and trembling.
The admission made you sink back on your heels, suddenly overwhelmed. You had Steve right in front of you, practically panting for anything you were willing to give him, which should have made you feel confident—but the performance anxiety was taking its toll.
You were terrified you wouldn’t be able to satisfy Steve, and the weight of Bucky’s watchful and critical gaze only made it worse.
But Bucky didn’t look disappointed.
In fact, his grin grew wider.
“Even better,” Bucky purred. He leaned over Steve’s shoulder, his eyes locking onto yours. “That just means Stevie here gets to be the one to teach you. And don’t you worry, doll... we’re gonna make sure you learn exactly how to take care of a man.”
Bucky’s hand slid down Steve’s forearm, his grip tightening as he nudged him toward you. “Help her out, Stevie. Grab her hair.”
Steve hesitated. His eyes dropped to the plump curve of your lips, and his cock twitched as he imagined the heat of your mouth wrapping around him. Slowly, as if expecting you to pull away, his thick fingers tangled into your hair.
When you let out a soft, shaky sigh at the feel of his touch, Steve took it as the only permission he needed. He tugged a little firmer now, guiding your face closer to his hard length until you stumbled forward on your knees with a small whimper.
“Tell her, Steve,” Bucky urged, his eyes fixed on your trembling lips. “Tell her exactly what you want her to do with that pretty mouth.”
Steve’s tongue sweeped over his bottom lip, with a hand tight around the base of his cock, he guided himself right to your lips. Instinctively, your tongue darted out at the pre-cum collecting at his slit, and Steve’s entire body shuddered with every effort it took from slamming his cock into your mouth.
“How does it taste, sweetheart?” Steve breathed, gauging your expression.
You looked up at him, your eyes a little hazy as the salty taste of him settled on your tongue. It was a completely new sensation—warm, strong, and undeniably masculine.
“It’s… a little salty,” you admitted gently “Is it supposed to taste like that?”
Bucky chuckled darkly, his hand coming up to grip Steve’s shoulder as he pressed himself into his back, his cock subtly rubbing up against the cleft of Steve’s ass through the fabric of his own pants. “Aw. Isn’t that cute? Just a little taste and our girl’s already curious.”
“Open… please,” Steve rasped.
Between the sight of your waiting mouth and the insistent pressure of Bucky behind him, his senses were completely overwhelmed.
“Open your mouth all the way for me, sweetheart,” Steve breathed shakingly.
He guided his throbbing, slicked head of his cock back to your lips, his fingers tightening instinctively in your hair. “I need to feel how warm your mouth is… I need you to take me.”
Shyly, you parted your lips. At the sight of your tongue, Steve took it as a final invitation to lose himself. He nudged your head closer to his cock until your lips stretched over his sensitive head. Already overwhelmed by the sensation of your plump lips sliding over his sensitive flesh, Steve let out a low, guttural growl and tossed his head back.
“Oh, hell…” he cursed, bucking his hips forward without warning.
Steve’s cock slid over your wet tongue and buried itself deep in your mouth. Your eyes went wide as you let out a muffled, helpless choke around his length. That small sound only made your throat tighten around his shaft, and the combination of your sweet, pained noises and the warmth was enough to shatter Steve’s last bit of control.
“Shit… that feels… fuck,” Steve whined, his hips snapping deeper into your mouth. “Feels too damn good—”
“Whoa, Stevie,” Bucky chuckled, though his own breath was hitching as he watched. He reached down, his hand landing heavy on Steve’s hip to try and still him. “Slow down, pal. You’re gonna choke the poor girl if you keep lunging like a wild animal. Take it easy.”
“I—I can’t…” Steve gasped, his head rolling back against Bucky’s shoulder.
His eyes were blown wide and glassy with a terrifying haze of lust. His thrusts became more frantic, his heavy cock sliding in and out of your mouth with a wet, vulgar slapping sound.
“Fuck, Bucky… do you see how she’s looking at me?” Steve grumbled, his voice a wrecked, low vibration.
He looked down at you, watching the way your eyes stayed locked on his even as you struggled to accommodate his size.
“She’s chokin’ around me… I can feel her throat squeezing me… but she’s not looking away.”
He glanced back at Bucky, blonde hair falling over his sweat beaded brow in messy, golden strands. “That—that means she wants it, right? She wants me to keep goin’?”
Your eyes grew wide and teary, your warm, wet throat closing in tight around him as he drove himself in to the hilt. You choked and coughed, drooling helplessly around his thick shaft as his pelvis collided with your nose with every thrust.
The mere idea of it—the very woman he had sought after for years, now pinned on her knees beneath him, servicing his cock—was too much to bear. Your eyes, usually so wide with wonder and kindness, were now glassy and teary as your mouth stretched to accommodate him.
The sight of your vulnerability was the final spark. It was enough to make him cum on the spot.
“Fuck… I can’t—shit, not when she’s looking at me like that…” Steve groaned, rocking his hips faster against your mouth.
“Ste—ve—mmph..”
“You like this, don’t you?” he breathed, his pupils blown wide as he stared down at the messy, beautiful ruin of your face. “My girl… my best girl… taking all of me.”
And then you nodded—a small, subtle little movement you managed to get out despite the possessive grip Steve had on your hair. That tiny invitation made his cock throb violently inside your mouth, pulsing once, twice, before his release finally consumed him and your mouth.
“Look at her, Buck!” Steve beamed, his head rolling back against Bucky’s chest as he drove himself into your throat one last time. “She’s so… fuck… she’s so perfect. God, I’m cumming—!”
Bucky watched, enamored, as Steve’s thick seed flooded your mouth. Steve held your head down, his fingers still tangled in your hair, as his release seeped around the stretch of your lips and down your chin, dripping obscenely onto the floor.
Your face—usually so pretty, soft, and composed—was now fucked to filth. Tears streaked your flushed cheeks, and your lips and chin were smeared with a mask of saliva and Steve’s cum.
It was a sight vulgar enough to make Bucky almost feel bad for you.
Almost.
The sensation of Steve’s salty, warm, and thick cum hitting the back of your throat was like a drug filling your head. His cock throbbed tiredly in your mouth, Steve finally coming down from his high. He let out a long, shaky breath and pulled out of your wet, sore mouth with a heavy, sloppy pop.
“I’m… I’m so sorry,” Steve rasped, his voice filled with regret as he took in the sight of you—kneeling on the floor, breathless and covered in his mess. “Look at you. I ruined you. I didn’t mean to be so—God, please let me help you up.”
He started to reach for your shoudlers, his large palms open and trembling, but he was cut off by the sharp sound of Bucky’s belt being unbuckled.
“Get up, Steve.”
Bucky’s voice wasn’t a suggestion but rather an authorative command that made no move for arguments. He nudged Steve back with a firm, steady hand, his eyes never leaving your messy, dazed face.
“That’s not a way to treat a woman now, Steve,” Bucky purred, finally extending a hand to you. His fingers were steady, a contrast to Steve’s shaking frame. “Our girl has never sucked a cock before—and yet here you are, slamming your pelvis down her throat and ruinin’ her.”
Steve’s face flushed with embarassment and shame. His eyes flickered to Bucky’s briefly before looking back at yours with guilt.
“I know. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I… I lost control.”
You reached up, wiping the corner of your mouth as Bucky’s hand closed around yours, pulling you to your feet. “It’s okay—”
“You should be ashamed of yourself, Steve,” Bucky interrupted with a sharp click of his tongue, shaking his head.
He pointed to the seat directly behind Steve—the one Bucky had just vacated. “Sit down. Since you don’t know how to pace yourself, I’m going to show you how to properly please a woman.”
Steve swallowed hard, watching your debauched face blink up at Bucky with a dazed curiosity. His heartstrings pulled knowing how brutally he’d just fucked your face, and reluctantly, he took a seat as instructed.
You felt Bucky’s warm breath hit the back of your neck as he pressed up behind you—his bulge rubbing firm against the fabric of your skirt as his hands circled from behind you to your front, undoing the buttons on your blouse one at a time.
“You have to take your time with a fragile woman like her,” Bucky said raspily, his nose finding the crook of your neck and pressing soft, wet kisses between each sentence. “You need to savor this moment—undress her slowly as if unwrapping a delicate present.”
Your blouse was finally undone, and you heard the small gasp that left Steve’s lips at the sight of your lacey bra.
Swiftly, as if he had done this plenty of times before, Bucky undid your bra in one quick moment, the lace hitting the ground.
“Oh—!” you gasped as Bucky’s hands immediately found your nipples, giving them soft and teasing tugs as he circled his digits around the sensitive flesh.
In reaction, your back arched against his chest, only making your ass rub up against Bucky’s straining cock even more.
“Bucky…” Steve breathed from the couch, his hands already working at his half-hard cock. “What’re you… doing…”
“You’ve gotta play with her for a bit,” Bucky explained, giving your nipple a harsher tug that made you squeal. “Hear that, Steve? Means she likes it.”
He nuzzled his nose closer to your face, blue eyes piercing through yours.
“Do you like it, doll?”
“I… I do…”
You were cut off with Bucky’s hand sliding up to your chin and giving your cheeks a firm squeeze in his direction.
“Look at me when you answer, baby,” he warned. “Do you like it?”
“Yes, Bucky... I l-love it,” you whimpered as his hands continued their possessive roam over your body.
Bucky’s grin was dark and satisfied, his thumb grazing the corner of your swollen mouth. “Good. Eye contact is important. Now…”
He reached out, his hand hooking under your chin and firmly turning your face to meet Steve’s gaze. Steve looked completely spent, his blue eyes wide and glazed with a heavy, post orgasmic haze as he watched you from the couch, his hand resting lazily over the rise of his cock.
“Look Steve in the eye while I touch you,” Bucky commanded, his fingers digging slightly into your cheeks to keep your head still. “Tell him how good it feels.”
You shivered, your eyes locking onto Steve’s. He looked so vulnerable, yet so hungry, his chest heaving as he watched his best friend’s hands work over you.
“Don’t keep him waiting.” Bucky urged.
“It… it feels so good, Steve,” you breathed as Bucky continued to grope you. “Bucky’s hands… they’re so warm—I love how he’s touching me—”
Steve let out a choked sound at your words, one hand stroking his shaft while the other gripped the arm rest. “Jesus…”
“He’s got a lot to learn, doesn’t he, baby?” Bucky murmured, his hand sliding down to the hem of your skirt and unzipping the side, letting the fabric fall over your legs and hit the ground. “Tell him how it feels when I do this.”
A mewl escaped your lips the moment Bucky slyly slid his hand down the waistband of your panties, his fingers gently rubbing at your clit before delving deeper against your folds. He shifted around you, one hand groping at your chest,waist, and hips—while the other fingered your wet cunt.
“Ah—Buck!”
“My,” Bucky chuckled, clicking his tongue. “She’s so wet.”
Steve swallowed hard, his eyes glued to the sight of Bucky’s hand disappearing into your lace. “Is she?”
“Long before I even started touchin’ her, I bet,” Bucky explained, nudging his knee between your legs to force them to spread wider for him. “That’s all because of you, Steve. You worked her up so good—she’s dripping around my fingers.”
Still standing and completely exposed to both of the hungry men, you felt Bucky’s fingers probe against your entrance, giving you a few teasing strokes before he pushed firmly against the tight heat of your hole. You arched your back, whining high in your throat as Bucky’s fingers sheathed completely inside you—at first stroking gently before he began to move roughly, enticing shamelessly wet sounds out of you.
“Oh my God—!” you cried.
You squelched around his fingers as he worked your slick folds. Steve’s eyes widened, his breath completely caught in his throat as he watched your body react so easily to Bucky’s hands.
“You hear that, Stevie?” Bucky groaned, increasing the pace in his fingers while rubbing himself against your back. “When a woman sounds like that—it means she’s ready. Ready to be fucked.”
With a sharp tug, Bucky hooked his fingers into the lace of your panties and dragged them down your legs, leaving you completely exposed and shivering in the center of the room. He rested a heavy hand on your lower back, his palm hot against your skin as he guided you toward the couch.
“On the couch, doll. Front and center.”
You stumbled slightly, your knees weak and your inner thighs a slick, aching mess. You barely had time to settle onto the cushions before Bucky was already unbuckling his belt, his pants hitting the floor as he exposed himself completely.
He stepped in, his thighs nudging between your knees and forcing you to lay back until you were spread wide and vulnerable beneath him.
Bucky was big in ways that genuinely worried you. If you could hardly handle Steve’s length in your throat, you weren’t sure of how your body would react to Bucky’s width.
He noticed the way your eyes widened as he hovered over you, his thumb tracing the seam of his own length as he rubbed his tip against your entrance. He let out a low, dark chuckle, completely satisfied with the way he had you squirming and the way he had Steve pinned to his seat, unable to look away.
“You see how she’s shaking, Steve? That’s what you want. You want her knowing exactly what’s coming for her.”
“Bucky,” you whined, your hands coming up to his shoulders for support—and Steve watched with a pang of envy, wishing it was his skin you were clinging to instead. “Please…”
Bucky laughed again, taking the head of his cock and dragging it slowly along your slit, coating himself in your heat. You let out a shaky breath, your hips involuntarily twitching, begging for the friction to turn into something more.
“She’s begging so sweetly, Buck…” Steve gave himself a gentle squeeze around his sensitive shaft at the sight of you. “You need to take care of her—”
“Even though she’s beggin’, you gotta make her wait.” Bucky explained despite the strain of holding back in his own voice. “You stretch her out bit by bit until she’s begging you to just get it over with.”
Bucky poked his tip against the soft, warm flesh of your cunt, pressing just enough pressure to make you gasp but not enough to penetrate all the way through.
“Tell Steve what you want, doll,” Bucky murmured, his hand coming down to grip your hip. “Tell him how much you want this.”
“B-Bucky, please,” you sobbed, your back arching off the couch as you tried to force yourself onto him, but he held his ground, as immovable as a mountain.
“That’s not an answer,” Bucky teased, his eyes darting to Steve, who was leaning so far forward he was nearly off his seat. “Is she asking for a kiss, Stevie? Is she asking for a blanket? I can’t tell.”
Steve’s throat bobbed as he watched the head of Bucky’s cock sliding against your entrance, the size of him making you look so small and fragile. “She wants you inside her, Buck. Just… fuck, just give it to her.”
“I want to hear her say it,” Bucky countered, giving you another shallow, teasing poke that made your toes curl into the cushions. “Tell us, baby. What do you want me to do with this?”
“I want you inside,” you choked out, your face warm with embarassment. “I want… I want you to stretch me. Please, Bucky, fuck me!”
Bucky smirked, satisfied. “That’s my girl.”
With one hand propped near your head to hold himself up, he used the other to grip the base of his cock. He pushed deeper against your entrance, your cunt slowly stretching around him with every stinging burn. You could feel every ridge, every inch of his width forcing your tight walls to let him in.
“Shit,” Bucky hissed a curse, “she’s so tight.”
“Buck,” you whimpered, fingers digging into the muscle of his shoulders as he stretched you with every slide. “Too… too big, I don’t think I—”
“You can, baby,” Bucky countered. He hooked one hand underneath your thigh, hoisting it up toward your chest until you were pinned back, nearly splitting you. “Here—I’ll help you. Steve, I want you to watch me.”
A broken mewl left your lips as you tossed your head back against the cushions. Bucky was filling you—completely and deeply—and he hadn’t even begun to move before your legs were already shaking. With a deep grunt, he finally bottomed out, his hips slamming against yours with a wet squelch so vulgar it made Steve’s breath hitch.
“Her legs are shaking…” Steve pointed out, which only made your body warm even more in embarassment.
You turned your head to look at him, and the sight made you clench instinctively around Bucky’s dick. Steve was at the edge of his seat, his toes curled into the floor as his large hand pumped over his cock. He was still slick from his own cum and the heat of your mouth, leaking profusely and looking every bit ready for round two.
“S-Steve…” you broke off into a whimper as Bucky’s grip on your thigh tightened.
The sudden grip made your eyes flicker back to Bucky’s—his darkening at the way you were looking at his best friend. He let out a sharp, mocking huff.
“Moaning another man’s name while I’m bured this deep inside you, doll?” Bucky pulled back until he was nearly out, the slick wetness around his shaft filling the room before he slammed back in, making you cry out and the couch groan.
“If you’ve got enough breath to call for Stevie,” he growled, pulling his hips back again before thrusting even deeper, “then I’m not working you hard enough.”
The moment Bucky increased his pace, a loud, broken moan ripped from your throat. You tried to hide it—to claw back any shred of composure—but you simply couldn't when you were stripped bare and taken so roughly while Steve watched every single second.
Every time Bucky’s cock kissed your cervix, it felt like your nerves were catching on fire.
You were parted completely by him, his width stretching you so thoroughly that your body had no choice but to acknowledge that you belonged to him.
“A-ah! Bu-Bucky… feels so good—!” you cried out, hands clawing at his back as he fucked you into the cushions.
Each thrust Bucky delivered seemed to synchronize with the wet pumping of Steve’s hand. Bucky looked over his shoulder, a dark smirk pulling at his lips as he caught Steve’s eye.
He nearly pulled all the way out, letting Steve see the wet and stretched out version of you before bottoming out again, filling you completely and making you cry out.
“Lying in your bed at night, wondering what it would like to hear her scream like this for you.” Bucky continued with a gritty rasp.
As shameful as it was—every bit of it was true.
Every day you had spent standing next to Steve—acting small and seemingly innocent—you never would have guessed that little ol’ Steve had the filthiest thoughts imaginable running through his mind.
He used to imagine what it would feel like to have a body that didn’t fail him, a body strong enough to pin you down and finally act on the dirty thoughts that made his blood sing. He’d lie awake in his cramped apartment, staring at the ceiling and picturing your hands on him.
Or better yet, his hands on you—forcing a cry just like the one Bucky was coaxing out of you now.
Every time Bucky’s cock slid out of your cunt, Steve imagined it was his own sinking back into your tight, aching heat. If your mouth had felt that incredible, he could only imagine how it must feel to be buried deep inside you. The thought alone made him pump his cock faster, his body leaking a copious amount of pre-cum thanks to the serum.
He was already on the verge of busting a second load just from the sight of you getting ruined.
“God… ah, fuck,” Steve whimpered, his eyes glazed as his cock became painfully sensitive under his own touch.
“Look at him, doll,” Bucky prompted, leaning down to hiss the words into your ear while he continued to relentlessly pump into you. “Look at how hard he’s working just to keep up with us. He’s been a good boy, hasn’t he? Watching his best friend ruin you while he sits there and plays with himself.”
Bucky pulled back almost to the tip, gripping your other hip and flaring you even wider for the audience.
“He’s imagining it’s him,” Bucky laughed, a dark, sexy sound that made you flare up. “He’s imagining he’s the one stretching you out, the one making you sob his name. But he has to learn how to take care of you first, right? He has to watch me finish inside you.”
Your eyes widened at the thought of Bucky pumping you full.
It was dangerous, but with the way he had you pinned, your body couldn’t help but react. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into your heat.
“Oh—” Bucky grunted, his cock twitching violently at the feel of your soft thighs locking him in. “Jesus… fuck.”
“Finish inside her,” Steve pleaded. He was timing his own hand to Bucky’s thrust, body tensing as he was prepared to cum alongside his best friend. “Fuck, Buck… do it. She’s pullin’ you in—means she wants it. I want to see you fill her.”
“She’s—she’s so tight,” Bucky hissed, his head falling into the crook of your neck. He drew his hips back as far as your locked legs would allow before sliding back in. “She’s pulling me in… like she’s trying to drain me.”
Bucky pulled back slightly to look you in the eye, his eyes dark with hunger.
“What should I do, doll? Should I cum inside?” he whispered, rocking his hips in a slow, agonizing grind as he fought to hold back his release. “Should I show Steve how to properly breed a woman?”
“Yes!” you sobbed, your hips rising to meet him—trying to rip the orgasm out of him yourself. “Please, Bucky. I want it, please!”
Bucky’s face strained at your words, his hips losing rhythm as he fucked you until his cock twitched and pulsed.
“Christ… you dirty girl,” he grunted between clenched teeth, each thrust making the couch slide an inch against the floor.
Steve watched and listened, tracing the way your body shook and the way your moans pitched higher and higher with every wet slap of Bucky’s hips. He could see the exact moment you both started to go over the edge—and he was right there with you, his hand a blur as he prepared to cum too.
“Shit!” Bucky cursed. “Cumming—fuck—I’m cumming, baby.” He groaned, tossing his head back as you felt his cock twitch inside you, filling you up deeply.
“Oh my god—Buck!”
Your head swam with desire, the feeling of him pumping you full making you cry out as you came alongside him. Your walls clenched around his shaft as he continued to pump lazily into you, his release flooding your core.
Across from you, at that exact second, Steve let out a broken groan as his body jerked in the chair. His hand moved in a blur over his sensitive shaft, his cock twitching in his grip before spilling warm cum all over his fingers and stomach.
The living room that had once been warm with the scent of sweet cookies and tea now smelled of nothing but sex and sweat. Bucky stayed buried deep for a moment, pressing soft kisses to your flushed cheek as the tremors in your legs finally began to fade.
“Good girl,” he murmured in soothingly. “You were such a good girl for me.”
Slowly, Bucky began to pull out.
The sudden loss of him left you feeling sensitive and vulnerable, and you could feel the warmth he’d pumped into you beginning to slick down your thighs, staining the worn cushion of the couch. Bucky reached for the floor, grabbing his pants and pulling them over his shins.
“Did you watch carefully, Steve?” Bucky asked, doing his belt lazily.
Steve didn’t say a word.
He just nodded, pushing himself up from the chair.
You were completely spent, your limbs feeling like stones against the couch, but your eyes went wide as you watched him approach.
Despite having just finished, Steve was already half hard again. You didn’t know how it was physically possible, but a man with his desires amplified by the super-soldier serum worked wonders in ways that even you couldn’t understand.
“I did,” Steve confirmed.
His chest was still heaving as he stood over you, his shadow falling across your trembling frame. He looked devastating—undone, messy, and still starving.
“S-steve?” you whimpered, weakly trying to sit up, “… are you okay? What are you doing?”
Bucky let out a dark, knowing chuckle at the shock on your face. He stepped aside, clearing a path as he looked from Steve back down to you, his hand clamping firmly on his friend’s shoulder.
“Good,” Bucky said. “Because it’s your turn.”
3 weeks since i posted my last fic 🚬 this has been in my drafts since jan and i'm glad i got to finally finish it! another stucky one, but from here on out you guys can expect to see more bucky fics soon (probably knight!bucky or model!bucky, depends if i'm feeling depressed or horny)
thank you guys for sticking around, and i hope you enjoyed!
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john f walker x fem! reader (thunderbolts)
⁓2.3k words
teammates to lovers, cursing, smut, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, pulling out
john is working out - punching his frustrations into the sandbag hung from the gym ceiling and making the closure at the top rattle from his assault. meanwhile, you're stretching on the yoga mat you claimed as yours, wanting to warm up your muscles and body for the sparring session you had asked john for.
every grunt, every thud of his fists hitting the bag, has your attention shift from your workout to his, cursing internally when you can see his muscles ripple through the tight compression shirt he always insists on wearing because it "helps keep his stomach in check". not that you mind the little bit of healthy fat that had accumulated over time - on the contrary, rather; you're obsessed with it.
no matter how much you will yourself to stay focused, how much restraint you keep on your head to stay turned downward, your eyes betray you by flickering over to his body - to the way sweat starts to stain a slowly spreading line down his back and right between his shoulder blades, the way you can plainly see the strength coiled deep in his body that you know can hold up tons of concrete, let alone you.
at some point, you simply give up. you know it's useless to try and stay focused when you realise you've been doing the same exercise for way longer than intended, so you just grab your electrolytes drink, lean back on your elbows, and unabashedly ogle john.
the first time he notices, his eyebrows shoot up, glancing over his shoulder in between punches just to find you staring at him.
the second time - did you really stare at him or were you just on a break? - he can feel himself grow a little flustered when your eyes stay locked on his, then slowly drag down his body. he turns back around before your gaze can reach below his chest.
the third time, he can't fight the blush that heats up his cheeks, the tips of his ears, and he leans down to grab his water bottle.
"stop staring, it's distracting," john mutters lowly, just loud enough for you to hear the shyness in his voice, and you grin.
"why? i think, out of the two of us, i'm the more distracted one. can't even focus on my own workout." he ducks his head, takes another sip, clears his throat when he can see your gaze trail down the entirety of his body. it lingers on the way sweat runs down his throat, how his belly is tensed up, how his thighs deliciously fill out the sweatpants he's wearing.
you finally meet his eyes with an all too innocent smile and he can only shake his head, turn back to the boxing bag, barely managing to hide his own smile. hell, someone as gorgeous as you openly admiring him this... hungrily, is a confidence boost in and of itself.
for a while, the only sounds echoing through the gym are the hits of his fists against the punching bag, john's grunts and little noises, until a quiet "fuck" breaks his concentration and has him stumble over a step. he glances over his shoulder at you and you have your head tilted, eyes fixed fully on the way his biceps strains against the material of his shirt.
john groans lightly - he wants to finish his workout, but fuck, you're distracting. he almost lets his eyes trail over the way you're all but laid out just a few feet away, to the way your clothes hug your body in all the right places, but your voice tears them back to your face. you're grinning devilishly.
"keep your attention on the bag, captain," you muse, and he completely freezes, body locking up when the nickname sends a jolt of arousal through his form. with darkening eyes, furrowed brows, he fixes you in a glare. you can see his posture change, adjust as if he's about to pounce. you raise a single eyebrow.
"or focus fully on me, i wouldn't mind either," you offer, hand trailing down your body to tease at the hem of your loose gym shorts.
the distance between you is crossed in the matter of a second, with a speed that leaves you stunned - not stunned enough, however, to dip your fingers lower, into your underwear.
"you sure you want this?" john roughs out, fixated on the way your hand slowly drags itself underneath the material, until your head tilts back slightly and you part your lips in a soft gasp. your throat is bared to him, breath trembling when your finger circles around your clit, dips lower to find your core already wet and pulsing for him.
"am i not making it obvious enough?" you moan, lull your head forward to meet his gaze, and john all out growls.
he's on you in the mere blink of an eye, calloused hands grabbing onto your shorts and pulling them down alongside your panties in one fell swoop.
"fuck, could smell you from where i was," he groans, kneeling and leaning down so his head is level with your already glistening cunt, not wasting any time before dragging his tongue through your folds. his hands dig into your side, trail down to your thighs so he can pull you further into his mouth. a moan rips from you, low and guttural, when john's nose nudges against your clit and he groans out how incredible you taste, how you taste just as good as you smelled.
the second your fingers fist into his hair and pull him closer, he looks up even through the flutter of his eyes. fuck, he could get lost in the sounds he pulls from you, all pretty and whiny and his. the tip of his tongue eases into you, and your back arches, head falling back against the yoga mat with a dull thud. the sight has his hips twitch down into the ground in order to find any sort of relief from how painfully hard he is, still contained in his sweats.
"john, shit-" you breathe out, lift your head so you can watch when one of his hands unwraps itself from around your leg and he pushes two thick fingers into you. his eyes stay on you the entire time, pupils blown out, almost swallowing the sky blue completely in his desire. the stretch punches another moan out of you, stomach tensing up when he curls his fingers just right, when his tongue never ceases to draw letters over your clit.
if you could focus on anything but the pleasure john is giving you, you'd realise that he's spelling out his name, over, and over, and over again, like an invisible claim that you're his. only his.
the first "mine" that leaves his lips travels straight through your core, but barely registers in your brain at his muffled voice. the second is accompanied by a third finger joining the two already thrusting into you at a steady pace, and you keen when he curls them all again. the third has you pull sharply on his hair, tugging him away from your cunt and up to your lips as he follows your motions easily, all too eagerly.
you can taste yourself on his tongue when john bullies it into your mouth, your lips still parted from the bursts of air you struggled to get into your lungs, and his moan tangles with yours as you greedily swallow it down.
"fuck, john, i need you."
the words have him growl, almost feral from your taste, your sounds, your body so prettily spread out underneath him as he keeps his weight from crushing you with one arm under your neck. not like you would mind if he did. he scrambles to push down his pants, hissing when the fabric catches on the tip of his long since flushed dick before finally coming free, slapping quietly against the trail of hair leading down from his navel - he didn't even notice his shirt ride up in his haze. didn't care.
"got no idea how bad i've needed you," he mumbles into another, desperate kiss, "for months." john has to grit his teeth so he doesn't combust on the spot when you wrap your hand around the base of his dick, align it with your core and tilt your hips up so he can slide in easier. you hand moves back up to grab a hold of his biceps, to ground yourself in order to take the stretch of his girth that you know is inevitable.
"i'm covered, please john," you plead, and he has to dig his free hand into your waist so he doesn't bury himself in one harsh stroke. the grip will bruise, but neither of you care.
a nudge of his hips has his tip catch on your clit, has you bite back a whine, and when he finally slips just the head into you, your breath catches in your throat.
"i'll go slow, don't worry," he reassures you, almost tenderly feathering a kiss to your forehead, and pushes his hips just a little further in. you start panting softly, chest heaving and head falling back against the mat when he sinks even deeper.
the second he bottoms out, hip meeting hip with a dull slap, john lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, groans quietly when your walls already flutter around him. you didn't come earlier, pulled him up before he could make you finish, so you're still somewhat on the edge.
fuck, john isn't even too deep, his length maybe slightly above average, but he makes up for everything with the thickness of his cock. he's already giving you this much time to relax, and you're still adjusting to the size of him - but you need him. now.
"move, please, i can take it-" you gasp out, and your eyes can barely focus on the small smirk on his lips.
"don't come whining when you're sore tomorrow, sweetheart," he teases, but the light tone vanishes as soon as he gives a first, shallow roll of his hips and feels your heat wrapped so snugly around his dick, dragging along the veins perfectly. a low curse falls from his lips as they part, and he watches on as your cunt struggles to take him with a perverted fascination.
your head is empty - entirely empty besides the feeling of being so stuffed full by john, thoughts hazy and slow and only coherent enough to let moans spill freely from your chest when he starts building up his pace, starts all but rutting into you once he's certain you can handle it. handle him.
the hand not holding him up drags your shirt up your body, reveals your black sports bra and the already pebbled nipples underneath the textile. with an appreciative hum john leans down to lave his tongue over one bud, soaking the material and darkening it with the saliva he forgot to swallow down in his pleasure.
you whimper, arms wrapping around his neck, keeping his head where it is when he speeds up even more and fucks you into the mat with reckless abandon.
"y'feel too good john, please-" his groan is muffled, mouth wrapped around your chest still, teeth grazing your nipple and making you mewl below him.
"m'close too, sweetheart," he drawls out after separating, pulling back just enough to meet your blissed out gaze. "where d'you want me?"
you moan when he adjusts the angle of his hips, his already leaking tip dragging over that spongy spot that has you breathe out his name oh so deliciously.
"make a- ngh, make a mess of me," you gasp out, eyes falling wide open and grip slacking when your orgasm crashes over you suddenly, makes your thighs tremble in overwhelming pleasure. a small "oh-" escapes you just before john can feel your walls clench around him, try to at least, when he bullies his way in with more and more frantic thrusts the closer he gets to his own release.
your sweet moans, pretty whimpers when your peak subsides and threatens to turn into oversensitivity, are all john needs to meet his end. his pace falters, and before he can pull out a first rope of his cum shoots deep inside of you.
"f-fuck, sweetheart-" he grunts, pulls out in time for the next to splatter beautifully across your stomach. with the base of his dick rubbing against your folds, coating itself even more in your slick, he rides out his high; painting your body in long, milky, endless lines, staining the bottom of your sports bra even more than just with his spit.
his head hangs low, hair falling into his face and sticking to the sweat on his temple, and he admires the way his spend pools by your belly button as he tries to catch his breath. even as his dick softens slowly, still twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm, you can feel its weight rest low on your stomach.
a shaky hand comes up, palms john's cheek, and he meets your fucked out gaze with his own, droopy and satisfied eyes.
"you alright?" he asks, voice rumbling pleasantly through his chest, and you nod.
"yeah, but i might need your help standing if you don't wanna have anyone ask why this mat is missing." he looks down, and grins when he can see his cum start to drip out of your swollen cunt.
you yelp weakly when he presses two fingers back into you, effectively pushing in his seed right alongside them.
"i'll carry you to the showers, come on," he huffs out, the sight of you marked so prettily by, with him enough to have his dick twitch back to life even as he carefully gathers you in his arms.
john f walker x fem! reader (thunderbolts)
⁓2.3k words
teammates to lovers, cursing, smut, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, pulling out
john is working out - punching his frustrations into the sandbag hung from the gym ceiling and making the closure at the top rattle from his assault. meanwhile, you're stretching on the yoga mat you claimed as yours, wanting to warm up your muscles and body for the sparring session you had asked john for.
every grunt, every thud of his fists hitting the bag, has your attention shift from your workout to his, cursing internally when you can see his muscles ripple through the tight compression shirt he always insists on wearing because it "helps keep his stomach in check". not that you mind the little bit of healthy fat that had accumulated over time - on the contrary, rather; you're obsessed with it.
no matter how much you will yourself to stay focused, how much restraint you keep on your head to stay turned downward, your eyes betray you by flickering over to his body - to the way sweat starts to stain a slowly spreading line down his back and right between his shoulder blades, the way you can plainly see the strength coiled deep in his body that you know can hold up tons of concrete, let alone you.
at some point, you simply give up. you know it's useless to try and stay focused when you realise you've been doing the same exercise for way longer than intended, so you just grab your electrolytes drink, lean back on your elbows, and unabashedly ogle john.
the first time he notices, his eyebrows shoot up, glancing over his shoulder in between punches just to find you staring at him.
the second time - did you really stare at him or were you just on a break? - he can feel himself grow a little flustered when your eyes stay locked on his, then slowly drag down his body. he turns back around before your gaze can reach below his chest.
the third time, he can't fight the blush that heats up his cheeks, the tips of his ears, and he leans down to grab his water bottle.
"stop staring, it's distracting," john mutters lowly, just loud enough for you to hear the shyness in his voice, and you grin.
"why? i think, out of the two of us, i'm the more distracted one. can't even focus on my own workout." he ducks his head, takes another sip, clears his throat when he can see your gaze trail down the entirety of his body. it lingers on the way sweat runs down his throat, how his belly is tensed up, how his thighs deliciously fill out the sweatpants he's wearing.
you finally meet his eyes with an all too innocent smile and he can only shake his head, turn back to the boxing bag, barely managing to hide his own smile. hell, someone as gorgeous as you openly admiring him this... hungrily, is a confidence boost in and of itself.
for a while, the only sounds echoing through the gym are the hits of his fists against the punching bag, john's grunts and little noises, until a quiet "fuck" breaks his concentration and has him stumble over a step. he glances over his shoulder at you and you have your head tilted, eyes fixed fully on the way his biceps strains against the material of his shirt.
john groans lightly - he wants to finish his workout, but fuck, you're distracting. he almost lets his eyes trail over the way you're all but laid out just a few feet away, to the way your clothes hug your body in all the right places, but your voice tears them back to your face. you're grinning devilishly.
"keep your attention on the bag, captain," you muse, and he completely freezes, body locking up when the nickname sends a jolt of arousal through his form. with darkening eyes, furrowed brows, he fixes you in a glare. you can see his posture change, adjust as if he's about to pounce. you raise a single eyebrow.
"or focus fully on me, i wouldn't mind either," you offer, hand trailing down your body to tease at the hem of your loose gym shorts.
the distance between you is crossed in the matter of a second, with a speed that leaves you stunned - not stunned enough, however, to dip your fingers lower, into your underwear.
"you sure you want this?" john roughs out, fixated on the way your hand slowly drags itself underneath the material, until your head tilts back slightly and you part your lips in a soft gasp. your throat is bared to him, breath trembling when your finger circles around your clit, dips lower to find your core already wet and pulsing for him.
"am i not making it obvious enough?" you moan, lull your head forward to meet his gaze, and john all out growls.
he's on you in the mere blink of an eye, calloused hands grabbing onto your shorts and pulling them down alongside your panties in one fell swoop.
"fuck, could smell you from where i was," he groans, kneeling and leaning down so his head is level with your already glistening cunt, not wasting any time before dragging his tongue through your folds. his hands dig into your side, trail down to your thighs so he can pull you further into his mouth. a moan rips from you, low and guttural, when john's nose nudges against your clit and he groans out how incredible you taste, how you taste just as good as you smelled.
the second your fingers fist into his hair and pull him closer, he looks up even through the flutter of his eyes. fuck, he could get lost in the sounds he pulls from you, all pretty and whiny and his. the tip of his tongue eases into you, and your back arches, head falling back against the yoga mat with a dull thud. the sight has his hips twitch down into the ground in order to find any sort of relief from how painfully hard he is, still contained in his sweats.
"john, shit-" you breathe out, lift your head so you can watch when one of his hands unwraps itself from around your leg and he pushes two thick fingers into you. his eyes stay on you the entire time, pupils blown out, almost swallowing the sky blue completely in his desire. the stretch punches another moan out of you, stomach tensing up when he curls his fingers just right, when his tongue never ceases to draw letters over your clit.
if you could focus on anything but the pleasure john is giving you, you'd realise that he's spelling out his name, over, and over, and over again, like an invisible claim that you're his. only his.
the first "mine" that leaves his lips travels straight through your core, but barely registers in your brain at his muffled voice. the second is accompanied by a third finger joining the two already thrusting into you at a steady pace, and you keen when he curls them all again. the third has you pull sharply on his hair, tugging him away from your cunt and up to your lips as he follows your motions easily, all too eagerly.
you can taste yourself on his tongue when john bullies it into your mouth, your lips still parted from the bursts of air you struggled to get into your lungs, and his moan tangles with yours as you greedily swallow it down.
"fuck, john, i need you."
the words have him growl, almost feral from your taste, your sounds, your body so prettily spread out underneath him as he keeps his weight from crushing you with one arm under your neck. not like you would mind if he did. he scrambles to push down his pants, hissing when the fabric catches on the tip of his long since flushed dick before finally coming free, slapping quietly against the trail of hair leading down from his navel - he didn't even notice his shirt ride up in his haze. didn't care.
"got no idea how bad i've needed you," he mumbles into another, desperate kiss, "for months." john has to grit his teeth so he doesn't combust on the spot when you wrap your hand around the base of his dick, align it with your core and tilt your hips up so he can slide in easier. you hand moves back up to grab a hold of his biceps, to ground yourself in order to take the stretch of his girth that you know is inevitable.
"i'm covered, please john," you plead, and he has to dig his free hand into your waist so he doesn't bury himself in one harsh stroke. the grip will bruise, but neither of you care.
a nudge of his hips has his tip catch on your clit, has you bite back a whine, and when he finally slips just the head into you, your breath catches in your throat.
"i'll go slow, don't worry," he reassures you, almost tenderly feathering a kiss to your forehead, and pushes his hips just a little further in. you start panting softly, chest heaving and head falling back against the mat when he sinks even deeper.
the second he bottoms out, hip meeting hip with a dull slap, john lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, groans quietly when your walls already flutter around him. you didn't come earlier, pulled him up before he could make you finish, so you're still somewhat on the edge.
fuck, john isn't even too deep, his length maybe slightly above average, but he makes up for everything with the thickness of his cock. he's already giving you this much time to relax, and you're still adjusting to the size of him - but you need him. now.
"move, please, i can take it-" you gasp out, and your eyes can barely focus on the small smirk on his lips.
"don't come whining when you're sore tomorrow, sweetheart," he teases, but the light tone vanishes as soon as he gives a first, shallow roll of his hips and feels your heat wrapped so snugly around his dick, dragging along the veins perfectly. a low curse falls from his lips as they part, and he watches on as your cunt struggles to take him with a perverted fascination.
your head is empty - entirely empty besides the feeling of being so stuffed full by john, thoughts hazy and slow and only coherent enough to let moans spill freely from your chest when he starts building up his pace, starts all but rutting into you once he's certain you can handle it. handle him.
the hand not holding him up drags your shirt up your body, reveals your black sports bra and the already pebbled nipples underneath the textile. with an appreciative hum john leans down to lave his tongue over one bud, soaking the material and darkening it with the saliva he forgot to swallow down in his pleasure.
you whimper, arms wrapping around his neck, keeping his head where it is when he speeds up even more and fucks you into the mat with reckless abandon.
"y'feel too good john, please-" his groan is muffled, mouth wrapped around your chest still, teeth grazing your nipple and making you mewl below him.
"m'close too, sweetheart," he drawls out after separating, pulling back just enough to meet your blissed out gaze. "where d'you want me?"
you moan when he adjusts the angle of his hips, his already leaking tip dragging over that spongy spot that has you breathe out his name oh so deliciously.
"make a- ngh, make a mess of me," you gasp out, eyes falling wide open and grip slacking when your orgasm crashes over you suddenly, makes your thighs tremble in overwhelming pleasure. a small "oh-" escapes you just before john can feel your walls clench around him, try to at least, when he bullies his way in with more and more frantic thrusts the closer he gets to his own release.
your sweet moans, pretty whimpers when your peak subsides and threatens to turn into oversensitivity, are all john needs to meet his end. his pace falters, and before he can pull out a first rope of his cum shoots deep inside of you.
"f-fuck, sweetheart-" he grunts, pulls out in time for the next to splatter beautifully across your stomach. with the base of his dick rubbing against your folds, coating itself even more in your slick, he rides out his high; painting your body in long, milky, endless lines, staining the bottom of your sports bra even more than just with his spit.
his head hangs low, hair falling into his face and sticking to the sweat on his temple, and he admires the way his spend pools by your belly button as he tries to catch his breath. even as his dick softens slowly, still twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm, you can feel its weight rest low on your stomach.
a shaky hand comes up, palms john's cheek, and he meets your fucked out gaze with his own, droopy and satisfied eyes.
"you alright?" he asks, voice rumbling pleasantly through his chest, and you nod.
"yeah, but i might need your help standing if you don't wanna have anyone ask why this mat is missing." he looks down, and grins when he can see his cum start to drip out of your swollen cunt.
you yelp weakly when he presses two fingers back into you, effectively pushing in his seed right alongside them.
"i'll carry you to the showers, come on," he huffs out, the sight of you marked so prettily by, with him enough to have his dick twitch back to life even as he carefully gathers you in his arms.
HEAR YE HEAR YE, CAN ANYONE HEAR ME BECAUSE I DONT THINK ANYONE CAN HEAR ME BECAUSE WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT HOW BEAUTIFUL CHRIS CHALK IS. LIKE WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS I FEEL LIKE IM A TEENAGER AGAIN HE IS UNGODLY GORGEOUS
warnings: 18+, mdni! smut, unprotected sex (cover the stream before blowing some steam!), enemies to lovers, swearing, degrading (dumb insults, mainly), john walker is a walking ass, praise, a bit of fluff at the end.
nsfw under the cut!
what a baby.
“if you had just shut your fucking mouth when i told you to,” you whispered hurriedly between kisses as you carded your fingers through his hair.
“yeah, well,” john grumbled, his hands holding your hips as you straddled his waist. he tilted his head slightly, feeling your lips go to his jaw. “i saved you anyways.”
“and got your ass kicked,” you replied, breathless as you moved back to kiss his lips. your hands slid up his bruised abdomen as you ground down against his clothed hard-on.
john groaned, his head falling back slightly. “fuck, i don’t care,” he half mumbled, half moaned. he grabbed hold of your neck gently, tilting your head back so he could look at you.
you looked down your nose at him, glaring. he only gave you that stupid, fucking, lazy smirk. like he was better than you. like he was doing you a favor. bullshit.
you rocked your hips against him roughly, causing him to jerk forwards a bit, lower abdomen clenching. he groaned, and now it was his turn to glare and your turn to smirk.
“what, can’t take a little movement, walker?” you cooed sarcastically.
“i’ll show you fucking movement,” he growled, picking you up and rolling you.
you let out a short gasp as your back hit the mattress, making john grin. oh, how you hated that face.
your nostrils flared as you tried to get out from under him, but he just held your wrists down, unfazed. when you finally gave up with a huff and a major eye roll, he grabbed your hips and flipped you over, pulling your ass back to him.
you scowled at him over your shoulder as he manhandled him, giving you that smug little smile you despised so much. his hair was messy from you running your hands through it and tugging, and sweat caused small pieces to stick to his forehead. fuck, he looked so good.
“i’m gonna have to save you more often,” john sneered, pulling your panties to the side, watching as you clenched around nothing. you knew it went straight to his ego. oh, and his dick, of course.
“you didn’t save shit,” you grumbled back. you had to look away as you fought back a moan, his fingers ghosting across your thighs before landing a hard smack on your ass.
“oh, i think i did,” he cooed, running his hand up your back, unsnapping your bra in the process. he held you as you moved your arms and tossed it to the side.
“you know, for a super soldier i figured you’d be faster at this,” you chided.
“well for an adult,” he murmured, running his dick through your folds and gathering your slick. “i figured you’d be more patient,” he pushed his tip in, stretching you before pulling back out quickly.
“oh-ho,” you laughed bitterly. “fuck you.” he chuckled and you wanted to throat punch him at the very sound. in fact, you should have throat punched him long ago. maybe that would teach him-
you moaned as he suddenly pushed further into you, about halfway. your eyes widened as he sunk in suddenly, squeezing the fatty flesh of your ass.
“i know you want to,” he replied lowly, the rough edge in his voice shooting straight to your core.
“you’re… such a child,” you managed, voice a little unsteady as he pulled back out. “using playground insults in be-”
you’re cut off by another groan as he shoves your face in the pillow and bottoms out. your mouth opens in a silent scream, panting as he pushes as far into you as he can. the stretch hurt so good.
“sorry, what was that?” he asked with an annoyingly cocky edge to his voice.
your eyes fluttered open as you looked back at him. the smugness in his expression dropped. you looked amazing. beautiful, even. your brows raised in bliss, your mouth parted slightly. he could’ve came from that sight alone.
“you’re- pretty when you’re- quiet,” he grunted, words punctuated by deep thrusts. he ran his hand over your ass, soothing the skin that he slapped not too long again.
“shut the fuck up,” you whispered, barely able to speak.
he laughed at that, and you had to look away to hide your own chuckle.
“takin’ me so good,” he praised gently, looking down at where the two of you connected. he felt his balls tighten as the very sight. you could ruin him just by doing nothing at all. his lip twitched before he reached down and grabbed your throat, pulling you up against him. your back arched into his chest, making you moan obscenely at the new angle.
“fuckin’ slut,” he growled into your ear. “you like getting fucked like this? huh? makin’ me do all the work, baby.”
you turned your head to kiss him as best as you could, the kiss sloppy and heated. you wrapped your arm around his head, holding him to you. his breath was ragged against your lips as he panted, chasing the highs you both needed. his hand snaked down your front, fingertips ghosting across sensitive skin. goosebumps raised in their wake. you shuddered, kissing the corner of his mouth as his hand finally reached further and further down.
he began rubbing your clit in sync with his thrusts. you cried out as your back arched furthermore, your hips pushing into his touch.
“yeah, that’s it,” he cooed lowly, “show me how desperate you are. ain’t nobody going to see you like this, ‘cept me, right sweetheart?”
you nodded fervently, the coil in your belly tightening. you could barely comprehend anything that was being said, your mind solely focused on his touch and thrusts.
“you gonna come?” he purred arrogantly. since when was that a turn on for you? (always)
“please,” you whined. “please, john, fuck-”
at the sound of his name, something inside him snapped. the way you were a blubbering, moaning mess, full of his cock, in his bed, in his arms—
he shoved you back down, slamming into you as hard and as fast as he could. it didn’t take long before you cried out his name and came, clenching around him with a newfound sudden strength. his eyes widened as he felt himself being pushed to the edge.
he continued his ferocious assault on your cervix, chasing his own, selfish high. you whined as you tried to pull away from the harsh overstimulation, but his bruising grip held you down. and you loved it.
finally, his hips stuttered as he came inside you, thick white ropes filling you. he laid on top of you, panting. your body felt like jello. he managed to pull out of you, grunting a bit. you whimpered a bit at the loss, but you couldn’t be too mad. not for right now. he rolled you over gently, helping you lay down before he disappeared. you lulled your head to the right, looking at the fading light that peaked through the blinds.
you realized just how quiet the room was. how peaceful. save for the humming of the overhead fan and the occasional clinking from whatever john was doing, it was undisturbed.
you were surprised when he came back with a fresh pair of clothes—his clothes. you looked down at them and back to him, your brows raised slightly.
“do you need me to spell it out for you?” he asked with reserved sarcasm.
you cracked a smile, too blissed out to really care what he said. he held your hands as he helped you out of bed, leading you to his bathroom and setting the clothes on the counter.
“let me know if you need any help,” he said softly before shutting the door and letting you get cleaned up.
when you came back out, he was sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers, scrolling on his phone. he looked up at you and hopped up, helping you back to bed, even after you assured him you were fine.
you got to see a new side of john that night. one that let you pick which sitcom to watch. the one that let you sleep in his prized possession—the softest shirt he owned. the side of john that passed out before you, despite saying he wasn’t tired.
you got to wake up to a view you never imagined would actually make it out of your dreams: a sleeping john walker that was laying across you like an oversized weighted blanket. warm light wrapped around him through the slits of the blinds, casting him in a mix of yellow hues and shadows. his hair was roughed in a way that looked like every strand went a different direction. his skin was warm against yours, heating you like a furnace in the winter.
you gently ran your fingers through his hair, attempting to smooth down the train wreck of blond strands. his back muscles flexed as he moved in his sleep, further curling himself into your side and laying his head back up on your chest.
the big, scary, brooding john walker slept like a baby on top of you that morning. he slept like he was finally safe: no worries, no rush, no problems in the world. and he made you promise not to tell anyone.
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