Warnings: Smut, Oral Sex Male Receiving, Cum Swallowing
Smut under cut
Being best friends with Bucky Barnes had its perks - he was attentive, he listened, he was willing to watch stupid movies with you occasionally... And it didn't hurt that he was hot as fuck.
What was getting hard was trying not to jump his bones every time you had him over to watch something new. You were sitting next to him now, arm pressed against his, and instead of watching the movie, you found yourself watching his hands.
His large, capable, hot ass hands... God, the metal one probably felt even better-.
"Hey, princess." His gruff, sweet voice sent heat shooting between your thighs as you chewed on your lip, trying hard to ignore it... He was your best friend, it wasn't appropriate for you to be thinking of how good it would feel to have his thick fingers inside you, or how he'd sound when he came deep inside you.
"Hm?" All you could do was thank God that your voice didn't betray what you were imagining. "What's up?" You looked over at him, an unreadable expression in his dark eyes... But it was deep, nervous... Wanting.
Nothing that you were used to him having.
"You ever sucked cock before?" The question hit you like a brick as you let out a laugh, pulling away from him with furrowed brows... He'd been by your side through every breakup, he knew for a fact you'd pretty much done everything under the sun.
"Yeah, obviously." You watched him frown slightly.
Oops.
"Mmm... Well, there goes that line." He mumbled, crossing his arms across his chest with a sigh as he leaned his head back, his perfect jaw tensed as he stared at the ceiling.
Your heart was racing in your chest as you scooted closer, tracing your fingers lightly over where his metal arm connected, feeling him shudder slightly beneath your touch. You dared a glance downward, seeing his cock pressing against his jeans as you swallowed back a groan, resisting just barely the urge to palm it.
"What line?" You asked, voice cracking slightly over the words as he looked over at you, pupils blown as he swallowed heavily, shifting around as you casually let your hand rest on his abdomen, watching his expression shift.
You were touchy with him, as touchy as he'd let you be, but he knew this was different, you could see it.
"Nothing, I just..." He clenched his jaw, looking away from you. No. "Shut up, it's stupid-." You took a deep breath, resting your hand on his cheek to draw his face back to yours, hoping your face wasn't as red as it felt.
"If you want me to suck your cock, you don't need a line, you just need to ask." You said, surprising yourself with how calm you sounded. His eyes widened a bit as his throat bobbed, hands tightening at his sides.
"Really?" He asked, soundly hardly contained as you chewed on your lip, sliding closer, pressing your chest against his arm as you let your hand travel down.
"Yeah." You cupped his bulge through his jeans, whimpering slightly at the feel of it against your palm, heavy. Huge. Probably the biggest you'd ever had. "In fact... You don't even have to ask." You said, slipping down his body slowly, leaving kisses over his shirt, kneeling in front of him to undo his belt as he let out a shallow breath.
"Shit..." He breathed, placing his hand under your chin to pull you up into a slow, lingering kiss, letting you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him close before he pushed you back to your knees, pulling his shirt over his head before helping you with his belt and zipper, pausing once he was completely bare to you, save for his boxers. "Are you sure?" He asked, and you nodded, shucking down his jeans and practically drooling at the outline in his boxers, the wet spot by his tip.
He wanted you.
You nodded, pulling your shirt over your head, watching how he seemed to grow more urgent at the glimpse of your skin. You hooked your fingers around his waistband.
"I've been thinking about it all night." You slowly pulled his boxers down, gasping when his cock smacked up against his stomach, thick and heavy, tip leaking in a way that made every inch of your body scrweam for him. "Fuck, you're huge." You gasped, wrapping a hand around him as you brought it to your lips, kissing over the tip, darting out to taste his precum.
God, he tasted fucking good, and the sound he made as he leaned his head back was even more delicious.
"You don't have to take it-." You swallowed him down, letting your tongue drag over his shaft as you cupped his balls, toying with them in a way that made him shudder, his hand finding the back of your head. "All..." You took him a deep as you could, gagging around him before you pulled off, watching a thin line of spit connect your lips to him.
"You taste amazing." That was all you said before you were swallowing him again, more frantic this time, licking and kissing all over his cock, mumbling praises as you scratched your nails over his thighs.
He was perfection. And you wanted him to be yours.
You took him down your throat again, easing yourself deeper.
More. More. More.
"I... Ha..." He thrust his hips upward, making you moan around him as your eyes watered. God, this was what you dreamed of, having Bucky Barnes panting, desperate, and wanting you. "Take it, fuck, take it." You nodded.
Make me.
"Mhm... Mmmm..." You pulled off for a moment, licking and kissing the tip, tracing your tongue over the thick vein that went up the back of it before you swallowed him down again.
You wanted him to think of this forever.
"Fuck, that feels amazing." His gruff voice made your hands tighten on his thighs instantly, the burning between your thighs becoming unbearable as you swallowed his cock impossibly deeper, your nose resting against his pelvis as the corners of your eyes stung with tears. His fingers tangled into your hair as he let out a shuddering sigh, thrusting his hips forward, making you gag around him.
"That's it, baby. You can take it." You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing breath out of your nose as he began to move your mouth up and down his cock, roughly hitting the back of your throat each time he went deep, making your head spin.
You'd never had anyone this big before, it was like he was trying to suffocate you, and you were willing to die around him if that was what he wanted.
Who wouldn't?
"If you keep going like this, I'm gonna cum." He grunted, his hips moving erratically as his breathing started to become uneven, his fingers tugging hard at your hair as he straightened up, leaning over you, both hands grasping your head as he let out a low moan. You felt your heart speed up as you remembered the impossible strength of his metal arm... God, he could fucking kill you like this... Thankfully he probably wouldn't, not in this position. "Shit. Fuck yes... Oh, take that, sweetheart. Take it." He grunted, forcing himself deep again as he let out a low moan, his hips shuddering as he came down your throat, making you cough as you pulled back, keeping his tip inside your mouth so that you could swallow it down, only pulling back when his hands fell, a tired laugh leaving his lips as you sat back on your heels, coughing as you tried to regain your composure.
"Is that what you were after?" You asked, smiling almost innocently as he cupped your face, pulling you into a messy kiss, hands groping all over your body as he pulled you close, making your body flush before he spoke again.
"Baby that was more than what I was after." Oh? He smiled at you, eyes glinting as he looked you up and down. "Didn't know I was getting the best head of my life." That was flattering.
"Well, I aim to please." You said, trying to maintain your composure as he nodded, beckoning you up beside him. You curled into his side, feeling him wrap his arm tight around you, hand resting on the curve of your ass, fingers digging in deliciously.
He could hold you any way he wanted to.
"Trust me, you did." He kissed down the side of your neck, sucking a mark into the side of your neck as he squeezed your ass, making you whimper before you pulled back from him, shucking off your sweats, feeling his hands on the warm skin of your thighs not even a moment later, prying them slightly open so that he could rest one right in the crease of your thigh, his eyes pleading. "What can I do right now?" He asked, his thumb reaching over to trace over your clothed pussy, making you shudder as you batted his hand away.
Jesus.
Shit.
You... You needed to get ready for that.
"Right now?" You were surprised by how level and flirty your voice came out as you turned to look at him, placing a hand on his cheek. "You can watch the rest of the movie... And then when you're up to it, you can fuck me senseless." His eyes darkened as he swallowed, his cock twitching in his lap.
You slid your hand down, lazily wrapping your fingers around it as he grunted.
"Shit..."
"Sound good, Barnes?" You asked, seeing his smile glint in the darkened room as he nodded, his fingers tracing lightly over your crotch again.
God, why were you waiting again?
"Sounds perfect." With that, he turned back towards the screen, fingers travelling up and down the soaked fabric almost absentmindedly as you shivered against him.
bucky makes you think about having a child all the time. but the funny thing about time is it always, always runs out.
TAGSâ inspired by i think about it all the time (charli xcx); songfic but not really?; vaguely TFATWS; fwb to lovers; pregnancy themes; soft/slight angst? idk; nicknames (sweetheart, baby); SMUT MDNI (breeding kink, creampie)
READER NOTESâ afab!reader, reader wears a nondescript dress at one point
AUTHOR NOTESâ to be honest, i didnât mean to join this collab (work sucks and i canât seem to write </3) but the only song that wasnât claimed was this, so i took it as a personal sign from the universe. i think about it all the time punched me in the gut the first time i heard it on the album. i really hope i did it justice đ
thank you to @superbassbuck and @heldbybarnes who read the baby (ha) version of this fic and for the ideasâi hope itâs still enjoyable after some changes! and thank you @barnesonly and @iamthatonefangirl for letting me join in on the fun <3
Thereâs a reason why most companies have at least one line in their contract about disclosing workplace romances.
Mixing work and romantic relationships is like setting a piece of paper on fire in a paper company: a disaster waiting to happen. Productivity dips, you become less objective, colleagues doubt your capacity to show up. Nevermind the fact that itâll be a big, messy fucking thing if the relationship endsâsome might even argue when is the better word choice.
But you and Bucky found it to be the most convenient thing in the world.
As unfortunate employees of S.H.I.E.L.D., you shared the same schedule (most of the time), the same stressors (lookout missions thatâs just sitting in a humid car for hours), and the same need to throw that stress somewhere and let it explode.
Some call it horniness. You and Bucky called it biological function.
So really, it wasnât âworkplace romanceâ. It was casual sex.
Except there was nothing casual about how good it was: with the amount of fireworks youâd be guaranteed to see at the crest of every crash, one would call it spectacular, instead.
Because it is a spectacle.
James Buchanan Barnes had been pent-up for far too long and your mouth makes him forget to be shy. You, on the other hand, had forgotten what shy meant the moment you saw him naked.
While the commitment started out non-committal, time had a funny way of bringing about change.
Actually, maybe it wasnât so much timeâs fault. Maybe the whole no-strings-attached approach was a ruseâbecause despite your equal eloquence in spy work, the two of you are shit at figuring out what you actually want, and even shittier at admitting it. Maybe youâd wanted to get to know each other better, deeper, more, and sex was one way to do exactly that. The obvious way.
The convenient way.
And you do get to know each other better over time. You know kissing his ears make him weak, and the words to say to tear a long moan out of him. He knows how to curl his fingers just right, and the ways youâd like to be turned into a begging mess.
But sleeping together isnât the only way you get to know each other. You learn a lot of things falling asleep together, too.
Because that slowly turns into waking up together, which then becomes showering together. âSave the planet,â you moan as he pushes you against the wall and drives in, hot water down your backs. Other times are less charged: he complains about the number of your bath products you have but use them anyway.
After a night of long, hard, dirty work in the bedroom, itâs only natural to crave breakfast. You share it with him. He likes his eggs sunny-side-up, he knows you like your scrambled. He clarifies that itâs a sex joke, and only then, you laugh.
You learn that he takes his coffee black (predictably), and he learns that you add a bit of milk to yours. Eventually, like the bed you sleep in and the bathroom you shower in, you drink from the same glass. Eat from the same plate.
Less dishes to do. It only makes logical sense.
It takes a couple of months until the question gets asked: why be burdened with two places of residence when you end up piled in one bed for weeks, anyway?
You begin to share the same front door on a dry April afternoon.
It only makes logical sense.
Just like the agreement you had with sex (in which you cum at least three times before his poor cock can even think about bustingâa rule imposed by Bucky himself), the two of you become a couple because it only makes logical sense.
But thatâs a lie. A relationship that made logical sense doesnât look into each otherâs eyes the way you do in yours.
The lie shows in the smallest, darndest things.
He sits next to you in briefings. Or across you, if he feels mischievous enough to play footsie under the table, shooting a dirty look at you whenever someone says entry point. Whenever you smile at him, itâs different: a completely understated movement in your nasolabial fold that only Natasha can clock.
And she does.
âWhy are you smiling at him like that?â she asks, an amused lilt in her voice.
âLike what?â
She smirks instead before executing the ever-convenient move called Walking Away From the Conversation. You donât even need to think to come up with the answer yourself:
Lovingly. Thatâs how you smile at him.
That word is like an elephant you and Bucky neglect to acknowledge for the longest time.
Until you can no longer ignore it, because all nine inches of him are inside of you, his big arms holding your frame as he pummels deep into your noisy cunt, squelching, leaking with everything heâs given you from before. You donât even realize when you gasp those three words out loud.
Bucky stops then, figuring out if what he heard was realâwhile you whine at the loss of friction. Your voice wrapped around those syllables sounds too perfect to be a dream, too clear to be a fantasy. World-ending and right at the same time.
So he whispers a realization in your mouth, filling you with so much warmth while his cock slides in once more and does the same.
âI love you, too, sweetheart. So. Fucking. Much.â
As if to curb your disbelief, he punctuates each word with a thrust.
Thereâs no âwhat are weâ talk. Youâre two people who love each other, simple as that.
But there is a discussion. It happens on a beautiful day: the sun spills into the kitchen, painting shadows on the floor so interesting youâd rather stay in and watch them. He sits next to you in front of the island, a cup of black coffee in hand, and you talk. About what you wantâfrom life, from each other.
Itâs a dialogue with no real conclusion except for the quiet truth: that the two of you are soldiers for freedom. An irony in and of itself, fighting for a thing you havenât tasted in a while. But thereâs comfort in knowing your dreams are the sameâthe fighting needs to stop first.
âIf only the world could fix itself,â you muse.
He looks at you. âWhat would you do if it did?â
You shrug. âI donât know. Fuck off to a house in the middle of nowhere. Adopt a cat. Garden. Count my gray hairs. You?â
Bucky looks at the floor, deep in thought that threatened to drown him above linoleum tiles.
âNot sure,â he murmurs. âI justâafter everything... peace is not something I deserve.â
Itâs your turn to stare at him: not just the Bucky Barnes sitting in your kitchen, but all his past lives. The young sergeant that loved dancing. The Winter Soldier.
âBut you still fight for it,â you reply.
He smiles wryly at that. âFor a chance at seeing your hair change color? Iâd do that and more.â
You blush, but you understandâyou already donât mind the soft wrinkles gracing his face. Getting to watch him grow old would be a privilege more than anything, not to mention growing old together.
The conversation is about as grounded as a cloud, but you let it float, dream-like, dotted with your quiet chuckles and his words reverberating in your chest. The two of you sit there in the kitchen, watching sun rays move between the blinds, smelling like each other, talking about a future as if you hold it in the palm of your hand.
You donât remember how the conversation got here, but you ask first.
âNo kids, then?â
There was no flirtation. No playful deflection. No âbut sweetheart, I want you all to myself forever.â
He just nods.
You ask but you already knew the answer.
A child is out of the question. Itâs simply impossible while the two of you fight around the clock and against it, saving lives by putting your own at risk, giving people more time while potentially cutting yours short.
So you nod back. Say a joke about the Plan B pills you bulk-bought at a discount.
He looks at you then as your soft laugh dies into an exhaleâand in that moment, you canât really tell what those blue eyes say. A lapse in the fluency with which youâve learned to read him.
Then he takes his time leaning down to cover his mouth with yours.
Timeâs job is to make space for change.
There are days when you wake up wondering if you chose wrong. Itâs not a feeling alien to you. Growing up means killing alternate paths, snuffing out your own dreams while at the same time grieving each of them, until you finally grow numb to the death of potential.
But the more you love, the more fogged up your faith gets. Suddenly you question everything: who you are, the color of hair, how you spend your time, and why you made the decisions you made.
Including the thing about not wanting kids.
Conviction shakes like a leaf a the slightest breeze of that thought.
Was it really a choice you made, or was it one the circumstances dictated for you? Was it right for you to have yielded to the state of the world? Should you have been more optimistic, as silly as that soundsâoh, yes, weâre planning for a baby! while the Quinjet arrives on foreign soil and guns are about to be fired?
Will there ever be a time for you to put down your weapon in the first place?
You see a young family at a park and wonder if you chose wrong.
Another part of youâthe one thatâs darker and meaner with her wordsâalways pulls you back from that daydream by saying: you wonât even be a good parent.
Then the world drags you back with its claws. Thereâs work to be done, and everything in between is just enough for the two of you. For you and Bucky.
You, him, and a decision that gnaws at you in the dark.
You think about it all the damn time.
Attending a Wilson family barbecue is a rite of passage. You step into your first one with bravery.
Bucky witnesses you survive a barrage of introductions: names and faces, too many to remember despite your training, like the hurricanes Delacroix is vulnerable to.
You were nervous. Bucky knows because you told him as much: when the invite first arrived; last week as you stressed about what to bring to the potluck; and moments earlier, in the car, right before the sole of your boots kissed Sarah Wilsonâs porch.
Pride isnât the only thing he feels when he sees you settle in with one of the older neighbors, chatting easily despite your trepidations. Something else bubbles over when he catches you playing with AJ and Cassâa game of tag, he deduces from afar.
Itâs not a secret that everyone related to Sam Wilson is interested to meet the woman thatâs managed to wrest Bucky fucking Barnes out of his squirmy attachment style. Samâs nephews are a part of that group.
To see them be so comfortable around you sends pangs echoing in Buckyâs ribcage. For someone who doesnât want children, you sure are having a good time. You sure are good with them.
Then, while dessert is served, Sarahâs friend shoves her baby into your arms. You accept, likely to give the mother a chance to breathe, but only to realize someoneâs watching you from across the room.
Itâs Bucky, a dumbstruck look on his face, too soft for the edges of him.
Thatâs what tips him over: the baby gurgling happily as you cradle her, staring up at your face like sheâs hypnotized.
Meanwhile, your eyes meet his, equally ensnared, for reasons entirely void of the innocence of the creature whose cheek youâre touching.
Itâs not innocent because he canât lie to himself about the heat that just took over his chest. Innocence means gullibly walking past this revelation, while the voice in his head that begs him to stop is wisdom.
Wisdom that life is lived in the present.
For all the two of you have spoken about a better future, for all the things you did to make it real, the future is not where you live in.
Itâs now.
The perfect time is a myth crafted by the fearful.
It never arrives, no matter how much you wait for it.
Not three seconds after the keys land in the bowl by the doorway, Bucky drags you to the kitchen counter and bends you over.
The car ride back was devoid of anything but a shared understanding, so clear it didnât need to be voiced. Two people sitting in the dark, watching the road ahead: complete darkness after the high-beam headlights, a perfect metaphor for the kind of life youâre living.
Seeing you today is the final symptom to a thing thatâs consumed him for a while. He doesnât know when or how it started. Not that it matters.
Because now, heâs yanking your underwear down before hiking the skirt of your dress in a grip thatâs sure to crumple the fabric. Because now, he sees how wet you are for him, the glisten of your folds in the dim light.
Because now, he wants to put a baby inside of you.
And he knows you want it too.
âBucky,â your shuddered breath steals his from his very lungs, âput it in.â
That kind of ask would usually earn you a scolding. Heâd take pleasure in clicking his tongue and calling you impatientââNeed to make this pussy cum first, sweetheartââbefore ruining you with his hands or his mouth or both. Then, as if everything wasnât part of his grand plan of making you lose your mind, heâd tease you for being so easy and so sensitive when he finally put his cock in you.
Tonight, however.
Tonight, he unbuckles his belt and presses his chest against your back, pinning you on the stone counter. One hand reaches up your front, groping your tit.
The other guides himself in.
His thick head prods your hole before pushing past it. You swallow.
Then he rams himself in, rocking your body forward.
âFuck,â he moans.
Thereâs no build-up. No need for one when youâre already so wet.
His hips begin to fuck into you, and you scream at the pace. The mess between your legs punctuates each snap with a sound. The air is quickly tainted with sin: he feels you all around him, smells you, takes you with the same desperation thatâs taking over him. Youâre more than a territory to claim, more than a thing to ownâbecause while sinking his cock into your cunt, his body is not the only thing he gives.
Every drag out makes you whimper. Every thrust in steals a grunt from his throat.
You cry out when his blunt tip scrapes at a spot he knows all too well. He moves like heâs fusing himself with you, chasing a high so familiar he can almost taste.
Bucky remembers the first time he came inside of you with startling clarity. The memory replays in his head often, like a favorite movie.
It was a relief. A glorious one that had him burying his face in your neck, arms on the sides of your head, babbling nonsense like âyou feel so good, so fucking good, baby, fu-u-ck,â while his cock shoots rope after rope of hot cum inside of you.
He watched it trickle out after. Fed it back into your cunt with two fingers, then tasted himself mixed with you, getting him hard again. His back was red the next day, marred with drag paths from your nails.
It used to be such a relief whenever he came inside. Heâs everything you wanted, thatâs what youâd moan at him, that beautiful, slurred out âfuck, Bucky, please cum inside me, want everything,â and he wanted you back, just as much.
He wants you all the timeânot just while heâs like this, so far up in you heâs sure can feel him in your guts, your lungs, your throat, caging you on the counter with his arms, his eyes boring into your body almost as deep as his cock is. Why would he not want to fill you up, stuff you full, paint your inner thighs sticky with him?
Tonight, however, thereâs a feeling that bothers him, souring what was otherwise an addiction.
Tonight, it doesnât feel as good.
Because he knows it wonât take.
The pills the two of you used to be grateful for, now a source of a strange ireâbecause he has every part of him spilled into you, yet never to stay.
And now he wants every part of him to stay. To grow. To be in you.
âYou want it? Want your Bucky to fill you up?â he husks in your ear, hungry for any indication that you want the same thing.
Your voice forms a pathetic moan in response, but your walls clutch him like velvet greed, and the answer is clear.
Still, he isnât satisfied.
âSay it, pretty.â
âWant you,â you choke in-between thrusts.
âWant me to what?â he chases.
His thrusts grow wild the moment you clench tighter around him, squirming under his chest while a moan is dragged out of you, long and weak and shaking to the beat of his thick cock, whose angry veins you can feel as he pounds into your pussy, painting his shaft with your slick that makes him dizzy at the glistening sight.
Your toes are off the floor. Thereâs nothing grounding you now except for him.
âWant you toâghâfill me up!â
He grunts. âOh, Iâm going to. Tell me what itâs like when I stuff you full, sweetheart.â
âItâs so much, so t-thickââ
He canât think, so he spits out next to your ear.
âGonna make you a mom, you want that?â
Thereâs no room for repulsion or fear. The silence in the car is confirmed through another whine out your lips, one that says yes, garbled and quiet enough for him to demand clarity.
âLouder for me. Want me to make you a mommy, sweetheart?â
âYesâ!â
âGood girl, good fucking girl,â Bucky rasps, but your permission hits his head with chemicals so potent he starts seeing things. Things like a home in the middle of nowhere, maybe a tire swing, and blue plaid tablecloths dirtied by clumsy little handsâ
The image loosens his lips and hardens his cock.
âGonna fuck you so hard your pills stop working,â he murmurs above filthy squelchesâGod, you feel so fucking good, heâd be a fool to stop fucking you even when youâre pregnantââfill you up over and over, make your pretty little womb drink so much of my cum, she has no choice but to fucking take itââ
You let out a cry, spasming and twitching into an orgasm that triggers his.
He cums with a roar of your name, eyes rolled back while his cock plugs itself deep in you, pumping you full.
Sweat drips down heated skin. The air begins to thin. Breaths are caught.
In the haze after, Buckyâs errant mind smears shadows of an ending.
A time when he wonât get to hold you this way, or the other way around. An end thatâs brought not just by the cruel nature of your jobs, but by the mandate of life itself.
Something clicks then. Something holy.
Itâs a countdown.
Time is running out: this is the fightless fight, a battleground he canât win. There is no weapon to slow it down, no grapple to contain it. Its sands fall with surety. Every minute is a past life, every moment with you is a thing to live and let live, the way breathing means inhaling and letting air go.
Now, in this kitchen, you underneath him with your hair all messy as you twist to look back at him, he learns something new.
He pulls you up, saying it wordless to you with a kiss. You kiss him back, let his hands lift and move you until youâre seated on the counter in front of him, his body between your legs. He traces your sides and expanses, touching all over your body like his palm lines need to memorize you; and all he can think of at the plush of your lips are the regrets heâd live with when he canât kiss you anymore.
When youâre gone.
Itâs a when, not an if.
Regrets are fruits rotten from seasons of waiting. Waiting means that one day heâll blink, and the home he wants to build with you isnât there. Because he never built it. Because the two of you chose not to. To be safe.
Funny how that works: sometimes doom grows from the roots of safety.
His stomach sinks, but the heat in him signals the opposite of despair.
The only way to fight timeâs passing is to cherish it. Cherish you.
His forehead touches yours when the kiss ends, eyes staring softly. Breaths tangle.
You donât need to search. The thought is so plain on his face, but hearing him voice it brings relief all the same:
âCan we try?â
you made it till the end. itâs probably buns. but hey i was going to kill one of them off yet i did not so! woo hoo!
divider by the lovely and talented @barnesonly đ
Summary:
Steve really should have made sure Bucky locked the briefing room door.
Authorâs Note:
written for @i-gotta-go-so-much-biggerâs request for my 1k celebration! hope you like it đŤśđź
You glanced between the two men sitting on either side of you. âYou two are terrible at subtlety.â
Steveâs hand stopped halfway through its slow path up your thigh. On your other side, Bucky lifted his beer to his mouth with such practiced innocence that you nearly laughed. Heâd been watching Steveâs hand for the last ten minutes, so the act wasnât particularly convincing, especially when the corner of his mouth twitched as Steve reluctantly moved his palm back toward your knee.
âI donât know what youâre talking about,â Bucky said.
You looked around the common room before answering. Sam had taken over the opposite couch, one ankle propped across his knee while he argued with Natasha about something on the TV. Clint was stretched across an armchair with his phone held above his face, and Bruce had disappeared toward the kitchen a few minutes ago. Nobody seemed to be paying attention to the three of you tucked along the end of the sectional.
That didnât mean nobody had noticed.
âYouâve been staring at Steveâs hand for the last ten minutes.â
Bucky tipped his bottle toward Steve. âWas staring at him.â
You turned to Steve, eyebrows raised. âReally?â
Steve sighed. âDonât drag me into this.â
Buckyâs grin widened, and Steve slowly turned his head toward him. âBuck.â
There was enough warning packed into his name that Bucky finally abandoned the innocent expression. His grin flashed instead, bright and shameless, while Steve sighed through his nose as if he hadnât willingly spent most of the evening sitting close enough that your legs remained pressed together.
You rested your head against Steveâs shoulder. âYouâre both impossible.â
His hand returned to your thigh almost immediately, and of course Bucky noticed. His gaze dropped to where Steveâs palm rested before lifting to yours.
âWe could always go somewhere else.â
Steve didnât even look at him. âDonât.â
âYou donât know what I was gonna say.â
âI know exactly what you were going to say.â
âThen I donât gotta say it.â
âGreat.â
Bucky leaned forward, forearms braced against his knees. âSo weâre going?â
Steveâs fingers tightened against your leg, and you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.
His head turned toward you. âDonât encourage him.â
âI havenât said anything.â
âYouâre thinking very loudly.â
âThat sounds like a you problem, Captain.â
Something changed in Steveâs expression, subtle enough that nobody across the room would have noticed but obvious to you. His eyes narrowed slightly as his thumb dragged once over the fabric covering your thigh, earning a quiet hum from Bucky.
Steve glanced past you at him. âYouâre not helping.â
âWasnât trying to.â
That probably should have been the end of it, but ten minutes later you were following Bucky down the hallway while Steve walked behind you, muttering about both of you having absolutely no sense of self-preservation.
âYouâre still coming,â you pointed out.
âThatâs because I know what happens when I leave you two unsupervised.â
Bucky glanced over his shoulder. âUsually something fun.â
âUsually something expensive.â
âThe kitchen table was already loose.â
âIt was six months old.â
âCheap construction.â
Steve stared at the back of Buckyâs head. âTony had it custom made.â
âThat was his first mistake.â
You covered your mouth, but your laugh escaped anyway. Steve caught your wrist and pulled your hand down, the sternness he was attempting lasting only until you smiled at him.
âThere,â Bucky said. âKnew you werenât actually mad.â
âI can change that.â
âYouâve been threatening me with that since 1938.â
âAnd one day youâre gonna learn.â
âHasnât happened yet.â
Bucky stopped outside one of the smaller briefing rooms on the training level and opened the door.
You peered inside. âHere?â
âItâs empty.â
âSo is our bedroom.â
âOur bedroomâs three floors away.â
Steve folded his arms. âThat is not a compelling argument.â
Bucky stepped through the doorway. âThen go upstairs.â
Steve remained in the hall while you backed into the room, his gaze following you the entire way. Bucky lingered beside the open door with an increasingly knowing smile as you held out your hand.
Steve stared at it for approximately two seconds before giving in and crossing the threshold.
âThatâs what I thought.â
âDonât start.â
Bucky shut the door behind him.
Steve immediately looked over. âDid you lock it?â
Bucky paused. ââŚProbably.â
âJames.â
âWhat?â
âLock the door.â
âItâs fine, Stevie.â
âThat isnât what I asked.â
Steve looked unconvinced, but youâd already caught the front of his shirt and pulled him toward you.
âItâs fine.â
âIt is absolutely notââ
You kissed him, and whatever Steve had intended to say disappeared against your mouth.
His hands found your waist with an ease born from familiarity, one settling at the small of your back while the other slid along your side. He kissed you carefully at first, as though he still intended to prove he possessed some measure of restraint despite following both of you into an empty briefing room in the middle of the night.
Bucky came up behind you, his mouth brushing beneath your ear, and whatever restraint Steve had been clinging to lasted another few seconds. His grip tightened around your waist, making you smile into the kiss.
Bucky caught the reaction and gave a quiet, satisfied laugh. âKnew thatâd get to you.â
Steve broke away just far enough to glare past you. âYou gonna keep talking?â
âAlways.â
Buckyâs hand settled against your hip, overlapping Steveâs for a moment before continuing lower. The warmth of him pressed along your back while Steve stood in front of you, and being caught between them sent a rush of anticipation through you that neither man missed.
Steveâs gaze dropped to your mouth. âYouâre enjoying this.â
âMaybe.â
Bucky kissed the side of your neck. âShe definitely is.â
Steve glanced at him. âYouâre both enjoying this.â
âNever said I wasnât.â
Steve shook his head, though the faint flush climbing his throat contradicted every bit of disapproval in his expression.
You hooked your fingers into his belt loops and drew him closer. âCaptain America making out in a briefing room while half the teamâs still downstairs.â
His eyes lifted to yours.
Bucky made a quiet sound behind you that was suspiciously close to laughter.
You smiled. âWhat would people say?â
Steveâs hand slid to the back of your neck. âKeep talking.â
The low warning in his voice sent heat curling through you.
Bucky laughed outright. âJesus, Stevie.â
âYou wanted me to loosen up.â
âDidnât say I was complaining.â
Steve kissed you again before Bucky could add anything else, and the teasing quickly stopped feeling quite so funny.
The edge of the conference table bumped the backs of your thighs. Steve followed when you leaned against it, his body fitting between your knees as Bucky stayed beside you, one hand moving slowly along your waist.
âYou know,â Bucky said, âthis is usually where they talk about mission parameters.â
Steve kissed along your jaw. âIgnore him.â
âOperational objectives.â
âBuck.â
âThreat assessment.â
You laughed, and Steve caught your chin between his fingers. âYouâre encouraging him again.â
âI canât help that heâs funny.â
âHeâs not.â
Bucky looked offended. âThatâs hurtful.â
Steveâs thumb brushed across your lower lip. âYou wanna keep laughing?â
The question changed your breathing enough that his expression sharpened immediately.
Bucky saw it too. âThink she wants you to do something about it.â
Steve turned his head. âYou have a lot to say for somebody standing over there.â
Buckyâs eyebrows lifted, and you immediately understood Steveâs mistake. âThen invite me over.â
Steve looked back at you and found you fighting a smile. âI hate both of you.â
âLiar.â
Bucky stepped closer.
His mouth found your neck again while Steve kissed you, the two of them crowding you against the conference table until there was nowhere to move that didnât bring you into contact with one of them. Buckyâs touch wandered with considerably less restraint than Steveâs, and every small reaction it drew from you seemed to encourage him.
Steve finally broke the kiss when your breathing became uneven. âBuck.â
âWhat?â
âYouâre doing that on purpose.â
âDoing what?â
Steve gave him a look.
Bucky smiled against your neck. âShe hasnât complained.â
âIâm right here,â you reminded them.
âThatâs the problem,â Steve muttered.
You laughed, and Bucky covered your mouth with his hand before the sound could carry beyond the room.
Steve stared at him. âReally?â
âShe was getting loud.â
âYouâre the one making her loud.â
Buckyâs mouth twitched. âWasnât just laughing.â
Your eyes widened while Steve gave him another look, and you retaliated by biting lightly at the heel of Buckyâs hand. He pulled it away. âHey.â
âThatâs what you get.â
âFor trying to save us?â
âFrom a problem you created?â
Steve laughed against your shoulder, and Bucky immediately pointed at him. âYouâre involved too.â
âIâm aware.â
âYouâre more involved than I am right now.â
Steve lifted his head, and the look he gave Bucky sent another rush of anticipation through you.
Bucky saw it too. âGo ahead, punk.â
Steveâs jaw tightened as you ran your hands over his shoulders. âHeâs baiting you.â
âI know.â
âYou still look like youâre considering it.â
âI am.â
Bucky leaned a hip against the table beside you. âKnew he was smart.â
Whatever happened to Steveâs patience after that was entirely Buckyâs fault.
At least, that was what Steve would insist later.
Buckyâs shirt ended up on the floor first. Your impatient fingers worked several of Steveâs buttons free, leaving his shirt hanging open as the three of you shifted around the conference table with increasingly little concern for the purpose it had actually been designed to serve.
Bucky got you to himself first.
Steve remained close enough that you could reach him, one hand resting at the back of your neck while Bucky pressed against you from behind. His mouth returned to the spot beneath your ear heâd been tormenting since you entered the room, but this time his hand didnât stop at your waist. He slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers dragging slowly through the wetness already gathered between your thighs.
Your breath caught.
Bucky smiled against your neck. âThought so.â
âDonât start,â Steve warned.
âI didnât say anything.â
âYou were about to.â
Bucky ignored him and slid two fingers through you again, deliberately avoiding your clit until you shifted impatiently against his hand. He laughed softly when you tried to guide him where you wanted him.
âYouâve been teasing us all night, sweetheart. You can wait a second.â
You turned your head enough to glare at him. âYouâre the one who suggested leaving.â
âYeah, and look how well that worked out for me.â
His fingers finally circled your clit, and whatever comeback youâd been preparing disappeared beneath the sudden rush of pleasure. Your head tipped back against his shoulder while Steve watched the change in your face, his thumb moving slowly along the side of your neck.
His fingers slid lower before pressing inside you, and your hand tightened around Steveâs open shirt. Bucky worked them deeper with patient strokes, curling them until your hips shifted back against him without conscious thought.
âThere,â Bucky murmured. âThatâs what you wanted.â
Steveâs gaze darkened. âBuck.â
âWhat?â
âYouâre doing that on purpose.â
âObviously.â
You laughed breathlessly and reached behind you, finding the hard length of Buckyâs cock through his pants. Whatever smart remark Bucky had been about to make died when your fingers closed around him.
The corner of Steveâs mouth lifted at Buckyâs reaction. âStill wanna talk?â
âFuck you,â Bucky muttered.
You squeezed him again.
Steveâs smile widened. âThatâs what I thought.â
Bucky retaliated by pulling his fingers from you and catching your hips. He drew you back from Steve just long enough to turn you toward the conference table, then followed as you braced your hands against the polished surface. Bucky stepped in behind you again, pushing your pants and underwear farther down your thighs.
The cool table beneath your palms was a sharp contrast to the heat of Bucky behind you.
Steve moved around to your front. You looked up at him as Bucky freed himself behind you, and Steveâs hand settled beneath your jaw. âYou good?â
âYeah.â
Bucky dragged the head of his cock through your wetness once, twice, deliberately taking his time.
You pushed back against him.
He caught your hip. âImpatient.â
âYou made me wait.â
âThat was about thirty seconds.â
âFelt longer.â
Steveâs mouth twitched. âSheâs got a point.â
âThought you were on my side.â
âIâm on hers.â
âTraitor.â
Bucky lined himself up and pushed slowly into you.
The stretch stole the next breath from your lungs. Your fingers tightened against the edge of the table while he worked himself deeper, stopping only when your body tensed around him.
Steve brushed his thumb along your jaw. âEasy.â
Bucky went still behind you. You took another breath and relaxed around him before pushing your hips back enough to take the rest.
A groan broke from Bucky. âJesus.â
Steveâs gaze flicked over you toward him. âYou alright back there?â
âShut up.â
âYou were talking plenty a minute ago.â
Bucky tightened his grip around your hips and pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back into you.
The sound you made cut Steveâs teasing short. His eyes returned to yours.
Bucky did it again, slower this time, letting you feel every inch before his hips met yours.
âFuck,â you breathed.
âYeah?â Buckyâs voice had already roughened. âThat better?â
You pushed back against him.
He groaned.
Steve slid one hand into your hair, not pulling, only gathering enough of it away from your face that he could see you properly. âAnswer him.â
âYeah.â
Bucky laughed once, breathlessly. âKnew it.â
Then he started fucking you in earnest. His first few thrusts stayed measured, giving you time to adjust before his rhythm gradually quickened. Each one pushed you forward against the table until Steve braced a hand against your shoulder, keeping you from sliding farther across the polished surface.
Buckyâs fingers dug into your hips. âYou feel fucking incredible.â
Steveâs eyebrows rose.
Bucky caught it. âWhat?â
âNothing.â
âSay it.â
Steve looked at you instead. âHe gets chatty when heâs enjoying himself.â
Buckyâs next thrust drove deeper, and your mouth fell open on a moan.
Steve immediately leaned down and kissed you. You clutched at the front of his shirt while Bucky kept moving behind you, Steve swallowing each increasingly helpless sound as Buckyâs pace picked up. The table shifted faintly beneath the force of his thrusts.
Buckyâs hand slipped around your hip and between your thighs.
You broke away from Steveâs mouth with a gasp when his fingers found your clit. âBuckââ
âGot you.â
His fingers moved in tight circles while he fucked you, the double stimulation sending pleasure building rapidly through your stomach. Your legs started to tremble.
Steve felt it where his hand rested against you. âClose?â
You nodded.
Bucky made a satisfied sound behind you. âCan feel it.â
Buckyâs thrusts grew harder, his fingers maintaining the same steady pressure even as the movement of his hips grew increasingly uneven. You buried your face against Steveâs shoulder to muffle yourself, biting lightly through the fabric of his shirt when Bucky hit the angle that made your whole body tighten.
âRight there,â you gasped.
Bucky didnât need the instruction twice. He kept the same angle, fucking you through the tension gathering low in your stomach until your thighs started shaking harder.
Steveâs hand moved along your back. âCome on.â
The quiet command pushed you over. Your orgasm broke through you in a sudden rush, your body clenching around Bucky as a broken moan disappeared against Steveâs shoulder.
Bucky swore, his rhythm faltering immediately. âFuck, sweetheart.â
He kept moving through the contractions, thrusts turning rougher and less controlled while his grip tightened around your hip. Your oversensitive body twitched beneath his fingers until he finally pulled his hand away from your clit.
Bucky lasted only a few more thrusts. He buried himself deep with a low groan and came inside you, his chest pressing over your back as his hips gave a final uneven jerk.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Buckyâs breathing was hot against your shoulder.
Steve ran one hand slowly along your back. âYou alive?â
Bucky lifted his head just enough to glare at him. âAsk me again in a minute.â
You laughed weakly.
Bucky kissed your shoulder before gradually straightening. When he finally pulled out, the movement drew a soft sound from you, his come already beginning to slip between your thighs.
Steveâs gaze dropped to the mess slipping between your thighs before lifting slowly to Bucky. âDone?â
Bucky tucked himself back into his pants, still breathing harder than usual. âYour turn, punk.â
Steveâs attention returned to you as Bucky stepped away.
You pushed yourself upright from the table while Steve came around to your side. He caught your hips once he reached you, helping you turn before lifting you onto the edge of the conference table. Your pants and underwear were still bunched around your thighs, and you shoved them down far enough to slip one leg free before parting your thighs for him.
Steve stepped between them. You barely had time to smile before he leaned in and kissed you.
Bucky leaned against the table beside you, shirtless and wearing the smug expression of a man who had absolutely no intention of becoming less annoying now that heâd gotten what he wanted.
Steve kissed you while his hands traveled slowly down your sides. His touch was different from Buckyâs, less hurried even with the impatience you could feel beneath it. He let one hand slide between your thighs, and his mouth stilled against yours when his fingers encountered the mess Bucky had left behind.
His eyes opened.
Bucky grinned. âProblem?â
Steve looked at him. âDonât.â
âI didnât say anything.â
âYou were about to.â
Bucky lifted both hands, but the grin remained.
Steve turned back to you. His fingers dragged through Buckyâs come before sliding upward to your clit, and your thighs twitched around his hips. âYou okay?â
âMore than okay.â
âYou sensitive?â
âA little.â
His thumb moved carefully over your clit.
You sucked in a breath.
Steve watched your face. âToo much?â
âNo.â
Bucky leaned closer. âSheâd tell you if it was.â
Steve gave him a sidelong look. âI know.â
âJust helping.â
âYouâve done enough helping.â
âDisagree.â
Steve ignored him and pushed two fingers inside you, curling them against the sensitive spot that made your head tip back and your legs tighten around him. His thumb settled over your clit as he worked you through the slick mess Bucky had left behind.
âSteve.â
âI know.â
He kissed you again, fingers continuing their slow rhythm until your hips started rocking against his hand.
Bucky watched from beside you. âYou know she was doing that with me too.â
Steveâs mouth left yours. âYou trying to start something?â
âMaybe.â
âYou already got your turn.â
Buckyâs grin widened. âDoesnât mean I canât appreciate yours.â
Steve pulled his fingers from you.
Buckyâs eyes dropped. âJesus.â
Steve looked down too, something darker settling into his expression at the sight of his fingers slick with both your arousal and what Bucky had left inside you.
Both men went still as you caught Steveâs wrist before he could move away and brought his fingers to your mouth, sucking them clean.
âFuck,â Bucky said quietly.
Steveâs gaze stayed locked on your mouth until you released him.
Then he caught your jaw and kissed you hard. You reached between you, working open his pants while he crowded closer. Steve helped just enough to free himself before his hand returned to your waist.
The head of his cock dragged through the wetness between your thighs. Steve looked at you. âReady?â
âYeah.â
He pushed inside. You were already stretched and slick from Bucky, but Steve still took his time, working himself deeper inch by inch while his forehead rested against yours. Your legs tightened around his hips as he filled you, the lingering sensitivity from your first orgasm making every inch feel more intense.
Steve stopped when he was fully inside. âYou good?â
You nodded. âMove.â
Bucky laughed softly beside you. âThink that means sheâs good.â
Steve didnât look away from you. âNobody asked you.â
His first thrust was slow, but the second went deeper, making you wrap your legs more securely around his waist and pulling him closer.
Steve exhaled sharply against your mouth. âThis what you wanted?â
âYes.â
His hand tightened around your hip.
âThen hold on.â
Steve kept that measured rhythm longer than Bucky had, dragging his cock almost all the way out before filling you again. Each thrust dragged through the slick mess Bucky had left between your thighs before pushing it back inside you.
Buckyâs gaze dropped. âFuck, Stevie.â
Steveâs jaw tightened. âWhat?â
âNothing.â
âYouâve never said ânothingâ like that in your life.â
Bucky laughed.
Steve thrust harder. The sudden force drove a moan from you and made the table shift beneath your weight.
Buckyâs eyebrows rose. âThere you go.â
âStop encouraging him,â you breathed.
Bucky looked delighted. âThought that was your job.â
Steve answered with another harder thrust. Your fingers tightened around his shoulders.
His expression changed when he felt you clench. âYou like that?â
You nodded.
âUse your words.â
âYes.â
Bucky made an approving sound.
Steve glanced at him. âI swearââ
You pulled Steve back toward you before he could finish the threat. âPay attention.â
His eyes returned to yours. âBossy.â
âYou like it.â
Steveâs mouth curved. âMaybe.â
He kissed you and picked up his pace.
This time he stopped holding back. His hips drove into you with enough force that you had to brace one hand behind yourself against the table while the other stayed wrapped around his shoulder. Steve caught your thigh and lifted it higher against his side, changing the angle until his next thrust hit deep enough to tear a gasp from you.
He felt the reaction immediately. âThere?â
You swallowed. âAgain.â
Steve obliged; the next thrust struck the same spot.
Your head tipped back. âFuck.â
Bucky shifted closer.
Steve noticed his hand moving toward you. âThought you were done.â
âI am.â
âThen why are you touching her?â
Bucky slid his palm along the inside of your thigh. âFinishing doesnât mean Iâm done with her.â
His fingers reached your clit, making your breath break.
Steveâs hips stuttered for a fraction of a second.
Bucky smiled. âProblem?â
âYouâre enjoying this way too much.â
âYeah.â
Steve drove into you again while Bucky circled your clit, and the combined sensation made your legs tighten around him.
Bucky watched your face. âSheâs still sensitive.â
Steveâs breathing had grown rougher. âI noticed.â
âThen fuck her like it.â
Steve looked at him. Bucky grinned.
You barely had time to inhale before Steve drove into you harder, then did it again.
Your grip tightened around his shoulders while Bucky kept his fingers moving between your bodies, Steveâs rhythm steadily losing the last of its caution.
The conference table shifted beneath you again. âSteve.â
His mouth brushed your jaw. âIâve got you.â
Footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Steve stopped so suddenly that your breath caught for an entirely different reason.
Bucky pulled his hand away immediately.
âSomeoneâs coming,â Steve whispered.
The three of you went silent.
Steve remained buried fully inside you, one hand gripping your waist and the other braced against the conference table. You could feel every small twitch of Steveâs body as the footsteps drew closer. Whoever was outside paused near the briefing room for one agonizing moment and continued down the hall.
Nobody moved until the sound faded down the hallway. Bucky dropped his forehead against your shoulder and started laughing.
Steve stared at him. âThis isnât funny.â
âYou shouldâve seen your face.â
âMy face?â
âBoth your faces.â
Steve looked at you, apparently expecting support. You pressed your lips together.
His eyes narrowed. âDonât.â
âYouâre still inside me.â
Bucky made a strangled sound and folded farther over your shoulder, laughing hard enough that you could feel it.
Steve closed his eyes. âChrist.â
âYou said it wasnât funny.â
âIt isnât.â
Bucky managed to straighten. âSure about that, Stevie?â
Steve looked toward the door.
For a moment, you genuinely thought he might finally pull out and insist on going upstairs.
Instead, his hand tightened around your hip.
âSo weâre not stopping,â Bucky said.
Steve glared at him. âYouâve talked enough.â
âThatâs a no, then.â
Steve kissed you before either of you could say anything else.
His first thrust after the interruption was harder than anything heâd given you before it.
You gasped against his mouth.
The second drove you backward against the table.
Buckyâs laughter abruptly stopped. âFuck.â
Steve ignored him. Whatever the near miss had done to Steve, embarrassment clearly wasnât the only result. His careful rhythm was gone, replaced by hard, deliberate thrusts that made the table shake beneath you.
Your fingers dug into his shoulders. âSteve.â
âStill good?â
âYeah.â
His hand slid beneath your thigh and lifted it higher. âThen take it.â
The words sent heat rushing through you.
Bucky swore softly beside you. Steve heard him. A faint, almost smug curve touched his mouth.
Bucky stared. âOh, now youâre showing off.â
Steve shot him a look. âYou wanted me to loosen up.â
Buckyâs grin widened. âDidnât think youâd take it this far.â
Steve answered by thrusting harder. You moaned.
Bucky immediately reached between you again. His fingers found your clit, and your whole body jolted.
Steve looked down. âReally?â
âShe liked it before.â
âSheâs already having trouble staying quiet.â
âSounds like motivation.â
Bucky circled your clit again, making your head fall back.
Steve caught your jaw and brought your attention back to him. âLook at me.â
You did.
âThatâs it.â His voice had gone low and rough, every remaining trace of embarrassment replaced with something far more possessive.
âCareful, Stevie. You sound like youâre enjoying this.â
Steve drove into you hard enough to steal your breath.
Bucky smiled. âGuess so.â
âYou want me to shut you up myself?â
âWhile youâre busy?â
You laughed breathlessly. âHe has a point.â
Steve looked at you. âYouâre supposed to be on my side.â
âIâm between both of you. I donât have a side.â
Buckyâs fingers pressed more firmly against your clit. âThatâs my girl.â
Steveâs hand tightened around your jaw. âHis girl?â
Bucky laughed. âOh, now you care?â
Something changed in Steveâs expression. His pace picked up.
The amusement disappeared from your face almost immediately as pleasure began building again, sharper this time because your body had never fully come down from Bucky.
âSteve.â
âI know.â
His hand left your jaw and wrapped around your waist, holding you securely at the edge of the table while he fucked you harder. Bucky kept his fingers moving against your clit, matching Steveâs rhythm until you could feel another orgasm gathering rapidly.
Then the access panel beside the door chirped.
Everything stopped.
Steveâs eyes snapped toward the sound.
Bucky jerked his hand away. âShit.â
The mechanism clicked.
Steve barely had time to stop moving before the door opened.
Natasha Romanoff stepped inside.
Nobody spoke.
Her gaze landed on Bucky first. His shirt was the only piece of clothing any of you had actually removed, and his pants were fastened again after his earlier turn. Then she looked at you, still wearing everything youâd entered the room in, though your pants and underwear were pushed down with one leg slipped free to give Steve access, your legs wrapped around his hips where he stood between them.
Finally, she looked at Steve. His shirt hung open where youâd undone several buttons, and his pants had only been opened and pushed down far enough for him to fuck you.
He was still inside you.
Steve seemed to realize at approximately the same moment Natasha did that there was no disguising exactly what sheâd walked in on. Steve immediately shifted closer, using his body to shield the exposed space between your thighs from view. Bucky, apparently incapable of experiencing shame in any useful quantity, leaned one hip against the table.
âHey, Nat.â
She looked at him. âBarnes.â
Steve closed his eyes briefly.
âThe door locks from the inside,â Natasha said.
Bucky slowly looked toward the door before turning back to Steve. âKnew I forgot something.â
Steve dropped his forehead against yours. You covered your face with both hands.
Natasha continued into the room.
Steve looked up in horror. âWhat are you doing?â
âGetting my tablet.â
Her tablet sat at the opposite end of the conference table. Natasha walked toward it with the composure of someone entering an entirely ordinary briefing room instead of one containing three teammates very obviously interrupted in the middle of sex.
Steve still hadnât pulled out. At that point, doing so probably would have exposed even more of you to Natasha.
Bucky seemed to arrive at the same conclusion, because his mouth twitched.
Steve caught it. Do not, he mouthed.
I didnât say anything, Bucky mouthed back.
Natasha picked up the tablet and tucked it beneath her arm. Her gaze moved from Steve to Bucky and finally to you. âSam owes me twenty dollars.â
Your hands dropped from your face. âWhat?â
Steve looked genuinely alarmed. âWhy?â
âYou donât want to know.â
âNat.â
She turned toward the door.
âNatasha.â
âGoodnight, Steve.â
âNatasha.â
The door closed behind her. Bucky crossed the room and turned the lock before anyone said a word.
Steve stared at him.
âWhat?â Bucky said. âBetter late than never.â
You laughed.
Steve looked at you in disbelief, which only made it harder to stop laughing. Bucky leaned back against the locked door, shoulders shaking.
âDonât,â Steve warned.
âIâm sorry.â
âYouâre not.â
âNo,â Bucky admitted. âIâm really not.â
Steve looked down between your bodies before closing his eyes.
âYouâre still inside me,â you reminded him.
Bucky laughed harder.
Steve pointed toward him without turning around. âOne more sound.â
Bucky pressed his lips together. The silence lasted perhaps two seconds. âSam owes her twenty dollars.â
Steveâs head snapped toward him. âBuck.â
âWhat do you think the bet was?â
âI donât want to know.â
âThey already had money on this.â
âI heard her.â
âWhich meansââ
âJames.â
Bucky finally raised both hands.
Steve turned back to you. The embarrassment was still written clearly across his face, but Natashaâs interruption hadnât changed the fact that he was still hard inside you.
You shifted your hips experimentally.
Steve inhaled sharply as his eyes narrowed. âDonât.â
âDonât what?â
âYou know exactly what youâre doing.â
Bucky made a thoughtful sound from beside the door.
Steve didnât even look at him. âNot a word.â
Bucky mimed zipping his mouth.
You bit back a smile.
Steve glanced toward the locked door and then back at you. âYou still want to keep going?â
âYeah.â
His shoulders relaxed. âOkay.â
You caught his open shirt and pulled him down into a kiss.
Steve started moving again slowly, both of you acutely aware of the absurdity of resuming exactly where Natasha had interrupted you. His first thrust was almost cautious. The second wasnât. By the third, whatever embarrassment had survived her departure was rapidly turning into something else.
You tightened your legs around him. Steve groaned against your mouth.
Bucky came back to your side and reached between your thighs again, earning a warning look from Steve.
Bucky shrugged. âDoorâs locked.â
Steve stared at him, but then his expression changed. âFine.â
Buckyâs eyebrows rose. âFine?â
âYou wanted to help.â Steve drove into you again. âHelp.â
The satisfaction on Buckyâs face should have been irritating, but then his fingers found your clit as Steve fucked you harder.
Your breath caught immediately.
âThere you go,â Steve murmured.
His voice had lost every trace of the mortification Natasha had left behind.
Bucky matched the movement of his fingers to Steveâs thrusts, and the pressure building low in your stomach sharpened so quickly that your hand flew to Steveâs shoulder.
âSteve.â
âIâve got you.â
Bucky leaned close to your ear. âYou were close before she walked in.â
You whimpered, and Steveâs grip tightened around you as Bucky smiled against your temple. âKnew it.â
âBuck.â
âWhat? Iâm helping.â
His fingers moved faster as Steve drove into you again, the combination making your whole body tighten.
âThatâs it,â Steve murmured. âCome on.â
The orgasm broke through you hard enough that your legs locked around his hips. You buried your face against Steveâs shoulder, muffling your cry against his skin while Bucky kept rubbing your clit through every wave.
Steveâs rhythm faltered as you clenched around him. âFuck.â
He held you securely against him, fucking you through the aftershocks until your hand dropped to catch Buckyâs wrist. âEnough.â
Bucky stopped immediately and kissed your temple, but Steve was already too close to stop. His forehead pressed against yours as his thrusts shortened and steadily lost their rhythm. âStill okay?â
âYeah.â
His eyes closed.
You tightened your legs around him. âCome inside me.â
Bucky went very quiet beside you.
Steve made a broken sound and buried himself as deeply as he could. His grip tightened around your waist when he came, filling you while his forehead dropped to your shoulder. You held him there as the last tension gradually left his body.
For several seconds, the room was finally quiet.
Then Bucky looked down between your bodies.
Steve saw him. âDonât.â
Bucky lifted his eyes. âDidnât say anything.â
âYou were going to.â
âI was gonna say the doorâs definitely locked.â
Steve finally eased out of you as you laughed against his shoulder, keeping one hand at your waist as Bucky grinned and bent to retrieve his shirt from the floor.
âSee? Helpful.â
Steve reached past your hip, grabbed the nearest pen from the conference table, and threw it at him.
Bucky straightened with his shirt in one hand just in time to catch the pen against his chest.
âViolence,â he said solemnly. âAfter everything weâve been through.â
âYou forgot to lock the door.â
âOne mistake.â
âNatasha walked in while I was fucking her.â
Bucky considered that. âOkay. Pretty big mistake.â
You laughed harder, and Steve finally gave up trying to look annoyed. His forehead settled against your shoulder while Bucky pulled his shirt back on.
For once, Bucky managed nearly ten seconds without saying anything.
Then he glanced toward the locked door. âSo, important question.â
Steve groaned. âWhat?â
âThink Samâs gonna ask her for proof?â
Steve found another pen before Bucky finished laughing and threw it, catching him squarely in the forehead.
ËââŽâËŕż DO I WANNA KNOW? ~ Bucky Barnes x readerËââŽâËŕż
texts between you, the Avenger newest recruit, and the Winter Soldier
enemies to lovers, slow burn, multi-part
note: y/n was a black widow in the red room before she joined the team!
May 29th
8:06 am
You: where are you??
WS: At the mission.
You: ????
You: the mission we are supposed to be on together??
WS: I donât need you to come.
You: thatâs not really ur decision tho is it
You: tony paired us up so we have to work together whether you like it or not
WS: Again, I donât need you for this.
You: is that really up to u to decide??
WS: Well Iâve already left, so thereâs no point arguing now.
You: omfg
WS: I donât know what that means.
You: it means ur annoying
WS: I can live with that.
May 29th
8:10 am
You: IM GOING TO KILL HIM
Nat: good morning to you too
You: Nat he is the WORST AVENGER EVER
You: WHO EVEN LET HIM JOIN
Nat: Tony probably
Nat: Iâm assuming ur talking about Bucky?
You: donât say that stupid name to me
You: he totally ditched me we were supposed to do a mission together
Nat: YH I saw him on the jet this morning
You: WHAT A DICK
Nat: calm down babe
You: no he thinks Iâm Ike incompetent and he doesnât even know me
Nat: just breatheeeee
Nat: and tell Tony heâll sort him out
You: ykw ur right
May 29th
7:24 pm
WS: You told Tony?
You: welcome home x
WS: I just got ambushed the second the jet landed.
You: awww poor winter soldier
WS: Didnât take you for a rat.
You: UR the one who left without telling me
You: Iâd call that pretty rat like behaviour
WS: Well, thanks to you, Tony says that for the next month we have to do every mission he assigns to either of us together.
You: WJAT????
You: WHY
WS: Why are you yelling?
WS: He said itâs for team-building purposes.
You: fuck sake
WS: Just donât get in the way.
You: shut up!!!!!!!!
April 1st
6:46am
WS: This mission is a week long.
You: wowww does the super serum make u super smart too??
WS: What the hell do you need all these bags for?
You: its two bags..
WS: Itâs too many bags.
You: the fuck
WS: All you need is clothes, what else could you possibly be taking?
You: none of your business
WS: Whatever.
You: whatever is right
April 3rd
6:45pm
You: can u be careful with those daggers of urs
You: you almost took my eyes out like ten times
WS: Just dodge them?
You: just kys?
WS: đ
April 4th
12:54 pm
WS: What does âwsgâ mean?
You: what
WS: Sam keeps saying it to me and I donât know what it means
You: just google it
WS: Whatâs google?
You: âŚ
You: are u fucking with me
WS: No?
You: you are actually hopeless
April 4th
7:24am
WS: Did you get the files I sent you?
You: no
WS: Fuck me.
You: no thanks Iâm not interested x
WS: Shut up.
You: rude
You: can u send them or what
WS: I canât.
WS: How do I work Gmail? I donât know how to add the files.
You: yk u donât need to type in perfect grammar over text
You: also who doesnât know how to work gmail??
You: where the hell have you been
WS: On ice.
You: oh
You: right
You: okay to make up for that tasteless comment I will teach you how to use Gmail and then Iâm going to hopefully never speak to you again outside our missions
You: sounds good?
WS: Sounds perfect to me.
April 4th
12:40pm
You: hey so just because I taught u how to email doesnât mean u need to email me every five seconds
You: I donât need to know what you had for dinner
WS: Iâm practising.
You: practise on someone else?
WS: No
You: why??
WS: Itâs funny how annoyed youâre getting.
You: stfu
WS: I donât know what that means.
April 5th
8:34am
You: do u think tony is the group leader of the avengers
WS: What?
WS: Why are you messaging me?
You: because this meeting is soooo boring and bruce is not even looking at us
WS: Okay, what do you want me to do about your boredom?
You: and here i am trying to ease the tension between us
WS: Bruce just told me off for looking at my phone.
You: ha ha ha
April 8th
12:07
WS: Are you nearly here?
You: yh Iâm sorry one second
WS: Whatâs wrong?
You: I canât find my gum đ
You: my ears pop so bad on the plane I need it
WS: Itâs fine.
You: ? no itâs not fine I need it
WS: No, I mean I have some in my bag.
You: you do?
WS: I saw you ran out last time we were on the jet so I grabbed some more.
You: oh
You: thank you
WS: No worries.
WS: Just get here.
You: so bossy.. on my way
WS: đ
April 8th
12:11 am
WS: You were right.
WS: I think she liked the gum.
Steve: Iâm always right
Steve: This is step one towards friendship
WS: Letâs not get ahead of ourself here.
WS: I think sheâs gone from hatred to dislike, though. Which is good.
Steve: Itâs very good
Steve: Make sure to invite me to the wedding
WS: Fuck off.
Okay so this is kindaaa short but thatâs because I plan on making it a series!! So thereâll be a few parts
very excited for this⌠Peter Parker black widow and Bucky are THE BEST marvel characters I will hear no arguments to that
I canât believe Iâve had this account for two years and written no marvel fics.. will be changing that now
contents: smut !! established matt murdock x reader but fem!reader fucks frank, voyeurism (matt is present), dub-con (no explicit consent but reader is into it), super brief blood mention, reader cries a little, not set at any timeframe in particular
feedback is appreciated, i've never really written smut before đ and thank you for reading!
a heavy thud on the fire escape was nothing new since living with matt. you barely flinched at the sound anymore, knowing that it's usually just him climbing in the window after taking one too many hits throughout the night. you hear the window open and close, not paying mind to the quiet grunts from the living room. "matt just needs me to play nurse for a little bit, then i can get him into bed," you think. easy peasy.
stepping out of the bedroom in your pajamas, you gasp at the sight of matt slumped in one of your kitchen chairs. a man that you've come to hear a lot about stands next to him, hungry gaze eating you up with a stern look on his face. "wow...you're coming home to a treat every night and you don't even know it," he scoffs to matt.
"are you okay?" your voice is tight and quiet as you talk to matt, keeping your eyes on frank the whole time. a crack in matt's helmet and blood on his temple catch your eye. "you're...you're bleeding."
"he's fine, doll, but i don't think he's in any condition to take care of you tonight," he shakes his head, walking closer. "and that's such a waste when you're in this cute little number," he hooks a finger in the neckline of your top, pulling it forward to peek inside. the lace bra does just enough to hide the sight of your nipples, but not enough to hide how stiff they are from the attention.
"does he really deserve all this?" he teases as he turns back to matt. "she's got the prettiest color on, y'know...it would really be a shame. you feel like sharin', red?"
it would really be terrifying if the cocky look on his face didn't make you press your thighs together in the little cotton sleep shorts you have on. with the way matt can hear your heartbeat and smell the arousal from you, he can practically read your mind.
"i don't think she'll mind." matt huffs out. "will you, sweetheart?"
now the edge of the kitchen table bites into your hipbones as you take every devastating thrust from frank. you arch in his grasp while your eyes stay on matt where he sits, just listening to every mewl spilling from your lips.
he threw the shreds of what was once your pajama set to the floor, lace underwear pushed off to the side while he's got you bent over. this is sick, this is wrong...but god does it feel good.
"jesus, red...dunno how you leave her alone every night," frank groans, heavy balls slapping against your clit as one hand stings against your ass in a hard slap. "cunt's just pullin' me in like it needs me, you been takin' care of her?" he teases, hands pulling you open to spit down to where the two of you meet.
your hands scramble for purchase against the wooden table, nails biting into your palms with your arms in front of you. it's only when frank grabs your chin and forces you to face forward that you're snapped out of the cock-drunk daze he's put you in.
"you gotta thank him, baby. he was runnin' his mouth out there, 's the only reason i'm puttin' the work in on this pretty pussy," frank growls into your ear, holding your chin to face matt. "go ahead, say it."
"t-thank you- fuck! thank you, m-matt..." you sputter out with tears welling up your vision.
frank lets out a deep laugh, shaking his head. "atta girl, let him hear you," he lets your face go, hands finding your hips. "you keep bein' so good and i'll drag red home every night if this is my reward...maybe i'll even let him join next time."
summary: she was too sweet to forget, so he convinced himself that sweetness had turned sickly with time. Until they he discovers that he never stopped craving the taste.
content warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, use of y/n, smut, slight praise kink, unprotected sex, female receiving oral, pet names (baby), language!
11k+ words
main masterlist
(i wrote at like 3am when I couldnât sleep, I havenât reread it so sorry if it makes literally no sense)
â.Ë âžâ.Ë
I just miss your accent and your friends
Did you know I still talk to them?
Cherry || Harry Styles
â.Ë âžâ.Ë
Bucky hates cherries. The sharp, sticky taste and the sickly smell of them turned his stomach, and Yelena seemed to take an unreasonable amount of pleasure in reminding him of it whenever she got the opportunity.
He watched from the kitchen, the coffee machine whirring in the background, Yelena sat by the window, one leg tucked beneath her as she lazily picked cherries from the punnet balanced on her thigh. Every few seconds she would pop another into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully as she stared out at the city beyond the glass.
He tried to walk past her without comment.
The moment he came level with her, she lifted the punnet towards him, holding the plastic tub up near his face, an innocent little smile as she offered him the fruit.
Bucky recoiled immediately. He ducked away from the offer, his shoulders pulling back and his face twisting as the smell reached him.
Yelena stared at him for a moment before breaking into a delighted laugh.
âWhat are you doing?â she asked, looking at him as though heâd suddenly lost his mind. âIt is a cherry, not a bomb.â
âI just donât like them,â he grunted, already moving away from her.
He dropped into the chair opposite, putting as much distance between himself and the punnet as possible. His coffee was still in his hand, and he lifted it towards his face, taking a long drink as though the bitterness might somehow overpower the lingering memory of sweetness in the air.
Yelena watched him over the edge of the punnet.
Before she could probe further into his fear, the sound of footsteps approached from the hallway. Ava appeared in the doorway with a small collection of letters in her hand. She didnât announce herself or offer any explanation; she simply crossed the room and held one of the envelopes out towards Bucky.
He frowned slightly as he took it.
Ava was already turning away before heâd even had the chance to thank her, disappearing back into the corridor without another word.
Bucky looked down at the envelope in his hand. The handwriting immediately caught his attention.
It was neat and deliberate, written in elegant cursive across the front in black ink.
James Buchanan Barnes.
His thumb traced absently along the edge of the envelope before he opened it.
Yelenaâs attention shifted towards him almost immediately.
Nobody got mail at the Tower. Not personal mail, anyway. There were deliveries, reports, documents and the occasional piece of paperwork Val had decided needed to exist in triplicate, but nobody ever received a handwritten letter addressed to them like that.
She watched Bucky unfold the thick cream card inside.
His eyes moved over the first few lines.
You are cordially invited to celebrate the wedding of Brandi and Carl,
He stopped.
It was subtle enough that somebody who didnât know him might not have noticed. His expression barely changed, but his fingers tightened slightly around the invitation, and something in his posture seemed to draw inward.
He didnât finish reading.
Instead, he carefully folded the card back along its original crease and slipped it into the envelope before placing it face down on the coffee table.
Yelena tilted her head.
âBad news?â
âWedding invitation.â
âWho for?â
Bucky glanced at her.
âOld friends.â
His answer came quickly, almost too quickly, and Yelenaâs eyes narrowed with interest.
She had learned a great deal about Bucky in the time sheâd known him. More than he probably realised. He was not somebody who volunteered information about himself, and the more he wanted a subject left alone, the shorter his answers became.
Yelena had also learned that short answers rarely meant there was nothing to say. Usually, they meant there was far too much.
âYou gonna go?â she asked casually.
Bucky looked at her again, his brows drawing together. âNo.â
Yelena can practically see his defence go up. His walls raising quickly to block her from digging into his feelings.
âWhy?â
His jaw tightened. He held her gaze for another moment, clearly deciding whether arguing with her was worth the effort. Apparently it wasnât, because he simply pushed himself to his feet, picking up his coffee from the arm of the chair.
âDrop it, Yelena.â
He walked towards the hallway, leaving the letter sitting on the coffee table behind him.
Yelena watched him go. She waited until he disappeared around the corner before looking back at the discarded paper.
Her curiosity had been bothering her since the moment sheâd seen his expression, and now that heâd specifically told her to leave it alone, she found herself almost incapable of doing anything else.
She placed the punnet of cherries down and leaned across the table, picking up the abandoned envelope.
âWhoops,â she murmured when she noticed the faint red marks her fingers had left across the cream paper.
She wiped her hands against her thigh before carefully pulling the invitation free from the envelope.
Her eyes moved over the names.
Brandi and Carl.
She knew those names.
It took her a moment to place them, but then the memories surfaced.
She remembered seeing them around Bucky months ago, back when things had been different.
She knew there had been double dates with them, nights out, photographs that had occasionally appeared on somebodyâs phone, and stories about the ridiculous things Carl had said after too many drinks.
Most importantly, Yelena remembered Bucky during that period.
He had been different.
Not necessarily happier in any obvious, exaggerated way. Bucky had never been particularly good at showing happiness, and even then there had always been something guarded about him. But there had been a softness to him that Yelena rarely saw anywhere else. His shoulders hadnât always been drawn tight, his expression hadnât constantly carried the weight of a hundred thoughts, and every now and then she had caught him smiling without seeming to realise he was doing it.
It had always happened around her.
Yelena remembered noticing it whenever, y/n was stood beside him.
Bucky could be difficult with almost everyone. He was stubborn, sarcastic and perpetually irritated by something, whether it was the people around him, the world outside the Tower or simply the fact that someone had decided to speak to him before heâd finished his coffee.
But when y/n was beside him, something changed. He seemed lighter.
There had been a gentleness in the way he looked at her, an ease in the way he stood beside her, as though having her there gave him permission to put down some of the things he carried when nobody else was watching.
Six months ago was the last time she had seen y/n wandering through the halls of the Tower.
And that was how long it had been since they had broken up. In those six months, Bucky had slowly become someone she recognised from before.
The warmth had disappeared.
He had started spending more time alone, returning to old habits with an almost unconscious determination. His shoulders were permanently hunched now, his expression more distant, his patience thinner. He was colder, quieter, harder to reach.
It was as though whatever part of him had been allowed to breathe while she was around had slowly been pulled back behind his walls.
Yelenaâs fingers tightened slightly around the invitation.
She looked towards the corridor where Bucky had disappeared, her expression becoming more thoughtful.
Brandi and Carl werenât just old friends. They belonged to a part of Buckyâs life that had existed when he was with her.
Judging by the way heâd looked at that invitation, Yelena had a feeling the wedding was going to force him to confront considerably more than whether or not he wanted to attend.
Yelena hadnât mentioned the invitation to Bucky. Not after she had secretly read it, and certainly not after she had watched him tear it in half and throw it into the bin the following morning.
Not due to lack of trying, but since that morning she had barely seen him around. Bucky became almost impossible to find.
He hadnât officially disappeared from the Tower, but he may as well have. Yelena would occasionally catch sight of him emerging from the gym, usually with sweat darkening the collar of his shirt and a towel thrown over one shoulder, before he disappeared straight back towards his room. He avoided the kitchen whenever everyone else was there, ate at strange hours and stopped joining the others in the living room in the evenings.
The closer the date came, the more he seemed to retreat into himself. This wedding had brought y/n back to the forefront of his mind, she could tell this all just from the thunderous frown on his face.
It had been six months since the breakup. Six months since Bucky had ended things.
Yelena didnât know why things ended. She had never asked him directly, partly because she knew better than to corner Bucky when he wasnât ready to talk and partly because she had seen enough of him afterwards to know that whatever his reason had been, it hadnât been an easy decision.
But she knew one thing. Y/n hadnât been the one to walk away, Yelena had learnt that she was deeply loyal and even deeper in love. She had never heard them argue, until that night, hearing y/n crying calling Bucky a coward before storming out the tower to never be seen since.
That was what made his behaviour over the last few weeks so difficult to understand. He wasnât running from somebody who had hurt him. He was running from somebody he had hurt himself.
By the time there was only a week till the wedding, Yelena found him in the gym.
The heavy punching bag swung violently from its chain, the metal creaking and groaning above him as Bucky drove another fist into it. His movements were usually controlled when he trained, each strike deliberate and measured, but there was very little discipline in what he was doing now. He was hitting the bag with the kind of relentless force that suggested he wasnât really trying to improve anything anymore.
He was trying to exhaust himself.
His breathing had become rougher, his shoulders tense beneath his shirt, and the wraps around his knuckles were already beginning to darken where the skin beneath them had split.
When Yelena stepped into the room, he noticed her almost immediately.
His fist stopped against the bag, and he glanced over his shoulder at her with an expression that told her he already knew exactly why she had come.
He rolled his eyes, released the punching bag and walked towards the bench, reaching for his water bottle and taking a long drink.
âDonât start.â
Yelena hadnât even spoken.
She stopped a few feet away, watching the faint irritation settle across his face. There was something almost amusing about how quickly he could read her. He knew that look in her eyes, knew the particular glint that appeared whenever she had decided there was something worth investigating, and he had apparently decided that the safest course of action was to shut her down before she had the opportunity.
Yelena raised both hands beside her head in surrender.
âI said nothing.â
âYouâre thinking.â
âI am always thinking.â
âThatâs what worries me.â
A smile tugged faintly at the corner of her mouth, but she didnât answer.
Instead, she sat down on the opposite bench and began wrapping her knuckles, taking her time with each strip of tape. Bucky watched her suspiciously for a moment before turning back towards the punching bag.
He started again.
For several minutes, the only sounds in the gym were the steady thud of Buckyâs fists against the bag, the occasional groan of the chain above him and the quiet rustle of Yelenaâs hand wraps.
Eventually, she spoke. Bucky kept punching attempting to block her words out, reducing her voice down to a murmur. His fist connected with the bag again before he finally stopped, catching it with his metal hand as it swung back towards him.
âWhat?â Bucky grunted, giving up on blocking her out.
âI said you should go.â
He scoffed and released the bag.
Yelena continued wrapping her hand.
âThey clearly want you there. Brandi and Carl invited you, and theyâre your friends too. Whatever happened between you and y/n obviously hasnât changed the way they think about you, otherwise you wouldnât have received an invitation in the first place.â
Bucky looked away.
âSo, I think you should go.â
âItâs not that easy.â
The answer was quiet enough that Yelena almost missed it. She looked up.
Bucky was staring at the floor, his hands resting against his hips.
âI havenât seen them,â he said. âI havenât seen her since we broke up.â His jaw tightened. âShe told me she never wants to see me again.â
He let the sentence disappear. Yelena studied him. There was no bitterness in his voice when he spoke about y/n . No resentment, no attempt to justify himself. Just guilt.
âYou broke up with her,â Yelena said quietly.
Buckyâs eyes flicked towards her. It wasnât a question. He gave a small nod. âI did.â
Yelena leaned back against the bench, thinking, you could practically hear her mind turning.
âOkay,â she said eventually. âSo avoid her.â
Bucky looked at her.
âFrom what I remember, Brandi and Carl were very popular. There will be a lot of people there. It will be a big wedding. You can stand on the other side of the room and avoid her.â
Bucky shook his head.
âYou donât understand.â
Yelena was about to argue, but the words stopped before they reached her.
Because suddenly she did understand. Not the reason heâd ended things. That was still a mystery, and judging by the way Bucky shut down whenever the subject came close, Yelena suspected it was one he wasnât ready to share.
But she understood why he was afraid of seeing y/n.
She had watched him around her. She had seen the way his entire demeanour changed whenever y/n entered a room. Bucky could have spent hours convincing himself that he had made the right decision, could have walked away from their relationship because he believed it was something he had to do, could even force himself to believe that six months was long enough to move on.
But none of that would matter when she was standing in front of him.
His attention would always find her. He didnât even seem to realise he was doing it.
Yelena had watched his shoulders relax whenever y/n touched him, had seen his voice soften whenever he spoke to her, had watched the hard lines of his face disappear whenever she smiled.
There had been a gentleness in Bucky around y/n that Yelena never saw anywhere else.
It hadnât mattered who was right or who had ended things. It hadnât mattered that Bucky had been the one to make the decision. Whatever reason had forced him to walk away from her, it hadnât erased what he felt. If anything, judging by the state heâd been in for the last six months, it had made it worse.
Y/n didnât need to demand his attention.
She would always have it.
âOh.â Yelena realised something that made the whole situation almost painfully obvious âYou canât avoid her.â
Buckyâs expression hardened. âI can.â
âNo.â
âI can.â
âBucky, if she is standing in the same room as you, you are going to look at her.â Yelena shook her head.
He didnât answer.
âAnd if she talks to you, youâre going to talk back.â
His jaw tightened.
âIf she asks you how you are, you will forget every reason you had for leaving.â
âYelena.â
âAnd if she touches you,â
âEnough.â His voice was sharper now, but there was no real anger behind it.
She had seen the way one look from her could quiet him, the way her voice could pull him out of whatever dark place heâd disappeared into, the way he seemed almost instinctively drawn towards her whenever they were together.
She simply had him. And Bucky knew it.
That was why the idea of seeing her again frightened him more than he would ever admit.
He was scared that she would look at him the same way she used to, and every reason he had spent six months building around himself would suddenly feel paper-thin.
âYou will look at her even if you donât want to, you know you will always find her.â
âStop.â
The word came quietly this time. There was no anger behind it. Only exhaustion.
Yelenaâs expression softened.
She hadnât intended to hurt him. She only wanted him to understand that pretending he could simply avoid y/n was pointless.
They both knew better.
Yelena sat back against the bench.
âYou still love her.â
Bucky didnât answer.
He turned back towards the punching bag and grabbed it with both hands, pulling it towards him until the swinging finally stopped.
âI came in here to work out.â
âI know.â
âSo let me.â
Yelena nodded.
âFine.â She didnât push him any further.
There was no point. He hadnât denied it. They both knew she was right.
Bucky had lost count of how many outfits heâd tried on.
At some point, he had stopped bothering to remember what heâd already worn and what heâd rejected. Shirts had been thrown across the back of the chair, trousers had been abandoned on the floor beside his bed, and at least three jackets had made it as far as his shoulders before heâd looked at himself in the mirror, decided he hated whatever he was wearing, and pulled the whole thing off again.
Every time, he had told himself the same thing.
He wasnât going. There was no reason for him to go.
Brandi and Carl would understand. They had plenty of other people there, and he had already missed the ceremony anyway due to his outfit breakdown. There was no point turning up halfway through the evening, especially when he hadnât spoken to either of them in months.
It would be easier to stay here.
That was what he told himself as he sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting against his knees, staring at another shirt heâd just discarded.
Then heâd stand up and try something else.
Eventually, after another long look at his reflection, Bucky settled on an entirely black outfit.
Black trousers. Black shirt. Black jacket.
Nothing distinctive. Nothing that would draw attention. It was deliberate.
If he was going to do this, he wanted to be able to disappear into the crowd as quickly as possible. He had no intention of making himself noticeable, no intention of walking into the reception and becoming part of anyoneâs evening.
He could arrive late, congratulate Brandi and Carl, stay long enough to make it look like he had made the effort and leave before anybody had the chance to ask too many questions.
He had spent six months avoiding the people he had once considered friends because seeing them meant getting too close to the life heâd left behind.
But Brandi and Carl hadnât stopped being his friends just because he had broken up with y/n.
They had invited him. He couldnât bring himself to ignore that. Bucky stood in front of the mirror one last time, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.
He looked like he was going to a funeral. He almost laughed at the thought. Maybe that was appropriate.
He grabbed his keys from the dresser, slipped his phone into his pocket and opened his bedroom door.
He had barely taken two steps into the hallway before he nearly walked straight into Yelena.
She stopped.
Her eyes travelled slowly from his shoes to his jacket, taking in the fact that he was actually dressed for an evening out.
Then her face lit up.
âYouâre going!?â
Buckyâs expression immediately hardened.
âIf you say another word, then Iâm not.â
Yelenaâs smile only grew.
She mimed pulling an invisible zip across her lips, then threw away an imaginary key over her shoulder.
Bucky didnât look back as he made his way through the Tower, down towards the entrance and out into the evening air, the cool breeze catching against his face as he stepped outside.
For a moment, he stood beside the car with his hand resting against the door.
He could still turn around.
He could go back upstairs, change into something comfortable and pretend heâd never considered leaving in the first place.
Nobody would blame him. But before he could give himself another reason to change his mind, he pulled away from the Tower and drove towards the wedding.
The venue was huge.
That was the first thing Bucky thought as he stepped through the entrance, his eyes moving slowly over the sprawling grounds beyond the old estate. He had expected a large wedding, but nothing had quite prepared him for the number of people spilling out across the gardens. There were faces everywhere, most of them completely unfamiliar, people moving between tables and clusters of conversation with glasses in their hands while servers drifted through the crowd carrying trays of champagne.
The ceremony had clearly been finished for some time. The evening reception was in full swing, taking place almost entirely outside beneath the darkening sky. Warm strands of lights had been suspended high above the garden, crisscrossing over the dance floor and stretching between the trees and the old stone building, casting everything below in a soft golden glow. Round tables had been arranged around the edges of the dance floor, their white linens scattered with half empty glasses, candles and elaborate floral arrangements, while music played somewhere near the far end of the garden.
Bucky stopped just inside the entrance.
For a second, he considered turning around.
This was exactly what heâd been afraid of.
There were too many people, too much noise, too many reminders of a life he had deliberately removed himself from. He could already feel the familiar instinct to find somewhere quiet beginning to settle over him, the urge to disappear before anybody noticed he had arrived.
Then a familiar voice cut through the crowd.
âBucky?â
He looked up. Brandi was already making her way towards him.
Her face had completely changed the moment sheâd seen him, the surprise quickly giving way to a genuine, almost disbelieving smile. She looked beautiful, still dressed in her wedding dress, the fabric catching the warm light as she hurried towards him.
âYou came!â
There was so much genuine happiness in her voice that Bucky felt something twist uncomfortably in his chest.
She hadnât expected him. Of course she hadnât.
For six months, he had disappeared from their lives almost as completely as he had disappeared from y/nâs.
Brandi had been one of the people heâd spent countless evenings with during those two years. She had been y/nâs best friend long before Bucky had ever met her, and somewhere along the way, without him really noticing it happen, sheâd become his friend too. And Carl even more so. They had folded him into their lives without hesitation, invited him to dinners and birthdays and holidays, made space for him at their table until being around them had felt almost as natural as being around y/n herself.
And then heâd walked away. From all of it.
âHi.â Bucky gave her a small smile.
Brandi barely gave him time to say it before throwing her arms around him.
He hugged her back, one arm settling around her shoulders as he leaned down and quietly whispered his congratulations against her ear. She squeezed him tightly before finally pulling away, looking at him with the same delighted disbelief still written across her face.
âI honestly didnât think youâd come.â
âI almost didnât.â
She studied him for a second, as though she could tell there was considerably more behind those words than he was willing to explain.
Before she could ask, another familiar face appeared beside her.
Carl grinned as he reached out his hand.
âJesus, Barnes. Itâs good to see you.â
Bucky shook his hand firmly, returning the smile.
âGood to see you too.â
Carl gave him a small squeeze on the shoulder before glancing back towards the party.
âYouâve missed half the night already, so you better make up for it.â
Bucky huffed a quiet laugh.
Carl pointed towards the far side of the garden, where a fully stocked bar sat beneath another canopy of lights.
âBarâs free. Go get yourself a drink. Weâll catch up properly later, yeah?â
âYeah.â
âDonât disappear again.â
The words were delivered lightly, accompanied by a grin, but Bucky felt the weight behind them anyway.
He nodded.
âI wonât.â
Brandi gave his arm one final squeeze before Carl gently pulled her back towards the guests waiting to congratulate them.
Bucky watched them go for a moment, surrounded by people who clearly adored them, before turning towards the bar.
He had made it this far.
He had walked through the entrance.
He had seen Brandi and Carl.
Neither of them had looked at him with anger or resentment. They had looked at him exactly as they used to, as though six months of silence hadnât been enough to erase the place heâd once held in their lives.
His eyes moved across the garden. That fragile sense of relief disappeared almost instantly.
He knew somewhere among the hundreds of unfamiliar faces, there would be one face he knew better than any other. He had no idea how long it would take before he found her.
He ordered a whiskey and stood leaning against the bar, hoping the burn of it would settle the restless feeling sitting beneath his ribs. It didnât.
He finished one and ordered another. Then another.
None of them did much to ease the nerves twisting tighter inside him, but at this point Bucky was willing to try anything. It wouldnât kill him to spend one evening letting himself forget exactly why heâd come here in the first place.
He was staring down into his glass when a man appeared beside him at the bar, ordering himself a beer and a cherry whiskey sour.
Buckyâs face immediately tightened at the mention of that deeply sweet drink.
The man caught the reaction, his eyes flicking towards him with mild curiosity before he gave Bucky a curt, polite smile. A second later, however, recognition seemed to settle over his features. His entire body turned towards Bucky.
âHoly shit.â
Bucky slowly raised his eyebrows. The stranger stared at him for another second.
âYouâre the Winter Soldier.â
The name made Bucky grimace.
âIâm not the Winter Soldier anymore,â he corrected, his voice carrying the familiar irritation that always accompanied the name.
âBig fan.â
The man immediately stuck out his hand.
Bucky hesitated before taking it, but the manâs attention wasnât even on his face anymore. His eyes had dropped towards Buckyâs metal arm, the polished metal just visible where his sleeve pulled away from the edge of his trouser pocket where his hand was tucked.
âBaby,â the man called, turning towards whoever was standing behind him. âItâs the Winter Soldier.â
Buckyâs attention shifted automatically.
And then the woman stepped out from behind him.
The breath left Buckyâs lungs so abruptly it almost hurt. For a second, he genuinely forgot how to breathe.
Y/n stood beside the man, one hand loosely wrapped around her glass filled with cherry whiskey sour. The warm lights strung above the garden caught against the silk of her dress, the blue fabric falling effortlessly over her figure as she stood beneath them.
Bucky stared. There was no disguising it.
His eyes moved over her before he could stop himself, taking in the familiar shape of her face, the way her loose curls framed it, the dress he had no business noticing as closely as he did, the way it fell over your figure. Six months of distance had done absolutely nothing to dull the effect she had on him.
He had spent months trying to remember why heâd walked away. Trying to convince himself that he had made the right decision.
Trying to accept that she hated him now, that she had every reason to, and that staying away from her had been the only thing he could do.
None of those thoughts survived the moment she looked at him.
Y/nâs eyes met his over the rim of her glass. She took a slow sip of her drink, never breaking eye contact. Her stare bitter and burning.
Bucky felt like he was choking.
The stranger beside him glanced between them, apparently noticing the way Bucky had completely stopped listening to anything else around him.
âI would say stop checking out my date,â he said with a half laugh, âbut you would probably choke me with that metal arm.â
Bucky barely heard him. He couldnât look away.
Y/n lowered her glass.
Her expression hadnât changed much, but there was something in her eyes that told him she knew exactly what he was doing.
âStop looking at me like that, Bucky.â
Her voice hit him harder than the whiskey ever could. There was a warning threaded through it, enough to tell him she meant every word.
But the way she said his name, it slipped so effortlessly from her lips, Bucky felt something inside his chest give way.
The strangerâs eyes moved between them, his expression shifting as he finally seemed to realise that whatever was happening between Bucky and the woman beside him was considerably more complicated than two people who happened to know each other.
âYou know him?â
Y/n didnât hesitate.
âNo.â
There wasnât even the smallest crack in her voice. She kept her eyes fixed on her ex boyfriend, her expression composed as she took another slow sip from her glass.
âNot anymore.â
Buckyâs fingers tightened around his whiskey glass, his eyes remaining fixed on her as though staring long enough might somehow undo what sheâd just said.
âY/n.â
Her gaze finally shifted across his face.
For one brief second, Bucky saw something underneath the coolness. Something that made his chest ache with the memory of a woman who used to look at him as though he were the only person in the room.
Then it disappeared.
Bucky felt sick as he watched the manâs arm wrap around y/nâs waist.
The jealousy was immediate and ugly, something he had no right to feel when he was the one who had ended things. He had been the one to make the decision. He had been the one who had walked away and left her devastated enough to tell him she never wanted to see him again.
So what right did he have to feel anything when another man stood beside her?
None. Absolutely none. Yet his hand on gripped the glass tighter, the tips of his fingers going white as the man fingers begin to trace over the dip in her waist. Bucky couldâve sworn he saw a grimace briefly move over your face.
Bucky couldnât stop wondering who he was, how long heâd known her, whether he knew the way she took her coffee or the songs she listened to when she was sad. Whether he knew the little expressions she made when she was trying not to laugh, or the way she would always need a hand on Bucky when she needed to calm herself down.
Whether he knew her the way Bucky had. The thought made his stomach twist.
âY/n,â he tried again, quieter this time.
She held his gaze for another moment. There was no anger in her expression anymore. That made it worse.
âHave a good night, Bucky.â
She slipped back into the crowd before he could find another word, disappearing between unfamiliar faces and bodies moving beneath the warm strings of lights.
Bucky watched her go.
His eyes followed her instinctively, helplessly, tracking the familiar sway of her hips as she walked away from him.
He caught himself.
His jaw clenched, and he forced his gaze elsewhere, disgusted with himself for staring when she had made it painfully clear she didnât want him looking at her.
But it was too late.
He had seen her.
He had spoken to her.
And in the space of barely five minutes, every carefully constructed defence heâd spent building had come crashing down around him.
He had walked into the wedding telling himself he could survive seeing her.
Heâd lasted five minutes.
Bucky took another drink of his whiskey, staring down into the amber liquid as though it might offer him some kind of answer.
It didnât.
He was screwed.
Y/n had successfully avoided Bucky for the rest of the night.
Or, at least, she had tried.
Every now and then, across the crowded garden, she would feel his eyes on her before she even looked up. Their gazes would meet for a second, sometimes two, and every single time she would immediately turn away and make a beeline for the bar, ordering another cherry whiskey sour as though the drink might somehow dull the awareness of him sitting somewhere behind her.
It hadnât worked.
Now, several drinks down, she had settled herself at one of the tables surrounding the makeshift dance floor, the warmth of the alcohol making the edges of everything around her slightly softer. The music carried across the garden, people laughing and dancing beneath the strings of lights, their shadows moving over the tiled floor.
Her attention eventually settled on Brandi and Carl.
They stood together across the room, seemingly oblivious to everyone around them as Carl leaned down to kiss his new wife softly. When they pulled apart, Brandi laughed, her hands coming up to his face as he grinned at her.
Y/n smiled.
She was genuinely happy for them.
They deserved this. They deserved the laughter and the dancing and the ridiculous amount of champagne being poured into glasses around them. After everything theyâd been through, watching two people she loved so deeply find their way to each other should have been nothing but beautiful.
And it was.
But there was still a quiet ache beneath her happiness.
A tug somewhere deep in her chest as she watched them build the kind of life she had once imagined for herself.
A life that had been there.
A life sheâd been so certain was hers.
And then, somehow, it had been pulled completely out of her reach.
Y/n swallowed, looking down at the drink in her hands.
She hadnât realised how little sheâd moved on.
She had convinced herself that six months had to mean something. That eventually the memories would become less vivid, that waking up wouldnât immediately remind her of him, that she would stop instinctively searching for his face around her apartment.
She had thought she was doing better.
Sitting here now, watching Brandi and Carl kiss beneath the warm lights, she realised she hadnât moved forward at all.
She had simply become better at pretending she had.
A shadow fell across the table.
Y/n didnât turn around.
She already knew.
There was only one person she knew who could approach her so quietly that she could feel his presence before hearing him.
The chair beside her scraped softly against the floor as Bucky pulled it out.
Y/n kept her eyes fixed on the dance floor, her fingers slowly turning the glass between them.
âWhat do you want, Bucky?â
She didnât look at him. It was easier that way. If she looked at him for too long, she wasnât sure how long she could maintain the coldness sheâd been carefully constructing all evening.
Bucky shifted in the chair.
âWhereâs your boyfriend?â
He had tried to make the question sound casual, as though he were asking simply because heâd noticed she was alone.
He failed miserably.
Y/n let out a quiet scoff.
The nerve of him.
He had wanted out of her life so badly. He had been the one who had walked away and left her to pick up whatever pieces he hadnât taken with him.
And now he wanted to know who she was seeing?
âI donât know.â
Buckyâs eyebrows pulled together.
âYou donât know?â
âNo.â
âDo you want to know?â Bucky asked, curious to how unbothered she was about her date.
That made her turn slightly.
Bucky had leaned forward, his forearms resting against his thighs as he watched her. His expression was carefully neutral, but y/n knew him well enough to see the tension beneath it.
She dragged her fingertips slowly across the tabletop, her nails making a faint scratching sound against the wood.
âNo.â
Her answer was simple, but there was no hesitation behind it.
Buckyâs eyes moved over her face.
He noticed the slight glossiness in her eyes, the telltale softness around them that hadnât been there when heâd first seen her. The alcohol had begun to settle into her system, loosening the edges she was normally so careful to keep sharp.
A gentle breeze moved through the open windows behind them, catching her hair and lifting it across her shoulders.
And then Bucky caught her scent.
Cherries. Whiskey. Vanilla.
It hit him with such familiarity that his chest tightened.
She had always smelled like that.
Vanilla musk and something sweet underneath it, usually cherries. He remembered it from nights spent tangled together on the sofa, from the mornings when sheâd climb into bed beside him, from the quiet moments when heâd bury his face against her neck simply because he could.
Tonight, the scent was stronger, infused with the whiskey sheâd been drinking. The drink she always chose.
Every one of his senses seemed to sharpen at once.
His eyes stayed fixed on hers.
His ears strained to hear her speak again, desperate for that familiar voice, desperate to hear his name in the same tone she used to say it when they were alone.
His fingers twitched against his thigh. He wanted to reach across the small distance between them, wanted to rest his hand on her knee the way he had done a thousand times before without thinking about it.
Instead, he curled his fingers into his palm.
Because she wasnât his to touch anymore.
Y/n turned her body towards him.
Her back was now to the party, leaving the two of them tucked away from the crowd. For a moment, it felt strangely private despite the hundreds of people only a few feet away.
âHe isnât my boyfriend.â
Bucky blinked.
âWhat?â
âHeâs not my boyfriend.â
Something inside Bucky loosened before he could stop it. He hated himself for the relief.
âGood,â he said, perhaps a little too quickly. Then, remembering himself, he added, âBecause Iâm pretty sure he was just giving his phone number to one of the bartenders.â
âGood for him.â Y/n shrugged.
Bucky stared at her.
âIf you donât like him, why did you bring him?â
âWeâve been on a couple of dates.â
A couple of dates.
He knew he had no right to care, but the thought of her sitting across from another man, letting him get close enough to one day call her his girlfriend, made something bitter twist inside his stomach.
Y/n watched the reaction cross his face.
âI was worried youâd bring someone,â she admitted.
Buckyâs eyes snapped back to hers.
âSo I was covering all areas.â
There was something almost defensive in the way she said it, as though she had spent the entire evening preparing herself for the possibility of seeing him with somebody else.
Bucky stared at her.
âYou thought Iâd bring someone?â
âI didnât know what to expect.â
âYou thought Iâd bring a date.â
Y/nâs fingers continued tracing absent minded patterns against the table, her eyes dropping to the amber liquid in her glass.
âWell, you made the decision to leave me so quickly,â she said, her voice deceptively light. âYou mightâve already had someone new lined up.â
Buckyâs expression shifted immediately, he hated the undertone of self doubt in her voice, heâd never heard her sound like that before.
âI didnât.â
âI wouldnât have known if you did.â
âY/n.â
âWhat?â she asked. âYou left. You made it very clear that whatever we had wasnât something you wanted anymore. I didnât exactly have much say in it.â
âThat isnât what happened.â Bucky swallowed, his gaze dropping briefly to the table between them.
âIsnât it?â
There was no bitterness in the question, which somehow made it worse. She wasnât trying to pick a fight with him. She was simply telling him how it had felt from where she had been standing.
âBecause from my side, Bucky, you made a decision one day and then my entire life changed.â
He looked back at her.
She gave a small, humourless smile, turning her glass slowly between her fingers.
âSo forgive me for thinking you mightâve had somewhere else to go.â
âThere was never anyone else.â Buckyâs jaw tightened.
The answer came so quickly that y/nâs fingers stopped moving.
Bucky held her gaze.
âThere was never anyone else,â he repeated, quieter this time. âI did it for you.â
Buckyâs voice was quiet, almost lost beneath the music and conversation continuing around them.
âTo keep you safe.â
A scoff escaped her, but there was nothing genuinely amused about it. She lifted her glass towards her lips, though she didnât drink, using the motion to hide the way her expression had faltered.
âFrom what?â, a small laugh leaving her as though the idea was ridiculous.
Her eyes met his. âFrom you?â
âYes.â
There was no hesitation in his answer.
âFrom me. From the hell that comes with everything I touch.â
He looked down at his hands, the words becoming increasingly difficult to force from himself now that they were finally being spoken aloud.
âI like being a soldier. I like trying to do some good, trying to make up for,â He stopped. The rest caught somewhere in his throat.
The anger in her face softened for just a moment as she watched him struggle with whatever he had almost admitted. She already knew what he was trying to say.
He shook his head and continued.
âAnd you hated seeing me get hurt.â
âThat isnât,â
âYou did.â
âI hated seeing you get hurt because I loved you.â
His eyes lifted to hers.
âYou wanted something that doesnât come naturally to be,â he continued. âYou wanted a normal life. Domestic bliss. Something safe. Something I canât give you.â
Y/n stared at him as though she couldnât quite believe what she was hearing.
âThat isnât fair.â Her voice had become quieter âThat isnât true.â
Bucky opened his mouth, but she didnât let him interrupt.
âActually, Bucky itâs a bullshit excuse to make you feel better for running away. Convincing yourself that it was right, blaming it on me, when itâs all in your head. Itâs your fears that did this.â
Her eyes were beginning to glisten now, tears gathering along her lower lashes, but she refused to let them fall.
âI would never have stood in the way of you doing what you wanted. I never asked you to stop being a soldier. I never asked you to become somebody else.â Her voice trembled.
âYou didnât even ask me what I wanted. All I wanted was us. That was it. I wanted you. I wanted us. And you let that go so easily.â
âIt wasnât easy.â
âYou make it look easy.â
He had no answer.
Y/n shook her head, blinking rapidly as she tried to keep the tears from escaping.
âYouâll fight for everything else, Bucky, but you wouldnât fight for us.â
His hand moved across the table almost instinctively, reaching for hers where it rested beside her glass. His fingers were only inches away when she pulled her hand back.
âNo.â
Bucky stopped.
âY/n.â
âNo, Bucky.â
She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper now.
âYou donât get to do that.â
He stared at her.
âYou show up here and look at me like that, like you love me.â
Buckyâs breathing caught.
âI do. I never stopped.â
âBut you did this.â
She pressed a trembling hand against her chest.
âYou did this to us.â
She pushed her chair back.
The legs scraped against the floor, drawing the attention of a few people nearby, but she didnât seem to notice.
She stood, wiping quickly beneath one eye before the tear could fall.
âI wish you didnât come here.â
Bucky stood too.
âI wish I didnât have to see your face.â
The words were quiet, but they landed harder than anything sheâd said before.
She turned away from him.
Bucky watched helplessly as she walked into the crowd, her pace quickening the further she got from him until the people between them swallowed her completely.
He had told himself leaving her was an act of love. He had convinced himself that hurting her once was better than allowing his life to eventually hurt her more.
But standing there now, watching the person he loved walk away from him in tears, he couldnât help wondering whether heâd simply found a way to disguise his own fear as sacrifice.
He knew he shouldnât follow her.
Every sensible part of him was telling him to stay where he was, to let her walk away because she had made herself perfectly clear. She didnât want to see him. She didnât want him following her. She had spent six months without him, and tonight he had only managed to reopen something she had clearly been trying to heal.
But his body moved before his mind could catch up.
Bucky followed her through the crowd, his eyes fixed on the glimpse of her disappearing between shoulders and unfamiliar faces. He caught sight of her again as she reached the entrance to the manor, the warm light from the foyer spilling across the stone floor as she hurried inside.
âY/n!â
She didnât stop.
Bucky quickened his pace.
He caught her just as she reached the far side of the foyer, his hand closing gently around her arm.
âWait.â
He pulled her back, careful not to hurt her, but enough to stop her momentum.
Her body turned with the gentle force, and she nearly collided with his chest.
She immediately looked up at him.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Bucky could feel her breathing, could see the remnants of tears still caught in her lashes, and the sight made his chest ache.
âDonât run,â he pleaded. âPlease. Just let me try to explain.â
âDo you not understand the irony of you asking me not to run?â
Buckyâs expression faltered.
Her eyes travelled up to his, and she hated how small she felt standing this close to him. He was so much bigger than her, still so physically imposing, but that wasnât what made her feel small.
It was his eyes.
It was the way one look from him could still make her forget what she had been about to say.
It was the fact that, despite everything, some part of her still wanted to step closer.
She hated that he still had that kind of power over her.
âI know,â Bucky said quickly. âI know.â
His hand loosened around her arm, but he didnât let go completely.
âJust listen to me.â
âNo.â
âListen to me.â
She pulled her arm from his grasp.
âYou ended it.â She snapped, anger taking over from the hurt as her finger jabbed in to his chest.
Bucky went still.
âYou wanted this.â
âI know.â
âSo Iâm not going to let you do this. Iâm not going to let you play this push and pull game with me because you suddenly decided you donât like the consequences of your own decision.â
âThatâs not what Iâm doing.â
âThen what are you doing? What happens next time?â
Bucky frowned.
âWhen it gets too hard again. When you decide you know whatâs best for me. When you decide youâve got all the answers without even asking me what I want.â Her head tilted sideways, anger radiating off her now. âAre you just going to leave again?â
âNo.â
âYou donât know that.â
âI do.â
âI canât believe you,â she breathed. Her voice was a jagged mix of hurt and frustration, her chest heaving as she fought the pull of him. She was annoyed that he still had this effect on her, that her body was betraying her resolve even as she tried to push him away.
âI canât believe,â
Bucky didn't let her finish. He couldn't. His hands shot up to frame her face, his head dipping down as his lips captured hers in a desperate, demanding kiss. Anything to stop her rambling, anything to prove her wrong and silence the arguments with the raw heat of his mouth.
She was caught off guard, a small gasp escaping her, but the shock didn't last long. Within seconds, she was kissing him back with a hunger that mirrored his own. One of his hands reached up, his fingers grazing her skin as he tucked a fallen lock of hair behind her ear. The softness of the touch hit her like a ton of bricks, a sudden reminder of the intimacy they once shared. It ripped her out of the kiss, and she pushed against his chest, pulling away.
âWhat are you doing?â Her voice was stern, shocked, and laced with a visible crack of emotion.
âIâm sorry,â was all he could manage to say, his voice sounding wrecked.
She looked at him, her chest rising and falling in heavy, uneven rhythms. She had no words, no way to express the storm inside her as she stared at the guilty man before her. Her eyes were conflicted, searching his. Maybe it was the deep, aching emotion, or maybe it was the whisky blurring her judgment, but she couldn't stay away.
Driven by a need she couldn't name, a weakness that took over when she looked into his eyes, she reached out and grabbed the lapels of his blazer, hauling him down to kiss her again.
Bucky groaned deep in his throat. His hands snaked around her waist, sliding down the small of her back before resting firmly just above the curve of her ass. He tasted the sharp burn of whisky on her tongue and caught the intoxicating scent of cherry vanilla perfume whisking into his nose. It was the scent he had craved for so long, the one he had tried so hard to teach himself to hate, only to find it was the only thing that could ground him.
Her hands slung around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, trying to merge their bodies. His hands drifted further down, squeezing a handful of her ass with a possessive grip that earned a loud, needy moan that skipped past her lips.
Hearing that sweet sound snapped him out of the intoxication of the kiss. He suddenly became aware of their surroundings, the foyer, the people passing by, the risk of being seen.
He pulled away just an inch, his hands still gripping her, their chests pressed tightly together. Her eyes looked up at him, flicking between his own, wondering if he regretted it, wondering why he had stopped.
âI canât have anyone hearing you like that,â he whispered. His protectiveness flared, the thought of anyone else hearing those sweet, broken sounds she made for him made him feel sick with jealousy.
She pulled out of his grip, and for a second, Buckyâs heart dropped, fearing she was leaving again. But instead, she grabbed a hold of his hand and pulled him toward the stairs. Her heels clicked rhythmically along the floor as she led him upward.
As they crossed the landing, Bucky asked, his voice low and curious, âWhere are we going?â
She turned back and gave him a knowing smile. âMaid of honor perks,â she whispered.
She opened the door to one of the most beautiful bedrooms in the building and pulled him inside by the collar. Bucky pulled himself together in an instant, spinning her around and pushing her firmly against the closed door.
Her body was trapped between the heavy wood and his massive frame. He leaned down, kissing her again with a renewed intensity. Her hands flew to his hair, pulling at the roots and earning a guttural grunt from him. His hands found the bottom of her thighs, hoisting her up until she wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him.
âBucky,â she moaned into his mouth, feeling more intoxicated by him than any drink sheâd had all night.
âY/n?â
Both their eyes shot open, their heads whipping around to see her date sitting up on the bed, having just woken up from being passed out.
She slid slowly down Buckyâs body as his grip loosened on her thighs, her hands resting on his chest as she tried to catch her breath.
âWhat are you,â the date began, his voice slurring and confused.
âOut,â Bucky snapped. His voice was irritated, dark, and laced with a lethal edge.
âWhat? Sheâs my date, man.â the man said, stumbling to his feet.
Bucky stepped away from y/n, closing the distance between himself and the man in two predatory strides. He loomed over him, his presence suffocating.
âOkay! Okay, Iâll go!â the man stammered. He grabbed his jacket from the chair and scurried out of the room, shifting past y/n without a single word.
Buckyâs eyes remained dark, glinting with a mixture of raw desire and territorial possessiveness. He walked back over to her.
âYou were going to share a room with him?â
âBucky.â
âDoes he fuck you like I do?â he asked, his finger hooking under her chin, lifting her eyes so she had no choice but to look at him.
She didnât answer, swallowing deeply as she trembled under his gaze.
He leaned down and kissed her, this time, it was less romantic and more driven by a desperate, starving want. He picked her up again, moving her over to the bed and laying her back.
Her stomach swirled with desperation as she leaned back on her forearms, watching him.
Bucky stood at the foot of the bed, removing his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt slowly, his eyes calculating exactly what he wanted to do to her.
He leaned down, holding himself up over her body, and kissed the sweet spot just under her ear. His kisses trailed down her neck and across her chest while his fingers worked to scrunch her dress up, pushing the fabric up until it rested under her hips.
He lifted his head and moved his body down to kiss his way up her thighs. His fingers moved her underwear to the side, sliding up into her slit to collect the moisture. He tasted her on his fingers, she moaned loudly at the contact.
Buckyâs tongue dragged slow and deliberate through her folds, the flat of it pressing hard against her clit before he sucked the swollen bud between his lips. Two thick fingers worked inside her, curling with every thrust so the pads stroked that spot that made her thighs shake. Her hips bucked up, chasing the pressure, but the second her breathing hitched and her walls started to flutter he pulled his mouth away and stilled his fingers deep inside her.
She let out a broken whine, the sound raw in the quiet hallway. Bucky kissed the inside of her thigh, lips wet, and spoke against her skin. âYouâre doing so good, baby.â His voice vibrated straight through her, making her clench around his unmoving fingers.
He waited until the pulsing inside her eased, then lowered his head again. This time he licked broad stripes up her slit, collecting every drop of slick before he sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked in a steady rhythm while his fingers started pumping again. She moaned louder, fingers twisting in his hair, thighs trying to close around his head. The tension built fast, her stomach tightening, toes curling, until he felt the first hard squeeze around his fingers. He stopped cold. Pulled his mouth off, eased his fingers out until only the tips remained inside her.
âBucky, fuck, please,â she gasped, voice cracking. Her hips rolled, trying to force his fingers deeper, but he held them just inside her entrance, denying her the stretch she needed.
âYou taste so good,â he murmured, kissing just above her clit, anywhere except where she was throbbing hardest. âStill so sweet.â
He waited, breathing hot against her, until her desperate movements slowed and the edge backed off again.
The third time he gave her more. Three fingers this time, sliding in with a wet sound, scissoring gently before he curled them hard against her front wall. His tongue flicked quick and light over her clit, never letting up, never giving her a second to breathe. She was panting, cursing, hips snapping up to meet every thrust of his hand. âI love hearing you.â He mumbled against her.
The orgasm crashed toward her so fast her vision blurred.
Right as her walls started to clamp down he pulled his fingers free completely and lifted his mouth, leaving her empty and clenching around nothing.
She slammed her palm against the mattress, frustration boiling over. âBucky, please, I need to cum!â Her voice was ragged, half sob, half snarl. Her thighs trembled, pussy visibly pulsing, slick dripping down the curve of her ass.
He looked up at her from between her spread legs, lips shiny, eyes dark.
He moved back up to her face, kissing the corner of her mouth. âYou want to cum? Baby, you shouldâve just said.â
Bucky shoved his trousers down his thighs and kicked them off, the heavy fabric hitting the floor with a dull thud. He wrapped his fist around his cock and dragged the thick head through her soaked folds, coating himself in her slick. Every slow pass over her clit made her hips jerk, but he never gave her the pressure she craved. He lined himself up and pushed in one smooth, relentless thrust, burying himself to the hilt.
She cried out his name, loud and broken, the stretch forcing the air from her lungs. He felt perfect inside her, thick, hot, filling every inch like heâd been carved to fit her exactly. Her walls fluttered around him, trying to pull him deeper.
âFuck,â he groaned his head falling against her shoulder, voice rough. He stayed buried for a moment, savoring the tight, wet heat gripping him.
Then he started moving. Slow, deep rolls of his hips that dragged every inch of his cock along her inner walls. Each thrust felt like a promise, like he was trying to remind her body who it belonged to. Her hands slid up his back, fingers digging into muscle, pulling him closer.
The rhythm changed without warning. His pace turned sharp and punishing, hips snapping forward hard enough to jolt her up the bed. The headboard thudded against the wall in time with his thrusts. He watched her face the whole time, eyes locked on every gasp, every flutter of her lashes, every time her mouth fell open on a moan.
âYouâre doing so good,â he growled, voice low and filthy. âTaking every inch like you were made for it.â
Her orgasm built fast, the earlier denial making her hypersensitive. Her thighs started to shake. Just as she tipped over the edge he leaned down, lips brushing her ear.
âCum for me.â
She shattered. The scream that tore out of her was raw, his name ripped from her throat again and again while her pussy clamped down hard around him. He fucked her straight through it, never slowing, riding every pulse and flutter until she was trembling and gasping beneath him.
His metal hand slid up from her hip and wrapped around her throat, not squeezing, just holding her there, forcing her to meet his eyes.
âLook at me,â he ordered, voice dark. âDid he ever make you feel like this? Did he ever make you scream like that?â
She tried to answer but the words dissolved into another moan. He kissed her hard, swallowing the sound, tongue sliding against hers until she was dizzy.
When he pulled back she managed, âNo. Only you, Bucky. No one else since you.â
He brushed the hair from her face with surprising tenderness even as he kept pounding into her. The brutal rhythm never eased, but something in his eyes softened.
âYou waited for me,â he murmured. âGood girl.â
âIâm yours,â she breathed, voice steady even as another orgasm coiled tight inside her. âNo one else could ever touch me the way you do.â
He hooked one of her legs over his shoulder and drove in deeper, the new angle punching the air from her lungs with every thrust. She could feel him swelling inside her, getting close.
âI, Iâm,â she stammered, nails biting into his shoulders.
âWait for me, baby,â he rasped. âJust a little longer.â
He chased his own release with short, brutal strokes until his rhythm faltered. He came with a low groan, pulsing deep inside her, filling her with hot, thick spurts. He didnât stop moving. He kept thrusting through his own orgasm, pushing his cum deeper, refusing to let up until her second climax crashed over her.
Her back arched hard off the bed. Her nails raked down his back, leaving red lines as she moaned his name over and over, voice hoarse. Her walls milked him through every aftershock until she finally went limp beneath him.
Buckyâs arm shook as he held himself above her. He let her leg slide down from his shoulder and lowered himself slowly, pressing soft, lingering kisses to her lips, her jaw, the corner of her mouth. She felt small and spent under him, and he kissed her like he was trying to put her back together.
When he finally pulled out, a mix of their cum leaked from her, but he didnât move away. He stayed close, forehead resting against hers, breathing the same air while their hearts hammered against each otherâs chests.
He moved his body off her and lifted her up, carrying her into the shower. âLetâs get you cleaned up,â he whispered.
The hot steam filled the bathroom, her body leaned into him, her legs weak and shaking, his arm gripping her waist for support.
He used her cherry body wash, lathering her skin until she was soapy and warm. He kissed her neck one more time once the soap suds had been washed away.
He helped her out of the shower slowly, keeping one hand steady at her waist as she stepped onto the cool floor. The warmth of the water still clung to her skin, leaving her cheeks flushed and her hair damp against her shoulders. He reached for a towel and wrapped it carefully around her, taking his time as he dried her arms and shoulders before gently running it through the ends of her hair.
There was something almost painfully tender about the quietness between them now.
After everything they had said, everything that had been dragged back to the surface between them, neither of them seemed to know what to do with the softness that had somehow followed.
Bucky helped her back towards the bed, watching as she sat down on the edge. He grabbed his discarded shirt from the floor, holding it out to her.
She slipped her arms into it, and Bucky crouched in front of her, carefully fastening the buttons one by one. His fingers moved slowly, almost deliberately, as though he was giving himself an excuse to stay close to her for just a little longer.
When he reached the final button, his hands rested briefly against her waist.
Their eyes met.
There was so much neither of them had said that the silence almost felt heavier than the words had been.
âDo you want to talk?â he asked softly.
âNo.â
The answer came almost immediately.
She looked exhausted, but there was a lazy contentment in her expression now, the tension that had been wound so tightly through her finally beginning to loosen.
âI just want to sleep,â she added, her voice softer.
âOkay.â
He didnât push.
Bucky climbed into bed beside her and settled onto his back, leaving a small space between them. He was careful not to assume anything, careful not to reach for her when he wasnât sure she wanted him to.
Y/n turned onto her side, facing away from him.
Neither of them moved.
The room was quiet except for the faint sounds of the wedding still carrying through the distant walls, the music muffled now by the manor around them. Bucky stared into the darkness, his mind still moving through everything that had happened that night, unable to decide whether he was awake because he was afraid to sleep or because he was afraid that when he woke up, she might be gone again.
He thought she had fallen asleep.
Then he felt movement beside him.
Her hand reached backwards across the mattress, searching blindly until her fingers found his.
Bucky looked down.
He simply curled his fingers around hers as she pulled his arm to wrap around her. He shifted closer, closing the distance heâd deliberately left between them.
She relaxed almost immediately.
His face settling into the curve of her neck. The familiar scent of cherries, vanilla and warm skin surrounded him. It was almost enough to quiet every thought in his head.
He breathed her in slowly, his eyes closing as the warmth of her body settled against his. She fit against him with a familiarity that made his chest ache, as though the space sheâd occupied beside him had never truly disappeared.
His breathing gradually slowed. The tension left his shoulders.
Just as sleep finally began to pull him under, he heard her voice, soft and barely conscious against the darkness.
âI love you, Buck.â
Bucky woke slowly, his mind still heavy with sleep, the warmth of the night lingering over him.
For a few seconds, everything felt strangely peaceful.
Without opening his eyes, his hand moved across the mattress. He expected to find her. His fingers searched through the sheets, brushing against the cold space where her body should have been.
His brow furrowed. He reached further.
Nothing.
His eyes opened. The other side of the bed was empty.
Bucky sat up immediately, his heart dropping as his eyes swept across the room.
âY/n?â
Nothing.
He threw the covers back and stood, looking towards the bathroom as though she might somehow silently be there.
The room was empty.
She was gone.
Bucky stood completely still, his chest tightening as the reality settled over him. He looked back towards the bed, almost expecting her to appear again, to tell him sheâd only gone downstairs or that she was getting coffee.
His shirt, the one she slept in last night, folded neatly over the chair.
She had taken the clothes sheâd arrived in, but his shirt was sitting exactly where she had left it, carefully folded rather than abandoned.
He crossed the room slowly.
Beside the glass of water on the bedside table was a small folded piece of paper.
Bucky picked it up.
I meant it when I said I love you.
But I donât know if I trust you.
Give me time.
His fingers tightened slightly around the paper before he carefully flattened it against his palm.
Bucky folded the note carefully and placed it in the pocket of his trousers.
He wasnât going to chase her.
For once, he understood that loving her meant letting her make this decision for herself.
So he picked up the glass of water sheâd left for him and stared at it for a moment, his throat tightening at the quiet thoughtfulness of it.
Even after everything, sheâd still thought to leave him water before she left.
He drank it slowly.
She had given him a boundary.
He would respect it.
But as Bucky stood alone in the quiet room, the smallest, most fragile part of him held onto the only thing she had given him permission to keep.
since we are in a christmas mood, can i ask for a steve kemp x reader where he takes reader from the basement to a "christmas dinner", that she barely wants to touch, and when u ask "who's this?" he says that's his ex wife(how romanticđ) and after dinner he has a christmas gift for you, a ring and a lingerie... do whatever you want with this idea
also, happy holidays babe!!!đâ¨ď¸đ
-đŚ
Christmas Mood Âť Steve Kemp
Pairings: Steve Kemp x Female Reader
Summary: Steve is in a Christmas mood when he takes you out of the basement.
Warnings: Smut (18+), bits and pieces of Fluff, language, cannibalism, dirty talk, kissing, hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, pet names
A/N: Thank you for the lovely request, anonđŠľ
Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.
Header made by my friend𩵠/ divider made by me
GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!đ
You leaned slouched against the wall as you flipped through the same magazine for the thousandth time it feels like. You sighed and tossed it aside before readjusting yourself so youâre laying on your back and staring up at the ceiling with one leg bent and your other leg propped against it, twiddling your fingers. You turned your head towards the door when Steve opened it.
âHey, beautiful.â Steve greets you softly and smiles.
âHey, Stevie.â You say, your voice sounding bored.
You looked back up at the ceiling as Steve lays down on the floor next to you, laying on his side and propped up on his elbow.
âHowâs my favorite girl today?â He asks.
âMeh.â You say softly.
Steve gently turns your head towards him so youâre looking in his blue eyes that you always get lost in.
âThat wonât do.â Steve playfully pouts. âHow about we do something to change that?â He says.
âWhat do you have in mind?â You asked.
âBefore I tell you what I have planned, I have a question for you.â He begins. âHow do you feel about Christmas?â He curiously asks.
âItâs my favorite holiday.â You say.
âItâs my favorite holiday too, which is why I planned something Christmasy for us.â He says.
You stared at Steve with the look of curiosity on your face, wondering what he has planned for the two of you. Steve sits up on his knees and gets the key to the cuffs out of his pocket. You sat up, holding your cuffed wrists out to him. He unlocks the cuffs and puts the key back in his pocket. He takes your hands in his and stands up, pulling you up with him. You two walked out of your room in the basement hand in hand. You looked around the house, looking at the Christmas decorations Steve put up a little bit ago. Steve lead you to the dining room. He pulled a chair out for you like the gentleman he is. You gave him a smile as you sat down.
âIâll be right back, baby.â Steve says.
âOk.â You replied.
You watched as Steve went to the kitchen and brought two plates with spaghetti back to the table. You looked down at the spaghetti, tilting your head out of curiosity. You were wondering who Steve cooked for the meatballs thats in the spaghetti.
âJust out of curiosity, whose meat is this?â You asked, your voice filled with wonder.
âMy ex wife.â Steve says with no hesitation.
Your eyes went so wide that you thought they were going to fall out of your head when he said that.
âYou know I donât eat this kind of meat.â You say.
âI know. Try it though. It might surprise you.â Steve says with a smile.
You smiled back at him before picking up a fork and softly stabbing it into one of the meatballs. You looked at it for a few seconds. If Steve didnât tell you that this was human meat, you probably wouldnât have minded what kind of meat it was if it was the kind of meat youâre used to eating.
âItâs not going to bite you.â Steve jokes teasingly.
You couldnât help but giggle when he said that. Then you finally tried it. You nervously took a small bite of the meatball. Steve wasnât wrong. You were surprised. Youâd be lying if you said it didnât taste good. You hummed to yourself in surprise.
âSee! I told you it would surprise you!â Steve says enthusiastically. âWhat do you think of it?â He asks.
âItâs different.â You say. âThe good kind of different.â You quickly corrected yourself.
Steve smiles at you as he took a bite of his own spaghetti.
âDonât worry, sweetheart. Iâm not going to make you eat this kind of meat again. I just wanted you to try it.â Steve says honestly.
âI appreciate the honesty, Steve.â You say.
Not that you would ever eat human meat again, youâll only admit that it was good because of the way Steve cooked it. You love everything he makes you. Letâs just say this is the most interesting and different kind of meal in a good way youâve ever eaten in your whole entire life.
âWhat else do you have planned for us today?â You curiously asked.
âYouâre about to find out in a minute, sweetheart.â Steve smiles.
Steve took the dirty dishes to the kitchen sink and washed them so he wouldnât have to do it later. Then he walks back over to you, holding his hand out to you. You put your hand in his and stood up. Steve lead you upstairs to his bedroom. There was a Christmas designed gift bag on the bed.
âGo ahead. Open it.â Steve says softly.
You walked over to the bed and opened the bag. You pulled out a small velvet box out of the gift bag. You opened it, gasping softly when you saw the most beautiful diamond ring youâve ever seen in it.
âSteve, what does this mean?â You asked softly.
âWhat do you think it means, honey?â Steve asks softly.
You think you know what it means, but you canât know for sure until you hear it from Steve.
âIs this an engagement ring?â You asked, half curious and half in surprise.
The smile on Steveâs face says it all.
âIt is, isnât it?â You asked just to be sure.
âIt is.â Steve finally confirms.
You gasped softly once more before throwing yourself in his arms to hug him. Steve takes the ring out of the small box and puts it on your ring finger.
âThis ring isnât your only gift.â Steve says.
âItâs not?â You asked curiously.
âLook in the bag again.â He says.
You looked in the bag again, pulling out red lingerie. You held it out in front of you as you looked at it, slightly tilting your head as you did so.
âYouâre going to look absolutely exquisite in it.â Steve says softly.
âYou really think so?â You asked, looking at him.
âThereâs only one way to find out.â He says, gesturing toward the bathroom so you can change into it.
You went into the bathroom, stripping yourself of your clothes and put on the red lingerie. You hummed to yourself as you looked at yourself in the lingerie in the bathroom mirror.
âNot bad.â You say to yourself.
Steve knocks on the door a couple of times before opening it. His eyes didnât leave your body for a second when he saw you in the lingerie. He steps behind you, putting his hands on your bare waist.
âI told you that you would look fucking exquisite in it.â Steve says softly.
âThank you, Stevie.â You blushed.
âYouâre welcome, baby.â He says.
You looked in the mirror, watching Steveâs hand slides down your stomach and inside of your panties. You gasped softly when his fingers lightly brushed against your clit. Then he rubs his fingers in your slick before rubbing your clit in a circular motion.
âStevie.â You moaned softly.
Your head fell back against his shoulder, enjoying the little pleasure youâre receiving from Steve at the moment. Then Steve slides two fingers inside of your pussy, thrusting them at a decent pace. Steve uses his free hand to move your head back up to its original position so you were looking in the mirror.
âYouâre going to watch me fuck your sweet pussy with my fingers.â Steve says softly in your ear.
You moaned at his dirty words. His dirty words always make you putty in his hands. Steveâs thumb added to the pleasure youâre currently receiving by rubbing your clit. Your mouth fell agape, moans and his name leaving your lips.
âOh, Steve!â You moaned.
Steveâs free hand moves your hair out of the way of your neck so he can mark you up as he pleases. You tilted your head, giving him more access to your neck. It started off with soft kisses and then you gasped when you felt his teeth bite your skin hard enough to mark you up. He pulls back to look at the hickey thatâs beginning to appear on your skin. He couldnât help but lick that same spot.
Steve can feel his cock becoming uncomfortably hard in his pants. He groans and grinds his bulge against your ass for some kind of relief. It helped a bit, but it wasnât enough. You gasped when you felt how hard he is as he continues to grind his bulge against your ass.
âSteveâŚâ You say so softly that it almost was a whisper.
âYea, you feel that, baby? You did that to me.â Steve says, his voice sounding a bit deeper than it was a little bit ago.
A loud moan that almost sounds pornographic left your lips when Steve curls his fingers into that one spot inside of you. His fingers continue to hit that same spot as they kept fucking you. Your orgasm was building up. You can feel it. Itâs right there. Steve wraps his free arm around your waist, holding you against him when your legs started to tremble.
âSteve! I-I- fuck!â You moaned, not able to tell him that youâre about to cum.
âAre you going to cum for me?â Steve asks.
âYes! Oh fuck! Yes!â You moaned.
âCum, honey.â He says.
Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head when you came on his fingers and in your panties. His fingers fucked you through your orgasm. Steve takes his fingers out of your pussy and gives your clit one last rub before taking his hand out of your panties. You looked in the mirror as you caught your breath, watching Steve lick your cum off of his fingers. Steve moans softly as he did so.
âYou think got another one in you, sweetheart?â Steve ask softly.
You nodded your head yes, but that wasnât a good enough answer for him. He needs to hear you say it.
âYes.â You finally say.
Steve grins and leads you out of the bathroom and to the bed. You got on the bed, laying on your back and propping yourself up on your elbows. You bite your lip as you watched Steve take his clothes off. You spread your legs when he got on the bed.
âBee a good girl and pull your panties to the side, baby.â Steve says softly.
You bite your bottom lip as you did so.
âGood girl.â He praises softly.
Steve grabs ahold of your hips and pulls you closer to him. Your legs rested on top of his thighs. You watched Steveâs next movement as he strokes his cock a couple times. He decided to be a teasing little shit like he always is before he fucks you and circles his tip around your clit. You whined and bucked your hips. Steve grins and chuckles to himself. He loves how easily frustrated you get when he teases you. Then he finally slowly thrusts his cock into you.
âStevieâŚâ You moaned softly.
Steveâs hands find their place on your hips when he started thrusting. Sometimes when Steve fucks you, his thrusts are relentless and other times, theyâre loving and deep. This time, his thrusts are loving and deep.
âYouâre such a good girl for me, arenât you, baby?â Steve praises softly.
You moaned and nodded.
âCâmon, sweetheart. Tell me. Are you a good girl for me?â Steve asks, gently patting the side of your ass cheek.
âYes!â You moaned out. âIâm always your good girl!â You say.
âDamn right, you are.â He smirks.
Steveâs hands slide up and down your sides, giving your sides a gentle squeeze as he did so. His hands continue to move upward till he got to your breasts. His thumbs circle your nipples before pinching them. Not too hard though.
âSteve!â You moaned, arching your back off of the bed.
âYea, you like that, donât you, honey?â Steve says, his voice sounding a bit deeper.
âYes! Oh my god! Yes!â You moaned.
One of his hands moved higher, stopping at your throat. He wrapped his hand around your throat, not choking you. He just left it there. You grabbed onto his wrist while making eye contact with him. Then your eyes followed the movement of his free hand, watching it go down to your clit.
âOh my god!â You moaned when he started to rub your clit.
You arched your back off of the bed. Steve licks his lips as he shamelessly stares at your breasts. He couldnât help himself. He dips his head down, placing kisses along the swells of your breasts before marking them up. You gasped when you felt his teeth bite onto your skin. It wasnât hard enough to break the skin. It was hard enough to litter your breasts with hickeys. Then he kisses upwards to your lips, kissing you with a mixture of hunger and passion. Your hands found their place on the sides of his head, tugging on his hair. You two moaned against each otherâs lips.
âYouâre going to make me cum if you keep doing that, baby.â Steve moans, referring to the way your pussy is squeezing his cock.
âIsnât that the point?â You giggled softly.
Your giggle quickly turned into a moan when Steveâs index finger and thumb pinched your clit.
âSteve, oh my god!â You moaned.
That triggered your orgasm to build up. You can feel it. Youâre right there. Your legs began to tremble a bit.
âFuck, Steve!â You moaned.
âCum for me, baby.â Steve says, his voice sounding a bit gruff.
Your back arched and your mouth fell open, moaning loudly as you came. Steve fucks you through your orgasm before focusing on his own. His orgasm is right there too. Then he cums inside of you. His thrusts slow down. His hips are still moving at a slow pace, fucking his cum into you. Itâs something he loves to do. Then he pulls out and lays down next to you. You two laid there panting for a moment. You were the first one to speak up.
âAm I going back to the basement?â You sadly asked, turning your head toward him.
âNo, youâre not. Youâre staying up here with me.â Steve says softly.
âReally?â You asked, a smile forming on your face.
âYes.â He smiles back.
Steve leans towards you and kisses you softly and sweetly.
âI love you, sweetheart.â Steve says softly.
âI love you too, Stevie.â You also say softly.
Warnings:Â this fic will include dark content such as power imbalance age gap, and noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You stay home alone to watch the house, but don't realise how long your neighbour's been watching oyu.
Characters: Steve Kemp
Note: I'm a bit obsessed with Kemp, I'm sorry.
I welcome and appreciate all feedback. This means replies, reblogs, and asks. I do prefer if you can reblog and share my work along with your thoughts. <3
Please check my pinned post for more information on my blog, stories, and asks!
Do one kind thing for yourself today and take care.đ
âKeep an eye on the house for me while Iâm gone, will ya?â Your dad pats Steveâs chest as he passes, his other hand gripping his bag.
âNo problem, Paul. You sure you donât need help with that?â Your neighbour offers.
âHey, I got a few years on ya, but not that many,â he scoffs.
âAlright, sure. Iâll make sure it doesnât fall over,â Steve chuckles. âBut if it snows, Iâm borrowing your blower.â
âYou never bothered asking before,â your dad retorts as the hatch opens automatically. He shoves his luggage in and clicks the button on his fob. âYou still owe me for that bottle of scotch.â
âSure I do,â the other man grins as he stands just at the edge of the lawn.
You watch from the porch, shivering in your fleece and leggings. You followed your dad out as he lectured you about making sure the pipes didnât freeze if it got any colder. He got distracted by the next-door neighbour. Youâre used to that. Being forgotten. Sometimes you wonder how you even ended up with your dad.
âIâll make sure everythingâŚâ Steve drawls then peeks over his shoulder at you. âAnd everyone is safe and sound.â
âAh, well, sheâs old enough. She can figure it out,â your dad waves off. âFive days isnât that long.â
âRunning away from the weather or me?â Steve challenges with a snort.
âBoth,â your dad opens the driverâs side. âGotta get on the road. I wait any longer and that snow will catch up to me.â
âAlright. See ya, bud.â Steve waves.
He watches your dad back out of the driveway and turns as the SUV rolls down the street. He lingers as he drops his hand. He hooks his hand in the pocket of his luxe jacket. He turns to you and swipes away the swoop of hair over his forehead. His ears and nose are reddened with the dropping temperature.
âGotta be strange. Being here all alone.â He calls over the frosty grass.
âI⌠guess.â You shrug. âYou, uh, donât need to worry. I can keep an eye on the house.â
âI know. Dadâs just being a dad. I get the same way,â he chuckles. âWell, if you do need me⌠just knock. You know where to find me.â
âAlright uh, thanks, Mr. Kemp.â
He nods and his head tweaks. He lifts his hand slightly then drops it. âIâll see ya around, sweetheart.â
He struts away, along the fence and through the gate to his house next door. You retreat inside, away from the wintry gales. You kick your slippers off and your socks slide over the hardwood.
You really donât mind being alone. Youâve grown used to that. Your exams are over and you had no luck making friends in your lectures. Thatâs hard to do over a Zoom where everyone hides their faces.
You grab your novel and head back to the couch. You hit play on the TV. You donât really need both but you prefer to have white noise in the background. It helps the place feel a little less empty.
A few pages flutter by and you get up to make tea. The window panes rattle and you peer out at the falling snow. Flakes collect in the corners of the frame. Winterâs finally come and itâs not holding back.
You steep a bag of strawberry green tea and bring it back to the couch. You change the episode and sit back. You grab your book and plunge back into the plot. Youâre making the best of the break and the chance to read anything aside from research papers and journal articles.
Your tea goes cold as you get carried away in the book. You sit up to sip from it and make a face. The bagâs still in it.
You glance up. Itâs already dark out. Before you can get up to dump the cold brew, the doorbell chimes. You leave the cup and mark your page. You go to answer the door, checking the little smartscreen next to it. Hm, the doorbell cam is all black.
You slowly turn back the lock and open the door and inch. You peek out as Steve stands outside, shivering as he holds a large glass Dutch oven between a pair of oven mitts. You furrow your brow.
âHey, uh, Ann put this in earlier but she took the kids up to her parents last minute.â He raises his shoulders to his ears. âItâs a bit too much for me.â
âOh, uhâŚâ you rub your neck. âI⌠thanks, thatâsâŚâ
âItâs so cold. I think this is gonna crack if I stay out here any longer.â His teeth chatter.
You donât want to be rude. Steveâs never been rude to you, though you mostly avoid leaving your room when anyone comes over. And youâre sure if you upset him, your dad would be the first to know. You might be an adult in age but everyone treats you like a kid.
âSure.â You back up to let him in.
He steps inside. His boots are loose and unlaced, hastily pulled on. He kicks them off as you watch him. Snow melts in his dark brown hair and a few drops of moisture melt on his cheek.
âHere, uh, you can put it in the kitchen.â You offer as you point him past the staircase.
âWill do,â he chirps brightly. âJambalaya. Annâs specialty. I always sneak extra seasoning in when sheâs not looking though.â
He marches down the hall. Heâs so casual about it, like he lives here. You follow him to the kitchen.
âI hate eating alone. Itâs boring. The kids can be a bit much. Messy, even, but it keeps things exciting.â He sets the large glass pot down on the counter. âOh, I brought something else.â
He reaches up his sweater and you notice the lump there. He slides a shape free of his belt and presents the bottle of rum? Whiskey? Some liquor.
âNo better cure for being ditched.â He wiggles the bottle at you and winks.
âOh⌠I donât drink,â you say. âIâm only twenty.â
âTwenty?â He muses. âI swear we moved in only a year agoâŚâ
âI think so.â
âHuh. I dunno. I guess I never asked. You seem so mature. Thought you were about to graduate.â He sets the bottle down and pops open a cupboard. âI wonât tell daddy if you donât.â
âUmmm.â You hum.
âAh, come on. You donât gotta play innocent with me. Whatever happens between us, stays between us. I wonât snitch.â He takes down two glasses. âYou got any soda? Juice?â
You stare at him. He knows where everything is. Itâs⌠strange.
You go to the fridge and open it up. You pull out the case of orange soda youâve been rationing.
âDad doesnât drink pop,â you say.
âOh yeah? Well, you arenât going to wanna drink this straight.â He tuts. ââSpecially if youâre so sweet and innocent, like you say.â
He pours half a glass for himself of just liquor. He puts as much in the other glass then adds the soda. âForgot the ice,â he clucks.
âThatâs okay,â you shrug off.
âGo on and get that jambalaya in some bowls. Iâll take these to the table.â
He grabs the drinks and disappears. You frown. How the heck did he do it? One ring of the doorbell and suddenly youâre having dinner together.
You grab some bowls and lift the lid off the dutch oven. You find a ladle and dole out some of the fragrant dish and grab some spoons. You carry both out to the dining room.
He sits at the head of the table, your glass set to his right. You put down the bowls then hand him a spoon. He thanks you and stirs the jambalaya. You sit and twirl your spoon.
âGonna try your drink? That liquorâs premium. Straight out of my secret stash.â He intones.
âRight, er⌠I⌠okay.â
You put your spoon down and take a mouthful of the grape atrocity. You choke and cover your mouth. You force it down as your eyes water.
âYou really werenât lying,â he says.
You shake your head. âNo.â
âWell, every once in a while wonât hurt ya,â he insists as he scoops up some of the jambalaya.Â
You put the glass down and take your spoon. You taste the rice and shrimp. You chew tightly as he hums in content.
âThis is delicious.â He drawls.
âYup,â you agree.
He snickers. âYou donât gotta be so shy, you know? Youâre always running away from me like that.â He leans on his elbow. He looks you in the face as you avoid glancing up from the bowl. âUnless, I did something to scare you away.â
âNo, I⌠no. Just⌠I guess. Iâm shy.â
âShy? Hm. Yeah, girls grow out of that.âÂ
He takes another bite then a gulp of his liquor. You donât know how he can. You find the liquor overwhelming.
You eat, drinking small sips as you do, not wanting to waste his generosity. Or spurn it. He eats heartily and leaves you to get a second serving.
âSo, any plans for tonight? Got friends coming over?â He asks as he sits down.
âNo, um. Just reading.â
âJust reading? Well, I guess with this weather, no one wants to go out.â
âMhm,â you put your spoon down in the empty bowl. âWhat about your wife? She went outâŚâ
âWell, itâs not too far. She promised her parents.â He sounds unamused. âIâm sure sheâs okay. Got the snow tires on and all.â He takes another bite and chews. He swallows and licks the excess off his lips. âThatâs where she says sheâs going.â He grins. âJust like your dad.â He winks. âThey say one thing, do another.â
âWhat?â You frown.
âOh sure. His âbusinessâ down in St. Bartâs. Very important.â
âNo, heâs going to Elmwood.â
âHoney,â he makes a face and his eyes drift over. âGo on, finish your drink. Youâll need it.â
You pout. You look at the dark purple mixture. You nearly gag as you empty the glass. He hums.
âAlright, I donât really wanna cause all this drama but⌠youâre an adult. Daddy shouldnât need to lie.â He pushes his half-empty bowl away and crosses his arms over the table. He leans in. âYour daddyâs flying down somewhere warm to meet that woman he follows on OF.â
âOF?â You echo in confusion.
âOnlyFans? Iâm sure you know what it is.â
You gulp and nod. âOh.â You feel sick. Even if thatâs true, you donât want to know.
âI hope you donât know too much about it,â he scoffs.
You nod again. You look away and grip the table. You stand.
âErm, are you done?â You point to his bowl.
âSure am,â he stares at you.
You take his bowl and yours and go out to the kitchen. You put his unfinished portion in a container and twist a lid on. You set that aside and rinse out the dishes.
He startles you as he clinks down the glasses on the counter next to you. âYou donât got an OF, do you? I mean⌠you could probably move out if you did.â
You cough. âWhat?â
âIâm teasing. Well, itâs a really poor attempt at a compliment.â He slithers. âYouâre really pretty, you know that.â
You blink. Your eyelids feel sticky and your head hurts. You put the bowls in the rack and rinse the glasses.
âThanks, Mr. Kemp.â
He purrs, âitâs cute when you call me that.â
You put one glass into the tray and sway. You blink and shake your head. He brushes his knuckles up your side. âSo, whatâs for dessert?â He asks.
Your mouth goes dry as his touch sends a shiver through you. You reach to put the other glass on the rack and feel yourself tipping backward. The glass slips out of your grasp and smashes on the floor. Youâre caught before you can fall on it.
Steve holds onto you as your head lolls against his chest. His cologne invades your nose as your voice trickles out in a confused murmur. You try to rub your eyes but your arms just sort of twitch. Whatâs happening?
âMissssssssâŚ.taaaaaaâŚ.â Your tongue waggles awkwardly as you try to speak.
âShhhh,â he hushes you as he drags you backward. Your heels slide easily over the hardwood. âI got ya.â He turns you into the hallway. âIâll take care of ya, honey. Musta had too much to drink.â He clicks his tongue. âLightweight.â
Your eyes roll back and forth. You canât move your body. Youâve never been drunk before but you donât think itâs supposed to be like this.
As he gets to the stairs, he angles you around and scoops you up in both arms. He carries you up and down the hall. He finds your bedroom without hesitation. He pauses to press the light switch with his elbow then takes you to the bed. He lays you down and stands straight.
He looks around. Your head falls to the side and you watch him. He stops to admire the glass dolls on your bookshelf, then the textbooks stacked on your desk. He strides around as he takes it all in, patient and unconcerned.
âCozy,â he muses as he faces you. He walks up to the bed. âAw, baby, donât be scared.â
He comes around the side of the bed. He stands by your legs. He bends over you and sits you up. He leans your face against his sweater and reaches to grab the hem of yours. He pulls it up your body and exposes your stomach. You groan.
He peels it higher and your arms raise with the fabric. He untangles it from your wrists and you fall back onto the mattress. You whimper.
âSweetheart, Iâm just making sure youâre okay. You canât drink that much all at once. I meanâŚâ he grins. âPeer pressure is a terrible thing.â
He tosses the fleece and curls his fingers under the top of your leggings. You gurgle as your eyes search the wall. Your finger twitches but you canât move much more than that.
He yanks the leggings down harshly, dragging them from under you and past your thighs. He peels them down your legs and take your socks off with them. You lay, helpless, in bra and panties.
He stands and you feel his gaze on you. He laughs. He bends over you again, to unhook your bra and yank it off. He strips you of your panties and has you naked.
âWow, oh wow. I wish weâd gotten to know each other a lot sooner,â he intones.
You can sense him moving. You watch his sweater fly to the floor, hear the buckle of his belt and the heavy rustle of his jeans. Your eyes crest with tears as only your lashes flick over them. You canât wipe away the rising flow. Just lay there and let him do what he wants.
âAw, donât cry,â he grabs your face and turns your head. âDaddy wonât know youâre a little slut. Your secretâs safe with me.â
May I request Steve Kemp and vampire reader, please? Thank you in advance!
So Take a Bite
Pairing: Steve Kemp x Vampire!Reader
Word Count: 3.2k
Content: BLOOD, feeding from live humans, p in v sex, mentions of cannibalism & murder, Steve being manipulative & charming to get his way (ya'll have seen Fresh, he's a bad, delicious guy)
Synopsis: Steve supplies exactly what you crave... but what if he's offering you more?
A/N: Iâve never written anything like this so don't judge too harshly lol although Iâd love constructive feedback - also thank you for this prompt because it made me write outside of my comfort zone and I had a TON of fun with it - thank you for your patience anon - I know this has been in my inbox for months â¤ď¸ also thank you to @navybrat817 for reminding me that Steve can steal blood from the hospital because heâs a doctor (I have no common sense sometimes) also I listened to The Offering by Sleep Token A LOT while writing this lmao ok Iâm done yapping
âIâm almost out, Kemp. Iâm serious. Donât fuck around with me. I can expose your sick ass in a second.â
Steve scoffs, âMy sick ass? Youâre the one that canât survive without what I provide you. You need me. Just admit it, sweetheart.â
Steve hears you grumble over the phone and smiles, pleased with himself. Thereâs a market for everything - human meat & blood are his niche. And heâs damn good at both of them. Some people are just impatient and ungrateful. He waits for you to say something - he isnât going to break first.
âFine. Meet me tonight. Iâll pay you an expedience fee,â you say firmly.
âDouble. Youâll pay me double. Iâll make sure itâs fresh, and you can have it tonight.â
He hears your breath intake on the other line before you answer, âDeal.â You hang up before he can.
-
Steve takes his scrub cap off and throws it in the laundry bin of the surgeon's locker room. Another day of routine procedures - a couple breast implants, a skin graft, a rhinoplasty, and a face lift to end the day. He walks to his locker and changes from his scrubs into his street clothes.Â
âYou done for the day, Kemp?â A familiar voice asks.
Steve looks up to see Dr. Lowndes striding towards him.
âYeah, all done,â he says politely, grabbing his bag and walking toward the door. âJust going up to see my Nana. She was admitted last night for chest pain.â
âOh, is she in the ICU? They look swamped today.â
âUh, yeah, ICU. But sheâs going to be fine,â Steve lies. Lies about the whole thing. His Nana has been dead for a decade.
âI hope so. Have a good afternoon,â Lowndes says.
âSure thing. You too,â Steve waves and darts out of the locker room like a man on a mission. He takes the stairs to the fourth floor and surveys who the nurses on duty are - Mandi, Alexis, Torriana, ah⌠there she is, Brynn.
âHi ladies,â Steve says with a smile as he sidles up to the nurses station. He catches Brynnâs eye slyly and smirks. âHeard you guys are busy today.â
âYes, very,â Alexis says, not looking up from the medical chart on her computer. Sheâs always a bit prickly with him.
âI, uh, think my Nana was admitted last night⌠Brynn. Can you help me out with that?â
âOf course, Dr. Kemp,â she says professionally.
âWalk with me,â Steve instructs, maneuvering her away from the desk. So ductile, so meek, such a good listener. She follows him with fervor.
âHow many units do you need?â She asks quietly as they round the corner, getting straight to business.
âHow many do you have?â Steve asks, entering an empty patient room and shutting the door behind them both.
âDr. Kemp, I-,â she starts.
âI need 12-15. Tonight. Now, actually.âÂ
âOkay, I donât know if I can get them now,â she sighs, biting her bottom lip nervously.
âYou know, you look really pretty today. Are these new?â Steve reaches up gently to look at her earrings. She closes her eyes and leans her cheek into his palm. âAre they from your fiancĂŠ?â He growls, tugging on one gently. Her eyes snap open and she pulls her face away from his hand.
âYes, they are.â She looks at him with desperate eyes. âPull your car around to the trauma bay. Iâll bring them out in a styrofoam cooler. And Steve?â
âYeah?â He asks, hand on the door knob.
âIâd leave him for you if you asked,â she whispers, tugging on the earring heâd just touched.
âI know you would, sweetheart. Weâll talk about it later, okay?â He gives her a gentle smile before turning around and heading down to his car. The secret is to keep her hopes up - give her just enough to make her bend to his will. Sheâs a pretty girl, but too young and naive. Heâd love to take her home and sell her for parts, but that damn fiancĂŠ fucks up that plan. Besides, he has her right where he wants her. And if she quits, heâll charm another to do his bidding.
He pulls his sleek car around and sees her standing there waiting, cooler full of liquid cash. He pops the trunk and watches her set it inside. She walks around to the driverâs side and he cracks his window.
âText me?â She asks sweetly, eyes full of hope.
âSure thing,â he replies with a wink before taking off, knowing he doesn't even have her number saved.
-
Steve pulls out his phone as he parks in his driveway and sends you a text: Itâs fresh. My place. 7pm.
You respond with a thumbs up emoji and count your cash out on your bed again, making sure you have enough to cover his exorbitant fee. You huff in frustration and thirst, but damn itâs worth it. Steve is the only one that provides exactly what you need - fresh human blood.Â
Youâre going to be late on your rent payment again now because of this beautiful asshole, but what else can you do? Starve to death? Not an option. You put your money in your bra and get in your car to drive to his place. Motherfucker just has to live 20 miles outside of town. Thatâs gas money now too.
You pull up to his house into his weird fancy driveway that looks like Swiss cheese and park your beater next to his stupid sports car. Fucking Kemp. Such an asshole. You shoot him a quick text that youâre here and wait for him to come outside. Your phone buzzes and you look down to see that heâs texted you back: Come in. Doorâs unlocked. You swallow, never having been inside Steveâs place. This whole exchange usually took less than five minutes before you were satiated and on your way. You knock on his front door and hear rustling on the other side before he opens and invites you in.Â
âWhatâs with the change of protocol?â You ask warily, looking around the entryway.
Steve chuckles and shakes his head. âI thought we could have dinner. We always rush the interchange. I figure itâd be nice to have a meal together.â
You shudder at the thought. âIf you think Iâm going to eat anything youâve cooked, youâre out of your damn mind, Kemp.â
He utters your name, âItâs vegetable risotto. Now come in.â
You walk into Steveâs home and let him shut the front door behind you. Itâs nice - retro, but the kind of retro where everything looks incredibly curated and expensive.Â
âWine?â He asks, plating your food.
âSure, thank you,â you reply, walking around his dining area and checking out all of his artwork. âActually, can I just have some of my supply? I shouldnât drink alcohol when my tank is nearly empty.â
Steve laughs lightly at your word choice and nods. âSure, pay me now. Iâll even load the cooler in your car because Iâm such a nice guy.â
You roll your eyes and sigh, taking the cash out of your bra and handing it over to him.Â
âClassy,â he notes sarcastically, taking the money from your hands. âSit.â You watch him retrieve the cooler from the refrigerator and take a unit out. âYou, uh, just straight from the bag or would you like a glass?â He asks.
You canât help but laugh. âA glass would be nice.â He takes one from the cupboard and gestures for you to do the rest. You prepare your âdrinkâ.
âGimme your keys. Iâll run this out to your car,â he says nonchalantly. You toss him your car keys and he walks out the front door to stash your goods in your trunk. You lift the lid of the pan on the stove and inspect it closely. It looks and smells normal, but youâre still rightfully skeptical. Steve saunters back in at that moment, and you drop the lid loudly onto the pan.
âVegetable. Risotto. I promise,â he reminds you sternly. âI donât surprise anyone with my acquired tastes. Truthfully, I donât have many dinner guests. But I bet youâre hungry, arenât you?âÂ
âYes, but this is helping immensely,â you assure him, holding up your half empty glass. His eyes flit from the glass to yours and you shrug. âYou think itâs weird," you say.
âIâm not one to judge,â he sighs, pulling a dining chair out for you. âSit.â
You sit in the plush chair and watch him bring a plate to you. The food is still steaming. He puts his plate down and sits at the head of the table next to you. He takes a bite and smiles. âIâm a great cook. Iâll brag about that.âÂ
You smile and take a bite. Damn. He is a great cook. You both sit in silence for a few moments, enjoying the first bites of your meal. You finish your drink, feeling the vitality course through your cold veins once more. Steve watches you finish off your glass and take a bite of the risotto.
âFeeling better?â He muses, looking at your eyes closely. âYou look⌠revitalized.â
âI feel it.â You say with a grin. âThereâs nothing like the feeling right after⌠drinking.â
âI think I know what you mean,â he says. âLike youâre high on life?âÂ
âYes, exactly,â you agree, leaning in closer over your plate.
Steve smiles and looks down. âYou know, we have more in common than you think we do, sweetheart. You say Iâm sick for how I choose to live, but how are you any different, really?âÂ
You consider his question carefully. âI donât hurt people. Thatâs the difference, Steve. Isnât that obvious?â
He nods before smiling darkly at you. âYouâve never had it from the tap? Never tasted it hot from the source?â
You swallow against your better judgement, your body betraying your mind. âN-no⌠and I never will.âÂ
âWho are you trying to convince? Yourself or me?â He stands up and grabs your barely finished plate from you before setting it on the kitchen island. âCome with me.âÂ
You reluctantly follow him and he offers his hand. You hesitate, not sure what his plan is. âI want to show you something.â Charismatic fucker. You take his hand - warm, big, inviting - and he leads you to a large wooden door.Â
âSteve, I actually think I should go,â you say quickly, wishing it had come out more composed. You don't want him to know that you are slightly panicked.
âYouâre free to leave at any time,â he assures you softly before bringing a hand up to push your hair behind your ear. âI just wanted to enjoy dinner with a beautiful woman. Iâm sorry if I made you uncomfortable.â
âNo, no, you didnât,â you assure him, shocked by his words. He thought you were beautiful? Steve Kemp thought you were beautiful? âLead the way," you offer unsteadily now.
He smiles and rubs his thumb against the back of your hand as he unlocks the oversized door. You walk down a curved stone staircase into a cool, dimly lit, and extremely clean basement with a hallway of doors. âThis is my favorite part of the house,â he whispers, peering down the hall.Â
âWhyâs that?â You ask sweetly, still reeling from his earlier admission.
âItâs where I can be myself,â he answers matter-of-factly. His eyes meet yours and they crinkle at the corners as he smiles darkly. âI want to share it with you because you understand the lengths we go to to satiate ourselves. To satisfy our hunger. To indulge our tastes. To meet our needs. You know whatâs necessary. Plus, I know you think about me, sweetheart,â he says the last part into your hair and a shiver runs down your spine. âJust like I think about you.âÂ
Your knees nearly buckle at his confession. âI do⌠think about you,â you admit.
âI know you do,â he whispers. âI want to take care of you. Let me show you something special Iâve been saving for you.â
âFor me?â You ask incredulously, following him down the hall. He unlocks a door and slides it open slowly, blocking the view inside with his body.
âI need you to promise me that you wonât freak out,â he warns you calmly.Â
âUh, okay,â you agree hesitantly. Steve steps aside to reveal a small room with a floor bed, toilet, large mural of the beach, and⌠wait⌠a woman stands up slowly, eyes wide with fear. Her mouth is muzzled like a dog. She cowers into the corner.Â
âThis is Noa,â Steve informs you emotionlessly. âSheâs been a bit⌠disobedient lately.â He walks over to her and reaches into his jeans, revealing a pocket knife. The blade gleams in the light. âCome here,â he instructs you calmly.Â
âNoa, stay still,â he says gruffly, looking at her with an irritated expression. âThis is my friend,â he says your name and introduces you to her. He slyly takes a syringe from his other pocket and injects it into Noaâs neck as sheâs looking at you pleadingly. Her eyes flutter closed and her body slumps into Steveâs arms. âGood girl,â he whispers, lowering her onto the floor. âIâm eliminating her next week to fill an order and thought youâd like to taste the elixir of life from the source.â He says everything so calmly, like this whole evening is routine and not completely fucked.
He assesses your gaze, rubbing your arm gently in an attempt to calm you. âLook, I know this is a lot to take in. But itâs just business, just like how I supply what you need. People pay for this. I supply it to them. I just knocked her out for a bit. Sheâll wake up in a few hours. Arenât you curious? Just a taste.â
You lick your lips involuntarily at just the thought of sinking your teeth into her soft exposed neck. Your gums ache, even though youâd just had a drink upstairs. âSteve⌠I-I donât know if I can. Sheâs a human being. Youâre taking her life from her. This is kind of crazy. I mean, youâre a murderer.â
âItâs only crazy if you say so, just like anything else in this world. Look at me,â he says gently, cupping your chin in his hand and aligning your gazes. âLet me take care of you. I can provide you exactly what you need. Fresh. From the source. Whenever you want it. I just⌠I want you. We would make a delicious team.â Your eyes close at his offer and your dark instincts take over. Energy thrums through your body from your chest to the aching sweet spot between your legs. You open your eyes to see Steve smiling at you, knife raised to Noaâs neck. He makes a small slit and blood seeps through the gash. Your nostrils flare as your senses are filled with her scent - dark, heady, fucking exquisite. You donât think before your mouth is on her neck and youâre drinking right from her. Your entire body feels like itâs floating. Nothing has ever tasted so perfect.Â
âThere you go,â you hear Steve say next to you. âItâs like nothing youâve ever had before, isnât it?â His eyes are lit from within watching you feed on Noa. âYou look so perfect like this. Youâre fucked up just like me, pretty girl.âÂ
You pull back and lick your lips, the hot, sticky liquid stubbornly dripping down your chin, and look at Steve. His eyelids are heavy with lust, pupils blown wide. He inches toward you, his eyes moving from yours to your blood-covered lips. His mouth parts slowly, and thatâs all the invitation you need. You crash your mouth into his and he hisses, smiling into the kiss. Youâre both on your knees, hands everywhere on each other, grasping at fabric, skin, and hair. You break apart from him suddenly and search his face, his mouth now covered in Noaâs blood.
âWhatâs wrong with you?â You ask suddenly, the heat between your legs growing hotter and more violent by the second.
âI could ask you the same question,â he breathes out, reaching for you. âThis is getting you wet - all of this. The blood, the basement, fuck, youâre worse than me.â
You crack a smile, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. âHowâd you know?â
âDemented recognizes demented, darling,â he sighs, clutching you to his chest.
âTake me to bed, Steve,â you demand, leaning down slowly to nip at his neck. He lets out the smallest gasp and picks you up, wraps his arms around you, and carries you out of Noaâs room and upstairs to his. He lays you down on the bed and unbuttons his shirt, revealing a sculpted chest. You shudder at the sight of him. Youâve always thought heâs beautiful, but now you know for certain that he is. He climbs onto the bed and lies next to you, maneuvering your body so youâre straddling him. You lean down to kiss him and lick the leftover blood from his mouth. His eyes darken even more.
âBite me,â he requests.
"I want to," you whine.
"So take a bite," he says again.
You shift in his lap excitedly before leaning down to kiss his neck, teasing him a bit. You feel your canines extend in pleasure and run your teeth over his flesh gently, getting him used to the feeling. Goosebumps prick up all over his body in response and you hum. His hands find your hips and press you into him so you can feel his growing arousal. You moan at the thought of him being turned on by you.
âRide me while you feed on me,â he demands, running his hands up your back against your bare skin. Your resolve snaps again, and you remove your clothes quickly, tossing them around the room. He bucks his hips to remove his pants. Youâre both naked and writhing with pain for the other. You slide onto him and indulge in the sensation of being filled to the hilt. Your hips start rocking on him as he pulls you down to his face and kisses you softly. âFeed,â he begs.Â
You smile at him, flashing your pointed canines and watching his eyes gleam with a mixture of arousal and fear, like heâs met his match. You find the hollow of his neck and sink your teeth in. His blood is a masterpiece - full of punch, energy, youth, and vitality. You thought Noa tasted incredible, but she has nothing on Steve. He moans beneath you, and you know youâre on the edge of losing it.Â
âMy frenzied baby,â he whimpers, holding your head in his hands as you break free from your feed. âSo precious.â His gentle praise makes you come as you toss your head back, riding it out on him.Â
âFuck, thatâs it, sweetheart,â he encourages, gripping your hips with certainty as he loses himself in you, moaning your name in satisfaction. You lie down beside him, tracing the two small puncture wounds in his neck and smiling. Finally, someone that wanted you for you - all of you.
âStay the night,â he offers, pulling you close to him. âIâll even let you take your pick for breakfast in the morning.â
You grin at the thought of drinking from the source again. âSounds like Heaven.â
âEven though weâre going to Hell,â he whispers, nuzzling into you.Â
âPrompt.á "You should be grateful I chose you. No one else is worthy of my touch." For @theoracleofsin's Summer of Sin event ę¨ď¸
âSummary.á Needing to feed for sustenance, you capture a man who proceeds to bargain his way out of your clutches.
âWarnings.á Slight power imbalance, reader can be seen as a dom, a few mentions of blood, reader has Steve alllll tied up, no use of y/n, no descriptors used for reader except she has fanged teeth, open ended
âWord Count.á 500
âPhoenix Chirps.á This event seemed like so much fun when it came across my dash!! I can't promise I'll do every prompt, but a few of them sparked some things, and with a small word count it allows me to practice just a bit in the darker fics. A quick note about our vampire reader - I do imagine her like a Twilight vampire in that she got turned a long time ago, but stays the age she was turned. In reader's case, that was when she was in her late 20s. I didn't tag age gap, mostly because I don't believe there is one, but lowkey let me know if I need to add it haha. Okay, enough yapping Aly...
"Stop struggling handsome," you tsked, running a dark painted fingernail along the ties holding your latest victim to the table, who was now waking up to realize just what had occurred. Fight or flight senses going into overdrive that were of no use when cornered by someone who had done this for hundreds of years.
Propping your elbows on the edge of the cool metal, you got to eye level with the man who unknowingly walked into your trap.
The veins in his neck you longed to feed from bulging as he tried to fight a way out of the straps. A futile, desperate move of prey when cornered by a predator. "This isn't how it was supposed to go," he lamented, voice hoarse from both no use and likely dehydration.
And you couldn't have that.
"No?" you pouted in exaggeration, settling your temple on a closed fist while bringing a glass of water with a straw to his lips. "And how was this meant to go?"
His face turned away, lips pursing in refusal at the offering.
"Now we can do this the hard way or the easy way," you sighed, grabbing his chin, the ease of which you could prop his mouth open showing in his wide blinking eyes. Like he'd never before been used to someone being stronger than him.
"Though the hard way is my favorite," you whispered in his ear as he drank the water.
He sighed deeply once finished, the ties creaking slightly in protest. "What even is this?" he grumbled. "How did I get here?"
Standing to your full height, you began rummaging through the pockets of his jacket, nosiness getting the better of you. "Don't you remember hitting on me in the grocery store? After we exchanged numbers I couldn't get the smell of your blood out of my head."
His expression morphed as the memories came back, eyes closing like he was pleading with some higher being. "So you kidnapped me because my - my blood smelled good? Are you a fucking vampire?"
"Yes! Good job," you said warmly, pulling out a wallet.
"Brendan?" wrinkling your nose at the ID enclosed. "You told me your name was Steve."
He sighed, shifting again in an attempt to check for weak points - of which, he would find none. "I go by Steve."
"I see," you hummed, hopping onto the table and settling into his right side. "Well, Steve, since you're such a smart boy and figured out what I am, surely you know what comes next."
"Wait! WaitâŚI can help you," he pleaded, the tremors of his body increasing.
The sharp tips of fanged teeth grazed the smooth skin of his neck, desperate to finally sink in. "Don't be scared, it doesn't hurt at allâŚ" you whispered, snuggling in closer. "Most people tell me they're grateful I chose them at the end."
"What if you didn't have to do all of this though?" Steve bargained. "I can bring you people to feed on."
⪠Prompt | Praying - Kesha | âAnd you said that I was done.â
⪠Summary | In the aftermath of your mistake, you aren't sure how much longer you can go on like this. Follow up to Pan Fried.
⪠Warnings + Tags | Talk of captivity, Steve Kemp is really charming, Stockholm Syndrome has completely kicked in, 'sweets' as a pet name, no use of y/n, slight allusion to smut if you use your imagination and squint at your screen just right
⪠Phoenix Chirps | When they said do ALL the prompts to get a badge, I took that literally. So I'll be doing the swap outs on random days when the inspiration strikes. I love this pairing down bad your honor. So enjoy some more of them <3
⪠Word Count | 300
| Masterlist ⯠Event Masterlist |
The click of the door being unlocked had your ears immediately perking, and raising your hopes. You knew you had messed up that last task he gave you, butâŚhe had said he was proud of you. So when you were shown back to your cell instead of his bedroom as you were promised, it really wore down your already dwindling confidence.
"Hey, sweets, how are ya?" Steve was gentle as ever, walking with light footsteps and carrying a plastic tray that held your dinner. He knelt in front of your position on the small mattress he was kind enough to give you, a sympathetic smile and what you interpreted as genuine kindness in his eyes.
You picked at a thread absently, the metal of your cuffs clinking softly. "I'm okayâŚjust didn't expect to be in here again. You said that I was done."
A crease formed between his brows, his fingers coming up to brush a stand of hair back from your face. "I know, I know I said that," he agreed. "But you did mess up a bit didn't you?"
Tipping your head down to avoid his scrutinizing gaze did nothing when two of his fingers just forced your eyes back to meet his. "Sorry," you whispered.
The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile. "It's okay, I'm not mad. You'll get another chance, alright?"
Nodding your thanks, your bottom lip drew between your teeth just barely, the tension mounting in the small room as Steve leaned closer. His thumb gently freed the flesh, the warmth of him already sending small shockwaves of heat through your body.
"You know why I keep you around?" he whispered, lips connecting with the corner of your mouth, tongue lightly grazing your skin. "Because you taste so sweet."
⪠Prompt | Mack the Knife by Bobby Darin | Scarlet billows start to spread.
⪠Summary | Maybe...grabbing a cast iron skillet wasn't the best idea...
⪠Warnings + Tags | Mature fic warning!!! Mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, blood mention, death briefly mentioned, talks of cannibalism
⪠Phoenix Chirps | Please heed the warnings! This one's a tad dark. Steve Kemp, where do I begin? I know it makes me an awful person, but I would've gladly adopted to his lifestyle...also three days of staying UNDER the word limit. Let us rejoice!
⪠Word Count | 300
⎠Prev | Masterlist ⯠Event Masterlist | Next â
This was supposed to be easy. Or at least a way to prove that you no longer needed to be kept in a cell like a lamb awaiting slaughter.
The parameters Steve Kemp had set forth were two fold. One, find a victim. Two, bring her to him. As a reward, your shackles would be loosened - both physically and mentally.
Maybe you shouldn't have let Stockholm Syndrome take over. But you knew that the man that courted you for months and slept in your bed before he kidnapped you to upstate New York was still in there. And if by bringing him a victim you would be able to live in domestic bliss? Well, there was shockingly little that would stand in your way.
"Steve, I - I fucked up," your voice trembled, watching scarlet billows start to spread onto the stark white tiles. That was going to be a bitch to clean. Your weapon of choice, a cast iron skillet, clattered to the floor as the events of what transpired caught up to you.
Okay, maybe a skillet shouldn't have been the first thing to reach your grasp, but you were desperate. Days of trying to convince your new 'friend' to take a trip with you was making you grow impatient. And with Steve dangling the promise like a carrot, youâŚsnapped. In a panic, you called the only person you could for help.
A deep sigh sounded on the other end of the line. "Was she scared when you hit her?"
"NoâŚno, she didn't even know it was coming."
A hum of approval had your heart leaping. Maybe you hadn't fucked up too terribly. "Then the meat is still salvageable. I'll be there soon to help you, sweets. I'm so proud of you for doing what I asked."
Prompt: âI love when youâre creamy with my cumâ Day 28 of the Sexy September Scribbles
Pairing: Steve Kemp x female reader
Word count: 279
The moment you fell in love with him, you didnât know what he was. But you saw it in his eyes - a hunger that wasnât just desire, but something sharper, darker, something should have made you run for the hills. Instead, you stayed, knowing he would devour you whole.
Itâs what makes nights like this feel electric, like playing with fire and begging to be burned.
Steve lets out a whimper, his release hitting him like a freight train as he thrusts into you and fills you up with white, hot ropes of his cum. A few more lazy thrusts, wet sounds filling the room, messy kisses to your neck and heâs pulling out, cock softening between your bodies. You feel the slow spill of his seed between your thighs, and you shift, but Steveâs hand is quick to shoot between you, pressing firmly to your entrance.
âDonât move,â he whispers, forehead dropping to yours. âI love when youâre creamy with my cum.â
The words make your breath hitch, flooding your cheeks even as your body clenches around nothing. Steve notices, and he smirks, sliding two fingers between your swollen folds, collecting the mess he made and pushing it back in, just as gentle as it is filthy.
âThatâs it,â he coos, voice rough, thumb circling your clit in movement with the thrusts of his fingers. âCanât get enough of the way you take it. So messy for me.â
Your back arches, a needy sound spilling from your throat, and Steve grins against your jaw, fingers moving faster.
âYeah, baby, go on, so sweet,â he whispers, filthy and reverent all at once. âGod, I could eat you alive.â
Pairing | Steve Kemp x reader (but technically itâs Steve x Noa)
Summary | Youâve developed a habit of getting off while Steve fucks Noa in the neighboring cellâŚ
Warnings | Smut, mentions of cannibalism duh, voyeurism but listening?, cunnilingus, praise, p in v sex, creampie, orgasm denial, kissing, dry humping, masturbation, Stockholm syndrome.
Words | 1.2 k
Notes | This is gonna get like less than 100 likes lmao I can already tell. This fandom is basically non existentđ
Ao3 link | <3
Masterlist
Noa had only been here for a few days, but it was already clear she was different. He spent more time with her, was gentle when revealing where she was and why she was there, and eventually, after she adjusted, he was intimate with her tooâŚÂ
You fucking hated it. You were sure that Noa was probably a sweet girl, especially based on the conversations the two of you have had through the vents connecting your rooms, but you couldnât deny that you were jealous.Â
Steve has only touched you once so far, but you remembered it like it was yesterday. He was caressing you softly, then his hands slipped under your shirt, snaking up your stomach to your breasts.Â
âCan I see?â He asked sweetly. You didnât hesitate before slipping your shirt over your head, dropping it to the floor at your feet. He groaned softly at the sight of your bare chest and groped you almost experimentally, like he was examining them rather than playing with them. Because he was. âFuck⌠These are gonna fetch me a pretty penny, I already know it.â He smirked.Â
You blushed, but a confusing mixture of emotions swirled around inside you. On one hand, you loved that he was complimenting you, finally giving you some attention⌠but the knowledge of what he planned to do soon dampened those thoughts significantly.Â
He tweaked your nipples, forcing a choked sound out of you. âBet these tits are gonna be fucking delicious, baby.â He groaned. You just keened and arched into his touch, but almost as soon as it came, it was gone.Â
By the time Noa arrived, your chest was mostly healed, as were your other pervious surgery sites. He was giving you even less attention now that she was here and you were miserable, but sometimes you could mostly ignore the jealousy. Like right now.Â
âSteve!â Noa gasped, letting out a wanton moan. Sloppy wet sounds were flooding your cell through the vent, making your clit throb with need. You could hear his muffled grunts as he lapped at her cunt, licking and sucking obscenely.Â
âGonna come for me, pretty girl?â His voice was a low, gruff rumble and she sobbed out a moan in response.Â
âPlease! Fuckâ please let me come.â She cried. You whined softly, squirming as you laid on the mattress, trying to resist giving inâŚÂ
Noa came with a loud moan and you could hear Steve grunting, his face still buried in her pussy as he ate her out in a way that he never ate you⌠There was that sharp pang of jealousy againâ but you did your best to push it away and ignore those thoughts.Â
âFuck, babyâŚâ He said through panting breaths. You heard what sounded like kissing, then the clinking of his belt buckle. âTell me you want it.â He murmured. You whined again, keeping your legs pressed together tightly. Â
âI want it, Steve⌠Please fuck me.â Noa whined, making him groan in satisfaction. You could hear the exact moment he entered herâ the way she gasped and he let out a soft grunt. You wondered what it felt like⌠Based on her sounds every time, it must feel amazing. âOh fuckâ thank you,â she gasped out.Â
Steve released a dark, breathy chuckle that made you shiver and you heard more sounds of kissing, as well as some muffled moans. âGod- such a perfect fucking cunt.â He groaned, sounding like he was speaking against her lips. You closed your eyes and finally moved your pillow down between your legs before you could stop yourself. As you began humping it tentatively, you imagined it was Steve rubbing your cunt, saying those things against your lips instead of Noaâs.Â
The sound of skin slapping against skin gradually filled the room and you mewled into the mattress, your hips starting to hump more incessantly. You could hear Steve grunting softly, letting out these guttural moans that made your head spin and your clit ache. You could also hear him speaking quietly, muttering something that only Noa could hear. Judging by the sounds she released in response, you figured it was something that wouldâve made you absolutely gush.Â
You adjusted the pillow between your legs, pushing it more firmly against your cunt as you started humping it harder and faster, desperately chasing your pleasure.Â
The one and only time you tried masturbating normally, you couldnât do it. You just hated how it felt like you were touching something that didnât belong to you, and you were worried youâd get in troubleâ even though you knew Steve probably wouldnât care. If anything, he mightâve even said something about how the endorphins make the meat better.Â
Despite all of that, you just couldnât do it without his permission and you were too scared and embarrassed to ask. So you resorted to humping your pillow. Sometimes it worked, but most of the time you were left unsatisfied.Â
âTake it so fucking good, NoaâŚâ He growled, pounding her harder. You whimpered and bit down on your bottom lip, hating how agonizingly empty you felt.Â
Distantly, you wondered why she was special enough to get his cock, but you werenât⌠Maybe it was because she didnât get herself off by humping a pillow like a bitch in heat while listening to Steve fuck someone elseâŚÂ
âFuckâ gonna fill you upâŚâ He started mumbling incoherently to her, his pace turning almost brutal in intensity as he chased his high. This was by far your favorite partâ the way his sounds got louder and he started rambling out senseless praises and promises⌠the way his thrusts got sloppy and frantic, eager to finally come.Â
He slammed into her with a low moan that you could barely hear over the way she cried out. He was cursing to himself and grunting, working himself through his orgasm, no doubt filling her cunt up to the brim with his seed. You ached to taste it, to feel it cover your body and leak out of every hole⌠You ached to be claimed by itâ by him.Â
You were still humping desperately, but his sounds were starting to die down and you let out a silent sob, knowing you probably wouldnât be reaching your own peak this time.Â
âFuck.â He said through a heavy breath, making her giggle quietly.Â
âNoâŚâ You whined into the mattress silently, tears of desperation and denial brimming in your eyes. Your hips slowed, starting to accept your fate.Â
âI know I normally make you come again after all that, but Iâm already very very late⌠Iâll make it up to you next time, sweetheart. I promise.â You could hear his smile in the way he spoke, sending that jolt of jealous pain through your chest once again.Â
âMm okayâŚâ She murmured. You heard more kissing sounds, then quiet hisses of sensitivity as he presumably pulled out, followed by the sound of his belt buckle once again.Â
Your hips finally slowed to a stop and you just laid there on the mattress, feeling empty and needyâ like you usually didâ tears threatening to spill from your eyes.Â
âI promise!â He called out, almost cheerfully, while exiting her cell, closing the door behind him.Â
As the pleasure faded, jealousy took its place, leaving your stomach churning and your chest aching. The worst part was that Steve was far from done with youâ with your bodyâ so youâd have to endure much more of this emotional torment until he finally finished with you. All you could do was try not to let the jealousy eat away at you, as he was.Â
Prompt:Â June 3rd - Mack the Knife - Bobby Darin / âAnd he shows them pearly whiteâ
Character: Steve Kemp
I know itâs short but please let me know your thoughts and reblog. Also, would love to discuss any ideas these little snippets inspire!
Love you! đ
The lines around Dr. Kemp's eyes ease. He sits back, spinning his pen in his hand as he balances his notebook on his bent leg. His eyes skim over you and he shows them pearly white. His smile is gentle, thoughtful.
"And when do you feel heard?" He prompts.
You flick your lashes and exhale. Your lip trembles as you barely hold back tears. Your sessions are always tumultuous. Sometimes, you leave high on a victory, other defeated by your own doom.
"I... don't know? Never?"
The answer has your stomach plunging. You shift in the chair and look down. You shake your head.
"Never? Not here? Not now? Or our other sessions?" He wonders.
You flinch.
"Well... you're paid to listen to me."
"Sure, that's part of it. But listening is more than my job. Hearing you is more than professional." He assures.
He tucks the pen inside the notebook and sets it aside. He drops his leg from across the other and sits up. He leans forward.
"I want you to feel heard. I want you to feel... powerful." He slides to the edge of the seat. "So..." He lowers himself onto the floor, kneeling. "You tell me..." he drops onto his hands and crawls to you. "Exactly what I should do to make you feel better."
Genre/Warnings: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of murder, mentions of menstrual cycles, face slapping, biting, smut, very long and descriptive foreplay, slight possessive! Steve, mentions of blood, head (fem receiving), cunnilingus, spitting, orgasm denial if you squint, name calling, kinda proofread
A/N: Watched Fresh for the first time the other day and then I got my period a few days later. Steve Kemp has been on my mind lately and being the cannibal and freak he is, of course he has a blood kink
âââ
Never mind that you met the charming, handsome stranger during a late night run to the grocery store for some much needed food. Never mind that he asked for your phone number, you gave it, and he texted you three days later. Never mind that this handsome stranger took you out on bar bonding nights and midday coffee dates. Never mind that you introduced this charming stranger to your best friend since forever. Never mind that this man had invited you to his rather nice, but secluded house up and away in the woods. Never mind that after, maybe, one too many drinks you passed out on his couch and awoke on a rather comfy bed that was placed in the floor with a wrist cuffed to a chain. Never mind that the charming, handsome stranger held you down on said bed while you screamed and cried to be let go. Never mind that he promised to feed you, to clean you, to keep you dressed and warm as long as you behaved.
Never mind the girl just on the other side of the wall was in disbelief that heâd actually fucked you and touched you in ways that he didnât do to her, or others. Never mind the begging and screaming you heard from other girls in nearby rooms as the stranger dragged them down the halls. Never mind the groggy groans that followed after he carried the other girls back to their rooms. Never mind how the girl next to your room, and the one a room over, told you stories of how your charming stranger is a raging cannibal who cuts limbs off and keeps women alive for as long as he can before killing them off like livestock.
Never mind all of that because your handsome, charming stranger had never taken any part of your body from you. Never mind all of that because your handsome stranger had never hurt you.. without reason, of course. Never mind all that because while the stranger is making your neighbors scream and cry from fear, heâs making you scream and cry for entirely different reasons.
Never mind all of that because Steve Kemp is a freak.
ââ
Youâd been whimpering and whining, pushing and blocking for the past ten minutes now. You should know better than to try and fight Steve off in any way, but you had a good reason to. You had an actual, legitimate reason to push Steve away today. This reason would be that same reason youâd give him if he tried anymore during the week.
So, Steve handled your misbehaving in the way that always seemed to work.
Your head was jerked to the side and your cheek stung with a heated pain. The skin was already tinted red from the harsh contact. You gasped from shock and grabbed your cheek with a tender hand as you turned your head to look back at Steve.
He was glaring down at you from his position of crouched above you.
âQuit that,â Steve slapped your other cheek with the same force he used to slap you the first time. His voice was a low growl as he spoke. âQuit pushing me away. You know better.â
You whimpered as you looked up at Steve with teary eyes. You held both of your cheeks, doing your best to the soothe the heated skin. You winced a little as the muscles of your pelvis clenched painfully.
Steve didnât seem to care as he forced your hands away from your face to grab at your cheeks with one large hand. He squeezed your cheeks, shaking your face a little. It was almost like he was trying to shake some sense into you.
âWhyâre you fighting me off today, huh?â Steve asked, confused and irritated. âYouâre so usually so good for me. Whatâs the matter with you? I donât want to punish you, but I will if I have to.â
You couldnât fight the shiver that skittered up your spine as Steve mentioned punishing you. You knew what that meant. It was something that Steve used to threaten you with all the time when you first woke up in the basement, but the threats lessened as time went on and you accepted your fate. You shook your head at the mention of the threat.
âWe canât, Steve,â You told him with a timid voice. âI-â
âWhy?â Steve jerked your head as he pressed for information.
âIâm bleeding,â You answered. âI- We canât-â
âYouâre bleeding?â The actuality of your answer didnât click in Steveâs head yet. He scoffed as he continued. âWhatâd you do? Thereâs nothing sharp in here to cut yourself on. Youâre making excuses.â
âNo, Steve,â You cut him off, though you know you shouldnât. âIâm- Iâm on my period. And Iâm bleeding, a lot.â
Steve blinked at you. The crease between his brows went away as he raised them. The grip on your face loosened a little. A look mixed up of realization and humor replaced the harsh confusion that previously clouded Steveâs handsome face.
âThatâs it?â He asked with a light chuckle. âJust your period? You should know by now that I donât care. Iâve eaten you out on your period before and you taste divine, baby.â
âItâs a lot this time,â You told Steve with a quiet voice. âItâs messy.â
âI donât care.â
With that, Steve moved a hand to cup the back of your neck and raised his other to hold the side of your face. He leaned in just as quick, pressing his lips against yours in an insistent kiss. He moved his mouth against yours, titling his head the other way every couple of kisses. His nose occasionally bumped against yours. As his tongue bullied its way into your mouth, he groaned at the taste of you as he gently pushed you back to lay on the bed.
You wrapped your arms around Steveâs neck as he pushed you back. The clink of the chain connecting your wrist to the floor announced your movements. You did your best to follow his lead. You didnât fight back as Steveâs tongue pressed into your mouth, you gave in almost instantly and pressed your tongue forward to meet his halfway. You sighed out through your nose as Steveâs saliva dripped into your mouth, mixing with you. You let Steve between your thighs as he nudged your legs apart so he could settle between them, but you pulled your thighs up and tried to squeeze them together as you felt thick, sticky liquid seep from your cunt.
âAh ah,â Steve tutted, pulling away from you. âLet me in. Youâll be fine.â
âItâs gonna be messy,â You lightly pleaded. âIâm gonna stain the sheets.â
âStains can be washed and sheets can be changed,â Steve pointed out, sitting up slightly to look down at you. His hands moved to your hips, slipping underneath your shirt. âYouâll be fine. Iâm gonna make you feel so good.â
Steve leaned down again, connecting your lips with his once again. He licked into your mouth and nipped at your bottom lip. Slowly, Steve pushed your shirt up, revealing your torso inch by inch.
You arched your back against Steveâs touch, squirming slightly to help him push your shirt up. You sat up slightly so Steve could slip your shirt up your shoulder blades and over your head. Slipping your arms out from the shirt, you tossed the fabric lightly to the side.
Down here, in the basement of Steveâs house in the middle of nowhere, you didnât bother wearing a bra. Actually, after Steve had taken your clothes and eventually given you new ones, he never gave you a bra. There was no need for it, he reasoned. He was the only man that was going to be seeing you after all, and there was no need to hide from him. Your roomie in the next room had called Steve a âsick fuckâ after she heard that conversation for the first time.
When you settled back into the bed, Steveâs lips were back on yours and your hands made their subtle journey down his sides and under his shirt.
As Steve peppered wet kisses over the apple of your cheek, over your jawline, and down the column of your throat, you inched his shirt higher and higher up his body. You revealed his heated skin to the chill of the room and his rippling back muscles to whatever judgy god was watching you two from above. Your short nails scratched up his back lightly and the pads of your fingers bumped along the ridge of Steveâs vertebrae.
âAlright. Alright. I hear ya,â Steve muttered when youâd gotten his shirt bunched up over his shoulder blades.
He pulled away from you, away from the skin of your neck, and sat up. Steve grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head. He tossed the fabric to the side to join your shirt and you barely had enough time to admire before Steve was diving back in to kiss and lick at your neck.
Steve groaned as you practically invaded his senses. His eyes were closed, but he could feel your soft skin beneath his fingers, against his tongue, and between his teeth. He could smell you this close, that sweet but musky human scent that was purely you. The smell complimented the taste of your skin, of your neck. It was an indescribable taste, something sweet, salty, and downright savory. Steve would almost rather have you than whatever poor girl sat frozen away in his walk-in freezer. And the way you sounded, oh god. You werenât noisy by any means, or not yet, at least. The little ins and outs of your breathing, the way your breath hitches if his fingers found that one spot, if his lips sucked too hard, or if he nipped your skin were all like music to Steveâs ears.
Steve really could get lost in you, in more ways than one.
You were loosing a battle with keeping quiet. Your head was tilted away and your bottom lip between your teeth. Your eyes were screwed shut and you breathed through your nose. Every kiss and lick that Steve gifted to the exposed skin of your neck had heat building beneath your skin and had blood pounding in your ears. Your breath hitched and your fingers twitched against Steveâs back when he started to nip his way down your pulse point, all the way down to your collarbone. You felt him double back, licking up to the area where your neck met your shoulder. Up another inch and you lost your internal battle.
Steve sunk his teeth into that spot on your neck, biting til it hurt but not to break skin. This had caused you to yelp and let out something that sounded like both a moan and a whine. And when he tugged, you whimpered.
âThere you go,â Steve mumbled, pulling his teeth from your skin and kissing at the affected area. âGo ahead and tell all these other girls who makes you feel so good. Go ahead and tell them that there are other ways to be eaten, that there are many forms of hunger to be satisfied.â Steve shifted, pulling away and coming back to kiss you again. His voice was a low growl as he continued on, âTell them that youâre mine and Iâm yours. No one else will have me like this, just like no one else will have you.â
Steve kissed you once more, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled away.
You could see the heat in his eyes before he dipped his head back down towards you.
Steve left open-mouthed kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, and between the valley of your breasts. He nipped and stopped to suck in a few spots as well, leaving marks. You could feel the graze of his teeth, feeling the threat and promise the bones held. His hands groped and grabbed at you, leading his mouth down your body.
He continued on down, his lips leaving a heated trail of goosebumps. Soon enough, both his hands and his lips were stopped by the barrier of the sweatpants that you wore. He paused.
You looked down when Steve stopped, only to meet those stormy blue orbs staring right back. You held his gaze, your heart pitter-pattering beneath your sternum. You watched as he cast a fleeting glance towards the barrier before looking right back up at you again. You felt his fingers twitch before he slipped each of his fingers one-by-one underneath the waistband until Steve could slowly drag his hands down your thighs and expose you almost completely to his watchful eyes.
Steve pushed your sweatpants down your thighs and over your knees. He leaned down and nudged your thighs apart just enough to nuzzle against the bloody crotch of your panties. Steve kissed the area, opening his mouth and flattening his tongue against the damp fabric when he delivered his second kiss.
It was the first day of your period, and with this being the first time Steve visited you today, you hadnât had a chance to ask for any menstrual products yet. So, you were left to stain your underwear until you got some. Youâd have to ask after Steve got his fill of you.
You helped rid of the sweats and Steve tossed them to the side. When you felt his deft fingers curl around the bottom hem of your panties, you lifted your hips. You could feel the way the panties stuck to your messy lips and how they only could be managed to peel away from your center at the last minute. Your cringed a little at the sight of your bloody underwear, embarrassment began to heat your cheeks at the sight. But you yelped as you felt teeth nip at your inner thigh.
âDonât make that face,â Steve demanded with a low voice. He was looking up at you as he dropped your panties into the pile of clothes. âYouâre beautiful all bloodied up like this.â
You blushed for an entirely different reason now, still looking down at Steve shyly. You gripped the sheets below you as Steve leaned down, bracing yourself for his next actions.
Steve moved your legs so they were tossed over his shoulders. His hands on your hips squeezed the flesh, splaying his large hands out against you. He turned his head to lick at one of your inner thighs, groaning at the irony taste of blood that made a mess there. Steve sucked at the sink there, leaving more loving marks to dirty up your skin in a different way.
You squirmed and whined beneath Steve. The hickies on your inner thighs always hurt to receive, but wasnât that the point? You canât have a little love without pain. Thatâs what Steve always told you. Your heart rate picked up and your breathing hitched with each suck and lick against your skin. You could feel the heat in your abdomen build and bubble over as arousal mixed with blood dripped from your cunt.
âMakinâ a mess,â Steve mumbled, switching to your other thigh.
He gave you the same treatment on this side too, cleaning up the smeared blood and leaving hickies that throbbed with hurt. When he got to the crease in your thigh, you shifted as you patiently waited for his tongue to touch you where you needed him. You needed him to touch you, taste you, anywhere as long as it was in the area you wanted him in.
Finally, after taking his time cleaning up your thighs with his tongue, groaning at the taste while he did, Steve finally flattened his tongue against your cunt. He licked a slow, deliberate strip from your hole and up to your clit. Steve did this once, twice, three more times to gather you up on his tongue and swallow you down. He groaned while he did it, moaning into your lower lips in a way that you could feel all the way up your spine.
You whined below him, biting your lower lip. You squeezed your eyes shut and laid your head back on the pillow behind you. You reached down to card your fingers through Steveâs soft hair, scratching at his scalp in an almost loving way before tangling your hands in his hair and grabbing at the strands. You could feel the way Steve took his time, gently holding your hips in his hands and licking between your folds.
Steve made sure to clean you up real nice. He made sure to dip his tongue between all your crevices and leave behind shiny spit. And of course he could feel your clit throbbing beneath his tongue, which is why he flattened his tongue against the bundle of nerves so he could drag his tongue up and down in a slow pace. He moaned into you when you pulled his hair. Steve pulled away, looking at the string of spit that still connect him to you.
When you looked down to see why he stopped, you watched as Steve pursed his lips slightly to let a glob of spit drip from his lips and fall into the mix that was your messy cunt. His eyes were on the mess before they flickered up to you, catching your heated gaze with one of his own. Your heart skittered beneath your ribcage at the sight of Steve.
His lips, chin, and the very tip of his nose was a mess of blood and your arousal. Due to the mess of bodily fluids between your thighs, the liquids dripped once or twice from Steveâs chin and down onto the pristine white sheets you lay on. His pupils were blown, covered in a haze of pussy-drunk heat.
âYou taste better than you usually youâve, yâknow?â Steve comments. His words are emphasized by a squeeze to your hip.
You know what he means by that. You think this is why Steve hasnât taken anything from you, any flesh or limbs. Because he likes you like this better, in one piece so he can feel you grab at his hair as he feasts between your thighs. Youâre thankful that he does, so you donât have to suffer the same fate as your next door roomies. For now, at least..
You respond to him with a nod, bottom lip between your teeth still. When Steve leans back down, you lay your head back down and close your eyes as pleasure coursed through your nerves and heats up the blood in your veins. Maybe even the blood that still seeps from your leaky cunt as well.
Steve continues his slow paced assault, licking you up with a heavy tongue. Heâs taking his upmost time, like he has nowhere else to be. Perhaps he doesnât. His tongue dips low and prods, like heâs searching for something. Then, he finds the opening of your cunt, the source of the thick blood and leaky arousal.
You moan aloud this time, not too loudly. But the feeling of Steve easing his tongue inside of you has your whimpers melting away into moans. Even more so as you feel his tongue squirm and search around, going as far as it can inside of you. Your mouth falls open and your fingers tighten in his hair as you feel Steve take his time fucking you with his tongue. Itâs a slow drag out and a slow push in. You squirm below him, heightening your pleasure just a tad more as your hips shift.
Steve hums against you as he pulls his tongue from you to lick up your slit again. The sound travels up your spinal cord and settles in your chest. He leaves open mouthed kisses against your lower lips, still licking up your taste with his tongue, and sucking and pulling at your lips and clit with his mouth. Heâs mindful to watch his teeth though, keeping them away from any sensitive parts.
You can feel how much of a mess Steve his making. Your inner thighs are cold and you can feel warm bodily fluids drip down your ass and soak into the sheets below you. Youâd be embarrassed if you were in the right mind, but Steveâs tongue has smudged your usual morals into nothing but an unreadable fog. The only thing you can feel is his tongue and lips on you, and his hands grasping your hips. The only things you can hear are the messy sound of your cunt, Steveâs moans and groans, and your own moans in the, otherwise, empty room.
Slowly, as the minutes tick by, you can feel your pleasure burying itself into the muscles of your pelvis. Your fingers tighten in Steveâs hair and your thighs twitch on either side of his head. Your hips still squirm underneath his lips and your back has a slight arch to it as you try to press yourself more into his mouth.
Steve has picked up pace by now, switching between licking and sucking at your folds and clit. He gives equal attention to both, prolonging your pleasure and unknowingly denying your orgasm as he gives no special attention to your clit just yet.
Heâs eaten you out for so long now that youâre not sure how much time as passed. Youâre beginning to get tired as well too, not in a bored way but in a pleasure-filled relaxed way. You almost want Steve to stay here for hours, youâre sure he could. But you wanna cum so bad. You couldnât remember the last time someone really took their time with you, at least before Steve. You never knew how long Steve would treat you like this for, so you took as much as you got, as much as he was willing to give you. Which was, apparently, quite a bit.
âAh. Steve..,â You mumbled, words a little slurred due to your foggy brain.
He knew what that meant.
âYou wanna cum, pretty girl?â Steve asked, his rumbly voice shooting pleasure up your down your spine and into the hollow of your pelvis.
You let out a âmm hmmâ while nodding your head and shifting your hips to press more into his mouth.
Steve hummed back and shifted. He wrapped his arms around the front of your thighs and shifted closer to you. He kept up his ministrations with a heavy tongue, still licking at your folds and pulling at the flesh. Steve picks up pace, using his tongue more than his lips. He licks your clit more than before, switching between flicking the nub with the tip of his tongue and dragging his entire tongue over the nub.
âOh my- shit! Steve!â You moan as the pleasure that simmers under your skin grows quickly. You grab and pull at his hair more. Your thighs spread so you can give Steve more room to work with, and your hips grind against his face in a way to match his pace.
Steve doesnât hold you down as you squirm. Instead, he does his best to match your movements. He still sets the pace though. Steve still has the control.
Suddenly, Steve flattens his tongue against your clit and shakes his head. The motion has pleasure spiking between your legs, and you cry out as your thighs shake. He continues this for a few short moments before going back to lick at your clit with varying speeds.
A coil begins to tighten in your lower abdomen, curling in on itself with every lick and suck Steve forces on you. It gets to the point where itâs almost too much but yet, not enough. Your chest heaves and youâre aware of your clit standing stiff against the assaulting tongue.
âMm- Steve!â You start up again, thighs tightening around his head. âSteve! Steve -shit- Iâm gonna- fuck-!â
With a final few licks to your clit, your body seized up and your orgasm washed over you with a cry torn from your throat. You donât mean to trap Steve between your thighs or pull at his hair with your hands, but you do anyway. Your body is not your own at the moment. It is driven by the pulsing heat between your thighs and the fog in your brain.
Your voice is a mess of moans, whines, curses, and Steveâs name. You are unabashed with the way you beg and thank your lover. There is no doubt that your next door neighbors down here in Steveâs basement can hear you, and can hear the way Steve is enjoying you in ways theyâll never experience.
Steve licks and sucks at your clit until your voice gets whiny and you try to push him away with your hands at the top of his head. He doesnât relent though, adamant to take what your body can give him. Steve only pulls away when his lungs start to beg for air.
Steve comes up for air, finally. He works to take in air through his open mouth. His lips, chin, and the front of his nose are a mess of arousal thatâs tinted with blood. If this werenât real life, you wouldâve thought Steve was a vampire with the way he looks. His hair was tousled from your hands and his pupils are still blown wide.
Youâre still a mess on the bed, laid flat down. Your eyes are closed and your own mouth is open to take in gasping breaths. Thereâs a light sheen of sweat making your skin shiny, making the light above catch on your skin. Thereâs a flush to your chest and cheeks, showing the exertion from your activities. You work to recover your scattered brain and bare lungs until you feel movements between your thighs and a hand grabs your chin, squeezing your cheeks. You open your eyes to see Steve leaning down over you so heâs face-to-face with you.
âSee? That wasnât so bad,â He tilts his head, a little bit of amusement dancing in those stormy blue eyes of his. âLook at what you get when you let me in.â
You nod, âSorry, Steve.â
âItâs alright,â He uses his freehand to wipe away at his face, clearing the mess. The amusement dies away to something serious. âDonât do that again. You know better than to fight me off. Youâre mine, you understand that?â
You swallow and nod, nervous now, âY-yes. I understand. Iâm sorry.â
Steveâs face relaxes and he leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips, âGood girl.â He releases your chin from his hold and pats your cheek gently.
He gets up and stretches, raising his arms over his head and twisting his back to pop his spine. Steve pulls his shirt back over his head and smoothes down the fabric, as well as dusts off his pants.
âGet dressed,â Steve orders gently as he helps you sit up and unlinks the chain from the cuff around your wrist. âIâll bring you upstairs so you can take a bath, yeah? How does that sound?â
You nod, looking up to catch Steveâs eyes as he watches you from where he stands. You move to pull your ruined panties on, cringing at the feel of the cold mess against your still-heated cunt. Your sweatpants and shirt follows soon after. You stand up beside Steve, bracing a hand on a shaky knee as you so.
Steve leads you out of the room, sliding the door to the side and not bothering to close it behind you both. He gives you an almost endearing look before he grabs your hand to willingly take you down the hall and up the stairs.
Your legs are still a little shaky as you follow Steve, but you keep up with his long strides easily. You take two steps for his every one.
From one of the rooms beside yours, maybe even from the girl next to your room, you hear someone mutter âslutâ just loud enough for you to hear. But Steve hears it too, obviously with the way you almost run into his back from how fast he stopped. You look up at him confused and see the cold, hard squint of his eyes and the furrow of his brows. You can see the snarl that threatens to curl his lips as he looks at the door to the girlâs room.
But when Steve catches you staring, he shakes his head with a blink of his eyes. Gone is the cold, sharp look and something warm and comforting replaces it. He smiles down at you, stepping forward to continue leading you up stairs.
You follow Steve obediently through the house and to his rather nice bathroom thatâs attached to his bedroom. You watch as he gets the water temperature to something nice and warm before plugging the drain.
âAlright,â Steve stands to his full height once he has everything settled. âYou get in and get settled. Iâll bring you some clothes and products later. Iâve got to change your sheets and deal with⌠something first. But call if you need me, okay?â
âOkay,â You nod, leaning in when Steve presses an oh so tender kiss to your forehead. âThank you, Steve.â
âAnytime, sweetheart.â
And with that, Steve leaves you alone in the bathroom and you begin to undress. As you settle into the warm water that slowly fills the tub, you donât even notice that the bathroom door can only be locked from the outside. But, itâs not like you want to leave anyway.
Youâre Fucked Up Too @simp4kemp - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
