[angrythingstarlight]

I've seen some post about how Sebastian stan and Richard madden (ikaris from eternals), look similar so that got me thinking of bee seeing these two together, who she be confused by seeing 2 of her father or would she know straight and call madden an imposter?

Can you imagine baby Bee waddling up to Ikaris, a bright smile on her face because she's been waiting all day to see her Papa. Only the closer she gets, she starts to realize that something isn't right.

Ikaris flew in from Scotland just to meet her so when he spots her heading his way, he kneels down with his arms open. "Hi—"

Her chin tilts up. Befuddled gaze coasts across his face, her eyes widening slowly. Smile fading away. "You not papa."

Her simple statement is so accusatory and filled with so much disappointment that Ikaris feels like he needs to apologize for not being Bucky.

"I'm sorry. I'm your cou—" Ikaris attempts to introduce himself but she's already waddling her way back across the room. "Alright then. Nice meeting you."

Bee doesn't pay him any attention, instead focusing her energy on searching for her papa. The real one. When she finds Bucky, she takes his face in her hands and studies him closely. Intently. She's not about to get tricked again. He grins throughout her inspection.

"Papa." After a few seconds Bee hugs him, relieved. Then she points an accusatory finger at Ikaris. "Not my papa."

Not Papa waves back.

All he gets in return is a suspicious glare. Ikaris would know that look anywhere, he's seen it enough growing up. It's a Barnes trademark and she has it perfected. Damn never identical to the one Bucky gets when dealing with something unpleasant.

Her expression doesn't change, not even when Bucky carries her over to his cousin. Not even when he shakes her hand. Not even when he gives her a stuffed blue brontosaurus.

"Tank you." The 'you're still not my papa' is written all over her face. She clings to Bucky, the stuffed animal squished under one chubby arm.

Ikaris doesn't know whether he should be amused or insulted when she decides to call her new dino Mr. Iky.

She eventually warms up to him after he resorts to the family's tried and true method of bribery. All it takes is a few more more stuffed animals, some snacks and all the monies in his wallet.

^Bee's expression whenever the imposter tried to talk to her.

[lanabuckybarnes]

| Only In Vegas | 18+ MINORS DNI

Your trip to Vegas with Bucky ends in the best way possible—and in the most exposed.

✧ pairing ✧ Biker!Bucky x Female!Reader

✧ Warnings ✧ Fluff, brief mention of oral (F receiving), a lil drinking, teasing, Exhibitionism, Dirty Talk, Nipple play, Unprotected PinV, [ Petnames: Angel, Baby, Good Girl, Babygirl, Babydoll ], Clit play, Creampie - any more that should be here please let me know!!

✧ Word Count ✧ 2.4k

✧ Author Note ✧ Sooo, I wanted to write something for my birthday but I got so demotivated this past week. Consider this my late birthday fic/Drabble.

✧ Event ✧ Hot Bucky Summer | WEEK 1 | “Louder let everyone hear you.” | Screaming/noisy sex, Gangbang, Exhibitionism | @buckybarnesevents

Work had Bucky rushed off his feet all month. He’d wake up in the morning, kissing you before rushing off, he wouldn’t return till late in the night, when you were already curled up under the duvet sleeping away. Clutching Bucky’s pillow he noted affectionately.

His heart was beginning to ache. He missed you, missed the long mornings and late nights, snuggling up on the couch watching a movie while his hands wandered. He missed clutching onto you while you cooked, shooing him away when you became convinced that you were going to burn the food.

After bartering with Tony, almost on his knees pleading man to give him the time off, he'd returned home with the biggest smile on his face. He didn’t give you any clue as to what was going on until the week before your flight. He had booked a hotel room for you two in Vegas. Your week has been amazing with just him, drinking, eating, sightseeing—the whole shebang.

Today was no different, you woke up, whimpering Bucky’s name as his tongue delved between your folds, lulling you awake with a delightful orgasm. He then pulled you up and into the shower where he got his fill, sinking deep into your sensitive little pussy. After fooling around for what felt like hours you were both finally ready to get out.

Bucky had let you plan the entire day, trailing behind you with his hand intertwined with yours like a big beefy puppy as you traversed the city. Making sure that you didn’t bump into anyone. He protested when you forced him to take photos next to the fountains, a playful grin on his face as you pulled him close before inching both of your bodies towards the railing.

“Come on Buck just one photo” you giggled against his mouth, his beard tickling your face. He growled menacingly, his hands gripping your hips tighter as you tried to pull away causing you to huff out a sigh.

“Please”.

When you looked at him like that, your eyes wide and your face soft, those lashes framing your orbs in such an innocent manner, he couldn’t resist.

You got your photo of your hot biker leaning against the railing. He was looking off the side giving you the perfect candid look.

You stared at the photo while on the subway to the hotel, your back against Bucky’s chest as he protected you from the bustling carriage.

The electronic lock of your door made a little jingle when you unlocked it, shuffling in. You didn’t even register the white bag or roses decorating the sheets until Bucky cleared his throat.

“Oh? Buck, what is this?” You smiled, making your way over to the back while watching him. He all but shrugged and sat on one of the chairs by the window, sipping on his water.

You gasped when you pulled the dress from the bag. The one you’d been eyeing up for a while, although it was far too expensive.

Bucky had caught you a few times while walking by the store, a longing expression on your face, a small sad sigh that had his heart clenching as you moved on. Bucky had bought it for you as soon as he’d booked the trip, hiding it away in his luggage until tonight.

“Buck—” you turned to him, eyes wet with unshed tears, a disbelieving smile curling your lips. He stood, a lazy grin on his face as he cupped your face in his hands.

“Put it on, we have a reservation at 5” He spoke, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned in, kissing you softly.

When Bucky mentioned the reservation you had no idea it was for the fanciest restaurant you’d ever stepped foot into. You almost felt underdressed compared to the lavish decor.

Bucky gave his name to the host and you were situated at the back, a complimentary champagne on set the table for your arrival. The waitress handed both menus over before slipping away, leaving you both alone.

“Eugh” Bucky grimaced at the bitter taste of the champagne, setting the glass as far from him as possible as if having it too close would burn him.

“Bucky you didn’t have to do all this”

You eyed your surroundings, sipping on your champagne. God, it really did taste terrible. His warm hand laying over the top of yours brought you back to his slate blue eyes, swimming with love, his pupils dilating at the sight of your awestruck expression.

“No…” he began, squeezing your hand before lifting it to his lips, peppering soft kisses over each knuckle before turning your hand and cupping his face with it. His lips kissed the heel of your palm sweetly.

“…but can I not spoil my girl?” He chuckled as your thumb brushed over the curve of his cheekbone. Just at that, someone came to take your orders.

Dinner went down a treat, Bucky going for a classic Steak, medium rare and a beer while you settled for something a little more outside your comfort zone and a cocktail.

With both plates empty and a few more glasses of alcohol in your system, you’d both loosened up. Bucky had moved sometime around his second or third beer to the same side of the booth as you, his arm thrown over the back of the chair while you curled into him. Your smaller hand on his thick thigh traced soft circles.

“Do you remember…” he paused as he caught your gaze, swallowing down the urge to kiss you, “…when we went to that restaurant for our first anniversary?”

Your groan had him laughing airily, his arm falling around your shoulder and pulling you in close. His fingers squeezed down your bare bicep until it fell, catching onto your hip.

“When you could keep your hands off me”.

His nose bumped the side of your head, his lips brushing over your ear. You shivered at his hot breath fanning down the column of your neck, right at that sensitive spot.

“You put my hand in between those legs and looked up at me with those big fucking eyes didn’t you baby?” He growled, his tongue darting out to trace the shell of your ear.

“Bucky” you warned, your thighs clenching as your eyes fluttered shut. Your nipples pebbled at the thought, zips of excitement rushing down your spine.

“Yeah that was your favourite word that night wasn’t it? In that bathroom stall, your legs around my waist. Could barely get my jeans past my ass before you were jumping on my dick”.

He gleamed at the soft noise you let out, your hand squeezing his thigh. Then you looked up at him, the same way you did all those years ago, with perfect pink lips and coloured eyes that were almost black with lust.

“Take me back to the hotel”. You demanded. Bucky was happy to oblige.

You grunted into his mouth as your back met the wall, your arms pulling him impossibly close as your tongues fought against each other. He parted with a laugh at your desperation, a string of saliva connecting you both.

“Mm such a good girl for me ain’t you? All desperate for my cock…you only had it this morning yet your pussy is fucking soaked”.

He spat, mouthing sloppy kisses down your neck, his hand slipping under the dress to press against your soaked panties. His free hand reached behind you both, unzipping your dress, knowing that you would’ve killed him if he ripped it off your frame on your first time wearing it.

His lips kissed down, over the swell of your breasts until he reached a hardened nipple. His gaze flickered up to yours before he licked over the bud, a shudder racking your body, your back arching into him and a delicious whine falling from your mouth.

Then a wicked idea crossed his mind. The sheer curtains covering a patio door lead onto the big balcony you had your breakfast sitting on, watching the world go by.

You squealed as he picked you up off your feet, walking you both easily to the opposite end of the room. You prepared yourself to be launched onto the bed, your eyes squeezing shut as you rested your head against his shoulder.

The soft click of the lock behind you had your eyes snapping open again. The cold air slapped your bare back as he stepped out into the night.

“Bucky—Bucky what are you doing?” You covered yourself as he set you down on the chair, stepping back to strip himself of his shirt and pants. His cock tented against his tight briefs.

He pulled you back up into his arms, taking your seat and making you straddle him.

“We should take advantage of this…let me fuck your little pussy out here?” He spoke between sloppy kisses down your neck and breasts.

“Buck people will see us” you argued, biting back the soft moans as his fingers pinched your sensitive nipples.

You should’ve known Bucky didn’t give a fuck about who saw you, especially considering the number of times he’s growled in your ear about fucking you on the bar table, uncaring if Steve or Sam or anyone else was watching. He only held back for your sake.

The thought of Bucky inside you, his hands gripping your hips as he bucked into you relentlessly, pulling you back onto him and moaning your name against your ear while the city below continued on their way. Maybe they’d catch you, the thought of them catching you turned you on in a disgustingly sexy way.

Bucky’s brows twitched at the sight of you clenching your thighs together, trying hard to hide it from him but he was extremely perceptive.

“You’re thinking about it ain’t you baby?” His hot breath fanned against the shell of your ear before he took the tip of it into his mouth, his tongue flicking over it slowly.

Your resolve was slipping faster than you liked, and when the back of his long digits slid down your exposed midriff, settling lazily between your thighs—you were putty in his hands.

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me Bucky” you grumbled, taking his jaw into your hand and pulling him down onto your mouth, his lips curling into a smile against yours as he realised he’d won.

His hands moved from your hips to your ass, grinding your clothed sex over his throbbing cock, your wetness seeping through the black material and mixing with his steadily leaking precum. He stood with you, letting you go to push his briefs off. His thick cock slapped against his abs, leaking all over himself. You couldn’t help it when you reached down, wrapping your hand around the base and pumping him in your hand a few times.

“Fuck angel I’m gonna make you feel so good” he growled, throwing his head back in pleasure. His lips found yours again as he repeated your actions from earlier on that day, inching you back until you were close to the railing. He turned you so your back was against his chest.

“Jesus you’re fucking wet…you want people to watch you get fucked by your big biker huh? You like people watching you don’t you” You nodded, yipping as your lower stomach met the cold railing, his hand gripping the base of his cock to run over your panty-covered folds.

“You want this dick baby?” He groaned into your ear as he pushed his tip into you through your underwear, teasing you relentlessly.

“Mm please Buck” you begged, eyeing him over your shoulder.

“Good girl” he moaned, his cock slipping into you easily, your heat clinging to him, trying to milk him for all he was worth.

His hips jerked brutally, soft moans falling from his lips and into the crook of your neck. You tried so hard to muffle them, chewing on your lower lip until you drew blood. The first slip had your determination unravelling, your desperate sounds falling unabashedly from your mouth, growing in pitch as they mixed with Bucky moans.

“Yesss that’s it baby louder let everyone hear you, let everyone hear just how good this dick fucking feels” He bit down onto your shoulder, an flurry of slurred cursed words and deep guttural sounds in his chest vibrating your back.

You felt that coil begin to form, ropes of pleasure knotting in your stomach so bad you wanted to scream. Bucky’s praises and encouragement not helping in any way.

“Fuck feels so good Bucky, feels fucking good” you cried, pushing back to meet every one of his thrusts. The tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each slap of wet skin on skin.

“Ohh babydoll you’re fucking squeezing me…you gonna come soon? Gonna come all over my fucking dick? Yeah, you are ain’t you? Ohhh shit that pussy’s fucking gushing…making a mess” he spat filthy into your ear, his hand fisted your hair. pulling in such a way that had your back arching as his other grasped your much smaller one from the railing and trailed it down from your sternum to your puffy little nub.

“Play with that little clit—mmm—be a good girl and make yourself come, squeeze my fucking cock angel” he urged, his thick fingers circling your own around your pearl until you found your own pace.

“Oh fuck—mmm, fuck gonna cum oh shit Bucky!!” your scream echoed over the night sky in waves. No doubt alerting people to you both if you hadn’t already.

You clenched around him hard as your orgasm slammed into you, your teeth biting down on the fat of his palm and your body quaking with harsh jerks.

“Mmm, fuck angel gonna come…gonna fill that fucking pussy oh shit ohh fuck!” He rasped as his thick tip pushed deep, pressing into your cervix before spurting string after string of hot seed into you.

“Ohh such a good girl” he praised, arms wrapping around you as he stepped back until he could sit his bare ass on the patio chair.

“You did so good angel I’m so fucking proud of you” Bucky was always like this after sex, so sweet and clingy. His fingers circled your sensitive little nub until you pushed him away.

“You think anyone heard us?” You asked with a hint of a smile on your face, basking in the afterglow of what just happened, his cock still heavy inside you, his white shirt wrapped around your shoulders again to block you from the cold.

“Mm not a soul angel” he replied sarcastically, kissing your temple softly, watching your eyes slip closed before he scooped you up and sauntered back into the room. Slipping your spent body under the covers before joining you and pulling you in impossibly close.

I DO NOT give permission to have my work copied, translated or reposted. If you see my work anywhere else except on this page I have not given consent for it to be used.

Comments, Reblogs, Likes & Asks are always appreciated. They let me know that you are enjoying what you read and give me motivation to write more.

Thanks for reading~

[delicatebarness]

the manuscript | chapter one

Summary: Vulnerable and Honest.

Warnings: Age Gap. (Dr Barnes: late 40s & Reader: early 20s) Smut.

Word Count: 1408

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A/N: I'm so sorry Peter. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @mostlymarvelgirl | @mrsnikstan

You tried to focus, to be present in the moment. The room was dimly lit, and the bass from the party outside thudded against the walls. Peter moved behind you, his breath heavy. Every touch felt mechanical and predictable. 

His hands gripped your hips, pressing himself closer. “You feel amazing,” he murmured as his breathing became ragged. You forced a moan, you wanted to match his enthusiasm, you wanted to let go. Closing your eyes, you tried to immerse yourself in the sensations but your mind wandered. 

Your thoughts drifted to upcoming assignments, the laundry that had started piling up, and whether the milk would go bad. 

Peter’s pace quickened, as he neared his climax, his grip on your hips tightened. “I’m close,” he whispered. Arching your back, you pushed yourself closer to him. It was no use, you felt it going through the motions—his movements, were erratic, and his breathing was heavy. 

With a satisfied grown, he finished, collapsing onto the bed beside you. You followed his lead, lying beside him as he sighed contently. He rolled the condom off, tossing it toward the bin beside his bed, before wrapping an arm around you. 

His chest heaved as he caught his breath. “That was great,” he smiled down at you, his voice drowsy. Forcing a smile, you nodded. 

It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep. But, you lay awake, staring at the bedroom ceiling. Your mind replayed your mental to-do list as the music continued into the night. 

Slipping out of bed, you made your way toward the bathroom. Closing the door behind you, you swiftly turned the lock as the sound of the party muffled. You started at your reflection in the mirror as you leaned against the sick. 

Turning the tap, you let the cool water run over your hands before splashing your face. As you thought about your assignments, your mind drifted to Dr. Barnes. His presence, and how it commanded your attention. His piercing eyes, the way they would lock onto yours during debates. 

Your hand traveled down your body, looking for the release that Peter’s touch failed to find. Vivid images of Dr. Barnes– his hands, voice, and stare continued to play on your mind. Your fantasies grew, consuming your mind as you imagined his touch. His whispered words of encouragement. 

The tension built quickly within you, eagerly your body responded to your forbidden thoughts. Biting your lip, you tried to stifle your sighs. Not that anyone could hear over the party and music. The pleasure you found in your touch was intense, immediate, and driven. 

Your breath quickened as you remembered the thrill of intellectual sparring, always leaving you craving more.

A wave of pleasure washed over you, trembling, you struggled to keep quiet. Your mind was lost in the ecstasy. The release you were desperate for earlier in the night. 

As the sensations subsided, you leaned against the sick again. A mix of guilt and satisfaction coursed through you as you tried to steady your breathing. 

Taking a deep breath, you washed your hands and splashed your face. Returning to the bedroom, careful not to make eye contact with the other’s still partying. Peter, still sound asleep, blissfully unaware of your betrayal. 

Sliding back into bed, you found your gaze back on the bedroom ceiling, your mind a tangled, complicated mess of desires. 

~

Pushing aside the tangled thoughts and desires that had consumed your night, you rose from Peter’s bed with renewed determination. He slept soundly, unaware of the struggle you had faced internally. After going about your morning routine, you made your way to Dr. Barnes’ class. The lecture hall was already buzzing with students, the energy palpable as you entered. 

“Good morning, everyone,” Dr. Barnes stood at the front of the room, his voice commanding the attention of the room. “I trust you’ve all had a chance to review the reading for today.” his gaze lingered on yours for a moment longer than the others. 

He launched into details for the new assignment, memories of the previous night caused your mind to drift. Your desires for Dr. Barnes began to overshadow your commitment to your relationship with Peter, guilt gnawed at you. You tried to force your focus, trying to push these feelings aside. 

His voice delved into the intricacies of literary theory, weaving through concepts and ideas. He was a master storyteller. All attention riveted on Dr. Barnes as the hall around you fell silent, his presence and voice filled the space. 

As Dr. Barnes continued, he began to turn slightly, his glance sweeping across the room. His gaze lingered on you as if expecting your hand to be raised. He readied himself for another heated debate. 

“Yes, Miss Spector…?” Dr. Barnes began, his voice cutting through your fogged thoughts, pulling you back to the present. Blinking, startled, you realized that all eyes were now on you. 

“Yes, Dr. Barnes?” you replied, a small smile playing on your lips as you tried to mask your confusion. A slight blush rose to your cheeks with embarrassment, you hoping it would go unnoticed. 

He paused, lines formed across his forehead as a furrow formed between his brows. “You had something to add to the discussion?”

Your heart began to race, the thudding loud in your ears. “Oh, no, sorry,” you stammered, shaking your head slightly. “Lost in thought.”

“I see,” he said, softening his expression slightly, his tone measured. “Try to stay with us, Miss Spector. Your insights are valuable.” 

As he resumed his lecture, you sank back into your seat. This little incident was a reminder of the boundaries that separated you from Dr. Barnes. The line between student and teacher was clear at that moment. You noticed Yelena, one of your best friends, giving you a curious glance, but you avoided her eyes, choosing to focus on your notebook in front of you instead. You tried to refocus, attempting to immerse yourself in the material, and jotting down notes. 

You made a conscious effort to engage with the discussion as the class continued, asking questions and offering insights as normal. Dr. Barnes acknowledged you with a small nod, the silent encouragement that boosts your confidence. 

~

When the class finally drew to an end, Dr. Barnes gave out the new assignment, expressing his expectations and detailing the guidelines. 

You lingered behind as students began to pack up and leave. Approaching his desk, the weight of the unspoken connection between you two caused your heart to pound once more. 

“Dr. Barnes,” you began, keeping your voice steady. “Do you have any specific advice for approaching this assignment?” 

He looked up from his desk, his gaze meeting yours as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Authenticity in writing comes from personal experience. Write what you know.” 

You nodded, “Thank you,” you replied but didn’t move. You lingered, and Dr. Barnes noticed your hesitation. 

“Is there something else on your mind, Miss Spector?” he asked, his tone softer, almost inviting. 

Unsure of how much to professionally reveal, you hesitated. “I just… I, um, I’m struggling to find a personal angle that feels significant enough,” you admitted. “I want my writing to be… compelling like you said.” 

He leaned forward slightly, and his gaze intensified. “Well, compelling writing often comes from exploring parts of yourself that you’re the most afraid of, most afraid to reveal,” he paused for a moment, allowing you the opportunity to speak. You didn’t take it, focusing on his jaw tensing slightly. “It’s about being vulnerable, honest. Sometimes, the stories we’re most hesitant to tell are the ones that resonate the most.” 

His words struck a chord deep within you. “I understand,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper. “Thank you, Dr. Barnes.” 

You turned to leave, and just as you were about to walk out the door, he called after you. “Miss Spector,” his voice stopped you in your tracks. Your breath hitched as you turned back to face him. He stood now and leaned against his desk, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Remember, my door is always open if you need further guidance.” 

“Thank you,” you replied, your gaze flickering down to his hands as they rested casually on his hips. “I appreciate it.” You left the lecture hall, your mind buzzing with a whirlwind of thought. His words lingered, echoing in your mind. Vulnerable, and honest.

---

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[buckysbabygorl]

Say It

Summary: Bucky hates you and the feeling is mutual. It didn’t matter if he was attractive, or heroic, he was a grade A pain in your ass. The petty insults and the constant staring. It unnerved you. But you know how to get under his skin….

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, enemies to lovers, swearing, gun use (no violence), begging, dom/brat dynamics

Sergeant Barnes was nothing more to Y/N than a nuisance.

He was always giving Y/N shit. At the compound, on the streets, during missions. He just never let up.

She did her best to avoid him, as being in the same room as him always brought out her worst.

He made her feel snippy and childish, resorting to constant defenses and quick retorts that left her with her head spinning afterwards.

It always felt like he got the final word, the last laugh, and it drove her crazy.

But with all his insults he dealt out, she had one solid retort. The one thing that could get under his skin… his army title.

Sergeant.

She wasn’t sure why, but nothing else phased him.

For him, it was the way she phrased it. Laced with disdain and contempt, throwing his authority back in his face.

His title be damned, she didn’t care. He may have been an authority figure in the army but he was by no means her superior. They were equals on the field and she made sure to remind him of that every chance he got.

She never called him by anything else, other than a few nicknames like asshole, dick, etc.

Never Barnes, never Bucky, never James.

Just sergeant.

And today was no exception.

Barnes and Y/N had both failed their firearms tests, or rather, neither had shown for their scheduled tests due to an emergency mission. Both were extremely skilled in their previous tests, but without passing the second time, neither of them would be reinstated as agents.

Not wanting to take any chances, Fury mandated bi-weekly training for the two. Why they had to train at the range at the same time, was beyond them.

“Your stance is off.”

Y/N huffed, glancing at Barnes out of the corner of her eye.

He stood to the side, arms crossed over his vest, gaze piercing under neath his protective glasses.

“Noted,” she chided, “Though your input wasn’t asked for, it’s noted.”

He chuckled, “Just trying to help. Wouldn’t want to fail your second time, would you?”

She reminded herself to unclench her jaw, nearly shattering her teeth in annoyance.

“I didn’t fail. I missed it. Same as you did.”

She sturdied herself, aiming for her target at the far end of the range.

She calmed herself, breathing in and out. In… and out… in—

“You’re gonna miss if you keep that stance.”

She growled, “Will you shut up and just let me shoot?”

“You need all the tips you can get, kid. No need to get hostile.”

A nickname she loathed, kid. He was always throwing it up in conversation, even when addressing her to other people. His constant reminder of how “young and inexperienced” she was.

“If you don’t stop talking, I’ll show you hostile.”

He stalked closer, leaning against the firing stall wall.

“Considering that you’re so inexperienced with a weapon, I don’t feel all that threatened.”

She disarmed her rifle and rested it, turning to face him.

“Right, right.” She said, “I have no experience with weapons. If only I had as much experience as you, tell me another fucking war story while you’re at it Sergeant.”

His face lost its smirk, dark blue eyes now glaring at her.

“You should show me some respect.”

She laughed, turning away from him.

“I should show you nothing, I don’t owe you anything.”

She picked up her rifle again, rearming it and getting set to shoot. She could feel his eyes boring into the side of her head. Her face grew hot, a trickle of sweat slipped down her temple.

Just breathe. Be steady, be certain. Fingers on the trigger, get ready…

“You gonna wait all day?”

That was it.

7 shots fired from the barrel, fast and paced with perfect precision.

7 holes left in the target’s chest, all she needed to pass.

She would be ready for upcoming test.

She disarmed her rifle once more, removing her tactical gloves and tossing them to the table.

“Anything else you care to say?” She asked.

His eyes had never left her form, and he smiled.

“Lucky shots.” He replied, “Hopefully they don’t clock your form on Friday.”

“Fuck you.”

She moved to walk passed him, her arm colliding with his shoulder.

He grabbed her wrist and whipped her back to the stall.

“Don’t talk to me like that. Be quiet and stand here.”

His hands gripped her hips hard, and he spread apart her legs with his. His stubble scraped her cheek, his breath hot on her ear.

He moved her as he spoke, his hands harsh and controlling. “Face the target squarely, feet shoulder width apart. Toes should face the fucking target flex your knees—”

His hips bucked against hers, “Lean forward towards the target. That’s how you take a fucking shot.”

He was breathing hard against her neck, his heart ramming against his chest. She hoped he couldn’t hear hers ramming too.

“That’s isosceles. I prefer the goddamn weaver stance.”

He didn’t move, and neither did she.

“Yeah?” He uttered, “You do that and you expose an area. Right here—”

His large hand wrapped around her torso, nearly encompassing her side.

“—that’s open from your armor. You get shot there, you die.”

She shoved him off of her, whipping around to face him.

“What difference does it make? They’re both accepted stances by the government’s protocol.”

“If you don’t give a fuck about your survival chances then why give a fuck about your test at all? Your stance matters.”

She stepped to him, her face inches from his.

“I give a fuck about my survival chances. Just because I don’t like your old school, traditional bullshit stance, doesn’t mean I don’t give a fuck about my test.”

“You refuse to take any criticism about your skills, it’s gonna get you killed.”

“Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Their chests heaved in unison, their eyes wild as they dared to look at one another.

“Then you wouldn’t have to deal with the hot-shot rookie that knows more than you, that could replace you in a heart beat.”

Discarding his eyewear, he scoffed in her face. As he stalked forward, her back inched towards the opposite stall wall.

“You think you’re so much better than me, than everybody on this team. You couldn’t replace me, I’m one of the strongest and most experienced members on this team. You’re nothing but an entitled brat with your head in your ass. I can do more than you could possibly imagine.”

Things were turning dangerous. She hated that he insulted her age, she hated that he called her inexperienced, she hated that he was constantly fucking with her head. She hated that he looked so fucking hot when he was this angry, standing right in front of her.

“Oh yeah?”

She grabbed the tactical gloves and shoved them into his chest.

“Then why don’t you show me how it’s done—”

He watched as her lips snarled, hand pressed against his chest.

Don’t say it. Don’t you fucking say it.

She smirked.

“Sergeant.”

His hands flew up so fast.

Gloves fallen to the floor, her hands were pinned to the wall.

He pushed her up with his hips, body taut against her.

Her eyes were blown wide, lip dropping in awe.

“Say it again. I dare you.” He growled through gritted teeth, noses touching.

She urged her body not to tremble at his grasp, heat pooling in her abdomen.

He was testing her. Playing some twisted mind game. He wouldn’t hurt her, he wanted to see if she backed down. She wouldn’t.

“Sergeant.”

Blue eyes turned black.

His mouth was hard on hers, fingers digging desperately in her wrists. He pressed his hips forward, pushing his hardness into her clothed core.

She gasped into his lips and he took the chance to battle with her tongue. He ground himself against her again.

He pulled away, taking in her shocked gaze.

“You wanna mouth off to me? Give me attitude?”

He ducked his head into her neck and she shuttered. His hips continued their bucking.

“No respect… I’ll teach you how to behave.”

Her head was spinning, thoughts running wild from the man in front of her. All this hatred, all this fighting, now his hands were releasing hers and stripping off her vest.

Her hands were free now, why wasn’t she pushing him away?

She grabbed his shoulders to stable herself, watching as his hand dipped into her waistband. The other gripped the underside of her ass, keeping her clothed pussy right against his hardening cock.

He laughed to himself, “Is this you showing me hostile? Look at you now, nothing to say.”

She stifled a moan as his fingers drifted across her panties.

“Barnes, I—”

He awed, “There it is. No ‘sergeant’ this time, huh kid?”

He rubbed at her clit through the fabric, watching as she struggled to keep her composure.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, and he hissed.

“Don’t call me that.”

He leaned in to her neck, fingers shifting her panties to the side.

His voice vibrated against her throat.

“You don’t like it? Be good and I’ll call you something else.”

She gasped as his fingers entered her, strong and purposeful.

He groaned at her wetness, licking the skin at the base of her neck.

Her legs clenched around his waist, he rewarded her with another finger.

“If I’d known fucking you would have shut you up, I would’ve done it sooner.”

She swallowed a sigh as his fingers pressed against that perfect spot.

“You aren’t fucking me. You’re teasing me.”

He bit her neck and she gasped again.

“Be patient sweetheart, I’ll fuck you soon enough.”

As his thumb circled her clit while his fingers pumped into her, her eyes rolled back. Head drawn back, she couldn’t help but moan.

Bucky hummed as he fucked her with his fingers, “You like that?”

She bit her lip as he continued his teasing, his face moving away from her neck.

He leaned back and grinned, “Is that what you want? Me calling you sweetheart while I fuck you?”

“I—”

Her moan interrupted her as he picked up his pace.

He tsked as he rested his forehead against hers.

“Use your words. You wanted to before.”

She whimpered as he withdrew from her, angry with herself for giving into him as much as she had. She couldn’t let him win like this, she had to bite back a little.

“No,” she huffed, “Try something else to turn me on.”

He smirked at the challenge, and his hands dipped back into her waistband.

She wasn’t prepared for him sliding her pants to the floor, hiking her up further onto the wall.

“Fine,” he said, “but you’ll have to ask nicely.”

He was as soft as before, his fingers moving at a harsher pace. The newfound angle left her crying out, desperately clawing at his arms in pleasure.

“What do you think, huh? Maybe baby?”

He dipped his head to her chest, sucking at the delicate skin.

He didn’t need to watch her to know what she liked, he could feel it in her body. The beating of her heart and the rapid breaths she gave as he pulled her closer and closer to her peak.

“Princess?” He drawled, “No, no…”

He curled his fingers, pulling another whimper.

“How about Angel?”

She clenched around his fingers and gasped as he bit into her breast.

“Oh god—.”

“Ask me nicely, Y/N.”

Her back arched against the stall, eyes closed as he edged her.

“Fuck, yes. Yes Barnes, yes.”

She cried out as he drew her orgasm from her, hips rutting into his hand.

He groaned as she coated him with her wetness, the mewing mess he had made of her.

This was so much better than training.

“I knew I’d get you begging. I fucking knew you’d be good for me.”

He pulled her away from the wall, and she stumbled into his arms. Her eyes were glossy, hair tussled and lips swollen. All from him, all his doing. Pride welled in his chest, but he wasn’t done yet.

He spun her around, leaning her against the table that faced the targets.

“Remember what I told you Angel. Feet apart, bend forward.”

He pushed her chest down to the table, hands raking over her backside.

She growled, “I don’t need another damn shooting lesson.”

Her ass stung as his hand spanked her.

“What happened to being good, kid?”

She propped herself up on her elbows, “I said, don’t call me that—ah!”

He smacked her ass again, “That fucking mouth again. Why don’t you put it to good use?”

She sighed as he pushed her down to the table again, “What? You want me to suck you off, that it?”

He chuckled, “No Angel, I’ve got something else in mind.”

His hands swiftly removed his belt, slipping down his pants and boxers to leave him in nothing but his vest and t-shirt.

Pulling out his cock, he teased her entrance. Slowly sliding his head along her glistening folds, listening as she moaned in anticipation.

“You’re gonna say my name.”

He dipped his throbbing head in, feeling her legs tense… her pussy clench around nothing.

He pulled back and she exhaled.

“You’re gonna beg me, and you’re gonna say my name.”

She attempted to rut back against him, desperately hoping she’d take him in.

She couldn’t say his name, she couldn’t beg. She’d never live that down.

His metal hand held her in place, not letting up.

“Say it Angel,” he demanded, “Beg me to fuck you.”

“Screw you Barnes—”

His thumb was harsh on her clit, and she yelped at the rough circles he drew into her.

“I’ll leave you here, a wet fucking mess. Don’t test me, Y/N. Say it.”

“Fuck,” she cried out as he teased her with his fingers. “Fine I—”

He put the head of his cock in again, stretching her entrance.

“Bucky, please.”

He hummed, “Better. But not what I want.”

She felt herself grow cold in her exposure, Bucky pulling away and hand leaving her side.

She whipped around, “What? I said it!”

He smirked at her, shaking his head.

“First name, Angel. And beg.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

He could see it in her eyes, how desperate she was. Yearning for more, but so damn proud.

“Just say it, Angel. All you have to do.”

She hissed through her teeth, so touch starved she could cry. This would be the death of her, her legs shaking and wetness pooling at her thighs. Fuck, she had to.

“For god’s sake James, please just fuck me.”

He strode forward with ease, pushing her back onto the table.

He knew she’d give.

“That’s my girl.”

Her hips were around his waist in a second, hands in her hair and kissing her roughly as she moaned beneath him.

He bucked his hips against hers, sliding his cock along her dripping entrance.

He lined himself up and thrust into her, her head rolling back in a loud cry.

He groaned as he filled her up, her pussy tight around him.

“Fuck, you feel perfect.”

He rutted into her at a relentless pace, unforgiving as his hands gripped her waist.

“So good, Angel. Could fuck you forever with a pussy like this.”

Her fingers curled into his hair, gripping tightly as he pounded her harder against the table.

“You want that? You want me to fuck you over and over? ‘Til you can’t say nothing but my name?”

She exhaled a yes, mind too clouded from pleasure to stop herself. She was melting in his hands now, completely at his whim.

“Say it Angel, say my name.”

She was going to cum again, her vision growing blurry as it pooled in her stomach.

“James, oh god, James!”

She came hard, the lights blinding her as her orgasm took over her body.

His thrusts grew harder, determined to keep her cumming until he finished.

“That’s it Angel, cum for me. So fucking pretty when you cum.”

His hips stuttered as she looked at him, a moaning mess with her pleading eyes.

“Cum inside me James, please.”

He was done for.

He finished with a groan, body falling limp against her. Their chests rose and fell in unison, their breaths filling the quiet room.

It was dawning on them now, the wild scenario that had played itself out.

How did they get here?

Too tired to question it, Bucky lifted himself off of her.

He gently wrapped his hands around her waist, guiding her to sit up.

Silent, they look at each other.

Their faces were unreadable, dripping with sweat and cheeks swelled with red.

She tried to discern that look in his eyes, she never knew what he was thinking.

Unless he was right in her face, snarling at her, then she knew what he felt.

Anger, frustration, hatred.

This look… now that was something new.

He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“Okay…” he started, “no more ‘kid’ and no more ‘sergeant’.”

She swallowed, not trusting her voice she responded with a nod.

He nodded back. “No more fighting. It’s exhausting.”

She was taken aback that, and he laughed at the look of shock on her face.

“C’mon. It is.” He pointed between them, “Our energy is much better spent on this.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Wow, just like that?”

He nodded. “Mhm, just like that. You drive me crazy but, I can’t say I haven’t been thinking about this since the day we met.”

Speechless again, she stared at him as he continued.

“You’re frustrating, you make me worried, you—hell you’re reckless and it scares me. Feels like I have to keep an eye on you all the time.”

“You are frustrating. You don’t trust me to take care of myself or the team.” She said

He shook his head, “Not true. You’re a great agent, but I meant what I said. You don’t take criticism.”

She scoffed, “And you criticize too much.”

Still shocked at the events prior, she didn’t shove him away as he moved to hold her.

She shocked herself further by wrapping her arms lazily around him.

“Well,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “we’ll work on that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sloppily written but hey, we get what we get and don’t get upset.

Taglist:

@pigeonmama

@dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable

@dumb-ass-3

@cuddlycalcifer @babyblue-07 @babybluereads @lonewolf471 @niiight-dreamerrrr @fandomsfallnomore @elliee1497 @godspeedlover @sexwithhiddlesbatch @shower-me-with-roses @yougottalovefandoms @rebekahdawkins @gentlybarnes

Bucky tag list:

@emmabarnes

[writeroutoftime]

acotar

-rhysand-

Solemn Vows - Joined by the inner circle, you and Rhys get to have your mating ceremony, publicly declaring your love to your family

-cassian-

Pawns in Your Game Part 1 - When you get injured working a job with Rhys, your mate - worried for your safety - loses it and finally lets go of his pent up anger

Pawns in Your Game Part 2 - Upon waking up, Cassian and the rest of the inner circle are relieved, but it seems there are still some wounds that need healing

-eris vanserra-

Precious Secrets - Eris has kept you - his mate - a secret for years, not wanting any harm to come to you. but when his hands are tied, he must turn to an unlikely ally to offer you protection

[pellucid-constellations]

Set in Stone

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: The Court of Nightmares is an evil place. Secret agendas, forced marriages, malicious intent; there’s nothing good or pure. But then Azriel finds you.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: Angst but just a little to start

a/n: hi 😌 please enjoy my random inspo after the mess that is my life happened. I plan to write more for these guys so consider this a prologue :)

Masterlist ♡

~~

Time moved slower in the library. 

People spoke quieter, the air stood still, dim sunlight stiffened in lines that cut across endless tables. 

There was no real reason for you to be here. 

None at all. 

You welcomed the faint buzzing in your ears anyway, relished in the quiet you couldn’t find elsewhere. Flipping the page and going to the next, you pretended you did belong. Maybe as a scholar or researcher. Maybe an acclaimed author. An inventor, entrepreneur, alchemist—anything but the bleak reality. 

You were stuck. So, incredibly stuck. 

The high lord was coming today. You knew if you weren't in the hall with your family upon his arrival you would get an earful, but it was difficult to pull away from your beautiful corner of the night court.

No one ever came in here, and if they did they were over a millennium old and cared only for the books on foreign policy and probably the torture of young children, if you had to take a guess. But there was plenty of enjoyable material lining the shelves. Sure, it wasn’t very joyful, but it was informative, and anything was better than listening to your father blab on about your marriage prospects—an uncomfortable conversation that was to come to fruition any day now. 

With any luck, your husband would be a merchant who traveled endlessly or a soldier whose life would come to a quick end, leaving you free of any wifely obligations. But luck was hardly on your side, and as the daughter of a noble you were expecting a husband of the same station. 

And dukes were the absolute worst, all self-important and stagnant.  

An unfamiliar echo sent your head whipping to the side before you could tame your reaction. The library door swung open with such force it sent dusty air flying past your face. Typically, the old men entered meekly, the hefty door difficult for them to open. The abruptness of this entry, the power that seeped across the threshold, had you standing and pressing yourself against the table in milliseconds. 

You weren’t a fighter. Women were not allowed to learn anything of the sort here. You briefly debated if your embroidery skills would be enough to pose a threat to this presence, but that thought wisped away with the flickering shadows twining around your ankles. 

You didn’t recognize him at first. The high lord and his circle didn’t come to court often, and even when they did, they stayed far away on the dais or slinked around in hallways threateningly. And this man especially—the spy—he was almost always cloaked in shadow. 

His shadows weren’t covering him now, instead opting to twist up your body in a terrifying display. Were they searching you? Attempting to suffocate you? Paralyze you? 

It didn’t matter much, not when the shadowsinger himself was standing before you, exposed and armed to the teeth, his amber eyes locked on your own widened gaze. 

Your breath came out in short pants, uncomfortable and hard to capture. Your knuckles went white against the table, and you were sure if you were stronger, fractures would have appeared in the wood. The edge dug into your back. Shadows continued to make paths up your skin. 

The spymaster didn’t look away. 

The trembling began. It started with your jaw, then your legs, and then your chest. Breathing became nearly impossible. 

“Take care of that.” 

The last time the high lord made his rounds in court, those words had been a death sentence. One the man before you had carried out. A simple flick of his wrist and shadows had encased the lowly merchant that had insulted the high lady. His screams still echoed in the hall. 

At least, they echoed for you. 

The merchant was not a good man. Most that resided in the night court were not good people. But death was easy to come by here, and the shadowsinger—with his glaring siphons only inches away—was an executioner. 

Your life was little, meaningless, no direction or purpose other than marriage and continuing a family line, but you wanted to live for the chance of more. For the hope that one day, you might be free of this dank palace. 

Something softened in the spymaster’s eyes, and then he took a step forward, edging his hand towards you, palm up. The screeching of the table at your back made him halt. Your knees were shaking, your book now toppled over to the floor, and the shadows had refused to answer the call from their master. But you stood your ground, expecting a bruise where the table connected to your skin. 

“I apologize,” the Illyrian spoke, causing you to flinch once again. His own features seemed to recoil, and he took half a step back. “I am here on business for the high lord. I only seek the artifact room.” 

If you answered him, perhaps he would spare you. 

Your mouth opened and closed several times before the first sounds left your lips. “In the back. B-by the archives.” 

He nodded, but the action seemed delayed, slowed. As if he was measuring your reactions, trying to anticipate them. When you didn’t flinch again, he sent his hand out once more, this time with more force. Your breath caught, but when the shadows retreated from your body, some of the tension left you. 

The shadowsinger sidestepped, taking the longest route possible around your table toward the artifact room. Once his back was turned, you scrambled. You left the book spine up on the floor, quickly gathering your belongings with shaking hands and trembling fingers. The echoing of the man’s heavy boots rang with each step he took, but it was reassuring—it meant he was getting further and further away. 

It wasn’t until your hand met the sturdy door that fear crept back along the edges of your chest. 

“Your name?” 

The words were powerful, gravelly, but they were soft somehow. Effortfully tamed. 

You gave him your name, but the sound was lost in the swinging of the door.

[georgiapeach30513]

The North Princess & The Seven Men Series Masterlist

You are betrothed to Prince Charles, but what happens when he doesn’t want someone so pure, he tests your want to marry him by being corrupted by the seven men who have vowed to protect you.

❄❄❄❄

Prologue, Steve Rogers, Colin Shea, Chris Beck, Jake Jensen, Bucky Barnes, Lee Bodecker, Mike Weiss, Curtis Everett, Charles Blackwood, The Huntsman, Happily Ever After? 👑COMPLETE👑

Take Another Journey Into the Woods

❄❄❄❄

A/N:  This is a dark fic, and gets more intense with each chapter.  Proceed with caution, and read warnings before each part.  YOU are the one responsible for the content you consume.

[junipermuses-deactivated2023041]

Hey!! Your writing is some of the best I’ve read. 🫶🫶🫶 I have a lil request: A dark!bucky x f reader smut lol. I read one of the smuts you did and It was v good so I was just wondering if you’d make another? I’m not asking for much included, probably just a lot of teasing/humiliation? I’m like rly into that 😅 You can plot it however you’d like. Take your time if you’ll make it!! Thank you! <3

𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬

NAVIGATION | M.LIST

synopsis 彡 Your best friend’s dad is dying for a taste.

pairing 彡 dark!bestfriend’s dad!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

warnings 彡 This story will contain the following content: EXPLICIT/SEXUAL SCENES, DARK THEMES, DUBCON/NONCON, humiliation, oral sex (f receiving), somno, squirting, age gap (reader is of legal age), forced orgasm, breeding kink, pervy!Bucky, infidelity (reader is in established relationship - it’s briefly mentioned), overall filthiness 👍

word count 彡 4.7k

author’s note 彡 Hey friend! Here’s your finished request 🫶 this was so fun to write. I hope this is kind of what you wanted! I wrote a little more than planned but I’m happy with it and I hope you’ll be too, mwah 🤍

DISCLAIMER ───THIS BLOG IS NOT SUITABLE FOR AUDIENCES UNDER THE AGE OF 18. MDNI.

You’re hyper-aware of him standing a few meters behind you, his concentrated gaze burning a hole in the back of your hair, the gravity of it inviting you to meet his piercing blue eyes, but you fight the urge to because you don’t want him to know you can feel him, his discomforting stare zeroed in on you. Bucky, your best friend’s dad. The handsome, dark-haired, blue-eyed man intrigues and unnerves you simultaneously, the way he looks at you like he can read your thoughts like an open book. Actually, he doesn’t simply look at you—he analyzes you, studies you, scrutinizes you like he’s assessing you, searching for answers to questions he never asks. And his impish smirk that flickers across his devilish, pink lips only deepens your unease, like he’s privy to all the things you aren’t, to all your darkest, gravest desires. 

Brittany, your best friend, is sitting next to you on the couch, practically draped over you as she chews noisily on popcorn kernels and focuses unblinkingly on the flick that she selected hours prior, like she’s afraid she would miss the entire movie if she closes her eyes even for a fleeting moment—she declared it was her turn to choose a film after reminding you that you picked the last time. You have no idea what’s going on, it’s impossible to focus while her dad is leering at you indiscreetly, like he wants you to catch him basically undressing you with his provocative gaze. Brittany’s sporadic remarks on the film or attempts to make conversation are greeted by curt nods or hums as you pretend to follow, but quite frankly, you don’t have a clue what she’s talking about nor do you care to know.

Your best friend invites you over to her house to spend the night more often than not, but you decline most of the time and offer instead to hang out at your apartment or in a public space, unless Bucky isn’t home. You adore Brittany more than anything, but you can’t stomach her dad’s company. It’s his incessant staring—you absolutely hate it when people stare at you, it makes you wildly nervous. Like they’re pinpointing every visible flaw, every physical imperfection, and silently judging you, criticizing you. Based on what Brittany has confided in you in the past, you know her dad is a stickler for perfection, demands perfection, is perfection. And the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree—Brittany, too, was her own standard of perfection. You can’t help but think you are undeserving of your friendship with the girl because you are just as imperfect as she is perfect, and her dad reminds you without fail each time he simply looks—no, analyzes and studies and scrutinizes you.

But that doesn’t explain the glint of a sinful thing in his seductive blue eyes behind his overly critical gaze, like he is simultaneously demeaning you and tempting you. Like he is repulsed by you and attracted to you all at once.  

And that doesn’t explain the shivers that crawl up the length of your spine every time he holds your gaze, or the terrible aching between your thighs when he smiles, laughs, talks, breathes. 

“Dad!” Brittany calls all of a sudden, rotating her upper body to peek over the couch, “Can you make us some more popcorn?”

Bucky hums, “That was your third serving, and you ate most of it. Does Y/N want more popcorn?”

Two pairs of eyes are suddenly on you, and you resist the urge to cower under the weight of their stares, stammering, “Um, s-sure.”

“You can say no, Y/N,” Mr. Barnes says in a tone that you cannot describe, but it makes your heart jump like you’re in trouble, “Don’t say it simply to humor her.”

Brittany sticks her tongue out playfully at her dad, “She knows she can say no, and she didn’t.”

Bucky chuckles at his daughter’s antics, but he’s still staring at you very intently, wordlessly begging you to meet his penetrative gaze but your resolve is unswerving. You continue to stare at the TV screen, pretending to watch the film. You may fool Brittany, but you can’t fool him—he knows you’re not really watching the movie, that you’re affected by him in many more ways than one. In fact, if you ask him, it’s painfully obvious—how you squirm under his stare and squeeze your legs together at the rich sound of his buttery smooth, deep voice. If you ask him, it’s laughable that you even think for a second that you can fool him. 

He observes you for two seconds longer before he turns away, “More popcorn, as you wish, princess.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she responds in a sing-song tone, turning back around and resting her head on your lap, focusing again on the film, “Can you grab us a blanket, too?”

You can sense Bucky’s voice rising, his protest, even facing away from him, but he decides against it and obliges.You’re actually glad that Brittany suggested it because you’re freezing cold. He steps away for ten seconds, the suffocating tension following, and for ten seconds, a wave of relief washes over you and you feel like you can relax. But that lasts for only ten seconds, and when he returns with two blankets, the weight on your shoulders and unease a-brewing in your gut also return. 

His long, powerful strides carry him over to the both of you and he drapes one blanket over his daughter, but his slitted eyes are fixed steadily on you,  “Would you like a blanket, Y/N?”

“Y-yes, please,” you reply, avoiding his impenetrable gaze, an alien emotion gripping your body but you desperately ignore it. From your peripheral, you see him arch a brow and the weight of his stare shifts, and you can’t help but feel like he is silently judging like he always does unfailingly. 

“Didn’t you learn your manners?” he suddenly asks, and the question makes you flinch. Swallowing hard, you finally turn your head to look at him, and too many emotions to count overtake you.

“W-what?”

“Don’t you know it’s improper to avoid eye contact when you’re talkin’ to people? Look at me when you speak to me,” he orders, his tone oozing authority, dominance, without trying. A feeling akin to guilt or terror swells in your chest and you nod your head furiously, his gaze like a force that propels you into total submission. 

“S-S-Sorry, sir.”

“And lose the stutter,” he tosses the blanket at you, his voice dripping venom, “You’re too old for that, don’t you think?”

You start to tell him you can’t help it, that he makes you nervous and overwhelmingly tense to a fault, but your voice dies on your parched tongue and you can only manage to nod your head again foolishly, willing the fresh tears in your eyes to dry.  Bucky doesn’t immediately leave but casually glimpses at the movie and questions in a bored tone, “What’s this about?”

Brittany jumps to explain the film in full-detail, but Bucky doesn’t bother to even pretend he’s listening to her, staring directly at you, but this time, he can look at your face, at your body, not the back of your head. You can feel him all over you and he isn’t even touching your body—not with his hands, that is. But his eyes are indulging in every inch of you, making you all the more horrified—and excited. Subconsciously, your thighs pinch together, like your brow, and you subtly, almost imperceptibly wiggle your hips. Almost, but Bucky notices and smirks lightly.

“Do you like the movie, Y/N?” he stops Brittany short mid-sentence to ask you, hardened eyes boring a hole into your skull, “What are your thoughts?”

“It’s okay,” you force yourself to look at him, because don’t you know it’s improper to avoid eye contact, “I like it.”

“Okay?” Brittany’s face pinches in what you decide is a combination of concern and incredulity, “Chris Evans is in this movie, the fuck? Nothing he plays in is just okay, Y/N.”

“What do you like about it?” Bucky ignores his daughter, his attention never leaving you.

“All of it,” is your automatic reply, your chest panging with anxiety at his sudden interrogation that is entirely uncalled for. Is he intentionally trying to embarrass you? The wide smirk that dimples his cheeks tells you exactly what you needed to know—that he is, indeed, thriving off of your shame.

“Why don’t you come and help me make the popcorn?” he suggests in a level tone, but you know better than to think there is no ill-intent behind his offer. Brittany lifts her head off your lap to let you up, but you shake your head too quickly, “N-no! I mean, no. That’s okay, Mr. Barnes. I wouldn’t want to miss the movie.”

His eyes sparkle in amusement, “You can still see the TV from the kitchen. Come on, I would really appreciate your help.”

You’re on your feet before you can even think twice about it, your unwarranted submission dragging you with him to the kitchen. He’s not going to do anything, not while Brittany is here, you ball your shaking fists and exhale deeply, reminding yourself, Plus, he’s never tried to hurt you before. It’s true—he excessively stares at you, and he is unbothered by the fact that he excessively humiliates you with his hurtful words, but he has never touched you, and you’re at the very least grateful for that. 

Bucky instructs you to grab a bowl while he heats the paper popcorn bag in the microwave and scavenges the pantry for candy. You’re trembling as you follow his directions, maintaining at least a two-foot distance away from him. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asks you, his tone tender, sugary-sweet like the chocolate bar he’s holding, “Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

He does this a lot, too—strings you along a guilt-trip for even daring to feel even an ounce of unease around him, because he didn’t do anything wrong, did he? He’s always so kind to you, isn’t he? Letting you stay at his house overnight and sit on his couch and eat his popcorn that he bought with his money. 

“No, sir,” you reply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Managing a wavering smile, you try not to let your nerves take over your expression, but your cheeks color and your body quivers anyway.

“Then why are you avoidin’ me, sweetheart?” his hip leans on the edge of the countertop to support his powerful body, facing you and folding his bulging arms over his broad chest, “Please, be honest with me.”

“I-I’m not.”

“But you are,” he steps closer to you and you instinctively step back equal distance, which answers his suspicions, and confirms you’re anything but honest.

“You see that?” he steps closer again and you anchor your feet to the ground to prove against his point, but you already messed up, “You don’t want me close, do you?”

“I just… like my space,” is your quick response, warmth rising to your cheeks. You despise that goddamn smirk tugging up the corners of his lips, infinitely smug and almost cruel. 

“Your space?” he’s too close, his eyes dancing between different spots on your flushed face, but you still don’t move. You do shrink, an attempt to get away from him without having to walk away, and the smugness slathered across his gorgeous features only heightens.

Your dewy eyes flit over to Brittany, who is still intensely focused on the film as though she is hanging onto every word that spills out of Chris Evans’ mouth, completely unaware of the circumstances. Bucky scoots closer, practically imprisoning you between his bulky figure and the counter.

Your heart leaps in your chest—in fact, all your organs feel like they’re failing as he cages you in his beefy arms and the tip of his nose brushes over the base of your neck, right above your collarbone. The tingles that result in the tips of your fingers, your toes, and in your core are what you imagine heaven feels like. 

“Are you still datin’ that vanilla bastard you brought with you a couple months ago?” he suddenly questions in a hushed tone, dragging his wet lips up the column of your neck to your earlobe. Peter, your long-term boyfriend of two and a half years. The two of you are highschool sweethearts, and you love him more than words can embody. Peter! The reminder that you have a boyfriend dashes you back to earth.

“Y-Y-Yes,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. You crane your neck to move your face away from him, but that’s your first mistake—Bucky interprets this as an invitation to pepper light, wet kisses all over the burning skin of your neck.

Your eyelids flutter shut for a nanosecond before you peel them open and press your trembling fists against Bucky’s solid chest, “Wait, wait… what about Brittany—”

“Sh, sh,” Bucky hushes you, “Don’t you like this? I see how you react to me, baby.”

“I… I don’t know what y-you’re talking about,” you say as your thighs conveniently clench together, and Bucky titters breathily against your glistening neck, detecting the irony behind your words.

“Filthy girl,” he drawls, his fingertips skimming over the side of your bare thigh, and you instantly regret wearing little shorts and not opting for sweatpants instead. His nose bumps your jaw and he inhales deeply, breathing in your flowery scent.

“Tell me, Y/N,” he weaves his long, thick fingers in your unkempt hair, “Tell me how he pleasures you. Does he satisfy you? Make you cum? Fuck you senseless until you’re reduced to tears?”

Your heart is hammering against your ribcage at impossible speeds, you fear it will burst out of your chest if Bucky doesn’t let up. Curling your lip, you spit with the little assurance you can muster, “Mr. Barnes, let me go. This isn’t right.”

“What isn’t right?” Mr. Barnes asks in an innocent tone, but the wild smirk on his face is everything but innocent, “It isn’t right that your legs are pinched together? That you’re dripping right now and I haven’t even touched you properly yet?”

“Mr. Barnes,” your tone is desperate with a hint of fear, “Mr. Barnes, please.”

Suddenly, he shoves a large hand into your shorts, over your underwear, and if it wasn’t for his death-grip on you, surely you would’ve collapsed, you’re overwhelmed by too many new sensations. You bite his shoulder to muffle your moan that crawls out of you without warning, clinging onto his bulky biceps for purchase.

The rough pad of his middle digit swipes across your sopping wet slit over the material of your cotton panties and presses up against your small hole teasingly, and you mewl quietly, tears springing in your eyes. A low groan vibrates in his chest.

“I knew it,” he whispers erotically in your ear, “I knew you were a dirty little slut, your little pussy droolin’ for a man who isn’t your boyfriend, who’s double your age, who’s your best friend’s fuckin’ dad.”

You don’t dare open your mouth to speak because if you did, you’d moan. 

“I bet that excites you, isn’t that right, sugar?” he thumbs and pinches your clit, and you whimper softly, bolts of pleasure shooting up your squirming body.

“N-no.”

“No?” he chuckles darkly, reinforcing his grip on you and pulling you against his chest forcefully, “Making your best friend’s dad hard doesn’t excite you? Because you make me so fuckin’ hard, baby. All the goddamn time. I’m fuckin’ throbbing right now.”

To prove his statement, he rolls his solid bulge against your bare leg, coaxing a barely-audible moan out of the both of you. 

“P-please,” you whisper desperately, “Mr. Barnes, I—”

“What the hell is taking so long, Daddy?” Brittany calls, beginning to turn around to see what was interfering with the two of you getting her popcorn in a timely manner. Bucky leaps away from you and he’s across the kitchen in two seconds flat, turned away from his daughter and you to hide the noticeable tent in his jeans.

“Just a minute, princess,” he calls back in an even tone as though he wasn’t just groping his daughter’s best friend, grabbing the bowl you found and ripping open the popcorn bag. You’re still frozen in your spot, recollecting your bearings after Bucky broke every single rule in the book. Your knees are weak and your body is numb, you don’t even have the strength to cry, but you badly want to.

“Y/N! Come on!” Brittany beckons you over, pointing at the movie, “This is my favorite part, hurry!”

Your wobbling legs are carrying you over to the couch like your body is in auto-mode. Bucky is looking directly at you with a look that you don’t recognize, that you’re not used to, but you refuse to look back, filled with dread at the very thought of spending the night with him in a ten-foot radius of you.

Bucky doesn’t bother you and Brittany for the rest of the night, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re on the edge. But Brittany doesn’t comment on your stricken expression. She probably didn’t even notice it, her only concern is her foolish infatuation with the handsome actor on the screen. 

After the movie finished, Brittany offered to go upstairs to her bedroom, and you’re quick to say yes and drag her up the winding stairs. The two of you stay up for another couple hours until Brittany is first to doze off, and you succumb to your own exhaustion a half-hour later, resting beside your best friend on her queen bed.

Shortly after you descend into a state of slumber, Brittany’s door creaks open and a sliver of yellow light from the hallway pours into the otherwise pitch dark room. Soft footsteps approach your unconscious body, your untamed hair, meandering strands fanned out on the soft, stark white pillow, swept away from your relaxed face, your dry lips parted as you steadily inhale and exhale. Then, you’re suddenly cold—the duvet pushed off your practically bare body save for your tiniest pair of cotton shorts and a cropped tee bunched around the base of your ribcage thanks to your unconscious tossing and turning, exposing your supple belly.

Your chest rises and falls as you sleep peacefully, your stiff nipples poking invitingly through the soft fabric of your shirt, Bucky has to resist the urge to pinch them. He carefully sits down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, watching your face for a minute reaction, a signal that you’re awake but you don’t grant it. He smiles inwardly, knowing that you’re in deep sleep and your petite body is at his disposal. Drifting his gaze over your lithe figure, his cock twitches and stirs as he thinks about all the things he could do to you right now, in your vulnerable state.

He starts with your warm tummy, calloused fingertips softly outlining shapes around your navel. But his hooded gaze is zeroed in on your blank face, searching for any indication that you’re ascending from dreamland to reality. He does recall you saying in the past that you’re a deep sleeper.

Giving a cautionary glance at his daughter sleeping beside you, Bucky removes his jeans and slowly, gently mounts you, admiring your girlish features, how sweet and weak you look like this, he has to stifle a groan. It takes everything in him to not pounce on you, devour you, sink his teeth into your spongy flesh. You shift restlessly under him and he freezes, waiting for you to rise but you never do.

With painstaking focus, Bucky lifts your shirt over your chest, the mounds of flesh spilling out of the material. His mouth waters as he marvels at your exposed chest, your quarter-sized areolas and firm nipples, begging for his tongue to swipe over them, his teeth to bite into them, his fingers to tweak and play with them. And he simply cannot resist, cupping the mounds in his palms and gliding his thumb over the tiny buds.

Again, you stir in your sleep and Bucky withdraws like your skin was on fire and you burned him, certain this time that you’ll wake up. You rock a little before you seem to melt into the mattress, but you’re still deep in your slumber.

More assuredly, he glides his rough hands up-and-down your smooth sides, noticing how your breathing pattern shifts, quickens under his warm touch. He loves how you feel, soft and fragile like you’ll break if he’s too rough with you, like porcelain. You’re not even conscious but your body is reacting to him exactly how it always does, trembling and squirming and writhing. 

“You’re so soft, sugar, just like how I imagined,” Bucky whispers to you, to himself. He can carry on like this, touching you like this forever, he doesn’t even have to fuck you because the feeling of your supple skin under his harsh fingertips alone is simply euphoric, too good, too perfect. 

But he’s still going to fuck you, one day. He’s sure of it. 

His wet tongue is suddenly lapping at your burning skin, above your nipple. He doesn’t even care that Brittany is soundly asleep less than a foot away, his arousal blocking his rationality. He needs to feel you, to commit the feeling of you to his memory—he needs you. 

Bucky parts your delicate legs and wraps them around his waist before delving in, licking and sucking and biting your puckered nipple. His hands are busy grabbing and groping everything in reach. Groaning lightly, his leaking cock swells and throbs in his wet briefs, more than ready for your warm pussy wrapped around it, squeezing the seed out of it. 

His wet lips kiss down your quivering body, making a brief pit-stop at your belly, above your womb, to lap and suck the skin around your button, before dragging lower, below your waist.

Bucky unties the knot on your shorts and folds down the fabric to kiss directly above your hot pussy.

“You’re burning, baby,” he purrs breathlessly, tugging your shorts down to your knees for better access to your dripping cunt. He grabs your shaking thighs and spreads them wider to accommodate his head in between.

There is a pause as Bucky squints in the dark, staring directly at the crotch of your white, cotton panties, the dark patch of slick over your drooling hole. Fuck, you’re gushing. The sight alone can make him bust in his briefs.

He leans in, his nose nudging your swollen clit, breathing in your tangy scent. You smell so fucking delicious, like a full-course meal. 

Swiping his pink tongue over the dainty material, you gasp in your sleep and stir, but Bucky doesn’t care anymore if you catch him—he’s dying for a taste, and you’ll give it to him, asleep or not, like it or not.

Hooking his thumbs under the band of your panties, Bucky pulls off the flimsy thing that was hiding his long-awaited dessert. He groans again, met with the mouth-watering sight of your pretty pussy, puffy and drooling slick. Wetting his lips, his tongue darts out and drags a bold stripe up your glistening cunt, and your spasming thighs subconsciously snap together as you’re catapulted out of your slumber. 

“Mr. Barnes?” you slur sleepily, mustering the little strength you have left to lift your head, “What—”

Bucky prys apart your legs and licks you again, bolder, wetter, sloppier, and you slap a palm over your mouth to silence your loud mewl. 

“Mr. Barnes!” you whimper, reaching down and weaving your nimble fingers through his short hair, “Oh my god!”

“Don’t wake Brittany up,” he warns you in an oddly calm and collected tone despite the circumstances, gliding the flat of his tongue over your sensitive clit. Heat pools under your skin, sinks down into your bones, your little toes curling and your death-grip on his hair tightening. Incoherent syllables slip out your parted lips as Bucky proceeds to lap at your scorching cluster of nerves and fastens his wet lips around your pearl. 

Each swipe of his tongue sends thrills sweeping up your writhing body, your brain going fuzzy as wavelets of head-spinning pleasure engulf you completely. Bucky is unforgiving, suctioning your engorged clit in his wet mouth and pursing his lips around the slippery bud, all the while his thick fingers rub between your drenched folds. 

Throwing your head to the side, you look directly at your best friend’s expressionless face as she lightly snores, and your gut cartwheels as humiliation seeps into your chest alongside the toe-curling sensations.

“You c-can’t,” you whimper, stinging tears pricking your eyelids, “Please, Mr. Barnes. B-Brittany is—”

“Asleep,” he pulls apart your sticky folds, his thumb replacing his tongue and rubbing tight circles around your slick clit, “You best not make a sound, baby, or you’ll wake her.”

The tip of his tongue swirls around your tight hole, “You don’t want her to catch you like this, do you, sweetheart?”

“Mr. Barnes…”

“Shh,” he hums, vibrations crawling up your spine, “Go back to sleep, baby.”

Like a starved man, he sloppily devours your pussy, suckling and lapping and kissing your puffy folds, your wet clit, his slippery tongue slivering up-and-down your dripping cunt, collecting your slick in his greedy mouth. One hand squeezes your thigh, spreading it wider to taste every nook and cranny of your weeping pussy. Your hips buck up and roll uncontrollably, the delicious friction numbing your brain.

“Filthy, filthy little girl,” Bucky mutters against your pussy, spitting on your clit and stroking it feverishly with his calloused fingertips, spreading the stickiness, “You’re dripping onto my tongue, and you taste like fuckin’ heaven. Fuck.”

A lewd, wet, popping noise meets your ears as he sloppily slurps your cunt, flicking his broad tongue up your slit to your little bud to nibble the sensitive pearl. Shockwaves ripple throughout your spasming body as your orgasm builds in your lower gut, your quivering thighs squeezing around his head and subconsciously tugging him closer as you fuck down on his ravenous tongue.

Brittany shifts next to you and your heart lurches, fear and excitement, worry and embarrassment gripping your body at the possibility of her witnessing your climax at the cruel hands of her own dad. 

You try to fight it, but it’s too late—your orgasm conquers your thrashing body and your back curls off the spongy bed as you whine out loud, your overstimulated pussy squirting and clenching and gaping around nothing but air. Bucky licks you relentlessly, your juices pouring into his awaiting mouth and he happily laps it up. 

“Oh my god, oh my god!” you croon, humping uncontrollably against his glistening face, covered in layers of slick and spit. Bucky fills you with his thick fingers and fucks you with them, prolonging your powerful climax.

He lifts his head and smiles at you as you descend from your high, his mouth and cheeks coated in your wet, sticky mess. Mounting you, he caresses your cheek and tells you, “I can’t wait to pound this perfect pussy, fill you up with my fuckin’ babies, right—” he places the palm of his hand over you smooth tummy, where your fertile womb is, “ —here. What do you think your boyfriend would think? Your belly round with another man’s babies?”

“Mr. Barnes…” Your heart trips and guilt pangs in your chest as you realize you haven’t thought about Peter once this entire time. Oh my god… oh my god, you cheated on Peter!

“Would you like that, sugar?” he groans, his eyes glazed over in lust, “Would you like me to knock you up right next to your best friend?”

As if on cue, Brittany stirs and mumbles incoherent nonsense under her breath, her eyelids fluttering. You and Bucky both look at her tensely, fearfully. She relaxes and you both pray that she is still asleep, until her groggy voice rises, quelling the strained silence:

“Y/N?”

[slyyywriting]

Keep Running Back

pairings: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: There's no quitting Lloyd. Especially when he's the one person who makes you feel safe.

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: manipulative Lloyd, dom/sub dynamics, slight bondage, oral (f receiving), explicit smut, unprotected sex

18+ ONLY, IF YOU ARE A MINOR KINDLY FUCK OFF RESPECTFULLY! HEED THE WARNINGS! PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK!

A/N: I finally wrote for this bastard (affectionate)! Had to rattle my tin can of a brain for the ending but I'm satisfied with the outcome. Bloop. Not beta'd. Enjoy~

|| Masterlist ||

“Fuck!”

You scramble for the light switch as the crunching of shards of glass fill the quiet of your apartment. You reach for the baseball bat you kept by your door and turn the light on.

“Did you really have to hit me that hard, sunshine?” you lower the bat when your intruder gets illuminated, annoyed expression on his face more prominent as his stupid mustache twitches with his sneer. His shirt, a stupid smedium sized straight outta the 80’s print that was too tight around him, was soaked through with the couple of days old water. A few petals from the bouquet that it was home to scattered all over him and the floor.

“Oh, it’s you. You deserve that.” You replace the bat by the door, turning the latch and sliding the lock shut. “You can’t just break into my place every time you feel like it, Lloyd. We’ve talked about this, we broke up, I don’t want you anymore and most of all—“ you look at him over your shoulder as he follows you to your small kitchen, “I don’t like seeing your dumb face around here until you get rid of that monstrosity!”

Your former lover stops in his tracks and pets his ‘stache, “She doesn’t mean that, junior. She’s just being mean because she misses us.”

You scoff opening your fridge, reaching for two bottles of beer. “Yes, I do mean that. With all my heart and hope you die.”

You place the beers on your counter and open them, sliding one towards Lloyd before you swipe an ‘x’ on your chest. Lloyd pouts dramatically but takes the bottle still. You observe him for a minute, throwing side glances behind the beer you were sipping on in the quiet of your kitchen. He looked the same, yet different. He might even look bigger, shoulders imposing and broad while his biceps struggle to keep themselves inside the sleeves of his shirt.

You clear your throat, “You’re getting me a new vase and a fresh bouquet, Hansen.”

Try as you might to forget, you remember how those muscles feel against you, biceps laced around your throat and chest as he pounds you from behind, your eyes rolling to the back of your head while drool runs down the side of your mouth and onto him, a whimpering, moaning, breathless mess as you chase your pleasure with small inhales of oxygen that you’d gladly trade as long he kept hitting that spot—

“Sunshine?” his voice brings you back to the now, embarrassment crawling up your neck and ears for spacing out in a lustful haze in front of him. You squeeze your thighs together, changing your stance as you return your attention to your former flame. He’s doing that stupid smug grin he does whenever he catches you thirsting over him. “Your dumb brain spacing out on me again, huh? But then if I do remember correctly, I’m the only one who makes you go all stupid.”

“Fuck off! I just had a really long day at work. Thought I’d have some peace and quiet by myself, y’know; take a shower, get some rest. Then you and your ugg mug show up.” You finish your bottle and place it on the counter, composing yourself before turning around.

“Why are you walking like that?’ you nod towards his gait, only now noticing that he was wearing slides instead of shoes. “And what happened to your suede loafers? Somebody finally jump you for your terrible fashion taste?”

He laughs sarcastically, pouting again and stepping around the kitchen island towards you. Lloyd towers before you, drinking his beer while keeping eye contact. The way his throat bobs as he swallows had you in a trance, fingers tingling with the need to wrap it around him, scratch at his skin to let him know how infuriating he was. A drop escapes his lips as wets his mustache and you find yourself wanting to lick it off. You wanted to lick him everywhere and you know damn well he’d let you. Only after you’d beg, though and right now you weren’t in the mood. The playing field has evened out since you broke it off. You weren’t begging for him for anything anymore.

“Got shot on my ass—you remember how I drag this thing around.” You roll your eyes because yeah, you know. It’s your fourth favorite part of him. “Shoes got wet so I’m airing them out.”

You swallow audibly as his chest brushes against yours, his arm reaches around and places the empty drink on the surface behind you. He leans down and hums as your eyes shake from anticipation. His lips were so near, making you lick yours, a Pavlovian response that he’d trained you with. Another reminder that he was an asshole. A really, really hot asshole but an asshole nonetheless.

Your traitorous heart was beating so loud you know that he could hear it. Better that than him smelling the pool of arousal that seeped into your panties, your pussy clenching over nothing but the smell of that cologne that used to stain your pillowcases.

Lloyd steps nearer, feet positioned outside your own as he presses into you further, making your back dig against the tile counter. His hands make their way onto your hips, thumbs bypassing the hem of your shirt until they find your skin underneath, running slow circles that burned you with undulated pleasure from the pits of your stomach down to your toes.

His lips dip down until they were only a hairs width away from your own. You’d be touching him if you said the words moo, or chew, or Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir. And you really wanted to say those words right now if only to match the mood of the lingerie that you were wearing underneath your clothes.

Your moustached menace bends and kisses the underside of your jaw, making you clench your eyes shut while your breath hitches. “Hmm. You’re lucky I actually have some shit to do that’s very important. If not you wouldn’t be so sassy with my cock choking you, sweetheart. Sleep tight. I’ll join you later.”

Just as he finishes whispering against your skin, his warm hands lead you toward your bedroom and you berate yourself internally for letting him control you like that again. You bump your head against your door, listening to him shuffling stuff around your living room, deciding that you’re better off just letting him do his thing and prepare to sleep.

Lloyd slides out a bag from under your couch and places it on the coffee table when you disappear behind your door. He didn’t have to set up camp here but he’d make any excuse to remind you that despite telling him it’s over, you and him will never be over. He was going to be a constant presence in your life because he’d be damned if he doesn’t return the favor with you plaguing his thoughts constantly. If he suffers through his emotions then so must you.

You wake up with a start as a noise from outside your bedroom disrupts your sleep. Your very not at all fitful sleep. Your sleep where you definitely did not dream about a mustache tickling you in your fun parts while a pair of luscious lips tried to lick and suck the life out of you. None of that.

Another muted thud from your living room makes you rise to your elbows remembering your uninvited guest from earlier that evening. You reach a hand to pat on the other side of the bed feeling it cold. Sadly, Lloyd hadn’t joined you after all.

Sadly?

Why was this a sadly situation? You didn’t want him here in the first place. Remember? He intruded and imposed his presence in your space. The very space he didn’t want to be in because he wanted to pursue whatever was outside this space and away from you.

Right. You huff and toss away your sheets, landing both feet firmly on the floor. You were going to go out there and shush him and remind him that if he wanted to be here he had to be quiet and hopefully not destroy your apartment.

You pad to your bedroom door, opening it slightly to accommodate your head peeping out. You whisper loudly Lloyd’s name and remind him to be quiet or go to sleep and that you had work tomorrow.

You waited for a response and got none so you called out for his name again. Still, no answer.

You shrug, about to shut your door when a metal sounding thud popped off from behind your couch. You see a silhouette of a person bent over behind your furniture, thinking that maybe Lloyd got to your scotch stash and was having a terrible night. You almost chuckle at the thought of him being too drunk that he was bowing to alcohol when you’re yanked by your collar and a firm hand wraps around your throat.

“Lloyd!” you call for help, panicked when you could smell the man behind you. Definitely not someone you know! A stranger was inside your home and by the pressure around your neck, they were there to hurt you.

Your mustached menace finally pops up from behind your sofa, growling softly when he sees you illuminated by the streetlight through the window. The man behind you speaks in a language you had no idea of and presses a gun to your temple. You whimper at the feel of the cold metal, tears flowing down your cheek as you quietly begged Lloyd to help you.

He huffs and replies to the man holding you in the same language, tone laced with hostility. They exchanged a few more words until Lloyd steps forward.

“No deal, you moron.” Two flashes of light and muted gunfire makes you scream and dive on the floor. The man behind you falls backwards with a loud thud while you scramble for safety. You curl into a ball, screaming profanities at nobody in particular.

“Hey, hey, sunshine. It’s okay. He’s dead.” Lloyd gathers you into his arms as he kneels on the floor. You were shaking violently as he shushes you, kissing your head and running a soothing hand on your back.

You knew he worked in a dangerous business. You knew he shot guns for a living. Knew he was contracted to find people that were hiding. But he never brought work with him at home while you were together. Sure, you saw some of the equipment he had. He taught you how to shoot a gun—which you hated every single second of but this, this broke the veil that separated his work from your life.

“You just killed someone, Lloyd! Someone is dead on my floor!” you sobbed into his shirt with shaky hands.

“Yeah, it was either them or you and me.” He cups your face and pulls back to get a good look at you. God, he loved it when your face got all puffy from crying. Loved it when your tears were still warm when he kissed them away. Boner alert aside, he had to get you out of here. “Come on, baby. We gotta go before they send in the second team.”

-

--

---

The drive to wherever his safe house was had been tense for you at least. Save for your occasional sniffling, you were still processing what had happened. You had a ninety-nine questions for him but he was currently yelling at someone over the phone, this time you identified as in French. You stayed quiet, controlling your breathing while Lloyd’s hand kept a firm and ground grip on your thigh.

As the minutes seemed to draw out into hours and his calls had ended, you found yourself fiddling with his fingers, repeatedly feeling each and every bump and callous you could find on them.

“Almost there, sunshine. You’re safe. We’re almost there.” He promises with a kiss to your knuckles, finding yourself hanging on to every word he says.

The car finally pulls over on a graveled road and Lloyd gently rouses you from sleep. The safe house, if you could call that massive manor in front of you that, seemed to glow in a comforting yellow from all the lights around it. The forest surrounding the huge house was comforting as you hear an endless chitter from cicadas from everywhere. Lloyd holds your hand as he leads you inside, warily eyeing various men in tactical uniform you’ve only seen on SWAT members in movies.

“Come on, baby. Make yourself comfortable.” He ushers you inside a room once you get upstairs. The space is massive yet homey and for a minute your mind wanders away from the horror of almost getting shot and seeing bodies with bullet holes in them.

“Bathroom is through here—you’ll have everything you need.” He slides open another door and flicks the light open. You peep in to see a beautiful bathroom with a huge porcelain tub with gold trims and you can’t help but gasp in delight. Lloyd smiles and plants a kiss on your head. “Alright. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. I just have to brief my team downstairs about our security.”

“You’re staying here, right? I mean—in the room, with—with me?” you grab his hand as soon as he turns away. You were still shaking as Lloyd holds it tightly, giving you another kiss on the forehead before he whispers to you with eerie calm.

“I’m not going anywhere, sunshine. Now, go get freshened up.”

You nod and let him go albeit reluctant.

As much as you wanted to savor the bath tub, you take a quick shower and scrub yourself raw. You could still smell gun smoke in your hair for some reason, taking a shaky inhale as you look at yourself in front of the mirror. You still looked like you were in shock. Which you were and you thought you were going to be for a while.

Your chest rises and falls in a steady pattern, willing yourself to a center. When you hear the door from outside creak you gather your silk robe to close around you, pulling on the tie to quickly and loosening it completely off the robe. You look at the silk fabric in your hands as Lloyd’s voice calls out to you.

Maybe. Maybe this is what would help you. It had been a while. Not since Lloyd. It was only ever him who you felt safe enough to do this with. Despite the circumstances and how fucked up they are, you need this. And hopefully he does too.

You step outside the bathroom and approach him, feet softly pattering on the lush carpet. With one foot in front of the other, your surrender begins and your headspace changes. Yes.

With his back still turned to you as he removes his watch and ring, placing them methodically on the night stand, you kneel on the carpet, silk tie on your hands. As Lloyd turns his neck to check on you, his eyebrows raise clearly caught off guard at the position you put yourself in.

“Baby…” his voice almost shakes. It’s a plea. It’s been a while even for him too. He hasn’t found anyone to play with the way he did with you. You swallow visibly before exhaling. Then you nod, eyelashes fluttering as you look up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Everything is red. I—I want it to b-be green again.” Your voice is muted but Lloyd knows it’s not because of hesitation. You were presenting yourself to him for fucks sake. No, your need for things to return to the way they were was what’s making you small. “Please. Lloyd. I need it to be green.”

“Fuck.” His mustache jumps a little as he quickly blows out air from his lips. You looked so pitifully desperate and he wants to help you. God, he wants to give you everything your soft heart desires. Burn the world to the ground if it meant you were staying warm. “Fuck, sunshine. Okay.”

You relax immediately at his concession, raising your hands and offering the robe’s tie to him. The moment Lloyd’s fingertips touch the material, his eyes change into something darker—precise, lustful, greedy.

“Take off your robe and kneel on the bed.” He orders and you comply immediately. Your robe slides off revealing that you were bare beneath it, knees on the expensive sheets as soon as you were able to. “Good girl. Face the head board and bend forward.”

Again, you do as he says. He takes your hands and positions them toward the intricate headboard. He grasps your wrists together, pulling hard and you gasp at the sensation. His eyes flicker down to you, a check up to which you reply, “Yellow. Please, Lloyd.”

The name makes him grab your face, teeth clenched as he clarifies. “What the fuck did you just call me?”

“I’m sorry, Sir. Please.”

“Don’t you forget again or you’re not going to cum until you’re begging with tears in your eyes, baby.” The reminder makes you clench your thighs, your legs unstable on top of the bed. He lets go of his harsh grip on your jaw and pulls again at your wrists. He ties them with the silk piece you gave him, securing you on the head board firmly. “How does this feel?”

“Yellow. Almost green. Please.” Tears have begun to form in your eyes as your breath comes out heavier. You pull on the knot he made, satisfied with the way it squeezes your skin. The anticipation of what was to happen next excites you and takes you to a place where pleasure is king. Lloyd gathers pillows and places them bellow your chest, allowing you to support yourself on them.

He takes a step back, admiring the curve of your back down to your ass. He loves the way your chest rises and fall in a rhythm that calls out to him. His cock has been straining in his pants the moment you knelt before him. Who’d have thought his evening would turn out this way.

Lloyd unbuckles his belt and takes it out of his pants loops, placing the belt neatly on the bed just below your right calf. He pulls his shirt off next, flipping it outside in and folding it neatly on the chair near the dresser. You gander a glance at him, whimpering when you see him topless as he unbuttons his pants. You feel your wetness saturate at your entrance as desperation for friction kicks in.

“Bet your tight little pussy is aching to be filled, huh, Sunshine?” he teases as he pulls his pants down his legs, along with his boxer briefs. His cock bobs up, hard and fully erect, in that perfect shade of luscious red you loved.

“Y-yes Sir.”

“Bet you’re so fucking soaked. Your dumb little hole just making me some cream.” You whimper and flex your back as you pull on your restraint. You wanted to scream at him to just take you but no words come out. Instead, you whine loudly at his taunt. “You don’t even know how to speak now?”

Lloyd climbs on the bad and positions right behind you. you feel his cock between your thighs as he plants kisses from your neck, down to your spine until he reaches the globes of your ass. He bites your left cheek and you release a loud moan. Back arching as you push back towards him.

Lloyd plants one hand behind your head and pushes you down to the bed. He pulls you by your hip, leveling your weeping pussy with his face. The first lick sends a shiver down your spine and you spread your legs even further.

“Fuck! You taste even better than I remember!” was the last words he says before diving into your cunt. He licks and sucks and nips at you while your legs shake and your throat constricts. You’ve always loved his tongue. Loved it when he spars with you verbally and says the most asshole things his head can conjure. Love it when he makes you a moaning mess once he eats you out like his life depended on it.

He spreads your cheeks apart and spears your hole with his tongue and without warning you push yourself forward as ecstasy takes over you. You feel it from the tip of your fingers down to your toes, trying to run away from pleasure when it’s too much to handle at the moment. But Lloyd doesn’t let up. He anchors you to him until he gets his fill. Only then does he let you go until you lay flat on your stomach.

“Fuck—so green right now. So fucking green.” You tell him in panted breaths as he darts his tongue out to lick your essence from his mustache. If he’s lucky he’d be tasting and smelling you the entire day tomorrow after this.

He grasps your shoulder and flips you until you lay on your back. “Good. Because we’re not done here.” He runs a thumb on your cheek, admiring the way your skin was warm and sweaty thanks to him. He loves the fucked out look on your face as you try and get your bearings.

Lloyd only spreads your legs wide as a warning before he thrusts himself heavily against you. You moan at the sensation, remembering that he was always too big to take but the bastard didn’t care.

“You’re a big girl. You can take, daddy.” He taunts as he bites the top of your breast and sets a pace enough to punch air out of you. You pull on your tie again, filled with the need to hold on to him, claw at him, return the favor of pleasure with the pain. But you couldn’t and you’re completely expose.

“Fuck—yesyesyes,” you babble as you feel all of him. The stretch was always something you yearned. The fullness of him. And then he hits the spot causing you to let out a silent scream, eyes to the heavens as you feel the pressure build and build and build until—

“That’s it,” he releases your slobber covered tit and positions his mouth against yours, “soak me, baby. Fucking cream on my cock like the good girl you are.” Your body bows against his, meeting his thrusts to prolong your high until you feel like you’ve been squeezed dry. Lloyd gives you a kiss as he slows down his thrusts. Pulling out just to his tip and pushing in again deep. His thighs are covered in your juices, trickling down to the sheets below you. He caresses you face with one hand while the other unties your wrist. Slowly, your eyes open to meet his. “There’s my good girl.”

You whimper and sigh, wrapping your free hands around his neck. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He smothers your face with wet kisses, hiking your leg higher along his waist. “Color?”

“Green—thank you, Sir.”

Lloyd pulls back and starts fucking you again until his thrusts hit deep and hard. “Don’t thank me, yet. We have all night to make sure you’re green till morning.”

-

--

---

Lloyd untangles himself from you when his phone wakes him up, the sun already high outside. The caller ID telling him that he needed to get up and get caffeine in his system ASAP. You mourn the loss of his warmth in your sleep, a small whine coming out of your lips. Lloyds kisses your head and pulls the sheets up your naked shoulder, taking the call out in the balcony.

“Hansen.” His voice is curt and gravely while he looks over the early morning in all his naked glory.

“Where is she?” his old friend’s goes straight to the point. Tired of the games he played on him, maybe.

“Where is who?”

“Don’t play with me Lloyd. We had an agreement.”

Lloyd rolls his eyes and looks over to your sleeping form. He could get used to this. The manor is secure, hiding in plain sight never seemed like the right strategy until now. He moves over the telescope set up on the balcony’s balustrade, moving it a little and adjusting the focus until he gets the view he was looking for.

“Yeah… that doesn’t really mean dick to me anymore.” He chuckles when he sees a swarm of nondescript black SUVs park simultaneously near the a hole at the golf course. Agents hurriedly approach a man before he’s ushered away into one of the vehicles.

“The ambassador’s security team found dead agents in her apartment early this morning. This is not what was planned. Now tell me where his daughter is before this causes a problem for our suppliers.”

“Oh, Denny. This isn’t our little football team anymore. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Grow the fuck up.” Lloyd hangs up with a smile goes back inside. Next comes the fun part.

[writing-for-marvel]

Cause That’s When I’ll See You Again

DBF!Ari Levinson x Fem!Reader

Summary: The one time of year your dad’s best friend is in town is during the holiday season - the perfect opportunity for some no strings attached, filthy sex with a man who actually knows what he’s doing, but year after year it becomes harder to convince yourself you’re only in it for the orgasms.

Festive prompt: a roaring fireplace

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, oral sex (f receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, a little angst (cause it’s me and I can’t help myself), happy ending, fluff and soft feelings, age gap is implied although exact ages are never mentioned

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: Happy Holidays to my Thot Neighbourhood Secret Santa, the lovely, beautiful and talented @jobean12-blog. Jo thank you for being such a ray of positivity and love on this site. You are one of kindest souls with the warmest heart, thank you for being you. I hope you enjoy this and have a wonderful holiday season ♥️ also a HUGE thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for putting so much time and effort into organising this Secret Santa - I love and appreciate you Jen 💜 banners by @vase-of-lilies and dividers by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

A sense of déjà vu washed over you as you laid a tartan blanket in front of your crackling fireplace.

It was that time of year again, where colourful festive lights were strung throughout your neighbourhood and flurries of snow dusted the town, the combination of which produced an intangible magical quality, one you wished you could forever encapsulate and preserve in a snow glow.

The festive season was finally upon you.

Despite the chilly temperatures, most people’s spirits were warmer than ever, including yours. This time of joyful celebration also happened to coincide with the one time of year your dad’s best friend, the beefy and dangerously handsome Ari Levinson, returned home from his almost year long stint working overseas.

And to ensure that he wouldn’t be spending the holidays by himself and celebrating Hanukkah alone, your friendly father invited Ari to spend the festive season with your family.

The first time you slept together had been accidental - well, if you can call finally giving in to the massive crush you had developed on the burly framed, sex god, who never failed to affectionately refer to you as ‘Toffee’ because the chewy confection had been stuck in your teeth the first time you met, an accident.

But once you kissed him, allowed his large, assertive hands to roam over your every curve, and let his tongue taste every drop of your arousal for him, you knew you were in trouble.

You swore you’d never cross that line and act on such feelings, but when said sex god, with eyes as blue and inviting as a warm summer sky, looked at you like a ten course meal he wanted to devour, well, all logical thinking and restraint flew out the window, along with your panties.

The entire following year, you wondered if your dalliance was fated to be one glorious night. Whether Ari considered it a moment of weakness on his behalf and if he regretted what the two of you did, or if he was as desperate for it to happen again as you were.

The following holiday period, your questions were answered almost immediately.

The first time you two were alone again, all it took was one quizzical glance and you knew he too was thinking back to the night a year ago.

Perhaps it should have concerned you just how easily you gave yourself up to him, but you were honestly so desperate for him to have his way with you, to utterly ruin you again, that the desire between your legs overruled any self-control your brain tried to exert.

From your experience, none of the men your age knew anything about how to satisfy a woman, but there was no doubt with Ari, by your third orgasm, when you were floating on a cloud of pure bliss, you were convinced your bodies were made for each other.

This particular year he had a whole two weeks at home before departing again, and you made use of all fourteen euphoric days.

“Fuck, Toffee, so wet and messy, just for me - your pretty pussy gonna cum on these fat fucking fingers again? You gonna make a mess all over daddy?” His low growling voice was already such a turn on, but when he talked to you like that, you couldn’t stop yourself from cumming right then and there.

“That’s it, pretty girl, doing such a good job for me. Look how beautiful you are bouncing on my cock.” His praise spurred you on, lifting yourself up and sinking down on him again so he filled you completely, but when he reached to where your bodies connected, strumming on your clit, the coil in your stomach tightened as he brought you closer to your orgasm. “Wanna feel you cum around me baby, can you do that for me?”

“Still can’t get enough of me, can you Toffee?” He spoke into your ear as he pinned your hands above your head, fingers interlocked with yours, his weight pinning you to your bed, hips rolling into your own filling the room with salacious sounds of skin slapping skin. “You’ll never get enough, will you? I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you either.”

As you laid beside Ari the day before he was due to leave, content listening to the crackling fireplace, head resting on his broad chest, his strong arm wrapped tenderly around your waist, pulling you back into him as if your touch itself sustained him, you couldn’t help your mind from wondering if you meant more to him than simply an easy fuck; someone he knew would be available to take his sexual frustrations out on for the couple weeks a year he was home.

You had never met someone who fucked you so rough, but also treated you with such tenderness, as if you were something worth taking care of.

There were moments throughout the past couple weeks, when his eyes weren’t consumed with just pure lust for you, there was something else swirling around those desire-blown pupils. But you told yourself it must be your imagination. Surely he couldn’t truly be looking at you with the devotion you wished he felt for you.

When time came for him to leave again, you didn’t have the words to express to him how you had treasured the past two weeks. You were fully aware that he was your fathers best friend, and even if that weren’t reason enough to prevent your heart from becoming attached to him, you knew his position which took him overseas for the majority of the year should be. Whatever this was between you two, it could never turn into something real.

But that didn’t stop you from wishing it could.

The following year was pure torture. When you had only hooked up just once, you could at least resign yourself to the thought that it was a one time thing that meant nothing to him.

But now, knowing you had both been so eager for it to happen again, and the expectation that come the next holiday season you would pick up right where you left off, made you miss his presence even more.

The thought itself was exciting, but also agony.

Because, even if you wouldn’t admit it aloud, you missed not only the toe curling orgasms, but the way his eyes softened when they looked at you, how your body fit so perfectly with his as he cradled you to sleep, and the tranquil happiness you seemed to only find in his company.

Unbeknownst to anyone else in his life, Ari had made the executive decision to have an additional two weeks at home this year, designed to be spent solely with you.

He knew he couldn’t offer you the life or relationship you deserved, but just in this one aspect of his life he wanted to be a little selfish.

He wanted his sweet Toffee all to himself for these next four weeks, watching as your face contort in the most exquisite way as pleasure washed through your entire body; he wanted to wake up beside you and spend the cold mornings bundled up with you, listening to your voice as you read chapters of your new favourite book; but more than anything, he wanted to kiss you every chance he got, roughly kiss you until you were completely out of breath, sweetly kiss you when you were in the middle of a sentence because he just couldn’t wait until you were finished, tenderly kiss you right before you fell asleep so you would dream about his lips on yours.

Being able to spend a whole month with Ari was like a dream come true.

He spent an entire day teaching you to make sufganiyot just as his mother had done every Hanukkah when he was growing up.

Promised to beat you at every board game you kept stored at your place, but you were also convinced he let you win every time.

You sat by the roaring fire, one blanket stretched to cover both your laps as you read in peace, simply enjoying being together, even if you were doing something separately.

Someone could be confused into thinking that given the intimate nature of how you spent your days together, the pure tenderness which softened your gaze and the doting, involuntary smile tugging at the corners of your lips whenever you gazed at him, your relationship was much more significant than occasional fuck buddies.

But you couldn’t allow yourself to think like that - not only did Ari live most of his life oceans away from where you did, but he was best friends with your father. There was no way the two of you could ever have something that sembled a real relationship.

However, it was undeniable that when the two of you were together, it was something even more magical than the holiday season itself. The sex was incredible, that was evident by the number of life shattering orgasms he could pull almost on demand from your body, but it wasn’t just the sex.

He could make you laugh like nobody else, helped you feel confident in your body, provided an environment where you were comfortable enough around him to divulge secrets you hadn’t even told some of your friends. He brought out the best version of you you didn't even realise existed before him.

After a particularly sensual and passionate night, you laid together by the roaring fire, however it was the warmth which came from snuggling beside Ari’s strapping naked form which you were most interested in. For the first time in your life you felt truly content, protected, but most of all, loved.

The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, he made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, he could so easily fool you into thinking you were the only one for him.

Saying your inevitable goodbye was excruciating. Each year it became progressively more painful, and you weren’t sure you could manage the searing heartbreak which would come next year when you were positive you were already in love with him.

You couldn’t keep living like this, wondering for close enough to an entire year if the man you loved would still want you next festive season, whether in the time you were apart he had found someone else to settle down with, or if he wouldn’t be able to make it home for the next holidays, or came to the realisation of any one of the numerous reasons he wouldn’t want to continue sleeping with his best friends daughter.

You made a pact to yourself that the next time you saw Ari you’d tell him. Tell him how insanely happy he made you, how all you could think about was if next holidays you would get to experience that feeling of pure rapture when you were together, and how it killed you to consider that might not be a possibility. Tell him how possessive you were over him and that the thought he satisfied his needs with anyone else over the period you were apart ripped your heart from your chest. Tell him how even though it was entirely impossible and beyond impractical, you wanted to spend every moment of your year laughing with him until your cheeks ached, learning every aspect of his passionate soul and making love to him every chance you got.

Tell him that you loved him.

A knock on your front door pulled you from your reverie as you straightened the corners of your tartan blanket. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach and your heart clenched with dread.

This was it.

When you opened the door Ari looked handsome as ever, broad and tanned as if he had spent far too long in the sun. But it was the twinkle in his striking eyes at the recognition that it was you behind the door that made your heart flutter in your chest.

He didn’t speak a single word as he dropped his bags inside the entrance and pulled you into a tight hug. His embrace was warm and familiar, and even though it was Ari who was technically returning home, in a way it felt like you had as well.

“Ari?” The inflection in your voice indicated it was a question. Ari pulled back and studied your face before answering.

“Yeah Toffee?” His features stiffened and all of a sudden he looked worried. You had never seen him look this anxious before, and you made the quick determination that you didn’t like it one bit.

“I’ve had something on my mind literally all year and I need to come out and say this before we pick up where we left off.” You nervously babbled, peering down at how your hands were shaking.

“You’re in a relationship?” His voice was filled with sorrow which tore your heart in two.

“What? No. Actually, it’s sort of the opposite.” You nervously giggled, the sound of which seemed to calm his nerves. You took a deep breath to summon the courage you needed to confess your secret when his gorgeous eyes looked at you so expectantly. “I’ve been so hung up on you the past year I haven’t been able to think straight - well if I’m honest it’s probably been longer than just this last year. And I know this might ruin everything, and that it probably puts you in an awkward situation because of my dad, but Ari I think I’m in love with you.”

He took that moment to finally kiss you, like he was a suffocating man and your lips were his air. Lord, you had missed the tickle of his beard and how he smelled warm and musky, with a hint of tobacco. Every intimate feeling you had left unsaid you poured into that kiss, finally feeling free to convey every last emotion into your expression of love for him and not have to hold back as you had previously.

When you finally pulled away, needing air, Ari rested his forehead against yours, scrunched his nose and affectionately rubbed the tip against your own.

“My darling Toffee, I know wholeheartedly that I am in love with you.” You had never seen Ari smile as much as when he confessed those words.

“You do?” You asked, and he responded with an ardent kiss to your lips.

“This moment right here, reuniting with you, that’s what got me through the whole year. You’re the person I come home for.”

This time it was you that kissed him, eager, luscious and downright possessive. His luggage long forgotten, you steered him towards your living room and the cosy space you had set up next to the fireplace for an occasion just like this one.

You’d already had some very memorable holidays with Ari, but you were certain none would compare to this year.

[doasyoudesireandlive]

Hearts beating as one

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader, friends to lovers, roommate AU

Summary: Cuddles and a movie with your cute roommate.

warnings: fluff, petnames, dumb humour lol

word count: 900ish

A/N: This is for @chrisdrysdale one year anniversary writing challenge! congrats honey! the theme of the challenge was "love and cuddles" hope it makes you warm and fuzzy <3

(English is not my first language, and this is proof-read by me! sorry for any mistakes)

You tug your coat, burying your nose in your scarf. The wind is icy cold, the December air having no mercy. You are on you way home to your flat after a meet-up with old friends. It was so nice catching up and you had stayed there for a few hours, chatting away about the good old days and about the present. Your friends had mostly settled down, and they kept nagging you. “Y/N, when are you settling down? Anyone special in your life?” and so on. You answered as you always did “I’m in no rush, and no – I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.” They all showed you pics of various bachelors,  in an attempt to play matchmaker. You just laughed it off, but deep inside you knew. Your heart already belongs to someone else. You’re just not sure if he knows it…

Finally reaching the flat you quickly get inside. “I’m home!” You call out. A cheery baritone voice answers. “Hi, honey! Did you have a good time?” You smile, warmth seeping into your body. “Sure did, dear – it was great!” You take off your coat, scarf and boots and walk into the kitchen. Bucky is standing by the stove, stirring in a big pot. You pour yourself a cup of coffee from the coffee pot and peek into the pot. “What is that?”

Bucky looks at you, laughter gleaming in his eyes. “You just came home, and the first thing you do is diss my cooking? Tsk, tks, that’s low… kitten” The last word is said so sweetly that you can almost taste it. You look at him and tilt your head. “diss? Nah, Buckyboy, that was curiosity” He gives you a look, a faint blush showing on his cheeks. “whatever you say, babe, whatever you say” You simply smirk, and go to lay down in the couch.

You and Bucky had been roommates for about two years now. You moved in right after a really messy break-up. Your ex, John, had been the harassing and controlling kind. Bucky had been your salvation. You had arranged the moving before you broke up with John, knowing you had to get away quickly. You had not planned to tell Bucky the truth, but the instant his beautiful blue eyes stared into yours you had to. You felt safe, for the first time in ages.

After that day Bucky had protected you many times. John came to the flat multiple times, but finally left you alone after Bucky gave him a black eye. The friendship with Bucky came easy. 6 months passed and you were besties. But something other than friendship was blooming between you. You knew it now, after 2 years, that you were in love with Bucky. You kinda want to tell him, but at the same time, you don’t wanna risk your friendship….

“Honey? Food is ready. If you dare eat it…” Buckys teasing voice lured from the kitchen. You joined him and ate with him. “Wow, this tastes way better than it looks! Its sooo good” You praise, mouth full of food.

“Well, thank you, sweetheart. Nat gave me the recipe, its some form of Russian stew I think. “ he eyes the food suspiciously, as if hes not sure if he trusts it. After a few seconds he shrugs and continue to eat. When youre both finished eating you do the dishes while Bucky lounge on the couch.

“Up for a movie, doll?” Bucky calls from the sofa. “Yeah! As long as we don’t have to see The Hobbit AGAIN, I’m so tired of that movie” You can hear Bucky huff, and you laugh softly to yourself. You get some snacks and drinks and go to sit down.

Bucky has already found a movie, some new sci-fi with good reviews. He gets comfy on the sofa and gestures for you to tuck yourself into his side. You smile, and sit down. His arm curling around your body and holding you close, like he is afraid you’re gonna flee any moment. Cuddling like this came natural to you and you had spent countless hours in Buckys arms.

The movie is ok, but youre having a hard time focusing. Youre now turned bit so you are basically sitting in Buckys lap. You start to squirm, the situation making your heart race. Oh, if you only were brave enough to kiss him now. You stare at his lips. Full, pink, and pillow soft. You are lost in your daydream when his voice pull you out. “Wanna taste?”

Your eyes flicker up his and before you know it you are kissing him. He is taken by surprise, going stiff for a half second. Then he kisses back, with everything hes got. Pouring all your feelings into the kiss, youre soon panting. Pulling back and looking at each other with lust filled eyes.

Bucky is the first to speak. “I just.. I wanna… Well. Oh darn, I love you, Y/N” a glint of hope glimmer in his eyes and you giggle “I love you too, more than you could ever imagine” You meet in a kiss again, pouring all your love and care into it, until your hearts are beating as one.

Bucky pull back. “And by the way… I was talking about the chocolate,” he says – pointing to the mars bar on the table, with one bite taken out of it.

“You fucking moron” You say, laughing loudly – peppering Bucky in kisses.

Taglist: @animnerd @late-to-the-party-81

[navybrat817]

What Goes Around

Pairing: BFD/DBF!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky is your friend's dad and your dad's friend and nothing more. Until he isn't. Word Count: Over 6.2k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, vaginal unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), semi-public sex, possessive behavior, dirty talk, light Daddy kink, age gap (reader is in early 20's and Bucky late 40's), arguing, light violence, swearing, conflicted reader (everything is consensual!), everyone is a mess, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: Woohoo! Stepped out of my comfort zone a bit on this and I'm so proud! Thank you to @sweeterthanthis , @dreamlessinparis , @buckyownsmylife, @targaryenvampireslayer , @christywantspizza , @sgt-seabass , @lookiamtrying for listening to me ramble about this. Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby (thank you as well), but any and all mistakes are my own. Banner and moodboard by yours truly. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated! ***Any soft!dark undertones are unintentional as everything is consensual.***

You met Bethany Barnes your freshman year of college. While some of the girls on your floor knew each other, you went off to university not knowing a soul and had to be assigned a roommate. Your nerves shot up when you walked into the shared room. Beth, as she preferred to be called, was intimidatingly beautiful. You hadn't met any supermodels, but she could've chosen that as her profession with her tall, slender build, long auburn hair, and sparkling blue eyes.

Your nervousness faded when she smiled and gave you a hug, after asking if it was okay.

"You're here!" she smiled more when she pulled away, looking over your shoulder at who you thought was your dad. "By the closet."

You weren't normally stunned silent by looking at a person, but that was what happened when you met James "Bucky" Barnes. With the beard and quiet confidence in which he carried himself, you would've mistaken him for a professor had it not been for the fact that he was in the dormitory. Call it instant attraction or lust, but you found yourself openly staring at the handsome man as he carried a box into the room. He gazed at you, too, or so you thought. Your mind may have been playing tricks on you.

"Dad, quit staring at my roommate. That's weird."

The needle on the record scratched. Her dad. You could see where she got her good looks. He was taller and broader, his hair dark brown instead of auburn, and eyes a deeper shade of blue. One of the hottest men to ever grace the earth, if anyone asked for your opinion.

It didn't matter how good looking he was. This was Beth's dad. It put him in the "look, but don't touch" column.

Your dad, Dave, appeared moments later and introduced himself. Bucky was kind enough to help him with the rest of your stuff and even offered to buy lunch. While he didn't look the least bit upset about leaving, it was clear your dad was having a tough time holding it together and even had tears in his eyes. You understood. It was the two of you for so long and now you were out the door.

Beth put a hand on his arm and gave him a small smile to ease his worries.

"Hey. Your daughter and I will look out for each other, okay? You have nothing to worry about. Plus, I think we're going to be good friends."

She was right.

To your surprise, you discovered that Beth only lived about an hour away from your hometown. Like you, Beth didn't know anyone, but she was friendly and welcoming. Definitely more outgoing than you would ever be. Her popularity grew quickly, but the two of you were there for each other like she promised. While you had lost your mother, hers took off when she was so young she couldn't even remember her face. Bucky did the best he could to raise her. Like your dad had done for you.

Maybe that was why they became such good friends, too.

The two of you traded off different weekends at each other's houses when you left campus and spent a few holidays together. You did a couple of summer trips with your dads doing their best not to be overbearing. Eventually Beth joined a sorority and moved into the chapter's house, so you no longer lived together. Bucky suggested that your dad move closer to his place when he decided to sell the house, that way everyone could still spend time together.

"You wouldn't mind, would you?" your dad asked at the time.

You didn't at the time. It still gave everyone a chance to hang out and your dad seemed to need it more than you. He admired Bucky for being self-made, having a nice house, and a good job. It was as if the man's confidence rubbed off on him. He began to dress better and get in shape. He mentioned possibly dating again, which you encouraged. Your dad deserved to be happy.

You couldn't have predicted it would all go to hell after graduation.

You nursed your wine as you sat at the bar, staring into the abyss of the liquid as you swirled it around. Maybe if you looked long enough, you'd forget about tonight. It should have been an evening of celebration for you. Nothing major, but it was something that meant the world to you.

"I think you need something stronger."

You stayed silent when you turned to your right, slightly surprised when you saw none other than Bucky take a seat beside you. The citrus scent of his cologne filled your nostrils when he moved his stool close enough that your knees touched. Up close, even with the dim bar lightning, you could see the gray hairs in his trimmed beard and perfectly coiffed brown hair. Of all the people you expected to see, he certainly wasn't one of them.

"What are you doing here?" you asked.

"I thought you could use a friend."

"Are we friends?" You asked softly.

Hurt flashed in his eyes, which filled you with guilt. "I thought we were."

You weren't sure if you would label Bucky as a friend, but you cared for the man. He had been good to you over the years, staying up with you and watching movies when you couldn't sleep or listening to you ramble on about your papers, internship, resume, while Beth pampered herself. He gave advice when you asked and listened when you only wanted to talk.

You didn't need to be rude to him.

"We are," you wanted to assure him and you felt a bit better when his shoulders relaxed. "How did you even know where to find me?"

"You rushed off before dinner started and you mentioned that you liked this place," he replied, like it was obvious. "We were supposed to be celebrating. We didn't get all dressed up for nothing," he teased, gesturing to himself and drawing your attention to his large body as you smiled a little.

Over the last few years, you got used to seeing different looks from him. Jeans and shirts tight enough to see the muscles underneath, sweatpants that hung low enough to let the imagination wander, swim trunks when you went on vacation, and even the occasional suit. He opted for a dark blue suit tonight that matched his eyes, but skipped the tie. It wasn't a look many could pull off and he did it with ease.

You blinked and shook your head, trying not to pay attention to how good he looked. Just because you were upset didn't mean you had a right to check him out. It was wrong to be attracted to him and you refused to acknowledge it. Mainly because he was one of your dad's best friends and one of your best friend's dads.

No, she's not my best friend. Not anymore.

“We even kind of match,” he smiled to himself.

You glanced down at your short, sleeveless dress. It wasn’t revealing or flashy, but you felt beautiful in it. The shade of blue was close to his suit. Part of you felt silly for dressing up for a simple dinner.

"I guess we do," you said softly, looking at your glass again.

“Surprised the boys aren’t lining up for a chance with you,” he said.

You snorted, thankful you didn’t take a sip of your wine. You would’ve spit it out. “The boys have never lined up for me, but it’s okay. I’m used to it.”

Boys usually talked to you to get closer to Beth.

“Their loss,” Bucky said sincerely as he held up a couple of fingers for the bartender.

“And we have nothing to celebrate,” you said, not wanting to dwell on your sad dating history.

"Bullshit," he said, ordering two shots of whiskey and setting some money on the counter once the bartender came over. "You got a job at Stark Industries. I'm proud of you."

Your cheeks heated at the praise. "Thank you," you said, sparing him a glance when he passed you a glass. "I already have a drink.”

“And I said it isn’t strong enough,” he hesitated as he picked up his own. “Beth said you weren’t much of a drinker. Not even on your 21st birthday. You were a good girl, weren’t you?”

You were conflicted as you listened. Did Bucky mean for that to be an innuendo? You chose to focus on Beth instead, and how angry you felt. How many nights did you hold her hair back while she puked?

“You're right. We should celebrate."

Bucky gave you a worried look as you picked up your drink.

Your cheeks ached from your wide smile. "To my dad and your daughter fucking each other. Cheers!"

You might as well address the elephant in the room since he wouldn't.

He frowned when you downed the shot, the burn spreading from the back of your throat to your chest. You half expected him to see a clench in his jaw or an embarrassed blush in his cheeks, but he merely threw his drink back and slammed the glass down when he finished. "You sure you don't want to do another toast? I don't think the entire bar heard you."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to make a scene. I did that already, remember?"

You hadn't seen Beth in months since you graduated. Neither of you landed dream jobs right away, but you did find temporary work to help cover the rent for your new place. You wanted to be independent and your dad supported you. But your friend hadn’t even seen your place.

Any time you reached out to meet up, she made an excuse why she couldn't join you or bailed at the last minute if she agreed. At first, you didn't take any offense. You figured she met a guy. She got like that sometimes over boys, but she had never gone that long without hanging out with you.

Maybe she had outgrown you after college.

Your dad sensed that you missed Beth and assured you that you'd see her soon. He planned a special dinner to celebrate you getting a job at Stark Industries. Beth promised she wouldn't miss it. You thought it was strange how easily she accepted your dad's invitation, but you discovered quickly that she wasn't there for you in the first place.

"Sweetie," your dad began as he slipped an arm around Beth's waist. "We have something we want to talk to you about. Beth and I are, well, we're seeing each other. Now I know that may be difficult to hear, especially since I haven't seen anyone serious since your mother, but…"

Your dad used to describe you as amicable and well-behaved when someone asked him about his daughter. No matter what life threw your way, you did your best to be friendly and stay out of trouble. It could have been before your mother was always kind and you did your best to follow in her footsteps. It often meant putting the needs of others before your own, but it never bothered you.

Until tonight.

Until you saw the ring on Beth's finger.

Beth, the girl who flashed boys from her sorority house window and blew off studying. The same girl who cried with you on the anniversary of your mom's death. She was going to marry your dad.

A slow moving storm began to swirl in your mind. You managed to hear your dad say that they began seeing each other the night of graduation and promised it wasn't sooner. It explained why Beth had blown you off all that time. They were trying to figure out how to tell you, but all they did was lie.

Outrage was a foreign feeling to you and you didn't know how to channel it. Were you supposed to scream? Cry? All you knew was that it clawed at your insides until it broke free.

Whatever you yelled was enough to make your dad step back in shock and Beth grab your arm to drag you outside. The porch light illuminated her enough to see the anger etched on her face. You didn't even recognize her.

"What the fuck? You've been fucking my dad?!" you yelled, snatching your arm back from her.

"Yeah, I'm fucking your dad!" she yelled back.

"How did this even happen?!" you demanded to know, immediately regretting asking a second later.

"After your graduation dinner, we were drinking and I said I always thought he was hot and-"

"God, stop!" you shrieked, covering your ears until her mouth stopped moving. "So, you two have been sneaking around behind my back and lying to me for months?!"

"We had to because we knew you'd lose your shit! I knew you wouldn’t be mature about this!"

You trembled as you took a step back. You weren't used to yelling or being yelled at. There were times that you and Beth bickered, but it was nothing like this.

And, of course, you'd lose your shit. What did she honestly expect? Was she the real reason your dad began to take better care of himself over the years?

"Why?" You asked almost timidly, a contrast to how you shouted moments ago. "I don't want to sound cliché, but you can have anyone you want. Why him?"

"Because I want him," she said unapologetically.

Beth, in the time you knew her, was never afraid to go after what or who she wanted. She also went all in with guys. She didn't believe in doing it half-ass. But your dad was far from her type, the opposite of the fuckboys she typically dated.

"My dad isn't one of those stupid boys who does lines of coke off your ass. He's a good man."

"I know he's a good man. That's why I'm marrying him," she snapped, holding up her hand for you to see the ring again. It was beautiful. If you had to guess, it was also expensive. "We just want your support."

You wondered what it would be like at times to have a stepmom. Whenever you envisioned it, your best friend never came to mind. Your dad had to be going through a midlife crisis. God, what would your mom say if she was alive? What did Bucky have to say?

"You're half his age!" you argued, the anger starting to surface again as you stepped forward and smacked her hand away. "What do you two possibly have in common?"

"A lot, actually," she said, clutching her hand against her chest. "You never had a problem with your dad and I hanging out in all the years we've been friends. And you wouldn't give a shit about his age if this was any other guy."

"But this isn't just any guy! This is my dad!" you argued, pleading with her to understand as your vision blurred. Didn’t she realize how awkward it was? What if they ended things? "And you're my best friend."

Beth bit her lip at the sight of your tears. "Your dad and I care about each other, okay? We deserve to be happy. And I care about you, too, but I'm not letting him go. I refuse to be like you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you demanded when you watched the sympathy leave her eyes.

When backed into a corner, Beth lashed out like an animal. Anyone who got too close got hurt. Unlucky for you, you knew you were about to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

"You spent all four years of college studying and being nice instead of living. You only had fun when I made it happen. You hardly dated. You're lucky you even got laid at all," she said, digging into your insecurities. It was tough for guys to look at you when Beth stood beside you. It made you wonder how long she felt this way about you. "Deep down, you’re just a fucking coward. Unlike you, I have the balls to go after what I want, so that's what I did. You should find a pair and do the same."

Your hand connected with Beth's cheek before you could stop yourself. Like a scene out of a movie, your dad opened the door in time for him to witness the slap. But it wasn't his hand that gripped your shoulder to pull you away.

It was Bucky’s.

Your hand stung as Beth dissolved into tears in your dad's arms. He looked disappointed in you and said as much as you tried to say something. You waited for Bucky to snap at you for hitting his daughter, but he stayed eerily silent as he looked at your hand.

Did he hate you now?

"I'm sorry," you whispered, pulling away before he could say a word.

You ducked inside long enough to grab your purse and take off before any of them could stop you. It was a coward's way out. Maybe Beth was right about you, after all.

"You didn't cause a scene," Bucky said, ordering you both another drink. "That being said, I didn't hear most of the argument, but I did see you hit Beth."

You winced a little and rubbed your palm against your thigh. It was the first time you ever hit someone. "I'm sorry for slapping her."

"Don't be. She deserved it," he said under his breath.

You didn't expect him to say that.

"Your dad is worried, you know," he said, surprising you again. "Said you aren't answering his calls."

"No, I'm not. I don't know what to say to him," you admitted, finally taking out your phone to glance at it. You had missed calls and texts from your dad and Beth, but you refused to listen to the voicemails or look at the messages. "I don't get it."

"What do you not get?" He asked curiously when you finally took your drink.

"Them," you said, allowing the alcohol to burn your throat again. "I don't get them together. Beth isn't. Well, she's not…"

"Your mother?" he guessed.

You looked in your lap with a sigh.

"No, she isn't, but maybe that isn't a bad thing. She won't try to be your mom. Just a partner to your dad," he said. Was your dad someone who could ground her? Was she someone who could make him feel younger? "They're consenting adults. And your dad is lonely. Has been for years."

It sounded like he was trying to placate you, but something in his voice kept you from calling him out. You knew your dad was lonely. Beth said something similar about Bucky.

"I think Beth is bringing him out of his shell," Bucky gently added.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve hardly seen them in months,” you mumbled.

“They should’ve made time for you,” he said, putting his hand over yours. You didn’t dwell on how nice his touch felt since he pulled away just as quickly. “I should have, too. I’ve missed seeing you around the place.”

It wasn’t his job to make time for you.

“You’ve missed me?” you questioned, warmth spreading in your face as he smiled. It was nice to hear that. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Though I have a feeling you won't want to stop by as much now to see me.”

"If I don't, it has nothing to do with you," you said.

"Sure," he smiled a little.

You examined him with a critical eye, trying to decipher what was going on in his head. Wouldn't it be awkward for him, too? Where was his anger at the situation? Was he hiding it?

"Why are you not upset? She's your daughter."

He gave you a wistful smile and had his drink. A drop of liquid stayed on his lip and you were tempted to wipe it away. Or lick it away. You couldn't act on those urges, especially after the way you went off on Beth. It would be hypocritical.

"Just because I’m not letting it show doesn’t mean I’m not upset. Truth is, I can’t control what Beth does. She stopped listening to me a long time ago. And if I tried to force her to let Dave go, it would make her want him more," he explained, his jaw twitching. "I had a few choice words for him since he kept it from you."

"Wait," you swung in your chair and almost landed in his lap. His hands gripped your arms to steady you, but he didn't let go. "Because he kept it from me? Not you?"

Bucky gave you a single nod, making your heart crack.

"So you knew?" you asked, sadness bubbling up this time instead of anger.

"I did. I’m sorry."

Why would they tell Bucky and not you? Did they expect him to be more mature? Was he the lesser of the two evils or worse?

“How long have you known?” you asked, moving off the stool with his help. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“I’ve only known about their relationship for a couple of weeks,” he answered, trying to stop you when you put your phone in your bag. No wonder he wasn’t as upset. He had time to process the news. “Look, it wasn’t my place. You had enough on your mind with job interviews and I was-”

“You were what? Trying to protect me?”

“In a way, yeah,” he said, making you take a step back when he stood up. “I know how my daughter can be, but I didn’t expect them to pick your celebration dinner to tell you.”

“Tonight wasn’t about me,” you said with a bitter laugh. “It was never meant to be about me.”

Age gap and weirdness aside, you didn't want to say out loud that you felt pushed out. Your dad and Beth would be wrapped up in each other from now on. They already were. How would Beth be able to talk to you about romantic issues when those very issues involved your dad? Would your father make time for you? What if they decided to have a kid?

Were you wrong for thinking of yourself instead of being happy for them?

“Come here,” he whispered, embracing you in a comforting hug.

You were close to bursting into tears, shutting your eyes to keep them at bay. What were you supposed to do with the emotions you were feeling? And why did it feel so good to be in his arms?

“I don’t want to be mad at him,” you whispered.

“You won’t be mad at him forever. He’s your father,” he said, leaning in close so his lips brushed your ear. “But he isn’t your daddy, is he?”

Your eyes slowly opened at his words.

“You want me to be your daddy?”

You nearly stumbled back, your eyes wide as you looked at him. There was no playfulness in his gaze. Nothing to give away that it was a joke. You heard him wrong or imagined that because there was no way he would ask you that. Maybe those couple of shots got to you quicker than you thought.

“What did you say?” you asked.

“You heard what I said,” he said evenly.

You laughed as you backed away more. It had to be a joke and you weren’t in the mood for games. So why wasn’t he laughing with you?

“Whatever that was, I-I can’t process this right now. I need air. I need to go home.”

“You’ve been drinking,” Bucky pointed out as you began to walk to the side door. “I can take you. Let me take care of you.

“You’ve been drinking, too,” you said over your shoulder. “I’ll call a cab.”

“Wait!”

You pushed the door open and welcomed the cool air as you walked down the alley. It didn’t bother you since the alcohol warmed you a bit. It was dark, except for the glow of the neon lights. The perfect cover to hide your oncoming tears.

You turned around when you heard footsteps behind you, but didn’t speak when you saw Bucky a few feet away. What would you say to him? It was difficult to think with him watching you, the air thick with tension. The longer his gaze lingered on you, the harder it was to breathe. If he noticed your hand shaking when you wiped at your eyes, he didn't point it out.

Such a gentleman.

"You're not going home until you talk to me," he said, taking another step toward you.

"You can't keep me out here all night. There. I spoke to you."

"That isn't what I meant and you know it. You're pissed about everything, I get it, but don't act like I'm the bad guy here."

"You're not the good guy either," you snapped, pointing back at the bar. “What the hell was that in there? Asking to be my daddy?”

“You know how relieved Dave was that I didn’t beat the shit out of him over Beth? Or that I didn’t push him away as a friend? You know why I didn’t?” he asked, avoiding your question. “Because I’d be a fucking hypocrite.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’ve wanted you since I walked into your dorm room your freshman year.”

The air rushed out of your lungs. A man who is practically sex on legs wanted you. Someone off limits and you could never have.

“Beth never wanted a stepmom and the women I dated didn’t want a bratty daughter. I almost gave up on dating and then I saw you. You were right in front of me and I couldn’t have you because you were half my age and living with my daughter,” he explained.

You thought back over the years, searching for signs in the memories that he wanted you. The late, quiet nights together. His interests in your studies. How he used to joke with your dad that the reason you didn’t date much was because the boys weren’t good enough for you.

“Been almost five years and I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve tried to be good. What’s stopping us now?”

“I. That’s not. We.” Why couldn’t you form a coherent sentence? “You’re a good man and a good looking man, but you’re Beth’s dad.”

Bucky’s bitter laugh chilled you more than the cool air.

“So, you’re going to pretend that you don’t want me? That you haven’t wanted me all these years and I’ve just imagined the looks and want between us?” he demanded, every bit the confident man you grew used to seeing. “Say you don’t want me and we’ll forget this whole thing.”

You couldn’t say that.

“Say I do want you,” you said carefully. “We just can’t.”

You backed up when he strode forward and wrapped his hand around your wrist. The touch was gentler than you expected as he turned and backed you against the wall, your bag unceremoniously falling to the ground. You were forced to look at him when he gripped your chin, pressing his body closer to yours. His eyes flickered between your gaze and trembling mouth and you wondered if he heard how fast your heart pounded.

Were his eyes always such a dark shade of blue or did you ignore the lust hidden beneath the surface?

"Why can’t we, hmm?" he asked, firmly keeping your head in place when you tried to avert your gaze. "Is it because you’re scared? You don’t have to be.”

You were scared as hell. Bucky is a man. Experienced.

"Aren't you tired of being good? I know I am."

You thought back to Beth’s previous words. How she had the balls to go after what she wanted and you needed to do the same. What better time to start than now?

You pressed your lips against his and it didn’t take him long for his tongue to slip in, tasting the whiskey as he devoured you. He moaned when your hands moved down his torso, allowing you to divulge in the thing you both denied yourselves. Some twisted part of you mourned what you could’ve had for months had you simply stopped being a good girl.

Were you truly good to begin with?

The line of his hard cock pressed against you as he rocked his hips and kissed down your neck. “This isn’t how I pictured it, but I can’t fucking wait.”

“How did you picture it?” you whimpered, rolling your hips back against his.

“I’d rather show you later,” he whispered, lightly biting down. It wasn’t hard enough to break the skin, but enough that pain and pleasure lingered. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”

He moved away enough to push your dress up around your hips, shocking you when he tore your panties off. Tucking the ruined fabric into his pants pocket, he slipped his hand back between your thighs. His fingers were cool against your slick folds and you shamelessly writhed, needing everything he was willing to give you.

“Did you touch yourself at night wishing I’d show up and fuck your pretty pussy until you cried for me? Hmm?” He said, kissing you again as you whined. The light scratch of his beard made you shiver as he nipped your bottom lip. “Tell me you want my cock.”

Your head spun at his demand. You weren’t a virgin, but the guys you had been with before weren’t big on dirty talk. Unless they talked about how amazing their cocks were.

They weren’t.

“I want your cock,” you whined against his lips, desperate for him.

You wanted him to fill you up until you were sore, aching, and forgot why you were so upset in the first place.

“I’ll give it to you,” he promised.

Your fingers twisted in his shirt when he slid his fingers into your wet slit. You couldn’t recall a time in your life you felt this hot and slick. And feeling one finger push inside, you were sure this was nothing more than an erotic, dirty dream.

“Fuck, you’re tight. And you’re gonna let me fuck you against this wall, aren’t you?” he asked as you nodded. “Dirty girl. My dirty girl now.”

His finger twisted as he added another and you nearly smacked your head against the wall, but his other hand came up to soften the blow. “Bucky,” you gasped.

“I don’t know if you really want my cock,” he teased, moving his long fingers deep. “Might need to hear it one more time.”

As if you weren’t practically riding the thick digits at this point and moaning in the dark alleyway, he really needed to hear you say it again? The squelching sound of your pussy wasn’t loud enough? But your body liked his teasing. Loved his demands.

“Please, I need your cock. Please, Bucky. Please.” you begged, almost sobbing when he took his fingers out.

“But you said we can't do this. Isn't that what you said?” he asked.

When you opened your mouth to answer, he pushed his wet fingers inside.

“Taste yourself and try to say you don't want me. I dare you,” he whispered, wiping some of the bittersweet juices on your tongue. His fingers slipped free as you gaped at him, watching as he licked the remainder with a groan. “Even sweeter than I imagined.”

The sound of him unbuckling his belt snapped you out of your stupor. “Bucky, I’m-”

“On the pill and clean. I know,” he cut you off as he took his cock out and stroked himself. “I need to fill you up, pretty girl. Need to make you mine, the way I should’ve a long time ago.”

You struggled to keep yourself upright as he guided himself between your legs, holding your hip steady when he pushed the head in. You weren’t nearly stretched enough to take him, but your greedy pussy didn’t care as he slipped in inch by inch. You moaned as he kept pushing until he was fully sheathed inside you. You had never felt so full and likely never would again.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours as your walls pulsed around him.

In the dark place in the back of your mind you kept locked away, you wondered how he looked and sounded when he was pleased. If he gasped when he came or if his eyes rolled back. You were going to find out though, weren’t you?

You cried out when he thrust, one hand moving up to grip his hair. The quick, hard motions felt as desperate as you did inside. You didn’t care if it was fast or dirty. You were tired of being clean. This wasn’t tender or making love. It wasn’t soft touches and kisses to your breasts or slowly building you up.

It was Bucky Barnes fucking you against an alley wall.

“Fuck, are you always this wet or is it just for me?” he asked in awe, pulling one of your legs around his hip to shove his cock in deeper. “Do I have to chase anyone else off?”

You didn’t hear the words as you cried out. It felt so good to be taken like this. The rage, hurt, confusion, all of it molded into ecstasy. You never wanted it to end.

A light smack to your thigh pulled you back to the present.

“Tell. Me. You’re. Mine.” The gravel in his voice grew with each punctuated thrust.

“I’m yours,” you moaned, helpless to the onslaught and uncaring of the implication in the moment.

Your response encouraged him to move faster, kissing you deeply with a groan. His thrusts became almost punishing, like he had to feel you let go so he could come. It wouldn’t take much more with your orgasm building the way it was. You’d be surprised if his cock wasn’t coated in your wetness once you came.

“I-I’m gonna…” you trailed off.

“I know, pretty girl,” he grunted, gripping your chin again. “Be good and come for Daddy.”

Your body seized up before you exploded with pleasure. You struggled to hold yourself up as you trembled with bliss, your vision going white from the intensity. It was so much at once and you thought you might sob from how good it felt.

“Good girl. My good fucking girl,” he encouraged as he fucked you through it, the obscene sounds drowning out your whimpers. He tipped over the edge after a few more thrusts, coating your wet walls. “Fuck, take it.”

He managed to hold you up as he finished, panting as his head fell back. Your grip on his jacket loosened as the reality of the situation sank in, like a bucket of cold water being washed over you. Why did pleasure have to be short lived?

You fucked Bucky. You let Bucky fuck you. How could you cross that line? Just because Beth and your dad had done so, why did you think you could?

God, what were you going to tell them? That you were the biggest hypocrite alive? That you were no better than they were?

What goes around, comes around.

“Hey,” he whispered when he lifted his head, both of you still breathing heavily. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

“It’s not okay,” you whispered as he pulled out of you, your mixed release dripping down your thighs. You covered your face as he fixed your dress and himself. “Oh, my god.”

You flinched and dropped your hands when he pulled you away from the wall. His expression was unreadable as he shrugged his jacket off and slipped it over your shoulders. “It’s okay,” he said again.

“W-We can’t do that again,” you whispered as he bent down to retrieve your bag.

"Why not?" he asked, picking up some of the contents that fell out before he stood up.

"Because we can't," you said with no strength behind your words.

“We’re doing this again. You can’t avoid me or this,” he said, pointing between the two of you.

“Your daughter is marrying my dad. This whole thing is fucked up and-”

“And I said I'm tired of being good. I’m fucking tired of denying myself the chance to be happy,” he said firmly as he got in your face. “So are you. I know it."

You pulled the jacket tighter around you, not backing away as he stared at you. Did you shake from the sudden cold, your orgasm, or from the thought that he wasn’t about to let you go?

His gaze softened before he kissed your forehead. “Let’s get a cab and I’ll take you home. We can talk about it once you’ve rested.”

You let him take your hand, your feet moving on their own accord to follow him to the end of the alley. “I can get home on my own.”

You needed to be alone so you could figure out what to do about everything.

“You said you’re mine, didn’t you?” he said, smiling when you stopped. “And what kind of Daddy would I be if I didn’t take care of you?”

Would love to explore more of this new pairing. 😏 Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sexyprise]

Title: but what goes down || 4

Previous Chapter: further under ||3 Next Chapter: must come up || 5

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader

Warnings: discussion of murder, death mention, dead body description, useless cops are slightly less useless?, hysteria description, investigative teens, Scooby-Doo vibes, slow burn, slow romance, moar cliffhangers >:), some angst, less fluff bit it’s still there if you squint, swearing

Word Count: ~7.9k

Summary: Answers lead to more questions as you and Eddie and your newfound friends work together to solve the mystery of who murdered Chrissy Cunningham.

A/N: exposition + feelings (?); we learn a lot and learn even more that we don’t know. enjoy! and reblog and leave a comment! :)

Keep reading

[jadedvibes]

to be his wife 🥰

Mrs. Barber

Oh what a dream ♡ Let's imagine what it'd be like if after leaving his ex he met a lawyer that was his ideal match.

Pairing: Andy Barber x lawyer!reader

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, swearing, fluff, possessive!andy sprinkled in.

Word Count: 825

Like, comment, and/or reblog to put a giant smile on my face ♡

From the moment he stepped into the courtroom and saw you were opposing counsel Andy knew he was screwed. The whispers of the woman that could rival him as a prosecutor moving to the district didn’t contain how beautiful you were.

Your stellar professional reputation preceded you, but your bewitching presence was a surprise that completely caught him off guard.  

Andy wasn’t one to get flustered under the pressures of the court, but when you looked at him, his speech briefly stuttered along with his heart. Your words flowed eloquently, and your confidence made him grateful that it was an open-and-shut case, because once court was adjourned he decided that a woman as brilliant as you belonged with him.

He pursued you until you gave in, but it was a lot harder than he anticipated. You weren’t looking for anything, yet his persistence ensured that you found it anyway. The man wore you down with his kindness, helpfulness, and those dazzling blue eyes always giving you his undivided attention. Despite your cynicism, you let yourself fall for the lawyer with the complicated past. 

Fortunately, Andy ensured that you didn’t regret it. And to further prove his commitment, he proposed after six months of dating you, simply because he needed you to be his, in every way possible. 

Just like he made you his, every night since you agreed to go out with him. You thought it might be a bit too early to sleep with him after your first official date. But as he helped you out of his Audi and walked you to your front door with your hand firmly in his, you knew exactly what was going to happen. 

“Tell me to leave, honey,” he mumbled against your lips after kissing you goodnight. 

“But I want you to stay,” you whispered before opening your door. 

He took care of you that night, worshiping every inch of your body, just like he wanted to from the moment his eyes laid on you. 

Your attraction couldn’t stay confined to just your places at night, and that’s how stolen kisses at work turned into making love behind locked office doors. But sex wasn’t always like that, sometimes he’d fuck you, quick and rough, just enough to get you both there. Other days, he’d take his time, dominating you hard and slow; whispering the filthiest words you’d only hear when you got him like that. 

“That’s it, honey. Go soft under me, fuck – this pussy’s so fuckin’ tight it’s like she wants to keep me inside,” Andy groaned against the shell of your ear, his beard grazing against your soft skin as he pounded into you. You felt him everywhere; his warm lips, his large hands, his hard length roughly sinking into you over and over again. Until you were screaming his name, barely able to hear him mutter how well you squeezed his cock and how pretty you were as you came for him. 

The two of you eloped on a weekend trip in Portland, and the main thing that changed once you were officially his wife was that his adoration and devotion became even more intense. 

Andy was a self-assured man, but now that you were his, you didn’t miss the way his possessiveness lingered whenever you interacted with other male colleagues. In fact, you loved the way he’d make it apparent that you belonged to him. You loved it even more when he took you home and reminded you that you were his Mrs. Barber – as if the ring on your finger and the hold on your heart wasn’t indication enough. 

His protective nature, the way he cherished you as a partner and always took care of you made you fall for him more and more every day. A few colleagues at work even mentioned that you changed him for the better. He didn’t hide the fact that he was once a workaholic that prioritized his job more than anything in his past relationship; instead he made sure that you knew that you were his top priority through his actions. You were his new beginning, a chance to do things differently, and he certainly made the most of that. 

Andy was the perfect husband to you, his wonderful wife. 

Because you were his ideal partner. You were the warm softness to his rough exterior – although you were strong when you needed to be and Andy really admired that. You were the one that he trusted to tear down the tall walls he’d built up over the years. He needed someone that didn’t judge him about his past, that actually appreciated him, and saw him for the deeply caring man that he was. It amazed him how you fit the bill in every sense; a fact he expressed gratitude for often. 

And now that Andy loves you, he can never stop. Because you’re his better half, his gorgeous and amazing wife, his Mrs. Barber.

[1-800-imagines]

harvest moon | bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw

you swirled the straw in your drink as you watched rooster play pool with the other pilots. this had been your usual routine on the weekends for almost a year.

it was go to the hard deck, drink, and go home with rooster. eventually, he had asked you on a real date. and after a few dates, he had made it official.

you had been together about 6 months now and you didn’t know if you could love someone more.

the hard deck was probably both of your favorite places to hang out on weekends.

your drink was close to empty, which if rooster had noticed, he would’ve bought you another before you even finished it, but he had been distracted with the other pilots.

you enjoyed watching him do his own thing while you talked to penny at the bar. she said something to you which you hadn’t been paying attention so you looked back towards her.

“need another, honey?” she asked.

you smiled and nodded, “yes please, thanks penny.”

as she was making your dream, your favorite song, harvest moon, began to play. then familiar hands wrapped themselves around your torso, “hey darlin’” he whispered, nestling his head in the cook of your shoulder.

“well hey there, lieutenant.” you grinned and titled your head onto his.

“care for a dance, sweetheart?” he asked, standing up straighter and spinning the bar stool so you were facing him.

you peaked pst him and shook your head laughing, “roost, no one is dancing.”

“and? i wanna dance with my girl and nothin as silly as that is gonna stop me.” he said, offering you his hand.

you took it and he led you away from the bar. you felt yourself flush a little embarrassed to dance in front of all your friends.

that was soon remedied as he put his hands on your hips, so you reached up to put your arms around his neck.

“did you pick this song? tryna woo me, bradley?” you asked softly.

“oh baby, always.” he smirked and kissed you lightly.

you returned the kiss and rooster started to sway. you nestled your head under his. he began to sing along with the song which made your heart melt.

“i think this be a perfect first dance song, what do you think?” rooster murmured.

it was something so causal him asking you that; just something as if you wouldn’t even notice it. your beard swelled at the thought that rooster was even thinking about marriage with you.

“yeah, i think that’d be perfect.” you said softly looking up at him, “i love you, bradley bradshaw.”

“i love you more. always.”

[magnoliabutters]

BEG FOR IT • SAN DIEGO •

pairing: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x reader (she/her, 18+)

summary: the night before your assignment starts at top gun and you’re looking to celebrate. you’re about to have the night of your life.

warnings: 18+ content, mdni, adult language; angsty angst, fluffity fluff, smutitty smut; heavy petting, heavy make out sesh, sub/dom dynamic switches, (f receiving) oral, cum denial, (protected) p in v, kinky shit, begging, choking, etc.

word count: ~7k

support your author: reblogs for our man, rooster ✨

Keep reading

[libraryofantiquitea]

bradley bradshaw, ass man.

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader

summary: bradley loves your ass. that's it. that's the summary.

warnings: explicit, minors do not interact! vaginal fingering, rimming (female receiving), frottage.

word count: 2.3k

author's notes: from now, and until the end of time, thanks to the creator coven! love how we all mutually agreed that rooster was an ass man.

likes / comments / reblogs are very much appreciated! thank you for reading! ♥

From the moment you met Rooster, you knew that he was an “ass man.”

You met at the beach - he was out with his friends, and you were there with yours. You had been content to read your book and chat, gossip, enjoy the sun and each other’s company, and he had been tossing a football around with his friends. Said football landed on your towel, you and your two friends letting out startled shrieks. It was Bradley who approached, all smiles and all apologies, and you were instantly fucked.

The two friend groups ended up spending the rest of the day together, with Bradley’s friend Jake convincing the three of you to join in some football with them. None of you were particularly sporty, but it was more or less an excuse for the boys to get close to the three of you (although their friend Natasha had her eye on your best friend, and you knew for a fact that if Natasha had asked, she could have her).

Bradley was particularly keen on grabbing at you, and picking you up whenever you had the ball. He also playfully smacked your behind a few times, but he seemed to do that with everyone. Though at one point he threw you over his shoulder and gave your ass a playful smack. You would have stopped him if you hadn’t liked it so much.

The day had bled into the night, and he took you home at the end of it. He threw you over his shoulder again as he carried you into his house, and then tossed you onto his bed. 

It had been a couple of months since that day and you’d barely left.

—

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the kind that the two of you were rarely afforded. You’d slept in, convincing Bradley to forgo his usual morning jog, made waffles and coffee, and sprawled out on the couch together doing a crossword. It had been absolutely perfect.

Morning was beginning to blend into the afternoon, and you were quite content to do absolutely nothing with the rest of your day. Bradley had done a bit of lawn work and was throwing himself through a shower, while you laid in bed, reading a book. 

“How was your shower, babe?” you asked idly, focusing on your book when you heard Bradley enter the bedroom.

You’d shifted positions in bed about five times before ultimately settling onto your stomach, which would likely only be comfortable for another few minutes. When Bradley didn’t answer, you looked over your shoulder, finding him standing at the foot of the bed, smiling at you.

“Babe?” you asked, laughing a little at him. “What’s up?”

“That ass,” he replied, grinning at you. “I walk in and you’re just flaunting that thing.”

You laughed again, turning back around onto the bed, eyes scanning the pages of your book. “Babe, I can assure you that I don’t flaunt it. It’s just fucking there.”

Bradley had walked over to the side of the bed that you were laying on, the dresser containing his clothes on that side of the room. He looked over at you, grinning coyly, before turning his attention fully back to you. Bradley set a knee down on the bed beside you, you made a startled noise, and suddenly Bradley was straddling the backs of your legs.

“How’s the book?” he asked, leaning over you and whispering into your hair.

“Mmm, it’s good. Not great though.”

“Fantastic,” Bradley added, reaching for your book and tossing it across the room.

“Bradley!” you shrieked, moving to roll over so that you could face him, only to have one of his strong hands on your shoulder and pushing you back down onto the bed.

“You said it wasn’t great!”

“That doesn’t mean I wanted you to throw it across the bedroom!”

Bradley covered your body with his, still damp from the shower, and you let out a playful squawk, trying to get away from him but truly you had no intentions of being anywhere other than under his weight. And given how intent Bradley seemed on keeping you in one place, attempting to get away from him was a fool’s errand.

“I don’t buy for a moment that you’re actually trying to get away,” Bradley murmured, his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. You giggled a little as the hairs of his moustache brushed against your skin; it always both delighted and tickled you in every possible way. “Besides, this is all your fault.”

You playfully scoffed, feeling Bradley move back onto his knees. “How on earth is this my fault, Bradshaw?” you asked incredulously, trying to look over your shoulder. Bradley replied with a playful smack to your ass. “Oh, I see.”

“These shorts that you’re wearing leave absolutely nothing to the imagination,” Bradley said, hooking strong fingers into the waistband and beginning to tug them over your bottom. You smiled and bit at your lip, wriggling just a little so that Bradley could help you out of your shorts. “They’re far too short and far too tight,” he added, though there seemed to be a headiness to his voice. “You’re just better off without them.”

“I’m better off without them, or you’re better off without them?” you teased, gasping a little as your skin was exposed to the cooler air. You were wearing some rather revealing underwear beneath your shorts as well, more of your cheeks spilling out than they would in a common brief.

“Fuck,” Bradley rumbled, and you got the feeling that the playfulness that had encompassed the previous few minutes was giving way to something else.

He grabbed the globes of your ass firmly in his hands, kneading them with his fingers, pushing the flesh up and digging his blunt fingernails into them. You sighed, eyelids slipping closed, already forgetting what book you had even been reading before he’d sauntered into the bedroom.

“You’ve got such a pretty little ass,” Bradley murmured, delivering another little smack to one of your bottom. “Don’t know how I got so lucky.”

“I’m beginning to think that football ended up on my beach towel on purpose.”

“Nah, Bob just can’t pass for shit.”

You laughed, the sound a little breathless as you felt Bradley shifting behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you watched him pull off the towel wrapped around his waist, and were greeted with the sight of his hard cock smacking up against his stomach, already looking incredibly wet - and not because he’d just gotten out of the shower.

“Bradley,” you sighed, laying your cheek down on the pillow.

He fisted his cock lazily a few times, his eyes roaming over your back and your ass, before he was swallowing thickly and pushing your legs apart. Bradley settled between your legs, gently kissing the curve of your spine, the dip just before the swell of your ass. His hands gripped you gently, reverently, and you shifted the tiniest bit in an attempt to get some friction against your clit.

“Can I, sweetheart?” Bradley hummed against your skin, warm from a morning of laziness and warmth beneath your comfiest clothes.

He didn’t need to elaborate.

“Yes.”

You listened to something that sounded like a groan and a sigh of relief escape past his lips before he gripped at your underwear, shimmying them down your legs. You carefully helped to kick them off without kicking him in the face, the crotch, or anywhere else for that matter.

The only thing about being on your stomach that you didn’t care for was that you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t see his face, attempt to figure out what he was thinking, or see what was coming next. That was part of what delighted you, but Bradley already sounded so wrecked and he hadn’t done anything but kiss you and take your bottoms off.

Bradley’s lips brushed against the swell of one of your cheeks, and you pursed your lips together tightly. He’d grabbed, slapped, groped, and spanked your ass plenty of times since you’d started seeing one another, but as far as you could recall this was the first time that he had kissed your ass. Those kisses soon turned into playful nips, and it being a sensation that you weren’t accustomed to, you wriggled against the sheets once more.

“Okay, sweetheart?” Bradley asked, pausing in his ministrations.

You nodded mutely, before responding with a broken “yes.”

Suddenly, he was spreading your cheeks apart, and you inhaled sharply. You had a vague idea of what you were in for, but nothing could have prepared you for Bradley’s tentative tongue against your asshole. The sound that came out of you was one that you hadn’t made before, and then that had you making another unfamiliar sound.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Bradley rasped, amazed. “I’ve barely done anything.”

“Don’t care,” you moaned. “Feels good. Different.”

Bradley pressed a kiss against the back of one of your thighs and smiled against your skin before returning to where he had been moments before. You clutched at the sheets beneath your body as Bradley’s tongue gently laved against your hole, his hands kneading at your rear, fingers digging into the supple and soft flesh. He was soon tonguing at you more enthusiastically, the slip and slide of his tongue against you feeling and sounding deliciously improper.

You gasped his name, and pressed back against his face.

“Yes, that’s it,” Bradley groaned in approval. The gentle push and pull of his hands momentarily deviated into giving your ass another hearty smack, and you cried out, arching against the bed once more.

As if Bradley eating your ass wasn’t shocking and wonderful itself, he then did something completely unexpected. You heard him spit before you felt it against your hole.

“Did you -” God, you sounded absolutely wrecked and were still writhing against the bed, “- did you just spit on me?”

“It can get a little dry back here,” Bradley replied, an air of mirth in his voice before his tongue was dragging against you once more.

New kink unlocked. You needed Bradley to spit on you a) from now on, and b) on and into other orifices as well as your asshole.

For the first time, the brush of his moustache against your skin didn’t leave you giggling, but left you wanting more. Every sense felt heightened, and that was before the tip of Bradley’s tongue was breaching you.

“Oh my god,” you whined, pressing your forehead against the mattress. If anyone had asked you before that day how you felt about your partner rimming you, you probably would’ve been ambivalent toward it. Now you were sure it was going to feature on your list of requests in the bedroom. You figured that Bradley wouldn’t have any protests.

Just as Bradley’s tongue pressed inside, he was dragging two fingers along the wetness between your legs. Relieved to have the contact, you threw your head back and gasped, before pushing back - onto his thick fingers, onto his tongue.

“Bradley,” you gasped, fucking yourself slowly on his fingers.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” Bradley groaned, plunging his tongue back into you, his fingers hooking into you in just the right spot. “Fuck baby, your pretty little cunt is just pulling my fingers in.”

You were going to say something clever, but he ripped a fervent wail from you instead. There were a cacophony of noises in the bedroom - your cries, Bradley’s fingers plunging into your cunt, his mouth devouring you through his own gentle moans - and it quickly became too much. You bent toward him as you came, trapping his face and his fingers exactly where you wanted them, exactly where he had put them.

“God,” Bradley gasped, pulling his fingers and his tongue from you, though he seemed reluctant to do so.

You were laying against the sheets, mewling as you felt Bradley moving again to straddle the backs of your thighs. Through your post-orgasm haze, you glanced over your shoulder to watch as he situated his cock between your cheeks, wet with saliva, and some of your wetness that he’d dragged there.

Mouth opened to speak, Bradley answered your question before you asked it, hands grabbing at the globes of your ass and pushing them closer together, dragging the head of his cock against your hole, and fucking the tight channel he’d created.

“Baby,” Bradley whined, head thrown back. “Baby, holy fuck.”

You laid there squirming, feeling a little oversensitive after coming, as Bradley rutted against you, fucking between your cheeks. Knowing he had already been far gone while eating you out and fucking your with his fingers, you weren’t at all shocked when you felt him twitching against you, fingers digging into your ass, hot come shooting across your back.

Bradley fell forward, catching himself from falling directly onto you by bracing his hands against the bed. You were still undulating against the bed, pressing back against him, and he shuddered, turning his head and pressing a kiss against your cheek.

“Sorry that was brief,” he murmured, breathless as he planted kisses on you everywhere that his mouth could reach.

You turned your head too, kissing Bradley awkwardly on his mouth, tongue licking at his bottom lip. When you pulled away, you were still searching for something to say, not because you couldn’t think of anything, but because your brain felt like it had been through a food processor.

“Bradley,” you began, looking into his blown brown eyes, “you spit on me.”

“What?”

“You spit on me!” you laughed.

He wasn’t certain if he was in trouble or not, and managed a small laugh. “Was that okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, that was okay,” you chuckled, your hand curling behind his head, fingers working their way slowly through his curls, scratching at his scalp. “I don’t know what I’m more mad about though. That it turned me on, or it took me this long to figure it out.”

/end.