My brain is currently stuck on the idea of Lee telling me to do something. Me mouthing off not listening and him overstimulating me until I cry. 😏🤤
Pairing: Lee Bodecker x F!Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, brat taming, panties as a gag, daddy kink, spanking, pet names (pumpkin, babylove), name calling, teasing, fingering, mild misogyny, 18+
Word Count: 400ish.
A/N: Dividers made by the talented @sgt-seabass.
"Where’s that attitude gone?" He taunts, your tongue dry against the ruined lace that's balled up and stuffed in your mouth. You should know better than to piss him off, but you can’t help yourself. Your panties gritted between your teeth, you brace yourself for the next blow. "What did I tell ya 'bout behavin' like a goddamn brat when I've had a shitty day, pumpkin?"
He knows you can't answer. Knows that you wouldn't dream of spitting out your ruined underwear and defying him like that when you're open and vulnerable to him - his to do whatever he pleases with.
You hadn’t intended to piss him off, and to be honest, when he’s in a mood like this one, it’s not that hard to achieve. All you have to do is breathe in the wrong tone and he’s got you over his knee, your ass hot and stinging.
“Mmph.” You wriggle, your stomach pressed against the thickness of his thighs. Your cunt clenches at the feel of his fingertips tracing the sore skin of your rear, hips winding as you try to work his touch lower.
“What’s a’matter? S’that pussy achin’ for me?” Lee taunts, leaning down over you and letting his lips brush behind your ear. Your eyes fixate on the damp material of his uniform pants, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth. “Use your words, babylove.”
Your eyes are thick with frustrated tears, another spank to your sore flesh making you jerk and cry out, teeth biting down against the panties crammed between them before they’re ripped from your mouth and tossed aside.
“Come on, use your words. Tell daddy what you want, huh?”
“I-ah!” Your body is practically thrumming from the pain rippling through your skin, but fuck, it’s so good. He knows exactly what you can take - exactly where your limit lies. “Please. Please, touch me.”
“Apologise, pumpkin. Tell daddy you’re sorry for being a bratty little cunt.”
“But I didn’t do-ah! Fuck!” You whimper, another blow, this time to back of your thigh. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, daddy!”
“Good girl.” Two fingers thrust into your sopping wet cunt without warning, the stretch causing your eyes to clench shut and your toes to curl inside your socks. “Now, m’gonna make this ‘lil pussy happy an' then you’re gonna get to makin’ that pie I love so much, ain’tcha babylove?”
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a thot for you baby. joining the mile high club with Bucky. he’s just too insatiable when it comes to you 😌
Mile High
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, smut, pet names (kitten, baby), mentions of alcohol, 18+.
Word Count: 400ish.
A/N: Dividers by the talented @sgt-seabass. Also, might be the reader who's insatiable 😏
"Come on, Buck. Live a little." Your fingers fumble with his belt buckle, body crammed against his in the small space. Maybe it's the vodka miniatures or maybe it's just because he looks so fucking good today. "Please, baby? Jus' wanna have a little fun. Don't you wanna have some fun, Bucky?"
You wiggle your jeans and underwear down over your ass, your flesh digging into the plastic sink behind you as you palm at his erection through his pants with a smirk.
"You're gonna get us in trouble, kitten." He grumbles, reaching around to grab a handful of your ass and letting you unbuckle his belt.
"Good thing you love trouble then, isn't it?"
"Good thing I love you, you mean." You let out a giggle at his struggle as he tries to manoeuvre his hulking form against yours, his metal arm clinking against the push button on the hand dryer and setting it off. "God damn it, fuckin' thing."
You turn around, wedging yourself between the cheap mirror screwed to the wall and his front, eyeing him in the reflection and sighing happily at the sight of your new husband.
Bucky groans when you wind your hips back against him, the cleft of your ass massaging his prominent bulge before he frees himself from his boxer shorts.
"Can't wait until we get to the resort, baby. Need it now. Please," you beg.
One hand dips beneath your blouse, the cool metal on your spine making you shiver with anticipation and lust. The tip of his cock nudges against your slick hole and you breathe out a heady moan.
"Shh," he warns, sheathing himself inside you in one fluid thrust and curling his flesh hand around your mouth to muffle your sounds. "Know I love hearin' that but you gotta be-fuck-quiet, kitten."
"Always get your way," he grits out, leaning forward and peppering kisses against the side of your throat.
There isn't enough space for him to pound into you like he usually would, but its okay.
The friction of your bodies grinding against each other is enough to have you panting against his palm, your teeth grazing teasingly against his skin as he locks eyes with you in the mirror.
"'Cause you love me, right?"
"'Cause you're fuckin' insatiable, Mrs Barnes."
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imagine, bucky's fucked you so much that you can't bear to take him inside you again, so you start jerking him off, but the moment he's about to cum you sit down on him so you can take all of him inside you
Oh, I’m imagining. A little too hard.
Warnings: Mentions of consensual somnophilia, overstimulation and multiple creampies + mild breeding kink.
18+.
“Bucky, I can’t.” Your breathing is ragged, his chest heaving against your back as you rise up on wobbly knees and let him slip free of your fucked-out body. “Too much. S’too much.”
Your bruised walls ache, limbs heavy as you reach down to jerk him in your fist. Even that seems too much effort, lazy flicks of your wrist making him groan in your ear. “You can’t take another load for me? C’mon, baby. Know you can. Know you wanna.”
Your inner thighs are stained with his come, slick and sore, the friction of his body gliding against yours for the past two hours taking it’s toll. With your body sagged back against his, you let your head rest on his shoulder, mouth breathing against his cheek while he pumps his cock up into your loose fist.
“Don’t beg me like that. Know I can’t say no when you ask so nice.”
“Can’t say no even when I don’t ask.” And he’s right. You didn’t have a damn thing to say about it earlier that evening when you woke with his length buried deep inside you, already on the cusp of release. “Sit on my dick, baby. One more time. One more load and I’ll let you rest, hm? Unless you want me to keep going once you close those pretty eyes. Know you like it when I do that.”
You groan - half frustration, half arousal - your body giving in to his desires before your brain can catch up. Your eyes flutter back in your head when he sinks back inside you for what feels like the hundredth time that night, the stretch barely noticeable at this point but the uncomfortable pleasure still setting your insides ablaze.
“Good girl. That’s my good girl. Just lay back and take it. I’ll do all the work.” His metal fingers reach around to grip your throat, holding you upright against him. “Don’t have to move a muscle, just keep those legs open and let me breed that perfect cunt.”
Yes. Yes, I have. I don’t know what this random nonsensical drabble is but it’s your fault, Mina.
Pairing: Lee Bodecker x FemaleBiker!Reader
Summary: A thorn in your side is all he ever was, but using his desire to your advantage wasn’t as selfless as you’d lead him to believe
Warning: Explicit sexual content, abuse of power (but not really), oral sex, teasing, throat fucking, 18+
Word Count: 728
A/N: Dividers by the talented @sgt-seabass
The chilly, dank jail cell wasn't exactly the vibe you were going for when you arrived back in town earlier that evening. All you wanted was to spend a little time with your mother on her birthday. Frustratingly, the town Sheriff had other ideas.
You lean against the cold, iron bars that look out directly onto the open door of his office as he sits behind his desk pretending to do paperwork. You know he's more interested in you though. He always has been.
"What's it gonna take for you to let me out of here, Sheriff? Momma's not gonna be too happy when she finds out you locked me up for the night." You huff, frustrated at his stubborn ways. Lee's always been the same. Arrogant, a mile wide chip on one of those broad shoulders and, most importantly, still pissed off that you turned him down that night three years ago. "Come on, not still mad at me, are ya?"
It becomes clear fast that he has no intention of letting you go, but you're not about to back down without a win. It wasn't that you didn't find him attractive. He was definitely different from your usual taste, but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't wondered what it'd be like to taste him. And if it would get you out of here, you'd do it.
"Sheriff, I need to use the bathroom. This toilet is blocked. You gonna make me piss myself or what?" You call, smirking to yourself when you see him rise from his desk chair and slowly make his way out of the office and towards your cell.
"I could make you piss in the goddamn corner and there ain't a thing you could do about it." He plucks the toothpick he's been chewing on from between those pink lips, rocking back on his heels slightly. "What happened t'you? Used to be a good girl. Used to be decent 'til you joined up with that gang a'yours."
"I've never been a good girl and you know it."
“Fuck, sugar.” If your mouth wasn’t stuffed full, you’d be grinning. Instead, you push your head down further on his cock, spittle bubbling at the corners of your mouth and dribbling down your chin. “Got a mouth made jus’ for screwin’.”
You release him from your mouth with a sloppy, wet ‘pop’. thick strings of saliva still connecting him to your lips. “Not just for screwing. It’s good for sassing, too.”
“Shut up,” Lee grunts, slapping the swollen, flushed head of his length against your cheek and guiding himself back down your throat. “That’s it. Do somethin’ useful with that bratty fuckin’ mouth and get me off.”
The sound of his intrusive thrusts bounce off the dreary walls, your eyes watering and your cheeks hot as you let him fuck your face. Your pussy clenches at the sound of his lustful grunts, your nose pressing against his soft belly each time his hips jerk forward.
"Startin' to think you came back here to see me, way you're swallowin' my dick like that."
"You wish, Bodecker." You smirk, fist wrapped around his girth as you pump him back and forth. "Did you miss me? Been thinkin' about that night? Almost had me, didn't you? Almost. Bet that drove you crazy every day since.”
His fingernails dig into your scalp, tears prickling at your eyes from the stinging warning. “Keep runnin’ that mouth and no amount of suckin’ is gonna get you outta here tonight-ah.”
“What was that?” You grin, squeezing the tip and dipping your head lower to suck his balls into your wet mouth, one after the other. Lee rests a hand against the wall behind you, eyes closed and cheeks red. You can feel how close he is, see it by the way his breaths come out in short, sharp pants - a cluster of inaudible curses spilling from him. “I’m sorry, Sheriff, I can’t hear you. You wanna repeat that?”
“Fuck you, girl.”
“You wish,” you giggle, feeding his cock back into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks. If there’s one thing you’d make sure of, he’d be thinking of you until the next time you decided to roll back into town on two wheels.
One month, a year, three years - time was relative. But he’d always remember the hot, velvet silk of your throat, of that you were absolutely certain.
I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary, and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕
Summary: When the fraternity your son is pledging crosses a line, you decide go to give two of the members a piece of your mind.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, Bucky and Steve are ASSHOLES consider this your warning, reader is married, heavy references of hazing/bullying, one instance of fat shaming(not directed at the reader), drug use/alcohol consumption(not by reader), DUBCON, humiliation, degradation, coercive bargaining, fingering, oral sex/throat fucking (m receiving), rimming (m receiving), name calling, double vaginal penetration, double creampie, bukkake, photographing without consent, 18+.
Word Count: 4.7k
A/N: Thank you to @msmarvelwrites, @cockslutpadalecki, @sgt-seabass, @christywantspizza and @dreamlessinparis for all your help, read throughs and hype! And thank you to @navybrat817 for helping with some of the FILTH in here and coming up with the hardest part - the summary that I was stuck on for about a week 🤣 I started this fic in December 2021, so I'm sorry if I forgot anybody who helped me, encouraged me or read it through for me. It wasn't intentional if I did 💗
All my works are 18+. If you click the read more tab, you are agreeing that you are 18 or over, have read the warnings and take responsibility for your own media consumption. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted anywhere else.
You strum your manicured nails against the steering wheel, trying to reach your husband’s phone for the fifth time that afternoon. Nothing. You stare up at the frat house at the top of the driveway, ire rising inside you as you cast your mind back to this morning.
Josh, your son, has never been so upset. You knew he was too sweet – too sensitive – to join a fraternity but he insisted. He wanted to fit in, to make friends. That was a month ago. Having been a sorority member in college yourself, and knowing what frat life entails, you were less than surprised to find out about the disturbing hazing he’d been made to partake in.
What you weren’t expecting was just how cruel and downright humiliating the two assholes in charge had been.
Making your way up the driveway, you straighten up your shoulders, not an ounce of anxiety dwelling within. If there’s one thing you can’t stand, it’s a bully. And you were more than happy to confront them if it meant your son could start enjoying college life like he deserves.
The front door swings open before you have the chance to knock, the stench of marijuana and stale beer wafting up your wrinkled nose. “Steve, you order a hooker or something?”
You recognise the male in front of you from the video you’d seen on social media earlier that day. James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. If you didn’t know any better – and he didn’t have such a vile manner about him already – you’d think he was a nice guy. Brown hair, bright blue eyes and that baby faced smile. But you know he’s anything but.
"I'm Josh's mother." You don't wait for him to invite you in, pushing past him and walking into the house. It's messy but nothing compared to what you expected, empty solo cups strewn around on the sideboard and discarded sneakers littering the hallway floor. "I came here to discuss your treatment of him. It's unacceptable and it stops now."
A blonde man appears in the kitchen doorway, amused stare looking you over and his chest puffed out, silently attempting to assert his arrogance. "You're hotter than your photo." Your brow furrows slightly, confused. "Nineteen years old and still got his mama as his screensaver. It'd be cute if it wasn't so fucking sad."
You despise the way your thighs clench at the sight of his bicep flexing when he lifts a beer bottle to his mouth, a thick vein protruding against the surface of his skin. He reminds you of your college boyfriend, Ransom. Pushing the memory of that asshole from your mind, you collect yourself, focusing on the one in front of you, one hand resting on your hip and your car keys dangling in the other.
"What you're doing is cruel. He's very upset."
"Has Joshy been crying to his mother? He's more of a sap than I thought." You scowl when Bucky passes you, lighting the joint in his hand and taking a long drag. The scent takes you back to your own college days. He exhales. "You know how this shit works, babe? It's not s'posed to be a breeze. Fuckers gotta prove himself before we can accept him. It's nothing personal."
"I'm not your babe," you scowl, folding your arms across your chest. "Nothing personal? You made him send his girlfriend pictures of another girl's breasts. Surely even a prick like you can see that's crossing a line. She was distraught."
"Actually, that was my idea. Fuckin' love that shit," Steve gloats, reaching beneath the waistband of his shorts and readjusting himself. Your eyes linger on his crotch longer than you intended and his lips curl up when you force your gaze away. "She'll get over it. She is over it. Trust me."
You don't want to know what that means, choosing not to press this particular subject further.
“You washed his mouth out with soap because he forgot to refer to you as 'Master'. You think that’s an acceptable way to treat a human being, James?” you ask, disgusted by the way he smirks against the rim of his beer bottle. Disgusted by the way your tongue darts out to catch the imaginary droplet of beer as one happens to spill from the corner of his own mouth. “Oh, that’s funny, huh? I’ve had it. I won’t let you get away with it. I’m reporting you to the Dean.”
Steve barks out a laugh and it only irritates you more. “Something amusing?”
“He’s my uncle, but good luck with that.”
"Oh, great. A nepo baby."
It all makes sense now. How else would they get away with this excessive humiliation?
"A bit rich coming from you, Mrs Stark."
You have nothing to say to that. You suppose, in a way, he's right. The cogs in your brain begin to turn, and you can't help but think that Josh's parentage might have something to do with their excessively harsh treatment. It wasn't exactly a secret amongst the staff that Tony had gifted a hefty grant to the college Dean in order to secure your son's place here.
"I'll tell you what, Mama. I'll go easy on your boy. I'm not an unreasonable guy." You can't stop the scoff that comes from your mouth, arms folded across your chest as you eye the blonde popping the cap off a beer bottle and letting it fall to the floor at his feet. "What? I will. I'll go easy on him. But considering it could be classed as preferential treatment, don't you think you oughta do a little something for us in return?"
The sly grin that spreads across his face unsettles you, and you find yourself shuffling from left to right as you contemplate what it is that they could possibly want from you. You can tell the pair were born with silver spoons in their mouths. That much has been evident since the moment you stepped into the frat house. It wasn't as if they needed money, but you couldn't think of anything else they'd be seeking from you.
"I'm not paying you to quit harassing my son," you tell the brunette, stepping back as he takes a short stride forward. The backs of your knees brush against the couch behind you, and you begin to feel trapped in his presence. Bucky simply laughs, looking over at a smirking Steve. Like they're in on some private joke that you're not yet privy to. "Just cut the bullshit and tell me what you want. My husband didn't work his fingers to the damn bone every day for the last 19 years for our son to drop out of college because of two losers on a power trip."
Your face is stern, your words dripping in faux bravery, and your brow crumpled in frustration; but what you're feeling inside is anything but courageous. Not when Bucky takes another step forward, lifting the joint between his fingers to his lips and toking it.
You turn your nose up at the stench that fills your nostrils, pursing your lips to express your disgust. If your sorority sisters were here, they'd poke fun at you over your prudeness. You weren't exactly a stranger to their ways, but these two didn't need to know that.
"I don't think it's clicked in that pretty little head just yet, Buck." Your head snaps to the left of you, your eyes glaring a hole through Steve as he walks a little closer, taking a swig of his beer and shooting you a wink.
You open your mouth to speak, but your words are replaced by the dry tang of smoke billowing against your lips. Fanning the fumes from your face, anger bubbling away in your veins and an unwanted heat stoking between your thighs, you point a finger firmly against Bucky's chest. "Wipe that stupid grin off your face and quit wasting my time. What do you want?"
He's quiet for a moment, stretching his arm out by his side to pass the joint to Steve who takes it happily. Your mouth curls in disdain when his fingers find their way to the buttons of your blouse, and you're hit with the very obvious request he's about to make of you. You don't even give him the chance to say it before you're shaking your head.
"No," you tell him firmly; looking back and forth between the two young men.
"No?" he chuckles, toying with your collar before pulling his hand away completely. You breathe a small sigh of relief, staring him down. “You don't even know what I'm gonna say yet.”
Those eyes could make the most devout of nuns drop their panties.
Stop it.
You part your lips to speak, but Steve is quick to cut you off before you even begin. "Look, you can walk out of here with your self respect intact and your boy will get it the hardest out of all those desperate morons."
He pauses to down the remainder of his drink, and you try to look anywhere else but at the pair of bright, cerulean eyes staring you down.
"Or," he continues, setting the empty bottle on the large, oak coffee table in front of him, "you can get down on your knees and show us exactly how desperate you are for us to leave him alone."
Your heart beats frantically in your chest, sidestepping the brunette and putting some space between the two of you. You feel like your airway is closing up, your cheeks hot from the obscene proposal.
"You can leave. You know where the door is," Bucky says, motioning to the hallway behind you, "or you can stay. You never know. You might enjoy yourself more than you think. How long's it been since that pussy got a good pounding?"
“Last night, actually.” You’re lying, of course. It’s been months.
“I’ve seen your husband, baby. The only thing he’s pounding is the Wendy’s drive-thru.” Bucky catches your wrist just before your palm can meet his cheek, his grip firm and a sick grin forming on his face. “Maybe next time he can use the grease to lube up his cock. Fuck knows you must be drier than the Nevada desert with that on top of you every night.”
He’s disgusting, his darkened chuckle vibrating through your whole body like molasses, anger simmering and prickling at your skin.
“So, what’s it gonna be? Run to the Dean and see how fast Rogers can get your kid kicked out altogether or get down on your knees and do something useful with that mouth?”
This was Josh’s dream college. This was the one he’d dreamt of attending since 8th grade. The same one you and your husband attended all those years ago. You had to ask yourself, was your pride worth his heartbreak? If you did this for him, his life would undoubtedly improve, right?
“If you tell him—”
“Our lips are sealed. Right, Rogers?” He smirks. “But yours won't be.”
You wince at the feel of Steve’s rough hand squeezing your ass, your body trapped between the two of them and the scent of them swimming all around you. His smiling lips brush your ear and you don’t even bother to suppress the shudder. “Get on your knees. We don’t have all day.”
"Not so mouthy now, are you?" Bucky grins, taking a sip of his beer and watching as you glare up at him; lips stretching around his girth, pussy shamefully clenching at the feel of Steve's palm dragging up the inside of your thigh. "Well actually, I guess you are, huh?"
You pull Bucky's cock free of your mouth, spit dripping from your lower lip and down your chin. The hand that curls around the back of your throat startles you, Steve's body leaning over you and his lips inches from your ear.
"Don't want your boy to know what a slut you are, do you?" Steve taunts, the outline of his erection pressing up against the curve of your ass through his basketball shorts. "Do your part and it'll be our little secret."
You'd be lying if you said you weren't changing your tune real fast, your cunt hungry for attention and your lips gravitating back towards the fat cock in front of you. You can't help but hum at the salty taste on your tongue when you lap at the head, lips working their way down his shaft inch by inch.
"Bet she's fuckin' drenched just from having her mouth stuffed," Bucky teases, looking right past you and nodding with silent instruction to Steve. "Go ahead, bet you bucks I'm right."
A moan vibrates through him when you feel two thick fingers glide through your drenched folds, a sardonic laugh ringing in your ears as they probe at your entrance teasingly. Your eyes catch sight of the $50 bill being tossed forward over your shoulder, landing on Bucky's thigh before he snatches it up with his fingers.
"I'm never wrong about this kinda shit. I can tell when they want it." He has the sheer audacity to wave the money in front of your face, a smug look on his undoubtedly handsome features. "Hey, do a great job and you might leave with a tip."
You hate the way your thighs clench together, and the distinct sound of your slick squelching between your pussy lips makes you cringe. You hate that you walked in here ready to tear them a new asshole, and now here you are, willing to give anything for them to tear up yours.
You don't know where the urge to please them is coming from, but with each soft grunt that falls from his mouth, every little whisper of praise from Steve's lips - it makes you want more. So much more.
"Yeah, you love it don't you? Being down on your knees like a worthless little whore?" Steve goads, thumb swiping back and forth over your clit. You find yourself nodding, bobbing your head further down onto Bucky's cock, because it's true. Years of boring, vanilla sex was finally catching up with you. "Still think you can do better. Not makin' anywhere near as much mess we like. C'mere."
Steve yanks your head backwards away from Bucky's lap, your neck craning to its limit as he holds your mouth open with his fingers; a thick glob of saliva dripping from his mouth onto your waiting tongue. It's disgusting, the way your lips wrap themselves around his fingers when he pushes them between your lips, pressing down against your tongue and making you gag at the foreign intrusion.
"That's better," Steve hums, withdrawing his fingers and leaning down to leave the sloppiest of kisses against your parted lips. "Say Buck, remember Tiffany from last week? The cheerleader? You think our new toy can throat it as deep as she did?"
"I don't know, Steve. That was one hell of a blow job. I'm not sure she's got it in her," Bucky laughs, and the determination that rises inside you has you leaning back in, taking him further than you have yet, the tip of him prodding against your uvula. "Would you look at that? Someone's feeling competitive."
You could care less about the noises you're making as you take him deeper, forcing yourself down until your nose is nestled in the coarse hair at the base of him. One hand reaches for the soft sac between his thighs, the other stretching behind you for, well, you don't really know.
All you know is that you want Steve's fingers back on your cunt.
You drag your swollen, smeared lips down the underside of Bucky's shaft, your tongue seeking out his balls, sucking them into your mouth one after the other. You can tell by the blissed out look on his face that he's in heaven. Tiffany, who?
The sensation of Steve's fingers easing slowly inside your cunt has you gasping, your cheek resting against Bucky's bare thigh as you adjust to the stretch. You can't remember the last time Tony initiated any kind of foreplay, and the way his fingertips curl up against that long forgotten soft spot inside you has you sighing with lusty relief.
"Hey," Bucky nudges, the heavy thud of his cock stinging your spit-slick cheek, "you better not be slackin' off now you've got a cunt full. Keep goin'."
"Yes Sir," you smirk, wrapping your fist around his throbbing appendage and squeezing it in your palm. Your confidence is rising with each passing moment, now that you know exactly what having you down here on your knees does to him. To both of them.
"You hear that, Rogers? Yes, Sir. I like that," he groans, your tongue bravely dipping lower, the tip of it tickling his perineum as his thighs spread wider as if by instinct. "Oh yeah, I like that. I knew she was a nasty bitch. Can't fool me with the fancy clothes and expensive jewelry."
Your back arches, Steve's hand splayed out against it as his fingers work delightfully in and out of your trembling walls. Bucky repositions himself, feet resting on the cusp of the couch and his hips shuffling a little closer to the edge. You know what he's asking for, and you're not about to refuse him. Not when he looks down at you like you hung all the stars in the fucking sky.
"You gonna do it, baby? You gonna eat his ass? Fuck it, why should he have all the fun?" You whine pathetically, cunt empty as Steve moves from behind you, taking a seat on the sofa next to Bucky and sagging back against the cushions. "Least you can do is jerk me off while you work that nasty little mouth."
You don't even hesitate to reach beneath the waistband of his sweats, your fingers barely touching as you tug him free. He's not packing as much length as the man in front of you, but his girth is mouth watering.
Your tongue wiggles its way down, flattening against the tight, pink ring of muscle between Bucky's cheeks, and the groan that leaves his throat is nothing short of sinful. You don't hold back, burying your face against him as Steve takes hold of your palm, spitting in it and leading it back towards his cock.
"Fuck, look at her.” Bucky groans, unashamedly letting his head fall back against the cushions as you feast on his asshole. You take a moment to breathe, sitting back on your knees and taking hold of Bucky’s length in your free hand; jerking the two men simultaneously and letting your tongue lap at your bottom lip. “Who’s cock you gonna bounce on first, hm? Seein’ as though you’ve been such a good little fucktoy, I’ll let you choose.”
It’s an impossible choice. How the fuck are you supposed to decide when both look so tempting, so capable of stretching you beyond belief? “I—I can’t. I can’t choose."
Four strong arms hoist you up onto the couch, your body landing on Bucky’s lap and your thighs forcefully straddled either side of his. Steve pinches your cheeks, hooking his fingers at the corners of your mouth as your tongue rolls out; drool spilling down onto your chest and a kitten-like mewl coming from your throat.
“She can’t decide, Buck.” Steve grins then, menacing and full of obscene intent. “Guess that means she’ll just have to take both.”
A wave of panic runs through you, Steve maneuvering himself off the couch, his jeans around his ankles and the fleshy weight of his cock smacking against your ass. Your mind tries to wander to your husband, a glimmer of guilt sparking in your chest, but it vanishes just as fast as it appears; Bucky’s tongue sinking into your mouth and the tip of his dick spanking your swollen clit. “Oh, fuck!”
“You think she can take two cocks in this cunt, Rogers?” His words bring you out of your lustful reverie, anxiety and trepidation shaking you to the core. You tremble, sandwiched between the two of them, their body heat causing your temperature to rise, skin dewy with perspiration.
“No, wait. I don't think I c—"
"Oh, you can. I know you can," Steve purrs against your ear, a single bead of sweat dripping down your spine. "Don't worry. We've done this before, haven't we? They always start off a little tense, but fuck, once they open up to it they can't get enough."
Steve grips your waist, holding you still as Bucky’s cock sinks up into your drenched hole. “Fuck, there we fuckin’ go. Knew it’d be worth dealing with that bitch mouth.”
If your insides weren't melting like warm butter you'd snipe back in retaliation to his insult, but the head of Steve's length poking against your perineum has you stock still, every muscle in your body tensing as you brace yourself for the excessive intrusion. "Please–please go slow."
"Hey." Bucky's knuckles nudge at your chin as your forehead rests against his shoulder, tilting your gaze up to meet his deep azure state, his features set softer now. "It's no fun for us if it's not fun for you. We ain't gonna hurt you. If it hurts, you tell us to stop. We'll stop. Alright?"
The stinging stretch causes such pressure on your gut that your eyes glaze over, a subtle wave of nausea washing over your body and a pressure so overwhelming, it's almost beyond comprehension. You've never been this full but they've clearly done this plenty of times before. You can tell by the ease of their movements when they gently begin to thrust [can't think of the word] in and out of your cunt.
Your body limpens against Bucky's chest, Steve's gliding against your back, a slither of drool seeping from the corner of your mouth and onto his sweat-slick skin. It's torture and nirvana all at once, their eager grunts ringing in your ears as you allow them to use your body for their own obscene pleasure.

You lose track of all sense of time, fucked to within an inch of your own sanity, tugged around like a ragdoll and your limbs manipulated without your own consideration. And you've never felt pleasure like it.
The cool relief of the wood against your back as they lay you down on the coffee table in the center of the room has you whimpering, your body draped across the sturdy oak and your head hanging off the side. A light tap to your cheek has you struggling to focus on Steve's face as it comes into view, a cocky smirk plastered on his face. "Hey, where you goin'? You still in there mama?"
You open your mouth to attempt an answer, immediately muffled by his girth as he feeds it between your lips, your cheeks hollowing instantly and suckling clumsily while he ruts against your face.
Bucky's fingers plucking at your nipples has a heady whine emitting from your stuffed throat, his cock sliding into your oozing cunt causing your thighs to shake. They've already spilled inside you once. Surely they can't go much longer. Your body is exhausted. "Got you nice n open now, huh? Bet we could keep you here all fuckin' day and you'd still wanna come back for more."
"Would you like that? You wanna come back?" Steve chuckles, knowing full well you can't answer, spluttering around him each time he drives himself into your mouth. "Yeah, I'll bet you would. Nasty fuckin' whore. You just wanna be a dirty little pleasure pit for college dick, don't you?"
"Mmph." It's all you can manage, your lips stretched to capacity and your insides wrecked.
Bucky's surprisingly deft fingers work your clit, softly pinching and strumming, walls beating around his dick like a lusty heartbeat. "She's gonna cum again, aren't you, baby? What's that? Three times now?"
"I count four. Not that I give a shit."
If you could talk, you'd say Steve absolutely does give a shit. Nobody puts this much effort into ruining a woman when they don't give a shit. But you're happy to focus on milking his dick with your mouth instead. It keeps you from zoning out completely.
You’re on the edge of stupid when Steve yanks himself free of your sore throat, thick strings of spit connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. Before you can focus your vision, he's spilling his cum all over your face; sticky, hot droplets landing on your cheeks, lips and chin.
“There we go. Doesn’t she look pretty, Buck? God, I gotta get a shot of this shit.” Bucky’s thrusts stagger when Steve reaches for his phone, snapping a photograph of your cum-soaked features and grunting in satisfaction at the picture on his screen.
It’s too late to argue with him, in fact, what’s unfolding doesn’t even register fully in your brain. Your body is still twitching from your last orgasm and you’re certain you can’t take another – and Bucky doesn’t intend on making you suffer through one; pulling out and jerking himself to completion all over your stomach.
Your head is spinning, the loud click of the camera leveling you out as Steve’s fingers scoop up the pearly droplets on your chin and sink into your mouth. You gag at the intrusion, his digits pressing down on your tongue.
“That’s a work of art right there, Rogers.” You try to sit up, your limbs boneless and trembling. The guilt begins to settle in as you listen to them laugh, Bucky pulling two beers from the mini fridge in the corner, popping the caps off and handing one to Steve. The sound of glass clinking together makes you wince, the throbbing between your legs nothing in comparison to the heavy sense of regret building in the pit of your stomach. “What’s the matter, mama? You look a little tense. Thought we fucked that right outta you.”
“You– you took pictures of me.” It’s a statement, not a question. Fear prickles at your skin. What if they show Josh? What if they–
“Calm down, sweetheart. It’s just for my own personal collection. I’m gonna be jerking off over that shit for weeks,” Steve gloats, taking a swig of his beer, your own lips dry and your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. “I guess a mother really will do anything for her kid, huh?”
You want to vomit, tears of self resentment in your eyes as you wipe away Steves cum with the back of your hand. Bucky crouches down next to you, a gym towel in his hand as he swipes at the mess on your stomach. “Better get dressed. Frat meeting in 20.”
Your body aches as you stretch out on your couch, the wine helping to ease your pounding head and the soreness lingering in your throat. The sound of the phone ringing on the side table makes you groan.
“Hello?” you answer, swirling the chardonnay around in your wine glass.
“Mom?” Josh chirps, panic embroiling you. “Hey, listen. I know I said I was thinking of dropping out but I think I’m gonna stick it out.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Yeah, they’ve actually been kinda… nice tonight.”
“Well that’s wonderful, honey.”
“Yeah. Listen, I gotta go.” You can hear the echoes of rowdy voices in the background, a party no doubt. “I just wanted to say thank you. You’re a great mom.”
The phone cuts off and you look to Tony on the opposite end of the couch, a Wendy’s bag on his lap and his arm reaching out to you to offer you some of his fries; fingers coated in shiny grease. “Want one?”
“No. No, thank you.”
I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary, and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕
I feel like if any one had a tickle kink, it would be Lee. He loves to hold his girl down and run his rough fingers down her ribs until he finds that sweet spot and presses until she's crying and gasping for air. All her squirming around reminds him of how she looks when she takes his cock 😵💫💞
Pairing: Lee Bodecker x F!Reader
Summary: You hate it when he's late home but he always knows exactly how to fix that.
Warnings: Teasing, dunno if I'd call this a tickle kink but there's definitely tickling lol, heavy petting, petnames (sugar, babylove), fluff, implied smut, still 18+.
Word Count: 300ish
All my works are 18+. If you click the read more tab, you are agreeing that you are 18 or over, have read the warnings and take responsibility for your own media consumption. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted anywhere else.
"Stop it," you grumble, wrist deep in soapy water as you try to dodge his attempts to nuzzle his face against your throat. "I'm mad at you. You can't win me round today."
You hate it when he's late. Especially on weekends. The cherry crumble you made this afternoon sits on the table, the cream soaked and curdled on top of the sweet treat.
"How many times I gotta tell ya, sugar?" he mutters against your skin. "Sometimes I ain't gonna be home on time an' it can't be helped. You really gonna give me a hard time over this today?"
His fingers dip beneath the hem of your sweater, his touch rough and warm against your sensitive skin. You wiggle your hips, trying to free yourself of the gentle caresses.
"Lee, stop it." He knows exactly what he's doing, knows how to make you forget your gripes and distract you from your disappointment. One particular swipe of his thumb against your ribcage has your breath hitching. "Lee! Stop!"
"Nuh uh, babylove. Not 'til you gimme one a'those giggles I love so much." You're trapped between his body and the sink in front of you, hand dropping the dishcloth into the water when he drags his fingernails softly down over the curve of your waist.
"Lee," you whine, his hips pressing against your rear. You can't stop yourself from winding your own back against him, a grin threatening to form on your lips when he pinches softly at the sensitive flesh at your hip.
"You miss me, sugar? 'Cause I sure as shit missed you today."
He loves to tease you like this, loves seeing you shake and shiver. So it's no surprise when ten minutes later, he's got you pinned to the couch beneath him, your skirt ruched up around your waist and his hands teasing up and down your ribcage.
"Lee, fuck, stop it. C-can't stand it when you touch me - ah! - like this." He chuckles against your cotton covered breast, teeth nipping at you through the thin material.
"Not 'til you sing for me. C'mon, now." One rough palm glides up your inner thigh, the fingers on his left hand tickling up toward your armpit.
"No!" You shriek through a giddy giggle, your legs kicking out beneath him. "Lee, no! Please, anything but that!"
"There it is. There's that song I love." You giggle again, a shriek emitting from your throat when his hand peels away the seat of your underwear; pussy wet and clenching in anticipation. "I wanna hear it s'more. Let's see how loud we can get it today, hm?"
I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary, and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕
Please be a slut. Sluts are more than welcome here. And yes, yes I do. This one is the closest to completion 🥰
“Ouch!” You yip, flinching and pulling your hand away from him. He looks into your eyes, brows raised as he plucks your wrist back into his hold and continues to dab at the wound. “It stings, that’s all. My friends…we play this stupid game every year. Like, a dare game. So…”
“They ain’t your friends, Hummin’bird,” he says matter of factly, tossing the bloodied cotton pad into the trash beside him and reaching for a tube of antiseptic. He smirks, squeezing a small dollop of cream onto his fingertip and dabbing it onto your palm. It’s cool and soothing. It has you breathing out a content little sigh. His cobalt eyes flit to you for a moment, a smirk forming on his pretty lips. “So, they dared ya t’knock on the monsters door, did they?”
“You’re not a monster,” you tell him, the words leaving your mouth before he can even fully finish his sentence.
There’s something about him, something about his home and his whole being that makes your soul sing. And god, he smells so fucking good. What is that, anyway? Some kinda cologne? Whatever it is, it’s got your stomach doing somersaults and your thighs clenching together. You want to sink into his warmth and wrap yourself up in it.
“Don’t think you’ve been ‘round me long enough to be so sure a’that. You alright there, darlin’?” He asks you, peeling the back off a small adhesive dressing and smoothing it out against your hand with his fingers. His skin is so warm; so soft and comforting. “See, all done. Promised I wouldn’t eat ya, didn’t I?”
Daddy doesn't look very impressed with you, Lau 🤭😏
Game, Set and Match
Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky Barnes x 18+F!Reader
Summary: Flirting with your tennis instructor in front of him didn’t exactly go to plan. Or did it?
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, stepdad trope, heavy daddy kink, cheating themes, excessive dirty talk because i can't help myself, name calling (princess, bitch, slut, baby) anal sex, outdoor sex, risky sex, anal creampie, gaping, possessiveness, teasing, 18+.
Word Count: 1.1k
A/N: @lookiamtrying this is all your fault and I'm not sorry. Thank you to @cockslutpadalecki for reading this through for me 💕
All my works are 18+. If you click the read more tab, you are agreeing that you are 18 or over, have read the warnings and take responsibility for your own media consumption. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted anywhere else.
"I told you what would happen if you kept walking around here with your ass on display, didn't I?" He teases, fingers digging into the rump of your ass so hard, it has you keening from the pressure. The gravelly wall scratches against your stomach, your tennis skirt flipped up around your waist. "I told you if you didn't pull that fuckin' skirt down, I'd tear you a new one. You think I was lying?"
"No," you bite back quickly with a look over your shoulder, warmth fluttering in your chest cavity at the sight of his flushed cheeks and the focus in his pretty eyes. They're fixated on the stretch, your asshole molding around him as he eases in, his thumb caressing the skin where dick meets muscle.
"Oh, so you were hoping for this, mm? That why you've been bending over and flashing this little cunt to me all night?" Bucky asks, spreading your cheeks wide and grunting lustfully at the way you take him, swallowing his dick whole, so deep you swear you can feel him in your guts.
"Ah! Yes, fuck, yes daddy." You'd agree to just about any statement, your nerve endings aflame with desire and pride. Pride that you can please him like this. Pride that you're the only one that will give him everything he wants. Any hole, any time. Whenever he fucking wants it. "Fuck me with your fat cock. Make it hurt. Punish me for being a little slut."
You knew exactly what you were doing when you took it upon yourself to flirt with your tennis instructor earlier than afternoon. You'd felt Bucky’s eyes on you from the viewing platform. Fun is the last thing you usually have at Acre Oaks country club but not today. Today you took full advantage of his distant possessive stare and, well, it certainly paid off.
“You’re a nasty little bitch, aren't you? Trying to piss me off and get your own way.” The breeze has your skin prickling, your toes curling in your tennis shoes and your knees shaky. The blissful burn of his cock easing in and out of your asshole has your eyes flickering closed, a heady, desperate moan muffled by his palm as it curls over the lower half of your face. “Lucky for you, I just can’t resist, huh? How am I s’posed to when I know how fuckin’ tight this little hole is.”
Your inner thighs coated with slick, cunt clenching with an empty ache, you arch your back; tilting your head back so you can look at him. You smirk against his dewy palm, teeth grazing against his skin mischievously, gloss smearing across your cheek. “Fuck it, daddy.”
“God, you’re bad," he laughs, cock pulsing inside you and his thrusts quickening, your hips pushing back against him and your fingernails breaking against the wall in front of you. One hand braced on your waist, the other slips down between your sodden thighs, two fingers strumming back and forth over your clit. He fucks into you with a carelessness that has you shaking. “Want me to fill this tight ass up, Princess? Gonna spend the rest of that tennis lesson with my cum leaking outta you? Should’a worn panties today. That’ll teach you.”
“I wan’ it, daddy. I want your cum. Please, fuckin’ give it t’me.” At any moment you could be caught. You both know it. You’re hardly being discreet. And neither of you seem to give a solitary fuck about the fact. His balls slap against your pussy, only serving to heighten your pleasure, your stomach churning with a heavenly warmth that you’ve grown addicted to. “M’so close. Please. Fuck, please lemme cum.”
“Think you deserve it?” He hums, a deep groan eliciting from his throat as he nears his own end. Mild panic ensues within, the thought of walking away from him dissatisfied causing you to rut back against him like a bitch in heat. “If I let you cum, you gonna quit flirting with that asshole? Huh? Gonna remember who you belong to?”
“His name is Hal. Ah!” You yelp, his fingers straying from your pussy and digging into your inner thigh. “I mean, yes. Fuck. Yes, I swear. Please. I can’t--”
“Alright, I gotcha.” Bucky’s fingers return to your sensitive nub, rubbing expertly and his cock bottomed out inside you, hips grinding salaciously against your ass. You feel so fucking full. Its heaven. It’s everything. It’s filthy and desperate. Just like you. “C’mon, Princess. M’gonna fuckin’ bust.”
He falls forward, face buried in your neck and his hot, heavy breaths scorching your skin. You lose it then, shattering against the wall, caged between the harsh surface and his strong body. Safe. The feel of him flooding your asshole with his cum has you reeling, cunt tightening and a symphony of blissful moans slipping from your lips. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you.”
“There she is. There’s my girl,” he croons, nipping at your ear and jutting against you, emptying his balls and throbbing against your insides. “Better hurry, baby. He’s probably wonderin’ where you got to, isn't he? Lemme see the mess I made first though, mm?”
You whine when he moves to spread your cheeks apart, slowly pulling his length free of your fucked out hole. Bucky lets out a low whistle, clearly impressed with himself as he inspects the impressive gape. His cum oozes out instantly, dripping down onto your tennis shoe, the chill of the afternoon air sending a shudder through your trembling body. “Look at that. See? She’s wide open for me. Bet she’s grateful, too. You could learn a lesson or two from her, couldn’t you?”
With a swift kiss to your cheek and a light tap of your rear, he wipes his dick on your skirt and tucks himself away, leaving you to pull yourself together.
As you walk on bambi legs back toward the tennis courts, you can’t help but wonder what would happen if you ignored his warnings altogether. How much fun would he have punishing you if you did?
“Hey, sweetheart. Thought you’d done a disappearing act on me,” Hal grins, his white polo shirt tight against his abs and chest, hair floppy against his sweat-slick forehead. “Lets get back to it, shall we? Gotta work some more on that swing.”
You take the racket from him when he hands it to you, Bucky’s cum drying against your skin as you reach up on the balls of your feet and kiss Hal chastely on the cheek, the salty taste staining your lips. “Yes, Sir.”
Looking back over your shoulder, your eyes finding him as he stands on the veranda with a drink in hand, you smirk.
Yeah, you’re in for it tonight.
I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary, and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕
Do you have any fic recs for college!bucky and milf!reader? They’re so rare 😭
I don't because I don't really read them, but I did just open an old WIP that I got overwhelmed by because it was that filthy lmao. Frat Stucky x Milf Reader 🤤
I'ma drop a little bit here and try to finish it this week 💗
"No," you tell him firmly; looking back and forth between the two young men.
"No? You don't even know what I'm gonna say yet," he chuckles, toying with your collar before pulling his hand away completely. You breathe a small sigh of relief, staring him down.
Those eyes could make the most devout of nuns drop their panties.
Stop it.
You part your lips to speak, but Steve is quick to cut you off before you even begin. "Look, you can walk out of here with your self respect intact and your boy will get it the hardest out of all those desperate morons."
He pauses to down the remainder of the bottle, and you try to look anywhere but at the pair of bright, cerulean eyes staring you down.
"Or," he continues, setting the empty bottle on the large, oak coffee table in front of him, "you can get down on your knees and show us exactly how desperate you are for us to leave him alone."
Your heart beats frantically in your chest, sidestepping the brunette and putting some space between the two of you. You feel like your airway is closing up, your cheeks hot from the obscene proposal.
"You can leave. You know where the door is," Bucky says, motioning to the hallway behind you, "or you can stay. You never know. You might enjoy yourself more than you think. How long's it been since that pussy got a good pounding?"
Summary: Forget everything you thought you knew. A mysterious guest at your grandfather’s funeral both intrigues and infuriates you, and Bucky’s deceit begins to unravel.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, explicit language, stepcest, daddy kink, grief, mentions of death, infidelity, alcohol use, mild descriptions of injury, mild violence, Bucky’s filthy mouth, vaginal sex, mirror sex, creampie, Andy freaking Barber, 18+.
Word Count: 4.9k
A/N: Well, it’s literally been forever since I posted part 8 but I finally, FINALLY, managed to get this done. I haven’t posted a fic since July and I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m super nervous lol. But anyway, I hope this was worth the wait. Thank you so much to @navybrat817 and @dreamlessinparis for listening to me go on (and on) about this. I love you both! Not beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.
All my works are 18+. If you click the read more tab, you are agreeing that you are 18 or over, have read the warnings and take responsibility for your own media consumption. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted anywhere else.
Nobody likes funerals. They’re dreary; a cacophony of apologies and regret. Your grandfather was a wealthy, well respected man, it’s true, but he wouldn’t have wanted all this fuss.
Each time you turn your head it’s like a game of ‘Guess Who?’, attempting to figure out if you’ve even met most of these people before.
If you were a stranger on the outside looking in, you’d almost mistake it for a business luncheon. Powerful looking men in their finest suits mingling over the hor d'oeuvres and champagne while their wives, dressed in elegant Gucci mourning wear, catch up on the recent country club gossip.
“Who the fuck serves champagne at a wake?” You mutter to yourself, taking a generous swig of the bitter bubbles from the flute in your hand.
All I can see is ex boyfriend!bucky trying to convince you to give him another shot. Doesn't come back after a particularly brutal mission, too wrapped up in the thought that you deserve better than him. That the things he's done are too heinous, too fucking brutal, for someone as sweet as you to accept.
"I know I fucked up. I know, baby."
"I can't fuckin' breathe right without you."
"Gimme another chance. I don't know what I was thinking. You're it for me. All of it. Every fuckin' thing I need."
"Tell me you don't feel the same. Tell me. You can't. I can feel it. I'll never leave you again. Never."
It’s been a while since I slid into your ask box! 😁❤️
How have you been?!!? I hope you are doing incredible!
I’m just thinking about this guy! I’m having some naughty thots. Him wrapping his veiny hands around my throat! Telling me to behave and don’t struggle. Who do we think? Steve Kemp? Maybe a hint of Charles Blackwood? Or somebody else?
Do you have any thots!?! 🤭😏❤️
xoxo 😘
I am SO late responding to this ask and I'm so sorry. But I'm here now and I have some thots. Obviously 😏
This kinda screams CEO!Steve Kemp to me. You’re a barista in the coffee shop just down the street from his office building and he comes in daily. He always orders the same thing, just a double espresso. He flirts with you each and every time he pops by, not that you ever notice. It’s always so busy at lunchtime that you can barely stop long enough to hold a conversation with him. You’re not totally blind though. You can see how fucking handsome he is, especially with the subtle confidence and self-assurance that radiates from him.
When he finally asks you to dinner you’re in disbelief. Your worlds couldn’t be more different. He’s only ever seen you flustered and rushed off your feet at work -- but he wants you. And he makes it clear that he’ll get you when he pulls up outside the coffee shop at closing one Friday evening in his Maserati.
“Can’t I even go home and change first?” You ask him, cheeks warm and your coffee-stained blouse plastered against your sweat-slick skin.
“No. You look beautiful. Now, get in.”
All thought that he’s joking goes out of the window when you don’t even make it to his penthouse before he’s pulling the car over and tugging you onto his lap in a quiet street downtown, his teeth nipping at your breasts through your shirt and his warm, soft hands squeezing your throat possessively. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting? To have you like this? Look at you, look how fucking pretty you are.”
His thumb drags along your bottom lip, your teeth catching his skin and a rumble echoing low in his throat. “Greedy little dove. You hide it well but you’re just as impatient as I am deep down. Let’s see just how hungry you are, hm?”
Aaaaanyway, I want him, I need him, oh baby, oh baby 😩
Warnings: Dubcon, reader is being held captive by a mystery ‘Keeper’, blow job, deep throat, 18+.
You try to ignore the blood swirling in the shower drain, rusty in colour and thick with matter that you aren’t too keen on asking any questions about.
You don’t know much about the stranger who visits you. You don’t even know if you can consider him a stranger anymore, but you don’t know his name. All you know is that he’s strong and stern, and he smells like gunpowder and smoke.
Imagine if your family owned a farm and their good friend the Sheriff liked to drop by during the day to make sure things were running smoothly. In fact he came by almost everyday, he knew how much you need a hand bent over in the barn. Makes your stepbrother Hal a bit jealous when he watches from the door though. He thought he was the only one giving you a hand 😏
Fuck, yes. On your knees like a good girl for the Sheriff...a little filth below the cut. 18+. Stepcest, obviously.
Sheriff Bodecker especially likes how much of a hungry little thing you are, especially when you've got his cock in your mouth. There isn't another girl in town that sucks him the way you do.
"Tha's my girl, keep swallowin' my dick 'til I tell ya ta stop."
Little does he know, its not all about him. In fact, your focus isn't really on him at all. Lee's too lost in the heaven of your mouth to notice where your attention really lies.
Hals icy, almost betrayed, stare burns into you; sweat dripping from his neck and soaking through his vest, his knuckles white against the barn door. Your eyes meet his for a moment, slyly winking at him and burying your nose in the coarse hair at the base of the Sheriffs cock.
"There ya go, you got it. Fuck, I bet you'd stay there 'til ya went blue in that pretty face if I asked ya to."
His attention made you feel pretty, made you feel powerful. It might be you on your knees for him, but he's gone for you. And he's got no clue that the second he leaves, Hal is gonna reclaim what's his. What's been his since your respective parents' wedding night four years ago.
Hals words from that very night ring clearly in your head as Lee's warm, sticky spend coats your throat. "May not be able to show everyone you're mine, but you'll always know it. You'll always feel it. You'll always want it to be me."
Summary: You tell yourself he's your favourite client because of the way he fucks you. Nothing more, nothing less. Right?
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, reader is a sex worker, vaginal sex, mild breath play, teasing, safe sex, fluff if you squint, sex in the rain (hnngh), Chris and his dirty mouth, jealousy and possessiveness if you squint, 18+.
Word Count: 1.7k
A/N: This is a continuation of Pretty Reckless, but can be read as a stand alone fic. Thank you @dreamlessinparis for all your help!
All my works are 18+. If you click the read more tab, you are agreeing that you are 18 or over, have read the warnings and take responsibility for your own media consumption. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted anywhere else.
“Remember when we first met?” Chris asks you, his nose skimming the column of your throat as you try to keep your heels planted firmly on the dashboard. It’s not easy, not when his rings are pinching into your bare waist and his fingernails are digging into your flesh.
“You mean when I punched you in the face?” You snipe in a bratty tone, reaching behind you to grip the headrest behind him and grinding your cunt down onto him again. Nobody fills you up like he does, and fuck, if he doesn’t know it. “Watch the nails. Gonna mark me up and then nobody’s gonna wanna fuck me.”
“I wanna fuck you,” he tells you, smirking against your shoulder when you groan; his balls slapping against your clit as he pounds up into you. The thin rubber barrier between the two of you is an ever present reminder that this is exactly what you say it is. A prostitute and a client, a weekly arrangement, and a $200 cash wad that you could add to this months rent jar. “One day I’m gonna fuck you in a goddamn bed.”
“You wanna fuck me in a bed?” You ask, smirking as you sit forward just a little, bouncing yourself softly on his dick. You lock eyes with him in the rear view mirror, bright and expectant. “Guess you oughta get a motel room next time then, huh?”
A dirty giggle escapes you when he reaches for your throat, squeezing it the way he knows you like. It seems to be important to him; getting you off. That’s not something you’re used to. Of course, there’s the odd client here and there who wants to put the effort in, but Chris is a different breed. His free hand dips between your legs, toying with your throbbing clit as he grinds his hips up against the meat of your ass.
“If I get that motel room, you gonna spend the whole night with me?” He asks you, his voice husky and deep. The scent of him engulfs you. It’s nothing special. It wouldn’t be on any other man, at least. But on him? On him, the scent of leather and generic cologne is intoxicating.
“That depends,” you trail off, his hand falling from your throat as you maneuver yourself to face him in the passenger seat of his truck, gripping his latex-ridden cock and sinking back down onto it with a blissful hum. “You gonna pay for the whole night?”
Chris groans, ringed fingers finding your throat once again, squeezing it a little tighter this time - enough to cause your breath to hitch. It has your cunt tightening around his girth, and a smirk spreads across his irresistible lips. It makes you want to punch him in the face all over again. For old time’s sake. “You’re killin’ me, woman.”
“You knew what you were getting yourself into,” you grin, dipping your chin and catching his fingertips between your teeth. You suckle them into your mouth, groaning when you feel the pressure of them against your tongue, slipping further towards the back of your throat as you gag at the welcome intrusion. The noise your lips make as they slurp at his digits has him driving his cock up into you, stretching you out and hitting every blissful spot. You release them with a sloppy, wet pop; his fingers slick with your drool. “F’I’m killing you like you say I am, why’d you keep coming back, hm?”
Chris doesn’t answer you, instead gripping your biceps and holding you still in his lap. There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you; his length buried to the hilt inside you, and his cerulean baby blues looking anywhere but into your eyes. You decide that you don’t want an answer to the question you asked.
“C’mon, fuck me,” you urge, slowly rolling your hips and grinding yourself down onto him. His eyes flutter closed, his breaths ragged. You lean in close, your lips tickling the hook of his jaw as you rise and fall on his cock, just once. “Been looking forward to a good pounding all week. You’re not gonna let me down, are you?”
The low rumble of disapproval echoing from his throat has you smirking, loving that you know exactly how to hit a nerve. Especially his. Chris’ hands squeeze at your breasts, firmer than you’d usually allow. You gasp when his palms slap against your flesh, the sting perfectly melding with the pleasure you feel from his cock pulsing against your cunt.
“Get out of the fuckin’ car.” You ignore the pinch in your chest at the aggressive tone behind his words, but when your eyes find his, your stomach flutters with excitement at the hunger you see behind them. The rain pattering against the windshield reminds you of the dingey conditions, and you cock your brow at him questioningly. “What? You ‘fraid of getting a little wet?”
You look back at the clock on the dash. 3.34am. It’s not like you need to keep yourself pretty for the next client. There is no next client. You’ve made enough tonight to pay rent and utilities, with a healthy amount to spare.
Fuck it.
The rain is cold against your clammy skin, but you welcome the refreshing chill as the droplets snake down the nape of your neck. Your skirt hitched up around your waist and your breasts falling free of your top. You’re shoved against the side of his truck before you can get your bearings, his beard scratching at your neck and his teeth grazing your collarbone.
“Think you forget sometimes that I’m paying to fuck you,” he tells you, his tone edged with a subtle playfulness that lets you know he’s only half joking, at least. Chris spins you around in his hold, your palms seeking purchase against the wet metal in front of you as he nudges the tip of his cock against your soaked folds. “You give those other assholes this much sass? Bet you don’t. Bet you barely make a fuckin’ sound.
His cock splits you open, any comeback you had dying on your tongue. The only noise that escapes you is the deep, guttural moan that lingers in the air when he bottoms out inside you. He fills you up better than anyone ever has, not that you’d ever tell him that. The cool metal of his rings pinches at your shoulder, hand holding you firm as uses you as leverage, pounding into your dripping cunt so hard, you think your legs might give out.
“Bet you can’t wait for them to blow their load and fuck off, can you?” He chuckles, the knuckles of his free hand skimming your nipples; sore and aching from the chill of the stormy air. The sound of his cock fucking into you is barely audible over the sound of thunder in the night sky, but its the only thing you can focus on. “You wish they were all like me, baby?”
You didn’t. Not for a single second.
“Gone all quiet on me? C’mon, talk to me. Gimme that mouth,” he coaxes you, the meat of your ass rippling and soaking wet from the rain. His hand slips from your shoulder, encasing your throat as he yanks your head back; his beard scratching against your damp cheek. “Come all over my dick and tell me how good it feels. Tell me I’m the only one that fucks you this good.”
You can't think straight, and words seem to be an impossible task as you lose yourself in the feeling of being used by him. Driving your hips back against him, you fuck yourself on his dick, reaching between your legs and giving his balls a firm squeeze. He hisses, and you giggle; nipping at his throat with your teeth.
"If you don't come soon, I'm gonna," he chokes out, his strokes staggered, one hand pressed against the truck window just a few inches from your own. You fight back the sentimental urge to reach for it.
Your fingers strum at your clit, in time with your hips as they wind back against him. The grunts and groans that vibrate against the top of your head are enough to send you soaring towards the bliss he so desperately wants you to feel. Toes curling in your boots, arching up on your tiptoes, you shatter around his cock; your cries cancelled out by the rainwater gushing into the drain behind you.
You find yourself wishing you could feel him, feel his cum warming your insides. You settle for the sensation of his cock tensing against your walls, grinding your spent cunt against him as firm as your shaky knees will allow.
"Fuck," he grunts, thrusting deep inside you one last time, his lips hovering at your temple. "Lemme drive you home."
"We talked about this.." you groan, nudging your elbow back against his ribs and reaching to pull your drenched panties back up. "I'm fine walking."
"It's almost 4am and you're soaked," Chris argues, plucking the condom off his dick and tying a knot in the end of it. He doesn't know that you live less than a block away, and he doesn't need to know. "Would it really be so dangerous? I'm a cop, not a savage."
"Aren't they one and the same these days?" You quip, tugging your skirt down and yanking your top back up. Opening the passenger door, you reach in and grab your purse, quietly inhaling the comforting scent of him before slamming it shut again. "I'm a big girl, Chris. Can take care of myself just fine."
"You're a stubborn ass, is what you are." You giggle at that, your arms outstretched either side of you as you toss your head back and stick your tongue out; raindrops soaking into your tongue.
"And that's why you keep coming back," you tell him smugly, "I'll keep the whole night free, same time next week? Don't book into that shitty, roach infested place downtown either. I may be a hooker, but I do have standards." Turning on your heel and grinning to yourself, you walk away mourning the loss of him between your thighs.
You'll never say it out loud, but next Thursday can't come quick enough.
I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary , and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕
Summary: What's a girl to do when she's on vacation with Daddy? Make the absolute most of every intimate moment, of course. Even if she has to play dirty to get it.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, forced intoxication (not main pairing), teasing, infidelity, stepdad/stepdaughter/stepcest, daddy kink, grinding, vaginal sex, pool sex, semi-public sex, fluff, Bucky's dirty mouth. 18+.
Word Count: 3.3k
A/N: I missed them so I wrote a little 'cut scene' to help with my yearning while I figure out how to finish the next official part of the series. This is...a little softer than we're used to. Thank you so much to @dreamlessinparis for kicking me across the finish line with this and for all the encouragement.
All my works are 18+. If you click the read more tab, you are agreeing that you are 18 or over, have read the warnings and take responsibility for your own media consumption. I do not consent to having my work translated or posted anywhere else.
Bucky Barnes didn’t vacation much, if at all, when he was a child. As he rests back against the sunlounger, the Caribbean sun beating down against his bare torso, he struggles to remember why he’s grown to hate this faux family lifestyle so much.
Afterall, there are worse positions to find yourself in aren't there? His thoughts are all but confirmed as you slink across the patio towards him with another rum punch in hand, his eyes fixed on your hips as they sway. The purple string bikini does very little to maintain your modesty, not that you have any issue with that.
Bucky hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all afternoon, which is precisely why you’ve been plying your mother with cocktails double the strength of your own.
Alone time with your stepfather has been precious and rare so far this week, and you aren't going to wait any longer to make some summer memories of your own.
With your mother out for the count on the daybed, her drunken snores filling the salty, ocean air, you set yourself down on the edge of Bucky’s sunlounger and take a sip of your drink.
“I don’t even know why you’re with her,” you exclaim, eyes on him as he keeps his head forward, his sunglasses shielding his gaze from yours. He might be pretending to look out over the ocean, but you know he’s looking at you. You tilt your chin towards your mother, her limbs splayed out around her and her sunhat resting over her face. He doesn’t answer you, so you shuffle a little closer. “You don’t have to pretend. It’s not like she can hear you.”
“Yeah, that might have something to do with the double strength cocktails you’ve been pouring down her throat all afternoon.” There’s a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth. If you’d blinked you might’ve missed it. He lifts his glass to his mouth, taking a sip and tilting his head slightly to the side while the alcohol marinates on his tongue, and then swallows. “That how desperate you are to get me all to yourself?”
“Worked, didn’t it?” you retort, not missing a beat. His fingertips dance up your thigh, and you reach out to lift his glasses off his face to get a look at those eyes. You always did think they resembled the colour of the ocean, and now you’d had the chance to compare, your romantic metaphor was all but confirmed for you.
Bucky sits forward, setting his drink down on the stone pillar next to him. His index finger dips beneath the flimsy string tied around your waist, and you fight back a shudder as it threatens to roll through you. “Do you like the bikini’s I packed, Daddy?”
“Princess,” he warns in, that tone your gut recognises before your brain does. Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do, precisely because it garners a reaction like this. You readjust your top, pulling the little triangles away from your sun soaked skin and letting them snap back into place against your hardening nipples. “Know you like showin’ off. Can’t blame me for admiring the view. Especially when it’s as good as this,” he trails off, his knuckles grazing your clavicle as he moves to cup your throat; eyes darting to your lips.
“If you wanna kiss, Daddy, all you gotta do is..” you goad him, tilting your chin just enough to capture the pad of his thumb between your teeth. Your lips suckle at his skin, cool from the condensation of the cocktail glass he’s been holding. You grin as you release his digit, watching as his lips move to part and diving in to press your own against them - playful and swift. “Catch me.”
His fingertips skim your butt as you bolt up from the sunlounger, your bare feet thumping against the sun-hot tiles beneath them. You toss him a grin over your shoulder as you leap into the swimming pool, your body submerged in cool bliss. You swim beneath the surface, arms gliding through the water towards a small tunnel that leads to a hidden grotto. You’d been watching your mother joke all week about getting her husband alone in there, and you were more than happy to take her place.
“Gotcha,” you smirk to yourself when you hear a splash echoing off the stone walls surrounding you. You perch yourself up on the edge of the small pool, one leg crossed over the other as you lean back on your palms; arching your back into a soft curve while you await his arrival. The fact that you’ve even managed to lure his arrogant ass to chase after you is a boost to your ego. “Tick tock, old man!”
You giggle to yourself when you hear his deep mumbling from outside, the ripples from his body wading through the water to get to you growing more prominent by the second. Your amusement fades to lust when he appears, waist deep in water, droplets trickling down his sun kissed chest, making their way down over his abs and soaking into the waistband of his swim shorts.
“Almost got me,” you tease, kicking your foot back and forth in the water. His large palm grips your ankle, holding it firm as he stalks towards you, your legs parting to accommodate him. “That’s better.”
A gasp leaves your throat when his hand moves swiftly to grip the back of your neck, squeezing possessively as you tilt your head back invitingly. Your heels dig into the small of his back, tugging him closer, his firm chest pressed against your torso. You suck in a breath through your nostrils, inhaling the fresh scent of him.
“Caught you,” he breathes, the tip of his nose a hair's breadth from your own. “You gonna give me that kiss?”
The control you feel is a rarity, and it has your gut surging with courage and sass. “Take it.”
He kisses you instantly, all open mouths and tongues as his hands move over your body. They settle at your waist, his deft fingers pulling at the string bows of your bottoms, tugging them taut and humming against your mouth as the material falls into the water.
"Someone's a little eager," you smile, nipping at his top lip with your teeth and rolling your hips, your clit nudging against the bulge that resides within his shorts. You push him away, reaching for his hand and guiding him to the built in seat at the edge of the small pool. "Every night we've been here, I've fucked myself thinking about you."
"I know. You sent me the videos to prove it, remember?" You climb atop his lap, knees digging into smooth stone and the water lapping just below your waist. Bucky's hands grip the meat of your ass as he kneads it in his palms, grinding your naked core against his stomach. "Drive me half fuckin' crazy and you know it."
"Obviously not that crazy. Haven't woken up with Daddy's cock inside me so far, have I?" You pout, your fingernails grazing his freckled chest. He leans up to kiss you again, one hand finding your breast and his thumb brushing your pebbled nipple. You can taste the remnants of rum on his tongue as it sinks into your mouth, a strangled whimper escaping you when your clit rubs against the coarse trail of hair that sits just above his waistband.
"Is that what you want? Wanna wake up already stuffed full of dick?" He asks, chuckling when you nod, your forehead resting against his. The words are filthy, but there's a subtle intimacy in the way he whispers them. A groan rumbles in his throat when you reach beneath his shorts, wrapping your fist around his cock and feeling it thrum against your skin. "Keep tossing those cocktails your mom's way and Daddy might even sneak you out of here for a little private time. Would you like that, princess?"
"Are you asking me out on a date?" You jest, butterflies erupting in your tummy when he looks into your eyes, a little half smile painted on his pink lips. The tension in the air thickens, and your eyes flit to his Adams apple as it bobs. He’s unusually quiet, and surprisingly, you don’t feel the urge to tease him about it. You get the feeling he’s looking for something else from you right now, and you’re content to give it to him. “I’ll hold you to that, Mr.”
Your hands reach for him as you urge him to rest his elbows against the edge, your fingers gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. He groans at the sensation of your nails raking against his scalp, his head lolling back a little, leaning into your affections. You kiss him; slow, deep and full of intent. The scene could almost be considered romantic.
Well, if your mother wasn’t passed out 20ft away that is.
“Thought you preferred it when I took control, Princess?” he asks, grunting in satisfaction when you pump your fist up and down his solid length. You love him like this, the alcohol in his bloodstream lowering his inhibitions as well as the air tight walls he usually works so hard to maintain. His eyes flicker closed, thick lashes feathering his face. You fight the urge to lean down and kiss his eyelids.
“If I can’t take care of my Daddy on vacation, when can I?” you retort quickly with a sly smile. You release him from your grip, sitting further back on his lap and tugging his swim shorts down his thighs. You salivate at the sight of his firm cock springing free, sloshing through the water and falling against his stomach. “Missed your cock. Don’t like it when you make me wait for it. Say you can’t resist my pussy,” you pause, your cheek grazing his jaw when you lean in and press your lips against his ear, “but she’s been missing you all week.”
His hands move to grip your waist, but you slip out of his hold, turning around and maneuvering yourself on his lap; your back, slippery wet, against his chest. An arm snakes around your torso, his warm palm splayed out against your stomach in an attempt to keep you close to him. Reaching back between your bodies, you settle his cock between the globes of your ass, gently winding your hips and grinding back against him.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, fingernails digging into the flesh of your waist. Slipping his cock between your legs, you glide back and forth over his shaft, letting your fingers brush over the tip each time it peeks between your thighs beneath the water. “You trying to punish me, baby? Is that what this is?”
You reach for his hand, dragging it up towards your breast; his fingers instantly dipping beneath the flimsy material of your bikini top. “No,” you start, resting your head back against his shoulder and grinding against his lap. “Maybe I just wanna tease you a little, make you the needy one for a change.”
Turning your head, you nip at his stubbled jaw, letting your teeth sink playfully into his skin and giggling as you do so. Both of his hands grab at your chest, breasts out and his fingertips plucking at your nipples. "How many times do I have to tell you, Princess? M'always needy for this pussy."
You have to fight back the groan that leaves his mouth when you stand up, his dick slapping against his stomach and his arm outstretched and reaching for your slippery skin. You turn back to face him, his thighs spread wide and his fist wrapped tight around his girth. The sight has your thighs clenching together, and the smirk on his face tells you that he can see exactly how much of an effect he's having on you.
"How's that plan of yours workin' out, huh?" Bucky grins, hissing through his teeth when his thumb swipes over the swollen crown of his cock. You know he’s messing with you, and you know you should at least try and pretend he’s not getting to you. You also know that you’ve only got a limited amount of time before your mother wakes up.
“Let’s see how cocky you are,” you say, your hands on his shoulders as you climb back into his lap, facing him this time, “with my cunt wrapped around your dick.”
Your hand reaches for him, feet planted either side of his thighs on the seat, you sink down onto him and revel in the blissful burn that racks through your insides. There’s nothing like that first stretch with him. Nothing. Your cunt clenches him tight, his hands gripping you firmly; one beneath your thigh, the other curled up over your shoulder to hold you in place.
“Daddy,” you keen in his ear, bouncing gently in his lap as the water sloshes around you. The heat from his breath fans against your skin, and your heart flutters at the feel of his lips skimming your chest. Your own brush against his temple, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades as you fuck yourself down onto him. "Tell me how good I feel. Wanna hear you say it."
Bucky grunts against your flesh, head dipping to capture your nipple between his teeth and suckle it into his mouth. You smirk at his attempt to avoid answering your request, rising up on his cock until just the tip remains inside you. "Say it."
"Shit, baby." You grin triumphantly, knowing you'll get your way before the compliments even start dripping from his lips. And they do. “You know how good you feel. Jus’ wanna make me say it so you can-fuck-tease me about it later.” Your walls clench him tighter - an intentional move that has him holding you closer. “Feel like fuckin’ heaven. Best pussy daddy’s ever had. Told you ‘nough times.”
“Soft,” he continues, pumping his hips up to meet yours as you work your pussy up and down on his rigid length. “Tight.” A soft kiss against your clavicle. “Hungry." His teeth dragging against your skin. "Mine."
His words shoot straight to your heart, pinching and tugging, making your bones ache with the sheer intensity of your affection for him. The affection that you’re always trying to pretend is situationary. You are his, but you’re not admitting it quite so easy today.
"This cock is mine,” you whisper boldly, hands gliding up over his chest as you take him inside you again, winding your hips against him and humming at the sensation of your clit throbbing against his abdomen. “You might sleep next to her, and wake up next to her every morning. But you are mine. You know it, too."
“Don’t wanna talk about her,” he grumbles, letting his forehead fall to your breastbone. You shudder, his hot breath warming your skin, and smile; leaving a kiss atop his head. Bucky’s arms are almost tight around you now, one hand sturdy between your shoulder blades and the other grabbing at your ass - guiding your pussy up and down his length as it throbs against your walls.
"I'm not jealous. Wanna know why?” you ask him gently, resting your cheek against his temple while you ride him. “‘Cause I know that even if you fuck her out of pity, you'll still be thinking about me."
Bucky doesn’t speak, but he doesn’t need to. His face buried in your chest and his lips ghosting against your wet flesh, he doesn’t need to say anything at all. You can feel it. You’ve been able to feel it for months. To you, it’s no longer a sordid affair - and you have a strong suspicion that it’s not as simple as that for him anymore either. So, you leave it. For once, you’re not teasing him. You’re not egging him for a response. You just want him to know.
You want him to just be, in this moment, with you.
“Daddy,” you whimper, the vulnerability you feel washing over you as you cling to him. You’re wobbly on your feet, your insides churning and your pace faltering. He’s got you, though. Just like always.
You wrap your legs around him as he pushes away from the wall, turning and pinning you against the stone, and capturing your trembling lips in a searing kiss that sets your insides ablaze. He fucks you hard, but not rough. No, not rough. Every stroke of his cock against your cunt is masterfully in tune with the aura surrounding the two of you.
Firm, insistent, passionate; but most importantly of all, tender. Loving. Full of unspoken care and affinity.
He fucks you through two orgasms, neither one of you uttering a word to each other as you keep your eyes tight shut and try to block out the world around you, looking towards a future that doesn’t exist. But it’s nice to fool yourself now and again.
“Princess,” he grunts, your cunt a little sore, the water washing away your arousal. You hold his face in your palms, fingernails digging into his cheeks as you roll your hips against him, desperate to coax him to release. Your name tumbles from his tongue, muffled by the pressing of his lips against your mouth.
“M’coming,” he whispers, his voice breaking as you feel his length pulsing inside you, humming in utmost contentment at the sensation of being full of him again. You whine when he pulls free of your cunt, feeling his spend seep from your hole and into the water surrounding you. You want to keep him there, inside you, where he belongs.
Preparing yourself for his inevitable switch in demeanor, you tug the triangles of your bikini top back into place and press your hands against his shoulders to put some distance between the two of you. Trying to take control of the situation before he pulls away from you. Your eyes search the water for your missing bottoms, and his fingers catch at your chin, tilting your head up to meet his amused gaze. “So, about that date huh?”
Your eyes widen and you blink slowly, wondering if you misheard, because he can’t possibly be serious. You can’t even imagine he’d follow through on that suggestion, but you’ve seen that amused twinkle in his pretty eyes before. The one that’s always laced with stubborn intent. You push your shoulders back, shrugging as you unwind your legs from around his waist and set your feet down on the pool floor.
“I can barely feel my toes and I need another drink, so you better not be fucking with me.” Bucky’s brow cocks at your brazenness, his hand sinking beneath the surface of the water to grab at your stray bottoms. You expect him to hand them to you, but he doesn’t.
Instead, he wordlessly dips the material between your legs into place, tying the first bow at your hip before moving to the opposite one. You don’t often feel uncomfortable in his presence, but something about the way he’s handling you makes you nervous. You mutter a jumbled ‘thank you’ and round his body, turning to face him as you let your body glide through the water.
“10pm tonight, at the side entrance.” He’s holding back a grin at your bossy insistence, and you know it. Turning to make your way out of the grotto, you throw him a departing look over your shoulder; grinning at the sight of him tugging his swim shorts back up. “If you don’t show, I guess I’ll just have to find a hot bartender to keep me company, won’t I?”
A/N: I no longer have a tag list, but if you want to keep up to date with what I post follow my sideblog, @sweetersficlibrary, and turn on alerts to be notified whenever I post something new 💕
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