Summary: Your stepmother is the worst. But her fiancè is worth your time.
Rating: Explicit
Kinktober Special: homewrecker kink
Square filled Square 7 for @anyfandomkinkbingo: Office Sex
Pairing: Stepdad(CEO)!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Warnings: cheating, angst, jealousy, awful stepmother, sexual tension, smut, unprotected sex, quickie, kinda stepcest (they are not related by blood), dirty talk, possessive Bucky, homewrecker kink
A/N: Please be aware of the warnings. This kink is not for everyone. Also, there is more plot than expected.
Words: 2,3 k
Kinktober 2022
AFG KINK BINGO masterlist
“Another one?” you ask the blonde eyeing your colleague up and down. He dips his head as you clear your throat to get his attention. “Do you want another drink? You know, my colleague is not on the menu.”
“Engagement parties, I hate them,” he turns his back on the people at the party to look at you. “So, you’re working here or-“
“What does it look like? I’m not here to get a massage,” rolling your eyes you turn around to get a new bottle of whiskey. “Do you want another drink or not?”
“Why would anyone celebrate their engagement at a bar?”
“How shall I know?” you shrug. “I’m just trying to do my job and go home when my shift is over. If you want to know why she came here to celebrate her engagement, ask my stepmother.”
“Stepmother?” that picked the man’s interest. “The bride is your mother?”
“Stepmother,” you correct. “I haven’t seen her since my dad’s burial. No, wait. It was right after the lawyer read the will of my father.”
“Why are you working at a bar if your dad was…rich?”
“Well, she got all of his money, the company, and the house. I didn’t want his money or shit, it just hurts that he didn’t think of me at all,” while you wipe the counter, the man frowns deeply.
“That’s shit.”
“That’s life. She spread her legs for my father for three years and gets everything. I was his daughter all my life and must work three jobs to pay back my student loan. English literature, what a waste of time.”
“Not to me,” he offers. “Uh-name’s Steve. Steve Rogers.”
While the man in front of you holds out his hand, you look around the crowded bar to watch your stepmother get cozy with her newest conquest. Another wealthy man.
“Y/N be a darling and make some more drinks for my friends,” your hands ball into fists when your stepmother steps toward the bar counter. She batts her eyelashes and purses her lips. “And hurry up. They are not some of your little friends, living on beer and cheap food.”
“Dot,” your stepmother’s fiancé joins her and the blonde at the bar counter. “Do we get more drinks soon or-?” he licks his lips as his eyes land on you. “Steve, I wanted you to get more drinks, not flirt with the bartender.”
You eye the man up and down. He’s wearing a dark blue suit and matching tie. His polished shoes cost more than all of your shoes, and you are fairly sure, he’s wearing even more expensive underwear.
His blue eyes drop to the drink in the blonde’s hand. “I’m thirsty. Bartender, be a doll and give me one of these too.”
He flashes you a smile, making his blue eyes sparkle. You bet he’s the kind of guy always getting his way only by smiling at people. Not tonight.
“Sorry, my shift is over,” you drop the towel onto the counter. “You can wait for my colleague, or, how about you ask my beloved stepmother? She was a waitress before she met my dad and got her greedy hands on his money.”
“She was joking, Jamie. Y/N is just jealous I found love again,” she stammers. “I never was a waitress.”
“Of course, love,” Bucky sighs as he watches you storm toward the back of the bar. “Maybe she just needs time to adjust. We could invite her for dinner.”
“Buck, I’m getting a terrible headache. I’ll find my way out,” the blonde says.
“Steve, wait,” Bucky watches his best friend and best man leave the bar. He knows Steve doesn’t like Dot. “Come on. Don’t be like that.”
“Do you,” Steve turns around to whisper in Bucky’s ear, “know anything about your soon-to-be wife but how she sucks your cock? Did you know that she got all the money, the house, and shit from her latest husband? Did you know that his daughter must work three jobs to get around?”
A week later, the bar you are working at…
“We are closed,” you jerk your head toward the door. “Go to one of those fancy clubs you are used to. We have nothing to offer here.”
“My friend Steve told me you were a good host,” Bucky plops down onto one of the bar stools and flashes you a smile. “Can I have a drink too? Last time you left me hanging.”
You take a moment to drink him in. He’s all casual today, wearing a Henley and jeans. God, he’s gorgeous. That bastard got it all. The looks. The smile. The eyes.
If only he didn’t want to marry the woman you hate the most.
“Why are you here?” you sigh. “I got a lot of work to do and got no time for Dot’s nonsense, or yours.”
“You don’t like your stepmother much, but she wants you to come to our wedding,” you sneer at his words. “Please don’t make this any harder for her.”
“I rather let someone stab me with a rusty knife.”
“Why are you like this?”
“Maybe you should ask her,” you turn around to get a glass for Bucky. “She came into our lives. Three years later my father dies in an accident and his lawyer tells me and his brother that he left everything to Dot. Even the company he built with his brother.”
“He loved her.”
You huff.
“Doll don’t be mad at your stepmother for things happening in the past. You should try to move on. Both of you.”
“I tried,” you slam the glass onto the counter. “She forced me to leave my home. I tried to stay away from her, while my uncle still fights her. He tries to get the company back. I gave up a long time ago.”
He looks surprised.
“She is the one not leaving me alone. Whenever she gets the chance to, she rubs salt into my wounds. Like last week. She didn’t have to rent the whole bar to celebrate her engagement party here. It was to show me she got another wealthy guy into her clutches.”
“Dot is not like that,” you roll your eyes. Of course, Bucky cannot see the ugly monster behind her pretty façade. Dot is a master at manipulating and gaslighting people.
“Believe whatever you want. Just keep me out of this shit. Dot got all she ever wanted from me and my family. I got nothing else to offer.”
You pour Bucky a drink. “That’s the first and last drink you will ever get from me. Don’t come back here.”
Another month later, the car dealer you are working at…
“Not again.”
You can’t believe Bucky followed you to your second job. He looks at the cars, scrunching up his nose. “Hello, doll. I’m looking for…a car.”
“I don’t think you want a second-hand Volvo or an old and rusty Chevy. You look more like,” you look him up and down, “Porsche, or Ferrari. These cars are for people who work for their money and need a car to get to work. Not another status symbol.”
“Why do you hate me?”
He looks you deep in the eyes, searching your face.
“I don’t hate you,” you look away. “I just don’t want to watch another man end up losing everything he has to Dot. So please, stay away from me.”
“If only you would give her a chance, she could be a good stepmother.”
You snort. “Dude, she’s like four years elder than me. She never was and never will be a stepmother to me. She’s a bitch in heat looking for another dick to ride. A wealthy dick, of course.”
“Dick, huh?” he smirks.
You put your hands on your hips and glare at him. “If you would excuse me now. I have work to do.”
“I can see that. You are an expert in working yourself up,” how you hate his stupid smirk. “How about I invite you for dinner and we can talk some more.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No!”
“Heaven help, me with this stubborn brat. I can’t believe I’m wasting my time on her,” he can only watch you storm off. Bucky can’t help but wonder how it would feel to spank your ass.
Three weeks later, your last working place. Copy room.
“No…no,” you kick the copier. “It’s the wrong day to mess with me, bitch. I give you one last chance to give me those damn copies before I kick your ass again.”
“I don’t think a copier got an ass,” snickering Bucky leans in the doorframe to watch you fight with the machine. You kick it again. “Doll, the poor machine doesn’t deserve your hatred.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I thought we can go for dinner,” he steps inside the room and kicks the door shut with his foot. “Doll, I’m talking to you.”
“I got that.”
You don’t turn around, nor do you pay attention to Bucky when he steps closer to have a look at the copier. “How about being a little friendlier?”
“How about you get lost?”
“I get why you don’t get along with Dot,” he puts his hands on your hips and whispers in your ear. “You’re both so stubborn. Maybe I can help you get along better.”
“You can get lost. I don’t want anything to do with Dot, and the catastrophe you call your wedding.”
“I bet I can change your mind,” Bucky presses a soft kiss to your neck. “I’ll be back soon, doll.”
A month later, Barnes and Rogers Inc., your new boss’s office…
“Hi, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m here for the interview,” you gape at the man sitting in a swivel chair. “You’ve got to be shitting me!”
“Welcome to Barnes and Rogers Inc., doll,” Bucky grins as you start to throw insults at him. You had hoped to finally get a full-time job. You’re tired of working three jobs. “Why did you do this? I wanted a new job, not another confrontation with my past.”
“Oh, doll,” he slowly gets up from his chair to stride towards you. “I have a better plan for you. For us.”
“US?”
He wraps one arm around your waistline, holding you close to his chest. “Us, Y/N. I want you to be a good girl now and do as I say.” Bucky whispers in your ear. “I’ll be your daddy soon. And I’ll make sure to become a very good daddy for you.”
“Get off me,” you weakly wiggle in his iron grip. “You won’t become my dad. I had a great dad.”
“He gave all of his money to Dot,” his hand moves up to your chest to give one tit a good squeeze. “He was an awful father. Let me be your daddy…”
You make an odd noise. This is it, the moment you have been waiting for. “I don’t think so,” you only need to rile him up a little more and…
“Fucking brat.”
He drags you toward his desk, cursing under his breath. You let him bend you over his desk. And you don’t fight him when he shoves your skirt up your waist and your panties down your legs.
You smirk.
“What do you want to do about it.”
Bucky presses one hand to the small of your back to hold you down. “I’ll show you how to behave.”
“Show me.”
“You’re not going to walk for a while.”
He kicks your legs apart. Bucky slaps your pussy, fingers running through your slicked folds. You hold your breath and try to hide you are already a dripping mess. “Slut, already so wet for me.”
You bite your tongue.
“Got nothing to say,” two fingers prop at your entrance, waiting, lingering to cross a line. “Fine, I wanted to go easy on you.”
“Fuck you.”
“No. Fuck you.”
Belt buckle. Zipper. Pants dropping to the ground. A symphony to your ears.
“I’m gonna fucking ruin this cunt,” Bucky curses behind you. He runs his cock up and down your folds, gathering your slick to cover his dick. “You’re going to be my good girl.”
Biting your lower lip hard enough to draw blood you feel him snap his hips into your ass, filling you in one go. He starts moving in vigor. Rough. Fast. Without mercy.
“Fucking brat.”
Bucky drags you onto his thick length, blunt nails digging into your skin. He watches his cock disappear in your body, smirking as you push back onto him.
“That’s much better. Good girl. Taking my cock so well.”
You struggle to not moan his name. He can never know you made sure he will end up fucking you over his desk. This is all you ever dreamed of and more.
“Jamie?” Bucky stills his movement, but his cock twitches inside of your cunt. “What? Y/N?” Dot gasps as she just caught Bucky balls deep inside of you. “What are you doing?”
“Uh-what does it look like, mommy?” you lift your head to grin at her. Bucky swallows thickly as you start to clench tightly around him. He drops his eyes to your stuffed cunt as you start moving your hips to fuck yourself on his cock. “I’m fucking daddy…”
“Dot…I…uh,” Bucky tries to find the right words. “I tried to convince her to come to the wedding and realized, I prefer fucking her and not you.”
“I will destroy you, James Buchanan Barnes!” Dot storms out of the office and slams the door shut. “We are done!”
“I got everything I wanted from you, Dot,” he grips your hips to stop you from moving. “Now, will you tell me why you came all over me when Dot caught us?”
“I-I like to fuck with taken men…sometimes…”
“Well, this is over. You are mine now,” Bucky grunts. “When I’m done with you, we will make sure you’ll get all of your money, the house, and the company back…”
“Why would you do such a thing?”
“Your father was a good friend of my family for the longest time and I tried to find out what happend to him. Having my way with you was just a ... bonus...”
tags: alpha x alpha, drugged, forced sex, non con body bod, non traditional omegaverse, triggered mating, secondary gender modification, dark elements
The asset knows it is imperative to appear as compliant as possible. This isn’t a difficult task. Its handlers modified its operating levels to unfamiliar settings. It can feel the heat rising beneath its skin. It can feel the strange wetness pooling between its thighs as it lies on a bed of metal. As far as the asset is concerned, that has never happened before.
-
Order through pain is all the asset knows.
bingo fills + event prompts
@anyfandomangstbingo | handcuffs
@anyfandomdarkbingo | chained to a bed
@anyfandomgoesbingo | mating cycles
@anyfandomkinkbingo | fucking like rabbits
@afgomegaversebingo | rough sex
@augustwritingchallenge: april showers brings m-au flowers | loss
@badthingshappenbingo | incapable of disobeying
@buckybarnesevents: babb2023 | come as lube [jan]
@character-a-character-b: may bingo | 64: sensual creatures
@fandombingo: rpf card | loyalty kink
@fandom-free-bingo
flight edition | overstimulation + alt: refusing to fight back
maritime may | omegaverse au
valentine edition | sex pollen
wild edition | malaise
world book night edition | no remorse + alt: struggling to break free
@ficwip: level up | 3rd pov - present tense
@julybreakbingo: pre july 24 | exophilia
@kinky-things-happen | fuck or die
loversbingo
the conflict | omega’s first heat
the reeling | forced helping hand
the solution | can’t stop
@marvel-smash-bingo | multiple orgasms
@multifandom-flash
fear bingo | fear of ice
new year’s resolution | public sex + rough sex + sex pollen
@sebastianstanbingo | multiple orgasms
@stuckybingo | kink: biting [nsfw may adoptable]
@stuckygeekevents: stucky geek bingo | confusion
stucky smut menu
trope | sex pollen
character version | possessive!steve
kink | public sex
@sweetspicybingo: hurt/comfort bingo | held captive
@taintedsouled: spring cleaning soot sprites | playroom: monsterfucking
@ultimatechrisbingo | right person, wrong time
@yearoftheotpevent | september: hurt/comfort
ch 2: why does it taste so bitter (when you’re the sugar that touches my lips)
lips pressed to my neck, i’m falling for your eyes
(gif by my very talented and lovely bestie @hintsofhoney)
Square Filled: Damon Salvatore x Reader, Biting Kink for @anyfandomkinkbingo
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Pairing: Damon Salvatore x fem!Reader
Word Count: 6443
Rating: explicit, 18+ only
Summary: After a break-up, all Y/N wants to do is hit the club with her best friend Damon. When a potential hook-up doesn’t know the word “no,” Damon steps in to protect his girl.
Tags/Warnings: TW: harassment (almost sexual assault, but not from damon), SMUT, so much smut, biting kink (duh), sir kink, oral sex (fem receiving), damon is super protective, friends to lovers kinda vibe, unprotected sex, breeding kink (kinda? but he’s a vampire so he can’t procreate anyway, cum kink maybe instead), fluff, a lil angst
A/N: I know, I know, why finish this before the sequels to roller coaster kinda rush and drunk in love? but I promise you, this was in the works before those were even thoughts. big, big thank you to my lovely @evergreencowboy for beta-ing three times because I can’t do anything without motivation. hope you enjoy!
My Masterlist
The music was loud, and it was hot and stuffy inside the club. The crowded dance floor didn’t always seem like a welcoming place, but tonight, you didn’t want to be anywhere else.
You swung your hips to the music and reached behind you to place your hand on the neck of the beautiful, raven-haired man who held you tightly in his arms. Damon’s fingertips pressed harshly into your hips, grinding and pulling you against his front, while the fog made the lights swirl around you.
You ran your fingers through his hair, wondering if he’d let you pull on it right here. Looking back on the previous events of the night, you kinda thought he might let you do anything you wanted.
You’d convinced him to come with you tonight, and you suspect he’d only agreed to ensure nothing bad happened to you while you partied. Damon was your best friend and nothing more, though he always was very protective of you.
It was typical of him to come between you and everyone who tried to speak to you, but sometimes it was really irritating. The whole reason you’d gone out tonight was to distract yourself from your toxic asshole of an ex.
He’d texted you earlier today, wanting to get back together with you, to which you responded by promptly blocking him. Then, he’d texted you from a different number, which you also blocked. The whole thing was exhausting, and you really wanted to just move on with your life. Which brought you to the club.
You’d say you hadn’t come to the club looking for a hookup, but then again, maybe you had. After all, nothing had stopped you from allowing a few random men to buy you drinks, not even the warning glares from your vampire companion. It wouldn’t hurt to scare off the very memory of your last relationship, right? You honestly didn’t want to remember a single bit of it. As far as you were concerned, even the “good” parts weren’t good if they had him in it.
Once you’d arrived at the club, it had become clear to you that Damon hadn’t gotten the memo on your plan. After he’d scared off the third man who’d asked you to dance with his narrowed brows and hard eyes, you’d been so exasperated that you grabbed the hand of the next man who’d approached and dragged him onto the dance floor, without giving Damon a chance to interfere and ruin your fun again.
Your new dancing partner was tall and definitely not bad looking. You might go so far as to call him handsome even. He had dark hair styled exactly the way you liked it and pretty eyes, too. There was something about his smile though that seemed off to you. You chalked it up to leftover feelings from your last ex.
You began to dance, pulling on tall-dark-and-handsome’s hands. He followed you eagerly, and who wouldn’t? In your outfit you’d picked out especially for tonight, you looked hot as hell, and everyone around you recognized it. He pulled you close with a hand on your lower back and kept dancing.
“What’s your name, baby?” he asked, leaning close to your ear with a slick smile. His hands were slowly circling your waist and getting tighter as he spoke.
“Y/N,” you said hesitantly. His hands pushed and pulled you to the rhythm of the music. You let him move your body in time with his, no dance skills required on your part at all, even though you were actually a decent dancer. He pressed his forehead to yours harshly, the grin on his face becoming a bit darker. You could smell the alcohol on his breath as he ghosted his lips over the side of your head and your face.
Wow, okay, you thought to yourself, someone’s a bit pushy. You leaned back, pulling away slightly from his advances. This guy was clearly getting a little too comfortable with your body a little too fast. He turned you suddenly so your back was pressed against his chest and began to grind your ass against his front.
Um, no, you thought, just kidding. I don’t wanna dance with this asshole. You tried to wriggle out of his grasp, to no avail. You huffed and turned your head towards his ear so he’d be able to hear you.
“Hey,” you said, trying to pry his hands from around your waist. “Sorry, I don’t feel much like dancing anymore.” When he didn’t release you immediately, but instead squeezed tighter, you felt your chest tighten and your breath speed up. Panic began to well up inside you, and you scanned the crowd around you for Damon, to no avail. You were much shorter than the people around you, and the fog and colored lights made it really difficult to see.
“Oh, you’re fine, babe. Just relax, and let me take care of you,” the man behind you purred greasily, hands drifting further down your hips,
“Uh, no, let go of me!” you said, getting angry now that you were panicking over this sleazeball. He ignored your demand, pulling you deeper into the crowd, towards the center of the dance floor. “Damon!” you called desperately, hoping that his hearing would pick up your voice, despite all the background noise around you.
You felt a gust of air around you, and suddenly, Damon was standing in front of you, eyes trained on the man with his arms around you, looking absolutely murderous.
You had no doubt that he’d rip this man apart, and you had half a mind to let him. A predator like this, walking around, preying on some girl that didn’t have a vampire best friend to save her? You hated it, but you couldn’t let Damon kill him either. He was a douchebag, but still only human. Ugh, curse your sense of compassion.
“Damon,” you said in a cautionary tone. His eyes flicked to you for a split second, understanding you were begging him not to snap his neck. He scoffed a little, and snatched you from douchebag’s grip so fast, he barely realized he wasn’t holding you until he saw you pressed protectively behind Damon’s back.
“Hey, what the fuck, dude!” he yelled angrily, stepping up to meet Damon’s eye, challenging him to a fight. “Listen, I had her first. Find your own bitch!” Damon tensed, no doubt thinking about ripping this guy’s heart or throat out. Your fingers squeezed at Damon’s sides, reminding him of your request. His lip curled up in an angry sneer, his hands balling into fists.
“No, you listen to me, dude,” Damon snarled, his pupils dilating in and out, holding a deadly stare. “You will not look, speak, or think about her again. You also will not EVER even attempt to take advantage of a woman again, understand me?”
“Yes,” he muttered mindlessly.
“Good, and if I ever see you around here, I will break all ten of your fingers and both your legs. You’ll be begging me to kill you by the time I’m finished with your sorry ass,” Damon practically spat, the vein on his forehead now very prominent, like it always got when he was angry. His eyes widened and narrowed as he emphasized his last command, “Now, leave.”
Douchebag turned and walked towards the door as if in a trance, brushing past the bouncer posted at the exit, and disappeared. You let out the breath you’d been holding. Damon turned, gripping your shoulders tightly in his hands. His eyes softened, searching yours for any sign of lingering fear or pain.
“Y/N, are you okay? Did he touch you anywhere or hurt you at all?” He ran his hands down your arms gently, as if he was checking for himself that you were unharmed.
“No, he didn’t hurt me, just grabbed my hips a bit lower than I wanted or expected him to,” your voice just barely shook, as you tried to laugh it off. He pulled you into a comforting hug, one arm around your shoulders, the other hand on the back of your head, pressing you into his warm chest for a moment. It helped, and your body stopped shaking eventually.
When he was sure you weren’t in any pain, he pulled away and led you to the outer edge of the dance floor. “Are you ready to leave, Y/N? We can go home and watch a movie if you want. I’ll let you pick…” he tempted you, smiling softly at you, obviously still trying to make sure you were okay.
You smiled at your best friend; he really was a sweetheart. Sure, he could be a bit rash and impulsive, maybe a little violent-- okay, a lot violent-- but he really did care for you. As much as he’d annoyed you earlier with his over-protectiveness, you instantly felt better with him around you.
You’d been shaken up, but the goal of tonight was to forget about your ex, not to be scarred by yet another asshole of a man. You weren’t that tired. Plus, you felt like if you left now, the assholes would win. You couldn’t stand that idea. No, you wanted a win for tonight.
“No, that’s okay, Dae. I’m not tired, and I’ve got you to protect me,” you giggled. “Come on, you dance with me instead.” You took his hand and tried to tug him back towards the dance floor. He just stood there uncertainly. It was funny to see him as the hesitant one; usually, he was the one looking for a good time, and he definitely didn’t mind dancing.
You finally got him to agree, after you’d both had another shot. It definitely wasn’t enough to make you fully drunk, but it was enough to make you start to feel it behind your eyes. You grabbed his hand and dragged him onto the dance floor.
“Y/N,” Damon spoke, his grip on your waist tightening as his body moved against you, his head right next to your ear so you could hear him over the roar of the music and the crowd of people who surrounded you on all sides.
“Damon,” you hummed back questioningly, wondering what could possibly be going on in his mind. Yours was cloudy, and you didn’t think you could process anything between the sound of the music and the feel of his body behind yours.
He might have been just your friend, but you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly hot. If you’d ever allowed yourself to think of him as more than a best friend, you might’ve fallen hopelessly in love with him. And love complicated things, which is why you never stayed long enough in a relationship to let those feelings develop. That, and the fact that you had a knack for picking shitty guys most of the time.
But Damon was different, and you cared for him greatly. The idea of him becoming just another name on your long list of exes was too much for you to think about, so you pushed any hint of romantic feelings towards him far, far down. Or at least, you thought you had. He might be just a friend, but he was still your best friend, which meant you’d had plenty of movie nights and sleepovers, which, you’d admit, probably looked from an outside perspective, like you were together. Maybe that’s what all your exes had been bitching about.
You weren’t together though; that much was clear to the two of you. With all the people you’d dated during your friendship with Damon, he might’ve dated (or at least hooked up with) more. There was nothing wrong with that, of course. It did reassure you, however, that he felt no attraction towards you. You had no doubt in your mind that if Damon wanted more out of your relationship, he’d try to get it, and he hadn’t tried.
Yanking yourself out of your thoughts, you felt Damon huff behind you, his hot breath hit the back of your neck. You looked up, but Damon’s hands spun you in his grip so that you were now staring directly into his chest. Your arms went up around his neck to steady yourself, since you felt a little off balance, but you should’ve known Damon wouldn’t let you fall. He had one leg bent slightly in between yours to stop your movements, and one hand left your waist, as he tilted your chin up with one of his long fingers.
His impossibly blue eyes bore into yours, as if he was about to compel you, though you knew he’d never do that. “Y/N,” he said again. “I asked you a question. Did you even hear me?”
You swallowed, “No, I’m sorry. What’d you say?” You leaned into him, but even you weren’t sure if it was an attempt to hear him better or just to be closer to him.
“Now are you ready to go?” he repeated, a bit louder this time. Your arms tightened around his neck, and your forehead dropped to his chest, your mind still processing his simple question in your slightly tipsy state.
You frowned. You’d been enjoying dancing with Damon, and from what you could tell, he’d been enjoying it too. You looked up at him, catching his eyes before shaking your head, your lips pressed into a pout.
His eyes narrowed a bit in confusion as his head tilted to the side. “I thought you’d be ready to go? I mean, that perv--”
“Damon,” you said, trying to interrupt him before he got himself all worked up over that douchebag again.
“--trying to force himself on you. Just--”
“Damon,” you said again, more forcefully. “Just dance with me, please.” You directed his gaze gently back to you with a carefully placed touch on his cheek. “Trust me, the best way for you to help me now is to get my mind off both him and you-know-who-else.”
He nodded, and you felt his grip around your waist tighten as he pulled you a little closer to his front. You felt his hips begin to sway a little more forcefully, and you were hoping, more intentionally. You let your nails drag lightly over the back of his neck and intertwine into his hair, letting your forearms rest against his leather jacket-covered shoulders.
As the next several songs played, lights and smoky fog swirled around the two of you, creating just the atmosphere you had hoped for. The bass thudded over the speakers, shaking the floor under your feet, and you looked up into Damon’s face. You couldn’t help but smile at the sheer fun you were having, and when you caught Damon smiling too, a small laugh bubbled past your lips.
At that, Damon laughed too, and his hands came up slightly higher on your torso as he spun you back around. He left a tiny space in between your bodies this time, so your ass barely hovered over his front again. You pushed your hips back, closing the gap between you, and flipping your hair to the music. You bent forward at the waist just a bit, an open invitation for him to pull you even closer. After a second of hesitation, he got the hint, grinding his hips upward against your ass.
‘God, he’s hot. But do I really wanna risk what we have already? Shit, is that what I think it is?’ Your inner monologue was running a mile a minute, interrupted by the feeling of something hard grinding up against your ass. Seems like Damon had made the whole risk-the-friendship decision for you.
“Fuck it,” you muttered, straightening up and leaning back into him completely, letting his body guide yours. Your hands came up, dragging slowly up your front, and wrapping around the back of Damon’s neck. You twisted your hands into his hair and pulled back. Sure enough, Damon’s head tipped back, and a tiny moan escaped his mouth.
Ha, so he was into hair-pulling, you thanked your horny fantasies for the idea, and turned once more in his grip. You tilted his head down to look you in the eye. His pupils were already blown, and when you pressed his lips to yours, he moaned again against you, this time much less hesitantly.
Your lips moved together perfectly, like you’d kissed each other a thousand times. The kiss itself left you breathless, and when he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, you softly breathed out. Raising your lips to his ear, you spoke over the music still pulsing around you, knowing he’d hear you despite all the background noise.
“Let’s go. Now I’m ready, just-- take me home, please, Dae.” At your words he pulled you out of the club and into the parking lot, one of his arms still wrapped protectively around your waist. Walking quickly to the Camaro and helping you in, he spoke for the first time since leaving the club.
“Your place or mine?”
“Yours.” All you wanted right now was to be surrounded by Damon, and anything that reminded you of him: his room, his scent, him.
He backed the car out of the parking space, turning and placing his hand on your seat behind you in that way you’d always found so hot. This time, you acted on that urge you’d always had to grab his wrist and place his huge palm on your thigh. He reacted immediately, his fingers squeezing your leg, though he never took his eyes off the road in front of him.
The ride to the Salvatore house was short, but it felt way too long. Finally, finally, Damon parked the Camaro under the carport, and helped you out of the car and up the stairs to the door. He unlocked the door, and led you into the foyer. As soon as the door closed, there was a whoosh of air around you.
Before you even knew what was happening, you were pressed up against the wall in Damon’s arms. His left arm had wrapped your legs around his waist, and the right was hooked under your thigh as you leaned against the wall for support, his hand not quite touching your ass. He pressed his forehead to yours again, before pulling back just a little.
His left arm had released your legs now that you were settled and was now pressed to the wall beside your head. He looked you deep in the eyes and spoke, his voice much huskier than it was normally. “Do you want this, baby?” You nodded, and he shook his head slightly, “No, tell me you want this, Y/N.”
“I want this. Damon, I need this, please,” you begged him, not even caring that you probably sounded whiny. “Please, just give it to me, pl--”
That was all he needed to hear. Immediately, you were cut off by Damon’s lips pressed to yours, and this time, the kiss was much hungrier. All teeth and passion, and you let yourself be swallowed in him. Your senses were overwhelmed with Damon, everything was Damon, and he’d hardly even touched you yet.
The wall fell away from your back, and with another whoosh, suddenly you were upstairs in Damon’s room, being held over that same bed you’d taken so many naps on. Damon threw you on the bed, and immediately you missed his warmth. He sped around the room, flipping on the light in the bathroom so you could see better, closing and locking the door. A rush of air hit you in the face, and suddenly, he was back on top of you, kissing and licking, making his way from your mouth to your jaw.
Once he made his way to your neck, he stopped, eyes closed, breathing deeply. You gasped and held your breath, tilting your head to the other side. His eyes flicked up at you as you exposed your neck to him, accentuating all the tendons and veins that you guessed were driving Damon insane.
His eyes turned red, and veins prickled up around his eyes, you’d guessed right. He turned away, trying to gain control of himself. You reached for him, turning his face back towards you. His mouth hung slightly open, as he gasped, overwhelmed, and you could see that his fangs had descended and were glistening in the light from the bathroom.
“It’s okay, Damon. I trust you,” you breathed, guiding him back to your neck. He inhaled deeply, dragging his tongue flat along your jugular, unable to stifle his moan at the taste of you.
“You’re so good, Y/N. So good for me, baby.” You whined in response to his praise, feeling your panties get even slicker. “Wanna taste you. Wanna taste all of you,” he rasped in your ear.
“So do it,” you gasped in response. You could feel him breathing back along your neck, feel the sharp points of his fangs scraping so gently across your skin they didn’t even break the surface. “You can do it, Damon,” you urged. You had to admit, the idea of him feeding on you was unbelievably hot. Had it been anyone else, you would’ve said ‘fuck no,’ but this was Damon, your best friend, the one you’d apparently had a crush on for a long time with the way your body reacted to him, despite your insistence that you never fell for him.
Despite your encouragement, you could tell that he was still trying to reign it in. “Damon--” you started, but he cut you off, “Soon. I will soon. Wanna taste you somewhere else right now.”
With that, he continued his assault of kisses and nips down your body, yanking your top and bra off unceremoniously and pausing to latch on to each of your nipples equally. Swirling his tongue around one sensitive peak while his fingers teased the other, he licked and sucked until you cried out from oversensitivity. Then, he switched and gave your other nipple the same treatment, all the while rutting his hips against the side of the bed to get some relief for his now-fully hardened cock.
“Damonnn,” you whined helplessly, pushing his head off your chest and downward towards your bucking hips. “Touch me, please.”
Your whine seemed to have activated something in Damon. He raised his head to look you in the eye and chuckled darkly. The sweet and concerned Damon you’d known and seen in the club had disappeared. Now, laying on top of you, was the cocky, confident predator you knew a lot of other people saw in Damon. But you’d rarely encountered this side of him yourself.
“Oh, but princess, I have been touching you. Been touching you this whole time. Do you want me to stop?” He stood up straight, yanking on the sleeves of his black leather jacket before tossing it over to the chair at the end of his bed. His sideways smirk revealed how amusing he found your situation.
“No! Damon, just-- please!” you panted, getting more and more desperate for some kind of release. He laughed again, trailing a singular finger up and down your side to watch you squirm.
“Patience, my sweet girl, I’ll give you what you want, but you’ll have to behave. Can you do that? Can you be a good girl for me?” You nodded furiously, but Damon just tutted, “Speak when you’re spoken to, Y/N.”
“Yes, Damon, I can be good.”
“Yes, Sir,” he corrected you, unbuttoning his black button-up and letting it hang open over his shoulders.
“Yes, Sir,” you repeated, embarrassingly feeling yourself getting wetter at the sight of his bare chest. You squirmed again and squeezed your thighs together to try and relieve some of the arousal that was now ruining your panties.
“Like what you see, do you, baby?” Damon smirked again. “And all this time we’ve been best friends, having sleepovers and movie nights, being with other people, I could have been absolutely destroying. This. Sweet. Cunt.”
You shivered at his tone and the pure filthiness of his words, and with each word he punctuated, he took a tiny step forward, as if stalking prey, until he was standing in between your legs that hung off the side of the bed. He placed one hand on each thigh and squeezed, stilling any motion and removing any friction you’d been getting from rubbing your legs together.
You whined, resisting him, but as expected, you were no match for his strength. Lifting your hips with one of his huge hands, he found the zipper of your skirt easily and jerked it down before yanking the tight material off of you. You thanked him silently for not just ripping it off, like you knew he was perfectly capable of doing. That skirt was one of your favorites. Although, the idea of him ripping your clothing off of you was certainly one you tucked away for later.
Seconds later, your skirt was lying discarded on the floor somewhere behind Damon, and he was kneeling in between your legs. He pushed your thighs further open and held them there, his breath hot and wet on your already clenching pussy.
The lacy material of your panties was already soaked through with your slick, and his breathing got deeper the closer he got to your core. You squirmed more as he approached-- so close to giving you what you wanted. But Damon always was one for drama. His eyes narrowed as he looked up at you with that signature smirk of his. Keeping eye contact with you, his fingers wandered, pushing your panties aside and exposing your pussy to the cool air.
Dragging his finger so lightly up your slit, he continued his teasing until finally you whined aloud in protest. “Please, just keep going-- please, Da-- Sir,” you corrected yourself hurriedly. Luckily for you, Damon chose to overlook your little slip up and agreed you’d had enough teasing.
He yanked the damp fabric of your panties down and off your legs, tossing them over his shoulder. Spreading your lips, he dove face first into you. His arms looped underneath your thighs, and he tightened his grip on your thighs, giving himself more room to pleasure you.
He slipped one finger into you as his tongue flicked your clit, and you gasped, causing Damon to smirk against you. You fisted your hand in his hair and threw your head back at the feeling. Damon took the opportunity to slip another finger in, and you felt him slowly start to open you up.
He lifted his head up and made eye contact with you, just as his finger found your g-spot. You groaned, your back arching involuntarily, and Damon moaned at the sight of you squirming underneath him. His fingers crooked and pressed repeatedly against the spot, and he watched, mesmerized by your reaction.
The sounds you were making were heavenly, and though he’d like to remain calm, cool, and collected, your little noises were making him hungrier than he’d like to admit. Without removing his fingers from you, he bent his head forward again, licking and nipping at your hip bones. The veins around his eyes appeared again, and when he stretched his neck from side to side, displaying the muscles and tendons, his fangs glistened in the dim lighting.
Ducking his head back down to your hips, he let his fangs drag lightly over your skin. You gasped as the faintest line of red appeared against your hip, and you watched as Damon pressed his tongue flat against your skin. He moaned at just the tiniest taste of you, and instantly, you wanted him to feed from you more than anything else in the world.
“D— Damon, please,” the high pitched whine fell from your lips. “Please— Sir, just feed from me.” You tilted your head far to the side, completely exposing your neck to him. His eyes grew impossibly darker, and with a whoosh, suddenly he was hovering over you, jeans and boxers gone, his thick length pressed against your lower stomach.
He intertwined his fingers with yours, pressing them against the mattress on either side of your head, and forcing you to make eye contact with him, he asked you again, “Y/N, are you sure, baby?”
In his lustful, yet almost concerned eyes, you saw your best friend, and you had never been more sure of anything. You nodded and whimpered, “Yes, please. Take me, D.”
With your reassurance, he slid his cock through your wet folds, pumped himself a couple times, and lined himself up. With a groan, he pushed into you slowly, leaving you time to adjust as he panted, forehead against your shoulder.
“What do you need, baby?” his voice was raspy against your ear, and you shivered. “Move, please—” he nipped at your ear, “—Sir, fuck me, please,” you begged.
“You beg so pretty, princess,” Damon whispered, as he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in. You cried out at that first thrust, thinking that nothing had ever felt that good, but then, Damon snapped his hips forward again and again, finding a rhythm that kept you moaning. Those noises you were making were going straight to his dick, and he was determined to pull them from you as long as possible.
“You’re so good for me, baby. So beautiful, so tight, fuck, that’s my pretty girl,” he was almost rambling nonsense at this point, but it seemed like every time he spoke, he felt your pussy clench around him.
“Damon, Sir, please,” you cried again, baring your neck to him. The heat in your core was building, and you could tell he was just holding himself back, but you wanted, no, needed this from him. The veins around his eyes that had faded a few minutes before came creeping back, and he licked his lips before licking a long stripe straight up your neck, right along your jugular.
“Okay, princess. Shh, shh, I got you,” he hushed your cries. “Just trust me, baby.”
Damon quickened his pace and lifted your hips up, just slightly changing the angle. He wrapped your legs around his waist, and holding himself up with his arms, he fucked into you harder, hitting just the right spot to make you scream. Over and over, he thrust into you before pulling out and flipping you over flat onto your stomach. He entered you again, and pushing your legs together, he groaned at how tight you were. Jockeyed above you, he had the perfect angle to hit your g-spot, and his shallow thrusts did just that, hurling you closer and closer to your climax.
He hadn’t told you not to come without his permission, but the question left your mouth anyway, “Sir, I’m close. Please Damon, let me come, please!” you babbled. At your words, he pulled out again, and you whined pathetically, before he lifted you, laying you down on your back again, mumbling against your cheek, “Wanna see your face when you come on my cock.”
“Ahh— Damon, I’m so close. Please, please make me come. I wanna come for you!”
“Yeah? Wanna come for me, baby? All over my thick cock. Want me to fill you up too? Come in you till it’s dripping out of that tight, little pussy. Yeah, princess. That’s my good girl.”
Elbows on either side of your face, he leaned over you. Grabbing your jaw, he gently turned your head to the side and brushed your hair away from your neck, leaving you exposed to him. His hips pumped steadily into you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
He pressed his lips hard to your neck, sucking lightly, and then more harshly. When his fangs pierced the skin, that was the push you needed.
Your orgasm hit you with full force, fueled by the high, floaty feeling that Damon’s teeth in your neck gave you. Seeing white, you came so hard, you barely noticed when Damon pulled away from your throat, blood dripping from his lips and fangs, to watch your face as your body convulsed underneath him.
The blood and your orgasm seemed to send him over the edge too. With a guttural groan, his cock pulsed and twitched as he came inside of you. Lapping the few drops of red left on your neck, his thrusts slowed to a stop, and he left feather-light kisses over the broken skin.
Damon held you close, soothing you and running his fingers through your hair until you stopped shaking. You wrapped your arms around him, and he kissed your hair and then your forehead.
“You okay, darlin’? You were so good for me,” Damon hummed.
“Mm-hm,” you nodded, “it was so good, Dae. So good.” You yawned sleepily. Damon had worn you out, and you weren’t even ashamed. His vampire stamina was incredible, but even right now, he looked satisfied.
He rolled off of you onto his back and pulled you close to his side. “Y/N, I’m gonna be honest with you.”
You half-sat up and looked at him. Was he really about to tell you this was just a one-time thing?
“Y/N, I know we’ve been good friends for awhile, and that’s how you see me, but I like you a lot, always have, but if that’s gonna ruin what we have, I’ll take it back right now. I don’t care, I just can’t lose you, Y/N/N.”
“Damon,” he turned his head to look at you, and you brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead.
“You’re not gonna lose me. I never allowed myself to like you because I thought you’d never like me, but if I’m honest with myself, Damon, it’s always been you.”
Damon took your face in both hands, bringing you up to him. He captured your lips in a perfect kiss, somehow conveying to you what words could not. You kissed him back, wanting him to know you felt the same way about him. When you finally pulled apart, he made a move to get up, and you whined, not wanting him to leave you, even for a second.
“Shh, shh, little one,” Damon kissed your hair. “Don’t worry. You’re coming with me.” He stood and leaned over you, reaching to help you up, but you wiggled away.
“Noooo,” you whined, rubbing your eyes. “Don’t wanna get up. Wanna sleeeeep.” Damon chuckled, and you kept wiggling. Suddenly, you were slipping off the other side of the bed. You shrieked, but before you fell completely, you heard a whoosh yet again, and Damon was clutching you tightly to his chest.
He snickered, “Might as well come with me. Now that you’re up and all.” You rolled your eyes at his smirk but allowed yourself to be carried over to the bathroom. Damon set you on the cold counter before grabbing a washcloth and a towel. The stone of the counter was cold against your bare skin, and you beckoned him towards you again. He stepped forward, and you leaned into his warm chest. He kissed your head before pulling back.
“You want a bath? Or I can just clean you off with this,” Damon asked, holding up the washcloth. You considered your options. You were exhausted and really just wanted to sleep, but Damon offering to take a bath with you? That might be too much to pass up. Besides, you were sweaty from the hot club, and Damon’s cum was still leaking out of you, after all.
“Bath, please,” you said, and Damon smiled. “You got it, princess.” He picked you up and set you on the toilet, “Use the bathroom first. It’s not good to keep all that stuff inside you.” You nodded, and he stepped away. He ran the bathwater and added bubbles, grabbing a couple more towels, which he placed on the counter.
When you were done with your business, he helped you into his bathtub before stepping in behind you himself. He sat down and leaned against the cool wall of the tub, placing you gently between his legs. His heart almost burst when you leaned back against him and snuggled in, resting your cheek against his chest.
He pushed your hair back away from your face. Cupping water in his hands, he gently let the warm water trickle over your head. Using the shampoo and body wash on the side of the tub, he gently lathered them over your hair and body, his hands tracing your skin, making sure every part of you was clean.
When he’d gotten every area except for one, he grabbed the washcloth and urged you to lean back against him again. You did, and he reached down, gently pushing your thighs apart. “I’m just gonna clean you up, okay, baby? Is that okay?”
You nodded, and relaxed as he gently brought the washcloth between your legs, slipping it through your folds and lovingly caring for you as if he’d done it all his life. Somehow, this felt more intimate than anything you’d done in bed with him, and you felt yourself blush as he worked. He must’ve noticed it too, because he stopped, brushing the back of his hand gently over your cheek as if soothing you.
“All done, princess,” he said, so you sat up so he could get out and towel off. He pulled the plug, and as the water started draining, he took your hands, helping you stand, before wrapping you in a towel. He lifted you up out of the tub and set you gently on the mat before rubbing all over your body with a second towel. You were shivering, so he handed you a t-shirt and some boxers from his dresser. You put them on gratefully, and went to lay back down in the bed.
Soon, Damon joined you again, this time wearing boxers. He climbed into bed with you, and you immediately curled into his side. He wrapped his arm around you, and you sighed sleepily.
“Hey Damon?” You mumbled, yawning.
“Yeah, Y/N?”
“Are we--?”
He chuckled as you trailed off, “Let’s have that discussion in the morning, baby. Sometime when you aren’t too tired to think.”
“Mmm, okay,” you whispered.
“Go to sleep now, angel. I’ll see you in the morning.”You sighed in response, already drifting off to sleep. Damon smiled to himself, content as he too closed his eyes. Guess sometimes he does get the girl.
A/N: thank you so much for reading!! if you made it this far, let me know in a comment, and PLEASE consider reblogging— it’s more helpful than you know. and i really can’t do anything without motivation <3
Excited to share my new WinterIron fic! I tried something out of my comfort zone with this story and gave these two a lovely shopping date. This is the biggest wc I’ve hit with a one-shot, so double excitement. Enjoy!
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Tony Stark
Tags: No Powers AU, Sugar Daddy!Bucky, Established Relationship, Age Difference, Lingerie, Semi-Public Sex
Summary: With Bucky’s promotion’s party this weekend, Tony’s taken on a surprise afternoon shopping session in search of clothes for the occasion. They just may or may not have spent all of it at Bucky’s regular sex shop.
Wordcount: 6,270
Created for: @avengersbingo — Opposites Attract / @bingowinteriron B2 square — “You know I’d do anything.” + [june] monthly prompt — Next Steps / @allcapsbingo [june] monthly mission — AU: Sugar Daddy / @slashmultiverse's June Pride Prompts event, Day 02 — Formal wear / @buckybarnesbingo adopted prompt — Dora Milaje / @multifandom-lover — Sex Shop / @thebo3bingo — Peaceful Moment / @buckybarnesevents’ Hot Bucky Summer Week 3 — “Where do you want me?” / @marvelrarepairbingo’s Summer Splash/Pride Month — Sex in an adult shop (NSFW card #3) / @anyfandomkinkbingo — Oral Sex
Excerpt:
Bucky smiled at him, his close-mouth beautiful smile said for him everything he sometimes couldn’t express with words. “I have to thank you for that too. So, about the party … how does it sound? Do you want to come with me?”
“So you can show me off in front of the big names of the company? I’d never say no to that!” Tony was so excited, sitting at the edge of his chair and almost losing balance.
“C’mon, Tony. You know that’s not it,” Bucky chuckled.
“Yes, yes. I know. But they deserve to see the young beautiful man you’ve got for yourself, I’m just saying,” he shrugged, maybe trying to get Bucky to blush or maybe not.
“You realize you’re just complimenting yourself with every line you say, don't you?”
“The question is, why aren’t you complimenting me?”
A/N: When I first told @treat-winchesterswith-kindness this idea, she was like, “you’re sadistic”. But then she read it and I’ve changed her mind. I have no idea where I got it from, I think I read it in a fic back in like, 2012 (???) and it just came to my mind when I was writing this fic. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy. Don’t judge me. Beta’d by my loves @treat-winchesterswith-kindness and @deangirl93 🤍 GIF is mine.
You can also read me on Ao3!
DESTIEL MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST
“I guess I’ll just get off all by myself, then,” Dean shrugged, crossing his arms and tilting his head in an act of defiance, as he watched Cas stop in his tracks and turn around slowly.
“What did you just say?” His voice was deeper than usual, a mix of disbelief and anger seeping into his words.
“I said,” Dean took a step towards him, standing his ground, “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.”
Cas looked like he didn’t quite know how to respond to that. Maybe it was his fault for throwing himself into his work so much so that Dean had felt neglected. They weren’t anything exclusive – not technically – but neither of them were seeing anyone else. It wasn’t just because of the great sex they were having with eachother, either. They didn’t want to see anyone else. Not that they’d ever admit that to one another.
Cas sighed, mimicking Dean’s stance only a few feet across from him, his arms folding over his chest causing his biceps to bulge underneath his suit jacket which didn’t go unnoticed by Dean. “Will you, boy ?” Cas finally said in response to Dean’s claim, his eyes squinting as his head tilted to the side. He took another step closer. “Because you remember what happens when we break rules, right?”
Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes. Whether it was on purpose or not, it pissed Cas off just the same. “Wasn’t aware there were still any rules to follow.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve been so preoccupied with your work that you haven’t so much as glanced in my direction. We haven’t fucked in a week. It’s been even longer since we’ve done a proper scene. What the hell do you expect me to do, Cas? Wait ?”
“Yes, actually,” Cas retorted. “I am sorry that I have been… busy lately. This is just a huge case, but it will be over soon, I promise.”
“Yeah? When is ‘soon’?”
Cas took a deep breath. If Dean was trying to push every last button he had, it was working. “Next Thursday, hopefully. But if you can’t wait until then, go ahead.”
Dean’s face morphed into one of confusion. “Go ahead?”
“Go ahead,” Cas repeated. “That is what you want, isn’t it? A release? I can’t guarantee that it’ll be as pleasurable if you do it by yourself but I can’t stop you, if that’s what you want to do.”
“So you’re givin’ me permission?”
“I’m giving you a choice, like I always do. You can wait and we can have a good time, or you can get off right now and face the consequences.”
Dean ran his hand down his face in frustration as he bounced anxiously on his toes, trying to weigh the pros and cons of each choice. Next Thursday was a whole eight days away. No way in hell could he wait that long. If he got off now, it’d all but force Cas to do something about it, right? Maybe not something he’d like, but it’d be something . But then that wouldn’t be being a very good boy, and Dean does like how Cas rewards him when he’s been good. But, fuck that. He’d get a reward anyway after whatever punishment he’d have to suffer through.
“God, fuck you, man,” Dean finally said after some thought.
Cas raised his eyebrows. “I assume this means you’re not going to wait?”
“No. Fuck you and your waiting. My balls are gonna fall off.”
“You’re sure?” Cas asked, the same way he always does – his way of giving Dean one last out to make the right choice.
Dean responded by trying to walk past him to the bedroom, but Cas caught him by his arm in a firm grip.
“What?” Dean hissed.
“I’m allowing you to make your choice, but you’re going to make it right here.”
Dean gulped. “Cas –”
“Go get a towel and the lube and come right back,” he ordered, his blue eyes a shade darker than normal.
Dean debated locking himself in the bathroom as he made his way towards it, but figured that whatever punishment he was going to receive for choosing this and mouthing off was already going to be bad enough.
He was back in the living room in no time, a towel and bottle of lube in hand, staring at Cas as he waited for further instructions. Cas had sat down on the couch, his case papers spread out on the coffee table, the end of a pen in between his teeth as he glanced over them. He knew Dean was there, but he was being demanding enough tonight; he could wait a few more seconds.
A minute passed before Cas finally acknowledged the other man in the room. “Go ahead,” Cas said, in a tone that translated to, ‘what are you waiting for?’.
Dean tried not to let the blush creep up on his cheeks as he undressed himself fully and kneeled down on the towel. It’s not like he’d never jacked off in front of Cas before, so he wasn’t sure why he was beginning to feel shy about it now.
“Are you regretting your choice?” Cas asked, noticing Dean’s hesitation.
“No,” he snapped, quickly. He wrapped his hand around his shaft and tugged a few times, getting him hard in seconds thanks to a week of built-up frustration. He tried his best to ignore the pair of eyes he could feel watching his every move as he poured some lube in his palm and grabbed his cock again. Fuck, it felt good. He’d been good all week. He’d listened to Cas’s rules, he hadn’t touched himself – he deserved this. He closed his eyes and pictured Cas’s mouth where his hand was, and that was enough to make him fully forget that Cas was there watching him for the next few minutes.
Dean came with the image of Cas’s blue eyes looking up at him while he took every last drop of what Dean had to offer down his throat. It was a beautiful image, but then Dean came back to reality as he opened his eyes and looked over at his Dom, who was now leaning back on the couch with his ankle on his knee and his hands resting on his shin. He looked like a proper lawyer in that stance – still in his suit from his work day and a studying expression on his face. It would have made Dean hard in seconds had he just not come all over the towel beneath him.
After a moment or two of silent staring, Cas put both of his feet on the floor and scooted forward a little on the couch, his elbows coming to rest on his thighs as he made his hands into fists and placed his chin on them. “Feel better?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” Dean replied, but with the tone he used he might as well have said ‘duh, that’s a dumb fucking question’.
Cas sighed deeply, before sitting up straight. “Wipe yourself off and come here,” he commanded, the softness gone from his voice. Dean rolled his eyes – why was he being such a brat tonight? – and obeyed Cas’s request, coming to stand in front of the man not even a minute later. Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and maneuvered him into his lap, his arms resting around Dean’s waist as he looked up into his sub’s eyes. “Would you like to tell me what’s gotten into you, or are you going to keep being a brat?”
Dean averted his eyes, choosing to stare at the fidgeting hands in his lap instead. He was feeling the shame creep up inside him, beginning a battle with his stubbornness as he decided whether or not he should at least try to be a good sub for the rest of the scene.
“Dean?” Cas pressed gently, sensing his hesitancy.
Dean took a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Was just feeling ignored, I guess.”
“Dean, look at me,” Cas ordered, the dominance coming back to his voice. He placed his forefinger and thumb underneath Dean’s chin, not giving him much of a choice. Dean’s green eyes met his, and Cas could read the emotion in them. “I am sorry that I’ve been so busy, I should have been more transparent with you about how busy this month was going to be. That’s my fault. But you must know it’s never my intention to ignore or neglect you, yes?”
Dean nodded. “Yes, Castiel.”
“And similarly, you know that if you’re frustrated with me, it is not acceptable to communicate that through blatant disrespect, correct?”
“Yes, Castiel,” Dean replied again, barely audible.
“When you want something from me, what’s the one thing I ask of you?”
Dean gulped. “To ask for what I want.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because communication is important inside and outside the bedroom,” Dean recited, because it’s been ingrained in his head ever since he and Cas had started to see one another.
“Precisely. I’ve lost count of how many rules you’ve broken in the last hour, Dean, but I can say that you’ve earned yourself quite the punishment, wouldn’t you say?”
“Yes, Castiel.”
Cas finally released the gentle hold he had on Dean’s chin before helping him stand in front of him again. He held the sub’s hands in his own as he gave him his next instructions. “Go kneel in the bedroom. I’ll be there shortly.”
Once he had heard the bedroom door shut, Cas got up from the couch, running a hand through his hair and letting out a deep breath. If he was being honest with himself, he was at a loss with what to do about Dean. He had never been so blatantly disobedient before, and while Cas did feel bad that he hadn’t done a good job at making sure Dean was feeling cared for, he knew it was no excuse for him to act that way.
Remembering an… unconventional punishment that he had read on a Dom forum page a few months ago, he walked over to the utility closet and pulled down a bucket of hardware from the top shelf. Digging through the packages of nails and random screw drivers, Cas finally found what he was looking for – an unopened package of sandpaper. Placing it in his inner jacket pocket, he began making his way to the bedroom.
Dean was kneeling at the foot of the bed, his hands crossed behind his back and his head bowed, just how Cas had taught him. He flinched as he heard the door shut after Cas had entered the room, the anticipation of what was to come settling uncomfortably in his abdomen. He had never been such a brat before, and Cas was known to deal out punishments over the smallest infractions.
“Stand up and bend over the bed,” Cas ordered, and Dean quickly obeyed, keeping his hands crossed at the small of his back without having to be asked. He listened as Cas made his way around the room, opening and closing some drawers, before he came to stand behind him. He inhaled sharply when Cas’s hand came to rub at his bare ass, because he knew the gentleness of his touch would not last for long.
“I’m going to try a new punishment tonight,” Cas stated. “What are your safewords?”
“Green, I’m good, yellow, take it down a notch, red or Impala — full stop,” Dean recited without having to think about it — it was another thing that Cas had made him memorize at the start of their relationship. Dean appreciated the color system; his previous Doms hadn’t been kind enough to give him one, opting for one specific safeword instead. But he felt better when he had more than one to choose from.
“Good boy,” Cas praised, and Dean’s dick perked up at the words. It looks like he had another round in him after all — but he doubted he’d be coming again tonight. Cas had put him in chastity for weeks for less.
“Now, you will stay still and quiet for me. I want you to think about better ways you could have expressed your frustrations with me while I get you prepped for your spanking. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Castiel,” Dean practically squeaked. He knew what spanking “prep” included — a plug in his ass and a few hits with Cas’s hand before he would move on to whatever instrument he intended on using for the rest of it. But that wasn’t anything new . Knots formed in Dean’s stomach as he thought about what Cas could have possibly added to tonight.
Dean heard the familiar click of the lube cap, before Cas tapped Dean’s inner ankles with his foot, signaling for him to spread his legs further apart. Dean obeyed, and before he knew it he was feeling the cold liquid on his hole as Cas spread it around generously. Slowly but surely, he was stretched open with the help of Cas’s thick digits, and within minutes he was plugged up and aching for more.
Cas took the sandpaper out of his jacket pocket, tearing open the plastic packaging and taking out a sheet. It was 80 grit — not too rough but not too smooth — and he hoped that it would get the job done. He placed his hand in one of Dean’s at the small of his back, allowing his sub something to hold on to before he began.
Dean’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he felt a coarse material on his ass, and not the anticipated usual smack. Cas was definitely applying some pressure as he rubbed it in circles on Dean’s left cheek first, and after about 40 seconds, Dean started to feel the burn. He assumed it was sandpaper, which was honestly genius on Cas’s part, he had to admit. It didn’t hurt too bad in the moment, but if he was getting spanked after this — yeah, this was some punishment, alright.
After Cas was satisfied with the redness of the first cheek, he moved on to the other, and Dean was really starting to feel the lasting effect. He stayed still as Cas finished up, doing a good job at keeping the whines threatening to escape his throat at bay.
Cas stepped back to admire his boy. Bent over for him, plugged up, bright pink cheeks… and he hadn’t even started spanking him yet. “What’s your color, sweet boy?”
Dean squirmed with pride at the pet name. Cas was pleased with how he was taking the punishment, and if it meant that he got to keep hearing the praise from his Dom’s lips, he’d sit there and let his ass take all the abuse Cas had to offer. “Green, Castiel.”
“You’ve done so well for me, Dean. Did you think about better ways you could have communicated?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Good.” Dean heard a drawer opening, and then Cas spoke again. “I’m going to strike you thirty times with the paddle.” An involuntary whine of protest left Dean’s throat, and Cas raised his eyebrow. “Unless you want me to use the cane?”
“No! No, Castiel, I’m sorry,” Dean quickly replied, braving himself for the pain that was to come.
“I’ll add ten more on with my hand for the whining.”
Dean nodded into the sheets, scared to make any more noises because he didn’t want to fuck up again.
“Now, you’re going to tell me better ways you could have communicated with me after each hit. And when you’re done with that, I want you to count the remaining strikes. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Castiel.”
The first strike wasn’t as hard as Cas usually started with, but fuck, if it wasn’t painful. Dean silently cursed Cas for the sandpaper idea, or whoever gave him the idea of it wasn’t originally his, before remembering he had lines to say here. One , he counted in his head, as to not lose track for when he would have to pick up the counting later.
“I — um, I could have just told you how I had been feeling.”
Another strike. Dean winced. Two .
“I could h-have written you a note or something because I’m better at communicating when I write things d-down.”
The third hit felt harder than the last two. He could already feel the tears welling up in his eyes, partly from the pain, but also because listing out how easy the solutions to his problems could have been instead of disrespecting his Dom was really forcing the shame to sink in. Three.
“I guess I c-could have texted it to you, too.”
Another. Dean held back a yelp as it hit the plug at an angle that pushed it further inside him. Four.
“I could have p-politely asked for attention.”
Cas gave him an approving “mhm” before striking him once more. Five .
“I could have asked for a scene.”
Dean couldn’t think of any more after that one. Another crack filled the air. Dean’s cock twitched when the plug got hit again.
“Six,” Dean counted, trying not to moan. Between the shame, pain, and pleasure, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling.
“Good boy, you didn’t lose count,” Cas praised, forcing Dean’s heart to swell with pride before the seventh hit came down on him.
“S-seven,” he stuttered, because he knew eight was going to be the one to draw the first tear. Hearing Castiel praise him made him feel good, but being punished made him feel ashamed for the way he had treated his Dom. He deserved this, and yeah, he was going to cry about it because he needed to. All would be well again once Cas started on aftercare, but until then, Dean needed to feel every last drop and twist of the emotional rollercoaster of shame and praise that punishments so often put him on.
He choked out a raspy “twenty” through tears, and Cas held his hand at the small of his back for the last ten as he struck in rapid succession. With each hit he could feel the plug hit his prostate, and sobs and sniffles filled the air as he willed himself not to come, because he knew he didn’t deserve to. Cas placed the paddle on the comforter before soothingly running his hand over the globes of Dean’s now very red and slightly bruised ass.
“Shhh, you’re doing so well. What’s your color, sweetheart?” Cas’s voice is nothing but gentleness.
“G-green, Castiel,” Dean sobs, because he could handle ten more. He needs to, in fact, because he has to get through this punishment so he can forgive himself.
“Just ten more, alright? You’re being such a good boy, Dean. You’re doing amazing. I’d like you to count these too, please.”
Dean obeyed, his ass pretty much numb apart from the last six swats, to which Cas delivered right to his “sit spot” on his upper thighs.
He was still crying as Cas laid down beside him, Cas’s hand still holding onto Dean’s at the base of his back. Cas used his other hand to gently stroke Dean’s hair, shushing and praising him softly as he collected himself.
“You did so well for me, my love. So, so good.” Cas wiped a tear from Dean’s cheek as their eyes met. “You are beautiful, Dean. My beautiful boy.”
Dean smiled dopily through hooded eyelids as he relaxed, his cock still twitching with every line of praise Cas fed him.
“I’m going to run you a bath,” Cas said sweetly. “Would you like me to take you with me?”
Dean nodded. “Yeah…”
Cas slowly got up and gently took the plug out of Dean before helping him stand on shaky legs, picking him up bridal-style, and carrying him to the bathroom. He ran a towel under cool water before placing it on the toilet seat, inviting Dean to sit before he ran the bath water. As it was getting to the right temperature, Cas filled a cup with water from the tap and handed it to Dean, before looking in the medicine cabinet for the chocolate he knew he kept in there for moments like these. Sometimes Dean didn’t want him to leave his side when he was in a drop, so it made it easier to have aftercare essentials stashed away in every room of the house.
Cas broke off a piece of the chocolate bar and handed it to Dean, who ate it slowly between sips of water. The bath was ready by the time he was finished with both.
“Cas?” Dean asked as he looked up at his Dom who was holding out his hand to him.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Cas asked, crouching down in front of him and reaching out to cup his cheek.
Dean grabbed at his wrist, holding Cas’s hand in place as he leaned into it. “Will you get in with me?” he asked sheepishly, and Cas beamed with pride because the lesson on communication was already working.
“Of course, sweet boy. Yeah, I’ll get in with you. But I’m going to help you in first, alright?”
Dean nodded, taking Cas’s outstretched hand in his own and letting him help him into the tub. The lukewarm water felt good on his abused ass. He watched as Cas got undressed and neatly folded his clothes on the counter, before slotting himself in behind Dean, pulling his back to his chest.
“I’m so proud of you for asking for what you wanted,” Cas praised in his ear as he placed a soft kiss on his neck. Dean let out a content sigh as Cas held him close.
“Proud enough to let me get off again?” he asked sleepily, only half-joking.
Cas chuckled before — to Dean’s surprise — wrapping his hand around Dean’s shaft under the water. “Perhaps. But you’ll have to let me tease you a bit first.”
Dean inhaled a shaky breath. “Fuck,” he breathed. “Y-yeah — yes, Castiel. Anything you want.”
Title: (wanna be one with you) swaying to your rhythm
Pairing: Carlos Cervantez/GN!Reader
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 1,481
Warnings: Contains semi-public sex in a van, dacryphilia, edging, and a ruined orgasm.
Summary:
“You know better than that, cariño.” Carlos draws his fingers from you hole and meets your eye. The look makes you swallow, remembering that even though he has a generally carefree attitude, Carlos is a hunter too. “You know what happens when you’re greedy.”
“No.” Fingers twisting in the sheets you shake your head. “No, Carlos, please.”
Created for @anyfandomkinkbingo / Square Filled: “You're still horny? Didn't I fuck you hard enough last night?”
warnings/tags/advertising: power dynamics, daddy kink, orgasm control, brief breathplay, masturbation, fingering, oral sex (m and f rec), p in v, unprotected sex, bit of angst, bit of fluff, lots of smut
word count: 3,978
A/N: for @hswrites for enabling this insanity and finally making me write something for negan. fair warning, i haven't watched twd in ages but i do very much love jdm, so that should balance itself out. this fills the square "orgasm control" @anyfandomkinkbingo . also available on ao3 if you prefer.
Summary: After disappearing from the Sanctuary in a fit of jealousy, you finally find your way back home.
In hindsight, it hadn’t been your brightest idea to sneak back into the Sanctuary. You struggle fruitlessly against the hands encircling your upper arms as you are marched down a corridor. Stupid. You should have figured he would have guards on your escape hatch after you had disappeared. Alas.
You stumble as you are pushed forward without warning, and you manage to catch yourself before you fall. You find yourself faced with a broad chest in white cotton framed by black leather. Fuck. Stubbornly setting your jaw, you force yourself to look up, into Negan’s grinning, smug face.
“Well fuck me. Look what the cat dragged back in,” he drawls as his fingers grip either side of your chin, tipping your head back further. You scowl at him, but it only makes his grin widen. It’s all for show, though, you know. The stony look in his eyes says it all. “Wanna tell me where the fuck you’ve been, doll?”
The “Out,” is on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back. After catching Negan all up in the newest piece of ass that had wandered in off the street—again— you had taken off the ring he had given you, left it on your nightstand and taken off in a fit of jealousy and spite.
Only it had turned out that no matter where you went, as soon as someone just caught as much as a whiff of Negan or Sanctuary on you, you were treated as a pariah. Which was why, after almost two months of debating, you had swallowed your pride and snuck back into the Sanctuary through one of the lesser-known escape routes. You would rather be stuck here with Negan than stuck outside running from the dead as well as the living.
“Scavenging,” you eventually reply and Negan scoffs. You both know it’s a lie. “Oh yeah? You find anything worth scavenging, sweetheart?”
You don’t answer but keep eye contact the whole time. He’s not going to bulldoze you, not in front of his men. You can be just as stubborn as him if you set your mind to it.
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” Negan finally acquiesces, and you jerk out of his grip the second it loosens. “Get her fucking cleaned up and take her to my quarters. She is not to leave. Post a fucking guard,” he orders with a nod to the two men still hovering behind you.
You bristle when one of them grabs your arm again, and you elbow him in the gut before you can think better of it. “You touch me again, you lose a finger,” you hiss, and Negan barks a laugh as he walks away, amused by your attitude towards his men.
And maybe, just maybe, you had come back because you had missed that crazy, womanizing bastard after all.
Negan’s quarters are just as you remember. Utilitarian, uncluttered, the big bed dominating the space. You take a breath as you sink down onto the edge of the bed, fully expecting a lingering scent of something feminine. To your surprise, you only smell leather and laundry detergent and—Negan. You don’t dare to hope. They probably just changed the sheets recently.
You pick at a loose thread at the hem of the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing. They hadn’t even let you get dressed in your own clothes after that much needed shower and had just handed you a pair of briefs and a white cotton shirt. Negan staking his claim again before he even lays a hand on you, the cocky bastard.
The minutes tick by and you fall back onto the bed with a sigh. The mattress is soft, heaven to your back after spending so many nights cramped in abandoned cars or on the floor of whatever empty house you had found. Still, you don’t dare to close your eyes, settle for counting the fine cracks in the ceiling instead. You are going to be awake when Negan gets here, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Someone brings you food and water. You don’t know how long it’s been, but you fly upright the second the door opens, your heart pounding in your chest at the thought it might be Negan. You deflate as soon as you recognize one of the men who had manhandled you earlier, but you accept the tacky tray anyway. Your stomach growls at the smell and you scarf down the bland, unseasoned food. It’s still better than anything you had managed to scrounge up in the last few weeks.
Outside, behind the barred window, the sun is setting in pretty reds and yellows. You watch the day slip into night and still no sign of Negan. And yeah, you probably deserve that, the waiting, the not knowing. It’s only a fraction of what you had put him through.
You scramble to your feet when the door finally creaks open, the moon already high up in the sky. The only source of light is the small bedside lamp, casting the room in shapes and shadows, but you don’t need light to recognize Negan; you’d know his frame anywhere, the broad of his shoulders, the cocky jut of his hip, the long, lean legs.
“Baby,” you breathe, in an effort to mend fences, but he sharply shakes his head, the door closing behind him with a dull thud. He leans back against the faded wood, his eyes burning into yours. You self-consciously toy with the hem of your shirt—his shirt—and his gaze drops to follow the movement.
Negan wordlessly jerks his chin at you, and you hesitate for a moment, prompting a raised eyebrow. You shuffle forward a step before you shrug out of the t-shirt and let it drop to your feet. Your nipples pebble in the cool air and you are acutely aware of his eyes on you, can feel his gaze as intensely as you would his touch. On your face, down your neck, settling on your breasts rising and falling rapidly with each breath.
You can tell the exact moment he clocks the fading bruise on your ribs, his lips twisting into a sour grimace. He doesn’t need to know a walker had almost gotten you a week back. You take a small step forward, but Negan brings his hand up in a gesture for you to stop. He nods to the briefs riding low on your hips and you swallow thickly as you slide your fingers under the elastic to push them down.
You fight the urge to cover up as you step out of the briefs, leaving them on the floor with the shirt. Negan crooks his finger, beckons you closer and you take another step towards him. It makes you feel too exposed, standing there naked with Negan still fully dressed. He lets his gaze wander over your body, head to toe, again and again. You try not to squirm under the scrutiny.
He finally pushes off the door and saunters over to you. You can feel the heat of his body on your skin, even though he still isn’t close enough to touch you. You look up at him, take in his squared jaw, the fire in his eyes. Shit, he is still pissed.
“I’m sor—,” you start, trying to placate him, but Negan places his finger against your lips to shush you and you fall silent again, your heart beating a mile a minute. The two of you had had fights before, but never quite like this, and you’re not sure what he’s going to do.
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, drags his knuckles down your cheek. It’s too brief to lean into the touch. Negan traces a finger down your neck, over your collarbone and down your sternum, feather light touches down your body, until he stops to lightly stroke the soft of your lower belly. You tremble under the caress but make a conscious effort not to move a muscle otherwise.
His palm slides back up your body, only stopping to toy with a nipple, making you gasp. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly at the noise, runs his hand all the way up till his thumb presses in just underneath your jaw, his long fingers splaying possessively over your throat, tipping your head back. Your breath hitches and your pulse thunders in your ears. You know he can feel it, your heartbeat rabbiting against his palm.
“Who d’you belong to, sweetheart?” he rasps quietly, and you lick your dry lips, your body thrumming with dread. Anticipation. Both. “Y-you,” you stutter out. His grip tightens and your eyes widen. It’s not enough to cut off your air supply but you are starting to feel the resistance with each breath. “What was that?” His eyes are sparkling at you, part anger, part—something else. Oh.
“Only you, daddy,” you hurry to correct your answer. Negan hums in response, a low sound in this throat, and his grip eases. You suck in a deep breath on instinct, trying to ignore the low throb that is starting between your legs.
Negan steps closer to you, right up in your space, as he brings his lips to your ear, murmurs right against the shell, “That’s right, baby girl. Now. Get on the bed,” his hand trails down your body, pushes between your thighs without preamble, “and spread ‘em for me.”
You shiver, the muscles in your thighs clenching against his palm, so close to your pussy but not quite touching you, the ghost of it making your skin tingle. “Go ahead, doll. On your back,” he urges, and you nod, shuffle backwards till the mattress hits the back of your legs.
You scoot on the bed till your head hits the pillow, and you stretch out on the big bed, let your legs fall open. “Wider,” comes the instant demand, and you spread your legs a little wider. Negan’s growl sends a shiver down your spine as he comes closer, leans in to push your legs wide, the calluses on his hands dragging against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. The stretch in your muscles is delicious, just this side of too much.
“Hmm, there we go. Touch yourself, get that little pussy all nice and wet for Daddy,” he rumbles, and you feel a blush chasing up your cheeks. It’s one thing to touch yourself when you’re alone but it feels—different, doing it in front of someone else. In front of Negan.
You tentatively skate a hand down your body and between your legs, teasing yourself with light, soft touches along the crease of your thigh. Your breath hitches when you finally circle your clit, the pressure of your fingers sending a wave of pleasure through your body, hips hitching into the touch, eyes fluttering close.
“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he orders, voice rough, and you force your eyes open, looking at Negan as he keeps looking at your pussy, watching you run your finger down your slit to gather some slick before rubbing at your clit again. He shifts, reaches down to adjust himself, and you grin as you redouble your efforts and curl a finger into your entrance. Your hips come up to meet the intrusion and you sneak in a second, pump your fingers faster and faster with that obscene little schlick-schlick-schlick, teasing your clit with the other hand. You are so close, the beginnings of an orgasm already coiling in your belly, body tensing in anticipation of the final stroke to send you over the edge. Negan licks his lips, groans softly, before— “Enough.”
You still your hands, your breath coming rapidly, and you whine as you pull your free fingers free. So close. And he knows, can read your body like an open book.
“You think you fucking deserve to come?” he asks as he takes off his jacket. Yes, you think through the hazy fog of pleasure in your brain. He knees onto the bed between your open legs, smacks your thigh and you jolt. “Do you, Y/N?”
“No, Daddy,” you shudder out, and he hums, pleased. “Damn right, you don’t. Hands above your head, doll. And don’t move.”
You reluctantly stretch your arms up, holding on to your own wrist, as Negan moves in closer to you. He bites the inside of your thigh without warning, and you keen at the sharp of his teeth, the bristle of his beard against your skin. Your back arches and he pins you to the bed with an arm across your hips as he licks at your clit, then softly blows on it. You feel yourself clench on air and he chuckles, the sound vibrating right through you with how close he is.
“This pussy is mine, got that, sweetheart?” You bite your lip, nod, his breath fanning hotly over your sensitive flesh with every exhale. He licks your slit, hole to clit, and your hips jerk against his hold; the sweet suction of his lips closing around your most sensitive part sending your arousal ramping up high again.
“Jesus,” you breathe as he moves lower to tongue at your entrance, sucking at it, before pushing in with two long fingers without warning, making your toes curl with pleasure. “Hm, missed that sweet taste,” he says with a smack of his lips, the vibrations of his voice rippling over your skin, the rasp of his beard against your labia making you squirm.
You whimper as his fingers pump, curl, relentlessly, teasing against your g-spot as his lips seal around your clit again. In no time at all you are at the brink again, so close you can almost taste it, but just as you are about to peak, Negan pulls away. Fingers gone; mouth gone. You mewl in frustration as he sits back onto his heels with a shit-eating grin, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.
“Not yet, sweetheart, we’re not done,” he drawls, teasing, enjoying your misery. And God, you could kill him right now, your pleasure ebbing away from the edge oh-so-slowly with the sudden lack of stimulation, your pussy fluttering around nothing.
He pushes to stand, takes off his shirt and you let your eyes roam his naked chest, take in the scabbed-over cut on his left pec. That’s new. Your face briefly dips into a frown, but then you spot the necklace around his neck, your ring glittering at you in the soft light and your heart melts a little despite the games he’s playing. He had found it, kept it, and close to his heart at that. Suddenly, it seems ridiculously easy to forgi—
“C’mon, up,” he orders, and just like that the moment is gone.
You shift to sit at the edge of the bed as he undoes his belt with a clink, opens his pants.
You push to stand on shaky legs, reaching out to get your hand on his dick.
“Ah, ah, on your knees, sweetheart, Daddy wants to see if your little mouth is still as warm and wet as he remembers.” Jesus, your pussy clenches just at the thought of having him in your mouth. You sink to your knees in front of him, the bed against your back and he strokes himself as he steps closer. “Open up, doll.”
You do, drop your jaw, stick your tongue out, like you know he likes. He slaps the weeping tip against your tongue a couple of times, his salty-bitter flavor bursting in your mouth. You tease against the underside, and he groans softly before his hands twist into your hair, and he slides himself onto your tongue.
You do your best to get him nice and wet, knowing it will make things easier when—you gag as he hits the back of your throat too soon and he eases up for a moment before pushing in again.
“Let me, c’mon, know you can,” he mutters, more to himself than to you and you concentrate on relaxing, let him slide over your tongue, against your soft palate and into your throat. You suck in a harsh breath through your nose, the familiar smell of his musk filling your nostrils, as you swallow reflexively around the dick invading your throat, hands curled around the back of his thighs.
You sputter when Negan pulls back, only long enough for you to gulp in a breath, two, before he fucks back in. It’s messy and sloppy-wet and the sounds Negan pulls out of your throat with every shove of his hips are obscenely loud, your whole world reduced to the drag of his dick over your tongue and the pulsing throb between your legs.
You shift, clench your thighs as you swallow around him again, and he softly slaps your cheek, pushes his boot between your knees to keep you from getting any friction on your aching clit.
“None of that,” he chastises, his breathing ragged, and you groan softly around him as you are denied any relief once again. He pulls out a little just to jerk back in deep, letting your throat muscles massage the sensitive head. Your eyes start to water as you suck in desperate breaths through your nose.
“Jesus fuck, your mouth, doll,” he praises as he pulls out, a string of spit keeping your lip and his dick connected. You cough, swallow to clear your throat, taste the bitter precum on your tongue, your lips. “What do you say when Daddy gives you a compliment?”
“Thank you, Daddy,” you say, your voice raspy and raw and he cradles your jaw in one big hand, wipes the spit from your lips with his thumb. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
Negan helps you up, steadies you as you sway in place. He tips your face up with a finger under your chin, his eyes searching yours. For a moment, you think, dare to hope, that he’s about to kiss you with how he leans into you. He doesn’t. Instead, you are being manhandled back onto the bed, arranged to his liking on your hands and knees. The thunk of his boots on the floor, the rustle of clothes as he gets out of his pants. You tremble in anticipation.
You collapse to your elbows when two fingers sink back into your pussy without preamble, pumping once, twice before leaving you achingly empty again, your thighs trembling.
“Still soaked for me, huh, sweetheart? You wanna come?”
You swallow thickly at the thought. “God, yes, please daddy,” you mumble into the sheets, and he chuckles behind you.
“Hm, maybe later, yeah?” You jerk when the tip of his hard dick teases between your folds and his free hand curves over your hip to hold you still. His groan echoes yours as he presses into you, slow, making you feel every inch. The stretch is delicious, your body blooming open for him as if it remembers him.
You bite your own wrist to keep in the embarrassing noise that’s bubbling up in your throat when he brushes your g-spot before bottoming out, his fingers flexing on your hips.
You feel like your whole body is quivering with pent-up arousal, pussy rippling over Negan’s dick as you accommodate the stretch. He makes a pleased noise behind you, runs a hand down your back, before bringing his open palm down on your ass.
“Like a fuckin glove,” he breathes reverently, sex-drunk, and you clench around him, drawing a groan. God, you want to come so bad. He sets a languid pace that lets you feel every ridge, every vein, rubbing against your most sensitive spots.
“Daddy,” you whine as he sinks himself in deep. He grunts in reply, allows himself a couple more thrusts before he stills, staying buried deep inside you. You rest your forehead against the mattress beneath you and take a few steadying breaths. It feels like you are vibrating out of your skin with need, your nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body tingling, the touch of Negan’s hands on your hips red-hot.
“Yeah, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes, right before indulging in another balls-deep stroke into you that sends you scrambling forward. He pulls you back by your hips, and the noise that escapes your lips has Negan chuckling breathlessly. “So close, aren’t you?” Your fingers curl into the sheets when he pulls almost all the way out, teasing your entrance with the thick head of his dick, popping in and out of you a few times.
“Please, Negan,” you plead, giving up all pretense, your entire body trembling when he pulls out, leaving you achingly empty.
“Alright, sweetheart, alright.” He pats your thigh, softly, and you collapse onto your front, before he turns you over with ease. He’s a sight, fully naked, his dick hard, glistening with your slick, and your head tips back on a moan as he palms himself, the slick slide of skin on skin echoing loudly in the room.
“Please,” you breathe, your legs falling open to make space for him as he stretches over you, his hands next to your head. You slide your palms up his chest, let them curve over his shoulders to the back of his neck.
“Ne— oh fuck,” you choke out as he chooses that moment to re-enter you, fucking into you in one long stroke.
“Yeah,” he agrees mindlessly, and you can’t help yourself. You let your hand follow the chain around his neck, let your fingers twist around it just above your ring. He follows easily when you tug, pulling him close enough that your lips are almost touching, breath mingling between you as he settles into a torturously slow rhythm, Negan's forehead dropping to yours.
“I need—,” you start, the low pull of pleasure in your belly building in ever-increasing waves with every drag of his dick against your oversensitive walls, muscles clenching around him uncontrollably.
“Yeah, Y/N, fuck, can feel you sucking me in, such a greedy, little—” You tug him down the last inch to crush your lips together, forcing him onto his elbows, caging you in under his body. It tastes and feels like home.
You last two more erratic thrusts before your pleasure finally peaks, crashing over you in an overwhelming rush that has your vision whiting out for a moment with its intensity, your lips parting in a gasp against Negan’s, breaking the connection. He ruts into you, through the spasming muscles making you impossibly tight, and he grunts, groans lowly into your ear, beard rasping against your cheek, as he spills into you.
“Fuck me,” you laugh breathlessly once your heart has stopped hammering so hard in your chest, your hand running into the sweaty hair at the back of Negan’s neck. He snorts a laugh into your shoulder before pressing a kiss there. “Shit, gimme a fuckin’ minute, sweetheart.”
It’s only when your breathing has evened out, his body still heavy on yours, softening dick still nestled inside you that you dare to whisper a soft, “I’m sorry,” into his neck. Thinking about it now, the punishment of disappearing on him hadn’t really fit his crime of flirting a bit too aggressively with that new tramp. Unfortunately, your temper hadn’t made that distinction then.
He hums softly, pulls back just far enough to brush a strand of hair out of your eyes, his big hands framing your face. “You’re forgiven.” You hiccup a relieved little laugh, let him drag his thumb over your lower lip, pull it down a little. “But you ever pull a fuckin’ stunt like that again, sweetheart, I will fuckin’ hunt you down and make you regret it, are we understood?”
You nod shakily, giddily, steal another kiss. You have absolutely no doubt that he means it.
feedback and likes (or kudos) are very much appreciated!!
Square/s filled: Personal Trainer AU @anyfandomfluffbingo / Praise kink @anyfandomkinkbingo
Pairing: Personal Trainer!Bucky x Female!Reader
Word count: 3,781
Summary: Y/N takes up boxing, but gets more out of the sessions than she thought she would once she meets her trainer.
Warnings: Fluff, swearing, smut: dirty talk, praise kink, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up people)
A/N: Sebastian posted an Insta story for The 355 of him boxing and then the gif crossed my dash and this fic was born. So, happy reading and enjoy! Beta’d by my lovely @downanddirtydean.
Y/N walked in through the automatic doors, her heels clacking against the linoleum tiles of the reception area of the fitness center. Checking her watch, she sighed in relief as she saw that she was ten minutes early, giving her enough time to get changed from her work clothes into her gym outfit. It was her first session of boxing and while she didn’t mind working out, she was nervous to be taking something like this on. It was a lot more demanding, both physically and mentally, but she needed a change from her usual workout routine.
She knew her trainer was James, but she was yet to see him as he was a new employee of the gym, having started a few weeks ago. She found an empty locker and changed quickly, folding her skirt and shirt into her gym bag, placing her heels in the side pocket. She fixed the straps of her black sports bra, adjusted her tight, pink tank top and black leggings before she snapped the locker shut.
Checking the time again as she walked out to the training area, she leaned against the wall and observed all the gym junkies, those people that came regularly but didn’t work out like their lives depended on it, and those that were just there to scope out their next hook-up. Looking up at the clock to see it was about to hit 6:30pm, she glimpsed someone walking towards her from the corner of her eye.
“Y/N?”
She turned once she heard her name, feeling as if the temperature in the room had risen several degrees once she looked towards her new personal trainer. With short brown hair and the bluest eyes she had ever seen, he stood in front of her in a white t-shirt and black shorts, completely catching her off-guard with how damn good-looking he turned out to be.
“Yeah,” she squeaked out, clearing her throat and covering it up with a cough.
“Hi, I’m James,” he introduced himself, his pearly-white smile distracting her. “But everyone calls me Bucky.”
He had his hand held out for her to shake, which she of course hadn’t realized because of how lost she was in his features. She could tell that even under the thin layer of his shirt, he was incredibly well built. She was officially doomed. Jolting out of her reverie, she shook his head, offering him a small smile.
“Alright, ready to get started?” he asked, gesturing for her to follow him. “It’s the first session, so I’m gonna go easy on ya… but uh, that’s not going to happen from next week.”
“I wouldn’t expect it to,” she mumbled, chuckling nervously.
“Okay, first quick lesson,” he said as he turned to her, two long strips of cloth in his hands. He held his palms out, silently asking for hers, clasping them once she placed them in his. “I’m going to teach you how to wrap your hands, ‘cause the last thing we need is loose wrists. Right?”
“Right,” she muttered, watching his big, rough looking hands handle her small ones surprisingly delicately. She was in a trance as her eyes gazed over his thick fingers, admiring the veins and firm lines all the way up to his forearms, disappearing under the sleeve of his t-shirt.
“Okay,” he cleared his throat, tapping his fists into each palm before he held them up, widening his stance. “A couple of taps, let’s see what we’re working with.”
The first session went well, as Bucky guided her through all the different ways to punch and gave her some tips to work on her stance, making sure her hips were loose and moved with each hit. She was doing well with his instructions up until the time his hands landed on her waist, slowly making her pivot to show her the right movement of her hips. She pressed her lips together as he talked, trying not to think about the heat of his skin against hers. She was glad when she glanced up at the clock and saw it was 7:15pm, as the 45-minute session finally came to an end.
“Good job today,” he applauded, unwrapping his hand as he smiled at her. “Same time next week still good?”
She was about to agree, but for whatever stupid reason that she would analyze later, she raised her eyebrows and asked him the question that entered her mind. “Actually… maybe we could make it twice a week?”
“Sure you can handle it?” he asked in return, lifting an eyebrow. “Like I said… I’m not gonna go easy from here on out.”
She felt a heat radiate through her body as he looked at her intently, a cheeky smile on her face as she faced him. “I can handle whatever you’re going to do with me.”
He smirked, clearing his throat as he looked away. “Okay,” he replied, simply. “Just talk to Kate at the front desk and see what days work for you. I do Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays.”
She nodded, waving at him as he left and walked towards the men’s locker room. She had no idea where the confidence to say what she had said had come from, but she certainly wasn’t complaining about the way he responded, the way his eyes lit up with a familiar look of arousal.
It wasn’t the smartest idea, being attracted to her trainer, but it wasn’t like anything was going to happen.
-x-
Y/N was right when she said that nothing would come from being attracted to her personal trainer, but that didn’t mean the following sessions weren’t as equally charged as the first. The levels of arousal hadn’t dissipated by the second, or third, fourth, fifth or even sixth session. By the 10th, she was convinced that she was going to die by how incredibly frustrated she would get after 45 minutes, twice a week with Bucky. She may have been getting better at her technique, but that didn’t mean she was getting any better at pushing down her attraction. For the most part, she would be fine during the classes, until he would stop to fix something about her stance, and either touch her hips or her shoulders. With every trace of his fingers over her skin, her thighs would clench as the arousal grew between her legs.
Suffice to say, she was officially horny and there was just no way anything would fix that, no matter how many late-night sessions she had with her vibrator.
She needed Bucky to truly satisfy her needs, but she knew it wasn’t going to happen.
Her 12th session that would’ve happened on Thursday night as usual was changed to Friday, as the guy who had an 8:15pm appointment with Bucky had to swap with her. She wasn’t looking forward to her and her incredibly sexy trainer being some of the only people left in the gym before it closed at 9, but she didn’t exactly want to cancel either. When she arrived, she saw him sparring with a fellow trainer, taking the time to watch his moves. He was precise, never missing a hit or faltering, which only made him hotter.
Bucky started Y/N’s session off at the punching bag, instructing her through jabs and crosses, constantly giving her words of encouragement and making her feel good about how well she was doing. Halfway through, he led her away from the bags to the middle of the room. As he walked, he yanked the bottom of his shirt up, removing it as it was soaked with his sweat from his own workout before she had gotten there. When he turned to her, Y/N felt her words get stuck in her throat, her eyes scanning over his six-pack, biceps and thick shoulders.
“Okay, let’s switch it up,” he stated, smiling at her as if he wasn’t causing her brain to short circuit. “Crosses then hooks.”
He held up his padded hands, taking each of her punches and giving her an enthusiastic “good” or “amazing” or “great job”. She didn’t know how she was able to concentrate with him shirtless in front of her and looking like an Adonis, while she most likely looked like a sweating mess. He continued to talk her through her boxing, until he finally called it a few minutes early. They were the only ones left in the building, and the key card was usually left at the front for the last trainer to use to leave. Y/N panted heavily as removed the gloves, picked up her water bottle and took several gulps before she turned to him, wiping her forehead and neck with her towel.
“You were great today,” he complimented, a gentle smile on his face as he faced her.
“Thanks,” she breathed, beaming. She bit her lip as she shook her head, glancing away from him. “I… I feel great. Different, somehow. Good different.”
He nodded, understanding her completely. “I get it.”
“I’m-I’m sorry, I… I should go,” she stuttered, picking up her bottle as she swung her towel over her shoulder. “Thanks for tonight, have a great weekend.”
Bucky watched her turn and knew he couldn’t let her leave. He could tell from the way he had caught her looking at him that she felt something for him, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel attracted to her, either. She was stunning as she navigated this new form of exercise, and she was right… she did look powerful, which only made her that much more desirable to him.
“Hey, wait,” he called out to her, walking up to her as she turned around. “Let me help with those.”
He took her right hand in his, his blue eyes scanning her features before he looked down, slowly unwrapping the cloth around her dainty fingers and palms. The rough pads of his digits moved over her smooth skin, causing her breathing to pick up, the muscles in her stomach tightening as the sensation from his touch heightened her arousal. He repeated the action with her left hand, her mind fogging over as every sexual fantasy she had of him in the past several weeks resurfaced. He looked deep into her eyes as he refused to pull his touch away from hers, their gaze locked and unwavering.
“I…” she started, but stopped herself, unable to think straight.
“Shall we… take this somewhere more private?” he asked, knowing there were cameras in the main area of the gym. Luckily, there were none in the locker room.
She nodded and that was the only confirmation he needed. They walked through the gym, the sensor lights shutting as they left. They walked down the hall to the women’s lockers, her breathing erratic as she felt the warmth of his hand on her shoulder. She stood in the middle of the room, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt his hand skim across her shoulder blades. Her breath hitched as she felt him move closer, his bare chest pressed against her back, his lips close to her ear.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he muttered, pressing his mouth to the shell of her ear. “No idea what you do to me…”
Revelling in her newfound boldness, Y/N let her hand drop to the waistband of his black shorts, slipping down to the crotch and teasing him through the fabric. She sighed as she smiled, feeling him twitch against her touch.
“I think I do,” she whispered, continuing to arouse him.
Bucky’s hands slid down to her waist, pulling her close and letting the curve of her ass rest against his pelvis, his fingers dancing across the top of her leggings. He pushed up the hem of her maroon tank top, the pads of his fingers pressing against her skin.
“Fuck,” she choked out, trembling at his touch. “Your hands…”
“You like the way I touch you, don’t you?” His low voice rumbled in her ear, causing her to shiver against him.
“Yes,” she replied, breathing heavily.
“Tell me where you want my hands, doll,” he instructed, lightly kissing her behind her ear.
“I-I want…” she couldn’t speak, unable to comprehend anything other than his lips kissing down her neck.
“Show me,” he whispered, nipping at her sweet spot.
She moaned softly as her hand fumbled down to her waist and grabbed his, using the confidence she had gained because of him and bringing his hand down between her thighs. He smirked against her neck, his fingers slowly rubbing over her covered mound, building the pleasurable sensation within her.
“Is that what you want, Y/N?” he asked, his voice deep and husky against her skin.
“M-More,” she stammered, turning her head and looking up at him through hooded lids.
“Where do you want to cum, baby? On my fingers… or my tongue… or my cock…” His hands tugged her leggings down to her knees along with her underwear, his fingers finding their way to the apex of her thighs once more. “Or fuck, maybe we just don’t stop until I’ve made you cum all three ways.”
“Oh god,” she whimpered, throwing her head back against his shoulder.
Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips to Y/N’s in a passionate kiss, the heat between them instantly growing as he ran his fingers through her folds, feeling how wet she was. He moved them up to her clit, spreading her arousal around the swollen nub as he rubbed it in tight circles. She pulled away from his lips, a whimpering breath falling from her mouth as he kissed down her neck and shoulders, licking over her sweat slicked skin.
“Fuck, so good,” she moaned, holding onto the arm around her waist for support, her legs wobbly from the workout and from the pleasure coursing through her.
“So wet, love the way you respond to me,” he groaned against her lips. “So perfect.”
She moaned at the way he spoke to her as his fingers picked up speed, alternating between running against her folds and circling her clit, bringing her closer to her inevitable release. He sank them into her, a long, gasping moan leaving her as he thrusted his digits back and forth. Her legs quivered as she tried to plant her feet firm to the ground, but she was failing miserably. She felt her walls clench around his fingers, whimpering as his thumb circled over the swollen nub, and she knew it wouldn’t be much longer until he brought her over the edge.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he praised, looking deep into her eyes. “Want to see you cum on my fingers.”
“God,” she gasped, panting against his lips. “Make me cum… please, please make me cum.”
The words had only just left her mouth as the last swipe of his thumb had her moan out his name, her wetness coating his fingers as he slowed them down. She giggled slightly, a low hum leaving her as she watched him remove his fingers from her, bringing them to his lips. He moaned at her taste on his tongue, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Bucky,” she whimpered his name, the tone instantly making him harder. “I…”
“Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he demanded. “Use your words.”
“I want… I want your mouth on me,” she finally voiced, breathing heavily as his fingers continued to tease her.
Bucky smirked as he turned Y/N around, helping her strip her workout clothes off, letting her kick her sneakers off before he picked her up and wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing her back against the lockers. The metal cooled the sweat on her back as they resumed their passionate exchange, their lips moving roughly against each other’s. He ripped his mouth away from hers, small gasps and whimpers leaving her as he travelled down her neck and collarbone, his hands moving to her back and snapping her sports bra open, pulling it off her as he moved lower, sucking and flicking his tongue over her nipples. She steadied herself on her left leg as he dropped to his knees and stripped her leggings down along with her underwear, lifting her right and placing it over his shoulder.
Y/N threw her head back against the locker behind her, her hands in Bucky’s hair as his mouth pressed against her sex, his tongue running through her folds. She moaned loudly as her arousal grew, his skilled muscle lapping at her as he gripped her hips in his hands. She glanced down, biting her lip as she saw his piercing blue eyes staring up at her before he shifted his attention back to pleasuring her.
“God, you taste so fucking good, doll,” he growled against her thigh.
She couldn’t hold back her moans, and luckily she didn’t have to considering they were the only people in the gym now. She practically screamed as he continued his ministrations, sucking and licking her folds like a man starved, moving up and circling his tongue over her clit. He lapped up her juices, his fingers digging into her so tight she knew she’d have bruises in the morning, but she didn’t care so long as he continued to do exactly what he was doing.
“Want you to cum on my tongue, Y/N,” he breathed harshly as he pulled away long enough to inform her of what he wanted, moving his head back between her legs.
She whimpered as he slid two of his fingers into her, thrusting them and building up to her release, as his wicked tongue paid attention to the bundle of nerves. She was completely overwhelmed by the pleasure she was feeling in that moment, her hands gripping onto his short hair tightly as her walls clenched around his fingers. She was right at the edge, unable to speak through the cloud of euphoria.
“Fuck,” she gasped, her eyes shutting tightly as she felt the familiar coil within her tighten. “Oh fuck… Bucky! Oh god, fuck!”
He removed his fingers and moved his mouth lower, licking her folds as the dam broke, her slick covering his tongue and lips as he worked her through her high. She came down slowly as she breathed deeply, taking a moment to recover. She watched him through hooded lids as he stripped his shorts and boxers down, pulling off his sneakers and socks before he stood in front of her, stroking his already hard shaft. She smiled as their eyes met, letting him lift her up again as her legs wrapped around him once more, her arms around his neck. He wasted no time, lining up to her entrance and in one instant motion of his hips, he was buried deep within her as his dick was completely sheathed by her walls.
Y/N cried out in delirious pleasure he began to thrust into her, hard and fast, the lockers behind her banging as he slammed into her. He leaned in and kissed her roughly, the weeks of pent up sexual frustration finally being dealt with in the most erotic way possible. She moaned wantonly as she gripped onto his broad shoulders, the snap of his hips against hers driving her wild.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he muttered against her lips, smirking wickedly. “My cock deep inside you, fucking you hard?”
“Yes, fuck… yes, I want it,” she bit out, her fingers digging into his skin. “Love your cock deep inside me, fucking me so good…”
“Take me so fucking well, gorgeous,” he praised, his voice dripping with desire for her. “So fucking perfect wrapped around me.”
Bucky grunted as he picked up the pace, a yelp falling from her lips as she held onto him tight. His dick hit her g-spot with precision, practically pressing against her cervix as he reached deep within her, certainly deeper than any man had been before him. She was already close to her second release, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer.
He looked into her eyes, panting as he smirked. “You’re close aren’t you, doll?”
“Yes,” she cried, her nails scraping against his skin as she continued to hold his shoulders. Her core tightened as her walls clenched around his shaft, right on the edge of her blissful end.
“Cum, Y/N… want you cum on my cock,” he groaned, nipping at her jaw. His hips sped up as he chased his own release, wanting to get there with her. “Soak my cock, let me feel it.”
“Oh fuck… yes… oh God, Bucky,” she moaned loudly, her eyes shut tight as she felt the coil snap, his name on her lips as she covered his shaft with her arousal. “Bucky! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“Fuck, Y/N… fuck,” he grunted. His neck strained back as his eyes closed, his cock pulsing as he reached his high, warm ropes of his seed coating her walls.
His legs nearly gave out, his arm moving up and pressing into the lockers to support himself, as he continued to hold her close, his head resting on her shoulder. They stood still for several minutes, breathing heavily as their sweat slicked bodies still pressed into each other, unwilling to move.
“See?” He lifted his head and smirked down at her, his smile sparkling as bright as his beautiful eyes. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’d make you cum all three ways.”
“I didn’t doubt it,” she breathed out, her chest continuing to rise and fall harshly.
He chuckled, raising his hand and cupping her cheek, his thumb softly stroking against it. “I want to ask you something, and hopefully you won’t think it’s too forward.”
“Well… you’re still inside me so I don’t think it will be,” she stated, emphasizing the fact by clenching her walls around him.
He groaned before he cleared his throat, gazing deep into her eyes. “Do you want to skip the shower here and uh… take one back at my place?”
Biting her lip, she nodded as she giggled. “Absolutely.”
Finally pulling away from each other, they wiped down and got changed into their regular clothes. Bucky locked up the building and met Y/N in the parking lot, giving her the address to his apartment. As she followed behind his car, she couldn’t keep the wide grin off her face as she anticipated how much more he was going to let go of his inhibitions once they got to his place.
She knew taking up boxing classes would be the best decision she could make.
