Teaser from the next answered request where reader and bucky buy s*xt*ys:
“I should swat you for lyin’, y’know that?” Bucky rumbles in your ear. Fear prickles in your chest, you can’t tell if the thought excites you or scares you.
“I’m sorry, sir,” instantly you attempt to remedy, hands flat on Bucky’s chest before smoothing up to hook around his shoulders for a lack of knowing what to do with them. Bucky doesn’t mind any, just continues to feel up your ass; the tips of his fingers teasing the hem of your panties and threatening to disappear inside. Would it really be the worst thing?
“I should,” the soldier emphasizes. You hold your breath, half ready to be redirected over your boyfriend’s knee (it wouldn’t be the first time). “But I think we’ve wasted enough time fuckin’ off — I’ve gotten to see the sweet toys my bunny got me, but you haven’t gotten to see anythin’, have you?” The question is rhetorical, and you almost feel disappointed you won’t have Bucky’s hand warming up your seat with delicious swats.
