#helvonasche

[helvonasche]

Down Time

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Rating: NSFW

Word Count: 14,932

Warnings: Smut, fluff, mild angst, sex toys, truth or dare gone horribly right, and BDSM.

Listening to: Working Bitch by Ashnikko

Summary: Bucky trying to be helpful, too bad you can't be helped.

Author's Note: THIS IS A REPOST. And it's my work, I can do what I want with it. So, if this is giving you that deja vu feeling, it's because I posted this on 03/20/23 at 4:52pm CST. Since I'm only going to be reposting Past Lives after this.. um.. it's been fun?

Included the outfit the MC is wearing that I made before I posted this the first time, picture at the bottom.

REMINDER: Thanks for reading! I will not be continuing this, so please, I'm begging you, don't ask. I wrote this 2 years ago.. please just say thank you.. or you nutted.. or you are excited for Past Lives.. anything but asking for a part 2. I seriously hate it. Doesn't matter how nice you type it, it feels like a demand and in this fuck-onomy.. i have zero fucks left

Collapsing on the couch, you sigh and wait. It had been a very long day, and all you wanted to do was eat something, get a hot shower, and pass the fuck out. It isn’t until a few minutes pass that you realize Bucky isn’t inside yet. 

You lament loudly, struggling to push yourself up on the couch. Glaring at the door, you shout, “Buck! The fuck you doin'?!”

Met with only silence, you lean back and watch through the screen door—still nothing. More groaning and some muttered cursing, you stand and go to the door. Pushing the screen door open, you can see the jackass standing at the trunk and yell, “Dude.”

He’s about thirty feet away but heard you just fine. Jumping slightly as he looked over his shoulder at you, he points at the trunk and explains weakly, “Your backpack was open, and your stuff—”

“Close it and get cooking,” you say, leaning against the doorframe. 

Turning to face you, Bucky says, “I am, but your stuff is all over the trunk.”

Out of context, what you were about to say to him sounded rude. You knew it, and he knew it. But you liked to play games, and Bucky never seemed to mind. He had lost the most recent one, which meant he was basically your slave until you got back to the compound. You affectionately called this role: bitch. 

Rolling your eyes, you spoke loud enough for his super soldier hearing to pick up but not anyone else that might have the misfortune of being nearby, “Then be a good little bitch and pick it up. It’s not hard. Just shove it back in the bag, zip it up, and move your ass. I’m starving.”

You didn’t wait for him to reply and let the door slam as you went back to lying on the couch. Bucky was a good dude, but sometimes he could be frustrating to work with. He was literally old-fashioned and didn't have the same sense of urgency about things as ordinary people. Like when you hadn’t had anything to eat since the day before, gone on a mission, burned at least a couple thousand calories, and needed food. You weren’t the nicest when hungry, but he never seemed to care what you said to him. The most you’d ever gotten out of him was a dismissive eye roll. 

💙

Bucky was grumbling to himself as he shook his head. Back to grabbing your stuff that was scattered on the trunk floor and shoving it into your bag. He had been trying to put things back in a way that made sense and wasn't just shoving it all back in, but apparently, that had been a mistake. 

The last thing he picked up he didn’t recognize. Holding it closer to the light in the trunk, he turned it over a few times in his hand. It might be yours. Nothing else had been rolling around in the trunk, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. 

He turned the blue cylinder, which was maybe four inches long and an inch in diameter and covered in soft silicone. It looked almost like a flashlight, but there wasn’t anywhere to turn it on and no light. He wasn’t sure if this thing was yours but knew it wasn’t his, plus none of his stuff had fallen out. 

Debating on what to do with the thing, he knew that if it wasn’t yours and he put it in your bag, you would make fun of him. Nothing he couldn’t handle, and it might even be funny with some of the language you use, but he’d rather avoid looking stupid around you. However, if it was yours and missing, then he was the one that found it for you; you’d be happy. He might even get a ‘thank you’ out of you. That would be something notable.

Shoving it into his back pocket, he took the rest of the things from the trunk. As you said, more than one trip was for cowards whenever you lost. You didn’t have a vibranium arm that could handle carrying six grocery bags, two backpacks, and three duffel bags, but that never stopped you. 

His mind was back on what he’d found as he walked toward the cabin. It looked like that Bluetooth speaker you’d gotten last year, but it was much smaller. Maybe it was a toothbrush, or something he wouldn't even think could be that small. Bucky was curious to find out what it was, and you seemed to understand this stuff instinctively. 

Whenever you’d get new things, like the Bluetooth speaker, you’d explain what they were and how they worked. Yes, you were condescending, but that never bothered Bucky, and he didn’t understand half of what you said anyway. 

As he got into the small cabin, the electricity and water already turned on, he set the bags down on the small table. You were on the couch and looked almost peaceful, and you were almost cute when you weren’t scowling or cackling like a demon. It would be a shame if someone ruined this moment for you. 

Bucky, grinning to himself, picked up your backpack and quietly walked to the couch before dropping your bag on your chest. 

“The fuck, bro?!” you shout as you sit up and shove your backpack onto the floor. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, Bucky said, “Good, you’re awake. Go shower first, and I’ll handle the food.”

You grinned up at him, grabbing your bag as you said, “Baller.”

He tried to think of what that might mean but didn’t want another headache. Shrugging, he said, “Sure,” and then went to the kitchen.

As he got dinner ready, he didn’t mind this downtime with you. Out of everyone, even when you were angry, you were still better company than the others. You never pried into what he might be thinking about or bothered him, and you’re funny, even if it is unintentional most of the time. 

His favorite is how you make up games. He loses most of them but seeing how excited you get when you beat a super soldier is better than winning. When he first met you, he had thought you were like a little sister, but then you started talking and ruined any idea he might have had about you. 

💙

Not even five minutes of being in the bathroom, you have your entire backpack emptied on the floor and your hands in your hair as you stare at it all. Where the fuck is your vibrator? 

You knew that you had put it in the inner pocket of the main pack. You always put it there because it had a strong velcro closure that laid flat, and someone digging in your bag wouldn’t even notice it. Adding that pocket had been intentional to avoid precisely this situation. 

Taking a deep breath, you thought hard as you pieced together what you’d done with your backpack after packing it at the compound. You had ditched it in the trunk and then didn’t touch it until after the mission. Pretty confident that you’d only been in it once while driving to the cabin, you replayed the events to see if you’d done something. The idea that Bucky had found the pocket was laughable, and it was most unlikely that he'd take something that didn't belong to him. 

It was about halfway through the drive at a gas station, and you were cold. You got out and popped the trunk, digging in your bag and pulling out your sweater—anxiety rushed through you, and your shoulders and neck tensed. Your sweater had been caught on something, and you jerked it out of the bag. 

The sweater could have been stuck on the velcro and had been shoved in the bottom of your bag. The only reason you had been in a rush to get it out was that Bucky wanted to get back on the road, so you didn’t bother closing your bag. Fuck.

Glancing at all your stuff on the floor, he’d put everything else back, and he wouldn’t be able to tell your blue vibrator from a power bank. Back in his day, they probably still used rocks or wood. You grimaced at the vague notion of a wooden dildo, shuddering at the thought of splinters in unpleasant places before you were back on your feet and out of the bathroom.

You hoped that he might not have seen it in the trunk and that your toy hadn't fallen on the ground. Doing your best not to look like you were freaking the fuck out as you walked down the hallway toward the door, you were interrupted. 

“That was quick,” Bucky said as he leaned against the counter. 

No shit, it was quick. You hadn’t showered, and when you did shower, you had your blue vibrator. Showers should take a while; they’re fun. Instead of going off about that and resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you decide to check if he’d seen anything, “Question. When you said that my stuff fell out, did you grab everything or—”

“Are you missing something?” he cut you off and was leaning on the counter. 

He was too interested too quickly, and you panicked, “I dunno.”

Standing, Bucky grimaced as he grabbed the keys and pointed over his shoulder at the door, “I can go check—”

“Nope,” you cut him off, dashing around him and out the door as you shouted, “I got it, don’t you worry your pretty, empty head about it.”

Inside you were screaming. You’d fucked up. You shouldn’t have acted so weird, but now Bucky could tell something was up. It was too late, and you shrieked when the trunk popped open. Glancing behind you, you saw Bucky not even ten feet away. At the car, you gave it a cursory glance before you started pulling up the carpeting and running your hands along the edges.

“What do you think you’re missing?” Bucky asked as he came to a stop next to the car, “I’ll help look. I lost the game and… you okay?” 

“Fan-fucking-tastic, Holmes,” you hissed before looking up at him and adding, “Don’t worry about it.”

He leans on the car, and you can feel him watching you lose your mind as he says, “Maybe if you tell me what you’re looking for, I can help. What color is it?”

Butt-fucking Christ without lube, he knew. You stood, quickly weighed the pros and cons, then offered weakly, “Blue… I think.”

Bucky grinned, and you wanted to throw up on him as he said, “Oh, this?” Then he reached into his back pocket and explained, “I didn’t know what it was….”

As he pulls out your vibrator, your mind goes blank. Your favorite blue vibrator is being held between Bucky’s pointer and thumb. You aren’t able to process it, but notice how ridiculously small your toy looks in his hands. 

You take a deep breath, so you don’t sound strange when you ask, “Why was it in your pocket?”

“What is it?” he asked, and you knew Bucky had been playing stupid, but he wasn’t anymore. 

“You don’t want to know,” you say calmly, but still move quickly to snatch it from his hand. 

Before you even get close, he wraps his entire hand around your vibrator and holds his fist over his head. You can deal with how your toy just disappeared inside his hand later; it might be fun to think about—big hands and all the things that tend to go with them, but not right now. 

He stepped back and said, “Now I need to know.”

You hold your hand out and lie, “Give it to me, then I’ll tell you.”

“No,” he shakes his head before demanding, “Tell me, then I might give it back.”

“I don’t know you like that, man. Same time,” you try to distract him with cartoon logic, but it doesn't work. 

Bucky shakes his head again, narrowing his eyes as he says, “Whatever it is must be important….”

“It’s the only thing that keeps me from punching you in the face,” you sound angry, unable to hide it from your voice as you glare at him. 

He laughs before dropping his hand, “It doesn’t make coffee or whiskey. Quit lying.”

“It makes a lot of things,” you say as you take a step toward him and continue in a dangerous tone, “But I can guaran-fucking-tee you don’t want to know. So.” Barely a foot between you as you stare up at him, you hold your hand out and do your best to sound like you aren’t about to freak out, “C’mon, hand it over. Be a bro.”

He laughs and makes a face you can only describe as a combination of 2006 duckface and minute two of a colonoscopy before he shoves your vibrator into his back pocket again. He slaps his thighs and starts to back away, saying, “Nope, not until you tell me what it is.”

You whole ass panic, slamming the trunk and running after him. The internal debate about tackling him and digging in his back pocket is brief but unnecessary as you shout, “It’s a sex toy!”

Bucky stops abruptly, pulling it out of his pocket, studying your vibrator as he asks almost too quietly for you to hear, “How, though? It’s tiny….” 

You manage to catch up to him as he’s going back into the well-lit cabin and hear him mutter, “This can’t be….”

“It is, and you are manhandling him,” you hiss as you reach around him to get it. 

Barely acknowledging you but keeping you at bay, Bucky asks, “Him?”

You give up, shoving his back as you say, “You have got to be shitting me.”

Bucky was looking at it. Like, really LOOKING at it. You had to be losing your mind at this point, but he started talking, “Didn’t think you’d be the type to… wait.”

He looks like he just found out about two girls one cup before he asks, “Is this why you take so long in the shower?”

“Well, this has been a real… shitshow,” you start to say, aiming your matching set of finger guns at the door before you add, “I’m just gonna go… anywhere else. Traffic sounds nice; maybe a volcano.”

Bucky steps in front of you and blocks the door as he rattles off questions, “Why’d you bring it on a mission? Do you bring it everywhere? Do you do that everywhere? I know that ‘everybody does it,’ but… wow.”

He had clearly been spending too much time around you; that’s what this was. You sigh, let your shoulders drop, then reach to take your vibrator out of his hand again. He’s faster than you, squeezing his hand around it and holding it above his head, but there’s something new this time. Instead of getting angrier, the muffled buzzing sound coming from his hand fills the room. 

You are staring into his shocked eyes as you come undone. It’s too funny. As you doubled over laughing maniacally, you didn’t miss that Bucky's face was turning a deep red, and he completely understood what he was holding. 

Leaning on the counter, you pull yourself together enough to say, “If you wanna borrow it, just wash it before you give it back.”

Your vibrator, still vibrating, is dropped in front of you on the counter. No longer in any sort of panic, you turn it off as Bucky keeps his back to you and says, “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Taking a seat, you point out, “You wanted to know, and now you do. I could show you how to use it. 

He rests his hands on the counter, still facing away from you, as he says in an exasperated voice, “You’re a deviant.”

“Jealous?” you ask, the irritation returning but at being judged. 

He didn’t reply or say anything else for the rest of the night. You were ready for anything he might say. Specifically that he was the one playing Keep Away with your vibrator, even after he knew what it was. Bucky was just as culpable for that exchange as you were; if anything, he was the weird one. Why did he care so much about what you did to relax?

After dinner, you took a shower but didn’t use your toy. You wanted to clean it, and you weren’t in the mood. Sometimes Bucky said things that would stick in your head and calling you a deviant was a particularly sticky word. 

It didn't help that he frequently appeared in your thoughts while using your vibrator. You probably shouldn’t do that anymore, but he’d never know. Plus, he had no right to look the way he did; it wasn’t fair.

💙

The following day was a completely different story. You grabbed your nonwork clothes, a towel, and toiletries with a special guest: your little buddy. After cleaning him thoroughly, then yourself, you were using it. 

Surprisingly, it didn't take you that long, but you had an idea about that. While you got dressed, you knew you’d never admit that the idea of Bucky using your toy on you had been the culprit. Along with seeing him holding it and how ludicrously small it was in his hand. Men like Bucky shouldn’t be allowed, but they were, and you were weak. 

You wore your usual relaxing clothes for the fall weather: gray leggings, black leg warmers, gray wool socks, a pair of black shorts with your favorite Pokemon on the ass, and one of your favorite t-shirts, plus the same black sweater that had been the cause of yesterday’s nonsense.

You weren’t mad at a sweater, but you also weren’t very happy with it. 

The shorts and your t-shirt made you smile. Bucky never seemed to notice what you wore, which was probably for the best. The only people who would notice and ask you about them were back at the compound. Your taste in clothing had more to do if it made you cackle the first time you saw it or if it was functional. You never went out wearing any of your silly stuff; it was for the in-between times, like today.

Leaving the bathroom, you put your stuff away in your room and hang your towel. Securing your vibrator in its pocket, you know you’ll be using him again. It’ll be at least another day up here before you and Bucky start heading back to the compound. 

Bucky. 

You hesitate before leaving your room because he’s out there and part of you doesn’t want to deal with him. So you try to talk yourself out of your room. Nothing to fear but fear itself or some shit like that. 

Even if Bucky had guessed what you did in the shower, he did it too, probably. All he had was specific information, but he wouldn’t do anything with it. This didn’t matter. He was going to be weird for another day or two, and then he’d forget about it and return to his usual, mostly dull self.

Feeling much better, you open the door and confidently walk out to the kitchen. Bucky is on the couch reading, and you say, “Morning.”

He didn’t look up or reply, apparently still giving you the silent treatment. You didn’t care and went to the kitchen to get some coffee. Even if he was butthurt, he still made coffee. You leaned on the counter, facing away from him, as you sipped coffee and checked your phone. 

Mid sip, Bucky said ominously, “I heard you.”

You choked and turned around as you coughed before you asked, “What?”

He still wasn’t looking up from the book, and it clicked into place. You sighed and went to get something to clean up the spilled coffee as you said, “Be a normal person and pretend you didn’t.”

“Or don’t do it,” he offered, and the urge to throw the coffee cup at him was hard to ignore.

You glared at him and said, “Or don’t listen, demand information, or—what?”

Bucky had a concerned look on his face, or he was fighting a burp. It was so hard to tell with him, but he clarified by saying, “Your shirt.”

Glancing down, you grinned, “What about it?”

“What’s it mean?” he asked, closing his book and narrowing his eyes at you.

“Bucky-boy, trust me when I say you don’t want to know,” you said as you finished cleaning up the mess, “You didn’t listen last night, and look where that got you.” 

You turn around to get a new cup of coffee, and Bucky asks yet another question, “What’s a ‘squirter’?”

Stunned for a moment before you remember your shorts, you giggle as you look back at him, “You sure you wanna know?”

He sets his book on the end table and gets up. Walking toward you, he asks, “Don’t you have another shirt that says something about that restaurant you and Lang keep talking about?”

Grinning wide, you answer, “The ‘I got pegged at Cracker Barrel’ shirt? Yeah, that’s a good one.”

Leaning on the counter and glaring at you, Bucky says sullenly, “Guess I’m not supposed to ask about that either.”

You take a sip of coffee before you say, “It’s for your own good.”

Setting the cup down, you go to the grocery bags and start digging before being interrupted by Bucky, “What are you doing?”

You shrug, “I’m hungry?” Then it hits you. The game. Shit. 

The most recent one that Bucky had lost started at the end of the mission. Just a simple race to the car, and you’d beaten him by maybe two seconds, but it still meant he was bitch until you got back to the compound. 

The handful of times you lost and refused to let him do much more than go to the bathroom without help, but that was the point. No one else played your games as dutifully as Bucky, making him slightly less tedious to be around. 

Instead of fighting this, you put your hands up and back away, “Forgot you were bitch.” You didn’t add that it was because he was acting like a bitch. That wouldn’t help anything. Bucky insisting on sticking to the game had to be a good sign that things would get back to normal in no time.

“What do you want?” he asks as you go back to the counter for your coffee.

You are so tempted to be rude but decide to play nice, “Whatever.”

Not paying attention to him, you scroll through your phone. Because of what you do, you can’t have any real social media accounts, and you settle for passively watching from anonymous accounts. Usually, looking at old friends or people you used to know before the accident that revealed your abilities, it was weird. Seeing people you used to get drunk with during football games getting married, and having kids, but it didn’t matter. 

“New game, no stakes?” Bucky cuts through your thoughts. 

You don’t look up from your phone. Seeing the happy faces and an occasional mention of how someone misses you or thought about you is distracting. You found two today, and they always walloped you. All your life until that point, you’d never been sick or had a serious injury, but no one thought much of it. It wasn’t until the fire you hadn’t gotten out of that it made sense. You’d passed out and woken up in the smoldering rubble, unharmed and staring up at Phil Coulson, who offered you a cup of coffee. Declared dead, you went with Phil and didn’t ever really look back, except for times like these. 

Bucky was standing near you, and you looked up, “What?”

“New game?” he reiterated, and you shrugged, so he added, “You can’t act like this isn’t uncomfortable now.”

Flipping your phone over, you point out, “That’s not a game.” He rolls his eyes and goes back to cooking, so you say, “And you’re the one with the suppressed sexuality and morality crisis. I’m perfectly content being a pervert.”

“So…” he started, glancing at you over his shoulder, “Be a bro?”

You cackle. This is precisely what you need to not think about sad shit. Slapping the counter, you explain, “We are not bros. We are barely homies. Just calm your tits and make me breakfast, baby girl.”

“See, that’s the stuff I don’t get,” he says as he continues to cook. 

This was how it was supposed to be. You running your mouth, and Bucky confused; the world made sense again. You grin and ask, “Where did I lose you? Was it the tits or baby girl?”

He points at you, then down to your shirt with the spatula, “The new game. You explain things, starting with the shirt.”

“Your funeral.”

“I’m aware. Shirt. What’s it mean?”

“Okay, um…” you start as you try to figure out how to explain this without going off on a tangent about Trent Reznor, “There’s a band, Nine Inch Nails, and my shirt is a joke about big dicks.”

Bucky stops and looks at you for a moment like he’s trying to remember the Pythagorean theorem before he nods, “Okay.” He goes back to cooking and asks, “What’s pegging?”

“That’s a pretty steep jump, Buck,” you say, trying to fight the giggle fit. 

As Bucky finishes dividing the scrambled eggs, he walks over to you but doesn’t give you a plate, “Pegging or no food.”

“Never thought you’d ask, but if you insist,” you giggle, but he doesn’t get it, so you add, “Bend over, big boy, I’ll make sure you have a good time.”

He looks confused, and you start laughing, “It means bend over? That doesn’t—”

You lean on the counter, look him dead in the eye, and say, “Bend over, and I can show you what pegging is.” Bucky’s face falls into its usual grimace, but you grin up at him before explaining, “It’s when someone like me uses a fake dick on someone like you. Ya know. F you in the A.”

Your eggs are getting cold as he mutters to himself, “Fuck you in the A?”

“Fuck you in the ass,” you snap before holding your hands out, “Food, please, and thank you.”

Bucky hands you your plate before he asks, “Why do you know this stuff?”

With your mouthful of eggs, you shrug before swallowing, “It’s funny… or fun, most of it is both. Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“Yeah,” he says absently, setting his plate down before he asks, “What about your shorts?”

You exhale and don’t particularly want to do this, but once you start something, you finish it. It takes you a moment to organize your thoughts before you start explaining, “Well, the little turtle guy is called Squirtle. He’s a pokemon. It’s, um… anime, like a cartoon, but also a game, never mind. Squirting is… um…”

When you don’t keep talking, Bucky sighs, “Just say it.”

Hesitantly you offer, “It’s like how guys cum but better.”

“What?” Bucky drops his fork and just stares at you. 

“You told me to just say it,” you remind him before explaining in your own words, “It’s making a chick gush when you get all up in her guts real good.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bucky says through clenched teeth, “Now try again in English.”

This takes some time as you try to think of the right words, then you slap the table when it comes to you, “Female ejaculation. It’s when a chick pees when she cums, or it isn’t piss. That sorta depends on who you ask.”

Now that he isn’t asking questions and you don’t have anything else to explain, the awful silence is back and stretches on forever. You liked working with Bucky because he wasn’t overbearing, and it was easy to be around him. Now you were very uncomfortable, and this was far from easy. He hadn’t gone all creepy uncle on you, but this was closer than you liked to be. 

It was starting to feel like he was watching you too closely and dissecting everything you did for any signs that you were a freak. You were a freak, but he didn’t need to be so judgemental about it. The discomfort was quickly changing to anger, and that didn’t end well for anyone.

Getting angry about his reaction was easy. He had pushed you to this point. The funny thing was, you hadn’t been worried about what other people thought for a long time. It wasn’t like he found out about your crush on him and was weird about that. He would be so weird about it too. He’s just discovering what happens when he gets too curious about this stuff and is not prepared for the reality of the situation. You were discrete about these things but distinctly not ashamed of it, or at least you had been. 

💙

After a few hours of being pointedly ignored, you had had enough. Bucky kept glaring at you, you were fuming, and if he wasn’t going to be the adultier-adult, then you had no choice. 

Turning on the couch to face him, you asked, “Why are you being weird?”

“What?” he asked, looking up from the table where he was cleaning guns. When he saw that you were returning his glare, he shrugged, “I’m not being weird.”

“Fine. New game,” you said, knowing he wouldn’t turn this down.

Setting down the part he was oiling, he was wiping off his hands as he said, “Fine.”

“Bitch for a whole week,” you say, and Bucky nods. This was how all the games started. One of you suggests a game, and then you state the forfeit; only after agreeing does the other find out what the game is. You rest your arm on the back of the couch as you grin, “Good. Truth or dare?”

Bucky immediately looks irritated, he hates this game, but it’s too late. No one but you takes the games more seriously than Bucky. Barely audible, he chooses “Truth.”

Without hesitation, you ask, “Last time you got laid?”

He sits up a little straighter, almost like he can handle this, and says, “1942.”

“Fuck off, how?” you are shocked. It had been a couple of years since your last disappointment, and you thought that was fucked up. Shaking your head, you said quickly, “Don’t answer that. Truth.”

It takes him a few minutes before he shifts uncomfortably and asks, “Why’d you bring that….”

“My vibrator?” you ask, and he nods. You roll your eyes as you say, “If you can’t say it, I shouldn’t have to answer.”

He takes a deep breath and asks again, “Why did you bring your vibrator on the mission?”

You weren’t entirely sure how to best answer this and settled on being honest. Not like it could do any more damage. 

“You really wanna know?” you ask. 

“Not how the game works,” he points out.

Sighing, you explain, “It’s like a special treat, and it helps me sleep, and it feels good. Why else would someone fap?”

“Fap?” he asked, looking stressed. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” you shake your head and are ready to pull your hair out. Glaring at him, you rattle off, “Masturbation, practicing advanced loneliness, DJing your own party, the Devil’s handshake. One of those has to make sense to you.”

Bucky simply blinks a few times, and as you wait for him to say something, you can’t help but notice that he has some color to his face. Is he blushing? 

“Truth,” he says before you can analyze his reaction further.

Up until this point, you had questions ready to go, but now that the game was in motion, you needed to choose carefully. The only way to lose was if one of you refused to answer or couldn’t come up with a good prompt. You bite your bottom lip before you ask, “How often do you take care of yourself, Bucky?”

He is blushing and more uncomfortable than you’d ever been in your entire life as he looks away and answers, “Um… I don’t know.”

“When’s the last time then?” you ask, then add, “You heard my last time, which is fucking weird, so it’s only fair.”

You are aware that this isn’t fair and that it’s none of your business. Just because he heard you doesn’t mean you suddenly have permission to know about his masturbatory habits. If you were honest with yourself, you didn’t want to know, but you can’t stop yourself. You are competitive and can't back down.

Bucky is turned away from you, arranging the gun parts in front of him, but still answers, “A few days before the mission… I think. Maybe a week.”

“Oof, that’s rough. I’d ask if it’s because you're old, but I’m good,” you do your best not to make this worse, but like with most things that come out of your mouth, it doesn’t work. You wait a few seconds to see if he’s going to pull himself together, and when he doesn’t, you say, “Truth.”

“Do you always bring it on—your vibrator on missions?” he asked almost immediately. 

Usually, Bucky didn’t have questions or dares ready to go, this was not a good sign, but you were prepared to answer, “If I have my backpack, then he’s coming….” You giggle before adding, “...and so am I.”

He has turned away from the guns and is looking at you like you're a dog just going to town cleaning its own ass. Not the best feeling to be looked at with so much disgust, but worse things had happened. His face settles into mild disappointment before he says, “Truth.”

You stretch your arms over your head for no reason other than your back feeling kind of tight and ask, “How much did you hear this morning?”

“Um…” and he is back to the gun. Shifting pieces as he exhales loudly through his mouth, he says, “It took you twelve minutes and forty-two seconds.”

“Wow, never timed it before,” you say automatically. It’s easy to ignore Bucky's discomfort now because you’re more concerned that he timed you. Even though you know that continuing this is a bad idea, it doesn’t stop you from saying, “Truth.”

Bucky is facing you again, his face almost red now, and he seems genuinely pissed as he asks, “Does it normally take you that long?”

“Bucky!” you shout, feigning shock and putting a hand on your chest like you’re offended, “The audacity!” As you push yourself to your feet, you start laughing and walk to the kitchen to get water as you explain, “I prefer to enjoy the process over the final product.”

He turned in his chair to follow your movement, then looked down at the ground as he said, “Dare.”

Finally, you get to have real fun. You join him at the table, setting your water down as you glance around the room and speak, “Hmm… I dare you to… not lose the game.”

“That’s not a dare,” he says, but he doesn’t sound uncomfortable. He looks and sounds like the weird old guy you like going on missions with again. 

“Care to add to the forfeit?” you ask, hoping he’ll take the bait. 

He tilts his head and says, “Two weeks.”

“A month and that includes everything, just like after a mission,” you say as you hold your right hand out. 

He takes your hand and says ominously, “You’re going to regret this.”

“Truth,” you say as you lean back in the stiff wooden chair.

Mirroring your position, Bucky says, “Favorite person to work with.”

“Pfft, that’s easy. You,” you answer, planning to lull him into a trap. With a few easy questions and dares, then you’re going to crush him. 

“Really?” he asks, and you glare at him. He shrugs and says, “Figured it would have been Lang, maybe Wanda. Um, truth.”

You nod, “Same question.”

“You only get one of those,” he says in a bored voice, before taking a deep breath and answering, “You.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you blurt, unable to stop the smile, “I thought you’d prefer Steve.”

“You don’t ask how I’m feeling, and normally I like the games,” he says before adding quickly, “Don’t tell him.”

“Oh… secrets, my favorite,” you say excitedly, leaning forward as you choose, “Dare.”

“Handstand,” he offers.

You groan, “Pick a real dare, coward.”

“You aren’t going to like it, and you will lose,” he warns, acting like he has some great dare he’s been waiting to unleash. He should have used it in one of the other dozen games you’d played where he lost.

It is nice that he seems like himself again, even though you still want to push him as you say, “Guess you want to be my personal bitch for a while.” 

When all he does is clench his jaw, you ask, “Do you like doing everything for me? Is it some sorta weird caveman, 40s thing?” 

Bucky glares at you when you cross your legs and add, “You can start by making me a sandwich, baby girl.”

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he says in a tense voice, “I don’t mind losing because you are so much easier to be around when you win, but if you insist….”

“Get over yourself and say it,” you goad him on. You know that whatever he’s planning is nothing to worry about. 

Bucky crosses his arms and says a little too confidently, “Show me how you use the vibrator.”

“Fuckin’ what,” you couldn’t have heard him correctly. 

He leans forward and carefully enunciates, “I dare you to show me how you use it.”

“Like… you put it—what?” you are at a complete loss in every way. You don’t even know what to say as you try to process that the most vanilla and easily flustered man, aside from his big blond buddy, just asked you to show him how you use a vibrator.

He waits a few seconds before he says, “I couldn’t think of anything else, and you dared me not to lose… so… go get it and show me or lose.”

That clarified your scrambled thoughts and gave you something to latch onto. Bucky would chicken out before you even turned it on, and he is betting on you being too scared to get it and start. Bucky doesn’t think you’ll do this. 

You stand up and start walking toward your room but stop and say, “Weird word choice, Bucky.”

He looks up and says, “Huh?”

Leaning against the wall of the hallway, you elaborate, “You couldn’t think of anything else except for how I use my vibrator?” 

With his jaw on the floor, you must resist skipping down the hall to your room. Grabbing your toy, you didn’t think you’d even need to turn it on but went to the kitchen to wash it off. As you dry your hands, you notice that Bucky is acting like he’s in trouble. 

He looks up at you, and his eyes dart to the blue sex toy in your hand as he mutters, “I just—”

“Don’t try to act all shy now,” you cut him off as you go back to your seat at the table, “You’re a dirty old man, and you’ve been judging me since last night. That doesn’t mean I’ll let you win.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Bullshit,” you say as you point the toy at him, “You don’t get to act better than me now. You’re a pervert, but instead of doing it for fun, like me, you’re doing it to win a silly game.”

Part of you wonders if he recognizes the color yet, but you're too busy gloating. He’s going to break any minute now. It's almost funny how he's watching you like a dog waiting for something to fall off your plate.

Instead of giving him an out, you say, “Hopefully, I don’t need to explain basic human anatomy.”

Turning the vibrator on by clicking the flatter end twice, you say, “You turn it on, then put it against your clit, well, my clit, and then magic happens.” You lean forward after you finish and ask in a condescending tone, “You are aware that chicks can cum, right?”

His hands are on his lap in tight fists as he stares at the ground, but he still answers, “Yes.”

“Why you mad, bro?” you ask, unable to hide your amusement.

He looks up at you and says through clenched teeth, “Not. Mad.”

Leaning back in the chair, you turn the vibrator off, “You know that if I do this, things will change permanently.”

“I didn’t think you would do it,” he hisses, but he hasn’t moved an inch. It’s like he’s a statue. 

Adjusting in your chair, you explain, “I’m a lot more than questionable clothing choices and fun vocabulary lessons, Bucky. Decision time. You really want me to do this, or are you gonna give up?”

He’s thinking, still looking like he might give himself a stroke with how angry he is, then he’s smirking, “No... If you don’t do it, then you lose. It’s your dare, not mine.”

You were ready for this and tried to look as innocent as possible as you asked, “So you want to watch me touch myself?” Bucky looks like he might faint, and you push further, “Do you like watching? Is that what you’re into?”

He still looks unnerved but replies, “No, and I’m starting to think you want to know what I’m into.”

Not your best moment, but you cackle and know you’ve won. Pulling yourself together, you level him with a withering glance and say, “You seem like a lights off kinda guy. Missionary. For procreation only. Bet you were gonna wait until marriage and still feel like a disappointment that you didn’t.”

“Not even close,” he says, and he seems more confident when he raises an eyebrow and says, “Either do it or lose.”

Well then, time to irrevocably change this relationship. Bending your left leg and resting your foot on the seat of the chair because spreading your legs would make this somehow weirder. You aren’t planning to undress. If he says this doesn’t count, you’ll strip, but you weren’t offering shit. 

Making a point of staring right into his eyes, you turn the vibrator on again and start to lower it when he looks away. You roll your eyes but take this moment to put the toy in approximately the right place before you say in a bored voice, “I can just pretend if you can’t even look.”

That should have had him walking away, but today was not your day. Instead of getting up and storming out of the cabin, Bucky leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stares at you. You had seriously fucked up, and it’s only made worse when he asks, “Better?”

“I plead the fifth,” you whisper. 

He narrows his eyes, which haven’t wavered from your own, and says, “You really are a deviant. Kinda girl mothers warn their sons about.”

“But I’m fun at parties, so I have that going for me,” you offer. Right now, you’d do just about anything to distract yourself. Staring at Bucky with your vibrator nowhere near where it’s supposed to be is a lot. You can’t be sure, but it definitely feels like you could cum from this, and that’s bad, but that’s when you notice something. His normally clear blue eyes are almost entirely black, and you know how you can distract him, which could make this worse… or better. Either way, you’re doing it. 

Leaning back and shifting the toy so it won’t cause any problems, you ask, “I am exactly the type of girl your mother warned you about, aren’t I?”

He doesn’t back off and says, “You really want to talk about my mother right now?”

You shrug, “You brought up moms and won’t let any of this go.”

“How are you just talking while you’re doing that?” he asked, sounding like you were doing something impossible. 

You knew that how you were doing this was cheating, but he’d never know, and you needed any help you could get. Making sure to sound bored, maybe even a little disappointed, you replied, “Surprisingly, this isn’t doing much for me.”

“Right…” he thinks for a minute, then says, “You were close earlier. Missionary isn’t bad, but it has to be done right.”

“You fuckin’ what,” you say, trying very hard not to think about 'missionary done right' with Bucky. Which is impossible and the only thing you can think about. 

He smirks before he explains, “I wasn’t very… gentle before. And to answer the question you didn’t ask about why I haven’t tried since 1942.….” His voice trails off as his eyes dart down to your hand, then back up before he finishes, “I don’t want to hurt or kill someone accidentally.”

Your mouth hangs open as you process the information he just volunteered. Bucky is not stupid, a little misguided at times, but not dumb, and he is doing this on purpose. He knows you aren’t a super soldier, but you are considerably more durable than a regular person. You heal almost immediately and he is very aware of this fact. 

“Neat story, bro,” you try to sound calm, but you are so far from calm that you don’t think you’ll ever be calm again. 

Bucky finally leans back, but his eyes are between your legs again. He sighs before he looks up again and says, “Since you’ll probably be a while, gotta keep playing. Truth.”

Every cell in your body screams that you do not ask what he’s thinking. You can’t ask him anything, and you need to keep this neutral, or you will lose your mind, so you ask, “Having fun?” 

Losing your shit internally, you wait as he narrows his eyes at you, “That’s a loaded question, doll.”

Doll? The fuck does that mean? Now you know what he feels like because he’s never tried calling you anything other than your name or 'bro' a handful of times. You don’t have time to figure that out and reply in an unsteady voice, “I’m aware.”

Again, his eyes dart down to your crotch then back up before he asks, “You sure you want me to answer that?”

“Coward,” you practically moan. This is too much, and you don’t want him to answer. You want him to get up and leave, or you could just drop dead. Maybe exploding would be fun; it felt like you were about to anyway.

Bucky looks away, back at the carefully set out gun parts on the table, and takes a deep breath. He doesn’t look at you as he says in a resigned voice, “One of us should be before this gets out of hand.”

You’d rather he shot you. The sudden rush of shame from everything that had happened since last night has your stomach churning. Turning the vibrator off, you mutter, “You win,” and get up.

Walking back to your room on legs you can barely feel, you slam the door behind you and then lock it. Shame was so far removed from your life that feeling it now was nightmarish. Sex, in all its forms, has never made you feel anything other than good. This was bullshit.

On the verge of tears, you tossed your vibrator at the wall, hearing it bounce a few times before rolling and settling under the bed. Sitting down, you couldn’t stop thinking something was wrong with you. The way he’d been looking at you had your skin crawling. 

The banging on the door has a new rush of awful coursing through you, and you don’t hesitate to say loud enough for him to hear, “Fuck off.”

Bucky’s stupid voice on the other side of the door says firmly in reply, “No.”

“Leave me alone.”

“You really wanna lose that bad?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

You close your eyes and hear him kick the door open, then he says, “No.”

Not bothering to watch, you open your eyes and stare at the floor as he walks into your room and sits at the end of the bed. He didn’t say anything, and you could feel him staring at you again and couldn’t stand it, so you broke the silence, “Leave.”

“Make me,” he said, sounding more like you than you could stand before he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Get fucked.”

He didn’t move and sounded less confident as he pointed out, “You’re normally more creative with your insults….”

Taking a deep breath, you offered, “Eat my entire ass, scrublord.” When you finished, you glared at him and asked, “Better?”

“Are you into that?” he asked. 

Covering your face as you laughed, you managed to ask, “How is that the one you know?!”

“That’s better,” he says, like this momentary lapse in your breakdown meant the worst was over. He sighed before he asked again, “Now, what’s wrong?”

Dropping your hands to your lap, you said, “Nothing. Get fucked.”

“This is your last chance,” he says, his voice sounding like someone talking to a child who has never spoken to a child, “Finish or lose.”

“I lose. No last chances, asshole,” you say, wondering if you could get him to leave if you started crying. 

He didn’t move; instead, he said, “Technically… you completed your dare, and I didn’t answer the last question.”

“Who fucking cares?!” you shout, finally starting to lose your temper. The things you were feeling were starting to solidify, and if Bucky didn’t leave soon, you would be going into great detail on exactly what was wrong.

Sheepishly he said barely loud enough for you to hear, “Then I lose.”

Your eyes are wide as you stare at the floor. Too many thoughts in your head, and you just want to be alone, you snap, “For the love of fuck, answer the question then.”

“Yes.”

“What?” you ask, turning to look at him automatically. 

He looks like a freshly kicked puppy as he says, “I was having... fun….”

“Shutup.”

He grimaces and says, “No. Truth or dare.”

How he dragged you back into this is beyond you right now, because you are too busy wondering how he was having fun. Was it making you squirm? Was it upsetting you? Did he actually like watching? But none of that mattered as you chose, “Truth.”

He didn’t hesitate and asked, “Favorite color?”

“Black, and you aren’t supposed to ask baby questions,” you remind him of one of the rules you’d both agreed on during the first game. 

He grins, saying, “Then I’ll pick something else.” You don’t react, and he asks, “Why’s it blue?”

“That’s the color it came in,” you lie.

He shakes his head, “I looked it up. That one comes in many colors, including black and four shades of blue. Why that color?”

“It’s pretty,” you reply, which technically isn’t a lie. His eye color is very pretty, and you just didn’t specify the inspiration for the color choice, only the reason. 

Bucky seems disappointed as he says, “You aren’t very creative when you’re lying. Truth.”

The now familiar pang of shame is back and you ask, “Why’d you come in here?”

“You’re upset,” he answers.

You shrug, “So? Why’d you come in here?”

He shifts on the bed, and you can hear his vibranium arm; he's clenching his fists. It takes him a moment before he explains, “I didn’t know why you were upset… I felt bad, and figured I could… never mind.”

“Not how the game works,” you say, reminding him of another rule that had been decided during the first game. Neither of you can chicken out, or you lose.

You can hear him taking deep breaths, clearly struggling, but you don’t care. Whatever he’s going through is his problem, and you have your own shit to deal with. Then he says, “I want to fix it.”

The next few minutes are some of the worst. It’s so tense in this room and this is the worst game of truth or dare you have ever played, and you’ve played so many of them. It was also the most confusing, so you decided to keep it going instead of stewing, “Truth.”

He doesn’t sound right when he asks, “Why’d you get upset?”

“Shame.”

A bark of laughter from him before he says, “You don’t have that. Don’t try lying.”

Lifting your head but still facing away from him, you explain and don’t bother hiding the hurt in your voice, “I feel disgusting and I’d rather be alone than continue to feel like this around you.”

“Wait, you’re serious. I didn’t—”

You don’t want to hear excuses, and he’s pushed you too far today. Cutting him off as you throw his words back at him since they’re already on repeat in your head, “You’re a deviant. What’s your shirt mean? What’s pegging mean? Why did you bring your vibrator? Why do you know all this stuff?” 

Turning your head to look at him, the same broken expression on his face, and you finish it off, “Game’s over, Barnes. Leave me alone.”

His jaw tenses, and before you can look away, he says firmly, “No.”

“You can’t just keep saying ‘no’. The game is over,” you point at the door and continue in a detached-sounding voice, “Get the fuck out and let me feel like a piece of shit without a fucking audience.”

“I’m not leaving. Dare,” Bucky says, turning on the bed to face you. 

“I dare you to leave me alone for the foreseeable future,” you say, not noticing that you turned on the bed to face him.

“Real dare or you’re bitch for a month,” he shoots back. 

“Fine,” you hiss, and you don’t need time to think. You know that this one will be impossible and that this is the end of the almost friendship you had with Bucky, but that’s fine. You don’t want friends that made you feel like this anyway. Arching a brow, you say, “Fix it.”

Pushing himself off the bed, he doesn’t look at you as he says, “Be specific.”

“Fix my hurt feelings, Barnes,” you elaborate.

He paces in front of you for a minute before looking at you and asking, “Feelings I hurt?”

You nod, and he asks, “Can I ask how I hurt them?”

Shaking your head and getting more irritated, he has more questions, “Any limitations?”

“What?”

Hands on his hips, he says, “I can fix it any way I want.”

“Knock yourself the fuck out, bro,” you say before sighing. 

“Good,” Bucky says before he looks around your room. He grabs your backpack and puts it on the bed, “Where’s your vibrator?”

“What? Why?” you ask, reaching for your backpack, but he pulls it away.

He starts digging in your bag as he explains, “You said it makes you happy, so….”

You snatch your bag, toss it to the floor, and say, “Not right now it won’t. And what would you do with it anyway?”

Bucky straightens and, without hesitation, says, “Use it on you.”

This is not happening, you think before you avert your eyes and say, “That’s not funny.”

“Would you rather I didn’t use it?” he asks. 

Ducking your head, you reply, “Don’t even think about him. He’s dead to you.”

“Then I won’t use it,” he says, like he’s talking about having to use a pencil instead of his favorite pen. You close your eyes, and he interrupts your thoughts, asking, “How attached to those shorts are you?”

You glare at him, but he takes a few steps, so he’s standing directly in front of you, and says, “Answer the question.”

Dropping your gaze to your hands in your lap, you shake your head. 

He sighs, but presses on, “Not attached, that’s good. You want a countdown, or would you prefer to be surprised?”

Without looking up, you mutter, “No to all of this. Just leave.”

He kneels, ducking his head to meet your eyes, and says, “Hi. Here’s the problem. You keep saying ‘no’, ‘leave me alone,’ which normally I’d respect and back off, but we both know….” His voice trails off as he leans close, only a few inches between you, as he finishes in a very particular tone, “You want me… to fix this.”

There is no fucking way he means what you think he means. You can’t help yourself as you lift your head and ask, “How are you planning to fix this?”

Bucky grins before he says, “It’ll be more fun if I show you, but if you want to ruin the surprise….” He stands, pushing himself up with his right hand on your thigh, then squeezes it. Hard. 

Fuck, you think as you whimper, “Fuck.”

“I’ll ask you again,” he says, the same right hand that had been on your thigh guiding your face up toward his, “Do you want me to fix this?”

Barely audible, you reply, “Yes.”

He smirks before he says in that same dark tone that sounds like he’s giving orders, “Remind me what my title is, doll.”

You are very aware of his title and that your panties were effectively ruined, along with your leggings, shorts, and bedding; hell, the mattress didn’t even stand a chance. Cheeks burning, you tell him what he wants to hear even though you can’t believe this is happening, “Sergeant.”

Grabbing your jaw and tipping your face up again, he says, “Now answer correctly. Do you want me to fix it?”

Not looking away and almost too scared to look away, you reply in a steady voice, “Yes, Sergeant.”

He smiles down at you, “Good girl.” Loosening his grip, he runs his thumb along your bottom lip before he asks, “Any questions?”

“No, Sergeant,” you reply, even though you have a few stock questions regarding these things. Condoms, safeword, hard limits, but fuck all of that. You’re on birth control and clean. He must be clean since he’s a super soldier, they can’t get sick, plus he hadn’t gotten laid in decades. Overall, fuck it; let’s see what the old man can do. You also didn’t think he’d do anything too crazy. He probably just likes it rough. 

He looks down at the floor for a second before he says, “If it’s too much, just say... ‘blue’.”

You were panicking, your eyes wide for a moment before he shoved you back and flipped you onto your stomach. He pinned your arms quickly behind your back and held them with one hand as you tried to keep your breathing even. This was not your first time being submissive or manhandled, just the first time in a while, but that was assuming that's what is going on. 

His other hand, which has to be his left because you can feel the oddly cool metal against your skin as he grabs the waistbands of your shorts, leggings, and panties all at the same time. In one smooth motion, he jerks them all down to mid-thigh before he says, “Remind me what you say if it’s too much.”

You can feel his hand on your bare ass, and you reply quickly, “Blue, Sergeant.” 

Unsure when he’d switched hands, you feel his distinctly flesh hand come down hard on your ass before he says in an almost proud voice, “Good girl, figured you’d understand how this works.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” you practically moaned. You hadn’t even reacted to him spanking you, he hadn’t put much force behind it, and you hoped he’d do it again.

You can feel him settling on the back of your thighs, kneeling on the bed as he works his right hand between your legs, “Ass up, doll.”

Doing as he says, you arch your back as much as you can, then gasp as you feel him spread your lips. You can feel him leaning back, and you know he’s watching as he slides a finger inside you. As he adds another, he sounds distinctly comfortable as he speaks, “Such a pretty little pussy. How long’s it been?”

“Almost four years, Sergeant,” you answer, biting your lip as he fills you slowly.

“Poor thing,” he sighs before asking in his normal voice, “Why?” 

With glee, you reply, “I got sick of being disappointed.”

His fingers still inside you, he leans close and whispers, “You’ll let me know if I’m disappointing you, understood?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

A second later, and he’s off of you, but you know better than to move. You were even keeping your arms behind your back how he had them. You can hear what sounds like him undressing, but before you can really process that, he’s grabbing the mess of fabric between your legs. Pulling them off in one fluid motion, even your leggings cooperate and don’t cling to your legs as if they’re trying to do what he wants. Traitors. 

His hands are on you again, positioning your arms, so they’re at your side, then he’s picking you up by the hips. You yelp when he drops you on the bed like you weigh nothing to him, and you're on all fours. His hands are on the backs of your thighs, sliding up to your ass as you grip the blanket beneath you. 

When you feel his breath against your sex, you try to look over your shoulder but he slaps your ass hard at the same moment. You give up, turning your head to the side as you start to pant. You can’t stop yourself as he runs his tongue from your clit to your asshole, reaching behind you to hold yourself open for him. 

Hearing and feeling him groan against your cunt has you losing your mind. His grip on your thighs would leave bruises on anyone else, but with your abilities, you learned to tolerate pain and enjoy it. Arching your back as much as you can, it might have been a while, but you knew the rules for these types of games, and ask, “May I cum, Sergeant?”

He chuckles, pulling back from you, “Already? Yeah, doll, cum for me.”

You could deal with what he was saying later; all you knew was you could relax. Bucky didn’t waste any time focusing on your clit. His tongue or lips was doing something that had your eyes rolling back, but that wasn’t what had you about to cum. 

You could hear him eating you. He was not being quiet or polite, and aside from his moaning and the occasional grunt, there were the wet, sloppy sounds. It was absolutely delightful. 

He’s gone again, but you got off. You wouldn’t mind if he kept going but let out a scream when he spanks you hard. His hands knead your ass as he orders, “Stand up.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” you reply obediently. 

You scramble to your feet when he stops touching you but keep your eyes downcast. When he stands in front of you, he gently guides your head up then his hand drops. He plucks at your shirt and sighs. Before he can ask, you offer, “I can buy another one, but the sweater is special.”

He tilts his head, meeting your eyes as he says, “You’re going to look at me when you can.” 

You nod, and he stands a little taller as he continues, “And keep track of how many times I make you cum… out loud. Don’t bother asking permission today.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” you reply, but you are focused on the last word he said. The fuck does he mean ‘today’?

Bucky takes a step back and says, “Undress for me, or that sweater isn’t going to make it.”

You quickly shrug off your sweater and pull your t-shirt then bra off. Bucky takes another step back and then holds his hand up, his pointer finger aimed at the ceiling as he circles it. You don’t say anything as you turn around. 

Two quick steps and he’s grabbing your wrists as he asks, “Are you in shock or—”

“I’m good and not disappointed… yet,” you cut him off. 

With both your wrists behind your back, held in place by his left hand, his right is on the back of your head, and he jerks your head back but sounds gentle as he says, “I’ll continue being considerate because it’s our first time. Do me a favor and clear something up for me. How do you like it?”

Grinning, you don’t bother trying to hide your excitement from your voice, “Hard, Sergeant.”

His hand is still gripping your hair, and he uses it to force you to bend at the hips. Facing the floor, you can hear his belt, and the odd disbelief that this is happening is back again. It’s more that this is what it’s like that has you stunned. Bucky always seemed to have control issues, but you didn’t think you’d be on the literal receiving end of them. 

A moment later and something taps against your sex as he says, “Shame to ruin such a pretty little pussy. You have done this before, right?”

“It’s a muscle, Sergeant, and nothing’s ruined it yet,” you reply, slightly irritated that he thinks he has anything that could permanently change your anatomy. That idea of a big dick making a chick loose was so fucking stupid and is not how vaginas work. 

He chuckles as he slides the head of his cock back and forth over your clit, and asks, “Most orgasms you’ve had in one day?”

“Ten-ish? Wasn’t counting, Sergeant,” you reply, thinking back to that particular night with an ex-girlfriend.

“And you’re good with no condoms unless you have some?” he asked, and you understood why he was stalling. 

To say that this had you melting was an understatement. It wasn’t just that Bucky liked to be in charge, that he was good at it, or that he seemed concerned with your well-being and safety. No, it was how he made it seem easy and natural. You do your best to ignore this particular revelation and answer him, “I’m clean and on birth control, but I didn’t think I’d need to bring condoms on a mission.”

Bucky taps your cunt a few times with his cock as he says, “Good girl. That means we can have a lot more fun.”

At an agonizingly slow pace, he starts to push in. He’s big, and now you understand why he lamented your pretty little pussy. You weren’t worried he’d ruin it, but he was already ruining any other dick for you. Putting them to shame as he carefully worked his girth inside you, and you giggled. 

The sounds he’s making are absolutely precious and are all the confirmation you need that he had not been lying about not getting any since the 40s. You start to lose your composure, moaning and trying to keep from saying anything. He is carefully working into you, hissing and muttering under his breath the whole time, but he hasn’t bottomed out yet. 

Another inch, and you moan, “Fuuuuck… sorry, Sergeant.”

“Make all the noise you want, doll,” he says, pulling back and gasping. 

You sigh before you say, “It’s a lot.”

“Yeah, it is,” he says more to himself, and you giggle. 

Already more than you’d had before, you barely notice him grabbing your wrists again. One wrist in each hand, he brings them together behind your back. You focus on breathing as you prepare for him to start moving when he says, “Just a little more, doll, c’mon. You can take it—oh... such a good girl.”

He moaned the last part as he got the last of the nightmare he calls a dick inside you, and your legs started to shake. He pushes against you, grinding a little before he snaps his hips. 

Your head pops up, and you scream, “Fuck!”

Twice more, he slams into you as he says, “Remind of your word, doll.”

“Blue, Sergeant,” you gasp, trying to breathe as your mind goes blank.

He pulls your ass flush against him and says in an amused voice, “Your knees are gonna give out.”

You do not care and start to whimper but end up shouting, “Pleasepleasepleasefuckfu—fuck! Thank you!”

Bucky does as you asked, hammering into you and jerking you back by your arms. Your mouth hangs open as he starts to increase the amount of strength behind each thrust. Your nails dig into your palms as you plead, “Pleasedontstoppleasedontsto—ah! Two!”

“Take it and don’t fall… good girl,” he says before slowing down. 

He stills, dropping your wrists and grabbing your hips as he pushes inside you. A moment later, he has an arm hooked under your hips and the other planted in the middle of your chest. Bucky lifts and places you on the bed, then grabs your hips with both hands, immediately rolling his hips. 

He’s still holding you up about a foot above the bed, but you get your arms under you and push yourself up. You can rest later, you want to enjoy this, and two orgasms aren’t enough to have you going full ragdoll.

His right hand is between your shoulder blades as soon as you prop yourself up on your arms. Your eyes are wide as you realize he doesn’t need both hands to hold you up with the vibranium one, and you almost miss him saying, “You are supposed to be enjoying this. Don’t push yourself.”

You comply, resting on your chest as he gets your legs out from under you. With your legs hanging at his side, you grab onto the bedding as he starts to thrust again. It doesn’t feel as deep now that you aren’t doubled over, but you’re already close again. As if he can tell, he starts pulling out further, jerking you back, and you lose control. 

A second later and he was lifting you higher, entirely off the bed now. Bucky was holding you against his chest, and your legs were under your arms. Had he been lying down, it would have been like you were sitting on his face, but he was standing. Your cunt was in his face, and your head was by his waist. 

As good as Bucky was at oral, it was not enough to distract you from the monster you were currently eye-level with. You had an odd moment when you realized it had already been inside you, but you weren’t deterred. 

This wasn’t your first time being manhandled, and as good as this felt, you weren’t dumb. Sex wasn’t any fun if one person wasn’t giving as good as the other. Plus, you wanted to see if you could distract him.

Wrapping one hand around the middle of the beast, you arched your back and pushed on his thigh so you could get his dick in your mouth. The satisfied groan from him was all you needed to attempt to take as much of him as possible, but that wasn’t going to happen. You’d need to unhinge your jaw to do much and instead focus on the head of his cock. 

A minute, or maybe less, he was gasping and flipping you over, “Enough.”

Gently, he puts you on the bed, so you’re facing him and grabs your jaw as he says sternly, “If you weren’t already getting something special… damnit.”

You smirk up at him and ask, “What’s wrong, Sergeant?”

“Nothing. How many, doll?” he asks, but he’s smiling at you. 

Panicking a little because you can’t remember, you reply, “Four, I think. I’m sorry.”

He has a smug look on his face as he leans close, cups your cheek, and says, “Already losing count, tsk tsk….”

“It’s four, Sergeant,” you insist. 

Bucky stands and grabs your ankles, pulling your legs against his chest. Your ass is off the bed again, and you push yourself up as best you can even though you know you won’t be able to hold this position long. He eases back into you, then smirks as he plants his foot on the bed before snapping his hips. You don’t last two thrusts before your arms give out, and you fall onto the bed.

Resting on your shoulders, your hands scramble to grab him as you shout, “Five!”

He doesn’t stop, his eyes locked on yours as he hugs your legs to his chest. Fucking you harder than before, you shriek, “Ahhh! Six!”

As you gasp, your back arches, and your legs lock up. He’s still going, and you are desperately trying to grab anything to hold onto. This might kill you but in the best way. Bucky’s so big and strong and destroying something inside you that you didn’t need anyway. 

Your legs go limp, and you only know this because he changed how he was holding you. Legs falling open and dangling from his forearms, he lowers you to the bed and says in a calm, steady voice, “Breathe, doll. You’re gonna pass out if you don’t breathe for me.”

Taking a few gulping breaths, you stare at the ceiling as you say in a hoarse voice, “Sorry, Sergeant.”

“Stop that,” he says before leaning back and dropping his gaze. He watches as he pulls his cock out, then sinks back into you as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, besides….” His voice trails off as he looks up at you, “It’s been a while for you.”

You glare up at him because it's only been a few years for you, but he has what could easily be rounded up to a fucking century since his last time. Instead of reminding him of that, you decide to point out something he didn’t seem to notice, “You’re also fucking huge.”

Bucky grins, “Really?”

You want to slap him, but he slams into you before you can sit up and take a swing. He’s so deep inside and hard, even better than you ever imagined. After a few minutes of his steady thrusting, you scream, “Seve—Ahh!”

Clawing at his thighs this time, he doesn’t even react to that as he says without relenting, “Good girl… just like that. Such a good girl for me.”

You gasp, “Eight.”

You can feel your head spin, but he isn’t stopping this time. Barely loud enough to hear, you weakly mutter, “Blue….”

He doesn’t ask what you said or if you’re serious. Immediately Bucky is pulling out and next to you on the bed. His right hand brushes your hair away from your face as he whispers, “Just breathe. It’s okay. You did so well, doll.”

Still trying to catch your breath, you speak between pants, “I’m… not… done….”

Bucky smiles before he says skeptically, “You seem pretty done.”

Glaring up at him, you can talk normally even though you haven’t completely caught your breath, “It isn’t fixed yet, and I’m starting to feel a little disappointed.”

“You’re sure…” he says, not asking before he warns you, “If you pass out, we are done for today.”

You can’t help it when you ask, “For today?”

Bucky is getting back on top of you, moving your legs so that one is underneath him and the other is hooked over his elbow. He sighs as he lines himself up, then says, “Unless you prefer your little blue friend.”

“So, like, oh fuuuuck….” you had been trying to push yourself up when he cut you off. He seemed to like exploiting strange angles, but you weren’t deterred and finished your question, “You wanna be fuck buddies or something?”

His voice was calm as he smoothly rolled his hips, “We’ll talk about that later. Worry more about breathing, doll.”

He’s pulling back until just the head of his cock is inside you before filling you completely. You aren’t overwhelmed now that he isn’t trying to impersonate a sledgehammer, and you manage to get the leg against his chest straightened. He pulls it against his chest and asks, “Ready?”

“Yes, Sergeant,” you reply, hoping he will stand up. 

Not loosening his grip, Bucky steps onto the floor and easily lifts you as he stands up. With one leg held against his chest, he pushes the other back toward your chest. His hand is on your hip as he stands over you, and he doesn’t take his eyes off yours. He’s watching you closely as he straightens his legs and pushes down on you, moving you opposite him. 

He sets a steady rhythm, fucking super soldier isn’t even breaking a sweat, and it takes barely a minute before you moan, “Nine… oh, fuck….”

“Breathe,” he says before his eyes dart to where his cock disappears inside your body with a moan.

You close your eyes and breathe as he pummels your poor, neglected cunt. For four years, it had only been pathetic vibrators, and jumping to this level of professional fuckery was insane. Either he’d actually ruin your pussy, or your brain would start leaking out your ears, and all you could do was focus on breathing. 

Something abruptly changes, and your eyes are wide open and staring at him. He’s biting his bottom lip before a very distinct sound fills the room, and Bucky grunts, “Pretty girl, you've been holding out on me.”

Your hands grab his arm as the forbidden sloshing sound gets louder, and you whimper, “Ten….” 

Bucky looked up at you, watching you for any signs of distress, but he didn’t stop. You feel a rush of warmth through your chest and know you are ruining this bed, but you manage to almost giggle, “Eleven… fuck, that’s so good.”

After that, Bucky stills, buried deep inside you, as he rests his head on your leg. He takes a few deep breaths before he looks down at you and moans, “You have no idea how good you feel.”

“Or it’s been 80 years,” you point out, and he glares at you, “Just saying….”

He doesn’t reply but has a knowing smirk as he starts moving you again. You aren’t complaining, but you do have an idea that if he stays in the same position too long, he might shoot his goo unintentionally. You don’t plan on asking. 

Pushing you further onto the bed, Bucky kneels on the floor and grabs your legs. The beds at the cabin were an odd height, but it did mean that when Bucky got your legs over his shoulders, you were resting on your upper back again. You were surprised he was going down on you again but had other ideas. 

Your plans get derailed as he starts kissing your inner thighs. Covering your face, you begin to giggle at how unreal this is when he asks, “Having fun?”

Dropping your hands and glaring at him, you tell him the truth, “I’ve never had someone so eager to go down on me who happened to be attached to a dick.”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he says, “I’m hungry, and you taste good.”

Your hands are back over your face as he gets back to work. Then you realize he’s doing that thing from earlier and manage to peek between your fingers to confirm it’s his tongue. That’s all you find out as you start to cum again. 

As your hands try to find something to hold onto, they end up underneath you, and you find the best thing to hold onto. Remembering what you had wanted to do before Bucky distracted you, you start to stroke his cock with both hands. 

Bucky sighs before he looks at you, “You don’t have to do that.”

“You don’t like it, Sergeant?” you ask; then he’s standing up, and his dick is out of reach. 

Pushing both your legs toward your chest but keeping them spread, he runs his hands along your thighs before he asks, “You getting sore?”

“Dude…” you say as you try not to laugh at him, “I don’t get sore.”

Bucky drops his head and laughs, “Forgot about that.” He sighs before taking his cock in hand and placing it on your sex. He pushes it against you, slowly rocking his hips, before he asks, “Anything you like that hasn’t happened yet?”

It’s the combination of him teasing you after everything else, the easy joking, and seeing just how insanely huge his dick is that has you lost in the sauce. Thankfully, he spanks you with his left hand, and you are able to answer, “One thing, but it can wait.”

Leaning forward, Bucky is so close, and you realize that after everything, you haven’t kissed him, and you want to badly. That wasn’t what you had in mind when he asked if there was anything else you liked, but now that he’s this close, it’s added to the list.

“It can’t wait, doll,” Bucky whispers as he brushes his knuckles across your cheek.

“Two things now,” you blurt, panicking slightly. 

He moves closer, playfully bumping his nose against yours as he says, “You have my full, undivided attention… Tell me what you want.”

“Okay, cool. Um…” you panic when it hits you that you have to say this out loud to him, but it’s too late now, “Have you heard of breeding kink?”

Leaning back so he can look at you properly, he starts, “Pretending to….” His voice trails off as you nod vigorously. Licking his lips, he says, “Oh, I can knock you up. What’s the other one?”

You don’t let yourself enjoy this; you're too busy fretting over what this is. If what you are currently doing with Bucky isn’t what you think it is, and if he doesn’t want—Bucky spanks you, and you blurt, “Kiss me, fuck… please?”

His face relaxes as he stares at you. It’s painful waiting for some sign that what you’d said wasn’t pushing too far, but then he’s leaning close, and his hand is on your jaw. Tilting your face up, he looks so serious but also unsure as he says quietly, “Didn’t know if you’d want that.”

“Please,” you whisper.

Nodding, Bucky runs his thumb along your bottom lip before he closes the distance. He had gone down on you three times, made you cum twelve—no, eleven times, and thoroughly rearranged your organs, but this would break you. 

Your hands, which had been resting on his thighs, were on his face. One of them drifted to the back of his head while the other was on his cheek, your thumb stroking his surprisingly soft stubble. You parted your lips, carefully isolating his bottom lip before gently sucking on it, and he groaned. 

His mouth was open, and you held him in place above you as you kissed. For a moment, he let you be in control but seemed unable to stop from rolling his hips. A second later, his arms were underneath you. 

With no effort on his part, he stood and picked you up. His forearms hooked under your knees and his left hand on your back, he said, “Get your legs up higher.”

You did as he asked, getting your knees over his shoulders as he reached under you. Unsure about what he was trying to do, you couldn’t help but giggle, then you felt him at your entrance. 

He raised his eyebrows before saying, “Really? Knew you weren’t exactly delicate….”

You giggled again, but a moan cut it off as he filled you. He exhaled once he was back inside you and asked, “You like a little pain, huh?”

All you managed was a brief nod before he moved. Every time he pulled back and thrust into you, you’d bounce off him and then back. This wasn’t about speed, it was about how much force he was using, and he was steadily increasing how hard he was fucking you. With the odd rhythm, every time you fell back onto him, he was already thrusting again. 

You were cumming again and couldn’t be bothered to remember how many times. He didn’t seem to care as he muttered, “Fuuck… you have no idea how good you feel. Just one more, c’mon doll, don’t hold out on me.”

Lazily you look up at him, and he is staring intently before he says, “You want my cum, you gotta give me what I want.”

“Sonuvabitch,” you hiss, reaching up and grabbing the back of his neck. 

With how folded up you are, it only amplifies the effect of his thrusts on you. You're digging your nails into his skin as you cum again, and he gasps. 

Not pausing or even warning you, Bucky drops you on the bed. He’s still inside you and has your legs over his shoulder as he crouches over you and asks, “You want it?”

Deciding to hold onto the one thing you have going for you, you don’t hesitate to prove why you’re fun at parties as you pull him close and reply, “Cum in me, Bucky. I want it. I’ve been so good, and it’ll make me feel so much better.”

He adjusts, moving even closer and resting on his elbows as his arms bracket your head. Without a second thought, he kisses you again and whispers against your lips, “Might not take right away… Gotta keep trying till we’re sure.”

You are losing your mind, but that doesn’t stop you from saying, “Fuck, don’t sto—” 

“You want it that bad?” Bucky asks as your orgasm cuts you off. 

Whimpering, you nod, “Need it, please, Bucky.”

Kissing you roughly, Bucky hisses, “You want my baby in you that bad, then I’m gonna put one in you—oh, good girl, just like that.”

“Cum for me,” you manage to get out before he kisses you again. 

You can feel how hard he is, and he’s moving faster, but his thrusts are shallow. He presses his forehead against yours and says in a rush, “Fuck, one more doll. Need you to make me cum.”

Before you can do anything, his right hand snakes between your bodies, and he circles your clit, ripping another orgasm from you. As soon as you start to cum again, he shouts, “Fuck.”

Your legs fall from his shoulders, and he lays on top of you as he fucks you in the missionary position, kissing you as he mutters, “Make you so happy, eat you every day for breakfast, fill your perfect cunt every night, fuck… fu—I’m, oh God….”

Bucky is still on top of you, but neither of you moved after he finished. You stare at the ceiling, feeling only half in your body as you try to process what happened. As if you were entirely on autopilot, you break the silence as you slap his ass, “Good game, bro.”

Sighing, Bucky pushes himself up and says, “Honestly, I’d be worried if you said something normal. So, thanks for that.”

“You are still balls deep, so…” you point out, realizing that even though it's been a few minutes, he’s still hard.

He drops his gaze and asks, “Is now a good time to let you know I don’t have a refractory period?” Before you can answer, he thrusts, and you glare up at him as he adds, “Plus, you can’t get sore….”

“I still get tired,” you almost shout.

Pushing himself up, he’s kneeling on the floor again and jerking you to the edge, “Then I’ll clean you up before dinner.” 

He doesn’t take his eyes off you as he gives you a few licks, then pulls back, “I lost track of the game….”

Beside yourself, because apparently, he’s totally cool with going down on you after he cums in you and doesn’t seem to need breaks and so many other things, you give up. Propped up on your elbows, you say, “I won. I always win.”

“Oh no…” he says, and you add Bucky using sarcasm to the list of things to figure out later before he grins up at you, “Guess I have to make you dinner after I finish cleaning up.”

“How do you still want more?” you ask, and you are completely serious. 

Finally, he glares at you and sounds like the grumpy old man you’d been friends with, “It’s been a very long time. Just let me enjoy this.”

You can’t resist pointing out, “You do realize the ‘this’ you’re trying to enjoy is me. Right?”

“Got a problem with it, doll?” he asks in a dangerous tone. You shake your head, he’s so serious, and it’s making you think that you might need more, too, as he says, “Good. And you should get used to it. I meant what I said.”

“Fuckin what?”

He kisses your pussy, “Gonna eat your pretty little cunt every morning….”

He spreads your lips with his thumbs and shoves his tongue inside you, groaning, before he says, “And fuck you until your pregnant every night.”

All you can think to say, and it sounds so weak, “I’m on birth control….”

“Yes, you are,” he says, utterly unbothered by the contradiction.

“Alright. Cool. Sure. This makes sense. Fuck it,” you mumble before reaching out and putting your hand on the back of Bucky's head. You tug his hair to get his attention before you say, “Clean me up. You made a mess.”

Bucky bites his bottom lip before he says, “Yes, ma’am.”

💙

🖤🖤🖤

Thanks for reading! I will not be continuing this, so don't ask. I'm telling you no. Stop asking.

This is my last polite warning.

🖤🖤🖤

And here is the very fun outfit I made up a while ago. I still think it's cute.

[nemesyis]

The fuck is going on? I wanna play.

Of course Oppa. I'll always play with you.

[cutie-ksoo]

Hey... *wink wonk*

Hey *wink wonks* 

1. First impression: YOOO tbh i was kind of intimated by you but then you did that thing and i just knew you were a marshmallow 2. Truth is: I don’t know what i would do without you in my life, you are so important to me and i just.. love you. 3. How old do you look: dumbledore (i have seen yer face like 4 times) 4. Have you ever made me laugh: FUCKING ALL THE TIME5. Have you ever made me mad: lmao 6. Best feature: mouth words are lovely7. Have I ever had a crush on you: gOD YeS  I mean no8. You’re my: husband 

mutuals send me a hey

[tabis-eyebrows]

@helvonasche for you.  ♡

[kayteonline]

A/B/O has ruined me...

In the best ways possible...

And I have to express this! Most notably this month it’s happened with fics by these beautiful women:

@butiaintgonnaloveem

Try to Understand *Dean Smith? YES PLEASE. Alpha!Dean Smith.. emphatically yes please

@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid

Caught! *Young Dean.. yes young Dean

Location is Key *A glorious quickie

@kittenofdoomage

Beast *O-M-F-F (oh my fucking fuck, yes you read that right) I literally don’t know how or why, but I needed this in all of the best ways possible. This all around just hit every right spot imaginable. Bless you dearest Kitten.. I don’t even know what else to say to do it justice, just see for yourself.

Iron Heart *Long, beautiful Alpha!Dean series

@helvonasche

100 Kinks *It’s in there.. Sam and Dean, along with lots of other fun things... lots

@saxxxology

Entirely Soulless *Of course Sam didn’t get left out of here! Never! That tall tree of a man... and Soulless!Sam no less

@scorpiongirl1

In a frenzy *Another Sammy again for you...

Enjoy ;)

[growningupgeek]

The Darkside

Pairing- Sam x reader

Characters- Reader, Sam Winchester

Word count-687

Warnings-angst

Series Masterpost

A/N- This one was written for @helvonasche GIF challenge. I asked for a Sam Winchester GIF and this is what happened. Sadly, my phone ate the GIF which forced me to spend hours looking through images of Sam Winchester.  *Sigh* the life of a writer just sucks sometimes.  -JediCat

GIF is not mine.

     You got up early and jumped into the shower, the plan was to be packed up and gone before Sam woke up.  You needed to get out of this motel and gone without a trace.  This was getting to be too much for you to handle, there were too many emotions involved and it was starting to get to you.  When your body was clean, you called your boss and arranged to be picked up.

     Unfortunately, Sam woke up as you were putting on your shoes which meant that plan A went right out the window.  He sat up in bed, the sheet and blankets falling to his waist as he looked at you with confusion in his eyes.”Y/N, what’s going on?”

     Quickly switching to plan B, you gave him a bright smile. “I’m moving along, Sam.”

     The confusion in his face deepened as he climbed out from under the covers and reached for his jeans.  “Baby…”

     You walked over and, grabbing your bag from the end of the bed, headed towards the door. “It’s been fun, Winchester.”

     As you reached for the doorknob Sam’s well muscled arm came over your shoulder to hold it closed.  You turned and leaned back against the door jam before looking up into his face.

     His hazel eyes were filled with confusion but there was pain creeping in around the edges.  You suppressed a smile of satisfaction, turning it into one filled with sweet sadness.

     “Everything comes to an end, darling,” you said reaching up and patting his cheek.  “It’s just time for me to move along.”

     Sam searched your face, looking for any trace that you were lying, “Bullshit. What’s wrong, Y/N, this isn’t like you.”

     You let your face contort into a snarl. “How would you know?  I’ve never meant as much to you as Dean and I’m tired of playing second fiddle to him.”

    “What are you talking about? You’re the most…” Sam looked like you’d punched him in the stomach.

     “Oh, please,” you sighed.  “I’ve known for years that I was second with you and I’m just tired of it.”

     Outside a car horn sounded. You turned your head toward the sound effectively dismissing Sam from your life.  “Move your arm before I have to hurt you, Sam.”

     For a minute he looked like he was going to fight for you, then he sighed and removed his hand from the door.  You took one last look at his face as he made a final try to keep you, “I love you, Y/N.”

     “Too bad I never loved you,” you replied in your most cutting tone, your eyes never leaving his.  You saw his heart break before you pulled open the door and walked out to the SUV with dark tinted windows that waited there.  You climbed in and waved to him just before pulling the door closed.  Your last sight of Sam Winchester was him standing in the door of the motel room with his head hanging.  You closed your eyes and leaned your head against the back of the seat with a huff of laughter.

       “I take it things went well,” questioned a melodic voice.

     You turned to look at the man next to you, smiling into his dark eyes, “Yes, my liege.  It went just as planned from the moment she got cut across her rune.  He’s broken right now, and Y/N is in here fighting and screaming. She’s surprisingly strong.”

     The man the world knew as Vince Vincente smiled as he buried his hand in your hair and pulled you in for a deep kiss.  

     “You do such good work, Astra,” Lucifer purred.  “And I wouldn’t expect anything less from the woman Sam Winchester loves.  Keep her under control until we get to the safe house.  I have another meatsuit waiting for you so we can protect this one.  I still have a use for her.”

     Astra bowed your head and closed your eyes.  In the blackness of your own mind, you screamed and cursed her and Lucifer, fighting to break free so you could get back to Sam.

Part 2-Cross that Line

The Usual Suspects- @darkcastersruletheworld​ @black-shad0w-w0lf​ @imagine-that-supernatural​ @ladysaraharper​ @thedepthsoffandomminds​ @kbrand0​ @soaringeag1e​ @supernaturalismalife​ @iwantthedean​ @jojomonsterbunni​ @little-red-83​ @growleytria​ @ashleymalfoy​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @halespecterwinchester​ @driverpicksthemuusic​ @isometimeswritesomethings​ @whyisleepacesoamazing​ @mist-and-echoes​ @sassysupernaturalsweetheart​ @kaylas-obsessions​ @aerisawriting​ @letsgetoutalive​ @divinitycas @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​ @jodyri​ @soab1967​ @busybee612​ @appleschloss​ @kazchester-fanfiction​ @oriona75​ @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl​ @deandoesthingstome​ @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ @sammy-moo​ @for-the-love-of-dean​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @kittenofdoomage​ @sandlee44​ @apeshit7x​ @purgatoan​ @fast-times-in-the-impala​ @wereallbrokenangels​ @wonderless-screwup​ @dontsassmecastiel​ @cherrie-liquor​ @deascheck​ @mrssamfuckingwinchester​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @tjforston​ @babi-correia​ @helixiaray​ @writingthingsisdifficult​ @mysaintsasinner​ @mogaruke​ @wheresthekillswitch​ @skybinx-blog​ @bohowitch @hexparker @enthusiasmisdepressing @jensen-jarpad

[spnabobingo]

So.. I decided to make my ABO Bingo into a series.. like.. all the squares tie into one main story. Can I hold off on posting my card until I'm done? I don't want to give any of the fun away.. I'm a jerk like that... <3

Absolutely! As long as you write a separate piece for each square, you can totally make it into a series–and you can build our anticipation by keeping your series secret until you’re finished with all of them. Just be sure to post everything by the deadline:)

[julla]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!?!!

THANKS!?!??