18+. content warnings: oral sex (f rec), cheating, manipulation kinda, medical setting, praise, implied cucking(?)
you're a little stressed after spending the night with your boyfriend. he simply could not get you wet, even though he tried soooo hard... so you head to your physician, dr jack abbot.
jack listens with restrained satisfaction at the desperate note in your voice, at that hint of concern, like you're worried that something is wrong. he wants so badly to tell you that your boyfriend is just fucking useless, that it's nothing to worry about, that you're being a good girl…
but first, he wants to be sure. "let me see, honey."
he lays you out on the exam table, then his hand withdraws from your trembling thighs, moving down to grip the back of your knee. "spread a little more for me. i wanna check something."
you watch as he pushes his stool forward, his head and shoulders lowering between your legs. he hooks your legs over his shoulders, positioning himself closer to your pussy, his gaze roaming over your skin.
he presses a warm peck to your inner thigh. "there," he murmurs. "let me take care of you, honey. do you trust me?"
"yes," you reply, and you barely have time to exhale before he's pressing a feather-light kiss to your clit, making you gasp. "doctor abbot?"
his chuckle vibrates against your skin as he lifts his head just enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze. "just making sure everything's working right," he mutters, the clinical distance in his tone at odds to the way his tongue flicks over your clit in a quick, teasing stroke.
his hands slide up to grip your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin there. "relax," he orders, lips brushing your inner thigh again. "let me show you what your boyfriend should've been doing."
then he lowers his mouth to your cunt properly and licks a hot, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit. "what– what's this test for?" you breathe out, your chest heaving with arousal.
his mouth moves against you, tongue taking broad, languid laps. "it's called the clitoral glans test," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "to see how responsive you are. and you're being a very, very good girl, i must say."
it's not long before you're leaking all over his tongue, your slick pooling onto the paper sheets. "sweet girl," he praises. "taking my mouth so well. your boyfriend ever do this to you?"
you exhale shakily, the shame gnawing at you again as you shake your head. "no... he... he said he doesn't like doing it..."
his tongue swipes over your hole again, almost thoughtfully lapping up your juices, the ones that spilled out of you just for him. "he doesn't like it, huh? well, he's an idiot, honey, because you taste incredible."
"t-thank you," you stutter out at the praise, your hips bucking up against his mouth. "ah- sorry-"
"no apologising, sweetheart," he says, his breath hot against your folds, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin for reassurance. "i like your desperate little movements. keep going, honeygirl. let me see just how responsive you are." then his tongue is back between your legs, stroking slow, up and down, as he gauges your reactions.
"and don't you worry, honey," he says conversationally between licks, as if he wasn't making a mess of your pretty little cunt, "you make another appointment, i will be teaching your boyfriend how to eat your pussy very thoroughly, no matter how much he says he doesn't like it. cunt like this deserves to get eaten."
he hums, low and thoughtful. "maybe i'll even make him take notes. have him write up a full report on the experience."
the concept of being detective sammy bryant's badge bunny sigh.
waiting around the station doors until he finally leaves for the day, and then you're allll over him. arms draped around his broad shoulders, nuzzling into his neck, giggling, "hi, detective bryant... y'look stressed, want me to help you relax?"
sammy tries to pretend he's ashamed to have someone who's very much not his wife kissing at his jaw in broad daylight, but there's no use, the grin is already plastered to his face.
his big hands spread over the globes of your ass and squeeze, "baby, get in the car, okay? someone's gonna see us."
stroking sammy's cock in the back of his car, his shirt fully unbuttoned so you can see his flushed tummy rise and fall with his laboured breaths!! seeing his hands curl into the leather of the seat when you finally get your lips around him, how his head lolls back against the window when your tongue flicks at his leaking tip. "shit, you're so fuckin' good at this— wha— oh my god, you're gonna get me there quick, huh, baby?"
making him come and it gets all over his badge cause it's still clipped to his belt :( he's like "aw, baby, you gotta stop doing that... alright, clean it up." and you do, lapping at the gold metal with your eager little tongue!!
...on his sexy single neighbor that just moved in next-door to him and Tammi again and how just your presence has tormented this poor man day and night ever since.
it's not like he sees you that often. he started work pretty early and you did a pretty good job at mostly keeping to yourself, but the glimpses he did catch were enough to make him feel all flustered and ashamed of himself and his helplessly wandering eye.
because he can just tell you're trouble. you, in your sparkly flip flops and stupid cropped tube tops that let your tummy pudge peek over the hem of your too short denim miniskirt, plump ass bouncing and thigh fat jiggling as you walked your mean little dog (who hated Sammy with a passion); without a care in the world that he could see your chubby lovehandles begging to be squeezed or your perky nipples poking through your shirt. because of course you'd go braless, and of course Sammy looked despite him trying his best to ignore you and be a good husband.
Sammy Bryant was a weak little man who's eyes betrayed him any time you were around, really. zeroing in on any bit of exposed flesh you have busting out your tiny little outfits.
you're just a slut looking for attention, Tammi's words not his, and god does he give it to you.
when you show up at his door all pouty and looking worried sick, still in your nightie, claiming that your sink was leaking like crazy and you needed his help cause "it's wet alll over, Sammy please".
when your car shit the bed (a miracle your little fiat even held on that long) and you'd asked all syrupy sweet if Sammy could "take care of me, please Officer?".
even when your IKEA furniture came in and you needed "someone big and strong" like him to assemble it for you because you'd just gotten your nails done and couldn't afford breaking one.
and he'd willingly play along, frowning all unsure and going "eh…I dunno, sweetheart…" only to show up as soon as his wife was out of the house.
it was perfectly neighborly of him to help you, an upstanding member of his community. or at least that's what he reasoned with while he mowed your lawn on a hot-ass Sunday afternoon while Tammi was out of town.
all while trying his best to ignore how good you looked all splayed in your lawn-chair and little bikini, lips pursed around the straw of your fruity drink as your heated gaze raked over Sammy's buff, chubby body. the unforgiving July sun had made his white tee stick to his sweaty torso like saran, and you'd lapped up every detail like you'd owned him. his meaty, defined pecs, the outline of his belly pressing against the drenched fabric, the strain of his sleeves fighting against his flexing biceps…
Sammy couldn't possibly know you wanted him, but your looks were hungry, eyes voraciously gorging on every detail as he stopped mowing to stretch his back. his hand came up to wipe the beads of sweat dotting his brow and rolling down the side of his pink, plump cheeks. a small resigned sigh escaping him as he hesitantly tugged at the hem of his shirt.
"It's soooo hot…" you whine in your comfy seat in the shade, lower lip caught between your teeth in view of his thick triceps and back muscles flexing. good god was Sammy Bryant wide. built like an ox, broad shouldered and burly under a healthy layer of chub, and you wanted nothing more than to take a bite out of him. or three. "why don't you take your shirt off, honey?"
the suggestion seems to have hit a nerve, Sammy straightening up like a meerkat, his head whipping to your direction nervously. "wh-what?" he squeaks before clearing his throat. "i mean- i-…no, no i'm fine. no one wants to see the fat guy shirtless."
he doesn't understand why you look so confused at his self depreciating comment, brows pinched and nose ever so slightly scrunched as you slide off your seat and walk over to him. "That's mean, Sammy," you say, grasping the hem of his white tee to slowly peel the sticky, offending garment off his soft pudgy belly and broad chest. "I wanna see you shirtless." you admit to your married neighbor without a lick of shame. "'sides, it's hot out."
and what the fuck is he supposed to say to that except babble out a confused "thank you?" and ignore the pink flush moving from his cheeks down to his neck at record speed?
you giggle in response, clearly unfazed, or perhaps delighted, and reach up to squeeze his biceps. They're firm under your manicured fingers, a bulging vein jumping when you stroke it with your thumb. "You've got sooo many freckles!" you coo, the tips of your nails trailing down his chest like the world's horniest game of connect the dots. "Lemme get my sunscreen and I can do your back, yeah?"
any other man would probably have enough sense to push you off and hightail it to his home that he shares with his wife, but Sammy finds himself sat at the edge of your sun lounger with you kneeling behind him, almost trembling as you slather sunscreen on his freckled shoulders and back.
"Ooh..see, you're already turnin' pink, honey" you chirp, voice all sweet and bubbly. god, you sounded like you didn't have a care in the world, let alone worried that Tammi might catch you two. your hands take the opportunity to grope Sammy for all he's worth, naughty fingers grasping at his back muscles and sides with the excuse of "getting every inch!", even going as far as to pinch his love handles and laugh in his face when poor Sammy squeaks. "Goodness, you're jumpy officer!"
"Tammi…my wife…" Sammy starts, his protests melting into a soft whimper as you cup and knead his pecs, sunscreen forgotten.
"What about her?" you hum in return, peeking over his shoulder to look at his flushed face and puppydog eyes.
"Well.." Sammy starts, voice unsure "She won't be happy if you keep touchin' me like this, sweeth-heart," he stammers when you move down to rub down his pudgy belly, digits digging into the fat possessively. "Um…just worried, I guess. Don't want her to come fight you or-or something-"
you stop him in his tracks with a bold kiss to his shoulder, lipgloss staining the skin a glistening strawberry pink. it's completely out of order, a step far removed from your thus far mostly innocent flirting, and it makes Sammy's pulse thrum when he should be pushing you off.
"Oh I can handle Ms. Tammi, honey," you throw back, unperturbed by the possibility of Tammi rightfully getting in your face or even getting physical. "So you can tell her she's welcome to come over and try somethin'"
"Or," your purring voice is music to Sammy's ears as you lean in closer, breasts pressed to his bare back. "You can tell her to forget the dog and keep a tighter leash on her husband. Naughty thing keeps getting in my yard, officer." you look at his trembling lips, parted in anticipation of your own blanketing them, then back to those wide hazel eyes staring into yours before pulling back completely with another innocent giggle. "Now, how about some lemonade? i'm melting!"
Content: angst, reader is being cheated on (not by Bucky), I’m not from NYC so if the directions don’t make sense I used Google maps and a dream, hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff
Synopsis: Bucky notices the same man ordering two bouquets from his floral shop each month and sets out to let you know the truth.
A/N: written for @buckybarnes82 / this idea has been in my notes for a while. I hope you like it!
Main Masterlist | Bucky Masterlist
———
Bucky opens up the online order page to yet another order from the same name - always two bouquets of two dozen red roses wrapped in craft paper and tied with twine. The only divergence every month is what the man requests to be written on the notecards with the flowers.
Today, he requested card number one to say: To my wife, you are the heart of our home and the light of my life. With love, Your Husband. Card number two’s request: To my best girl, you keep me young and alive. Thank you for being mine. I’ll see you this weekend, Your Man.
Bucky’s Blooms prides itself on its customer service, fresh floral arrangements, and client privacy, but damn, if this particular client isn’t getting under Bucky’s skin with his orders. Besides the fact that the man is clearly cheating on his wife and some other woman, he doesn’t tip Bucky’s delivery driver, Joaquin, when he orders the flowers.
“I’m not driving up to Tribeca and then all the way to Forest Park with no tip again, man,” Joaquin grumbles as he starts on the familiar bouquets. “That’s a trek on a light traffic day.”
“It’s fine,” Bucky says. “Why don’t you man the shop for a bit? I’ll make these deliveries. Besides, I need to stop in Bushwick for more craft paper and some other supplies.”
“No, I’m sorry, sir. I’ll go. I apologize for complaining,” the young man says.
“Really, Joaquin, it’s fine,” Bucky assures him. “I need some fresh air, anyway.” He finishes the bouquets, signs off on the handwritten notes with Your Husband and Your Man while trying not to let a shiver run down his spine at the two-timer, and heads out to the delivery van. “Be back in a couple hours,” he says as the shop door shuts behind him.
The drive up from Brooklyn to Tribeca isn’t far, but can take a while with traffic, so Bucky turns on the radio to tune out the noise in his head. It’s not his first time seeing something suspicious like this in the floral business. He's had to write his fair share of questionable notecards, but the fact that this particular client is so smug as to order the bouquets under his real name (yes, Bucky looked him up) on the same day every month, and even have the notecards spell out the situation for him is brazen and stupid and downright awful. He decides right then and there to tell the women about the situation, client privacy be damned.
The “wife” isn’t home when he delivers the bouquet, so he leaves it with the doorman and makes the trip back down to Queens. It’s a nice enough neighborhood, but clearly very different from where the man lives with his wife in Manhattan, and Bucky wonders how they met. They’re clearly from two very different social circles. He double checks the address on the GPS as he looks out the van window at what appears to be a bakery. The address matches, so he shrugs and grabs the bouquet.
As he walks through the bakery doors, he’s hit with the scent of cinnamon and sugar. It’s strong, and reminds him of something his mom used to bake years and years ago.
A head pop ups from behind the counter with a wave. “Welcome in! Let me know if you have questions- oh,” you trail off as you notice the flowers in the man’s arms. “Are those for me?”
Bucky steps up to the counter and eyes your nametag before nodding. You’re beautiful. “Looks like it,” he mutters as he hands the bouquet to you across the counter. The bakery is quiet and empty, and Bucky clears his throat. “I, uh- I own the shop,” he says, nodding to the flowers. “My assistant usually delivers them, but, uh- it’s me today.” Why is he rambling?
“Well, thank you. They are beautiful as always,” you say, closing your eyes as you breathe in the roses. Your eyes flutter open and Bucky thinks his heart stops. You’re something else, and he almost completely forgets what he came here to tell you.
“What is that smell? It’s so familiar, like…” he searches the recesses of his spotty memory for something nearly gone.
“It’s cinnamon coffee cake,” you say. “Fresh out of the oven.”
“Coffee cake,” Bucky says with a nod and a solemn smile, remembering how his mom used to bake that for special occasions. Sometimes there was no cinnamon, but it was better when there was.
“Would you like a slice?” You ask, setting the bouquet on the counter. “It’s still quite hot, though.”
“I- I’d love one. Thank you,” he says, pulling out his wallet to pay.
You wave at him to put it away. “On the house,” you say. “I know the drive out here is far from your shop.”
“Yeah, but that’s okay. It’s nice to get out of the store sometimes,” he says as you put a steaming slice of the cake in front of him on a Robin’s egg blue plate. “Wow, well, thank you.” Bucky makes a mental note to put something in the tip jar by the register before he leaves.
“I’m going to get a vase for these,” you say as you walk to the back of the bakery. Bucky blows on a piece of cake before taking a bite. It’s perfect - better than his mom’s was, actually. You come back with a milky white vase covered in a strawberry print and put the roses inside, fan them out, and set them on the counter. “Beautiful.”
“Do you want anything for the road?” You ask, nodding toward the glass case of baked goods.
“Actually, I need to tell you something,” he says, wringing his hands together nervously. “And I know I shouldn’t from a legal and business standpoint, but I can’t in good conscience keep deliverin’ those bouquets to you and not say something. You seem like a sweet person. You deserve to know.”
Your stomach plummets and your heart starts to race. Echoes of your mom and sister and friends saying things like “too good to be true” and “he’s probably married” play through your head like a film reel.
Bucky senses your anxiety and clears his throat, rethinking if he (a complete and total stranger) should tell you this awful news or not.
“Just tell me” you mutter, gripping the edge of the counter for moral and physical support. “Just say it.”
“He’s married,” Bucky says calmly, setting his fork down on his plate. His eyes search yours, which are quickly filling with tears.
You swallow down the lump in your throat. “And how do you know? You know for certain?”
“He sends two bouquets every month - one to you, and one to his wife,” he says. “Joaquin usually delivers them both, but the asshole never tips. That’s why I came today.”
You lean back against the counter, the pit in your stomach growing by the second. He was supposed to pick you up tonight to drive up to the coast for a weekend away at his cottage. You’ve never once been to his place in the city - not once. For months. That should have been a red flag, but he’s been so charming. You ignored all the signs. And now here you are, faced with the cold, hard truth in the form of yet another bouquet of perfect roses from Your Man. “I- uh, I’m not sure what to say,” you tell the man sitting in front of you. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I’m sorry I had to,” he says solemnly.
“I’d rather know now, you know, than… later.” After you’ve fallen deeper in love with the dickhead. You look back at the roses and shrug. “I can’t get rid of them. They’re too beautiful. Maybe I’ll just pretend they’re from someone else,” you say with a pained laugh.
Bucky smiles at your resilience and nods. “Just pretend they’re my payment for this delicious coffee cake. Just merchants trading goods.”
You genuinely laugh at that and nod. “So, you’re Bucky?”
“I’m Bucky,” he says, offering you his hand to shake. “I wish we were meeting under any other circumstance.”
You shake his hand - it’s warm and calloused. Bigger than yours. “Me too.”
“Are you going to be okay today?” He asks, putting both hands in his pockets. You now notice the glint of a prosthetic on his left and look back to his face.
“I’m going to be just fine,” you assure him.
“Okay, well,” he starts, looking back to the glass of the bakery case. “I’d love a couple biscottis for the road. Dealer’s choice.”
You smile through your sadness and walk around the counter, placing two into a paper bag for him.
“I’m paying,” he says, waving his wallet around.
“You’re not. I owe you one,” you say, crossing your arms.
“You’re stubborn,” he sighs, shaking his head. He pulls a twenty from his wallet and slips it into the tip jar anyway before stepping back from the counter. He knows he should say goodbye. This interaction is over, but there’s a tug in his chest that won’t let him walk out. “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
“Aren’t you from Brooklyn?” You ask. The chances are slim to none that you’ll ever see him again.
“Yeah, but I have a feeling you’ll get flowers again,” he says as his back hits the door to exit the bakery. “Take care.”
———
One Month Later
The bell above the bakery door chimes as you’re elbow deep in a tub of frosting. “Welcome in,” you exclaim, not looking up from the counter.
“D’you have any coffee cake?”
Your head snaps up at the deep voice. He is standing there with a bouquet of pink lilies and a smile. “I told you you’d get flowers again.”
in honor of me wanting to fuck this cop i’m talking to SO BAD.
cheater!sammy x sex hotline worker
tw: cheating, use of “slut” like once??
you pick up the call on your late shift, voice sliding into that warm, filthy-sweet tone you know drives them wild. “hey there, handsome. welcome to the hotline. first time calling? we’re gonna have so much fun. just so you know, this is a charged line. it’s gonna hit your card at $4.99 a minute once we get going. you still wanna play?”
sammy’s deep southern drawl comes through steady and low. “yeah… i’m aware. go ahead and charge it, darlin’. name’s sammy. i’m sittin’ in my patrol car behind the old mill, still on duty but it’s dead quiet out here. wife tammi’s waitin’ at home but i’ve been rock hard all shift thinkin’ about callin’ someone like you.”
“good boy. card’s processing now. you’re all mine for as long as you stay on the line. you parked somewhere safe and dark?” you ask, already taking full control.
“windows up, lights off. nobody around for miles. got my cock out already.”
“mm, eager. wrap that big hand around it for me, sammy. slow strokes first..base to tip, nice and firm. spit on it and get it real wet. that’s it. i want you fuckin’ your fist like you’d fuck my tight little pussy.”
he lets out a thick groan, the car seat creaking as he leans back. “fuck yeah… feels good already. your voice is makin’ my dick throb. i shouldn’t be doin’ this on duty but damn i need it. been wantin’ to cum all night.”
“harder now,” you purr, guiding him. “twist your wrist at the head every time you come up. imagine me sneaking into that squad car, climbing right into your lap, and sinking down on every thick inch. i’d ride you so deep, officer. you’d be balls deep in my wet cunt while your uniform’s still on.”
sammy’s breathing gets heavier, strokes picking up speed. “god damn, baby… i’d grip those hips and bounce you on my cock so hard. bet your pussy would squeeze me so fuckin’ tight. i wanna fill you up, shoot my load deep inside you while i’m supposed to be patrollin’ these streets.”
“that’s nasty, sammy. i love it. keep talking like that while you jerk faster. tell me what you’d do to me.”
“i’d bend you over the hood of this car,” he growls, voice rough and hungry now. “pull those panties to the side and fuck you raw from behind. slap that ass till it’s red while my cock stretches you open. shit… i’m married but right now all i can think about is pumpin’ this fat dick into some slut like you. you’d take it so good, wouldn’t you?”
“yes i would, officer. i’d back up on it and beg for more. speed up for me, sammy. fuck your fist like you’d fuck my throat.”
the wet rhythmic sounds of his hand get louder over the line. sammy groans deep and filthy. “fuck… i’d make you choke on it first, get it all sloppy, then bend you over and rail that pussy till you’re creamin’ all over me. i wanna hear you moan my name while i’m balls deep, fillin’ you up with this married cum. shit baby, i’m gettin’ close already.”
“good. don’t stop. stroke faster, twist at the head. you’re doing so fucking good for your first time. you gonna cum for me, sammy? make a mess in that patrol car while you’re on duty?”
“yeah… fuck yes. i’m gonna cum so hard. gonna shoot it all over my hand thinkin’ about breedin’ that tight cunt. here it comes, fuck. oh fuck, baby..”
he lets out a long, guttural moan, almost a growl, as he finishes. you hear the slick sounds of him pumping through every pulse, breathing ragged while thick spurts cover his fist and probably the steering wheel.
after a few heavy breaths he chuckles low, voice still thick with satisfaction. “jesus christ, darlin’… might need to call you again real soon.”
you smile, purring into the phone. “anytime, sammy. clean up that mess, i’ll be waiting.”
dad!bucky - "come to me to cum"
cw: incest, cheating, fingering, oral (female receiving), squirting
"ah." you wince when your boyfriend pushes it in a little too deep a little too fast. he mistakes it for pleasure and smiles to himself, fingers driving deeper into your dry pussy.
all you can hope for is for this to end soon.
he kisses up your neck, sloppy in a way that makes you squirm. the sofa cushion sinks beneath him as he edges closer to you. "you're so tight, baby," he mumbles. you want to tell him that it's because you're not even wet yet.
but you don't. you just want this to be over.
your dad is upstairs and this guy is trying his luck in the living room of all places.
when he shoves his fingers back in harder this time, you actually let out a yelp. he still doesn't see you in pain.
"wait, can you just—" he doesn't wait, in fact, he tries again.
"damn, baby, you're too tight."
this isn't working. you're about to tell him to get his hand out from under your skirt when you hear heavy footsteps approach.
shit.
your dad's looking at you with a scowl, which then turns into a withering glare at your boyfriend. "out. now."
"sir—"
"out."
your boyfriend scurries out without another word, front door slamming shut, leaving you to face your father's wrath alone. it's embarrassing enough that your boyfriend doesn't know how to please you. it's even worse when your dad catches you in that humiliating situation.
"dad—"
"this the kind of treatment you take from boys?" he interrupts. "i raised you to be smart and you take the bare minimum — hell, i don't think he even gave you anything."
heat flushes all the way up your neck to your ears. scolding for propriety you can take. but this disappointment in his voice is a sting that lingers.
"answer me."
"i don't know okay!" you snap, "i don't have that much experience with boys. it's my first—" you stop, biting your lip, "he's my first boyfriend and i don't know how it's supposed to feel."
"you don't touch yourself?"
oh god. this line of questioning has your face burning.
"well?"
"i'm not answering that."
bucky reaches out and grabs you by the jaw. "you're still living under my roof. i ask you a question, you answer me."
your lip trembles at the weight of his gaze, the strength of his grip. "i-i do."
"then you know it's not supposed to feel like that."
"i just thought he would learn eventually," you mumble and bucky's hold softens. his thumb brushes over your lips as he slides his hand to cup your cheek.
his eyes are a warm blue, like the sky, when he looks at you this time. "sweetheart, it's not supposed to hurt. he's supposed to prepare you properly."
your lips twist in a sour look. "maybe he's new to this too."
"i want you to be with someone who takes care of you. who knows the difference between when it hurts and when it feels fuckin' good in your pussy."
"dad!" you blurt out, "oh my god. i'm not listening to this from you."
"why not? i've had plenty of experience."
this has to be some sort of humiliation ritual. "dad!"
bucky's jaw clenches. "you might as well let me teach you instead. teach you what it's like to be with a man who knows what he's doing."
"you can't— that would be so— no!"
"why not?"
you gape at him. "how is that even a question? you're my dad."
"i'm also a man. a man who's had his fair share. a man who knows how to do it right. i don't want you to accept any less, sweetheart. let me show you how good it can feel, hm?"
before you can protest further, bucky is sinking down to his knees before you. you open your mouth to argue again but his hands shoot out to drag you to the edge of the couch, your skirt riding up in the process.
you try to shove it down but bucky pries your hands away. "keep your hands to your sides. let me do everything."
for some reason, you listen to him. you've already disappointed your dad once today. you can't do it again. so you ball your hands into fists and let them sit on your lap.
bucky's large hands settle on your knees, opening up your legs. he spots your cotton white panties. cute, but not a single sign of arousal. "you're not wet."
"no," you confirm with heat in your cheeks.
"he tried to finger you while you were dry?"
"dad," you groan. "we've established that he's shit at it."
bucky chuckles. "poor girl. he doesn't even know how to get you turned on, does he? he doesn't know what makes you wet."
"and you do?" the challenge comes out of your mouth before you can think twice.
his lips lift into a smirk. "i've heard you in your room, honey. you're not as quiet as you think." at that, the embarrassment comes back in full force. "hear you playing those videos when you think i'm asleep."
oh shit.
"the ones where the girls go daddy, daddy," bucky murmurs as he slides his hands up your thighs, pushing your skirt all the way up to expose you to him.
he hooks a finger on the hem of your panties and slowly inches it down. your hips lift on instinct to help him before he draws it all the way down your legs, letting it pool on the floor.
"is that what you like, sweetheart? your dad?"
"it's not you," you rush to say, "it's just— it's hot, okay? it's a normal thing?"
"to have a daddy kink? sure. but to make it a reality?" he laughs, "that's cute. you can call me that if you want. though, i much prefer when you call me dad. makes it more... real."
"you're sick," you whisper.
"you like it."
you do. your heart is beating fast and rough in your chest, a tempo that makes you question whether you're breathing fine. you can feel your pussy squeezing around nothing, air that doesn't fill you up.
worst of all, you can feel yourself leaking.
bucky hasn't even done anything. your boyfriend had kissed you, touched your tits, even tried to finger you. nothing. dry as a dessert.
and it only took your dad his voice, some strong words, those bright eyes, to rile you up.
bucky bites down a smile when his finger reaches up to drag up your pussy. your legs jerking automatically as you flinch away. his grip on your thigh tightens. "stay still."
"this is wrong, dad. we shouldn't— what about mom?"
"mom doesn't need to know," he mutters, "you gonna tell your mom you got wet to your dad telling you he's gonna take care of you?"
of course not. you could never do that.
"just enjoy this. if you want to get experience with men, you come to me. i'll show you. i'll teach you."
bucky eases a finger into you, finding your pussy moist on the inside. "you're wet, honey. that's good." he hums when he slowly prods at your opening, sliding it in and out.
but when it starts to pinch again, you don't have to say a word. bucky notices how you grimace and immediately draws his hand away.
"not wet enough. what do you like, sweetheart? why don't you tell me?"
"i don't know."
"my voice? you like hearing me talk?"
you do. you've always loved how your dad could sound gruff and soothing at the same time. that protective heaviness to his tone that wraps around you and grabs you between your legs. you never thought much about it. thought it was a natural reaction to men in general.
but no one ever came close to your dad. when he talks, you can feel your legs pressing together, chasing some friction like a bitch in heat. now you have him, right there between your thighs, looking at you like he wants to devour you.
his blue eyes are keen and sharp on you. he pulls you down closer to him. his face closing in and you clamp your legs closed on instinct, except you catch his face between your inner thighs.
bucky lets out a guttural groan, turning so his lips could brush against that smooth skin. his stubble is rough on your sensitive legs and you feel yourself squeezing even tighter.
inhaling deeply, he closes his eyes as he breathes in your scent. that sweet smell of arousal that has his cock stirring in his pants. he was already stiff the moment he dropped in front of you, but he's achingly hard now that he can actually feel you.
"smells so fucking sweet, honey. bet you taste sweet too."
"dad, i don't think— maybe just your finger," you try to argue, but even then your voice sounds weak. argument far from convincing.
"no, i want to taste you. i want my tongue on this pretty pussy of yours."
a moan rises from your chest. "d-dad, please."
"you want that too, don't you? you want to know how it feels to have a man properly eat you out. my tongue in this slick little cunt that keeps leaking for me."
your legs fall apart again with his words. your white flag. bucky grins as he slides his hands under your ass to draw you closer, higher so he can bury his face between. your legs.
his tongue strokes up your folds and he nearly cuts from the flavor alone. his own daughter. he's tasting his baby girl.
"sweet as honey," he mumbles. bucky pulls back slightly only to spit on your pussy.
the action catches you by surprise.
"relax, sweetheart. just making sure you're wet enough here to take my tongue and fingers."
and then he's diving back in.
it's a compounding effect. his proximity, the wet drag of his tongue, his saliva between your legs. you're dripping all over his face. his beard glistens with your juices as he continues to mouth at you, tongue and lips working in tandem to drive you crazy.
your fingers fly up to his head, tangling in his brunette locks and pushing him deeper between your legs. bucky's groan reverberates throughout your entire body from your core. your legs shake in the wake of his ministrations.
"oh god, dad, please."
"that's right, tell me what you want, sweetheart. tell your old man what you like."
bucky's tongue pushes in again, flicking around like he's feeling you up from the inside out. he can feel you squeezing around him. he moans when you hold his hair a little tighter, so you tug at it a little firmer.
his hand joins his mouth then, finger breaching your pussy as he continues to fuck you with his tongue. "good girl. perfect cunt. this sweet pussy that i made. this pussy is mine, sweetheart."
you let out another cry when bucky fucks you with a finger, pulling away to lick his lips. he doesn't bother wiping his mouth or his chin.
"i wanna fucking smell you on me. i don't even want to think about washing my face. i want to taste you, smell you all day. i want to go to work still thinkin' about this perfect pussy. i'll jerk myself off in the office to the sound of my daughter's gorgeous moans."
fuck. you curse and your legs close in around him again. bucky doesn't seem to care. he keeps fingering you, slipping in another one as his tongue circles your clit.
you mewl softly with how sensitive you are. the tides have turned and you're quickly on your way to an orgasm, one that you haven't experienced quite like this before.
bucky's other hand reaches down and palms his own cock. you watch with wide eyes as the imprint becomes more obvious with how fucking hard he is. he strokes it over his pants as he continues to fuck you with his mouth.
he's enjoying this as much as you are. that realization hits you with another wave of arousal.
the feeling climbs faster and faster until it overtakes you and your mind is reeling with white noise. you can't think. you can't speak. all you can focus on is the feeling of your dad's rough beard on your legs, his talented tongue along your folds, and his fingers buried deep in his daughter's cunt.
"because this is all you want. you just want to be daddy's good little girl. you want daddy to take care of you all the time. don't worry, baby. you're mine. i'm not going anywhere."
you nod and babble incoherently. you don't even know what you're saying anymore. all you can do is agree with him.
"you're not going to let anyone else touch you, are you? this pretty pussy belongs to me now."
"y-yes. yours, dad."
"only mine?" he pushes his fingers a little deeper. he keeps nudging at that particular spot, one that has you squirming and wriggling on the couch.
"yes. yours. only yours."
"that's my girl. want you to cum all over me, sweetheart."
except you don't cum. not yet.
you're squirting now, liquid gushing out of your pussy as he finger fucks you into oblivion. you're spilling all over the couch, but you can't bring yourself to care. your chest is tight, your pussy clenches around your dad's fingers.
he keeps watching you, tongue poking at his teeth as he watches you come undone in his hands. your stomach tightens, the heat coils inside you, stringing you up by the throat as your breath is choked out of your lungs.
then you're falling and falling. your stomach tenses, your pussy squeezes tight. you're cumming all over his fingers.
"good girl, look at you. you did so well," bucky murmurs and his words strike you both in your chest and between your legs. that feeling of joy and pride blooming inside you.
you're entirely spent by the time the orgasm finishes rocking through you. your body is pleasantly tingling all over.
"that's what happens when you listen to your dad. if you let me take care of you."
you bite on your bottom lip, gaze falling to his cock still in his pants. "you're still hard. you haven't finished yet."
bucky rises to his feet, leaning over to kiss you on the head. "that's my problem to worry about."
you hesitate only for a moment. "but i want to learn how to please men too."
bucky swallows an expletive. he couldn't have created a more perfect daughter. "alright, why don't we clean this up before your mom gets home? then i'll teach you how to wrap that pretty mouth of yours around my cock."
nodding, you hum in agreement.
"and remember what i told you, sweetheart. next time you want to learn anything, you come to me. you got it?"
"got it, dad."
requested by anon: Can I request dad!bucky telling reader that if she wants to experience the stuff she wants to experience with boys she’ll have to come to him so *he* can teach her. He ends up training her to be a good daughter for him….
a/n: thank you for sending this request. i ended up enjoying writing this more than i thought. hope you like it as well.
if you enjoyed this, please like/reblog/comment. kisses!
— divider by @/mikeykuns
Stepdad!König taking a call from your mother while she’s at work - and while he’s brutalizing your sweet pussy in your room, his hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your moans as he speaks to your mother over the phone like normal 😊
Phone
cw: p in v, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, smut, rough sex, creampie, exhibitionism?, tell me if I missed any.
Your heart jumped out of you chest when his phone rang, you panicked, but König looked unbothered, reaching over to pick it up as he kept up his pace, driving his hips forward roughly and ruthlessly. He chuckled lowly, showing you the caller: your mother. Your breath hitched, teary eyes widening and mouth agape with drool rolling down the corner of your lips, you struggled against him, begging for him to ignore the call or to stop if he wanted to answer it.
“You can keep quiet, can’t you, Schatz?”
“No no- please-!”
His hand came down on your mouth, muffling your cries and whimpers, pleading for him to adhere to common sense. Despite your cries, he answered the phone, clicking on speaker - to antagonize you - and your mother’s voice rang out in the room. He greeted her with a normal hi, his tone calm even through the strenuous session, rocking into you, his thick girth and throbbing cock milking your cunt of the load he left this morning after she left.
“I’m sorry for calling so suddenly, hun,” she sounded tired, spending the day working until 7pm.
“It’s okay,” König hummed, placing the phone down beside your head, beside your covered mouth and tear-streaked cheeks. “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll be home later than usually,” she sighed, oblivious to your muffled whines. “I’m going to swing by that Italian place, do you want anything?”
Unlike your choked mewls and breathless keens, your stepdad was still, chest puffing up and pressing down on you, shifting your legs over his shoulders as he drove himself deeper. He was rough, thrusts hard and words degrading, cooing in your ear harsh, degrading names. Telling you what a slut you were for you stepdad, how you were a bitch for whoring around him and Horangi in skimpy shorts and baggy shirts, and how your sweet pussy was so wet and loud for him.
“Could you ask (Name) about supper?”
“Give me a second, ja?”
He flashed you a mean grin, putting the call on mute for better acting, playing the scene of him walking towards your room or where ever you were. His hand moved down to your neck, giving you a hard grip and holding you down, folding you in half, knees bent to your shoulders and feet jerking over his head. Seeming satisfied with his manhandling, the wet slaps of his hips hitting your thighs louder and the head of his cock ramming your spongy cervix, he picked up the phone, unmuting it and pressing it to your ear.
“Dear?”
“H-hi mom-” you gasped, the heavy curve of his cock and the bulging veins rubbing your back wall, you spasmed around him, teeth biting down on your lower lip to stop the moan that threatened to slip.
“You remember that Italian place we went last week?”
“Ye-ah-yeah.”
She paused, her silence ringing louder than every slap that made your stomach bulge. You feared that she heard your slip up, the high-pitched mewl and pants you let out; you feared that crooked grin on his scarred lips and that proud and scheming gleam in his eyes. He changed his fast and rough pace for a deep and precise one, repeatedly aiming for that spot that made your eyes roll and back arch, finger thumbing your engorged clit.
“Are you okay?” You hated the worried tone mixed with that exhaustion, it picked at your heart.
“Yes-!” It came out harsher than you intended, pearly tears slipping from your squinted eyes.
König’s manhandling and pointed hits made your walls clench around him, the coil in your navel tightening to a delirious amount, making your head spin and mind dumb.
“Okay… Do you want anything for tonight?”
“Ro-rosé, please.”
“All right, I’ll see you tonight then.”
Any later and she would have heard you scream your mind off, you let moans roll off your tongue without restraint, nails digging into his back and back arched upward. He lowered your legs to his elbows, opening your legs to watch you come, your cunt swallowing him to the base, pumping in and then back out with a white ring around is cock from your shared pleasure. He made a sound of satisfaction, hands wandering down to grip your hips, riding out his pleasure leisurely and yours a fiery white blaze that burned through your body.
“You heard her, ja? Looks like we have more time to play.”
To me, this is Stepdad!Price and his stepdaughter, and I will not be accepting any other opinions. (🌽)
CW: CHEATING, STEPCEST, BRIEF MENTIONS OF PREGNANCY TOWARDS THE END. MDNI 18+
Price adores you more than anything else in this world. You're his precious little angel, an outlet for his sexual frustration and horniness. Your stepfather refuses to allow your stepbrothers near you, and especially not any random men who clearly don't care to know you. He'll shake his head, frustrated and disappointed, before calling you onto his lap.
You need an older man like your stepfather, someone loyal and trustworthy, someone who knows you better than yourself.
“Tsk–, you know better, don’t‘cha?” Your stepfather's large hands tighten around your hips, his fingertips pressing into the soft flesh on your hips while his gravelly and hoarse voice rings in your ears. One hand travels down your bare and naked body, exploring each inch of your soft skin, while the other one grasps at your head and holds it still, allowing him to make out with you sloppily while praising you between breaths. Price slowly fucks his thick fingers into your soft cunt, all while he makes out with you slowly. You can hear your stepfather's heavy breathing and pleased, guttural groans as you react positively to his kisses and lustful touch, as well as the sound of your cunny squelching around his fingers.
To your stepfather, you're the prettiest and purest thing to walk this planet. He doesn't care about your mother, how heartbroken she'll be to know that he's been cheating on her with you. He's just using her to get through to you, to stuff your soaked pussy with his calloused, thick digits in preparation to fill your hole with his meaty, sweaty cock. Fuck, maybe you'll make babies one day. You'll learn to accept attention from your father, whether it's sexual or not.
“That’s right, sweetness’- let me show you who you belong to.”
