ramp-it-up

[ramp-it-up]

Thanks for sharing! 😁

Muse: Two

Muse: One | Muse Masterlist | Muse: Three

Summary: You see Ari's loft. Sort of.

Pairing: Art Curator! Ari Levinson x Plus sized model! Reader

Word count: 1.3 K

A/N: Muse will be a series of one shots featuring Muse and Ari, and this the second one. We’re gonna hear from them at least every week. 😏 Big thanks to @princessphilly who basically inspired the premise and has endured me being unhinged in her inbox. She also patiently endures my questionable choices. This AU is tangential to the Peach and Knock You Down verses. If this drabble makes you angry, let me know! I love reblogs, replies, asks and likes. Let me have it! :)

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. The angst starts now. Art Curator Ari. Plus sized model Reader, dating app life, casual sex, Dominant Ari, size kink, breeding kink, nipple obsession, nipple play, oral sex (f receiving), sex in multiple positions and locations in Ari's loft, protected sex, all lies told, smoking and drinking, one night stand with zero feelings caught (lies!). This is basically porn with a side of angst.

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

His loft was exactly what you expected.

Tribeca.

Concrete floors.

High ceilings. 

Walls of windows that didn’t have curtains because men like Ari don’t mind being seen. 

Shelves lined with art books, half-burnt candles, and sculptures that probably cost more than triple your rent. It smelled like cedarwood and something else you couldn’t place.

Ari let you in without a word.

You didn’t ask for a tour.

Didn’t want conversation

You wanted the undoing.

The second the door shut, he had you pinned against it, mouth claiming yours like you belonged to him.

Like he’d been starving for you.

Like he already knew you’d let him.

Heat roared between you, the hunger devouring pretense. He kissed like a man who knew exactly how it would end: you, ruined and wrecked in his bed.

Or against the wall.

Or anywhere he wanted.

You let him have you. Just enough to make him want more.

“You always kiss like it’s the last time,” you murmured against his mouth, breathless.

“I’m not big on next times,” he replied, voice low, certain, but there was the smallest crack in his armor when it came to you. 

And you felt it. After all, it was already the next time.

His hand found your thigh, his fingers trailing higher, the pad of his thumb pressing into the soft swell of your ass, kneading you like he was mapping the shape of you by touch alone.

When he found the slick heat between your legs, his fingers parted you and cupped you from behind, making you moan into his mouth. That pulled a deep, ragged tone from him too as his tongue swept inside, hungry to taste more.

You nipped at his bottom lip, soothed the sting with a slow, soft lick, and felt his self-control fray beneath your hands.

Ari’s hands moved to your tits, thumbs circling tight peaks through your shirt until you gasped, your body arching into him. He tugged your top up, baring you to the dim light and his hungry eyes.

Candy. That’s what he remembered. Your nipples looked like candy, and Ari had one hell of a sweet tooth at the moment.

He bent his head, took one rigid peak between his lips, his tongue swirling, his teeth grazing you with just enough edge to make you gasp, his mouth suckling you until your noises tangled into sharp, breathless whimpers. His free hand teased the other, rolling and pinching, coaxing more and more sounds from you until he switched sides, making you arch into him as you floated on sensation.

Your body responded to him like it had been waiting for this. For him.

Your hips rolled against him, seeking friction, and his cock, heavy and hard, pressed against you, straining through his sweats. You reached for him, sliding your hand inside, fingers curling around the thick weight of him.

Damn, you’d forgotten just how big he was. One slow stroke, and you felt him shudder against you. 

Ari was already fighting for control. Fuck. He couldn’t remember what his plan had been with you, if there’d even been one.

When he dropped to his knees and dragged your panties down with his teeth, the sight alone knocked the air from your lungs. You threaded your fingers into his hair, and gave it a firm tug, your voice a rough whisper.

“Careful, Ari. I might start thinking you like me.”

“I don’t,” he growled, lips brushing your inner thigh, breath hot against your skin. “I just think your pussy deserves a museum wing.”

Ari kneeled in front of you and moved your panties to the side.  

“Fuck!” he exclaimed as your scent surrounded him. He was intoxicated by his need for you and somewhere in the back of his mind, he dimly realized that it wasn’t this way with anyone else. 

Shit.

He pushed your legs apart, and you whimpered, desperate for him.  

"That’s it, Muse," he whispered. "Let me see how pretty you are."

You’d prepped for someone else, some other guy who couldn’t even get you wet with conversation, and bailed on him without a shred of guilt the second Ari replied to your Hey, Big Head text with nothing but his address.

Ari looked up as he handled you. He drew in a breath as your smooth skin gave way to swollen lips that he needed to taste. His thumbs parted you, and the way you trembled under his hands only made him smile.

"Don’t forget to hold on, beautiful. I'm going to take my time until you melt." 

Ari wanted you so fucking bad. He’d been thinking about the last time since the last time. His mouth found you, tongue slow at first, savoring the taste, then hungrier, lapping you up like you were the only thing that could satisfy him.

He slid his tongue over your labia, and you immediately cried out. You were sweet, spicy and so good. He lapped at you again and again, every stroke designed to pull you apart, and when he locked his lips around your clit, the moan that tore from you had his cock twitching in response.

Your hands gripped the wall, breath catching as he ate you like he was trying to collect your essence. And then he held your legs wide with his hands and fucked you with his tongue. Your hands slid into his hair, holding him to you as your slick dripped down his chin. 

With a grunt, he grabbed your ass and lifted you even closer to him, spreading your cheeks slightly so that he could lick at your tighter hole, pleasuring you while his thumb pressed hard on your clit. 

Your breathing went choppy, and your desperate gasps made his cock jump as you ground your hips into his face, begging him not to stop. With his thumb on your clit, he slid a finger deep inside you and curved it until the pad of his finger rubbed over your G-spot.

You flew apart, your body convulsing as the orgasm hit hard. 

Aris blue eyes were looking up at you.

“Yes. Fuck yes.”

He said it into your cunt because he realized that he loved nothing more than watching you cum. He drew back with a growl and watched your body convulse as you bit your lip to keep from saying too much, feeling too much.

But you let your fingers tangle in his hair after, just for a second.

Then you pulled away.

“You done being generous?”

He smirked up at you, chin glistening, absolutely wrecked.

“Not even close.”

—--

The rest of the night was friction and ruin.

He quickly slipped on a condom and then, in one swift stroke, slid into you to the hilt. 

“Fuck. So fucking good.”

Ari drove into you hard, deep, and unrelentingly.

Against the wall.

Bent over the couch.

Spread open on the rug beneath a Rothko you barely noticed.

When he flipped you, fucked you into the floor, left handprints on your ass and bite marks on your shoulder, it was possession. No sweet talk. Just skin and sweat and the kind of claiming you’d pretend to forget.

You left scratches. He left marks. Nobody left promises.

When it was over, he lit a cigarette and offered you one. You took it, not because you smoked, but because it kept your hands from reaching for him.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you said, smoke and denial curling from your lips.

“Good,” he replied, not even looking at you. “I’d hate for us to ruin something so perfect by pretending it’s more.”

You nodded. Stubbed out the cigarette. Pulled on your dress.

“You leaving?”

“You’d rather I stay and talk about feelings? Then yeah, I’m out.”

Ari watched you longer than he should’ve. Watched you put your shoes back on, watched you blow him a kiss you didn’t mean before the door clicked shut.

Outside, the city was colder than you remembered.

Inside, Ari stared at the door, jaw tense, heart louder than he liked to admit.

“Fucking Muse,” he muttered, pouring himself a drink and ignoring every match from that app that popped up on his phone.

None of them were you.

-----

Muse: Three

[ramp-it-up]

Thanks for the love on this! 💕

Fade to Love II

Fade to Love

Summary: You and Bucky go way back. Way back to when you acted together 20 years ago. You had a crush on him then, but you were too young. Tragedy and artistic passion made you best friends. Will your history make you lovers?

Word count: 4.3 K

Pairing: Actor!Director!Producer! Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: I've been dreaming about this ever since I got my #BuckyBarnesBirthdayBingo by @avengers-assemble-bingo. This fulfills the square: Best Friends to Lovers. As always, I crave feedback, so please let me know how you feel in asks, comments, reblogs and likes. TIA! ❤️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Smut! Best friends to lovers. All of the reckless behaviors that come with growing up in Hollywood, teenage crush, small age gap, young love, tragic loss, idiots in love, cigarette smoking, mutual pining. Then comes the smut. :)

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

———

This was deja vu all over again.

The paparazzi swarmed the studio as you and Bucky arrived for your meeting at the studio. After all, you'd spent your teen years under the camera’s glare, a co-star in an ensemble drama series, Idol’s Ridge, that captured the hearts of millions 20 years before. 

During those five years portraying Sophie Randall, you’d met the people who’d become your best and enduring friends. Sam Wilson, who played your older brother, Peter Randall, Carol Danvers, who played your best friend, Morgan Blair, and James “Bucky” Barnes who played Sam’s Best friend and Morgan’s older brother, Jack Blair. 

There were several other actors from the show with whom you’d remained cordial and friendly, but this was your core group. 

But today? Today was different. Today, you were meeting in a creative capacity, not just as an actress. You were going to control the narrative. 

The past twenty years had been a whirlwind. A marriage, scandal, and a career that had taken unexpected turns. You'd left the acting world long ago, but here you were again, standing next to Bucky Barnes, one of your best friends. Someone who’d been through it all with you.

Bucky, with his model handsome looks, dark hair and true blue eyes, was more than just a pretty face. His career had been varied, lucrative, and meaningful.

He was now reaching phenomenal heights. And he was the one the tabloids still associated you with, before, during, and after your marriage, even after all these years. 

The shipping of the characters was inappropriate at the beginning, but toward the end of the run when you were an adult, Idol’s Ridge fans were calling for Jack to notice Sophie, and wanted you and Bucky together, even though you never dated.

It was others pushing that narrative, always trying to create drama where there was none, not you two. 

You and Bucky were just friends.

But if you were being honest, that “what if” had been curling around your mind since you were a kid with a crush on a co-star who was too old for you. 20 to your 15 when you first started the show, Bucky didn’t spare you a second glance in a romantic capacity, but he took you under his wing and protected you, calling you his “Little Star.” 

He decided that nothing was going to ruin your innocence, lecturing you all the time about the pitfalls of fame at a young age, even as he was reveling in those pits. If he knew you wanted him to ruin you, he didn’t let on.

Bucky’s decency did nothing to sway your heart away from him. In fact, it only made him more appealing. You always had a soft spot for Bucky Barnes.

If Bucky noticed you growing up and becoming a woman, he didn’t let you know. You were always his little sidekick, not quite a sister, but definitely not a romantic interest.

Perhaps it was because his best friend, another rising star in tv and film, did. 

Steve met you briefly when he was filming in LA and hanging with Bucky. They were roommates in New York and best friends, having known each other as child actors from Brooklyn.

After he met you when he was 24 and you were 19, Steve talked about you all the time to his best friend and begged Bucky to give you his number. 

Bucky refused, citing the fact that you were not ready for the likes of Steve Rogers, the golden boy heartthrob actor who partied harder than he did. Yes, that was the reason.

On the night of your 21st birthday after Idol’s Ridge was over, you had a get together in Manhattan, because you were filming a movie in New York City. You invited Bucky who was now based out of Brooklyn, and Steve was not going to miss this opportunity to get next to you.

That night, 25 year old Steve Rogers bought you a drink, and the next morning, Bucky heard you two in the room next door, cursing his, and Steve’s, timing. The rest was tabloid history: the whirlwind romance, the young, impetuous marriage, the substances, the breakout films, the nominations, the miscarriage, the rumors, the tragedy. 

You were a widow at the age of 26, the caretaker of the legacy of one of the most talented young actors of your generation. Gone too soon.

Bucky was there for you, and you for him, feeling the loss as no one else could. When you were ready to get on with life, you and Bucky created Valkyrie Production Company as a tribute to Steve.

While you slowed your acting career way down before 30 years old, only taking on about one indie film project a year, Bucky’s career had taken off. 

He’d transitioned from actor to actor/director, and of course, actor/director/producer. You watched him get engaged to Natasha Romanov, one of the older Idol’s Ridge alums, break up, and then date a string of actresses and models, but nothing ever stuck.

You didn’t understand. He could be a bit intense, but Bucky was such a good guy. He deserved happiness. Now, he was a 40 year old single successful actor slash slash with no family to speak of but you.

“Ready to roll?” 

Bucky’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

You blinked, taking a step back into the moment. You smoothed your pencil skirt down your hips, which were wider now than they were 20 years earlier. You wondered what production would think of you at 35, no surgical augmentation, just naturally you in a sea of plastic.

Bucky was the same way, his dark hair and beard peppered with gray and crows feet framing his striking eyes. But on him they were ‘sexy.’

Women were held to a different standard.

You missed Bucky appreciating your curves and your looks as you bit your lip and looked up at him with those big eyes.

Bucky’s heart clenched when you smiled at him. So fucking beautiful.

“Yeah. Let’s make magic, ” you murmured.

Bucky was a goner. 

He loved your voice since you developed the lower register of your tone. It was one thing that the critics and fans raved over in anything you did.

He chuckled at how you’d trashed his trailer when he’d tried to hide your cigarettes from you that one time. It was all for naught, since you quit 18 months after you started. 

He didn’t know that you’d just done it to hang out with him outside the soundstage door, stealing time. But it had permanently changed your voice into something that cemented your icon status in the present day, despite your limited career.

Bucky grinned that boyish grin, the same one he’d flashed a thousand times when you were on set together all those years ago. It made your heart do that little flip it always did, despite everything.

You had a meeting with the studio execs to discuss the next project, a reboot of the very series you'd starred in all those years ago, Idol’s Ridge.

It was too perfect, too full of nostalgia. But it also felt strange.

You glanced over at Bucky as he started talking to the execs. He was charismatic, confident, everything he had always been. But there was something in the way he kept glancing at you. His eyes were more intense, more aware of your every movement. 

It was unsettling, especially the premise he pitched. 

You finished up with the execs and stepped outside the back entrance for a quick break and Bucky lit up a cigarette, something you hadn’t seen him do in years. 

“You’re quiet today,” he said, leaning against the wall. You inwardly railed at him smoking again, but he was grown. You watched the smoke curl around him through narrowed eyes. Then you grabbed the cigarette from his fingers and took a drag.

“Don’t do that, Star…”

You raised an eyebrow at him and then inhaled, Bucky watching you closely. Too closely, you might have thought if you noticed the way he watched your mouth after you removed the cigarette.

Bucky put the cancer stick in his own mouth and closed his eyes as he took his own drag, tongue chasing the filter as he removed it to exhale. He peered at you through the smoke, licked his lips and then dropped the half smoked bone on the ground, extinguishing it with the sole of his brown Ferragamo.

“We quit.”

You laughed and leaned on the stucco wall with your hand, staring up at him while he smiled down at you. This was your thing, this unspoken language that was understood but not explicit.

You worked together, but it was always more than that. 

You were waiting for him to speak, but Bucky could always wait you out.

“James.”

You punched him on the arm. Hard. 

“Ow!”

He laughed and rubbed his arm as he looked down at his shoes, smiling.

“You can do it, Star. I believe in you.”

You rolled your eyes at the old nickname. He always told you that you were the brightest little star on the set. 

“But Bucky…”

You thought you lost it when Steve disappeared. But you couldn’t lose that feeling, so you took small roles, just to have permission to be someone else for a time.

Your films were critically acclaimed, but your confidence was shot.

“You can do it.”

You appraised Bucky. Something had shifted. Maybe it was the project, or maybe it was something more. Bucky looked right back at you, his expression softening. 

“Are you in or are you out, Star?”

“I’m in,” you said, your voice steady and sure.

He tilted his head, studying you. 

“Good. Because I need you.”

“You’ve always needed me,” you said, half-joking, half serious.

Bucky chuckled. 

“Yeah, well, this time it’s different.”

You could feel your heart pounding. He was looking at you like he’d never looked at you before. Like he was really seeing you. But you were reading too much into things again.

You took a deep breath.

“You know, I’ve always trusted you, right? With everything. You’re the only person I’ve never felt like I had to pretend with.”

You took his hand and Bucky looked down at you tangling your fingers with his. 

He should tell you. 

“I know, Buck. You’re my best friend.”

There it was. The friend zone. Bucky sighed, but held on to your hand.

“Although we didn’t talk about that one plot point.”

You released his hand and crossed your arms, pushing your breasts up in your sweater. Not that Bucky noticed that sort of thing.

Bucky looked at you, one eye closed, squinting from the LA sunlight. Or was it because you were so gorgeous? 

To you, his glance felt loaded, like there was something you couldn’t ignore anymore. But of course you tried.

“Which one?”

You smiled at his evasion.

“You know. The one where our characters are married now?”

Bucky smirked.

“We discussed this being centered around the children of the cast from 20 years ago.”

You huffed, frustrated.

“Yes, Bucky, but our characters were never a thing.”

He stood up and walked two steps toward you, into your space.

“Not true. Sophie always had a crush on Jack, but he blew you off. It’s 20 years later, he’s grown up and finally appreciates the beautiful woman who was always right there in front of him.”

You looked up into his clear blue gaze and had a scorching comeback for him.

“Oh.”

He reached for your face, palm resting on your cheek, thumb brushing at the side of your nose.

“Hold up…” 

Bucky moved even closer and brought his face close to yours, warm menthol breath hovering over your own. He pulled his hand back and looked at it, showing it to you briefly. You didn’t see anything.

“Eyelash.”

He opened the door and held it for you as you tried to get your soul back into your body.

“Break time is over.”

—--

The next hours were a blur.

The production meeting went long as you brainstormed for the reboot, and you and Bucky worked seamlessly together, bouncing ideas off each other and firing on all cylinders. The dynamic was amazing and reignited your old crush.

You went to Bucky’s LA home after the meeting, excited at the preliminary greenlight for the project. You both decided to work on an outline that weekend to deliver to the studio Monday morning.

You’d gone home to pack a bag and get your essentials, as Bucky said you could bunk in one of his guest rooms. 

It would be like a sleepover with one of your girlfriends, sweet, innocent and fun.

But after eating takeout tacos from Leo’s, you got to work in Bucky’s home office, and the vibe was thriving, but different. Every time your hands brushed as you passed papers or exchanged a glance, it was electric.

The air arced between you, but you couldn't tell if it was just you, or if Bucky felt it too. 

As you sat looking at the whiteboard with the preliminary outline of the pilot episode, Bucky leaned back in his chair and regarded it, a smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“This shit is fucking brilliant. It’s going to be better than the original.” 

You looked at him, excitement coursing through you. You smiled at him and got up to walk behind his chair to lean on it and admire your ideas, as if you could see better what he meant from his perspective.

“I can’t believe it’s really happening.” 

You leaned down and whispered in his ear, afraid to voice it too loud. Bucky swiveled around in his chair to look at you. You were still in your outfit from this morning, too excited when you pack to change into something more comfortable. You looked gorgeous. 

He stood up and grabbed your hands in his.

“Better believe it, Star, we’re going to do this thing big.”

You squeezed his hands back and looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. Bucky’s hands were on your arms now and he was drawing you closer.

“Couldn’t do this without you, Star. I love… working with you.”

Your stomach flipped as he murmured at you. You inhaled the spice of his cologne and savored his touch while listening to his voice.

But your stomach dropped when you heard the ‘L’ word and you didn’t know what happened; just like Sophie and Jack all those years ago, you didn’t know what came over you when you pressed your lips to Bucky’s.

You had every intention of ending the contact before it began, but Bucky’s hands were now in your hair and tugged you close. He turned and lifted you onto his desk, stepping between your thighs, pressing them wide enough so that your skirt fought the movement.

It only made everything hotter. 

Bucky used his hold on your hair to tilt your head so he could kiss down your neck. You arched your back, needing his mouth all over you, needing him to rip you out of the clothes that had the nerve to create a barrier between you. 

For some unknown reason to your cunt, words emerged from your lips,

“We shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

He pushed your cardigan off your shoulders and nudged your tank top lower so that he could mouth at your cleavage. Your panties flooded with wetness. 

“We’re both grown, Star.” 

The acknowledgement in Bucky’s rumbling voice sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your core. He skated his hands up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher until you had to lift your hips to allow it to bunch around your waist. He fingered along the edges of your panties. 

He looked down.

“Black lace. Fuck.” 

He cursed low enough that you had to strain to hear him. He licked his lips, his saliva making them look so delicious. 

“Can I touch you, Starlight?”

You shivered at the nickname and nodded, breath caught in your throat.

“Need your words, Baby. Need that beautiful voice.”

“Yes, Bucky. Please touch me…”

Bucky’s fingertips traced your clit through the fabric. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted you.” 

“Me too,” you whispered, and he met your gaze, which threatened to stop his heart. 

His blue eyes were fire, bright enough to make your whole world glow. If you let him, he’d sweep you away and ensure you enjoyed every second. You wanted it. To be swept away by him. 

Bucky started the torturous slide of his thumb over your clit. You threw your head back and whined, caught up in a nirvana you’d only dreamt about.

“Bucky! Dont…”

He stopped what he was doing, stilling his hand over your cunt.

“Don’t?” 

His voice was broken, and pleading. You used your free hand to cover his where he cupped your pussy. 

“...Don’t stop Bucky….” 

Still he didn’t move, searching your face for answers you didn’t have. You drew in a shuddering breath. Bucky’s slow smile sent your stomach into a dizzying flip. 

“Naughty girl. You want to use me for your pleasure. Your own personal sex toy.” 

You dragged your gaze over him, from his dark hair, to those wicked blue eyes, to his sinful mouth, down to the pants clearly sporting a huge hard-on. You grew bold in the knowledge that he’d started this. 

Bucky Barnes wanted you, too.

“I have a sex toy. In fact, I have several. None of them look a thing like you.” 

His laughter rolled through you. 

“I guess I have work to do. Need to retire some sex toys. Check.” 

“You’ll have to work real hard. I’m kind of attached to them, especially Arthur. Haven’t had real cock in 2 years.”

Bucky arched his eyebrow and hooked his fingers through your panties and dragged them down your legs, stepping back so you could kick them off. 

“I’m disturbed that you named your vibrator.”

“Dildo,” you corrected.

He chuckled and shook his head.

“But I’m up for the challenge of making you scream my name…”

Bucky went to his knees between your spread thighs, looking at your pussy so intensely you could feel it like his touch. 

“And I won’t tell you that I’ve jacked myself to the thought of you countless times over the years.” 

“Bucky…”

He pressed a painfully gentle kiss to each thigh and then his breath ghosted over your clit. 

“I sure as hell won’t tell you that when I fucked my hand, and imagined being inside you, that I came so fucking hard, Star, just from thinking about being buried in you to the hilt.”

You tried to focus past the pleasure of his mouth, his big hands holding your thighs wide as he devoured you. But his words had you floating.

“I… You fantasized about me?” 

Bucky licked up your slit and then kissed it, looking up in your eyes before he answered you.

“Hmmm. Yes. I did.” 

He sucked on your clit hard enough to make your back bow. 

“Eating you out...” 

Another long lick and a smile that he was accomplishing that very thing. 

“You on your knees for me...” 

The image in your mind of looking up at Bucky made you clench down and Bucky smiled at your pitiful pussy.

“...Bending you over something, like this desk, and fucking you hard…”

You whimpered, your pleasure building as much from the fantasy as from Bucky’s mouth. 

“... Maybe taking that ass…”

He rolled his tongue over your clit, working you in just the way you needed. 

“....cuming inside you, or all over your back. I’ll let you choose.”

“Oh! Bucky!”

You were practically screaming as you tried to slow your pleasure, to make it last, but Bucky drove you to the brink and you couldn’t resist him. You came with a cry that filled the room around you.

Bucky didn’t give you a chance to recover, though. He stood and stepped back between your thighs to take your mouth. You tasted yourself on his tongue and it made your toes curl. 

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he lifted you off the desk easily and walked you down the hallway, still kissing you, never missing a step. 

“You’ve done this before,” you murmured. 

“Not like this. Never this.” 

He kept you pinned to him with one arm around the small of your back and used his other hand to pull your tank top off. You ran your hands down his muscled chest. He really was too beautiful. It almost hurt to look at him and touching him only magnified the sensation. 

He spun and pinned you between his body and the wall next to the door, thrusting against you. The seam of his pants pressed against your clit and you cried out. 

“More.” 

Bucky dragged his mouth up your neck and set his teeth against your earlobe and that set you on fire.

“You’re so needy, Star. I get it, I really do. Been wanting to show you how I feel for 14 years…” 

You gasped and Bucky’s teeth scraped against your lip, making your nipples tighten in response. He let you down and stepped back, running his hand through his hair.

“Strip.”

There wasn’t much left to take off, but you obeyed and his grin made your heart stutter. 

“On the bed.” 

You crawled on the mattress and reclined among the pillows. You were rewarded by Bucky stripping out of shirt, and his pants and underwear in one go, shoving the material down his strong thighs and kicking free of them, leaving him naked. 

The sight of his large cock straining against his stomach had you biting your bottom lip.

You knew what came next.

You craved it. And you forgot all about Arthur. You reached for him. 

“Don’t make me wait any more, Bucky.” 

He pulled a string of condoms from the nightstand and tossed them on the bed next to you. You counted six and raised your eyebrows. Bucky gave you an unrepentant grin.

“One condition.” 

“Damn it, Bucky.” 

Of course there were conditions. 

“Stay in my bed tonight. Another fantasy of mine.” 

You melted. Why not? It was finally time to have what you wanted. And you wanted Bucky.

You met those intoxicating blue eyes and nodded. 

“Yes.” 

“Thank fuck.” 

He was on you in seconds, shoving your legs wide and he ground the base of his cock against your clit. He tangled his fingers in your hair and took your mouth like you were the sweetest fruit and he’d never get enough. 

You reached blindly over and grabbed a condom. You tore the wrapper with your teeth and you rolled it over his cock. He allowed it, shifting back to give you the room to work.

Your body cried for him; you needed him inside you and you needed it at that moment. You lay back and  guided him into you and he thrust in slowly, inch by inch, until he had sheathed himself completely. 

Oh god. The stretch. Bucky broke free of your mouth and pressed his forehead against yours, your breath mingling between you. 

Each of your exhales came out as, “Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.” 

He gentled his touch, stroking your hair as if you were a wild animal he was taming. 

“Stay with me, Starlight. I’ve got you.” 

As if this was something that was forced upon you, rather than what you grabbed with greedy hands because you wanted it so badly. 

You smiled, blissful. Fucked out, enjoying the feeling of Bucky’s cock pouding inside you. You needed more.

“Please move, friend. Fuck me, Bucky.” 

You hitched your leg around his hip so you could take him deeper and leaned up until your lips brushed his ear.

“I need it hard.” 

Bucky squeezed his eyes together and bit his lip as the pounding of his cock increased. You both thought he would cum right then.

“‘M not your fucking friend…”

He pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up even as he impaled you again. 

“You want me to fuck you hard?” 

“Yes!” you moaned. 

“Knees wider, Starlight. Let’s go.”

Bucky slapped your ass and then grabbed a handful of your thick hair, tugging at just the right amount of pain to go with the pleasure.

The first stroke was slow.

“Fuck, you’re gripping me like a fucking vice. Almost had me cumming a few minutes ago.”

You could tell that Bucky’s teeth were gritted when he spoke. He had to brace against the urge to rut into you like a wild animal, but his pace and intensity increased. 

For long, mind-blowing minutes, he thrust into you, paying attention to your sounds and movements to know that he was hitting that spot inside you. You meet him thrust for thrust as Bucky began to fuck you like his life depended on it.

He made the mistake of looking down at how your ass took the shock waves of his back shots and the evidence of your arousal left on his cock as he pistoned inside you and he cursed.

“Fucckkkkk! You should see the beautiful cream you’re leaving on my cock, Star. So fucking hot.”

The way you moaned set him on the road to orgasm and again and he reached for your clit, rubbing his thumb over it. Almost as soon as he did, you screamed his name and shattered beneath him. Bucky followed you headlong over that cliff and collapsed beside you, dizzy.

He looked over to see you already falling asleep, exhausted. He kissed your temple and went to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, coming back with a washcloth for you.

When he was done cleaning you up, he gathered your boneless body in his arms, pressing kisses to your forehead as you curled into him, your head on his chest and leg thrown over his. 

It was like you didn’t want to let him go.

“I know the feeling, Star,” Bucky whispered as he closed his eyes.

A feeling settling in his chest that he’d almost, but not quite, ever felt before.

—-

Read Fade to Love II

[ramp-it-up]

[ramp-it-up]

Thanks for sharing! 🥰

Muse Mondays:

April/May 2025

Muse: One 4/14

Muse: Two 4/21

Muse: Three 4/28

[ramp-it-up]

Chris Evans/Sebastian Stan

Bottle Rocket Series

Pass the Bottle *

What happens when bored actors go out on the town? The potential is limitless.

Bottle Rocket*

Seb and Chris have got you high, but your Daddy needs to remind you who is in charge. You.

Shake It Up *

Chris decides to cum and see.

Spin it ‘Round*

Chris finally takes control. How will Seb handle it?

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

NOTICE: I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

[ramp-it-up]

Take your time, Love! Thanks for the support! 🥰

Muse: Three

Muse: Two | Muse Masterlist | Muse: Four

Summary: Three's the Charm. Or the Curse.

Pairing: Art Curator! Ari Levinson x Plus sized model! Reader

Word count: 3.8 K

A/N: Muse will be a series of one shots featuring Muse and Ari, and this the second one. We’re gonna hear from them at least every week. 😏 Big thanks to @princessphilly who basically inspired the premise and then endured me being feral in her inbox. This AU is tangential to the Peach and Knock You Down verses. Here I go again. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Angst and Toxicity. Art Curator Ari. Plus sized model Reader, dating app life, casual sex, toxic situationship, 2 am calls, phone sex, late night texts, 4 am confessions, mean reader, oral (m receiving) rough sex, implied impact play, some guy named Steve ;), masturbation and daydreaming, feelings are flying around, but no one is trying to catch them.

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

The third time wasn’t planned either.

You’d been at a rooftop party in Tribeca, his neighborhood, sipping tequila from someone else’s glass and pretending the skyline made you feel something.  You'd been in Europe for 10 days, all work and no play (well maybe some good wine and good times), and now you were home, dressed to kill and hunting for absolutely nothing.

Not looking for anyone. No one at all.

You wore the kind of dress that made men stutter and women stare, all curve and cling, and a slit so high it epitomized the phrase ‘serving cunt.’ But matter how good you looked, the vibe was off. You were already halfway out the door, bored and buzzed, when your phone lit up.

—-

Someone mentioned to Ari that you were there and his heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t missed you. Not exactly. But you still lived in his bloodstream like a toxin.

Ari: I need to see that O'Keefe, because I’m thinking about how to pitch your pussy wing to the Whitney.

You smiled before you even meant to.

I’ll bring it over.

—---

His place again. Different vibe. Same tension.

He opened the door in a low-slung pair of sweats, shirtless, hair a mess like he’d either just woken up or spent the last hour trying not to text you. You crossed the threshold and flowed into him, your face winding up in his hands.

“You’ve ruined me,” he muttered against your lips.

“Good,” you whispered, sliding your hands down his chest. “I want you cracked open.”

The sex was a war. Bodies tangled, breath was stolen, teeth were at throats, and Ari’s hands left prints on your body that you begged for.

He pulled your hair. You bit his shoulder. Nobody relented.

But after, he asked the question neither of you you were supposed to ask.

“Why’d you really come?”

You glanced at him, a mess with your mascara smudged and your lips bruised. Ari thought you were beautiful.

“Because I was bored.”

It was a lie. But you said it like it was the truth.

Ari nodded once, no smile this time, “Fair.”

You sat up, pulling on your panties slowly. His eyes followed every movement like they always did.

“This is still just sex, Ari.”

“I know.”

You stood. Winked. And didn’t kiss him goodbye.

“Call me when you’re lonely enough to forget that.”

“I always am,” he said, voice low.

You almost turned around. Almost. But you walked out like you didn’t hear it, like your body wasn’t already aching for a fourth time.

Ari listened for your knock longer than realistic, his cock hard again for you and his chest a little hollow.

He knew the game. But the way you left wasn’t detachment.

That was art.

—----

2:14 a.m a week later

Your room was lit only by the glow of your phone You were still dressed, heels kicked off by the door, satin sheets tangled around your legs.

You weren’t drunk. Not really. Just restless. You were annoyed from a night full of people who said nothing interesting, and from hands that didn’t hold a candle to his.

You’d danced. Laughed. Almost let some stranger kiss you. But the whole time, Ari sat in your chest like a slow-burning ember you couldn’t snuff out.

So you called.

Not a text. Not a DM. A fucking call. 

You didn’t even know why you called. He’d sent you his number weeks ago, and you hadn’t used it, only messaged him through the app. He followed you on Instagram and you added him just the week before.

Now he had your number, in more ways than one. He answered on the second ring.

“Muse,” his voice was thick with sleep and something else, something like relief.  “Didn’t think I’d hear from you again.”

You paused and bit your lip.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Same.”

“So you weren’t surprised?”

“I’ve been waiting for this call since last week.”

Silence. 

“You alone?” you asked.

“Always.”

That word sunk into your skin. Deeper than you wanted it to.

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Then don’t,” he said, voice dipping low. “Just tell me what you need.”

You closed your eyes.

“I need to cum.”

Ari groaned softly. You heard rustling, sheets, maybe his hand already brushing over himself. That sound went straight between your legs.

“Are you touching yourself yet?” he asked, voice all velvet and gravel.

“Not yet. I want you to tell me what to do.”

“Fuck.” His breath hitched. “Okay. Take off whatever you’re wearing.”

You did. Slowly. Phone cradled against your shoulder. Cool air kissed your bare skin.

“Now what?”

“Lay back. Spread your legs. I want your fingers where I’d put my mouth.”

Your stopped breathing. He wasn’t even trying to play it cool anymore. His voice got rougher and more unhinged with every erotic instruction.

And you followed each one like a commandment.

He talked you through it, exactly how he’d taste you, hold you open, and suck you until you sobbed. The way he’d pin your hips down and lap up every drop. The way he wouldn’t let you come until you were begging for it.

You could almost feel how hard he was, how close. You were both panting, moaning, and lost in the fiction that felt more like fact. His voice was your undoing.

“Say my name,” he growled, right as the orgasm hit.

And you did.

“Ari...Jesus.....Ari.”

He came right after you, a deep groan that sounded like he’d been holding it in for days. Then silence again. You were the one to break it this time.

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

He laughed softly, wrecked.

Fucking Muse.

“No. Of course not. Just helping each other sleep.”

“Sure,” you murmured. “Just sleep.”

You didn’t hang up. Neither did he. You both stayed on the line. Not talking. Just breathing.

Until eventually, you fell asleep to the sound of him doing the same.

—-----

The next morning. You woke up to sunlight, a dry throat, and a notification.

Ari: Slept well?

You smirked. Stretched. You were still tingling from the night before.

You: Obviously. I sleep like a baby after I cum that hard.

Ari was undone. Hard as a rock at the news that he’d done his job. His job. Christ.

Ari: Then I’m a humanitarian. The UN should give me a medal. Nobel Peace of Ass.

You laughed into your pillow and typed back.

You: Don’t get cocky. You weren’t inside me and I did all the work.

Ari: You like doing the work. I’ve seen how you move when you’re on top. Still think about your pussy clenching around me. Fuck, you’re like a vice. An extremely wet, silky vice.

You stared at the screen for a second, jaw tight, heart a traitor.

You: You’re replaceable, you know.

A lie.

Ari: I know. You’ve had others. But none who make you call first.  And no one else knows the sound you make when you’re trying not to moan.

You left him on read. An hour. Just to remind him you could.

—----

Later. Another ping.

Ari double texted. This was a problem.

Ari: Wearing anything dangerous today?

You: Pencil skirt. No panties. Dangerous enough?

Ari:  The image I just got is illegal in 14 states. I’d risk all of them. Wanna see what you’ve done to me?

You almost said yes. Almost sent a pic yourself. Almost. Instead…

You: Ari, this isn’t a thing.

Ari: If it wasn’t a thing you wouldn’t have called me last night. And I wouldn’t still be thinking about all the ways you said my name.

They all destroyed me.

Your heart pounded irrationally.

You: You’re starting to sound attached.

Ari: More like, intrigued, like I’m staring at a painting I can’t afford but still keep coming back to.

That one hit. You didn’t reply. Not because you were uninterested, but because you were too interested. 

And if he ever knew how often you reread his messages, he'd own you.

—-------------

4:07 a.m.

You woke up for no reason. Your phone was lit up on your nightstand with one notification.

Ari: You’re asleep. I know. Just needed to say this somewhere. You don’t have to respond.

You blinked. Stared. Something in your stomach coiled tight. Three dots blinked. Disappeared. Blinked again.

Ari: I lied. I wasn’t just intrigued. I’m fucking haunted by you.

You sat up, chest tight, throat dry. He kept going.

Ari: The way you looked in that dress. The way you laugh. The way you can leave like it doesn’t cost you a damn thing.

Ari: I don’t want to be a thing to you. But I want to be the thing. And I know you don’t do soft. But fuck, I’d let you break me slow if it meant I got to keep you a little longer.

Five minutes and you didn't reply. You couldn’t. Then he sent another text.

Ari: Ignore this. Delete it. Pretend I was drunk.

Then…

Ari: But if you feel anything close to what I feel….Say something.

You stared at your screen like it might explode. You felt everything and hated that he knew it. Why did he have to know you so well?

You: You shouldn’t say things like that at 4 a.m.

Three seconds later, Ari responded.

Because you said something.

Ari: It’s the only time I can’t lie to myself.

You closed your eyes. Goddamn him.

You stared at his last message until your eyes blurred. It was too much. And not enough.

Your first instinct was to shut it down.

You: You shouldn’t say things like that at 4 a.m. I’m not your salvation. I’m not built for soft landings. I will hurt you.

You hit send. Then tossed the phone aside like it burned you, but it buzzed again and you grabbed for it.

Ari: I’ll take the bruises.

You closed your eyes. God, why him? He was the one that would be your undoing. You hesitated before answering, your thumb hovering over the screen. Then you just did it.

You: …come over. Leave your feelings at the door.

Ari: Halfway there.

—----

Ten minutes later, you opened the door. Ari didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to.

His eyes were already on your mouth, immediately hypnotized. You grabbed him by the collar, dragged him in, kissed him hard and pushed him down on the couch.

You both knew this wasn’t just sex. But neither of you was ready to admit it.

“Your turn,” you murmured.

And then you dropped to your knees.

Ari froze. He hadn’t expected this. Not from you. You hadn’t sucked his dick. Not even once.

Not for lack of interest; he’d dreamt about it. Fantasized. But he never asked. 

And now, here you were.

On your knees. For him.

His mouth went dry. His dick didn’t. Not even close.

“Muse…” his voice cracked, hands fisting the couch, knuckles white.

You didn’t answer. You lifted your arms and unbuttoned his shirt like he was a gift you were unwrapping. Your fingers traced over every line of muscle. He hissed when he realized this was really happening.

“Muse…you’re killing me.”

You leaned in and kissed his chest, tongue snaking out over his nipple. And he let you. You slid his shirt off, fingers brushing his triceps like you knew what made him weak.

“Shhhh,” you whispered. “’M busy.”

Ari’s head fell back on the couch as his blazing eyes watched you. He was utterly undone. 

“Yeah, I can see that…”

With his shirt off, you kissed across his pecs, then shifted to lick and kiss each of his ribs and over his abs, sinking lower onto your knees. Ari was going to blow all over your face, and not on purpose.

“Oh god…”

“Woman at work here. Trying to focus.”

“Fuck. I am focused.. Focused on you…I just…”

You unbuckled his pants and once free, his cock bobbed in front of your face, completely erect and begging for your attention. 

You looked up into his blue eyes, almost too soulful to look at.

“Looks like someone missed me,” you said.

Then your mouth was there, hot breath ghosting over his cock. He was already painfully hard. You hadn’t even touched him yet and he was halfway gone.

“Been too long,” he muttered. He hated himself for how true that was.

You raised a brow. 

“We helped each other sleep yesterday. Fucked a week before that.”

He met your eyes. His were dark now, pupils blown so wide that the blue had almost disappeared.

“Like I said. Too-- fuck!”

He gasped as you stroked him, him up and down gently, then teased the tip, then slid down again, hands working his balls like an artist.

And when you reached out to lick his tip, Ari forgot how to breathe.

“What were you saying?”

“Fuck, Muse… I need…”

He was done speaking when you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around his dick. In fact, he stopped talking altogether. All that came from him were a series of moans and goans, as you worked him over with your tongue and your lips.

His hands found your hair, grasping gently at first, and then with increasing intensity as you bobbed on his cock. 

You relished every moment, the visceral nature of it. At one point, he tried to pull you off, but you weren’t having it and instead took him deeper, forcing your throat to relax and take more of him.

“Oh my god. I… I’m going to cum.”

His fingers tangled in your hair. Not to guide you. Just to anchor himself. Because it was you. On your knees. For him. And he couldn't stop watching. Couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream.

You worked him over like it was your job, like you were mad at him for not begging for it sooner. And maybe he was mad too, at how good it felt, at how much he needed this, needed you.

At how it made him feel something close to being worshipped. By you.

“Oh my god, I… I’m gonna…”

You didn’t stop.

You just looked him in the eyes and took him deeper.

And he came apart at the seams.

His muscles tensed, and it wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t polite.

It was a raw, guttural sound that settled between your legs like a brand. 

He groaned your name, hips jolting, and you took it all. And did what you never did. 

You swallowed.

Ari watched, chest heaving, sweat dotting his temples as you sat back on your knees and wiped the corners of your mouth as if you were casually adjusting your makeup.

Ari stared at you.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, woman.”

You tilted your head mock-innocently.

“Was it to your satisfaction?”

Ari didn’t answer, just lunged, grabbing your waist and hauling you onto the couch easily. Then he threw one of your legs over his shoulder as he mouthed at the soft skin on your thigh.

You breathed his name just the way he liked, “Ari…”

“You didn’t think I was done, did you?”

You smirked. “Not even close. You did say it’d been too long.”

His look said exactly how long it’d been.

The talking stopped. The fucking started.

And this time, it wasn’t war, it was surrender. The kind that left you both trembling. That kind that left marks you wouldn’t find until morning.

And in the moments after, when your chest was on his, both of you soaked in sweat and breathless, you whispered just loud enough for him to hear:

“Say anything like that again, and I’ll ruin you.”

Ari, still high off the taste of you, decided to be a smart ass.

“Promise?”

But he knew he couldn’t let you tear him apart forever.

----

The next afternoon, your limbs were sore in that satisfied way, and the ache between your thighs left a lingering reminder that you’d had that kind of night. 

One that left you wrecked, wired, and craving more. You stretched slowly and let the memory hit you like a second wave. 

The way he’d looked at you while his fingers worked you open. 

The way his voice slid against your skin when he called you beautiful. 

The way he owned every inch of you without a single promise.

Ari wasn’t there. But you wanted him to be.

That’s what really fucked you up.

Because you were the one who never wanted more. You were the one who always left first. 

But something about Ari’s touch had lingered. It wasn’t just the sex, though fuck, the sex was enough to ruin you. It was the way he looked at you. That was worse.

Those blue eyes were steady and unbothered, and entirely too knowing that you were far from indifferent towards him.

And that was so inconvenient.

You padded to the kitchen, naked and still wearing the imprint of his hands. Every step reminded you of how thoroughly you’d been fucked.

God, he was so good at that.

Coffee brewed while your thighs ached, the good kind of sore. You checked your phone.

No messages.

Good.

No expectations. No complications. 

Just a memory of the way he’d groaned your name, the weight of his body pressing on yours, the deep, slow thrusts that opened you up in the most delicious way. The way his fingers had curled around your throat, not to choke, just to hold. 

Ari's voice in your ear, You like this? Like being used by me?

He knew the answer to that. So did you, but you’d never admit it.

You sat down on the edge of your sofa, legs falling open instinctively, your fingers trailing down the inside of your thigh. 

You weren’t going to call him. You told yourself that.

Swore it.

But if you closed your eyes, you could still feel his mouth between your legs, dragging your orgasm out like it was a performance piece. You remembered the way his tongue had written his name on your clit, the soft hum in his throat that said he was enjoying it more than you were.

Your lip caught between your teeth as your fingers slid lower, slick and ready, your body already betraying you.

All for Ari, even if he wasn’t there.  

You pressed down, finding that rhythm, that pressure, that perfect place where pleasure bloomed behind your eyes.

Your head fell back. You imagined him there. On his knees. Worshipping. That beard scraping your thighs, his hands holding you wide open.

Your fingers moved faster, hips tilting, breath breaking apart in gasps as the edge closed in.

Ari. Ari. Fucking Ari.

You came with a quiet cry, hips jerking, legs squeezing together as your body pulsed around nothing. No cock. No hands. Just the ghost of him and your own damn fingers.

And when you came down from it, breathless and alone, you muttered to no one: 

“…Fuck.”

—----

A couple hours later, you wandered through the grocery store, hair up, face clean, but dressed in a scowl that was meant to intimidate. You told yourself you just needed coffee, but you knew better. 

You lingered too long by the fruit, fingers brushing over waxy apples, mind elsewhere entirely. When the cart bumped into yours, you looked up impassively.

“Guess I owe you an apple,” a deep voice said.

You glanced up. Tall. Handsome. Short brown hair, clean shaven, fit. Handsome.

He looked safe, the kind of guy who’d text the next morning. The kind of guy who’d ask what you were doing this weekend.

He placed an apple in your basket, a charming little peace offering.

“I’m Steve, Steve Kemp.”

You turned the apple over in your hand, feeling the weight of it, the simplicity.

“Smooth,” you said, lifting one brow. “That line usually work?”

He grinned, leaning in just a little, enough to close the space between strangers.

“Only when the person looks like they’re about to run away.”

For a second, it tempted you, the ease of it. A new face. A clean slate. The comfort of something safe. But you didn’t want safe. You didn’t want easy.

You wanted…something from someone you wouldn’t admit to yourself.

You wanted the weight of a body pinning you down, the sharp scrape of a beard on your thighs, every inch of you being owned. And although you could tell him to try to replicate that, this guy wasn’t it.

You set the apple back on the pile, giving the stranger a soft, practiced smile.

“Not in the market,” you said, and walked away without looking back.

Your body was still beholden to the memory of someone else.

—--

Across the city, Ari sat at his desk, contracts open, untouched. You lived in his head, under his skin. He closed his eyes, and there you were, hips rolling, breath hitching, the taste of your skin still on his tongue, the scrape of your nails against his back still stinging, and the breathy, desperate way you’d said his name still echoing in his brain.

Ari closed his eyes, the memory playing out without permission. The sacred image of your cream coating his condom-wrapped cock tormented him.

His hand shifted, cupping the hard line straining against his slacks. For a second, the idea of jerking off right there in the office to the thought of fucking you raw didn’t seem all that crazy.

He was sure he could get off with just a few tugs thinking of you.

Yeah. He was crazy.

The buzz of his phone dragged him back, the screen flashing with a reminder: late lunch date. Ari exhaled, flexing his fingers once before pulling himself upright. The day wanted him elsewhere. But his head stayed with you.

Muse.

—--

The low hum of conversation floated through Cathédrale, the kind of place where everything felt expensive and deliberately dim. Ari sat back in the leather banquette, nursing a glass of bourbon that didn’t do a damn thing to settle the fluttering behind his ribs.

Across the table, his lunch companion was talking, her voice a smooth, practiced purr that he barely registered.

Poppy, Polly, Peggy. He wasn’t quite sure of the nickname.

She was perfect on paper. Stylish, sharp, bred for black-tie galas, fluent in flirtation, and eternally just a little bit bored. She leaned in slightly, perfume clouding the air between them, her voice dropping to that silky soft register women used when they were about to cross a line.

“My husband’s in London for the week,” she said, letting the words hang there, heavy with suggestion.

It should’ve landed. It didn’t. Any other day, maybe it would’ve.

But all he could think about was you. The image of you stretched out under his artwork, flushed and undone. The way your hips had rocked against his hand, head thrown back, mouth open and desperate. 

The way your thighs had tightened around his shoulders, dragging him deeper, holding him there while your flesh shuddered around his mouth. 

His dick twitched against the constraint of his slacks, the memory more vivid than the woman across from him.

His companion laughed lightly, brushing her hand against his wrist, letting it linger, waiting for him to bite. But he didn’t.

“Sorry,” Ari said, pulling his hand away, polite but distant. “Got a lot on my mind today.”

You were a whole hell of a lot.

She tilted her head, mistaking his disinterest for some calculated game. But there was no game. Not this time. The lunch wrapped up fast after that, her parting glance lingering a little too long, and Ari let her go without another thought.

Because the only woman tangled in his head wasn’t sitting across the table.

It was you.

The one who wasn’t supposed to mean more than a couple of nights. 

The one he couldn’t shake.

His Muse.

------

Muse Four

Are you as wrecked as I am?

[ramp-it-up]

YES. This is accurate.

Hey, Gemma!

Agreed. Wholeheartedly. 😍

[ramp-it-up]

It’s WIP WEDNESDAY! 🩵

Hey Love! Thank you for the ask!

This excerpt is from a fic that is complete and literally sitting in my drafts, waiting to be published. Has been for weeks. I just can't press the button:

The wind roared as you wrapped yourself around him, arms tight, thighs snug against his hips. Every turn and bump reminded you that he was between your legs, causing you to clench them around him. You couldn’t tell if the subtle way he leaned into your hold and him occasionally squeezing your thigh was intentional, but after a few minutes you had to refrain from squirming against his back. He turned off-road, weaving through trees until you hit a sun-drenched clearing. A lake sparkled in the distance and everything smelled like pine and springtime.  He killed the engine and glanced back at you.  “Still with me?” You nodded, breathless.  “Definitely.”

[ramp-it-up]

Thank you for sharing, Love! <3

Charm

Summary: Congressman James Buchanan Barnes has a secret. And it's so sweet.

Word count: 3.1 K

Pairing: Congressman Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: Yeah, I'm probably gonna be back on my Bucky bullshit for a minute. Those Norman Jean Roy photos, the movie coming out. Just block me now. Or, read, respond, and reblog! Love you heauxes!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! Teacher Reader, Congressman Bucky, Soft, Beefy Bucky, feral Bucky, sex almost on sight, talk of testing and precautions, but raw p in v, oral (m/f receiving) sloppy toppy, woman on top, praise kink, Dom-ish AND sort of Subby Bucky, Sargeant kink, nicknames Charm and Doll, also Sweetheart.

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

Congressman James Buchanan Barnes raked his hand through his hair for the third time. It was overlong, curling at the nape of his neck, caught somewhere between rebellion and control.

Just like his life.

His tie was long gone, jacket tossed over a chair, but the tension still clung to him like sweat. His fingers twitched with the restraint of a man used to control, but tonight that control was slipping.

Because of you.

He was going to meet you. Spend time with you.

You, his softest vulnerability. His secret sanctuary. You had no idea what you did to him. Or maybe you did. And that was the problem.

Underneath the pressed shirt and tailored slacks, beneath the titles and speeches and the weight of his legacy, James Buchanan Barnes was unraveling. You touched something in him, something sweet and unguarded.

You looked at him like he wasn’t just a polished man with power, but someone worth seeing. You saw past all of it, the headlines, the pressure, the myth of the man, to the boy who once just wanted to be good.

Of course you did. As a teacher, you saw the good in all of your students. And from the moment he’d met you, bright-eyed and brilliant, part of the National Teaching Conference delegation touring the Capitol, he’d been a goner.

So he pursued you. But you’d made him wait. And you’d made him want. And Bucky had never wanted anything the way he wanted you.

When he thought of you, he forgot all about The Honorable James Buchanan Barnes. 

He just wanted to be your Bucky.

—-

Six Weeks earlier:

You’d expected a polite handshake and a few photo ops when you went on the tour, but Congressman Barnes from your borough of Brooklyn was charming, attentive, and deeply present in a way that threw you off balance. His gaze lingered just a second too long when he looked at you, and your heartbeat stuttered every time his hand brushed yours.

You weren’t sure what it meant, you just knew it meant something.

The first night ended with a drink in the hotel bar, where he asked thoughtful questions about education and leaned in like your answers were gravity. When he walked you to your room, he didn’t ask to come in, just touched your wrist and said, “I’ll see you again, Charm.”

“Charm?” you questioned him as he walked away.

Bucky turned around and started to walk backwards as he replied.

“Yeah. It’s my name for you in my head,” and he grinned before he got in the elevator, looking so much younger than 110 years old.

Weeks later, you were still texting late into the night. Breathless calls. Heated messages. A video chat that ended with both of you flushed and desperate.

It was intoxicating stuff.

----

Now:

You were finally back in D.C. for the National Teaching Conference. Because you were on the planning committee, you’d been running around in a blazer and sneakers all week, putting out fires, herding speakers, and keeping the entire operation from collapsing.

But Friday night was yours.

The conference ended, the final panel was a wrap, and you still had the swanky suite for two more nights. It had a skyline view, a rain-slicked windowpane, and, within the hour, one James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d barely stepped out of the shower, steam curling in the air, when you heard the knock.

He was thirty minutes early.

You froze for half a second, heart racing, then wrapped the towel tighter and padded to the door.

Bucky stood in the hallway, soaked to the bone from the spring storm, dark hair dripping, a gray coat clinging to broad shoulders. Water tracked down his jaw and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt.

And those beautiful blue eyes were locked on you.

“Hey, Charm,” he rasped.

You swallowed hard. “Congressman.”

That smirk flickered at the corners of his mouth.

“Gonna let me in?”

You stepped aside. The door shut behind him, shutting the world out. Bucky looked at you like he hadn’t seen you in years, not weeks.

“I missed you,” you said softly, voice a breath.

He was on you in a heartbeat. One hand cupped your chin, the other, vibranium, gleaming in the soft hotel light, slid around your waist, pulling you flush to him. You melted, your fingers slipping beneath the lapels of his coat, feeling the heat of him under damp clothes.

You didn’t find the sharp muscle of the old soldier, but the solid strength of a man who lived his life with purpose. His softness did not take the edge off your desire for him.

In fact, it probably made it worse. He wasn’t a weapon. He was a man.

Your man. 

You were going to claim him tonight.

“Been sittin’ through policy meetings imagining you riding me in the chair behind my desk,” he muttered into your skin, pressing a kiss below your jaw.

You gasped, shivering despite the heat between you.

You grew a little dizzy as Bucky dropped his overnight bag to the floor so that your hands could slip under his shirt, and drag your fingers over his soft, but still-defined abs.

“Then maybe we should make that image real.”

His eyes were dark now, pupils already blown. One arm snaked up your back and tangled in the hair at your nape, pulling your head back as he kissed you hard, like he meant to claim you. His vibranium hand gripped your waist like it was built for that exact purpose.

“Tonight, I don’t want polite. Don’t want careful.”

You’d planned for this. Took your precautions. Got tested. You both knew what tonight meant.

Bucky walked you backwards toward the bed, slow and steady, never breaking eye contact. 

“I want to watch you take what you want from me.”

Your lips curved into a smile.

“I want a lot from you, Mr. Barnes,” you whispered.

“Take your shirt off,” you said softly, watching the way his jaw flexed and the way his eyes flicked to your mouth.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a crooked smile.

God. Could you be in love?

He stripped off his shirt in one fluid motion. Muscles rippled, dog tags glinting against his skin. He didn’t pose. He just stood there, waiting. Watching you. A man made of flesh and metal and decades of ghosts, and right now, he was all yours.

You moved toward him, fingertips grazing his stomach, and watched the way he twitched beneath your touch.

“You know you can be in control tonight,” you murmured, eyes locked on his as he let you turn him around so that he was at the foot of the bed. 

Bucky’s breath hitched. 

“I haven’t been in control since the day I met you, Charm.”

You pushed him gently until he sat without resistance, and you stood between his legs, slowly letting the towel drop and pool at your feet. Bucky’s hungry gaze roamed over your body, from your lips, to your neck, to your breasts, focusing on the rigid peaks there as he licked his lips, down your stomach to the apex of your thighs, and lingering there longer.

Finally, his eyes swept down your legs to your feet on the floor, between his shiny Italian loafers.

“You sure you want this?” he asked, voice hoarse as he brought his eyes back up to yours. 

“I’ve never been more sure,” you said. “But let’s not rush this, Sergeant.”

His head dropped for a moment like he needed a second just to breathe. That word, Sergeant, hit somewhere deep. Then he looked up and drew you toward him with his metal hand and kissed the inside of your thigh, destroying you.

“Tell me what you want.”

The gravel in his voice did things to you as you carded your fingernails through his thick, wet, dark hair.

You said, “Need your mouth, Bucky,” and he almost came undone right then.

“Such a Good Girl for telling me what you need, Charm.”

His lips were at the edge of your mound, the warmth of his breath fanning out over your clit. You moaned and laid your hands on his solid shoulders, and although they each felt very different under your palms, the disparate sensations only served to make you hotter. 

Bucky made eye contact with you and then took a long swipe of his tongue over your wet slit, from top to bottom. A tremble coursed through your body, and you exhaled his name. Bucky stared lovingly at your cunt, from the fat, puffy lips of your labia, to the shine of your juices at your slit.

He licked your essence from his lips and raised his eyes to yours again. He was so fucking handsome. And you were so gone for this man.

Just when you thought that, Bucky stuck his nose in your pussy and inhaled deeply, making you jump in surprise and rapture. He took a quick lick and hummed deeply, sending more vibrations through your cunt.

His metal hand lifted your leg, draped it over his shoulder. His tongue worked in steady, devastating rhythm. Lips suckling, tongue plunging, nose pressed to your clit as he made a low, satisfied sound that vibrated straight through you.

You gasped.

He groaned.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice muffled against your heat. “So fuckin’ sweet for me.”

And then he ruined you.

He looked up to wink at you playfully before parting your outer lips with his thumbs. He dove in and you saw stars.

Bucky Barnes sucked, licked, and grazed on you, plunging deeply into you with his tongue, fingers, and his whole damn face.

You were lost in the moment, in the pleasure, and the sensations. It was so good. No one had ever made you feel this wanted or needed. You felt the telltale spark ignite your clit and started to squirm as his vibranium hand held you in place as he devoured you like a starving man.

He felt you clench around his fingers, one inside you, one teasing that tight little rim, and you shattered. Bucky held you through it, whispering your name like a religious chant.

Because he worshipped you.

You lay in his arms, spent and limp as Bucky nuzzled at your neck, his dick standing at attention, long, thick, and leaking against you. Somehow, some when, he’d gotten undressed.

And those beautiful blue eyes held you hostage again.

“What do you need now?”

You looked down and reached for him.

“Need to taste you, Sarge.”

His cock was huge, hard, and hot against your skin, begging for relief.

Bucky groaned and his eyes shined as you rose only to sink down on your knees. He sat up on the edge of the bed to witness you gazing up at him. He took himself in hand and started stroking the length of his hardness, swiping precum from the slit at the head in passing.

It was so damn sexy. You licked your lips as your eyes were glued to the beautiful, erotic sight of Bucky Barnes stroking off for you. 

He smirked as he watched you hungry for him, impatient to taste him, to take him in, to please him. Your hands cupped and kneaded the full flesh of your breasts, and Bucky licked his lips as you pulled on your nipples. 

His flesh fingers squeezed more tightly around his shaft, while his metal hand gave a quick twist to his balls as your heavily hooded eyes drifted from his cock to his face as you moved closer. 

You wrapped your lips around him and he cursed, one hand in your hair, the other still at his balls, twisting with just enough pressure.

You worshipped him the way he had you. Took him deep, sloppy and unafraid, letting your desire drip down your chin and soak your chest.

He was losing control.

Sexy rambles tumbled from his lips as you took him deep in your throat.

“Fuck. I’m home. All this time… I thought I thought I knew. Didn’t know shit.” 

You moaned as you pulled back slightly to gently lick and suck at the head of his cock, swiping your tongue over his hard length. Then you got sloppy with it, slurping at him and taking his long, thick cock as deep as you could.

Bucky let out an inhuman sound as you gently scraped your teeth along his hard flesh, and then sucked and tongued at his balls.

“Please, baby, fuck…”

He had to pull you off before he lost it. He lifted you, breath ragged, and laid you on the bed like you were breakable but you weren’t. You were so strong. And Powerful.

He draped your legs around his waist as he lined the thick bulb of his cock with your entrance. 

As he looked into your eyes, Bucky trembled as you crossed your ankles around his back. You both watched, enraptured, as he pushed inside you, and every inch felt like a lifetime. You pulled him in like a siren, hips rising to meet him, your walls fluttering around him.

You whispered his name, Bucky, and it broke him in the most beautiful way.

He fucked you long, deep, and hard. He played with your body and spanked your full flesh. You came over and over, barely descending from one climax then he was at you again, rolling your clit between his fingers, sucking your tits into his mouth. His cock was relentless, hard as steel, and dripping with your cream. 

But he hadn’t let go and given you what you truly wanted. 

“Want to ride you Bucky…”

He rolled you over so that you were on top, truly in control, despite your trembling thighs.

“Do you know what you need now, Charm?”

“Oh, I know,” you murmured, rolling your hips as he gasped. “Need to show you that this is mine now.”

You grasped him and positioned him at your entrance. Then, you took him inside you again. His grip on your hips tightened and he nodded, biting his lip as he looked down to where you were joined.

“Yours. Always was.”

You rode him slowly; you wanted him to remember this. The way your body felt wrapped around him. The way you looked on top of him. 

The air between you was thick, charged, and the room hummed with the rhythm of your bodies. Each time you sank down onto him, every inch felt like heaven.

Bucky’s breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling beneath you, but his hands didn’t let go of your hips. They were firm, guiding, like he was fighting to hold on to control.

The sight of you was almost too much to bear: you, beautiful and powerful, taking what you needed from him with a relentless grace. His lips parted, and every sound he made was a mixture of frustration and hunger.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he growled, but his voice wavered.

You could tell he was losing his composure, even though his hands kept a firm grip, holding you steady for the next perfect movement.

The tension was building again, just like before. His fingers dug into your skin, almost painfully, but you didn’t care. You were so close to unraveling him completely; it was an art, this dance you had with him, and you were the one in control now.

His gaze flicked between your face and your greedy cunt sucking him in, his chest tightening at the sight of your expression, and at how perfectly you fit together.

“Look at you,” you whispered, leaning in to nip at his earlobe, your voice sultry. 

“You look like you’re losing yourself. Can’t hold on, can you?”

Bucky’s hands tightened at your waist, his grip becoming a little rougher. You could feel his body shifting, like he was trying to fight the pull, trying to keep himself from breaking.

“You’re killing me, Doll,” he muttered, eyes closing for a split second before snapping open to look at you again.

His expression was a mess of desire, vulnerability, and something that told you he didn’t want this to end. 

“I can’t hold back much longer.”

You grinned, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

You didn’t let up, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned back, giving him a full view of your body. His jaw tightened as he watched, his fingers trembling slightly as you began to move faster, the heat building between you both, the room filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, the rhythm of your bodies synchronizing.

“You’re not the one who gets to decide when it’s over, Sargeant,” you teased, breathless but determined.

“I’m the one calling the shots here.”

And with that, you gave him everything, taking the lead in a way that pushed him past his limits, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of you. The intensity in his eyes grew, a mix of awe and surrender, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. 

But he also couldn’t stop himself.

You felt it all, the way his grip tightened, the way his body tensed with each thrust of yours, the way he was so close to losing himself. And as you watched him, a small, knowing smile tugged at your lips.

This wasn’t just about sex anymore. This was a power exchange, a moment that was yours, and his, too. You could feel your connection grow stronger.

“Tell me, Bucky,” you whispered, voice a little raspier now, “are you going to beg for it, or are you going to let me take what’s mine?”

He groaned, the sound like a mix of frustration and raw need. You topping him was making the base of his spine hum with pleasure.

“Please, Charm.” he murmured, breath shaking. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

And that was all you needed. You took control fully, fucking him with a rhythm that made his whole body shudder. You could feel the end coming closer, and you didn’t slow down. Not now. Not when you were this close.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, voice broken as you watched him come apart. 

You clenched around him and commanded, “Cum.”

And he did, with a broken groan of your name and a full-body shudder, his face a portrait of surrender as he spilled into you, pulsing and shaking beneath you.

When he finally came to a stop, his chest heaving, his hands still on your hips, holding you steady, you leaned in and kissed him softly, a contrast to the raw energy between you moments before.

“You were perfect,” you whispered against his lips.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he breathed in deeply, the intensity still lingering. 

“God… you’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

You smiled, resting your head on his chest as he held you.

“You’re welcome.”

And you felt him become completely, unconditionally yours.

Your Bucky.

[ramp-it-up]

It’s WIP WEDNESDAY! 🩵

Hey Love! Thank you for the ask!

This excerpt is from a fic that is complete and literally sitting in my drafts, waiting to be published. Has been for weeks. I just can't press the button:

The wind roared as you wrapped yourself around him, arms tight, thighs snug against his hips. Every turn and bump reminded you that he was between your legs, causing you to clench them around him. You couldn’t tell if the subtle way he leaned into your hold and him occasionally squeezing your thigh was intentional, but after a few minutes you had to refrain from squirming against his back. He turned off-road, weaving through trees until you hit a sun-drenched clearing. A lake sparkled in the distance and everything smelled like pine and springtime.  He killed the engine and glanced back at you.  “Still with me?” You nodded, breathless.  “Definitely.”

[ramp-it-up]

Muse: One

Muse Preview | Muse Masterlist|| Muse: Two

Summary: You and Ari meet on Raya. Chaos ensues.

Pairing: Art Curator! Ari Levinson x Plus sized model! Reader

Word count: 4.5 K

A/N: Muse will be a series of one shots featuring Muse and Ari, and this one will probably be the longest one. We’re gonna hear from them at least every week. 😏 Big thanks to @princessphilly who basically inspired the premise and then endured me being feral in her inbox. And yes, this is the same Ari that's in Show Off, so this AU is tangential to the Peach and Knock You Down verses. I was honestly working on another fic and this one possessed me. Here I go again. 🤷🏽‍♀️

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. Ari Levinson: art collector/curator/ fuckboi, Reader: model/ player, dating app life, drinking, casual sex, Dominant Ari, assertive reader, sex almost straight out the gate, size kink (c &b), breeding kink, but protected sex, pussy/clit slapping, praise and degradation, one night stand with zero feelings caught (lies!)

I don’t have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

--------

You weren’t even supposed to be on Raya that night.

You’d just finished a long shoot in a downtown loft where the air was thick with hairspray, and the photographer kept yelling absurdities like: “Give me strong, but soft! Like a powerful whisper!” 

Your feet ached. Your back screamed. The only thing keeping you sane was the cold cabernet sauvignon sweating in your hand.

You weren’t looking for anything. You just wanted to see some pretty faces and feel like a hot girl with options.

Swipe.

Swipe.

No.

No.

Hell no.

Well damn. Ari Levinson.

You’d heard about him. Your model friends had stories about how smooth he was, the size of his dick, and how he ghosted right after getting what he wanted. Classic.

But you got it. On a cellular level. Because you weren’t looking for entanglements either.

You just wanted the D.

His first photo was black and white, him standing in a sunlit Parisian gallery, framed by massive abstract canvases. His hair was tousled like he either just woken up from a nap on a vintage couch or spent the morning negotiating a private sale.

He wasn’t looking at the camera, of course not.

He was looking at the art. 

Ari also looked like art, smart blue eyes and soft lips partially hidden by a beard that you thought would feel good between your thighs. You could tell that he was tall, broad shouldered, and built to last. He was dressed casually, and that’s how you knew he was rich rich.

He didn’t have to show it off.

His bio was enigmatic:

“Chasing beauty, collecting moments. Sometimes it’s oil on canvas. Sometimes it’s the silence between two songs.”

What the fuck does that even mean?

You read it twice.

You meant to swipe left.

But fate, or the wine, intervened.

It’s a Match.

You stared at it for a minute, then typed before you could change your mind.

“Picasso said 'art is a lie that makes us realize truth.” You buying lies or selling them?” Drinks?

He responded within seconds.

He suggested a bar in SoHo with intimate booths, dim lighting, and top tier mixology. 

You almost said no. You didn’t do dates. 

You did vibes, connections, and the occasional night of excellent chaos. 

But something about his response made you curious.

—--

Raya was never really Ari’s scene.

Too curated. Profiles with perfectly lit selfies, vague aspirations, and bios that tried too hard to sound both deep and detached. 

He didn’t swipe often.

But the truth was, Ari Levinson was lonely.

Not in the sad, broken kind of way, more like he was perpetually surrounded by beautiful people who only admired his collection, complimented his taste, but never asked why he kept certain pieces or why he stared too long at sculptures that looked like loss.

His encounter the other night with the newlywed Rogers made him yearn for that kind of fire, that kind of connection. But he didn’t know if that could be duplicated.

Ari was just about to close the app when your profile popped up. 

He recognized you right away. 

Not because you were just beautiful, you definitely were, but because you commanded the image. There was a magnetism in the way you moved, a joy and defiance that didn’t care for permission.

On your profile was a picture of you in oversized sunglasses and a silk robe, holding a book. And another one of you at some red-carpet event, plus-sized and absolutely radiant, laughing like you were amused at the world. 

You were absolutely stunning.

Your bio:

Model. Curvy chaos. Not here for a long time, just a good time.

Ari smiled. Finally, someone not performing a softcore version of forever.

You weren’t like the others, not looking to be wifed up with someone rich and powerful like him. That made you dangerous.

He swiped right instinctively, just to see. Just to admire. 

He didn’t expect a match.

But when the screen lit up, It’s a Match!, his chest actually tightened. 

And then came your message.

You look like you curate galleries by day and cry to phoebe bridgers by night. Drinks?

He choked on his espresso.

It was hilarious.

And too perfect.

He should’ve ignored it. Should’ve played it cool.

Instead, he typed back faster than he ever had in his life.

“I’m intrigued. 8PM. Little Branch in SoHo. Can’t wait to see you.”

Short, sharp, and confident, not overplaying his hand. 

And it was the word intrigued, not “interested,” not “curious.” And he’d said, “Can’t wait to see you.” 

That got you. Because that meant he was already a little undone.

—---

Ari was already there when you walked in. Black button-up, gold chain, leaning on the bar casually, but you could tell he saw you the second you stepped through the door. He stood, smiled, and you rocked back on your heels as if hit by a bolt of lightning. 

The man was massive. Pictures didn’t do him justice and you didn’t know of the button up was tailored, all you knew is you felt the power beneath it. You also had to stop yourself from turning your head sideways to check out the package in his jeans.

You paused, steadying yourself, and continued your approach..

“Wow,” he said when you approached and introduced yourself. 

You laughed, because no matter how many people ogled you for a living, the involuntary kind of compliments always made you flustered. You swallowed, then turned to the barback.

“Negroni. Empress Gin.”

Ari raised an eyebrow, impressed.

“Oh. A big girl drink.”

You laughed. He kind of loved it already.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a big girl.”

Ari’s eyes slid down your body and you weren’t mad as he did a double take at your jeans. 

“I see. And I like.”

The way he licked his lips made you warm. You raised your eyebrow, imagining him munching away.

“My booth is back here.”

You looked at his large hand pointing the way to the back of the small bar to an even more intimate area. Yeah. You could ride that. 

You walked ahead of him and you knew that he was watching your ass. You didn't mind. That was the point.

His booth was tucked into a corner, shadowed and intimate; it was the kind of space designed for secrets and seduction. You slid in first, and he followed, sitting close.

He signaled for another round, fingers grazing yours on the drink menu as if by accident, and when the server left, he turned back to you with that beautiful smile.

“So. Model, huh?” 

You smiled back at him.

“That’s the rumor. Print and editorial mostly. A few campaigns. But I prefer runways in Europe over the states. I travel a lot.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

You shrugged. 

“Sometimes. But I like bringing the fantasy to life.” 

You took a sip of your drink and his eyes were on your mouth.

“And you? Art dealer, right? Collector?”

“Curator,” he corrected gently. “Sometimes broker. Sometimes buyer. Mostly, I help people spend obscene amounts of money on things they don’t understand.”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“So a charming con artist with a gallery?”

He grinned. 

“Exactly. But I only sell what I believe in.”

“Nice. I sell unattainability and the occasional skincare product. We both deal in illusions.”

“Yours just have better lighting.”

You laughed and tilted your head. Something happened in Ari’s chest. He should have run.

“So, what, you sit around all day judging brushstrokes and seducing heiresses?”

“Mostly. And trying not to text back women I shouldn’t.”

“Am I one of them?”

“Too soon to tell. But you’re a strong contender.”

You let that linger in the air for a second.

“So,” you said slowly, setting your drink down with a clink, “is this where you try and charm the pants off me?”

“I was trying to decide,” he murmured, as he took a drink, eyes locked on yours, “if I wanted to fuck you at your place or mine.”

You blinked, just once, but your smile widened.

“Oh, we’re skipping pretense, then?” you questioned. “Good. I hate when men waste my time. When was the last time you were tested?"

Ari raised his brow. You cut right to the chase.

"I get tested once a quarter, last time was two weeks ago. Clean."

"Hmmmm. I tested a month ago. And I'm clean too. But I'm gonna still need you to wear protection."

Ari smiled and lowered his eyes. His hand moved slightly under the table to rest near your thigh, but not quite touching you. A tease.

"Of course. Something tells me you don’t let anything, or anyone through,” he replied.

You studied him, wondering if you were reading worship and destruction into his look or if it was actually there.

“You’re starting to sound like someone who catches feelings.”

“Feelings?” he echoed with a grin. “No, I just like being around wild, beautiful creatures. And I enjoy the ones that bite back even more.”

You leaned in closer to him. 

“You think I’m wild. And you think I bite?” 

“I hope you are. And I hope you do.”

Your leg brushed his under the table. His eyes flicked down, then back up to your face, darker now.

“I have the same hopes for you, Mr. Levinson.”

Ari’s jaw flexed, nostrils flaring. 

“I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

His fingers moved to your thigh and traced a slow line up your crotch beneath the table. 

You leaned in closer.

“You still sure about just one night?” he asked, eyes on your lips again.

You put your hand on his thigh at that moment, moving it up to feel his thickening cock. You were excited at the potential there.

“One night. That’s the deal. I don’t do second acts. So you better make it count.”

Ari grinned and your stomach flipped.

“Well, then. I need to make it unforgettable.”

—----

You were straddling him on your couch when Ari realized he was in trouble.

He should’ve known the second you walked into the bar, hips swaying and those curves...damn. But here, now, with your thighs around him and your body pressed so close he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began, he was so gone.

Ari wasn’t the type to rush. 

He was all about artful restraint and being aloof. But you shattered that. 

You kissed like you knew just how to destroy him with your lips, teeth, and tongue. Ari hadn’t experienced the feeling since he was a teenager, but damn, he was throbbing underneath you.

And when you unbuttoned his shirt, fingers dragging over his chest, rubbing his nipples under your palms, he swore under his breath.

“Fuck. You’re unreal,” he murmured.

And you just smirked, leaned in, whispering, “I know.”

God, the way you moved. Every roll of your hips was a tease, every drag of your nails down his skin was a stripe he wanted to earn. He gripped your jean-clad thighs thighs hard enough to ground himself, because he was floating somewhere between desperation and awe.

You rode him slowly at first. You wanted him to feel all of it, every breath, every tremor. And he did. 

Your pussy was buzzing with anticipation and you were impatient, but you wanted to savor this one.

You arched as his hips rolled up between your legs, anchoring your hands on his broad shoulders as he branded the shape of himself between your legs. And when he did it again, you moaned and tried to create your own rhythm, but he held you in place.

Ari had to stop you because he only had one shot tonight and he wasn’t going to throw it away and let you cum in your pants. When your orgasm hit, it would be with the slick walls of your pussy clamped around his cock.

So you did the only thing you could, which was to grind down harder on him, causing him to let out a shaky breath, finally moving you against him to get some friction.

"Fuck... let me feel you, darlin'."

Ari made a new rhythm, one he managed with his eyes locked on yours, hands roaming from your waist to your back, then tangled in your hair as you leaned in and bit his bottom lip, making him groan.

“You gonna fall in love with me, Ari?” you teased against his mouth.

“I think I already am,” he said, before he could stop himself.

You didn’t answer, thinking it was part of the game. You just smiled, leaned back, hands on his chest, and started moving faster, driving him out of his mind. 

Every sound you made wrapped around his ribs and squeezed. He didn’t know what felt better, the pressure building low in his stomach, or the way you moaned his name like it tasted sweet in your mouth. The feel of your wet, hot pussy through your jeans was just a bonus.

He'd slept with beautiful women. Charming women. Women who made love like it were their last day on earth. 

But you? You were different.

And the way you looked, curls akimbo, lips parted, eyes locked on his like you were seeing to the bottom of him, that image seared into him. 

He stood, picking you up effortlessly, grabbing you under your ass.

“I’m assuming that your bed is up here?”

You just nodded, breathless at his power as he carried you up the stairs to the loft where your king sized bed was.

He reached the top and dropped you on the bed. You bounced a little as he reached for you and unbuttoned your jeans, dragging them down your legs along with your panties.

Shit, he wasn’t wasting any time.

He stopped and proceeded to strip off his own clothes.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” he commanded and you scrambled to comply, removing your top and your bra and watching him undress at the same time. You almost groaned at the sight of his cock.

You hadn’t always been a cock hungry slut, but you were a little obsessed. Ari was big and long, not the longest you’d had, but definitely the thickest. It was beautiful: veiny and flushed, with a large swollen head that leaked precum down his shaft. You knew it was going to be amazing when he stretched you out.

Then you noticed his balls. They looked full and heavy. You couldn’t help but lick your lips as you imagined how much cum he’d have for you. Ari smirked down at your wide eyes on him as he pushed your shoulders until you were lying on your back.

He hooked your thighs with his hands and dragged you until your ass was at the edge of the bed and you squealed with surprise as he lifted your feet up to his shoulders. This was quite the change from your usual three positions with your one night stands: missionary, cowgirl, or doggy style.

When he rubbed the his thick tip along your soaked slit, you closed your eyes and moaned. He tapped the entrance to your pussy with his cock, holding your hip to ensure that you didn't make him slip inside you.

Yeah. Ari wasn’t like other guys.

You felt the weight of him as he dragged his cock through your slippery, swollen pussy, smearing your slick all over him and you looked down, mesmerized by the sight. This was going to be good.

Ari looked down angrily.

"Fucking soaked for me," those blue eyes snapped up to yours, freezing you in place. "You always this wet?"

He licked those red lips and if you had a heart you would have been in trouble. You’d never been this wet with anyone before. You just shook your head no, not trusting yourself to answer, lest you have him thinking, correctly, that he was the shit.

But he read you anyway. That smile was both beautiful and annoying.

"For me? You shouldn't have... might get me addicted."

You scowled at him, but then you bit your lip as he started to draw circles on your clit with his penis. You were dickmatized again, eyes riveted to the spot as you moaned.

He tapped his cock against your clit to get your attention.

“Look at me.”

You looked at him through your lashes.

“Do you have any condoms?”

Oh no. Did you? You couldn’t think because of the pre-orgasmic haze you were in. Ari licked his finger and then brought it down to caress your clit while he waited for your answer.

That didn’t help the clarity of your thinking.

“Ch-check the top drawer.”

You gestured toward your nightstand, hoping it was the right direction. 

He left you, opened legged and bereft as he went on his mission, and you breathed a sigh of relief when he said, “Found them.”

Thank god. You were about to beg him to ride you bareback if he hadn’t found any. He sheathed himself and then moved back into his previous position.

He rubbed himself over your slit again, and you moaned.

“Right about here, between these beautiful thick thighs, wouldn’t you agree?”

He was driving you crazy. Your cunt was humming on a five at the bar, but he had ramped her up to an 11. You’d never been this desperate for a cock before.

“Just fuck me, please!”

He chuckled and lined the head of his cock against your entrance, but didn’t push home. He teased you for a second, before dragging it up and down one last time, just to see the look your face.

Beautiful.

“You sure about this?”

His voice was pure sin. You opened your eyes fully and glared at him.

Gorgeous.

“Yes, Ari. I need you.”

That must have been enough because he immediately plunged in, inch by glorious fat inch, straight to your core. 

“Oh fuck!”

Ari’s meaty cock stretched you out, and your head fell back in ecstasy as your hips instinctively arched to take him in deeper. You were panting from pure pleasure as you tried to adjust to his thickness.

“You like that? Like my thick cock in this little pussy?”

“Yes, God, yes!”

You couldn’t stop yourself from bucking against him to try to get him to move. He was still as a statue and his jaw was clenched from restraint.

“Tell you what, if you beg me to fill your pussy with cum, I’ll fuck you so hard your head spins. Deal?”

“Um…” you couldn’t form your thoughts to beg, or to realize that there would be no cum filling because of the condom.

“Why don’t you think about it and let me know,” Ari said casually as if he were talking to a customer browsing his gallery.

But he started thrusting slowly into your cunt as the electric current in his dick made you crave the roughness he’d suggested.  You tried to pull yourself together, but it didn’t work.

Ari was transfixed by your breasts. They looked delicious.

“Play with your nipples,” Ari growled.

You cupped your breasts with your hands and pulled at the stiff peaks. He continued his leisurely pace, except now everything was worse. Or better.

Every time you pulled your nipples, you felt a corresponding pull between your legs. And then there was the way he was looking at what you were doing, eyes half lidded and mouth open as you touched yourself. Fuck that was so erotic.

The pressure was building, but you knew you wouldn’t cum until he fucked you harder.

Ari stopped and pulled out.

“Nooooooo!” you cried, and he chuckled at you, as if he was amused.

“I really wanna make you cum, but I think I’m distracting you too much.”

You couldn’t think, but you didn’t want him to stop. A sharp smack against your swollen pussy lips made you yelp and a blast of delight surged through you. 

Holy fuck what was this guy doing to you?

When he slapped your pussy harder, you realized how completely fucked you were.

You would do whatever he wanted.

“Okay okay. Let me think…. Shit, Uh…” you were completely in a daze.

“Are you ready to beg me to fill you with my cum?” Ari reminded you of the question at hand.

He brought a finger back to your clit and rubbed devastating circles around it.

Jesus fuck, it was like he didn’t really want you to be able to talk. Catching a moment of clarity, you rushed it out.

“Please, Ari, fuck me hard and fill me with your cum. Pretty please. I just need your cum. Promise I’ll be the best fucktoy you’ve ever had, please?”

He gave you an evil grin and caressed your clit harder. You whimpered.

“Please, Ari. Need your cum.”

He stopped rubbing and you felt his tip nudging into you, and you were almost purring from the pleasure. He pressed in until he bottomed out, waves of bliss washing over you. You started trembling preemptively.

“Good girl,” he announced as he pulled out gently, only to slam back in hard.

“Oooooo, fuck, oh my god!” you gasped out as he fucked you ruthlessly. 

The sound of your moans mixed with the squeaking of your bed, and you continued to play with your tits which only increased your pleasure.

You went from one peak to another as you quickly spiraled toward your orgasm, Ari’s grunts each time he sank into you helping to speed you along.

“Such a….good… little… breedable…. Fucktoy…..”  

He slammed into you, groaning with every word. All it took was one brush of his finger to push you over the edge.

You screamed, “Oh, god, yes!” as you came all over his cock and writhed against him as he roared that he was cuming. New waves of rapture surged between your legs, traveling throughout your entire body.

He drilled into you for a moment longer, and the intense aftershocks were almost too much to bear. When he finally pulled out, the room swirled around you and you let out a tiny giggle. 

Ari did promise to fuck you hard enough to make it spin.

He went to the bathroom and disposed of the condom and then returned and pulled you up the bed to make you his little spoon.

You reveled in the smell of sweat and sex, almost getting high on the scent. You laughed softly like you couldn’t believe what just happened. But he knew. He knew exactly what happened.

He was ruined.

But you were a one-night promise, a walking fantasy with no intentions of calling back. And still, as you lay in bed with him, catching your breath, his hands on your body, Ari knew he didn’t want this to end. 

Not anytime soon.

“You don’t have to stay if you have something in the morning…”

You meant that to sound more definitive, like you were inviting him to leave, but Ari had wrecked you so much that you didn’t have the energy to be cold. That was the reason you turned, burrowed into his chest and let your eyelids get heavy.

Ari chuckled. 

“Don’t worry, Muse. I’ll get out of your hair soon. Just catching my breath.”

“... the fuck is Muse?...” you questioned on your way to sleep, the rhythm of his fingers on your thighs the nails in your coffin of sleep.

“You are. You’re my Muse.”

You didn’t quite feel the kiss on your forehead. But you smiled.

—----

In the morning, the light in your apartment was rude.

It filtered through the curtains like it had a personal vendetta, hitting your face just as you tried to pretend the night didn’t happen the way it did. Your limbs were sore in that satisfied way, like you’d run a marathon, but only with your hips. 

You stretched. Yawned. Felt the warmth behind you.

Shit.

Ari was still there.

He was on his side, one arm slung over your waist like it belonged there. His broad chest was on your back, and his nose buried in your neck, breathing you in.

You shifted. He didn’t move. Just tightened his hold with that annoying, possessive kind of tenderness.

“Morning,” he mumbled into your skin, his gravelly morning voice threatening to do you in.

“Mhmm,” you answered, noncommittally. You carefully peeled his arm off. 

“You can go, you know.”

That got his attention. He lifted his head, messy hair falling over his eyes, beard pressed with pillow lines. 

He looked like sex personified.

“Damn. No coffee? No kiss on the cheek? Not even a fake number on a Post-it?”

“Don’t make this weird, Ari.”

You’re out of bed now, grabbing your robe from the chair, ignoring the way his eyes tracked your every move. You knew the drill. One-night stands didn’t turn into brunch plans.

He propped himself up and leaned against your headboard like it was custom-built for him.

“Wasn’t trying to. Just… didn’t think you’d be in such a rush to forget me.”

“I’m not,” you lied, tying your hair up with a scarf, trying to be as unattractive as possible. 

You had no idea that to him you looked like the most beautiful painting he'd ever seen.

“I just like to keep things clean. No open tabs.”

“Hmm.” 

He studied you for a long moment, then stretched like a cat, unapologetically naked and smug. 

“You always kick people out like this? Or am I just special?”

You sighed. He wasn't making it easy. He was too comfortable in your space. Too charming. Too in your face.

“I didn’t peg you for the lingering type.”

“I’m not. But something about your bed makes me reconsider my brand.” 

He grinned. 

“And you snore a little. It’s cute.”

You whirled around. 

“I do not snore.”

He laughed. Like it was a private joke between you. It softened you for a second. Just a second. You cleared your throat and motioned down toward the door.

“Seriously. You should go.”

He nodded slowly, slid out of your bed and grabbed his clothes, treating you to the sight of him getting leisurely getting dressed. When he caught you watching, he grinned, and you scoffed, going down the stairs so you wouldn’t be tempted stare any more.

Ari walked past you, stopped at the doorway and turned.

“If this is your way of making sure I don’t catch feelings... it might be too late.”

That caught you off guard. He shrugged.

“It’s fine. I’m not asking for a toothbrush or a drawer. But if you ever want to fuck again… or talk about art… or do both at the same time…You know where to find me, Muse.”

He winked. The mutherfucker actually winked, then walked out like he didn’t just ruin your perfectly controlled system. 

You stood there, silent, heart hammering a little harder than you would have liked. And only when the door clicked shut did you whisper: 

“...Goddamn it.”

——-

Muse: Two

So… whaddya think? 🤔

[ramp-it-up]

Charm

Summary: Congressman James Buchanan Barnes has a secret. And it's so sweet.

Word count: 3.1 K

Pairing: Congressman Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: Yeah, I'm probably gonna be back on my Bucky bullshit for a minute. Those Norman Jean Roy photos, the movie coming out. Just block me now. Or, read, respond, and reblog! Love you heauxes!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! Teacher Reader, Congressman Bucky, Soft, Beefy Bucky, feral Bucky, sex almost on sight, talk of testing and precautions, but raw p in v, oral (m/f receiving) sloppy toppy, woman on top, praise kink, Dom-ish AND sort of Subby Bucky, Sargeant kink, nicknames Charm and Doll, also Sweetheart.

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

Congressman James Buchanan Barnes raked his hand through his hair for the third time. It was overlong, curling at the nape of his neck, caught somewhere between rebellion and control.

Just like his life.

His tie was long gone, jacket tossed over a chair, but the tension still clung to him like sweat. His fingers twitched with the restraint of a man used to control, but tonight that control was slipping.

Because of you.

He was going to meet you. Spend time with you.

You, his softest vulnerability. His secret sanctuary. You had no idea what you did to him. Or maybe you did. And that was the problem.

Underneath the pressed shirt and tailored slacks, beneath the titles and speeches and the weight of his legacy, James Buchanan Barnes was unraveling. You touched something in him, something sweet and unguarded.

You looked at him like he wasn’t just a polished man with power, but someone worth seeing. You saw past all of it, the headlines, the pressure, the myth of the man, to the boy who once just wanted to be good.

Of course you did. As a teacher, you saw the good in all of your students. And from the moment he’d met you, bright-eyed and brilliant, part of the National Teaching Conference delegation touring the Capitol, he’d been a goner.

So he pursued you. But you’d made him wait. And you’d made him want. And Bucky had never wanted anything the way he wanted you.

When he thought of you, he forgot all about The Honorable James Buchanan Barnes. 

He just wanted to be your Bucky.

—-

Six Weeks earlier:

You’d expected a polite handshake and a few photo ops when you went on the tour, but Congressman Barnes from your borough of Brooklyn was charming, attentive, and deeply present in a way that threw you off balance. His gaze lingered just a second too long when he looked at you, and your heartbeat stuttered every time his hand brushed yours.

You weren’t sure what it meant, you just knew it meant something.

The first night ended with a drink in the hotel bar, where he asked thoughtful questions about education and leaned in like your answers were gravity. When he walked you to your room, he didn’t ask to come in, just touched your wrist and said, “I’ll see you again, Charm.”

“Charm?” you questioned him as he walked away.

Bucky turned around and started to walk backwards as he replied.

“Yeah. It’s my name for you in my head,” and he grinned before he got in the elevator, looking so much younger than 110 years old.

Weeks later, you were still texting late into the night. Breathless calls. Heated messages. A video chat that ended with both of you flushed and desperate.

It was intoxicating stuff.

----

Now:

You were finally back in D.C. for the National Teaching Conference. Because you were on the planning committee, you’d been running around in a blazer and sneakers all week, putting out fires, herding speakers, and keeping the entire operation from collapsing.

But Friday night was yours.

The conference ended, the final panel was a wrap, and you still had the swanky suite for two more nights. It had a skyline view, a rain-slicked windowpane, and, within the hour, one James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d barely stepped out of the shower, steam curling in the air, when you heard the knock.

He was thirty minutes early.

You froze for half a second, heart racing, then wrapped the towel tighter and padded to the door.

Bucky stood in the hallway, soaked to the bone from the spring storm, dark hair dripping, a gray coat clinging to broad shoulders. Water tracked down his jaw and disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt.

And those beautiful blue eyes were locked on you.

“Hey, Charm,” he rasped.

You swallowed hard. “Congressman.”

That smirk flickered at the corners of his mouth.

“Gonna let me in?”

You stepped aside. The door shut behind him, shutting the world out. Bucky looked at you like he hadn’t seen you in years, not weeks.

“I missed you,” you said softly, voice a breath.

He was on you in a heartbeat. One hand cupped your chin, the other, vibranium, gleaming in the soft hotel light, slid around your waist, pulling you flush to him. You melted, your fingers slipping beneath the lapels of his coat, feeling the heat of him under damp clothes.

You didn’t find the sharp muscle of the old soldier, but the solid strength of a man who lived his life with purpose. His softness did not take the edge off your desire for him.

In fact, it probably made it worse. He wasn’t a weapon. He was a man.

Your man. 

You were going to claim him tonight.

“Been sittin’ through policy meetings imagining you riding me in the chair behind my desk,” he muttered into your skin, pressing a kiss below your jaw.

You gasped, shivering despite the heat between you.

You grew a little dizzy as Bucky dropped his overnight bag to the floor so that your hands could slip under his shirt, and drag your fingers over his soft, but still-defined abs.

“Then maybe we should make that image real.”

His eyes were dark now, pupils already blown. One arm snaked up your back and tangled in the hair at your nape, pulling your head back as he kissed you hard, like he meant to claim you. His vibranium hand gripped your waist like it was built for that exact purpose.

“Tonight, I don’t want polite. Don’t want careful.”

You’d planned for this. Took your precautions. Got tested. You both knew what tonight meant.

Bucky walked you backwards toward the bed, slow and steady, never breaking eye contact. 

“I want to watch you take what you want from me.”

Your lips curved into a smile.

“I want a lot from you, Mr. Barnes,” you whispered.

“Take your shirt off,” you said softly, watching the way his jaw flexed and the way his eyes flicked to your mouth.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a crooked smile.

God. Could you be in love?

He stripped off his shirt in one fluid motion. Muscles rippled, dog tags glinting against his skin. He didn’t pose. He just stood there, waiting. Watching you. A man made of flesh and metal and decades of ghosts, and right now, he was all yours.

You moved toward him, fingertips grazing his stomach, and watched the way he twitched beneath your touch.

“You know you can be in control tonight,” you murmured, eyes locked on his as he let you turn him around so that he was at the foot of the bed. 

Bucky’s breath hitched. 

“I haven’t been in control since the day I met you, Charm.”

You pushed him gently until he sat without resistance, and you stood between his legs, slowly letting the towel drop and pool at your feet. Bucky’s hungry gaze roamed over your body, from your lips, to your neck, to your breasts, focusing on the rigid peaks there as he licked his lips, down your stomach to the apex of your thighs, and lingering there longer.

Finally, his eyes swept down your legs to your feet on the floor, between his shiny Italian loafers.

“You sure you want this?” he asked, voice hoarse as he brought his eyes back up to yours. 

“I’ve never been more sure,” you said. “But let’s not rush this, Sergeant.”

His head dropped for a moment like he needed a second just to breathe. That word, Sergeant, hit somewhere deep. Then he looked up and drew you toward him with his metal hand and kissed the inside of your thigh, destroying you.

“Tell me what you want.”

The gravel in his voice did things to you as you carded your fingernails through his thick, wet, dark hair.

You said, “Need your mouth, Bucky,” and he almost came undone right then.

“Such a Good Girl for telling me what you need, Charm.”

His lips were at the edge of your mound, the warmth of his breath fanning out over your clit. You moaned and laid your hands on his solid shoulders, and although they each felt very different under your palms, the disparate sensations only served to make you hotter. 

Bucky made eye contact with you and then took a long swipe of his tongue over your wet slit, from top to bottom. A tremble coursed through your body, and you exhaled his name. Bucky stared lovingly at your cunt, from the fat, puffy lips of your labia, to the shine of your juices at your slit.

He licked your essence from his lips and raised his eyes to yours again. He was so fucking handsome. And you were so gone for this man.

Just when you thought that, Bucky stuck his nose in your pussy and inhaled deeply, making you jump in surprise and rapture. He took a quick lick and hummed deeply, sending more vibrations through your cunt.

His metal hand lifted your leg, draped it over his shoulder. His tongue worked in steady, devastating rhythm. Lips suckling, tongue plunging, nose pressed to your clit as he made a low, satisfied sound that vibrated straight through you.

You gasped.

He groaned.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice muffled against your heat. “So fuckin’ sweet for me.”

And then he ruined you.

He looked up to wink at you playfully before parting your outer lips with his thumbs. He dove in and you saw stars.

Bucky Barnes sucked, licked, and grazed on you, plunging deeply into you with his tongue, fingers, and his whole damn face.

You were lost in the moment, in the pleasure, and the sensations. It was so good. No one had ever made you feel this wanted or needed. You felt the telltale spark ignite your clit and started to squirm as his vibranium hand held you in place as he devoured you like a starving man.

He felt you clench around his fingers, one inside you, one teasing that tight little rim, and you shattered. Bucky held you through it, whispering your name like a religious chant.

Because he worshipped you.

You lay in his arms, spent and limp as Bucky nuzzled at your neck, his dick standing at attention, long, thick, and leaking against you. Somehow, some when, he’d gotten undressed.

And those beautiful blue eyes held you hostage again.

“What do you need now?”

You looked down and reached for him.

“Need to taste you, Sarge.”

His cock was huge, hard, and hot against your skin, begging for relief.

Bucky groaned and his eyes shined as you rose only to sink down on your knees. He sat up on the edge of the bed to witness you gazing up at him. He took himself in hand and started stroking the length of his hardness, swiping precum from the slit at the head in passing.

It was so damn sexy. You licked your lips as your eyes were glued to the beautiful, erotic sight of Bucky Barnes stroking off for you. 

He smirked as he watched you hungry for him, impatient to taste him, to take him in, to please him. Your hands cupped and kneaded the full flesh of your breasts, and Bucky licked his lips as you pulled on your nipples. 

His flesh fingers squeezed more tightly around his shaft, while his metal hand gave a quick twist to his balls as your heavily hooded eyes drifted from his cock to his face as you moved closer. 

You wrapped your lips around him and he cursed, one hand in your hair, the other still at his balls, twisting with just enough pressure.

You worshipped him the way he had you. Took him deep, sloppy and unafraid, letting your desire drip down your chin and soak your chest.

He was losing control.

Sexy rambles tumbled from his lips as you took him deep in your throat.

“Fuck. I’m home. All this time… I thought I thought I knew. Didn’t know shit.” 

You moaned as you pulled back slightly to gently lick and suck at the head of his cock, swiping your tongue over his hard length. Then you got sloppy with it, slurping at him and taking his long, thick cock as deep as you could.

Bucky let out an inhuman sound as you gently scraped your teeth along his hard flesh, and then sucked and tongued at his balls.

“Please, baby, fuck…”

He had to pull you off before he lost it. He lifted you, breath ragged, and laid you on the bed like you were breakable but you weren’t. You were so strong. And Powerful.

He draped your legs around his waist as he lined the thick bulb of his cock with your entrance. 

As he looked into your eyes, Bucky trembled as you crossed your ankles around his back. You both watched, enraptured, as he pushed inside you, and every inch felt like a lifetime. You pulled him in like a siren, hips rising to meet him, your walls fluttering around him.

You whispered his name, Bucky, and it broke him in the most beautiful way.

He fucked you long, deep, and hard. He played with your body and spanked your full flesh. You came over and over, barely descending from one climax then he was at you again, rolling your clit between his fingers, sucking your tits into his mouth. His cock was relentless, hard as steel, and dripping with your cream. 

But he hadn’t let go and given you what you truly wanted. 

“Want to ride you Bucky…”

He rolled you over so that you were on top, truly in control, despite your trembling thighs.

“Do you know what you need now, Charm?”

“Oh, I know,” you murmured, rolling your hips as he gasped. “Need to show you that this is mine now.”

You grasped him and positioned him at your entrance. Then, you took him inside you again. His grip on your hips tightened and he nodded, biting his lip as he looked down to where you were joined.

“Yours. Always was.”

You rode him slowly; you wanted him to remember this. The way your body felt wrapped around him. The way you looked on top of him. 

The air between you was thick, charged, and the room hummed with the rhythm of your bodies. Each time you sank down onto him, every inch felt like heaven.

Bucky’s breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling beneath you, but his hands didn’t let go of your hips. They were firm, guiding, like he was fighting to hold on to control.

The sight of you was almost too much to bear: you, beautiful and powerful, taking what you needed from him with a relentless grace. His lips parted, and every sound he made was a mixture of frustration and hunger.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he growled, but his voice wavered.

You could tell he was losing his composure, even though his hands kept a firm grip, holding you steady for the next perfect movement.

The tension was building again, just like before. His fingers dug into your skin, almost painfully, but you didn’t care. You were so close to unraveling him completely; it was an art, this dance you had with him, and you were the one in control now.

His gaze flicked between your face and your greedy cunt sucking him in, his chest tightening at the sight of your expression, and at how perfectly you fit together.

“Look at you,” you whispered, leaning in to nip at his earlobe, your voice sultry. 

“You look like you’re losing yourself. Can’t hold on, can you?”

Bucky’s hands tightened at your waist, his grip becoming a little rougher. You could feel his body shifting, like he was trying to fight the pull, trying to keep himself from breaking.

“You’re killing me, Doll,” he muttered, eyes closing for a split second before snapping open to look at you again.

His expression was a mess of desire, vulnerability, and something that told you he didn’t want this to end. 

“I can’t hold back much longer.”

You grinned, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

You didn’t let up, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned back, giving him a full view of your body. His jaw tightened as he watched, his fingers trembling slightly as you began to move faster, the heat building between you both, the room filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, the rhythm of your bodies synchronizing.

“You’re not the one who gets to decide when it’s over, Sargeant,” you teased, breathless but determined.

“I’m the one calling the shots here.”

And with that, you gave him everything, taking the lead in a way that pushed him past his limits, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of you. The intensity in his eyes grew, a mix of awe and surrender, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. 

But he also couldn’t stop himself.

You felt it all, the way his grip tightened, the way his body tensed with each thrust of yours, the way he was so close to losing himself. And as you watched him, a small, knowing smile tugged at your lips.

This wasn’t just about sex anymore. This was a power exchange, a moment that was yours, and his, too. You could feel your connection grow stronger.

“Tell me, Bucky,” you whispered, voice a little raspier now, “are you going to beg for it, or are you going to let me take what’s mine?”

He groaned, the sound like a mix of frustration and raw need. You topping him was making the base of his spine hum with pleasure.

“Please, Charm.” he murmured, breath shaking. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

And that was all you needed. You took control fully, fucking him with a rhythm that made his whole body shudder. You could feel the end coming closer, and you didn’t slow down. Not now. Not when you were this close.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, voice broken as you watched him come apart. 

You clenched around him and commanded, “Cum.”

And he did, with a broken groan of your name and a full-body shudder, his face a portrait of surrender as he spilled into you, pulsing and shaking beneath you.

When he finally came to a stop, his chest heaving, his hands still on your hips, holding you steady, you leaned in and kissed him softly, a contrast to the raw energy between you moments before.

“You were perfect,” you whispered against his lips.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he breathed in deeply, the intensity still lingering. 

“God… you’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

You smiled, resting your head on his chest as he held you.

“You’re welcome.”

And you felt him become completely, unconditionally yours.

Your Bucky.

[ramp-it-up]

The hell you say? We’ve been friends five ever! Thanks for the love! ❤️

Great Minds

Pairing: Jake Jensen x Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d, SMUT! Read at your own risk. Pining, Angst, nefarious dealings, explicit sex,  dub con voyuerism, masturbation, nipple play,  exhibitionism, a lil’ spit play, Corporal  kink, oral sex (m/f recieving) creampie, cowgirl, sex in the grass/ outside.

A/N: This is in response to the following ask from @nagisaunicorn-blog. And it was supposed to be a drabble. 😪

NOTICE: I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

“We have an additional 30 days. I want you to cut back your hours in the lab.”

You looked up into the eyes of the best looking Loser, in your opinion, Corporal Jake Jensen. Him taking charge was such a turn on. You cocked your eyebrow at him.

“You need to be careful, this work is extremely important. That means balancing this work with taking care of yourself. You’re an important asset.”

For the past 15 days, you’d spent 12 hours a day, every day, in the remote lab in the slopes of the Rocky Mountains, eyes strained by staring at a microscope or at the computer screen, barely communicating with the mercenary. 

After all, it was a perfunctory relationship. You were one of the world’s most important scientists, and his mission was to protect you. Your job was to deliver the formula.  You initially had only 30 days to do so. 

Now you had 30 more.

Jake was certainly easy on the eyes, and kind, if a little silly. He wasn’t as goofy as you were warned he would be, but he was observant. He noticed your tired sighs, and heard you tossing and turning in your sleep through the walls of the living quarters. He’d made the call to Clay to extend the mission.

This was very important work, and you were, in fact, exhausted. You’d hardly left the secluded cabin, determined to meet the timeline. You had to save your family, who were in danger if you didn’t perform.

You smiled weakly up at Jake. 

“Great minds think alike.”

He never seemed to meet your gaze. Jake had only looked you in the eye once, when you met him two weeks ago, and he’d hardly said five words to you at one time.  You looked down at your watch. It was only 4pm. You usually worked until 8. But he was right. You needed to be at your best to do your best work.

Keep reading

[ramp-it-up]

Appreciate you so much for sharing! ❤️

Charm

Summary: Congressman James Buchanan Barnes has a secret. And it's so sweet.

Word count: 3.1 K

Pairing: Congressman Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: Yeah, I'm probably gonna be back on my Bucky bullshit for a minute. Those Norman Jean Roy photos, the movie coming out. Just block me now. Or, read, respond, and reblog! Love you heauxes!

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. All mistakes my own. Smut! Teacher Reader, Congressman Bucky, Soft, Beefy Bucky, feral Bucky, sex almost on sight, talk of testing and precautions, but raw p in v, oral (m/f receiving) sloppy toppy, woman on top, praise kink, Dom-ish AND sort of Subby Bucky, Sargeant kink, nicknames Charm and Doll, also Sweetheart.

I do not have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

------

Congressman James Buchanan Barnes raked his hand through his hair for the third time. It was overlong, curling at the nape of his neck, caught somewhere between rebellion and control.

Just like his life.

His tie was long gone, jacket tossed over a chair, but the tension still clung to him like sweat. His fingers twitched with the restraint of a man used to control, but tonight that control was slipping.

Because of you.

He was going to meet you. Spend time with you.

You, his softest vulnerability. His secret sanctuary. You had no idea what you did to him. Or maybe you did. And that was the problem.

Underneath the pressed shirt and tailored slacks, beneath the titles and speeches and the weight of his legacy, James Buchanan Barnes was unraveling. You touched something in him, something sweet and unguarded.

You looked at him like he wasn’t just a polished man with power, but someone worth seeing. You saw past all of it, the headlines, the pressure, the myth of the man, to the boy who once just wanted to be good.

Of course you did. As a teacher, you saw the good in all of your students. And from the moment he’d met you, bright-eyed and brilliant, part of the National Teaching Conference delegation touring the Capitol, he’d been a goner.

So he pursued you. But you’d made him wait. And you’d made him want. And Bucky had never wanted anything the way he wanted you.

When he thought of you, he forgot all about The Honorable James Buchanan Barnes. 

He just wanted to be your Bucky.

—-

Six Weeks earlier:

You’d expected a polite handshake and a few photo ops when you went on the tour, but Congressman Barnes from your borough of Brooklyn was charming, attentive, and deeply present in a way that threw you off balance. His gaze lingered just a second too long when he looked at you, and your heartbeat stuttered every time his hand brushed yours.

You weren’t sure what it meant, you just knew it meant something.

The first night ended with a drink in the hotel bar, where he asked thoughtful questions about education and leaned in like your answers were gravity. When he walked you to your room, he didn’t ask to come in, just touched your wrist and said, “I’ll see you again, Charm.”

“Charm?” you questioned him as he walked away.

Bucky turned around and started to walk backwards as he replied.

“Yeah. It’s my name for you in my head,” and he grinned before he got in the elevator, looking so much younger than 110 years old.

Weeks later, you were still texting late into the night. Breathless calls. Heated messages. A video chat that ended with both of you flushed and desperate.

----

Now:

You were finally back in D.C. for the National Teaching Conference. Because you were on the planning committee, you’d been running around in a blazer and sneakers all week, putting out fires, herding speakers, and keeping the entire operation from collapsing.

But Friday night was yours.

The conference ended, the final panel was a wrap, and you still had the swanky suite for two more nights. It had a skyline view, a rain-slicked windowpane, and, within the hour, one James Buchanan Barnes.

You’d barely stepped out of the shower, steam curling in the air, when you heard the knock.

He was thirty minutes early.

You froze for half a second, heart racing, then wrapped the towel tighter and padded to the door.

Bucky stood in the hallway, soaked to the bone from the spring storm, dark hair dripping, a gray coat clinging to broad shoulders. Water tracked down his jaw, disappeared beneath the collar of his shirt.

And those beautiful blue eyes were locked on you.

“Hey, Charm,” he rasped.

You swallowed hard. “Congressman.”

That smirk flickered at the corners of his mouth.

“Gonna let me in?”

You stepped aside. The door shut behind him, shutting the world out. Bucky looked at you like he hadn’t seen you in years, not weeks.

“I missed you,” you said softly, voice a breath.

He was on you in a heartbeat. One hand cupped your chin, the other, vibranium, gleaming in the soft hotel light, slid around your waist, pulling you flush to him. You melted, your fingers slipping beneath the lapels of his coat, feeling the heat of him under damp clothes.

You didn’t find the sharp muscle of the old soldier, but the solid strength of a man who lived his life with purpose. His softness did not take the edge off your desire for him.

In fact, it probably made it worse. He wasn’t a weapon. He was a man.

Your man. 

You were going to claim him tonight.

“Been sittin’ through policy meetings imagining you riding me in the chair behind my desk,” he muttered into your skin, pressing a kiss below your jaw.

You gasped, shivering despite the heat between you.

You grew a little dizzy as Bucky dropped his overnight bag to the floor so that your hands could slip under his shirt, and drag your fingers over his soft, but still-defined abs.

“Then maybe we should make that image real.”

His eyes were dark now, pupils already blown. One arm snaked up your back and tangled in the hair at your nape, pulling your head back as he kissed you hard, like he meant to claim you. His vibranium hand gripped your waist like it was built for that exact purpose.

“Tonight, I don’t want polite. Don’t want careful.”

You’d planned for this. Took your precautions. Got tested. You both knew what tonight meant.

Bucky walked you backwards toward the bed, slow and steady, never breaking eye contact. 

“I want to watch you take what you want from me.”

Your lips curved into a smile.

“I want a lot from you, Mr. Barnes,” you whispered.

“Take your shirt off,” you said softly, watching the way his jaw flexed and the way his eyes flicked to your mouth.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a crooked smile.

God. Could you be in love?

He stripped off his shirt in one fluid motion. Muscles rippled, dog tags glinting against his skin. He didn’t pose. He just stood there, waiting. Watching you. A man made of flesh and metal and decades of ghosts, and right now, he was all yours.

You moved toward him, fingertips grazing his stomach, and watched the way he twitched beneath your touch.

“You know you can be in control tonight,” you murmured, eyes locked on his as he let you turn him around so that he was at the foot of the bed. 

Bucky’s breath hitched. 

“I haven’t been in control since the day I met you, Charm.”

You pushed him gently until he sat without resistance, and you stood between his legs, slowly letting the towel drop and pool at your feet. Bucky’s hungry gaze roamed over your body, from your lips, to your neck, to your breasts, focusing on the rigid peaks there as he licked his lips, down your stomach to the apex of your thighs, and lingering there longer.

Finally, his eyes swept down your legs to your feet on the floor, between his shiny Italian loafers.

“You sure you want this?” he asked, voice hoarse as he brought his eyes back up to yours. 

“I’ve never been more sure,” you said. “But let’s not rush this, Sergeant.”

His head dropped for a moment like he needed a second just to breathe. That word, Sergeant, hit somewhere deep. Then he looked up and drew you toward him with his metal hand and kissed the inside of your thigh, destroying you.

“Tell me what you want.”

The gravel in his voice did things to you as you carded your fingernails through his thick, wet, dark hair.

You said, “Need your mouth, Bucky,” and he almost came undone right then.

“Such a Good Girl for telling me what you need, Charm.”

His lips were at the edge of your mound, the warmth of his breath fanning out over your clit. You moaned and laid your hands on his solid shoulders, and although they each felt very different under your palms, the disparate sensations only served to make you hotter. 

Bucky made eye contact with you and then took a long swipe of his tongue over your wet slit, from top to bottom. A tremble coursed through your body, and you exhaled his name. Bucky stared lovingly at your cunt, from the fat, puffy lips of your labia, to the shine of your juices at your slit.

He licked your essence from his lips and raised his eyes to yours again. He was so fucking handsome. And you were so gone for this man.

Just when you thought that, Bucky stuck his nose in your pussy and inhaled deeply, making you jump in surprise and rapture. He took a quick lick and hummed deeply, sending more vibrations through your cunt.

His metal hand lifted your leg, draped it over his shoulder. His tongue worked in steady, devastating rhythm. Lips suckling, tongue plunging, nose pressed to your clit as he made a low, satisfied sound that vibrated straight through you.

You gasped.

He groaned.

“Good girl,” he murmured, voice muffled against your heat. “So fuckin’ sweet for me.”

And then he ruined you.

He looked up to wink at you playfully before parting your outer lips with his thumbs. He dove in and you saw stars.

Bucky Barnes sucked, licked, and grazed on you, plunging deeply into you with his tongue, fingers, and his whole damn face.

You were lost in the moment, in the pleasure, and the sensations. It was so good. No one had ever made you feel this wanted or needed. You felt the telltale spark ignite your clit and started to squirm as his vibranium hand held you in place as he devoured you like a starving man.

And when he felt you clench around his fingers, one inside you, one teasing that tight little rim, you shattered. And he held you through it, whispering your name like a religious chant.

Because he worshipped you.

You lay in his arms, spent and limp as Bucky nuzzled at your neck, his dick standing at attention, long, thick, and leaking against you. Those beautiful blue eyes held you hostage again.

“What do you need now?”

You looked down and reached for him.

“Need to taste you, Sarge.”

His cock was huge, hard, and hot against your skin, begging for relief.

Bucky groaned and his eyes shined as you rose only to sink down on your knees. He sat up on the edge of the bed to witness you gazing up at him. He took himself in hand and started stroking the length of his hardness, swiping precum from the slit at the head in passing.

It was so damn sexy. You licked your lips as your eyes were glued to the beautiful, erotic sight of Bucky Barnes stroking off for you. 

He smirked as he watched you hungry for him, impatient to taste him, to take him in, to please him. Your hands cupped and kneaded the full flesh of your breasts, and Bucky licked his lips as you pulled on your nipples. 

His flesh fingers squeezed more tightly around his shaft, while his metal hand gave a quick twist to his balls as your heavily hooded eyes drifted from his cock to his face as you moved closer. 

You wrapped your lips around him and he cursed, one hand in your hair, the other still at his balls, twisting with just enough pressure.

You worshipped him the way he had you. Took him deep, sloppy and unafraid, letting your desire drip down your chin and soak your chest.

He was losing control.

Sexy rambles tumbled from his lips as you took him deep in your throat.

“Fuck. I’m home. All this time… I thought I thought I knew. Didn’t know shit.” 

You moaned as you pulled back slightly to gently lick and suck at the head of his cock, swiping your tongue over his hard length. Then you got sloppy with it, slurping at him and taking his long, thick cock as deep as you could.

Bucky let out an inhuman sound as you gently scraped your teeth along his hard flesh, and then sucked and tongued at his balls.

“Please, baby, fuck…”

He had to pull you off before he lost it. He lifted you, breath ragged, and laid you on the bed like you were breakable but you weren’t. You were so strong. And Powerful.

He draped your legs around his waist as he lined the thick bulb of his cock with your entrance. 

As he looked into your eyes, Bucky trembled as you crossed your ankles around his back. You both watched, enraptured, as he pushed inside you, and every inch felt like a lifetime. You pulled him in like a siren, hips rising to meet him, your walls fluttering around him.

You whispered his name, Bucky, and it broke him in the most beautiful way.

He fucked you long, deep, and hard. He played with your body and spanked your full flesh. You came over and over, barely descending from one climax then he was at you again, rolling your clit between his fingers, sucking your tits into his mouth. His cock was relentless, hard as steel, and dripping with your cream. 

But he hadn’t let go and given you what you truly wanted. 

“Want to ride you Bucky…”

He rolled you over so that you were on top, truly in control, despite your trembling thighs.

“Do you know what you need now, Charm?”

“Oh, I know,” you murmured, rolling your hips as he gasped. “Need to show you that this is mine now.”

You grasped him and positioned him at your entrance. Then, you took him inside you again. His grip on your hips tightened and he nodded, biting his lip as he looked down to where you were joined.

“Yours. Always was.”

You rode him slowly; you wanted him to remember this. The way your body felt wrapped around him. The way you looked on top of him. 

The air between you was thick, charged, and the room hummed with the rhythm of your bodies. Each time you sank down onto him, every inch felt like heaven.

Bucky’s breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling beneath you, but his hands didn’t let go of your hips. They were firm, guiding, like he was fighting to hold on to control.

The sight of you was almost too much to bear: you, beautiful and powerful, taking what you needed from him with a relentless grace. His lips parted, and every sound he made was a mixture of frustration and hunger.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he growled, but his voice wavered.

You could tell he was losing his composure, even though his hands kept a firm grip, holding you steady for the next perfect movement.

The tension was building again, just like before. His fingers dug into your skin, almost painfully, but you didn’t care. You were so close to unraveling him completely; it was an art, this dance you had with him, and you were the one in control now.

His gaze flicked between your face and your greedy cunt sucking him in, his chest tightening at the sight of your expression, and at how perfectly you fit together.

“Look at you,” you whispered, leaning in to nip at his earlobe, your voice sultry. 

“You look like you’re losing yourself. Can’t hold on, can you?”

Bucky’s hands tightened at your waist, his grip becoming a little rougher. You could feel his body shifting, like he was trying to fight the pull, trying to keep himself from breaking.

“You’re killing me, Doll,” he muttered, eyes closing for a split second before snapping open to look at you again.

His expression was a mess of desire, vulnerability, and something that told you he didn’t want this to end. 

“I can’t hold back much longer.”

You grinned, a glint of mischief in your eyes.

You didn’t let up, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned back, giving him a full view of your body. His jaw tightened as he watched, his fingers trembling slightly as you began to move faster, the heat building between you both, the room filled with the sound of skin meeting skin, the rhythm of your bodies synchronizing.

“You’re not the one who gets to decide when it’s over, Sargeant,” you teased, breathless but determined.

“I’m the one calling the shots here.”

And with that, you gave him everything, taking the lead in a way that pushed him past his limits, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through both of you. The intensity in his eyes grew, a mix of awe and surrender, like he couldn’t believe what was happening. 

But he also couldn’t stop himself.

You felt it all, the way his grip tightened, the way his body tensed with each thrust of yours, the way he was so close to losing himself. And as you watched him, a small, knowing smile tugged at your lips.

This wasn’t just about sex anymore. This was a power exchange, a moment that was yours, and his, too. You could feel your connection grow stronger.

“Tell me, Bucky,” you whispered, voice a little raspier now, “are you going to beg for it, or are you going to let me take what’s mine?”

He groaned, the sound like a mix of frustration and raw need. You topping him was making the base of his spine hum with pleasure.

“Please, Charm.” he murmured, breath shaking. “Fuck, don’t stop.”

And that was all you needed. You took control fully, fucking him with a rhythm that made his whole body shudder. You could feel the end coming closer, and you didn’t slow down. Not now. Not when you were this close.

“Fuck,” he whispered again, voice broken as you watched him come apart. 

You clenched around him and commanded, “Cum.”

And he did, with a broken groan of your name and a full-body shudder, his face a portrait of surrender as he spilled into you, pulsing and shaking beneath you.

When he finally came to a stop, his chest heaving, his hands still on your hips, holding you steady, you leaned in and kissed him softly, a contrast to the raw energy between you moments before.

“You were perfect,” you whispered against his lips.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he breathed in deeply, the intensity still lingering. 

“God… you’re gonna kill me, you know that?”

You smiled, resting your head on his chest as he held you.

“You’re welcome.”

And you felt him become completely, unconditionally yours.

Your Bucky.

[ramp-it-up]

[ramp-it-up]

Good god woman.

Wunmi Mosaku's London promo looks for Sinners | Part 1

[ramp-it-up]

Just because reblog.

Great Minds

Pairing: Jake Jensen x Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 2.8K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d, SMUT! Read at your own risk. Pining, Angst, nefarious dealings, explicit sex,  dub con voyuerism, masturbation, nipple play,  exhibitionism, a lil’ spit play, Corporal  kink, oral sex (m/f recieving) creampie, cowgirl, sex in the grass/ outside.

A/N: This is in response to the following ask from @nagisaunicorn-blog. And it was supposed to be a drabble. 😪

NOTICE: I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

“We have an additional 30 days. I want you to cut back your hours in the lab.”

You looked up into the eyes of the best looking Loser, in your opinion, Corporal Jake Jensen. Him taking charge was such a turn on. You cocked your eyebrow at him.

“You need to be careful, this work is extremely important. That means balancing this work with taking care of yourself. You’re an important asset.”

For the past 15 days, you’d spent 12 hours a day, every day, in the remote lab in the slopes of the Rocky Mountains, eyes strained by staring at a microscope or at the computer screen, barely communicating with the mercenary. 

After all, it was a perfunctory relationship. You were one of the world’s most important scientists, and his mission was to protect you. Your job was to deliver the formula.  You initially had only 30 days to do so. 

Now you had 30 more.

Jake was certainly easy on the eyes, and kind, if a little silly. He wasn’t as goofy as you were warned he would be, but he was observant. He noticed your tired sighs, and heard you tossing and turning in your sleep through the walls of the living quarters. He’d made the call to Clay to extend the mission.

This was very important work, and you were, in fact, exhausted. You’d hardly left the secluded cabin, determined to meet the timeline. You had to save your family, who were in danger if you didn’t perform.

You smiled weakly up at Jake. 

“Great minds think alike.”

He never seemed to meet your gaze. Jake had only looked you in the eye once, when you met him two weeks ago, and he’d hardly said five words to you at one time.  You looked down at your watch. It was only 4pm. You usually worked until 8. But he was right. You needed to be at your best to do your best work.

Keep reading