sseomtada

[sseomtada]

saiko (bucky barnes)

final part: only time would tell if you were both able to finally spit it out. (part two)

notes: mutant reader, new avengers au, pov switches, reader and bucky are kinda silly and stubborn, s*x on the roof..., mentions of weapons and blood, deadbeat dad tw, i love angst but i love Love more, 4.6k words

you: one month ago

Something shifted.

You didn’t know what what it was, but you could pinpoint the exact moment when. It wasn’t when Bucky was doing the most to rile you up - his blatant attempts like dry humping you on the mat to get you to react. It was that night he made you call out for him again and again.

Not just the fact that your name spilled from his lips like a frustration kept in for too long, but his actions that followed. He took your cuffs off. At the very moment that every nerve ending in your body was singing with overwhelming pleasure, he freed your powers to let you bask in it, in him, fully.

What did that mean?

You couldn’t find a way to ask him organically. Not even when he put them back on as the sun rose, muttering some excuse, don’t wanna have the team up in arms about the lack of protection. The perfect moment presented itself for you then. Yet, you still failed to conjure the words needed to acquire the answer you sought.

Instead, you tried to focus on what you were sure of. You knew that there was something transpiring between you two. It was animalistic, electric and consuming. You knew that Bucky took pride in that. He never once denied himself a touch despite the presence of others.

That wasn’t enough. It didn’t satiate your desire to know why he let you free that night, why his metal fingers trailed along your spine soothingly, why he stayed tucked deeply into you until sleep took you under.

Why he kept holding you as dusk made way for dawn.

Those thoughts remained at the forefront of your mind as you got ready for some gala meant to benefit the causes the team fought for. You weren’t even officially an Avenger, just something akin to a sub contractor. Though, you guessed if Bob could throw on a tuxedo and woo a few monied old women, you could too.

Instead of his black and white get up, your frame was draped in something with a bit more color. The dress itself, hugging every part of your body from the bust to where it flared just below your knees, was a brilliant blood red. In this outfit, your cuffs looked more like Asgardian accessories than a tool of control.

Bucky’s eyes were the first yours met. They lingered on yours for a beat before combing down with a look you’d seen before - flashbacks transported you to the way he took you in when you were on top and holding on to him for dear life, his gaze awed, reverent, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

He didn’t bring the conversation he was having with a man you didn’t recognize to a natural end. Bucky simply walked away, drink in hand, and made his way directly to you. The crowd seemed to ripple around him, though it was impossible to tell if they moved aside or if he just barreled forward, unseeing

“You’re late,” He said, his tone lacking any real edge. His thumb brushed the rim of his glass, eyes flicking past you for half a second - scanning the room, as if checking who else had noticed your entrance.

You smirked. “Had to make sure I was worth the wait.”

He forced a casual shrug. “Every second of it.”

Your lips curled. “That so?”

A beat. Then his expression shifted, realizing what he’d just let slip. His grip on the glass tightened. “Fuck.” He dragged a hand over his face, exhaling sharply before meeting your eyes again. “Meant to say your delayed arrival was distracting.”

“Distracting to you, or to everyone else?” You tilted your head, amused at his bumbling.

His gaze dropped to your mouth, then lower, lingering on the dip of your waist before he leaned in, his voice low, “’You really gonna make me say it?”

Though you had gotten over the timidness of being seen with him, both of you so obviously communicating with more than words, there were a few too many eyes for comfort tonight.

You took him in, smiling. All that time he put in as a congressman really paid off. Those broad shoulders of his were made to wear the navy blazer enclosing them, not to mention that small waist of his - the matching vest hugged it in a way that was quickly making you jealous.

“Put a pin in that.” Your hand fell to his chest and slid off slowly as you walked off.

Being locked away in the most secure prison in the world, and then restricted to this tower hadn’t diminished your ability to make conversation with strangers. You had no problem buttering up a few donors, making them feel like they were the most important person in the room - and making them open their wallets to prove it.

Y/N, you would’ve made a good Widow, Yelena whispered in passing. It was quite possibly the nicest, and only, thing she’d ever said directly to you. The rest of the team still mostly kept their distance, but they didn’t disperse upon your entry or flinch when you spoke like before.

Bob was the most talkative with you, maybe even more so than Bucky. You shared tales of your travels with one another that were both kind of fucked up for different reasons - yours usually ended in murder and his were just…dark.

He was telling you about this shop he found in Thailand with the weirdest oddities when you felt the back of your neck burning. The source of that laser was Bucky’s eyes that didn’t shift when you pivoted your head to look. They remained locked on yours as he made his way to the elevator.

“Tell me more about that 18th century dagger later.” You excused yourself and followed the trail.

The lift still smelled like Bucky - even beneath the warm spice of the cologne he put on, you picked up on his natural aroma of earth and metal. When the doors opened, you spotted him sitting on one of the rooftop’s loungers. The ice in his drink clinked as he swirled the glass absentmindedly, his slick backed hair allowing the moon to shine its light over his angular face.

“Ready to finally spit it out, Barnes?” You exhaled, taking a seat beside him.

His brows knitted for a second and then softened. “Fine.” He looked upward, tongue in his cheek as if he was asking himself what he was doing. “You were distracting to me when you walked in. You are distracting…every second of every day.”

Time stretched and you let it before responding. You’d expected him to just say something about how ravishing you looked tonight, but got to know a lot more. His words shouldn’t have surprised you given how close you’d gotten physically. Maybe it was the way he said them, like there was more to it than just an obsession with your touch and labored breaths.

You would never ask if you didn’t then, so you forced yourself to, “Why’d you take them off? Why’d you…”

Your voice trailed off and you cursed yourself for it. Bucky tilted your chin up with his fingers to bring your gaze to his. You closed your hand around his wrist, his pulse thrumming steadily against your palm.

“I took your cuffs off and I held you because I wanted to see if I was alone in what I felt.” He spoke in that gravelly tone that made your flesh raise. “It’s like you’re inside me and I can’t get you out.”

There you had it. You got the answer you so badly wanted, you finally knew. And it was so much better than you’d hoped.

As you brought your lips to his - not in a rush, but slow enough to taste the air around him before the whiskey on his tongue - you came to know a lot more too. You were drawn to him unlike anything else. It was more than just the firm vibranium beneath your hand as you gripped his left bicep, Bucky felt like all the things you’d been chasing your whole life.

Not the soft, gilded lies the world fed you, but the truth you could finally exhale - like the first breath after breaking the surface, after years of drowning in your own fury. He was the silence after the scream, the unclenching of fists you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

In him, you found it: not escape, but surrender. Not absolution, but the quiet, staggering grace of being understood. The rage didn’t vanish. Instead, it turned to embers, warm in your palms instead of scorching your throat. And for the first time, you weren’t chasing freedom. You were tasting it.

“Stand up for me.”

You complied with his instructions without hesitation. Bucky joined you too, only for a moment. His hands ran over your shoulders and down your arms to remove your cuffs. They then came around to slacken your zipper and as he sat, he pulled the fabric with him until it pooled at your feet.

His touch continued to wander all over your body - your bare breasts, the backs of your thighs. You shuddered not against the blowing breeze, but his lips that pressed to your belly, his nose that nuzzled into your skin as he said more to himself than anyone, “So perfect, like you were made for me.”

And maybe you were. That would explain how just his murky cerulean eyes looking up at you made feel like you were collapsing through a trap door. It would give rationale to the way he fought to keep his eyes from rolling back at your scent as he buried his face between your thighs.

“Bucky…” You breathed, or tried to.

“I know,” He lifted your leg so that your foot rested on the chair. “Just wanna take my time, okay?”

It was an odd thing to say given that anyone could catch you up here, and an even stranger thing for you to agree to. You ran a hand over his hair, “Okay.”

Bucky closed his mouth over your covered cunt, its movement growing in pace the more your arousal seeped through the fabric. He groaned as he lapped it up, tongue sweeping greedily from your hole to your clit to catch every drop - all while his eyes were on yours.

God, you were a fucking mess. You clung to the back of his head, rutted your hips into his face, panted so desperately as you felt the storm brewing in your abdomen. He watched you come apart at the seams and waited until you were tilting forward on the edge - lips trembling, thighs tensing in his hold - to pull away.

“Come here.”

Bucky laid your burning body down and slotted between your legs. He let you taste yourself, tongue so deep in your mouth it was millimeters away from becoming a choking hazard. You didn’t mind. Not when he was spreading your knees wider and pressing into you without caring how ruined his trousers would be.

Both your hands worked to shed his layers - his blazer, his bow tie and his shirt. His hungry mouth was still on your own, refusing to part even as he got rid of the rest to join the pile on the floor.

You were already far beyond gone by the time his cock stretched you out, yet you somehow travelled further. You didn’t want to come back, didn’t care to, because he was right there beside you. His left hand hitching your leg over his hips, stomach rubbing against your own with each thrust, broken moans falling down your throat - he was right there with you.

And when you came for him, he was there. Bucky held you closer, tighter than he ever had before. As your body wracked with tremors, cunt squeezing with an unshakable grip around his cock, he cradled your head to his chest.

And when he came for you, you were there. Your legs locked around his waist, pulling him in as deeply as you could manage. As his moans ascended into whines, hips staggering until they stilled, you kept him right where he wanted to be.

While your heart rates went from galloping to resting, you remained entwined. Bucky ran his thumb over your cheek, mouth slightly agape like there were words waiting to tumble out. You felt the same urge. All that was so uncertain before had dissipated, leaving your mind clearer than ever.

There was something so sweet about this moment - his eyes crinkling at their corners and his lips lifted, a huff of a laugh from you carried on the wind. You didn’t feel the need to alter it with any proclamations. The way he looked at you promised that there would be more time to do so in the future.

The way you looked back promised that you’d let him know then.

bucky: now

The scene that unfolded before him was familiar, but the impact it had was new.

Doctors moved in concert, movements steady and synchronized as they pulled bullets from your wounds - their loud clangs into the metal pan echoing through the glass he stood behind. Their gloves, like his, were stained with your blood. There was so much of it on the ground where you’d collapsed, on the floor around your operating table, on his hands at his sides.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell to the tune of a washing machine on it’s spin cycle. His heart thrashed erratically beneath his ribs like the ground beneath a stampede on a safari.

How could he let this happen to you?

He felt helpless now, standing here, begging to anyone out there in the cosmos that you’d come back to him. He was pitiful and shameless in doing so, he had no right, but he’d grind the skin from his knees in prayer if the result was seeing your eyes and hearing his name on your lips again.

Bucky knew this was his fault.

It didn’t have to do with your ability, you’d proven to be in control on the two missions prior to this - the ones you’d been on immediately following the gala. It was because he failed to be a good leader. If he’d been more cautious, gave a bit more thought to why the team might’ve been called to thwart this particular effort, you wouldn’t be dancing on the razor’s edge between life and death.

In retrospect, it was so obvious that he wanted to scream until his throat was raw. They knew the Avengers would be called to deal with a nuclear threat, knew you’d be there. They planned for you to be by putting the reactor in a safe that only you could get into outside of the one person who knew the code.

That person refused to speak under interrogation until they started laughing, howling, after you’d taken off to retrieve the reactor while the team secured the opposition’s base. Bucky still heard their voice in his ear, dripping in sick delight, Erik’s gonna love it when he gets a box with his daughter’s head inside.

The maniac went on about the ability dampener in the warehouse, the 3D printed guns and concrete bullets they’d prepared. There was no real threat, no big disaster that needed to be derailed. It was a trap set for you intended as a means to exact revenge upon a man you barely even knew.

Bucky refused to let you die, much less for such a fucking useless reason.

All he could remember telling Yelena to call for backup as he ran, your broken mumble of his name through his comms, his promise that now seemed unkept. He did come, it was just a split second too late.

An assailant rounded the corner and shot you just as you shot them. And you fell.

He rushed to you and fell too, the impact brutal - not that he felt it. You were bleeding from three bullet holes with no exit wounds, so limp in his arms that it made his stomach turn. He gave you a cardiac massage, called out to you and for a moment, you came to.

Bullets…concrete.

Bucky pressed down on the wounds on your stomach and side, I know, baby, just stay with me.

Your lips tugged, baby, and you were out again.

A few medics got onto the jet with the team, doing just enough first aid to at least keep you breathing and your heart going until you got to the med bay. They warned him that your condition was poor for surgery, to prepare for the worst. And he warned them too, you’ll see the worst if she doesn’t make it.

There were some close calls. Your lungs had gotten clipped from the bullet in your side, their efforts to repair them coming dangerously near the opposite. They must’ve recalled his words because the doctors were quick as a whip to suture and adjust your oxygen levels.

“We have to keep her sedated and monitor her extensively for the next few days.” The lead surgeon said as he exited.

“How’s she now?” Bucky clenched his jaw.

“Critical, but stable.” They gave him a pat on his shoulder before leaving.

He stayed behind as the rest of the doctors wrapped up the surgery. When they were done cleaning you up, you almost looked like yourself again. A tinier, frailer version, but most importantly, alive.

Bucky wanted to let out the breath he’d been holding for three hours, but he didn’t dare to. He’d keep it in until the moment you looked at him and made some inappropriate joke about your near death experience.

As he was about to update the team, a voice came from behind him, “She’s as strong as they say.”

Bucky didn’t have to pivot to know who it belonged to, nor did he have to question how he’d gotten in here - no one would’ve, could’ve stood in his way. A surge of heat licked up his spine as he turned to come face to face with Erik Lehnsherr.

“They did this to her because of you.” His voice was low and guttural, each syllable heavy with rage.

The man formidable in reputation and presence didn’t flinch. Of course, he knew. That had to be one of, if not the only reason he had come. And that did nothing but infuriate the centurion to no end.

If it were true that you being comatose and fighting for your life was his fault, then it was even more of a fact that your father shared the blame. Countless enemies had been made by his scorching of the earth. All the extremes he had gone to without care for the fallout led to this. The innocent victims, collateral damage in his cause, now unironically included his own blood.

And he had the audacity to stand here as you breathed through a machine like he deserved to bear witness to your survival.

Erik’s eyes held his steadily, voice the same as he said, “It cost them their lives.”

Was that supposed to be offer some consolation? Was it supposed to negate all the pain you’d suffered, all the trauma you’d endured and the uncertainty the lingered that you would even make it through despite the doctor’s best efforts?

Bucky marched forward until his sticky boots were a hair away from your father’s. The man didn’t blink, didn’t step back - not even as he sneered in response, “And it nearly cost hers.”

Erik was unreadable. It was impossible to tell whether or not he felt any remorse about the situation, any guilt. The window into the inner workings of his mind came when he looked down at Bucky’s metal arm.

It was the same way that you took it in. He was compelled, head seeming to tilt slightly on it’s own without his knowing, mouth parting with the slightest gap to let out a breath. A hand formed a fist and twisted Bucky’s insides.

The mutant had no rebuttal to those words - to the truth. He simply nodded and made his way to the door. Erik didn’t pause as he left, but he did toss over his shoulder, “She’s in good hands.”

Following that exchange, Bucky became something between a sentinel and a saint.

He didn’t just stay by your side - he rooted himself there, as immovable as the earth beneath a century old oak. The medical staff stopped suggesting he leave - the first time they tried, he gave them a look that could have frozen hell over.

He learned the rhythms of your machines like they were his own pulse. The steady beep beep beep of your heart monitor was his metronome, the hiss of the ventilator a lullaby he’d come to dread. When they finally removed the breathing tube, he nearly collapsed from the sheer force of his relief.

Every morning, he washed your face with a damp cloth, tracing the curve of your cheekbone like it was the edge of a sacred text. He combed your hair with his fingers first, then a brush, working through the tangles with infinite patience. Once, when a nurse offered to do it for him, he’d just shaken his head. She doesn’t like it pulled too tight.

At night, when the med bay was quiet, he talked to you. Not the empty platitudes people murmured to the unconscious - he spoke to you like you were listening.

"Yelena brought you those gross sour candies you love. Hid ‘em in your drawer so the docs wouldn’t see." A pause. "If you wake up, I won’t even steal one."

Sometimes, his voice dropped to a whisper, raw with things he’d never say in the light.

"You gotta come back to me. I’m - fuck. I’m not good at this waiting thing." His thumb brushed your knuckles. "And I’m not good at saying this kinda stuff when you can hear me."

The team drifted in and out like ghosts.

Yelena came most often, her usual sharpness dulled by worry. She’d perch on the edge of your bed and poke your shoulder, as if annoyance alone could wake you.

"You are missing all the good gossip," she’d say, before launching into a dramatic retelling of Ghost’s latest failed attempt at cooking. Once, when she thought Bucky wasn’t listening, she leaned close and muttered, "Do not make me miss you, солнышко. It would be very inconvenient."

Bob brought books - not to read to you, but to discuss, as if you were merely choosing to stay silent. "And that dagger you mentioned? The pommel’s a memento mori skull. Sick, right?" He’d pause for a second, peering at you like you might respond.

Even Walker showed up, though he lingered in the doorway like your condition was contagious. "Barnes is gonna wear a hole in the floor," he said gruffly. "So. You should probably fix that."

Two weeks in, Bucky was trying to convince himself that you were doing this on purpose. It was better than the alternative.

He’d fallen asleep in the armchair, again, his neck at an angle that would’ve crippled a normal man. His metal hand rested on the bed, fingers loosely curled. That’s when he felt it.

A tug.

His eyes flew open.

You hadn’t moved. Your face was still, lashes dark against your cheeks. For a heartbeat, he wondered if he’d imagined it, if the exhaustion had finally gotten to him.

Then it came again. Bucky felt it, saw it this time - his left fingers straightened and inched towards the arm that rested at your side. He held his breath, nearly choking on it as he waited for something more.

Just as he bordered on asphyxiation, your lips parted. They ticked to one side, a soft, groggy and barely audible sound floating from them. Bucky released the air he held as he let his hand be pulled to rest over your wrist.

"Could’ve just asked.” He murmured, his voice rough with sleep and something dangerously close to hope.

Your eyelids fluttered. A slow, deliberate blink - like the world was too bright, too much. Then, with effort, your gaze found his.

And you smiled, "Where’s the fun in that?"

The noise that punched out of him was half laugh, half sob. He was on his feet in an instant, cupping your face like you might slip away again - like you’d vanish if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

"Easy, sweetheart." He whispered, catching your wince. "You’re held together with stitches and spite right now."

You groaned. “Spite and your questionable bedside manner.”

Bucky huffed and helped you drink some water, one hand cradling the back of your head. You swallowed greedily, then sank back into the pillows, studying him with a focus that made his throat tight.

Your fingers lifted, trembling, to trace the stubble along his jaw. "You let yourself go.”

"You died a little," He shot back with no real bite. "I get a pass."

The quiet that settled between you wasn’t empty, it was full. Heavy with all the things left unsaid for too long, the words that had lingered in the space between his ribs and the back of your throat, waiting for a moment that wasn’t stolen by the fear of what might happen if either of you dared to speak them aloud.

But now - after blood and concrete and the terrible, yawning silence of waiting - there was no room left for hesitation. Bucky didn’t plan it. They just spilled out, raw and unguarded, like they’d been carved into his bones and finally broke free.

"I don’t want to live without you." His thumb traced the curve of your cheek, achingly gentle. "Can’t do it. Won’t."

There was no teasing this time. No deflection. Just the quiet truth of your fingers curling into his sleeve, anchoring him to you as you turned into his touch.

"Takes more than that to keep me from you," you murmured, voice rough but sure. A joke, but not really - not when your other hand found his, lacing your fingers together like a vow. "I’m not going anywhere, not unless it’s with you."

His breath left him in a rush, forehead dipping to press against yours. "Should’ve said it sooner," he admitted, voice thick. "Should’ve told you-"

"I know." You squeezed his hand. "Me too."

After all, there was no need for grand speeches or dramatic proclamations. Just this - your pulse under his fingertips, the way his shoulders finally eased, the quiet understanding that from now on, there’d be no more wasted time.

And ever the opportunist, you couldn’t resist one last jab. "Armor’s still shit, by the way."

Bucky laughed - a real, full bodied sound - and brought your knuckles to his lips. "Yeah," he agreed, grinning against your skin. "I’m working on that."

a/n: thank you to all five of you that read this btw! i hope your pillow is always cold and that you receive the warmest hug this week 💌

[sseomtada]

saiko (bucky barnes)

part two: you couldn't hold it back and ended up getting more than bargained for. (part one).

notes: mutant reader (magneto is implied to be her father), new avengers au, pov switches, retrospect, reader is insane, bucky is insane, this is 18+ and insane , that one tweet that says ass up baby girl (stick around for it at the end!), you've heard of yes chef well give it up for yes bucky, 4k words

you: three months ago

You and Bucky never spoke about that night in the bathroom.

Immediately following your highly satisfying defusing, he told you gruffly that you were benched. The cuffs were reapplied and in the interim, you had been scheduled to do lots of resistance training.

He didn’t look at you like a man who’d been knuckles deep in you when he talked you through exercises. That rigid demeanor, the one that you realized belatedly had actually softened a bit, returned - and it was stricter than before.

Bucky didn’t call it what it was, but he might as well have. It was punishment. Torture. His unflinching stare narrowed in as you held a wall sit with your arms outstretched.

“You wanna stop?” He taunted.

Your throat worked with a thick swallow. Fuck him if he thought you were gonna fold so easily, if he believed that his slick wordplay would bring you to your knees. His mouth ticked upwards as he watched you crash to the floor when he called time.

It was infuriating.

He told you to use him, to let it all out. You thought you did, but there was this force gnawing at your guts. Day after day, it grew hungrier. The times he slammed you on the mat when you sparred, and the way his eyes followed when you walked by - his left hand grazing yours for a whisper - all worked together to create a gluttonous void.

Lightning thrashed, illuminating the hallway as you opened your door. Though your wrists remained cuff, you could feel the energy of each tear in the dark sky. It bounced against the thin invisible shield surrounding your body, the final ripple in the lake able to just caress your bones.

You thought you were quiet when you slipped into his room. You knew you’d been. It was just that he would’ve heard a pin drop in the kitchen even through the raging storm outside, so of course, he’d hear you.

“I want these off.” You stepped in further and shoved out your wrists.

Bucky sat up, dog tags over his bare chest catching the reflection of another strike. He stood from the bed and walked over to you. There was much less than you’d imagined to his sleepwear - you didn’t take him for a boxers only guy.

“Why?” His tone was steady, like sleep had been avoiding him too.

“The storm it’s making everything…” You sighed. “It’s just out of reach and I can sense how good it would feel if I could…let me feel it for just a minute, please.”

Maybe it was the time of night, or him feeling caught off guard. It was more likely that your uncharacteristically raw words and voice made him move. Bucky disabled the dampeners with his thumbprint and removed the cuffs, letting them thud to the floor.

You inhaled deeply, hairs on the back of your neck standing up. There was so much energy in the air that it was instantly intoxicating. You could feel every strip of iron and steel in the tower, the cars lined up along the roads and those parked in garages. A ripple of light in the sky flashed and you felt all the surrounding elements close in around your body, embracing you.

A satisfied breath released from the void, a name carried on its wind. Bucky.

His head turned down, drawing your eyes to the movement too. There was a slight groan, a sound of protest against the foreign entity seizing control of his left arm. It rose under your compulsion and fell heavily when he regained control.

“Could’ve just asked.” Bucky muttered.

He pulled you against him roughly and kissed you in kind. You grew lightheaded quickly under the endless rolling of his tongue against your own and him grabbing your ass by the hand fulls.

You floated backwards as he walked you toward the bed without breaking the kiss. Bucky pressed his hips into yours when he lowered your body to the sheets and you gasped - was he gonna give all that to you?

“I know you still think about that night, even touch yourself to the memory.” His voice scraped against his throat. “Show me how you do it.”

You slipped a hand under your thin shorts, mouth dropping wide at the ease of your fingers sliding between your folds. Bucky would never beat the allegations that he was the all seeing eye.

He always knew.

Knew where to find you no matter where you were, knew you always meant more than you said, knew that you’d brought yourself to the edge again and again to his hot breath on your neck while he curled his fingers deep inside your cunt.

“Like that?” His eyes fell between your bodies as you circled your clit.

You groaned, hips starting to move too.

“So needy, so desperate.” He traced your collarbone with his teeth, chuckling. “Can’t even wait long enough to take your fuckin’ shorts off.”

The sound you made only proved his point. You couldn’t contain it when you got worked up, especially not while you replayed the image of him ruining you to the point of debility. It was even more impossible right now with his body hovering over your own, his eyes full of you panting and writhing.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Not yet.” Bucky yanked your hand out of your pants. He sucked the juices from your fingers, rasping, “You don’t get to cum yet.”

He flipped you onto your stomach and pulled you up by the hips until you were on your knees. Your upper body stayed pinned to the bed under his metal hand that rested between your shoulder blades.

Its power made your blood rush. You could feel every compound, natural and refined, that came together to form the vibranium. Without using your hands, you carved out every gold filled etch, followed their lines up and down the length of his arm.

Bucky ran his flesh hand along your waist and your ass reverently. You felt yourself open and close around nothing, your body begging for him for finally give it what it craved so badly.

The whole torturing you bit seemed to be done. He pushed your shorts to the side and curled his cock through your folds, pushing it over your clit and up until it rested in the hollow of your navel. You pressed your face into the sheets to muffle an ungodly moan - and he chose that moment to enter you fully.

“I know…” He shushed you and then leaned over one of your shoulders, thrusting slowly, and asked, “Can I go deeper? Let me take all of it…”

You whined as his cock, thick and heavy, pushed to the back of your pussy. God, he could have everything and you showed him that. Bucky growled when you used your knees to back onto him, working his length, leaving it glistening in your arousal.

His hands ducked under your tank, squeezing and pulling at your tits while his hips rocked into yours rhythmically - a toe curling metronome that ticked mockingly in your ears.

You looked back at Bucky, lips full and bruised as you whispered, “I want more.”

His left hand fell to your clit, the shock of it sending jolts of current up your spine. The atoms danced between it and your aching bud, vibrating over the tender nerves. You closed your hand over his and pressed down even harder, your hips outpacing his strokes.

“That’s it,” Bucky bit his lip. “Fucking use me.”

Your mind went numb as you kept going faster and faster until you could no longer carry on. He was right there waiting to pick up where you left off. In the midst of your walls squeezing and your throat going dry, he continued to fuck into you.

“You’d do anything for me, right?” He put his head right back next to your ear. “Let me put my thumb in that cute asshole of yours?”

The cry that left you was downright filthy. Bucky laughed and licked your neck, continuing, “Wanna see the way it makes you squirm, hear the noises you make for me.”

His cock was so deep in you that it removed your ability to take a full bellied breath. Still, you had to find a way to tell him in more ways than twitching when his tip brushed the edges of your folds only to slide entirely back in that you wanted it too.

You arched your back, opening yourself up even wider for him, begging, “Please.”

He coated his thumb in some of your cum and eased it into your previously lonely hole. Your body threatened to go limp, but again, he was there waiting. Bucky got a good hold of you with his free hand, bringing you towards him with each languid thrust.

“I can feel myself on the other side,” His moan sent tremors through you. “Feel my cock filling up this pretty little pussy...”

You grabbed at his arm, pulling him down just enough for your tongues to be able to twist. It was as sloppy as the sound of your cunt being pounded to oblivion from behind.

He was burning and stretching you out so fucking good, you’d forgotten that this wasn’t your private residence - that you should probably clamp down on those oh god’s that kept growing in pitch and level.

It was a task that sat firmly under impossible, not remotely able to complete. Not with him panting wildly into your mouth, take what you want, take all of it, while you threw it back on his thumb and his cock.

“My good fucking slut,” Bucky bunched up your shorts and yanked you back by the waistband as he thrusted. “Look at me.”

Your misted lids lifted, shiny eyes meeting his. They went from the darkest you’d ever seen them to overcome with euphoria within seconds, and suddenly, he came. Hard.

Bucky shot his cock up and up with each wave of cum he released. Your back curved, the sensitivity becoming all too much, but he didn’t let go. Not until you were so full that some dripped back down his length and onto the sheets below.

He sank to his knees and dove face first into your turned out cunt. You were speaking a dead language into the mattress, hips jolting as you brushed your leaking hole against his open mouth.

His tongue lapped up all the evidence of his presence that it could reach. To get the rest, he closed his lips around your lower set and sucked it out.

And just when you thought he was done, still hard as steel, he entered you again.

“Turn around and look at me.” Bucky grunted.

Your head felt like it cinderblock. The effort taken to swivel it around your flaccid neck was gargantuan, but you managed. Fuck how right he was about everything, about your willingness to do anything for him.

His metal hand wrapped around your throat and pulled you up. The openness of your mouth made it easy for him to lay claim with his tongue. He licked at every inch, lapped up all your spit and gave it back.

Your knees dropped wider, inner thighs screaming in protest as you sank onto his cock faster. Bucky squeezed tighter, strokes growing frenzied. His voice rumbled low, yes, claim it, fuck-

All the noises he wanted you to make filled the room. Their wavering tone joined in with the coming together of your hips and the rain that furiously pelted his floor to ceiling windows.

“What a cock hungry girl…” His hand drove you back into his crumpled sheets.

That was the understatement of the decade. You were arching deeply and fucking yourself onto him like you weren’t already wrecked, like it would never be enough.

Bucky pressed down on your lower back and you felt him hit a spot you didn’t know existed. He moaned at your piercing yell, then asked softly, “Can I cum in this pussy again?”

You nodded without stopping. He could fill it up as many times as he wanted to, you needed to drain him dry - to see him as fucked out as you were.

“Beg me.” His pace quickened, bordering on mania.

Your eyes fluttered up into your skull. They searched for the words he needed to hear, grasping at them in a flimsy hold to drag out of your parted lips:

"P-please, please cum in me-"

Bucky grabbed your hips in a bruising hold while he finally let himself go. He was beautiful - thick hair spilling around his face as his head bowed, tongue running over his swollen lower lip, eyes glued to the way your pussy swallowed his dick whole.

You clenched around it and he sputtered, I’m-fuck-, and then there was a glorious hymn. He fucked into you over and over and over again, pushing his cum so far in that it felt like your throat filled up with it too.

Your became trapped beneath his, brain doing a hard reset, while his movements slowed. His breath was hot and rough on your cheek, stubble scratching your skin when he nuzzled against it, whispering, promising:

"I’m gonna have so much fun with you, doll."

bucky: two months ago

What the fuck was wrong with him?

He found himself asking that question day after day, starting the moment he left that bathroom. Bucky didn’t mean to lose control like that he just…snapped. He’d been good at keeping that part of himself at bay, but when you were around - all quick tempered and foul mouthed - he couldn’t.

That was dangerous. You were dangerous.

While it was world news well before he’d gotten the pleasure of knowing you, he realized that your reputation was sorely undersold. You were the slow drip of poison. The kind of thing its host didn’t even realize was in them until they were all stiff and scorching limbs, choking on the ground in a pool of their own blood.

Bucky took it out on you, tried to fight you out of his system. He went harder in training and tried to steer clear of you otherwise. The latter would ultimately turn out to be useless.

He was drawn to you. The way you squared your shoulders as he walked by, pushing your breasts out. His hands nearly found themselves reaching out to touch them, but they only managed to reach as far as your fingertips.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

That same question rang clear in his mind again when he took off your cuffs. You were so pretty that night - the sheen in your eyes and a sullen pout to your lips, that thin tank top that rode up to show your belly and your ass hanging from the end of your shorts.

How couldn’t he have taken you right then just like that? Just like in all the ways he’d imagined since he had his fingers at the back of your tight hole. And, god, were you tight.

Bucky was in disbelief that you took all of him so well. He’d forgotten those towels, but couldn’t have given less of a shit about that. Not when you were spreading your juices all over his groin while you worked his cock. Certainly not when you were pleading for him to full that swollen cunt up.

He was paralyzed, you flowed through his veins. If he was going a prisoner of his mind, the one you cum for him in over and over, he was taking you with him. If he was going to be one of your victims, he would be your last.

You were shier than he expected with all that had went on.

There was no use in pretending anymore, not to himself or anyone else. They heard you that time in the jet and they definitely heard you begging for him. The color of your cheeks changed when he squeezed your ass in the kitchen the following morning - right there, in front of the whole team.

“Who voted fucking?” Yelena raised a finger.

Ghost and Bob shared a high five. Alexei and Walker groaned, the former whispering something like, I’m sure they fight while doing it too. Absolute children. Though he did love the way their bet made you stumble as you quickly fled to your room.

The roles had reversed and you turned out to be the one actively avoiding him. Or tried to. He made it his mission to dominate your mind, to drive you to the point of insanity - just like he had been.

Bucky pinned you down harder during hand to hands, dropped his hips just that much deeper to brush between your parted legs. Once you were writhing and pushing off your heels to grind into him, he got up and told you to reset.

It was so fucking sexy watching you put up a fight. You weren’t as unreadable as you liked to think. He saw the way it ate at you to not take him every time he teased you - the twitch of your left eye, quick puff of air bypassing your pressed together lips.

Bucky had to commend you for how long you lasted and for you trying to deal with your hunger all own your own. He heard you when he walked by your room, knew exactly where you had to have your fingers to have made that sound.

You were so wrapped up in your mind that his entrance remained unnoticed. That wasn’t to sell his ability to move like a shadow short - Bucky wasn’t even making an effort to be stealthy. It just went to show how lost you were, legs reaching for either side of the bed as you rocked onto your fingers.

Such a dirty fucking girl.

He knew for certain, but tonight, he wanted to make sure that you knew too - you belonged to him. Your eyes flew open to catch him just as he pulled you to the edge of the bed.

It would’ve been nice to lick up all the mess you’d already made, but Bucky couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to feel you wrapped around him, throbbing, and crying into his mouth.

Your tongue tasted of your juices and Bucky grinned primally. His dirty fucking girl, indeed. He stripped you of your shirt and got undressed too before pulling you onto his lap. You brushed his hair back, cuff clinking softly, and pressed your forehead to his - all while sliding his cock between your sticky folds.

“I want you to put it in.” Bucky held your stormy gaze.

You bit your bottom lip, unflinching as you asked, “Yeah?”

“Yes-”

His breath caught to cut his response at its tail. You were so warm, your grip just the slightest bit too intense. It loosened the more you adjusted to him, the more you rotated your hips until it all fit.

You grabbed his shoulders and bounced your ass up and down, mouth gaping each time your body met his. Bucky’s eyes immediately fell to your breasts. They danced to the beat you set with your hips, lulling him even further into a state of delirium.

His voice came back then, “Yes, fucking ride me.”

Your chest pressed to his own, letting him feel your hardened nipples drag against it. Bucky’s fingers dug into your waist as he began to fuck up into you. That little hole of your was so close, he felt it swelling with your cum against his tip.

“Grind on me nice and deep,” He gripped your hips. “Show me how you like it.”

You wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, the other falling behind you to hold onto his thigh. And oh, fuck, you looked like a dream. You were one. He thought, as he watched you use his cock like it was your sex toy, maybe he’d somehow conjured you from his subconscious.

The one that would listen to every command, the one that was just as insatiable as he was, the one that wouldn’t break when he didn’t hold back. Your hair grew damp at your temples as you rolled your hips to the point of them stalling - a momentary glitch that made way for even quicker waves while you screamed.

“Let her out…” His mouth dropped, eyes fixated on the fluid coating his lower stomach.

“Fuck!” Your head dropped back.

It was an invitation to kiss your neck, one that he accepted without hesitation. Bucky went beyond just that. He licked every drop of sweat that rolled down, sucked at your jumping pulse point and scraped his teeth over the skin behind your ear. You shook and mewled.

He chuckled, “That feel good?”

Your voice cracked, “- Yes.”

Bucky wanted to make sure everyone else knew what the two of you did as well. He moved his right fingers to play with your clit and pressed down on your belly with the ball of his hand. Your knees crushed his hips, but you kept grinding on his cock.

He smacked your ass with his left hand, “Yes, who?”

A heavens opening groan tore from your throat, “Yes, Bucky-y…”

You pushed him down the bed and sank your nails into his chest. He had been a fan of those cuffs for the obvious, but he definitely fell in love with them in that moment - they casted a faint glow, illuminating just how much of that ruin between your legs he was responsible for.

“Feel how wet I’ve got this pussy?” He slurred.

“Yes…” Your head sluggishly rolled.

Bucky reached up to cup your face, and as you turned your cheek to lick his palm, he pulled you in. Your moans spilled out quick and short into his waiting mouth. He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, asking:

“Yes, who?”

“Yes, Bucky, fuck-“

You leaned over to one side and fucked him into the mattress. With every bounce, yearning rapidly became obsession. He felt like he could live in your sopping cunt, die listening to your vocal cords fray with croons.

Bucky was so far gone. He wrapped his arms around you and pinned you to his body. Shaky breaths left him as he urged, keep saying it like that. Your wet lips dragged against his skin, yes, Bucky, yes, Bucky, yes. He held your ass up and pounded into you, the noises you and your cunt made in response were deliciously obscene.

“Like getting this pussy fucked into don’t you, doll?” Bucky chuckled.

Your fingers threaded into his hair, pulling, “Fuck! Bucky, I’m cum-”

Those hips of your rutted violently, rocking your headboard against the wall. You bit his neck as you took him balls deep and squeezed your walls around his cock. Oh, that was gonna make him cum too.

“Want my load where I put it last time?” His metal hand came down hard on your ass again.

“Yes, Bucky.”

He didn’t even have to correct you - such a good fucking girl. He gave you every inch until his tip stilled behind your navel. Curses flew out as he fucked his cum too far into you to retrieve.

You were limp in his arms, barely moving besides your chest heaving and hole pulsing around his cock. Bucky left it inside. He ran his hands all over you and deactivated your cuffs so that you could feel him too.

God, you were even more dangerous than he thought. You spread in his blood like a wildfire, lighting up not just his temple of desire but something else. Something more ancient, a structure long left untouched.

Bucky felt you saunter through its front door, knife of a grin on your mouth, and curl up to make yourself at home.

an: if you read this i hope you were alone and tysm 😭 lmk your thoughts if you have any! stay tuned for the last part coming soon...

(the tweet)

[sseomtada]

saiko (bucky barnes)

part one: maybe you should've told bucky how you felt. maybe then, the whole dying thing would be easier.

notes: mutant reader (magneto is implied to be her father), new avengers au, pov switches, retrospect, reader is highkey obsessed with that metal arm, bucky is lowkey unhinged, very 18+ fingering, 4.5k words

you: now

“Buck—”

His name came out mangled, half-drowned in the copper-heavy spill of blood filling your mouth. You choked on it - not just the fluid, but the weight of everything else lodged behind it. All the things you should’ve said that night at the gala, all the stupid, reckless truths you’d swallowed down with overpriced whiskey while Bucky watched you with that quiet, unreadable look of his. That look that shifted into something very telling later on when his hips met yours.

Now, with your breath hitching and your vision tunneling, the words surged up like a tide. Of course they’d come now, when speaking was less an act of will and more a battle against anatomy.

“I’m coming.”

You could hear the tension his teeth bore. His response ripped through them, ragged but undeniable. A vow, not a plea.

Whether you’d still be breathing by the time Bucky crashed through the doors didn’t matter - you’d claw your way to him one way or another. Three men down by your count, two left. No time for strategy, just the brutal arithmetic of survival. Your fingers flexed around the grip of your glock, slick with sweat and blood.

You fired at a rusted shipping container. The shot cracked through the warehouse, a sharp, echoing provocation. The first man lunged out too fast, too eager, and you dropped him before he could even level his weapon.

A shadow flickered near the exit - movement. You lurched toward it, each step sending white-hot knives through your side. The warehouse stretched emptier the closer you got, the silence thick with the promise of an ambush. Your finger hovered over the trigger.

Then the last man rounded the corner.

The rest blurred.

Maybe it was the blood loss, maybe the pain, but the world stuttered like a broken film reel. You remembered the impact - your own shot hitting home, the man crumpling - but not the seconds after. Just fragments: cold ground against your cheek, the distant wail of sirens, and then:

Bucky.

His hands on you, frantic, his voice rough with your name. You tried to speak, managing only a slurred, “Bullets… concrete.”

you: five months ago

The cell was a study in sterile cruelty. White walls, white floors, white light that never dimmed - like being trapped inside a bone. You’d memorized every fissure in the concrete, every hairline crack spiderwebbing through the tile three paces west of your cot. The ceiling bore a shallow depression in its upper right corner, as if some giant hand had pressed a thumb into wet clay before it hardened.

Beneath the sink, a missing tooth of grout let water pool after every perfunctory hand-washing, waiting to soak into your socks with quiet malice. None of it mattered. These weren’t flaws to exploit, just taunts.

They’d let you keep books, sometimes. Always vandalized - pages razored out at random, leaving gutted narratives that mirrored your own. You didn’t mind. The silence of the Raft was a balm, in its way. No news feeds buzzing with fresh horrors, no names whispered through the vents like ghosts begging for your particular brand of justice.

Ignorance was the closest thing to peace you’d ever known.

The intercom buzzed during your third lap of evening pacing. Your head snapped up. Meals came at dusk and dawn. No exceptions. No visitors. Ever.

A guard’s voice crackled through the speakers: “Glass is secure, so you should be fine with the, uh…”

A pause. Then a chuckle, low and rough as gravel under tires, “Got it.”

The door hissed open.

Light from the corridor carved a sharp rectangle into the cell, and he stepped through - a silhouette at first, all broad shoulders and military posture. Then the details resolved: the steel blue eyes, the hair just long enough to suggest he’d stopped giving a damn, the left sleeve of his suit cut off where vibranium met flesh.

Bucky Barnes. Or what was left of him.

To the other inmates, he was a cautionary tale. The Winter Soldier’s ghost, leashed and collared. To you? Just another man in a world that bred them like mold. You’d stopped caring about your own father by the time you were twelve, so you definitely didn’t care for living legends.

“You’re a lot smaller than I thought you’d be.” His voice was quieter than you expected, like he’d trained himself to take up less space.

Your lips peeled back from your teeth, “Wanna come inside and say that again, Congressman?”

The title landed like a slap. His jaw flexed, but he stepped forward until the glass between you hummed with the faint static of the dampening field. You could feel it in your molars - that low, insectile vibration.

For a wild second, you imagined lunging. The Raft’s tech would smother your abilities before you got halfway across the cell, but oh, how you’d love to see the look on his face if you yanked that pretty metal arm of his clean from his body.

“I’ll do you one better,” He said, and now his voice had edges. “Accept my offer, and I’ll let you out.”

You barked a laugh, **“**Let me out? You do know why I’m here, right?”

“Crushed a convoy of foreign dignitaries inside their armored car.” His gaze didn’t waver. “On the way to a peace summit.”

“A little hypocritical of them,” you mused, “given their side investments in those cluster bombs that turned a schoolyard into a jigsaw puzzle.” And then you shrugged, “but sure. Call it murder.”

His expression didn’t flicker. No disgust, no pearl-clutching horror. Just that same flat, assessing stare. It was almost refreshing. Most people’s faces did something interesting when they realized you didn’t regret it.

“So,” you pressed, rolling onto the balls of your feet, “what’s the offer?”

No sugarcoating. Join the New Avengers. Follow the rules. Don’t break laws. Simple.

You hated every syllable of it - playing hero for the same system that locked you away, taking orders from a team of government-stamped misfits. But more than anything, you hated the Raft. The way the air smelled like antiseptic and hopelessness. The way the lights never let you dream.

So you said yes.

Bucky stepped through the barrier like it was mist. The cuffs he clamped around your wrists were cold, heavier than they looked.

“Precaution.” He responded to your raised brow.

“I said I’d behave.” You flexed your fingers, the weight foreign after months of nothing.

Bucky shot you a sidelong glance as you fell into step beside him, “and I told the team I was going to Wakanda.”

Your welcome was seventy degrees below warm.

The team didn’t bother to hide their displeasure at your addition. In fact, they voiced it quite colorfully. The widow called you an unhinged megalomaniac, her father doubled down with a nod, captain kill a man with a symbol of hope said you were a chip off the old block and the flickering thing simply muttered no.

No words came from the hipster on the sofa. To anyone else, he read as just as assistant or an emotional support human, but you felt it - electrons crashed disorderly around him, raw power buzzing beneath his skin. You were grateful for his lack of reaction. He was the only one in the tower you knew you couldn’t take without your new bracelets.

Bucky let it be known that his decision was executive and final. That shut up all the complaints, but they made every effort to avoid you like you had a stink that would rub off on them. You were fine with that. It felt like you were living in a billionaire playboy’s penthouse alone on most of the time.

During the rest of it, like now, you were dragged out of your quarters to the training facilities on level four.

Bucky waited for you on the mats, already moving through a series of stretches that made his shoulders flex under his shirt. The gloves he wore were the same matte black as his arm, the material creaking faintly as he beckoned you forward.

You held up your cuffed wrists and shook them. “Can’t fight with these.”

“Gonna have to learn,” he pressed a knife into your palm. “You can’t rely on your powers.”

You scoffed. Rich, coming from the guy with a vibranium arm and a century of muscle memory.

“Whatever,” your fingers locked around the hilt. “let’s get this over with.”

His nod was all but imperceptible before his lunge came, a fine balance of unrestrained power and methodical bodily positioning. You weaved, but failed to notice that his right foot was planted beside your left. One precise sweep of his leg inward had you hitting the floor with a bounce.

Bucky straddled your hips and pinned you to the ground with his metal arm. Your eyes couldn’t help but fall to it. The sight of the lights above dancing over the gold etched black vibranium - god you’d love to get your real hands on it - was a deliciously tempting distraction alone. Somehow in addition, there were a few more: the strands of brunette hair falling into your face and the frosted blue eyes of their owner.

He pressed his knife to the space over your throbbing heart, “you’re dead. Again.”

You blinked as he stood and made an effort to quell the anger bubbling in you chest as you rose too. Bucky reset his stance, you followed suit, and then he charged. Your reaction time was clip of the shoulder, leaving just a centimeter long enough for you to evade the attack.

It wasn’t, however, faster than his ability to pivot and press the tip of his blade to your spine.

Dead. Again.

The first few weeks of your training retained the same formula. Wake up. Eat. Get your ass handed to you. Repeat. You thought, surely that would be the worst of it, but no. The real agony came during tactical firearms training.

Whilst complaining about the shitty armor you had, Bucky issued a warning, don’t wanna get hit with these. Won’t kill you, but they hurt like hell.

He undersold that last part.

The first round caught you in the ribs, and you swore your skeleton vibrated. The second, square between the shoulder blades, left a bruise that bloomed in the form of a mangled flower. By week three, you were down to two hits per session, and Bucky rewarded you by introducing stealth drills.

“Mission’s simple,” he crossed his arms, biceps straining against his sleeves. “I give you a head start, then come to take you out. Last ten minutes unseen, you win.”

“So, we’re playing high stakes hide and seek?” Your face twisted.

“…three, four, five…”

You bolted.

Elevators were too risky, the roof too far. You took the stairs down to the garage two at a time, the cuffs throwing off your balance just enough to make you stumble. The jeep you ducked behind still smelled like motor oil and stale fast food.

He found you in three minutes.

“Bullshit!” You exploded, fists shaking at your sides. “You’re using the cameras, or there’s a tracker in these fucking cuffs!”

Bucky caught your wrists, his grip unshakable as he pressed your bound hands to your chest and walked you backward into a support beam. The concrete bit into your spine.

“First thing people do when hunted?” His voice was low, a rumble you felt in your sternum. “They run for exits, and you? You stomp like an elephant. Heard every step you took to get down here.”

Heat flooded your face.

He gave you two minutes to reset. The extra time was no help and neither was your brain’s lack of creativity. Choosing the roof was picked apart - people tend to go for the exact opposite of what they should do. Your idea to go for the garden actually got a compliment - second most obvious, good cover though.

Running up and down constantly made your legs feel like jello, all you wanted to do was flop onto the bed. And so, you let your body collapse to the soft grey duvet and smiled.

He wouldn’t think you were dumb enough to hide in his bedroom.

The scent of him hit you first - burnt wood, spiced resin, a little something that reminded you of iron. Your eyes combed over the space that was very him. It hardly looked like it had been touched, the only personal touch was his leather jacket hanging by the door above the boots tucked against the baseboard.

You sat up on your elbows and craned your head to look at the bedside clock. Blood flowed thick and unhurried through your veins as you watched it flicker with each minute. 47, 48, 49…

The door creaked open.

Bucky slid in, gun raised, moving like liquid shadow.

He kept the weapon high and you instinctively straightened with raised hands. This all but confirmed he was playing dirty. Was the real intention behind this exercise to torture you?

Cold metal tapped the center of your forehead.

Your eyes closed. You wished more than anything that you could truly feel it.

“Congrats. You lived.”

If there was a picture next to stunned in the dictionary, it would be your face in response to his words. You all but bounced up and down as you asked him if he was being serious.

“I am.” Bucky looked at the indent of your body on his sheets. “Good job.”

He stepped to the side and looked at the door. That was the loudest dismissal you’d ever received. You got up and managed to catch a glimpse of his watch as you rose.

9:59:15

bucky: four months ago

There was still time.

He let you live because he couldn’t take another second of seeing you like that - seated, back arched ever so slightly with your legs spread wide on his bed. The sheets behind wore you body’s ghost, the way you must’ve grazed your face against his pillow since some of your lipgloss clung to its fibers.

Bucky tried to put it out of his mind as he continued getting you ready for the field. You became more focused and intentional, able to dodge and counter quicker, strike with more force.

His grip, however, began to falter.

The sweat tracing your neck and how your tongue darted out to wet your lips when you really were honing in had always been noticeable. Now it was…louder. Your scent in his nostrils as you parried became more intense. That cunning gaze seemed to slice in clean in two.

When it was time to put you to work, Bucky was admittedly nervous. He knew that you valued being free, but he just didn’t know to what end. Was it just a front so that you could continue your crusade?

The rest of the team made their objections known, some of them echoing his own sentiment. None of them could handle the arsenal that the targets packed. Regardless of how any of them felt, your help was needed on this one.

“Don’t make me regret this.” Bucky muttered as he disabled and removed your cuffs.

You rubbed your wrists, eyes fluttering shut. There was a faint click. Then, the harness strapping you into your seat appeared to loosen on its own before you floated from your seat to suspend just above the floor.

“I’ll try my hardest not to.” You grinned.

Bucky ripped his gaze away and headed from the hanger as Yelena landed the jet. He gave out instructions to the team - she and the guardian were to take the left flank, Ghost and Walker the right. You were with him, moving in from the front.

“Make sure none of those weapons make it out.” He nodded.

Everyone groaned some half-assed agreement and moved out.

You followed close behind him, dropping into a defensive stance when you heard the fighting start. He picked up the pace to get the jump on the first line of men before they ran to the commotion.

Two of them were easily incapacitated while you yanked their guns into the air. As Bucky cleared his way through the path to the shipping container, you kept pulling the assault riffles out of reach.

At one point, he peered up and wondered if it would ever become too much for you to hold - especially without using your powers for months. That one lapse in concentration found a knife flying towards his face.

You pulled the assailant forward using their own grip on the tool and your ability, slammed them face first into the dirt and aimed one of the floating riffles at their head.

“Easy.” He cut you a glare and marched on.

“That was nothing,” you scoffed on his heels. “in fact, it was so less than nothing they need to invent a new-”

A string of shots rang out just as quickly as they seized.

Bucky spun to see you glaring upwards, bullets frozen inches from your face. They fell like raindrops onto the pavement as you flew to where the one who shot them was perched.

The guns you’d collected dragged along with you, positioning themselves all around the shaking man.

“Y/N, enough.” Bucky called out. A chorus of hammers cocking sounded and he barked, “Enough!”

You used one of the barrels to knock the guy out and came back down. The rest of the team had done their sweeps, reconvening just in time for them to witness him on the edge of snapping.

“That was too far and you know it.” He clenched his teeth. “Go back to the jet.”

The look on your face made it seem as if he’d sworn a blood oat to be the bane of your existence. You didn’t have any snarky replies or venomous retorts, but you did use your powers to forcefully slam the hanger door shut.

Bucky felt the last thread holding him together begin to fray bit by bit. He was pissed with you for acting so rashly, like all that time he spent training you was a waste. He was even angrier at himself for believing you were ready for this.

It snaked up his neck, bunching up in his throat the more those thoughts permeated in his mind until he could no longer stand it. He told Yelena to wrap things up and stalked over to the jet.

He knew where to find you.

There was a sizable bathroom in the cargo hold for longer trips. The sound of water running from the shower confirmed his suspicion as he neared the door and then kicked it open.

“What?” You snarled.

The fact that you were only in a towel became a non-issue as heated screams and yells ensued.

I knew it was a risk bringing you, but I didn’t think you were that stupid-

I’m not stupid, I’m just not fucking weak-

You are! Can’t even control yourself, jumping straight for the kill, throwing a fit when you can’t-

Oh, if i wanted them dead, they’d all be dead-

Bucky snapped. The state of mind you were in was one all too familiar to himself. It was all consuming, a tornado ripping up a gas line and catching fire. He knew the only way to cut through the chaos was to create even more of it.

He grabbed your chin harshly, “Committing another mass murder won’t get your daddy to come home.”

You snarled, “Fuck you.”

“Still angry? Still fuckin’ pissed?” He saw the answer in the blaze behind your eyes.

You tried to shake off his grip, but he didn’t let up. Your hands shoved at his chest as he backed you into the open shower stall and under the stream of water.

“Wanna take it out on something? Take it out on me.” Bucky hissed.

Your lips crashed onto his instantly, tongue hot and wild in pursuit of his own. He came to know a truth in the moment you flung your towel to the floor with a wet plop: at the root of anger was desire and when the two met, it was cataclysmic.

Bucky ripped off his gloves, needing to feel you without obstruction. You were a supple and burning little thing with patches of raised skin scattered in a disordered constellation around your body.

“Open your legs for me.” He rasped, mouth tugging at it’s sides when you swiftly complied.

It took everything in him not to tease you about the state he’d already found your cunt in. But this was about getting you to release everything, to wear you out until your limbs were weak and your mind was too scattered to cling to your rage.

His right middle and ring fingers glided between your folds. Bucky sucked in as your lungs emptied when he plunged them into dripping hole. Your eyes shut, walls fluttering around them the deeper he went.

“Look at me,” He gasped and you do. “That okay? Can you take ‘em back here?”

The change of texture against his fingertips and the way you cried out let him know he was exactly where you needed him. He didn’t start moving until you nodded before bringing his mouth back to yours.

Your taste was sweeter than he’d expected. Somehow his mind had deduced that your ability to control metals would’ve made you lean more earthy, but you were rich and honied creme. Your lipgloss tasted just like it smelled when he pressed his face into the pillow that night.

Bucky thrusted his fingers in and out as your slick slid down to coat his knuckles. You groaned into his mouth, teeth clashing against his when your head dropped back to rest on the tile. Your hips rolled in time with his digits while you reached up to grab your breasts.

“There you go…” He nipped at your neck. “Want me to go harder, faster?”

Your throat vibrated against his lips and Bucky smiled.

He knew you’d be like this - all that venom from earlier gone, leaving a panting, whiny mess in his arms. You choked on a moan when he gave you every inch, pushing up and up and up, asking, “like this, hmm?”

The sound you made was a cross between a wail and a straggled noise of acknowledgment. You grasped at his left shoulder with one hand, the other squeezing and pulling your nipple.

Hell, he didn’t know who was supposed to be the one loosing their mind anymore. Bucky found himself speaking all his thoughts aloud. He pulled your right ear between his teeth, hushed words floating directly into it - that’s right, just take them. you feel so fucking good wrapped around me.

“Oh god…” Your voice returned with a shaky timbre. “Harder…”

Bucky was the one taking instructions this time, but he wasn’t upset. How could he when he had you pinned between his soaked through gear and a hard wall with him finger fucking your pretty tight cunt into oblivion?

Your knees buckled and he caught you with his hips.

“Yeah? Feel too good?” Bucky cooed. “Show me, let it out.”

You hitched a leg over his and sank your teeth into his neck. He groaned as you rode his digits, squeezing and quaking with each descent. His metal hand tangled into your hair and pulled you back, cloudy eyes meeting your own while he murmured, I got you, just let it out.

Your hips slowed their circles, but you kept going. His whole hand was sticky with your juices that flowed slow and steady and warm from its source beyond his fingertips.

He lost himself. If Bucky were to be honest, that had happened long before this. He’d wanted you from the first time he saw you - the calculating yet disarming look in your eye, how you seemed to slink instead of walk.

Bucky became a man possessed to finally have you like this. He could live another hundred years off your blown out pupils and the water flowing down the edges of your open mouth into his.

“All this mess and you’ve got more for me, I know you do.” He urged. “Just keep using these fingers.”

Bucky started to build you up again, pushing against your belly from the inside. You whimpered out a tiny please and he confirmed, want more? Your hips bucked faster, a hand closing around the back of his neck tightly.

“Don’t hold back on me,” He spurred you on. “These are your fingers. Use them.”

You threw your head back with a curse.

What a magnificent and wild creature you became for him. Bucky didn’t have to wonder whether or not you’d wanted him this badly too. The heaviness of the tongue in your mouth and unrelenting spasming of your hole around his digits let him know the answer.

“Can you look at me when you cum, hmm?” He stroked your cheekbone and your eyes fluttered open. “So pretty.”

Embers fanned to flames again behind your gaze. Bucky’s smile was a vindicated sneer. He knew you weren’t close to being done, knew it would take more than two to wear you out. You said it yourself, I’m not fucking weak.

You rutted yourself on his fingers and he praised, yes, there you go. keep cumming, keep cumming…

Bucky knew you’d be a good listener in this context. Though you were shit at taking directions in training, he had no doubt things would be much different in another less clothed setting.

Such a greedy thing you were. You fought through a prolonged release that he memorized every frame of and your hips still refused to stop twitching, to stop adding to the cum draining down the insides of your legs.

He took that to mean he’d probably have to put a few towels down when he finally fucked you.

For now, all he wanted was to keep seeing and feeling you like this. Bucky licked up your neck, promising, I’m not done with you, not until you say stop. In response, you clung to him like he was a lifeline instead of the instrument designed to bring you to ruin.

It was a vow nearly left unfulfilled. Bucky had done a little too well at meeting his objective. Your body leaned fully against his, head pressed to his chest, and you had just enough air left to breathe out:

Stop.

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Just dropping a comment to say I looovee your writing

thank you so much 🫂

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rear view [ruben dias]

gripped onto a sliver of inspiration i felt and this came out...not proofread. warnings: 18+, masked!ruben, taunting, praise, one use of the word sl*t (affectionately, i promise), a lil rough to gentle...

the sound of your heels meeting the wooden floor is prominent as you stagger into your flat blindly. a hand splays, fingers fanning wide to feel along the smooth wall for a light switch. flick - nothing.

though obviously not a fluke, you flip the switch a few times more to ensure that you’re not being dramatic. air leaves your lungs in a smooth rush while you continue along the dark path to resume your wind down routine.

work has been absolutely brutal. long hours, sitting stationary for endless amounts of time until you tailbone feels battered, and not nearly enough pay to be quite frank. you needed a vacation, or a lobotomy - whichever provides the most instant relief and gratification.

“snoogs?” you call calmly for your cat.

she gets so shy sometimes, but she loves the dark. it’s her hunting ground and you’re a helpless little ferret. every day must be a mind boggling adventure for her fur baby. or maybe you’re romanticizing it too much, delirious from lack of proper rest.

“snooogss?” your voice is a sing song.

around the bend to the living room you go and let your ears perk up to lock in. while your mind is dancing between reality and imagination, what was that in the corner, you hear a rustle and sudden a fur ball is launching at your chest.

with an oof, you catch her and stumble backwards. the sudden halt you come to isn’t from a wall as you would expect, but a hard, warm body. their broad chest expands with a slow inhale and you slowly let snoog melt from your hands.

“hi, princess.” fingertips grip into your waist, and tension falls from your frame as you recognize the timbre and feel. it’s just ruben.

“h-hi…” you don’t know what to say to stay in character, so you try to keep it as simple as possible.

bringing up this fantasy of yours really did a number on him. it had only been two days since you disclosed it during pillow talk and look at him now, ready to be nominated for his oscar.

“i’ve been watching you for some time,” he reaches an arm around your stomach and reels you right up against him. “you really ought to wear more than cropped shirts and panties when you walk by the windows.”

a hand slides up your thigh, the edges of his fingers toying with your underwear’s seam. you begin to seep into his petting. ruben is in sync with you, his hips drop to catch yours and push them back up.

“or not, cause you look so fucking hot.” an open mouth kiss lands on your lower neck. “so pretty, babygirl.” he starts undoing the closures on your top. “so fuckable.”

you bite out a moan you had been attempting to stifle. that gorgeous accent pairing with those nasty words beckon you to respond. you push back into him, skirt bunching up, rasping.

his hands roam you wildly and dangerously. one cups your hot cunt, squeezing until he feels it throb against his palm. the other alternates between massaging your breasts that he pulls free of your bra.

“that’s what you wanna do to me, hm?” your brows meet as you turn your head.

“mhmm…” ruben grazes the fabric of the mask covering his face across your cheek. “come here.”

you’re dragged over to the sofa where he crashes down harshly, pulling you to sit on his lap with your back to his front. ruben’s burning touch is back again. he has your legs spread wide, using his thighs to keep yours open while he circles your covered clit.

“shit!” your head drops against his shoulder.

“listen to that,” he chuckles, spanking the ruined seat of your panties. “why’re you already so wet, angel?”

“i’ve been-” you swallow thickly. “waiting for you.”

that makes him growl, pulling at your panties until they dig into your flesh. ruben tosses the stretched out fabric to the side and teases your hole with two fingers. you buck into them hungrily.

“can you be good and take my fingers like this?” ruben thrusts them into your pussy to the knuckle and your eyes disappear. he doesn’t stop there, fucking them into when he asks again, “just like this, huh?”

“oh, fuck…” your hips start to rock onto them for more friction.

“not an answer-”

“yes!”

you surge upwards to catch his lips between your own. it’s carnal and possessive and claiming the way your tongue rolls over his. your words fall down the rabbit hole into him in between deep breaths, yes i can be good, i can be good.

“i know you can. maybe you should close the curtains when you play with yourself, too.” ruben nips at your earlobe.

god, how is he so good at this? he’s never been shy with his words, much less when you have sex, but tonight is another level. if you had to guess, you would say that he’s certainly done his homework.

“need you in me…” you whimper.

“aww, look at you.” ruben swipes his free thumb over your bottom lip, dragging the skin slowly. “i need to feel you squeezing and shaking. then, we can move on.”

a gushiness fills the air as he fills you powerfully with his digits. you’re nothing short of a mess, legs trying to close on instinct and his forcing them open wider for the same reason. you grasp out wildly, hands eventually settling behind his neck where a bit of his hair peeks out of his mask.

“let it go, princess. just like that.” he laughs into your ear, curling and pumping relentlessly.

it feels more like you are the one getting let go of. the rope you cling to snaps and you’re free falling. terrified initially, but accepting and gaining pleasure from the weight pressing down on your tummy.

you scream with a filthy grin, fuck, you’re gonna make me sq-

and the weather changes right on cue. your hips lift just above his, one hand dropping to his thigh and the next flying to flick at your clit as you rain down. soft patters fall onto your helpless wooden floor. it creaks too with the force of ruben handling you roughly to face him.

“good fucking girl…” he praises, yet spanks you.

another scream that melts from terror to erotic erupts from your throat. he smooths where his blow lingers as you rut over his bulge, running his basketball shorts. not that he seems to mind with the way he’s pushing it up into you too.

“if you saw me touch myself, you’ve seen me ride dick before too, right?” now that you’ve cum, you’re no longer as needy as before.

ruben knows this about you and you suspect it’s the reason he decides to go about tonight they way that he is. the light is so dim in here, but you see his eyes glint mischievously. and he calls you a brat.

“gonna do me like that, huh?” he sucks your breast and reaches down to free himself. “show me, pretty girl. show me, fuck-”

his words end up in his throat as you swallow him whole. so snug and warm tucking into your walls, you sigh with content. you let yourself just feel him, hips circling slowly to get your bearings.

your stomach tenses as you lift up and down his cock. he swears lowly in portuguese, rubbing up your ass to your waist. his hands slowly leave your body completely to settle on the back of the sofa.

“come on, then.” he smacks your ass again. “fuck me like a little slut.”

you shake your head and laugh, ready to give it to him even more since he’s begging so much. your grip settles firmly over his corded shoulders and you get onto your toes on the floor. soon, you’re bouncing on it. the sound of your soaking cunt working his shaft steadily and your gasps and his groans-it’s already too fucking much.

“that’s it,” ruben marvels. “take that fucking cock.”

oh, he wants you to take it? you bring your feet up to the sofa, legs a big wider, and grab onto the back of his neck. your pussy grips him, tip to base, tucking and squeezing at the bottom to feel the way the slight curve in his cock presses right to that spot.

“oh, shit, baby.” he needs his hands to come back to control your movements.

if you continue doing that one, he’ll be planning a baby shower in a few months. which, let’s be real, you might end up doing anyway because there’s no way he’s pulling out tonight.

ruben thrusts up to meet you as you come down and you quiver around him. you’re so close again you can feel the rope fraying beneath your hold. full surrender is instant this time, you welcome the fall as he spurs you on.

your cries pierce the room and he’s hugging your lower back in a vice grip while he fucks you into senselessness. another unpredicted shower. you drip down his legs and want to apologize, but his awe and praise shut you off.

can’t believe this is all for me

ruben nestles your body to the sofa and joins you, pulling you face to face. well, face to mask. his eyes look so dark behind them as he drinks you in. mouthful gulps until you’re dripping down his chin.

you grab his jaw and kiss him as he sheaths himself in you again. the leg you have draping over his hips tugs him closer, opening you up some more too. ruben grabs your ass and spreads you out more so.

“yes…nice and deep.” your eyes cross.

“want me to cum, hm?” he tucks himself as far as possible. “right here, deep in your pretty cunt?”

all you can do is groan and nod furiously. if you could speak, though, you would say please, please fill me up. make it yours over and over again, please, i need to feel your warm cum in me.

ruben gets the message. he can see it in the way your eyes glaze over and your back bows into his palm. the way your bottom lips quivers and your grow several degrees warmer, steaming up his flesh as you squeeze and squeeze…

until he’s making good on his promise and shooting all the possible little additions to the diaz clan up your stream. you suck them in, hoping it’s helping and not hurting their efforts, but delighting in the feeling anyway.

ruben hums and lazily strokes into you. having had enough of the mask, you reach up and remove it, fluffing out his messy hair on the way down. his eyes are droopy as he stares at you.

“was that okay? are you alright?” he blinks slowly.

you grin with a light laugh, “i’m so good right now. you were incredible.”

his thumb strokes your cheek, “you’re so perfect.”

that’s one thing you’re never gonna argue with. you lay there for not too long before both drifting asleep in the same position. and when you wake up in a few hours, you meet him stiff and you’re ready to go all over again.

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- [masterlist]

new

series

being [ruben dias]

your move to manchester brings triumph, pain, revelation & potential new beginnings when you reencounter the person you once deeply loved.

rating: 18+ | wc: 42k | parts: 8/8

“Would you prefer it if we live in the same city, run in the same circles, and basically act like we’re strangers or would you rather do…this?”

heirs [jude bellingham] - in development

you've easily gotten everything you ever wanted - except him. challenge: accepted.

rating: 18+ | wc: tbd | parts: tbd

“If I’m such a spoiled brat of a princess, what does that make you?”

solos

stick [lewis hamilton]

you show lewis how to drift like a local.

rating: 18+ | wc: 5872 | parts: 1/1

“This is the fun part, pretty boy!”

covet [charles leclerc/carlos sainz] - in development

a hidden desire is unearthed, leading to an interesting night with your boyfriend and his teammate.

rating: 18+ | wc: tbd | parts: 1/1

“Why don’t you go ahead and get started, Charles?..."

throwbacks

solos

baby, te quiero comer ya [dominik szoboszlai]

you reunite with an old friend upon his arrival to liverpool.

rating: 18+ | wc: 2056 | parts: 1/1

“Was it worth the wait?”

what you need [dusan vlahovic]

a stranger flirting with you leads to a very passionate argument.

rating: 18+ | wc: 2136 | parts: 1/1

“Is that what you want?”

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what you need [dusan vlahovic]

a stranger flirting with you leads to a very passionate argument.

warnings: 18+ | wc: 2139 | part: 1

an: originally posted 11/2022

You dropped a kiss on your boyfriend’s shoulder before heading off to the pool.

Dusan should’ve known better by now than to try to keep up with you on a night out. Two gin and tonics in, you noticed that his cheeks were pinched, and he was way more upbeat and giggly than normal.

He was annoyingly adorable as you eased his large, drunken frame into the bed. The only way he could sleep in that state was on his stomach with a pillow tucked under his arms. Dusan mumbled about how much he loved you among other random things as you rubbed his back until he passed out.

Having not partied during the season, his tolerance seemed even worse. He slept through breakfast and you blow drying your hair. You left him a note saying fresh juice and fruits were in the fridge, and that you would be on the beach if he woke up with you still gone.

It felt so good to have this vacation. Nothing beat having fuck all to do but lie in the sun and get a gorgeous tan. You flipped onto your front, hiking your bikini bottoms up your cheeks just a bit more to lessen the lines.

While you read your book, you got completely absorbed in it. So much that you barely registered a small ball had smacked your butt. A little girl came into view, immediately wiping any annoyance you began to feel at the intrusion.

“Sowwy ‘bout that.” She held the purple ball in her small hands.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” You smiled, swatting off the sand the object had stuck to your backside.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” A guy quickly jogged over.

He picked her up in his arms, kissing between her pigtails. She looked just like him, presumably his daughter. They looked so cute standing together on the beach, like a happy family.

“It’s quite alright, she was just reminding me that it was time to flip over.” You laughed.

“Can’t have an uneven tan, now can we?” He made a small chastising face.

“Exactly.” You nodded.

The guy made some more idle chit chat, telling you about how this was his first time taking his daughter on vacation since he’d split with her mom. Most people would be put off by his rambling, but you were used to strangers opening themselves up to you. It was nice to hear their stories too, so you didn’t mind.

“So are you here on a girl’s trip or solo?” Talkative dad asked.

“I’m actually-“

“She’s here with me.” Dusan’s voice sounded from behind. “Her boyfriend.”

You craned your head to see him coming to stand over you, blocking your sun in the process. He didn’t spare you a glance. His gaze was focused on the man on the other side of you, unflinching.

“That’s great!” The guy chuckled. “Well, I hope you guys have fun and sorry again about all of that.”

You waved him off with the apology once more, and wished him well as he and his daughter left. Dusan lifted your legs and sat beneath them, placing them on his lap to run his hands over your calves.

“Good morning to you too, grumpy.” You raised a brow at him.

“Don’t start, you knew what he was doing.” He scoffed.

That poor book of yours was forgotten as you dropped it off to the top of your tote. You sat up on your elbows as you looked at him. His wet hair was slicked back, evidence of a shower, and to his credit he didn’t look the slightest bit hungover. Just upset.

There was no reason for him to be. Sure, maybe the guy from earlier was checking you out. That much you expected to happen at a beach. Who didn’t occasionally get their eyes caught by someone with decent body?

“You don’t start.” Your eyes rolled. “It was nothing, he was just being nice.”

Dusan laughed bitterly and shot to his feet, throwing your legs off in the process. Shock etched every inch of your features, uttering the silent question, are you serious right now? He shook his head as he stalked off back in the direction of your room.

You muttered angrily while you shoved your things back into your tote, barely tossing on your cover up and sandals as you followed in hot pursuit. His long strides didn’t slow even after you called out behind him, only just catching him in the elevator.

“What the fuck, Dusan?!” You hissed. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Excuse me if I don’t want to watch my girlfriend entertain being flirted with by some desperate dickhead.” He spoke rapidly.

“You’re such a fucking child.” You threw your hands up.

The way he was behaving was completely unfair and uncalled for. To come out there after sleeping half a day away on your vacation after you nursed him all night, and make a scene was far beyond okay. To take whatever issues he had out on you was even worse.

“I’m a child? Me?” His eyes widened. “That’s rich coming from the girl that was too naive to see that her little friend was just using his daughter to try to fuck her.”

Your upper lip curled. This time it was you storming off when the doors opened. You all but ran to your room, slamming the door shut behind you and tossing your bag onto the floor. He didn’t have to go that far, to insult your intelligence and be so crass.

“Is that what you want?” Dusan came in, yanking your body back to his.

You struggled against his hold, clenching your teeth when you felt his arm circle your waist to pin you there. No amount of wriggling and writhing would help you escape his firm grip now.

“Do you want to go to him,” His mouth latched to your neck, sucking. “So he could taste your skin like this?”

Your shoulders fell limp, head tilting on instinct to make more room for his lips to roam. It was aggravating that as livid as you were with him and as stupid as his questions were, all it took was this to disarm you.

“No.” You swallowed thickly.

The hand he had clamped around your wrist freed itself to travel down your body. You leaned into him, feeling him harden against your lower back. Dusan trailed his fingers along your bikini bottoms, not touching where you needed him most just yet.

They were feather light as he teased you, his eyes watching your reactions intently. You didn’t flinch, keeping yours open no matter how badly they threatened to flutter shut. He took that as a challenge, which it was, and pushed the fabric aside.

With barely any warning, he shoved two of his girthy digits into your core. You cried out, not caring one bit that it was the middle of the day and you were in a hotel.

“Do you want his fingers in your tight pussy?” Dusan breathed.

Fuck you, you know I don’t is what you would’ve said if you could’ve found the strength to speak. But he was fingering you so fast and so deep that your voice got caught in your throat.

You saw nothing. Your vision went black even without the cover of your eyelids. The sound of your juices being fucked out of you made him hum.

“So fucking wet, I guess you do.” He bit your shoulder.

“No!” You gasped. “I only want it to be yours, I always want it to be you.”

You whimpered post ramble, legs starting to tremble in warning. Dusan’s arm pinned your body even tighter to his as he felt you begin to falter. He pressed down on your clit with this thumb, and you were seeing stars.

“Please…” Your voice was hoarse.

“Please what?” His soft lips met yours.

“Don’t stop.” You exhaled as he pulled away.

Your feet were dangerously close to cramping from your toes curling. Dusan beckoned you to cum for him, curling his digits inside you, increasing the tempo. You felt the knot in your stomach coming undone, one bit at a time.

And then all at once. You were doubling over, soft walls squeezing his fingers in waves as you came. Curses and cries fell from your lips too quickly to keep up with as you clawed at the arm he had around your waist.

He pressed against your g-spot with his fingers at a rapid pace, palm digging into your clit to draw your orgasm out longer, and longer until your knees completely gave out. You finally were able to breathe when he pulled them out of you and swept you into his arms.

It would only be a brief reprieve. Dusan had you in as many ways as there were possible, or so you thought up until now. You’d never experienced him this worked up.

In fact, it had belatedly occurred to you while he was all but ripping your bikini and its cover from your body that he was jealous. The realization would’ve made you laugh had you not been scrambling to put the pieces of your mind back together.

That was going to be impossible with the way his mouth ravaged every inch of skin they could find. Dusan nipped and sucked at your collarbones, your shoulders, your breasts. He was everywhere, hands kneading your thighs greedily as he slotted between them.

“Do you want me to stretch you out?” He ran his cock through your wet folds. “Make you cum all over me?”

You whined as his tip slid over your sensitive clit, “Yes…”

Dusan continued to tease you, making your hips buck and writhe in desperation. You tried you reach down to tucked him inside you, but he pinned your hands above your head in one of his. His lips ghosted over yours, pulling just out of reach every time you tried to kiss him.

And then you were gasping, him moaning, as he filled you with one thrust. You could feel every inch of him, every vein as he rolled his hips into yours powerfully. He freed your hands only to push your knees to your chest, opening yourself up to him even more, taking him entirely.

You clasped your fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him in to taste his lips. It was a disordered affair of you sucking his tongue, teeth clashing, biting. Dusan grunted the filthiest things into your mouth, he couldn’t make you scream like this, make your pussy soak the sheets like this, look at you, my good fucking girl, taking it all.

All you could do was shake your head and nod where appropriate. He was deeper than deep, fucking you harder and harder until his skin grew damp with sweat. You arched into him, eyes losing focus as you floated higher and higher.

Dusan let go of your knees, and just when you thought he was going to ease up, you were swiftly corrected. He placed a hand around your throat, squeezing ever so slightly along the sides, the other falling to rub on your clit.

“Cum with me.” He moaned.

That was the final blow. You crashed down into your body, his name becoming a chorus on your lips as your pussy clenched around his cock. He called out for you in return, thrusting his release into you with the last of his strokes.

“Holy fucking shit.” You panted, blinking away tears.

Dusan pulled out and collapsed beside you. His chest heaved with his breathing, a smile appearing for the first time today. He pulled you into him, tucking your unruly hair behind your ear and kissing your cheek gently.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” A worry line appeared between his brows.

“I’m fine.” You eased it with a swipe of your thumb.

“I’m sorry for being an asshole.” He grinned sheepishly.

You knew he didn’t mean any of the things he’d said. You didn’t either, and apologized for blowing up instead of trying to defuse the situation. He kissed you so sweetly, in the way that made you fall in love with him.

“Can we just skip the argument and go straight to the mind blowing sex the next time you get jealous?” You laughed.

“Deal.” He looped his pinky around yours.

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domsli22

[sseomtada]

[240407] B.Stage Members Only Post

📷240407 팬사인회 1주차

📷240407 1st week of fan signing event

♡ Translation: dailykyun. Please take out with full credit.

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evacordia

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Details of Lewis Hamilton in Burberry at the 2024 Met Gala

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baby, te quiero comer ya [dominik szoboszlai]

you reunite with an old friend upon his arrival to liverpool.

warnings: 18+ | wc: 2056 | parts: 1

an: originally posted 08/2023

“You know it was always meant to be me, right?” His breath fans against the back of your neck.

The question has to take a chaotic path to your mind, battling the most fearsome opponents. Thunderous cries and howls of want and need rushing ahead as his fingers raked up the middle of your stomach, hiking up what little coverage your crop top provided.

You knew a lot of things.

The first being that going braless tonight was a brilliant decision. You coo at his warm palm ghosting over your cold, crystalized nipples. He chuckles softly at witnessing the beginning of your undoing.

The second thing you knew was that he ought to select his floor in this elevator before someone had the chance to spring the door open. Though, imagine it, what would his neighbors think?

To see him pressing to your back like this, hands squeezing your aching breasts as you gasp and arch into him. All while you watch them watch you in the mirrored walls.

“Pick your floor.” You shudder.

“I like it here,” He kneads your chest. “Though, this one…”

One of his hands comes down to cup you through your denim shorts. You drop your hips instantly, hoping and achieving your goal of feeling his fingers prod at your clenching hole.

“Nah, you’re not ready yet.” He laughs breathily.

You’re suddenly a victim of gravity again as he pulls away abruptly, but your wits are quick. Your back leans against the mirror, chest heaving while you watch him fetch his card holder and press it to the keypad. Penthouse was his choice.

“What do you mean by that?” The anger comes belatedly like everything else when you’re around him.

Dominik stalks over to you, sizing you up in a way that absolutely infuriates you.

It’s the look you hated growing up. The one that stupid, awkward, goofily cute guy that moved in next door wore. His silly laugh, and cocky expressions when he played in his backyard as you watched from the sides of your eyes over the fence.

Even as he blossomed, just before he moved away - the time you began to love his playful arrogance. How he insisted on that last night you’d spent alone on your roof that he was your first love, Adam be damned. You resented how right he was then just as you do now.

Are you ready?

You spent so much of your life looking for a crumb of what you felt for him in so many other people. Yes, you smiled and you laughed and you experienced pleasure, but none of it compared to what you felt by just being near him.

The safety and security he provided. His warmth that he shared on winter nights when he bundled you up with him under the blanket on his patio. The vulnerability you expressed, having him see you in a way you’d never let anyone else.

“Until you say it out loud,” Dominik tilts your chin up and kisses you, gently. “Everything that I want to hear,” Another kiss, longer this time. “I don’t think you are.”

He’s always been like this - cheeky, challenging. You reckon it’s a big part of his game, the way he messes with his opposition. It’s easy to underestimate a pretty boy with a pretty smile, but you know better. A razor is always hidden under his tongue.

“I’m supposed to, what?” You look up at him through your lashes. “Just give it to you like that? No persuasion from your end?”

If he doesn’t recall how sharp your own tongue is, you’ll happily reintroduce him. For every smart comment he had, you wielded an even stronger reply. Dating in the wild for all these years only honed your skills.

Dominick releases your jaw only to dip two fingers into your mouth. You hold his gaze, swirling your tongue around them as he uses his free hand to unbuckle your pants. Their bagginess find them to your ankles quickly and discarded following clumsy kicks.

“Wait-“ You think about someone interrupting the lift.

“Won’t stop for anyone.” Dom shushes you.

He wedges a leg between yours and then slides his spit coated fingers into your panties. You’re shaking as he runs them over your clit towards your hole, collecting the juices that had pooled there since you decided to come back to his.

“Seems like I don’t have to do much.” His lips brush yours as he taunts.

“My pussy’s always this wet,” You lie blatantly. “Come on, Domi. At least make me cum.”

He pushes his fingers into you and your head drops against the glass. Your greedy little pussy swallows them, so he adds a third. It’s the type of stretch that has you leaning back, pushing your hips forward to feel them hit your g-spot.

“You always this dirty too?” His lithe fingers pump into you sinfully.

“O-only when I like someone.” You finally begin to soften.

Dominik doesn’t miss it. The pad of his thumb circles your clit appreciatively, earning him an airy whine. He lifts his thigh up too, fucking his digits beyond comprehension into your cunt.

You twitch and writhe, gnashing your head against the hard surface behind you as you ride his hand. Your hands seek wildly for purchase beside you, moans loud enough to surely echo down the chute filling the space with your impending release.

He catches your bunched up crop top in his teeth and pulls powerfully. It’s a move that raises your upper body to fall into his hold. He secures you with a hand on your ass while your hips rut over him.

“I like you so-so fucking much, I always have.” Your hands clutch his head, holding him tightly to your chest as you cum hard. “It’s always been you, Dom.”

Dominick lets out a noise that you can’t classify as either groan or cry before his lips are on, over, and between yours. He backs out of the long opened elevator, your touch heavy and desperate around his frame.

“I know, Y/N.” He rasps. “I know.”

It’s enough to stop you in your tracks. The elevator dings - closing and descending with your shorts in tow. You’re standing there fighting to regulate your breathing, clutching your favorite face of all time.

He’s not smiling or gloating. His eyes are sharp, bottom lip shuddering with his own forceful breaths. He’s not cocky in what he says. Rather, there’s a sense of relief in his tone.

He finally knows he’s not alone in this.

Wordlessly, you strip yourself bare in front of him. Shirt, boots, socks, panties - in that order. He does the same until you’re left swallowing. An invisible force pulls you into him, your hands splaying over the marbled column of his torso.

He trails his fingers down the middle of your spine as yours work up his chest and shoulders and back down again to brush his cock. A hiss bounces from the walls in response.

You make a fist around him, trying and failing to touch your fingers together. Dominick grips your ass and presses you close, pining the hand that’s working his cock between your bodies.

“Fuuckk…” He groans.

His strong hold rips you away. It isn’t the sensation that’s too much too soon, but the prelude - the intimacy in the way your eyes consume him and your hands discover him. If he wants this to last, he has to switch things up.

You’re spun to have him at your back again, his cock prodding between your legs. You whimper and slide it through your sticky folds. The feeling nearly breaks him. He literally falls to his knees, albeit cooly and slowly, bringing you by the hips along with him.

Dominick reclines with you on top of him, your knees spread wide with your thighs held open by his own. While he continues to glide through you, he moans right into your ear. It’s a sound that leaves you feeling a foreshadowing of an orgasm yet to come.

Together, you form a chorus of bliss when he tucks his tip into you. With some help from you, relaxing against his girth to accept it all, his entire cock fit. Though it felt like you’d waited an eternity for this moment, there’s no rush from either side.

You’re focusing on etching the feeling of his tightening abs against your back as he rolls his hips into you, splitting you in two, into memory. He’s completely lost in you. A victim to your undertow, fighting for his life beneath your current.

He buoys himself to you in any way he can. His lips ever present on your neck, your jaw. His hands - curving around your waist and grasping your breasts, and rubbing the swollen mound between your legs.

Dominik spanks it then, and you clench super tight around him. There’s a feeling both familiar and foreign to you in it, confusing you. You fuck yourself on his cock, begging him to do it again.

He does and harder this time. You place your heels to the floor and take him balls deep, grinding your hips quickly back and forth until a scream ripped itself from your core.

“Holy fucking shit!” Your legs press together.

His thighs are wet all over when your hips settle back down and you feel your face flush. All the times you’d actively tried to do that before in the past rushing to the forefront of your mind, each resulting in failure.

“Always this wet?” Domnik slurs.

He pushes from the ground to roll you on your side, your head resting on his bicep. Your lips instantly attach to the skin stretched taut over muscle there. Skilled fingers trace up the tendons of your inner thigh as he raises your leg.

“First time.” You croak drunkenly.

Dominik is eating it up, you can feel it in the teeth that scrape on your back of your neck. He provides one last bit of torture since it’s all he can take, cock digging through your ruins.

Your stomach sinks in and he presses a hand to it, swearing filthily in his native tongue at his ability to feel his dick when he enters you again. A fresh wave of tears pool in the corner of your eyes.

‘too good, Dom…

I‘m so close…

You tremble at the thought, both afraid and relieved that the end is near. His plump lips kiss along your hairline as he takes a firm grip of your hips in both hands. It’s a pleasure to learn that he becomes more vocal the nearer he gets to release.

His tone is gorgeous - a higher tenor, yet still on the grittier side. Throaty, like a singer whose voice is going raw from emotion. You hold your breath to listen and drink his noises in fully, barely holding on for a few seconds at a time with how he’s driving into your pussy.

“Ah- fuckfuckbaby-“

Dominik pulls out in time to cum over your stomach, his tongue twisting with praise. You grab his hand and lace your fingers in his. With them conjoined, you bring them to your lips, sucking on his protruding veins.

“Was it worth the wait?” You whisper.

“Oh, édesem,” Dominik sighs. “Megőrülök érte…“

You’re about to tell him you feel crazy about him too when the elevator dings.

A measly scrap in the form of his shirt is grabbed to drape pathetically over you two just in time for it to open. There’s no one inside, but your shorts are neatly folded on top of a covered tray.

Dominik gathers it all while you rise to your feet, joining him at his kitchen island. Under the cover sits a huge plate of fresh fries and condiments, and a note that reads:

Welcome to Liverpool, Mr. Szoboszlai!

(p.s. these are for the lucky lady x)

[sseomtada]

i was originally thinking about this concept for charles but why is my mind going "jude's kinda..." 😭 sound off on who you think it fits best

heirs [tbd] - in development getting what, and who, you wanted had never been a problem until you met the one man immune to your charm.