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iniquitousyearning · 6 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 10th. tom riddle — oral sex, experienced!tom.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: your ex couldn’t make you orgasm, so you were certain you were broken. tom shows you just how wrong you are.

warnings: 18+, SMUTTT MDNI, tom riddle can eat me aliv—sorry who tf said that?, tom riddle is such a realist; he sees a problem and he finds a solution, tom is a munch, praise kink, oral f!receiving, experienced tom, hufflepuff!reader.

Months pass, and your project remains the only thing Tom ever prioritizes when it's you asking.

Progress is slow—slow because you're usually far too busy talking to actually focus—yet, he always stays. He listens, even when the things you say should bore him, even when they mean nothing at all. He sits there—giving you hardly the barest scraps of himself in return as you fill the space between you with everything that crosses your mind.

Things he'd never waste a second hearing from anyone else.

And tonight, to no-one's surprise, you're doing it again—rambling on about nothing and everything all at once. You've got this way of talking—weaving tangents into something almost poetic, and usually, he lets it fade into the background as he works. You're saying something about the differences between the seasons, or maybe it's just some other kind of sentimental nonsense—at this point, he's not entirely sure.

It's easy to tune out. He tells himself he's not really listening.

Until—

"Actually, I guess I should clarify that—it's all hypothetical. I don't date," he doesn't know what you said before this, but he's certainly intrigued by it now. "And really, it has nothing to do with like, self esteem or anything, I'm just broken. Best to save someone the trouble."

That stops him cold. It's not so much the declaration that you don't date—he could have guessed that himself—but more so the way you've just called yourself broken.

It's not a word he's ever heard you use before.

"What do you mean, broken?" He asks, the question coming out far more blunt than he probably intended.

It just seems so out of character for you—you've always been an optimist, far too annoyingly positive to speak of anything this way. He blinks when you freeze, and blinks again when a moment of self consciousness seems to pass over your face—and he notes how that's a first for you, too.

"Broken...as in, uh, not normal," your eyes flit down to your lap, tracing the wood beneath where you're seated on the floor in his dorm. "My ex made that very clear in his assessment of me."

The mention of an ex is something he'd been anticipating—you're in your twenties, after all—but it's the idea that your ex is the source of you calling yourself broken, that he can't quite swallow.

"You're 'broken' because of one ex?" He says, and he can't stop how derisive and skeptical his voice sounds. He doesn't care to try. "I'm not following."

"I'm what you'd call, damaged goods, I think," you murmur, and there's an almost self-deprecating smirk on your face. He can't help but think how he's never seen that look on you, either. "I've got a slew of unhealthy baggage that comes along with me. You know, childhood traumas, abandonment issues, daddy issues—"

He snorts at that—daddy issues—and your head snaps up, smirk deepening despite yourself.

"Don't snort at my daddy issues," you huff, and there's a familiar annoyance in your voice that puts him at ease. "They're valid and real."

"I'm not denying their validity," he counters, his own smirk beginning to surface. "But daddy issues? Come on. You're not some tired cliché ripped out of a teenage romance novel. I refuse to accept your declaration of brokenness until you give me factual reasoning."

You laugh at that—alive and genuine—and for a moment, he's reminded of why he even tolerates you in his space at all.

"Fine," you cross your arms over your chest. "What do you want to know then?"

He makes a low, contemplative sound at that—because there's a million questions that come to mind with the words damaged goods—and after a moment, he settles on the one that falls out first.

"What is it, precisely, that makes you broken?"

You sigh, a bit theatrically—he knows you're just putting on a show and he wants to laugh at you for it—but he reigns that in, for now, while you figure out how you're going to respond to that.

The truth is, you don't know how to tell him the real reason you're broken—the part that has nothing to do with the laundry list of emotional baggage you could rattle off with ease. It's something...different.

Something more physical.

"I don't know, okay?" You're getting defensive. You're not sure why but you are. "Just—forget I said anything. We have this assignment to—"

"You dodging the question tells me it's more than just psychological," he cuts you off, leaning back into the couch. The way he's looking at you makes it clear—there's no way he's letting this go. "You getting defensive tells me you're embarrassed by it."

You sigh again, leaning back on your palms to mirror his body language, though it doesn't feel half as natural on you as it does on him.

"And you, being an insufferable arse, is telling me I never should have mentioned it in the first place."

His smirk at that makes you want to glare at him.

"Stop dodging," he says. "You brought it up. You don't get to take it back."

It's a challenge—the gleam in his eyes is practically screaming so. You're not sure why the sight of it makes something low in your stomach clench, and you're even less sure of why you want to tell him something like this—something you haven't told anyone else—not friends, certainly not family.

Whatever the reasoning, you can feel yourself relent.

"Maybe," you pause, the look on his face makes you second guess yourself. "...maybe I don't want to tell you because I'm afraid you'll look at me differently." You glance down at your lap, fingers twitching against the yellow pleats of your skirt before finally meeting his eyes again. "And I kind of like the way you look at me now."

Something like curiosity passes over his expression at that—but it's quickly hidden by the type of skepticism that tells you he still doesn't believe you're being serious.

"You're overthinking it," he replies, unmoving. "Whatever it is you think you're going to tell me, I'm not going to look at you differently. You're still you—no filter, unabashedly verbal—"

"Too verbal. Too positive, too loud," you finish his sentence for him—because you know that's how he thinks of you. "Too annoyingly optimistic. Far too hufflepuff for your cold snake skin. I know."

"Exactly," he says, tongue running over his bottom lip in attempt to quell his smirk. "So I reiterate. There's nothing you could tell me that would change that."

"Fine," you relent, giving in begrudgingly because you know there's no other option. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

He just lifts a hand at that, as if to say; whatever you think it is, I can handle it. The action makes you suck a breath into your lungs, trapping it there.

"You're right," you say after a long exhale. "I have a slew of psychological bullshit that would take the span of a year for me to fully go over in one sitting—but, I'm fine with it. That's...that's not the thing that made me call myself broken."

He says nothing, just makes a motion with his eyes for you to keep going.

"It's, uhm...physical." You whisper, and your brain is moving too much and too fast and you're not even completely sure how to say it without sounding insane. "And...I don't know, I just...I can't orgasm. No matter what. I just can't—it's frustrating and embarrassing and it's the reason my ex ended things."

There's a silence that follows, and he knows if it were anyone else, they'd probably find a way to comfort you. Reassure you. Tom, however, isn't anyone else—

"You're joking," he says, and his tone is incredulous again.

A self-depreciating laugh leaves your lips involuntarily, the sound of it making you almost want to cringe.

"Would it be less embarrassing if I was?"

He's still just watching you, dissecting your words as if waiting for you to crack a smile and confess this was all some stupid joke—and the vulnerability of it aches like a stab to the gut.

"This is the reason you think you're broken?" Is what he goes with when he finally realizes you're being serious. "Because you haven’t orgasmed?"

The bluntness of it makes you flush, makes you wish you could sink into the floor. "I know it's not normal, okay—"

"It's not an abnormality, either," he asserts, with casualty. "You might just have a disconnect."

You blink, caught off guard—not just by his choice of words, but by how matter-of-fact he sounds, like this isn't the mortifying confession it feels like.

"A disconnect?"

"A disconnect," he repeats, looking you over, something clinical slipping into his eyes. "Between mind and body. And considering how loud your thoughts are—"

"Hey—" you snap, suddenly feeling a bit indignant, but he just continues on.

"—it's not surprising that you can't get out of your own head."

You open your mouth to argue, to tell him he's not a therapist, so what the hell does he know? But the certainty in his expression makes you pause. He doesn't look patronizing or condescending, just...assured. Like he knows exactly what he's talking about.

You hesitate, lips parting, a protest forming on your tongue. Before you can say anything, though, he raises a hand to stop you.

"Come here," he says, standing up from the couch.

You blink, trying to decipher what the hell he's implying—because if anything, the last thing that's going to make you less paranoid about intimacy is proximity.

"What?"

He just looks at you, making a motion with two fingers, beckoning you to stand.

"Don't ask questions. Just come here."

It's an order, and it makes your spine tingle in a way that's definitely not comfortable—but you get up from the floor, and move closer to him anyway, closing the distance between you with only a few steps until you're close enough to him that you can practically feel the heat that seems to come off him in waves.

It's weird—he's suddenly too much all at once—you're so much more aware of him being in front of you than you think you've ever been before and it does not help that he's just looking at you—as if studying you—blinking only once as he raises those same two fingers to your neck, resting them against the pulse point at your throat.

Your entire body tenses. His touch is far more gentle than you ever imagined it being, something disarming that makes your pulse beat faster against his fingers as a result—and because this is Tom, with all his smug and certainty—he gives you a look that tells you he can feel it before he slides his fingers up to rest on your forehead.

You scowl at the motion, but he clicks his tongue, the sound as condescending as it is amused.

"I told you, you're an overthinker." He murmurs, eyes dipping to your lips. "Too much noise."

You want to refute that—mostly because you're not overthinking, you can't be—he's just so unequivocally overwhelming—

"I'm not—"

You start, but he moves his fingers from your forehead and places them against your lips—

"Quiet." He scolds, and that makes something low in your stomach clench. "Your body knows what to do. You're just letting your thoughts get in the way."

You long to protest again, just for the sake of defiance—but then his fingers are against your collarbone, and that motion in your stomach becomes a bit more of a squirm—

"Your body is trying to tell you something," he whispers, watching each little hitch in your breath. "But you're too busy talking over it to hear what it's saying."

You realize—with a sort of horror that's laced with something a little more uncomfortable—that he's right. Your body is trying to say something. It's communicating through the unsteady force of your breaths, through the clench of your fists against your skirt—

Of course, he notices. He's noticing far too much.

"Relax," he murmurs, and now he's trailing those same two fingers in an unhurried path down your shoulder. You suddenly regret every decision that led to you wearing a T-shirt. "I'm not going to bite you."

Something about the way he says it makes you wish he wasn't quite so convincing—the familiar banter you long for gone with the sharp exhale that comes out of your mouth as his fingers encircle your wrist—

"Your pulse is racing," he says casually, far too casually for how much effort it's taking you not to scream. "Does that seem broken to you?"

Gods—you want to respond—you really, really do— but your thoughts flatline when you realize his touch has shifted. He's no longer just holding your wrist; he's guiding your hands to rest against his chest, and—

"There you go," he whispers, and the tone of it tells you he knows exactly what it is he's doing to you. "See? Your body's doing exactly what it's meant to do. You—" his fingers trail up your arms, and his voice gets lower. "—are not broken."

You swallow hard, acutely aware of your hands on his chest and the way your palms are clammy against the fabric of his shirt. He's shifting you now, deliberately crowding you, and it's only when you feel the edge of the couch press against the back of your calves that you realize—perhaps a second too late—exactly what it is he's doing.

You stumble back onto the leather, and he follows—crushing his lips to yours.

You gasp, startled, because despite everything you truly hadn't seen this coming. The kiss is messy, clumsy, and his hand finds the nape of your neck, tugging at your hair with just enough force to make it sting. And inevitably, when you gasp again, he takes it as an invitation to work his tongue into your mouth, other hand slipping under your shirt—trailing up your stomach.

You're trembling now, and he makes a low sound at the realization. Your brain is racing to catch up, and the irony of this isn't lost on you—he'd just claimed you weren't broken, but he might as well be destroying you himself.

He parts from your lips only to trail his own across your jaw—

"You're shaking," he murmurs with a smirk against your throat—as if he's taking immense pleasure in the fact—you hate how smug it makes him sound. "Do you want me to stop?"

You want to tell him he's being a bastard, but then his lips press to that spot on your neck—the one that makes your breath hitch and your pulse stutter—and you find yourself whimpering at the sensation.

"No," you breathe, and you'd be embarrassed by the pleading tone in your voice if you weren't so lost in the moment. "Don't stop."

He makes another low, satisfied noise at that.

"Good," he whispers. "No thinking. Just feel."

You swallow—throat dry. It's unfair how easily he's dismantling you with nothing but his mouth and hands. Unfair how he's leaving you breathless and unraveling while somehow making you feel seen in a way you can't explain, even with your eyes shut.

"Tom," you find yourself whimpering, and you aren't even sure what you're asking for—you just know you want more as his lips trail lower—as his fingers work to tug down your skirt. "Gods."

"Shh. Feel me," he murmurs, almost possessively, his lips brushing lower, grazing over your stomach, then your pelvis. "Let your body do the talking."

You've got your hands tangled in his hair before you even know what you're doing, and you hate the fact that you're pretty sure you'd melt into a puddle if he weren't holding you together.

"I feel you," you whimper as he kisses lower. "You're all I feel."

He makes another low sound at that, and you just know it's the response of ‘yeah, that’s right’—but then he's between your legs, panties shifted out of the way, and the first sweep of his tongue against your clit makes all coherent thought shift to static.

"Oh! God," you gasp, the word barely escaping before dissolving into a whimper when he does something with his tongue that makes your vision blur. "Tom—oh, fuck."

He just makes that smug, satisfied noise against you again before his tongue swirls over your clit and you find yourself almost cursing whatever deity made him so good at this, because it's not fair how quickly he reduced you to a whimpering, shaking mess beneath him and—

"Don't stop," you find yourself babbling, digging your nails into his scalp and knowing you look like a goddamn wreck as he makes a meal out of you—tongue lapping up your slick and swirling your clit before sealing his lips around it and forcing your back off the leather beneath it. "Please, don't stop, please—"

It's all you can manage to say. Your thighs are shaking now, and you're sure he's got you dripping all over his face with how soaked you are. He knows you're falling apart and he just keeps going— your brain ceasing function in favour of just focusing on how fucking close you are—how close you are to something you've never felt before in your life—and you're not even sure what you're begging for anymore but it's incoherent and loud—

"I need—" you whimper, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling just enough to make him groan against you. You don't know what you're asking for, but you know he has it. "I need—I need—“

"Let go," he murmurs against you, the roughness in it vibrating up into your belly. "I dare you."

There's still a little bit of you functioning on autopilot, just enough to tell you that when he murmurs those words—vibrations rattling up your cunt and into your chest—you're completely done for.

It’s merely a few seconds later that your high reaches its peak and he just keeps lapping as you shake apart beneath him with an intensity you've never felt before in your life—orgasm shredding you apart at the seams. Your thighs clamp around his face, your eyes squeezed shut, ears ringing so loud you barely register his low, muttered praises: "good girl," "so good," "there you go."

You’re fairly positive your legs will never be able to support you again when you finally come back down, feeling entirely like jelly as he pulls back, tongue flicking over his lips to clean off whatever's left of you.

And without thinking, you grab him and pull him up, crashing your lips against his in a messy, desperate kiss. He tastes like you, like him, like something you can't quite describe—and it makes everything feel intense and unbearably real all at once.

He gives you a moment, as if letting you recover, just languidly kissing you back—and you have to be honest with yourself and admit that this kind of makes you want to scream.

"A disconnect," he smirks against your mouth, the tone still smug. You manage a weak smack to his shoulder, though it does nothing to wipe the satisfaction off his face. "Still sure you're broken?"

You hate that he's right. Hate that he's managed to pull a reaction from you that you didn't think was possible. But as you sit there, shaky and spent, you know you can't deny the truth: no, you're not broken.

"Not broken." You whisper back. "You will be though, if you don't stop smirking at me like that."

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outtathisworld-imagines · 15 days ago

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Sweet ‘n’ Salty

——☀️——⚡️——☀️——⚡️——☀️——

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warning: Smut! MDNI 18+. Just pure filth tbh. Unprotected sex, Oral (M&F rec) There is a lot going on here. Pretty much porn without plot. It's got all your favs including a threesome (MMF), cum-swapping, Bob is a lil bit of a perv, fingering, dirty talk, double penetration, teasing, eating out, masterbation, lots of innuendos, suggestive language, and just yeah…you’ll find me in an cold shower. Mentions of other MCU characters. Not proofread.

A.N: no one asked for this but y’all got it. Two of my faves with a whole load of filth. Enjoy!

Please let me know what else you guys would like! I do have a few other fics on the back-burner (for now!) that I'll start to post soon and just let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in further works too ✨

——⚡️——☀️——⚡️——☀️——⚡️——

Bob couldn’t help but stare.

Sometimes he didn’t even realise he was doing it, but the dynamic you had with Bucky always made him look. Not quite friends. Not quite lovers. Not quite conventional.

The two of you were making dinner, he watched as your body was playfully trapped between him and the counter as you cut up some vegetables. He watched as Bucky tried to act grumpy at something you had said but the upward twitching of his lips said otherwise. He watched as you effortlessly danced around him while preparing a meal for everyone.

You playfully swatted Bucky’s hand away as he tried to pull you in, preventing you from reaching the oil. With Bucky’s strength, he succeeded, tugging on your dress and pulling him into his arms causing you to laugh. You scooped up some of the sauce with your finger and let him taste, his tongue tracing along the very tip and humming in approval.

“He’s watching,” he whispered in your ear while swaying you “Again.”

You lightly chuckled “Let me go or else no one is getting dinner.” He did, not willing to listen to the droning of Alexei and John about not getting their next meal. Bucky didn’t pry on why you avoided his worlds. Instead he snapped his head around, Bob suddenly realising he had been caught.

“You okay there, bud?” Bucky asked and you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. Not quite listening but not quite cooking either.

Bob frantically nodded “Y-yeah! Are you guys? Do you need any help?” He sputtered out.

You gave him your attention, looking right through Bucky. “I’m okay for now, thank you, Bob. If you could maybe get everyone to the table in about 30 minutes- that would be great!” You sent him a smile and got back to the task at hand. Bob left the two of you be, you suddenly felt Bucky’s presence behind you again. “What?”

“He’s like a deer in the headlights.” He snorted and you rolled your eyes, despite the fact he couldn’t see you do the action.

“Leave him alone. He’s…sweet.”

“Oh yeah, what does that make me?” Bucky chuckled and you smiled to yourself.

“Salty.” You turned around and pecked his lips. “A salty old man who yells at the kids in the street when they speed past us on their bike.”

“Hey! That guy almost knocked you down!” He defensively retorted back.

“Oh, my hero.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck and teased him in a mocking tone.

Bucky let out a low growl under his breath. “You’re screamin’ for a spankin’, baby.” You looked at him, brow raised as if it was saying that he shouldn’t threaten you with a good time. “I’m gonna set the table before I’m gonna have to bend you over it.” He squeezed your hip before going to the dining room.

You and Bucky did have a very unconventional relationship. You often heard murmurings from the team and others about you both.

‘What exactly are they?’

Was the number one question tossed around the watchtower. But you let them talk, you didn’t care and neither did he at whatever they said.

You slowly stirred the sauce in the pot in front of you before gasping at two hands being placed on your waist, forcibly dragging you from your wandering mind. You turned down the heat “You’re too stealthy, Barnes!” You lightly scolded him and he chuckled against your neck.

“Table is set.”

“Five minutes for dinner,” you said “Just finishing off the sauce.”

Bucky squeezed you a little tighter “Five minutes you say…” his suggestive tone sending a shiver down your spine in the hot kitchen. “Five minutes and you could have my sauce dripping down your throat.”

“God!” You playfully pushed him away “Always so needy for me.” You smirked and he trapped you between his own body and the counter yet again. Bucky took control of stirring the pot as your hands rested on the countertop and you pressed your ass against his crotch, causing him to lowly groan. His free hand came up to your chest quickly yanking down one side of your top and exposing your lace-clad breast. He began toying with your nipple, the lacy material causing a pleasant friction between your skin and his hand. “It’s almost ready…” you haphazardly warned as you leaned back into him again, the crown of your head against his shoulder.

Bucky’s lips met the nape of your neck, ignoring your words as you had earlier with his. His teeth sunk into the lobe of your ear and you stifled a moan as he continued to touch you and stir the sauce. Your hand trailed down his side and slipped under the waistband of his jeans just enough for you to snap the edge of his boxers. “Go on, baby. You know you want to. Dinner can wait a few minutes.” As tempting as that was, you were precise and knew you didn’t have time to take anything further. “Besides,” he continued as you mindlessly let your hand wander “We’re giving someone a good show.” You froze, Bucky continued. You already knew who it was, he didn’t even have to tell you.

“Dinner’s ready!” You yelled to everyone, including the person by the door watching who quickly scampered. You hastily moved, fixing your top before grabbing the pot from Bucky. “You absolute fucking slut- you did that on purpose.” You tried to sound angry but Bucky knew you better than that.

“You enjoyed that, huh.” He tried to stop you in your tracks but successfully dodged him. “Don’t tell me you haven’t missed it.” You shot him a pointed glare. “Don’t tell me you don’t want it.”

“I’m telling you to sit your ass at the dinner table before I sit it for you.” You passed him dishes to take through. He complied, but not forgetting your little chat that he would explore later. You let out a large huff and composed yourself before taking through the rest of dinner.

“Looks great Y/N! Thank you.” Ava smiled, taking a dish from your hands. You started to plate some things up from everyone, apologising as you squeezed between everyone to serve.

Bob glanced up as you bent down. “You want both?” You asked an innocent enough question, his mind traveled elsewhere.

“S-sorry?” He almost choked on his words. Looking at your chest and then a quick glance to Bucky, his mind replaying the scene he just witnessed moments ago.

“Do you want both?” You repeated “Carrots and potatoes?” His shoulders eased at your clarification of the question.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he nervously smiled, his eyes looking at the plate and then between you and Bucky. “I’ll do both.”

—•—

“What’s on your mind?” You asked, tracing your fingertip over Bucky’s chest as it continued to frantically rise and fall as he caught his composure after having his way with you later that same night.

“He loved watching us.” Your hand stopped and you looked up to him, beads of sweat making him glisten in the warm candle light. “I think we could-“

You stopped him “What makes you so sure he would? He gets nervous watching us hold hands never mind anything else.”

Bucky laughed “C’mon, wouldn’t you be flattered if you were asked?” You smacked his chest and then lay back down on it to hide your grin. “I can feel you smiling, Y/N.”

Caught.

“I’m guessing you miss it too then?” You asked and he hummed a yes. “It has been a little while.”

“God I miss those days where three of us would just fuck and end up in a sweaty pile.” He admitted and you bit down on your lip, still grinning. “I know how much you like to play with shiny new toys, and be played with, in the bedroom. Besides, wouldn’t be any different doing it with him.”

“It was different though.” You sat up, trying to reason with him, a pro and cons list forming between your two naked bodies. “Steve was different. Steve was happy and willing to. We really knew Steve.”

“And we knew Zemo?” He counter argued.

You blew a raspberry “Low blow. That’s a completely different comparison all together. He fucked anything that moved.” Bucky’s eyes never left yours. “And you knew how much I wanted that coat of his! God, I would have done anything for that.” You glanced over and saw it in your wardrobe. “He was such a slutty mess.” You lowly laughed, mainly to yourself.

“We all were that night.” Bucky added and sat up next to you. Brushing his fingers over your shoulder and arms. “Then how is it any different from the times with Nat? The three of us were super nervous then- mainly me and you because boy she was playing her cool well.”

Your eyes fell to his torso, a sad smile forming over your face at the mention of her name. “You know they were all different…” your voice never raised above a whisper. “They just…were.”

“Let’s at least test the waters with this, maybe see how he reacts to a soft-launch proposal? We drop some comments here and there, pop in a few of those moments we had in the kitchen, huh?” Bucky’s lips ghosted over your shoulders, softly kissing all your favourite spots that he came to know well over the many years you had known each other. They eventually reached your lips, his hand entwining with your hair and deepening the kiss. You smiled against his mouth as he pushed you back down onto the bed, indicating he was ready for round two with you. “You never know, Bob might actually want this.” He said running his hand up and down your waist before letting his lips roam the rest of your body, the soft kisses he pressed to your breasts made you smile. “How could he not want you…?”

You bit down on your bottom lip and cupped his cheek as he looked up to you. “I suppose…” you playfully gloated “And how could he not want you?” Bucky winked at your words. “But if you want me to fully get on board…” you spread your legs for him “You’re going to have to really convince me.”

—•—

You were enjoying some of the sunshine out on the balcony when a clearing throat caught your attention. You peaked out over your sunglasses. “Yes?”

“Can I squirt some white stuff on you?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes at his vulgar double entendre as he shook a bottle of sunscreen.

“Squirt away, Barnes.” You gave him a hint of satisfaction, especially since you knew a certain someone was in earshot. The second you stepped out in your bikini, Bobs eyes were glued to you. Bucky dropped his arm and shook the bottle almost suggestively at you fully knowing Bob would see a deeper meaning within it.

“Can’t wait to coat you, baby.” He said, voice loud enough to ensure Bob would hear. You turned your head to smirk.

“This is so mean, Buck,” you said quietly and then gasped loudly feeling a cold patch being sprayed over your stomach “YOU FUCKER! That’s cold!” You looked down, the streak of white looking beyond suggestible. Then you glanced over to Bob who was gawking. You decided to test the waters along with Bucky. “Rub me, Bucky.” His brow raised and his hand smoothed the sunscreen all over your stomach and torso.

“Roll over,” he asked and you did just that, feeling him straddling your thighs as he rubbed sunscreen slowly over your ass before giving it a playful spank and then moving to your back, unhooking your bikini top with ease. “He’s still watching…” he said in a sing-song voice. “He wants this.”

You snorted “One- we’ve barely even started. Two- we have no idea if he does or not yet. Give it a couple of days of this.” You told him “I mean he’s-” you turned to look at him “He’s not there?” Bucky’s head snapped around, you were right, he was gone. “Maybe it was too much.”

It was too much for Bob, so much that he had to go to his room and relive himself after the scene he had just witnessed.

A day later you were chilling in the living room, your legs draped over Bucky’s thighs as you read and he caught up with some tv. “Can’t believe you’re as old as this book, dude.” You mindlessly said aloud while reading the Hobbit, Bucky’s hand snapped the hem of your shorts in retaliation of your comment. His fingers continued to linger there.

“Oh sorry to disturb, I was just getting my sweatshirt.” Both of you looked up and locked onto Bob who looked like he was about to implode for imposing with his milkshake in hand.

You smiled softly at him “S’okay, you’re not disturbing me. Is he disturbing you, sweetie?” You asked Bucky in a sickly sweet voice.

“No, honey, not disturbing me either.” Your pet names made Bob swallow and nod hard.

He grabbed his sweatshirt from the chair near you both and you decided to pursue your mission a little further. “What flavour of milkshake do you have?” Bucky looked at you from the corner of his eye, you could feel his fingertips digging into your thigh.

“Vanilla.” Bob replied.

“Can I taste?”

Bob glanced between you, Bucky and the milkshake in his hand. “S-Sure…” he didn’t sound sure at all as he reached it out to you. He was naive to think you would take it from him but instead you placed your hand over his on the cup and parted your lips, your tongue reached the straw first and you drew out the motion of suggestively wrapping your lips over the top of the straw, looking up at Bob through your eyelashes as you did.

“Tastes so good,” you pulled back, emphasising licking your lips. “I love vanilla…”

Bucky smirked “Nothing vanilla about her though, Bobby.” He said under his breath and you bashfully swatted his words away.

“Ignore him, he’s just being naughty now.” You flippantly commented and Bob nervously laughed before walking away quickly. Your smile dropped the second he left, Bucky felt the force of a cushion you tossed at him. “This plan is shit. Why did I let you take charge with this?” You groaned.

“You love it when I’m in charge.” He brought your leg up to his mouth and kissed your knee.

“Calm your pants before you cream them,” a beat passed before you added with a mischievous smirk “Sargent Barnes.” A nod to his previous comment and massive kink of his. Bucky pounced on you, frantically kissing your cheeks before you pushed him away with a serious look your face. “He’s too nervous, Buck.”

“Everyone always is! It’s fine, we’ll keep working our magic on him.”

Bob returned to his room practically gasping for air. Mixed feelings swirling inside him like a piece of abstract art he couldn’t quite comprehend. It was confusing. It was thought-provoking. It was…exciting. He had no idea what to even think of you both, especially over the last few days. In his eyes you guys were such a sweet? Cute? Hot? Sexy? Couple…? Words were being tossed around in his head and he threw himself down on his bed yet again, pulling down his pants just enough and getting off to thought of you both.

Bucky was in the kitchen making you a drink when Bob walked in the next evening. He was cutting up limes and unknowingly entrancing Bob with his fingers as he exhibited his knife skills.

“Hey, Bob. Drink?” He asked and Bob shook his head no.

“I’m good for now, but thanks.”

“No worries, I’m on bartender duty tonight for Y/N.” He laughed to himself and Bob cracked a small, albeit nervous, smile. Bucky decided to use this time wisely. “When I made her this for the first time she was like putty in my hands.” He heard Bob gulp as he sliced through the fruit. “You probably don’t want to hear this…” he nonchalantly added.

“No, no, no!” Bob quickly added, mentally scolding himself for sounding eager. Bucky was trying to hide his grin. “I mean, I don’t mind.”

Bucky decided to continue as he made your drink. “She was so goddamn soft, every inch of her was like I was in a dream.” He reminisced as he shook up the cocktail shaker. “You ever had someone like that Bob? Because man if you do- or if you have the opportunity- don’t pass that up.”

“I see,” he added, those feelings still swirling inside him as Bucky decorated your glass.

“She likes it.” He said “The rim.”

“I’m sorry?!” Bob choked out at another one of Bucky’s double entendres.

He pointed to the glass as if it were obvious, pouring the liquid into it before handing it over to the man who was clearly too pure for the world. “The salt rim on the glass. Where the hell is your head?”

“I do like head and a salty rim,” you sauntered in cracking a joke, Bob almost cracked the glass in his hand at the innuendo. “Is this my marg? Thank you!”

“No-no problem!”

“I hope he isn’t annoying you. He can be a pain in the ass.” You took a sip.

“Quite literally on my birthday! And some special occasions if I’m lucky.” You nudged Bucky with your elbow before the both of you looked at Bob with a tight smile.

A mildly painful silence passed. “You guys are kinda…” Bob began trying to find the right words, looking between you both. “Interesting.” Before he could elaborate, John called on him to help with something.

Bucky turned to you “He didn’t say no!” He tried to sound promising.

“Yeah because he said ‘interesting’. What does that even mean?” You took a longer sip. “Maybe threesomes just aren’t his thing.”

“I never said they weren’t.”

Your heads snapped to the door so fast you were almost convinced they would have fallen off. There he was standing in the doorway twiddling with his fingers. “You coulda just asked…”

“It’s not something you often drop into casual conversation to be fair,” Bucky spoke for you both, he could tell you were still frozen in surprise. “It can be a little complicated.”

Bob lowly laughed “Have you seen me? I’m beyond complicated.” A silence filled the room again. “Y/N?” He called out for you “You’re pretty quiet. You okay?”

You nodded before asking the question you didn’t realise how desperate you were to ask until now. “You wanna be our third?”

Bobs smile said yes but he replied “Give me a bit to think about it if that’s okay. It’s not something I’ve often- or rather ever- been asked. I wanna relish in this moment.” He walked away leaving both you and Bucky in the kitchen.

“See!” Bucky finally spoke up “He didn’t say no!”

—•—

An excitement was rushing in both yours and Bucky’s veins. It was a thrill neither of you had in a while but you were happy for your proposal to be considered by Bob.

The three of you briefly shared looks every now and then throughout the watchtower over the few days that passed as he had the decision playing on his mind. By the end of the week you were sitting late one night in the living room with a movie on when footsteps approached. “Hi,” you breathed out and turned off the tv.

Bob sat beside you, is body hunched over and his elbows resting on his knees, eyes forward when he asked. “Do you love each other?”

You blinked, not a question you had considered he would ask. “Very much,” you replied. “But from the outside looking in, I can understand why our love would look different.”

“What is he to you? Like is he your boyfriend?”

A question you had heard so many times. “He’s my Bucky. And I’m his Y/N. That’s the way it’s always been, and will always be.”

He sat up straight, giving you his full attention. “Are you happy with that?”

“I am. We love that we are free- with each other and sometimes others. We have always been very open, lots of talking, lots of understanding. That’s why it’s love, but it’s our own love. Others don’t have to understand and we are okay with that.” You explained and Bob nodded his timidly, you reached across and placed your hand over the top of his. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It’s a big ask.”

Bob barely heard a word you said, the electricity from your hand on his sent a shockwave through his body. He barely even heard another set of footsteps walk into the room. “Everything okay?” Bucky asked in nothing but a pair of boxers causing the pair of you to go wide-eyed at the sight. “I was just seeing if you were coming to bed.” He was telling you but looking at Bob.

You let out a sigh that wasn’t quite tired but not quite awake either. “Yeah, I’m on my way. We were just having a chat.” Bucky raised a brow, intrigued to what was discussed. “Just a good chat, Bob is still thinkin-“

“I’d love to go to bed too.”

His words created a new tension in the room. Your own hand clutching his ever so slightly tighter as Bucky’s jaw tensed. Bob looked to you, then to Bucky and then to your hand. “Incase you didn’t hear me…I’d love to go to bed too. With you both.”

“Now?” Bucky directly asked, you were stunned into silence.

Bob tugged on your fingers to capture your attention “I’m not very tired right now, are you…?” A wide smile spread across your face as you looked at the two men.

“I’m not tired.”

Another silence filled the room before Bucky’s dark chuckle broke it. “Jesus, Bob just kiss her already. It’s okay.” He stalled and his head staggered. You smirked and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on his lips. The touch instantly melted away Bobs nerves and he was glad he wasn’t the one to start- mainly because he had no idea where to. He deeply sighed as you took charged and deepened the kiss. Bucky walked forward and sat behind Bob on the sofa before whispering in his ear “She likes when you bite her lips,” throwing gentle guidance his way as he took it on board and sank his teeth into your bottom lip, causing you to gasp.

Bucky’s hands roamed over Bob’s shoulders as he bit on your lip again “Good boy,” you murmured almost unknowingly, completely letting yourself go already. The praise caused Bob to push you forward with his body, not breaking the contact of your lisp against his. Bucky laid on top knowing you already had Bob wrapped around your little finger.

Bobs head moved and was inches away from Bucky’s “Can I try?” He asked, eyes flickering between Bucky’s eyes and his lips.

“Try what?” He asked and Bob was suddenly starting to understand the dynamic the pair of you had more.

“Can I try everything.” He replied and you let out a soft giggle.

“We don’t have do to everything tonight yanno…If you like it, we can do this as often as you want to.” You assured and watched as Bob’s nerves began to melt away as his lips captured Bucky’s. The two boys could hear your deep breathing and decided not to leave you out. Their heads moving to yours and quickly turning into messy, sloppy kisses between the three of you. As Bob’s and Bucky’s tongues danced across your own you could taste how different Bob was. He very much as sweet whereas Bucky was salty, being reminded of your conversation in the kitchen with him.

“We should move this before someone walks in,” Bucky pulled back with flush, kiss-stained lips. “Besides Bob, wouldn’t you rather have Y/N naked right about now because I sure would.”

He smirked against your skin as you said “Your wish is my command.” The two boys helped you up and then practically ran you down the hall to the room you and Bucky shared. Bob caught brief glimpses of it before he was being kissed by you both again. Parts of you and him scattered throughout. He could see the influence with Bucky from his bike helmet and leather jacket, you from the piles of books and fresh flowers. You quickly stripped and headed to the bed, the two boys still entangled in a kiss.

You cleared your throat deliberately, Bucky looking at you with a proud smirk while Bob’s jaw dropped at the sight of your perfect naked form. “A wish comes true.” He breathed out and reached out for you. Bucky gently pushed him forward.

“Why don’t you get her warmed up for me, Bob,” he suggested taking a seat in the corner “Show us what you can do…”

“He loves to watch,” you added as Bob approached you, his knees finding the edge of the bed first before practically falling in front of you. “Play with me as much as you want.” Bob began frantically kissing you and without a beat passing plunged two fingers into your hot, wet pussy. “Oh GOD!” You yelped and Bucky darkly laughed.

“That’s it Bob, don’t show her much mercy because she’ll do the same to you. Go fucking for it.” Bucky palmed himself at the sight of you, how pretty you looked under another man. God how he missed this. He couldn’t help himself and took off his boxers, jacking himself off at the sight of you being mercilessly fingered by Bob.

Bob was in a sinful haze, his chest about to burst with the exhilaration flowing through his veins. “Fuck, you’re both so fucking hot.” He swiftly pulled his fingers out and tasted you on them, bringing them close to your face so you could too. Bob almost orgasming at the sight of you and of Bucky too. “I wanna fuck you so bad,” he blubberingly admitted causing you to let out a sweet laugh.

“Don’t worry, Bobby, we will have time for that. We don’t want your first time to be rushed, do we now sweetie?” You called out to Bucky you moaned in approval of your words. “You want to eat me out, cutie?” Bob went weak at the knees over your honeyed tone asking a filthy question. He scooted down and plunged mouth first straight into your pussy, really showing you that he couldn’t wait. “Oh, god! Bob! That’s so, so good.” You groaned, back arching as you looked out to Bucky who was almost cumming on the chair at the sight. You reached out for him silently with your arm and he came over to you both in the bed, his knees resting by your head as you opened wide for him and let him fuck your mouth.

Bob looked at the sight, moaning into your wet folds and causing a delightful tingling through your whole body which transferred onto Bucky. “That pussy is the gates to heaven.” Bob agreed with another hum. “Ain’t she a dream, Bob.” Bucky said “A fucking gorgeous dream. The two of you are.” He admitted, the praise making Bob burry further between your thighs. Bucky played with your nipples as you continued to suck him off. Bob pulled back, causing you to lowly groan against Bucky’s cock.

“Sorry, beautiful, I’m wearing too many clothes for this.” He admitted and stood back.

“Let us help you take them off.” Bucky said, pulling himself away from your warm mouth. You shakily stood up and removed his belt while Bucky removed his top, kissing his chest while doing so.

“You can have the fun part, baby.” Bucky watched as you fell to your knees and undid the button of his jeans pulling them down and leaving him in his boxers before you hooked your fingers around those and pulled them down. Bob’s cock sprang free, yours and Bucky’s jaw dropped.

“Holy shit.” You gawked at the sight of him.

“I agree. Where have you been hiding that?”

Bob blushed at the words being laid upon him as he stepped out of his clothes around his ankles. Your lips wrapped around the head of his cock as you slowly slid him into your mouth, with each millisecond passing, Bobs moans became louder and Bucky kissed him in order to stifle him a little. One of Bob’s hands reached your head while the other tangled with Bucky’s hair. “Oh fuck-fuck-fuck!” He moaned against Bucky’s lips. “Is she always this good?”

Bucky smirked “Always.”

Bobs hips jolted forward as you gagged on his length, the sound making the two men feral. Your mouth then moved to Bucky’s cock and he groaned, involuntary biting into Bobs neck, making him yelp with pleasure, before kissing the same spot. “Doing such a good job, Y/N.” Bob whimpered out. “Fucking hell, I’m gonna cum again just waiting the two of you like this.”

You stopped and pulled back a little. “Again?” You questioned, Bucky also raising a brow.

Bob bashfully smirked “You don’t think I got myself off at the sight of you two? Especially after seeing you in the kitchen or when you were out on the balcony…” you and Bucky wickedly smirked.

“Did you want that to be me cumming all over Y/N’s chest that day?” He peppered a kiss over his lips and cheeks as you stood up and did the same.

“Did you want that to be you cumming all over my chest…?” Bob gulped at your words, suddenly feeling like a gazelle between two lions. You turned your head a little to face Bucky, roaming your hands over his body. “Maybe we should put him out of his misery, baby. He’s been such a good boy. Don’t you think he deserves to cum?”

Bucky mocked a pondering expression. “Hmm…I dunno. We wouldn’t want it to be over too quickly…”

Bob let out a gruff growl “Please, god, I’ll be so good for you both. We can fuck all the time, always, so much, just please let me fucking cum in or on or both on the pair of you already!” He burst causing you and Bucky to widely smile at his wild outburst. A far cry from the sweet, timid Bob you both thought you knew.

You shared a look with Bucky “He has been so good so far. We should let him.” You said and Bob grinned.

“Fine, since it’s the first time and you’re so excited. But next time, we’re going to be playing with you a lot longer…” he warned. “You can do the honours tonight,” he said moving to the bed again “I’ll cum in her mouth, you can cum in her pussy. Let’s fill up those holes of hers with us.”

The three of you were on the bed, mouths and hands roaming every inch of someone’s body, not knowing we’re one limb started and the other ended. Bucky was the one who grabbed onto Bob’s cock, thrusting it in his hand just enough to make him moan into your mouth. “Fuck me, both of you fuck me. Ruin me.” You begged. “Don’t just cum in the one place, I want it all.” Bucky and Bob shared a glance and a smirk that silently created a plan.

Bucky thrust his cock into your mouth as Bob took a deep breath and sunk his cock deep into your dripping pussy. Both boys let out a ‘fuck’ in unison under their breaths as you lay on the bed and let them both fuck you in harmony. Bucky was reaching his climax first, gripping onto the bed frame and Bobs shoulder. “Gonna cum, fuck you’re both so fucking sexy.” With a groan, his hips bucked and a shot of hot cum ran down your throat, not before he pulled back and finished across your chest.

You began to come undone on Bobs hard cock, an orgasm washing over you as you yelled out both thier names like you were chanting life-altering scripture. Bob burst at the sight, screaming, cursing and moaning as he came inside you, finding the strength to pull out in enough time to also finish off of your chest and stomach, both boys leaving white shiny ribbons across your rapidly rising and falling torso.

The two boys licked your chest clean before sharing a kiss and then kissing you, letting the cum on their tongues drip onto your own, allowing the sweet and salty taste of three of you to dance over your tastebuds. Bob collapsed beside you, latching onto your side.

Bucky kissed your forehead as he grabbed you a washcloth, beginning his gentle aftercare of cleaning you up, even cleaning up Bob with a gentle smile on his face before joining the two of you in bed again one he has done that. You were sandwiched in between the two boys, a level of bliss you had been unfamiliar with for a while.

Bob had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face as he drifted off to sleep, enduring the afterglow of an intense new high, one he had never experienced before.

“Holy shit. That was fucking incredible. You two are fucking incredible. I can’t wait to do more. I can’t wait to try everything.” He couldn’t help but blissfully chuckle. You and Bucky shared a tired smile. “Wish you guys had asked me sooner.”

—•—

You were dishing out dinner a few days later, the two boys looking at you, starving.

But not for the meal you had prepared.

The rest of the team were blissfully unaware, chatting amongst themselves as you squeezed yourself between Bucky and Bob, your new favourite place to be. “Both?” You asked Bob, again talking about the food on the platter you were holding.

He subtly licked his lips, his lust-blown pupils darting between you and Bucky.

“Both.”

—•—

PART 2

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