#grumpy/sunshine

[drabblesandsnippets]

Sunshine - Part 1

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 5

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Plus-size female character (unnamed)

Prompt: “We’re…” | [Friends with Benefits | Exes | Enemies to Lovers] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (2k) Series Masterlist Ramblings of the first few months of having Bucky as a roommate. In this AU, Bucky owns a photography business.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Slow burn. Grumpy/Sunshine Trope. Happy Bucky (is that a warning?) - he's a photographer in this AU. Female character’s nickname is Sunshine. Mention of anxiety and insecurities - she’s also no-contact with her family (there’s trauma that will be mentioned later in the series). Very brief mention of porn. Brief mention of masturbation.

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The first time she met Bucky, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She was already desperate to find someone after her last roommate had left her in a lurch, suddenly moving out of state. After several weeks of searching, her list of requirements had been narrowed down to two things - pay rent on time, and don’t try to kill her in her sleep.

Through a network of friends and acquaintances, Bucky’s name came up - a previous coworker’s best friend who had been looking for a place and seemed to meet her criteria. She wasn’t exactly excited about living with a man, but Bucky came with great references and bringing his sister to their first meeting definitely earned him points.

Not that she had much of a choice, given her limited options, but she felt fairly confident about Bucky. Even with his overly-positive demeanor and extroverted nature - a glaring contrast to her shy, anxious, introverted personality - they got along almost instantly. 

While usually uncomfortable with strangers, Bucky managed to put her at ease, more than happy to keep the conversation going without ever making her feel like she was being put on the spot. Their differences seemed to compliment each other - she’s a homebody and he enjoys going out. They’d rarely cross paths.

It was perfect.

-------------------

Two days after Bucky moved in, she woke up to him singing. 

To his credit, he didn’t actually wake her up with the singing - it was just a lot to take in at 7 o’clock on a Monday morning. A 30-something year-old-man singing and dancing in her - their - kitchen while he made coffee.

Bucky had every right to be there, but it didn’t stop her from getting secretly irritated. How could he have that much energy so early in the morning? She could barely open her eyes and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed. He looked like he was ready to tackle whatever the day brought.

He didn’t even take offense when she couldn’t muster more than a couple words and grunts for responses. He just continued on with his singing, and when she returned from her shower, there was a thermos of coffee waiting for her.

It was unexpected.

-------------------

It quickly became a routine for him. Whether he had a late night out, or an early morning himself, Bucky would leave her coffee. And, after the first couple of weeks, it became lunch too.

She wasn’t used to people doing things for her - even her friends knew not to offer because it made her uncomfortable - but no matter how much she tried to resist, Bucky always had an answer.

“I was already fixing some for myself,” he had told her with an easy-going smile. He enjoyed cooking, and this way none of it would go to waste.

Bucky even bought her an insulated bag for the days she had to go into the office, with the explanation, “It was a buy-one-get-one thing.” 

If it were any other man, she might think there was some sort of ulterior motive. But, it quickly became clear that this was just who Bucky was. A kind, considerate person who enjoyed life to the fullest and made it his mission to bring as much happiness as possible to the people around him.

It was exhausting.

-------------------

It’s not that she wasn’t a happy person. She just enjoyed her quiet solitude after a life of hardship and strife, and sometimes it was hard to watch Bucky be so carefree.

He was close with his family, whereas she had no relationship whatsoever with hers. He spent most nights out with his friends, and even though she had a couple of good friends, it mostly consisted of texts and sporadic get-togethers. 

She wasn’t jealous, or complaining about her own life, it was just a lot to take sometimes. Not only Bucky’s constant positivity, but that nothing ever seemed to bother him. When things would go wrong, he refused to let it get to him, instead deciding to see the silver lining in everything. 

If he came home drenched because it started raining during his walk, he’d still have a smile on his face. He’d talk about how he loved the smell of the rain, and how much the plants needed it.

A friend canceling at the last minute was just a sign that he was supposed to be doing something else. Like, cook her dinner, or work on his business.

If a client flaked or asked to reschedule a photo shoot, he’d take the opportunity to send them a card or edible arrangement, as if the scheduling conflict was his fault.

When she accidentally spilled a drink on the new rug he bought, he made a joke about finally getting to try out the stain remover tool he bought on a whim.

Nothing seemed to faze him. 

It was irritating. 

-------------------

Bucky’s nickname for her started about a month after he moved in. After an unplanned late night of binge watching a new show together, they both had an early morning. She, of course, woke to him doing his normal song and dance in the kitchen.

Due to no fault of his own, she found it extra frustrating that morning - probably because her period was about to start - and she was unable to hide her mood. When he was nice enough to ask if he could fix her breakfast, all he got in response was a slow blink and a slight shake of her head before she left to take a shower.

Bucky, of course, took it all in stride, finding her hatred of mornings amusing. It made him try even harder to get her to see the beauty in watching the world wake up, much to her chagrin. 

And the next morning, she found a new travel mug waiting for her on the counter, the words “Good Morning Sunshine” etched across the front.

Ever since, it’s been nothing but that.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” he’d call out as he passed by her closed bedroom door while her alarm blared in her ear. She’d groan and ignore the smile that threatened to grow on her face.

On the mornings he’d be gone before she was awake, he’d come home later with a, “Heya Sunshine, you give anyone hell today?” They both knew that no matter how much people annoyed her, she was too shy and self-conscious to ever tell anyone off, but it still made her laugh and roll her eyes.

Every night would end the same way. Bucky telling her, “Goodnight Sunshine, try not to stay up too late.” She was a night owl and Bucky was a - well, essentially, an every-hour-of-the-day kind of person. No matter what time of day it was, he’d always have the energy to have a good attitude.

It was unnerving. 

-------------------

After several months of living with Bucky, she still wasn’t used to it, but at least there was no longer any part of her that thought it was an act. 

Bucky was genuine, and he was nothing but consistent - not just with how laidback and happy he always was, but as a roommate too. Paying his rent on time. Offering to buy groceries for both of them. Cleaning up after himself (even her, sometimes). Pitching in with the chores. Giving her space. 

While she still found herself occasionally irritated by his positive demeanor, she couldn’t deny that it had started to slowly rub off on her. 

One morning she found herself humming a song while she was drinking her first cup of coffee, even before her morning shower. She hadn’t even noticed she was doing it until Bucky started humming along with her, and it immediately made her groan, accompanied by an exaggerated eye roll.

“What are you doing to me?”

With a soft laugh and a shake of his head, Bucky told her, “I’m just along for the ride, Sunshine.” As if he wasn’t responsible for making her subconsciously try to see the good in things after a lifetime of waiting for the next shoe to drop.

It was confusing.

-------------------

She didn’t really have anything to complain about. She’d spent most of her life with roommates, sharing her space with others - even people she didn’t really get along with - so if her only issue with Bucky was his boundless energy and enthusiasm, she was doing pretty well. 

He rarely even had people over, telling her more than once he preferred to go out. It wasn’t immediately clear if he was just telling her that to assuage any guilt she might feel about being uncomfortable with having other people in her home, but it was easy to accept his explanation.

Despite his exuberant personality, it never felt like he was blowing smoke up anyone’s ass. If he didn’t like something, he never seemed to lie about it. He just managed to spin it into a positive, making the other person still feel comfortable with their opinion. He was unlike anyone she’d ever met.

It still took her some time to feel comfortable letting her guard down around him, to really let him see the person she was underneath all the masks she felt like she had to wear with others. There were parts of herself that she still hadn’t been ready to share with him, but she didn’t really mind when he’d stay in to spend the evening with her.

They were friends, and soon the invitations started. 

“A few of us are hanging out at Steve’s, wanna come?”

“Heya Sunshine, you feel up to a movie night at Sam’s?”

“We’re doing a casual dinner thing at Nat’s, everyone’s been asking about you.”

She had yet to accept any of the offers, but as the weeks went by, it was hard to pretend she wasn’t at least a little curious. Bucky spent so much time with his friends and she couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to spend time with him outside of their apartment.

Especially after the things she gleaned about him from his friends, during the brief encounters she’d had when they stopped by. Like when Steve laughed after she made an offhand comment about Bucky never getting mad. “That’s because you’ve never given him a reason to be mad.” She had been hoping for an example, but the conversation got cut short.

There was also that time when Sam made a joke about Bucky’s dating habits. “You go any longer and you’re going to forget how it all works.” From what Bucky had already shared with her, he got out of a relationship last year and now he was more interested in focusing on his friends, his family, and his career. 

It wasn’t lost on her how attractive Bucky was, but it also wasn’t something she gave much thought to. They were roommates, and friends, and it would be absurd to think about him in any other way. 

Even if she did accidentally overhear him in the shower the other day. She had come home early and just as she walked by the bathroom door, she very clearly heard him moaning. For the briefest of seconds, she had felt frozen in place, but after hearing him again, she quickly went to her room, ignoring her racing heart and flushed skin.

It turned into days of pretending she never heard anything, days of pretending that it didn’t make her think about other things. Like what he had been imagining. Or, what kind of porn he might watch. Or, what kind of lover he’d be. 

It was ridiculous.

-------------------

Since the moment Bucky met her, he’d felt an undeniable pull. There had been something about her that called out to him. That made him want to get to know her, to help her, to do whatever he could to bring happiness to her life.

Unbeknownst to her, at the time he learned she needed a roommate, he had been crashing in a friend’s spare bedroom for free. There had been no intention to move, but he couldn’t stand the idea of her being stuck with someone that might take advantage of her situation.

Besides, his business had been going well and he could more than afford the rent. It just made sense for him to move in with her. 

Bucky knew he wasn’t the perfect roommate by any means, but he did everything he could to make her feel like it was still her home too. There wasn’t anything about her that he wanted to change, he just wanted to bring some positivity to her life.

The coffees, and the lunches, and the dinners were all a part of that. As were the Netflix marathons and late night conversations they started to share. Becoming friends with her had always been a goal of his, and it had never been about more than that.

It never even mattered that he thought she was attractive because he’d never let his eyes linger or his thoughts wander. They were friends, and all he wanted was for her to be a part of his life, including becoming friends with his friends.

Somewhere along the way though, something changed. The attraction he had for her started to grow and he found himself having to resist the urge to smell her hair when they’d sit on the couch to watch TV.

He started having to force himself not to look her way when she forgot her robe and had to rush from the bathroom to her bedroom wrapped in just a towel that barely covered her luscious curves. 

The times at night when she’d be alone in her room with music playing, he’d lock himself in his own room and workout, trying not to imagine her touching herself and the sounds she might make.

As hard as Bucky fought it, not wanting to ever do anything to make her feel uncomfortable in her own home, he eventually convinced himself that it would be better to lean into it. To allow himself to think about her, to fantasize about her, as long as he kept his eyes and his hands to himself, he’d eventually get over it and she’d never have to know.

She’d never have to know that he’d spend his walks thinking about what turned her on.

She’d never have to know that he started taking longer showers so he could fantasize about what she might taste like.

She’d never have to know that he ended every night the same way, fucking his hand while he imagined it was her. 

It was wishful thinking.

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Series Masterlist | Next Part

Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[hiyashortking]

You Have an Epic Crush on Lucifer and There’s Only One Bed

Disclaimers and credit: read this post before reading any of my content, please. This is for the belated kinktober 1st prompt of handjob, even though not a single handjob will be performed.

Summary?: Along with the delicious only one bed trope and forced proximity, I also tried to go for a grumpy/sunshine in which you’re the tsundere and Lucifer’s got the soul of a golden retriever.

Since the hotel was off and running at a steady pace, Charlie decided to send some of you out campaigning. In an effort to protect yourself, your friends, and the other residents, you made a suggestion over a private dinner with Charlie and Vaggie, for Charlie to ask for her father’s assistance. Your reasoning was he would have the most influence over the inhabitants of Hell. Charlie was so impressed by and happy with this idea that you couldn’t turn her down when she signed you up to be his assistant and keep him on track.

So now you were travelling throughout Hell with the King Himself.

You were nervous. Any time you’d spent near the King before this, you did your best to be unlikable or to flee. He was fucking intimidating. You didn’t want him to have any awareness of your existence. Somehow you ended up making him laugh or getting pulled into conversations with him, so it was usually best to avoid him altogether.

But after a few weeks travelling with him you found the being much less scary. As enchanting and imaginative as he could be, he could also be clumsy with his words or childish with his reactions. And he seemed to genuinely enjoy your snark, and sometimes even your downright rudeness towards him. At times it felt like he could see right through your charade of pretending you didn’t like him.

So when the dreaded moment came, you were mostly okay. It was a cliché, but you were certain this was going to happen. At one of the places you’d be staying, they would run out of rooms or beds and you would have to share. At this establishment, they gave their best suite to The King, but there wouldn’t be a room available for you. And their best suite only had one bed.

aasdefrgghjkryukegwef

You may have seen it coming, but it still felt so fucking unbelievable.

“That’s just fine, we will share,” The King pat your shoulder gently in front of the concierge when you’d received the bad news.

Once you were in the suite together, you noticed there would be plenty of other places to rest. There were settees and chaises, and a rug so fluffy it could double as a bed.

“I’ll sleep out here, Your Majesty,” you told him, avoiding even looking in the direction of the bedroom.

“Nonsense! I would not be able to sleep knowing you are out here suffering.” You loved how dramatic he was. Everything was so intense with him. Every inconvenience experienced as the end of existence. He was a diva on his best day!

You were absolutely certain there was not one inch of this room where you could possibly suffer, but didn’t want to debate with him. You’d already learned during your travels that he could be quite stubborn when he wanted.

“Then we will share,” you told him, and rummaged through your belongings for pajamas to wear. You typically slept in your undies, but were savvy enough to predict a night like tonight. You brought your most severe nightclothes that felt scratchy to the touch, a two piece of long pants and a button-down shirt with long sleeves. You were doing everything in your power not to be seen as a sexual being or even a being at all by His Majesty.

Because the truth was you had the biggest fucking crush on him. All the fucking feelings. You were falling in love with that goofball and you squirmed against a pillow every night of this fucking campaign, going fucking crazy over the knowledge that he was just a few doors away from you. There was no way you could survive a night sharing a bed with him. You were going to double-die from the overpowering lust, if you were able to sleep through it at all.

“Would you like to bathe first?” he asked you, always the gentleman.

“Yes, if that’s okay,” maybe if you made yourself come in the shower, you’d be able to fall asleep before he came back from his, and before you’d know it it would be the morning and you would have survived the night with ease!

“Of course, honey,” he said to you.

He called you all sorts of pretty terms. Sweetheart, sweetie, sweet pea, sweetness. Angel, precious, darling. Once or twice even a cherub, dollface, and baby slipped out. There was a time when he called you beautiful that you played on repeat in your head for days. But if you allowed yourself to believe he meant any of these words, you were certain it would break your undead heart.

The pressure in the shower was helpful. You adjusted the setting on the showerhead so the water hit your clit with ferocity. The power startled you and you let out a yelp.

“Everything okay, sweet pea?” you heard him through the door, which only made your cunt more desperate.

“Yes, just spooked myself with the temperature settings.”

“Let me know if you need any help~,” he sang the end of his sentence.

Help? The motherfucker. You were already naked, wet, warm, and trying to come. You prayed to him to keep talking. You felt embarrassed by how badly you wanted to come hearing his voice.

“I- don’t need any help,” you quivered into your other hand. Being around him all day was enough foreplay that you were ready. You knew you could come from the showerhead alone, but your cunt was throbbing inside and you wanted him so badly. You slid your ring and middle finger into yourself and tried not to let your knees buckle.

“Are you sure? You sound very uncomfortable~,” he sung the last word in his angelic voice.

You came quickly, listening to the melody.

“I’m fine! Go away!” you feigned annoyance and changed the temperature to cold as fuck to punish yourself for being so fucking thirsty for this being.

After actually bathing and toweling off, and when you felt like you could function again, you finally stepped out of the restroom. He was sitting in a hotel robe on a settee in the main room, his legs crossed poshly. His body skewed slightly to the side, as he had one arm draped around the back of the settee. He held a remote control in his hand and you could swear his thumb was gently fondling the buttons as he surfed through the television channels.

He flashed you his enormous grin and you hoped he didn’t notice you forgot how to breathe.

“All yours, my liege,” you tried to sound tired to hide your swooning. Who gave him the right to be so fucking hot?

He turned off the TV and jumped up from his seat. “I hope you left it nice and steamy in there for me!” Was he teasing? Or just talking? You could never tell. You wouldn’t dream of considering it flirting.

“Nope,” you totally-not-flirted back. “I made it cold and clammy just how you like it.”

He chuckled before closing the door.

You immediately jumped into the king-sized bed, and tried not to giggle at how your king’s size wasn’t king-sized, but this horrible thought led you to thinking about your king’s other size, and so you covered your face with a pillow and tried not to whine.

You were driving him fucking wild.

Though it was easy for him to want to fulfill any of Charlie’s requests, when she told him you would be accompanying him on this campaign, his tail popped out and wagged wildly in response. Good thing she asked him over the phone!

The eternal romantic with abandonment issues, Lucifer attached to one being at a time. Ever since your first conversation during which you’d made him laugh several times with your snark and genuinely piqued his interest by some of your ideas, his fate was sealed. After he liked speaking with you, he started admiring your body too. Your mesmerizing eyes and pouty mouth. Your hips that you mindlessly bumped into him and others, as if you had no concept of where your hips ended and the rest of Hell began. He even liked how you feigned disinterest, thinking he couldn’t see the way he made you blush, the way your undead heart would race when he charmed you, and the way you inhaled his smell when he was close enough. He tried his best not to toy with you or let you know he was aware of your affections. He wanted to give you the time to come to him on your own. After all, y’all had all the time in Hell …

As smart as you were, you seemed to have forgotten that he could portal or fly the both of you anywhere in seconds. You seemed not to have clocked how instead of doing that, he choose to stay in various hotels with you, from the luxurious to the quaint.

As patient as he was, this was the night he had been waiting for. He thought surely you would confess your feelings if you found yourself in forced proximity. He’d read enough romance novels to know tonight’s setting was perfect for a first fuck. He would have even settled for a kiss- okay, no, he would not have. He would have begged for more and would have had to excuse himself into another territory completely if you turned him down. But surely it would not come to that, he thought. He heard you coming in the shower while he spoke to you! Surely you would not be able to keep your hands off of him tonight!

Wanting not to waste time, he bathed with urgency, toweled off, slid on a pair of boxer briefs for the annoying appropriateness of it, and pulled on the hotel robe.

But when he came into the bedroom, it was too late. You were sleeping sweetly, your breathing even and your mouth open. You hugged a pillow in your arms and one between your legs, and you looked so precious and comfortable.

He actually felt angry! How had he managed to fuck up this perfect scenario?!

With as quiet a groan as he could suppress, he tossed the robe to a nearby chair, lied down on the other side of the bed, and turned off the light.

He tried not to notice your luscious ass in his periphery, his cock already straining against his briefs.

He turned to rest on his side in your direction, sighing softly and deciding he could not wait anymore. Once you returned to the Hazbin, he would tell you how he felt about you. Or maybe he would plan a dinner this week, to set the mood. Or maybe he would just blurt it out tomorrow morning over breakfast. Or maybe-

You shifted in your sleep from lying on your side to being on your back. One of your arms fell to the middle of the bed, your palm facing up, only inches from his cock.

Lucifer, you disgusting creep, you absolute degenerate, do not even think for a moment about violating this precious angel’s hand, he scolded himself.

Oh, but you could make it seem so innocent, another part of him retorted. You could just slide it in so gently, and just leave it there. No one would get hurt. They wouldn’t even notice. They’re sleeping so soundly.

Hating himself, he abruptly jumped from the bed and began to stomp back over to the other part of the suite.

“Luci-” you mumbled.

He stopped by your side and whispered, allowing himself to gently caress your head. “Ssshhh, I’m sorry for being noisy, go back to sleep, beautiful.”

You reached out and held his hand. “Where are you going?”

“I unfortunately can’t share a bed with you, my darling,” he admitted his disappointment. “I find you far too attractive and I can’t fall asleep.”

You scowled a bit and started opening your eyes. “What?” you asked him.

He sighed. “Nothing, sugar. Please, sleep sweetly,” he leaned down to kiss your cheek.

But when he lingered, you kissed him quickly on his mouth.

His eyes still open, he was frozen.

You kissed his mouth again. And again. And again until what was happening finally reached his brain.

He was on his knees between your legs in a flash, throwing away the pillows and comforter from all around your body, making sure nothing could prevent him from having access to you.

While snaking his tongue into your mouth, he ripped open your pajama shirt completely, buttons popping off with ease, but also tearing it clear across the back. He cupped one of your breasts and then the other, before moving a hand to your ass and lifting you effortlessly to grind you against himself.

“I don’t know what you were thinking with these,” he pulled away from your wet kisses, ripping your pajamas pants into pieces and throwing them away.

“Fucking Hell, Luci, what if those were my favorite or something?”

“Shit-” he growled, forcing himself to stop what he was doing to pull away from you, running a hand through his hair and trying to catch his breath. “I am such an asshole, I am so sorry-”

“I’m kidding!” you told him.

“Please don’t toy with me,” he exhaled with relief. “Those pajamas deserve to be in hell, but not on your gorgeous-”

He fixed his gaze on you.

“Soft-”

He slid his briefs down, exposing his majestic swollen cock.

“Thick-”

He rubbed his cock against you. He slid it from your clit to your wet, and back again.

Your moans sounded otherworldly, as if to match the way he made you feel.

“Irresistible body.”

“Oh my Lucifer, are you still talking?” you taunted him.

He grinned like the fool he was. Or had he been a genius? His elaborate fantasy coming to fruition just as he’d planned and hoped.

“You are so cruel to me,” he leaned down and kissed you again, prodding your entrance. “Tell me, sweetness, why do you pretend not to care for me? Is it your goal to break my undead heart?”

“You know? How long have you-”

“Oh please, like anyone can resist-”

“Be serious,” your body disconnected from your mind. The top of you was in this conversation, but the rest of you was moving a hand to hold his penis and continue prodding your wet, tight hole with it.

“O-okay, darling,” he loved the way you dominated him with your hand and played with him as if he were your sex toy.

“How long have you known I’m attracted to you?”

“About as long as you’ve been attracted to me I-I fathom?”

“That’s fucking embarrassing, I thought I was hiding it well!”

“Oh, precious,” he put both hands behind his back to keep from taking the sexual control from you. “I am not a regular being. I can smell how wet I make you from several rooms away.”

Mortified, you dropped his cock and covered your face, whining and whimpering into your hands.

He laughed and with gentle touches encouraged you to move your hands away.

“I hate you!” you lied to him.

“Yes, of course, darling. I am known for being incorrigible. It would only make sense if your arousal was mixed with hate.”

“Ugh, you know I don’t hate you at all!”

“Then why do you say so, dearest? I know you don’t want to hurt me. Why are you so desperate to push me away?”

You looked down to check if he was still hard. This was the first time you’d actually seen his dick. It was just like the rest of him: gorgeous, alluring, intimidating, and as he noticed you observing him, eager became something he and his cock shared as well.

“Maybe we have sex first and we argue after?” You suggested.

“Oh, but I am such a sensitive soul,” he teased with his words and again with his cock, putting his free hand on his chest to feign offense. “I would not be able to handle it if I gave myself to you only to be rejected and abandoned.”

“You’re such a fucking drama king,” you tried not to let him make you moan, but it was becoming more difficult to breathe regularly as he played with you.

“I love the way you talk down to me, like I’m not the fucking King of Hell,” his eyes changed color and his horns came out, as well as his tail and wings.

“Holy shit,” you sat up, sliding onto his cock completely and pushing him slightly back with a hand on his chest. Your excitement from seeing him in this form coupled with the excitement of feeling his erection finally inside you, filling up your cunt the way you’d needed him to for days. You fucked yourself with his dick, riding him slowly, while also fondling his horns and caressing his wings.

“You- you’re not scared?” he let himself grab your ass to help support you and with hope that it would quicken your movements. It did not.

“Were you trying to scare me, Sire?” you mocked. You were enamored with his wings and pulled them close to feel them against your face. You contracted around his cock from the pleasure of contact with these magnificent and unique parts of his body.

“Only to play with you, but my ruse didn’t seem to work,” he was intoxicated by your facial expressions, how you panted, your brows responding to the pain and pleasure of his length filling you and his girth spreading you. But also by the awe in your eyes when you stroked his feathers and especially when you once again let yourself handle his horns.

He lifted his hips into you while you lowered yourself onto him, causing a startled moan to escape you without your permission.

You wanted to tell him to stay still, to let you do the moving, but he felt so good inside you that you forgot how to speak. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and tried to keep up with his movements, even when tears filled your eyes from being overcome by the sensations. You laced your fingers through his hair and pulled his head back with it, forcing him to watch the pleasure on your face.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he said as he pumped into you.

Your moans were starting to sound monstrous, as if fucking this beast of a being was changing you from the inside.

“You better fucking mean that,” you told him, letting out squeals of surprise when he hit against your cervix. “Call me all those- aahh- ridiculous fu- fucking pet names again,” you growled through your teeth.

He ran through the list every other thrust. “Darling- baby- angel- my queen- my king- sweetheart- mmmfff beautiful- lovely- precious- my fucking everything- my love-”

“I’m coming!”

He pulled out of you once your cunt stopped throbbing with orgasm, and asked if he could finish on your chest. Rolling your eyes, you nodded and made a motion with your hand for him to hurry up, which made him laugh as he unloaded his golden jizz all over you.

His wings and horns retreated, and his eyes returned to normal.

Absent-mindedly, you dipped a finger into his come and smeared it across your lips for a taste. You licked your lips while he watched, and then the rest of the liquid from your finger.

“It tastes like apples!” you groaned, exasperated. “Sweet apples!”

Still on his knees, he started shifting between your legs. “And what does yours taste like?”

You tried to squirm away, attempting to close your legs.

“My darling, please let me taste you,” he pleaded. “Let me at least clean you up.”

“Are you not satisfied?” you grumbled in annoyance, assuming he wanted to continue being sexual because what you’d already done wasn’t enough to please the King of Hell.

He tried to gauge from your face whether you were teasing him or serious, but he struggled to discern this. “My love, I will not be satisfied until I bring you to orgasm enough times that you forget how to think entirely, as clearly your thoughts are preventing you from being here with me.”

He spread your legs again, and slowly leaned between them, keeping his eyes fixed on yours.

“Tell me what troubles you, my darling, and I will make it and everything around it violently disappear.”

“Like you did with my pajamas?” you laugh, your body relaxing as he rubbed his cheeks against your thighs, first one, then the other.

“Exactly, sweetness,” he said between kisses. “If I can make you love me,” his lips brushed against your clit. “I will make sure you never feel,” he licked it, “an ounce of suffering again,” harder this time, “unless it’s mixed with pleasure and happening in our shared bed.”

You gripped the sheets with both hands and lifted yourself up into him.

He pressed his tongue against your cunt and you felt its strength and thickness. You moved again to encourage him to shove his tongue inside.

“Tell me what I am allowed to do, my love.”

You groaned in embarrassment. “Fuck you, you already know.”

“I’m sure I know nothing,” he could sense you contracting already. It pleased and excited him to know your body wanted him his badly. But he wanted your heart, mind, and soul, as well. He was greedy and gluttonous; he wanted all of you entirely. And right now he wanted your permission.

“Then you won’t get to taste me any more than this,” you threatened.

Fuck, he shuddered, and allowed himself to palm his cock. He pressed his face against your crotch harshly, inhaling you and swooning with lust.

Why had he thought you wouldn’t be difficult?

“Tell me to eat you, darling, please,” he whimpered, writhing against you with his face and against his hand with his cock. “Let me devour you. I promise I’m so good with my tongue. It’s even longer than you’ve seen. Please, please, please.”

“No,” you couldn’t believe what you were saying. Your body was moving against his face, begging you to see reason.

You wanted him; he wanted you. What the fuck else was left?

“UGH, FINE!” you responded.

He rose from you, still rubbing his cock. “Enthusiastic yesses only,” he teased.

“I have never fucking hated someone so much in my entire living and undead lives!” You absolutely did not hate him. You wished he hadn’t thrown the pillows off the bed, because you desperately wanted to throw one at him.

“Why is it so difficult for you to just say you want me?” He stopped holding himself.

Whoops, you fucked up.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” you got up from the bed and walked to the bathroom for a towel, smearing his come all over you, causing your skin to glow. You’d have to take another shower. You left the door open but turned the water back on and hopped in.

He followed you and wrapped his arms around you, hugging you from behind. “I need aftercare,” he said.

Some of your frustration dissipated. You turned around to embrace him, warm water caressing your back. You pet his head, fingers through his hair. You kissed the top of his head. Taking care of him was so much easier than having him take care of you, as long as he didn’t want you to talk.

“What can I do?”

He looked up at you with glistening, watery eyes. “Tell me you love me, even if you don’t.”

Your heart started pounding from the anxiety. This fool. Of course you loved him.

“I love you,” he told you, with strange emphases.

“Is that real,” you startled. “Or are you training me on how to say it?”

He tilted his head to mirror his golden retriever soul. “Did I not say that earlier?” He looked up as if digging through his memory. “I’m positive I confessed my feelings earlier.”

“You definitely did not tell me that you love me.”

“But-” he looked at the doorway and back at you, and at the doorway again. “I am so absolutely positive I said it.”

“Nope,” you felt ridiculous, naked and covered in golden ejaculate, arguing with the most feared creature in existence, whose face was eye-level with your tits, about whether or not he had told you he loved you.

“I love you, Y/N. I love you. I’m in love with you. I cherish you. I adore you. I love you.”

You stood in shock. Somewhere along the way you had realized he wanted to fuck you. You heard him say some pretty things, but thought that’s just what he did, like it was a kink or something. You didn’t for a moment imagine he could love you.

He looked up at you, his face so darling and precious. Sweet. Beautiful …

Wait- is that what he thought when he looked at you? Is that why he used those words when he spoke to you?

“You are not doing great with providing aftercare,” he deadpanned.

“What?”

“Tell me you love me!” He sounded exasperated! Him! With you! What was happening?!

“Oh my Lucifer, yes! Obviously!”

“Yes, what?” aaaand he was for sure crying. You were certain that wetness on his face was not coming from the shower but his fucking doe eyes.

“Yes, I love you, you motherfu-”

He pulled you down by your neck to be able to engulf your mouth with his.

“Say it a million times,” he pleaded, between kisses. He wrapped your legs around him and pinned you to the shower wall. Having your crotches aligned like this solved the height discrepancy and let him reach every part of you he wanted.

Your face was hot with embarrassment, but you finally conceded. With every confession, you felt your body relax more against him, his kisses feeling more nurturing than arousing as he focused on your neck and cheeks and the top of your chest. You recounted how you felt when you met. You told him why you avoided him. You told him every humiliating thing you thought and loved about him, until the nurturing kisses became ravenous again.

“I want you to fuck me again and then I want you to eat me out and clean me up with your tongue and then, only then, can you bathe me and take me to bed to sleep.”

“Wow, you’re really an all or nothing sort of person, aren’t you, darling?”

He did as he was told.

[saylercreates]

the iceman and the sunshine boy

[lovilexx]

YOU DRIVE ME INSANE

summary: a chill day at the beach, but the person you find the most annoying in the world—matt sturniolo—decides to ruin it, and confesses.

warnings: kissing, grumpy!matt & sunshine!reader, use of swearing, use of nicknames.

wc: 1k

author’s note: english is not my first language. first work ever!

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sunset was slowly becoming a dark night sky, with a bright half moon shining already. i loved sunset. i could sit and watch it for hours.

that's what i was doing. my feet buried in the soft, cool sand, which has already cooled down after a hot summer day. the reflection of the sunset on the ocean allured me to take a picture.

"are you taking a picture of me?" matt's sharp voice broke the silence. i didn't realise he was back from swimming in the ocean. i put my phone down and looked at him, narrowing my eyes because of the sun shining at us. i glanced at the water. chris and nick were still swimming. nice.

"yes, so i have something to laugh at." i tried to sound cold, but my voice was naturally sweet, with hint of kindness. matt smiled and sat down next to me.

i took a sharp breath before standing up. i haven't thought of where i'm gonna go but i didn't have to think about it anymore. matt's hand landed on my wrist just in time. his cold and wet fingers moved to my palm and he got up from the towel. my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "you wanna go for a walk?" asked matt.

i had to close my eyes from all the annoyance i felt, like when i open my eyes, matt would just disappear. but when i opened my eyes, matt was still there, looking at me and waiting for my answer. his fingers still touching my hand, thumb rubbing against outside of my palm reminding me.

"first of all, stop fucking touching me!" i pulled my hand out of his grasp. the realisation suddenly hit me. that was a first time in a while when he touched me. i pushed that thought to the end of my mind. maybe i'll remember it right before falling asleep tonight. "second of all, do not follow me!" i looked into his blue eyes. nothing. i could see nothing. while my eyes were filled with rage.

he stood there, his mouth didn't move a bit. this silence was basically 'okay', so i took one more second to look at his eyes, showing all the annoyance he gave me in such a small time, and took path in another direction. i could hear him follow me, and the first minute i didn't say anything, but i couldn't just let him go with me.

"what is your problem dumb fuck?" i didn't stop. i didn't turn around. i walked as natural as i could. no answer. what game is this guy playing? "i am not going to play with you motherfucker." i stopped and turned around. his mouth gave a sign of smirk but it quickly faded. "what?"

"i love making you mad."

i wanted to scream, but instead, i tightened my lips and looked at the water. chris was dying laughing at nick. i had no idea what happened, but it looked very funny. i almost smiled, but i returned my gaze at matt, which was looking at my lips before i turned to him. "so you want to kiss me?"

he smirked looking down at my lips again. i shook my head. i can't do this anymore. could i just disappear forever and never come back?

"oh, you don't know anything sweetheart."

sweetheart

he didn't call me that in days. nickname he gave me a couple of months after we met. it annoyed me since that day. well, i liked when he called me that, but i just couldn't agree with it.

"don't call me that."

"sweetheart,"

"no."

"why?"

"it's not my name."

"i know, it's a nickname." my lips slightly parted. i just realised how close he was. his herbal scent invaded me, and my mind. this smell i could only feel in his car or room, but not from him. i took a deep breath consuming the smell with closed eyes.

"i will not play any games with you matthew." looking in his eyes felt like breaking a law. they were pretty, i couldn't deny. well not just pretty, they were darkness to my light, storm to my sun, night to my day.

his eyes softened and he took a step closer. "i won't either, sweetheart. i don't want to play any games with you, but why do you do this to me?" he retorted.

"do what?"

"everything sweetheart. you are everything i'm not. you can't even imagine how many times you've appeared in my mind. if being honest, you never left. it's so hard to watch you hate me, or you, with someone else. it's like a disease, and i can't help myself." my mind was filled with a lot of thoughts and feelings. did matt just confessed to me? i was scared. scared of the fact that i understood him, and i felt the same way. "please don't leave me unanswered."

"i hate you matt. i hate you so much. i was hating you yesterday, i am hating you right now, and i will hate you tomorrow. you're such a miserable person that words cannot describe it. but you know what is the worst?" this might be the biggest mistake i've made in my life. "i feel the same way." his eyes lightened with hope and passion.

i felt his hands on my waist. we were so close that there was less than an inch between us. suddenly he pulled me closer so there was no space left between us. his lips touched mine. it wasn't a kiss, he touched my lips for a moment. his breath was caressing my lips. i could feel the satisfaction he got from me not pulling away. i wanted this, and i was very impatient about the kiss.

the touch turned into a kiss. it wasn't gentle or sweet. it was raw, intense, and filled with all the the frustration and tension that had been building between us. i froze caught off guard by the warmth of his lips against mine.

when he pulled back, he touched my ear with his hot breath which burned my skin. "you drive me insane, you know that?"

my hot blood rushed all over my body. i felt my face starting to grow red. "matt,—"

"guys! the fuck are you doing over there?" chris shouted from about fifteen feet away.

"we will continue later sweetheart."

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!text dividers are not mine!

[viraaja]

A Request: Like, Share, Engage!

⚔️🔮Help this little fanfic author who's gone pro spread word about their book 🔮⚔️

He's the wet cat, 🌈-coded, dark sorcerer henchman working for the big bad from the book series you loved who was killed off before the story's end, but I've given him an epic fix-it fanfic with the softest grumpy/sunshine romance ever 😬

His name is Orpheus and the book is The Crack at the Heart of Everything 🔮⚔ (oh yes and he's very 🌈🌈🌈)

Art by Bella Bergolts @bellabergolts 💜

[becky5203]

The OG golden standard Grumpy/Sunshine couple and their successors

[sourlander]

So I made a thing a while back. Check out this mood (black)board for Mirror, Mirror. ❤️❤️

[lpmurphy]

Of the Care and Keeping of Spartans Master List

Spring in Tchakova Park Full work on AO3 Spotify Playlist

Pairings: John-117/OC Status: Completed Summary:

Green was the color of the grass where he used to walk in Tchakova Park.

In which John meets a stranger in the park, Violet learns of the care and keeping of Spartans, and Cortana offers dating advice.

Chapter One: Lights on the Water

Chapter Two: The Jungle

Chapter Three: Goose

Chapter Four: The Rock

Chapter Five: Picture Frames

Chapter Six: Gold Visor, Hazel Eyes

Chapter Seven: First Aid

Chapter Eight: Headboards (NSFW)

Chapter Nine: Family Dynamics

Chapter Ten: Anthuriums

Chapter Eleven: Conversations

Chapter Twelve: Pillow Talk (NSFW)

Chapter Thirteen: Meet the Parents

Chapter Fourteen: Eavesdropping

Chapter Fifteen: Confessions

Chapter Sixteen: Arrivals

Chapter Seventeen: Downtown

Chapter Eighteen: Flashes and Blinks

Chapter Nineteen: Bathroom Conversations

Chapter Twenty: All Too Well

Chapter Twenty-One: Headboards Volume 2 (NSFW)

Chapter Twenty-Two: Girlhood

Chapter Twenty-Three: Fishies

Chapter Twenty-Four: Night Swim

Chapter Twenty-Five: Gúta (NSFW)

Chapter Twenty-Six: Carvings

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Persephone

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Sunshine

Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Scarf

Chapter Thirty: Cultivation

Chapter Thirty-One: Incursion

Chapter Thirty-Two: Ignorant Innocence

Chapter Thirty-Three: Home

Chapter Thirty-Four: Epilogue- Spring in the Highland Mountains

Bonus Chapter: Stay (NSFW)

Something Borrowed: A Sequel AO3 Spotify Playlist

Pairings: John-117/OC, Background Riz/Vannak Status: Completed 8/6/24 Summary

Springtime on Reach had always been Violet's favorite season. She had always adored the mild temperatures, the flowers and greenery in constant bloom and the beauty it brought to Tchakova Park. Meeting John beside the pond the year before had only given her another reason to love the spring. But, on a May evening beside a lake in the Highland Mountains, Violet found yet another reason to love springtime.

In which the 117s tie the knot, Cortana becomes an unlicensed therapist, Kai and Vannak organize a bachelorette party, and Riz plans a wedding.

Chapter One: The Desert

Chapter Two: Sisters

Chapter Three: The View From Tchakova Park

Chapter Four: Cinnamon Whiskey (NSFW)

Chapter Five: Housekeeping

Chapter Six: Tests

Chapter Seven: Cleansing

Chapter Eight: Discoveries

Chapter Nine: Orange Juice

Chapter Ten: Mer

Chapter Eleven: Something in the Orange

Chapter Twelve: Best Friends

Chapter Thirteen: Fog

Chapter Fourteen: Q&A

Chapter Fifteen: Group Message

Chapter Sixteen: Nightmares

Chapter Seventeen: Last Minute (NSFW)

Chapter Eighteen: Threads

Chapter Nineteen: Lamby

Chapter Twenty: Balloons and Streamers

Chapter Twenty One: Marco Polo

Chapter Twenty Two: Bachelorette Part 1

Chapter Twenty Three: Bachelorette Part 2

Chapter Twenty Four: The Morning After

Chapter Twenty Five: Bubbe Fran

Chapter Twenty Six: Becoming

Chapter Twenty Seven: Promises

Chapter Twenty Eight: Empty Chair

Chapter Twenty Nine: 117

Chapter Thirty: Epilogue- Someday Came Two Years Later

The View Between Villages Read on AO3

Status: In Progress (2/4)

Summary:

'This wasn’t home. It felt like someone else belonged here, and perhaps someone else did. He stopped being the boy who did the moment he called on that coin. Childhood came spinning to an end as soon as it came up heads.'

In which Violet receives orders to Eridanus II, and John brings his wife home.

Part One: Cold

Part Two: Ghosts

All Better Read on AO3

Status: Complete

Summary: Violet always left the lamp on in the living room.

Of Mothers and Bedtime Stories Read on AO3

Status: Complete Summary:

“Daddy?” Hailey called. “Yeah, babygirl?” “What’s your mommy’s name?” “Catherine.”

A line of questioning from a very curious five year old forces Violet to consider her feelings towards the woman that created her husband, and what she means to him.

[oh-my-damn]

Please please!!! Tell us the plot for the devil inside!!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍

Your wish is my command, my dear 😌 🫡

I'll give you a short snippet of what I've been working on so far 🫶🏻

This is the fic that will have literally every single trope under the sun (hopefully). I'm going to jam-pack this fic with all the clichés in the world and I have a feeling I'm going to thoroughly enjoy doing it!

Basically I'm going to try and fit in all of these tropes:

Enemies to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, avengers vibes circa 2012 (living in compound), avenger!reader, forced proximity, only one bed, friends with benefits, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst for the hell of it, and a hell of a lot of smut. For kinks I'm thinking definitely a metal hand kink, choking, some rough sex but also some soft sex (we like the duality of bucky), spanking, dom/sub vibes (I'm kinda considering experimenting with bucky as both a dom and sub/that they switch bc I feel like Bucky has a subby side), lots of dirty talk obviously, breeding kink/cumplay, touch starved bucky.

It will be Beefy!Bucky (circa Civil War) with manbun, but his vibes will be FATWS!Bucky bc he's sassy and sarcastic and snarky. I may also delve into him having the shorter hair later on in the story, I haven't decided yet, but so far we're doing long haired Bucky bc I love him!!!

These pics inspired me last night to get to work so here are the vibes:

Snippet of The Devil Inside under the cut!

When you got up to get your things, that's when he approached you. Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice, your body tensing at the question he asked you.

"You call that fighting?"

And that was that. You were too stunned to come with a retort at the time, all you could do was look at him in shock as he snickered and walked off, and you've recounted that moment in your head a thousand times by now. How he laughed you off, the look of amusement on his face, as if you were the dumbest person in the world. It was clear he certainly didn't think you were worthy of being an Avenger.

Ever since then, you've hated him.

It only intensified over time.

There was the time when he scoffed when Tony chose you to go on a mission with Bucky, Steve and Nat. Or the time when he scowled at you for grabbing a beer with the rest of them in the common room after a long mission.

Not to mention the countless times he had walked off, practically mid-conversation, if you walked up to the group he was standing with.

Yes, it was safe to say that Bucky Barnes loathed you, and you felt the same way.

Which only made it more infuriating that he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen.

[the-bisexual-bitch]

Grumpy/Sunshine trope where Sunshine paints Grumpy's nails pastel rainbow and it's the only pop of color in their outfit and that's how Grumpy realizes they're in love.

[drabblesandsnippets]

Sunshine - Part 2

Hot Bucky Summer 2024 - Week 6

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Plus-size female character (nickname is Sunshine)

Prompt: “I won’t be able to stop myself.” | [Sex Pollen | Gone Feral | Fuck or Die] @buckybarnesevents

Summary: (5k) Series Masterlist After a night out with Bucky’s friends, things will never be the same.

Warnings: 18+ Only. Slow burn. Grumpy/Sunshine trope. Happy Bucky (is that a warning?) - he's a photographer in this AU. Mention of insecurities and anxiety (she's a bit of a mess, okay?). Use of weed. Use of alcohol. Questionable drunk thoughts & decisions. Masturbation.

---------------------------

Bucky can’t stop.

Whether he’s awake or asleep, she’s there, occupying his thoughts. 

When he’s out with his friends, he imagines her there, getting to see her laugh and have a good time.

When he’s working, he thinks about what it’d be like to take her picture. To pose her. To touch her. To boost her confidence.

And when he’s asleep, he dreams of her, waking up harder than he’s ever been in his entire life.

It won’t stop, no matter what he does.

It’s even gotten to the point where Bucky’s considered telling her to start looking for another roommate, to offer to help her find someone. But, she’ll ask why, and he can’t lie to her. 

He’d have to tell her that he can’t stop thinking about her. That he can’t stop fantasizing about her. That he can’t stop picturing himself sneaking into the bathroom late at night to listen through the thin wall, hoping to catch the sounds she makes when she touches herself.

His confession would not only make her uncomfortable, but she’d never forgive him, and rightfully so. He’d just be another person in her life that ended up hurting her. So he selfishly does nothing, other than continue to allow himself to indulge in the fantasies, keeping it strictly to when she’s not home, or after she’s already gone to her room.

When they are together, he forces himself to keep his thoughts strictly PG-13, never risking giving her a reason to think he wants more than a friendship. Bucky doesn’t know as much about her as he’d like, but her avoidance of physical touch and vague answers about past relationships gives him no reason to think she’d even be interested. It’s just not worth the risk.

All he can hope is that eventually his feelings will fade, and until then he’ll continue on as normal. Inviting her out, hoping she says yes, while secretly starting to feel grateful that he’s been able to keep the two parts of his life separate. It’s been easier that way.

And then Steve opens his big fucking mouth. 

He wasn’t even supposed to be here for at least another hour, but here he stands in their kitchen, drinking one of Bucky’s beers, laughing at something Sunshine’s saying. Trying to get her to change her mind after Bucky extended the invitation.

Of all the times for his friend to get involved, it has to be on the night they’re heading to a bar to check out some live music. A crowd of noisy drunk people is so far out of her comfort zone that Bucky can't help but jump to her rescue, telling her, “It’s okay. Maybe another night.”

For some reason that Bucky hasn't figured out yet, Steve won’t let it go, interjecting before Sunshine can respond. “It won’t be too crazy, I promise.” With a friendly smile and a lift of his beer, he adds, “And if it ends up not being your thing, any one of us will be happy to bring you home.” 

It’s ridiculous to think that Steve is flirting with her, but the thought still crosses Bucky’s mind and it has his irritation growing, the sneaking feeling of jealousy threatening to build inside him. Resisting the urge to snap at his friend to be quiet, he keeps his attention on Sunshine, telling her, “You’re more than welcome to join us, but please don’t feel obligated because of this one.”

Her eyes bounce between the two men as she shifts uncomfortably and her cheeks flush, but she’s quick to shake her head. “It sounds like it could be fun… I’m just… um.” The anxiety building in her is palpable, causing Bucky’s concern to grow and his irritation at Steve to reach new levels. This is all his fault. Just as he opens his mouth to assure her, again, that there would be no hard feelings, she mumbles, “I’m not sure what to wear.”

The shy, awkward words cause Bucky’s chest to tighten and if he wasn’t worried about making this whole thing worse, he’d tell her exactly what he’s thinking. That it doesn’t matter what she wears because she always looks good. She could go dressed exactly as she is now - sweatpants and a worn t-shirt - and she’d still have his attention the whole night.

And then Steve beats him to it, the smile on his face conveying nothing but friendliness, but the words still get under Bucky’s skin. “You’ll look good no matter what you wear.” 

Bucky wants to be the cause of the blush that spreads across Sunshine’s skin. He wants to be the reason she rolls her eyes and laughs at the compliment. And if it were him saying it, he’d make sure she believed it too. He wouldn’t let her leave this kitchen without knowing, without a doubt, that she’s always beautiful.

That's not an option though. He has to watch her dismissively shake her head as she takes her leave, and the moment she’s out of earshot, the tension in Bucky’s shoulders grows. With a hard glare aimed at his best friend, Bucky asks, “What the fuck was that about?” There’s not much that can rattle him these days, but if there’s anyone that knows how to push his buttons, it’s Steve. 

Steve continues with the innocent act for a beat longer, making a show of taking a long, slow sip from his beer before he finally asks, “What? I can’t be nice to your roommate?” He’s immune to the subtle warning twitch of Bucky’s jaw, having spent years perfecting just how far he can take things without pissing Bucky off too much. 

When it comes to Sunshine though, his fuse is much shorter, and whatever game Steve’s playing, Bucky needs it to end now.

“Enough.” Bucky pushes himself off the counter he’s been leaning on, forcing himself to head towards the fridge instead of getting in Steve’s face. “Leave her alone.” Even as he says it, Bucky knows this isn’t really about her. His best friend never does anything just to piss him off. There’s always a reason behind his provoking, usually one Bucky doesn’t like.

“She said she wanted to come. You want her to come. So, what’s the issue?” And there it is. Steve’s agenda. Involving himself in things that don’t concern him. Trying to goad Bucky into a conversation that he doesn’t want to have. One that he’s been skirting around for weeks.

Refusing to take the bait, Bucky rolls his eyes and ducks his head into the fridge to grab a beer. He’s tired of his friends using the excuse that they’re ‘looking out for him’ when they try to insert themselves into his love life (or lack thereof). He’s not putting up with it tonight.

“You had your fun,” Bucky tells him, keeping his tone even as he twists the cap off the cold bottle in his hand, making it clear he’s reached his limit. “You got your wish. No more games. Leave it alone.”

The only goal is to make sure Sunshine has a good time tonight. 

-------------------

She doesn’t know what she’s doing. 

One minute she’s making a ‘joke’ about celebrating her recent promotion with a night filled with weed, games, and social media, and the next she’s agreeing to go out to a bar with them. 

She rarely goes out, and when she does it’s not to a crowded bar. It’s been a long time since she's even felt the desire, a brief stint in her early 20s spent anywhere but home having convinced her it wasn’t for her. A part of her life she barely remembers and one she definitely doesn’t want to revisit. 

Shaking the flash of memories from her head, she lifts her hand to wipe the light sweat covering her upper lip and keeps digging through her closet, searching for whatever will feel the most comfortable. Pajamas. At home. Alone. (Or maybe just with Bucky). 

She rolls her eyes at the thought and narrows her selections down to a few shirts, a couple of which she hasn’t worn in months, and the one pair of jeans that doesn’t dig into her stomach every time she sits down. Despite Steve’s friendly encouragement, she’s nervous, studying her reflection in the mirror as she tries on each shirt, growing sweatier with each change. 

None of them feel right. They’re either too tight, too big, or show off too much cleavage. This is her first time hanging out with Bucky’s friends and she doesn’t want to choose the wrong thing. She wants to blend in, draw the least amount of attention.

Several outfit changes later, she’s in a simple v-neck t-shirt, brushing her hair out of her reddened face, pulling the damp strands into a quick bun. The desire to wear her hair down was quickly overruled by her desire to not overheat and look like a mess tonight. 

It takes her a few minutes of sitting on her bed to cool off, trying her best not to look like she just ran a marathon, but as nervous and anxious as she is about tonight, she’s also excited. This has been a long time coming, and the edible she took a little while ago should help before they even get to the bar.

At least she’s stopped having inappropriate thoughts about Bucky. Well, for the most part anyway. She’ll still occasionally think about accidentally overhearing him in the shower, and she tries not to think about the really intense dream she had about him not that long ago, but it’s not everyday anymore so it’s easy to pretend it doesn’t exist.

And, hopefully, getting to see Bucky in his element tonight will put all this to rest. With any luck, she’ll get to watch him flirt with random women and finally learn what his type is. She assumes it’s the complete opposite of her. Someone bubbly and positive. Someone perky. Thin. Pretty. 

-------------------

Sunshine’s not wearing anything Bucky hasn’t seen her in before, but he swears there’s something different. Maybe it’s the passing streetlights illuminating her beauty, or the smile that’s been on her face since they got in their shared ride, or maybe it’s the light breeze coming in through the cracked car window, the wind blowing wisps of hair along her temples. 

Whatever it is, he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes off her, and an even harder time not letting his thoughts stray. The only saving grace is that Steve’s keeping her preoccupied from the front passenger seat, giving her all the gossip about their friends. How they all met. What everyone does for a living. The kind of shit they get up to when they hang out. 

“One of these days, ya gotta get Buck to tell you about the time he convinced us to break into a private club to go swimming.” 

Bucky doesn’t miss the way Sunshine’s eyes widen and her mouth opens in surprise, but he holds up his finger to correct Steve first. “Technically, it was ‘trespassing’ since I already had the key, and we wouldn’t have gotten caught if you hadn’t tripped the alarm on the way out. I told you exactly-.”

Steve is the first to interrupt him with a bark of a laugh, but before his best friend can start listing the useless defenses he has about that night, Sunshine speaks up, drawing both of their attention. “I’m sorry. You wanted to break into a private club?” 

Bucky’s reminder of ‘trespass’ earns him a glare that he takes in stride, laughing it off. “I worked there. I was allowed to use the pool. Whether or not I was allowed to bring guests was a gray area.”

Steve jumps in to finish, telling her, “It was not a gray area. We almost got arrested.” 

“We did not,” Bucky laughs, rolling his eyes at his best friend before turning his attention back to the woman that’s been driving him crazy. The look of slight amusement and bewilderment she’s giving has him clenching his hands in his lap, rubbing them along his jeans, wanting nothing more than to reach out and caress her cheek. To tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Not letting a second of silence fill the air, he explains, “There was no risk of getting arrested. I did get fired though.”

The nonchalant shrug Bucky gives her only adds to her state of confusion, and he can’t help but think how cute she looks, with her slightly furrowed brow and the crinkle along the bridge of her nose. Hiding the grin growing on his face, he glances out the window, taking note of how close they are to their destination.

Probably thinking he’s doing him a favor, Steve’s more than happy to keep the conversation going, telling Sunshine, “Don’t let his sunny disposition fool you.” The subtle warning look that Bucky shoots him, a silent reminder of their earlier conversation, has Steve quickly adding, “He’s the greatest guy I’ve ever known, don’t get me wrong, but he’s about as innocent as -.” 

“Nope,” Bucky interrupts him with a loud laugh, reaching forward to grab Steve’s shoulder, refusing to let him finish that thought. Steve laughs with him, but keeps his promise, letting the subject drop, turning back around in his seat for the last remaining seconds of their trip, much to the happiness of their driver.

This is the first time Sunshine’s learning there’s more to him than meets the eye, and as she grows quiet, Bucky can only imagine what she’s thinking. Until now, she’s been limited to witnessing the sweet, happy, enthusiastic side of him, leaving her with the assumption that he’s a Boy Scout - a goody two-shoes. 

He’s far from it, and as much apprehension as he has about how she'll react to getting know this side of him, there's also a jolt of excitement that he can't ignore. Maybe this will make their friendship even better.

-------------------

This is what she wanted. To get to know Bucky better, to see what he’s like out in the world, with his friends, with other people. But, she feels caught off guard. Like, none of her conversations with Bucky, or the interactions she’s witnessed between him and his friends prepared her for this.

The whole time that he’s been trying to get her to come out of her shell, he’s been hiding parts of himself. He’s been careful with her, never crossing a line, probably choosing his words carefully. There’s no doubt that Bucky’s been doing it for her benefit, but now it all feels like a lie. Like he hasn’t been able to be himself with her, and it hurts her feelings.

Whatever foolish expectations she had for the evening have flown out the window, and she’s more than grateful when the car pulls to a stop, the three of them spilling out onto the busy sidewalk. Fighting the urge to get right back in the car to take herself home, she follows the men into the bar, doing her best to avoid Bucky’s gaze.

He’s probably worried about her. Probably thinking she’s in over her head, that she’s realizing she made a mistake coming tonight. He’s probably thinking I told you so. That she’s not cut out for this - the bar, his friends, him. 

The racing thoughts leave her just as quickly as they come, Steve getting her attention as he takes the lead to wind them through the crowd, Bucky in step right next to her. “I’m glad you decided to come tonight.” When all she manages is a slightly-forced smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes, Steve adds, “After everything Bucky’s told us about you, we’ve been looking forward to this.”

She steals a quick glance at Bucky, not at all surprised to find him already looking at her. He’s been watching her since she agreed to come tonight, like it’s his job to make sure she doesn’t get overwhelmed, like he’s expecting her to have a nervous breakdown at any moment. The smile he gives her only seems to prove her point, and it doesn’t help when all he innocently asks is, “What? You don’t talk to your friends about me?”

Of course she does, but it does nothing to quiet her concerns about what he’s told his friends about her. Are they expecting her to be an anxious mess? That she’s going to suddenly bolt in the middle of a conversation? What exactly-. She’s interrupted by Steve again, who’s looking at his phone.

“Buck, Nat found a table, and Yelena already disappeared.” He says it with a laugh, as if it’s a normal occurrence, not waiting for a response from Bucky before he says, “Why don’t you go help her keep our spot. We’ll get the drinks.” 

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bucky open his mouth, and they all know what’s about to come out. The offer to switch places, have Steve go sit at the table while she and Bucky get the drinks. And for a split second, she wants him to. It would be so much easier.

But, how is she supposed to prove that she can handle this? That she’s perfectly capable of having a good time if she can’t even be alone with Bucky’s best friend for a few minutes? Both her and Steve answer at the same time - Steve telling him that they can manage a few drink orders, while she says it’s a good idea.

Obviously seeing that this isn’t a fight he’s going to win, and not wanting to risk losing their table, Bucky takes his leave, but not without giving them both one last look. At some point tonight, she and Bucky are going to have to hash this out, but not until she’s had a few drinks.

Keeping close to Steve, she follows him the rest of the way to the bar, not missing how he occasionally glances back to make sure she’s still there. She might feel like she doesn’t know Bucky as well as she thought, but there’s not a doubt in her mind that she’s safe with his friends. She has no reason to be worried about being alone with any one of them.

Well, other than for the fact that she has no idea what Bucky’s told them, or how they're going to treat her tonight. Maybe that’s why Steve wanted a minute alone with her. To tell her all the ways they’re going to help her, to make sure she doesn’t freak out or get overwhelmed. It wouldn’t be the first time a stranger’s given her unsolicited advice.

As if reading her mind, Steve sets her at ease, casually telling her, “He’s had nothing but great things to say about you.” With a raise of his arm, he gets the attention of the bartender to place their orders before turning his gaze back to her, the smile never leaving his face. His hand is still raised between them and he starts ticking things off on his fingers, recounting, “You’re the best roommate. You have great taste in music. And books. And movies.” With four of his digits raised, he lifts his thumb to add, “You’re hilarious. Should I keep going?”

She quickly shakes her head, a laugh bubbling out of her as her skin grows warm. These are all things Bucky’s told her, it’s just strange to hear them from his best friend, who she barely knows. With the effects of the edible having started to kick in a couple minutes ago, she feels comfortable enough to joke, “Is this the part where I’m supposed to list all the great things about Bucky?”

“God no,” Steve immediately tells her with a playful roll of his eyes and a grin that she’s sure has gotten him out of many a things in life. “I have to hear how great that man is all the time. I’d rather drink.” There’s no malice in his tone, no hint of resentment or frustration - this is just their relationship. They love each other and they give each other shit. Like brothers. Like family.

Ignoring the ache in her chest at the thought of family, she lets Steve talk her into doing a couple of the shots lined up on the bar for them. Not that it takes much convincing. There were never any plans to get through tonight even remotely sober.

-------------------

They all know. All of Bucky’s friends know that he has feelings for her, but they think it’s just a crush, like he’s in fucking high school. They have no idea that he can’t stop thinking about her, that it’s bordering on obsession. Not even Steve knows the extent of it. 

And tonight, they’re all too drunk to notice he’s been watching her, not out of concern for her mental well-being, but because she’s mesmerizing. Because Sunshine’s doing exactly what he’s been dreaming about for weeks - laughing and dancing and looking like she belongs right here. With his friends. With him.

The alcohol flowing through him makes it difficult to focus, and before he realizes it, Sunshine catches him in the act. Her attention had just been bouncing between joking with Nat and Sam, and watching the band currently playing, the music keeping most of the patrons on their feet. And now she’s staring right at him, as if she can read his mind. 

For a moment, he actually believes it, her brow slightly furrowing as she makes her way around the side of the table, reaching out to steady herself along the back of a chair. 

He has to fight the urge to help her, keeping his hands around his half-empty glass, the condensation wetting his fingers. After all the months of living together, all the conversations and late night Netflix marathons, he’s never touched her and now it’s all he can think about. It's the only thing on his mind, and she must be able to tell, because the look she’s giving him is telling him that he definitely fucked up. 

Just as he opens his mouth to apologize, she asks, “Can we go outside?” 

The only response he can muster is a quick nod of his head, and he silently follows her, his thoughts racing with what to tell her. How to explain himself. How to assure her that he’d never cross any lines. 

By the time they’re outside, the light breeze cooling their warm skin, he still doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t know how to fix this. All he can do is watch her, almost losing focus at her flushed skin and glassy eyes. Even drunk and stoned, she’s the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

“Are we friends?” The question blindsides him. Makes him stand there, stunned, confused, and silent. Trying to work out why she’s asking that, of all the things she could be asking right now. With a slight slur to her words, she continues, telling him, “I like dirty jokes and inappropriate humor. I like teasing my friends and giving them shit about stupid stuff. I’m not great at rule-breaking, but I wouldn’t lecture you about it.”

The hurt in her eyes betray the joking tone she’s keeping, clearly trying to make light of a situation that’s been bothering her all night - since she learned that he’s not the wholesome, straight-laced guy she assumed him to be. 

So he did fuck up, just not in the way he thought. 

“I never thought you would lecture me,” he promises her, keeping the shaking of his head to a minimum, his eyes quickly losing focus. He blinks the blurriness away and gives her a warm smile, shoving his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to comfort her with his touch. “I just never wanted to put you in a situation where you were uncomfortable, Sunshine. Especially in your own home.”

The quick peak of her tongue wetting her lips has his cock stirring in his jeans, and it takes all his self control not to keep his gaze on her mouth. To ignore the flash of need to kiss her, to feel her lips on his, to taste her. He’s so busy trying to pretend he’s listening to her that he just barely catches what she's saying. 

“I'm more uncomfortable with your early morning singing and never-ending enthusiasm than I’d ever be with a dirty joke.”

Her response catches him off guard, and all he can do is laugh. All this time, he's been working so hard to reign in the parts of himself that might bother her, or make things awkward, and it was the complete opposite of what he should have been doing.

-------------------

She likes making him laugh. The crinkle of his eyes. The flash of his teeth. The slight shake of his head that has him lifting his hand to run it through his hair. She wants to feel it, to run her fingers through the soft strands. It’s the perfect length to grab hold of while-.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, laughter still pouring out of him. For the briefest of moments, she thinks she said it outloud, but quickly realizes what he means. 

After tonight, things will be different between them, like they’ve given each other permission to really be themselves. And as they return to the rest of the group, she can’t stop thinking what it’s going to be like from now on. The kind of jokes he’ll make. The off-hand comments she won’t keep holding back. The teasing they’ll get up to. 

All the inappropriate thoughts she’s been ignoring return ten-fold and she wonders if he’s a tease in bed. If he likes to drive his partner crazy. If he likes to be in control.

By the time the night is over, and they’re sharing a ride back home, she can’t stop stealing glances at him. Her eyes drifting to his mouth, wondering how he kisses. His five-o’clock shadow and what it would feel like between her thighs. His strong hands on her body.

That’s how she ends up in her bedroom, after a quick trip to the bathroom and a brief goodnight to Bucky - wishing like hell they had hugged, wanting the intoxicating smell of him to linger on her clothes and skin - she’s under her covers, naked and writhing at the touch of her own hand, her fingers teasing her nipples, the hand between her thighs ghosting over her swollen clit.

It’s easy to convince herself that because she has no idea what he’s really like in bed, this doesn’t count. This is just a fantasy that could be about anyone. Bucky’s just filling that role. He’s just a face for her to picture while she buries her fingers inside her dripping pussy, the palm of her hand pressed hard against her clit.

It gets harder to pretend as the pleasure builds and the fantasy becomes more intense, picturing him between her spread thighs, fucking her hard and fast, his growl of dirty words filling her head. And soon, she’s fantasizing about him hearing her - how he’d burst in and join her, bury his head between her thighs and fuck her with his tongue.

She’s not drunk enough to allow herself more than a couple seconds of unabashed noises, as if she’s really trying to tempt him, before she’s reigning it back. It’d never happen, but at least she has tonight. At least, for right now, she can pretend it’s him making her come, her hand quickly coming up to cover her mouth so she doesn’t scream his name.

-------------------

He shouldn’t be doing this. Bucky knows he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop himself. He blames it on the alcohol skewing his sense of integrity, but it’s a lie. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, and yet he stands here, barely breathing, his ear pressed to the thin wall that separates the bathroom from her bedroom.

Refusing to give in to the temptation to touch himself, he keeps his sweaty hands on the wall, his fingers tensing and flexing against the hard surface. He’s not sure he’ll be able to forgive himself for eavesdropping like this, but touching himself at the same time would be a step too far. The guilt would eat away at him until he was forced to move out without warning.

Bucky doesn’t know how long he stands there, his heart racing and his eyes closed, all his focus trained on what’s happening in her bedroom, until he finally starts to hear her. The barely audible gasps, the muffled moans, the occasional cut-off cry that has his cock straining against his jeans. 

It’s better than anything he could’ve imagined and as wrong as this is, he can’t stop. Visions of what she’s doing plays through his mind, the possibilities of how she touches herself, what she’s fantasizing about, what’s causing the incredible noises spilling out of her.

And then the obvious signs of her getting closer suddenly has him sobering up. She’s drunk. Neither of them are in the right state of mind, and no matter how much he wants to stay right here to listen to her come, he hasn’t earned that right. He’ll never earn that right.

It still doesn’t stop him from ending the night the same way he’s ended every night for the past several weeks. This time, though, as he slowly strokes his cock, he doesn’t have to imagine what she sounds like. It’s all right there in his head, playing on a loop, working him quickly towards an intense orgasm, the sound of her name muffled as he covers his mouth with the palm of his hand.

There’s no doubt that he’ll regret this tomorrow, but as his cock stays hard in his grip, he can’t seem to care. It feels too good to stop, and it’s not long before he’s stroking himself again, his body aching for her touch. He’ll never have it, but that doesn’t mean he can’t live in this fantasy for just a few moments.

And if he’s lucky, he’ll forget all about this by the time morning comes.

---------------------------

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Hot Bucky Summer Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[bite-m3]

Do I want a slow burn, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers?

Here are my favorite tropes!! Yes, I’m a hopeless romantic. Take it or leave it. Tried to leave the spicy ones out.

Who did this to you? (Top-tier)

Grumpy/sunshine (almost top-tier)

Enemies to Lovers (yes, yes, yes)

Forced proximity (getting a lil spicy)

Power imbalance (mm..)

Bully Romance (.. no comment)

Second chance (at the bottom for sure)

[my-castles-crumbling]

My wife and I are sitting at the table and I am listening to conan gray and she is listening to christmas music and if that isn't grumpy/sunshine....

[lesbiansimqueen]

this is aella, warrior goddess of the wind. she is absolutely in love with and devoted to the princess she guards, and has been all their lives. she's very serious and practical but melts for camilla and only camilla.

[viraaja]

The Crack at the Heart of Everything

By Fiona Fenn

Art by @/jickdraws on IG

Banished, a death curse hunting him, the last person Orpheus expects to save his life is his rival Fenrir Rawkner. But when a massive portal into hell cracks open Empire territory, Orpheus realizes he's the key to closing it—if Fenrir can keep him alive long enough to figure out how.

🔮⚔️Buy the Book: https//bit.ly/TCATHOE

//

Hey yall, Viraaja here, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS NEW ART

*feral noises*

Have you read TCATHOE yet? Orpheus and Fenrir are waiting 😈

[skullywullypully]

Dude, what if instead of human child, y/n just bring home opossums and declare them as their children.

Miguel: