A week or two after the Dubai Air protest Sam happens upon Jamie lounging listlessly on a bench in the otherwise deserted gym. He’s not doing any exercise, just sitting there and staring out into nothingness with a curiously vacant look on his face.
Sam hesitates, hovering in the doorway. He’s come for a little bit of extra weights before heading home, and he hadn’t expected anyone to be here this late, least of all Jamie. It’s been a long day and Sam’s not sure if he’s up for dealing with the (possibly) reformed bully right now. Even if they are edging towards friendly, and even if that’s no small thing given what’s come between them before, there’s still an undercurrent of charged uncertainty to their interactions, a stilted hesitancy to their cautious politeness and careful attempts at casual camaraderie.
Jamie hasn’t explicitly told Sam that he’s sorry for the things he’s put him through. Sam has decided that he will not let his decision to give Jamie another chance be contingent upon this. It’s very tiring, being angry and resentful of the other’s presence: so much easier to accept the taped up logo for the peace offering it was, and let that be Jamie’s apology.
(If it rankles, it only rankles a little.)
Reminding himself of his decision to let bygones be bygones, and that they won’t ever get anywhere if they don’t actually learn to talk, Sam steps into the gym. Asks as he would any other glum-looking team mate he’d unexpectedly happened upon, “Are you all right, Jamie?”
Holds himself ready, holds himself steady, if Jamie should bare his teeth and bite, now that there’s no one around to see it.
But Jamie only starts a little, like he hadn’t noticed Sam or he’s surprised to be voluntarily addressed. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good, man. Great, you know. It’s just… I’m a bit tired, I guess.“ He pauses, then his face suddenly collapses and he gives Sam the most plaintive of looks. “It’s just so fucking exhausting being nice all the time. I don’t know how you do it, mate.”
Ah. Sam tactfully doesn’t say that it’s usually no effort for him and that he doesn’t really understand how it could possible come that hard for anyone.
He also doesn’t point out that not actively being mean to people isn’t quite the same as being nice.
Because Jamie is trying, isn’t he, even if it’s painfully evident that he still needs to try, that it doesn’t come quite naturally.
“Bit like when Spike had that chip in his head and had no choice but to team up with the good guys, isn’t it?” Colin had muttered a few days after their wayward striker had re-joined them, and yes, Sam had had to agree: it is a bit like that.
But there’s no chip in Jamie’s head (Sam is pretty sure). He’s here of his own free will, trying to be a good team mate and a better person because he wants to be. That has to count for something, doesn’t it?
Sam is pretty sure his dad would say it does. Sam wants to be the sort of person that lets it count.
And Jamie is looking genuinely dejected, in a way that has Sam feel a small surge of something that isn’t affection but isn’t too unlike it either. A little bit of pity mingling with amusement; enough that he’s moved to brave sitting down next to Jamie.
“Well, I have had more practise,” he says lightly. “I bet you will be really good at it if you give it a bit more time.”
“Yeah?” It’s offered casually, but there’s no disguising the faint hope in it. Sam can feel Jamie watching him out of the corner of his eye.
“Of course,” he says, and then, feeling bold, “You are Jamie Tartt. Aren’t you good at everything?”
A pause, and Sam holds his breath, praying that Jamie will understand that he’s being teased rather than mocked—
Then Jamie snorts, a sound halfway to a chuckle. “Yeah, man,” he retorts, bumping his shoulder against Sam’s, very carefully. “I’ll be the fucking best at being nice. Swear down, I’ll be so good I make you look like Geezer Scrooge.”
“That, I’d like to see,” Sam says drily; says sincerely. Standing, he nods towards the weight bench. “Do you think you can be good enough not to let me be crushed to death while you spot me?”
For a moment, Jamie looks taken aback, and Sam braces himself for a snide retort to his presumption – but it doesn’t come. Instead Jaime’s face clears, and he gives a sharp nod.
“Course, mate,” he says, and rises to follow Sam.
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@allvalley100
Prompt: Wildcard
Friendships: Demetri & Miguel & Eli (ft. Sam & Yasmine)
So I saw this week's prompt, and all I could think of was the IASIP episode where they try to sell gas door-to-door XD CW for pretty explicit sexual mentions that were...pretty inevitable, considering the source material XD Also CW for some (lighthearted) sexism, although it's kinda played for comedy/absurdity.
This a 6-parter--600 words total! Takes place in S4 or S5, when the entirety of the OG loser trio are fighting against Cobra Kai.
***
“As the brains of this operation, I think—”
“You’re the brains?” Miguel sounds a little heartbroken. “I thought I was the brains.”
“No, no, you’re the looks!”
“So…I’m not smart?” Miguel looks even more crushed.
“It’s not that!” Demetri gestures frantically, trying to salvage the situation. “You’re the looks, I’m the brains, Eli’s the wildcard.”
“I’m the wildcard?” Eli lights up. “That’s fucking awesome!”
“It’s the iconic formula, right?” Demetri grins. “Can’t fail with it. The Scooby Gang never did!”
“So…by not playing into that dynamic, we’re limiting our potential?” Miguel looks intrigued.
“Exactly. Can’t mess with a classic.”
*
“So Cobra Kai’s plowing us in the ass, right?”
Miguel’s dubious. “Don’t know if I’d put it like that—”
“Their stupid merchandise! Their flashy ads!” Demetri scoffs. “They’re ruining our lives with their synchronized kicks and their rotten ass-plowing hearts! As the brains, I’ve concocted a plan that involves oiling our asses and doing a little plowing of our own.”
His accompanying gestures are met with concern.
“Not gay sex,” he clarifies.
“Oh, good! I was sorta worried.” Eli sounds almost insultingly relieved. “What did you mean?”
“Gentlemen…” Demetri smirks. “We’re going to sell more merch than Cobra Kai.”
*
“We’ll need a bank loan to order and print the merchandise. I’ll spin the proposal to sound sensible, and Miguel’ll sit there looking pretty…and possibly providing sad puppy-dog eyes if needed.”
“This plan sucks.” Eli scowls. “I don’t get to do anything!”
“Untrue!” Demetri retorts. “You’re the wildcard—you sit there looking unhinged. Like you could snap should our proposal be rejected.”
“Like this?”
Although Demetri appreciates Eli’s reluctance to re-awaken The Hawk, a little pout isn’t very wildcard-esque.
“Pretend the bank left Miyagi-Fang a bad Yelp review. You’re plotting revenge.”
Ah. There’s that slasher smile.
“That I can do.”
*
As Miguel presses the gas, his eyes flick between Demetri and Eli.
“What the hell happened?”
“Eli tried showcasing the merch with karate moves, and we kicked our first potential customer in the face. She called the cops.”
Miguel groans.
“Demetri, you said this plan was flawless.”
“Hey! I did exactly what a wildcard would do!” Eli protests.
Miguel sighs. “So Demetri as the brains isn’t working, so I’ll be the brains and Demetri can be the muscle.”
Despite himself, Demetri blushes.
“You…think I could be the muscle?”
“Yes, sure, if it means I make the plans from now on.”
*
“Don’t you see? That’s why the plans weren’t working! We were operating on an incomplete crew!”
Miguel gestures frantically at Sam and Yasmine, whom the boys have doggedly hunted down in Forever 21. When Miguel unexpectedly changed course to the Valley mall, all Demetri and Eli could do was confusedly follow their new leader.
“Sam’s the muscle,” Miguel explains. “I’m the looks, Demetri’s the brains, Hawk’s the wildcard. It’s a full set!”
“You’re going to steal my only shopping buddy?” Yasmine complains. “Moon’s in the Maldives all week!”
“Come along!” Demetri says brightly. “We still need a Token Useless Chick!”
*
Demetri loves being the brains again.
“Sam, once we kidnap Kyler, beat him up until he confesses to some Cobra Kai felony.”
“My pleasure.”
“Miguel, use your puppy-dog eyes and sweet-talk the cops into giving us reward money for turning Kyler in.”
“Will do!”
“Yasmine, continue being useless and complaining about everything.”
“Ugh.”
“Reward money goes toward making merch, and—hey, what’s with the brakes?”
“I CUT THE BRAKES!”
Eli’s shriek fills the car.
“WILDCARD, BITCHES!”
The Sentra’s evacuated in seconds, albeit with much screaming and cursing. But let it never be said Eli Moskowitz doesn’t commit to the bit.
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Unleashed - Avengers!Bucky/Fem!Reader
✦ Pairing: Avengers!Bucky Barnes/Fem!Reader
✦ Word count: ~4,2k
✦ Rating: Explicit
✦ Warnings/tags: Sex pollen adjacent kinda, smut, a bit fluffy, one shot, possessive!Bucky, co-workers/friends to lovers, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, orgasm denial, dirty talk, praise, creampie, pet names (doll).
✦ Summary: During a mission, Bucky is exposed to something that removes his inhibitions and all he wants is you.
✦ Note: Previously posted on AO3 since I have basically no time or energy to write new stuff. It was titled You’re what I need before but I always hated that title so I decided to re-name it. Bucky is kind of an asshole in this, but it's just because he wants you! As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️
Masterlist | AO3
The worst part about watching from afar as a mission goes to shit is that you feel useless. Even as you dispatch medics for the team all you can do is tell them, "Help is on the way."
Captain America shouts orders that you hear through the comms. The wait feels endless until the crew of the quinjet declares that they have spotted the team and there's not much else for you to do but look at your monitors and wait for an update. When you get the call back that the team is secure you breathe a sigh of relief, but then the next message is to prepare the medical staff to receive multiple injuries and chemical exposure. You ask the crew to clarify, but they are too busy, so when you notify the medical center, they prepare a quarantine room.
Sometimes you wish you had a superpower and could be there with them instead of staring at your monitors and doing endless calculations on whatever the team needs. But then when they return they always compliment your work and tell you they don’t know how they managed without you. You try to remind yourself of those moments at times like this.
Once the quinjet is docked and everyone has been accounted for you push away from your desk and remove your headset, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your heart. A moment later a message pops up on your screen, probably because they couldn’t reach you through your comms.
[Bucky wants you to come down here]
Your heart does a little flip in your chest, making you scowl. He is your friend and probably injured, you have no idea why he would be asking for you, but it’s not because he feels the same way you do. You grab your tablet and head to the MedBay.
When you get down you take stock of the situation. Nat and Steve have some scratches, Sam's arm is broken and Wanda has a few cracked ribs. Tony is bruised, his suit had taken most of the damage. You look around for Bucky but don’t see him anywhere and quickly deduce that he must be the person currently in quarantine.
When you get to the wing, you’re almost too scared to go in, afraid to see what could have happened to him. Inside, you find a team of medical personnel discussing Bucky's condition with him through a glass wall. His hair looks damp and he's wearing standard-issue quarantine clothing, soft black pants, and a black sweatshirt. When he sees you standing patiently at the side he says.
"You can come back later. I need to talk to her more than I need to talk to you. Go away."
His voice comes from speakers in the ceiling.
You're shocked by his behavior but smile apologetically as the white coats pass you on their way out. When you get up to the glass you hiss.
"Bucky, what is wrong with you, don't be rude.”
"You make it sound like I'm never rude otherwise," he laughs.
"You're not rude to healthcare professionals, you know better."
You glare at him as you wake your tablet.
“Now what did you need me for?”
"Do you like me?" he asks. Your mouth falls open and your heart starts to beat faster. You’re happy your vitals aren’t monitored as you quickly collect yourself and try to deflect his question.
"Of course I like you Bucky, you're my friend."
But now it feels weird to look at him and you find a spot on the wall far behind him to focus on.
"What if I want more than friends?" is his next question and despite your best efforts, hope warms your chest. This is not happening. Of course you toyed with the idea of you and Bucky, he is always sweet to you, and if he has the chance he brings you gifts from the missions. But you’ve told yourself repeatedly that he needs someone stronger, who can keep up with him in the field and you’re not that person.
"Can we have this conversation when you are not high on some HYDRA drug?” you ask, trying to keep your voice from betraying you. They are monitoring everything in the room. And there is a sheet of unbreakable glass in between you both. If you're going to confess your feelings, it won't be like this.
"I'm not high," he huffs. "My mind has never been clearer."
"I still think we should have this conversation later."
"Doll, look at me."
The command in his voice is so strong you don’t think, you snap your eyes to his and they are so blue and soft.
"I will feel the same tomorrow, and the day after, whenever this drug wears off but now is the only time I can't hold my tongue," he explains.
You place your hand on the glass and he does the same on the other side.
"It will be fine Bucky, I promise," you say just as the door opens and Steve walks in, making you pull your hand back to your side. He's showered, in a fresh pair of clothes and he swings his arm over your shoulder.
"Stop hogging her time Bucky, I know for a fact that she also needs to debrief," he smiles but Bucky looks as if he's seeing red.
Through gritted teeth he presses out, "Get your fucking arm off her, punk. She's mine."
You and Steve burst into laughter because it has to be a joke, but then Bucky punches the barrier with his vibranium arm. The glass doesn't crack but both you and Steve stop short and step away in shock.
Steve removes his arm and says, "I'll meet you upstairs." Before quickly heading out.
You turn to Bucky and point at him, anger rising in your chest.
"What is wrong with you? Steve is your friend!"
"That is what it’s like in here every day,” he points to his head.
You're taken aback by his statement and his wide feral eyes. Clearly, whatever he was exposed to had messed with his head and he's not himself.
“Bucky I need to go,” you tell him, and before he can protest you continue. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You smile feebly at him and are out the door before he can say anything else.
After debriefing and having dinner you go to bed early. Your head is spinning with the day and most of all, Bucky.
It's way past midnight when you wake to the soft closing of your door. Since you always sleep with a night light the soft warm glow reflects off his left arm and leaves no doubt about who has entered your room. You blink at him but before you can ask a question he rasps out, pleading.
"I need you. So bad. Please doll, help me."
He moves closer to your bed.
You quickly remove your covers and get up, glad the giant t-shirt covers you to your thighs, ready to spring into action.
"Anything Bucky, what do you need?"
You stop an arm's length from him, but all he does is reach his hand out to cup your face, letting his thumb stroke your cheek. There is a wild look in his eyes but you keep calm.
"I can't get you what you need if you don't tell me," you whisper, meeting his eyes and watching as his brow furrows.
"I need you. Right now. If I don't get to touch and taste every inch of your body I'm going to lose my mind," he confesses in a low voice.
His words shock you and you hitch a breath. You’re not sure what you’re supposed to do. You have this great friendship. If things were different you would not have minded taking it to another level, but with the day in mind and the fact that he somehow got out of his containment room you say, "Bucky, you’re not yourself, you need to get back to-”
"Doll,” he interrupts with a hard voice. “For once, I feel more like myself than I have in a long time. The only thing the drug did, I think, was remove my inhibitions. For once I feel free. My mind isn't controlled by HYDRA or by fear that you'll reject me. All I know is that I crave you and I can't be quiet about it anymore.”
"Bucky… I…" your whole body is flushed with warmth from his words and you're not sure how to respond.
"I dreamt about you and couldn't stop myself from going over here. I don't want to hurt you, doll, but I'm not sure this drug will let me leave. All I wanna do is move closer to you.”
You swallow hard as he continues, thumb still stroking your cheek.
“Ask FRIDAY to get Steve, or the Hulk if you want me to leave."
Instead, you step into him, making up your mind in an instant and resting your hands on his chest.
"Stay, I'll be glad to help you with anything you need," you whisper honestly and by the way his eyes widen there was still some doubt in his mind that you would reject him.
Instead of saying anything his vibranium hand grasps your waist and pulls you closer. There is no escaping the smell and size of him and his hands on you got your pussy throbbing for him already.
"I hope you understand what you've agreed to," he whispers, leaning closer. "Once I have you I won't stop, you'll never be rid of me. I'll claim you against every surface of this fucking compound if I need to."
That makes you whimper and press harder against him.
"Fuck you'd like that huh? Are you a kinky little thing? Like getting fucked where people can see you and hear you moan, do you want people to see my hard dick spread you open?"
"Fuck Bucky!" You exclaim and lean your forehead against his chest. Maybe that idea excites you or maybe it is just that the word ‘claim’ sounds so primal.
"You're going to tell me all your little secrets later, doll. But now, I'm going to take what's mine."
And with that, he crushes his lips to yours. He backs you towards the bed, kissing you the whole time, letting his hands explore you.
When you land on your back, he stands over you with eyes like a predator about to devour its prey.
You shuffle up until your head rests on the pillows, spreading your legs for him. Without taking off any clothes he crawls after you, settling on his knees between your legs and placing his hands on the headboard, crowding you with his large frame.
"Mine," he whispers and it makes a shudder pass through you. He ruts his clothed cock against your core, slicking your underwear even more and making you whine, gripping the sheets under you.
"Yes," he almost hisses as the length of his dick presses on your clit and forces a mewl out of you. It's been a long time since you've gotten laid.
"Bucky," you plead.
"No doll, I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of claiming you, from the outside in. Did you think this would be hard and fast and that I would be gone before you knew what happened?"
He lets go of the headboard to put his elbows beside your head instead, his weight on you, pressing you down into the mattress.
"When I leave you will long for me, spend every waking second wishing I was still inside you. I want your cunt to be permanently drenched so I can fuck you whenever I please."
He kisses you forcefully and any coherent thought that was left in your head flees.
"And when you're too sore to take more of my dick in your pussy I'm going to do the same thing to your mouth and ass."
He rids you off your t-shirt and instead of having to move from between your legs to pull off your underwear, he rips them apart.
"Ah!" you exclaim when the force of his movements jolts you but he takes no notice, he just stares at you, letting his hands roam up and down your sides, up to your tits, cupping them and caressing your nipples with his thumbs.
Whimpers are coming from you with every pass of this touch. Then he moves down and lays on his stomach, not saying a word as he sweeps his tongue over your pussy before he starts devouring you with a throaty moan.
It doesn’t take long for the first orgasm to take you, his movements are precise and his words and actions have made you hornier than you’ve ever experienced. Or maybe it's because he is the hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on and he only wants you.
When you’re finished and sensitive he dips his tongue into your hole to taste you and groans loudly, lapping up the wetness from your orgasm.
"Better than I've dreamed of," he says when he pulls away.
Now you’re the one that must be high because you can't help but giggle.
"You seriously dream of me?"
"All the time, doll. Every night when I go to bed I wish you were with me and then you plague my sleep with your soft curves and radiant smile."
You're about to tell him how his laugh makes you warm and fuzzy on the inside but at that moment he sucks your clit into his mouth, cutting out every thought in your brain. He's gentle but not hesitant, it's as if he's feeling you out and when you make a particularly loud sound he continues the same movement, making your whole body go hot.
The second orgasm is intense enough to send aftershocks through for a long while afterward. Bucky lays his head on your thigh as you tremble, caressing your skin and letting the fingers of his right hand skim over your opening.
Despite what he's already given you, you still crave more. His fingertips never come close to where you need them and when you whine at the back of your throat Bucky smiles up at you.
"Don't worry, I'm not even close to done with you, but I don't want you to pass out on me.”
One of his fingers glides inside, making you take a sharp breath just because it feels so good. Once again he is careful, moving slowly, listening to your breath and your body.
"Please Bucky, I need more.”
"No need to beg, I'll give you everything you want… in time," he breathes and kisses the skin on the inside of your thigh. Slowly he moves his finger in and out. You're sure it's a form of torture. The sweetest kind there is. Your breathing is labored and when he finally adds a second, you start to quiver.
He nips at your skin and then kisses it before speaking.
"You look like a goddess, doll, eyes filled with lust, your skin is gleaming. I'm going to worship you until you're tired of me.”
"Never gonna happen," you whimper. Then his thumb lands on your clit, making you cry out. Everything is so sensitive and overstimulated.
"I don't- Bucky, I don't think I can again," you tell him even though his touches are causing your insides to melt.
"Yes, you will," his voice is soft but the command is clear. So instead of trying to speak again, you sink further into the madness that is him playing with you. The third one takes its sweet time but you never feel rushed or stressed that it's taking too long. Bucky isn’t in a hurry.
Then it’s suddenly there, crashing through you.
"Fuck Bucky, fuck you're gonna make me come."
"So good for me, let me feel you come on my fingers," he urges. "I'm going to lick them clean afterward so make sure you get them nice and wet for me. I want as much as you'll give me."
The climax reaches its peak and you come with a cry of his name, body convulsing and your hand shooting down to tangle in his hair.
"Just like that doll," he smiles up at you and holds your gaze when he pulls out his fingers and sucks them clean, moaning while he does. It's a filthy sound, but it turns you on as if he didn't just make you come for the third time. Then he dives in between your legs again, licking at your skin and your soaked hole.
Letting go of his hair all you can do is just lie there, writhing, as he somehow coaxes a fourth orgasm out of you.
“Fuck me,” you plead when he pulls back. “I need you inside me Bucky.”
This time he takes pity on you and moves away to take off his clothes. When he’s naked he kneels between your legs again and you spread them as wide as you can.
"Want me, doll?" he asks with a smirk.
He swipes his cock through your mess and then uses his hand to coat himself with you.
"Yes," is all you can say. Both you and Bucky stare as he pushes his dick into you, filling you up completely. Of course, he takes it torturously slow this time too.
"This feels better than any dream I've ever had," he whispers almost in awe. You grip his biceps and arch into him, pushing him deeper, faster. That makes him tsk but smiles at the same time as he pushes the rest of the way, finally seating himself. Without giving you a chance to relax he starts fucking you, his cock pushes perfectly against your insides, pulling sounds from you that you haven't made in years.
He sits back on his heels lifting your ass effortlessly until your weight is resting on your shoulders and neck. It's like he is in a trance, pulling you onto his cock over and over again. Your body is his, your mind has fled, and all you see and feel is just him all around you. His eyes keep changing between his dick filling your cunt, your bouncing tits, and your half-lit eyes as if he is not sure where to look.
"Mine," he rasps and thrusts hard to empathize the word. "All mine. Say it."
It takes some time for your brain to connect to your mouth and form the words but his gaze never leaves you.
"Yours," you whimper. "I'm yours, Bucky."
There is a familiar heat low in your belly that's steadily spreading through your limbs. It makes you wiggle and move because it's overwhelming. He is overwhelming in the best sense.
Whining you reach down to rub yourself but he slaps your hand away.
"I thought I told you, it's mine. I own this cunt. If you wanna touch yourself you have to ask permission." It's as close to a growl as is humanly possible and you don't understand how he can be so cognizant right now, because your brain is like putty.
"Can I please rub my clit Bucky, I wanna come on your cock so bad," you cry.
"Good girl," he praises, and when he calls you that, your mouth falls open with a keening sound, gripping the sheets even harder, pulling at them because you want to come so bad.
"Do it, show me how you get off when you're alone in bed without me."
Everything is slippery and sensitive when you start with your fingers and you immediately know it's going to go fast. With his previous words in mind, you ask.
"Can I come?"
He meets your eyes with a wicked smile.
"Fast learner. Yeah, you can come… when I tell you."
You rip your hand away, afraid you might fall over the edge at any second. The sound out of your throat is almost a sob.
"Don't be like that, doll, I thought you said you couldn't do it more times?"
"I can-I can! As many times as you want just please let me come."
"Fuck, I like it when you beg with my cock in you."
But he doesn't say anything else, just continues fucking you. He's not even winded while you're straining your entire body. Your hand wants to move back, anything to relieve the pressure inside you but Bucky was very clear and you don’t want to disobey him.
Then he pulls out and drops you onto the bed, but you don't get to relax because he flips you onto your stomach and pushes one of your knees up to the side before he presses in.
His dick hits your G-spot dead on and you scream into the pillow under you. Bucky chuckles right by your ear.
"Guess I found it."
He's merciless, his hips hit your ass hard and if it weren't for his weight pressing you down you would soon hit the headboard.
"Bucky!" you wail because it's too much. You're losing the last pieces of your mind to the sheer force of the pleasure and you're scared you're never going to be able to come back to yourself. Then his hand presses in between you and the mattress.
"Rub yourself on my fingers, make yourself cum. Fuck my cock and come all over me doll."
You brace yourself as best you can and move your hips as he keeps almost completely still, just shallow thrusts in stark comparison to what he was doing to you just moments ago.
His fingers slide along your clit, his cock brushing your G-spot over and over again. You're breathless, sweat breaking out along your skin, but the climax you're chasing will be well worth it. You just know it.
"I can't fill you up until I’ve felt you come around me," he grunts, his voice tight with holding back. You whimper, the feeling of fire flushing your whole body, and building up to an eruption like no other.
"Yes, yes, yes," he chants low in your ear.
"That's it, come for me, make me proud. Fuck it feels so good." And he starts moving again "I'm going to fill you fucking full of my cum. That's it!"
The heat in you breaks and you come with a shout of his name, shaking under him. It gets even more intense when Bucky finishes right behind you, groaning your name. He collapses on top of you but his hips are still moving, slowly, as if he doesn’t want it to ever end. Neither would you but your body is wrecked.
When he finally rolls off, you're so close to falling asleep, but he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom.
"Pee." He points and you want to tell him that you know the drill, this isn't your first time, but all that comes out is a grumble before he closes the door behind him and you sit down on the toilet.
When you're done, you stumble out and have a moment of panic, thinking he left. But then the door opens and Bucky returns with two bottles of water, handing you one before leading you to the bed and sitting you down on the edge. Gratefully you drink and lean against his shoulder before asking.
"How do you feel?"
"Better than I have in a long time," he answers, kissing your forehead.
You chuckle.
"Yeah I have a magical pussy, it can cure anything," you joke and it makes him laugh.
"You should get back to quarantine," you comment. "Before anyone notices."
He shakes his head. "No I'm staying here, I'm never leaving you again."
He takes the bottle from your hand and places it on the bedside table together with his own. Then he crawls beneath the sheets and you go after him, letting him envelop you in a tight embrace before you fall asleep.
Alarms blare and you wake with a start.
"FRIDAY what's going on?" you ask out into the room.
“Sergeant Barnes has escaped his confinement.” The voice echoes through the room.
You sigh and glare at Bucky grumbling beside you, like the loud signal is just a regular alarm clock.
"FRIDAY please inform the team that Bucky is here and everything is fine."
A second later the sound dies and with a sigh you get up to pull on yesterday's discarded t-shirt and find a pair of pants. Right when you're done there is a knock on the door and Steve asks, "Everything okay in there?"
You open the door enough to show yourself.
"We're fine, he broke out during the night and came here."
"Oh," Steve says and there is a hint of blush on his cheeks.
Then you feel a presence behind you and Bucky’s arm goes around your waist.
"Mine," he says and you can't see him but he's probably glaring daggers at Steve who backs away.
"We'll be okay, I'll alert FRIDAY if I need help," you tell Steve.
When you close the door Bucky turns you before pushing you up against it and kissing you hard.
"Mine," he mumbles against your lips.
"Fucking caveman," you tell him. He grabs you around the waist and throws you over his shoulder. "I'll show you caveman," he says and carries you to the bed
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Imagine: Samantha Manson rents an apartment with other students in university because she wants to pay her own way through college. One night, the other students throw a party. Sam takes refuge in the campus library during this, because she does not want to be around that. But eventually the library closes for the night, and Sam has to go back.
Sam walks in on the partygoers, still there, hanging out around a "summoning ritual" for fun. They're cleaning up -- the ritual didn't work, obviously.
Sam wordlessly halts the clean-up efforts in their tracks by taking one look at the summoning circle, seizing a paintbrush, bodying people out of the way, and making a dozen minor adjustments to the summoning circle.
It's Sam. No one stops her, and no one is brave enough to ask any questions.
Sam finishes, then walks off without saying anything.
The partygoers look at each other, and then immediately try the summoning ritual again.
(Look, Sam has a reputation as a goth and, if you believe in that stuff, as a witch. Not to say that any of them actually believe in that stuff, but sometimes it's fun to pretend like you do, and, well. They already decided to give it their best shot tonight, and they know that a Sam-approved summoning circle is the best shot they'll get.)
They read out the spell. The candles flare, the flame turning a dark, poisonous green, then blow out. A surge of black light shoots up from the summoning circle, and a presence thickens the air around them.
Before them appears a being that they know, in their soul, is not of this world.
A creature of the realm of the dead looms before them, crown ablaze with fury. "Who dares--"
Sam, nonchalant, wanders back into the room. Wanders over to the summoning circle. Casually erases, with the tip of her shoe, what they know from their brief study of their occult book to be the containment layer of the summoning circle.
Casually says, "Hey, Danny, what pizza toppings do you want?"
The presence fades, but does not vanish completely. "Oh, come on Sam," says the being that an animal part of them recognizes as of the realm of the dead. "What the hell, you know I hate that."
Sam wanders back out of the room, calling over her shoulder, "Well, I hate having my thermos broken!"
The being floats out of the summoning circle, and takes on the shape of a boy, touching down to the ground. The presence fades even further, until they wouldn't be able to tell the creature wasn't a boy if they hadn't already seen.
"Okay, first of all, that was at least 50% Tucker's fault--" it says, trailing after Sam. The conversation becomes unintelligible as they go to Sam's room and shut the door.
The partygoers are left in silence, with paint that has been turned to ash, brand-new candles that have been burned to stubs, and a terrifying new knowledge of the existence of the beyond.
And, for the unluckiest of them, terrifying new knowledge that the person they share a roof with has regular, real, dealings with the dead.
(Twenty minutes later, the pizza arrives. With a pineapple topping, of course.)
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