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w4ndal0ver · 2 months ago

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Good Old Fashioned Lover Girl (rockstar!agatha x fan!reader)

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: rockstar!daddy!agatha x fan!sub!reader

summary: You find yourself in the bed of the one and only Agatha Harkness, the lead singer of your all time favourite band.

content warnings: drug use in build up, shameful daddy kink, gagging, slapping, praise and degradation, slut shaming, spit play, fingering, cunnilingus, semi-public sex, choking, strap sex, throat fucking, spanking (minimal), power imbalance considering reader is a fan, only read if you wanna be railed by rockstar agatha

word count: 10k, sorry but it is shameful smut, I'm ovulating <3

You could hardly believe the night you’d had as you walked the streets alone at midnight. The concert you’d just been to was the best you’d ever been to, the lights blazing hot and harsh against the smoke that filled the room, neon halos on top of each member of the band's head. The Coven had been your favourite band for years, so when you found yourself in the middle of the heaving crowd, your brain half-euphoric, you could hardly believe who was standing in front of you.

Agatha Harkness stood centre stage, as she always did, owning the space with the kind of effortless power that seemed too raw, too real to be anything but magic. The Coven had made a name for themselves in the music industry, their sound something darker, more visceral than any other you’d heard and at the heart of it was her.

She was wearing another version of the same outfit she always wore, her hair wild and untamed, nothing but a black headband around her forehead. She didn’t just sing, she commanded, snarling lyrics into the mic that she grasped with such intensity. Her voice had a honey gravel to it, carrying a rough edge that cut right through you.

After a while, your brain still awestruck as you found yourself at the doors of a dive bar not too far from the venue. This place looked like it had been standing here forever, soaked in beer from the outside, and stale smoke encompassing the inside. The wallpaper was peeling, faded posters from bands that had long since faded away hung over the top.

The bar was small and dimly lit, just a few lowlights casting a dull amber glow over worn out tables and booths. A jukebox sat in the corner, glowing softly, though it was clear nobody had bothered to feed it quarters in a long time. Behind the bar, a bored looking man with a cigarette between his fingers was polishing glasses with a rag that looked as though it might be dirtier than the glasses themselves. The air was thick with the scent of old leather, cigarettes, and spilled whiskey, mixed with the indefinable mustiness that clung to the room.

In one corner, a small group of regulars huddled over their drinks, murmuring quietly to each other, their faces shadowed and weathered. So you decide to slide onto a stool at the bar, ordering a drink and letting the strange, comforting grime of the place settle around you. It wasn’t at all glamorous, but it was real, a welcome change from the chaos of the concert. The drink was cheap, but strong, and as you took a sip the buzzing in your brain started again. You’d taken everything you had at the concert but now you looked around eagerly in an attempt to see anyone doing any type of drug that you could befriend just to continue your high.

That was when you saw her.

You didn’t think it would happen, nowhere near a place like this, a dive tucked away from the spotlight, a world removed from the stage. But there she was: Agatha, who took centre stage even here, as if the universe had conspired this moment itself. She was perched on the edge of a booth in the corner, surrounded by a shifting circle of friends, hangers-on, industry types, all vying for her attention as she leaned back, one arm slung over the seat like she owned the entire bar.

A glass dangled from her fingers, half filled with something dark, and her other held a cigarette, a thin wisp of smoke curling up toward the ceiling. She looked utterly magnetic, her hair still tousled from the stage, her eyes sharp as she surveyed the room through half lidded eyes. You couldn’t help staring, even though you knew you should look away. You could see the way her eyes flickered to the small folded up bill tucked in the palm of her hand. It was all too subtle, like a well worn habit, but you noticed. She unrolled it slowly, taking the time to expertly cut the line on the table, the sharp scent of it lingering in the air to you even from across the room.

You zip up your jacket, hiding the Coven logo branded across your chest, but you feel your gaze stray back to her again and again, like a pull that you couldn’t resist. She seemed to glow in the low, smoky light. You watched her lean forward slightly, legs still spread, the sharp click on the lighter cutting through the noise as she held up the rolled up bill to her nose, inhaling deeply. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, a brief moment of bliss, before she straightened back up, licking her lips with a satisfied smile. Even in this rough dimly lit bar, she looked untouchable, like she could have the entire world if she wanted it.

As she looked up again, her eyes met yours across the room and you felt your face go warm, the thrill and panic hitting all at once, as if you’d been laid bare under her piercing gaze. You quickly looked down, pretending to focus on your drink, and took a long, shaky sip, hoping to drown the strange tension in your chest. Even as you stared at the scratched surface of the bar, you could feel her eyes on you, lingering like heat on your skin. You laughed at your situation, before downing the rest of your drink, slamming the empty glass against the bar and waving at the bartender once more.

“Whiskey, rocks.” You say, but somehow, impossibly, she was there beside you, moving so smoothly that you didn’t realise it until she was close enough that you could feel her presence, like a dark star drawing you into her orbit. You felt one of her hands pressed firmly against the small of your back, a strong, grounding touch that made you catch your breath, while the other reached up to signal to the bartender.

“All her drinks are on my tab.” She drawled, her voice rich and low, a quiet command that made it clear she was used to getting what she wanted.

“You don’t have to do that.” You protest, swallowing deeply at the way her fingers pressed just a little too hard into your back, possessive in a way that made your pulse race. She turned toward you, and there was a smirk playing at the corner of her lips, a knowing glint in her eye.

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening, clearly amused by your protest. “Oh, but I insist,” she murmured, leaning in close enough that her breath grazed your cheek, warm and tinged with whiskey and something sweeter. “It’s the least I can do for a fan.” Her gaze flickered down, lingering on the way you fidgeted with the hem of your jacket, the subtle nerves you were trying so hard to mask.

“Fan? Who says I’m a fan?” You tried for nonchalance, but the way her hand lingered against your back made it hard to focus, like she was rooting you in place with the barest of touches.

Agatha chuckled, a low, velvet sound that seemed to resonate through you. “Don’t play coy,” she teased, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and challenge. “It’s adorable, but it doesn’t suit you.” Her gaze slipped down your form, slowly, her eyes dragging over every detail. Her fingers pressed a little harder, her thumb tracing a lazy circle over the small of your back, sending a shiver up your spine.

You tried to play it cool, shrugging one shoulder, but your heart was pounding. “I didn’t realise you were so charitable,” you shot back, lifting your glass and taking a steadying sip, hoping the whiskey would help ground you, help steady the thrill building in your chest.

She laughed softly, a flash of teeth in that knowing smirk of hers. “Only to the ones who catch my eye,” she replied, her voice dipped in honey, slow and deliberate. She let her gaze linger on you a beat too long, making her meaning unmistakable. “And you, well you’ve been looking at me all night, haven’t you?”

You felt your cheeks flush, caught off guard by her directness. “Maybe,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but the way she was looking at you made it impossible to keep up the facade. “Or maybe you’re just used to people looking.”

“True,” she admitted with a shrug, her hand sliding from your back to the bar beside you, her presence enveloping you as she leaned in. Her face was close, her voice barely a murmur. “But I don’t usually notice them.” She let that hang in the air, a faint smirk playing at her lips as her eyes drifted down to your mouth, just for a heartbeat, before flicking back to meet your gaze.

The air between you was thick, electric, and you had to steady yourself, gripping your glass tighter. “So what’s someone like you doing in a place like this?” you asked, tipping your head toward the dive bar’s worn booths and the crowd that was beginning to dissipate, leaving the two of you in a quiet, unspoken bubble.

She shrugged, glancing around with a lazy, amused smile, as though the place were her personal playground. “I like the grime,” she said, her fingers idly tapping the bar. “It’s real. Cuts through the polish.” She tilted her head, studying you like you were part of her scenery, something curious and worth examining. “Besides,” she added, “I thought I’d find something interesting here tonight.”

“Something interesting?” you echoed, and she nodded, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Or maybe,” she purred, her voice soft and edged with challenge, “someone interesting.”

She was close enough now that you could feel the faint warmth of her skin, smell the lingering scent of her perfume mixed with smoke. You swallowed, barely able to hold her gaze, feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous and thrilling. She reached for her own drink, her fingers brushing against yours for just a moment, her touch electric.

“Come sit with me,” she said, tipping her head toward the booth in the corner where a glass, a small mirror, and a familiar rolled-up bill waited. Her invitation was as much a challenge as it was a command.

Your breath caught as she turned, her fingers slipping from your back in a way that left you feeling almost cold without her touch. But you didn’t hesitate. Her gaze stayed locked on you, even as she made her way to the booth, the air between you thick with anticipation. You could feel every eye in the bar turn as you followed her, but Agatha walked as if she was born to be watched. Heads turned; glances lingered, but she was utterly unfazed, her attention fully on you as she slid into the dark leather seat.

The booth was tucked in a shadowy corner, half hidden from the rest of the bar. You slid in across from her, feeling the cracked leather beneath your fingers as you settled in. She leaned back, one arm draped casually along the booth’s edge, her fingers tapping a slow rhythm as she watched you. The tension in the air thickened, like a coiled spring, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were in a game you didn’t quite know the rules to.

She reached for the mirror on the table, her movements smooth, practised, almost mesmerising. With a practised flick of her wrist, she cut a line, her fingers graceful and sure. She caught your gaze as she leaned down, taking her time, her eyes glinting with something wild as she inhaled. The scene felt surreal, like you were suspended between reality and some hazy dream, the sounds of the bar fading as she lifted her head, exhaling with a slow smile.

“You want one?” she asked, gesturing to the mirror, her voice low and edged with mischief.

You hesitated for a beat, but then nodded, feeling the adrenaline humming in your veins. You weren’t about to back down now, not with her eyes fixed on you like that, daring you to take the plunge. She slid the mirror toward you, a hint of approval in her gaze as you leaned forward, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You took the line, feeling the sharp rush as it coursed through you, heightening everything, the smoky lights, the hum of the bar, the way her gaze seemed to burn into you.

“Not bad,” she murmured, her smirk widening, clearly satisfied as she watched you settle back, your senses tingling from the rush.

Conversation drifted between you, each exchange a slow burn, full of glances that lingered too long, subtle touches that seemed to spark against your skin. Her fingers grazed yours as she reached for her drink, her knee pressing against yours under the table, each point of contact like a flicker of static. The intensity in her gaze never wavered, her eyes dancing with amusement every time you tried to play it cool.

At some point, her hand slipped over yours on the table, her fingers tracing lazy circles along your knuckles, the touch so subtle it was almost maddening. You could feel yourself leaning closer, caught up in the gravitational pull between you, until her face was inches from yours. Her thumb brushed over your hand, her eyes flicking down to your mouth, and you barely had a second to react before she closed the space between you, her lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was anything but gentle.

It was fierce, almost desperate, her mouth hot and demanding, like she’d been holding back until now. You felt a rush of vulnerability, exposed and yet anchored by her touch. Her fingers tightened over yours as she deepened the kiss, her other hand sliding to the back of your neck, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head backwards as she took your bottom lip between your teeth. The world blurred, the sounds and lights of the bar fading into nothing, leaving just the heat of her mouth and the taste of her lingering on your lips.

When she finally pulled back, her lips hovered just above yours, her breath warm against your skin. She looked at you with a raw intensity, her fingers slipping down to the collar of your jacket.

“Come with me, pet.” She growls into your ear, her voice a quiet demand that leaves no room for argument.

“I’m not your pet, and I’m not just going to go anywhere-”

“Now, last chance.” She smirked into your lips as the pads of her fingers graze the skin of your throat.

Your heart pounded as she helped you off the booth by your hips, leading you down the narrow hallway to the back of the bar, her hand firm around yours, fingers intertwined as if she couldn’t risk letting you slip away. She pushed open the bathroom door, pulling you inside and locking it behind her with a decisive click.

In the small, dim space, the air felt even more charged, thick with the weight of everything that had gone unsaid. She pressed you against the wall, her fingers tracing along your collar, slipping down to your jacket’s zipper. She looked up at you, her eyes dark and unyielding, a smirk playing at her lips as she began to tug it down, slowly, drawing out every inch.

The moment the zipper gave way, her eyes flicked down, catching sight of the faded band logo on the shirt beneath. She froze, her expression flickering between surprise and satisfaction, her fingers tracing over the familiar emblem. Her gaze lifted, and a grin spread across her face, filled with a mix of pride and something darker, a glint of triumph in her eyes.

“So, you really are a fan,” she whispered, her voice thick with amusement, as she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. “I like that. So you really will do whatever I want hm?”

Her words curled around you, low and smoky, settling over you with a teasing weight. You swallowed, your pulse racing as she traced the band logo with her fingertips, a lazy, possessive touch that sent a shiver down your spine. She was so close, every breath she took brushing warm against your neck, her fingers just hovering there, making it clear that she was savouring every second of this reveal.

Her smirk deepened, eyes locked on yours, searching for that flicker of hesitation that never came. You could feel yourself melting into her, caught up in the heady mixture of her touch and her scent, the unmistakable pull she seemed to have over you. “You don’t mind, do you?” she murmured, her voice a velvet-soft purr that seemed to echo in the dim, tiled room.

You felt the words catch in your throat, but the defiance flickered in your gaze for a brief moment, just enough to make her laugh softly, a dark, satisfied sound that only pulled you further under her spell. She let her fingers slide up to your shoulder, resting there with a possessiveness that made it impossible to pull away even if you wanted to.

"Good," she whispered, her lips tracing a feather-light line down to the side of your jaw. "Because I don't intend to be gentle."

“I don’t like it gentle.” You smirk, feeling the confidence hit you as her hands roamed your clothed skin. This seemed to rile Agatha up to the highest degree, her hand grasping your jaw, tilting your head roughly upwards, her thumb pressing against your bottom lip before her lips collided with yours again, her hands obsessed with wrapping themselves in your hair and pulling you about and into the positions she wanted your mouth in.

She angled your head to just the right position, her lips moving against yours with a confidence that left no room for hesitation. Every motion was a reminder of exactly who was in control, and somehow, that only made your pulse race harder.

The roughness of her touch sent a thrill through you, her nails grazing your scalp as she pulled you even closer, moulding you to her with an urgency that left you dizzy. The cool tile pressed against your back, grounding you, a sharp contrast to the heat building between you. Her thumb swept over your bottom lip again, lingering there for a tantalising moment before she deepened the kiss, taking exactly what she wanted. You felt her smile against your mouth, a sly, knowing curve, as though she was savouring every bit of control she held over you.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes roamed over you, dark and pleased, her lips curled in that signature smirk. "There’s a good little girl," she murmured, her voice low and taunting, her gaze raking over you like she was cataloguing every response, every tell. Her fingers stayed buried in your hair, keeping you close, her eyes searching yours, relishing in the effect she had on you.

"Not so cocky now, are you?" she teased, her voice edged with satisfaction as she took in your slightly dazed expression. "Let’s see if you’re still this bold by the time I’m done with you."

“Please Agatha.” You couldn’t believe those words were tumbling from messy lips as your chin covered in her saliva, the way she kissed was rougher than anything you’d ever experienced before and each brush of her lips against your neck sent chills to your core and you could feel your arousal pooling at the cloth of your sheer underwear.

Agatha’s smirk widened, her eyes glinting with wicked amusement as she ran her thumb over your swollen lower lip, silencing any further plea with a dark satisfaction. “Begging already?” she murmured, her voice a low, sultry taunt that only made the heat pooling in your core throb harder. Her grip on you was firm, unyielding, her fingers tangling through your hair with a control that left you feeling both held and exposed. She tilted your head back slightly, her lips grazing your neck in maddening, fleeting touches, each one calculated, leaving you breathless.

“Patience,” she whispered, dragging her thumb down over your chin, tracing a line through the glisten of her own lingering kiss. “I need to know what I’m working with.” Her lips ghosted over your collarbone, her hands roaming, exploring, as if mapping out every sensitive inch with deliberate care. Each press of her fingers was possessive, each touch purposeful, a silent reminder of the control she had over you.

You swallowed, chest heaving, trying to keep up with her pace, her confidence, the edge in her gaze that promised you were just getting started. She seemed to drink in your reactions, her smirk only deepening as her lips moved back up to your ear, her breath hot against your skin.

“You don’t disappoint so far,” she purred, her voice low, wicked, as her fingers traced over the thin fabric clinging to your hips, teasing just enough to make you ache for more. “But let’s see if you can keep up with me, hmm?”

“I can, I will.” Your voice is laced with desperation, her lips cutting you off again, the burning sensation that spread across your entire body as she pressed you harder into the wall.

“So desperate to please, you’re ticking all the boxes.” Agatha hums, her lips grazing your ear lobe before biting down hard, eliciting a sharp moan from your lips as your head falls back against the tiles, “Such pretty noises, god you might be perfect.” Even that allowed for another moan to fall from your lips.

A dark, satisfied glint lit up Agatha’s gaze as she took in every sound, every tremble that escaped you. Her teeth dragged down the curve of your neck, marking her path with enough force to make your breath hitch, as if staking her claim on each inch of your skin. The pressure of her body kept you pressed against the wall, her hands never leaving you, roaming with a practised assurance that left no room for doubt, she knew exactly the effect she was having on you.

She pulled back just enough to watch your reaction, the intensity in her eyes searing into you. Her fingers traced slow, tantalising circles over the thin barrier of fabric at your hips, her smirk widening as she watched you bite your lip, barely able to stifle another moan. “I think I quite like you like this,” she murmured, her voice a velvet drawl, “all needy, waiting on me.”

Her lips found yours again, rough and consuming, a heady mix of possession and challenge as if daring you to keep up with her relentless pace. The kiss left you dizzy, her hands tightening around you, pulling you in closer until there was nothing between you but the heat and tension building with every breath.

“Tell me,” she whispered, her tone teasing, her thumb pressing firmly against your jaw to hold you there, “how long have you thought about this, hmm? Standing there in my crowd, wishing you were closer, wishing you could have this?” Her words were low and knowing, stoking the fire that was already blazing through you, her mouth grazing the edge of your jaw, her breath warm against your skin.

She didn’t need you to answer. The truth was written all over you, and from the look in her eyes, she was revelling in every moment of watching you unravel. “On your knees pet, now.”

Her eyes held yours, sharp and unwavering, a quiet but unmistakable demand as her fingers traced down your jaw, guiding you downward with a touch that was both gentle and unrelenting. Heart pounding, you sank to your knees, feeling the rough tile beneath you as Agatha’s smirk deepened, satisfaction flickering across her face like she’d been waiting for this moment all night.

She took her time, savouring each second, watching with dark amusement as you settled, as though you were exactly where she’d intended you to be all along. Her hand stayed on your jaw, firm but caressing, fingers brushing your skin in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. Her thumb traced your cheek, slow and deliberate, her gaze warm with both pride and anticipation.

“There we go,” she murmured, her voice a low hum that washed over you, making you feel completely at her mercy. She tilted her head, studying you like a masterpiece she was in the midst of creating, her smirk widening as she took in your flushed cheeks, the way you looked up at her, completely caught in her orbit.

“You look good like this,” she mused, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip, her fingers tilting your head up just enough to meet her gaze. “Desperate, willing, exactly as I imagined.” Her eyes glittered with satisfaction, and she leaned down, her lips ghosting over yours in a barely-there kiss, keeping you aching for more. “Now,” she whispered, a wicked glint in her eye as she leaned back, “show me just how much of a fan you really are.” As she said this, her fingers were unbuckling the gold belt that kept her flowing trousers up.

You decided to take some initiative, your hands reaching up the back of her thighs, grabbing her ass with two firm handfuls before slowly pulling her trousers down her legs, placing kisses along the length of her skin, your hands trembling as she stepped out of the leg holes.

Her smirk deepened as she watched you, clearly relishing every moment of control and every tremor that ran through your fingers as you traced her skin. The dim light cast shadows over her, adding to her untouchable aura, but here she was, letting you peel away the layers. Your lips brushed her thigh, feather-light, trailing upward as you took your time, savouring the feel of her beneath your hands. She hummed in approval, a low, satisfied sound that sent a thrill through you, her fingers tangling into your hair to guide you exactly where she wanted.

She pressed herself against you, one leg between your knees, steadying you with a possessive hand at the nape of your neck. Her grip tightened, firm yet teasing, as though she were testing your resolve, testing just how far you’d go to please her. Each kiss, each touch, seemed to stoke the fire between you both, her gaze dark and knowing as you looked up at her, taking in the raw, magnetic presence that she commanded so effortlessly.

“Keep going,” she murmured, her voice low, dripping with authority, as she looked down at you with that signature smirk. “Show me that you’re worth taking home.” The words were laced with challenge, her tone daring, yet there was an undeniable hint of satisfaction in her eyes, as if she’d known all along you’d be here, right in her hands.

In the rush of her impatience, she pulled her lilac underwear down, stepping out of them and putting them in her pocket, pressing her leg between yours, putting pressure against the heat of your core in a gesture of getting you to hurry up. You looked up at her cunt, your hand reaching up to touch her but she batted your hand away, grabbing your hair and pushing your face towards her. You obliged immediately, the grip she had within your hair way too strong to disobey her.

You sweeped your tongue through her folds, sliding gracefully across her glistening skin, with the first contact her grip tightened in your hair and you moaned deeply into her cunt as she placed her other leg over your shoulder, allowing for you to get the best angle. You couldn’t help but devour her, the clear view of her pussy reacting to every breath you took near her, lying your flat tongue against her entire slit, feeling her hips slip underneath you, finally gaining a level of contact that made her weak in the knees.

Her light groans against your tongue quickened as you dragged your tongue from her entrance, encircling her clit with sharp strokes that made her grip tighten as you heard a thump from where her other hand fell against the wall, holding herself up. You took her clit between your lips, sucking gently which made her gasp in a way that surprised even Agatha herself.

You were eagerly watching and feeling for her body to react positively to each new way you swiped your tongue against her clit, wanting to remember how you made her tremble beneath your mouth. You wanted to know what made her grip your hair tighter, more desperate for your tongue to drive her into that desperate release that you didn’t think she was expecting from a bar goer that she’d dragged into the bathroom.

Her hips started to grind against your tongue, her low groans sometimes slipping into sharp moans, but once you hardened your muscle against her clit, she groaned a list of expletives for anyone in the entire bar to hear that sent a rush of arousal to your already dripping core. The way her leg was wrapped around your body, gripping your body closer to her cunt, not letting you pull away even if you wanted to.

You continued your movements and there she was, moans tumbling from her lips as her climax reached its peak, her breathy groans forcing you to push away the feeling of your jaw beginning to clamp up, but there was no way you were going to stop now with her hips uncontrollably bucking against your mouth, her arousal lacing your lips and seeping in against your tastebuds.

You continued light gentle circles until Agatha removed her leg that was tightly wrapped around you. She looked down at you, her eyes saying everything without her needing to speak a word. You knew you looked irresistible to her, she wasn’t expecting you to make her cum in the bar's bathroom, you got the feeling she wanted to humiliate you when you couldn’t, but you showed her. Her thumb stroked your lip, your face covered in her glistening arousal. She prised your lips open, allowing a long string of saliva to fall from her lips and land against your worked out tongue. You immediately swallowed, your mouth still open and she couldn’t help but smirk down at you.

“Well you’re an experienced whore aren’t you.” She said and your immediate nod told her everything she needed to know, she needed to take you home. She grabbed her trousers off the floor, slipping back inside of them quickly, grabbing you by your hair and guiding you off your knees. She captured you in another kiss, “You’re coming with me, I need to use you like you deserve.” You whined into Agatha’s lips, nodding desperately as you could feel your own arousal leaking from your underwear. “You’d like that wouldn’t you pet.”

“Please Agatha.” That was all you needed to say, she pinched your hardened nipple that had suddenly arisen through your Coven t-shirt and you groaned in desperation as she led you out of the bathroom and immediately out of the bar.

As soon as the cool night air hits you, the taste of Agatha still on your lips as her driver turns the corner and stops right in front of you. The car was massive, its sleek black exterior gleaming under the dim street lights as the door swung open. Agatha’s driver gave a polite nod, allowing you to step inside. The interior was everything you’d expect, rich leather seats, polished wood accents, and soft lighting that gave the whole cabin a warm, intimate glow.

Agatha’s presence was magnetic as she followed you into the car, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. She slid into the seat next to you, her hand resting briefly on your leg before she reached for the partition, smoothly lowering it with a subtle press of a button. The car’s low hum enveloped you both in a private space, shutting out the outside world.

She leaned back, her eyes glinting with amusement as she studied you. “Comfy?” Her voice was smooth, like velvet, making your skin tingle.

You nodded, trying to calm the rush of emotions swirling inside you. Agatha’s presence was overwhelming, and being this close, in the intimate confines of the car, only made everything feel more intense.

The car began to move and Agatha lent forward, shutting the divider between your section and the drivers, unclicking your seatbelt with a chuckle. “Come sit on Daddy’s lap.” You swallow in shock at the title she’d crowned herself, not that you were complaining. You shuffle off of your seat, straddling over her lap, burying your face in the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. She smelt like smoke covered in vanilla, a smell that you couldn’t help but need.

You were wearing a short black skirt, your Coven t-shirt still on show, now directly in Agatha’s eyeline as her hands fell to your bare thighs. You arched your back into her touch as you kept your head against her shoulder. You could feel how desperate you were, your legs being spread over her lap constantly reminding you of how your arousal was dripping down your thighs.

“I need you Daddy.” You whimper into her ear, sucking lightly against her earlobe. You were trying to pull on every one of her strings, you’d imagined this moment in your head for years, ever since you heard her first song. You never thought you’d ever be sitting on her lap in the back of her car, so you weren’t going to pass up on the opportunity.

“Oh I know you do, pet.” Agatha grins, her palm cupping your clothed cunt, licking her bottom lip at the damp fabric. You whimper at the slight contact, unconsciously grinding your hips against her hand. “Behave.” You comply, stilling your hips and allowing for her finger to push your underwear to the side, just the tip of her finger grazing your arousal. She isn’t prepared to do much more, just gently allowing your arousal to seep into her skin, letting you get used to not getting what you want.

After a few more minutes of relentless teasing, the car pulls up to the entrance of her estate. The mansion looms in front of you, a towering structure bathed in soft light, the large windows reflecting the night sky. The grand, wrought-iron gates open slowly, and the driver steers the car down the long, winding driveway.

“You have a beautiful house.” You say, awestruck at the sight of it.

“Thank you,” Agatha replies, her voice as cool and controlled as always, though there’s a flicker of pride in her eyes. She watches you with a knowing expression. “ I take care of it, and those who walk through its doors.”

The car stops at the front steps, and as the engine quiets, you can hear the sound of crickets in the distance, adding an eerie but peaceful touch to the atmosphere. You’re still trying to process the vastness of the estate, the grandeur of the house—its stone pillars, the delicate arches of the windows, and the perfectly manicured gardens that line the path.

Before you can say another word, the door opens, and Agatha steps out of the car, her coat billowing around her. She doesn’t look back, but her posture is commanding, as though she knows exactly how you’re looking at her.

“You coming?” she asks, her voice low and smooth.

You quickly follow her, stepping out onto the cold marble steps, your breath visible in the night air. Agatha walks ahead, her heels clicking on the stone as she leads you to the massive oak doors. The faint scent of something floral lingers in the air as she opens the door with a practised ease, and the interior of her home is revealed.

Rich tapestries hang from the walls, the faint glow of candlelight illuminating the elegant furniture, casting shadows that dance across the room. It’s opulent, but in a way that feels lived-in, comfortable, inviting.

She turns to face you as she closes the door behind you, her lips curling into a slow, amused smile. Agatha steps toward you, her heels clicking sharply against the floor as she stops just in front of you. The temperature seems to rise just slightly, the intensity of her gaze holding you captive. She lifts a hand, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, her fingers grazing your skin with a touch that feels like it could set you alight.

"This way," she murmurs, her voice smooth, yet carrying a subtle authority. She walks toward the door at the far end of the hallway, her heels clicking softly against the floor before she opens it with a graceful motion.

The room she reveals is everything you'd expect and more, a serene, almost ethereal space. The soft, golden light from a chandelier above illuminates the room, casting warm shadows across the floor and highlighting the luxurious details of the décor. The walls are lined with plush velvet curtains in deep, rich tones, and the polished wood floors gleam beneath the thick, patterned rug that stretches across the room.

In the centre of it all stands a grand four-poster bed, its towering wooden pillars reaching toward the ceiling. The bed is draped in luxurious linens, plush, silken sheets in shades of deep cream and gold that shimmer slightly in the soft lighting. The canopy above is sheer, cascading down in delicate folds, adding an almost dreamlike quality to the space. The posts are intricately carved, their designs subtle but elegant, giving the bed an air of grandeur without being overwhelming.

A large vanity mirror stands across from the bed, its surface covered with a scattering of perfume bottles, fine brushes, and a few other personal items. Agatha stands by the window for a moment, her figure framed by the soft light pouring in from outside. Then, with a slight glance over her shoulder, she turns to face you, her lips curling into a slow, confident smile.

"Make yourself at home," she says, her voice laced with both invitation and command. You try to listen to her order, perching yourself on the bed. “By that I mean strip.” The soft light from the window creates a halo around her, enhancing her presence as she stands across from you.

There’s no mistaking the implication in her voice. She watches as you slowly take in the room, the elegance of it, the softness of the bed beneath you, yet the quiet authority in her gaze makes you feel almost like an open book.

You hesitate for only a moment before standing, feeling the subtle weight of her eyes as you begin to unbutton your jacket, the fabric slipping from your shoulders. Each movement seems deliberate, and yet, there's a strange sense of freedom in it as you follow her quiet, unspoken guidance.

Agatha watches you silently, her eyes never leaving yours as she steps closer, the distance between you two narrowing. She reaches out, her hand brushing against your arm lightly, the touch almost reassuring in its gentleness, yet it carries an unspoken promise that makes your heart race just a little faster.

"Relax," she murmurs, as her presence seems to fill the room even more, her every movement calm, but purposeful.

You glance back at her, a slight tension still present in the air, but there's an unspoken understanding that whatever this moment brings, it's going to be entirely on her terms. And somehow, that feels just right.

“Let me help you.” Agatha’s voice is low, almost like a murmur, but it carries weight, pulling your attention completely. She steps closer, the subtle click of her heels on the floor the only sound in the otherwise quiet room. Her presence fills the space, each step deliberate, each movement calculated, yet graceful. You can’t help but be drawn to her, the way she commands the room without a word.

She stops just in front of you, her eyes locking onto yours, searching, reading you with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. Her hand lifts slowly, fingers brushing lightly against your wrist, as if testing your reaction. Her touch is soft but firm, a clear signal that she’s in control, but she’s patient, letting you decide how to respond.

"Let me help you," she repeats, her words steady and calm, but there's an underlying edge to them, a subtle demand you can’t ignore. She unbuttons your skirt, yanking it down quickly, leaving you in nothing but the band tee and your soaked underwear, a sight that was making Agatha drool all over you.

You cross your arms over your shirt, reaching the hem before trying to reach it over your head. She stops you, grabbing your wrists. You cock your eyebrow at her refusal to remove her band's logo from your chest. “You want me to keep it on?”

She holds your wrists firmly, her eyes never leaving yours. The air between you feels charged, thick with unspoken words and a subtle challenge. Her grip is forceful, just enough to let you know she's in control. Her lips curl into a slight smile, almost teasing, as if she’s waiting for you to respond.

"Is that a problem?" she asks, her tone soft but with an edge that makes you wonder if she's testing your limits.

You stand there, caught between defiance and curiosity, feeling her presence loom larger with every passing second. You shake your head, her grip on your wrists never loosening. You look up at her, knowingly allowing your desperation to seep through your pupils as they lock with hers.

“Come on, you've got work to do.” She smirks at you, laughing in the face of your desperation to be touched by her.

“What work?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed, not quite getting on the same wavelength as the older rockstar.

“What work?” She mocked, her finger tracing your jaw, “You give me another orgasm and I’ll fuck you, make you cry, work you out until you’re begging me to stop.” She orders and you gulp in nervous anticipation.

“I can do that for you.” You say, silence falling again and for a moment she expected you to turn and run away, but you didn’t. You stayed still, wanting so desperately to please her.

“Good, c’mon then pet.” She gets herself on the bed, trousers removed in the process, her shirt unbuttoned allowing you to see the outline of her cleavage. She rested her back against the headboard and you weren’t prepared to waste any time.

You shifted yourself across the bed, kneeling down in front of her. For the first time she wasn’t looking at you but instead straight in front of her. In curiosity, you turn to see what she was looking at, to which you saw the reflection of your ass in the mirror that she was looking directly into. You turn and purposefully arch your back lower so she could get a better view.

Your lips gravitate back towards her inner thighs, her underwear had already been removed in the bar bathroom, but she wasn’t appreciative of your teasing judging by her hand on your head. In response, your tongue grazed her clit and a moan left her lips as you looked back up at her.

“That's a good girl, show Daddy how good that tongue of yours is.” She orders through panting breaths as you hum against her cunt, making her squirm slightly beneath your mouth. You were determined to make her cum quicker than before, one hand slipping between your body and hers as you spread her lips apart giving yourself more room to work with. Her moan that escaped was much louder this time, a sound that was doing nothing but doubling the arousal between your own legs.

“You’re getting Daddy close, pretty girl.”

“Already, god I must be really impressing you.” You smirk against her folds and she delivers a quick and sharp slap to your ass, making your body fall against her.

“Three strikes and you’re done.” She warns, your whimper ricocheting around the room, her spank leaving a harsh bright red mark.

You were gasping desperately against her pussy, the vibrations of your humming rippling through her body as you could feel all the muscles touching you tense. This was a moment of confidence surging through you as you continued to move your tongue in the same tangled circles that were driving her crazy beneath you. You began to make sloppier movements with your tongue, allowing her to hear the way your tongue moved gracefully against her folds.

“Oh fuck baby, you’re gonna make me-” She curses, a hand flying into your hair, gripping tightly as she grinded down on your face as her orgasm ripped harshly through her body, her entire body convulsing beneath you.

It didn’t take her long to recover, she pulled your head up and admired your skin, glistening with her arousal and it was a picture perfect image that was forever branded in her brain. You hum into a gentle kiss, her lips gently touching yours in an attempt to not remove any of her fluids from your face, wanting to see you drowning in her wetness. She brings her hand up to the base of your throat, grasping around you tightly making you dizzy as she swipes her tongue against yours.

“Please can I give you one more.” You plead, wanting to touch her with your fingers, desperate to see how the woman would fold beneath your touch. There was a slight selfishness to your begging, knowing that you would get exactly what you wanted if you showed her the respect she so desperately wanted to see from you.

She laid herself back down, pulling you around her body, your chest resting on her arm with one leg hooked over hers as you pushed her legs apart with your foot. “Such a people pleaser hm?” Agatha quizzed, but not complaining, she was usually happy enough to not receive anything, but from someone who could bring her to orgasm so quickly, she wasn’t going to pass it by.

“I just want to please you.” You say, a faux innocent smile on your face as your fingers carefully brushed against her clit. She whimpered with sensitivity but you carried on with your movements, but her pussy was dripping, coating your fingers with natural lubricant before you moved her shirt out of the way, allowing your tongue to carefully circle her nipple until it hardened against your mouth.

As you began to make wide circles around her clit with your two fingers, she shifted her arm so it was stretched just enough to be able to brush your clit every time you grind your hips at the correct angle. It was like fireworks inside of you so you began to suck against her nipple, quickening and narrowing the circles you made with your fingers around her clit but soon enough she matched your movements.

You let out a whimpery moan, desperate for so much more than she was giving you, yet the contact alone interrupted your movements against her clit. She slapped your ass again. “Second strike sweetheart, focus on your Daddy.” You nod at her words, knowing you had to carry on. It didn’t take too much longer before her hips began to buck when you sped up your circles.

Her breathing laboured as you sucked the other nipple between your teeth, you spare hand playing with the other, overstimulating her in the best way possible as she started to grind down on your fingers.

“You want me to cum again baby?”

You nod, her nipple still loosely placed between your lips as she added another finger worth of pressure to your clit, mirroring exactly what you’d done to her. “Yes,” You gasp, “Please.”

The sound of your broken panting voice, whimpers tumbling from your lips made everything too much and she couldn’t help herself as her second orgasm fiercly crashed through her body, growling at the sensation as she let go of you, her back arching away from your relentless touch.

She stilled your hand as she recovered, looking desperately into your eyes and you could feel her domineering persona washing straight back over her as she yanked your shirt from your abdomen, chucking it onto the floor by the bed. She hungrily attacked your breasts with her mouth, making you moan desperately at the sudden contact.

“You did such a good job,” She smiles, “Looking so pretty while you did it too, that deserves a reward only good enough for whores like you.” With that, she flips you over her body, planting your back against the mattress with an insane level of strength that you didn’t expect. She wasn’t planning on wasting any time, needing to taste you as you glistened directly in her eye line. “God you’re already so wet, I don’t think I even need to warm you up for my cock huh.”

You gasped at her words, but before they processed her tongue licked one long stroke up your clit, before replacing it with her fingers, circling your clit with one hand, the other trailing around your quivering opening.

You were nothing but desperate, aching for the feeling of her inside of you, but she repeatedly teased you with circles around your entrance, until eventually, she slipped them in, just one at first, gently stretching you out with her expert, well practised hands.

“Taste yourself on my fingers pet.” She demanded and Agatha’s fingers pressed in and out of you, gathering enough of your arousal to place in your open mouth, but she didn’t. You watched her eagerly as she sucked you from her own fingers, prying your jaw open with her other hand and spitting your arousal from her mouth, holding your mouth open and continuing to spit against your tongue, knowing your skill from earlier you swallowed as much as you could, but you were still left with a mix of Agatha’s saliva and your arousal dripping down your chin.

She couldn’t help but groan at the sight of you, before she slid her fingers down your throat until you choked against her, saliva bubbling from your mouth now. She continued to fuck your throat until you were a spluttering mess. Her lips pressed against yours now, her soaked fingers sliding between your folds as your entrance begged for them inside of you, and you took them so much easier now.

She pumped her fingers relentlessly inside of you, her thumb finding your clit and rubbing it aggressively, stretching you out and you couldn’t help but squirm and moan against her hold, but she kept you still. “You sound so pretty, Daddy needs to fuck you now.” She demanded, pulling her fingers from you and you couldn’t help but feel fucked out already, but you weren’t giving in now.

“Play with yourself while I put this on.” She orders, shuffling over and reaching for the strap which she kept in her bedside drawer. You could barely see it, but you could tell it was way bigger than you were used to, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest. One that matched the size of her enormous ego.

You did as she said, pressing two fingers against your clit, carefully applying pressure that didn’t match up to the way Agatha made you feel, but watching her pull her legs through the harness you couldn’t help but squirm and moan as you waited in anticipation.

“Show me that pretty pussy baby.” She hummed as she turned around, the sheer size of the nine inch dildo attached to her waist making you moan let alone her words. Your hands spread your cunt apart right in front of her. She crawled up to you on her knees until she was between your legs, the position allowing her to tease you, dragging the head of her dick through your wet folds, watching as your body prepared for her.

She locked eyes with you before she slid straight inside of you, gasping at the feeling of every inch of her forcing its way into your entrance, purposefully making you feel every single centimetre of her cock as it pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“Oh fuck Agatha.” You whined, her hands spreading your thighs further apart, her strokes becoming deeper as she aimed to hit every spot inside of you. You couldn’t stop the whiney gasps and high pitched pornographic moans that were escaping your lips. You wrapped your legs around her, pulling her into you, leaving her flush against your sweat painted skin.

“Aw you’re so wet for Daddy aren’t you.” You nod in response, actually you don’t stop nodding as she pulls out of you, rubbing the head against your aching clit, before pushing herself back into you quickly, pinning your waist against the mattress and pounding into you. You couldn’t take much more of her thrusts, each one hasher than the last, something which you didn’t think was possible but she proved you wrong with every buck of her hips.

You grip onto her shoulders, arching your back off the bed so you could press your chest against hers. This allowed her to draw messy circles around your clit and it was like she could feel you clenching around her cock.

“Daddy, I’m gonna-”

“No you’re not.” She commands, pulling out of you and spinning you round by your hips, pressing your head into the mattress, moulding you into the position she wanted you in. “You’re mine, pet, you take what I give you and you cum when I ask you to.” Her voice was a continuous growl as one hand gripped your waist, the other spreading you apart before she spat against your entrance before pushing her cock back inside of you.

This angle changed everything, your moans jumbled into the duvet as you felt your body being forcefully moved with every rapid thrust, her rhythm never faltering once.

“Please Daddy, I need to cum.” You beg, turning your head so she could hear your pleas more clearly. Her relentless thrusting of her hips had you so close to the edge and you knew you couldn’t hold it anymore. Just as your cunt clenched around her dick, she could see it in your body language.

“Cum now on my cock you fucking slut.” You did exactly that, your hands gripping against the covers as Agatha refused to slow down her pace. Your orgasm coursed through you harder than any you’d ever felt before, your moans became screams against each pounding thrust she delivered into your dripping, aching cunt. With a string of expletives and breathy moans you fell flat against the mattress, whining as you felt the emptiness consume you as Agatha pulled out of you.

“Agatha, that was something else.” You spoke, your eyes only just opening from how hard they’d scrunched shut at the peak of your climax. When your eyes opened, the strap was hovering over your mouth, your arousal glistening in front of your face.

“You’ve got to clean Daddy up, look at all the mess your slutty hole has made.” You moaned at the deep husk in her voice as you did nothing but open your mouth as wide as you could, allowing Agatha to guide her cock into your mouth, only the head was filling you up to the back of your throat. You began to suck, holding the base between your hands, not letting Agatha thrust her hips into your mouth. You let it go deeper, but not as much as Agatha wanted.

“You can do better than that, I thought you wanted to be my little cock whore.” Agatha teased and you opened your throat as wide as you could, thrusting your own head into the length of her cock, allowing her to harshy thrust into your choking and spluttering mouth. Her nails deep into your scalp now, as you started coughing she went easy on you, slowly pulling out of your throat as your head fell back in sheer tiredness.

“Oh sweet girl, you did such a good job.” Agatha praises, loosening the harness and tossing it towards the end of the bed, reminding herself to deal with it after she’d given you the praise you deserved.

“I’ve never been fucked like that in my life.” You admit honestly.

“Didn’t seem like it.” Agatha teased before she pulled your naked body into a deep embrace, her body cocooning you between hers. “I’m joking, I only perform best for my fans.”

“Oh shut up Agatha.” You laugh, the reminder of who she actually was came flooding back to you and you couldn’t help but feel the flush of scarlet red beam at your cheeks.

“Well you’re the prettiest little fan I’ve ever had the honour of fucking.”

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broodybuck · 3 months ago

Text

Title: The Boy Next Door

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Rating: E

Tags: 18+ explicit smut, childhood friends, neighbors, pining, confessions, friends to lovers, first crush

Summary: Growing up, you always had a crush on the boy next door. Now, twelve years later, you might unexpectedly get your chance with Bucky Barnes.

[ao3 link]

Your parents just handed over the house you grew up in. It was that easy, now it's yours.

They want to be those typical, retired parents and move to Florida — boring! And since you've been renting a studio in Brooklyn for the past four years, you jumped at the chance to have a three-bedroom house in upstate New York. It's already paid off and your parents are wealthy enough, they don't need the earnings for their Florida condo.

You've only been back to your childhood home for holidays in the past few years. Everything has stayed the same, your parents were actually one of the few who didn't turn their daughter's bedroom into a home office or gym. They left the pink wallpaper, the twin bed with the floral comforter, and the tower of stuffed animals on the dresser.

When you arrive with your two suitcases and some extra cash in your pocket since you sold all your studio furniture, you stare up at the house. You smile from the warm memories before you glance over at the house next door.

An older boy named James lived there, but he always went by Bucky. Bucky Barnes is the name that lived in your diary for most of your adolescence. He was four years older than you which meant you had an embarrassing crush on him since you were twelve. He was nice, he always teased you when you saw each other, he even acknowledged your existence for the one year you were both in high school together — you as a freshman and him a senior.

That did wonders for your reputation, you became pretty popular even after he graduated. Still, you would've thrown away all the friends and parties for just one night with Bucky if that was a possibility.

You're not sure you ever got over your crush, more just accepted that it was never going to happen and moved on with your life. It was easy once he went away from college and three years later so did you. You never ran into him again even when you were visiting home for the holidays. It seems the Barnes' residence spent their holidays elsewhere as the house was always dark on those occasions.

Currently, it's two in the afternoon and the sun is beating down so strongly, you start to take off your jean jacket. You're sliding your arms out of the sleeves when a familiar voice makes you jump.

"Hey, y/n."

Your arms flap uncoordinatedly, still half in the jacket, pausing in an awkward position as you turn to see your childhood crush standing a few feet away from you. Bucky Barnes, looking sexier than ever.

"Oh, hi,” you splutter.

This man still has the ability to make you blush like a schoolgirl. You do some quick mental math and realize if you’re 27 now then he must be 31. And why do men age so spectacularly? He has somehow managed to become even more attractive in the last twelve years.

"What're you doing here?" you ask as you finally free your arms from the jacket.

"I'm house-sitting," Bucky explains. "What're you doing here?"

"Um, well, the house is sorta mine now."

"Parents gave you the whole thing?"

"Yep, the whole thing," you nod.

"Wow, congrats on the house," Bucky says.

"Thank you," you reply and you both stare at each other in a beat of silence.

"Um actually, since you're around, do you think I could pay you for some manual labor?" you ask suddenly.

"What kind?" Bucky grins fast. It truly takes your breath away, jesus this man should not be allowed to smile.

"I have a dumpster coming tomorrow morning," you explain. "I'm getting rid of my childhood bedroom furniture."

"Yeah, I can help."

"That would be so great, I'll pay you—"

"Don't sweat it. Just treat me to dinner sometime," Bucky shrugs, and your stomach drops. What in the world does he mean by that... like a dinner date?

"Oh, dinner... yeah, okay. You got it," you play it cool and awkward.

He smiles at you, amused.

"Anyway..." you mumble unsure how to retract yourself from this conversation, unsure if you even want to.

"You really grew up, huh?" Bucky says, and he scans you up and down.

"I guess so," you shrug, your face burning. "You too."

"Yeah, guess we haven't seen each other in..."

He appears to be trying to calculate the years but you unabashedly jump in with an exact answer.

"Twelve years."

"Has it been that long?" he asks.

"I... think so," you feign uncertainty.

"So, what time do you need me tomorrow?" he asks.

"Oh, anytime that works for you."

"How about noon?"

"Perfect."

Asking for Bucky's help might've been the worst idea you ever had. When he comes over, he's wearing a cotton-white t-shirt and jeans. His hair is damp and slicked back from a shower. He looks so comfy, it makes you imagine waking up with him. You yearn to know how warm his skin feels fresh from the steam.

You ignore your inappropriate desires and lead him up the stairs to your old room. It's then you realize how many years of your life you desperately wanted to show him your room. Have your crush see these walls, sit on your bed, and make out with you next to your teddy bear.

It's embarrassing but probably every teenage girl wanted the same thing. Unfortunately, the thought slips out of you with a laugh.

"I always wanted to show you my room."

You freeze in the doorway, realizing what you've just said out loud.

"What?" Bucky asks from behind you.

"When I was younger, I meant. I didn't mean... I don't know why I said that, actually."

You turn around and see the look of amused confusion on his face, a small smirk inching from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh, fuck it. I had a major crush on you," you confess.

Bucky's eyebrows lift high.

"Yeah?"

"You couldn't tell?"

"I thought you were just awkward with everyone," he shrugs.

"Great, so you thought I was a total loser," you sigh.

"No..." he says quickly but takes a second to elaborate. "If it helps, I didn't think about you that way 'cause you were too young for me."

"Of course, you never thought about me," you brush off, trying not to let your younger self die too much inside.

You step into the room to create any amount of space from this conversation. But you instantly remember the countless hours you spent in here thinking about him. Staring out the window at his family's house hoping the catch a glimpse of him.

"Hey," Bucky says. His hand gently touches your shoulder.

You turn around to meet his eyes which oddly look darker, more intense now.

"I could see myself thinking about you now," he admits low.

You blink, your mouth is suddenly too dry to respond.

"I mean... look at you," he says so fondly that your heart could burst. And he looks you over again, his pupils dilating even more.

Is this really happening, you think.

His right hand hasn't moved from your shoulder. Boldly, you place a hand on his left forearm and you're right, his skin is still warm from the shower.

You breathe in sharply because just touching him, just standing this close for this long is something you were never lucky enough to get back then.

His eyes are still locked with yours and it's honestly so intense you can't look away even as you see him dip his head, lowering slowly to your lips. He waits, an inch from them, to see if this is okay. Of course, it's fucking okay.

You surge the last inch forward and kiss him harder than you anticipate. He stumbles a step back, in consequence grabbing onto your waist, and pushing forward. He walks you back toward the twin bed up against the wall.

When you fall back onto the mattress, it creaks from old age, but you couldn't care less. Because Bucky Barnes, your childhood crush, the extremely attractive neighbor next door, is crawling over you. And it's glorious, it's enough to make you arch up into him and moan.

He lets out a breathy laugh and then kisses you, his knee slides between your legs and presses down. You moan even louder. You're completely shameless, you are, but this is Bucky Barnes. You're not staying quiet for a second of this.

His mouth moves to your ear and he's kissing down your neck while his fingers slip under your shirt, rolling it up.

Your shirt is off and then you're pants are coming off too. You want to get him out of his clothes but his mouth finds the front of your panties and he's teasing you, mouthing at the fabric.

"Please," you whine.

He grins against your underwear and then slides the thin fabric off and sucks his thumb into his mouth.

When he touches you, he's not gentle. He goes right in and rubs your clit roughly but you're so turned on that it's like a jolt of electricity to your body, you leap up from the mattress.

He licks two fingers then and sinks them right inside you. Oh god, it's so easy because you're so wet.

"Fuck," he mutters, realizing this. He stares down, watching his fingers work inside you. Your skin boils endlessly.

He doesn't need to spend much time working you open and he must know that because it's not long before he pulls his fingers out and hurriedly works the button of his jeans open. He pulls open the fly and pushes them down when you sit up to get his shirt. You're not letting this happen without seeing that gorgeous chest again.

You remember so many summer nights when you got a glimpse of Bucky shirtless. Running through the sprinkles or coming home from a neighbor's pool. He was stunning, even back then, but now... oh lord, now he's filled out. He has a firm, thick chest and a set of perfect abs lining his torso. Because of course, he has a six-pack, you always fall for the most unattainable guys.

But somehow you have him, right here, in your very old, tiny twin bed.

You want to lick a long strip from his navel up to his neck but he doesn't give you the chance. Once his clothes are off, he pulls your legs over his waist and pushes inside you so fast you barely have time to prepare. You cling to him with your whole body, legs and arms. And you moan low.

"Oh god, you're so tight," he husks.

You tighten your hold around his neck, he looks up at you and kisses you. You're basically on his lap so start rolling your hips slowly, getting used to how big he feels inside you.

You push him back until he lies down. And then you're riding him. You're riding Bucky Barnes in your childhood bedroom on top of your pink comforter with yellow flowers.

This is your teenage dream come true and that realization plows through you, making you ride him even harder, snapping your hips as fast as you can over his cock. And it's enough that you get a moan out of him, a low gravelly groan that you immediately fawn over.

His fingertips dig into your skin as you keep riding him fast and hard. You know you're nearing the edge, your head falls with a whimper, you grip his shoulders tighter.

"Fuck, y/n. Come for me," he breathes.

And you lose all control the moment you hear that. Fuck, you come so hard.

"Oohhh, fuckkk," you wail and stop moving to let the orgasm crash through you.

Then his hands lift your ass, just enough so he can raise his hips and start fucking into you.

"Jesus," you hiss and scramble to hold onto him again.

He keeps fucking you, gaining speed and making your eyes roll back from the fact that your orgasm can't wane with his cock repeatedly slamming right into you.

He groans, squeezing the flesh on your ass now and you can tell he's close.

He curses under his breath and then he's coming and still fucking you so hard your vision's blurring.

When he finally slows down, he blows out a long breath. He releases his grip on your ass and closes his eyes, basking in the aftermath of his orgasm.

You can feel his cock twitch one last time inside you. You carefully try to pull off him. He winces as you do, still sensitive. You lean down and kiss him, you can't help yourself.

He smiles when you break to let him catch his breath. Okay, he's totally allowed to smile when he's naked in your bed, you decide. You admire the sight for as long as he lets you.

"Well, fuck," he laughs.

"Yeah, fuck," you agree, smiling. "Not sure if I should thank you for your help yet."

He laughs. "I haven't done anything yet."

"Oh, you've done plenty," you tease and plant another kiss on his lips.

He smirks at you and runs his hands up your sides, gentle and light.

"I'll help you move the furniture," he says. "Just give me a few minutes."

"Yeah, I need a few too," you say. "At least this bed is going out with a bang."

And you both laugh. Then you look at him and already remember what he said to you yesterday. You remember almost every word he's ever uttered to you.

"So, about that dinner," you say.

He smiles wide and just kisses you.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you

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