#i was gonna do [redacted] but i think i need to ease people into dom!holly

[lostloveletters]

Sweetheart Grip (John Egan x OC)

Summary: Day 21 - Gun Play. Bucky remembers hearing somewhere that a girl is a gun. [AO3 link | Kinktober 2024 Masterlist]

Note: This is probably trashy and in poor taste but whatever! Visual reference for what a sweetheart grip is can be found here.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Inevitable historical and technical inaccuracies, obviously unsafe handling of a gun. Sexually explicit content involving elements of gunplay.

Holly’s eyebrows furrowed when she looked down the long, unfamiliar hallway. Still, at a quarter after seven, she walked until she got to the third door on the left, as she was asked to do earlier that day. Filled with boxes and miscellaneous supplies, all covered in a thin coat of dust, it was almost like everyone had forgotten about that back office, though the lights turned on when she flipped the switch. She wondered how Bucky even knew about it, considering he hadn’t even worked as an Air Exec for all that long.

No evidence of him around, but she’d wait. Sometimes he ran a little late to their rendezvous, so she made herself comfortable on top of the desk in the corner of the room, her legs swinging back and forth above the scuffed floor until she heard footsteps approaching.

Bucky smiled when he saw her, closing the door behind him. “No one saw you, right?”

“I don’t think so.” The lock clicked. “Sounds like you wanna get us in trouble.”

“I’m trying to keep us out of trouble.”

She hopped down from the desk, a bit hesitant as she walked over to him. “You’ve been acting kind of cagey lately. You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know that, doll. I’m just not great at surprises, and I didn’t wanna ruin it before it was ready.”

The corners of her lips turned up slightly. “What surprise?”

He stuck his hand in his jacket pocket, making his way over to the desk she’d been sitting on. She eagerly followed, startled to see a gun on top of the worn wood grain until she took a closer look at the grip.

“Oh my god, that’s me!”

He grinned. “Who else?”

“How’d you do this? With the photo and everything?”

“Wasn’t that hard to get Woody on board. She did one hell of a job,” he said.

She took his face in her hand, standing on her toes to kiss him. “It’s so… sexy,” she confessed, her cheeks flushed pink. “Makes me feel like I’m the girl in one of those gangster pictures or something.” Her hand hovered just above the grip. “Can I?”

“It’s not loaded, but be careful.”

“How do I hold this thing like I know what I’m doing?” 

He shrugged his jacket off and came up behind her, positioning her arms before placing his hands over hers. “Always treat it like it’s loaded, and don’t point it at anyone unless you wanna shoot ‘em.” 

His fingers caressed the middle knuckle on her left hand, where the raised scar was. When he initially bandaged up her hand, he honestly didn’t think she needed stitches. It was too late for that when he unwrapped the gauze to redress the wounds and noticed how oddly the broken skin over her knuckle was healing. She claimed she didn’t mind.

“So you put your finger on the trigger—”

“And then I say, ‘Put the money in the bag and nobody gets hurt.’”

He laughed, the soft rumble of his body, so close to hers, made her eyes flutter shut for a moment. The day when they wouldn’t have to sneak around the way they did couldn’t come soon enough. At the very least, if Chick knew about their relationship, he tolerated it, even if he couldn’t outright condone it. They were better together.

“Alright, Bonnie, then what?” he asked, his lips close to her ear.

“We hide out in a nice hotel somewhere, lay low for a while,” she said softly.

A pleased hum rolled through his chest. “I like the sound of that, you and me in bed for a week.”

She glanced up at him, a slight smile on her lips to find him staring down at her. 

Licking her lips, she looked at the pistol nestled in their hands. “Pull the trigger.”

“What?”

“You said it’s not loaded. I just wanna see.”

He glanced at her, intrigued by her request, even more so by the strange look in her eyes. Bringing his gaze forward, his finger curled to the sound of an empty click. A shiver ran down his spine as she gasped, pressing herself against him.

“Do it again.”

Click.

Her voice was breathy. “Again.”

Click.

“Are you getting off on this?” he asked, his voice hoarser than he was expecting.

She tilted her head back against his chest, shameless in the face of his accusation. “Why, are you?”

He swallowed roughly. Of course she could feel his cock growing hard in his trousers, pressed against her back as closely as he was. Wanted to give some smart response, but found himself unusually flustered by the situation.

“Jesus Christ, Holly.”

It was as if he blinked, and she bent over the desk, her panties and stockings pulled down to her knees, her skirt hiked up over her ass. He placed the gun down next to her, the grip right in her line of sight. Mesmerized, she stared at it, the plexiglass-encased photo of herself smiling back at her. His hands shook as he rushed to free his cock, straining almost painfully against his clothing.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked.

“I think so—”

“You better,” she said, looking at him from over her shoulder through half-hooded lids, her dark brown eyes nearly pinning him in place. “I know you’re not shooting blanks, are you, Major?”

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Fuck—fuck—just hold on—”

He searched frantically through his jacket pockets until he found one and tore open the packaging to slip it on. Something in his brain was short-circuiting, the way she looked at him, spoke to him, he nearly whined when she called to him with a gentle, “Baby?”

She bit hard on her lip when Bucky pushed inside her, frustration crashing over her when she tasted blood. She wanted him to hear how good he was making her feel. But for the time being, she reached back, placing a hand over one of his that was gripping her waist. Her thumb rubbed against his skin gently, and upon looking at the pistol again, she felt overwhelmed by her sweet, sentimental, sensitive Bucky. Something about the way he looked at her, held her, transcended mere affection, actually made her feel like a person again.

“You’re so good to me,” she said, as softly as she could manage, though a moan caught in her throat when she added, “You’re everything.”

Never thought she’d find a man who could make her feel that way again, her heart pounding against her ribcage as if about to burst through so she could present it to him in kind. 

She withdrew her hand from its place on top of his to grip the edge of the desk. So close, so fucking close she could scream. Bucky was never all that good at keeping quiet, even when they had to be, like then, with his face buried in the crook of her neck to muffle the sound of his moans.

“Please,” he whimpered against her skin, “doll, please.”

“I know, baby. I’m almost—fuck—keep going.”

It was the sweetheart grip that pushed her over the edge. She wasn’t sure why she curled her fingers around it, dangerous and intimate, the thrill it sent through her set her off, pleasure tearing through her so violently that she could hardly hold herself up on top of the desk. Her chest lay flush against it when Bucky came, and for a few moments afterward, the room was unnervingly silent save for their heavy breathing.

“Christ,” Bucky groaned as he pulled out.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “Was that—was I too much?”

“If I knew you had that in you, I would’ve gotten this a lot sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“I didn’t wanna scare you off.”

She smiled, leaning up on her elbows to look at him over her shoulder again. “If you wanna get rid of me, it won’t be that easy, Major.”