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xreaderbooks · 2 years ago

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The Shadows of Our Love |4|

Chapter 4 | In the Shadow of Strength

Pair: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: language, mentions of death, nightmares, symptoms of trauma, grief

Summary: A month into 6th year, Y/n is on the brink of collapse from her own mind, someone is there to catch her as she falls...

a/n: more of a descriptive and informative chapter w/ a little crumb at the end. comment or message me if you'd like to tagged :)

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Available on Wattpad and AO3

Chapter 3 - Series Masterlist - Navigation - Chapter 5

If you weren't thinking about all that you have done, the goblins and poachers you've killed, the monsters you've faced, the friends you've lost; you were dreaming of them.

Every night since the final one where you defeated Ranrok, nightmares have plagued your mind.

It started with you jolting awake in the night, with a sweat-soaked bed, you'd forego the rest of your sleep to clean your linens.

You were, after all, staying as a guest at the Weasley home. Magic outside of Hogwarts is strictly forbidden when you are under the age of 17, therefore you had to do it the old-fashioned way. Naturally, you were a rule breaker, however, you wanted to show some modicum of respect considering the family with which you stayed is that of the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts.

The startled sweats became increased heart palpitations that left you in bed unable to move an arm, a sort of paralysis had overcome you, your eyes stuck closed. That soon became screams and shouts and tears that would only calm when you saw the light of dawn peak through the curtains.

Unfortunately, you were in a room with several of Matilda Weasley's other nieces and nephews, thank Merlin they could sleep through a tornado, the only one whose sleep habits did not benefit them was Garreth. He was always awake, somehow always having energy despite the lack of sleep, formulating new potions.

His cheery attitude was helpful, it was odd at first, never being close to him in Hogwarts but then becoming so close he would lay in the opposite direction of you, his feet to your head and yours to his so that you would feel that there was another person present.

Until he concocted a calming draught one night out of random, and one became a ritual nightly. For once, a potion he wouldn't mess up. You could've made it yourself but he insisted.

A month into 6th year at Hogwarts and he never failed to owl you one, or hand you one secretly in class or in the halls.

What you hadn't been able to do was wrangle your magic, the same magic powerful enough to kill anyone- within a 12-foot radius of you with a single blast.

It came at random, sometimes when you were severely overwhelmed. You supposed it had been easier to 'control' last year because you had some sort of mentor, a person you were able to talk to that you trusted to take care of you. That person was now dead, and you have no one.

The keepers were untrustworthy, to say the least, it was understandable what they did to Isidora, but who was to say they wouldn't assume the worst of you?

They were portraits, is what you tried to remind yourself, but they were keepers- keepers of all kinds of secrets, who knew what kind of fail-safes they must have in case they could've predicted a person like Isidora would come around.

You couldn't trust a soul.

Garreth knew of the nightmares, but your powers would scare anyone, hell they scared you.

You resorted to moving the animals from your original vivarium in the room of requirement to the grasslands vivarium in order to release the surges of power that had formed over weeks of keeping up with schoolwork.

Between schoolwork, the social life that you now had thanks to no more adventures, wondering where it all went wrong Sebastian, and taking care of your beast on top of learning to forget your regrets... Your ancient magic had more than enough fuel for you to burst.

And so you did, at least once a week, moving your beasts back and forth between vivariums so as not to hurt them.

You ended up spending more and more time in your room of requirement than you did in your own dorm, the room had created a bedroom for you. A cozy King sized bed with silky green covers and a fluffed comforter, in a 6 corner round room solely for sleeping.

You were able to do all but that, whenever he was around- Deek would wake you from your nightmares and make you a comforting drink for your nerves, and distract you with gossip.

He hears all that goes on in Hogwarts, with teachers, students, anyone. As a house-elf no one acknowledges him and people feel they can speak freely with the elves around and you felt lucky that Deek trusted you enough to fill you in. He was surprisingly quite the busybody.

With that though, you had begged him not to tell Professor Weasley of your nightmares.

~~~

When October came around Quidditch tryouts were starting up, which Imelda had never failed to mention anytime she was around you, you weren't in the least bit interested.

You had too much going on, flying was useful when getting from point A to B but it wasn't your favorite thing in the world though you were talented, according to her. You would enjoy Quidditch more on the sidelines.

On another note, Sebastian fucking Sallow.

If he wasn't ignoring you in the many classes you had together, the one class where you didn't have anyone else, was the one you were forcibly paired with him. And only in that class will he deign to speak to you with rude remarks and snippy comments, it exhausted you.

A flash flew past your ear and at the closed classroom door, you were Defense against the Dark Arts, at least 30 minutes at the end of class was dedicated to practicing Non-verbals.

"Are you out of your mind?" You almost shrieked at him, "That almost stung me."

"You're out of your mind, maybe if you had been you'd be able to pay attention."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"Well if you would keep up then I wouldn't have to."

You hated him, you hated that stupid smirk he held on his face, his contradictory tone, him. Ire burned throughout you and if you truly wanted to end him, he would've been six feet deep, he didn't know the favor you were doing him.

~~~

You needed to let off some steam, the room of requirement wasn't cutting it, you had made a commitment to the Headmaster and Professor Weasley to stay out of trouble this year. It was the only reason why you had kept within the castle walls for so long, it had been too long, and now you were itching for a fight.

You wandered into the forbidden forest on the hunt for poacher camps, Ashwinders, and any sign of a dark wizard that you could take down. It was past dusk, lights out would be soon and you regretted not sneaking out of the room after the Slytherin girl's dormitory check done by the head girl.

One problem at a time, you heard fighting by the old troll lair you cleared out last year looking for bubotubers. It appears the poachers had reinhabited the area, two men patrolled the area, possibly scouting out to see if there were more of whoever they were fighting.

Streaming, loud and painful, pure agony was heard, you crouched with the disillusionment charm covering you, easing your way behind the men and casting Petrificus Totalus on them both without bringing on any unwanted attention.

You did the same with the others around the camp but there were about 10-11 left. You observed as they fought amongst each other, your eyes wild in confusion, six of them wore masks that looked like a human skull. You couldn't make out any distinct features that you could use to identify them. The black cloaks they wore made them look like living Dementors.

They had the five remaining Ashwinders on their knees, wands inches away from them, on the ground.

What in Merlin's name was this?

They only targeted two out of the five, which had you even more perplexed. So caught up in what was going on in front of you, you let your guard down, you didn't sense someone coming up from behind you.

They pulled you up from your crouched location behind a couple of bushes and a tree, the disillusionment charm disappearing. The person, it felt like a man, shoved you onto the ground. You rolled onto your back just in time as he pointed his wand at you.

"Expelliar-"

"Depulso!" You spoke clearly. Your voice definitely alerted the rest of them, and though the Askwinder would usually jump at the chance to attack you on sight, they picked up their wands and fled.

Two of the masked figures, cast the killing curse on two of the Ashwinders they were targeting before.

You were surrounded, 7 against 1. This was not going to end well, you weren't sure yet for who.

Before you could think twice, with intention; you cast the Imperio curse on one of them, ordering them to attack their fellow whatever they called themselves.

"Protego!" You used the shield as blasts from all sides of you came your way, you ducked and rolled coming up behind one, "Petrificus Totalus."

One down six more to go, you blocked the spells and shot back some of your own, "Levioso, Accio, Descendo." You heard a crack in their neck, you sent a few casts before you had them unmoving on the ground.

Part of you thought about using the Killing curse to speed up this process and help you to not die, kill, or be killed and all that- but you couldn't, you wouldn't. Only in dire situations would you use it, and this wasn't one... yet.

You blocked and shielded, not able to get another hit in. Whoever the two you took down must have been the weaker ones of the group because as you fought the remaining four, they moved fluidly as they attacked you with their magic.

Never faltering, they were experienced, that much was obvious- but their magic felt wrong. It felt old almost ancient- like yours but darker. Like every defensive spell cast was a curse.

You felt yourself getting tired, they were strong and you weren't in the shape you were when you did this every other day.

"Diffindo!"

You felt the cuts in your back, you cried out and mistakenly clutched your back, stumbling forward. The others took their chance-

"Accio."

You practically flew to the one who called upon you, "Descendo," You slammed onto the ground.

Tears stung your eyes as that same person kicked you in your stomach and picked you up from the root of your hair, your chest rose and fell in what you didn't want to admit was fear. You tried looking through the small eyes of the mask to tell the color but they tilted your head to the sky.

"She smells like one of them," He spat out the last word in disgust. He brought you closer and sniffed you, "Definitely one of them."

He shoved you back onto the ground, you sneered at him and your head hit a rock on the ground. You grimaced and touched the back of your head, you felt the wetness of what you could only guess was blood.

You only had one thing left to do, you had felt it bubble beneath you helping you fight them off, it gave you the slightest bit of encouragement as you struggled to pick yourself up.

"We should kill her off now!" One of them from your right said.

You were done playing these games, you weakly lifted your wand and the Ancient Magic sang. Your body was working on autopilot, without a word you lifted the woman who said they should kill you and slammed her body to the ground, picking her up and burying her head into the earth repeatedly.

You tilted your head to the man who roughly handled you, and with a flick of your wand, he exploded.

The three that were left, had shouted 'Avada Kedavra' but it didn't reach your magic had blasted them yards away from you and into the woods.

You wanted to collapse right then and there, with the last bit of energy you could muster, you trudged along the path to the nearest floo flame, straight to the Slytherin Common room.

You didn't want to think about how many more people you killed, or that you just exposed your biggest secret to an unknown group of people who even Ashwinders ran from. You didn't care about how dirty you were, or the blood that stained your clothes.

You descended the steps you had to go down to officially be in the Common Room, as you reached the final step, you felt your wand slip out of your hand and clatter to the floor. Soon, your body would join it.

You didn't make it to the couch when you felt your world shut down, you only felt your legs being lifted off the ground, strong arms supporting you from your waist. Your eyes could barely open but you caught a glimpse of chestnut brown hair and that you were being carried bridal style before being laid on the familiar couch.

Whispers were heard, a bottle being brought to your lips, and a part of your brain hoped you weren't getting poisoned. As you drank, you felt your wounds being healed and the ache in your body lift. Wiggenweld Potion.

You were on your back, your left hand on your stomach and your right hung from the couch, whoever had settled you onto your usual spot brought the hand that was off the couch and pressed their lips onto the back of it. Then settled it along with your left.

~~~

Chapter 5

Taglist:

@vanivivs

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dandelionterminal · 5 months ago

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Invisible String Part 2 - Prologue II - His Butler, a Shadow

link to next part

tags: not beta read, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, like demon ranking stuff, Demon Deals, demon biology, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Family Feels, Platonic Relationships, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Song: invisible string (Taylor Swift), Cross-Posted on AO3, eventually part of a collection

characters: Sebastian Michaelis, Original female character

Summary:

-One single thread of gold tied me to you-

Demons, angels, and grim reapers roam the streets of London in the latter half of the 18th century. Adelaide DuPont knows that whatever killed her parents was not human. Someone, or something, killed them and left no trace. Adelaide and her brother, Luca, are left almost desolate. Their only hope is to get the Earl of Phantomhive on their side as an investor in their parents' company. Sebastian Michaelis is a leashed demon. However, that does not stop him from smelling his mate. He will not let the fate of humans in this world take her away from him. He can balance two goals at once. He can care for his master and convince his mate to return to the pits of Hell with him.

Adelaide Manon DuPont was born to her parents Elise DuPont and Alain DuPont on September 17, 1868, in France. She was a bright and cheerful child. Her hair was a vibrant red during her childhood but lightened and dulled with age. It settled into an almost pink strawberry blonde. She always loved to learn and create. Her parents fretted about her playing make-believe so much as a child. She always seemed to have imaginary friends that she would talk to and play with. She called them the most terrifying and archaic names. One she seemed to talk to the most was called Malphas and she described him as wearing feathers and having “really long nails”. She seemed to outgrow it though, as she got older. Little did Elise and Alain know that Adelaide simply stopped sharing her strange visions and visitors. Malphas stopped visiting her though in 1885. The family moved to London in 1870 in preparation for their company launch.

In 1873, Luca Gabriel DuPont joined the family. He was much quieter and withdrawn than his elder sister and was rather apathetic growing up. Luca did not enjoy make-believe or have imaginary friends. But he did listen to his sister whisper to her in the night. When Luca was around 12, he listened to his sister whisper to the shadows through a crack in her bedroom door.

“I’ve told you, monsieur, you cannot keep coming here. My family worries, I worry, that I am crazy,” she said to the shadows in the corner of her room. Luca squinted, trying to see what or who she was speaking to. That’s when he saw it, a faint golden glow around his sister’s ring finger. It led up to connect to something lurking in the shadows. An arm reached out of the shadows. Monstrous, long black nails on the hand tried to stroke his sister's cheek. She backed away in fear and Luca covered his mouth to stifle a gasp. “No,” she said firmly. “Do not touch me.”

The shadows moved, as if laughter was coming from a chest. “I am trying to prove to you that I am real,” the shadow said. Luca could not believe it. The imaginary friends, the delusions, of his sister were real. They were tangible, visible, and speaking audibly.

“No, you are not. You are in my head, you’re a part of my imagination that has gone on too long,” Adelaide said, throwing herself back in her bed and covering her head. “I will not see you anymore, Malphas.”

The shadow chuckled again and seeped back into hiding. “If you say so, Adelaide,” it said and then vanished into the night. Luca ran back to his room and pretended to have never seen anything. From that night on, however, he never heard Adelaide speak to the shadows again.

______________________________________________________________________

One night, in 1886, the DuPont home caught on fire. The blazes were so large that the public did not believe there would be any survivors and the DuPont Confectionary Company would vanish into the night with the embers. However, once the blaze had died down, the children of the DuPonts were found unscathed, huddled together in a corner of the home. The 18-year-old heiress to the DuPont Confectionary Company and her younger brother were not burnt and barely coughed as they emerged from the still-burning coals of their home. The bodies of the former Earl DuPont and his wife were found to be burnt beyond recognition. From that moment on, the homeless DuPont heirs were shunned from society.

______________________________________________________________________

Let me give you an example of the treatment of the DuPont heirs. After the fire, the siblings were invited to a ball with the ton. It was assumed that the heiress would find a husband during this ball. The siblings' aunt in Paris sent them nice garments to wear to the event. When the two walked into the event, the room fell hushed and ladies started whispering behind their fans. Adelaide walked up to a group of ladies she used to spend these high society events with only to overhear the whispers they were hiding behind their fans.

“Do you think it was Addie or her brother? We know one of them had to start it, right?” one of the ladies said, her perfect curls bouncing as she spoke.

“Oh of course. How else would they be unscathed but their parents burnt to a crisp?” another asked.

“Do you think that the DuPonts had that much money? Enough to risk your own life and well-being for?” the first one asked.

Adelaide pauses in her steps, head bowed to the ground. They were not there that night, she reminds herself. They did not know the screams, the horrors she had to endure that night. The sounds of tearing flesh and hellfire echoed in her and Luca’s ears every night when they closed their eyes. Even as she squeezed her eyes shut in the moment to try to blink away her tears she saw the smiles of those monsters in her vision. The obscene fangs and tongues were covered in her parents's blood. She had shielded her brother from their line of sight, protecting him. She did not know why they targeted her home or her family that night. One thing she did know for certain was that those creatures were not human. Her family was murdered, but they were not murdered by humans. And, as your narrator, I can confirm that she is correct.

______________________________________________________________________

For the next year, the DuPont heirs struggled. It turned out that running a company on your own as a teenager was not an easy feat. The business seemed to be going down farther and farther. Part of the issue was the tainted name of DuPont. Everyone associated the candies the DuPont Company made with the fire and assumed familicide. Try as she might to clear their name, Adelaide could not convince the public that she and her brother did not kill their parents.

As the year went on, the siblings struggled more and more to make ends meet. Food got scarcer, sacrifices had to be made, and Adelaide started eating less. On the nights when she was the hungriest, she really missed talking to Malphas.

It was one of these nights that Adelaide started thinking. She had heard of Funtom company, and how the company was run by a child. She started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he would take a chance on DuPont Company, on her and her brother.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebastian/oc #sebastian x oc #sebastian x reader #sebastian/reader #oc backstory #fandom ocs

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dhorrl · 1 year ago

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Farm Girl

Stardew Valley

Sebastian/Reader

Trigger Warnings: Drug use (marijuana) Use of honorifics, beer, light choking/breath play.

I have a Part 2 in the works that will be much more NSFW.

It was the same, familiar Friday night; Sebastian and Sam were battling it out in a game of pool while Abigail pretended to be disinterested by scrolling through her phone. Sebastian felt content with his two best friends, but there was so much more they didn't know about him—feelings he chose not to share. He longed for something more, something he didn't even feel comfortable sharing with his friends.

Sam's face contorted and twisted in frustration as he let out a muffled growl. He pounded his fists against the pool table, sending billiard balls flying.

"One of these days, Seb! I'm going to win!"

"Not on your life, kid," Sebastian said with a smirk. He crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows slightly. Sam was two inches taller, but Sebastian used those extra two months to make up for it.

"Now, listen to your elders and rack up the next game."

Sam groaned but reluctantly chucked in another quarter while Sebastian was about to chat with Abigail. Suddenly, Farm Girl waltzed into the bar. Typically, he wouldn't even want to be anywhere near her, being far too sweet and innocent for his liking. She usually stopped by in the evenings to drop off a bundle of fresh produce to Gus, the bar owner, but today, she sat down on a stool and ordered a beer.

"Hey, Abs, why don't you school Sam in the next game? I'm gonna go have a smoke." Abigail stepped up and rolled her shoulders in preparation to play with Sam. Sebastian knew she'd had a thing for him, and maybe he'd had one for her in the past. But Abigail and Sam were perfect for each other. So why not help it along?

"Come on, Sebastian, don't let me get beat by a girl!" Sam groaned, but Sebastian could see that he was a little excited to spend one-on-one time with Abigail.

Sebastian laughed and handed Abigail his cue. As he walked towards the door, Farm Girl noticed him.

"Hey, Sebastian," she said softly, her voice gently caressing him like a silk scarf.

He put an unlit cigarette between his lips and replied, "Not much, just headed out for a smoke. You?"

She slid off the bar stool, exhausted yet energized by her day's harvest. "Long day finishing the harvest. Actually, do you mind if I bum one?"

Sebastian reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He opened it and smiled slightly. "Sure. I smoke menthol. That okay?"

Her eyes lit up with relief. "Even better."

She placed a $20 bill on the bar, grabbed her glass in one hand, and walked confidently out the door. Enticed by her aura of mystery, Sebastian followed close behind her, his eyes briefly lingering over her tight denim shorts that left little to the imagination. She was undeniably attractive; her hair neatly swept up in a haphazard bun atop her head - he could almost visualize the strands falling around her shoulders as he pulled them with one hand, her petite frame molded to fit his own as their bodies moved together in passion... Bringing himself back to reality, he shook his head and followed her.

They walked out outside, and he followed as she headed around the corner of the bar by the trash cans and leaned against the wall. Sebastian pulled another cigarette from his pocket and lit it first before offering it to her, which she graciously accepted. She placed the tip on her willowy lips and inhaled deeply, holding it for a few seconds before releasing the smoke through her nose in thin plumes while her head was thrown back, resting on the wall. Her throat was beautifully elongated and looked soft to the touch; for a moment, he thought about wrapping his hands around it and feel her velvety skin while she choked and cried. His heart raced as he quickly pushed away those thoughts, shaking his head slightly to regain focus.

"Since when do you smoke?" Sebastian asked, trying to not make eye contact.

"Well," she said, taking another drag off the cigarette, "I quit when I moved from the city, but old habits die hard. The beer isn't helping."

She laughed and Sebastian couldn't help but smile too. They shared a comfortable silence as they smoked, letting the moment linger longer than it probably should have.

She lifted the glass to her lips and took a long sip, watching Sebastian as she did. She took a deep puff from her cigarette and exhaled slowly, enjoying the wispy puffs of smoke in the air. He felt a rush of heat run through him as his jeans became painfully tight around the growing arousal he felt for this woman.

She was so different from the type he usually went for, yet something about her drew him in. He watched in captivation as she spoke, mesmerized by the twinkle in her eyes and the slight smirk on her lips. He thought she'd look even more breathtaking with tears running down her face.

"Well, it's nice having someone to smoke with. I'm the only person in town who does. Pierre keeps a couple cartons under the counter for me."

"Good to know where I can source some then," she laughed teasingly.

He looked her up and down, asking, "So what do you do on that farm all day?" He noticed the ragged edges of her shorts and the mud on her boots.

She sighed, looking down at the ground. "Little bit of everything," she said with a hint of weariness in her voice. "Cleaning, milking cows, feeding chickens... You know, typical farm stuff."

"Honestly, if I take on any more orders, I will have to hire help or quit and move back to the city. It's exhausting. I never have time to just relax, you know?"

Sebastian felt a twinge in his chest he wasn't expecting, not wanting her to leave town just yet. He joked, "I don't know if I'd be much help, but maybe I could give it a shot."

Her eyes lit up in amusement. "Are you sure about that? I don't think you could stand getting your hands dirty." Little did she know how dirty he wanted his hands to get, slipping them inside her while she begged him to stop.

He chuckled as he replied, "I did say MAYBE."

After taking one last drag from the cigarette, she scraped the ash down the side of the wall before tossing the butt in the trashcan and draining the last of her beer.

"So, I guess you gotta get back to Sam and Abigail? I'm gonna go ahead and walk home."

"I'll walk you," he offered. "I'm done whipping Sam's ass for tonight."

Surprised but accepting his offer, she replied, "Sounds like a blast. Let's go."

She started walking in front of him as he quipped, "Lead the way, Farm Girl."

~~~~~

She had been avoiding Sebastian since she first laid eyes on him. She had never felt so instantly attracted to someone but was determined to be single and alone for at least a year. But as the end of the first year in Pelican Town ended, she knew she needed to get out of the house and try to meet someone; there was comfort in being around other people. Still, she didn't expect the first someone to be the man she'd been avoiding the whole time.

The farm was at least a 30-minute walk from the bar, and as the moonlight painted the fields with silver, they talked and laughed. She rubbed her arms, trying to ward off the chill in the air, when Sebastian stopped and began to pull off his black hoodie.

"Here, Farm Girl, you're gonna freeze to death," he said, thrusting it over her head. She felt warmth spread through her arms trapped by the sweater, her heart quickening at the thought of him tying her up. It had been too long since she'd felt that rush, but she quickly shook it off and grinned as she pulled on the hoodie and pushed her arms through the sleeves.

She smiled, her eyes softening at the kind gesture from him. "Thank you. I'm fine, though. I really love the cold." She remembered the last time she'd stood in the rain, letting the cold drops soak her skin and wash away all life's stresses. It had felt like living between two worlds, on the cusp between life and death, and she wished everyone could understand that feeling.

He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Can't feel alive if you're dead from pneumonia."

"Oh, so full of jokes, are we?" She tugged at the hoodie he had loaned her, which smelled of patchouli and cigarettes in a comforting way. "Keep in mind that you're not getting this back now."

She knew she didn't need to say it for him to know what she meant; he would have to tear it off her if he wanted it back. Not that she minded; part of her wished he would try.

The farmhouse was slowly coming into view as the clock ticked closer to midnight. She sighed, full of admiration, remembering her disbelief when she first saw this place. It had been a dilapidated shack with just one room and a fireplace barely providing enough warmth or light. But with Robin's help, they had turned it into something special. They added a bedroom and a kitchen, and together, they planned on building a cellar soon to bring in some extra money during the winter months.

It had been hard work but worth it; anything was better than the abuse she had endured in the city from her job and ex-boyfriend. Despite feeling grateful for the change of scenery, she still had an underlying melancholy; feeling safe and secure often takes time.

Sebastian stopped and looked around him wide-eyed, taking in the upgrades. His mom had been hard at work making this place feel like home, and she had done a great job. "I can tell my mom has been here. This place looks amazing."

"She has. Honestly, I couldn't have done this without her help. She is an incredible carpenter."

"Oh, yeah. It's all I ever hear about. My super talented carpenter mother who'll build the houses of the future, and then there's industrial genius duo Demetrius and Maru who are gonna find a cure for cancer and save starving children blah blah blah," he mumbled with his eyes glued to the ground. She could sense the pain beneath his words, his traumas that were never far from the surface.

"Hey, do you want to come on the porch for another smoke?" She offered, gesturing to the worn steps in front of her. "Maybe something a little stronger?"

His eyebrows raised quizzically, but he nodded and followed her onto the patio. The small porch was surprisingly welcoming. She had built a deep couch out of old wooden pallets, and a few colorful pillows laid strewn about it. The moon was bright in the sky, and the light spilled through the trees, casting a dreamy haze over everything. A metal container with a glass pipe sat inside an old side table drawer.

Surprised yet intrigued, Sebastian's brows shot up. He looked at the tin and then back to her, a low chuckle bouncing off his lips.

"Well, I didn't expect the night to take this turn. But hell, who am I to say no to a good time?"

As they settled in, he took in the sights around him. The moonlit farm was more beautiful than he anticipated. The soft light bounced off the dewy leaves, casting an ethereal glow over the farm. Her humble farmhouse starkly contrasted with the dark, windowless room he spent his days in. She pulled a blanket from a basket nearby, draping it over their laps.

He was enjoying himself and found that he liked this side of her; she was a complete surprise to his initial impression. He could see himself getting used to this. He took the pipe and tin from her, expertly packing the bowl. He leaned back into the couch once it was ready to go, holding it out for her to take the first hit. "Ladies first."

She smiled warmly at the gesture and took it from him. Taking a deep puff, she carefully exhaled her worries away. Sebastian watched her in silence, mesmerized by the glow that surrounded her. He had been expecting a shell of a person; someone who was broken and down on their luck, but the woman before him was strong and determined. She was an enigma, and he couldn't help but feel drawn to her. After a few moments of quiet contemplation, she passed the pipe back to Sebastian, wordlessly offering him solace from his own inner turmoil.

He brought the pipe to his lips, inhaling deeply as blue-gray smoke filled his lungs. “Damn, Farm Girl, this is some strong shit!”

He exhaled a thick cloud of smoke and dropped back onto the couch, feeling his body sinking into the plush cushions as the effects soothed away his tension.

He glanced over at her, eyes twinkling with curiosity. “You do this often?” He extended the pipe back towards her.

Yeah, I guess so," she murmured, giving him an almost imperceptible shrug. "I may or may not have something growing in the back of the greenhouse for myself. Don't go narcing on me."

He smiled and relaxed into the couch, turning his gaze upwards too. "Your secret's safe with me," he said reassuringly. "Especially since I might need to call upon your services from time to time."

A cool breeze blew through the open window, sending a chill down her spine, making her skin prickle and arms reflexively cross over her chest. The autumn air was brisk, and maybe it had nothing to do with the cold outside but rather the intensity of his dark blue eyes that seemed to hold secrets - and forbidden desires.

The smoke from the glass pipe between them intertwined like an invisible spider's web around them, enclosing their secluded little bubble away from the world. As Sebastian's leg touched hers underneath the blanket, warmth spread across her cold body like wildfire, and he whispered gently into her ear, "You getting cold, Farm Girl?"

She smirked at him and replied playfully, "You know I'm not loving this nickname."

He chuckled at her response before inquiring in amusement, "Oh yeah? You got a better one in mind?"

Her smile slowly faded as she realized what his question implied and took a long breath as if considering it deeply. After taking a moment to steel herself, she looked him straight in the eye and offered carefully, "Well… I guess that first depends on what you like to be called… Are you more of a Daddy or a Master?" She cocked an eyebrow mischievously as the corners of her mouth tugged upward into a coy smirk.

~~~

Sebastian felt his heart leap in his chest, and a wave of electricity shot through him that sent goosebumps marching down his arms. He’d fantasized about someone calling him “Sir” for years, but no amount of dreaming could prepare him for the thrill of hearing it from her sensual lips. He brushed his fingertips against the delicate skin of her throat as he leaned closer, not to hurt her--but to make certain he had her full attention.

“Say it again Kitten...Call me Sir, please.”

Her eyes were alight with desire, and Sebastian knew he was done for. She drew nearer, shifting so that her wild hair softly tickled his cheek as she breathed the words into his ear.

"Yes Sir..." she murmured breathlessly.

Sebastian felt a surge of energy course through him as he locked eyes with her. His breath came in shallow gasps, and his heart pounded against his chest like a drumbeat. He lunged forward, pressing his mouth hungrily against hers. The taste of ale and weed blended together in a seductive mix, and he could feel her trembling beneath him. His grip on her throat tightened as he explored every inch of her mouth with his tongue.

Sebastian yanked her onto his lap, pushing up the hem of the hoodie to run his icy finger tips along the length of her spine. She moaned in pleasure and bit down on his lip; Sebastian let out a shocked groan as pain and pleasure collided within him. His cock strained viciously against his pants as she rocked her hips against him, and he knew if he didn't break away from this soon it would be too late. He leaned back into the couch with a heavy sigh, running his fingers lightly through her hair.

"Wait...stop," He murmured, never taking his eyes off of hers. "I want you, but not like this."

Confusion swam in her eyes like a foggy sea as she waited for an answer. "I didn't mean to… did I cross a line?"

"No," He said softly, stroking her cheek with gentle fingertips. "You are perfect… almost too perfect. I want this but I want it done right."

He wanted all of her - body and soul - not just some half-assed encounter he would forget about by morning. Her crestfallen expression told him everything he needed to know as she remained perched atop him in his hoodie.

Sebastian took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Don’t get me wrong, I want to fuck you like crazy, but I want so much more. And I’m not sure we are on the same page. We’re high and tired, and I don’t want this to come back and bite me on the ass.”

She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head as well. "Okay... right. As much as I'd love for you to bury your cock inside me right now, we should wait a beat."

She paused, still not ready for him to leave. "Would you maybe want to come inside? I bet you're a great cuddler."

He hummed in agreement, still hesitant but desperate for one more moment tightly wound around her. "Okay," he finally agreed. He slid out from beneath her and followed her inside the farmhouse, fully aware that being so close was both an opportunity and a temptation.

The interior of her home was exactly as he imagined it would be: scattered with various items of clothing, books and magazines strewn about and a large, comfy looking bed in the corner. He kicked off his shoes and leaned against the wall, allowing himself a moment to settle.

Sebastian removed his shirt and jeans, then lay down on the bed. His eyes trailed hungrily over her body as he desired to tear every piece of fabric from her frame, held back only by a thin layer of restraint. He forced a restrained grin onto his face as he spoke, “Take off your clothes.”

A sultry smile crossed her lips as she began to take off her clothes, throwing them on the chair beside them. She revealed two plump breasts; her nipples hardened from the cold room air. Sebastian’s cock stiffened painfully in response as he imagined what it would be like to taste them. She crawled onto the bed and nestled up next to him on her side.

Sebastian did not need to be told twice. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and pulled her tight against his body, relishing in the feeling of her skin pressed against his own. As he caressed her delicate skin he felt her body slowly begin to relax until she sighed contentedly in his arms.

Sebastian stroked her soft hair as he attempted to distract himself from her intoxicating body. His only wish was to think of anything other than the soft curves pressed against him. After a few moments he felt her body relax and she hummed lightly in contentment.

"Good night, Sebby. Hopefully, you still want to pick up here in the morning."

He smiled and kissed her forehead, pleased that she was already drifting off to sleep.

"I'll be here," he whispered.

With that, Sebastian closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift away into a peaceful slumber, content in the knowledge that he would be able to wake up next to the woman of his dreams.

#sebastian stardew valley #stardew sebastian #sebastian/reader

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cursedpupperino · 2 months ago

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guess who has ao3 now!!! everyone go check out “I’m So Sorry That You Have to Have a Body” on ao3 under cursedpupper! it’s a fluff/angst hurt/comfort Sebastian Solace x Reader fic that I mostly wrote for myself lol

people do seem to really like it though!!!

#writing #ao3 #sebastian solace #sebastian/reader

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thatboisus · 9 months ago

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“english isn’t my first langua—“ say no more.

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actually-mentally-ill · 5 months ago

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nokkayy · 1 month ago

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sunlight, part 2

closeup and textless version

#sebastian solace x you #sebastian solace pressure #sebastian #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian pressure #sebastian solace #pressure #inspired by a post i saw about taking sebastian back with you to the surface #his eyes still haven’t gotten adjusted from the dark chambers of the facilities #yn made him a pair of modified sunglasses with three lenses #he wears it begrudgingly because of how stupid it looks on him #nokart #sebastian surface au

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that1geek06 · 29 days ago

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"English isn't my-"

Hush now my friend, and let me read the absolute beauty of a fic that you have bestowed this world and humiliated the first English speakers with

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brunchable · 17 days ago

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𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 [ 2 ]

Part One Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? Sexual Themes 18+ ONLY: fingering, cunnilingus, Bucky loves tiddies, dirty talk. Summary: Though you've become oddly close to SergeantBarnes, it's still difficult to act normal around him. A/N: I didn't think many would ask for a part two but here you go. divider by @cafekitsune

It was a peaceful evening in the apartment gym—or, at least, it was supposed to be. You had your plan: thirty minutes on the stair climber, some stretches, and you’d be out of there before any awkwardness could find you.

But then you heard it—the unmistakable sound of weights clanging, followed by a deep, low grunt that made your entire body freeze.

You glanced up, hoping against hope that it wasn’t who you thought it was. But, of course, there he was: Bucky, over at the hip thrust machine, setting up his weights directly in front of you. Perfect, you thought. Of all the machines in here, he has to pick the most… suggestive one.

Your eyes flicked back to the tiny screen on your machine. Stay focused, you told yourself. Don’t look. Just ignore him.

But the moment he started his set, you heard it—a low, powerful grunt that practically reverberated through the gym. You immediately bit down on your lip, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead, pretending you weren’t having flashbacks to his other kind of workouts.

Another deep grunt.

Your hands clenched the stair climber’s handles like a lifeline. Do NOT look, you told yourself, the mantra echoing in your mind. But your treacherous eyes slid sideways, just for a second, and you caught a glimpse of him, face focused, breaths heavy as he powered through each hip thrust. The guy was practically a one-man gym commercial.

You looked away, focusing on your steps—your very uneven, slightly panicked steps. It’s just a hip thrust, for crying out loud! Nothing unusual here, you told yourself, trying to stomp out the heat creeping up your cheeks. But every time he exhaled, your mind filled with images of… well, his other performances.

Then, in the middle of one of his reps, Bucky let out a particularly deep, guttural grunt that nearly threw you off balance. Your foot slipped, your rhythm stuttered, and in a moment of pure panic, you clutched the handles and stumbled forward, practically throwing yourself onto the machine.

“Shit!” you yelped, fumbling to regain your balance as your legs moved faster than your brain, desperately trying not to faceplant.

You heard Bucky chuckle, that low, infuriatingly amused laugh, and felt your cheeks practically ignite. You looked up, heart pounding, only to find him smirking in your direction, eyes dancing with mischief.

“Careful there, Y/N,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Stair climbers are brutal.”

“Oh, yeah, totally!” you squeaked, straightening up, trying to look like you meant to almost eat it. “Just… keeping things interesting. Got to keep the cardio exciting, you know?”

“Looks like it’s working,” he replied, wiping his forehead with a towel, his grin widening as he noticed your death grip on the machine. “You sure you’re good over there?”

“Oh, I’m… I’m great,” you lied, your face flaming as you tried to regain your composure. But he wasn’t done with you yet.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, voice way too smooth. He paused, then tilted his head, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Gotta admit, though… this machine setup does feel a bit familiar.”

Your brain nearly exploded. Did he just—? He couldn’t mean… But his eyes sparkled with that infuriating, knowing look, and you knew exactly what he was hinting at. Your face went beet red as your foot slipped again, but this time you managed to catch yourself, narrowly avoiding another disaster.

“Uh-huh,” you said, laughing nervously, desperately trying to hold it together. “Well, enjoy your… uh, workout!”

“Oh, I am,” he said, chuckling softly. “Especially with the view.” He winked, setting up for another set while you tried not to spontaneously combust.

With one final, mortified glance, you turned your attention back to the stair climber, mentally swearing you’d never step foot in this gym again after this.

Since you survived the stair climber ordeal without faceplanting (barely), you decided it was time to move on. Somewhere—anywhere—that didn’t involve Bucky’s hip thrusts or his incessant, maddening smirk.

You zeroed in on the bench press. Safe, you thought, relieved. Just a standard exercise. Nothing suggestive, no chance of stumbling, tripping, or looking like a klutz. You grabbed the bar, took a deep breath, and mentally prepped yourself. Easy-peasy.

And then—because the universe simply refused to give you a break—you heard that all-too-familiar voice right beside you.

“Need a spot?”

You looked up and almost swallowed your tongue. There was Bucky, looming over you with that same damn smirk, wiping his hands on a towel like he was gearing up for some personal training session from your worst/best nightmares.

“Oh, uh… I—” you stammered, already feeling the heat creep up your neck. You’ve got this, you told yourself. Just let him help you. No big deal. You’re a mature, fully-functioning adult.

“Yeah, sure!” you squeaked, trying to sound normal as he stepped closer, positioning himself behind the bench. You laid back, gripping the bar, and immediately realized what a horrible, terrible mistake this was. You were now lying flat on your back, Bucky leaning over you, his face far too close as he focused on making sure you could lift the weight.

“You ready?” he asked, his face all business, but his lips still had that mischievous curve.

“Ready,” you mumbled, eyes darting anywhere but up at him, trying to ignore how absolutely awkwardly intimate this felt. You started your set, breathing steadily as you lifted the bar, determined to act as if this were a completely normal workout.

But then, midway through the reps, he leaned down a little closer. “By the way, did you check out my new video?”

Your hands nearly slipped. You fumbled the bar, barely catching it as your brain short-circuited.

“W-What?” you managed, voice strangled, heart racing.

“My new video,” he repeated, casually reaching out to help guide the bar back into place as you struggled not to lose it. “Thought you might’ve seen it by now.”

Your cheeks flamed, but you somehow managed to choke out, “N-No! I… I haven’t seen it!”

Bucky chuckled softly, raising an eyebrow as he straightened up, his voice taking on a teasing, almost disappointed tone.

“Oh. That’s a shame,” he said, smirk lingering. “Didn’t have a costar this time—just me, actually. First time I’ve ever done that.”

Your mouth dropped open. Just him? Your brain skidded to a halt. Suddenly, you were far too interested in a video you’d just denied seeing.

“Oh, um… interesting?” you squeaked, trying to keep your face neutral but definitely failing.

“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug, looking at you with twinkling eyes. “Guess you’ll have to let me know what you think… whenever you get around to it.”

“Actually, I… uh… I kind of stopped watching… since we, you know… know each other. Just… feels awkward.”

Bucky’s grin widened, his eyes lighting up with amusement.

“Oh, so you’re telling me we’re too close for you to watch my work now?” He raised an eyebrow, looking mockingly offended. “I thought we were supporting local artists.”

Your cheeks practically combusted as he said it, and you fumbled with the bar, desperately trying to pretend you hadn’t heard him. Supporting local artists? Was he serious right now?

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, absolutely mortified. “This is not— You’re not— I mean…!”

But he just looked down at you, that smug grin firmly in place as he leaned in, clearly enjoying every second of your flustered state.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “Don’t you believe in supporting the arts?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, words completely failing you. “This… this is not the same!” you finally blurted, clutching the bar like it was your only lifeline.

“Oh really?” he replied, chuckling. “Because it sounds like you’re saying we’re too close for me to keep doing what I do. You know, my passion.”

You practically choked, waving your hands around in frantic denial. “No! No! That’s not— I’m not stopping you! I’m just— I don’t know, maybe supporting from a… distant, supportive spiritual place?”

He laughed outright, shaking his head. “So, what—you’re like cheering me on… but from across the street?”

You nodded vigorously, still trying to save face. “Exactly! Just… supportive… but in a non-participatory kind of way.”

“Got it,” he said, smirking. “So, I’m officially your guilty pleasure now.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands as he chuckled, clearly far too pleased with himself.

Note to self: Avoid all future conversations with Bucky Barnes for the rest of eternity.

× × × ×

That evening, you were finally settled at your dining table, a bowl of pasta in front of you, determined to put the entire gym disaster behind you. You’d survived another encounter with Bucky—barely—and now all you wanted was some quiet, non-embarrassing time with carbs.

But as you twirled your fork in the noodles, your brain betrayed you, replaying his words from earlier.

“Did you check out my new video?”

You paused mid-bite, the fork hovering near your mouth as you stared blankly at the wall, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and dread bubbling up. What could he have meant by “just me”? You tried to shake it off, forcing another forkful of pasta into your mouth. Nope, not going there.

But the thought lingered, nudging you, until you found yourself setting down the fork, fingers hovering over your phone. Just one quick search, you reasoned, glancing around your empty apartment as if someone might catch you.

You typed in the familiar site, thumbs hesitating above the search bar, nearly typing “SergeantBarnes new video” before you snapped back to reality, dropping the phone like it burned.

“Oh, no,” you muttered to yourself, horrified at how close you’d come. “Absolutely not. What am I, insane?”

You shoved another forkful of pasta into your mouth, shaking your head furiously. “I am not doing this.”

But as you continued eating, your eyes kept darting back to the phone, the curiosity gnawing at you, leaving you torn between common sense and the very persuasive power of nosiness.

You took a deep breath, clenching your fists. “Get a grip, Y/N. You are absolutely not watching that video.”

...But maybe just a preview?

You groaned, stuffing your face with more pasta, determined to win this internal battle.

× × × ×

The next morning, just as you were heading out the door for work, you spotted something bright and obnoxiously neon-colored taped to the wall near the mailboxes. Curiosity got the better of you, and you stepped closer, squinting at the bold, glittery letters.

POOL PARTY THIS WEEKEND! it proclaimed. Food, drinks, music, fun! Don’t miss it!

You raised an eyebrow, debating if you’d actually brave a building-wide party when suddenly, the quiet hallway was shattered by a loud, unmistakably ecstatic moan. The kind that could only mean one thing.

From none other than Bucky’s apartment.

You froze, eyes widening in disbelief. Is that—? Is he—?

A second moan, even louder than the first, confirmed it. This wasn’t just any moan; this was the sound of someone—some woman—having the time of her life. At what had to be eight o’clock in the morning.

“Oh, seriously?!” you hissed under your breath, glancing down the hallway as if there might be witnesses to this auditory ambush. Just then, the woman’s voice hit a pitch so high it practically reverberated off the walls.

You winced, clutching your bag like it could somehow shield you from this. Who even has that much energy in the morning? You took a step back, hoping to escape the sonic nightmare, but the moans only got louder, each sound more animated than the last.

You threw your hands over your ears, eyes squeezed shut as you muttered furiously to yourself.

“Nope, nope, absolutely not. Not today, not right now.” You spun on your heel, practically power-walking down the hall, doing your best to drown out the soundtrack blaring from his apartment.

“YES, SERGEANT! OH MY GOD!”

You practically stumbled, muttering an alarmed, “Oh my god, stop!” as you picked up the pace, pressing your hands even harder against your ears. It was like some kind of cruel game—the closer you got to the elevator, the louder it seemed to get, echoing in your ears like a siren you couldn’t escape.

You winced, feeling your face burn as you all but sprinted down the hall, chanting, “Nope, nope, NOPE!” under your breath like a mantra. It was as if your feet couldn’t carry you fast enough, each step a desperate attempt to put some distance between you and… whatever was happening in that apartment.

Finally, you made it to the elevator, slamming your finger against the button with more force than necessary, glancing nervously over your shoulder as if the sounds might follow you. The doors mercifully slid open, and you dove inside, leaning back against the wall and pressing your hands over your ears one last time, breathing a sigh of relief.

But just as the doors began to close, one last triumphant shout echoed down the hallway, loud and clear, like the universe had decided you hadn’t suffered enough.

You groaned, staring up at the ceiling as the doors shut, wondering if this building had any quiet hours, or if you were doomed to start every morning with a full-blown soundscape of… Bucky’s extracurricular activities.

Note to self: Invest in earplugs. Maybe some noise-canceling headphones. Or a new apartment altogether.

× × × ×

You arrived at work looking like you’d barely survived a natural disaster. Traumatized, sleep-deprived, and still hearing the morning’s very loud soundtrack echoing in your mind, you slumped into your chair, hoping to quietly blend into the office scenery and get through the day in peace.

Naturally, that was too much to ask.

“Whoa,” Trish said, swiveling in her chair to eye you like you were a science experiment gone wrong. “You look like you just spent a night in a haunted house.”

“Or… like you had a wild morning,” Amy added, raising her eyebrows. “You okay there, Y/N?”

“Fine,” you muttered, barely making eye contact as you set your bag down, trying to erase the vivid flashbacks of Bucky’s… extremely enthusiastic co-worker.

Before you could even recover, Trish leaned in, her grin spreading like wildfire. “Sooo… did you finally get around to watching Sergeant Barnes’ new video?”

Your head snapped up, heart stopping in your chest. “Wha—no! Why would I… I mean… I—”

“Oh, come on,” Amy said, nudging you like she’d just caught you in a guilty pleasure. “You don’t know what you’re missing. He’s alone in this one.” She leaned closer, adding in a stage whisper, “The man has talent.”

“Uh-huh,” Trish agreed, nodding like a sage. “No costars this time. Just him, going all in. It’s… impressive.”

You clutched the edge of your desk, mentally scrambling for any kind of response that would shut them down without revealing the secret you swore you’d take to the grave: that Sergeant Barnes was actually your neighbor.

You swallowed, managing to squeak out, “You know we’re in an office, right? As in, the place we do work?”

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re all professional now!” Trish smirked, crossing her arms as she gave you a knowing look. “You were all too eager to do some ‘research’ when we told you about him the first time.”

“Yeah!” Amy joined in, her grin absolutely diabolical. “You should be thanking us! The way you’re looking right now, I’d bet you already took a look this morning.”

You spluttered, mortified. “No! I mean, of course not! It’s just—this is… inappropriate.”

Amy snorted, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh, sure. And here I thought you had a little curiosity.”

You glared, fully prepared to tell them off, but Amy cut in first, smirking as she leaned over your desk.

“C’mon, Y/N, it’s just us girls. Tell me you don’t have some curiosity about what the man can do when it’s just him and the camera.”

You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, struggling to keep your cool. “No, I’m not curious! Not at all. And maybe you two shouldn’t be either, because, oh, I don’t know… WE ARE AT WORK!”

They both cracked up, sharing a delighted high-five as you buried your face in your hands, praying for the ground to open up and swallow you.

“Oh, we’re just messing with you,” Trish said, barely holding back laughter. “But seriously, girl… you look like you need to unwind. Maybe with a drink or… you know… a little quality screen time?”

“Or maybe someone live and in-person?” Amy chimed in, waggling her eyebrows.

You groaned, face down on your desk, cursing the fact that they would never, ever know the full story.

× × × ×

You stepped into the lobby, utterly drained from the day, just as the elevator doors began to slide shut. Without a second thought, you bolted, slipping in right before they closed. Only then did you realize the universe was playing tricks on you.

Because standing right there, with a half-smirk on his face and way too much knowing mischief in his eyes, was Bucky. Alone.

You froze, instantly regretting every choice that had led to this moment. But it was too late now, so you plastered on a polite smile and tried not to look like a deer caught in headlights.

Bucky’s eyes twinkled as he took you in, leaning casually against the side of the elevator as he said, “Tired?”

You laughed, and before you could stop it, the laugh turned into a borderline deranged chuckle.

“Oh, yes, thank you very much,” you replied, sarcasm slipping out before you could rein it in. Then, muttering under your breath but clearly audible, you added, “Maybe keep it down too… in the morning.”

He chuckled, looking way too amused. “Sorry about that. Work, you know? She, uh… went home right after, don’t worry.”

Your face went flaming hot, and you whipped your head to look straight ahead, pressing your lips together like that would somehow save you from this horror.

“Oh, you don’t… you don’t have to explain it to me,” you stammered, feeling like your cheeks were practically on fire. “I’m not worried.”

The smirk only widened. “Good to know.” He leaned in just a little, adding, “I wouldn’t want to keep you up… unintentionally.”

You choked, your hand flying up to cover your mouth as you let out a mortified laugh that you could barely stop from turning into a squeak. Just get to your floor, just get to your floor… you chanted internally, keeping your gaze laser-focused on the elevator doors.

But you could feel him watching you, could practically feel the amusement radiating off him as you tried to pretend that your life hadn’t just devolved into a rom-com nightmare.

Finally—finally—the elevator dinged at your floor. You stepped out, sighing with relief, only for Bucky to step out right behind you.

“Hey,” he called, making you pause and turn reluctantly. He was smiling, hands casually shoved into his pockets as he looked you over. “Are you coming to the rooftop pool party this weekend?”

“No,” you replied flatly, the answer escaping before you could even pretend to think about it.

He laughed, clearly not deterred. “Aw, come on. You sure? It’ll be fun.”

You shook your head vigorously, waving him off. “No, no, I’m good. I’m… not much of a party person.”

“Really?” he replied, stepping a little closer, his smile turning into something dangerously persuasive. “It’s just neighbors hanging out, not some crazy nightclub thing. Good music, food… probably no loud… work, either.”

You glared, suppressing an eye roll as he gave you a wink. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, still grinning. “If you don’t show up, who am I going to talk to about all the ‘work’ complaints?”

You stifled a laugh, trying to maintain your resolve. “Pretty sure there are other people you can bother with that.”

“But none of them have your… constructive feedback,” he replied, his gaze dropping to the floor as he pretended to look shy. “And honestly, I need someone to keep me in check. I’m a handful at parties. Who else is going to stop me from climbing onto tables?”

You snorted, crossing your arms as you tried not to crack a smile. “I highly doubt you’re a handful at a pool party.”

He raised an eyebrow, challenging you. “Come and find out.”

You looked away, shaking your head but feeling the corners of your mouth tug upward. “Bucky, I’m not going.”

“So, you’re saying you’ll leave me up there with all these people who… don’t know me as well as you do?” He tilted his head, giving you a mock-pout.

Your face turned red, and you sputtered, “I don’t know you! I barely know you!”

“Oh, so all those research sessions weren’t exactly getting to know me?” he replied, grinning as he watched you turn an even deeper shade of crimson.

“You—ugh, you’re impossible,” you muttered, finally laughing despite yourself.

“That’s what everyone says,” he said, his voice softening just a little as he held your gaze. “Come on, Y/N. I promise, no loud work. I’ll even save you a spot.”

You sighed, feeling the last bit of resistance crumble. “Fine. But only for an hour.”

He beamed, triumphant. “Deal. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find something to actually talk about… outside of work.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart did a little flip. This is going to be a disaster, you thought. But somehow, you didn’t mind as much as you thought you would.

× × × ×

The weekend took forever to arrive, but somehow, you survived it—mostly by avoiding Bucky and doing your best not to think about that ridiculously intriguing video he’d hinted at. Nope, not even a peek. It was your own personal victory, though it took every ounce of willpower you had.

And now, here you were, standing at the rooftop entrance, mentally psyching yourself up. You’d put on a two-piece swimsuit under a white sheer cover-up, feeling only slightly self-conscious as you stepped out. Only because you hated drawing attention to your body.

The party was already in full swing, a mix of upbeat music and laughter filling the air. You scanned the crowd for a certain troublemaking neighbor, but no sign of him. Great, you thought, rolling your eyes. Bucky drags me up here, then vanishes like an ass. Typical.

You made a beeline for an empty lounge chair, setting down your bag and towel, hoping you’d have a chance to relax before anyone else noticed you. But just as you were about to sit, a deep voice called out.

“Hey there!”

You turned to see an equally impressive figure—a tall, muscular guy with a sun-kissed smile, striding over with a confident swagger.

“I’m Johnny,” he said, flashing a grin as he handed you a cold glass of beer. “Welcome to the party.”

“Oh! Thanks,” you said, taking the glass, feeling only slightly overwhelmed by all the testosterone on this rooftop. “Nice to meet you, Johnny.”

“Likewise,” he said, eyes flicking over you with the appreciation of someone who knew exactly what he was looking at. “Didn’t expect to see a new face up here. I know most of the regulars.”

“Yeah, I… usually keep to myself,” you admitted, suddenly feeling awkward under his gaze.

“Well, glad you’re here,” he said smoothly, gesturing to a chair beside yours. “Mind if I join you?”

Before you could answer, another familiar voice cut through the air, low and unmistakably amused. “Johnny.”

You turned slowly, bracing yourself for whatever cocky look Bucky had in store, but when you finally laid eyes on him, your brain just… stopped. No thoughts, head empty, because the second he strolled into view, you swore you heard the sultry opening saxophone of Careless Whisper start playing, echoing dramatically in your head like some corny, slow-motion rom-com entrance.

He moved in perfect sync to the imaginary music in your head, each step more absurdly cinematic than the last. This can’t be happening, you thought, but somehow, there he was—tan skin, swim trunks slung just right, and that damn casual shirt hanging open over his shoulders. The man looked like a vacation ad, except he was bringing you dangerously close to a heatstroke.

As he got closer, the sax solo in your mind reached ridiculous, life-altering levels of intensity. Why do you have to look like this? you thought, nearly choking on the vision before you. Bucky’s smirk turned into something almost smug, like he knew exactly what effect he was having, as if he, too, could hear the George Michael anthem of seduction playing in your head. You half-expected him to whip out an actual saxophone and start serenading you right there.

You swallowed, barely keeping yourself from drooling, and willed yourself to stay composed. Get a grip, you told yourself, though you were about 98% certain your jaw was on the verge of dropping.

“Sorry, Johnny,” he said smoothly, not even glancing at the other guy. “I think she already has company.”

You quickly tried to compose yourself, forcing a neutral expression as you willed your face not to betray the sheer catastrophe your brain was going through.

“Oh, hey, Bucky,” you said, hoping your voice didn’t sound as strangled as you felt. Inside, you were practically screaming. Why do you have to look like a freaking Greek god, Barnes? It’s rude, honestly.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking between the two of you, clearly picking up on the tension. “You two know each other?”

Bucky leaned casually against the lounge chair next to yours, flashing a grin that practically oozed mischief.

“You could say that. She’s my neighbor,” he said, his tone implying… well, all sorts of things. You immediately knew that everyone within earshot was definitely getting the wrong idea. “And I’ve been trying to get her to come out of her shell for a while now.”

Come out of her shell? You wanted to throttle him. But before you could retort, Johnny, ever the gentleman, just gave you a knowing wink and clapped Bucky on the shoulder.

“Well, guess I’ll let you take over, then,” he said, sauntering off with an amused smile.

You sighed, turning to face Bucky, who looked all too pleased with himself as he settled in beside you, stretching out like he owned the place.

“So, you made it,” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his drink as his eyes did a once-over that was a little too thorough.

“Yep,” you replied, your voice barely concealing your exasperation. “I showed up, just like I said I would. Where were you?”

He shrugged, that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “Was just giving you a chance to make some new friends,” he said, his tone way too casual.

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of the beer Johnny had given you. “Please. You just love making an entrance.”

He chuckled, clinking his glass with yours. “Can’t say you’re wrong about that.”

As he leaned back, his gaze lingered a little too long, making your cheeks heat up.

“Nice cover-up, by the way,” he commented, smirk widening. “It’s… modest.”

You shot him a look, feeling suddenly self-conscious about the sheer fabric draped over your swimsuit. “Why, thank you. That was kind of the point.”

“Yeah?” he replied, his voice dropping just a notch. “Shame, though. Bet that swimsuit’s got a whole lot of personality under there.”

You practically choked on your drink, coughing as you glared at him. “You’re such a flirt, Barnes.”

He chuckled, clearly unbothered by your reaction. “Hey, just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

You settled back in your chair, determined not to let him get the upper hand. But as you sat there, pretending to ignore him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite everything, you were enjoying this game just as much as he was.

You took a deep breath, narrowing your eyes at Bucky, who was looking far too pleased with himself.

“Like I said, just one hour,” you told him firmly, crossing your arms as if that would somehow fortify your resolve against whatever mischievous plans he undoubtedly had.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning even more devilish. “Oh, I’m sure an hour will be more than enough.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “For what? So you can drive me insane and then sit back and enjoy the show?”

He chuckled, leaning a little closer, and you felt your heart rate spike. “Maybe. But I was thinking more along the lines of just… keeping you entertained.”

“Oh, I’m plenty entertained, thanks,” you shot back, trying to sound unimpressed despite the heat creeping up your neck.

He shrugged, unfazed, and settled back into his lounge chair.

“Good. Then let’s make it the best hour of your week,” he said, flashing you a wink that sent a new wave of exasperation—and, annoyingly, a bit of excitement—through you.

You huffed, shaking your head as you took a sip of your drink, determined not to let him see just how much that smirk was affecting you. Just one hour, you reminded yourself. What could possibly happen in one hour?

As you and Bucky settled into a strange, almost comfortable silence, you heard a booming voice from across the pool.

“CHICKEN FIGHT!” Johnny’s voice rang out, loud and enthusiastic, immediately grabbing everyone’s attention.

You whipped your head around, eyes widening. Johnny was wading into the pool, rallying everyone like some kind of pool party commander. “Come on! Everyone in! We need two teams!”

“Oh, no,” you muttered under your breath, instinctively shrinking into your lounge chair, hoping you’d be overlooked in the shuffle. Absolutely not happening, you thought, clutching your drink like a lifeline.

But Bucky, of course, was already grinning ear to ear. He turned to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement and mischief.

“You heard him,” he said, patting your shoulder like this was some team-building exercise. “We’re going in.”

“What? No!” you hissed, clutching your drink tighter as if that would save you. “I didn’t sign up for a chicken fight. I’m just here for moral support.”

Bucky laughed, standing up and stretching in that way that only he could pull off without looking ridiculous.

“Oh, come on,” he said, flashing you that smug, challenging grin. “Afraid of a little friendly competition?”

You shook your head, digging your heels in. “Nope. Not happening. And it’s not friendly—it’s dangerous!”

“Oh, don’t be such a chicken.” His smirk widened, and then, with a theatrical sigh, he added, “Guess I’ll just have to find someone braver.”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh, you’re really going to play that card?”

He shrugged, glancing around with feigned disappointment. “Guess so. Shame though. I thought you could handle it.”

It was the final straw. With an exasperated groan, you threw down your drink and stood up.

“Fine! I’ll do it.” The second the words left your mouth, you instantly regretted them, especially as you saw Bucky’s smirk morph into full-blown satisfaction.

“Perfect,” he said, clearly thrilled with himself.

You sighed, slipping off your sheer cover-up, feeling a sudden self-consciousness as you stood there in just your swimsuit. Bucky’s gaze flicked over you with open admiration, his grin widening just a bit. You forced yourself to ignore the butterflies in your stomach, rolling your eyes at his blatant staring.

“Enjoying the view?” you deadpanned.

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied without missing a beat, his eyes twinkling. “But we’ve got a fight to win.”

Before you could second-guess your decision, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the pool. Johnny spotted the two of you and cheered, pumping his fist in the air. “Yes! We got a team! Bucky and… Y/N, right?”

You forced a smile, giving him a thumbs-up while silently planning your escape route. But before you knew it, you were waist-deep in the water, Bucky hoisting you up with surprising ease, positioning you on his shoulders.

“Oh my god, this is insane,” you muttered, gripping onto his head for balance as he adjusted to your weight. “I feel like a five-year-old at a theme park.”

“Just hold on,” he chuckled, steadying himself under you. “I’ve got you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his hands firmly held your thighs, and suddenly, this was a whole new level of intense. Focus on the fight, not the incredibly attractive man holding you in the pool, you told yourself, cheeks flaming.

Johnny waded over with his partner—a muscular, tattooed guy named Jake who was definitely taking this way too seriously.

“Ready to lose, Barnes?” Jake taunted, grinning up at you.

Bucky chuckled, his hands tightening on your legs just slightly. “Not a chance.”

“Alright, you’re up top!” Johnny yelled, clapping his hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got!”

You barely had time to brace yourself before Jake and his partner charged at you, water splashing everywhere as they made their move. Instinctively, you shrieked, grabbing onto Bucky’s hair for dear life as the force of the impact sent you both wobbling.

“Easy on the hair!” Bucky grunted, though he was laughing, his shoulders steadying beneath you as he held his ground.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, adjusting your grip. But before you could even catch your breath, Jake’s partner was lunging at you again, arms flailing as he tried to knock you off balance.

“Oh, no you don’t!” you muttered, your competitive spirit kicking in. You threw your hands out, grabbing his wrists and pushing back with everything you had, determined to hold your ground.

“Yeah, that’s it!” Bucky cheered from below, his laughter bubbling up as he shifted to help keep you steady. “Show ‘em what you’ve got!”

Fueled by his encouragement—and a surprising amount of adrenaline—you leaned forward, pushing against Jake’s partner with all your strength. The guy’s face twisted in concentration, but with one final shove, you managed to throw him off balance. He teetered, arms flailing, before finally toppling backward into the water with a massive splash.

“Yes!” you shouted, punching the air triumphantly as Johnny and Jake went down in a flurry of water and defeat. “Suck on that!”

The words had barely left your mouth when reality crashed back in. You blinked, suddenly realizing that maybe—just maybe—you’d gotten a little too carried away. Oh god, did I really just shout that? you thought, the heat rushing to your cheeks as your triumphant grin quickly turned into a sheepish smile.

“Well, look at you,” Bucky chuckled from below, clearly amused by your victory-induced outburst. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yeah, well… neither did I,” you muttered, feeling the embarrassment settling in as you tried to slide off his shoulders, desperate to save whatever shred of dignity you had left. But as you started to wriggle down, you realized Bucky’s hands were still firmly gripping your thighs, holding you in place.

You froze, looking down at him. “Uh, Bucky… you can, you know… let go now.”

He glanced up, smirking. “Oh, but you’re comfortable up there. Why rush it?”

You huffed, your face going a deeper shade of red. “Because I’m very much done being the human flagpole, thank you very much.”

Bucky’s grin only widened as he kept his hold, clearly enjoying the situation far more than he should. “Nah, I think I like you right where you are. Adds a bit of… height to my reputation.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, feeling your mortification level spike. “If you don’t let me down, I swear I’ll—”

“Fine, fine,” he laughed, finally loosening his grip, letting you slide back into the water. But just as your feet touched down, he didn’t back away—instead, he shifted closer, his hands still lingering on your waist, his gaze locking onto yours with a look that sent your pulse racing.

You took a half-step back, but there was no real room to escape, not with the edge of the pool just behind you and Bucky’s broad frame in front, all mischief and steady, unbreakable eye contact.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low, “you could stay longer.”

Your breath hitched as Bucky leaned just the slightest bit closer, his hands still warm and steady on your waist, his smirk turning softer yet somehow more intense. Every nerve in your body seemed to jolt to life as he held your gaze.

You cleared your throat, attempting to find your voice amid the chaos of your thoughts.

“Uh… stay longer? For what?” you managed, trying to sound casual, though your pulse was anything but.

His smirk grew, the corners of his mouth lifting in that way that was dangerously charming.

“For the victory lap, of course,” he murmured, his voice just above a whisper. “After all, we did just crush the competition. Wouldn’t want you running off too fast.”

“Oh, right, a victory lap,” you muttered, trying to regain your composure but finding it difficult with his hands still lingering on your waist. “But I think the whole pool just watched that ‘lap’…”

“Then they got a good show,” he chuckled, his voice warm with that teasing tone you were starting to know all too well. “But the best part of winning is savoring it… right here.”

Your face went hot as his fingers brushed slightly against your sides, sending a little spark of energy straight up your spine.

“Bucky,” you said, the word barely a whisper. “You’re… awfully close.”

“Oh, am I?” He didn’t back away; instead, he raised a brow, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction. “Didn’t hear you complaining when you were up there, champ.”

Your cheeks went impossibly warmer. “That was different. That was, you know… competitive. Strategic.”

“Competitive and strategic?” he echoed, his grin turning almost wicked. “Well, in that case…” He shifted his hands slightly, bringing you even closer as he leaned in. “Let’s see if you’re still competitive outside the game.”

He hovered just a breath away, his gaze flickering to your lips for a moment that felt like an eternity. You felt yourself leaning in almost on instinct, your pulse racing, and for one wild, heart-stopping second, it seemed like he might actually kiss you.

But then, as if on cue, someone nearby let out a loud, obnoxious cheer, snapping both of you out of the moment. The sound jolted you, and you quickly took a step back, breaking the tension as reality crashed in.

Bucky chuckled softly, looking slightly too smug as he let his hands fall from your waist.

“Guess that victory lap will have to wait,” he murmured, giving you one last look that promised he wasn’t quite finished with his teasing yet.

You swallowed, desperately trying to get your heart rate back to normal. “Yeah, guess so.”

As the night went on, you’d lost count of how many concoction drinks had been handed to you, and at this point, your usual sense of caution was practically nonexistent. The rooftop was a haze of laughter, lights, and music, and the whole place felt like it was buzzing with energy. Any embarrassment from earlier had dissolved into pure, uninhibited confidence, each drink making you feel bolder than the last.

One minute, you were in a drinking game, cheering Bucky on as he took down a round of shots like it was nothing. The next, you found yourself in a game of truth or dare that had somehow escalated into body shots. You’d laughed, nearly choking on your drink, when you saw Bucky sprawled out on a table, daring you with that infuriating grin to take your turn.

“Oh, come on, that's not fair,” you slurred, trying to wave off the dare as he raised an eyebrow, that smug look firmly in place.

“Back out now if you can’t handle it,” he teased, lying back and folding his arms behind his head, acting like he hadn’t a care in the world.

The crowd cheered you on, and fueled by liquid courage, you rolled your eyes and leaned down, pressing your lips to his abs, feeling his warm skin under your touch as you took the shot in a quick, heated moment. His laughter mingled with the cheers around you, and you couldn’t help but feel a rush from the attention, from his gaze, from the heat spreading across your face.

Before you knew it, you were in a round of flip cup with Bucky as your teammate, and he downed his drink, slamming his cup down with a victorious shout. He grabbed you by the waist, lifting you up and spinning you around, both of you laughing so hard you could barely stand straight when he finally set you down.

Somehow, you ended up on the makeshift dance floor, music thumping as the party around you roared on, the lights around the rooftop pool casting a glow over everyone. You’d danced with other people throughout the night, but Bucky seemed to have a way of drawing you back, his energy magnetic, his laughter contagious. It was like he was everywhere you turned, keeping pace with you, matching every laugh and smirk with one of his own.

The music thumped, lights flashed, and the DJ’s voice blared over the speakers, “Alright, party people! Here’s the deal—find someone you want to… get close to tonight and give them a kiss, a hug, heck, even a lick if you’re feeling bold!”

Everyone around you burst into cheers and laughter, the party’s energy wild and reckless. By now, you were buzzing on so much liquid courage that everything felt like the best idea ever, including the fact that you were swaying against Bucky, who’d somehow stayed by your side all night.

He leaned in, his smirk way too mischievous, and the alcohol made it feel impossibly close.

“Did you hear that?” he slurred, barely keeping the laughter out of his voice. “I think it’d be a shame if we ignore the DJ’s request don’t you?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off, but he just grinned wider, leaning in until his cheek was practically pressed against yours.

“Hold still,” he whispered, a laugh lurking in his voice.

Then, in a move so outrageous you could barely comprehend it, he dragged his tongue slowly from your chin up to your forehead.

“Bucky!” you shrieked, stumbling back and half falling over yourself, laughter bubbling out of you as you clutched your face in shock. “Oh my god, you did not just—”

He stepped back, looking beyond pleased with himself, the grin on his face pure, unfiltered pride.

“What? I’m just being… obedient,” he slurred, raising his hands in mock innocence.

“You are the worst!” you squealed, laughing so hard you could barely keep it together, grabbing his arm as you steadied yourself, still half in disbelief. He just chuckled, clearly reveling in your reaction as he pulled you right back into the rhythm, your laughter mixing with the cheers around you as the dance floor pulsed with music.

They cranked up the music, and suddenly, the beat was all around you, pulsing through the crowd, as if daring everyone to let loose. The energy was infectious, and you found yourself moving in sync with him, laughing as you danced together, every touch and sway between you crackling with a chemistry that had been simmering all night.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, your hands drifting to his chest, letting your fingers splay against the warm, solid muscle. Your movements grew slower, more deliberate, and his hands instinctively found your waist, pulling you against him until there was barely any space left between you. His gaze dropped, glued on your lips, and you felt a shiver run through you, your breath hitching as he leaned in, his face just inches from yours. His nose brushed yours, and you looked up to meet his gaze, seeing the same surprised intensity reflected in his eyes.

Bucky held your gaze, his breath mingling with yours, and you could feel the tension building, electric and undeniable. He was waiting—leaving the next move up to you. If you wanted him, you knew he’d let you take him.

🎶Just let me know, can you be the one to hold and not let me go?🎶

Heart pounding, you somehow managed to press yourself even closer, feeling the swell of your chest against him, igniting a flush across his cheeks. But it wasn’t embarrassment you saw in his eyes—it was heat, a look that sent a thrill down your spine. His hand shifted, his fingers tracing along the curve of your hip, and you could feel the strength of his grip as he held you.

🎶I need to know, could you be the one to call when I lose control?🎶

The tension was unbearable, and as you tilted your face up, your lips brushed his in the softest, most hesitant caress—a question, an invitation. His resolve crumbled instantly. His hand slid to your waist, gripping the flesh there as his other hand threaded into your hair, guiding your head back so he could kiss you deeper, tasting you with an intensity that left you breathless. You let out a startled, breathless sound, and he responded by pulling you closer, cradling your face as if you were something precious, something he couldn’t bear to let go of.

Your lips parted for him, and he kissed you with a hunger that had been building for some time. His tongue traced yours, swallowing your quiet moans, anchoring you to him as his hand kept you steady. It wasn’t forceful, just… tender, like he was holding something priceless.

Your breaths came heavy, your cheeks flushed, but you barely noticed; all you could feel was him, his touch, his heartbeat pounding against yours, and the fire in his veins matching your own. In that moment, propriety, the crowd around you, everything else faded into oblivion. If he wanted you to take him right there, you couldn’t even think of saying no.

Every nerve in your body was alive, tingling with an incredible sense of lust and need as his arms held you close. His lips pressed harder, deepening the kiss, his passion and intensity only spurring you to match it. You melted against him, completely consumed by the heat and need between you, and for those moments, it was as if nothing else existed. Oxygen became secondary; the only thing that mattered was the connection between you, growing more fervent with each second.

Finally, when the need for air became overwhelming, you both broke apart, gasping, your faces inches from each other, breaths mingling as you took each other in. His lips tingled, mirroring your own, and every beat of your heart seemed to urge you back into his embrace.

“Let’s get out of here… yours or mine?” Bucky stammered between breaths, his voice husky, his eyes still filled with fire. His body radiated heat, and he looked like he’d dive into the pool at any second just to cool down.

“Mine,” you whispered, your voice breathless, cheeks flushed, a shy smile tugging at your lips as you held his gaze.

× × × ×

You both barely made it down the hallway before the urgency hit, the tension that had been building all night finally snapping. Bucky’s hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, pulling you against him as you fumbled for your keys, the both of you practically tripping over each other in your haste. As soon as you managed to unlock the door, you pushed it open, stumbling inside, his mouth crashing into yours before it even closed behind you.

Wetness pooled inside you, the need for him overwhelming as you pressed back against the door, his body meeting yours in a frenzy of heat and desperation. His stubble scraped against your skin, rough and deliciously manly, a reminder that he was all raw power and intensity. You loved it, the way it scratched against your cheek, adding to the thrill and making your skin tingle wherever he touched.

His lips found the side of your neck, warm and insistent as he kissed his way down, nipping softly, each touch leaving you breathless. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, exposing the full length of your neck to his hungry mouth. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers pressing in firmly, possessively, as his teeth grazed your skin, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“God,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

You could only gasp, clutching onto him as his mouth moved up to your jaw, his hands never stilling, gripping you as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Bucky reached a hand up and placed it on your left breast, over the bikini top, and then brought his hand up to the back of your neck to pull you in closer to him. You undid the straps of your top, and down fell the top, exposing your naked breasts to him.

Holy shit—this can’t be real. Am I hallucinating? Is this actually happening? Wait—oh god, is he about to put my boobs in his mouth?!

Like a hungry child desperate for milk Bucky suckled on your nipple, squeezing the bottom of your breast passionately with one hand, and holding the other breast in his other hand. You looked down at him, licking, sucking, rubbing, and he looked as though he was transported to paradise.

He worked himself into a frenzy playing with your breast, until he wanted more. He lifted you up under your thighs, off the floor, and pressed your back against the wall.

Oh shit!

He kissed you again, his hand sliding down to press against you over your bikini bottom. With a quick, desperate motion, he tugged the fabric to the side, his fingers brushing bare skin, making your breath hitch.

As his hand cupped you, he began to move slowly, his fingers exploring, teasing. “Damn,” he murmured, his voice thick with surprise and satisfaction. “You’re so wet. Is this what happens every time you watch my videos?”

“M-maybe…” you stammered, cheeks heating, barely able to meet his eyes as a grin spread across his face.

His fingers slid inside you, moving with a slow, deliberate rhythm, each motion sending sparks through your entire body. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he asked, “How many times have you touched yourself thinking about me?”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan as he continued, each movement intensifying the heat pooling inside you.

“Mmmh—why would I tell you that?” you managed, trying to sound teasing but barely able to keep your voice steady.

His grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes as his fingers pressed deeper, his thumb brushing against you just right. “Because I want to hear every filthy detail.”

He kissed your other nipple, the one he missed when before. Bucky always gave equal time to the breasts. Suckling on one nipple, fingering you harder and harder, you were getting more and more excited for the moment he would penetrate you.

“Oh my god—” You swallowed, feeling your face heat up and you could feel yourself slightly sobering up. With a nervous laugh, you finally gave in, your voice soft but steady.

“Fine… sometimes, late at night—ah—I’d imagine you between my legs, devouring me like your life depended on it,” you whispered, feeling your cheeks burn. “I’d—fuck—I’d think about your hands, the way they’d feel inside me, moving exactly like this…mmmh,” you gasped as his fingers pressed deeper, your own words sparking the desire between you.

His fingers never stopped their steady, torturous rhythm, each movement deliberate, coaxing you toward the edge with a patience that was as maddening as it was intoxicating.

“And? That’s it?” he asked, his tone thick with amusement, daring you to reveal more. His thumb brushed against you in just the right way, as if encouraging you to keep talking, to give him every last detail he was craving.

“And—hah—I’d picture you… spitting in my mouth while you’re turning me on, you’d put your hand on my neck while I beg you to i dunno? reorganize my guts—because you’re so big Bucky. . . I don’t think you’ll fit inside me.”

“Oh the innocent looking ones are always the dirtiest.” Bucky’s smirk turned darker, his fingers pressing into you with a newfound intensity, his digits hooking and pressing into your most sensitive spot, causing your hips to jerk against his palm.

“And was I just as good in your imagination as I am now?” he murmured, voice low and rough, sending shivers straight down your spine.

“Yes… yes…” The words left your lips almost involuntarily, your hands gripping his shoulders as your nails dug in, grounding yourself against the overwhelming sensation. Your face twisted with pleasure, each stroke of his digits making it harder to catch your breath.

Bucky’s eyes darkened with a fierce satisfaction as he watched you, his smirk deepening. “Better than you imagined?”

"Mhhm," you tried to respond, but it came out more like a needy moan, your voice barely a whisper under the intensity of his touch.

Bucky's smirk grew at the sound, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he took in every reaction, every tremble. "That’s what I thought," he murmured, his voice dark and teasing.

Bucky carried you through the open door of your bedroom, his movements purposeful, every touch sending sparks across your skin. When he reached the edge of the bed, he lowered you onto the mattress, but before letting you go, he bent down to capture your lips in a kiss—a kiss that felt as intimate as it did electrifying.

You couldn’t help but notice the difference; this was something he never did in his videos. Bucky never kissed anyone on the lips on screen. But here, he kissed you slowly, deeply.

His hands moved to your shoulders, firm but gentle as he guided you back into the soft downy mattress. “There you go, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm and low. “Lean back.”

He knelt down at the side of the bed. He pulled off your panties, the final barrier to your sex. He pushed your legs apart and back, and gazed at your pussy, already wet for him.

He stared at your exposed pussy for ten seconds, admiring it like it was the greatest work of art he had ever seen.

"Your pussy," he said, his lips nearly brushing your sex. "It's beautiful.”

You lifted your head up and looked at him. Your jaw was dropped and you were already starting to feel tingles up your body, even though he hadn't licked you yet. You heard his breathing get heavier and heavier, he was so excited to put his lips on your pussy.

Two large fingers of his left hand spread your lips. Two large fingers of his right hand rubbed your clit in strong circles. Each circle sends a shock wave through your body.

"You smell fantastic," he declared, and he dove his mouth right on top of your wet and stimulated clit. Up and down he licked. Up and down, his mouth clasped tight against your pussy.

"Oh," you moaned, as your eyes rolled up to the back of your head. Your arms—with a mind of their own—grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted them back, presenting yourself to this man who used to be on the screen and was now bringing you to ecstasy. He'd only just started to lick you, but even so you felt ready for him to enter you and never leave.

As Bucky continued to eat you like you’re his last meal, each suction sending thrills through you, a sudden wave of doubt crashed over you, freezing you in place. Images flooded your mind—women he’d been with, all effortlessly beautiful, the kind who exuded confidence and allure. How could you compare? This had to be nothing more than another fleeting thing for him, a “friendship” that would end the moment the night was over.

You tensed, your hands moving to gently push him back. “Bucky… wait,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up from between your legs, his expression softening instantly as he met your gaze.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gentle, concerned.

“I… I just…” You stammered, the words getting caught in your throat before you finally managed, “I don’t want to be… one of your girls.”

Bucky blinked, taken aback, his expression shifting as if the words had struck something unexpected, almost offended.

“One of my girls?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you searched for the right way to explain. “I… I don’t do one-night stands,” you admitted, feeling vulnerable.

Bucky nodded slowly, his tongue pressing into his cheek as he rose to his feet. "Mhm—no, I get it... it's because of my job," he said, his tone carrying a hint of defensiveness.

You sat up, noticing the shift in his demeanor. "Are you mad?" you asked softly, uncertainty creeping into your voice.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not mad," he replied, though his clenched jaw suggested otherwise. "I just didn't think you'd see me that way."

"See you what way?" you pressed gently.

He met your gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and vulnerability. "Like I'm some guy who just goes around collecting flings," he explained. "I thought you knew me better than that."

You swallowed, choosing your words carefully. “It's not that I think poorly of you,” you said. “It's just... your work makes things complicated for me. I don't want to be another notch on anyone's belt.”

He took a deep breath, his expression softening. “I understand where you're coming from,” he admitted. “But believe me when I say that this—” he gestured between the two of you “—is different for me.”

“How do I know that?” you asked quietly.

He stepped closer, his eyes sincere. “Because I don't share moments like this with just anyone,” he said. “You think I go around kissing people like that? Off-camera, in my real life?”

Bucky’s expression shifted, his brows knitting together as he crossed his arms, clearly growing more frustrated. “I thought you knew the difference between who I am on-camera and who I am off it,” he replied, his tone clipped.

You sighed, trying to hold your ground. “Bucky, you’re the one who kept teasing me to watch your videos, practically encouraging me to make it my new hobby—how am I supposed to ignore what you do?”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair in irritation. “Because those videos aren’t me,” he said, voice rising. “You’re acting like everything I do there is just some extension of my personal life, but it’s a job, Y/N. I don’t go around living like that off-set.”

You crossed your arms, not caring that the blanket had slipped off, leaving you bare before him.

“And I’m supposed to just... pretend that all of it doesn’t mean anything?” you shot back, feeling a twinge of vulnerability but refusing to let it show. “You kept making those jokes, those comments—you have to see how confusing it is for me.”

He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “And you think I just do that with everyone? That every person who walks into my life gets these... moments with me?” His gaze softened slightly as he gestured between the two of you. “If that were the case, do you think I’d be here, right now, trying to convince you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat. His intensity was throwing you off balance, forcing you to question your assumptions. You’d expected him to brush this off or laugh, not take it to heart.

He shook his head, a frustrated laugh escaping him. “You don’t get it, do you?” He looked at you, his eyes full of something you couldn’t quite name. “I don’t have to be here, fighting for this. I could have walked away and yet here I am.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat as the weight of his words settled heavily between you. The intensity of his gaze, the raw honesty in his voice—it was all too much, too fast, and yet it tugged at something deep inside you, making it impossible to brush off. But your heart was pounding, confusion and vulnerability swirling together, and you weren’t ready to face everything his words were unearthing.

“I… I think we should call it a night,” you said quietly, barely able to meet his gaze, the words coming out softer than you intended.

For a moment, he looked at you, his expression unreadable, and you could see him processing your response. Then, with a quiet sigh, he nodded, stepping back to give you space.

“Alright,” he replied, his voice subdued. “If that’s what you want.”

The room felt suddenly colder, the tension between you now tinged with a quiet ache. You could tell he was holding back more that he wanted to say, but he respected your decision, his expression guarded as he looked away.

You bit your lip, your mind racing with things you couldn’t bring yourself to say, with emotions you weren’t quite ready to admit.

“Thank you… for understanding,” you managed, feeling the weight of your choice settle over you.

He gave a small nod, his jaw tight, before he turned toward the door.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said softly, pausing for a moment as if hoping you might change your mind, before finally leaving your apartment, the main door shutting made you flinch even though Bucky closed it softly.

The silence that followed felt heavier than you expected. The tension that had filled the room moments ago lingered, and a wave of frustration washed over you, mixing with regret and uncertainty. You took a shaky breath, running a hand through your hair before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

Without thinking, you grabbed the nearest pillow, buried your face into it, and let out a muffled scream, releasing all the emotions you couldn’t quite put into words. The pillow absorbed the sound, but it did nothing to ease the twist of emotions churning inside you. Finally, you pulled the pillow away, feeling just as conflicted as before, wondering if you’d made the right choice… or a terrible mistake.

tags: @bohoooitsme @barnescamboy @strangefunthornqueen @mayusenpai666 @seven0714

@rabbitrabbit12321 @alexsl-universe @xunquish-blog @hzdhrtss @winchestert101

@alyana-luvs-u @itsbuckysworld

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o-moon-o · 3 months ago

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He gave you a special discount!!! +drugs

#my art #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian roblox #pressure sebastian #sebastian solace #sebastian pressure #roblox pressure sebastian #sebastian fanart #pressure #pressure roblox #roblox #my art <3 #my artwrok #in my style

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xreaderbooks · 1 year ago

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The Shadows of Our Love |10|

Chapter 10 | In the Shadow of Letters

Pair: Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: You fill Ominis in on what's been going on.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

comment or send me a message if you'd like to be tagged :)

Links: Wattpad - Ao3 - Playlist

Chapter 9 - Series Masterlist - Navigation - Chapter 11

Ever since that last encounter, Vaughn wouldn’t stop popping up everywhere. Did you really not notice him this whole time? He walked past you in the halls with a wave or a ‘Hello’, He sat visibly in the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall almost in your direct eye-line, you saw his blond hair from a mile away in Hogsmeade with his own friends. You were beginning to see him almost as often as you see Sebastian; which is an annoying amount.

Other things you’ve noticed now that you were opening your mind to the world around you and less around your own self-deprecation, Grace and Sebastian. You never noticed the way they were around each other, it wasn’t anything incriminating really, you just saw them have conversations in the common room or on the way to class. Not that it would be incriminating if it were more than that…

There was a certain pang in your chest when you saw them, it had been a while since you felt this particular emotion, it clawed its way into your heart and made you want to tear your skin off. At least you knew you weren’t the only one that was bothered.

Sebastian, for whatever reason, couldn’t stand the idea of you and Vaughn being friends. The Hufflepuff boy was very sweet and he was attentive, likes to carry your books when you're walking together, for example, and has a hand an inch or two behind your back as if he was guiding you or making sure you wouldn’t fall on the staircase.

Though the friendship blossomed out of nowhere, and he seemed to hover, you didn’t mind him.

You pretended not to notice but Sebastian’s eyes lingered whenever you were around Vaughn, just like yours did when he was talking to Grace, you doubted it was for the same reason but it gave you satisfaction in knowing he was still bothered. It made Vaughn's random appearances much more favorable.

You kept up with your wand work in the Undercroft, making very slight progress, convincing yourself that you were perfecting your skills and not failing at everything else.

“Why do you push yourself so hard?” Ominis breaks you out of your thoughts. He was lounging on the couch now facing your way as if he could watch, in some ways, it felt like he was. His power as a legilimens made it feel more intense than as if he was staring with his own two eyes, no matter the promise of him not reading your mind. You thought he was napping like he always appeared to be doing in and between classes.

You confronted him about him not telling Sebastian that you were using the Undercroft, and he told you that it was better if Sebastian didn’t know (he didn’t feel it was necessary for you to know why, which you were still bugged about) but that Sebastian would not be a nuisance.

You wipe the sweat off of your brow and sigh, “If I tell you something, will you swear not to get upset?”

His eyebrows lift suspiciously, “That depends on whether or not it warrants my being upset.”

“Have you heard about the Hamlets and what had been happening as of late?” You ask. He wouldn’t want you to get involved and would tell you to go to the authorities but you had a way with Ominis and perhaps he would help you rather than scold you.

“I assumed it had to with the fall of Ranrok, Loyalists on the loose, and whatnot.”

You prayed to Merlin he would not throw a fit about what you were planning on telling him, “I’ve been tracking down camps in my spare time and I came across a family being attacked by a group that calls themselves ‘Death Reapers’ at least that’s what the woman told me. She also said that they’ve been specifically targeting muggle-born witches and wizards.” You decided not to mention that you’ve been attacked by them before and that you almost died this time around.

His face had gone ghostly pale, more so than usual, he didn’t speak. Pensive. You stepped toward him and the moment you did the clicking of the gears to the Undercroft was heard.

“Who died?” Sebastian hears you shuffle your feet as you move to sit next to Ominis.

You brush off the betrayal at Ominis’ earlier promise about Sebastian, and question the boy who hadn’t spoken, “What is it?”

“Your presence doesn’t appear to be helpful,” Sebastian spoke as he strode over and sat on the other side of his friend.

“Ominis and I were having a discussion that has put him in distress, I’m sure your waltzing in here uninvited-”

“Uninvited?” His brows furrowed in confusion and barked out a laugh, “I’m afraid you're the excluded party here.”

“Neither of you is excluded,” Ominis regained his speech, “I wanted you both here so I wouldn’t have to share the same bit of information twice. Y/n, you have just given me a vital piece that I was missing.”

“So much for no one being excluded, I have no bloody idea what you’re on about,” Sebastian’s eyes were wild with question.

You inhaled proudly, “What was that about my presence?”

“Both of you, stop that,” Ominis chided. “You’re acting like children and I am in no mood to babysit.”

“She started it,” The brunette boy pointed with a glare.

You scoffed and crossed your arms, fully sitting back on the couch, “Well? Tell us then.”

“You’re both aware of my family and the history of their feelings towards muggles…”

“Yes, yes, they want them all to burn in their own hell,” Sebastian said with a dismissiveness that had your eyes shooting toward him offended. It was no secret of the Gaunt’s prejudice, especially not with what Sebastian told you and Ominis himself but you had an uneasy feeling about what Ominis may say.

“If what you’re saying is true about the people attacking the Hamlets, then my family may have some part in it, they’ve recently been sending me owls on how they wish for me to be more involved in their business.”

“What does that mean, exactly?” You sit back up and hold onto Ominis’ hand that was clenched in his lap, giving it a squeeze of encouragement.

“I fear they may have created the Death Reapers.”

~~~

More of a plot chapter-ish :/

Chapter 11

Taglist:

@vanivivs - @aqueennia - @wt-fxck - @therealppboy - @boysmedia - @stuffyownswrld - @maddsinthemoon - @dreamshot - @lostgirl-28 - @scrambled-eggs-y

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bethsvrse · 11 months ago

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me, a writer, at 3am: WHAT? I CANT FIND THE SPECIFIC FANFIC THAT I MADE UP IN MY MIND WITH A WHOLE PLOT AND ORIGINAL CHARACTERS??? WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE??? DO THEY EXPECT ME TO WRITE THE STORY I THOUGHT UP OF???

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navybrat817 · 2 months ago

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Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky suggests sneaking off at the gala. How can you resist?

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Unprotected v. sex, sex in a closet, dirty talk, possessiveness, established relationship, slight insecurities, mention of breeding, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes and he's a simp for you (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Sorry, lovelies. I just really wanted this. Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t bother to hide his discontent as he looked around at the ballroom. Was it a gala? Fundraiser? What cared? He hated functions like these. People were either there to kiss ass and move up the chain of command or gloat about how well off they were in life under the guise that they were doing good for others. He didn't attempt to converse with any of them, but still had to go as a way to support SHIELD in some capacity and show that he was no longer the Winter Soldier.

At least Steve and Sam were excused from the event due to a mission.

Leaning against one of the pillars and tugging at his bowtie, he spaced out momentarily. No one looked his way, but he still felt judged. Like he didn’t just belong at the event, but amongst anyone. He wanted to go home, get out of his tuxedo, and get the product out of his slicked back hair. He debated sneaking away from some air until he blinked and saw the reason he was truly there: you, the only real person in the crowd of liars and cheaters.

He never understood the expression of clothes clinging to someone like a second skin until you stepped into your floor-length black dress earlier this evening, the fabric enhancing every beautiful curve of your body. His eyes narrowed as you moved around the room and exchanged smiles and handshakes with people. Your aura drew people to you, men brushing against you and their stares lingering for far too long. It served as another reminder of why he didn’t want to go tonight, especially when a General gripped your arm.

If he had a glass in his hand it would’ve shattered.

Convincing you to stay in bed didn't work since you both had to make an appearance, but it didn't mean he wanted you apart from him. “Get over here,” he whispered, craving your attention, needing you close.

As if you sensed him seeking you out, likely feeling the weight of his stare, you turned to meet his gaze across the room. Your eyes sparkled with love that he never thought he’d receive in his lifetime. The kind of love he never wanted to be without again. “Would you please excuse me?” You asked loud enough for him to catch as you removed your arm from the man’s grip. “My husband is waiting for me.”

Your hips swayed as you worked your way toward Bucky, not stopping for any other man who tried to catch your eye. Hearing you call him your husband brought the first smile to his face since he arrived. He still couldn’t believe some days that you wanted forever with him. “I was wondering when my beautiful wife would remember I was here,” he said once you were close enough, reaching out for your hand.

The moment you took it, he stood tall and pulled you against him. He was certain no one else came close to the intimidating vibe he put out, his hold on you possessive as you smiled. “As if I could forget. Practically heard you growling when General Rando touched my arm,” you teased.

“Because he has no right to touch you,” he said, your lashes fluttering as you spun away. His hands guided you back to him. “I know you’re better with people than I am, which is why you’re the one who has to socialize and I’m sorry for that. But you also said I’m not allowed to break any fingers tonight and I won't be held responsible if he tries to touch you again.”

He swore he didn’t have a possessive bone in his body until you sauntered into his life, giving him hopes and dreams and longing.

You laughed at him, a seductive sound that had a few heads turning. “You do know I can break his fingers myself, right?”

He chuckled, leaning close to your ear and tickling your skin with his breath. “I know you're more than capable of kicking his ass. One of your many wonderful qualities,” he whispered. People underestimated you and that was always a mistake. “But I still don't like that he touched you like he wanted to own you.”

You rang a finger along his bowtie. “We all know who owns me and we know I own you, too,” you said, holding up your hand to show him your wedding ring. He tried to ignore how fast his heart pounded at the sight of his ring on your finger, the pledge you two made together. “In a very healthy, non-toxic sort of way, of course.”

He smirked, glancing around at the crowd before looking back at you. “Of course, but maybe we could give everyone a friendly reminder that we’re a happily married and loyal couple.” His voice dropped lower, teasingly. He wanted to make your heart race like his. “Or maybe we could sneak away for a bit. Make this night a little more interesting.”

“Sneak away?” You feigned innocence as you blinked at him. He was certain any innocence you had before he met you was gone thanks to him. “Whatever for?”

“You know what for. It’ll be like that expo we went to a few months ago.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, studying your face closely. He easily picked up your sharp inhale, the way your pupils dilated and lips parted. It was clear that sneaking off was something that very much interested you. “C’mon, baby. This gala is boring and neither of us want to be here. My idea is much more fun. You know it is.”

He touched your cheek, your skin warm under his hand. He wasn’t able to keep you in bed earlier like he wanted, but the thought of pulling you away and having you right here and now had his stomach fluttering with excitement. “This gala is boring,” you agreed carefully.

“Then let’s make it exciting.” His thumb brushed across your lips and it took everything in him not to push his thumb inside. “You made me come to this thing. Don’t I deserve something for showing up and behaving?”

“I haven't made you come yet.” His muscles went taut when you briefly sucked the digit into your mouth, electricity crackling under his skin. He admired your boldness, how you were unashamedly yourself in front of these people. You didn't and would never care what they thought. “And I didn't make you come to this event, but I can make it worth your while.”

He held your chin and moved close until only an inch separated your faces. Your eyes gleamed with a hunger that rivaled his. The air crackled between you, daring you both to give over to your obvious desires. “And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He rasped when you suddenly pulled back and helped move him across the floor in a dance.

“My plan? I thought sneaking away was your idea,” you smiled, guiding you both closer to the open doorway. “But if we can find a closet or dark corner, you can do whatever you want with me. And I’ll even let you fuck my throat first thing tomorrow morning for behaving.”

A rumbling, deep groan escaped his throat. His fingers dug in possessively when he gripped the nape of your neck and tilted your head so he could taste your skin. Your body molding against his, soft and yielding against his solid frame, wasn’t enough. There were too many clothes in the way and he wanted to bury himself deep inside you.

“You drive me crazy, Mrs. Barnes,” he whispered, lifting his head to look into your eyes.

“The feeling is mutual, Mr. Barnes.” You bit your lip once he waltzed you for enough away from prying eyes, the heat flaring between you. “I need you.”

Every nerve ending came to life when he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue plunged past your lips, holding you steady as he devoured you. You melted against him, which only brought forth his primal hunger more. His intensity never scared you and he would be forever thankful for that.

You gasped as your back hit a wall, the sounds of chatter and music from the ballroom muffled. Your nails scraped the fabric of his jacket, both of you lost in sensations of lust and desire. As one of your hands continued its journey to his shoulder, the other wandered down his torso and didn’t stop until you gripped his thick erection through his pants.

He abruptly broke the kiss when you gave him a squeeze, his eyes wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, gripping your wrist and pushing more firmly against your hand. “You feel that? That’s what you do to me.”

With dizzying speed, he spun you so that your back pressed against his front. You panted as his hand ventured through the slit of your dress and brushed along your trembling thigh. “Wait until you feel how wet I am,” you whispered, grinding your hips back against his.

His mouth brushed the exposed column of your throat, alternating between small bites and open mouthed kisses. “Still get wet for me?” He asked, massaging your breast with his vibranium hand and drawing another gasp from you when he pinched your nipple. He marveled at how much he could feel with that hand and how he’d never harm you with it.

“Have you seen yourself? One look from you and I’m soaked.” Your back arched as he bit down again. He wished he saw himself the way you did. “And you’re my husband. That craving for you isn’t going away.”

He rocked his hips against yours, seeking out more contact and friction as his cock throbbed and heart swelled. Marriage wasn’t a constant honeymoon phase. It took work. Effort. Compromise. But you were worth every moment, every struggle, every up and down.

Laughter from a few feet away had him lifting his head, both of you looking toward where the noise was coming from. “Fuck,” he snarled, wanting to scream at whoever it was to go the fuck away.

“There’s a closet around the corner. We just need to pick the lock,” you told him, smiling over your shoulder. “I may have scoped out the place in case this happened.”

He chuckled, utterly in awe of you. “I fucking love you,” he exhaled.

Walking with an aching hard-on wasn’t easy, but he managed to get you both further away from the ballroom. He picked the lock with record speed once you got to the door and moved you both inside. He flipped on the light, wanting to see as much of you as he could. For a moment, you two stared at each other and waited for the other to make a move. He loved the anticipation.

“I’m disappointed in you, Mr. Barnes,” you said, reaching for the doorknob to lock it. He was about to ask what he possibly did to upset you when you smirked. “You didn’t mention anything about me not wearing any panties.”

His cock was ready to burst from his pants. “Because that fucking clown out there interupted me,” he rumbled, pinning you against the door and crowding your body. His nose touched yours as he hiked your dress up, desperate to kiss you again. Eager to feel your wetness. “You trust me?”

It was a question he always asked. You put all of yourself into his care, your body, mind, heart, and soul. It was only fair that he made sure you still wanted him to be the one for you today, tomorrow, and every day after that. Even then a single lifetime would never be enough for him. He wanted a thousand lives with you.

“Always,” you said, an ache in your voice that he couldn’t resist. He fused his lips with yours, building up the fire all over again when his hand found your damp heat. The most intimate part of you where you allowed him to make himself at home. Your hands shook as you went to undo his pants, wanting to free him. “And you trust me?”

It wasn’t just his heart that contracted. His very soul trembled, wanting to wrap itself up in your light and love. “With everything in me,” he promised, sighing when he pulled his cock free from his underwear. “I’ll worship you later. Those gorgeous tits of yours. Your sweet cunt.”

Once you were home, he’d slip off your dress and give every beautiful inch of your body the attention it deserved. He’d draw a bath for you, too, and hopefully join you so he could simply hold you. But he was desperate for you now. He thought he’d burn if he didn’t have you.

You hiked a leg around him, moving your hips enticingly. There was only so much he could take. And who wouldn’t fall under the tempting spell of your body? “I’m ready for you.” Your soft moan echoed in his ears as he trailed a finger along your slit to your clit, barely touching it. He knew it would shoot small sparks through your body until you begged for more. “I mean it, Barnes. Get. Your cock. In me.”

“My needy little wife,” he whispered against your lips as he gripped the base of his cock and probed your entrance. The breathy sound you made when he began to push in had his blood pulsing in euphoria. It was a wonder he fit some days with how tight you were, but your slick heat stretched and welcomed him every time.

“My needy husband,” you smiled as you enveloped him completely, your fingers curling in his hair.

“What kind of man isn’t needy for his wife?” He began to thrust in deep, deliberate strokes. It matched the rhythm of the music in the distant ballroom, the two of you creating your own sultry dance. Maybe he would go up in flames. At least he’d have you to burn with. “Fuck, your body was made for my cock.”

Each snap of his hips tore more moans and whimpers from your throat and sent shockwaves through his system. You clenched around him with a smile, looking like a debauched angel. “My pussy was made for you, so ruin it.”

He groaned, his pulse beating strongly as his grip tightened on your hips. He fucked you without restraint, just as greedy for you as you were for him. Allowing himself to feel you and what you did to him was everything he was denied for so long. His life had only been order. Pain. You let him lose control. You gave him pleasure. Even a home.

I love you.

“I love you, too, Bucky,” you panted, brushing a thumb over his cheekbone as his eyes closed against the emotions threatening to surface. “I love you, too.”

His pace picked up, urgent, frenzied. At this rate, he might explode into fragments from your declaration and how good you felt. “You love me?” He bit out, his eyes opening and breaths harsh as he felt you clench again.

You cried out, his hand flying up to brace your head before it hit the door. “So much,” you moaned as you gazed at him. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. Fierce in love and loyalty, patient and steadfast. He feared some days he’d need you more than you needed him, but you drove that thought from his mind. “I’m yours.”

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned. He couldn’t with the way you looked at him, the way your walls gripped him, knowing you were his.

“Neither am…” Your mouth fell open as your release hit you, your fluids drenching him. It was a wonder to watch you go over the edge in a blissful orgasm. He wanted to be right there with you.

“There you go. Good girl,” he encouraged, your body still tight around his cock. He erupted in one last thrust, his head falling back with an animalistic roar. “Fuck…”

Bucky braced a hand against the door, the other holding you like a lifeline. If only the two of you were at home so he could properly cuddle with you. His breathing remained ragged for a bit as he came down from his high, your breathing beginning to steady, too. He couldn't help but smile as he took in the sight of you thoroughly ravaged and satisfied. “Worth every second of being here,” he sighed, slowly pulling out of your twitching hole. You inhaled when he moved a hand down and swiped two fingers along the mess seeping out of you. “Clean them off for me, baby,” he ordered huskily, bringing them to your mouth.

Obediently, you parted your lips and allowed him to push his fingers in. You swirled your tongue around them to taste your combined essence, moaning at the tangy flavor. He tucked himself away once you finished up, afraid that he’d fuck you all over again if he didn’t get completely dressed. It didn’t stop him from gazing longingly at you as he fixed his jacket.

And it didn’t stop him from imagining your mouth around his cock the next morning.

“Now.” You grimmaced slightly as he helped you steady yourself and straighten out your dress. He knew that look. It was the look you got for a split second whenever the sticky remnants continued to trickle down your thighs. He loved having that claim on you. “How do you expect me to go back to the gala after that?”

“I don’t,” he smirked, his hands moving back to your hips as he snuck in a gentle kiss. “I think it’s time to get you home and back in our bed where you belong. I promised I’d worship you, remember?”

You nodded, your eyes still slightly dazed. “On one condition.”

He titled his head. “What’s that?”

A slow smile curved your mouth, his heart pounding and cock twitching back to life at your answer, “You put a baby in me tonight.”

So, lovelies, was it okay? I feel rusty. And who wants a future fic of Bucky breeding you? Just me? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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