#you can’t tell me this picture doesn’t look like smug bucky crashing a party

[mellowsaturns]

just between us

DBF!BUCKY X READER

summary: you and bucky have a little moment in your bathroom at your family’s brunch 

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, fluff, bathroom sex, secret relationship, age gap (reader is in her 20s), unprotected p in v, fingering, teasing, praise kink, he’s a menace, they are just horny for each other lol

wc: 1.2k

a/n: that picture has been giving me the biggest brainrot and now y’all have to suffer with me <3 

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The sun’s shining perfectly and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky—just the perfect weather for a fancy brunch that your parents had planned for weeks now.

Everyone’s laughing and having a good time. You’re on your third mimosa and it wasn’t even twelve o’clock yet. Life was good.

You’re chatting with your friend when suddenly, all her words become white noise to you.

Because you smell him before you even see him—that distinctive and expensive cologne that managed to imprint itself onto you as well. Freezing in your spot, you could feel the warmth he’s radiating behind you. And when he places his hand on the back of your chair, his timber voice sends shivers down your spine. “I hope I’m not too late,” he announces to everyone. You had to clench your thighs shut.

“Bucky!” your father shouts, half surprised and half excited that his best friend’s here. “Thought you couldn’t make it?”

“I managed to rearrange some things,” he says, and you could picture the smirk he had on his face right now.

Bucky subtly moves his hand, his palm now directly on your skin thanks to the backless dress you’re wearing. He gently brushes his thumb against your heated skin before making his way over to your father who had managed to find an extra seat for him. And when you finally see him, your breath hitches—he looks like he’s about to go on a damn runway, pure sex on legs. You stare at him in hopes of catching his attention but he doesn’t spare a single glance at you.

Asshole, you mutter to yourself.

-

“Say that again?” he grunts into your ear. Because said asshole now had you up against the wall, your dress rolled up to your waist while he’s knuckles deep inside you.

Halfway through, you got annoyed and left the table. Unknowingly to you, he also followed you into the house and when you entered your room and into the bathroom, he grabbed your face and kissed you hard, one thing leading to another.

“Say that again, sweetheart,” he taunts, sliding his fingers deeper into you.

You whimper, clutching onto his shoulders. “Said you were an asshole,” you grit out. “You didn’t even look at me.”

He hums. “Sweetheart, you in that dress is just sinful. I know ‘cause I was the one who bought it for you,” he says. “I wouldn’t have been able to control myself if I looked at you. I would’ve fucked you right there and then in front of everyone.”

He chuckles when you clench around his fingers. “You like that? You like the idea of me bending you over and taking you so everyone can see?” he teases into your ear, voice low and husky. “I wonder what they’ll say when they find out you’re fucking your father’s best friend.”

You whimper at his suggestion but with the way he’s holding you, so rough and so passionate, you couldn’t care less about what they’ll say about you and Bucky.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers, kissing up your neck. You gasp when he bites down. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You’re close and he knows it too. He goes in for a bruising kiss and curves his fingers at just the right spot, one that only he’s able to hit and you shutter against him.

After he licks your arousal off his fingers, he gives you no time to recover as he spins you around and bends you over the counter, caging you in between his arms and the cold marble. He’s eager to feel you and it takes no time for him to slide in.

“Bucky!” you gasp.

“Fuck. I miss this,” he moans, as if he didn’t take you apart so good last week that you had trouble walking the next day. “It’s like you were made just for me.”

There’s an intense warmth building inside of you with the way he’s gripping your hip and pounding into you from behind. You’re clutching the counter to stabilize yourself from his rhythmic thrusts and trying really hard to suppress the obscene noises that are threatening to escape.

You hope no one’s in the house right now because you accidentally let out a needy cry.

He uses one of his hands to cover your mouth, his large palm helping you muffle all your guttural moans. “I can feel you, doll,” he rasps, “Does my pretty girl want to cum?”

You hum, nodding your head pathetically.

“Hmm? What was that?”

You're pleading but it gets lost.

“No?” he teases before slowing down.

Asshole.

He chuckles at your mewling and finally lets go of his hand. “Please. Bucky, please. Let me cum,” you whine.

He smirks at your desperate voice and lifts your head up then, making you look into the mirror.

“Look at you,” he muses, “taking me so well.” His fiery eyes meet your dazed ones in the reflection and you brace yourself as he picks up his pace again. Bringing you up against his chest, he kneads your tender flesh while his hot breaths hit your neck.

He holds you tighter when your legs start to shake and when you finally release, he follows seconds later, filling you up with him leaving you sticky and satisfied. “You did so well for me, baby,” he praises, holding you in his arms while your pounding heart settles from the aftermath of your orgasm.

He leaves first just to lower the suspicion and you take this time to make yourself presentable again. As always, your hair is a mess and you have mascara running down your face—nothing new thanks to Bucky.

When you join the table again, he’s already there laughing at some joke your parents said but you don’t miss the cheeky glance and wink he gives you.

Your friend looks at you for a moment, but continues the conversation the two of you left off at. If people wonder why you’re always disappearing, they don’t ask. It gives you a sort of thrill that maybe they know. That you're in something so illicit and that he’s yours as much as you are his.

You probe at the coffee cake in front of you, not hungry anymore because you’re full of him already.

Later, when everyone is helping to clean up, your phone buzzes with a notification.

Meet me in my car in 10.

You look up and Bucky’s looking at you from the other end of the backyard with a smirk on his lips.

You scoff. The sun was still out but then you remember he has very tinted windows installed in his black Mercedes and who were you to deny him when he’s looking like that?

In five, you text back.

When you look at him again, he’s biting his lip and looking at you with that look—the one he gives you during those moments in between heated kisses—like you’re the best thing that has ever happened to him.