Masterlist

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐋𝐘 — masterlist

pairing: patrick bateman x fem!reader

Summary: Patrick gives up control for one night. It doesn’t exactly go the way that you want it to.

— warnings: nsfw content, sub!patrick but he still has psychological control ofc, blowjobs, teasing, restraints, choking

"Are you trying to get me to beg?" Patrick asks, his brows knitting together as he watches your naked frame kneel before him, an uncomfortable throb shooting to the tent in his briefs as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. "Because if that's what you're doing, then I can assure you that I'm not going to plead to get you to touch me."

A soft coo slips past your lips as you stroke your fingers up Patrick's thigh, the muscle tensing involuntarily as your digits teasingly edge closer to the place where he wants you to touch him the most. You can tell that he's frustrated by the ticking of his jaw and the flaring of his nostrils, and you shoot him a loving smile as he glares down at you.

"You know how much I want you to beg," you murmur, your eyes glinting with mischief as you cup Patrick's hard cock through his briefs, a low groan drawing from the depth of his throat as you do so. "Please, Patrick? I want to hear how badly you want me."

"I'm not going to beg you to touch me.” His voice is emotionless, yet his throat grows dry when he watches your tongue comes out again, this time not to wet your lips but to lick at the outline of his cock through his briefs. "I'll get what I want eventually.” He tenses as you leave a wet stripe up his briefs, before he mockingly adds, “honey.”

You pout, your fingers careful as they slip under the band of his briefs, tugging at the Italian-made cotton softly. "At least pretend like I'm the one in control here," you huff, your hand curling around his cock, your lips quirking upwards as his pink tip leaks with precum. "Humour me a little, Patrick. Beg. Please?”

Patrick tries to ignore how comedic this situation actually is. He's the one tied up right now — his wrists are bound together with rope and he's tethered to the headboard, but somehow, he has all of the control. You're literally begging him to plead with you. If he was in your position and you were denying him of such sweetness, he'd bring out one of his knives and then you'd start blubbering and pleading like it's nobody's business.

He decides to humour you.

"Please suck my cock, honey. I need it so bad. I need it more than anything," he says flatly, the tip of his cock twitching against your cupid's bow as you beam up at him, "you have no idea what you do to me."

Surprisingly, it doesn't work.

"Don't mock me, Patrick. You're a little bit frustrated. I can see how tense you are." A low groan draws from his throat as you lick a delicate stripe up his length, careful to trace along his veins, your tongue sweetly swirling around his swollen head when you reach his tip. "If you don't comply with my orders, you're not getting what you want."

"Just put it in your mouth."

"I'll put it in my mouth when you ask me properly."

There it is — the tick in his jaw, the flaring of his nostrils, the intense, downcast gaze. You're pushing his boundaries, and you grin as he huffs, your lips carefully pressing gentle kisses against his length.

Your movements are incredibly gentle as you cup his balls in the palm of your hand, your tongue flicking out to toy with the needy head of his cock. His eyes crinkle shut and his nose scrunches as you lick a slow, deliberate stripe from the head of his cock down to his balls, your tongue flattening against his length as you bring your skilful muscle back up to his tip.

It's torture. Delicious torture. His nostrils flare when you pull away, a lewd string of spit trailing from his cock to your lips. You look up at him through lidded eyes, and your heart races in your chest as you see how black and blown his pupils are, his hazel irises sheathed from the dilation of his lust.

Pride resides in the depth of Patrick's chest. He didn't think you actual had it in you to tease him, but as you pepper sultry kisses to his cock, he realises that he's actually beginning to lose patience. His hips thrust against your face involuntarily, and an embarrassing whine catches in his throat as you tease him.

"I won't ask again," he says, and there's an edge to his tone that has your heart wrenching and fear prickling at your skin, "put it in your mouth. Please."

You smile.

It's the closest you're ever going to get to Patrick pleading with you. This small act of submission is enough — his bound wrists were his idea, not yours, meaning he was still in control even when he was complying with your demands to be domineering for once.

"Only because you asked so nicely," you tease, flinching under his warning gaze, your lips wrapping around the head of his cock carefully.

Your mouth is so warm and so wet, and Patrick's jaw clenches so hard that he wonders how he hasn't broken a tooth in the process. You feel so good as you roll your head up and down his cock lazily, your tongue trailing around his length as you force your head down, your nose pressing against his crotch as you take every inch of his cock inside of your mouth.

You gag. It's like heaven — the constriction of your throat tightens the grip your mouth has on his cock, and the warm, familiar feeling of arousal pools in your belly as Patrick hisses from above you, the muscles of his thighs flexing underneath your touch. There's something so intimate about how he's giving himself to you, how he's allowing you to have control, and you flush under his heavy gaze as you choke around his length, still not quite used to the uncomfortable girth of his cock.

"I'm glad that I made you bind me to the bed with these ropes," Patrick breathes from above you, his eyes starry as your tongue flicks over his tip, rolling over his slit carefully. "I want to hurt you so badly. If I wasn't restrained I think I'd ruin you completely."

The twitching head of his cock is a good enough signal that he's close. He grunts from above you, and it feels like he's been punched as his eyes lock onto yours, your mouth set upwards into a smile, your mouth glistening with salvia and precum.

Patrick's eyelids flutter shut, and you giggle as he groans again — usually he's not so vocal — using his moans as means of encouragement, forcing your head down, taking in all of his length, until you can no longer breathe breathe.

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your lungs are burning by the time that he cums. You struggle against him, squeezing your eyes shut, taking in every inch of him, your tongue lewdly lapping at his balls in an attempt to shock him through his orgasm.

And it works. Patrick is so tense that you can feel every single indentation of muscle, and your fingers dart over his chiselled abs, your cunt pulsing with need as he spews incoherent insults from above you.

By the time your breathing has steadied and you've finished swallowing, Patrick is no longer tense. He's no longer twitching, but his cock is still hard and heavy, a small bead of cum dribbling down his length as he gazes at you such fire you feel like you're being set alight.

"Untie me," he says, his voice dripping with authority and warning, “now."

"Yes, Patrick." You scramble towards him, quick to loosen the knots in the rope, your heart thrashing wildly in your chest.

You realise that the only reason you were in control then is because Patrick let you be. Once the knots are untied, his hands scatter towards your throat, and your eyes are wide and frantic as he presses down on your trachea, cutting off your air supply, making you feel dumb and incredibly horny.

His eyes blaze wildly as he gazes down at you, and he smirks, his pearly white teeth glistening in the florescent lights of his bedrooms as he promises, "you're in for a long night, honey."

calm - Matt Sturniolo

summary: after a terrible day of arguing with your boyfriend, accidentally breaking your favorite perfume, and now your hair and outfit not going to plan, all your emotions hit you at once and matt has to calm you down.

contains: fluff, crying, arguing, comforting!matt.

----------------------------------------------------------

10:38am

i huff angrily as i tug up my knotty hair into a ponytail, my arms burn while i attempt to tie the elastic around my thick hair. suddenly the elastic snaps, pinging my hand almost in a mocking way.

"oh for fucks sake!" i whine, throwing my fact into my hands as i reach for the hair gel.

i plop more on the top of my head, my hands now sticky and my whole body sweating. i finally get my hair up into a ponytail, but it looks like total shit.

i sigh before stomping out of the bathroom into matt and i's shared room, i swing open the door and ignore matt as i reach for the closet.

matt and i have argued a record amount of times today, it's almost impressive.

flashback:

it was 6 in the morning, and i rolled over onto matt accidentally.

he shoots up in bed as i lay my body weight on his arm, "ow! ow get the fuck off!" he says in a pissy mood, i drift awake slowly as matt shoves me off him.

"matt come on." i groan, grabbing my shoulder from where he just shoved me off of him. "dont say come on like you didn't just break my fucking arm and wake me up at 6am in one sweep."

"i'm not that heavy matt, don't be stupid." i scoff, rolling over in bed to the edge of the mattress, a good meter away from him.

"yes you are, your fully body weight was on my arm." he says with an attitude,

"so you're calling me fat?" i ask angrily,

"dude, just go get out of here." matt demands, pointing towards the door, the nickname stinging a little bit.

"its my room matt, i'll stay right here, not my fault your acting like a child." i raise my voice, slamming my body down onto the mattress and tugging the covers up over me, my back facing matt.

i wasn't expecting matt to leave, but he did. he shot up out of bed and grabbed his pillow, he walked swiftly out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him

and i think that set the mood for the whole day, because now 4 hours have passed and we’ve argued about matt being lazy, me leaving out dishes, him ignoring me, and me apparently being a brat.

-

i sort through our closet, tugging out a small skirt and one of matt's shirt.

"did i say you could borrow that?" matt speaks from the edge of the bed, my head snaps round to look at him.

"stop matt!" i almost yell, which shuts matt up quickly.

i storm back into the bathroom, i hear matt laugh slightly from behind me.

i tear off my pyjamas, and tug up the tiny skirt. as i go to zip up the sides the zipper pops off.

and that will do it.

i erupt into a loud sob, which quickly escalates into floods of tears.

i hear some movement coming from matt and i’s room before the bathroom door swings open, matt takes one look at me and his face drops.

i don’t want to look at him, or for matt to see me like this.

“hey- hey what’s going on sweetheart?” matt says, panic clear in his voice as he reaches for the side of my face.

i shake my head as more and more tears flow down my flushed cheeks.

he wraps his arms around me and i bury my face in the fabric of his shirt.

i let out shaky breaths as i attempt to calm myself down, my body shaking in matt’s arms.

“come- come to the bedroom.” he whispers into my hair before picking me up by my ass.

i nod as i bury my face into his shoulder, matt carries me into our air conditioned bedroom and plops me down on the edge of the bed.

my legs dangle of the edge of the matress, matt sits down right beside me, the matress shifting under his weight.

he wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me closer to him as i continue to cry.

“what’s going on baby.” matt says softly, rubbing my back.

i crawl over and sit myself down on matt’s lap, straddling him.

he grabs the sides of my face with two hands, his thumbs wiping my tears delicately.

“you- you’re mad at me.” i squeeze out with a loud voice crack

matt’s eyebrows furrow, but i continue to speak “and- and i don’t look good.. like my hair and outfit.” i sniff

matt plants a kiss to my swollen lips, he grabs my chin, making me look at him.

“i would never be mad at you princess, sometimes people fight and that’s okay, but what happened today wasn’t worth fighting for.” matt says while looking into my eyes

“and you look absolutely gorgeous, honestly.” matt says, his eyes gazing over my face.

“i didn’t mean to wake you up this morning- i promise.” i sob, letting my head fall onto matt’s shoulder.

“you know i’m grumpy in the mornings don’t you, it’s not your fault, and i’m so sorry for making you feel like it was.” matt sighs, rubbing my back soothingly.

i sit on his lap in silence for a couple minutes as i take in sharp breaths.

i feel matts chest rise and fall against mine, i attempt to copy his breathing.

“my skirt broke earlier.” i say lightly, lifting my face away from matt’s shoulder.

“did it?” matt asks, his head tilting down as his long fingers inspect my skirt.

i nod, pointing to the broken zip. “i’ll get you another one tomorrow, how about that?” he speaks with a small smile.

“you don’t have to do that.” i breathe, “i’m gonna do it anyway as an apology for how i acted today.” he protests.

“let’s get you out of that skirt then if it’s broken.” matt suggests, picking me up again and walking me over the the closet.

he pulls out a pair of his sweatpants and brings me back over to the bed, matt places me down on the edge of the bed and bends down.

his hands tug down the hem of my skirt, pulling it down my thighs.

he purses his lips out of concentration before tugging the sweatpants up my legs.

he stands back up “you want your hair out?” he asks,

“it’s gonna be crunchy if i take it out, because of the amount of gel i put in.. but it’s also tugging on my scalp like crazy.”

“i’ll wash your hair later for you.” matt smiles, he’s always loved washing my hair for some reason.

i wipe my face, flustered by his words.

“do you want some water?” he asks, i rub my puffy eyes with a nod.

he walks over to me and grabs my hand, tugging me up off the bed. matt walks me out of our room into the corridor.

i follow closely behind him as we walk down the corridor into the kitchen.

i stand next to the counter top, matt walks over to me and grabs me under my armpits before lifting me up onto the countertop.

he grabs a cup and fills it up with cold water before walking over to me.

he holds it up to my lips, “and… open.” he says, i open my mouth slightly and matt pours some water into my mouth,

he accidentally pours too much, my cheeks hollowing out as i lock eyes with him.

i let out a loud laugh, spraying the water all over his shirt.

i slam a hand over my mouth as the water leaks down my chin.

“oh- my god.” matt erupts into laughter, both of our laughs filling the room.

“i am so sorry-“ i say in between giggles.

“how did that even happen-“ matt rubs his eyes with a wide smile,

“i’m so sorry- i don’t even know-“ i laugh,

but i’m cut off by his soft lips pressed against mine.

“i love you.” he mutters against my lips with a grin,

“i love you more.”

——

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Can't stop thinking about pregnant!reader constantly snapping at simon and being tired and him just being so understanding and everyone that sees them just don't get it? Because how is the Lieutenant that snaps at whoever being this soft🫡🫡

you've been bringing your own lunch to work because you hate the meals the mess hall makes. it makes your pregnant belly absolutely angry, and simon's held your hair up enough times to know that if he doesn't pack you something to eat before you go, it'll be hell on earth.

the rec room door slams open. everyone jumps, startled in their seats, and simon just stares, leaning against the wall by the open window as he puffs on a cigarette.

his eyes focus on you just as you angrily waddle your way over. he doesn't even flinch when you smack the cigarette out of his mouth, stomping on it with your boot as you glare up at him. all he does is smirk a little, reaching down and thumbing at your jaw.

"'ello, beautiful," he murmurs, his dark eyes roaming over your face. you let him touch for just a moment before you hit his hand off.

"don't try and butter me up," you snap, narrowing your eyes more. "you forgot...you forgot!"

he sighs, licking over his bottom lip.

"never seen anythin' prettier than ya," he whispers. he wants to shove down your pants and fuck your sopping cunt (he knows you're wet, you always are now), but instead he just lets out a soft breath and takes in how pretty you really are. just gorgeous--those big, pouty lips, all glossy and wet. those eyes--what drew him to you in the first place, that gaze that could stop a thousand bullets.

"you forgot my lunch, simon," you cry, and he cups your face, shaking his head. "i hate you. you're a sorry bastard! what's wrong with you?!"

he leans down and pecks your lips through the mask, and johnny, who's been slack-jawed and caught off-guard since you came into the room, turns to look at gaz--who's equally as confused.

"didn't forget, swee'eart," simon murmurs. "got y'some take-away. thought y'might fancy somethin' else."

your angry expression fades just a little, and you smooth both hands over your bump.

"you...you did?" you sniffle, and simon chuckles, nodding.

"y'r just tired, luv...aren't ya?"

you nod, closing your eyes. he soaks up your tears with the thumbs of his gloved hands.

"y'r feet oll swollen..." he kisses your jaw through the mask, and your eyes flutter a little. "c'mon, bubs. let's get ya off y'r feet, aye? get ya some food?"

you let him coax your face into his chest, and you settle there, taking a deep breath.

"you need to stop smoking," you whisper as you get a whiff of the scent on his clothes. "if i catch you again, i'll kill you."

"olright, luv," he agrees absentmindedly, turning you around to guide you out of the room. your food is in his room since he doesn't trust his sergeants not to pick at it if he left it in the shared fridge. "woteva ya say."

when you both close the door behind you, johnny blinks.

"i think i just saw a ghost, a real one..." he murmurs. "i must've just seen a ghost, gaz, have i gone mad? or did i just see our lieutenant with a lass? and did she just call 'im a bastard?"

"no," gaz turns back to their card game, dealing out another hand. "no, we didn't see anythin', soap."

"huh?"

"we didn't...see...anything."

ghost is such a daddy, isn't he? ;) too bad he's such a dick. (18+)

but it's hard to find a donor. you've been single for practically your whole life, it's the whole reason you're looking to just get pregnant by yourself. you don't need a man--you can walk into a clinic and pick from their little flip book.

but none of them fit what you're looking for. too short, hairline too far back, you don't care for the look in their eyes or the occupation they chose or their descriptions of how much they like model trains and reading george orwell every christmas. they're john does in different colored suits, and they reek of entitlement and the need for perfection and lack the individuality that you crave.

not special, no--you're looking for an edge. and none of them have it.

you're glaring at your lieutenant from three hundred yards away when your eyes soften with realization. ghost is such a bastard to you; he snaps at you easily, uses his obvious stature to overpower you in the most inconvenient of situations, and he always turns his nose up at you for being even slightly less than perfection, just a smidge off your target or just below your personal record.

he demands more of everyone he commands, but you in particular he likes to pick on. you used to think it was because you were the only woman around, but that wasn't it. ghost isn't a misogynist, he's just a right asshole.

but a gorgeous one. not in the way he looks, per say, because his face isn't all that pretty. you've seen his face, glimpses of it, enough to put the puzzle together in your head. he wears mangled skin, torn apart at the seams and scarred to high hell, but ghost is more than just stitched together skin.

he's huge. large and so fucking well in charge. he takes up space, and he does it with intent. spreads his legs when he takes a seat, crosses his arms over his chest when he's standing idly by. his expressions aren't visible under the mask he wears, but it is very obvious when he isn't happy. his glare burns through the fabric, dark eyes narrowed intensely; it is impossible to not understand when ghost is less than amused by you.

he's so capable. you've seen him take apart his gun and put it back together many times. big fingers sliding over metal and fastening it back together with practiced ease. you've seen him haul over two hundred pounds of man over a railing, seen him set up his sniper rifle and shoot a target more than a thousand yards away. he's smart, and he knows what he's doing, and even in the face of uncertainty and chaos, he's oftentimes the voice of reason in the field, and it's sexy.

god, he's so fucking hot. especially when he's rolling up his sleeves, showing off one sleeve of shitty military tattoos and telling the private that's practically in tears what a fucking muppet he is for assembling his standard issue pistol without a fucking magazine loaded into it.

that's what you want.

someone resilient. capable of overcoming tragedy, of finding purpose even when there really isn't anything to live for. the drive of bettering yourself, of not fucking it up, of being able to breathe easy and get out of a corner even when the path ahead is just more of the unknown.

unable to die.

"ever thought of being a father, lieutenant?"

he laughs, bitterly, licking the pad of his thumb before rubbing at a spot on the scope of his rifle.

"fuckin' hate kids," he mutters. "loud. dirty." he grunts. "besides. bloodline dies with me. don't need anymore fuckin' rileys mucking up this place."

you bite your lip. it's not the worst reason you've ever heard. it's just too bad he's exactly the kind of baby daddy you're looking for.

"that's too bad, lieutenant," you purr, standing up. you pass by him, your hips swaying and brushing against his shoulder. it's enough of a touch that his gaze follows you as you leave, his eyes flickering to the curve of your ass as you leave. "you'd make such a good daddy."

the fuck?

it's hard to focus. you keep bending over in front of him; dropping papers, picking things up, leaning over desks just to make his face twitch under the mask. you're constantly in his line of sight, wearing the tightest fucking shirts he's ever seen. cleavage on display, definitely a violation of protocols that no one is enforcing, and it's making his head spin as you lick chocolate off your fingers and swipe it off the curve of your breast. he thinks you must be mad when you make eye contact with him and keep it as you slip two fingers into your mouth and suck.

the worst was when he was stuck in the back of a humvee with you. the back was packed, soldiers pressed together as they rode back to base. he was sweaty and exhausted, leaning his head back as the truck rattled along the dirt road. on a particularly rough bump, you bounced into his lap, ass pressed back against his pelvis. on instinct, one gloved hand caught you by the curve of your waist, and you hummed as you leaned back against him.

"sorry, lieutenant," you had cooed, in that soft, honeyed voice he hated. "am i hurting you?"

"fuck you, sergeant," he had snapped, but his growl was cut short when you arched your back a little, nestling your ass against the fucking hard rock in his pants.

"just happy to see me then?"

acckkk, a fucking fiend, you are. pressing up against him when you slip into line in front of him in the mess hall. asking him for help because your aim is off, just to look at him from over your shoulder and give him that smile. the absolute doe eyes you give him when he berates you for the hundredth time that day, just for you to mumble back, "oh...yes, of course, sir..."

ngghhh...and he's thinking about you. thinking about smoothing a hand down your back as he bends you over a desk. thinking about what it would be like if you climbed over him on his cot and sat your fat ass down onto his face. thinking about the sounds you'd make, the big, wet eyes you'd give him, how good you'd look in his bed and wearing his clothes and cumming on his cock--

"the fuck are y'doin' ta me?" he growls in your ear. you blink up at him, tilting your head back, leaning against his door.

"johnny said you were training, so i thought i'd wait for you. got something real important to talk to you about."

you smile at him innocently, ducking under his arm as you slink into his room. when he shuts the door, you spin around to face him again, giggling.

"there's something i want."

"out with it."

"something i need."

"fuckin' tolk then, yeah?"

"want a baby, lieutenant."

"yeah, right mad about tha', luv."

"want your baby."

he laughs, humorless, "be fuckin' honest."

but you are honest. you're honest when you smile wider, and you're honest when you turn around. you're honest when you bend over onto your forearms against the cot in his room, and you're honest when you shimmey your trousers just low enough, right under your ass, showing off the wet cunt you've had since watching his arms flex as he stacked boxes after breakfast.

he steps forward, leaning over, smoothing two big hands up your plush thighs before spreading your ass, watching your little hole pucker. he smirks, chuckling low.

"'f y'want t'be a riley so bad, don't need to 'ave m'baby, swee'eart," he murmurs, but the echo of his belt undoing clinks in the room anyways. you squirm a little when you hear the zipper of his pants.

"but i want it," you whine, and you slide your arms out in front of you, pressing back against him as you grip the thin sheets on his bed. "i want it!"

"shhhhh," he scolds, gripping his cock with a calloused hand and shoving it between your thighs. you moan as he wets his cock along your folds, grinding slow, getting himself nice and slick. "y'want m'baby, swee'eart? wanna 'ave my cubs? gonna be bears, love. they're gonna split y'open, got such a little cunt."

you cry out, pressing back against him.

"want it! i want it!"

ghost chuckles again, laying over you, his weight pinning you down as he laces his fingers with yours. he's so big, you can feel him heavy and throbbing between your thighs. you need it, even if it doesn't take, even if he just takes you apart right now, you need it.

"you'll make such a good mama though," he mutters, mostly to himself. "fuck...you'll get so bloody nice and fat. nnghh..." he lets go of one of your hands to smack his paw against one side of your ass, gripping it tight and jiggling it. "every part of ya. right for the taking, luvvie. oll f'me."

he reaches down between you, notching the head at your entrance before sinking in easy. you're so wet now, dripping between your thighs, and he grunts as his hips meet your ass quick.

"tits'll get so big..." he smacks his lips together before giving you a heavy thrust. "fuckin' hell...takin' y'out afta this...gonna make you a fuckin' riley today. how's tha' sound, aye?"

you gurgle a little, a line of drool dribbling down your chin. he leans over, pushing his mask up, and he licks your spit off your face, his breath hot as he starts to pick up the pace, fucking into you quick.

"want y'just like this, every day," he growls in your ear. "in m'bed...spread out for me..." he sucks on the edge of your ear, making you cry. "gonna 'ave y'for oll three meals, swee'eart--fuck--until we know it takes."

you smile, your cheek smushed into the bed and rubbing raw against the sheets as he fucks into you from behind. his big hands squeeze your own, holding onto you tight, and you push back against him, your orgasm coming unexpectedly as he babbles in your ear about your tight cunt, your pretty face, the perfect place for him to empty his cock. it makes your vision go white, but you don't feel satiated until he holds his hips against you from behind and curses as he spills inside.

so creamy, slick and soft, but he refuses to waste a single drop. he keeps his pelvis against you, wrapping a forearm around your waist and yanking you up until your back meets his chest. you giggle, dizzy and a little drunk, leaning your head back against him.

"knew you'd fuck me," you mumble, sticking your tongue out, not satisfied until he leans down and kisses you, sucking your tongue into his mouth and kissing you wet and sloppy. he laughs, his chest rumbling, and you put your hands over his, scratching along his skin as he licks into your mouth.

"tha' right, luv? why's that?"

you giggle. "because i always get what i want, simon."

Don't Make Me Wait

Summary: You thought it was a great idea. Holding out on your beefy biker fiancé until the wedding night. What could possibly go wrong with that plan?

Pairing: Beefy Biker Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Minors, DNI, Semi-public sex, teasing, Michelle, fingering 18+

A/N: Based on a cute ask. Bit of a time jump (will write the proposal, first dates etc soon).

Betad by @whisperlullaby and @navybrat817 but all mistakes are my own

Do not copy, rewrite, translate or post my work anywhere. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post any parts of my stories (even if you credit me). Likes, comments and reblogs are welcome!

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Bucky has no idea how you manage to bring this side out of him. Your power is unmatched and he wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Nothing you can do can make him change his mind.

Well, one thing.

“Why?” His deep voice bordering on whining. Unashamedly so. Fuck if he cares how he sounds right now. He has more important things on his mind. Like why you’re trying to deny him his pussy. She needs him.

Bucky is more excited about the wedding than you are, he only has a few requests, mostly some biker traditions that he wants to be integrated into the ceremony. He’s keeping one a secret and every time you ask about it, he distracts you.

He will, however, discuss other things.

His favorite is the honeymoon, you’re letting him plan that part all on his own, knowing you were going to enjoy whatever he had in store for you. In fact, the honeymoon is the reason you called him into the living room this morning. The second you said the words ‘wedding night’ he was beaming ready to demonstrate all the positions he was going to put you into.

Until he heard you say you wanted to wait until the wedding night to have sex. You watched him visibly deflate, all six feet of him, sinking into the couch the more you talked. Or as he would tell it, the more you hurt him.

Bucky’s been staring at you for the past fifteen minutes. His large body slumped over, sorrowful blue eyes peering up at you. His pink bottom lip poking out just enough to make you feel like you kicked a puppy.

And in a way you have.

It seemed like a good idea when you were mulling it over. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder and if you’re being honest with yourself, the thought of a deprived Bucky on your wedding night has your head spinning. And each time you picture him barging into the honeymoon suite you get so wet you have to change your panties.

God if he’s an animal after three days, he’s going to be an absolute beast after a month. You might not even make it to the suite, he’s probably going to drag you into the first empty room he finds, bend you over a desk and push your wedding dress up, his large hands ripping your panties as he growls your nam-

“Why gorgeous, why?” He repeats sliding down to the floor, six feet of tatted solid muscles inching between your legs. Those hands you were just daydreaming about inching up your bare thighs settling them over his broad shoulder, rough thumbs massaging deep circles over the bruises he made last night. “Give me one good reason.”

It’s hard to remember why when he brushes his thick beard over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh his wet, warm tongue lathing the burn left behind you. He curls it deliberately before licking up your other thigh, moaning softly as he tastes you.

Bucky always says you’re the best meal he’s ever had.

You clutch the cushions in your fists trying to tamper down the whimper climbing out of your throat. You can not let this man distract you. Digging your foot into his back, you push yourself away. Holding onto the arm of the couch like a lifeline, averting your eyes when he flashes a knowing grin up at you.

“It’s not like you can hold out on me either.” He teases following you as you retreat, his smoky cedar cologne drifting off him, you close your eyes holding your breath. No one should smell this sexy.

You can not let him distract you.

“Bucky stop.” You order, biting back a grin when he instantly obeys, grumbling under his breath.

He leans back on the coffee table, his hands twitching on his knees as he has to hold himself back from touching you. His boxers revealing his thick thighs when he bounces his leg.

Crossing your legs, you pull your shirt down to hide how wet your panties are. He sees a flash of them and rubs his hand down his face and over his neck, groaning, deep and low, making his dog tags rattle over his chest. Last night those dog tags were dangling in your face with his hand around- You have to hold in another whimper, a deep ache blooming in your core.

Don’t let him distract you.

Dropping your head back on the soft cushion, you take a calming breath and silently tell your pussy to behave.. “Bucky, I think it’s going to be good for the both of us,” you start, giggling softly at his affronted grunt. “And I think we both need a little lesson on self-control. Remember how you got me arrested?”

Bucky runs a hand through his hair, spluttering out, “One time. One time and I bailed you out. And I told you to run.”

You glare at him pointedly, he stares back mouthing “Told. You. To. Run.”

Bucky’s face softens as he recalls his homecoming. “And you rode me like a fucking goddess.” He sounds so proud, his eyes brightening as he grins at you. “You have no idea how many times I think about that day baby. That was the best welcome home gift I’ve ever gotten.”

You glance away, cheeks burning. Not wanting to encourage him you hide your smile with the back of your hand.

“Bucky focus, I’m serious. No sex until the wedding night.” You emphasize, scooting even further back, wagging your finger at him. “And I mean it when I say night. Wedding night, so no trying to sneak into my dressing room before the ceremony either.”

He falls silent, narrowing his darkening eyes at you. Tension thickening the air as he breathes heavily through his nose. You’re preparing your next arguments when he smiles at you, a deceptively soft twist of his lips that has you sitting up straight. Nerves on edge, skin prickling when he chuckles.

“Okay.” He shrugs, holding his large hands up in surrender. “Whatever you want.”

You open and close your mouth a few times. You were expecting at least an hour more of begging. He practically latched on to your leg when you left him for Marcie's house a few months back and that was before he became insatiable.

“Okay.” you slowly repeat back. This is not good, you're very suspicious of the sly glint in his eyes.

His smile widens and he scrunches his nose playfully. “Okay gorgeous.” His calm, even tone has your lips pursing.

Bucky stands up, stretching his arms above his head, his hard cock straining through his thin black briefs, the outline of the swollen head right in front of your face. He twists his back, pivoting his hips forward until his large bulge is almost touching your face.

You know what he's doing, you expected nothing less but you can't help the way your mouth waters as you envision the vein running under the shaft, the slight curve leading to tip and your clit thrums.

“Let’s see how long you last.”

He saunters away, cracking his neck as he rolls his shoulders. A deep exaggerated grunt from him has you wanting to run after him.

You bite your lip, chewing it between your teeth watching his muscles shift across his back. Bucky glances over his shoulder and your thighs clench when he winks. He’s not going to make this easy on you.

You stand up, your panties clinging to your throbbing pussy. Looking down, you hiss, “stop taking his side, traitor.”

“Don’t talk to her like that” he shouts from the hallway.

Aggravated about how he managed to turn your conversation around on you, you retort. "This is my pussy, Bucky, and regardless of what you think it doesn't belong to you."

He storms back in so swiftly, his large body overtaking the space that you startle taking a step back. "What did you say?"

You shrug, looking everywhere but him. "Uh…"

Bucky stomps over to you until he’s toe to toe with you, his bare tattooed chest heaving. "Say it again."

You glance up at his enraged face, part of you is aware that he's used the same look to intimidate men twice your size. All you know is that he’s even sexier when he’s angry.

"You don't scare me, Bucky." You giggle into his chest.

"Wish I did, maybe I could be getting some right now." He mumbles.

"What?"

He flicks the end of your nose, grumbling a gruff "you heard me", and walks back out the room.

The rest of the day Bucky was on his best behavior. You were on edge the entire time, waiting for him to do something. You kept glancing over your shoulder anticipating him grabbing you or grinding against you. Anything. He knows it, his smug grin whenever he passes you in the hallway is grating.

On top of everything, it's Saturday.

He has a routine that began with taking you for a ride around the city, just you, him, and the open road. Afterward, you spend the rest of the night on the couch watching movies, he likes to lay between your thighs, his head on your belly while you feed him popcorn.

Inevitably his tongue ends up circling your clit usually before the 15-minute mark.

It took a month for you to finish John Wick and you can’t remember half of it.

Tonight he queued up the movie, arranging you on the couch the way he always does. He was wearing nothing but another pair of boxers and his dog tags. And damn it if you weren’t soaked again. Now you weren't trying to tease him but your thin shirt bunched up when you laid down revealing your drenched panties.

Bucky went still above you, his hand flexing on your thigh as his pupils slowly dilated. His adam’s apple bounced twice and his eyes glazed over until you said his name. He blinks rapidly, his face clearing, and settles down without a word.

An emotion twists in your chest, disappointment? No, you wanted this, it’s only been one day.

One day, you repeat when his beard grazes your skin with each breath. Your hand quivers as you picked up the first handful of popcorn. He glances at it before opening his mouth, the tip of his tongue flickering over your palm after he takes it.

Bucky has to focus on the screen, acting as if he’s not agony, so hard because of you, doing his best to not rut into the couch like a damn teenager. He can feel the heat radiating off you. Every time he moves you throb and he can feel that too. All he wants is to sink his tongue into your warmth instead he nuzzles into your soft belly and stares at the tv.

You were so caught in your own arousal you don’t notice how tense Bucky is, too busy focused on trying not to rub against him, that annoying ache spreading through you. How did he have you so trained to crave his touch? You can practically feel his tongue gliding through your folds.

What did this man do to you?

The next morning you wake up to him, hard and hot against your back. His hand dragging up your hip, rolling you over, without opening his eyes, his lips find yours. No matter how dark the room is, he can always find your mouth.

He peppers featherlight kisses over your face between murmurs of good morning and love you’s on your skin. His love painted on your skin with each brush of his soft lips.

His hand cupping the back of your head to bring you in closer, he can’t get enough of you so much so that he has to pull himself away, leaving you breathless and needy on the bed.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he rubs the back of his neck before standing up. His gait is unsteady, his cock stiff and heavy as he heads to the bathroom.

“I’m going to take a quick shower and I’ll make you breakfast.”

You laid there expecting to hear him jerking off, disappointed when only the sounds of running water came through the partially open door. He merely smiles when he strolls out, naked and water dripping down his chiseled chest, his cock just as hard as when he left you. He faces you while he towels himself off as you pretend not to watch.

“You want some sausage this morning, gorgeous?” He teased, throwing the damp towel on you.

His deep amused laughter fills the room when you petulantly shake your head. You’re actually

considering a cold shower, violently kicking the covers off of you as you climb out of bed. His laugh gets louder after you slam the door shut.

The next week was pure torture. Bucky suddenly forgot how to put on a shirt, you would come home to him working on his classic car. His tattooed chest sweaty and flushed, a smudge of grease over the vein that leads right to his cock, overalls low on his hips, the straps dangling at his sides.

No man has the right to look that damn good.

He was always a cuddler but now he couldn’t stop hugging you and touching you. Small caress of his ringed fingers along your arm as you ate dinner. He would wrap his arm around your stomach, pressing into your back in the middle of the grocery aisle to “help you” reach the box of cereal on the top shelf. He started working out early in the morning so you awoke to the sounds of him grunting. Deep low grunts right beside your bed as he lifted weights, biceps bulging with each set.

You were ready to explode.

So you decided two can play that game.

He may know your weakness but you know all of his.

Bucky trudges into the house, ready to collapse on the sofa grateful that he can at least hold you. He really wants you to give in, he can’t lie your restraint is impressive. He thought he had you two days ago when he woke to you grinding on him in your sleep. So close.

Toeing his boots off, his head lifts when he smells dinner. He grins hearing pots clattering and you singing along to the music blasting throughout the lower level. Immediately he’s invigorated knowing you’re home with him.

Bucky walks to the kitchen, stopping short when he sees you. He has to hold onto the wall, his eyes widening. Fuck me. The sight of you in his favorite dress with an apron around your waist has him seeing double.

You grin smugly at the pan when he mutters another fuck gorgeous. “Like what you see?” You sass, stirring vigorously.

He does. He really does. Bucky raises a brow, tsking quietly. He knows exactly what you’re doing. Deny him his pussy and then try to tease him. Not today gorgeous

Bucky crosses the kitchen, pulling you into him. “I want to bend you over this counter and wreck your pussy. Give it to you rough and fast, make you feel every inch.” He whispers in your ear, his warm breath on your skin.

Your knees buckle when he bites your shoulder. “Think about how tight you are around me. You can barely take me, no matter how many times I stretch your pretty little pussy.”

He pushes his hips into yours, the edge of the counter digging into your stomach. “You like when I fuck you hard, make you scream my name, don’t you? Or do you want it nice and slow, on your back with your legs over my shoulders? I can take my time splitting you open”

Yes yes, Bucky.

He’s not done, his voice deepening in your ear. “You can ride me and fuck me however you want, this cock is all yours baby.” He tilts his hips up and you can feel all of him.

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs in your ear, his rough hands moving up and down your bare arms, his filthy praises and promises making you weak. “And good girls get my tongue, how about I wake you with my tongue buried in your sweet cunt? You want that?” You do, you want it so bad.

Bucky palms your pussy, his fingers grazing your panties. “You wanna be good for me? You wanna cum for me gorgeous?”

You nod, moaning when he kisses your throat, promising to choke you, make you gag on his cock, make you remember who you belong to. You’re ready to fall to your knees, wanting his thick, heavy cock in your mouth. Bucky continues whispering all the ways he can take you apart until you’re shamelessly grinding on him seconds away from begging him to take you.

Bucky steps back, tugging on your apron strings, leaving you wide-eyed and delirious, sinking to the floor. He steps over to the stove with a cocky smirk. Picking up the spoon, he scoops a bit of sauce out of the pan and slides it into his mouth. “Well, we’re just going to have to wait for the wedding night aren’t we gorgeous?”

Loud boisterous laughter belts through your phone, you flinch moving it away from your ear. Should have known better than to tell Marcie.

“Wait wait hold the fuck up” Marcie laughs, almost in tears, “its only been a few days miss “I’m stronger than my urges and he’s just going to have to deal, miss how am I going to deal with him, he's going to be-”"

“I didn’t say that Marcie!” you shout, tossing the phone down, you roll over and grab a pillow. Fuck it’s his and it smells good. You wrap your arms around inhaling his lingering scent.

More laughter. “Girl don’t yell at me, I told you it was a dumb idea. I had money on him breaking though."

You lift your head, glaring at your overturned phone, “Stop betting on our sex life.”

“Stop having sex in public and I might.” Marcie retorts, “Don’t be mad at me because you're horny.”

She pauses and you sneer knowing she’s about to say something else.

“Bet you wish were riding that dick right now.” She cackles.

You press your face deeper into the pillow and scream. Bucky listens to you outside the room, muttering yes to himself, softly thumping the wall with his fist. Just a little more pressure and he can have his pussy back.

“I wanted our wedding night to be special.”

Oh, he doesn't like how you sounded when you said that, you're disappointed and sad. Bucky drops his hand, pushing open the door. He has no problem teasing you but that stops the second he even thinks you’re upset. Bucky has to make you feel better. You feel the bed dip down and you gaze up at him. Buck picks up your phone and taps the screen cutting off Marcie.

“Hey, gorgeous let’s go for a ride.”

The instant he veers off the highway, you know he’s going straight to the park, there’s a little area off the main path that’s special to the both of you. You had your second date there, it’s where he took you the night before he had to leave for his final tour, and it’s where he proposed.

Bucky helps you off the back of his bike, intertwining your fingers between his as guides you to the clearing. Stars dot the night sky, small chirps of crickets and dry leaves crunching under your pierce the fresh pine-scented air.

He never told you but you are the only one he’s ever brought here, before this was a place he kept to himself, his reprieve from the world. Then he met you and suddenly he no longer had the urge to run.

“You know I knew I was going to marry you the second I saw you.”

“You didn’t.” You scoff, ducking your head.

Bucky sighs thoughtfully. “I did. You had on that red tank top the one with the hole in the bottom and a pair of shorts that-” he moans biting his lip, “--and you looked up at the tree in front of your porch and smiled, goddamn you have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen.”

The trees clear out revealing a grass patchy of land overlooking the town. He turns to you and tilts your chin up with his thumb.“Yeah, there it is.”

He places a soft kiss on your lips before continuing, “I had to meet you and I lucked out when you dropped your keys, shit I was nervous.”

You scoff again, raising your brows skeptically. “You seemed awfully confident to me Bucky.”

“My heart was racing, I felt like I was going a hundred miles an hour down the highway talking to you.” Bucky confesses, bringing you closer to him, kissing the crown of your head, “I knew I was going to have to go all out for you.”

He shrugs off his jacket. “And then you made me work for it, normally girls just throw panties at me,” he pretends to dodge invisible panties until you slap his stomach.

“Hey don’t damage your goods doll, this all yours remember.” He grins, his sapphire eyes roaming over your face as you laugh. Another memory he’s going to cherish, who knew every good thing in his life, every good moment would center around you?

“I love you.” Bucky cups your face, pressing his nose into yours, his minty breath washing over you. “Gonna always love you even when you try to kill me.” He would let you, you have no idea but he would let you do anything you wanted to him.

He lays his jacket on the ground, kneeling beside it. Bucky reaches out his hand, waiting patiently as you pad toward him. He takes your hips and guides you down onto the soft smooth leather.

“Now I know I wasn’t playing fair," He states unapologetically as he tucks you under his large warm body.

“No shit yo-”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his wet tongue delving into your mouth. You grab the back of his head pulling him closer, your lips clashing together frantically. He deepens the kiss, breathing you in, pressing you further into the ground. A moan tumbles from your mouth and he swallows it, wanting more of you, knowing in his soul that he’ll never get enough.

His lips devour you, so passionately and thoroughly you don’t even need to breathe, moments passing as he takes more, slotting his hand under your head to bring you impossibly closer until he has to break away.

Resting his forehead on yours as he pants. You scrape your nails over his scalp, his warm heavy weight comforting you, you missed having him on top of you. Neither of you are able to speak, you don’t have to, content to bask in your love for each other.

He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “Tomorrow I’m going to behave.” He promises, tracing your swollen lips with his knuckle. You roll your eyes, snorting into his Henley.

“I’m going to try to behave.” He retorts with an air of offense as if he didn’t just spend a whole week tormenting you with his captivating body.

His head dips down for another kiss while his hand wanders down your belly to unsnap your jeans. “Tonight, I’m going to apologize and make it up to you,” he mutters against your lips. Oh yes, you’re ready to accept any apology he’s going to give you. You lift your hips, helping him push them over your thighs.

He takes his hand and slips it down your panties. His fingers dance over your aching clit and you cry out, sweet relief flooding your body.

“Good girl. Is that better?” he hums, dragging his hand through your folds, back around your clit, adding just the right amount of pressure that sends you keening off the ground.

Bucky guides two fingers into your tight wet heat, you’re so wet his thick long digits slip in. You’re so full, being stretch so good, the only thing that would feel better right now is cock but fuck you’ll take what he’s giving. “I want to be inside your pussy so fucking bad,” He swears through gritted teeth, his desperate growl in your ear makes you clamp down hard.

“In four weeks, I’m going to do unspeakable things to you gorgeous.” His eyes flit between your face and his fingers diving into your cunt. The soft sloshing making his hard cock leak in his jeans. The ride home is going to be rough but hearing your sweet moans is going to be worth every second.

He curls his fingers upwards, dragging them over your sweet spot. Bucky remembers the first time he found it, the way your legs trembled around his waist, your nails clawing down his back. He still has dreams about the way you cried when he hit it, so beautiful when you sing for him. he drops his head to your shoulder, watching your body tense and tremble as he tightens the coil until you can't think, can't move. You need to cum so bad, begging him with your eyes, unable to form any words.

Bucky knows what you need and you're going to get everything you want.

"You’re not leaving our bed until I fucked you so thoroughly that you’re going to feel me inside of you for the rest of the honeymoon.” He vows, watching the moonlight reflect off your glistening body.

He moves his fingers faster and harder, the ruthless stretch as he scissors your silken wall has you sobbing his name, your voice echoing across the field louder as his thumb swipes over your bundle of nerves. Bucky groans, “I have it all planned out, first I’m fucking you in the church, then the reception hall, the car ride to the airport, fuck we might not even make it to the plane.”

He whispers, deep and gravelly in your ear, every last filthy thing he's going to do and with you as he pushes you closer to the edge. Your hips greedily meeting each thrust into your fluttering cunt, pleasure overtaking your senses until you can only feel him touching you. ‘

So good, so good, fuck Bucky.” So far gone as he drives you higher, you don’t realize you’re shouting until you shatter, cumming apart so hard your chant cuts off in a wordless scream, your back arched off the ground as your cunt desperately pulls his fingers back in.

His blue eyes never leave your face, taking in everything as you fall apart. He plans on making you scream like that every day as many times as he can.

“Damn you’re pretty when you cum like that.” Bucky laughs, waiting until you collapse on his jacket, gently removing his fingers. He sucks each one clean as you catch your breath.

“Just remember this was your idea.” Releasing the last one with a wet plop, he smiles down at you. “I hope you’re ready for me, gorgeous.”

He rests his head next to yours, whispering under his breath, “I can’t till you're officially mine”

Meanwhile

Michelle takes a sip of her tea, staring at your engagement photo with disdain, touching a besotted Bucky with her manicured nail. “Hmm, she’s cute I guess.”

She tosses it on the table next to the set of doilies. “This is going to be easy. Give me a week or so.”

Mrs. Smith chortles, “You were always my favorite.”

“I know. You said have a house key?”

Mrs. Smith slides it to her niece, “yeah found it in their grass.”

She taps the key against her porcelain cup, looking at Bucky’s face. “Real easy.”

*********************************

Rare & Sweet As Cherry Wine

Biker!Bucky:

Welcome to my Mafia and Biker AU Masterlist. As always, this is an 18+ blog, by continuing to read you agree that you are 18+. Remember you

pro hero! katsuki bakugo drabble .

y'er so much trouble, aren'cha. includes blowjob, very vague? writing, fem! reader, slight perv! kirishima mention lol and adult themes, so mdni!!

you try not to, you really do. but sucking on katsuki's throbbing cock in the elevator of his agency is just so much fun. on the outside, you're just his secretary, sweet girl who god knows how, tolerates all those late night and early morning calls. your colleagues feel so much pity for you, ever since kirishima saw you sneaking out of leaving bakugo's house just in time for their early morning run, he came back to the office, loudly lecturing bakugo on how he can't overwork you like that.

so it makes it so much fun, to slide into the elevator, right after katsuki's blown his head off at some silly intern, fumes practically coming out of his ears as he repeatedly presses the button for the third floor. everyone stares at you in awe as you run right into the elevator. only you could face bakugo right now.

literally.

as he's about to scoff and grumble something stupid about how he's not in the mood to play around with you when the door finally closes and you smash him against the wall. normally katsuki bakugo wouldn't move an inch, but for you.

for you, baby, anything.

one hand of his is gripping your hair and fisting it into a ponytail as your head slowly moves closer to the base of his cock and then back to the tip, while his other hand struggles to find the emergency stop button of the elevator. "fuck fuck fuck- y/n, f-fuck, " he's throbbing in your mouth already, you can feel it deep in your throat as you hollow your cheeks against his girth, looking up at him with those fucked out eyes that he likes so much. he finally finds the button and smashes it right before it opens up on the third floor. and you can hear people outside groaning about how this is the fourth time this month.

as you're quickening your pace, hands wrapping around the excess of his length to help him finish, you can see him poke his tongue in his cheek, eyes shut as he tries so hard not to moan your name when you swallow all his orgasm. when he opens his eyes, it's to see the string of saliva and slick connecting your swollen lips to his softening cock as a few droplets of his cum drip down your chin. and that, is a sight he would never not want to see.

slowly, you get up from your knees, making a silly comment about how he's so much hotter in his winter uniform, and roughly brush your thumb against your bottom lip, collecting all the excess liquid and sucking on it as you watch color return to his cheeks.

"y'er so much trouble, aren'cha" he grins, eyes narrowing in fondness as he pulls you by your neck and sloppily smashes his lips against yours.

pulling back, he sighs before pressing the emergency stop button, eyebrows raising as he notices the crowd of people there, "get back to work you little shits, 'm not paying ya to loiter around-! and use thegoddamn stairs if the elevator ain't working! " and that classic workaholic bakugo act would've fooled everyone else, but when kirishima notices how everytime the elevator has acted up it's been the two of you going down, or coming up, he feels like he's connecting some dots, so he moves forward to catch a better glimpse, and there you are, oh, not to mention the very suspicious white stuff on bakugo's shoes. but it's okay, Kirishima won't tell anyone, maybe he'll take a quick check of the security cameras though, just to erase any evidence that might hurt his manly friend's rep, right? at least that's what he tries to convince himself of as he jolts downstairs with a boner harder than his quirk.

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