You crossed your ankles and tapped your fingers against the desk you were seated at, still mulling over this decision. Did you really want to spend almost $20 on a vibrator when your hand could clearly do the trick?
It started a few nights ago, when you’d gone over to your friend’s apartment for a wine night. A few of your close friends had gotten tipsy, and eventually—somehow—the conversation had dipped into sex. The friends hosting the get together gushed about how amazing their boyfriends were in bed, and you sat quietly while listening to a few others pipe up about their partners’ unsatisfactory performance.
High, the place where you spent most of your time. Being a senior, took most of
your time away. You either spent your afternoons in the library or in the
cafeteria with your head buried in your books. Your boyfriend hated it. He’d
spend more time with you but you couldn’t. You had no scholarship like he had,
you still had to work hard.
you were sitting there in the cafeteria, you stared out the windows, your brain
couldn’t hold up with the information. Out of the corner of your eyes, you saw
him standing there with his stupid ex, who he spent a lot of time with lately.
You groaned, realizing that he never listened to you. You told him a hundred
times that you didn’t care if he talked to her here and there, a quick small
talk, but you hated it to see him with her so up close like they were right
now. Her hand was on his arm, a smile on her face while he stared at her and
before they took their different paths, he placed a kiss on her cheek.
ticking time bomb exploded, you exploded. You shot up from your seat, grabbed
your books and left the cafeteria but before you could confront him, he left,
his car was already gone but his ex was still standing there with a smile on
her face. You glared at her and turned around to get to the bus station since you
had no car.
A/N: This is a two-parter. Again, this is a character study on Bucky and his relationship with his other identity as the Winter Soldier. There is smut in this part but, there will be INTENSE smut in the second part. Also, I based “August” on Henry Cavill bc um why the fuck not and yes, I saw MIssion Impossible.
Please Reblog/Comment My Dolls and lmk if you want to be tagged.
It was not in his nature to be jealous. Bucky Barnes had done so many awful things that he did not think himself worthy of any gifts that came his way.
And then there was you.
He could not, would not, be jealous when it came to you.
But, that was easier said than done.
He doesn’t quite remember when the two of you began. He cannot pinpoint the exact moment you had thoroughly nested yourself within his body like a fluttering bird - thin-boned and melodic.
A/N: I literally dreamt this up last night and spent the whole day writing it. I know I’ve been AWOL but have this as a gift and as a form of apology.
THIS IS AN AU. Bucky is OOC and has no metal arm.
Warning: A lil cursing.SMUT
Summary: You decide to get back at your annoying neighbor but things don’t go as planned and the situation quickly turns into something else.
Word Count: 3200
You groaned and slammed your head on the desk before cursing to yourself. The brim of your glasses dug into your nose all because the neighbor didn’t know how to keep their fucking music down. It was becoming increasingly hard to focus on your textbook when you couldn’t hear yourself think.
This is what I get for living in a studio apartment.
You stood and with determination in your every step, you stalked to the wall you shared with your new neighbor. You made a fist and banged on the wall, hoping they’d catch the hint. You received silence at first but then your pounds were echoed followed by the sound of the loud music getting louder.
You didn’t know who lived next door, but you were ready to kill them.
a little something about professor!harry ;) enjoy xx
It was mid-way through the semester, and you were absolutely peeved.
How were you failing an introductory Greek Philosophy class?
You read your textbook more than the average college student ever would. Discussion posts and essays were at the forefront of your mind, always at the top of your ‘to-do’ lists. It was hard for you to avoid them, as you’d often get distracted in researching the surface topics assigned in class, diving in deeper than anyone should have in PHIL203. Ancient history and arguments were your cup of tea…
Now why was every assignment returned with an embarrassing ‘C’ at the top?
This one was no different. Professor Styles (or ‘Harry’, as he insisted you all call him. Pretentious bastard, trying to be on a first-name basis) laid the class’ latest analytical essays on the front table, organized by last name. Most of the class rushed up, eager to receive their grades and mull over his comments.
You, on the other hand, drug your feet toward the podium and hoped a miracle had passed you by.
B- was circled in red at the top. Could you have elaborated more on the impact of this? Don’t quite understand your extra addition at the end here… See me after class.
“You’ve seen me loads f’times, love,” Harry nuzzled into your neck, pressing teasing kisses underneath your ear. “Please?”
You shoved away playfully from his clingy grasp as you tried to pay attention to the sitcom on. “Harry…”
“Jus’ wanna make you feel good, babe,” he pouted, now looking at you with pitiful puppy dog eyes. If it weren’t for the way he was biting at his lip and tracing over your knee with a ghost-like finger, you might’ve said no.
Harry had been needy and quite honestly horny like a teenager all night, and his pleading had started to stir up a burning in your tummy, too.
So, ‘no’ was out of the question, and instead you sighed in defeat, quickly quipping into laughter as he triumphantly pulled you into his lap, peppering your cheek with even more kisses. Keeping your composure was a lost cause as you giggled involuntarily with each pass of his lips. A few swats of your hand later, and Harry’s wrists sat bound by your hands.
Craning your neck to look back at his flushed cheeks, you asked sternly: “You gonna behave now?”
Harry pursed his lips as if he needed to ponder, and instead of answering, moved to remain in power of the situation with a kiss to your lips.
There his mouth was again, ghosting past your ear: “Go ahead then. Kept me waitin’ long enough.”