A/N: this is something I had written on my previous blog, please do tell me if any of you guys have more headcanons in mind, I’ll see if I can write them!
Warnings: NSFW-ish (+18)
(ps this gif has melted my insides)
So, as a pin-up girl, imagine yourself something like this, but along with the long black stockings, held up by garter belts.
You’d be dressed to the nines, cherry-red lips and neatly quaffed hair, pinned down to a side, hair in perfect ringlets, bouncing down on your shoulders. The blouse tied down, just enough to accentuate your best assets and that mini shirt would leave very little to his imagination.
Your look would what be describe as the one the brings your man down to his knees.
You’d give yourself a final look, making sure everything is just as described by your boyfriend, only then you’d be satisfied with your job. Bucky had once disclosed to you about one of his fantasies, that being seeing you in a pin-up dress.
And just the thought of him seeing you like this would make you jittery.
You’d be sitting by the dresser, fluffing up your curls when he’d walk in. Your eyes would meet looking at each other through the mirror watching him give you a double check with his blue eyes wide and astound. He’d be surprised for sure. Then slowly, a smirk would pull at his lips, as he’d take his steps forward, practically doing that murder strut.
“I see someone’s been busy,” he’d mummer as you stand up to face him. He’d lick his lips hungrily, already wanting to touch you and feel the silky material of the cloths and your skin together. He’d probably want to compose himself, as his voice would drop down a new octaves, “God, who told you it’d be fine to do something like this without giving me a fair warning, sweetheart?”
You’d slowly tilt a side of your mouth up, eyes feigning innocence as you look up at him through your thick lashes and casually slide your arms around his shoulders locking wrists behind his neck.
“Oh, no. You don’t get to act all innocent, doll. Not after wearing this,” he’d chuckle lowly, picking at the knot of your blouse; the blue in his eyes almost disappearing as they’d land on your half exposed breasts, his hands would travel down to sneak under your skirt, grabbing a fistful of your plump flesh in his hands. You’d squirm and squeal, the scarlet color of your lips matching with your cheeks, in part embarrassment when Bucky would give one of your ass-cheek a sharp spank.
“Now, I’ll tell you what. We know this little number won’t last longer than one night,” he’d start to back up and leave you standing right in the middle of the room. “So we’ll take a picture or two, with you posing for each of them as I desire. Okay, sweetness?”
“Okay, Sarge.” You’d smirk, watching his eyes turn darker at using his rank.
“Before I rip it to shreds,” and let’s say, the rest of the evening would be very eventful.