#smuttish

"Dean, I don't get it," you whined, your new glossy pink nails tapped against the table as you tilted your head, lips in a perfect pout. "Why does it have to be salt? Can't we just, like, use sugar or something? It's prettier."

Dean smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching as he stepped closer, his boots heavy against the floor. "Sweetheart, if sugar worked on ghosts, trust me, l'd be throwing cupcakes at 'em." His voice dripped with amusement, “next time you can add glitter to the salt.”

You smiled up at him, your top hitched up as you reached over to place your hands around Dean’s neck. He squeezed you closer to him, pushing your bosoms up.

“Have I ever told you how much I love cherries,” he gazed into your eyes. The fresh coat of mascara and the shimmery eyeshadow made you look like a lost innocent baby doe.

“We should go get cherry pie,” you smiled innocently, unaware of the tall older man starring down your shirt. Your cleavage on full display for his lust full eyes.

“I think I got something better here.” He smirked. “Something bigger and juicier to fill me up.”

“Oh yeah,” you smiled, “maybe we can get some whip cream on top?”

“Now we are talking, got to keep my blood sugar in check.” He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist which caused his shirt to ride up displaying his delicious v-line. Your clotthed cunt rubbing against his abdominal instinctively.

Dean groaned as his hands squeezed your heart shaped ass. You laced your fingers into his hair steadying yourself from floating away from the moment, Dean noticed the fog begin to form in your eyes. “I wonder sometimes if there is ever a coherent thought behind those y/e/c eyes.”

You softly pulled the ends of your boyfriend’s hair in response, “hey don’t be mean,” you pouted.

“You know what I mean princess,” Dean kissed up your neck towards the sensitive spot that he knew would make you weak. You moaned causing your chest to rise further up Dean’s face.

“where did you learn how to be such a tease?” Dean mumbled in your ear nibbling at the skin.

“what does that mean?” You asked.

Dean stopped his actions to view your face, trying to figure out if you were actually joking.

“Honey, do you not know what tease means?” He asked to which you shook your head.

“Do you know about sex?” You nodded.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked again, “I don’t want to pressure you in anything sweetheart, you are in control.”

“I learned how to make love from the movies.” You blushed, hiding away from his gaze. Dean chuckled at your innocent response, before feeling guilty, had he known your level of knowledge on the topic he wouldn’t have been so forward.

“Aww sweetheart that’s nothin’ be ashamed about,” you still avoided his gaze, “why don’t you show me what you learned and I could help you out…wouldn’t that be nice sweet cheeks.” Dean kissed up to your face, trying to pry your hands away from his face. “Of course with your consent and approval it’s all up to you.” You nodded, still a little embarrassed from your previous statement.

Dean smiled fondly at you, “I promise to make you feel so good you’ll be seeing stars sugar.”

“Really?” You moved your hands away excitingly. “Just like in pretty woman?” You asked.

“Even better.” He pecked your lips. “Just say the words princess and I’m on my knees.”

“You’re so sweet Dean.” You blushed kissing his cheek. “How can I ever repay you?”

An over six-foot tower of a man was taking up your kitchen, all broad shoulders and lean muscle and bed-tousled hair.  

In short, Ben was cooking.

But because he didn’t have to worry about the potential sting of sparked bacon grease, he only wore a pair of sweatpants while scrambling the eggs. Slowly you crept closer, not wanting to disturb his concentration just yet.

He actually seemed to be doing well. Or at least, nothing seemed to be on fire. (A vast improvement from previous attempts.)

Besides the pans of eggs and bacon, there were four slices of bread locked and loaded in the double-decker toaster, a side of butter, and two plates on the counter. The coffee was already done percolating.

Once again, your boyfriend managed to delight and surprise. He’d never cooked for you before. And you could dare to say, not for anyone before. You'd just recently managed to get him to do the dishes without being asked, to say nothing of breaking out the cookware...

There was an enormous mess of bowls, plates, and even a whisk in the sink, but you could deal with that if this was your reward.

A bubbly feeling rose up into your chest, making you smile. You went to him on light feet, sneaking up behind him.

Looping your arms through his and embracing him from behind, you leaned up on your toes and nipped at his bare shoulder. To him, it felt like a mere graze of your teeth.

“Mmm, I love a man at work,” you said.  

“Was wondering how long you were gonna fucking stand there,” Ben said, finally glancing at you over his shoulder. His lips twitched upward at the sight of your grin.

You hugged him tight from behind and pressed a lingering kiss into his neck.

“Breakfast looks good, babe. Thank you,” you said, though your hands drifted down his chest, down his sternum, down to thumb at the stretchy waistband of his pants. “It all looks good.”

A smirk pulled at his lips, though you couldn’t see it.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “Want to sample the menu?”

He felt your smile grow against his skin. “Yeah, I think I do.”

Just as you might’ve started inching that waistband down his hips, and lowering yourself along with it, Ben set down the metal salad spoon he’d been using to mix the eggs and turned in your arms.

He grabbed you by the hips and hauled you up on the counter beside him, hard enough to make the plates clatter. You gasped at the suddenness of it and clung to his arms.

“Ben—”

“Be a good girl and sit pretty for me,” he said. His eyes glinted with a familiar edge of cockiness before they roamed over your bare thighs. His grip brought you right to the edge of the counter, where he spread your legs apart. You allowed it, a tremor of arousal coiling in your belly.

His hand ventured up the inside of your thigh, and his smirk deepened.

It seemed you’d forgone panties entirely this morning. He liked that, along with the blushing smile you now wore, just for him.

“On second thought,” he said, as his fingers brushed the bare seam between your legs. “I think I want a taste.”  

AN: Hopefully the real food doesn't get cold. 😅

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A/N: This is just a random drabble that my little pea brain came up with after laying in my bed and reading fan fiction all day bc I'm sick. I hope you enjoy!

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"Sit." Is all Bucky said as his hands rested on your hips, which were hovering over his clothed lap.

You did as told, dropping your hips and relaxing your muscles, feeling his hardened girth under you as you sit on his lap, his impossibly muscular thighs taut in his jeans under your own, quaking thighs.

"You listen so well, Baby."

Bucky smirks, running his hands up your sides, his vibranium hand gently wrapping around your throat, while his flesh hand runs back down your body and rests on your hips again.

"You're gonna be good." He states flatly, the cool metal of his left hand tightening around the sides of your neck, causing a rush of fire to engulf your skin. "And you're gonna grind on my lap til my cum, understood?"

You nod.

Bucky shakes his head and brings his right hand to slap your cheek, not gently, but not roughly, enough to sting, but not enough to actually hurt. A warning. "Use your words, Baby."

"Y-Yes... I understand."

Your voice comes out shakier than you would've liked, but to be fair, you are sitting on the lap of the hottest man you've ever laid eyes on while he has a raging boner. Not your fault.

"Good." Bucky smirks again, his hand rubbing your cheek softly where he slapped it, soothing the slight pain. "Now get goin', babydoll."