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Dark!Bucky Barner (SMUT)

Author: nsfwsebbie

THIS IS A REALLY DARK! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

He's close, too close.

Though the table is around a metre and a quarter in width, you feel like you're suffocating.

"How's your wine? Hope it isn't too much. Expensive things usually mean the creators overdo it," he chuckles briskly. Yeah, he's right. "No, it's fine... It's just that I've never tried something like this," you admit to him, wringing your hands. They're cold, yet they have a sheen of sweat covering them. You wipe them over your dress a few times, but it doesn't seem to solve your predicament.

"Me neither. I honestly prefer beer over this!" Bucky exclaims, even though he tilts the glass back and chugs the wine. "Hm." Your plate is empty. You find appetizers to be stupid—what even is the point of them? They fill you up for two seconds and just leave you to be even hungrier. "It sounds stupid; it really does, but is it weird that I drink for the taste? I can't get drunk, but there's something about the taste that makes me want to grab another beer," he chuckles, setting down his glass.

"It's uh, it's not weird at all. Makes sense, to be honest," you smile at him. He flashes an even more giant grin, staring at you for a bit before you look down. Your reflection is warped. The circles of the plate are faint; they're from the hands of the crafter, and you find it so interesting how dishes are made. You've taken a pottery class once—it was fun—but the lopsided green bowl you made and painted no longer exists. It fell from a shelf and broke into tiny little pieces.

Maybe because it was too close to the edge.

"Remind me to never come here ever again. I didn't pay over two hundred dollars for the service to be this slow," Bucky laughs, and you shake your head. You know he's just being lighthearted, but it's still wrong of him to say such things. "Well, it's busy, Buck. They just can't rush things," you remind him. "I know, but we've been sitting here for over thirty minutes!" he reasons, and you fight your hardest to not smile.

"How about we play a game to pass the time?" he proposes, and you nod. "Sure, it just depends on the game," you tell him. Your hands rest on the table, and you can feel an old lady cast a glare towards you. "I spy, have you ever played it?" he questions, tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "I have; it was my favourite game to play on road trips," you recount to him, grabbing your glass of wine again,

This time, you only take a small sip.

"Okay, well... I spy with my little eye, something that is dark red," he starts. You'd say the wine, but that's too obvious. You look around the restaurant, trying not to be too obvious. "Hmm... Is it that lady's hat?" you ask him, nodding your head in her direction. He looks her way but then turns back to you with a frown on his face. "Sorry, doll, it's just right under your nose," he hints. You look down, just to be faced with the glass of wine.

"I knew it. That was my first guess!" you exclaim, gripping the stem of the glass. You swirl the liquid around and watch as a cyclone forms inside the drink. It spins and spins, just like those black and white strips that hypnotize you. "Since you lose, I'll have to punish you," he smirks, his voice dropping just a few octaves. You look up at him in shock, not liking what he might be implying. You barely even know him—he's never been to your house, and you haven't spoken to him other than on the phone and on dates.

"Look-" you start before he cuts you off with a laugh. "I'm just playing. All you gotta do is finish that glass of wine," he tells you, his eyes a bit glassy and dark. "Oh, my bad." You pick the glass up and bring it to your lips, swallowing all of the wine as Bucky watches you. Not a drop is left-back, and you feel proud of yourself. "Good girl," he mutters quietly. The sound of chatter that reverberates throughout the restaurant hides his words, and he's thankful.