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ajvocals43 · 2 months

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Make You Feel My Love (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized Female Reader

Summary: “I will tell you everyday how much I love you and how perfect you are to me. If you can’t believe it for yourself, I’ll believe it for both of us.” When the reader is having trouble loving herself, Bucky tries to remind her.

Warnings: Angsty beginning with happy ending; talk about gaining weight/slightly negative body talk; slight allusions to smut (blink and you'll miss them); mentions of past injury (gsw, passing out).

Author's Note: For me, being plus sized can be great and sometimes not so great. So I wrote this story for me and I hope that you like it. Comments and reblogs always appreciated!

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“I’m not going!”

Bucky leaned his head against the door to the bathroom and sighed.

“Doll, please come out so we can talk?”

“No! Bucky I’m not going so can you please leave?”

“Baby, please I just want to talk to you.”

Bucky waited, and he could feel his heart cracking when he heard the muffled sniffles coming from the bathroom. He glanced over to the doorway into his room and shook his head at Steve and Wanda, who were peering into the room. They slowly backed away as he continued to knock on the bathroom door.

There was a September Foundation gala happening in just over four hours and the compound was buzzing with preparations. Tony had been at the tower all week, waltzing around and telling a team of interns and designers to move decorations three inches to the left (with Pepper following close behind to move them back to their proper place). The team was in full glam mode with stylists and makeup artists running from room to room.

Which is why when he’d heard the slam of the door to Y/N’s room and a personal stylist huffing angrily down the corridor, he had poked his head into her room to see what the matter was. Only to catch the tail of her robe disappearing into her bathroom. He’d knocked, only to be denied entry with a firm refusal to open the door. Which is where he was now, standing barefoot in front of her bathroom begging her to let him in.

“Can you at least tell me if you need me to track down that stylist and put the fear of God in them?” he tried.

“Please don’t, Bucky.” Y/N whimpered and Bucky sobered immediately.

“Baby, please let me in because I’m starting to panic and I will break down this door if I have to. Especially if someone hurt you.” he said gravely.

“No one hurt me, Buck! Please I just need you to leave me alone!” she insisted. Bucky sighed, turning from the door to sit beside it. He was trying really hard to not let the rejection sting, but there was a part of him deep down that was still bothered.

He and Y/N had been together just a little over 8 months. She had started working at the compound a few weeks after he’d joined the Avengers as an analyst and had become an integral part of the team. He’d never known mission briefings to be as interesting as they were once Y/N had come aboard. They had flirted, a glimmer of the old Bucky breaking through the trauma and insecurities, and he’d been toying with the idea of asking her to dinner.

But then a mission in Versailles threw a wrench in the plans. It was supposed to be a quick in and out reconnaissance mission: Steve and Nat with Bucky for backup. But Y/N needed to also come to decrypt the files Nat was retrieving from the museum. Nat was on lookout, but the guards were too quick and before she could take them all out and before he had reached the threshold of the office, one had gotten off a shot. Dr. Cho had told them later that a millimeter closer and it would have severed Y/N’s carotid. Instead it had fractured her collar bone and sent her careening into the window behind her, shattering the glass. Bucky had felt a glimmer of the old soldier, long dormant since Shuri’s reprogramming had been successful, take over and the remaining guards were dead before they could draw another breath. Steve ordered him to provide cover as the four of them escaped and flew home as fast as they could. All Bucky remembered from that night was holding Y/N’s hand as she sobbed in pain and whispering assurances in her ear until she passed out from the pain and blood loss.

He hadn’t left her side the two days she was in the med bay. When she woke up after surgery, he was there. He had tried to leave her once, to give her space, but she had already tugged him closer and pulled his lips down to meet hers in a gentle but passionate kiss.

“Sorry it took me so long, but getting shot will do that,” she’d murmured. He’d laughed and kissed her again. And he hadn’t stopped for 8 months.

Now though, he worried that something had happened. Maybe she had finally realized the Soldier and his actions were too much to excuse and she couldn’t bring herself to break it off gently? Maybe she’d found someone with less baggage?

“Y/N. I just…I just need you to know how much I love you. You are the most important thing in the world to me and your happiness is priority number one for me. I…I would not be alive now if it wasn’t for you and you are the reason that I wake up in the morning.”

He heard some shuffling and then he could feel her body lean against the door. He got up and rested his head against where he knew hers would rest.

“I love you too, Bucky.” she whispered. Bucky felt the hole in his heart mend itself and he sighed in relief.

“Baby, I know you might not want to talk about it and if you really don’t want to go tonight, I will respect that. But I really do need you to open the door. Please, because I never want you to feel like you have to shut me out. We’re partners and when something bothers you, it bothers me.”

“I know Buck. It just…ugh I hate this feeling!” she groaned. She sniffled again and Bucky waited.

“My dress doesn’t fit.” she whispered. Bucky felt his heart skip and he sighed in defeat.

Y/N was plus sized. She was a beautiful, confident woman who embraced her curves and never let archaic societal expectations get in the way of loving herself. Bucky was enamored with her confidence and considered her the sexiest woman he’d ever met. But there were days where clothes fit tighter or sitting in a theater was uncomfortable, and Y/N was reminded that the world was not created for people who looked like her. Bucky would try to listen to what she needed in the moment: space, righteous anger, ect. And he was always sure to worship her body when they were alone. He loved all of her, every single part, and he tried everyday to tell her.

The stylists had received strict instructions from Nat and Pepper (and him) to provide more than enough dresses in her size to give her a wide range. She’d had a ball trying them on and modeling them for the girls and she’d promised him that he could have his fun getting her out of the dress (with a slight preview that night).

“Baby,” he murmured sadly.

“I know that I haven’t been eating super well and my shoulder was bothering me so I haven’t been to the training gym in a couple weeks but… I just thought… it hasn’t been that long! And the dress wasn’t snug the last time I tried it on…” she sniffled again.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I know how much you loved that dress.” he said into the door.

“It’s dumb,” she said, tearfully. “I shouldn’t be crying over a stupid dress but…it’s just one of those things, y’know?”

“It’s not dumb, Y/N.” Bucky said, vehemently. “Nothing you feel is ever dumb. And you never have to minimize what you’re feeling, especially with me.”

“I know, baby. And I love you so much. I just…I don’t want to feel like this. I’ve worked really hard to love my body and all it takes is a stupid dress for it to all come crashing down.”

Bucky stood silent for a moment, wishing he could take away the hurt she was feeling. Even for a moment.

“Doll? Can you open the door for me? I want to see you.” he murmured gently. He heard Y/N sigh before the lock twisted and the handle turned. He waited as she gently swung the door open.

The dress was a cobalt blue, tea length dress with pleats in the skirt. The bust had molded cups and was held up by thin spaghetti straps. Bucky’s eyes ran up the dress to meet Y/N’s frustrated glance. Her eyes were swollen from crying and she looked frazzled and defeated.

“It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever worn, and it won’t freaking zip,” Y/N grumbled, turning and showing Bucky the gaping back. Sure enough, the clasps of her strapless bra and the top of her shapewear showed from between the teeth of the zipper.

“The stylist tried three times to get that zipper to work and they finally gave up. Bucky, this is humiliating!” Y/N’s lip trembled and her eyes began to glass over with tears.

“Hey, hey look at me,” Bucky insisted. He took her face in his hands and met her gaze intently.

“First thing is: I love you more than anything on this earth. You are the single most important thing in my life.” he began. Y/N choked back a sob as Bucky pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“The second is…” he turned them to face the full length mirror sitting in the corner of Y/N’s room. Bucky’s arms wrapped around her waist and he rested his head on her shoulder. He could feel the smooth fabric of the dreaded dress in his flesh hand and the warmth of her skin underneath. How many times had he held her this way, reveling in the feel of her surrounding him? How many times had he traced patterns on her soft skin? He didn’t think he would ever tire of it.

“The second is that you are perfect no matter what you wear. You could be wearing the most haute couture outfit or my old t-shirt that mysteriously keeps finding its way into your laundry basket and you will still be the most beautiful, most radiant woman that I have ever had the honor of calling my partner.”

Y/N bit her lip to push back the tears as her arms came up to cover his around her waist. He could feel her melting into his embrace and he kissed her shoulder beside the loose strap of her dress.

“I know that there will be other days like this ahead, and while I wish that there won’t be, all I can do is promise to always tell you all the ways that you are so much more than the dress size you wear. You are sweet and kind and smart and hilarious. You never let Sam and Tony get away with the bullshit and you are fiercely loyal to the people you love. And I have never seen someone be able to reconnaissance a three floor HYDRA warehouse faster than you can. You are the glue that holds our team together, Y/N. You have saved our lives more times than I can count.

“And there are still days that I can’t believe you even glanced in my direction, let alone chose me to hold your heart. You saw through the darkness and destruction in my soul and you helped me let the light in. I will spend everyday making myself worthy of your love, but you never ever have to shrink yourself to a box to make others love you.”

Y/N turned in his arms and pulled him down to meet her lips in a searing kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck, and his hands traveled from her hips and around her back to pull her closer.

When they pulled away, lips swollen and breathless, he cupped her cheek and stroked his thumb across her face.

“If you don’t want to go to this gala, I will happily tell Tony to fuck off and we will do whatever you want to do,” he promised. Y/N sighed, looking away briefly.

“I want to go so badly, but the dress…”

“...has arrived!” came a voice from the doorway. They turned to see Nat and the stylist from before striding in with a garment bag slung over their shoulder. Bucky remembered suddenly that their name was Zo.

“What?” Y/N asked, confused. “What are you talking about? I’m currently wearing the dress and it does not fit.”

“You’re currently wearing that version of the dress,” Zo said, unzipping the garment bag to reveal an identical dress to the one Y/N was wearing. Y/N stared at it, dumbfounded.

“I was told this was one of a kind,” she murmured, reaching out to feel the fabric.

“Well as far as the stylists knew, it was. But I know this designer and she is working on expanding her plus size brand, so I had a hunch she had some sample sizes stashed somewhere. All it took was a quick phone call, a police escort thanks to Tony Stark, and now you have your dream dress that I will happily tailor to you. But I am not a miracle worker so say buh-bye to your hunky arm candy and let us work our magic! We only have three and a half hours to make you dazzling.”

“She already is,” Bucky interjected strongly. Zo rolled their eyes and motioned to Natasha, who grabbed Bucky and began hauling him out the door.

“Hang on a second!” he protested, pulling out of her grasp. He turned back to a bewildered Y/N and kissed her deeply.

“Could I at least help you out of this one?” he teased cheekily. Y/N laughed as Nat groaned in disgust and pulled him away.

“I swear to God I will kick your ass, Barnes,” Nat grumbled, “Now go get yourself pretty while we pamper your girl.”

She promptly launched him out of the room as a team of makeup artists and stylists filed in and slammed the door behind her. Bucky grinned and made his way back to his room to put on his tux and grab the surprise he’d been waiting to give Y/N.

Three and a half hours later, he was back waiting in front of Y/N’s door. His short, dark hair was styled back, and the cobalt blue pocket square tucked into his classic black tuxedo jacket matched the color of Y/N’s dress perfectly. His vibranium hand, encased in a black glove, fiddled with the box in his pocket and he tapped his shiny polished dress shoes nervously. Just as he was about to knock, the door flew open and Zo appeared, looking positively giddy.

“She is a masterpiece!” they declared, ushering him inside. When Bucky made it through the door, he froze at the sight of Y/N’s figure in front of the mirror.

The dress, now zipped and tailored perfectly to her body, seemed to shimmer in the light as it accentuated her curves before flowing from her waist, around her hips, and stopping at the middle of her calves. She wore two inch high, black block heels and her hair was styled down and loose around her face. Her makeup made her skin look luminescent and her eyes bright. When her gaze caught Bucky’s, she smiled widely and Bucky knew the storm had passed.

She was absolutely ethereal.

“What do you think, Y/N?” Zo asked, moving past Bucky’s prone form to pick imaginary lint off of the dress. Y/N smiled brilliantly at them and took their hand.

“It’s perfect. And I cannot thank you enough for everything, Zo. I feel…”

“Gorgeous,” Zo finished, squeezing her hand. Y/N nodded and Zo discreetly stepped aside as Bucky’s breath returned to him.

When he took a step towards her, Natasha’s hand flashed out to stop him. She had changed into her figure hugging black gown with a sweetheart neckline and long side slit and it made her look even more dangerously beautiful than she was in her widow suit.

“If you even think about messing up her makeup, I will take you down. Behave.” she murmured. Bucky rolled his eyes. He had been to enough events with Y/N that he knew to never kiss her directly on the lips or cheek when her makeup was that flawless.

Instead he approached her and took her hand in his, stooping down to plant a gentle kiss to her knuckles. He heard Zo and the other stylists swoon behind him, but he only had eyes for Y/N.

“Hey handsome. You clean up nice,” Y/N teased. Bucky stood up straight and pulled her closer.

“Ни на одном языке нет слов, чтобы описать, насколько ты прекрасна,” he whispered in her ear. Y/N shivered and he grinned. He knew how much she loved hearing him speak Russian.

“I love you, моя любовь” he murmured fiercely. Y/N smiled and smoothed her hands across his lapels.

“I love you too,” she murmured back. He chuckled and she cleared her throat, remembering their audience.

“Shall we?” she asked. She moved to step around him before he gently pulled her back.

“One second. I was waiting to give you this until tonight.” He handed her the box as Natasha herded the stylists out of the room. She glanced up at him in confusion before opening the top of the box. She gasped in surprise and delight.

“Oh Bucky,” she breathed. Bucky reached in and pulled the necklace out, letting it shimmer in the light.

“The sapphire is from an old brooch of my ma’s that Steve helped me track down. My dad saved for a year to buy it for her and she wore it to church every Sunday. And I had it set with a couple of the diamonds from your mom’s ring.” Y/N reached out and held the pendant of the necklace in her hands.

The sapphire was set in the center with two oval diamonds on either side. They touched at the bottom before fanning out away from the sapphire.

“I remember that brooch from a picture you showed me. Bucky, this is the most amazing gift you could have ever given me! Thank you, my love,” she said, reaching up to kiss him. She turned and let him place the necklace around her neck and fasten it before he pressed another kiss to the clasp at the nape of her neck. She turned back to him and wrapped her arms around him.

“Thank you,” she murmured. Bucky smiled.

“For what? The necklace?” he asked, brushing her hair back from her face.

“Well that, of course. And for loving me when it’s really hard to love myself.”

“I meant what I said,” he insisted. “I will tell you everyday how much I love you and how perfect you are to me. If you can’t believe it for yourself, I’ll believe it for both of us.”

“Back atcha, baby.”

With one last quick peck, she turned and took his hand to lead him into the hallway. They made their way through the hallways until they reached the main elevator.

“Wait…weren’t there two sapphires on that brooch? What are you going to do with the other?” Y/N asked as they entered the elevator. Bucky grinned.

“I have something special planned for that one,” he said slyly, pressing a quick kiss to her left hand ring finger.

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“Ни на одном языке нет слов, чтобы описать, насколько ты прекрасна,”= “There are no words in any language to describe how beautiful you are.”

"моя любовь" = "My love."

Thank you everyone for reading! Let me know what your thoughts, feelings, ect.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes angst

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ajvocals43 · 2 months

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Does Bucky ever get homesick and think about moving his girls to Romania?

Sometimes.

Usually around the time faint rays of sun filters through the curtains and the rest of the world begins to wake. He's been up for the better part of an hour. You're cuddled into his side, one leg over his, hand on his chest. Little Bee is taking up space on his arm, her fingers curled into his hair.

He doesn't want to disturb either one of you. He doesn't want to leave this room, leave his girls to go deal with people who think they're more important than they really are. He doesn't want to spend another day pretending that his entire world doesn't revolve around you.

So he doesn't move. Let's that warm feeling in his chest sink into his bones until he’s drowning in it, until it drowns out the noise in his head. Until it drowns out everything outside of this room so he can luxuriate in these moments with you and Bee.

He wonders what it would be like to take his family back to Romania. Not to his childhood home, the walls there hold too many bad memories, casting shadows he refuses to let fall over you or Bee.

No need to hide. No need for extra safety measures. No need to hide his true nature. No need to pretend that he's not hopelessly besotted by his wife.

But his grandparents hometown, that's where he'd take you. His house wouldn't be too far from their place. Tucked away somewhere quiet and safe. A place where you could carve your own memories into the foundation, build a legacy for your babies. She'd be happy there, surrounded by everything he didn't have.

This is your home though. So he's going to make it safe for her and you. He'll rip his enemies apart with his bare hands if he has to. There's not much he wont do to keep the two of you happy and content. Make it so that one day, very soon, he can show the world exactly how much you mean to him.

Until that day arrives, he's going to stay here, with his favorite people. Pretending the world doesn't exist beyond this room.

Because everything he needs is right here. In his arms.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan

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ajvocals43 · 2 months

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— KEEP THE LIGHTS ON

SUMMARY : “Hi!! First time requesting a fic so if this is dumb.. well yeah. A fic where Dean and the reader are about to do it (😏😏) and hes very focused on her thighs/hips area and she's got stretch marks there and he traces/kisses/grabs them? It's rough, intense, and passionate? 😳😶 okay love you and your writing byeee 🏃‍♀️” — anon

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), smut, as always unspecified skin colour and weight (lol),

WORD COUNT : 2.0k

A/N : close your eyes song title. I loved this request as soon as I got it, and that’s why it didn’t take long! I’ve seen some stretch marks are lighter than the skin and others are darker than the skin and also that they feel like grooves so, I hope this is okay! *insert Scott Pilgrim and the L-word scene bc I can’t say ILY* AND HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY Xx

You’d never been so comfortable and confident with a man before. Comfortable with yourself. Confident in your own skin.. Every insecurity you had in every other aspect of your life, sex-releated or not, flew out the window because you knew Dean.

He had a way of making you feel beautiful all the time. Either with his facial expressions when you caught him staring, his words when you were alone, his actions at any chance he had to get his hands on you. He was very expressive, wordlessly so, and gesticulating.

You had to get to know the real him to understand him and, you know… he’s complicated. He’s guarded, but beneath all that there’s a soft centre to him, like a brownie. And overall, he’s sweet and good and soft. Perfect. Like a brownie.

Eventually, getting a read on him gets easier, but not entirely easy. Which is why he was currently taking your breath away with his lips moving down your neck and his hands tangled in your hair as he guided you down the hallway to his room. But only after admitting he’d been wanting to get you in his bed for years and you’d be damned if you let your fears and worries get in the way of getting your first taste of him after pining for him almost as long as he’d carried a torch for you.

You had to be stupid to believe that Dean was shallow and cared only about a woman's appearance or attractiveness. You never thought you weren’t enough all those times Dean left with or hit on any women but you. All you thought was that he simply didn’t see you that way, which was only half of the truth. He wanted something more than one night with you and he just didn’t have the guts to tell you so.

But tonight, after a sleepy hangout at the Dean Cave, after watching a variety of movies that Dean liked—movies he excitedly wanted you to enjoy as well when you said you’d never watched them before. And then going to the kitchen to get more snacks for the next film…

Well, you don’t really remember what led to it, maybe you said something in your exhausted state. Or maybe he did. You had a feeling that if you made the first move and confessed something you wouldn’t have in the right state of mind, he’d hold it over you and tease you about it—if everything went well.

Or maybe it was just a buildup of every little thing that the two of you shared with each other and all the history and all of everything else that you were.

Now that you had his mouth on yours, quick and firm and desperate for attention and for a taste of you… You had a feeling making your stomach flutter. To some extent, the two of you were very aware of each other’s feelings and still decided to do nothing about it.

What a waste of fucking time.

Still, something about waiting made this much more intense. Your skin ignited at his touch when his fingers snuck up into your shirt. Your flesh became warmer and warmer after each rapid heartbeat, excitement from his wet, breathy kisses. The air in your lungs failed to escape correctly, failing to reach the full capacity of oxygen the more thrilled you became.

You wanted to devour him whole. But all you could do was kiss him back with as much passion and fervour as you possibly could. Your palms smoothed up scarred skin, flushed and warm and taut. Your nails scratched and your fingers tugged at anything of his that you could hold onto.

When you got to his room, he’d made your head spin more than it already was from his kiss when he pushed you into his bedroom door to shut it.

“Sweetheart,” he moaned against your mouth and your breath audibly hitched. The sound of his voice, the way he spoke that pet-name to you made your stomach clench and your clit throb. Or maybe it was the way he pinned your lower body to the door with his hips and the way he held your gaze when he flexed his hand beneath your shirt, his fingers spread across your ribcage.

His other hand moved back up to your cheek and his thumb brushed against your cheekbone. Your lips parted at first when he did that and your eyes searched his curious eyes longingly, but he seemed to be on his own mission. You bit your lip anxiously instead as you attempted to maintain eye contact, your cheeks burned when his green eyes dropped down to your lips. All you could feel was his erection pressed into your soft skin through the flimsy layers of his pyjama pants.

And then his cock twitched.

It was driving you crazy.

Being this close to him felt like a chemical reaction. You bubbled as he came into contact with you and you could probably evaporate into nothing if you were just a reactant. You never thought you’d feel consumed entirely by a person as if they were a reagent. You’d be embarrassed if it were anyone else but Dean who made you feel this pathetic.

Your eyes reacted faster than your body when Dean dove back down to capture your bottom lip. He sucked on it softly and rolled his hips into you and you breathed shakily against his mouth at the combination of pleasant sensations that occurred simultaneously.

You buried your fingers in his hair and then you felt his own gripping your hips tightly. God, you wished he’d dig into you and mark you permanently, but instead your thoughts ran through the imaginary engine of a plane and turned into smithereens when his tongue entered your mouth.

He lifted you up and his hands slid roughly from your ass to your thighs. You clung to him and kissed him hard, pouring yourself wholly into the kiss until he drunkenly stumbled to his bed and dropped you into it. All the while, he was still completely attached to you and getting more desperate now that you were as malleable as dough in his expert hands.

He pulled away from you breathlessly, lips parted and wet and red and perfectly kissed. His cheeks puffed a little and he had a tiny smile that shined mostly in his eyes when they fluttered open. You thought you’d be sucked right into his dilated pupils as he admired you beneath him, but he went right back to your neck and your cleavage while his hands pushed and pulled away at your clothes to get you naked.

For the fraction of a second, your body snapped out of the trance he’d placed you in when you felt his fingers trace and dip gently into the marks on your skin. The magic was gone only for a few moments when you opened your eyes to him between your bare legs, he looked up at you in surprise. Surprised at your reaction.

“What?” He frowned at you. The cute pout made your eyes brighten and your body relaxed once more as you smiled down at him.

You were hesitant and he was patient. And then his expression mirrored yours, smiley. But he was so soft, with those crinkles at the corner of his eyes, and those dimples above his pillowy lips. He didn’t even make a big deal out of it and that made you release a soft breath and with it, the tension disappeared from your body.

“Are you sure?” You asked him, pressing your teeth into your bottom lip. He lifted a brow at you before both brows came together in amused confusion. He slowly pulled himself up your body and shamelessly dropped his hips at your centre, practically grinding his covered erection against your bare, wet core.

You inhaled sharply and he smirked at you. He slid his forearm up beside your head to balance his upper body above yours and continued to brush his thumb against the lines you were more than familiar with that resided at your hips.

“Wanna hear it explicitly, is that it?” He murmured, his tongue dipping out to pull his lower lip into his mouth. Then he planted his teeth on the shimmering, plump flesh. What a journey.

You were amused when your eyes flickered back up to his and you pulled your own lip between your teeth. He was cocky and maybe it didn’t help that you were a mess beneath him, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard in my bed,” he told you. Your eyes widened slightly and you breathed unevenly as he rocked his hips against your heat. “But first, I’m gonna memorise every inch of your body and I’m gonna make you wait ‘til I’m satisfied. And only then,” he whispered, dropping kisses along your cheek and jaw, “I’ll give you what you want.”

You licked your lips and allowed Dean to move lower to pepper kisses along your breasts until he slowly made his way back down between your legs. Part of you wanted to whine when he brushed his fingers over your stretch marks again, but there was something about how casual he was about them that made you want to see where this was going.

“What do I want?” You grinned down at him just as his lips made contact with the lines in contrasting colour to your skin. He smirked and looked at you through his lashes. His warm breath tickled your thighs when he chuckled and you shivered, bumping his bicep playfully with your knee.

“Me, I hope,” he answered, almost bashfully. He buried his fingers into your hips and pulled at your skin, following the lines that decorated your body while keeping his eyes on you. You squirmed as he continued to touch and mouth at your stretch marks. “But mostly, my dick.”

You laughed, “what?” And Dean nipped at your hip, along a few lines on either side of your body and your body shuddered pleasantly.

“You asked what you wanted. I said: me and my dick,” he recapped for you playfully. You rolled your eyes at him, but you couldn’t help smiling. Dean went from playful to sexy and dragged his lips down your pelvis. Your hips wiggled in anticipation and your breath became shallow, but Dean only breathed against your soaked cunt. “If… all ‘a this proves anything.”

The warm air slipping between his lips aroused you to the point of wanting to pull his face between your legs and trap him there with your thighs. You felt yourself turn hot at his words, both from embarrassment and from lust.

“Dean, please,” you begged with a whiny laugh.

Instead of replying with something witty, he swirled his tongue around your ntrance with a moan. You felt his spit and you held your breath when he flatted his tongue and dragged it up to your clit. You closed your eyes and arched your back when he sucked and flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit.

And then it was all gone and your body became loose once more. You opened your eyes to Dean pulling his shirt over his head, exposing the freckled skin you’ve always wanted to kiss and mark with your mouth when you patched him up on hunts.

Before you could get your hands on him, he got out of bed and pulled his pants and boxers down his legs swiftly. He barely gave you time to see, to admire what you came to accept as the prettiest cock you’d ever seen.

“I told you,” he smirked, slipping between your legs and lowering himself on your body to kiss you. “I’m takin’ my time.” You groaned in protest against his lip, but eventually every complaint you had on taking it slowly dissipated from your mind as he pushed and pulled at your body in ways you didn’t think you’d liked until he began working your body.

You didn’t want to admit it, but dammit… Sex with Dean was better and more satisfying than the sex you had with any other man.

You couldn’t tell Dean that. Never. It’d go to his head. Rightfully so, but still. All you could think about is the embarrassment he’d cause you to feel by reminding you, every chance he had—with that smug smirk of his—about how good you said he makes you feel. Better than any other man.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader

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ajvocals43 · 2 months

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Awkward Dreams

Dean's been having certain dreams about you and it makes it hard to concentrate on hunts

NSFW mention?

“Dean just pull over dammit!” He cut his eyes at you, the two of you had been arguing for the better part of fifty miles so he took the next turn which was a deserted cut off to a parking area. He slammed the impala into park and killed the engine then threw his hands up in the air “Ok! We're parked now what sweetheart?”

You turned to face him and he met your eyes. After a moment you mumbled “Fuck it” and covered the space between the two of you catching his lips in a hungry kiss. Without a second thought he pulled you over into his lap. The moment you straddled him your hands went to his shirt, tugging at the hem of it. He pulled back from your mouth long enough to get it over his head and toss it. “You're so fucking gorgeous and aggravating” you mumbled between kissing down his jaw then leaving a trail down his collarbone as well.

His fingers dug into your ass pulling you closer to him and a gasp left you when you felt how hard he already was. “So I'm gorgeous huh?” He asked reaching to kiss across your neck, biting down on a few places that made your breath hitch. “And a bit cocky too” you added, pulling back to grin down at him. He raised his eyebrows then reached for the hem of your shirt “I think I like it better when the only thing coming out your mouth is my name” he slipped the shirt over your head then his mouth immediately attacked your clothed breasts.

“Dean,oh fuck” he loved hearing the way you moaned his name. He'd wanted you for so long. “Dean..oh God Dean…DEAN WAKE UP!”

He jolted awake to the sound of you slapping your hand against his door. “C'mon sleeping beauty we got a case” he groaned and rubbed a hand across his face. Fuck that dream had felt real. The way your skin felt under his skin, the way it tasted. How the hell was he supposed to look you in the eye?

Not so Awkward

#dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female!reader #dean winchester smut

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ajvocals43 · 2 months

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Whiskey on the Tongue

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: You are the forbidden fruit Dean had always wanted to taste, and when you steal his whiskey the way you do, he is powerless to resist.

Words: 2.2k

A/N: This is my first ever Supernatural fic after having started watching the show just before Christmas. I know I'm late to the game but is it ever really too late to start loving a fandom? I've tried to make the reader generic in every way other than being cis-female, and Dean finding her hot.

It's been an absolute age since I wrote anything and probably longer since I posted anything here on Tumblr but I'm getting back into it now. Hopefully this finds its way to people in the Supernatural fandom who love a bit of Dean smut.

I hope you enjoy and, as always, I value your comments and feedback.

Warnings: Smut, explicit smut, alcohol consumption, mentions of people who have passed away, profanity as standard with pretty much everything I write.

*** Minors do not read or interact - 18+ content ***

Dean let his head fall back against the headboard, clenching his fists to try to distract himself from the deep ache in his left leg. It had been falling asleep for well over an hour now, but he didn’t want to move and disturb you.

The door to his room in the bunker was closed. Locked, in fact, though he did not remember doing it. You didn’t comment or so much as move when Sam brayed on the door and tried the handle, calling out for Dean to return his book. The very book that was in your hands right now.

“I need that book back, Dean.” Sam grumbled.

“Not now, Sammy!” Dean called back, hoping his little brother would just go away.

“I’m researching Nephilim to help Cas with the Kelly situation, Dean. It’s important.” Sam became more insistent.

“I said NOT NOW, SAM!” Dean hollered with a kind of finality that even Sam wouldn’t argue with.

Outside the door, Sam huffed and stalked away. Dean looked down to see you looking up at him from your position, lay on his bed. Your head was resting on his left calf, his leg bent with his foot tucked under his right knee. You had your knees up with your foot tapping along to his banging playlist, your jeans tight around your thighs and with your head tilted back he could see all the way down the deep V of your t-shirt.

He was going to hell. Straight there. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. And he probably deserved it.

He snapped his eyes up towards the ceiling but it was too late, he could feel himself stirring uncomfortably in his jeans. If Bobby was alive he would have skinned him raw just for having you in his room. Bobby was always protective of you, his niece. You were only a couple of years younger than Sam but Bobby had made himself very clear that you were off limits.

“If you touch one single hair on her body, I’ll make you regret the day your balls dropped. Do you hear me, boy?”

Bobby Singer. That man did not mince his words. And to this day, Dean had taken that threat as gospel. Even now that Bobby was up there with the Angels, that son of a bitch would find a way to keep his word.

You shifted, causing a painful twang to shoot up his leg. The reflexive grunt he failed to stifle made you look back up at him, giving him that glorious view again.

Dean decided he could die like this. If having a dead leg was a legitimate threat to his life, he would go out happy with the view of your rack in that lacy black bra he could see within the V-shaped window of that too-tight t-shirt.

He raised his eyes, once again to heaven, asking Bobby to forgive him or give him strength or something because – god help him – he wanted to take you right then and there.

It wasn’t unusual for you to seek him out after a case when you didn’t want to be alone, but you didn’t want to talk. You would just sit while he drank, reading or working on spells. You said he quieted the noise in your head. Hell, he wasn’t going to argue, you were a sight for sore eyes every time he came home. You were wicked hot and sexy in a non-slutty way. Not that slutty was bad. Dean liked slutty. But that wasn’t you, you were different.

A drink. That’s what was missing. Dean needed a damn drink, especially if you were going to torture him by laying on him all evening.

He reached over to his bedside unit, for the bottle he kept in there for special occasions. A bottle of twenty-five-year-old Speyside single malt that he liberated from the British Men of Letters on his last interaction with Ketch.

The pour made you stir again but it wasn’t until he raised the cut crystal tumbler to his lips did you move. Your hand came up and claimed the glass from underneath, twisting it as you sat up so as not to spill any.

“Where’s yours?”

The cheeky glint in your eye had him pursing his lips in mild annoyance.

“Don’t pout.” You lifted the glass, turning it until the mark left by his lips touched yours and you sipped, looking him straight in the eye.

Dean’s jaw went slack. The glisten of the whiskey on your lips and the satisfied hum you made when you swallowed – he swallowed unconsciously when you did – made his mouth go dry. He had never seen you like this.

You moved to kneel on the bed and walked your way slowly closer, giving his leg a tap; an instruction to move it aside. He did, causing pins and needles to infest his nerves like ants swarming on a log to escape a flood.

Knelt between his spread legs, you brought the glass to your lips again, sipping at the amber liquid. You leaned in.

Dean watched you, breathing shallow, attention rapt. You hadn’t so much as touched him, yet every nerve in his body felt like it was on fire in the best possible way. The closer you got the shallower he breathed until he was almost holding his breath, looking down his nose at how close your lips were. His eyelashes looked to flutter against his cheeks just as yours did when you brushed your whiskey dappled lips against his.

He refused to lick where you had been. He couldn’t. As soon as he tasted, he would pounce, and…

“Don’t.” He croaked out when you moved to lay your lips on him once more.

You looked confused but at least you didn’t look hurt. He couldn’t bear it if you looked hurt because of him.

“Bobby…” Was all he could say through his constricting throat.

You smiled then, full of amusement, lips brushing against his, you whispered “he’ll understand.”

Dean tried not to respond to you but you coaxed his lips apart and teased your tongue to meet his, short circuiting his brain. The taste of the scotch and the sweetness of your mouth made him groan. He had fantasised about having you for years, but never did he think it would be you seducing him.

His hands on your hips guided you roughly to straddle him, the bulge in his jeans pushing up against you as you settled. He took the glass from your hands and downed the contents, his eyes on yours as he dropped the glass carelessly on the bedside unit.

Your lips met his again but this time you devoured each other, tongues stroking together, moans stifled by each other’s mouths. He trailed his hands up your body, dragging your t-shirt along with them. Finally, he could see what he had been having glimpses of this whole evening. Plush breasts cupped in scant lace that was completely impractical for a hunt, Dean realised, like you had meant to come here like this. You had intended this from the beginning.

He tore at the lace, dragging it under your breasts to free them, shoulder straps slipped down. Pawing at them like he had never touched a tittie before, all he wanted to do was suck and nip and nibble.

Your breathy sigh was divine, and the moan that followed was filthy. You cupped the back of his head as he took your nipple into his mouth and sucked hard, pressing him further, asking for more.

While he worked on your breasts you undid his belt and fly, reaching into the front of his shorts to release him from the awkward angle at which he was trapped. You stroked him, firm but slow, feeling him for the first time. You had always wondered what he had going on down there that every woman he had ever been with would come back for more at the drop of a hat. You weren’t disappointed.

Dean lifted his hips, you thought to allow you to push his jeans down but instead he flipped you, making you squeal. Once under him, he ravished your breasts anew, pinching one nipple hard while licking and sucking the other. Soon you were a mewling mess, hips writhing, begging for something he hadn’t given you yet. Excited that he had taken control away from you, you watched him sit up and yank your jeans down, lifting your legs until they were bare. Your knickers followed and he spread your legs without preamble, lowering himself between your thighs until his hair and eyes were all you could see above your mound.

“Jesus Christ of Nazareth!”

You groaned as he suckled against your sensitive spot. Fuck, he was good with his tongue. Everything about him was good except his image. Bad boy Dean Winchester. He was every woman’s wet dream. He had been your wet dream since you were seventeen. But now you were plenty old enough and finally getting what you wanted.

Bobby had told you to stay away from him when you were a kid. Dean had a reputation as a ladies man even then, but he respected your uncle Bobby enough to keep his distance… until now.

Dean dipped two fingers inside, creating pressure in exactly the right spot. You gasped and gripped his hair as your pleasure began to crest, tugging on it for dear life. He looked up at you then, to see your eyes closed against the intensity of it, neck and face flushed red with your oncoming orgasm. When it came, the pulsing of your core was his sign to slow down. He left off his suckling and stroked you through the pleasure, watching you all the while. You were a beautiful mess.

“That’s my girl.” He praised you in that deep rough tone you adored, helping prolong your climax until you took his hand away yourself. “Are you ready for me?”

You nodded, allowing him to lift your knees up and stroke the weeping tip of his cock over your swollen clit.

From the front pocket of the jeans he still wore, he pulled a foil packet with Trojan embossed on it. He was swift with its application, aiming his tip just so.

When he slid home, your eyes rolled back and you reached to grip his forearms. It was something Dean would never get tired of seeing but it felt that much different with you. You were the forbidden thing he had always wanted but could never have. Even now he didn’t know whether he would come to regret this. God, he hoped not.

Balls deep in you, he leaned forward to kiss you, wrapping your legs around his hips. His instinct was to fold you in half and pound the living shit out of you, but you were already overwhelmed and he wanted to make this soft for you.

“Tell me what you need.” He spoke softly as he nuzzled your neck.

“Just you, like this.” You sighed. Who knew Dean Winchester was a considerate lover.

His slow, measured thrusts brought you closer to the edge, your core fluttering each time, he could feel it. It surprised him how quickly is climax built at this pace, but the added connection you both shared seemed to turn him on. He would never give up Busty Asian Babe porn but he could get used to this with you.

You didn’t close your eyes against the pleasure this time, you watched him come undone above you, gasping as his orgasm made his legs and arms shake, muscles clenched tight to keep his weight from collapsing on you. When he swelled you dug your fingers into his hips to pull him deeper with each stroke, and when he spilled you also came, eyes fluttering shut finally.

Dean knelt up, slipping the rubber off as soon as he was clear of you and, tying a knot in the end, tossed it in the direction of the trash can.

“Shot.” You said with a smile as the sticky bundle went straight in the can.

He quirked and eyebrow and give you a slightly smug lopsided smirk that said: What can I say? I don’t miss.

When you moved to sit, he stopped you.

“Here, lemme get that.”

“Thanks.”

He stripped his t-shirt off and used it to clean up the wetness between your legs. Though none of it was his, it would still dribble when you moved. Afterwards he tucked it under your ass and flopped down on the bed at your side, moving his arm behind your head so you could rest it on his chest. You were both content. Both had goofy grins on your faces. Both disbelieving that you had finally gotten what you wanted.

A loud knock at the door started you.

“Are you done?” Sam said. “I need that book.”

“NO!” You and Dean shouted back in unison, laughing afterwards.

“Bobby’s gonna kill you.” Sam called back through the door.

“I KNOW!” Dean yelled gruffly, pulling you closer.

There might be a time in the future where the ghost of Bobby Singer came to make him regret the day his balls dropped and, if it happened, Dean would be happy to see him again. In the meantime, you and he could work on a whole bunch of reasons to make the cranky old bastard come down from up high for a visit.

Dean pulled the sheets over both of your heads, nibbling at your neck until you moaned his name. Aside from the roar of Baby’s engine, he had found his new favourite sound.

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #supernatural fic #spn fanfic #dean winchester fic

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ajvocals43 · 2 months

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Admiring Dean - Headcannon

Dean's turn!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Dean being cute and soft, mentions of post sex, mentions of fighting, vampires, no swearing.

My masterlist

Whilst doing research:

The three of you; Sam, Dean and you, had been researching for hours.

Because the bunker didn't have any windows, it was difficult to tell the time of day.

You glanced at the little clock in the corner of your laptop screen, realising it was nearing 2 a.m.

Raising your arms above your head, you let out a yawn before collapsing in your chair. You look over at Dean, taking note of his furrowed brows as he concentrates on what he’s looking at on his laptop.

You glance around him, noting the food wrappers and empty beer bottles, similar to your area at the table.

For once, Sam was falling asleep at the desk, having grown too tired to keep researching despite the numerous cups of coffee. “Guys, I’m calling it a night.” He slams his computer shut and stands up, half-heartedly waving goodnight.

Dean looks towards you, raising his eyebrows at you. “You ready to hit the hay too?”

You smile at him, nodding your head.

He stands up after shutting his laptop, walking over to your side of the table. He’s wearing your favourite red flannel, sleeves rolled up, jeans and boots. The best combination.

You look up at him, taking his hand that he had out to offer and follow him to your shared bedroom. As you get ready, you take glances to peak at him, enjoying the view of his torso as he strips out of his flannel and into a t-shirt to sleep in.

You climb into bed, Dean climbing in on his own side. He reaches over you, hand on your waist, pressing a quick but passionate kiss to your lips.

“You know, you can always take a picture, I won’t mind.” He says with a wink.

A blush creeps up to your cheeks, a small smile presenting itself.

“Sorry, can’t help myself sometimes. You’re irresistible.”

“Am I now? Would you like to show me how irresistible I am?” He raises a brow.

“Oh absolutely.” You reply, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him down back to your lips.

In bed:

Dean was panting, laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. He only had the thin motel sheet covering his otherwise naked body.

You had just gone to the bathroom, having just finished up and walking back out to rejoin him.

His muscular torso was raising up and down with his breathing, his arms above his head, accentuating his biceps.

He looks over towards you as you crawl back into bed, reaching out for you to lay on his chest.

You stare up at him, brushing your hands through his hair. It was already messy, having run your fingers through it not 10 minutes ago.

“I love you.” You whisper.

He angles himself to be able to get a better look at you. “I love you. So much.”

He presses a kiss to your lips. Different from before. Before was filled with passion. Need. This one was filled with love. Happiness. Contentment.

Everything about Dean felt right. He was perfect.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, pulling the sheet up over you, making sure you were covered and not too cold.

The two of you get more comfortable, facing each other, arms wrapped around waists, falling asleep not long after.

When he’s asleep:

It was most mornings when you woke up before Dean.

It was your favourite way to start the day.

You opened your eyes, having woken up to the sun blaring through the window.

You roll over to find Dean still asleep next to you.

He had one arm under the pillow, most likely holding onto the gun hidden under there. The other was stretched over the bed towards you, unconsciously reaching out for you.

Your eyes mapped out his face, taking note of the freckles that dotted over his face, eyelashes that you envied lying on his upper cheek.

His breathing was even, looking ever so peaceful as he slept.

It had been a while since he had nightmares, stopping when the two of you started dating and sleeping in the same bed. You were glad that there was something you could do that would allow him to have much deserved moment of peace.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Dean mumbled.

You smile as he peaks one eye open.

“What time is it?” He asks.

“7:30.”

“Nope, we’re going back to sleep.” He pulls you to him by your waist, holding you there so you couldn’t escape.

“Dean, we have to get up. We need to be in Portland in two days. Come on.”

Dean groans, releasing you from his warm entrapment.

As you get up to go to the bathroom, you take him in one last time.

He furrows his brow as a flash goes off, opening his eyes to see your phone pointing at him.

“Oops, forgot to turn the flash off.”

He jumps up just as you start running to the bathroom, making it just in time to close the door before he can get you.

“You’ll pay for that one, Sweetheart!” You hear.

You giggle as you turn the shower on, smiling at the picture you took of Dean.

When he saves you:

It was vampires. They were everywhere.

There were more than you three had expected but you still charged in, slicing the heads off of the ones that charged at you.

You had easily killed 15 each, but there were still more.

You were starting to feel the fatigue of fighting furiously for the last half an hour, but you kept powering through.

The grunts of Sam and Dean fighting could be heard in the background, which you used as fuel to keep going and not worry about them.

When you thought you had gotten them all, you breathed a sigh of relief. You went searching for Dean and Sam, when another vampire came running at you from behind.

You barely had time to scream, as the vampire grabbed you from behind, throwing you on the ground.

You grunted as you hit the floor, rolling to get back up when the vampire climbed on top of you, fangs out ready to pierce your skin.

She leaned down, her face quickly turning from anger to fear and shock. She fell off of you to the side, a knife sticking out of her back.

Dean was standing behind her, holding a jar full of dead man’s blood. “Had to put this dead guy to use, hey?”

You let out a sigh of relief, letting Dean help you up. He wraps his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. “You okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, you?” You respond with a nod.

“Yeah.”

Dean leads you out to the Impala, where Sam is waiting.

He squeezes your hand, opening the passenger door for you.

“Am I not sitting in the back?” You ask.

“Nah, Sammy can sit in the back for once. You’re sitting with me.” Dean respond. You look at Sam, silently asking for reassurance.

He nods in return, giving you a smile before climbing into the backseat.

You climb in, Dean closing the door and walking around to get into the driver's seat.

As he drives off, you move closer to him, leaning against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around you, getting comfortable as you set off for the nearest motel.

#supernatural imagines #dean winchester #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester imagines #spn #dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester drabble

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ajvocals43 · 2 months

Photo

BRIDGERTON Season 2 + tumblr (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9) and one twitter posts (7)

#bridgerton #bridgertonedit #perioddramaedit #kathonyedit #bridgertondaily #kate sharma #anthony bridgerton #netflix #bridgerton spoilers

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ajvocals43 · 2 months

Text

Listen I know I have the second book already, however the absolute feral feeling I have in my chest will not be quenched until I have consumed this entire series-

I want to bite it with my teeth, God help me

#haunting adeline #hunting adeline #cat and mouse duet #h. d. carlton

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ajvocals43 · 2 months

Note

"Which is toddler for my hands are cold and I'm about to make it your problem"

How Does Bucky help us take care of this transferred problem?

Bucky knows exactly how to warm you up.

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader

WC: Drabble

A/N: Unbetad, written on my phone.

You have this sixth sense when it comes to Bucky. It's like your body has been finely tuned to react to him whenever he's in your vicinity. It's why you don't turn around when you hear snow crunching behind you. You know it's him.

The masculine scent of his cologne, deep amberwood, and vanilla, surrounds you. His hand curves around your hip while his arm moves around your belly and he pulls you into his chest.

Bucky runs hot and not even the brisk, fresh breeze coming off the snowcapped mountains can cool him down.

Not that you mind. You lean into him, sighing softly at the feel of his warm, soft lips chaining passionate, languid kisses up the side of your cool throat.

"My poor Malyshka," he murmurs, his baritone rolls across your skin. "Let me warm you up."

His hand eases across your hip and up your jacket and cashmere sweater. His large palm splays across your soft belly, the heat from his body melts into you. "Better?"

Yes.

No.

He feels good, wrapped around you like this. You barely notice the cold wind whipping around the two of you.

But that's the problem.

He feels too good. His touch is addictive and you crave more of it. It's not enough.

Bucky patiently waits for your answer, his lips moving to the other side of your throat, kiss after slow, heady kiss lining your skin, you instinctively tilt your head to give him more access.

"Yes. That's nice," you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut. He makes it so easy to let go and let him take over.

He finds that sensitive area beneath your ear and gently nips and sucks, sending a heady shiver down your spine. He feels it, the calloused pads of his fingertips dig into your belly and he manages to pull you even closer to his large body. "I can't wait to get you alone so I can properly warm you up Malyshka."

He's planning on taking his time with you. He's going to kiss every inch of your body. Bucky's going make sure you're nice and ready for him.

When you are, when you feel you can't stand it another minute long, when you're aching for him so bad that desire and lust and pure need is blazing through your veins, then he's going to give you everything you want. Again and again and again.

And he won't stop until you swear you're going to shatter. You might not be able to walk tomorrow but it's going to be worth it.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x black!reader #mafia!bucky #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes

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ajvocals43 · 2 months

Note

What’s worse for Bucky- when Bee cries or when Malyshka cries?

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky x Reader, daughter nicknamed Bumblebee.

CW: Fluff, implied smut.

When little Bee cries, Bucky automatically goes into protective dad mode.

She's a happy baby who's becoming an even happier, sweet toddler. She is also the most protected child on the east coast thanks to Bucky crafting a safe environment around her.

So Bucky knows when she's upset, it's most likely because she's tired and cranky and needs a nap. He knows how to get her to settle down, Bucky has put important meetings on hold so she could lay in his arms until she fell asleep.

She might cry when her head or tummy hurts, and like any child her age, she doesn't know how to convey what's wrong except by crying. It's okay though because Bucky can tell what's wrong by the way she behaves. And he knows how to make her feel better, whether it's with his grandma's soup or medicine hidden in some juice.

She's an active, imaginative little girl who's currently battling three dragons, it's inevitable that she's going to fall down and hurt her knee or hand. She knows all she needs to do is find her Papa and he'll help her.

Bucky has so many tips and tricks up his sleeve, things he's learned from his grandparents, friends, and the baby books he studied when Bee was still baking away in her mama's belly.

So Bucky doesn't really panic when his little girl cries because he knows that between him and her mama, they'll fix whatever is wrong.

But when his wife cries, oh that's an entirely different story.

Bucky considers himself a reasonable, level-headed man. Until someone upsets his wife. His stoic nature goes right out the window and a more primal side of him takes over. No one makes Bucky's wife cry and gets away with it. All he needs is a name and he's going to make things even.

He's an eye for an eye kinda man.

If someone makes the love of his life cry then Bucky makes them regret waking up this morning. It's more than fair.

There are other times when she cries that elicit a slighty different response from him.

When she was pregnant and hormonal, he learned to adapt to her rapidly changing, unpredictable moods. Bucky never teased her when she kept crying during movies or that one ridiculously sad commercial. He soothed and comforted her every time it happened. Let her cry on his shoulder while he rubbed her back.

If she woke up in the middle of the night in tears because she had a craving but her favorite restaurant was closed, Bucky merely made a call and would you look at that? Who knew Antonio's had a midnight delivery service, of course they serve their full menu at 1am.

Bad day? Overwhelmed and so stressed out that the only thing she can do is cry? Bucky knows a few ways to make it right, to take her mind off everything. It works. Every. Single. Time.

There is one exception to the rule.

There are a few instances when Bucky doesn't mind seeing his pretty wife with tears in her eyes.

That's when she's under him. On top of him. Bent over his desk. On all fours in front of their bedroom mirror. Mascara streaming down the sides of her face, eyes rolled back and her hands digging into his back as he goes deeper and faster.

He loves turning her into a pliant, whimpering fucked out mess. Loves seeing her struggle to take it. Loves the way he stretches her limits until she breaks around him. Loves cleaning up the mess he made.

Those tears—the ones that fill her beautiful eyes right around the time he's flipping her over and taking her for the third time that night—those tears turn him on, make him want to ruin her just a little more than he already has. So he does.

Bucky believes the only time his wife should cry is when he's making her feel so good she can't help it. That's the only exception. Anything else is unacceptable.

#sweet asks #mafia!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot

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