breakablebarnes - Tumblr blog

breakablebarnes · 3 months

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Tardy

Hi friends! So, my poor wips are sobbing in their graveyard (jk I swear I’m working on them—or at least trying) but that didn’t stop me from writing this piece. I was inspired by some…audio, and I just couldn’t help myself. I am a sucker for college!bucky and when inspiration strikes, I try to take it. I hope you guys enjoy xo.

All mistakes are my own, this was not beta’d. Massive shout out to my forever college!bucky muse @bitchassbucky 🤍

Pairing: college!bucky x college!reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: explicit language, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex (don’t be like them—safe sex is best!), slight breeding kink if you squint, praise kink, pet names, fluffy morning sex, goofy established relationship talk, and SMUT 18+ ONLY (MINORS DNI)

By clicking on read more you agree that you have read the above warnings and are at least 18 years of age or older.

“Bucky!” You squealed, laughing as you felt your body being pulled backwards into the bed–metal hand wrapped in the hem of your sleep shirt.

The softness of the bed welcomed you back as Bucky hovered over you with a grin plastered on his face. You had long forgotten how many times you had been pulled back into bed since your initial alarm went off. As you gazed upon the man before you, a warmth began to work its way up your body–beginning at your toes and ending just before your shoulders. Bucky’s hair was equivalent only to a bird's nest–strands going in every which direction, molded by his pillow during sleep. Not to mention the puffiness to his eyes, indicating that the two of you stayed up entirely too late last night to be trying to get up for your first class of the day on time.

Small lines decorated each side of his nose as he looked down upon you, his own cerulean eyes taking in every square inch of your face. The familiar warm feeling flushing your body caused a nervous giggle to slip from your chest and your toes to curl slightly. Each time Bucky looked at you, it gave the reminiscent feeling of how you felt the night the two of you had met. In fact, he still looked at you like he did that night–like every time was the first time he fell in love with you all over again.

Bucky was a lot of things but there was nothing he was more than hopelessly and desperately in love with you.

“I need to go to class, Buck.” Your fingers toyed with the shirt that hung from his body, attempting to make your voice sound stern and serious.

“Mmm, no. I don’t think you do.” Bucky retorted softly, leaning down and pressing his lips against your jaw.

Your fingers slowly curled around the material of his shirt–a breath catching in your throat as his lips moved deliberately across the curve of your jaw. Bucky’s lips moved at a painstakingly slow pace, but each move was calculated–he knew the exact place in which to put his lips to make you forget all about anything that wasn’t him.

Effortlessly, Bucky moved from his position beside you to be directly over your frame. Both of his hands found home on either side of your head as his lips continued to work their way down to your neck. Your brain was still yelling at you to get up and not ditch class again–but all you could muster up was a pathetic, barely there tug on Bucky’s shirt. The action did practically nothing except earn a small chuckle from your boyfriend.

“C’mon, baby…” Bucky trailed off as his lips worked against your pulse point, sucking gently before pulling off with a small pop.

“Just a little makin’ out…we can still make it to class on time.”

Now it was your turn to laugh.

“It’s never ‘just making out’ with you, Barnes.” You grumbled, feeling your body melt into the bed.

Bucky simply grinned in response as he continued to move his lips along the expanse of your neck–alternating between kisses and sucks.

A groan passed through your lips and all thoughts of class drifted from your head as you felt Bucky’s hips rest against your own. It wasn’t difficult to notice the growing erection through the thin material of his basketball shorts, especially with the way his hips rolled slowly against yours. As you tried to get your mind to focus on Bucky’s current movements, you felt his hand drift down toward your thigh–his fingertips featherlight as they dragged upwards from your knee.

Shortly after your eyes fluttered closed, the warmth of Bucky’s lips had been removed from your neck. Your mouth shaped into a pout as you opened your eyes to see Bucky’s grinning face above yours once more. Before you had a chance to complain, however, his lips were pressed against your own. The familiar taste of mint toothpaste invaded your senses as his tongue earned entry into your mouth. You reached up to tangle one of your hands into his brown locks as you tried to hold him as close to you as possible.

Kissing Bucky was like something else entirely. There was something about the way his lips moved with yours that made your head feel light and airy. Each kiss from him was somehow different than the last–a mixture of hard and soft, slow and rushed, frantic and calculated. If there were no restrictions or regulations on how you had to spend your time, you would spend every last second of it with your lips pressed against his.

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, chuckling softly as your face continued to chase after his. Huffing, you opened your eyes to pout at him once more. Buck ignored your pout as he reached forward and brushed a strand of hair from your face. Your eyes couldn’t help but train on his tongue as it darted out to wet his lips.

“Wanna taste you…” Bucky’s words were several octaves lower than they had been previously, the bass tones from his voice sending electric shocks through your body, “Can I do that, baby?”

The last few words faded almost to a whisper–a subtle decrescendo that lit every nerve-ending in your body ablaze with desire. Unable to properly form a response, you simply nodded your head with great fervor.

Bucky made quick work of moving himself down between your legs and peeling your panties off–tossing them behind himself with no concern about where they ended up. Bucky’s large hands pushed your t-shirt up your abdomen, just above your belly button as he leaned his head against the inner part of your knee with a sigh.

“There she is.” He whispered softly.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the man between your legs.

“What did we say about you talking to my vagina, Buck?” You chastised, doing your best to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest.

It was obvious that he had tuned you out–completely oblivious to the fact that you were even talking at all, let alone at him.

Gently, Bucky’s fore and middle finger dragged down your slit. You bit your lip at the sensation, watching intently how his lips parted as he looked at your glistening core and the way his fingers glided across the soft skin.

The look in his eyes, however, quickly turned from admiration to hunger and lust. Licking his lips, Bucky leaned in and pressed a kiss to the top of your mound before dragging his tongue slowly through your folds. You felt yourself inhale sharply as your fists clenched around the bed sheets. You had absolutely no earthly idea how you could still be so sensitive from the night before–a solid 8-10 hours having passed since the last time you had found yourself in this position.

Bucky’s tongue moved slowly up and down your folds at first–his head moving in a linear motion up to the top of your clit and down to the edge of your hole. Each pass of his tongue made your breathing quicken, your fingers dig tighter into the sheets they were wrapped around. The long, languid motions of his tongue turned into broad, short strokes–eventually transitioning into small, rapid flicking motions over your clit. A broken moan tumbled from you as you felt your hips begin to jerk against his mouth, desperate for more friction. Just as you felt your hips lower back to the bed, you felt Bucky’s large hands splayed across your hip bones–tethering your body down.

Just as he kissed, Bucky always made sure to use several different techniques when it came to eating your pussy. There was never a distinct pattern–sometimes alternating between long strokes and shaking his head back and forth to spelling out a love letter to you with his tongue on your clit. This morning there was simply too much going on for you to even begin to focus on exactly what it was he was doing–all you knew is that it felt fucking amazing.

“Jesus–fuck–Bucky, right there! Oh my god, please do that again.” You whined loudly as he took your clit into his mouth and hummed around it.

Bucky obediently followed your command, dragging one of his hands away from your hips to gently press the tip of his finger against your hole. As he repeated his action once more, he pressed his finger inside of you at the same time–turning his wrist so that he could curl his finger upwards inside of you. A string of, “yes”s poured from your mouth as you began to rock your hips against his mouth once more. The pressure building in the bottom of your abdomen was reaching its peak.

“C’mon, baby. I want you to cum all over my face–can you be a good girl and do that for me, hmm?” Bucky smirked as you desperately nodded for him, “Mmm, that’s right. Of course you can.”

Bucky’s mouth attached itself to you and he wasted no time in adding an additional finger into your dripping pussy. The sounds coming from Bucky’s mouth were absolutely obscene–mixed with the sound coming from the quick thrusting of his fingers was enough to almost make him cum on the spot. Bucky’s hips ground into the bed as he mumbled into your cunt.

“Atta girl, you can do it, give it to me.”

The combination of his mouth, fingers, and encouragement quickly caused the band within your abdomen to snap. Bucky hungrily lapped up your release, still moving his fingers just enough to help you ride out your high. Your hips stuttered slightly as you grabbed his wrist, holding it in place to cut down on some of the stimulation to your sensitive cunt. Your head fell back against the pillows as you panted, tossing an arm over your eyes for a moment in an attempt to rest and catch your breath. A soft pair of lips could be felt on the inner part of your thighs and the removal of his fingers from your channel caused you to whine.

“You did such a good job, baby. Taste so fuckin’ good.”

The pair of lips found home on your hip bones, moving slowly toward the middle part of your abdomen as you sighed–breathing finally coming back to a normal tempo. Dropping your hand back to your side, you looked down at your boyfriend as he kissed along your soft belly. His hair dangled slightly in front of his face, but it was still possible to make out the soft movements of his lips against your skin. As though he could feel your eyes on him, Bucky looked up at you from under his lashes–a giant grin spreading across his face as his gaze landed upon yours. Pulling up from your skin, the grin stayed in place as he tilted his head to the side.

“You wanna fuck now?” The words left his lips as though they were the simplest thing in the world to say. Almost as if the connotation meant something completely different to him than it did to anyone else.

And for some reason–that was so, so hot.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you nodded once more at him. Defying the impossible, the grin on his face somehow grew even bigger. Bucky quickly rid himself of his clothes–his cock bobbing against the edge of his abdomen slightly as it was freed. It appeared as though you could see it throb with anticipation as he spit into his hand and pumped himself a few times.

Bucky helped you move your legs open and back for him, lining his cock to your entrance before coming down onto his hands again on either side of your face. Although you had been in this position with him before, there was something so vulnerable about the moments before the two of you had sex. It seemed as though every time Bucky had to take in your face, your body–every inch of you before he could start. This time was no different.

As his eyes gazed upon your body and settled finally on your own, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Can I cum inside you this time?” His voice was barely audible.

His question sent a shiver down your spine and if you weren’t biting your lip–you probably would’ve moaned.

It wasn’t a smart idea. You knew it wasn’t a smart idea. Sure, you were on an effective form of birth control–but you knew that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Bucky would never pressure you into doing something you didn’t want to and you knew that he would gladly reach inside the bedside table and put on a condom if you told him you weren’t comfortable with it. But that little voice in the back of your head just kept saying…

“Yes.” You whispered back, looking deep into his eyes as you reached up and held his face in your hands, “Please. I want you to cum inside me.”

The two of you were silent for a moment–your tandem heavy breathing the only sound filling the room before Bucky leaned down and kissed you harshly. You gladly returned the intensity and felt the excitement begin to bubble up within you.

The two of you had been close, intimate–but never quite like this.

Bucky pulled back slowly before looking down, pushing the tip of his cock into your entrance before looking up to make eye contact with you as he pushed the rest of the way inside. Lips parted, eyebrows furrowed together, and a soft sound of pleasure on your lips.

Bucky thought you looked like a goddamn Monet.

You exhaled a shaky breath as you tried to relax and allow your body to adjust to the stretch and burn that came along with Bucky burying himself inside of you. Tremoring hands wrapped themselves around his neck as you pulled him down to kiss him again—delicate and slow, soft lips against chapped.

Bucky groaned as he heard you whisper a soft, “more.” Gently, he began to move his hips in a rhythmic motion against yours. The feeling of your warmth enveloping him was enough to make Bucky bust on the spot. The two of you remained forehead to forehead as Bucky began to find his pace.

One of the things you loved the most about Bucky was how vocal he was whenever the two of you were intimate with one another. Bucky wasn’t afraid to moan, to speak. As his hips began to find a rhythm the two of you recited breathy moans into one each others mouths.

“Fuck, baby.” Bucky groaned, voice never reaching above a whisper, “you feel so fucking good.”

Your hands tangled themselves into his hair as your back arched off the bed. Due to the lack of barrier between the two of you—you molded to every ridge, vein, and thrust. One particular movement of his hips had you gasping loudly and tugging particularly hard on his hair.

A breathless chuckle echoed above you.

“Did I find your spot, baby?” Bucky adjusted himself so that his hands were wrapped around your hips and his cock hit the target with every single thrust.

“Oh my god, Bucky, please don’t stop!” You squealed as your eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy.

Bucky faltered slightly as he saw the way your face contorted in pleasure. A small curse fell from his lips as he began speeding up his thrusts, desperate to make you feel your absolute best.

“I know you’re—fuck—know you’re close, baby. Play with your clit for me, want you to make a mess on my cock.” Bucky grunted as he pulled one of your legs over his shoulder to gain some leverage.

You opened your eyes to look at him, jaw hung slack as the warmth began to build in your body. Maintaining eye contact you slipped a hand between your legs and began to rub your clit in tight circles.

“Fuck.” The sound was high pitched, breathy—almost whiney as it came from Bucky’s mouth.

The combined sensation of your fingers on your clit and the tip of Bucky’s cock reaching deeper and deeper inside of you with each thrust has you tumbling over the edge before you even had a chance to warn him.

The lower half of your body shook from the intensity of your orgasm as Bucky let out a string of curses as you squeezed the life out of his cock. His motions slowed just a touch as you rode out your high. As your vision came back to you, you looked up at your boyfriend—face pink tinged and sweaty as he worked above you, hair still wild from sleep.

Bucky had made you feel incredible from the moment you woke up. Even though you knew he was feeling just fine right now, you also knew how much he loved when you were on top. Licking your lips and attempting to bring moisture back to your throat, you spoke.

“Baby, baby—let me be on top. Please? I wanna ride you, please.”

Bucky muttered something you couldn’t quite hear before pulling out and readjusting the two of you on the end so you were straddling his waist. Strong, calloused hands grabbed your face with an intensity that made your cheeks squish together.

“I fucking love you, God, I fucking love you so much.” Bucky’s lips came crashing onto yours as you laughed breathlessly into the kiss.

As you pulled away you gave him a small smile before looking down and grabbing his cock—leading him into your entrance and sliding back onto him. Both of you moaned, this time Bucky was the one to lean his head back with his eyes shut tight. You began to move your hips in small circles as you adjusted once more to him.

“Slow, slow, slow—fuck.” Bucky pleaded. The desperation in his voice went straight to your dripping cunt.

His strong hands once more found home on your hips as he helped you move against him.

One hand placed against his chest as the other groped and kneaded your breast, rolling your nipples with your fingers as you moaned.

“So goddamn perfect, baby. God you’re fucking incredible.” Bucky panted as his eyes traveled along your body. Jaw falling open as he watched the way his cock disappeared inside of you with each movement of your hips.

“You wanna make me cum, hmm? You gonna make me cum in that pretty little cunt?”

You nodded your head desperately as you began to move your hips even faster.

“Please, I want you to fill me up so bad, Buck. Wanna feel you for weeks.”

“Go ahead, go on baby, use your cock. Make me cum.” Bucky grunted, digging his fingers again into your hips.

Placing both hands on his shoulders you began to alternate between circling your hips and bouncing up and down on him. Bucky’s moans quickly changed to whimpers and became more and more breathy as you moved up and down on him.

“That’s it, oh fuck baby, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna—“ Bucky moaned loudly, his head falling back against the wall with a thud as he painted your walls with his spend.

Even as he was cursing and panting through his peak, Bucky slipped two fingers between your body’s and circled your clit for you. A few rolls of your hips was all it took before you were following behind him.

As you came down from your high, your body slumped against Bucky. Bare chest to bare chest, the two of you lay panting and sweaty as you tried to regain strength and slow your breathing.

“You…are fucking amazing.” Bucky finally spoke after a few moments.

You were unable to hold back your laughter at your boyfriend’s nonchalant attitude. As you sat up and looked at him, Bucky joined you in your laughter.

“And you’re…something else.” You giggled as Bucky gave you a grin and squeezed your hips.

The two of you stayed connected for a few moments before Bucky gently pulled himself out of you. After getting up and grabbing a towel to clean you up with, Bucky spread your legs gently—earning a groan accompanied by dragging his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby. Watching my cum drip out of you is…” Bucky trailed off, mesmerized at your mixed release.

You whined and hid your face, embarrassed at the way your boyfriend was gazing upon you. After a moment, Bucky gently cleaned you up before disposing of the towel and crawling back into bed with you.

The two of you embraced—your head nuzzling into his neck as he wrapped his arms around you. You let out a blissful sigh as you felt your body form to his once more.

“Told you it’s never just making out with you.” You teased, grinning as you felt his body move as he chuckled.

Bucky’s lips pressed against your forehead and the two of you laid in silence for a few moments.

“You know, trying new things seems to work out pretty good for us…” Bucky spoke in a cheeky tone, causing you to laugh.

You nuzzled your head further into him as you hummed.

“Mmm, yeah. You’re right. Have something in mind?”

Bucky was quiet for a moment as he dragged his fingers up and down your spine.

“What do you think about a threesome?”

#breakablesbarnes rec

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breakablebarnes · 3 months

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You Are Art

Request : College!Bucky x Artist!Reader where Bucky is a nude model partner for life drawing.

Warnings - smut, soft sex Words - 2.3k AN - Me personally, would draw Soldat. ;o

All art is a kind of confession, more or less oblique—because one eye sees, the other feels. And the human form that you need to draw will include a physiological precondition that is indispensable—intoxication, lust. If you can say your feelings for him in words, there would be no reason to paint him—you wouldn't have asked him to be your model.

Bucky grows pale as death, he gazes into your eyes with a strange, wild, reproachful look as his lips tremble and vainly endeavors to form some words, then his mouth twisted into an incongruous smile. “Should I…undress now?” His face gave evidence of suffering. You are considerably amazed. “Yeah if you are comfortable? Does something worry you?” “I have scars” Bucky says all this perfectly seriously, and without the slightest appearance of joking, indeed, he seems strangely gloomy.

“There is no need to-”you say, seriously and with deference.

Never judge a work of art by its defects―Washington Allston “I want to, I promised you”

He interrupts suddenly, with a look of weariness, focusing on his lungs, on his ability to take a deep breath, to soothe with oxygen as the word rolls off his tongue. He is a handsome man, rather stout, with a very polite and dignified manner. He is always well dressed, and his clothes are always exquisite. Your conscience very soon informs you that is the proper narrative to tell. You met in the first semester, he is a business major looking to commission an artist for his project. You admit, that among the many silly and thoughtless actions of your life, the memory of that encounter comes prominently forward and reminds you that it lay long like a stone on your heart—ever since that, you stayed friends—it makes sense, doesn't it? For him to return the favor. There are a few seconds of dead silence before he goes to your small coach to undress. You eyes are flashing in a most unmistakable way, lips were all quiver as you observe his back muscles flexing. You try to speak, to reassure him, but can’t form words, a great weight seems to lie upon your breast, suffocating you. He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. You lick your lips, trying to quench the mental thirst for him—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. There is a frightened feeling, which makes him scowl and feel ashamed while removing his jacket and shirt until he is fully naked.

As you sit, your eyes turn to the blank canvas, squinting at it in the dwindling light, trying to concentrate. Then you gaze out the window, study the way snow clings to the spruce beside the building, and wonder how you will manage on your own once you have received your degree. With a sinking heart and a nervous tremor, he finally turns to face you. “So you just want me to sit here?” he whispers at last, drawing his breath with an effort, his nerves are terribly overstrained by now. He is sober, but the excitement of this chaotic situation—the strangest day of his life—has affected him so much that he was in a dazed, wild condition, which almost resembles drunkenness “Okay I will just sit here”

Bucky sits on the bar stool that is next to your canvas and his eyes fall upon yours, stop short, grow white as a sheet, and stares motionless, it is clear that his heart was beating painfully. He is gazing intently, but timidly, for a few seconds. Suddenly, as though bereft of his senses, he moves a bit, putting his hands on his tights. He knows that he won’t get hard—worry empties any dirty thoughts he might have. You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation. In spite of this scornful reflection of his current mental state, he is looking cheerful as though he is suddenly set free from the terrible burden of worry and he gazes round. “Just don’t move I need to start with the sketch” You crack your fingers nervously before picking up the piece of charcoal—you stare at him, mentally measuring the propositions which helps you with the composition and scale. As an artist, you dip your brush in your own soul, you paint him with love—but you love him beyond words, beyond paint. And you hope Bucky will feel that once he sees the finished art. “Just tell me when you need a break” “Yeah, okay” he answers firmly, after a brief pause. Your voice is positively reflecting a sort of radiance on his face. You think, staring at him deliberately, that it is just another life painting, simply that's his body, his face, that are his eyes, his nose, and yet at the same time, It's a miracle, it's an ecstasy. And your only concern is to capture his beauty. “It is turning out amazing” you continue, pursuing the whirling ideas that chases each other in your brain “You are art, Bucky” He feels a hammering in his head and a faint smile shows on his face. His eyes are riveted upon yours, at first reluctantly and, as it is, resentfully, and then more and more intently.

Why isn't he saying anything? Did you need to say that out loud? The one time you try to implement that you like him and… So you torture yourself, fretting with questions, and finding a kind of enjoyment in it. And yet all these questions are not new, but suddenly confronting you, they are old familiar aches—it grips and rends your heart—maybe he just sees you as a friend.

It tortures your heart and mind, clamoring insistently for an answer, but you don’t dare turn your eyes to him for several moments. Bucky’s heart is beating violently, and his brain is in turmoil. At that moment something seems to sting him; in an instant a complete revulsion of feeling comes over him. He suffers passively, realizing that his cock is getting hard, but that he must do something, do it at once, and do it quickly.

“Can we take a break now?”

“Of course” you are bewildered, and stare at him open-eyed. You spot it, you can’t miss such a big dick. He gets up and goes to sit on the couch, covering his private parts with his jacket. His thoughts stray aimlessly…he finds it hard to fix his mind on anything at that moment. He longs to forget himself altogether, to forget everything, and then to wake up and begin life anew.

“Things like that happen all the time, no need to be embarrassed. It is nature” Bucky ponders and rubs his forehead, strange to say, after long musing, a spontaneous and by chance, a fantastic idea comes to his mind—to be honest with you. “It is not because of nature” he says all at once, calmly, he has reached a final determination. That answer agitates you, but you keep uneasily seeking for some sinister significance. You get up, slowly moving closer to him, standing in front of his sitting form. Bucky looks at you, your yellow dress of some light silky material, but put on strangely awry, not properly hooked up, and torn open at the top of the skirt, full of colorful stains, close to the waist. You stare straight at him. For one instant, the look on your face, in your eyes, has him puzzled— then he recognizes it. Curiosity—you are shocked, stunned, or thrown into a maidenly fluster. You are curious, you want to hear more, searching his eyes, but couldn't read his thoughts beyond the fact that he is considering you, considering what to tell you. “It is because of you” He stills, but his confident smile doesn't waver.

There is no going back as he removes his jacket, inviting you to madness, to sit on his legs. The sight literally steals your breath. His defined body, his creaminess of his forehead and cheeks, and the determined line of his jaw, the soft vulnerability of his lips, slightly parted. You see the scars on his legs, but your gaze is more drawn to the long block stranding out from his pelvis.

The gorgeous curves of your body somehow delineated beneath taut fabric, his eyes wonder shamelessly to your pink lips simply begging to be kissed. Their shape is etched in his mind, he wants the taste to be imprinted on his senses. "Here? You want me to sit here, on your lap?" The word, weak though it is, accurately reflects your disbelief. Your legs feels suddenly heavy, drowsiness comes upon them.

"Right here. Right now.”

At this time, the setting, his words and the whole picture are so truth-like and filled with details so delicate, so unexpectedly—it leaves a powerful impression on the overwrought and deranged nervous system. You straddle him, knees dug into the couch beneath you, the solid columns of his thighs hard against your soft limbs. Bucky adjusts his hold as his hands slide about your waist, beneath your dress. You gasp desperately, clenching your hands on his shoulders, fingers sinking deep.

Then he lifts one hand, sliding one finger beneath your chin.

Your sensitive skin comes alive to his touch. He tips your face up so that your eyes lock on his with heavy lids, watching flaring passion light your eyes. Sparks of pure innocence and want flashes in the depths as he gently kneads, then sends his fingers of his other hand to glide over your silken back. Desire heightens, needs escalates—and he is in no rush, you are too important to rush—conquering your senses and body is not all that he wants. He wants you forever and even though he doesn’t have the talent of art, he has the one of love.

He takes possession of your lips, your mouth. His hard lips move on your, and you soften, not just your lips, but every muscle. Slow heat washes through your body. When he pulls back, you swallow, and drag in a desperately needed breath. It is all pleasure, simple love—you become softer—he becomes harder, needy. The touch of his eyes, the touch of his hands. Art. As he is savoring you again, the softness of your mouth is his to enjoy, you feel his desire, the hard, throbbing length pressing against your panties. The softness of your thighs pressing firmly on both sides of his legs as you slowly grind against his cock and you can feel him attempting to buck his hips up to meet yours. The tension, pouring off him in waves, eases, just a little. He sighs, and rests his forehead on yours. Your innocence is addictive, entrancing.

Bucky shivers, eyes shut tight―he lets a low, wickedly teasing laugh. “I love you”

His lips brushes your in an inexpressibly tender caress. You kiss him, sliding your hands up, framing his face, so you can let him know―let him feel―your response to his words.

“Are you okay with doing it like this?”he murmurs, his tone deep. You gaze at his eyes, slowly nodding. "Good" The word is a feral purr then his hand slid lower, to lightly caress, with just the barest touch, the sensitive skin, moving the panties aside and rubbing his fingers along your folds, stroking and sliding slowly into you. Sweet pleasure washes through you, making you moan softly. His thumb presses your clit, moving in slow circles as two fingers slide deeper, finding the spot that makes you tremble. There it is.

“I want you inside me, please” The smile on his face, curving those fascinating lips―you are flushed yet so bold with words. He withdraws his fingers. You lift your hips as he tugs and shifts them until he is aligned, but you don’t wait as you sink on his cock to the hilt. A muffled groan escapes your lips as his length stretches your walls and you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, rocking slowly onto his cock, the head of it hitting your deepest places. Bucky’s hands travel to massage your breast, eliciting unexpected loud moans from you. His eyes locked on your face. “Don’t slow don’t, keep on riding me”

He states, his voice very low, it sends a most peculiar thrill through you, he grabs at your hips, impatiently thrusts up hard into your core, urging you to continue. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the small studio as you keep the moderate pace.

“I will come, Bucky” You keep on hitting your cervix as your trusts become harder, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking. An impossible pleasure goes through you, cumming violently, your throbbing walls milking his cock as he keeps on trusting through your orgasm, moaning before filling you up with his cum.

“I think that sex is a form of art” You kiss him long and soft, and when you pull yourself away, you touch his mouth with your fingers. “I suggest you not to think more, Bucky”

#breakablesbarnes rec

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breakablebarnes · 3 months

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Faking It

Pairing: College Athlete!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes was in love with his girl—disgustingly, annoyingly so. Enough to start fights on the ice just to make sure he saw her after a game.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: This is FLUFF!! With HOCKEY MAN

a/n: This was originally something completely different but then I hated it so now it's all fluff and now I do not hate it. Pleaseeeee let me know what you think and if you enjoy it!! I love you thanks for reading ❤️❤️❤️

Masterlist

“Jesus Christ, Buck. Again?”

Bucky grinned, split lip tightening uncomfortably. When he turned to his captain, he had the gall to act oblivious. “What do you mean, captain?”

Steve gave him a disapproving look. “Give it up, pal. There was no need to pick a fight with that guy and you know it.”

“He was talking shit about the team!”

“They’ll always be a player talking shit about the team.”

“Then why’re you breathing down my neck right now, huh? We won. Be happy, Cap,” Bucky encouraged, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Steve raised a brow back at him but was clearly fighting back a smirk. Bucky could tell by the way his eyes lifted, contrasting his deep—albeit fake—frown.

In truth, Bucky had been looking for a fight. He’d been looking for a plethora of fights since the start of the season, and was usually quite successful with his venture. It had garnered him quite the reputation, but where the crowd saw it as a short-fuse on a large man, Steve saw it for what it really was.

An opportunity to see you.

And while Steve could appreciate the dedication, it made one of his best players ride out unnecessary time in the penalty box.

“I am happy. Just not with you,” Steve clarified, knocking Bucky’s arm away.

Bucky let out a sound close to a scoff. “Even with my extra time in the sin bin I still helped carry. It’s just part of the game, Steve. Gotta protect the team’s pride.”

“Yeah,” Steve drawled sarcastically, stopping in front of the locker room doors. “I’m sure that was your reasoning. What was it last game? Someone said something about your ma?”

“Hey, he did.”

“They always do.”

Heavy footsteps created a commotion in the hall, the rest of the team finally catching up with the pair. They funneled their way into the room for showers and a fresh change of clothes, and Steve stood with his crossed arms leaning against the wall, somehow still directing an admonishing look towards Bucky amidst the crowd. Bucky did his best to look baffled by the unspoken accusation, but then Sam Wilson passed by and Bucky’s ploy was disintegrated.

“Hey man,” Sam greeted, slapping a friendly hand against Bucky’s arm as he passed. “You let someone beat the shit out of you again so you could go see your girl?”

Bucky’s scoff returned, but this time Steve was having none of it. He kicked off of the wall and went to follow the rest of the team into the locker room. Bucky watched with a grimace, not only caught, but put on display.

“You know,” Steve called over his shoulder, not expecting Bucky to follow. “You’re dating the girl now. You don’t gotta keep up with this whole schtick.”

“I don’t have a schtick,” he called back. At the responding laugh from Steve, Bucky yelled, “I don’t!” but no one was listening to him. Or believing him.

But fine. If his schtick involved you, in any capacity, Bucky would admit to having one.

Some of what Steve said was right. Bucky was dating you now. You were his girl and that would imply total access to you all the time, whenever he wanted. He didn’t need to pick fights or feign injuries anymore (the latter never really worked anyways), because he had a key to your apartment. And you were in his bed more weekends than not.

But, damn, were you busy right now.

Bucky had never really considered how much schooling went into becoming a physical therapist until he met you. You were typically swamped with papers and tests and requests from Dr. Cho, but this past month had been exponentially worse thanks to finals. He had seen you about once a week if he was lucky, and that was a generous estimation. Add your crazy schedule to the alarming amount of away games he had over the past few weeks and he was champing at the bit to see you.

Bucky just prayed it was you in the training room today and not Dr. Cho. His odds were pretty favorable considering the team’s main trainer didn’t usually stick around after games if there were no major injuries, but there was always the off chance she let her interns go home early. But, knowing you, you would be in that room until the rink lights went off.

God, he loved you. Every overworked, high-strung bit of you.

He even loved the scolding look you shot him as he pushed open the training room doors, his bruises and cuts on full display. You dropped the pen you were tapping against an overflowing notebook and rocketed out of your rolling stool, and Bucky adored the way you stomped over to him, biting the inside of your cheek to stop the curse you clearly wanted to let free.

“Hey, baby,” Bucky smiled, this time ignoring the sting in his lip. “Funny seeing you here.”

You huffed, bringing careful fingers up to his chin. “Not very funny,” you mumbled. “Not when you look like someone hit you with their car.”

Bucky let you fuss for a moment, following your touch as you turned his head back and forth and examined his split knuckles. This was your job, so obviously he let you do it, but he enjoyed watching you. So he didn’t stop you from lifting his jersey up to inspect his middle, because how else would he catch the cute way you scrunch your nose up in concentration? If he pulled his hands away when you started testing the range of motion in his wrists, when else would he be able to track your lips as you softly counted and mouthed gentle confirmations?

Never. Because you were so damn busy.

“Missed you,” Bucky said after sneaking a kiss on your forehead while you were prodding at the bruise on his collarbone. “I’ve been missing you a lot.”

You let a small smile interrupt the disgruntlement on your face. Bucky grinned at the change, pressing another kiss to your hair while he still could.

“Did you miss me enough to send a right hook into that guy’s jaw?”

“Yes.”

Your smile was gone again. Now you looked aghast. “Bucky.”

“What?” he exclaimed, sliding his torn hands from your healing ones to wrap you in his embrace. “You want me to lie instead? Okay, fine. No, sweetheart, I didn’t start a fight just to have an excuse to see you. That guy got all these punches in on me because I’m out of practice, is all. I don’t think about you every waking second of my life, and while we’re at it, no I did not use your shampoo this morning because I miss how—”

“Okay, okay,” you laughed, resting your forehead on the divot in his chest. “I get it. Thanks for being truthful.”

Bucky relished in the feel of you. He had been slightly worried that his state would cause you to be more upset than anything. If you weren’t so tired right now, there was a high chance you’d be yelling at him because of his recklessness instead of resting against his chest. So Bucky jumped at the opportunity, trailing one of his hands up to cup the back of your head. He craned his neck down, burying his face into the juncture of your neck.

He hadn’t been lying about the shampoo.

“I miss you too. Even if you act like an idiot sometimes,” you mumbled against his jersey.

Something in Bucky felt lighter, warm. “Acting like an idiot’s the only way I get to see my girl.”

You hummed. “Sorry ‘m so busy.”

You had to be exhausted. Not even a single reprimand had tumbled from your mouth. Bucky had expected at least three.

“When’s the last time you slept, baby?” Bucky kept his voice low, his thumb making unconscious circles against your hair.

“I don’t know. In the night.”

“Okay, thanks smart ass.” Bucky jostled you a bit until your eyes met his. “I meant when did you last take a break? Get a good night’s sleep?”

You sighed, gaze trailing over his face. “Let me fix you up. Then we can play twenty questions.”

“Baby—”

“No, Buck, this is the training room, if you haven’t noticed,” you quipped, stepping back and rifling through a few drawers. “Take a seat and I’ll fix you. That’s my job.”

“Well, what about my job?” he grumbled back.

“You have failed at your job. Your job is hockey and you instead played human punching bag.”

“Not that job. My other job. The one where I take care of you.”

You spun on your heel, a basket of supplies resting on your hip. The sweater that engulfed your frame had the university’s logo stamped across the front, but instead of jeans or slacks—the usual uniform for PT interns—you wore leggings. Your hair was pulled back in the most endearing, pretty mess, and Bucky’s chest hurt as he looked at you.

“My tired girl,” he hummed, bringing his hand up to your cheek as you pushed him down on the exam chair. He sat if only to appease you, his feet still flat on the floor even with the tall seat.

“I’m only a little tired,” you weakly fought. Bucky chuckled in response, sanitary paper crinkling beneath him. “Now let me clean you up.”

You snapped gloves onto your hands and Bucky fought back a petulant whine. If he had been any other member of the team, those gloves would have been on the second they walked in the door. He should be grateful, then, that you only put them on when it was time to tend to his wounds, but he wasn’t. He missed you too much to feel latex instead of your skin.

Bucky’s lip stung as you cleaned it, but he hardly flinched. If he moved, he would miss the pretty way you bit into your lip as you stared at him.

“Remember when I’d be in here all the time?” he asked when you turned back down to grab antibiotic cream.

You let out a tired laugh. “How could I forget? You picked a fight every game. If that didn't work you’d come stumbling in here complaining about a torn ACL or whatever. Big liar.”

“I wouldn’t call it lying.”

The smile you gave him was replicated on his own face.

“You were literally lying.” You dabbed the cream on his lip, and then moved to the cut on his cheek. “You would come limping in here and then I’d see you an hour later running out to the parking lot.”

“You wouldn’t look at me if I wasn’t injured.”

“It was my job, Bucky!” you laughed, eyes giving away your amusement. “I wasn’t supposed to be fraternizing with the players. I’m pretty sure Cho only lets us be together because you wouldn’t leave her alone otherwise.”

Bucky moved his hands from his thighs to your waist, tugging you closer as you worked. “Hey, sometimes drastic measures are needed.”

“You called her multiple times a day… bought her an edible arrangement. Wait, didn’t you offer to drive her kids to school a few times?”

“It worked, didn’t it,” he posed, nudging his nose against your cheek. You giggled, lightly slapping his arm to get away.

“The edible arrangement was a good touch,” you relented.

Bucky released you as you wiggled from his grip, flitting around the training room to put supplies back. He spotted your backpack in the corner of the room, unzipped with the water bottle tipping out. When you sat down at the computer to document his care, which he found a bit ridiculous (you only put a bandaid on his face), Bucky walked over and gathered your things. He did so slowly so you wouldn’t notice; you probably had plans to stay at the rink for another few hours, and that was not okay with him.

With a final zip and your water bottle now standing upright, Bucky meandered over to your seated position. He hooked his chin over your shoulder as you worked, leaning over and tapping your phone screen for the time. His heart twisted warmly in his chest when he saw a picture of himself smiling under the 8:00 pm displayed on the homescreen.

After all the pining and work it took to get you, Bucky often felt this wasn’t real.

God, he loved you.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” you whispered, clicking away at the computer. “I still have some charting to do. Peter hit his head yesterday and I have to do the follow up work.”

Still in his uniform, Bucky wrapped you up from behind. Now you would both need a shower and he could get you to leave. He kissed the back of your head, and then your temple, and then your cheek as he craned his neck to watch you work. You smelled like fresh laundry and books and the subtle hint of your perfume.

“Parker’s fine. He was up and playing today. Let’s go home, baby,” Bucky murmured, most of his words spoken against your skin.

“I know he’s okay. But head injuries are a completely different protocol and I have to—”

“I miss you,” he reiterated. “And you’re working too hard. All the lights are off in the rink ‘cept for this one. Come back to my place. Let me take care of you.”

“Why don’t you shower and change first? I’ll leave with you once you finish.”

Bucky spun your stool around suddenly, one hand on your waist, the other reaching back to steady himself on the desk now at your back. “Oh no, don’t try to pull that on me. I get back in here, you’re gonna tell me you started something new you can only finish on the PT computer and you can’t leave for another hour. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

You let out a quick sigh, caught. “Well, what about—”

“Nope,” Bucky interrupted. He used his far hand to shut the facility computer and then guided you up. “You’re coming home with me. You’re gonna sit in the car while I drive you to my apartment and then we’re gonna take a shower together and I’m gonna make you feel so good you don’t even remember what a concussion is.”

“Bucky,” you chastised, hiding your face in his shoulder.

His laugh shook your head. “Still so damn shy.” He reached down to grab your bag, slinging it over his shoulder and placing a hand on the back of your neck, meeting your averted gaze. “Just me in here, baby.”

“I know. But you don’t have to be so vulgar.”

“Vulgar? Sweetheart, if you want vulgar I’ll tell you exactly what I’m gonna do to you the second we—”

You slapped your hand over his mouth, careful for the delicate skin there. Still, Bucky was sure you could feel his smile against your skin, and he fought back an even bigger one when he saw the embarrassed twist of your brow.

Slowly, he pried your wrist down, kissing the palm of your hand on the way. “Sorry,” he whispered, not sorry in the slightest.

You pursed your lips, flustered. “You’re such an antagonizer.”

Bucky could do this every day and never grow tired of it. It had been months now and he found himself only wanting you more.

“Can’t help it. I love you.”

Your faux annoyance morphed into a bashful smile, the kind Bucky remembered from his time faking injuries. It was reminiscent of when you were trying not to laugh at his jokes, or smile at his flirting, or give him any reaction he was looking for.

But he always got what he wanted in the end.

And, more than anything, he wanted you.

“That one do the trick?” Bucky asked. “Am I finally getting my girl to come home with me?”

When you looked up at him with raised brows and a smile twisted up at the corners, he knew you’d given up. Perfect timing, too, because—in all honesty—Bucky had been punched in the side during his on-ice tussle, and his ribs were starting to hurt. You were going to be pissed when you saw the bruise form tomorrow morning, but you would be pissed in his bed, so it was worth it to Bucky.

“I have to get a little bit of homework done when we get there,” you reasoned, pointing an accusing finger at your boyfriend.

He threw his hands up in surrender, dropping one down over your shoulders as you both walked out. “Okay, okay. Homework at my place, I got it.”

“That comes first, Bucky. Before anything else. Shower, then homework, and then… other things.”

“I know what first means, baby.”

“Good.”

But Bucky had other plans, and they did not involve homework. He was pretty sure you were ahead, anyways. Like, weeks ahead, actually.

“You eat dinner yet?” he asked, fishing his keys from his pocket.

You looked up at him, incredulous. “What did I just say?”

“What?” he defended, tugging you closer as the wind in the parking lot whipped at your clothes. “I can’t make sure my girl’s had dinner? What am I allowed to do?”

You only scoffed, tucking yourself further into his side. “Keep me warm.”

“Always, baby.”

#breakablesbarnes rec

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