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#bucky barnes x black!reader
angrythingstarlight · a day ago
I never expected to like a Baker! version of a character, but your Baker Bucky is one of my favorites that you write. Do you have anything figured out about him that you haven’t shared in a story yet but could say here?
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Out of all my AUs, he's probably the overall most eager and sweetest. He grew up poor but he appreciated everything he had. He got his passion for baking from his mom and used to sell treats to his classmates to help her pay bills. He bought her a house as a thank you for all she did for him.
During the summer Steve and Bucky make treats and lunches for the kids that visit the local library where his cousin works. And he supports a number of charities. He can play guitar and he's not a bad singer.
I want to share how he met his peach. He still had quite a few insecurities after his ex and I want to explore that a little more.
He really resigned himself to a lifetime of baking and going home to his cat. He tried dating once or twice before Peach and it ended in disaster with one telling him he was too shy and the other flirting with Steve in front of him.
In fact he wasn't even going to ask her out. Technically Steve, Yelena and Wanda asked her out for him.
And his proposal is going to be up there with beefy biker Buckys.
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punani · 2 days ago
Not chubby!Bucky out here eating out a plus size brown skin girl on the flour-dusted counter with a peach pie in the oven from when they went peach picking on the local farm 👀
you're still in that pretty, pastel pink dress that he's been itching to peel off of you since you nearly bounded down the steps out of excitement for morning fruit picking
you absolute adored the local farm, cultivating a relationship with the farmers to the point of knowing their families
alpha!chubby!bucky always purred approvingly at your kindness, pressing your body into the softness of his belly as he presses his nose to the crown of your head to inhale your scent briefly before whispering that you're too sweet for your own good
so, you're still clad in that same pretty dress, only you're a mess now
'a-alpha,' you croon, thighs trembling as he keeps you caged to his mouth
the smell of the peach pie in the oven is nothing compared to your syrupy, omega scent that has him wanting to succumb to the ravenous wolf he is
you can't bring yourself to feel remorse when you get flour in his hair, your hands covered in the white powder that ghosted over the counter your back was firmly pressed against
vaguely, you register the white handprints on your contrasting skin, but the feeling of bucky slipping two thick fingers into your leaking slit has you tensing your thighs and chirping in delight
'yes, peach? what can i do for ya?'
god, you always love when his drawl pokes out between his words from time to time, but you also can't stand it when it comes out during his time to tease you
he nips at the softness of your plush inner thighs, curling his fingers within your heat as you watch him proceed to run his tongue over your stretch marks and darkened spots
it only proves to make it more intense when he continues to open you up on his fingers, his tongue eventually finding the bundle of nerves that have you singing for him
'always taste so good f'me, peach. such a pretty omega–my omega.'
slutty sunday™
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canumoveurseatup-no · 12 hours ago
ooh ohh!! may you please write a blurb about Plum being a complete mommy's girl and Bucky loving Reader and Plum's connection, but also wishing he had that with Plum!! can be slightly angsty but mostly fluff plz 🥺
AWH I ALWAYS IMAGINED PLUM BEING A DADDY’S GIRL 🥺 Plum is aged up a bit in this
“I don’t think she likes me very much,” Bucky sulked silently. He was watching you rock her back and forth in her arms as she slept.
“What would make you say that?” You frown at his words, “You’re her dad. She adores you, Buck,”
“But she doesn’t let me hold her when she cries, she doesn’t want me to help her when she’s sick. Only you, she won’t let me read her her favorite story. What’s wrong with me?”
“Baby,” you move Plum into his arms and she murmurs softly in her sleep, cuddling right into him “There are just some things mama does better. Ever notice notice how she doesn’t let me cut her pancakes? Or let me brush her teeth? She only likes it when you’re the one singing and dancing with her to her favorite kidz bop cd,”
“I don’t know… I just expected her to be a papa’s girl,” Bucky kisses the forehead of his gorgeous daughter, “I just don’t like it when she cries because of me,”
“She’s a mama and papa’s girl, Buck,” you run your hand over his head, “She cries because she’s an emotional character but we both handle it well. She loves you no matter what,”
Bucky wanted to believe your words but he’s seen how Plum is with you and he just feels it’s not like that with him. He’s glad you and her are the way that you two are, he just feels like he’s missing out sometimes.
“I feel like I’m a terrible dad somehow,” he huffed, not wanting tears to come to his eyes. Bucky always wanted to make sure he was the best dad he could be and he wasn’t feeling that, “I’ll be better. I just gotta find out what I’m doing wrong”
He was truly convinced something was wrong with his parenting, when he doesn’t realize your daughter adores him to the ends of the universe and back.
“She’s another you,” Bucky stared down at Plum and adores the way her brown cheeks shine and the way her mouth slightly hangs open as she sleeps, “I want to be the best dad I can for her. M-maybe she doesn’t have a strong connection with me because I-I don’t look like her,”
“Oh please,” you whisper yell and slap his shoulder, “You think she cares about that? She doesn’t know either. She knows you’re her dad! And nothing is gonna change that. I just happened to be the one carrying her for a good nine months so the connection is internal. My body created housed a soul. Connections are always different between parents,”
You miss his cheeks and you can tell your words mean something to him and helps relieve his stress for a minute.
“Doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you. Doesn’t mean she’s not a papa’s girl. She’s our baby Bucky she’s gonna act different for each of us. That’s just the facts,”
“You’re right,” he kissed Plum’s head one more time and looks at you. He’s so blessed to have you two.
“But watch, I’m gonna win her heart fully and she’s gonna be team dad!,”
“One thing you need to realize is you already won her heart, baby”
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buckysbruni · 21 hours ago
games, riddles & tricks
pairing: gamer!bucky barnes x reader
a part of the thin lines universe
*written with a black reader in mind
word count: 3.8k
warnings: dirty talk, suggestive language, smut, swearing, exhibitionism if you squint really hard, bucky being a dirty lil shit, pls notify me of any warning i overlooked. 
a/n: this piece is in response to this ask and i read it and fell in love with it. thank you so much @bucked-niall for this ask! i hope you enjoy this! i know its not really short but thats a testament to how much i loved your ask. also It became way more smutty than I expected. im sorry. I hope that’s okay?? And I hope everyone continues to enjoy these two as much as I love writing for them. Right now, I am completely open for requests and am so very grateful to everyone who has written one so far. Send in an ask, a PM, or reply to any of my posts to request something! If you want to be added to my taglist (general, steve, bucky, and/or frank), do the same. If you are interested in more of my work, please check out my masterlist or search #mjwriteshere. I’ll catch ya’ll later. –mj :)
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The thing about Bucky is that because of who he is, he owns virtually any and every type of system on which you can play video games on. This reasoning isn’t solely because Bucky got every next-gen system and vintage handheld device for free because of his following. It’s also because Bucky was a big, fat nerd who would save up and buy all those things anyway. So, whenever you got to spend time at his place, you would have essentially an emporium of gaming devices to choose from.
It was glorious.
It also made a slight shame rumble in your stomach because you would always take a glance at your Switch that you brought everywhere with you and stuff it deeper in your bag.
“I still love you. I won’t let you feel neglected all night,” You would whisper to your Switch as the screen disappeared under your overnight clothes.
Tonight, you followed the same routine, having a real urge to play Wii Sports on his older console, and said an almost tearful goodbye to your Switch.
Bucky normally was very strict about his place being off-limits the nights of his streams. And by very, strict, he would send you the same text message those nights that stated:
If you even take a step towards my place, I will spank you. And you won’t like it.
(You replied: you know i’ll like them anyway. i might just sprint to yours to earn those. but that’s beside the point).
You always took his “threat” lightly but you knew there was extreme gravity behind those words. So, you listened. Usually. You stayed at your place. Usually. You didn’t think about going over there. Usually. But as of lately, you felt this imaginary tug at your limbs that signaled to your brain that you needed to be over there.
Truthfully, you just wanted to be near Bucky.
You had taken on a new internship that took more of your time than you anticipated and there were only certain times that both you and Bucky were completely available. Some of those times were the nights of his streams and when Bucky noticed how much time you two were not spending together (along with own almost primal need to always be around you), he broke his own rule tonight with a simple text: I’ve been thinking about your tits all day. Please come over here now.
Yani had been looking at a funny video on your phone at the time and gagged in your ear. You stuck your tongue out at her, told Bucky that you and your tits would be over there soon (Yani gagged again but told you to get out of your shared apartment), and sprinted to the bedroom to get ready.
When you arrived at Bucky’s apartment, you realized or rather remembered, why you and Yani were huddled up in your living room watching videos anyway. You two were relaxing before Bucky’s scheduled stream. Bucky answered his door freshly showered, with a phone in one hand, a controller in the other, and a headset placed upon his temple. You were confused for a slight second and then your eyes got big. You were so excited and eager to get to see him you forgot all about the stream. You blubbered out a hyper exclamation when you realized and slapped a hand over your mouth.
Bucky shook his head, “Mm, ‘Haven’t started yet. Just wanted to get ready.” You slowly nodded and took a step inside, letting Bucky close the door behind you. You clicked on your phone and noticed you sit had a couple of minutes before he began, “Hi baby.” He tried his best to tilt away the tiny microphone connected to his headset with the back of his wrist, before leaning down to kiss you. Still a little awkward, he let his lips pressed against yours in pecks before leaning to the side to kiss your cheek and going back to his full posture.
“Hi,” You grinned, releasing yourself fully from him, readjusting the strap of your backpack so that it fits better to your shoulder.
“Ah, there they are.” Bucky’s toothy smile confused you at first before you noticed his gaze glued to your chest. He set down the items in his hands and made grabby hands at your chest. You wanted to swat them away, but the no bra and tight crop top you were wearing was purposeful. So, you bit at your lip and pushed out your chest a little giving Bucky as much access as you could. He swooped down, burying his face in your shirt, and used his palms at the base of your back to push you closer to him.
“Ah, Bucky!” You yelped. Bucky rapidly tugged your bag off your shoulder and scooped you up. You had no choice but to wrap your legs around his back. Heat against heat, you were set up a little high on him so your chin rested on the top of his head. Bucky continued to rub his face against your tits, reeling in the softness that could be felt even through your top.
“Fuck, show them to me please.” Bucky tilted back his head and gave you a childish grin.
“Your streams starts in like a minute- “
“-This will only take a minute.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Rolling your eyes, you hesitated, before slowly pulling your hands from behind his neck and grabbing the hem of your top. Bucky weighted you down, helping you maintain your balance by gripping his hands on the exposed flesh of your torso. You leisurely pulled up the cotton and let it bunch up on your collarbones, still having to hold it in place.
“Hubba, hubba.”
You couldn’t lie. You loved this intense and often, silly-stupid, attraction Bucky had to you. The smiles that stretch across his face made a warmth settle in your belly like no other. You could be doing anything and wearing anything, and Bucky reacted to you like you were butt-naked, oiled-up pornstar ready for a shoot. 
It made you feel undeniably sexy.
“Fuck, I’m gonna cancel tonight,” Bucky’s voice trailed off as he took one hand to thumb as your nipples. His strength always stunned you especially when he was able to use one arm to hold you up, “And why are you hiding yourself in these ridiculous pants. Lemme see.” Bucky curled his fingers in the elastic band of your high-waisted leggings and shoved them down a little. Your soft flesh was on full display much to Bucky’s delight. His beard pinched a little against your skin when he started kissing up and down your ribcage.
 “You’re not canceling. Now, put me down.” The sternness in your voice was lost with the heat spreading through your loins and the laughter in your throat. Still, Bucky gave a kiss to both of your tits and steadily lowered you down to your feet. Your running shoes squeezed a little against his hardwood floor when you tried to keep yourself upright – a little dazed from the intimacy you just shared. Bucky was the one to tug your shirt back down but not without saying, “Bye, I’ll see you two later.”
“I set up the Wii for you in the bedroom but of course, everything is up for play,” Bucky gathered his belongings, took another glance at your chest, and sighed,” I’ll have my door shut but you can message me if you need anything. I’ll have my phone beside me.” Bucky ducked down for another kiss and pushed his mic back into place.
“Okay…” A weird static feeling ran inside your stomach when you realized that Bucky was actually going to lock himself in his gaming room for the next couple of hours. Yes, it was your idea for him not to cancel but also, you couldn’t help but let it rattle in your brain that, that might have been a mistake. Bucky seemed to notice the drop in your mood and gathered you up again, pulling you against his body.
“It will be a quick one tonight, kay?” Him smelling all good and body so warm, you really decided that you should have agreed with him to cancel. Bucky would never say anything about it because honestly, he did really need to stream tonight, and for the most part, him suggesting to cancel it, was a joke.
“…Got some of my merch samples. Wore some of the hoodies this week. They’re stacked up on my dresser.” Bucky was saying exactly what you needed without actually saying it. You were going to absolutely throw one of those on as soon as he shut the door behind him.
You held an embrace for a few moments, kissing and letting your tug on the top of his ears and slide down his chest. Your fresh manicure looked great against the darkness of his own hoodie, making you almost whimper all over again.
“Have a good stream,” You pulled yourself closer to him,” I love you, baby.”
“I love you more,” He laughed,” You needy little thing.”
“You’re the one who said they missed my tits…” You grumbled.
“Shut up.” He pinched your side, “Gonna wait to eat after the stream but there are snacks in the kitchen for you if you get too hungry to wait,” The hair on his face tickled your lips,” I’ll see you in a few.” With that, Bucky scurried off and you heard the door of his cave shut behind him.
That’s how you got exactly where you were right now. Your phone propped up on his desk by a cookie jar tuning into his stream and practically drooling at the sight of him on your tiny screen. You were in your third game of Wii Tennis, a little sweaty in the hoodie you stole (or rather the one Bucky practically said you could have), letting your eyes glance down to your phone when Bucky gave a particularly large chuckle or said some expletive.
Bucky was funny. In fact, he was hilarious. You didn’t have to pay much attention to his gameplay to get a good laugh from his commentary. The hoodie of his jacket was placed a little back on the top of his head so you could see his slightly damp curls peeking out which made you groan out loud. Bucky was doing the absolute bare minimum right now and you couldn’t help but let all those gooey, lovey emotions flush your body. He looked good. He was making you laugh. Bucky was just being Bucky. God, that made you want to be right next to him. It was a blessing and a curse to know and love Bucky.
You tried to distract yourself. You were just too sweaty and too unwilling to get rid of the jacket that smelled just like him, that you had to stop playing the game as if you were actually on the tennis court. You turned off the console and humbled yourself to play your neglected Switch. Unfortunately, that distraction didn’t last long. You had kicked off your shoes and wiggled your toes in your fuzzy socks, letting your mind roam somewhere else. You thought about the times you played the Switch in Bucky’s lap and he would keep his hands on your belly and his face nuzzled in your neck the whole time. Those thoughts made you irrationally angry and you stuffed your gaming device deep back in the bag where it belonged.
You tried just not watching his stream but as you scrolled through Instagram or Tiktok, you found yourself switching back to see his face.
It was infuriating.
It was even more bothersome because he was only a few feet away from you, so much so that you could hear him in particular moments when he got especially loud about figuring something out or losing a life even with both your doors closed.
When Bucky told his audience, Eh, a couple more missions won’t hurt? that’s when you decided that you had enough. And if you were remembering correctly, Bucky was waiting to eat after the stream which meant it had been a couple of long hours between his last meal. Bucky did this – getting too involved in his work that he pushed down his hunger and mistreat his overall well-being. Okay, maybe you were being dramatic or just needed any morsel of an excuse to be where he was but the rational part of your brain simply ignored that.
You swiped up the cookie jar (a present from you that modeled the Hunny jar from The New Adventures of Winnie the Pooh) and stomped over to the kitchen first. It was too late for a coffee but you knew Bucky would want it anyway so you grabbed a canned espresso shot anyway. As you plated him a PB&J, a sliced apple, and an assortment of cookies, you heard Bucky ask his followers if he should give this mission a go. 
You groaned. 
So much for a short one.
You absolutely knew that your emotions were unwarranted but this was Bucky. How could someone not always wants to be right next to him?
You put your hood on just like him, letting your straightened hair and extensions fall over the front of your shoulders before doing the easy balancing act of holding his plate and drink. What you were about to do was different. It wasn’t like his follower hadn’t seen your face before but this was the first time it was on the stream. You were opening it up to probably thousands of people who didn’t follow him on other social media platforms. You were opening yourself up to the cohort of Bucky’s real dedicated fans. The idea of it all terrified you a bit but it was bound to happen sooner than later, right?
That’s what you had to tell yourself.
With a deep breath and the hand holding the espresso on the doorknob, you slowly turned the mahogany. The room was pretty dark for the most part with the banality of having LED lights everywhere. Bucky’s color scheme was green and blue with hints of pink. The sign that said AVERAGEMCLOVIN was the largest touch of pink and could be seen in the background of all his streams. Bucky’s back, covered by his gaming chair, faced you so your eyes could really only the large screens that sat in front of him. He was so focused on the game and then back to the chat that he hadn’t noticed you appear somewhat in the webcam. You took a few steps forward, closing the door behind you so that your frame would come to light.
Bucky still didn’t notice.
“Guys, I know that’s a fuckin TikTok trend,” He laughed, rolling his eyes at the chat,” You guys just want to punk me with that stupid look behind you. You guys don’t think I’m very smart, do you?” Bucky’s eyes were still on the game feigning hurt.  
“I think It’s that hot chick from your IG,” Bucky mumbled, reading off a comment, “She comes bearing gifts. What?” Bucky scoffed, loudly and continued playing the game, “Mister anakin3000, that’s scary. How do ya’ll know she’s even at my place?” Bucky didn’t even question who this “hot chick” was and knew exactly who everyone was talking about. You slightly laughed at that and decided to play along with everyone and not let Bucky in on the secret.
“Because she’s right behind, you doorknob.” Bucky read off another comment from the chat and winced, “Ouch.” With the chat still sounding off about your presence, Bucky finally twirled around his chair. Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you let the air blow out your nose in a giggle.
“Hi.” You said softly.
Bucky’s eyes were large and smiling. Your heart just melted at that. The bit of anxiety you had concerning his strict, don’t bother me while I’m gaming motto, was all washed away.
“It is that hot chick from my insta,” Bucky’s game was paused and he twisted to the side so that he could easily keep his eyes on you but didn’t turn his back fully away from the chat, “And she does have gifts…” Bucky looked down at your hands and then back at your face. You were grinning now and taking closer steps towards him.
“Hi.” You squeaked. You step into the full light and were well aware that everyone could see your entire face now. But then Bucky did something.
“Hi, baby. Everything okay?”
That was the tip of the iceberg.
One word.
“Holy fuck,” Bucky whispered with a slight laugh on his breath. The words on the screen moved up, down, and away at lightning speed.
 @anakin3000: Damn she fine
 @mayod: NGL If she came to all of your streams I’d probably pay more attention
 @cryingmj: mommy? Sorry. mommy? Sorry. mommy? Sorry.
 @bonding007: U tappin that McLovin????
 @xanadu: I bet she can whoop your ass in Clash.  
 @ifnotnowthen: crying and throwing up rn.
 “Okay, guys. Fuck off.” Bucky laughed and grabbed your waist. The food on the plate jumbled a little but Bucky’s artful fingers (in more ways than one) effortlessly took the white porcelain from you and set it on his desk,” Ooh coffee.” He had it in his hands for about two seconds before cracking open the tab. Knocking his head back and taking a sip of his drink, Bucky moved you so that you stood between his spread legs.
Ignoring Bucky, the chat continued to spiral. Most comments were complimenting you or asking you questions. Some comments were odd but none were outright rude. You tried to smile, tried to give some answers but it was hard to focus on all the comments coming in so at one point you decided to hang your head down and trace the tattoos of Bucky’s hand.
“All right…” Bucky tapped his left thigh, urging you to take a seat. You did. You slowly lowered yourself down, keeping your eyes everywhere but the screen. Okay, maybe this wasn’t a great idea. But also, now you were here all close to Bucky with his cologne rushing through your senses.
“Yes, she is sexy. And no, I will not share.” Bucky almost growled out, tightening his grip on your hips. You laughed at that and turned your head up so you could look at his face. He gave you a little peck on the tip of your nose, moving away from the mic on his headset first, and smiled huge as he pulled away.
“You should eat something,” Was all you could say. You really kind of stuttered it out. You were too caught up in his arm around you and his big, beautiful eyes and yeah, this man had the most beautiful face you have ever seen.
Bucky started to rub your thighs, comforting you to stay a little longer. You thought he completely ignored what you said until you picked up a one diagonal cut half of his sandwich.
“You hungry too?”
“I can wait until you’re done…”
“You’re hungry too,” Bucky said this more as a statement this time. He slid the plate closer to you, telling you to take the other half giving you no time to protest. His face turned directly to the screens in front of him, reading more comments. You grumbled a little, as a sign to Bucky that told you could wait until his stream was done. Bucky took that as an opportunity to pinch your side, really hard while never turning his attention back to you.
Pouting you picked up the other half and gradually started taking bites.
You could make a really mean PB&J.
“Mm, they want you to talk to them some more, sweetheart.” Bucky used the roller on his computer mouse to slow down the comments, “Only if you want to.” Bucky could definitely sense your reserve. A million thoughts ran through your brain – Was this a good idea? I should have just stayed put? But look at me now… Fuck, Bucky looks so good. I’d be an obsessed fan too.
You took a deep breath and gave a glance at the comments. With Bucky’s hand rubbing up and down the small of your back, you slowly started to gain the courage to answer some questions. We met in college. No, I don’t play games nearly as much as him. I’m wearing the black and green mascara from Essence. Uh, yeah! This is some of his new merch – Shit, Bucky was I supposed to announce that?
You both started to settle in comfortably, the game is long forgotten. Sometimes Bucky would answer a question and give you the chance to continue the answer. Sometimes you were the only one who could answer it. It was fun. Bucky made you feel so cozy the entire time with reassuring touches and once he removed his headset, he was able to whisper little sweet nothing in your ear.
“You’re doing so well, honey. So, brave.”
“Thanks for joining me. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Mm love you s’much. Love that you’re right on my lap. Love that you love me.”
“Such a good girl…”
As much as you tried to focus on answering questions or just adding your voice to some remarks on the screen, the room started to get a little too hot and your body’s reaction to his words was the root of it all. Bucky was daring – he marched against his own drum. He was truly the last person on Earth you would ever think would care about someone else’s opinion. That’s what you loved about him most of all. So, when Bucky’s murmurs in your ears started to turn a very different way, you cursed yourself because how could you not guess this would happen.
“I cannot wait to eat my favorite little pussy, tonight... You deserve to be rewarded.”
“My sexy, fuckin baby. You want my dick tonight?”
“Can I fuck you tonight, please?”
You knew you were playing with fire but you shifted across his thighs to sit further up on his crouch, letting the thin layer of your leggings and the thin layer of his sweatpants allow you to feel the hardness of him. In the viewfinder, you could see that Bucky was leaned all the way back, his eyes on the sight of your ass on his cotton-covered print.
You had answered approximately two questions and wiggled on his lap four times before Bucky leaned forward and announced it was the end of the stream. It was abrupt but warranted when a few comments started to ask Bucky why the fuck his face looked like that. Bucky clicked off everything, still holding you close, but not without mumbling how naughty you fuckin’ are or how he should have fucked you right in front of everyone.
You sighed at that, “Maybe you should have… You would’ve probably gotten more tips.”
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supremethunda · 2 days ago
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Pairing: Bucky Barnes/black!Reader
Word Count: 630
Genre: Romance
Warning: Suggestive situations
A/N: Special thanks to magicxc for beta-reading this!
Taglist: Thekrazykeke, Jewel2876, Browngirldominion, merceret, bestofbucky, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog, @whisperlullaby, @wintersoldierslut, kelieah, jasminedayz, angrybirdxx, namjoonswifeyy, @chaoticpete​, AWESOMEREXTYPHOON
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If you had known that you were gonna run into the loser of a guy you went on a first date with, you wouldn't have agreed to drinks at the bar with your girlfriends tonight. You would have kept your ass home and stayed in your pajamas and bonnet watching Living Single. Luckily, one of your friends was able to give you a heads up that he was looking for you. Apparently, blocking his number from your phone wasn't enough to prove that you weren't interested in a second date. You knew you were gonna have to step your game up if you were gonna get rid of this guy for good. When you spotted a tall and handsome stranger with short brown hair in a tapered style with a black long-sleeved jacket sitting at the bar by himself, you saw a way out.
You tell your friends you'll be right back and leave their table and head straight for the bar. You ask the bartender for a drink before you cautiously slide closer towards the handsome stranger. You think you're being subtle until you realize he's looking right at you. His eyes, which are a piercing shade of blue, nearly takes your breath away. It isn't until he speaks that you feel your heart skip a beat.
"Hi," He greets. "I'm Bucky," He greets you with a polite smile.
"(Name)," You return the smile before you push yourself to continue while the line of dialogue is open. "Mind if I ask you a favor?"
Bucky raises an eyebrow in curiosity wondering what sort of help a beautiful woman such as yourself needed that would require his assistance. When he sees the way your body tenses up when you lock eyes with another man standing on the other side of the room, he suddenly understands why you were asking for help.
"Kiss me," You urged, putting a hand over his own. "Please..."
Bucky looks at you for a moment completely thrown for a loop by your sudden and intimate request. However, when he sees the guy that has you so on edge approaching, he decides now isn't the time to ask questions or hesitate. He reaches out and gently places a hand behind the base of your neck, his eyes boring into yours.
"You got it, doll." He whispers before he leans forward, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss.
You sharply inhale and your eyes flutter close as Bucky moves his gloved hand from behind your neck and cups your face using both hands to tilt your head as you kiss him back. The kiss initially starts off slow and sweet as you lean into it and allow yourself to enjoy the softness of his lips against yours. The combination of the taste of alcohol lingering on his lips and the scent of his cologne ignites a fire in you that leaves you wanting more. You reach out with both hands and grab fistfuls of his jacket as you part your lips and allow Bucky to slip his tongue inside your mouth. Warmth spread throughout your body as his tongue explores your mouth, a soft moan escaping your lips without even meaning to.
As your brain and lungs urge you to take a breath, you slowly break the kiss. Bucky’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, his lips now swollen and his face flushed from the kiss. You take a moment to look around the bar for the guy you’ve been avoiding. When you see that he was nowhere to be found, you sigh in relief.
"Thank you for, well… the kiss." You said, your heart still racing.
"No problem," Bucky said, straightening out his jacket.
"I hate to ask, but what was your name again?"
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turbolisedcomet · 5 hours ago
Summary: For the first time you feel like you have finally found home and most importantly someone who sees you for who you are.
Author’s note: So, this might hit too close to home for some of you because daddy issues and whatnot. If you’re going through anything abusive in any kind of relationship and need to vent feel free to dm me. I hope this can bring comfort to all of you. And Reblogs and comments are appreciated.
Pairings: Bucky x reader(any race)
Word count: 2.2k+
Warnings:( tw) daddy issues like a literal monster of a father,angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, toxic father.
“Love, do we need to buy more syrup?” Bucky asks, holding up a bottle of syrup and the shopping basket in the other.
“Oh yeah, we do. Thanks for remembering, Jamie.” You say giving him a kiss on his cheek, where you felt heat rise up under your lips. This big hunk of a man was the most adorable being to exist, you could swear on that with your whole life. He gives you a boyish grin as he drops the bottle into the basket and takes your hand.
It was mornings like these filled with domesticity that you always looked forward to with Bucky. It made both of you feel normal and grounded. 
Growing up around people who never seemed to care for what you wanted and always taught you to never speak your mind was not the best to say the least. For years you never got a taste of freedom, independence or even the feeling that you are enough. Que the entry of Bucky Barnes into your life like the hopeful ray of sunshine after years and years of storm and rain. Clearly this man did not understand how much he flipped your world upside down. How he made you feel like you could actually breathe. He always insisted that you were the miracle in his life, the one who pulled him out of an abyss of sorrow and hopelessness. Both of you were right. Both of you were absolute blessings in each other’s life. The two of you met at a time where you as well as him were lost.  But, with each passing year, both of you fixed each other and gave all the love and affection to compensate for all the years neither of you had received any and in the process you and Bucky fixed yourselves too. Neither of you were showing any signs of letting go of the other ever. Long story short, life was a blissful dream when you both had each other in your lives. 
You stand back in the women’s hygiene aisle as you watch your boyfriend grab a box of tampons/pads/menstrual cups for you from the top shelf.
“ Here we go. Now I don't have to rush out of our house to get you these.” Bucky says, his eyes softening and heart fluttering at the breathy laugh that left your mouth.
“ Don't be so sure about that. Now I'm just going to make up excuses just to see you rush out of our house.” You say giving him a playful jab on his side with your elbows to which he smiled an eye-crinkling smile and kissed the top of your head.
 His life was good. The best. He doesn't remember the last time he felt so satisfied with everything going on in his life. Bucky Barnes was finally learning to live his life to the fullest all because of his angel. His (Y/N). He yearned for those soft touches on his skin, the way you kiss the tip of his nose, the way you would curl up in his lap and snuggle into his chest. Unlike all the times before, you made him feel wanted for good reasons. He was well aware of everything that you had gone through since your childhood. Even before you told him about it, he could make out from your need of constant validation, attention and assurance that you were enough. He went out of his way every single day since he met you to make you see and realize how much you mean to him, how amazing and otherworldly you are. He hated that you thought so low of yourself but, he hated your father the most for making you feel this way. 
The moment you told him everything and how you were brought up and the effect that kind of upbringing had on you, he wanted to do nothing more than make your father regret acting the way he acted towards his angel. But, he couldn't do that . You were finally at peace, enjoying your life with your man and was starting to see your worth. He didn't want to ruin that and bring more mayhem into your life. He knew he would get a chance to give your father a piece of his mind. He just had to wait for it. Even with your insecurities, in his eyes you were the strongest person he has ever come across. Handling him wasn't the easiest task, he knew that way too well. But then, there you were not even considering it to be a task or job and loving him just because you could and wanted to. You were so strong and brave for opening up to him, letting him help you, for being so patient with him and never giving up on him. There was nothing either of you wouldn’t  do for each other and in the end that's all that mattered.
“ We have bought everything we need, right? Is there anything left?” Bucky asks with a soft smile that never fails to make butterflies erupt in your tummy.
“ Yeah we've got everything we need, Jamie.” You say returning the same smile before walking towards the billing counter with his hand in yours.
“ (Y/N), my sweet girl, it's been so long since I’ve seen you.” That voice made you stop in your tracks, eyes widened and fear took over your body. It was a completely normal response to that voice. You turn around, hand clenching Buck’s as you face your father who was right in front of you.
Bucky’s blood boiled at the sight of him, already ready to lurch at him and knock him out but his girl needed him by his side right now.
“ Father. Good seeing you here.” The fear in your voice made Bucky’s heart throb but he was so proud of you for staying strong. You were talking to him like how one would with a stranger where they would put on a formal behaviour to please the person and no one deserved to talk to their own father like they were someone they weren't. No one deserves to feel the need to hide their real self due to the fear of not pleasing their father.
“ Aren't you going to give your dad a hug?” He asks, almost like he was mocking you. You walk over to give him a quick hesitant hug while Bucky never lets your hand out of his. 
“ New boytoy, huh? What was the other one's name? Trevor? Bet you drained all of his money.” There it was , the insulting. Before you could respond, Bucky already had him pinned against the nearest wall. If you weren't so traumatized by your father, you would have felt scared for him.
“ Don't ever speak about my girl like that ever again and stay the fuck out of her life if you know whats good for you.” Bucky says through gritted teeth, the veins in his neck bulging and his chest heaving with rage. People have already started to gather around watching the whole scene unfold and the last thing you wanted was videos of The Winter Soldier beating up someone.
“ Boy, if you know what's good for you, you’ll leave her or she’s going to end up leaving you when she has finished using you and realize that you have nothing more to give her. And I’ll gladly stay out of her life. I have more interesting things to do than wanting to know what goes on in a whore’s life.” Bucky snapped at the words that left your father’s mouth and within seconds he was punching him at a rapid pace and you knew if you didn't stop him it was going to end up bad.
“ Bucky stop. Please let's go home.” You beg but he was too caught up in trying to make your father regret his words. People had their phones out and were filming now and you were terrified of the world seeing what was happening without any context.
“ Hey, what's happening here?” You turn around and see two security guards hurrying towards Bucky. Oh God no. 
“ Stay back, mister. Stop this right now.” One of them shouts as they try to pull him away from your father who falls to the ground clutching his now unrecognisable.
“ STAY AWAY FROM HER, I MEAN IT.” With that Bucky lets himself free from the guards’ grips and takes your hand as the two of you walk out of the store.
The ride back home was quiet and tense. You could still feel the anger radiating off of him and the best thing to do would be to give him some time to cool off. Bucky on the other hand was not sorry about beating your father up. He deserved it. What he was terrified of was the thought that maybe he had scared you by his violent actions. What if he reminded you of your father? What if you no longer wanted to be with someone who could get so violent? Or worse, what if you thought he would behave so violently towards you? Bucky’s mind was racing with these terrifying thoughts.
By the time the two of you reached home, you were asleep on your seat .
"Sweetheart, wake up, we're home." Bucky says gently caressing your cheek. Your eyes flutter open, a small groan leaving your lips which earned a chuckle from Bucky. He gets out of the car and walks towards your side, opening the door for you as you climb out, immediately wrapping your arms around his left one, pressing your cheek against his upper arm, not letting go throughout the whole walk towards your apartment. The gesture made Bucky's heart expand as he let out a sigh of relief after giving you a soft smile.
The moment both of you entered the apartment, you dragged him to the bathroom to clean up the cuts on his face. Silently pull the necessary items from the cabinets, you hop onto the sink counter and pull him to stand between your legs. Before you could start cleaning up his face, he takes your hands in his and rests his forehead on yours, his eyes closed as well as yours.
“ I’m not sorry for beating him up.” He says, emitting a breathy laugh from you and to say he was relieved hearing the casual sound would be an understatement.
“ I wouldn't be sorry either so don’t worry.”  You say, with your eyes still closed and this time it was his chance to release a chuckle.
“ Why are you with me , Jamie? What makes you so sure that I wouldn't do what he told you I would?” You ask, genuinely wanting to know the answer. All these years you were doing so good not letting your father get into your head, but he had to show up and ruin everything like always.
“Sweetheart.” He sighed before continuing, “ You listen to me okay? Do not let him get inside your head. Don't give him what he wants (Y/N), he doesn't deserve that kind of satisfaction. And I know that everything he told is not true because I know my angel for who she is unlike him. My angel is the best thing that has ever happened to me, the best thing to ever exist on this planet. So, don't you dare question your worth because of him. Promise me that.” He says, boring those gorgeous eyes filled with so much love and adoration into yours. You have no idea what huge deed you have done in your life to ever deserve him but you're not complaining either. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you with so much passion, that you can feel his love for you radiating off of him, enveloping you completely as his arms wrap around your body , holding you so preciously and fuck you havent felt so bloody special ever in your life.
“ You know what? Let's go on a vacation.  A road trip.” Bucky suggests, breathless from the intimate moment. This pulls an amused laugh from you.
“ Aroad trip? Really?” You ask, your voice filled with excitement and Bucky can't help but give you a kiss on your forehead as he hears the excitement in your voice.
“ Yes, really.”
“ Right now?”
“ Right now.”
“ We gotta pack. Race you to our room." He says right before bolting out, chuckling and you follow him, ' you little shit' said under your breath, both of your laughter filling the whole house.
You were happy. You were content and as long as you had your man by your side there's nothing that would change that. Shitty fathers be damned .
A/n(2): again I would love some feedback/comments so that I know what I should be working on
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avintagekiss24 · a month ago
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—lay me in the tall-grown grass in a shallow grave; steve rogers & bucky barnes
pairing: steve rogers x black!reader x bucky barnes
word count: 14175
warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, threesome, throat fucking, anal sex, butt stuff, face slapping, hand jobs, blow jobs, male masturbation, size kink, degradation, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, praise kink, creampie, cum play, double penetration
squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo C5: bucky/steve ; @steverogersbingo B1: the serum enhances his senses beyond measure ; @star-spangled-bingo G1: "well, home is home, you know"
request: "there's no way anyone is that innocent" + breeding kink + praise kink
author note: so, this is a month overdue but this is for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 2 years of darkness challenge! this kicked my ass, but it finally came together thanks to some porn (please familiarize yourselves with owen grey and small hands) and @tropicalcap beautiful imagination. please enjoy :)
line divider by @whimsicalrogers ; title inspired by lord huron long lost
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Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
Steve tosses the two slices of wood towards the rest of the pile and places a new log on the tree stump in front of him. The sun beats down on his bare back, sweat dripping from his brow, down his nose, slipping right off the tip and splatting on the wood underneath him. He shakes his head slightly and then wipes at his forehead out of irritation with the back of his hand to get the long blonde strands of hair out of his face.
Hot air pushes out of his mouth before he heaves the axe back into the air, his right hand sliding down the handle as the blade slices through the air. Thwack. The wood splinters in two, throwing small, broken pieces into the air as the halves fall to the ground. He bends to pick them up, tosses them into the pile and starts all over again with a new log.
There’s movement in the corner of his eye— an ornery Bucky Barnes moving past, pulling a tattered old shirt over his head as he heads towards the stream. He had a long night. Nightmares filled with old ghosts. The countless faces and screams of his victims. A rather harrowing fight with Steve after Bucky shot up out of his bed, unfamiliar with his surroundings. Unfamiliar with Steve. Now they have a broken kitchen table, two chairs— each with a random amount of legs— four busted doors, and now he’s got to figure out how to board up the windows.
Bucky seems better this morning, quiet, but that’s not unusual— even apologized over his bowl of corn flakes for slipping the night before. Not that it’s his fault, and Steve would never blame him, but getting rid of the seventy year HYDRA influence is proving to be harder than what he thought.
“I thought you wanted to cut your hair?” Steve calls, cutting his eyes towards the rotting tree stump as Bucky sheds out of his pants.
Steve tosses his eyes back in time to catch Bucky shrug before he steps into the cool water, hissing soft at the abrupt temperature change, “I’m not rushing,” Steve answers quick, “It’s just… we can’t go around looking like Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes anymore.”
“America’s golden boy and his unstable, untrustworthy, can’t be rehabilitated, murder buddy, you mean?”
Steve places a hand on his hip, eyes furrowing as he watches Bucky float aimlessly in the water, blinking slow towards the sky, “That’s not who you are, Buck.”
“That’s exactly who I am,” Bucky bites back, cutting his eyes back to Steve, “No matter how bad you want to, you can’t—” Bucky’s words stick in his throat when Steve turns away abruptly, then holds up his hand to silence him, “What is it?”
Steve turns his head slightly, listening. Bucky stands, pushing the water off of his head as he runs his hands over his hair, “What is it?”
Steve takes a breath, something sweet— perfume— filling his nose, “Someone’s here.”
“How many?”
“Just one,” Steve mumbles, his breaths getting deeper as the smell intensifies, “But it’s not—”
“How far?”
“A couple of miles, maybe three or four,” he reaches out, catching Bucky by the arm as he rushes by, “Buck, wait.”
“I can take one guy, Steve. I just don’t want to do it naked.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s not someone from the Government.”
Bucky huffs, clenching his jaw as he stares at Steve, “HYDRA then?”
All Steve can do is shake his head, “HYDRA doesn’t wear perfume.”
You squint as you drive slow, pinching the handwritten directions between your fingers and the steering wheel. The paperweight you call an iphone lost its wifi connection hours ago, and then actually died several miles back, so it’s just you, a sheet of paper with half ass instructions scribbled on it, and your car venturing down a gravel, overgrown road. You’ve lost count how many times you’ve literally prayed to every God you know that you don’t get a flat— because, you know, that happens to stupid girls like you that just take off without telling a soul you’re leaving.
The radio fades in and out as you go, more static than music. Quick eyes dart around from side to side, finding nothing more than the lush of trees and grass and a few pops of color from random wildflowers. A frazzled mind screams at you. This is crazy, you’re crazy… but you dull the voice and just grip the wheel harder. You blink, cutting your eyes to the passenger seat, the deed to your new home staring back at you.
You tear your eyes away, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you press numb fingers into your temple and rest your elbow on the door. Funerals always made you queasy, no matter whose it was. This one happened to be for a long lost aunt, who you knew nothing about but she somehow knew a lot about you. Her love for you, a child she never laid eyes on physically, shown through every word she wrote in her will.
To my beloved niece. I leave the oldest, most precious heirloom in our history. The very house where our lineage began some two hundred years ago. Take care of it, thrive in it, let it inspire you. For you are more than you’ll ever know. Aunt Bea.
For you are more than you’ll ever know
Tears sting the backs of your eyes just having the words flit around in your brain again. With the backs of your fingers, you rub your lips trying to fight the urge to cry. The gravel road and trees in front of you go blurry as you tighten your hand on the wheel. You just need to get there. Maybe fix it up a bit, make it yours, start a garden. Become one with nature… because you honestly can’t handle having life run you over anymore and you’re sick and tired of being sick and tired all the time.
If you ever needed a reset button, it’s now and this house is it.
There’s a slight turn in the road. You take it slowly and then, just like it was dropped out of the sky, there it is. Home.
Long, green vines slither up the sides, the grass and wildflowers probably as high as your hip.  An old, weathered rocking chair sits in the corner of the porch, a small flower pot with a long dead plant right next to the door. The roof a little lopsided, weighed down underneath an overgrown tree, and two of the three steps leading to the porch look to be rotted, but a smile covers your face anyway as you stare out of the windshield.
There’s a bond between you and this old house already. A strength is here, a warmth— the air even smells sweeter as you exit your little Volvo. Generation after generation of your family have walked in this grass, worked this land, and now it’s all yours. Even though you don’t know these people, a need to make them proud fills your chest.
You grab your suitcase and move to the front porch, barely navigating the rotten steps before your high heel gets stuck in a hole in one of the boards. Who needs four inch heels out in the woods anyway. The boards on the porch creek and squeak as you move towards the front door, more of them needing to be replaced than not.
One, two, three jams of your hip against the door later, and you’re finally inside. Stagnant dust fills the air from all of the new movement, but you breathe a sigh of relief. The inside is definitely in better shape than the outside. White sheets cover the furniture, and beneath a layer of dust is brand new wood flooring. The kitchen has a new sink, and a relatively in shape refrigerator. A toaster still in the box sits atop the granite countertop.
Great uncle Ernest was busy when this was all his.
You run your fingers over the countertop as you move towards the back door just off to the right of the refrigerator. As you pull it open, the top hinge gives, separating from the rotting door frame, sending rusted nails and the hinge itself to the floor. A loud thud sounds through the house when the bottom of the door slams against the floor, leaving you to jump back and shout, clutching your chest all the while.
Alright, so great uncle Earnest didn’t get as far in with the renovations as he’d planned. Nothing you can’t handle.
You push through the screen door (where most of the screen is missing) and find yourself on an uneven, boards missing back porch. With a hop, skip, and a jump for fear of falling straight through, you’re standing in the backyard, pulling off your pumps so you can feel the dirt and grass. You blink slow, hands on your hips, staring back at your fixer upper, the reality of it all starting to swirl.
It’s gonna take a lot— money, time, effort— to get this place livable after sitting vacant for almost five years. You’re also no handyman. How the fuck do you replace a door? Where do you get a door? Does Amazon even deliver this far out?
Heavy hands fall to your sides as you let out a huff. Don’t start, you chide yourself, you wanted a sign and you got one. Take that shit and quit complaining.
Plus, it’s Amazon. They deliver everywhere.
The rush of water starts to fill your ears, fading in as you start to pay attention to the chirps of birds and buzzes of little insects. Bare, manicured feet start stepping through the wild, tall grass, black French tipped fingers brushing it off to the side as you pass through.
Low hanging branches scrape along your head, old apples from a ripening, unattended apple tree litter the ground as you step into damp dirt. Whatever thoughts you had mere moments before, fuck off back into the depths of your brain as your eyes settle on the rushing stream just a few feet away. The water is clear, rippling and burbling, little green and blue fish swimming along.
The earth fills your nose, the grass, the dirt, the water— you’ll learn how to fish. You’ll learn how to install a door, and how to rip up old slats, and replace broken windows.
Because you’re supposed to be here.
Two sets of blue eyes peer through leaves and broken branches, Bucky standing behind Steve as they gaze.
“You seen her out here before?”
Steve shakes his head soft, eyes trailing down your frame as you stand at the water's edge, “No. I didn’t even know there was a house down this far,” He blinks again, “It’s hidden,” the words hesitate, “By um, by all the trees.”
Bucky slides his eyes to the back of Steve’s head before moving up beside him. He inhales deep, pulling in the sweet rose scent of your perfume, the soft undertones of vanilla and… strawberry? Maybe a concoction of body wash and body butter. It’s enticing, sending him right back to 1943. Dorothy… Dolores… Dot… smelled just like you. Hell, he can still hear that cute little giggle, feel those soft tits pressed right up against his chest as his big hands hugged those hips while she danced.
He knows Steve smells it too— if not more of you. Steve can probably hear your heart beating. Maybe smell the lingering traces of a man; cologne, aftershave, or just the musk of him.
Bucky cuts his eyes towards Steve again and just knows Steve can smell your pretty, sweet little cunt. Smell your slick— can practically taste it on the tip of his tongue. Smell the smallest bit of perspiration on your skin as the sun beats down on you out here. Hear you swallow behind those plump, mauve colored lips.
It’s moments like these that make Bucky jealous. He’d take Steve’s perfected serum over his clipped poison any day.
Then his mind really goes, but that’s nothing new for Bucky. Once a flirt, always a flirt— no matter how much HYDRA is in him. The soft, thick meat of your hips in his calloused hands. Pathetic whimpers stuffing his ears. Nipples hard and piqued as he prods at them. That mouth, God that pretty mouth stretched wide around his cock, tears leaking down your cheeks as you slurp him up.
“Don’t start,” a quick clap on the back brings Bucky back, “Come on, Buck.”
Bucky watches Steve turn and take a few steps before he glances back across the stream, blinking at you as you swish your hand back and forth in the water. Knees drawn into your chest, head lolled just to the side, eyes sad and lost.
His cock twitches in his pants.
Steve’s hushed voice breaks through the rushing water and the rustling leaves again, and Bucky tears his eyes away, turning on his heel, “I’m comin, alright? Stow the mom voice.”
“We have to stay to ourselves if this is gonna work.”
“Did I say anything?” Bucky answers quick.
Steve chuckles, pushing a wild branch out of his way as they walk side by side, “You didn’t have to. I saw how you were looking at her.”
“Yeah well,” Bucky starts, eyes darting back and forth as his mind moves back to you, “She’s gonna need help fixing that place up,” he shrugs a few seconds later, feeling Steve’s eyes on the side of his face, “She is, you saw the roof— that back porch.”
“I know she smelled good, Steve. What I could get was incredible, so I know you got every last little sublime detail.”
Steve’s eyes drift, the greens of the grass and leaves, the blue of the sky, the white of the sun rays all blur together as Bucky’s words fade. You’re sweet. Delicate. Soft and ripe— ready for anything, anyone to just take you away. Mark you. Own you.
He blinks.
Blinks again.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Bucky rolls his eyes, scoffing as a smirk lingers on his lips, “You never did like to share, asshole.”
“I’m serious, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
It’s been a long time for Steve. Too many days to count, which turned into months, turned to years. He was good at ignoring it at first. Took him years to not let all the sounds, the smells, the visuals overwhelm him— going from barely able to see his own hand in front of his face to correctly identifying a semi-familiar face three hundred feet away in a crowd was… a lot. But he dealt with it over time. The sights, the sounds…
Every now and again though, a smell will get him. Make him weak in the knees. Keep him up at night— and he’ll probably be doing a lot of that tonight. Staying up, that is. Trying not to jerk his cock to the lingering smell of you. To smooth brown skin and plump lips. Long, manicured fingers. Gentle, round eyes. Steve licks his dry lips and tastes the salt on your skin— the little bead of sweat that slipped down your neck and into your cleavage.
“She looks young,” Steve murmurs, clearing his throat.
Bucky rolls his eyes, lips curling into a knowing smile, “Uh huh.”
“She does,” Steve counters quick, “She probably doesn’t even know who we are,” Bucky opens his mouth but Steve cuts him off, “Like, not old enough to remember us.”
Bucky drops his head back, widening his eyes, “Are you stupid? Or are you dumb? You broke me out of a federal prison six months ago, you’d have to be living under a rock to not—”
Steve whips around suddenly, eyes scanning the brush as he gets a whiff of roses and strawberries. Bucky follows suit, perking up as water splashes, leaves crunching with hurried footsteps. Out of habit, he clenches his fists, rolling his shoulders as the silver metal plates on his arm shift.
There’s muffled cursing, a quick squeal and then within the blink of an eye, you’re stumbling out in front of them, wiping at your forehead roughly as you try to find your footing.
“Oh,” you gasp, stopping short when you find two pairs of eyes trained stiffly on you, “Oh, uh, hi,” you smile bright, but quick, the gesture leaving your face as the two men shift their eyes towards each other before returning their gazes to you, “Um, sorry, I heard voices. I, uh,”
“Hi,” Bucky pipes up, offering a soft smile, “I’m Bucky, this is Steve.”
Steve rolls his eyes, his lips parting before they purse as he stares over at the Winter idiot. It’s amazing, really. Six hours ago, Bucky was hurling knives at Steve’s face and reminding him that he is his mission. Put a pretty girl in front of him, he’s a goddamn teddy bear.
You push out a breath, the smile returning to your face, “Hi Bucky, Steve. This is probably really strange,” you laugh, “But um, do you think you could help me? Really quick?” you turn slightly, pointing your thumb over your shoulder, “My backdoor kind of, uh, fell off. Could one of you help me lift it back into place?”
Steve’s mouth opens, fully intent on having words come out of it but all he can do is blink— and then snap his lips closed again. Bucky cuts his eyes towards him. Seventy years and two hundred pounds of FDA approved American meat later, and he still can’t talk to women.
“Sure thing,” a smile nearly splits Bucky’s face in two, “Lead the way.”
You keep your hands wrangled within one another, right thumb pressed into your left palm, rubbing gently as you walk ahead of these two strange men. If your mother could only see you now— inviting two strangers right to your back door. Two strange men that you found walking randomly in the woods. They make slasher films that start out just like this. Dumbass.
But it’s too late now, as you’ve begun to cross the stream— in your heels, cuz, you know, you completely thought this through— and your modest shithole of a cabin in view. You step cautiously into the water, placing one foot slowly in front of the other, hands held out to your sides to balance yourself, but of course—
You stumble, life flashing before your eyes as you start to fall sideways. Before you have a chance to hit the water, there’s a silver hand on your hip, and then another wrapped around your right bicep, keeping you upright and dry.
“I gotcha, I gotcha,” Bucky says, holding you still for a second, “Y’okay, sweetheart?”
With a quick glance over your shoulder and a nervous smile, you nod, “Yeah, th-thanks. This probably wasn’t the best choice of shoes.”
“No… probably not,” he chuckles, “Let me help you across.”
That big hand stays on your hip, the other sliding down your arm before it too lands a little higher up of your waist. You have to clear your throat and blink multiple times to try and focus on getting across the water and not on his firm, yet incredibly gentle grip. His metal fingers flex just a little, tightening, digging just a bit into your skin and hip, before they relax. When you get to the bank, his flesh hand caresses your elbow, holding it gently as he extends his arm to help you up into the grass.
A warmth spreads through your arm and down your body as you walk through the grass. On top of quitting your job and breaking your lease on a whim, you also have not been touched by a man in… let’s not get into that, okay? you gripe at yourself, we’ll work on that later.
“So, umm, yeah,” laughing nervously, you point towards the door, which has now completely fallen off the second and third hinges and laying flat on the floor, “Fuck, it wasn’t like that when I came out here. It was… fuck.”
Steve steps past you and moves just inside the door, eyes on the frame. He reaches up and runs his hand down the rotted wood, his red plaid button down lifting with the motion— exposing a sliver of skin. You instantly take a breath, a slow, deep one before dragging your bottom lip between your teeth. Eager eyes find a smattering of hair, just under his belly button as he reaches higher, shirt creeping up even further as he murmurs more to himself than anyone else.
“Wood’s rotted, so it won’t stay for long, but we can put it up for you for the night at least,” he says after a few moments, his eyes still moving up and down the side jamb, “If you don’t mind us ripping up your back porch, that is.”
You snap your eyes up to his, your brain playing catch up with the words, “Oh, um, why… exactly do you have to rip up the porch?”
“We can take a plank or two from the deck,” Bucky starts, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little, testing the old wood as he eyes it, “and nail ‘em into the rotted piece. Then screw the door into that until you can replace the whole thing.”
You nod, smiling again, “Sure, thanks. I’m planning on redoing the deck anyway. Do you need—” before you can get the words out, Bucky bends, grabbing the end of a random plank with his metal arm. With one swift yank, nails are flying, plopping in the grass as he rips it up and hands it to Steve, “ — a hammer?”
He winks at you, and your stupid stomach flutters, “I got it, honey.”
It’s been too long. The mere sentiments honey and sweetheart have you shaking. Touch starved and praise deprived. What a combo.
“I could use the hammer though,” Steve says, offering a smile, “Or a drill.”
“Right, yeah,” mumbling as you turn on your heel, “One sec.”
After rifling through a few drawers and a supply closet, you find a dead drill but also a pack of batteries, so you hand them over and lean against the fridge to watch. Fingertips prod at your bottom lip slowly as the two men get to work, Bucky deciding to rip a chunk of the rotted wood of the door jamb with his flesh hand this time. The sight makes you take another breath. It’s just so… yeah.
The two of them bicker, playfully, each thinking they know something more about installing a door than the other. Bucky makes another trip to the deck to rip up another board, breaking the damn thing over his knee like it’s a spaghetti noodle to get it to the size Steve needs. Your eyes start to drift again, finding more sun tanned skin as they reach and stretch and bend. Bucky’s tank top leaves little to the imagination— his deltoids and biceps flexing with each little movement.
Veins in Steve’s mammoth hands push up hard against his skin as he drills a repurposed board into the door frame. The arm of his shirt rides up, exposing a forearm covered in dark blonde hair. There you find another vein, prodding against his skin, creeping up his arm.
He’s flushed a little, Steve, his skin fairer than Bucky’s. You can see the red blooming across the top of his chest, across his collar bones, moving up his neck where it disappears into the thick beard on his chin and cheeks— it looks so soft. His beard. Your fingers start to itch, just wanting to feel it.
Bucky’s is lighter. More than stubble, but not a full grown creature just yet. It highlights his sharp jawline and chin; his lips. A little chapped, but pink and full for a man.
“Okay,” Steve huffs, the puff of air pushing his long hair out of his face, “That should do it. It’ll hold until you can get the whole jamb replaced.”
You push away from the fridge, hands and fingers intertwined because their mere presence makes you stupid, “Thank you so much. I wish I had something to offer you, like food or… something, for your help.”
“Oh no, that’s okay,” Steve smiles, running his hand through his hair, “Well, we better—”
“Are you out here all by yourself?” Bucky cuts in, glancing around the kitchen before taking a few more steps inside.
“Yes. I just inherited this place from my great aunt.”
“She passed?” you nod, “Sorry to hear that,” the soft in Bucky’s voice sends a ripple up your spine, “So, you’re gonna renovate this place by yourself? That’s a lot of work by the looks of it.”
You laugh, “Don’t remind me. But, uh, yeah, I’m gonna tackle it all by myself, unless Amazon can deliver a handyman and an electrician.”
“I don’t know about all that,” he chuckles, “but Steve and I can help— if you want, that is. We’re not doing much these days.”
Both you and Steve stare at him like he’s suddenly sprouted another head, “Oh no, no, no. I couldn’t ask you to do that. There’s so much to do and I’m sure you two have more important things to do than help me.”
With a shrug and a smirk, Bucky answers simply, “We don’t,” he turns his head, smiles wide at Steve, “Right bud?”
Bud. Steve could fucking kill him, “Right. It’d be our pleasure.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Bucky says, reaching out as he passes by you, letting his fingertips lightly brush along your forearm, “You can make us dinner when we’re finished.”
Bucky winks at you again and it takes every ounce of strength to stay on your feet. You open your mouth to speak, but kinda like Steve when you stumbled out in front of them, you can’t seem to find any words.
“We’ll be by tomorrow, okay? We’ll take you into town, get some supplies. But if you need us before then, we’re just a couple miles down the road— just follow the bend,” they both step out onto the back porch with you stopping just at the door, “Or you and those heels of yours can venture across the stream again. It’s a straight shot from there.”
You offer a weak smile and lift your hand as they move across the backyard, “Thank you.”
Bucky tosses another smile over his shoulder, “See you tomorrow, sugar.”
God, you’re in trouble.
Steve rolls over hard, slams his head back into the pillow as he pushes out a hot breath. Tired eyes blink slow up at the ceiling, focusing on nothing at all as his mind wanders. The air is still, the heat still suffocating even in the dead of night. The fan spins slow. The wispy, old curtains covering his open window shift with a random, soft breeze. Crickets chirp. Water ripples in the distance, an animal moves through the sun dried leaves.
He blinks again and there you are, right in front of his eyes. You’ve got to be the sweetest little thing to cross his path in what feels like forever. The shampoo and body butter weren’t enough to drown out the smell of you. Heady. Thick. So feminine. His eyelids get heavy, slip closed as he lifts his hips from the mattress, adjusting a bit, having to take a deep breath.
Steve licks his lips again as thoughts of his hands grazing over your naked thighs, squeezing gently as your teeth dig into your bottom lip fill his head. The pads of his fingers find that little wet spot on your silk panties, tease your slit and folds through the material. You spread those legs for him with a little more coaxing from him, your back pressed against his chest, head lolling on his shoulder as his lips skip along your exposed neck.
A moan chokes in Steve’s throat when he palms himself, already rigid from the fleeting thoughts. Thick fingers wrap around his girth, squeeze the base before he tugs upward, real slow, all the way to the tip as he imagines how soft your cunt is. How wet. Warm. How he’d push two fingers in, stopping as you tense— squeal. Tits jiggling when you jump and gasp when he adds a third.
“Shit,” he huffs, the innate urge to scold himself pausing his hand.
But it’s too late for all that now, cock standing tall, a blush of red creeping across his thighs and up his neck. Stomach going tight as his flesh warms at his touch.
He wishes it were yours— the touch.
He’d finger fuck you real slow, right there on that back porch of yours. One of your small hands wrapped around the back of his neck, the other holding his forearm, nails digging into his skin as your hips roll into his fingers and cock.
Blue eyes pop back open as he rolls to the side, pushing his hand between the mattress and box spring to pull out a small bottle of lube. Bucky can’t mind his fucking business nowadays… he also never puts shit back where he found it and doesn’t understand the saying a dollop will do ya, so, this bottle of water based lube will stay hidden between the mattress and box spring.
They’ve been on the run for almost six months, Steve’ll be damned if a trip to a sex store gets them caught now.
A soft click breaks the silence, but Steve hesitates anyway. Bucky’s serum may not have enhanced his senses to the same hypersensitive degree as Steve’s, but the fucker can still hear a pin drop on a carpeted floor while a radio plays in the background.
The room temperature gel squirts easy in his hand, starts to warm as soon as Steve closes his mammoth palm around his hot cock, sending another ripple right down his spine. Hips start to rock as he finds a rhythm. Up, down, up, down. Fingertips sweeping over his wet tip before dragging back down to his stomach. He ruts up into his palm, stomach and balls tight as he pushes out a heavy breath.
Steve, you rasp, heady and thick, Steve, please baby. Fuck me, Steve.
A thick breath hitches in his throat as he imagines the words tripping off your tongue; so desperate and needy. A quick spurt of silk wets his cock head, dribbles down before his palm catches it. A tight, slow tug smearing it along his length as he fucks up into the canal of his hand again.
Free fingers slip down his side, find his strung up balls, heavy and swollen. He rolls them between his fingers, squeezes, imagines you grinding that perfect ass against his hard cock before reaching back to grab him. Begging him.
Steve. Fill me up. Stuff me full, baby. Please.
And he would— stuff you full. He’d ruck that black skirt right up over your hips, rip that thong in two. Teeth would find your earlobe, eager hands in your top, squeezing those perky, round, full tits as his cock head drags through wet folds— teases your slit.
Would he slam into you right away? Just as desperate as you are for it. Wanting to feel soft, hot muscles clamp around him. Or, would he sink in? Slow and steady, making you take him inch by inch. Squeaking and groaning all the while, fingernails dug into his thighs, clipped, broken, breathy words falling from wet lips and floating away with the breeze.
He’d grab a fistful of your wild hair, real tight. Yank your head back when you’ve taken every bit of his cock, ass flat against his stomach. Call you his favorite little dumb baby. Tell you how greedy your cunt is, how only he can satisfy that slutty hole. Kiss you hard and sloppy as you nod quick, murmuring and burbling— totally agreeable to each and every whim of his.
Yeah. That’s how he’d do it. Push in real slow, make you whine for it and tell him how much you need him. Then he’d slam into you. Not waiting for you to catch your breath. Not allowing you to adjust. He’d keep his grip tight on your hair, craning your neck back until he can almost see your eyes rolled up in the back of your head.
Steve’s chest is tight, his heartbeat in his throat, the rush of blood in his ears as he pumps his cock faster. The curl of his palm constricts to mimic the feel of you— wet, tense muscles enveloping him. He breathes in deep and the rose and strawberry is back in his nostrils. The faint hint of vanilla, a tinge of sweat. The sound of your skin slapping against his. The feel of your hips, your soft sides, thick nipples in his hands.
He wants them between his teeth, those pretty brown nipples. Wants to tease them with the tip of his tongue, while a lazy, long leg of yours is thrown over his hip— in the kitchen, up against the fridge.
Fuck. Maybe you’re a sensitive little thing. Maybe just him sucking your tits can make you come. His big hand shoved down the front of your open jean shorts, the pads of his fingers just barely brushing over your clit. Your hips rocking hard, trying to catch a feel against his hard thigh between your legs. Head thrown back, fingers in his hair. His name falling off your pretty lips, all flustered and stupid drunk off lust.
His hips flex once more and he’s tipped over the edge, long, hot strings of thick silk spurting. Teeth dig into his bottom lip, trying to stifle his groans as he comes, wave after wave rolling through. It splatters on his stomach, rolls down the side of his cock and over his fingers as they continue their strokes, up and down, up and down, up and down. Squeezing, pads teasing a sensitive tip.
He pulls on his balls, hips rolling up into his hand as he groans a little louder, each one punctuated with another spurt. Quick flashes of broken images— your sweet mouth, naked tits, full, meaty hips, ass bouncing— dance before his eyes as he drains himself. He tips his head back, pushes the top of his head into the pillow as his mouth hangs. Cock now overly sensitive, each sweep making him shiver but he doesn’t want to stop. It’s too good— you’re too good and sweet.
The body is always weaker than the mind and Steve knows a thing or two about a weak body. It gives out before his visions of you, slamming him back down to the mattress, hips and hands slowing until they both stop. Breath heavy and labored, head rolled to the side, a hand slapping into the middle of his chest. He’s a mess, sticky and wet, but the relaxation that washes through him is unmatched.
A knock on the wall sounds seconds later, “Hey pervert, you finished?”
“Fuck you.”
“No dummy, I’m trying to fuck me. Gimme the lube.”
It’s hot, and in more ways than one, but that’s not the only reason you’re having trouble concentrating on getting these hydrangeas in the dirt. It’s been two days of watching two men basically build you a new home. T shirts have come off, pants have sagged embarrassingly (for you) low. All the hammering and screwing, the light little curses that fall their lips making your brain go all… well, dumb.
And they’re both impossibly nice. Bucky with his sure thing, sugar. I got it honey, no problem. Steve and his yes ma’am. Here, let me get this outta the way. Need anything else? Sure, it may seem like just having simple manners to some, but to you, who’s been a welcome mat for any and every asshole that’s looked in your direction, it’s all about to make you combust.
You’ve purposefully kept your distance. Try to keep your eyes to yourself, put at least six feet between your body and their bodies when moving around them, but it’s really no use. Just having them here, in your space— the natural smell of man lingering in the air even after they’ve left, and God has it been a long time since you’ve been immersed in that smell—  has cast a spell. A spell that forces your hand down your pants more often than not. Prunes. Your fingers are prunes.
Against your better judgement, you blink up from the flower bed, searching for a certain blonde eye candy. Steve is on the opposite end of the front porch, ripping up a rotted, but still two inch or more thick board with nothing else but his hands. Snaps it in half like a twig, like it’s nothing, and tosses the pieces into a pile behind him. He takes a second before grabbing one of the new boards and throws his head back, runs his fingers through his hair, shaking it gently back and forth.
A bead of sweat rolls down his chest, right between those two beautiful, sculpted tits of his and travels down his abs, absorbing into the tuft of dark blonde hair just below his belly button. There’s more veins. So, so many veins, pumping hot blood throughout his six foot something, two hundred plus pounds.
Steve then pushes a hand around the back of his neck, rubbing gently as he tilts his head towards the sky. Lips parted, long, dark eyelashes spread out over rosy cheeks. Then you’re thinking about teeth, your teeth, sinking into that thick neck. Sucking that hot blood to the surface, marking him up. Hips rolling into his, cunt stuffed with cock, his fingers prodding at your asshole. Your hands look small holding onto his broad shoulders, squeezing as hard as you can but he barely feels it, if at all— the cut of your nails in his skin.
One of those hands, wide and warm, holds your neck, squeezes, and you for damn sure feel it. Wet lips find the shell of your ear, teeth grab the lobe. Soft words, so soft that you almost miss them, all tied up and slurred and stupid with lust. You’re such a pretty girl. Hmm? Ain’tcha? There you go, honey. Just like that. Oh, that’s perfect.
His mouth finds your neck as you roll your head back, hips still rolling. Lips swollen and red snagging on your skin as he drags them lazily, down, down, down to your collarbone. Teeth nibble at the bone before he slides his tongue across it, all while one hand slithers up your back, grabs and holds onto your shoulder.
You squeak when he fucks up into you real hard, just once, so he knows you feel him. You like that, honey? You want it like that? Okay, sweet girl, lemme give you what you want...
It’s time for some goddamn lunch.
You’re on your feet in a flash, head down as Steve twists left and right, because of course now that your panties are stuck to your skin, it’s the perfect time for him to work out a kink in his back.
“You okay?” he asks, eyes trailing you as you practically run towards the front door.
“Yep,” you don’t even look at him— you can’t. Heat prickling across your skin as embarrassment follows quickly behind, “Just getting kinda hungry… chicken salad sandwiches okay?”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that, Buck and I can head home—”
“My treat,” you cut him off, twisting the doorknob.
All thanks to Bucky, a blast of cool air hits you in the face as soon as you push through the front door with ease (Steve is to thank for the door). You wipe at your forehead and move into the kitchen, washing your hands before plucking random ingredients from the fridge, freezer and pantry. Eyeing the small mountain of lemons in the crisper drawer, a pitcher of lemonade would round out your impromptu lunch (and help cool down your libido).
After the chicken is boiling on the stove, you busy yourself slicing up the tart, yellow fruit, popping the halves into your new lemon press. You’ve liquified three or four halves before movement catches your eye, drawing them towards the square window right over the sink.
Bucky tosses a hammer into the grass, hands on his hips while he rolls his shoulders. Cranes his neck back and forth. Soon he’s pulling at his shirt, one hand bunching it between his shoulder blades before pulling it clean over his head. Tosses it into the grass too as he starts to move towards the stream, fumbling with the button and zipper of his loose jeans.
Your heartbeat grows heavy, breath kinda shallow as he shrugs out of the denim just at the stream's edge. Then his fingers are in the waistband of his boxer briefs. Pulling. You blink away, sending your eyes towards the floor as heat, from both excitement and embarrassment creeps up into your face. What a creep— you’re a creep!
But you’re blinking again. Blinking right back out the window as the muffled sounds of water sloshing about fills the space. Naked thighs, burly and tanned and hairy. Swinging between his legs as he moves deeper into the water.
Just like that, your mind is off into it’s little tangents and tributaries. On your knees, in front of him. A hand cupping your chin, a smile on his face as he pushes hair away from your forehead. He’s leaning down, pressing hot, chapped lips to yours real soft. Your hands, so small when gripping his hips, nails raking down hairy thighs. Wet against your eager lips, warm, wet cock head rubbing soft, back and forth, back and forth to coax your mouth open.
A hum, one of content and sheer happiness sounds in your throat when you’re full of him. Velvet tongue tracing the thick vein that runs the length of his cock, then flattening— molding itself around him. He’s heavy and hot in your mouth, pinning your tongue down, gently stroking the soft at the back of your throat.
Bucky sounds heavenly. Soft groans. Sweet and sugary— and he doesn’t care. He’s a man, comfortable and secure. Oh honey, he’d purr, you’re so good to me. So, s’good. So warm.
Little hands around his cock, stroking, twisting, wet and sloppy from where your mouth just was. There’s a salt sweet in the back on the tip of your tongue, and you hum again. Silky. A bloom of warmth as you press the tip of your tongue against the tip of his cock. Pumping, pumping, pumping with your hands.
Breath against your ear suddenly, more sweet words tripping off a tongue as a chest is pushed into your back. A mammoth hand slipping down your stomach and between your legs, fingers teasing a throbbing clit and swollen, sticky folds. You take him so good, baby, Steve praises, pushing one, two, three fingers into your achy cunt, filling you up as you suck Bucky right back into your mouth. Such a good girl.
A loud thunk sounds from outside, jolting you right out of your little fantasy. You gasp and jump, slam your eyes closed as you grab onto the sink— Steve’s muffled but sweet sorry permeating through the walls. You cover your face with your hands, laughing gently into them before groaning loudly and pushing out a huff.
You grab another halved lemon, shove it into the press, and squeeze the fuck out of that bitch.
Within the hour, you’re stepping out onto your seemingly finished back porch. It doesn’t creak when you walk across it. There aren’t any rusted, jagged nails sticking out, no more missing or uneven boards. Your heart— and pussy— flutter with joy.
Ice cubes clink against the glass of the cups in your hands, traipsing towards the stream as Bucky floats lazily, arms pushing through the water slow as he stares up into the sky. You thank God for the heavy breeze today, whipping the water a bit, ripples and burbles stirring it up so you can’t see all of Bucky as he floats. Just the droplets of water glimmering on his chest, neck, and face. His hair spreading out and swaying with the steady current.
Two blue eyes soon find you, head turning slow, a lopsided smile on his handsome face as you stop just at the edge. You clear your throat nervously, a smile of your own spreading as you glance away.
“No heels today?”
You laugh, closing your eyes as embarrassment washed through you, “Nope, not today. I uh, I made some lemonade, if you… want some.”
The water sloshes again, falls off of his shoulders and arms and slaps back into the main source. Bucky runs his hands over his head, pushing more water off before taking a few steps towards your outstretched hand. His fingers linger over yours when he takes the round glass, for a second too long before he pulls back, eyes on you as he takes a slow sip.
You sit in the grass, sending your gaze up the stream as you lift your glass.
“Damn girl,” he says after a slow moment, “This is good, not too sweet. Just how I like it.”
Pride swells in your chest, “Thanks, I don’t like mine super sweet either,” you take a breath, settle your eyes on your feet as you wiggle your toes, “It’s the least I could do for you guys. I also made some chicken salad in the house, I can make you a sandwich whenever you’re hungry.”
“That’s real sweet, doll,” he purrs, smiling again, “Thank you, but really, you don’t have to worry about it. We were going stir crazy out here with nothing to do.”
You nod slow, blinking back at him before averting your eyes again, back down the stream, thinking for a tick or two, “Have you guys… been out here the whole time?”
Bucky has a way of looking at you. Like he’s trying to pry into you, see the innermost working parts of your brain and heart. It makes you nervous, but the good kind of nervous where you don’t ever want to not have those eyes on you.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come on,” you smile, tucking your knees into your chest.
A slow smile creeps onto his face, eyes dancing all over you, “Come on what?”
“I,” you hesitate, pushing out a hard breath as embarrassment flushes through you, “I know who you are,” your voice is hushed and you don’t know why… there’s no one out here but you and him. Oh yeah, cuz you’re dumb.
“Yeah?” Bucky teases, smile growing larger, “Who are we?”
You squeeze your legs together, brain going fuzzy and warm as he teases you. God. “Your faces have been all over the news for months. You haven’t even cut your hair for god sake.”
“You know,” Bucky starts, pointing a finger at you as he closes his left eye, “I’ve been meaning to get around to that,” laughter bubbles up and spills out of your mouth for the first genuine time in a long time. The sound makes Bucky smile harder, “I’m pretty sure most of the town knows it’s us too.”
“Maybe not,” you shrug, “From the looks of it, the average age around here is a cool seventy five. I don’t think they care.”
“That’s true,” he laughs, “Even though they’re all old enough to remember us first hand,” silence falls over the two of you, nothing but the wind in the trees and the soft rush of the water, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
You look away from him, unable to take the constant stare from him any longer. You take a slow breath and shrug, “Everybody should have the chance to start over if they want, whenever and however they choose, so,” you swallow hard, dropping your head, “Plus, I think you two have been through enough, you don’t need me muckin’ it up.”
He blinks at you, eyes dropping just a bit, a seriousness settling in and on his features, “Thanks,” he answers simply.
A nod and half smile is all you can offer without that sadness you’ve been feeling lately creeping up in your throat, “Isn’t it lonely out here?” you ask, blinking at him over the rim of your glass.
He nods, shutting one eye as he tilts his head towards the sky, thinking over his answer, “Not really lonely, just kinda isolating, you know? If you can’t tell, I’m the social butterfly of the two of us.”
You laugh, nodding with him as you pick up on the sarcasm but appreciating his quiet way of picking up on your shifts and changing the subject, “Oh yeah, it totally oozes off of you.”
“I know it does, thank you for noticing,” he winks, “We don’t get into town much and usually Steve is the one that goes cuz, ya know,” he taps his temple, “Can’t really trust this thing yet, but it beats being rotting away in federal prison.”
A few beats pass as you play with a strand of grass, “I went to the Smithsonian a couple of years ago, saw that installation they put up for Steve— all the accolades and medals and shit… and he just walked away from it all, for you, for… what he believes in. That’s incredible— you’re incredible for enduring everything you have and still finding all this shit worth it. You two are just,” you can’t even find the words, “You must really love each other.”
“Well, home is home, you know,” he shrugs matter-of-factly, “He’s my brother— he’s never given up on me after all this time. I’d do it for him if I had too.”
“Boy,” you laugh a little, “They certainly don’t make men like you guys anymore. I can’t get somebody to buy me fuckin’ cup of coffee without expecting something in return. You two are lucky.”
Your words trail off, brown eyes blinking away from him again as the wheels turn in your brain. Bucky picks up on it immediately, tilts his head and smiles a little, “What?”
You shake your head, laughing again before taking a drink, “It’s nothing, just me overthinking.”
“About?” he prods after a second or two.
“I just,” you glance down the stream again, voice dropping low again, “I don’t think Steve likes me.”
He laughs. Like, really laughs. A throws his head back and claps his hands once or twice kinda laugh, “Oh hun,” he says after catching his breath, “Where’d you get an idea like that?”
“He’s just, I dunno, he’s short with me, barely looks at me most of the time,” you shrug, “But I mean, you two are fugitives from the goddamn United States government, I’d be suspicious of everything and everyone too,” Bucky’s laughter only grows, making you smile a little, “My social anxiety amuses you, huh?”
“No, no. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but, it’s just—” his eyes go wide with some sort of hidden knowledge as his smirk grows, “— he likes you. Believe me.”
“Well excuse me if I don’t because I sure can’t tell. He barely seems to like you most days.”
That tickles Bucky too, his laugh filling the air, “Him liking me isn’t certain from day to day, that’s for sure, but listen, he still thinks of himself as a hundred pound, socially awkward nerd. He hasn’t learned a damn thing in a hundred years — pretty girls made him nervous in 1940 and they make him nervous now,” you drop your head, trying to hide the smile growing on your face, “What do they say nowadays? It’s not you, it’s him.”
A laugh trickles out from behind your lips.
“Feel better?” Bucky asks.
You shrug, but nod, letting out a breath, “I suppose, yeah.”
He winks at you, smiling again, “Good.”
Then you two just kinda look at each other. Not saying anything, just looking— all over. Minds wandering and racing, then just stilling as the wind whips around you. Bucky tilts his head, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he looks you over slowly, another quirk of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Hey,” he says after a beat, taking another gulp or two of your lemonade, “You know what really gives me away?” He lifts his metal hand and wiggles his fingers, making you laugh.
“You certainly don’t try very hard to hide it.”
“Not around you anyway.”
You snap your eyes towards him as the words leave his mouth. Bucky’s head is tilted, wet hair pushed back, fat drops of water still dripping from the ends. He starts moving inward, towards you, each step exposing more and more of his chest and stomach— the dark, wet hair plastered underneath his belly button.
Bucky Barnes is not a shy man, and if you had any shame at all, you’d look away. But you don’t, have any shame that is, so you don’t. You let your eyes wander his lean, but incredibly toned body. There’s muscles on top of muscles, but there’s also scars. Littered across his torso and stomach, down his thighs and calves. Some silvery and old, others still dark and jagged— raised on his skin. Others are just ghosts of scars, barely there anymore and only visible when the sun and the water hit him just right.
He sits his empty glass in the grass beside you, the ice cubes clinking again. Grabs your glass from your hands and takes a sip. He pushes your knees open with his flesh hand, the bottom of the glass skimming over the right bend. Then he sits, his knees pressing into that little nook where your ass meets your thighs. Bucky places the rim of the glass to your lips and waits.
“Go on.”
You blink up at him but let your head tilt back with instinct. Part your lips as Bucky tips the glass back and allows the lemonade to spill slow into your awaiting mouth.
“Finished? Or more?”
His voice is soft, eyes on slits as he peers down at you through full lashes. You lick your lips and place both hands in the grass, palms flat, “More please.”
It’s needy the way you said it, light and full all at the same time. Another sound that pleases him. He tips the glass again, and again you accept the tart liquid, licking your lips when he pulls away.
“Let me ask you something, doll.”
Metal digits creep around your neck, the tips of his fingers pushing into your hair. He cradles your face and you can’t help but roll into his warm palm as his thumb sweeps just underneath your bottom lip. The other hand is around your neck now too, just kind of holding it, fingers scratching at the nape of your neck.
He tilts your head back, pushing the tips of his thumbs underneath your chin and your eyes flutter. A whir trembling in your throat.
“Who in their right mind let a sweet little needy thing like you wander around all alone out here?”
Warm lips are on yours before you can answer— if you were even supposed to. Bucky grabs your top lip between both of his, that pink tongue sneaking out, massaging the roof of your mouth before disconnecting with a smack. The tip of his nose sweeps over yours as he adjusts, kissing you again, harder this time. Pulls you into him with his hands, his thumbs pressing into your cheeks.
You’re staring at him— both surprised and unsure— when he finally pulls away, the smack of your lips like thunder in a confused brain. Bucky’s hands are still on your face, cradling your cheeks and chin, lopsided grin painted on his face as he blinks down at you.
“What is it,” he asks soft, “Cat got your tongue?”
All you can do is blink. Mind empty as your breath shallows. He leans in again, sweeps the tip of his nose over yours as he nuzzles in— kisses your top lip quick and soft, “You just don’t know, do you?”
A hum vibrates in the back of your throat as you push out a labored breath. Lips suddenly eager, heartbeat ticking up as his metal hand collars around your throat, “Mmph— know what?”
The words are thin. Nervous and trembling but his mouth eats them right up. Hot and confident as he kisses you, tongue running along the roof of your mouth as his thumb slowly passes back and forth over your throat.
“Just how sweet you are.”
Your reach for him after seconds pass, hands and nails finding wet hips as you moan into his mouth. He sits up on his knees but never breaks the kiss, now deep and a little desperate. Bucky sounds as he starts to prod at the button of your jean shorts, popping it quick before pulling on the zipper, “We can smell how bad you need it, girl— how bad you want it.”
Instinctively you lift your hips, allowing Bucky to pull your shorts down your legs. You curl them around his thighs, place your feet on the insides of his calves, fingers finding his skin again, raking up and down his thighs.
“Thought you were gonna Steve a goddamn heart attack,” he chuckles, grabbing at the hem of your shirt, rucking it up over your chest, “‘m surprised he can form a sentence when you’re around.”
Your tits soon fall free, soft skin bouncing and jiggling as he jostles you around a bit— gets you just right and close so he can peer down at you through those long, dark lashes. Fingers curled underneath your chin, thumb dragging over your lips.
“You just looked so lonely, sitting all by yourself that day. So sweet and sad, like you were—” a breath chokes in his throat as you push your fingers through the thick hair underneath his belly button, “— waitin’ for us. Fuck, baby,” he inhales sharp, a hiss like a snake slithering out of him, “I thought, there’s no way anyone is that innocent, but you are, aren’t you sweet girl? We’ve found the prettiest, sweetest, loneliest little thing in the world— ah,”
One long stroke of your tongue along his cock brings his words to a halt. You send your eyes up to his and take him slow, stretching your mouth wide as your tongue glides along the length. Bucky rolls his shoulders and lets out a focused breath, real calm and slow through his teeth and parted lips. The tips of his fingers prod at your nipples, tweaking them gently before palming your tits.
You wrap a hand around his hip, skip the other up his stomach to flatten your palm against his chest— give his nipple a little turn and pinch. His heavy cock jumps in your mouth and your eyes light up in pure joy.
“Oh,” he purrs, pumping his hips slow, holding steady when he feels the back of your throat, “You like that, sugar? You like makin’ a mess of me? Got me stumblin’ all over my words— shit, oh honey, this mouth is something special, ain’t it? Fuck,”
His words are clipped again by a groan, throaty and gritty as you pull back, your lips wrapped around his cock head. Your tongue swirls around, tickles that little spot on the underside. The same spot that makes all men tremble. His thighs tense as he inhales sharp.
Without a word, he slips out of your mouth. Pushes you back flat against the grass and falls over you, metal hand by your head, holding his weight, flesh hand around his cock, pushing the tip through your folds.
He teases you like that for a beat too long— pushing at your slit, barely poking inside before pulling out to rub against your clit. You whine, leaning up, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck and pressing your forehead to his all while wiggling your hips. Trying to coax him in.
“What’s the magic word?” he taunts, tutting at you before pressing his lips to yours quick, pulling back with a smack, “Use your manners.”
“Please,” it’s huffy. Impatient and greedy, “Please, Bucky.”
“What do you want? Huh? Tell me what you want?”
“I wan’ you to—“
One quick stroke. Before you can even finish the sentence. He’s pushed in, all the way in— every last inch shoved inside. The sound you make is ungodly. Your fingers clamp around the back of his neck, grip tight as your mouth falls open. You have trouble catching your breath, panting like some animal left out in the heat too long. The fullness is just—
“Look at you,” Bucky purrs, pulling back before pushing in slow, “Oh honey,” quick kisses wash over your face— forehead, eyes, nose, chin, “You fit me just perfect, don’t you?”
You feel yourself nodding, dazed, so wholly consumed by the feel of him over you— inside you— that whatever words were jumbling around in your brain just a few seconds ago fizzle out into static.
Bucky is... he's— big. All over. Broad shoulders and thick thighs, muscle upon muscle stacked in a stocky frame that shouldn't lend itself to the agility you've seen him conduct himself with, but it does and it works. He's lethal, from the stories you've heard, yes— but he's also devastatingly gentle in the way he makes you fall apart with his touch, nestled safely between the grass beneath your back and the cradle of his lap.
"You're—" your words fall short, nothing more than a squeak and a sharp intake of breath spilling from your lips when he hits the spot that makes your tongue turn to lead, "— big.”
Bucky leans further into you, as if it's even possible, biting kisses stealing whatever breath is left in your lungs. He laughs into the kiss, soothes over the hurt on your bottom lip with his tongue. "I know, baby. Feel me in there?"
He punctuates the question with a hand to your abdomen and a sharp thrust that borders on the thin edge between pain and pleasure. Bucky shushes your answering moan, whispers into your mouth to— look at what I do to you, honey.
It's to your own demise that you follow through with the command, eyes rolling to the back of your head after only a quick look. It’s obscene how much fits inside of you. The thickness of him presses against your walls, thrusts deep and unrelenting, every movement outlined beneath the thick skin of your abdomen.
“That’s right, sweet girl,” he continues, palming your tits as they move with his thrusts, “Feels good, huh?”
You can only nod, the words strangled in your throat, nothing but squeaks and garbled moans pushing through. He fucks you slow, metal digits slipping down to your clit— light, teasing little strokes sending fire through your veins.
That metal hand comes back up, fingers and palm flat to your skin, sliding up your belly, through your tits only to wrap around your throat, applying a gentle pressure if only for a second. Then his hand is moving again. Up over your chin, thumb outlining your lips and flattening against your mouth before pushing the tip inside.
You welcome it, his thumb; the metal hot from absorbing the sun. You grab his wrist and open wider, inviting the entire length of his thumb inside. Moan deep as your tongue and lips wrap around it. Start to suck.
“You’re just the best girl,” he purrs, eyes fluttering, pecs flexing as he fucks into you with patience, “Just a precious little needy girl.”
I don’t think Steve likes me.
Steve stops mid-hammering. Eyes squinting as he adjusts the nails between his teeth, just hanging off his lip.
Oh hun, where’d you get an idea like that?
He’s just, I dunno, he’s short with me, barely looks at me most of the time.
He cringes thinking about what could possibly come out of Bucky’s mouth next, but when the crude words he just knew were about to fly don’t come, Steve lets out a breath. The last thing he needs you to know is how he’s jerked off to thoughts of you wrapped around his cock in a variety of ways every night since he’s met you.
He hasn’t meant for it to be obvious. Embarrassment and a little shame floods through him as he stands on the ladder, head hung low as he listens to your conversation. But the truth is, you make him dizzy. Everything about you is just so strong— it’s taken everything in him to focus on this porch and not your ass or down your low hanging collar as you’ve hovered over the flower beds all day.
Your heartbeat in his ears, the mix of your shampoo and lotion— your cunt— all mixed up in his nose. Filling his lungs and choking his brain. It’s too much and not enough for him all in the same breath. So he’s tried to keep his distance, work out his frustrations by pounding nails into wood when in reality, the only thing he’s been wanting to pound is you.
Sarah Rogers would be rolling over in her grave, and he knows it. She did not raise a rude son. Steve sighs heavily, blinking at the grass as he starts to work out his apology in his head.Plucking a nail from his mouth, he huffs out a breath and rests the sharp tip against the board, snapping his head quick to throw his long hair out of his face. Just as he’s about to bring the hammer down against the flat head, a familiar scent fills his nose.
It’s you, but heavier. Thicker. So consuming it could knock him over— makes the hair on the back of his neck stand right on end. With every breath he takes there’s just more and more… until his feet are carrying him around the side of the house. The hammer falling with a thump into the grass. Nails tumbling from his lips.
You like that, sugar? You like makin’ a mess of me? Got me stumblin’ all over my words— shit, oh honey, this mouth is something special, ain’t it? Fuck
Steve stops dead in his tracks as the words stuff his ears, eyes wide, breath caught in his throat as he blinks slow. Your naked back, slender and curved. Two long legs cocooning Bucky’s hips— head bobbing. Bucky groans deep, head lolling back, mouth falling open slightly as you suck him off.
Steve’s stomach tightens as heat creeps across his flesh. Stuck to the ground right where he stands, he watches Bucky push you back into the grass. Watches your full tits, nipples thick and piqued, jiggle as you writhe and whine like a petulant child before pulling yourself up by his neck.
Please, he hears you beg, please, Bucky.
His mouth goes dry. The heavy thumps of his own heartbeat in his ears, your carnal scent swirling, as his cock pushes against the denim of his jeans. He has to grab himself, give his cock and balls a little squeeze as your breath shudders while you adjust to the sheer size of Bucky— and a shiver ripples down his spine.
You’re— big.
I know, baby. Feel me in there?
Steve’s knees buckle when you squeak at Bucky’s first thrust— has to reach out and catch himself with the help of a tree trunk. A fog clouds his brain as the smell of you and Bucky’s sex fills the air, the soft little sputters and whines that fall from your lips suffocating him as Bucky fucks you slow. This is the closest he’s felt to being sick in eighty years. Stomach churning, his head light as air chokes in his throat.
“Don’t be shy, buddy,” the words aren’t clear at first, kinda murky and distant before Bucky’s voice centers. Steve blinks, swallowing hard as he stares back at two blue eyes, “Look baby,” he purrs down at you, leaning down to lick your mouth before cutting his eyes back towards Steve, “And you thought he didn’t like you— the fucker can’t even breathe seeing you all stuffed full like this,”
Bucky kisses you hard but slow, humming real low as he sucks your tongue, “What are you waiting for, Cap?” he asks after breaking away from you, “Get your ass over here.”
Steve’s never been one to not follow an order.
You’re a trembling mess. Chest heaving, wimpy little sounds rushing from your mouth, fingernails dug into the meat of Bucky’s sides. Your head’s turned to the side, mouth hanging as you strain to watch Steve move towards you. Bucky fucks into you hard— hand pressed against your belly so you can feel it— sending a sharp pang of pain and pleasure. You squeal, eyes slamming shut as your hands fall to the grass, nothing but jelly.
Bucky slips out of you, flips you over onto your stomach before propping you up on your hands and knees all pretty like. His fingers push through your folds, rubbing soft circles, teasing your slit as he grabs your hair and yanks your head up to help keep your eyes on Steve, who falls to his knees in front of you.
“See what you do to him?” Bucky hums, his thumb sneaking up through your ass cheeks, pressing against your tight hole, “He’s been like this all week, all blushy and tense, head in the clouds just to try and focus on anything but you.”
Your eyes flutter again, teeth digging down into your bottom lip as Bucky’s thumb sinks into you, your greedy hole quick to swallow it up. He pumps it slow, the rest of his long fingers and warm palm cupping your swollen, wet cunt. You let out a breath, a gasp cutting it off as his fingers start to move, rubbing slow little circles against your clit again. Your hair still bunched in his hand, keeping your head up.
There’s fingers on your face, palms against your cheeks and thumbs on your lips as Steve tilts your head up a little higher, “Is she sweet, Buck?”
“Oh yeah,” Bucky answers with a quick chuckle, clipping it with a grunt as he stuffs you back full with his cock, “She’s as sweet as honey, Cap. That mouth— whew.”
You swallow hard, mouth falling open as Steve unzips his jeans and pushes his hand inside. He inches closer to you, knees dug into the grass and dirt as you start to lunge forward with Bucky’s soft thrusts, mewling as he continues to finger your asshole. Another deep surge of air fills your lungs as Steve pulls himself from his jeans.
“Je-sus,” you falter, voice shaking with Bucky’s thrusts as his hips pick up pace.
Steve works himself out of his jeans quick, hand pumping his cock all the while— the tip red and wet. Back on his knees in front of you, he continues to fuck himself, hand twisting slow up his shaft, the other pulling on his heavy sac as you bounce off of Bucky’s stomach.
Eyes half closed, long hair falling over his face, pink tongue sneaking out over his bottom lip as he watches you. Your eyes fall to his hands, blinking fast so you don’t miss a moment.
You fall to your left elbow, reach out with your right hand, skimming your nails up his thigh before wrapping your fingers around him. Following with your lips and tongue, you suck him in, caress the vein protruding against his tight, thin skin with your tongue. Stretch wide again as you take Steve’s length into your mouth— down your throat. You moan as you release him with a pop, keeping his cockhead pressed against your lips as you stroke him with your hand.
You take just the tip, swirling your tongue, tickling his little slit as he leans back, fucks up into your mouth with a sharp thrust, “Shit, girl,” he mumbles, “‘m sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize to her,” Bucky sounds, “She can take it, can’t you sugar? It’s been a long time for ol’ Stevie boy,” he runs his metal hand up your spine, grabs the back of your neck as he levels a quick slap against your ass, “Be a good girl and let him fuck your throat.”
Almost on queue, Steve fucks up into your mouth again, tears prickling in your eyes as he opens your throat. His hand finds your head, sweeps over the crown before he squeezes gently, hips pumping upward. The squelch of your throat, the slap of Bucky’s skin on yours drowns out everything else— makes it all go fuzzy and hazy.
You’re just a toy. A thing for them to use until they’ve had their fill and hopefully, that won’t come any time soon.
Steve thrusts into your mouth again but this time stills, pushing your head down on to him. You grunt loud, nose in the thick, wiry hair smattered at the base of his stomach, tears rolling down your face. He pulses his hips— real slow— wiggling gently to push deeper and deeper down your throat— his mouth hanging, chest heaving as you take him all.
Bucky slams into you hard, holds his hips there for a beat before snapping his hips again, thrusting you forward— making you whimper even louder. Steve pulls out quick, leaving you panting and grunting, dragging in ragged breaths as strings of spit and cum hang from your bottom lip. He pushes back in before you can think straight, sends his cock down your throat again, holds his hips in place as his thighs flex and strain, just to pull out roughly again seconds later.
Steve wraps a hand around your throat, pushes your chin up as he squeezes your cheeks to pucker your mouth, “You like that, huh?” he kisses you hard, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, “You’re a good little girl— you like feeling me in there?”
When you don’t answer fast enough, he slaps your cheek, mostly all fingers but hard enough to make you gasp. He grabs your face again, kisses you again— quick and hard before craning your neck to make you face him, “Good girls answer when the Captain speaks.”
Bucky pinches the inside of your thigh, a loud yelp bursting from your lips before you grunt, overwhelmed and consumed by the pain and the pleasure. You nod frantically, swallowing hard, strangled groans vibrating in your throat, “I’m— I lik-like,” you stutter, unable to form a coherent sentence.
“Aww baby,” Steve chuckles, caressing your face and wiping at your wet cheeks. He kisses you, once, twice, three times as Bucky pulls out of your cunt, thumb leaving your asshole,”Goodness, she can’t even talk, Buck.”
Steve picks you up, right up off the ground like you're waistless and settles you in his lap, cocooning you in his arms and warmth. Kisses your forehead and rubs your back as you nuzzle into him. Another pair of warm lips are on your shoulder blade, curling up over your shoulder, lips snagging on your skin as they move. Hands, both flesh and metal sweeping up and down your sides.
“You’re such a pretty girl,” Bucky mumbles into your skin, bunching your hair in his hand again to nibble on your neck.
Steve turns you in his arms, rests your back against his chest, your head on his shoulder. Warm palms find your tits, massage them gently as Bucky spreads your legs, bending them at the knees and placing your feet flat on the ground. Running his metal hand through his hair, he sticks his flesh fingers into his mouth, runs the pads over his tongue before he reaches out and touches you. Guides wet fingers through your sticky folds, not to excite or tease, but really just to feel you— soothe your hot, swollen cunt.
He thumbs your clit lazily before he cups your sex, smiling and growling with pride, “They didn’t make pussy like this back in the fourties,” he gives your cunt a quick slap, stroking his cock slow, “Steve wouldn’t know about that though, he wasn’t getting any.”
“Fuck you,” Steve fires back, his low rumble of laughter vibrating through you as he pinches and prods at your nipples.
He releases your tits to grab his cock, guides his cockhead towards your aching slit as Bucky spreads you open for him. His hips drive upward, the tip of his cock teasing your hole once, twice before finally breaking the threshold, popping inside. You both gasp as you sink down on him, pushing and wiggling your hips into his to get him all in.
“God,” you murmur, head falling back oh his shoulder, eyes rolling as he takes up every inch your have to offer, “Fuck, you’re so— big,”
“Deja vu,” Bucky hums, playing with your clit.
“But you can take it, can’t you,” Steve whispers against the shell of your ear, fucking up into you, “You can take all this cock, can’t you girl?”
“Mmhmm,” you huff between gritted teeth, “Mm fuck, yeah I can— fuck,”
Steve doesn’t waste a lot of time. Leans back on his elbows and hooks his hands in the bends of your legs, lifting them up so your feet are bouncing with each shove of his hips. Bucky rubs your clit with one hand, grabs your wrist and pulls you up a little straighter to wrap your hand around his cock with the other. You pump him fast, drops of precum dripping down your thigh.
Lips and teeth press into the meat of your left thigh, making you gasp. Bucky sucks more flesh into his mouth, sucks so hard it hurts as Steve fucks you senseless. You push upward, eyes falling to your stomach and between your legs, watching the bulge of Steve’s cock pushing along your skin. Your eyes then find Bucky’s, piercing and focused as he slithers his wet tongue along your skin, outlines your puffy cunt, then flicks at your clit as Steve fucks away. Pushes his metal hand down on your stomach as he sucks your nub into his mouth.
You’re a shuddering heap. Unable to move, legs and arms, neck and head going limp. You just bounce with the force of Steve’s hips, random shivers ripple through every burning, strained muscle. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes— you can’t even hear yourself crying. Teetering on the edge, swamped between too much and not enough all over again.
Steve snarls in your ear, teeth nibbling quick before he moans real sweet, “Shit, you’re gonna make me come— that cunt squeezing me all tight.”
“Mmm, that’s what this filthy little hole wants, isn’t it?” Bucky mutters, mouth still full of your clit and pussy lips, “Huh baby? This greedy slit just wants some cum.”
“I should fill her up, huh? Give this cockwhore what she wants?”
Bucky laughs when your hips jut forward, body jerking involuntarily, “Oh yeah,” he smirks, leveling three quick, hard slaps to your clit, “Give her what she wants, she’s been good.”
Steve fucks into you harder— faster, his clipped nails digging into your skin. Bucky sucks on your clit, fingers tickling the backs of your thighs. You’re nothing but liquid, melting into Steve’s hard body as heat pools in your belly before it spills over. Toes curl, face splintering as your octave rises but trembles with the impending bloom of release.
It snaps, somewhere deep inside. A piece that’s never broken before. You’re shaking, muscles tensing so hard it’s painful. Desperate, sharp, rough grunts shake through the trees and into the nothingness that surrounds your little cabin. Steve uses your clenching cunt to his advantage— shoves his cock in as deep as he can and holds it there for a beat before snapping his hips again, letting the pressure of your tight, convulsing muscles around the base of his cock start to milk him.
You can feel his spurts, thick and hot, coating messy, sticky walls. Soft hums from Bucky vibrate against your jumping clit as he sucks, pulling away with a loud smack before he slaps it again and again and again, praising you all the while, “That’s right, pretty girl. Look at you taking all that cock— such a good little cockslut you are.”
Steve is loud in your ear, biting on your earlobe as he spills into you. Wraps his colossal hand around your throat as he snaps his hips quick again, pushing deep, deep, deep.
He slips out of you without a moment's notice, not even waiting for your orgasm to quell. Bucky pushes your legs open wider, to watch the burst of white silk bubble from your hole and spill to your taint and asshole. He sweeps it up with his metal fingers, pushes it all— both cum and fingers— into your hot cunt, curling them as he massages your walls.
“Ah! Wait, I—” still trembly, weak and warm all over, fuzzy and oversensitive, “—mmm, Bucky, please.”
There is no rest for the wicked. Steve shoves his cock, wet with your slick, into your ass, Bucky pressing his fat cockhead at your entrance. You’re white hot as they both fuck into you, bodies pushing and pulling. One of Bucky’s hands around the back of your neck, squeezing hard as the other holds your cheek and chin in his palm. Steve wraps a long arm around your stomach, holds you to him tight as Bucky leans forward, throwing your leg over his shoulder. Fucks you fast— his heavy sac slapping against your taint. He stares at you, you him, the connection deep as Steve mutters in your ear, cursing the days and months and years it took them to find you. Their perfect baby girl.
You’re shuddering, howling and shrieking like a banshee as you start to come a second time. Bucky thrusts into you with every ounce of weight he has, fingers thrashing over your clit before he grunts just once. Low and gritty. Then he’s filling you up, cock spitting his warm seed, jumping inside of you with each spurt as he shoves deep.
Your orgasm is sharp, strikes a little deeper, hurts a little more. Limbs simply don’t work— won’t work. Can’t work. Eyes flutter as your body jerks with the involuntary aftershocks. You collapse back onto Steve’s chest as you huff and puff, almost gasping for air. You’re soon cocooned between two heavy, hot bodies, nothing but dense muscles and skin. Hands everywhere. Soothing. Caressing. Massaging. Words of encouragement and admiration washing over you.
Lazy words and wet, hot lips on your skin— you can feel the smiles on their faces pressing into you.
“You know what, doll?” Bucky mumbles, drawing circles over your tits with the tip of his index finger.
“Those chicken salad sandwiches sound pretty good right about now.”
You laugh, loud and carefree, covering your face with your hands as someone grabs your tit and gives it a little honk before showering your face in wet kisses. They jostle you around again as they stand, leaving you to stretch out in the grass, skin warming underneath the sun, a soft breeze tickling.
A heavy, content sigh pushes out of your lips, “Okay,” you answer simply— happy, stupid, and fuzzy.
Steve hoists you up into his arms, throws you over his shoulder with a couple of slaps against your ass. Bucky bites the little soft spot where your ass cheek meets your thigh and grabs a handful of skin as you squeal, falling into a fit of giggles again as the three of you start to move back towards the house.
“Well shit, girl. We got some laundry you can do too since you’re being all agreeable.” Bucky quips, taking another handful of your flesh to squeeze.
More giggles bubble in your chest as you bounce against Steve’s shoulder with each of his steps. You reach out lazily, brushing Bucky’s cheek and chin with your fingers. He grabs them quick, presses kisses against them and your palm.
“Looks like we gotta build you a new bed too,” Steve says, plopping you on your feet as soon as you cross the threshold into the kitchen.
You don’t even have to ask why.
You know it’s not sturdy enough to handle four hundred pounds of super soldier every night.
Good thing you are, though.
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boxofbonesfic · 2 months ago
oral fixation
paiting: Bucky Barnes x Reader
rating: Explicit
summary: Your newest kink throws you—and Bucky—for a loop.
Tumblr media
warnings: fluff, smut, ball worship, suckin’ on those nuts
A/N: OKAY TAKE TWO, BECAUSE MY FORMATTING WAS BOOTYASS—okay, i really have no excuse, nor am i gonna give one. @angrythingstarlight​​ and @sweeterthanthis​​ are partially at fault for my new obsession, lmfao. originally this was gonna be like… 1.5k words, but here we are at 3,464, so… that’s short for me 😂 thank you all for reading, and as always, comments and reblogs are appreciated and welcomed! This is a work of FICTION, and it contains Adult themes, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk! MINORS, DNI!
Something is wrong with you—it’s gotta be. There’s no reasonable explanation for your latest fixation, and honestly it would be ten times easier to blame Bucky if he was even remotely at fault. But for once, he actually isn’t. For once, this fantasy isn’t born from the filth that spills from his lips when he’s bottoming out inside your pussy, or while his cock spasms as he shoots down your throat. No, for once, this one is all you. 
 Today is the day. You think, massaging shampoo determinedly into your wild hair as you stand beneath the shower stream. Today is the day I stop fantasizing about my boyfriend’s balls.  
It starts innocently enough—the smooth weight of them resting against your chin as he fucked your throat, the scent of the cocoa-butter lotion he won’t stop stealing from you, stuck to the soft, sensitive skin. You can’t help but incorporate them when you’re down there—what are you supposed to do? Ignore them? They’re always so heavy, and when you pull gently on them as you wrap your lips around the thick head of his cock, his hips always stutter against your face. 
 Goddammit, I’m doing it again. You shake your head, attempting to clear it. You’re a good girl, and good girls certainly don’t think about sucking their boyfriend’s balls—right? But you can’t help it—all you can think about as you rinse the lather from your hair is how they’ll taste. How they’ll feel on your tongue, the skin smooth and clean, hair neatly trimmed back—
 “Stop it!” you hiss at yourself out loud, your cheeks heating as you press wet hands to them. You can’t keep thinking about this—not just because it’s not even remotely productive, but also because you’ll be seeing Bucky later at the Stark Industries picnic, and you promised you’d bake a pie. 
 A promise you were now regretting—mainly because all you wanted to do was lay down in your bed and sink your fingers into the growing heat at the apex of your thighs, all while fantasizing about your boyfriends balls on your face—
 The sound of your phone ringing snapped you out of your daze, and you wrapped the towel around yourself quickly as you grabbed it off of the bathroom counter. You almost dropped it as you scrambled to answer, your tone panicked. “H-hello?” 
 “Hey, baby-doll.” Bucky’s smooth baritone sends shivers down your spine, and your pussy clenched in response. It’s got to be some sort of satanic coincidence that he should call now, as you’re trying your hardest not to think about him. “D’you need a ride to the picnic later? I’m pickin’ up some stuff for Sam.” he’s just being a good boyfriend, just trying to help, and you have to stop yourself from telling him to come right over and just shove his cock down your stupid throat. 
 “N-no. I’m all set, I’m about to start cooking soon.” 
 “I can’t wait to eat that pie,” he groans through the receiver, before letting out a sinister chuckle. “There’s lotsa stuff I can’t wait to eat.” 
 If you could have burst into flame, you probably would have. You almost wanted to cancel the entire day and hide out in your apartment. This was already so embarrassing, and you weren’t sure if you could handle seeing Bucky like this. The only thing stopping you was the knowledge that if you didn’t go, he would simply turn up on your doorstep later, knowing something was amiss. 
 “O-oh?” you squeaked, and he laughed. 
 “I’ll see you there, baby.”
 “O-okay. I, um, I’ll see you there.” you ended the call, and leaned heavily on the counter. Hopefully you can make it through an afternoon without your embarrassment getting the better of you.
 “Hey, glad you could make it!” Wanda exclaims, helping make space for your blueberry cobbler on the table. It’s already laden with food, but you’ve seen how some of these men eat, so you’re not particularly worried about it not getting eaten. 
 “Sorry I’m late,” you reply sheepishly, returning her hug. You’d given in as soon as the pie went into the oven, your fingers finding their way down to your hungry cunt as you imagined Bucky resting his heavy, full balls against your lips, your nose pressed to the underside of his cock—and then your alarm was going off, and you were frantically rushing into the kitchen to wash your hands and pull your cobbler out of the oven. 
 And that had left almost no time to change your clothes and hurriedly jet out of the house, the evidence of your earlier attempts smearing shamefully on your inner thighs. 
 “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure Bucky will be glad to see you, he was looking.” she looks down at the pie, licking her lips. “Looks amazing.” you laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 
 “Would you like me to cut you a piece?” you ask, reaching for the knife. “I’m sure it’s cool enough to cut now.” 
 “I’d love a piece.” Bucky’s voice behind you makes you jump, and his arms come up underneath your own to wrap around your torso. Warmth spreads through you at the contact, and you lean back, letting him rest his chin on top of your head. “Hey baby.” you awkwardly cut Wanda a square, your elbows bumping into Bucky’s arms as he refuses to let you go. 
 “Here you go.” you hand her the plate, and she thanks you before returning to the crowd to mingle. You turn in Bucky’s arms, resting your palms against his chest. “That is not good knife safety, sir.” you giggle, poking him with an accusing finger. He chuckles. 
 “I’m durable.” Bucky tucks a finger under your chin tilting your face up so he can claim your mouth with his own. His tongue traces the seam of your lips and you part for him unquestioningly. “Mmm. Always so sweet,” he mumbles against your mouth, and as you feel your thighs sliding slickly together, you remember what you’ve been thinking about all goddamn weekend—and you jump backwards, the backs of your knees banging against the table. Bucky cocks his head at you, lifting a brow. “You okay, sweetheart?” 
 “Y-yeah. Just peachy.” you squeak, tangling and untangling your fingers in the fabric of your sundress. “I’m, um, I’m gonna go check on um—” you scrambled to find an inoffensive name in your mental roster. “—Peter. Yep. Peter asked me to, um, help him—” your eyes scanned the crowd, looking for him. “unload food.”
 “Most of the food’s already unloaded,” Bucky replied, fixing you with a look that spoke of his confusion. “You’re sure you’re okay?” 
 “Yep! I said I would help, so—” you scooted around him, pretending you didn’t hear Bucky call your name worriedly as you fled. Your cheeks were hot enough to fry an egg, and you’re certain if you stood there any longer, you were going to combust. You didn’t want Bucky thinking you were a freak—you weren’t the most… experienced sexual partner, and what you didn’t know, you tried to make up for in enthusiasm. What would he think of you, knowing you’d been daydreaming about rubbing your face all over his balls? Hell, you didn’t even know what to think of you. 
 You found Peter over by the water jugs, and asked him for a paper cup. 
 “You okay?” you were getting tired of people asking you if you were okay—you weren’t. You were so far from okay—you weren’t even in the same state as okay, maybe not even on the same continent. “You look a little shaky.” you nodded mutely, gulping down three little paper cups worth of water before answering. 
 “Just peachy.” you’d been so excited to see Bucky this weekend, but now you couldn’t stand to be around him, not when all your thoughts were x-rated and starring him. “Do you… do you um, need help unloading anything?” you asked lamely, looking for any excuse you could find to not be around the general public. 
 “Nope! I think we got everything all done to Mr. Stark’s specifications,” he said brightly. “Egg toss is all set up, and the bean bag toss bins are all full… I think all the food’s out too, but you could check with Vision—” you were off before he even had a chance to finish talking, speeding away towards the compound and away from the grassy field. 
 The hangar, usually full of intimidating jets, was currently empty and full of balloons in preparation for the adult-only dance party that would be held in here later. You weren’t sure if Stark Family Fun Day was his idea or not, but you suspected it had probably been all Pepper. The hangar was devoid of people and Vision, who had most likely snuck off with Wanda since he wasn’t much for crowds either. 
 You busy yourself with tasks that no one had given you—stacking napkins, organizing the cutlery in containers, tidying the tables. Anything you could find to avoid embarrassing yourself in front of Bucky further. The relationship was still so new, you didn’t think your fragile ego could take it if he  decided he didn’t want you around anymore. 
 “There you are, doll.”Oh no. Oh no, no, no. “I’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you, doll. I thought we were supposed to spend today together.” he emphasizes the word and looks at you expectantly while you stare pointedly at a very interesting spot on the floor near his shoe. “Parker told me I might find you in here.” 
 “I, um, I wanted to be helpful.” you supply lamely, and he quirks an eyebrow.
 “O-of course!”
 “And you’re not avoiding me.”
 Crap. “No! No, not at all.”
 “ ‘Cause, you know, I understand why you might… why you might not want to be seen with me.” Bucky rubs the back of his neck nervously with the vibranium arm. The words hit you hard, knocking the proverbial wind from you. He thought you were ashamed of him. That you didn’t want anyone knowing you were together, which was the furthest thing from the truth you could imagine. Honestly, the real answer was much less serious, and much more embarrassing. 
 You rush forward to grab his hands, shaking your head. “No. I’m not, I could never—Bucky—” the words are all fighting to get to your mouth at once, and he chuckles before hushing you. 
 “It’s okay, doll. I get it.” he’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t believe me.
 “No! You don’t get it,” you stammer. “Bucky, I’m—I’m not embarrassed of you! I…I like you so much, and I’m just so anxious and stupid, I don’t want to ruin it.” his shoulders sag with relief, and suddenly you’re crushed against his chest, the breath squeezed from your lungs in a harsh wheeze. 
 “Thank fuckin’ God.” you hear him murmur into your hair, and now you feel double bad. You sigh—or at least, you try to, as your lungs won’t currently expand all the way—and lean your head against the firm muscles of his chest. 
 “It’s not… it’s not you.” you say, your voice muffled by his body. He allows you to pull away a little, looking down at you curiously. 
 “What? What’s not me?”
 Your heart hammers in your chest. You owe him the truth, as much as it may make you wish your heart would just give out right there on the spot. Although, now that you think of it, Tony’s probably got tons of spare parts lying around to prevent just such an occasion. You lick your dry lips. “I, um. I was avoiding you, but it’s not what you think—”
 “I, um…” you take steadying breath and close your eyes, the words leaving your lips in a rushed exhale. “Ireallywanttoplaywithyourballs.” your cheeks heat so fast you’re surprised smoke isn’t pouring out of your ears. Bucky’s brows furrow as he stares at you. There’s a glimmer of understanding in his steel blue eyes, and you know his next question is for clarification. 
 Because there’s no way you just said what he thinks you said. 
 “I didn’t catch that, baby. One more time.” 
 “I… oh Christ on a fucking—I want to p-play with your, um, your balls.” you can’t bear to look at him, so you press your face into his chest. You can both hear and feel his reverberating laughter, and you want more than ever before to melt into an unwitting puddle on the concrete floor of the hangar. Slowly, Bucky peels your fingers from his shirt, uncurling them and holding your hands in his as he steps back enough to see your face. 
 “Is that why you’ve been treatin’ me like a leper all day, sweetheart?” you nod.
 “Is that… weird?” 
 “No! Well, I don’t know,” he admits sheepishly. “Never really had anybody… want to do anything to ‘em before.” although Bucky doesn’t seem to be an expert, his acceptance releases a knot in your chest you hadn’t even realized was there. Your cheeks keep flaming up, and finally you cover your face with your hands as more embarrassed admissions form on your tongue. 
 “It’s just… I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I got so worked up and I didn’t know if you were going to think I was weird, and, and—” another deep, knowing chuckle emanates from his chest, and he runs his tongue across his bottom lip as he grins at you. 
 “Get you all sloppy ‘n messy thinkin’ about it, huh?” he teases, his hands coming up to gently peel your own away from your heated face. “Look at me, sweetheart.” you do, reluctantly. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears, and Bucky clucks his tongue at you pityingly. “Just been walkin’ around all wound up like a spring, huh, honey?” whenever he uses that voice, you know you’re a goner, your knees going weak as you nod at him. 
 “Yes,” you admit. Bucky captures your mouth in a kiss and you let out a tiny moan, your hands going to his shoulders to keep you up. He casts a quick look toward the entrance—it’s still early for the dance party, it doesn’t start for another hour. You know he’s listening too, using his enhanced hearing to check that you’re really alone. 
 “Aw, fuck, sweetheart. You shoulda’ said.” he drags you over to the far wall and into the shadows before stepping in front of you. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s in front just in case anyone does walk in—they won’t see you. Your heart is pounding—the riskiest thing he’s managed to convince you to do is fuck in the car, which had been terrifying and subsequently the hardest Bucky had ever made you cum. 
 Maybe that was what had started this recent chain of deviant thought—perhaps Bucky was to blame after all. You sink to your knees of your own accord, and he strokes your hair affectionately, his gaze locked on you. 
 “Get me out, baby.” 
 Your fingers are on his fly before he’s finished speaking, tugging the zipper down and tracing the already half hard length of him through his cotton briefs. He’s so thick, you almost can’t touch your fingers around his base. You pull the waistband down his hips, unable to stifle the little moan that worms past your lips as his cock springs free, bumping against your cheek heavily. Bucky licks his lips, his eyes dark as he watches; content not to give orders. 
 You’re in charge. It’s kind of a heady feeling, and for once you forget your embarrassment as you lean forward to lave wetly along the side of his cock. “Shit, doll.” his hips buck forward towards you. You stroke along the base, breath catching as your hand finds its prize. 
 His balls are soft and smooth, and you smirk as you smell your own cocoa butter lotion—so that’s where it went. They’re so full, and you test their weight in your hand as Bucky groans. You feel drunk even though you haven’t had a single sip of alcohol, and you’re emboldened by his now rock hard cock, bobbing next to your face. You scoot closer, grasping him with one hand and bowing lower until—oh my god.
 You were right—they’re soft and warm and heavy and fuck, you are so goddamn wet. You push your nose right up against the base of his cock, laving a wet kiss on the underside as you nuzzle against him. He moans softly, his hand fisting in your hair over and over. You take that as your cue to continue, and wet your tongue before leaving a long wet trail down the side of his sac. 
 His grip tightens as he pushes your face against his balls—you know he has no control over it, an impulse he can’t curb because your tongue there has him seeing stars. “Fuck, baby, please,” he pants. “Again.” you oblige, sucking one against your lips. A sharp shudder runs through him and he fists his hand against the wall. You’re overwhelmed with the musky scent of him, the softness of his skin and the pulsing ache between your own thighs—and then you’re sucking it into your mouth, the other resting against your cheek as you knead it with your tongue. 
 Bucky’s mumbling curses above you, mixed in to holy prayers and filth that makes your face burn hot again even as you peek up at him through your lashes. His cock throbs in your grip, and you take a moment to spread the copious precum dripping from the tip. You peel back his foreskin with a gentle pull, your thumb swiping across the fat head of him. “God, doll, d-drivin’ me fuckin’ c-crazy,” he catches his lips in his teeth to stifle a moan. 
 It’s sloppy, and you make no effort to stop drool from dribbling down your chin as you switch from one side of his balls to the other, and it trails wetly across your cheek. Bucky’s always the one in charge, so seeing him weak in the knees for you, his cock dripping precum down onto your face and dress as you suck on his balls is just… addictive. 
 He’s actively fucking into your hand now, and there’s no way to hide the noises his slick cock makes against your palm. “Shit, ah, doll—” his eyes go wide, and suddenly he tries to stand away from you. “Baby—fuck—somebody’s comin’—!”
 You’ll probably regret this—fuck, you know you will—but you don’t stop. Your hold on his cock tightens just a little, and you suck just a little harder against his sac before releasing it, spit glistening on around your mouth. “Then… cum fast.” you open your jaw as wide as it’ll go, and you’re barely—barely—able to fit them both in your mouth. You watch as his eyes roll shut and he whines, his hips moving urgently against your hand. 
 You can feel his balls convulsing against your tongue, contracting and releasing. You don’t let up, suckling them as his moans turn broken and guttural. “F-fuck baby, please gonna—your mouth—” you understand what he means, and reluctantly release his sac from the confines of your lips, only to wrap them around the head of his cock instead. Bucky grasps the sides of your face as his hips surge forward, seating him firmly in your throat just as his cock spasms. A deep, animal groan tears itself from his chest as he cums down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, the hot jets of his spend pumping down into your stomach. 
 His hands are clumsy and slow as he tries to button his jeans back up, and as you attempt to stand, your thighs slide together with audible slickness, and by the way Bucky’s eyes flick up to meet yours, you know he hears it. He’s wiping the wetness from your face when you spy Wanda tentatively peeking around the entrance. Your stomach drops—you should have stopped. Fuck, why didn’t you stop?
 “Guys?” she calls, laughter clear in her tone. “Are you… done? I have Vision distracting everyone, but…” she pauses. “I think we’re running out of time.” 
 Luckily for you, Bucky answers. 
 “Yeah Wanda.” you’re clutching his shirt, hidden behind him as he chuckles, before speaking over his shoulder. “We’re going to finish this in my bedroom.” his hand wraps around your wrist as he tugs you forward. 
 “B-but what about the pie?” 
 “Don’t you worry, baby-doll, I’m gonna me get some right now.”
2K notes · View notes
touchstarvedirl · 8 days ago
Gentle Giant
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader
Word Count: 2,399
Warning(s): Extreme fluff, Soft, beefy, shy, jealous!Bucky, Implied smut
A/N: I was listening to SZA’s Pretty Little Birds and got inspired by the line “I told you I like Gentle Giants so you softened up.”
Summary: You and your neighbor Bucky have will we, won’t we thing going on and you devise a plan to get him to tell you how he feels. It doesn’t go according to plan, or does it? - Or- Shy, beefy, neighbor!Bucky confesses his feelings.
+This gif because I said so!
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   The interesting thing about him was that he was a contradiction in itself. Too sweet to tell you that he couldn’t stay over to bake cookies with you cause he has to be up at five in the morning, but so intimidating that people moved out of his way with the quickness at the grocery store.
To you, he was the sweetest, most adorable baby while being the sexiest man you’d ever laid eyes on. You wanted to cuddle him, kiss him - squeeze his wittle cheeks, have him between both pairs of yours. He was a rollercoaster of good emotions.
That was cute, a big part of what drew you to him but what made you go wild, made you want to give everything away to him in an instant was how he did everything so gently.
Mind you, Bucky Barnes in 2C is no regular guy. He’s a build your own Arnold Schwarzenegger, completely ripped and incredibly buff. He had to shuffle in your apartment sideways, got himself a special door made so he didn’t have to do the same at his place. He was huge but was always incredibly delicate with you at all times.
And it made you crazy for him.
How gently he touched you as if he was afraid to bruise you, always soft-spoken but gruff in his tone, he was a gentle giant. A gentle giant, but you wanted him to be your gentle giant, and that he wasn’t.
You and Bucky have been hovering in this weird place in your relationship. More than neighbors, because just neighbors don’t fall asleep in each other’s arms that frequently, don’t look in each other’s eyes like they can find galaxies there. But not dating or committed officially, because he hadn’t asked and you hadn’t either, hadn’t even kissed yet. So you were stuck.
So yeah, maybe what you were about to do is childish, a little too high school for your taste. But desperate times call for desperate measures and you, you were desperate alright.
You were pulling the competition card; relying on his jealousy to fizz up when you mention another man’s name and have him wildly devour you in a jealous, envious, possessive frenzy - or however those Erotica books say it goes. The plan was to bring up a coworker wanting to have lunch with you, wanting to get to know you more, and sit back to see his reaction.
“Doll - Y/N, you alright in there?” You hear Bucky call from your living room.
That was another thing that drove you nuts, that damn nickname that would be the death of you. Doll. The first time he called you that, you almost passed out. It was one late night and you went to visit Bucky because you couldn’t sleep and he answered the door shirtless, his blue eyes dipped low, exhaustion in his tone. He should’ve been charged for attempted murder that night.
You still remember the weakness in your knees so vividly, and since then he’s let it slip out a few times often backtracking and calling you by your name instead.
“Yeah, I’m coming, one sec!” You give yourself one more look in the mirror before shaking your head, you got this.
You head back into the living room plopping down next to Bucky trying to avoid looking his way. He’s decided to take a break from haircuts so his shaggy hair has been tied back into man buns lately - something too sexy to handle sometimes. Then he was sitting down with his thick thighs spread far apart and his arm hung over the back of the chair. It was enough to make you back off, which is why you looked only toward the home screen of Netflix on your TV.
“Hey...” Softly, Bucky is taking your jaw into his hand to make you look at him. “You okay?”
The warmth of his huge hand against your face, the low timbre of his voice, and the concerned look in his blue eyes almost takes you out. Almost. “Yeah.” You squeak.
Bucky gives you a weird look, lifting your chin to look deeper into your eyes. Then gives you a look that says he isn’t buying it and you better spill. You sigh; no time like the present I guess.
But looking at his face and the way his bushy brows are furrowed worriedly you start to lose the nerve. He was too sweet for you to be starting mess with him.
You shake your head, “It’s nothing, really.”
Absentmindedly, Bucky starts to caress the side of your face with his thumb. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” He explains.
Now you start to feel bad, how could you think of purposely trying to rile up such a kind soul. “It’s nothin’, I swear Buck. Just stupid work stuff.”
He nods. “Oh… we’ll do you want to talk about it? I maybe won’t understand the in and outs of the office stuff but I can try.”
Your heartbeat stutters.
Of course, he wanted to listen, try and understand the paperwork and formality mumbo jumbo, stuff he couldn’t care less about just to be good to you. You’re sure now, the plan was finished. You were going to enjoy a calm and fun night with the world’s most perfect, Vibranium armed man, no if ands or buts.
“No, it’ll sort itself out. Just wanna have fun with you.” You say in hopes it’ll finish off any worries he might still have. You lean forward and shyly place a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for offering to listen.” You smile at him.
You don’t notice but Bucky swallows harshly, his eyes widen a bit in surprise. That was the first time either one of you put your lips on each other, the first of many Bucky hoped.
“ ‘Course.” Is all he can choke out in response.
You start to think everything is right with the world again except that your phone starts to ring. Loud and shrill inside your bag making you and Bucky look away from each other.
“Oh god, I’m sorry. That’s my work phone, I forgot to turn it off.”
“It’s okay. You should get it, maybe it’s that stuff sorting itself out.”
You groan softly but chuckle. “Maybe it is. I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t move.” You tell him before diving off the couch to the end table grabbing your bag and rustling around, finally fishing out your work phone and putting it to your ear.
“Hello?” You greet the unsaved number putting them on speaker leaning into Bucky’s side
“Hello, Miss Y/N?”
You crinkle your nose at the deep voice on the other end of the line. “Yeah, who’s this?”
“Oh, it’s Jeremy, from the office - the new hire. The secretary gave me your number and told me to call if I had any questions.”
“Oh Jeremy, hello. I’d love to answer your questions, but it is after office hours I don’t want you to make this a habit.”
“Oh, I know! This isn’t a work related question though.”
“Oh… um, what’s the question?” You shrug your shoulders at Bucky and he shrugs back a bit intrigued.
“My dad picked me up at the same time you were leaving the office and he saw you and went crazy. He just wants to know if you’re single, dating, if he can have your number?”
You feel Bucky stiffen next to you. What the hell… You want to reach and take him off of speaker but that’ll make Bucky suspicious, or angrier - is he angry? You’re not sure because you’re soo scared to look over your shoulder at him.
“I just - is this inappropriate? It’s just the guys kind of wanted to know your relationship status - by the guys I meant all of us, not just me! We just think you’re pretty, Ms. Y/N. God- this… this is bad, isn’t it? I’m so sorry, I thought maybe-“
“I’m out with friends right now, can we handle this tomorrow?”
“Handle? Oh GOD, you’re going to fire me, aren’t you? Oh for fucks sake- I mean excuse me! I need this job, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Please my family will stone me to death, Ms. Y/N. PLEASE.”
“Jeremy! Please,” you giggle despite the situation, “Would you relax? We’ll talk tomorrow okay?”
“O-okay. I’ll be there tomorrow. Bright and early, because I love my job and I’m really grateful for it and all of my forgiving superiors.”
“Jeremy- get off my phone please.”
“Yes ma’am, goodnight!”
You immediately turn to Bucky to apologize for that, but he’s turned away from you staring intensely at the tv. “Buck, I don’t know what that was. I’m so sorry, Jeremy’s just a kid. He’s got an int-“
“It’s fine. Nothing to apologize for.” He cuts you off stiffly.
You frown, as you observe his stand-off-ish behavior. “Bucky...” He ignores you, his hand is gripping the remote strongly, blue veins popping out against his pale hand. “Bucky?”
    You can’t pinpoint how he’s feeling, angry, jealous? The look on his face is hard to decipher, his eyes are distant and his jaw is locked. “Buck?” You try again softly.
   “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’re a grown woman,” he whispers angrily, “who can make her own decisions, and if you feel like Jeremy’s dad is the one.” There’s venom dripping from his words and you flinch at seeing your gentle giant so angry. “Then I’m happy for you-”
   You’re climbing into his lap, arms around his shoulders burying your face in his neck just before he can finish. “He’s nobody. He’s only a kid-” You continue as you settle into his lap, straddling his thighs, guiding his hands to place them where you feel they belong because he’s not moving - half still pissed out of his mind - half internally glitching from having you so close this way. But either way, you’re still frying his brain.
   “He’s just a kid and his dad - I’ve never met him - probably just some old guy with a hard-on cause of my pencil skirt.”
   “You don’t have to,” Bucky starts looking away because he’s embarrassed at what you might see in his eyes - how angry he is, the sheer irritation some kid can make rise up in him in just a few minutes. 
   “I want to.” You say turning his head back to you forcing him to look into your eyes. “I want to. He’s not anybody okay? But you are, you’re somebody - he’s not. Don’t, just don’t pay him any mind. Forget whatever he just said.”
   The bashful look he’s giving you, and the blush spreading across his cheeks makes your heart palpitate. “I’m somebody...?”
   “Of course you are.” You groan throwing your head back, “GOD Buck, of course, you’re somebody. I mean... I want you to be.” You confess lowly putting your forehead against your chest, your fingers curling into the hem of his t-shirt. 
   “What do you want me to be?” A groan burrows in Bucky’s throat - from frustration, from need. At this point he’s not sure how he’s survived this long, the feeling of you against him, on his skin, saying things like ‘I want you’ it was orgasmic to him, has his nerves fraying.
   “Will you just-’ You groan again, pressing your head harder against his chest, “Just tell me. Are - are we a thing? Am I just a layover between missions or what? You’re driving me fucking nuts, James.”
   “You?” Bucky laughs, “I’m driving you nuts? Have you fuckin’ seen you? That thing you do when you’re sleepy - that,” He nods towards your fingers in his shirt. “Do you know what it’s like to not be able to - layover? What the hell are you talking about?”
   You shrug. “I don’t know. I want you and it feels like you do too. Except when you don’t.”
   “I never don’t want you.”
   “So why don’t you just have me?”
   He pauses the first break in the conversation between you two in a hot minute. “Sam says I’m a pussy.”
   You laugh, leaning back. Uncurling your hands from the end of his t-shirt just to ball it up in your fist anxiously. “I’ve never asked a guy out before. You make me want to, really want to. Would you say yes?”
“You don’t have to. I’m gonna get there - I’m just- It’s not perfect yet - you kidding me? Course I would fucking say yes - you deserve something perfect but I - fuck!” He huffs throwing his head back over the couch.
    “You make me feel like a kid y/n.”
   “Huh?” Your face scrunches in confusion. “How?”
   “I’m in this constant state of awe with everything you do, it makes me feel like a kid again. Everything with you feels like magic and I - it makes me stupid. I can’t think, I forget all my words.” He runs his large palms over his face, frustrated.
    Your stomach is lurching, back and forth, up and down completely in disarray from his words. But you should be used to that, you’re not yet, because its a nauseating feeling almost. One second your feet are on the floor then next you feel like you’re hanging upside down and your stomach is inside out. “You’re the fucking magic Bucky.” You whisper.
   Again, you’re snuggling into his neck. “You make me feel like magic.” You whisper breathily against his earlobe.
   His grip is strengthening on your hip in response, his breath hitching. “I don’t want someone else to have you.” He admits burrowing his head in your hair, his other hand slipping underneath your shirt to rub your back.
   “I don’t want to be had by anyone else.”
   “I’m,” He pauses, “I’m not good with words, I always say the wrong thing.”
   “You never say anything, how could you say the wrong thing?”
   “Whatever I say it could be wrong, you could take it the wrong way. How do I say-” He leans back nudges your forehead with his making you look up at him. I don’t know how to say it. Let me,” His hand slips underneath the strap of your bra, pushing against your back to bring you closer.
   “Let me show you.”
    He is giant. The gentle thing... that’s debatable.
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honeydulcewrites · 19 days ago
what you need
bucky barnes x black female reader
you’re stressed and Bucky has the perfect way to make it better
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, slight angst, smut: slow but hard fucking, crying kink, dirty talk!
requested by anon - headcanon format
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You were stressed to say the least and even with the comfort of knowing you were back at home with the love of your life, you just felt dismayed
You needed a proper release and Bucky didn’t have to look at you very long to see that
“C’mere, baby. Let me take care of you.”
Bucky’s words seemed to light something in you even though you were tired and too stressed to really rest lately
He always had such a way of coaxing you to let him take the reigns and as you sank into his lap you couldn’t help but sigh with relief
You knew he had your back
He let you rest for awhile before lulling you to the bathroom, helping you undress before turning on the shower and letting you get it to the temperature you wanted
Taking showers together was one of your favorite things because of how intimate it allowed you to be
And today was no different, the tension leaving your body the longer Bucky lathered soap over your body, his flesh hand massaging your back and limbs as he went
If you could become putty in his hands you would
“My eyes are up here, James.” you playfully scolded him when you caught him staring at your behind
“Just enjoying the view, sweetheart, you can’t blame me!”
And that fueled the first of many suggestive and lingering touches to the lower half of your body which only increased your neediness
It was truly a blur but you didn’t mind, all it took was one kiss and his metal arm instinctively pushing you back against the tiled walls for things to really ignite
That’s how you ended up on the bed with your legs over Bucky’s shoulders
You’d all but pleaded for him to push his throbbing dick into you, crying out when he finally did, wanting you to feel him stretch you out inch by inch till he was fully inside you
“Such a good girl, look at you. This is what you needed, huh? Just need me to fuck all that stress out of you.”
His nose was almost touching yours, eyes steely and never breaking contact with yours
God he loved how your eyes fluttered when he was deep in your pussy like this
He loved every inch of you and then some
But especially so when you whimpered like that and asked him for more, begged him to move and to fuck you because yes, that is exactly what you need
And Bucky always delivers good on his promises
He wasn’t fucking you very fast or rough but his slow and deep thrusts knocked the air out of you all the same, your body going slack as he worked you open, hitting that spot that always made you shake
“Can feel you squeezin me, baby. That’s it, try not to scream, I know how it goes. You look so pretty when I fuck you.”
You were in heaven, completely surrendering yourself to Bucky, letting him fuck all the stress out of your body till you felt so full, so fucked out and content
All you could do was whine and hang onto his toned body, your whimpers and gasps getting louder as he kept grazing against that spot deep inside you
Two of his metal fingers were rubbing at your clit and the cooled and smooth sensation had you squirming but his body kept you caged in place
“Oh my god, please..please!”
“What, baby? Gonna cum for me, is that what it is, I know, you just can’t help yourself, huh.”
The closer you got to that peak the less coherent you became, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes because it just felt so damn good
Bucky kept up his sensual and slow pace, going deep every time, his eyes watching your featured intently, mesmerized with you
He loved how needy you got, how even now when he knew you could barely take it, you were babbling for more
Such a little needy slut, and his needy slut at that
It was even hotter when you started to sob as you fell over the edge, cumming hard and clinging to Bucky as he cradled your body against his, fucking you through it
“There you go, good girl. That’s my good girl.”
You kept crying as you came down from the high of it all, locking your legs around his back so he wouldn’t move off you
Bucky knew what you wanted, a wide grin on his face as he happily stayed inside you, taking time to kiss your cheeks and wipe your eyes of tears
He was so gentle and sweet with you, soothing your shaky body and praising you for how well you did
“Feel better?”
“Exponentially! But I think we’re gonna need another shower, Buck.”
“That’s fine by me, can’t promise I won’t also fuck you there too but I’ll try and behave.”
“Yeah right! You know damn well we’re fucking in the shower.”
Petition for Bucky to start up his own stress relief business dhsjsjs! Hope you all liked this! Let me know what you think!
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angrythingstarlight · 16 hours ago
Okay but imagine seeing chubby Librarian Bucky reading stories to the little kids visiting the library 🥺. Yes I want to have his babies.
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Yes, he gives treats from his cousins bakery to hand out to the kids. Maybe he flirts with the elementary school teacher that brings her class over for a weekly field trip since the library is across the street
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fineanddandy · 25 days ago
Summary: Walking in on Bucky in a familiar suit gives you ideas…then the actual owner joins in…
Relationship: Bucky Barnes x black!reader x Steve Rogers
Warnings: threesome, pure smut, oral (male rec), sharing/swapping, graphic language, unprotected sex, fem/male masturbation, exchange of bodily fluids, it’s nasty okay? 18+
A/N: this was supposed to be a Bucky fic. But due to some people *cough cough* it became a Stucky fic. All inspired off this edit I found on Pinterest.
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It’s quiet on the compound. A little too quiet…you know Bucky’s around here somewhere and if he’s this quiet, he’s definitely up to something. Creeping up on his door you poke your head in to see him in a familiar suit that doesn’t belong to him. But it sure fit him just right. Propping yourself against the entry, you cross your arms checking out Bucky checking himself out in the mirror, looking down at his body with a dangerous grin. Cute, even he knows he looks good as fuck in Steve’s stealth suit.
“Knew you were up to something.” Bucky jerks alert spotting you smirking in the reflection of his mirror. “Way too quiet…way too suspicious.”
“Steve let me borrow it.” He spills oddly fast with big scared eyes but you roll yours with a nonchalant scoff.
“Bucky I’m not gonna tell.” You shrug walking into the room, your happy eyes giving him another look over, saying, “besides I think you look so fuckin hot.”
Hearing that Bucky relaxes with a devious grin, running his hands down the arms as he turns to face you silently humming checkin out his ass. “Yeah I figured it would. Just had to find out.”
Mm for him to be feeling himself in the suit made him even hotter to you. His silent but deadly confidence exuding off his skin. You really couldn’t take your eyes off him, sitting on the foot of his bed and leaning back on your hands. Oh you’re getting some ideas watching his big hands brush down his fit pecs, over that perfectly stitched star and the stripes covering his rock hard abs, grabbing the utility belt as he proudly stands in front of you. Like good ol Cap. Your core tingles, locking your playful gaze with his smoldering smoky blue stare. Spreading your legs wider with your growing grin. The corner of Bucky’s lips reaching beyond his left ear exhaling a hard sigh through his nostrils.
“So…what…you the new Cap?” Your brow twitches in intrigue as your teeth pinch your stretched bottom lip, lifting your chin at the soldier in cosplay. Bucky cocks his head to the side, assessing the scene before him. Checkin you all laid out on his bed like that has got him thinking maybe he should play along.
“Mmm if you want me to be…” His cool metal fingers run through his long soft hair with that charming smile that really makes you swoon. You could have some fun with this.
Story with you and Bucky is…sometimes y’all like to fuck around, more so when no one’s around and either of you are a little bored and a little horny. And since the place is usually empty, the romps are fun, chaotic and noisy. That’s why you came round, nothing else to do so let’s do Buck. The treat is busting him like this is…and it’s turning you on so much.
Softly lifting your barefoot off the floor you tease, “you’re too…bad to be the sweetie Steve Rogers, Buck…” and rest your toes directly on his stiff dick he proudly displays just for you. “Too…sly to be goodie two shoes Cap…”
Sinisterly chuckling to himself he slowly rolls his shoulders, sighing away a moan when you start to stroke him with the ball of your foot. Seeing him getting all worked up works you up, parting your lips to take a refreshing breath. Bucky so hot against the rough material behind your toes. He licks his pink lips and takes a menacing step towards you, bending your knee a bit.
“Is that a challenge? Don’t think I can be a good ol boy like Steve?” He works to steady his paced pants; the arch of your foot pressing harder as you rub up and down his length. Another careful step takes an enticed groan from your anxious body. Your knee bending more but you don’t stop feeling up on him, huffing a chuckle when his lids flutter close. Your weighted breaths match his, your slit so warm and fuckin excited.
“Mm I know you can be a good boy…” you gasp when his dick throbs, “but be like Steve…?” Trailing off you deliberately shake your head, moaning a little louder as he closes in on you, grabbing your ankle and tossing it off him.
“Hmm,” his deep timbre echoes lowly in his broad chest dipping down between your wide open legs, “I don’t know…I’m feeling very,” distracting you with a small kiss on the bridge of your nose Bucky pulls your damp cotton shorts to the side to tease your lips with his middle finger, “…noble and righteous. Can’t do that disgraceful thing you love so much.” He purrs barely grazing your needy lips with his scruffy ones, pushing harder at your entrance just to hear you whine,
“But Bucky…” lapping at his disgraceful lips, wishing he’d kiss you already if he’s going to be teasing your pussy like this.
“No, no sweetheart,” the tip of his nose nuzzles yours as he shakes his head pinching your clit, “it’s Captain to you. And that’s how you’ll address me in this suit, understand?”
Groaning and squirming beneath him Bucky pinches you harder, waiting for you to correct yourself with a small sadistic laugh. Still millimeters away from your noisy mouth, tongue moistening your dry lips, and he still won’t taste you.
You loudly gasp out, “Yes Captain!” His fingers go back to gentler touch, finally kissing you so tenderly you strain your neck to push harder but he inches away. That’s not his thing. His metal fingers stroke and play in your hair, getting a kick out of you silently begging for more.
“Oh—oh baby.” You fret with a pout still patting for his curly lips. “Harder…” A small whimper parts from your sad lips and Bucky just laughs at you growing wetter the more he plays between your pounding walls. His crotch so hot you can feel it beating down on your thigh. You wish he’d rest it near your folds; you just want him to be close.
“Your Cap is a gentleman, remember?” Another sweet kiss releases an infatuated sigh, slithering over his bed. His fluid touch along with the faint fragrance of Steve winds you the fuck up, “Tell Captain what you want sweetheart.”
“Oooh Cap. I want…aw shit,” you gulp and choke on nothing, “I want you to fuck the shit out of me.”
Bucky snatches his hand away from your dripping folds and shoves those pussy ridden fingers deep over your tongue.
“Such a foul mouth. You know Cap doesn’t like bad language.” Bucky grunts into the back his hand that’s being roughly sucked clean of your wetness, his mouth watering along with yours. “Can’t give you what you want if you don’t know how to act.”
“Mmmmmsorry Captain.” The words vibrate around his pruning skin, your folds throbbing around nothing. She’s enthusiastic to suck his fat ass cock deep inside. It’s been a while she really missed him.
Bucky grumbles gracing your aching jaw, “Gonna have to keep my fingers down your throat since you don’t know how to act.”
His cool hand against your blazing skin gives you the chills as it soothes down your body, going for the buckle of the pants and taking his sweet time unsheathing himself just to torture you some more. Bucking your hips, huffing and whining behind his thick fingers fixed securely between your jaws, you call out to “him,” trying to get a peek of his meaty cock tumbling out but your view is distorted by his big chest.
“Oh. Oh Buck!—I mean—Captain! Captain…” Drool starts to fall from the corners of your lips and down your chin your docile pleas all jumbled up behind his capable fingers. Bucky just about rips your shorts off so ready to knock it out. You’re so much fun…always coming up with scandalous shit on the fly…your smile damn near sinister when you saw him. It’s been too long since he’s realigned your spine. Stretched you out. Basked in your warmth. Tightening his grip on your lower jaw, he positions to ram his cock through your sensitive textured walls, slowly stroking and cupping the mushroom tip with little growls, relishing in your breathless mewls beating his intoxicated grin. Bucky’s eager breaths sound so good you gush, arching your back up with a muted gasp the moment you feel his head pushing through your folds.
“Mmm…missed her…” His jaw goes slack, eyes lazily closing, moaning an aww budging his way in, “Missed you…” He murmurs next straightening his dropped expression with a thirsty smile, knees weakening as he snakes his way deeper and deeper.
“Ooooh fuuuuck…” Fisting the covers you wail with glee, focusing on the sweet burn of Bucky stretching you out. It’s your favorite part.
“Such a dirty girl.” A stern yank is your punishment as he picks up the pace. “Fuckin filthy mouth.” He’s gunning straight for your spot, fucking into you with that sick Bucky smirk you absolutely love. “Obey your Captain or be punished.”
Fucking you so hard you’re bouncing off his thrusting hips. But will he punish you like Bucky or…
“Uugghh fuck!” You can’t help it; he feels so insanely good inside you, all you can scream is, “Fuuuuck Captain!”
“You rang?” Steve’s velvety crooning voice enters the room but you’re so in tune with Bucky’s punishing strokes you barely react. “I actually don’t mind cursing in the bedroom. If anything, a woman screaming fuck is like…a round of applause.”
His muted steps head for you guys entwined on the bed. Cutting your eyes away from the dark ones you’ve been gazing into you meet his radiant baby blues staring at you getting pummeled by his buddy. Also in one of his suits, Steve takes a seat.
“Well good afternoon Steve.” Bucky greets him in between grunts and clapping skin, licking at his drooling bottom lip.
“Buck.” He clips soothing a comforting hand over your sweaty forehead. “This what you needed the suit for today?”
Usually such a stark contrast between these two, in this moment you can’t tell who looks more dire: Bucky, who is tearing your pussy up or Steve, who is getting more and more enthralled with each desperate sigh Bucky smacks out of your heaving breast. Steve pushes the hem of your t-shirt up over your braless tits, sighing an innocent grin as he starts to fiddle with your nipples a little.
“Perhaps.” Bucky huffs a chuckle, adjusting his grip on your tongue. “Really, I just got lucky.”
Steve brushes away a tear forming on your lashes. “Hmm when you told me you’d been fucking YN, I definitely didn’t picture it being like this.” You yelp from a mighty pound as Bucky stills, grinding his hips round in a circle. Steve’s gaze scans down your shaky body. “Do you think I can be so lucky?”
Removing his sticky salty fingers from your tired open mouth Bucky stands and says, “only one way to find out. Just ask her.” He winks, resting his hands on your bent knees to push them back towards you and the bed. Nervous eyes darting between the two men in Captain America uniforms. An angel and a devil. Mildly whining and gasping, you never thought you’d ever be shared between homies. Besides, you have a good thing with Bucky so Steve was on your “not even if you’re wasted” list. But now he’s here, preparing to ask with such real intentions,
“What do you think, YN? Hmm?” His timid fingers inch over your dry lips with his charming smirk, “need a break from mean ol Bucky?”
Your breath audibly catches once he kisses you, carefully slipping a fragile tongue over your lips to moisten them. A kiss so soft and pleasant you sink into the mattress with a delighted moan. That’s the only yes he needs.
Bucky frowns. “Hey. I was pretending to be you.”
Steve releases you breathless but mockingly laughs at Buck, standing off the bed. “Oh Buck…you could never be me…not even on an off day. Now…” Steve slightly nudges him away, “move to the side pal.”
You necessarily didn’t want Bucky to go. He’s too damn good. Familiar. But then there’s Steve staring at you like he’s going to eat you alive but kindly…like with manners. You practically sob when Buck relieves your channel of his weight, a hand going for his thinking he’s leaving but Bucky’s backing away to get out the suit entirely. Steve stripping as well. Christ you’d never seen such a beautiful sight, rippling muscles and mischievous smirks and glances as they shed themselves.
“Aww don’t worry baby. We’ll get back to you in just a moment…but in the meantime…” Bucky snaps a couple times at you and with a compliant exhale, you slip two fingers over your clit. Steve marvels at your reaction time, so turned on by the sight of your palpitating entrance oozing your wetness he has to touch himself.
“A fuckin vision.” Seeing his big hand firmly gripping and pumping his thick ass dick really has you reeling, pumping your hole faster which in return makes Steve stroke faster rolling his head back with an airy sigh. Bucky aggressively snaps again, warning you to slow down, snatching Steve’s attention back to your pussy. Looking over to him you bite back sensitive whimper as you slow down your movements, squirming your hips side to side. Steve throbs at your silent interaction, at your folds getting even wetter under Bucky’s punishing glare.
“May I?” Asks Steve, so hard it started to hurt he’s dying to fuck that sopping wet hole.
“Go ahead.” He slightly shrugs walking over to you still rubbing circles round your fat clit. “I want her throat anyway…” He muses climbing up on the bed, his sneaky smile never breaking, taking your hand and enclosing it around his dick still wet. As soon as you grip him, you start jerking him off but Steve steals your attention with his fat fingers playing in your essence. Shutting his eyes a shaky sigh sounds with a long lopsided grin.
“Mmm…soaked,” his lids flutter back open, “just how I like it.”
Slamming his hands on your knees, Steve simultaneously pushes your legs back, spreading you wider so he can shove his dick between your hungry, drooling pussy lips. You two shout together but yours is cut short by Bucky’s dick filling your agape mouth. Your fingers squeeze the base of his dick out of shock but he loves that, growling out to the ceiling. Steve’s so deep his whole beefy body shudders with a low moan, throbbing against your wildly convulsing walls.
“Oooh-hooo my god…fuck…” he chokes and gasps, waiting a moment before he slowly drags himself out. “Fuck it’s too much.” But his hips move anyway, sinking further with a struggled groan, pausing for another moment. “Too tight,” another sigh, another timid but deep stroke, “too wet, fuck.”
“She’s fuckin magical…” Bucky moans in reply allowing you to take control since he’s taught you so damn well. “Isn’t that right baby?” His thumb traces over your swollen bottom lip as you willingly nod slurping at his fat dickhead. Your tongue hanging out as he fucks your gagging throat, keeping your eyes locked on that crooked smirk. Always admires how hard you work to get him off he hums back his longing groans. “So damn pretty with my cock in your mouth baby.”
“Fuckin beautiful,” chimes in Steve with a pleasant moan, rolling his hips with precise strokes like he knew exactly where your spot is. Mesmerized with the way your pussy constantly spurts around his girth. All your aroused sounds stuck behind Bucky’s leaky dick. A hand still fisting the bedding that you swore you’re ripping apart. Completely stuffed by two incredibly strong but weaken noisy men using your body to get them off. Use me…that’s the only thought in your fucked out brain. Every inch of you entirely numb, nerves buzzing, so sopping wet maybe you’ve cum once or twice already you can’t tell anymore. Bucky feels so damn good. Fuck Steve even being inside you blows your damn mind he feels so good your walls bond to him, milking him, and the pressure stutters his motions with a low grunt.
“Ugh god you’re gonna make me cum beautiful.” Which forever reason motivates Bucky to strum your clit for his best friend sending you both into hysterics. Your spine snapping up you damn near choke on a scream and on Bucky. Steve almost collapsing, losing his grip with a shout. Bucky just chuckles and throbs on the verge of coating your esophagus. “You’re an asshole.” Steve breathes trying to regain focus because he can feel what Bucky’s announcing.
“She’s about to cum…,” his voice breaks, chest drastically rising and falling climbing higher and higher still pushing you to break, “in three…two…Steve wraps both thick arms around your thighs and pounds into your slit harder. Bucky releases you to feverishly pump his dick and just to hear you holler,
“Holy shit! Oh my god! Oh Steve!” Cumming so hard, your legs lock and cramp, walls flutter so much they push him out but Steve’s determined, fucking into even as you dissipate until he pulls out and finishes on your stomach and thighs with hard breaths, blinking to regain his sight. Bucky loves the way you moan his friend’s name so much he paints your quivering breasts with a bitten smile, huffing and panting curse words to himself.
“Such a good girl.” He purrs down to you dragging a few fingertips in his cum for you to lick off. “Pretty girl…so good for me aren’t you.”
Nodding with wide loving eyes, you whisper with a modest grin, “yes Bucky.” You nuzzle his palm, showing your appreciation.
“Steve?” He calls out to him never taking his eyes off your sweet exhausted face but doesn’t wait for him to answer. “Tell YN thank you.” It’s his turn to have you all to himself which is well communicated in his lust blown gaze.
Laughing breathlessly Steve runs his hands over his face and ruffles his fluffy hair catching the hint.
“Thank you beautiful. Maybe we can do this again sometime.”
But you guys don’t hear him, too caught up in each other as he gathers his shit to leave. Bucky caresses your cheek and softly kisses your forehead. The switch is flipped. As much as you love your beast you surely can’t get enough of your teddy bear.
“You tired baby?” A hefty tired sigh is your only response which makes him snicker. “Come on.” His pretty lips mumble over you damp skin, gathering you up in his big arms. “Let’s get you cleaned up…” Cradled he carries you to his bathroom and grumbles in your ear, “Then you’re gonna cockwarm me for several hours to remind that pussy who you belong to.”
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balenciagabucky · a month ago
⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧ ˚𝐟𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐡˚୨୧⋆。˚ ⋆
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pairing ☽˚⁀➷。 therapist!bucky x fem!reader
summary ☽˚⁀➷。 you loved to be dominated by the one who helped you the most
word count ☽˚⁀➷。4,871 PART TWO
warnings ☽˚⁀➷。, this takes place in the sixties, housewife, cheating, touching yourself, talking about sex, therapy session, smoking, demanding/jealous bucky, unhappy marriage with steve, punishment, orgasm denial, finger, female oral receiving, unprotected sex, breeding, rough sex
You approached the perfume counter with calculated nonchalance. It wasn't the same shop girl today, thank heavens. She could simply breeze past the trays of colognes and take your ritual sniff of Chanel Pour Monsieur, and no one would be the wiser.
You consulted your watch. Your palms started to sweat a little. How ridiculous. Why did you have to get so nervous week after week? And why did you insist on visiting the perfume counter every Tuesday afternoon? The scent of him only made you more nervous.
You located the Chanel Pour Monsieur, removed the cap, and took a deep, reverent breath. You could see him as you inhaled the unmistakable blend of citrus and oak-moss. His long, elegant fingers were twirling his fountain pen; his dark eyes were inscrutable behind his browline glasses.
"Are you shopping for your husband?" chirped the shop girl.
You jumped and replaced the cap so quickly you nearly dropped the bottle. "I—no. No, I'm just—I just like the way it smells."
"It's popular." The girl regarded you thoughtfully. "A little old, though." She appeared to be scanning your left hand for a ring.
What did "old" mean? Dr. Barnes couldn't be more than 35, You mused as you smiled woodenly at the shop girl and fled.
Your appointment was in fifteen minutes. You headed mechanically up Fifth Avenue as the doors of Bonwit Teller closed heavily behind you.
What would Dr. Barnes’ ask you this week? If your appointments had taught you anything, it was that you could never anticipate his questions. You glanced down at your pristine Hermès Kelly handbag—a gift from Steve—and sighed. He would somehow know that you had had a fight with Steve. You'd wind up telling him everything—even that Steve had called you a frigid bitch.
That's why you were seeing Dr. Barnes, right? Wasn't it because you were a frigid bitch? You caught sight of Dr. Barnes's office window and felt a flutter in your stomach. Was he watching you from his fourth-floor office? Could he pick you out of the hoards of late-afternoon shoppers, the haphazard parade of unhappy young housewives looking for expensive distractions?
You thought again of Dr. Barnes's five o'clock shadow. The previous afternoon you'd spent a good half hour touching yourself and imagining how Dr. Barnes—Bucky—would look after a fierce night of lovemaking. Would his thick, scrupulously groomed hair go this way and that? Would you be able to see where your fingers had clutched and pulled at his hair as he tasted your pussy? Would he pull your warm, sleepy body against his and kiss you until you felt his erection nudge you impatiently? Would you wince a little as he plunged yet again into you? Surely the insatiable desire for his cock would make you forget how sore your pussy was.
You shook your head and silently chastised yourself. Dear Lord, you'd actually gotten a bit wet as you daydreamed your way into Dr. Barnes's building. You stepped gingerly into the elevator and nodded to the operator, who was well acquainted with your routine.
The waiting area smelled of coffee and furniture polish. You waved shyly at Dr. Barnes's receptionist as you approached the desk.
"Good afternoon! Dr. Barnes is ready for you. Shall I bring you your tea?"
"Oh, no, thank you." You smiled warmly at the receptionist, who had never been anything but motherly to you. If she knew that you'd just worked yourself into a state while fantasizing about Dr. Barnes, you'd positively die of embarrassment.
"How are you?"
You actually jumped at the smooth rumble of his voice behind you. "Dr. Barnes, you scared her half to death!" She clicked her tongue at him.
"I'm sorry."
He was smiling at her. His smile was so rare and so beautiful that it made your heart lurch.
"Hi, Dr. Barnes," you managed to choke out as he ushered you into the sunny office. His suit was as pristine as ever. It was all you could do to not run your hand along the wool crepe of his jacket and feel the hard muscle of his back underneath. You caught a hint of Chanel Pour Monsieur as you passed him.
"How have you been since our last conversation?" He waited for you to take your usual position on the nail-head leather sofa before taking a seat in his wing chair. The leather was warmed by the afternoon sun. You watched him cross his legs and place your file on his lap. The grace of his movements mesmerized you.
"I've been all right."
"I don't believe you."
You snapped to attention. He wasn't smiling, exactly, but there was amusement in his eyes. He'd never joked with you before.
"You're right." You grinned at him. To your amazement, he smiled back. "Steve—" She swallowed hard. "I'd rather not talk about Steve, if that's all right."
"What would you like to talk about?"
You closed your eyes. You wanted to tell him that Steve had it all wrong: you were  neither frigid nor insane. You wanted to tell him about the fantasies that left you half-breathless at night. You wanted to tell him that you dreamed of clawing lightly at his arms and back as he plunged his cock into your hot wetness and whispered lewdly at your ear. You wanted to tell him that you would beg to be committed to an asylum if it meant that he would come to your bed and fuck you daily.
Oh, God, had he guessed your thoughts? She blinked and plucked an imaginary piece of lint off your dress.
"Why don't I ask a few questions?" He was smiling again. Two smiles in the space of five minutes! You wondered what you'd done to deserve such a bounty. "May I speak frankly? I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
You stared. This session was growing stranger by the minute. Never before had Dr. Barnes expressed special concern for your comfort. Really, though, he'd never gone out of his way to make you uncomfortable. His questions had been unpredictable, but they'd always been innocuous enough: Had you had a happy childhood? How many friends had you had in primary school? How did you feel about your father? Had you ever regretted being an only child? He strung one question after another as if he were threading beads. The rhythm of his interrogations had always been almost soporific. His posture was quite different today, though. He was looking at you. It thrilled and unnerved you. You nodded and smiled shyly.
"I need to know," he said, his low voice a shade quieter now, "How often do you touch yourself?"
You inhaled sharply and sat up on the sofa.
"You—you don't have to answer right now." He made a conciliatory gesture. "I realize we haven't really—"
"Every day."
"Every day," he repeated mechanically. His pen remained motionless in his hand.
You felt half sick. There had been no stopping the words. The part of your that wanted Dr. Barnes to imagine your touching yourself had silenced any sense of shame or propriety. You fixed your gaze on the oriental rug at your feet.
"How do you feel when you touch yourself?" His composure appeared to have returned.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you enjoy it?"
"Yes." You met his gaze at last. His expression, ordinarily so stoic, had taken on a certain tautness. You felt compelled to provoke him. "I almost always experience a climax."
He uncrossed and crossed his legs. "And what about afterwards? Do you feel anything?"
"Feel anything?"
"Like guilt."
"Not exactly," you said, shaking your head. "I don't feel guilty about actually doing it, but I do feel guilty about the thoughts I have while doing it."
Dr. Barnes's pen had yet to touch the paper. He looked at you until you dropped your gaze to the floor again. The air had grown a bit thick; it seemed to buzz around your ears.
"Tell me."
His voice was flat, dispassionate, and strangely authoritarian. You cleared your throat and furrowed your brows as you heard him light a cigarette. He had never smoked during any of your sessions.
You bit your lip. If you somehow managed to choke out the words, Dr. Barnes would never want to see you again. Your nymphomaniacal fantasies—for surely that's what they were—would disgust him. Or perhaps—and this would be far worse—perhaps he would pity you.
"You," he rumbled.
"Tell me."
"Dr. Barnes, I—I just don't think—"
"I won't ask again." He turned to exhale a long stream of smoke.
You looked at him and blinked. His entire demeanor had changed: he still moved with spare grace, but his presence felt suddenly imposing, his gaze cool and demanding. He looked as if he could spring from his chair at any moment, and it was impossible to say what would happen at that point if he did. You were no longer in charge of the way the session progressed. Perhaps you had never been.
"I...I—I want..." your voice sounded thin and almost alien to your ears. "I want to be held down." You shut your eyes tightly and licked your lips. "I want to be overpowered and...and hidden away and kept and pushed against a wall and kissed and used and...." You finally opened your eyes.
His chair was empty. Your heart leapt up into your throat. But it was too late; the words kept spilling out.
"I want to be fucked! I just want to be fucked. I want to be ordered to come and—"
"By whom?" His voice was behind you. You watched small curls of cigarette smoke drift into your view, but you didn't dare turn around.
Your mind screamed the answer: You, Dr. Barnes. I want you to do all those things to me. Your lips would not form the words. Your heart was pounding too hard.
"Tell me."
You willed yourself to turn around. When your body finally obeyed, you found yourself mere inches away from Dr. Barnes's face. Before you could take another breath, his lips were on yours.
You thought often of that day, of the very first time that Bucky fucked you on the leather sofa and then held you in reverent silence. He had stroked your hair, traced the soft planes of your face with his long fingers. You had laid against him, your heart beating like a rabbit's, and waited in vain for him to say something. He had finally nudged you gently, and you had taken it as your cue to get dressed. Then you had finally walked home and wondered when your feet would register contact with the pavement. You hadn't even said a word to Bucky's receptionist on your way out.
The words came later. For all his refined reserve, Bucky was, as it turned out, quite a demanding man. He had laid out his conditions at your very next appointment: you were, first and foremost, forbidden to have sex with Steve under any circumstances. You assured him that such a thing would not be difficult; your husband rarely touched you. Still, if Steve did happen to corner as you brushed your teeth or sat reading McCall's, you quickly discovered that you couldn't hide it from Bucky. He could sense it—could smell Steve's touch on you as if he were a dog and a rival had left a mark on his territory.
You became unspeakably aroused if you gave too much thought to the afternoon you spent trying to lure Bucky into fucking you. You'd sat languidly in his wing chair, your skirt hiked up around your waist and one knee hooked over an armrest. He had sat on the sofa, his generous erection patently visible through his neatly pressed trousers, and watched your hand trail lewdly between your spread thighs.
"I thought only of you," you said, smiling as his eyes went smoky with lust. "I only want you."
"He touched you." He watched your hand as if hypnotized. "He fucked you."
"I only want you to fuck me," you whimpered.
"Then I'm leaving." You began to swing your leg off the armrest.
"No, you're not." He paused and pulled another cigarette out of his jacket pocket. "Keep those legs spread."
"You're punishing me."
"Yes." His eyes remained fixed on you as he lit up. "But this hurts me more than it hurts you."
You had begged, threatened, and attempted to barter. It was no good. And whenever your fingers began moving too purposefully between your thighs, Bucky promptly stopped you. Did you really, he wondered, need another reminder that you were not to come without his express permission? You had left his office so wet that you could smell your arousal on the cab ride home.
There were other conditions: the moment you stepped inside his office, you were his to command. Any request was to be met with happy and immediate compliance. You had so far found it quite easy to oblige him: in the past month, none of his requests had even given your pause, perhaps because you had been quite certain that they would all result in almost violent climaxes. You dearly loved climaxing for him, loved feeling his hand clasp over your mouth, quieting your moans.
At night, after Steve was asleep, you grew impatient and wet as you wondered what Bucky would command next. You imagined him ordering you to kneel under his desk and take his cock in your mouth as he made follow-up calls to patients. You squirmed in bed and imagined him forbidding you to let go of the leather chair back as his tongue brought you to the sort of orgasm that left your legs trembling.
He consumed your thoughts utterly. You conjured the low, controlled evenness of his voice every time Steve chastised you. You dreamed of the hardness of his arms, the smooth breadth of his back, every time Steve shot you a disdainful look across the dining table. Bucky's hunger for you, his passion for dominating you in precisely the way you wanted to be dominated, was the only thing keeping you sane. It was quite likely that you were in love with him.
"Going up?" The elevator operator smiled warmly at you.
This was it. You were minutes away from seeing Bucky again. Your stomach became a riot of butterflies every time you rode the elevator up to his office. You had found it necessary to stop visiting the cologne counter at Bonwit before your appointments; the smell of Chanel Pour Monsieur now made you alarmingly wet in seconds. You were like one of Pavlov's dogs.
"Hello, dear!" Bucky's receptionist held your hands out to take your coat. If she suspected anything, you certainly didn't let on. Although Bucky made concerted efforts to keep your sessions quiet—he had once threatened to shove your stockings into your mouth if you continued to moan so loudly—You had to assume that she had your suspicions.
"Hello." You beamed as you handed over your coat.
"Dr. Barnes would like you to go right in."
"Certainly. Thank you."
You could hear the clack-clack of Bucky's typewriter as you stepped through his open office door with as much grace as your nerves would allow. Your breath caught in your throat as he looked up at you. A cigarette perched between his finely wrought fingers. He had loosened his tie and undone the top button of his tailored dress shirt. Lord, he was handsome; it was sure to be your undoing. You mutely watched him rise from his desk and come to you.
He shut the door and looked you up and down. His eyes traveled with such sensual slowness that you felt yourself go slightly limp. And he hadn't even touched you yet.
"Take everything off," he said composedly.
"Kiss me first?" Your hands slid eagerly up his chest. He caught them up in his own and pushed them away.
"You're not listening. Take everything off." He began hastily unbuttoning your jacket, a tweed Yves Saint Laurent you had bought in the lonely days when you did nothing but shop. You watched his mouth as he spoke. "When you're naked, face the window."
You looked at the floor-to-ceiling windows and then gaped at him. "What if somebody sees?"
"Now, please."
"You want someone to see me?" You gawked indignantly at him.
"Stop asking questions. Take your dress off." He strode back over to his desk, sat down, and resumed taking long drags from his cigarette. His eyes never left your body.
You unzipped your shift dress and stepped out of it. Your slip and girdle soon followed. By the time your bra fell to the floor, his eyes had taken on that opaque darkness that always filled you with a perverse urge to provoke him further. He blew out a cloud of smoke and nodded as you placed your hands submissively behind your back.
"To the window." He extinguished his cigarette. "Hands on the glass, above your head."
You squinted against the brightness as you approached the tall window. The carpet under your bare feet warmed as you stepped into the square of sunlight. You stopped right at the glass and looked down at the Fifth Avenue traffic. How long before someone caught sight of the naked woman standing brazenly in the fourth-floor window? You put your hands on the glass and closed your eyes. It was what Bucky wanted.
You waited several minutes but didn't dare turn around. Your eyes acclimated to the brightness. It was astonishing: the scene below you—the bright blur of cabs, the endless parade of businessmen and afternoon shoppers and harried shop girls and delivery men and buses—on as it would any other day. No one had thought to take in the peep show you were staging under duress.
The scent of Chanel Pour Monsieur signaled his nearness and sent a tingle down your body. He whispered, his hot breath tickling your ear, "spread your legs."
You feared the movement would attract attention. "Bucky, it's—"
"Spread your legs." His hot hand cupped your ass; you started at his touch.
"What are you going—"
"I will take you over my knee the next time you open your mouth. Now open your legs."
Your breath caught again. He had never spanked you, but the thought sent pleasurable spasms through your pussy. As you stepped out to spread your legs for him, you tried to imagine what your ass would look like with his red hand-prints all over it.
But suddenly his fingers were thrusting into your pussy, and all your thoughts fled.
"You're so wet for me. Always so wet," he murmured as he fingered you from behind.
You bit your lip to quiet your moans. Your hands moved restively, leaving a jumble of smears on the glass above your head. You arched your back to give his fingers better access. When you felt his or your hand glide up your stomach and cup your breast, you sighed. When he pinched your nipple, you accidentally smacked your forehead against the window and smiled as you heard him chuckle.
"Be careful, baby," he said soothingly. His fingers continued to pump wetly in and out of your as his other hand wandered greedily, groping one breast and then the other. You suspected that he could make you come with just a few more minutes' effort. You pressed your moans against your arm to muffle them.
"Look at me," he ordered. You whimpered in protest as you felt his fingers withdraw and finally turned to meet his gaze. You watched dazedly as he lifted his fingers to his lips and licked off the thick glaze of your juices. He smirked at you. "Step back a little. Keep your legs spread. Palms stay on the glass."
You got into position without another word. You were beyond remonstration, beyond indignity; nothing mattered except the pleasure Bucky was intent on giving you. He knelt before you, his back to the window. You gasped as his hands reached around to knead the curves of your ass.
"I can smell how much you want me to fuck you." His hot breath tickled the fuzzy curls between your legs as he spoke. His long fingers spread you gently as they massaged your ass. "But you're not going to get fucked until I've tasted you." He abruptly licked the top of your slit, making your squeal. "Be quiet this time. I'd rather not waste time taping your mouth."
You bit your lip hard as his tongue slid adroitly between the wet folds of your pussy. You imagined the obscene tableau you and Bucky made—a lean, well-dressed man kneeling down to pleasure a naked woman, your palms planted on the window—and only became more aroused. His hands had left your ass and begun to roam freely over your body. You desperately hoped that he would reach up to maul your tits, which now felt heavy and hypersensitive. You knew better than to plead with him or direct his hands to your breasts, though: the first time you had done such a thing, Bucky had reminded you that he did as he pleased by stopping altogether and ordering you to watch him finish himself off.
"Oh, God," you whimpered as his tongue flirted expertly with your clit. You wanted to bury your fingers in his thick hair, wanted to grind your pussy shamelessly against his mouth. When you felt him press the flat of his tongue directly against your clit, you smacked the window hard and winced as mild pain flayoud up your arm.
He stopped and looked up at you, his lips shiny with your pussy juices. "Behave yourself," he said evenly. You nodded and offered him a mute, wide-eyed plea to continue. As he reburied his face in your pussy, his hands reached up to take hold of your breasts. You closed your eyes in gratitude. He groaned lightly as he lapped at your clit. The sound thrilled you to your belly.
"Bucky...Bucky...Oh, God, Bucky...." Moaning his name was, you decided, a pleasure in itself. Sometimes you chanted it quietly to yourself as you touched yourself in the bathtub. Sometimes you whisper it under your breath after evading your husband's friends' clumsy attempts to flirt with you at cocktail parties. You spoke it as if it were a prayer, and as Bucky gently took your clit between his lips and suckled, it occurred to you that was engaged in his own particular form of worship.
You were mere moments from coming when Bucky released your breasts and halted his attention with a pert swirl of his tongue. He looked up and seemed almost amused by your stricken expression. "You don't want my cock after all?" He wiped your pussy juices off his chin with the back of his hand. "Do we need to end our session early?"
You were wide-eyed with alarm. "Oh, no! No, no, Bucky. Please, no. I—I want your cock." You fought to keep your lips from trembling.
"Take your hands off the window," he replied nonchalantly. As you complied, he rose to his full height, interposing himself between you and the window and leaving your face in shadow. "Bend over." He pointed to the wing chair behind you.
You stepped unsteadily toward the chair. Before you could reach it, Bucky's hands locked around your waist; You felt a thrill as your feet left the floor, but the thrill turned to brief panic as you found yourself hurtling toward the chair. This wasn't the first time Bucky had tossed you across the room. The degree to which you had grown to enjoy it, embarrassed and excited you. You caught yourself by planting your hands on the cool leather of the chair seat. He immediately seized your wrists and directed your hands to grip the armrest. The expensive fabric of his suit—he had not so much as removed his jacket—against the tender flesh of your back made you feel wonderfully vulnerable.
You heard him unzip and bit your lip in your anticipation.
"Head down," he instructed before sliding his cock slowly into your. You hissed as he stretched you methodically, filled you thoroughly. This was what you had been waiting for. Dying for. This was the pleasure that felt like a hot combustion of lovemaking and addiction and indulgence and utter submission.
You clawed at the armrest as his cock moved inexorably in and out. Breathy moans escaped your lips as if quote by their own volition. Bucky shuud you several times, but he did not stop moving.
Harder. You needed him to fuck you harder. You clenched your pussy rhythmically around his cock and prayed that it would incite him to move more aggressively.
"Don't you dare come," he barked, gripping your shoulders.
"No, Bucky, I'm not coming, I swear," you breathed, tightening around his hot length again.
"Your pussy...ah, God!...your pussy is disobeying me," he rasped, clutching your shoulders harder. "Jesus," he whispered to himself, "so tight."
Your heart stuttered. You feared that he would punish you by withdrawing before either of them could come. You feared that he would send you home with a sopping wet cunt and the desperate conviction that you were about to jump out of your skin.
Instead he tangled his fingers in your slightly sweaty hair and pulled hard. You jerked upward with a stifled cry and closed your eyes as he began covering your neck with ravenous kisses. You felt him nip you lightly and wondered whether he would go so far as to leave a mark.
"Are you going to come?" he asked in a lethally quiet voice between kisses.
"Not until you say I can."
"And do you think," he continued, reaching around to pluck at your nipples, "you can control yourself in the meantime?"
You groaned as he continued to wreak havoc on your breasts. "Yes," you answered in a cracked voice.
"Are you sure?" He pinched one nipple so hard you gasped.
You weren't sure at all, actually. The instant he began pounding you in earnest, you were bound to come. You arched your back as he groped your tits.
"Are you sure?" His hands moved down to your hips. "You have such discipline?"
"Shall I test you?"
You felt his fingers dig into your hips, and then before you could return to gripping the chair arm, he began fucking your hard and deep. You impulsively reached between your legs to rub your swollen clit. Bucky made no move to stop you.
"You can't control yourself," he said thickly, his voice losing its poliyoud monotone as he drove his cock into your. "You want it too goddamned much."
You moaned and rubbed yourself more vigorously. The savagery in Bucky's voice, in the unrelenting hardness of his body, was quickly driving you to the edge.
"Ah...God." He shoved your body back hard against his cock. "Come for me."
Your fingers worked feverishly at your clit. You hadn't expected him to capitulate so soon. Your orgasm glimmered tantalizingly before you.
"Come, Come for me." His fingers were sure to leave small bruises on your hips. "Come, damn it!"
It was actually Bucky's low groan that finally ignited the blast of pleasure that left your limbs feeling heavy and your body thoroughly used. The sound of his body finally surrendering to yours was enough to send your pussy into long, delicious spasms. He clamped his hand over your mouth, and you moaned—hoarse, body-wracking moans.
When you felt again in control of your body, you moved to straighten up. Bucky withdrew carefully, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and helped you clean up with efficient grace. After the wild ferocity of his orgasm, he was again channeling the natural refinement that governed all his movements.
"I want to see you Friday," he said crisply as he zipped up your dress.
You turned and tried to read his inscrutable face. "But I never have an appointment on Fridays."
"Now you do."
You opened your mouth to protest further, but he silenced you with his mouth. His tongue slipped past your lips, sending a fresh jolt of pleasure to your core. You could almost have sworn that you tasted yourself on his tongue.
He broke the kiss off at last. "Confirm at reception on your way out, please." He was already moving back to his desk, back to the business of the day. Away from you.
You puzzled over Bucky's words as you waited for the doorman to hail a cab for you. He had all but discarded you after bundling you back up in your expensive clothes, but he had insisted on seeing you for the third time in a week. For all you knew, he intended to see you every Friday, and if he intended it, you felt powerless to stop it.
That was the beauty of your time with Bucky: you loved feeling powerless, loved feeling subject to his whims. It was, you mused as you put on your sunglasses and tipped the doorman, the only time you felt in control of your heart.
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harryspet · 5 months ago
cement walls | bucky barnes
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[Warnings] dark!bucky barnes x reader, non/dubcon sex, fingering, kidnapping, forced pregnancy, confined spaces, Stockholm syndrome(?), post-blip bucky, bucky needs some therapy, forced gender roles
[A/N] uhm so this is what i’ve been working on and like usual i have no idea where i wanna take it :):) i haven’t posted in a long while so i figured i would put this out there for some feedback! this is pretty much inspired by Room if you’ve seen that movie. [gif credit to]
In which the outside world is too dangerous for you and Bucky is the only one who can protect you. 
taglist: @cherienymphe @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes  @watercoolerpaint @disaster-rose @slutforsebstan​ @doozywoozy​
main masterlist
word count: 3.3k
Within the cement walls that surrounded your home, you imagined that you had your own little planet. You spent hours of your days thinking about what surrounded you, if there were floating rings like Saturn had, the constellations you could make out only if you could only see the entire sky, and how the sun would really feel on your bare skin. You were beginning to forget what that felt like and you sat below the skylight trying to reach into your mind and remember.
Maybe you should be grateful that there was even a skylight at all and that there was enough room for a small kitchen and bathroom. You imagined that's what he thought. You could move around freely with no chains so you should be grateful. Almost three-hundred square feet of your new planet that you should be glad to have. Except you didn’t even own the ground you stood on, this planet wasn’t really yours, you were just an astronaut trapped in space. 
That morning, you scrubbed the floors, not only because the military man preferred organization but also because the small space got dirty quickly. After taking your vitamins, extra Vitamin D of course, and munching on a stale granola bar, you got to work. You made the twin bed up, making sure the sheets were tucked in tightly before organizing the small amount of clothes in the wardrobe. 
When you heard the beeping of the keypad outside the door, you stood up, shutting the wardrobe. You weren’t expecting him, not having gotten to the kitchen yet, but alas your moon man appeared. You couldn’t help it, you always looked past him to see what you could have of the outside world. You saw nothing, his figure was only surrounded in darkness as he shut it quickly, and it beeped as the metal door locked again. 
It was like he liked the idea of you not knowing where you were. He’d brought you into this room unconscious so you had no idea whether you were still in Louisiana or not. For all you knew, you could be floating in space and it wouldn’t matter. 
The tall man’s hair was cut short, like he’d just gotten a haircut, and you hated that the room was already beginning to smell like his cologne. He held a brown bag of what you assumed were groceries, “You haven’t been here in more than two weeks. I’ve been cleaning my clothes in the sink. I started rationing food t-thinking you weren’t going to come back.”
He set the bag down on the small kitchen table and you watched his eyes roam over the dirty dishes, “I wouldn’t leave you here, doll face,” Bucky assured you, “C’mere.” He waved you over and you stepped forward cautiously. 
“W-Where did you go?”
He reached up to hold your face, the leather brushing against your cheeks as he looked you over. You wore a green smock dress with a cardigan tightly over you, the box having been cold the past few days, “I had business. Far away business.”
“You’ve never been gone this long.”
“Did you miss me that much?” You wanted to roll your eyes. If Bucky didn’t come back, you’d die in probably the worst way possible and no one would know what happened to you, “I brought you back plenty of groceries, I even got you some oreos and that fancy bread you like.”
“Bucky …. I-I was so so scared. You don’t understand-” He leaned down to kiss you and when your lips didn’t move against his, he grabbed you roughly by your hair. You held in your yelp as you forced your lips to move against his. He held your hips, deepening the kiss and when he pulled away, his hands were still in your hair. 
“I’m here now, “ He looked at you sharply, tugging your hair a bit, “But it seems you can’t keep the kitchen clean, no matter how much time I give you.”
“I’m sorry,” You apologized, the words slipping out before you could even register them. 
He gestured his head over to the sink, “Get to it. And the groceries as well.” 
You moved past him, turning on the warm water before grabbing a sponge. You felt his eyes on your back as you began to clean all the pots and pans you’d been using. You heard the rattling of his belt, his jeans being pulled down, the sound of his boots being stacked to the side, and the grunt he let out when he tossed his jacket over the kitchen chair. 
When you placed everything in the drying rack, you moved onto the bag of groceries. He had gotten the bread you liked so you had something to look forward to that week, “I had to see that lady again.”
“You mean your therapist?”
“It’s court mandated bullshit,” You looked over and he was examining your desk and bookshelf. All the books you had were given to you by him and all the decorations were paper origami that you’d gotten good at making. 
“What did you guys talk about?” You asked hesitantly, putting things away in the cabinet. 
“She thinks I need more friends, more social interactions I suppose but that’s what she says every week,” You heard your bed creak as he sat down, “Hey, make me a cup of coffee, doll.”
“Oh,” It was clear that whatever that therapist was doing, wasn’t work, the biggest piece of evidence being the girl he was holding captive right now. You moved over to the coffee pot, pouring what was left into his favorite mug, “Do you … ever talk about me?”
You could feel his body stiffen even from across the room. 
“Why would I?” When you turned around, his eyebrows were furrowed, his hands on his knees. 
You crossed the small room with the cup in hand, “Well, you interact with me. I’m like your friend, right?” You handed him the drink, standing back as you watched him take a sip, hoping he’d be satisfied with it. 
“You know why I can’t tell her about you, Y/N.”
You shook your head, “Yeah, I was just thinking … “ You sat down a few feet away from him, “Does anyone else know about me?”
“You’re curious today.”
“It’s not like I have much entertainment in here,” You said a little more snarky than you intended. You felt his mechanical arm push into the mattress beside you as he turned his head, “Sorry … when do you think I’ll get to leave the room? Not outside, just out of the room. Maybe to where you sleep at night.”
“If you’re going to be like this today-”
“Forget I said anything,” You smiled weakly, “Please.”
Bucky set down his cup on the small nightstand before he urged you closer. You scooted closer and he gently pushed your head down until it was resting in his lap. You felt his cold hand through your sweater and the other through your hair, “I know what it’s like … feeling trapped,” You pulled your feet onto the bed and he continued to stroke your hair and you welcomed the comforting touch. 
“Then why …”
He shushed you, “Mind over matter, Y/N. It’s all about training your mind to adjust. You’re safer here, you’re taken care of here, and your mind is still trying to convince you that you don’t belong here.”
“I wouldn’t try to escape if I could just stay with you…”
He shushed you again, “I spent decades frozen and then, after that, I was trapped in my own mind. Now everyone’s trying to convince me that I have this new chance to survive in the world. They genuinely think of this new century as being so amazing, so much technology, and opportunities but it’s a lie, Y/N. This world is nothing but danger and death. You’re much better without it.”
You felt a tear roll down your cheeks. You felt like the chains around you were only getting heavier. He was so delusional that you thought it would be easier to start believing him, “Please don’t leave for that long again.”
Bucky sighed, “I’ll stay here for the night. How does that sound?”
You hiccuped, “T-Thank you.”
Later that night, you were lying beside bucky in the small bed. He was fast asleep but you were wide awake, looking up at the skylight. The full moon was lighting up the room. Carefully, you tossed your feet over the bed, doing your best not to disturb the soldier. You got onto the floor, crawling towards the carpet in the middle of the room. Oftentimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d lay down and stare up at the moon. 
You stayed like that for lord knows how long, drifting into a place where all your thoughts were silent. 
“What are you doing?” You sat up quickly, your heart racing as his gruff voice snapped you from your trance. 
He was shirtless, standing above you, and rubbing his tired eyes. You simply pointed up, “The moon.”
“Get back in bed,” He commanded groggily. 
You scooted over slightly, “I can’t sleep ... just come look with me. It’s beautiful.”
“You act like you’ve never seen the fucking moon before, Y/N,” His frustration caught you off guard as he reached down to grab you by your arm. You didn’t mean to but, on instinct, you flinched away. That only led him to grabbing your harder, and you stumbled as he pulled you up, “Get in the bed. You scare me to death when I wake up and can’t feel you.”
“If you care so much then why do you leave me in here for weeks on end.”
His eyes flickered with hurt for a moment, “I won’t … ever again. You need far too much discipline for me to let you be on your own for so long.” You rolled your eyes as you turned away, walking towards the bed. 
He grabbed you roughly by your waist, pushing you onto the bed. He pushed you further into the mattress, his hand on the back on your neck, and you were reminded just how cruel he could be. There was a point months ago when you stopped fighting it, knowing in the end he would overpower you, but sometimes your spark appeared. 
He lifted your nightgown easily, knowing he wouldn’t find any underwear to tear off, and his hand cupped between your legs. As you struggled beneath him, he felt you, rubbing and running his fingers over your lips, “Me being deep inside you seems to correct your mood. Is that what you need from me, doll face?”
Your spark appeared and went quickly, knowing he could feel your wetness, giving him the permission to sink two of fingers inside you. He moved slow, his knees pressed deep into the bed, as he watched your lips part with a gasp. 
“That’s it …”
This was his favorite, knowing he could get you off with just his fingers, his fingers curling against your most sensitive areas. He fastened his pace, pushing in and out of you as you lay there bent over. Knowing you were nearing an orgasm you were sure not to run away from, he moved his vibranium arm from your neck and underneath you where he stimulated your sensitive bud. 
“That’s my girl,” He coaxed you as he sent you into a shaking fit, “You finish so well on my fingers, so beautifully.” You came hard, Bucky enjoying the vulnerable view of your face. As he let you go, you pushed down your gown and laid down on your side. The bed dipped as he took a seat, rubbing your thighs as the post-orgasm regret filled you. 
“You ever think you have some control over me, I want you to remember this.”
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8 months later … 
You flipped through the channels six channels that the old television would provide. The soldier thought buying you one would decrease your book intake which he was struggling to keep up with as you read several per week. He wasn’t a fan of technology but the two of you had a long argument about it and he eventually caved. 
You weren’t sure if he knew but the TV picked up a local news channel and you got a glimpse into what the world had been like over the past year. Every now and then, there’d be a mention of Sam Wilson and you figured that’s who he was disappearing with when he was gone for weeks at a time. 
As you neared closer and closer to your due date, he’d grown nicer than usual, though the way he’d gotten you pregnant wasn’t pleasant at all. “You complain so much about being lonely.” He had said when you’d missed your period, “This is what you wanted, right?” 
You weren’t sure if you were just nauseous from the pregnancy or if the idea of raising a baby in that room was making you sick to your stomach. Sometimes you caught yourself being selfish, thinking about having someone to take care of and take up your time. Having someone who could love you properly, in a way that Bucky didn’t quite understand. 
“How’s my girl? And how’s my mini me?” Bucky was an abnormally good move when he came down to visit you that night. He was carrying magazines in his hand and you crossed the room, curious to see the details, “I thought you might want to look at nursery stuff.”
“There’s gonna be a nursery,” Your lips pulled into a smile, “Where?”
“Here,” He gestured around and your smile fell, “You can’t be too far from the little tike. I was thinking we could put the crib where your desk is.”
You took the magazines from him, resting them on your protruding stomach, “Oh …” You tried not to sound sad, “You don’t think that maybe the space is too small? I mean, a mom and baby and sometimes you, that’s a lot of people for one room. And when they get older ….” You imagined having a happy little baby but you tried not to think about your child growing up in a box. 
“When he gets older, we’ll think about it then,” He stated, already gendering the baby without any actual knowledge. He refused to let you see a doctor, only brought you prenatal vitamins, expecting that you’d have a smooth delivery right here in the room, “For now, it’s plenty of room.”
You nodded, “When he gets older, will you take him outside the room? Kids need space to play and get fresh air.”
“I’ll think about it, Y/N,” Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line. 
You didn’t want to push the issue further, not wanting to spoil his mood, “I think a light green will be a good, neutral color for everything. Maybe we can decorate his side of the room.”
He smiled, “Whatever you’d like, doll face.”
You crossed the room, setting the magazines down on your desk, and a scary idea crossed your mind. A scary idea and chance you might just have to take if it meant you could get help. You were getting nowhere screaming at the top of your lungs, hoping for someone to hear you, and asking Bucky over and over again just to let you have fresh air. He was suffocatingly protective and that didn’t seem like it was gonna change. You couldn’t let him do that to your child. 
You made dinner and he slept over that night, his vibranium hand holding your waist the entire night. 
You planned to catch him off guard the next morning, figuring you’d have the best chance of causing a panic while he was still tired. You got up, whispering that you had to use the restroom, and you slipped inside the room. You read somewhere that only a fourth cup of water comes out when your water breaks, so you fill a cup before drenching your underwear, legs and the bathroom floor. 
“Bucky!” You shouted, making sure you looked scared in the mirror, “Bucky!”
The door almost flew off its hinges as the soldier went into full alert. His eyes were wide, examining you, “What-What happened?”
“I-I think my water broke,” A tear slipped down your cheek. 
“It’s too early,” He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, “A-Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. All the books say it's a gushing feeling and that was definitely gushing.”
“Maybe we should wait … we can wait and see if contractions start-”
You shook your head furiously, cautiously stepping forward, “We have to see a Doctor. W-We have to … contractions are supposed to start before my water breaks a-and I’m only 29 weeks. I can’t have the baby naturally.”
“We have to! Please, Bucky, a-all I care about is the baby. Please, I don’t want to lose them. Please don’t make me-”
“Okay, okay,” He nodded, grabbing your face as he wiped your tears, “Uhm …. let's get dressed. There’s a thirty minute drive to the hospital,” You nodded and his eyes narrowed at you, “This is for the baby, remember that. You pull anything and-”
“I know,” You placed your hand over your stomach, pulling away from his grasp. 
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Your body was heavy when he led you out of that room. You felt your reality shifting as you entered the world again. What surprised you most was how normal the rest of the home was, not particularly homey, but it was nice and spacious. There was even a full front yard and, sadly, you imagined the happy family that could have lived here. You half-expected him to have a wife and kids that he was hiding you from. 
Now, sitting in the hospital bed, you watched him paced around, not paying attention to what the Doctor was saying. 
“So she’s not in labor? She felt her water breaking.”
“No, Sir. Based on the ultrasound, the amniotic fluid levels are normal. I’m not sure what happened, could be a multitude of things, but it was most likely a false alarm. But don’t worry, it happens all the time. And your baby looks very healthy.”
You opened your mouth to say something but Bucky’s eyes narrowed at you, a warning. 
“Okay, thank you, Doc.”
“Do you two have a primary obstetrician? One isn’t listed-”
“Are we free to leave?”
The Doctor took another look at you, as if he was trying to understand our relationship, but if he noticed anything, he didn’t say it, “Yes, you’re free to go. I would just make sure to keep a sharp eye out and give your obstetrician a call if you have a question-”
“Of course, thanks, Doc,” Bucky nodded as he forced a smile. With his dark jacket and black gloves, it was hard for him not to look intimidating. 
The Doctor looked down at you with a warm smile, “Let me know if you need anything, ma’am.”
Say something. 
Say something. 
If you were going to say something, this would be the time. Why did Bucky have such a hold on you even outside of the room?
As soon as the Doctor left the room, Bucky turned away, frustratedly packing up your bag, “Get up, get dressed, let’s go.”
“Bucky, I really did think-”
“If you don’t want someone in this hospital to get hurt, I’d get dressed and keep your mouth shut.”
You moved your legs to the side, real tears beginning to fall down your face, as you struggled to get your dress on. Bucky noticed your sniffling from the corner of his eye. He moved towards you, kneeling down beside the bed, “Hey, I’m sorry …. I’m just stressed out. I don’t like you being here ... but everything is going to be okay. Our baby is perfectly healthy and we’ll be home soon. There will be no more interruptions after this.”
You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod in agreement knowing that your own opinion didn’t matter. Bucky was god, enforcing his will on you, and claiming he knew best. You felt so small in comparison to him but there had to be something left within you that could keep fighting, that could keep you from going willingly back into that room-
You perked up, “Yes?”
“C’mon doll face, let’s go home.”
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hope you enjoyed! not sure where i want to take this so feedback will be much appreciated!
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xxindiglow · 19 days ago
🎃Scaredy Cat🎃
Vampire!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Word Count: 2.6K
Summary: You meet a mysterious man at a Halloween party. You wish you hadn't but are so glad you did. I hate summaries. They're weird, he's a vampire, just read it.
🚨WARNINGS🚨: 18+ONLY/Smut, DUB CON, hand jobs, vampires, blood, biting, scratching, hypnosis, death, allusion to stalking. I don't really know how to tag this one. I'm adding dub con because the reader is under supernatural influences.
A/N: It's September, welcome to Pre-Spooky Season, Bitches! If there are any warnings and tags you feel should be added please send me a message. Thanks!
xxIndiglow's MASTER LIST
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On clumsy feet you walked toward the back door of the nightclub. Catching sight of an "employees only" warning left your mind as quickly as it had entered. Your head a muddled mess as you waded in and out of your own coherent thoughts. Water? I'm thirsty so am I going to get water? You wondered.
"The alley. Come," a distant voice sounded.
You staggered around in a circle to try and find the owner of the voice, but no one was paying attention to you. Who'd said that? You wondered.
The music was loud, the bass making your chest vibrate. But you'd heard a voice other than your own. You tried to shake some clarity into your head but the movement only impaired your balance more making you stumble into a wall. The lights overhead swirled with the illuminated exit sign and the multicolored glow made you want to vomit. The urge to find the long haired man overwhelmed your dwindling reasonable thinking.
Finding yourself upright again, determined footsteps forced you back on the path to the door. The gait you'd taken on felt uncoordinated making the journey outside uncomfortable. It wasn't of your own will and although you seemed to mimic a marionette doll to anyone who may be watching, the unnatural urgency to be reunited with that man took precedence over appearance. The man, what was his name again? Jason? We danced and he'd said to call him Bradley? You asked yourself, but the clouding of your mind pushed back harder.
Pushing open the door allowed a crisp October breeze to whip the bottom of your blouse upward. Exposing your sweat dampened skin to the air made your nipples stiffen and spread goosebumps up your arms. The coolness was sharp enough to pull a gasp from your mouth. A rancid stench of garbage burned your nostrils making bile bubble in your stomach. The response brought about a moment to access your own thoughts again.
I should go back inside. I don't want to be alone, you panicked.
"You're not alone, girl. Come."
There! That voice again, this time ringing as clear as day in your head. It was masculine and foreign. Tinged with an accent you could not easily place. Was it Russian? Romanian maybe? The idea of another voice occupying a place in your head made you uneasy. Impossible is what it should have been. Yet the curiosity that's tethered you to the man tugged steadily.
Another breeze swept over your body and carried the last of your own thoughts away with it. Feet pulling you forward once more, your body was directed down the concrete steps and passed the drunken patrons milling about the trashed spaces. A few of them spat either inappropriate comments about what they'd like to do to you or hurled insults and threats at your back as you stepped on booted toes. At the tail end of your thought content was the desire to respond to one of them. Any one at all to tell them to fuck off or to plead for help. You didn't mean to mindlessly stumble by them. But you really had no choice. Your tongue felt like cement in your dry mouth. Jaw sewn shut and voice buried in fear. You found yourself unable to speak aloud and if the thickening fog in your mind would have allowed it, you'd have been brimming with fright.
"Come to me."
As you closed the distance between yourself and your unknown destination, the effort to regain your independence remained in limbo. Common sense naturally would have told you to go back to safety, but there was an indescribable need, an undeniable urge, that defied even the strongest of wills to follow the man you'd been dancing with earlier that night. He smelled like crackling firewood and burnt amber. It was deep and intoxicating. You danced along side him for what seemed like forever just trying to get closer for a better whiff. The scent consumed you for the remainder of the night.
Tears welled in your eyes as they began to burn from the brisk wind. Unable to turn your gaze in any direction but forward heightened your sense of hearing. It was quiet now. Turning down another corner diminished the club's muffled music and now all that could be heard were the rats scuttling in the shadows and the deep drumming of your own heart.
"Mmmm, yes. Come a little closer," boomed in your head.
And without warning there he was hidden in the shade of a light pole. That man. God, what's his name? Joshy? Jamie? James! His name is James. The success of fighting through your haze in order to remember didn't matter because now he was standing right in front of you, no more than 5 feet away. Where'd he come from? You tried to bring that question to the forefront of your mind but again the voice overshadowed your own.
"After I kissed you I thought you'd come after me much quicker than this. A resistant little thing, are you? We'll have to put that to rest now, won't we?" he taunted without moving his mouth.
As if an overstretched rubber band around your brain snapped, your own thoughts flooded your mind in an instant. The sudden onslaught of observations slammed into your conscious thinking and exceeded your ability to remain upright. Your vision of the man's shadowed form dimmed as your body tilted backward. You awaited the painful crash into the hard ground, but it never came.
A cool hand slapped at your face bringing you back to consciousness. Your eyes slowly opened and you saw the dark sky, the stars, a brightly shining full moon, and… that man! He was helping you stand again and chuckling nonchalantly as if he hadn't moved faster than humanly possible to keep you from crashing onto the ground.
Back on your feet again you gazed up at James then snatched away from him as fast as you could. Your stream of thoughts restarting in overtime to try and understand the last 20 minutes of what you'd experienced. Nothing made sense at all at that moment. Fresh on your mind was the reason you'd jumped away from him in the first place. His eyes. There was something different about his eyes. Back on the dance floor they seemed too dark and too wide. You'd chalked it up then to the strobe lights playing tricks, but even if that were true it was like his pupils were trying to escape the irises. But just now when you'd caught a glimpse in the moonlight the iris seemed to be too round and eerily pale. They could've been blue, you weren't sure.
"Now, now... Running off like a scaredy cat would only make both of us work harder than necessary and we don't want that do we?" the man asked aloud this time.
You were surprised at how unsurprised you were that his voice was the same as you'd heard in your head. You were prepared to take off running anyway, but a glimmer from his mouth stopped you. He licked his lips and the moonlight revealed a peculiar white sparkle. Were those his teeth? Are veneers that shiny? You asked yourself.
As if he'd heard your thoughts he cracked a joyless smile and revealed a repulsive, perfect set of unnatural white teeth. There were too many to count and you gagged at the sight. The would-be canines on both sides were elongated in a way that should have cut into the bottom of his mouth. The tips looked sharp enough to shatter bones. When you'd kissed him what seemed like ages ago to you now, your tongue swiped at his teeth, but you'd assumed he was wearing plastic vampire fangs. It was a Halloween costume party at the club after all. But never ever had you imagined what you were presented with now. They were awful. He was terrifying.
You opened your mouth to scream and the moment you did it was clamped shut against your will. Your teeth crushed into each other and pain shot through your jaw. Your voice was sucked from your throat and feet planted into the ground. With accelerated speed he was hovering a full foot above you. His mouth set in annoyance and you prayed he didn't reveal those unholy fangs twice.
"Tsk, I'm disappointed, Scaredy Cat. You're going to make this harder than it needs to be," he snapped.
The fog started to roll across your brain and muddle your thoughts again. This time, instead of your feet blindly guiding you, your body was rendered motionless. You stood frozen in horror as only your eyes retained a full range of motion. The man removed his coat and threw it on top of a dumpster. He turned back to you and his face held an unabashed expression of lust and hunger. A tear rolled down your face and your body struggled to adjust to the inability to bolt versus your spiking adrenaline.
"Ahhhh, Scaredy Cat, you keep working yourself up like this and you aren't gonna last very long," he teased.
"What the hell does that mean?" You tried to question him in your mind.
"It means you'll be too delectable for me to savor slowly the way I so very much enjoy doing," he acknowledged silently.
Dread tried to flood your veins but before you could manage it you were blinded by the man's speed. He was at your face again and tonguing your mouth the way he'd done before. All warnings ceased as pure bliss exploded in your brain like a firework. The feeling sizzled in your gut and melted down to your pussy. His mouth released yours and you panted hazily. You whined out for more. Inhaling that burning amber scent again. Needing him back the same way you did when he kissed you on the dance floor. It felt like angelic completion when he'd done it and a curse from Hell when he stopped. It pained you spiritually when he broke the kiss. It was wrong to engage into it and wrong to disengage from it.
He stood staring down at you with a devilish smirk. The fog began receded from you mind. You recovered the ability to use your limbs and made quick motions to grab at his arms. You clawed and pleaded for him to kiss you again but he did not grant you another. His expression never changed. He just looked on amused at your pitiful cries.
"Oh, Scaredy Cat, if I'd known it would only take a single Moroi peck to subdue you I'd would've done it weeks ago," he disclosed.
His words settled over you like a weight. Weeks ago? You thought. Before you could ponder his meaning any longer a pained shriek erupted from your mouth. Terror tore through you as you witnessed James' sharpened index nail slice down the valley of your breasts like softened butter. Tiny crimson pebbles beveled and dripped down to collect on his fingers. Alarm rang out within you, but remnants of his mystifying spell kept you locked in place.
You watched in wide eyed shock as he titled his head back and dipped the bloody finger into his mouth. He groaned in seductive exhilaration as if your blood were the sweetest candy. The sound carried to your pussy and nudged at your clit. Shame washed over your body as you continued to study him. His eyes fluttered closed while you watched his Adam's apple bob with the swallowing of your life's nectar. He revealed his abominably prolonged tongue and swiveled it around his fingers repeatedly. The ghastly sight ended in a stunned jolt from you.
James brought his head back down and opened his eyes again. The ghostly moonlight glow exposed them for what they were. Terrible and inhumanly pale orbs stared back at you. Devoid of all color except the shocking white of the sclera and iris combined as one. Pupils appearing to be onyx pinpoints. What is he? You worried unable to breathe.
"I would explain it to you, Scaredy Cat, but I'm afraid it would not matter. You won't be around long enough to truly understand," he admitted out loud.
You thought he almost looked, what is it? Sorry? Regretful? Remorseful?
"I look reluctant," he answered for only you to hear. Almost like he'd be ashamed if anyone heard him confess aloud.
"Why?" you questioned fearfully. Adrenaline started to pump through you again.
"It does not matter. You will be but a memory after tonight," he asserted vocally.
In a flash he had you back in his arms. He snatched your head back and revealed those chilling fangs once more. A scream crumbled in your throat before it had a chance to unleash itself. His mouth was at the right side of your throat and with startling ease the teeth plunged into your flesh. Your heart pumped the stream of hot, sticky liquid down his throat. James groaned with fervor.
Total delight swirled in your mind the moment he took his first drink. It was akin to a lovers embrace after an extended period without contact. Not a single worry plagued your mind and flowers bloomed from your chest where he'd cut you. Was this floating? Am I flying? I can taste cotton candy, and clouds, and fuck! I'm gonna cum.
An orgasm ripped through your heat so unexpectedly that you'd forgotten how to exhale. A breath trapped in your chest and jerked your body foward. It caused Bucky to take a deeper drink and he whimpered into your neck once he let go. In that moment his erection jutted out against your hand and finally you were able to exhale. Fear had not taken ahold of you again once the sight of his hard dick had your attention. Without thinking you reached out and stroked him through his pants. He laughed loudly. Too loudly. He was no longer trying to remain covert in the dark. He was amused and horny as hell.
"My, my, my, Scaredy Cat. You're full of surprises, aren't you?" he raved. His titilated grin uncovered the scarlet coated teeth.
You didn't know exactly why you did it. Could have been the aftershock of your own orgasm, the glamour he had over your mind or the thrill of your impending death. It didn't matter now though. Bucky unsheathed himself and was kneading at your now bare nipple. You moaned at the stimulation and your vision began to go out of focus.
Bucky was back at your neck, drinking with renewed thirst. He mourned the thought of tasting you until the end. You were better than he'd imagined. You filled him as you emptied him and once he felt your cum drenched hand fall limp he slowed his chugging to a sip.
You'd surprised him tonight. The saliva of Moroi aided in subduing prey. Used to disorient and make them susceptible to their predators' glamour. It could mimic endorphins and If the glamour took hold strong enough it could also mimic oxytocin. Never in his 2,000 years had he come across a woman that behaved as you'd done tonight. It'd be a shame to possibly have to wait around again for it. With a final sigh he lifted his wrist to his blood soaked mouth and bit open a vein. The ruby libation glittered under the moon and flowed out slower than a human's blood would. He placed his wrist to your mouth and let his ancient ancestry trickle down your throat.
"Curiosity killed the Scaredy Cat, let's see if two centuries of undead royal blood can bring her back," he rhymed to no one but himself.
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avintagekiss24 · 4 months ago
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—belated; bucky barnes
pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader
word count: 4738
warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings
squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge
request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain
author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)
gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics
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James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.
One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.
Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.
Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.
After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.
All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.
The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?
Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.
He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.
Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.
Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.
“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”
“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”
His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.
Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.
Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.
You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”
“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”
“I’m annoyed.”
“Well, duh. Why?”
He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”
So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.
The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.
Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”
“Not true.”
“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”
“How is that my fault?”
You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”
“I have to work. You know that.”
“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”
He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.
And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.
But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.
You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.
Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”
He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.
Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.
The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.
“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”
Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”
Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”
A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”
The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.
Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.
You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”
“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”
A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.
“That requires an answer, honey.”
The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”
He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”
Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.
The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.
“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”
He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.
Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.
“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.
When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.
A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”
He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.
“I don’t think—“
“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”
You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.
If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.
Well, you like being his prey.
Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.
The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.
Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”
That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.
Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.
“Lean forward, kitten.”
Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.
He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.
There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.
Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.
You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.
Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.
He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.
“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.
You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.
Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”
Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.
“You want me to fuck you, girl?”
The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.
“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”
That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.
You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.
Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.
The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.
“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.
He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.
It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.
You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.
Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.
He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.
“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”
The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.
“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.
You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”
He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.
He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.
Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.
The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.
Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.
Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.
It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.
He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.
You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.
Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.
He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.
Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.
You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.
“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”
So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.
“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.
You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”
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boxofbonesfic · a month ago
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Title: Daylight Robbery
Pairing: Theif!Bucky x Reader
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: smut, cocky Bucky, fluff, unprotected sex, Bucky being irritating as shit
part one
A/N: Hey y’all! i’m so sorry this took longer for me to get out than i planned. i’m not totally happy with it, but i really, really hope you guys enjoy it. i may re-write this later, but for now, i’m calling it! i’ve given it my best shot, and that’s all i can do. hope you enjoy, thank you all for being so supportive and patient. 
This is a work of FICTION, and there will be ADULT themes and content included therein, so I assume once you’ve clicked through the link that you are comfortable with that. I do not give consent for my work to be copied, translated, or posted elsewhere, even if I am credited. This work is entirely mine, and unbeta’d, so read at your own risk! MINORS, DNI!
Part two, or: The one where you get mugged
Should I text him? You repeat the thought to yourself for the sixtieth time that day. You know Mrs. O’Grady’s arthritis-tight legs like the back of your own hands by now; and as you absently massage the feeling back into them, your mind continues going straight back to the number scrawled on the crumpled paper on your bedside table. No matter how many frustrating attempts you make to focus on other things.  
The cops hadn’t been particularly helpful, and since nothing had been taken that you could see, the most they could do was patrol the neighborhood a little more frequently. About as useless as my fucking scarves. Of course as soon as you think that, you remember the feel of his hands on your hips and your face goes hot. 
 “You’re muttering.” Izzy’s voice breaks through the thick wall of your own troubled thoughts. “Just because O’Shady can’t hear you doesn’t mean I can’t.” You frown at the older woman on the other side of the room, her graying locs piled high into a messy bun, and her sharp eyes glinting at you. 
 “Don’t call her that.” 
 “She’s a shady old bat, and that’s the truth,” Izzy snarks. You’d tried calling her by everything else—Isette, Miss Isette, Mrs. Kiante—but all she’d respond to was Izzy. “What’s got you over there talkin’ to yourself?” 
 You sigh. “My house got broken into two days ago.” 
 “What? Didn’t you call the cops?” She coughed, reaching into her pocket for the pack of cigarettes she wasn’t supposed to have. 
 “Of course I did. And you can’t have those.” 
 “You can pry them from my cold, withered fingers. But if you do, I’ll tell the other nurses you beat me, so it’s your choice.” You watch as she shakes one out placing it between her lips. “So what? Cops not helpin’?” 
 You shake your head. “No—well, I mean not really, but it’s not like he stole anything.” Izzie snorts, holding up a lighter to her cigarette. She’s right underneath the smoke alarm, but the batteries on her food tray tell you it won’t be going off. She stands up on wobbly legs to open the window before seating herself again with a huff. 
 “So then what’s got you so upset, girl? Jesus.” 
 “He… I mean, he was…” You struggle for the words. Charming? Suave? Irritating? Insufferable? Bucky was… a riddle. He’d let you think he was restrained so you wouldn’t freak out. But he’d also broken into your apartment, and you’d smashed his nose with your favorite frying pan—not exactly the stuff of romance novels. 
“He was… interesting.” 
 “More like you wanted to see under his catsuit, eh, girlie?” Izzy winks at you as smoke curls out of her nostrils like a dragon. “I get it. Safe little thing like you—you want the edge.” She grins at you before taking another puff of her cigarette. “You’re like me.” 
 “Like you?” You wish you could have kept the disbelieving look from your face, or the shock from your voice, because Izzy’s lascivious smile becomes a grimace. 
 “It’s a complement you little—hmm.” She rolls her eyes. “You have the most boring job on earth, taking care of our decrepit asses. You don’t have a man in your life—”
 “How do you know that?”
 “You wouldn’t be oogling the burger shop if you were gettin’ your meat at home, honey.” 
 Your face flames hotly. “Point taken.”
 “He’s got you all bothered?” 
 “N-no! I mean, not like that,” you stammer, shaking your head as you stand away from Mrs. O’Grady. She smiles at you and winks, before handing you a quarter. I’m pretty sure she thinks it’s 1925. “He left me his number.” 
 “Have you called?” Izzy leans forward in her seat. “Hmm?”
 “Of course not.” She sucks her teeth at your answer. 
 “Maybe you’re not like me.” This time, you actually feel insulted. “You should call him.” She taps her cigarette out on the windowsill. 
 “What? Why?”
 “Not like you’re going to meet anyone here.” She coughs again. “What, you afraid to be happy?”
 The paper is where you left it, on your bedside table, number-side up. It’s Friday, and you’re just a night away from the day Bucky had said he wanted to take you out. 
 This is crazy. 
 It’s not like you could bring home the guy who’d tried to corporate espionage your neighbor—you could only imagine your mother’s inevitable snide commentary. 
 “Oh, what do you do, Bucky?”
 “I steal corporations secrets and sell them to the highest bidder.” 
 You towel off on your bed, the note burning a hole in the back of your head like it’s staring right at you with eyes it doesn’t have. “Oh, he’s not even that fucking cute anyway,” you hiss at no one, throwing yourself face down into the pillows. You sigh into the fabric, but frown when you hear the sound of your phone buzzing nearby. Holding the towel with one hand you sit up, squinting. 
 Ah. You see it on your desk, and scramble for it. It’s an unknown number, one that isn’t familiar, but does have a city area-code. 
 “Hey toots. Seemed like you might be getting cold feet, so…” 
 “How did you get my number?” You hate the way your stomach flutters at the gravelly sound of his voice. “What are you, stalking me?” 
 “You wound me,” Bucky says, sounding genuinely offended. “It’s listed on your facebook.”
 “Yeah, to friends only.” You say accusingly, both glad he wasn’t here, and sad he wasn’t, just so you could poke your finger accusingly into his chest. 
 “You accepted my friend request.” Shit, had you? Admittedly, you tended not to vet people too thoroughly on your social media, and you were in a lot of groups… You put him on speaker and immediately navigated to the app, scrolling to your recent notifications—Who the hell is James Buchanan Barnes?
 “You told me your name was Bucky, you liar.” 
 “Toots, all my friends call me Bucky.”
 “We’re not friends.” You snap, before smirking. “How’s your nose James? Still sore?”
 “I’m right as rain, darlin’. You worried about me, toots?” He asks sweetly, and you sputter. “Knew you were sweet when I met you. So what time am I pickin’ you up t’morrow?”
 “You’re not.” You snap. Why haven’t you hung up yet? Why are you smiling? This banter shouldn’t feel so… so… natural. It sends lead straight to your belly, killing the butterflies swarming there. “I have to go.”
 “Oh come on. Humor me. What could you lose? You get free food, I get to look at you, it’s a win-win.” 
 “Except for the part where you rob me blind. Or do something else illegal.”
 “Now toots, I don’t mean to be rude—”
 “Go with that instinct.”
 “But you’re not the, uh, wealthiest woman in the world.” To his credit, he sounds like he’s genuinely trying to spare your feelings. “And I promise, no ulterior motives. Can’t a guy ask a pretty girl out to dinner without her thinking he’s going to use her apartment as a launch-point for his next attempt at stealing Stark tech?”
 “That sounds too specific to be a random example.”  You pause. “Are you… planning on using my proximity to try steal Stark tech?”
 “No…?” He trails off unconvincingly. 
 “God, I…” You don’t know why, but you’re honestly disappointed. “Bye, James. I’d say it’s been nice, but—”
 “Look, sweetheart. I’ll be at Kassel’s at 7 tomorrow. I’ll be waiting for you.” All you can do is gape like a fish while he speaks. “I’ll see you there. I hope.” 
 You fling the phone away from you like it’s burned you, your heart hammering in your chest. You’re not like Izzy, not at all—you’re not attracted to danger—anything but. You’re the one who always gets plain vanilla ice cream, no sprinkles. You’re the safe girl, the one who doesn’t even like scary movies. 
 So then why am I still thinking about him? 
 “I’m not!” You answer your own thought aloud, your voice sounding louder in the quiet of your bedroom. “I’m not.” You’re not thinking about the cocky smirk that never seems to leave his lips, the neat scruff adorning the strong line of his jaw. You’re not thinking about the pass of his tongue over his lips as he looked at you, the feel of his hands pressing into your hips—
 “Oh for fuck’s sake.” 
  This is insane. 
 You’re six blocks away from Kassel’s, still deciding whether or not you’re going to go in. It’s a public place, a nice restaurant—but you’re still waffling. It’s not like he could do anything… untoward in an upscale place like that, but…
 You can admit that you’re… curious, to see how the night’ll play out if you do go, but you also know yourself well enough to admit that you’re scared too. Not of him, not that you don’t think he’s dangerous, but… of what it means if you do. Of what it says about you. You’d always prided yourself on making good choices, on being careful. 
 Perhaps that was why Bucky’s lack of caution made you so… fluttery. 
 Maybe I am like Izzy after all. Goddammit. 
 You’re so lost in thought, you don’t see the arm snaking out to grab your wrist from the shadows. “What the fuck—“ The man in the leather coat with his scarf pulled up way too high on his face tugs hard on your purse, and you stumble towards him in the alleyway. “Let go, asshole!” Your shrill voice carries in the evening air, but no one assists as you’re dragged into the dark. 
 “You fucking let go, bitch!” He wrenches it from your grip and you stumble forward—and the blow to your face makes stars wink in your vision as you reel. You feel warmth trickling down onto your lip, and you touch your own face, stunned.
 Blood. You touch your nose gingerly—not broken, luckily, though you think it might have been cruel irony if it had. He’s looking at you as though he’s shocked too, but he lifts your purse victoriously anyway. “Should have let go,” he advises you, and he shakes it. His brows furrow, and he looks at you. “Is the phone in here?” It isn’t—it’s in the pocket of your coat. 
 “Give me the phone.” He holds his hand out and you take a step back. “God, you really are a stupid fucking bitch—” A body shoulders yours out of the way, and you catch yourself against the brick wall. Your vision is still dizzy from the elbow you took to the face, but you think you see—
 “Hey, toots. One second.” The man in the leather coat is clawing helplessly at Bucky’s gloved hand—he’s only wearing one, you notice—as it tightens around his throat. He’s pinned to the wall like an animal, hissing and kicking as Bucky remains almost eerily calm. “Give me the bag.” His voice is low, and the other man complies without a word, his breath rattling loudly in the alley. He glances at you, and his face goes cold. “He hit you?” 
 You swipe your fingers through the blood across your lip and nod. “Y-yes.” It’s barely left your lips before Bucky is yoking him up by the throat, snarling. 
 “You fucking like making people feel weak, asshole?” He growls through his teeth. The man chokes on his air, drool dripping down his chin. 
 “No. You fucking hit her.” You can see his grip tightening.
 “Bucky.” He doesn’t turn, doesn’t respond, and you place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Bucky.” He releases a breath, and finger by finger he lets go. The mugger is on the ground holding his throat as he chokes air into his deprived lungs. The silver chain around Bucky’s neck clinks as he leans his head heavenward, and forces a slow exhale through pursed lips. No, not chains, dog tags.
 “Fuck, I hate men who hit women,” he mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. You’re still shocked he’s here, that you were in trouble and he… came. Like some kind of fucking hero. You hate that you feel stupidly starstruck right now, and when he looks down at you, his gaze is so fucking soft you want to melt in your little black pumps. “C’mere.” 
He motions you closer, tilting your head up to inspect the damage. “Nothing broken?” Bucky asks, and you shake your head no, rolling your eyes. You know you could—probably should—feel intimidated by his strength, fearful maybe, but you feel… safe, instead. 
 “No, I already checked. I am a nurse, you know.” Bucky laughs at your ire, before looking down at the man in a heap by the wall. He’s cowering, and you scowl at him, sniffling. You fish out your phone to call the police, and Bucky’s hand covers your own. 
 “No cops.”
 “What? No. He tried to mug me! He hit me!” At your exclamation, his fists clench, and his eyes flick angrily to the man on the ground. 
 “Trust me doll,” he growls again. “I know. But if you let me deal with him, I don’t have to, well, you know.” He grimaces. 
 “What if I promised to go out with you after? We’ll go do anything you like.” You try, and at first he looks like he’s going to say no, but then he pauses. 
 “I—hmm. Anything, huh?” He looks down at the man and kicks his leg. “I guess today’s your lucky day, asshole.” 
 “How the fuck d’you figure?” He croaks, and Bucky grins nastily at him. 
 “I was gonna break both your hands, but I guess this is easier. By the way, you’re gonna cop to a little b and e in alphabet city, boss.” He ruffles his hair. “Or I’m gonna break ‘em anyway.” 
 By the time the cops arrive, Bucky’s standing awkwardly across the street, watching worriedly. You ignore him, waiting and watching patiently as he’s led away. You almost feel bad about letting him take the fall for Bucky’s poorly planned almost-robbery, but when you wrinkle your nose at the thought, it throbs, and you frown. Fuck you, dude.  
 Besides, you could always turn in Bucky later, couldn’t you? 
 When they’re done taking your short statement and they leave, Bucky comes back. “Alright, toots. Let’s go.” You sigh. You did promise to do whatever he wanted after… you would just have to hope it wasn’t too nefarious. 
 “A deal’s a deal, I guess.” You reply, and you hope it comes off far more disaffected than you feel. You begin to make for the restaurant, but Bucky’s firm hand on your shoulder stops you. “What, not feeding me now?” You ask snarkily, and he laughs. 
 “Your nose is still bleeding.” He says, swiping at it with his thumb. “Let’s take care of that, and then I’ll feed you, toots.” You quirk an eyebrow at his words. 
 “How are you going to take care of it?” 
 “Jesus, you ask a lot of questions, you know that? Just come with me.” He threads his fingers through your own, and its warmth is more than welcome in the autumn chill. You swallow against the lump in your throat. 
 The apartment he takes you to is nice. Nicer than yours by a long shot, and it made you wonder if he hadn’t just had the wrong apartment, but the wrong building altogether. You kick off your heels by the door, and shed your coat as you trail behind him into the open loft. 
 “You can put your coat on the couch. I’ve got a first aid kit in the bathroom, just wait here.” He gestures to the living area, and you nod. You’re not eager to go snooping and see something you shouldn’t. The coffee table is littered with magazines, but when you pick one up, the rest slide aside. There’s a book underneath, and when you squint at it, the title makes you smile. 
 Bucky returns carrying a large red container, and you brandish the book. “Lord of the Rings? Didn’t take you for that kind of guy.” He stops briefly, before shaking his head and chuckling. 
 “The kind of guy that enjoys timeless literature?” 
 “The kind of guy that enjoys timeless literature about elves.” He snorts, and you laugh too, finally. He settles on the couch next to you, and opens up the kit, pulling out a little bottle of alcohol, soaking a cotton ball with it. Bucky tilts your chin up with a gentle hand and begins to swab at your bloodied nostril. 
 “It’s not about elves,” he replies, and you want to nod, but you keep still. 
 “I know. It’s about hobbits.” 
 “So you’ve read it.” 
 “Yeah, but I’m not a weird thief who’s bad at his job, trying to cultivate a bad-ass image.” 
 “Are you always such a brat to people who try to help you?” He asks, meeting your eyes. Your face heats. You don’t know why you want to be honest with him, why you… like talking to him. Well, you do know—only you can’t admit it, not now, at least. 
 “It’s a defense mechanism.” You reply after a moment. 
 “Does it work?” He asks, his eyes flicking between his work and your own. You hiss when the swab rubs against a raw spot. 
 “Hmm.” You can tell he has one too—only his is the cheerful smile and seemingly never-ending witty retorts that poured too easily from his lips. You knew a carefully crafted disguise when you saw one—because you wear one too. “Be careful with that,” he replies finally and you blink at him. 
 “Oh? Why’s that?”
 “Because some people find that cute.” He winks at you, and your face goes so hot you’re surprised your carefully straightened curls don’t frizz right back out. You wish he was rougher with you, that the pass of his hands against your skin wasn’t so gentle. Someone that big has no fuckin’ business being this soft. Even when he uses his other hand—it’s the only one gloved—his touch is so gentle it gives you butterflies. 
“All done, toots. Good as new.” His own face is back to normal, though his nose looks a little swollen still. “So. You drink?” You nod. “Good. There’s some whiskey in the cabinet over there, ice in the fridge. Unless you don’t—”
 “It’s fine, I got it. So what’s for dinner?” You ask, straightening up and smoothing out your dress. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on the exposed skin at your thighs. With effort you can see, he drags his eyes back up to your face. 
 “I’m thinking—and bear with me here—Chinese.” 
 “I’m in.” Even though you’ve worn your cute little cocktail dress for the fancy occasion, the mention of fast food makes your mouth water. 
 Bucky orders the food, and you make the drinks, finding glasses in the cabinets next to the fridge. You settle comfortably onto his undeniably expensive couch, and he sits beside you. “So do you… often ask your victims out, or am I just lucky?”
 “Lucky, definitely.” He sips his whiskey. “Do you often go out with thieves?” 
 “Not if I can help it.” 
 “Understandable. We’re a shady bunch, to be sure.” He gives you an exaggerated wink. You try to stifle the giggle that bubbles from you, but you can’t. He’s exactly as charming as the first time you saw him—only this time, you notice the nervous tick in his jaw when a joke doesn’t land the way he intends, the way his eyes follow every movement you make. 
 “How did you find me earlier?” You ask, taking a sip yourself. The whiskey burns your throat on the way down, before swirling warmly in your stomach. A crack appears in Bucky’s veneer, and his smile falters for a moment. 
 “I heard you.” 
 “You… heard me.” You cock your head expectantly, and he sighs. 
 “Look, you were twenty minutes late. I… I didn’t think you were coming. But then I left, and I heard you, and that asshole hit you, and I—fuck. Is it weird I want to go break him out of jail and beat his ass again?” He says abruptly, turning to you. 
 “Maybe?” You take another drink. “But thank you.” 
 “Anytime, toots.” He gets up to get the bottle.
 “You have a nice apartment. It seems like corporate… espionage-ing does well for you.” 
 “You should try it sometime, toots. You’d be good at it.” 
 You snort. “Me? I can’t lie to save my fucking life. I’d be terrible.” He returns with the bottle, and tops off your drink before refilling his own. 
 “What? No. You don’t have to lie to be a good thief. Just be sneaky.” You snort. 
 “You weren’t very sneaky. You got caught.”
 “Only because I was in the wrong apartment.”
 “I rest my case.” You finish your second drink, and you feel the haze of alcohol settle comfortably over your senses. You can’t believe you’re… actually having a good time. And Bucky’s… a good date. Attentive, funny. You haven’t had a date this good in… years, probably.
 “You could do better?” He asks, cocking his head and you sputter. 
 “W-well no, I’m-I’m just saying—”
 “Because it sounded like a challenge.” He slides closer to you, and you’re aware of the heat of his thigh against yours through his dress slacks. And what’s more, you’re not uncomfortable with the contact. He quirks an eyebrow at you, before jerking his head backwards, toward the rest of the apartment. 
 “What?” You snort. “You’re such a child, I didn’t challenge you, I just said you were sloppy. You got caught.” 
 “Exactly. You want to judge? You have to beat me.” He drains his glass and exhales sharply. “You gonna hide, or what, toots?” Bucky asks, clapping his hands together and rubbing them excitedly. “ S’gonna be an easy game if you sit right there.” You fix him with an unbelieving, skeptical look, even as a strange sort of… lightness bubbles up in your chest. 
 “Are you asking me to play hide and seek?” You ask, dumbfounded. “Don’t we have food coming?”
 “Fine, till the food gets here.” 
 You hedge. You… kind of want to play this stupid kid game with him. You shake your head, letting out a surprised little huff. “Bucky…” 
 “C’mon, toots. Live a little. Besides, you promised, didn’t you?” You roll your eyes. 
 “God, that was like, two hours ago. Fine.”
 “Alright, good, we’re gettin’ somewhere. If you win, I’ll… shit. What do you want?” 
You’re surprised he’s willing to have any stakes at all in this game, and you peer around the apartment thoughtfully. It’s joy, you realize. The bubbling in your chest is so foreign to your every day that you… didn’t recognize it. 
 What, are you afraid to be happy? Maybe you were. You didn’t want to be, but you supposed it had just sort of… happened.
“If I win…” You paused. “I get bragging rights. And you can’t try to steal from my neighbor again. Bruce is really nice.” 
 “What? That’s… fine. Okay.” He shrugs, though you can tell you’ve asked something a little bigger than he’s willing to give. “Can’t persuade you down from that last one? Maybe I get like, three more tries?” You shake your head. “Fine. Then if I win, I get to take you out again. On, you know, a real date, toots.”
 “What, are you telling me this doesn’t count?” You say incredulously, slapping a surprised hand to your chest. “I see I’ve been had.”
 “Not yet you haven’t.” There’s a hard edge to his voice that makes you clench your thighs together, and swallow thickly. “One. Two. Three. Four…” he eyes you. 
 “Fine, fine!” You jump up from the couch, glad you’ve already taken your shoes off. “But at least close your eyes.” He does, placing a large hand across them. He cracks his fingers to wink at you. 
 “Better run, toots. Seven. Eight.” 
 You can’t help the childish squeal that you emit as you take off. You don’t know his apartment at all,  and you feel an excited sort of tension build in your chest as you whip your head around, looking for hiding places. The kitchen? No, too close, too much open space. You peer down the hallway, wrenching open doors as quietly and quickly as you can. A linen closet across from the bathroom, and in the bedroom, there’s space in the closet and under the bed. 
 You lean your head back into the hallway—“Twelve. Thirteen.” You head back out into the enormous living room, tiptoeing by Bucky as quietly as you can, and head for the stairs to the lofted room above. It’s an office, and you scan it for places you might be able to stow yourself away. “Ready or not, here I come, doll.” You roll under the desk just as you hear his footsteps begin to move through the apartment, and you cover your mouth to stifle the laugh that threatens to give you away. 
 You hear him call out to you from the other end of the apartment. “Toots?” The sound of things opening and closing reaches your ears, and your pulse quickens. You hope the food gets here fast. More footsteps, and the sound of chairs moving as he looks under the table. “Not bad, sweetheart.” 
 You’re tempted to respond, but you know that’s his game. More movement meets your ears, and then finally you hear the sound of him on the stairs. “Guess that means you’re up here, huh toots?” You shrink back against the wood, your hands covering your mouth. He whistles low. “I’m impressed.” 
 You see the top of his head, and turn away, like you seeing him would somehow alert him to your location. You’re expecting him to stop, to crouch down under the desk with that cocky smile—but he doesn’t. He walks straight past your hiding place and taps on the door to the little closet. You hadn’t hidden there because you didn’t want to trap yourself, and besides there was no rule about moving. 
 You crept out from under the desk, scooting down the stairs before he turned around. You tried to be as quiet as you could, moving on your hands and knees, acutely aware of the fact that your dress was riding up your thighs. I’ll fix that later. You’re halfway down the stairs when you hear him tap the desk, and you speed up, racing down the hallway on silent feet. You’re home free, almost to the bathroom when the floor creaks underneath you. 
 You open the nearest door as quietly as you can, wincing when the latch clicks as you’re closing it behind you. Under the bed it is. It’s surprisingly clean and free of dust, which you’re thankful for, and you’re just finished sliding underneath the massive king-bed when the door opens. 
 “You know, I never would have asked you to play if I thought you’d be better than me,” his voice sounds pouty, and you have to try hard to keep from laughing. You watch his feet move toward the walk-in closet, and when the light flicks on you allow yourself a small sigh of relief. The food couldn’t possibly take much longer to get there, right? You grin at the sight of the open door, and begin crawling forward on your belly, attempting to make another run for it, when—
 “Hey, toots. Not bad.” A hand tugs on your dress, and your head whips to the side. Bucky’s on his hands and knees, grinning at you. You can’t help the little pout that graces your lips as you reluctantly accept his hand. He helps you out from under the bed, and you dust yourself off self-consciously. “Good game. Try not to look too disappointed that there’s going to be a third round.” 
 You’re aware of how close he is to you, how your back is pressed against the bed. “I’m doing my best, but you know, it’s not easy.” You reply. “I’ll try to reign it in.” You lick your lips nervously, and his eyes follow the motion hungrily. 
 “God, I really fuckin’ wanna kiss you when you’re bein’ all bratty like that.” The heated honest weight of his words punches the air out of you, and you can’t help the way you look up at him. You don’t know who the hungry little harlot that speaks with your mouth is, but you sink your teeth into the flesh of your lower lip before whimpering—
 “Yes please.” 
 His mouth crashes down onto yours, and fuck it’s as soft as you’d thought it would be. You’d figured he was cut underneath his clothes, but now that you were really touching him—beyond rolling his unconscious body across your floor—you could really tell. His tongue was hot and insistent against your lips, and when you opened for him you tasted whiskey and cigarettes and him, and it was too good. 
 His hands are roving over your body with abandon, and you gasp into his mouth when he grabs a handful of your ass. His fingers creeping below the line of your dress as he gives it a firm squeeze, and you moan. 
 “Do that again.” He brings his other hand down to join the first, and sucks your bottom lip into his mouth as he kneads. You don’t have a choice but to release the sound he wants, and he practically purrs against your lips, dragging his mouth down your jawline to your throat. 
 A knock sounds at the door, and Bucky scowls. “Why does that keep happening?” You’re panting, your lips kiss swollen and parted as you suck in a breath. His hands are huge, and you don’t mind the contrast between the warmth of his flesh palm and the chill of the metal one against your skin. He gives you another squeeze, and presses a softer, yet no less intense kiss to your lips. 
 “You gonna get that?” You ask softly, and he smirks against your mouth, shaking his head. 
 “They’ll leave it at the door.” He replies dismissively as his hands smooth along your hips. You want him to touch you more, to keep feeding the familiar fire growing at your core, the one you’ve felt only a pale comparison of in your recent memory.
 “Can I touch you? Please?” You nod, and he curses again, his hands going for the zipper on your back. He pushes the straps down and you shimmy out of it, and he pushes you back onto the bed.
 “Shit, Bucky!” You bounce against the mattress once, twice before he’s on you, kissing you again. You can feel him, hot and hard against your thigh, as he presses his own between yours. He stares down at your body appreciatively, and You watch his gaze darken. 
 “You wear this for me, toots?” Bucky asks, sliding a finger underneath the lacy trim of your panties. Your breath hitches, and you try to press your thighs together around his hand, but you can’t. “Wrapped up all pretty like a present.” You’re wet, you know it the instant his finger slips along the seam of your cunt through your panties. He groans at the discovery. “Shit, already, baby?” 
You can’t help it, not when he presses his mouth to you like he’s starving for you, and you… feel the same. You’re hungry for him too, and when he licks at your pulse point, your body arches toward him, your fingers tugging at the buttons on his shirt. 
 “Off!” You whine, pulling at it. He tugs at it carelessly with his metal arm, and neither of you pay attention to the sound of buttons pinging off of the walls and furniture. Your mouth and hands find his chest, and he moans throatily when you press a kiss to his skin. There’s electricity flowing between you, and wherever he touches pleasure seems to erupt. If you weren’t drunk before, you certainly are now, and when his fingers pluck at your nipples through the lace of your bra, you press forward to meet them. 
 Am I really going to fuck the guy that broke into my apartment? The question makes you pause for just a moment, and Bucky uses it to push you down to the mattress, settling between your legs as his hands pull at your panties. The thought of his mouth on you makes your toes curl in preemptive excitement as fresh slick gathers at your core.
 “I wanna make you feel good, toots.” He grips the lace with his metal hand, and tears it in his excitement. It snaps against your skin and you whine. You’re unconcerned about the panties—but you don’t want him to stop, fuck, if he did, you think you might actually expire. He parts you with gentle fingers, and he exhales at the sight of your soaked cunt. The look he gives you from between your legs is utterly admiring. “Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I ever saw. Knew she would be.” 
Bucky doesn’t give you a chance to bite out a snarky response before he attaches his lips to your clit Your body bends, and the only thing keeping you on the bed are his arms, anchored around your thighs as he glares up at you from between them for disrupting him. “Stay. Still.” His heated breath puffs across your sensitive flesh, and you keen when he sinks his tongue into your folds. 
 You can’t abide his order even if you want to, your hips rolling into his face as he wrenches your thighs further apart, sinking his tongue into your quivering hole. “God, fuck!” You’re glad the part of your brain that enables your shame is firmly turned off, because you’re practically riding his face, the stubble on his cheeks rubbing deliciously against your inner thighs. 
 “Nnng, Buck—“ He lashes at your clit with his tongue, circling it and then sucking hard. You’re seeing stars, fucking supernovas exploding behind your eyes as he flicks his tongue against your swollen, throbbing clit and you cum with a whine. “Shit, shit, shit fuck—”
 He hmms against you, and you moan raggedly again at the vibration of it against your sensitive cunt. You’re throbbing and boneless, watching as Bucky slowly unwinds his arms from around your thighs, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 
 “Finally, you’re speechless.” Instead of being irritating, your pussy clenches hard at his cocky words. He slides his fingers through your sloppy folds like he’s glorying in the mess he’s made. With the other hand, he palms himself through his pants, and you can’t help but lick your lips at the sight of the prominent bulge. Your mouth goes a little dry as he makes quick work of his pants, the head of his cock poking up through the waistband of his briefs. 
 He kicks them off behind him, before settling himself back over you. “This is okay right?” Bucky asks, and you nod. It’s more than okay—you’re more certain of this than you’ve been of a lot of things, and even if this ends tonight, you don’t want to end it not a panting mess on his cock. He’s thick, and as he strokes himself, he peels the foreskin back with a guttural moan. 
 “Please, Bucky.” 
 He pounces on you with a growl, devouring your lips as he fists his cock in one hand. He squeezes his thumb and forefinger around the head, moaning before he drags himself against your dripping, twitching entrance. Your cunt clenches around nothing, sucking against his head and he curses, his hips bucking. “Fuck, sweetheart. Pussy’s fuckin’ hungry.” He pushes the head of his cock against you. “Gonna be tight… think I’ll fit, sweetheart?” Bucky’s hips bear down a little harder, and you can’t help the needy, broken sounding moan that tears out of you at the first delicious stretch. 
 You’re staring up at him, watching the way his teeth sink into his lower lip as he pushes his cock into you with slow, deliberate thrusts. “Oh God, oh fuck, shit, B-Bucky—” strings of gibberish leave your lips as he rolls his hips into yours, spreading your thighs with his massive hands as he delves inside of you as deep as he can go. 
 “That’s it, sweetheart. I know.” He grunts, tearing down the lace cups of your bra to expose your breasts, rubbing his thumb across your nipples. “Fuck, you needed this cock, didn’t you?” You’re mewling underneath him, and your pussy clenches hard around him as though in admission. You’ve never been that  full before, and every time he pulls out and thrusts back in you gasp, tears gathering in your eyes.  “Admit it, sweetheart.”
 “Nnng—fuck! I—needed it!” You hiccough in agreement, wishing that you had the wherewithal to lie. You clench around him violently, your walks milking his cock and his hips stutter as Bucky’s grip tightens around your hip. He groans out a curse, his head lolling back before he fucks into you harder. You’ve never cum more than once before, but the girth of his cock splitting you apart is driving you maddeningly close again. 
 You angle your hips to meet his thrusts, and when your eyes meet his, they’re dark. “Gonna make you remember this cock, sweetheart. So you know who to come to next time.” The hand at your hip slides down to your core, and you feel cool metal flick against your clit. “Gimme another one, toots.” 
 Your eyes are rolling back as your body convulses, his skilled fingers drawing delicious patterns around the oversensitive, throbbing flesh of your clit. Useless babble falls from your lips, your head thrown back against the pillows as your thighs tighten around his hips. You’re falling over the edge again, whining and sobbing and crying as he fucks your pliant body into the mattress. His teeth find your throat, and you’re still cumming when you feel the hot, thick ropes of his spend flood your twitching insides. 
 His body is pressed to yours, his cock still throbbing inside you as you gape up at the ceiling over his shoulder. You’re not expecting the tender kiss he presses to your temple, or the way he collapses to the mattress, pulling you to his side. If you’d felt boneless before, you were beyond that now, barely managing to swing one still twitching thigh over his own. 
 “Shit.” He drags a hand down his face. 
 “Yeah,” you agree, tucking a strand of your ruined hair behind your ear. Bucky plays with a strand between his fingers, curling it around and around before tugging gently. You were expecting to feel awkward, but you don’t. It feels good here, pressed against him, and when he tightens his hold on you, you rest your head against his chest.
 “I gotta say,” he replies after a moment, and you feel him smile against your hair. “That gives me high hopes for date three.” 
 “Two.” You correct, pushing away, just enough that you can look him in his face. He frowns. 
 “No, we’ve been on two already.” His tone is sure and defiant, and you shake your head at him, scoffing. 
 “You cannot seriously be counting breaking into my house as a date.” He grins at you, and you don’t fight the one that rises on your face in return. “Thievery is not a date.”
 “I beg to differ.” He sniffs, before grinning cockily at you.“Sounds like a challenge to me.” 
The end…?
le taglist
@dorothea-hwldr @toni9 @syntheticavenger @river-soul @doozywoozy @dreamlessinparis @melancia @sweeterthanthis @snokeandmirrors21 @simpformarvelmenandwoman @wintersoldierslut @captainrcgers @last-saturday-night @vicmc624 @leyannrae @andeys-obsessions @charmedbysarge
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touchstarvedirl · 2 months ago
You Again?
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count:  4,732 (or something like that...)
Warnings: Smut, Explicit Language, Absolutely FILTHY dirty talk towards the end, Breeding mention
A/N: My last fic has gotten so much traction it’s unbelievable. Grateful to any and everyone who’s shared and liked my work, big thank you to everyone who’s followed me since then!! Also if you have a bit of a praise kink, the end of this will really do it for ya :)
My Masterlist for other Bucky Barnes + other Marvel characters fics 
Summary: Nat’s friend is having a bake sale and Natasha wants the Avengers to show their support. But a certain soldier already knows you from somewhere, and well... you’re not the happiest to see him.
“I invited my friends.” Natasha announces, briefly taking a break from kneading dough to glance at you.
   You had asked Natasha to come before to help you get a few more batches of sugar cookies into the oven before the Bake Sale you were hosting for the Elementary school started. She had obliged, like the great friend she was but not without making you promise to make her her own personal batch of cupcakes the next week. She had really pulled through, hadn’t stopped mixing, kneading and cutting since she’d arrived.
   “What friends? You don’t have many friends…” Nat shoots you a sideways glare. “I mean friends that don’t fly, kill, and shoot things, being that it is a bake sale and all.”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?” You ask, laughing. You slide past Nat to throw away a dirtied up napkin.
“Like we can’t come and not destroy the place.” She turns away from the metal counter splayed with flour and sugar, leaning against it wagging her finger at you.
“I’m not saying that you can’t! I’m just saying that I don’t want any shields flying around. This is supposed to be a family friendly thing.”
“The Avengers are family friendly!” Nat yells as you duck under the sign, leaving the kitchen to you out to the seating area.
“Whatever you say Nat.”
You can barely contain your excitement as you wipe down the tables out front, fixing napkin holders and such. Natasha could sense your anticipation from the way you flew around the bakery starting to sweep the already spotless ceramic tile, for the third time, in the last hour.
“Sit down and relax of you’ll give yourself a heart attack a couple minutes before this thing even starts.”
“I just want everyone to like the goods, I hope we raise enough money for those kids. This could be a good gig.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? The first time I tasted your red velvet cupcakes I think I started to levitate. Everybody will love ‘em.”
“I hope so Nat.” You murmur leaning on top of the broom handle, staring out at the signs advertising the sales. “I really hope so.”
     Three hours later, your ‘Bakery on the Corner’ is a hot spot, a line beginning to form down the block to get in. The atmosphere inside is hectic. You’ve been taking orders at the register, gleefully thanking the customers as you take them then sending them down to the next counter where your employees Isabel and Alisha hand them their orders.
   “How many brownies will that be?” You ask the couple standing at the register, familiar faces from the Hardware store across the street.
   “Mmm… we should bring home for the kids. We’ll take half a dozen?” Her husband nods agreeing.
   Of course! So that’s half a dozen Nut Supreme brownies, and anything to drink? We have bottled water, Red Bull, Apple and Orange juice. We also make tea and coffee.”
   “No, just the brownies please.”
   “That’ll be $10.67.” You collect the money and give their change sending them down to next counter.
   You shut the register, sighing tiredly. “Long day already?” You turn around to see Eli, your new hire.
“Oh my god. You’re here, finally!” You throw your arms around him.
“Finally? It’s only 3 o’clock. You told me to be here something like 2:55...” he laughs awkwardly.
“Oh I know, I know. I’m sorry, you’re perfectly on time.” You back away and look up at him. For someone some 10 years younger than you it was a little embarrassing having to look up everyone you spoke to him. Eli was huge, almost 6 feet, it made for good fun when he was trying to make his way around in the kitchen.
   “It’s just been so busy in here. Will you take over the register for me? I’m gonna go on break.”
   “Sure thing boss.” You and Eli switch places, and you shimmy from behind the counter towards the front seating area. You look once over to the customers. Some are alone, but mostly there are parents with their children.
   Walnut, an elementary school a few blocks away from the bakery had recently fallen out with the bakers who made the treats for their PTA meetings, movie nights, and other events. They were looking to Y/N’s bakery as a replacement. To show your thanks for even being considered, you offered all the proceeds to some overnight school trip the Principal had mentioned they were raising money for.
   The offer came at just the right time, a birthday party you were supposed to cater for this weekend pulled out at the last minute, and though you weren’t out of a check you had been left with dozens of already made donuts, brownies, cupcakes, and a large three tiered chocolate cake. So you offered to cater the soccer game they were having at the field next door, as a trial run to see if you were a right fit for them. 
   Your bakery was doing well, not at all strapped for money but a deal with a fancy school like Walnut could open a lot of doors for you. You could afford to hire another part -  time employee, give Eli, Isabel and Alisha a bit of a raise, upgrade your equipment, take some money home for yourself even. No wonder you were anxious for it to go well. But, even if you didn’t secure the gig you were happy to find a way to get rid of the extra treats you’d baked, and raise money for Walnut.
    Swiveling through the tables and new incoming customers you head next door to the field to mingle a bit. You walk past the tables set up outside, waving at faces you recognize. An older woman who brings her granddaughter by every Wednesday afternoon for snickerdoodles, Trevor and Sasha, runners who come by for their morning coffee and a new regular; a college student from the stickers on her laptop who comes for the iced coffee.
   The soccer game is in full swing, you notice entering the field. It’s an interesting game, you can tell from the way the parents, mostly dads, are sucked in cheering and yelling from the sidelines.
   “Y/N!” You look around for who was calling your name and spot Natasha way across the field by the benches, secluded from the game and crowds also surrounded by a group of buff men. You gulp, nervously. It was the fucking Avengers of course they were buff. Dumbass. “Y/N get your ass over here!”
   You start towards them, your stomach turning.  A bunch of buff, world saving men, no big deal. Except it was. You haven’t had your hands on a man in months, not since him anyway. It was easy to get wrapped up in your work and put your sex life on the back burner. 
   Well, it had been, before you had your life turned upside down a few weeks ago. Since then it’s been harder than usual not to get wet at the thought of sex with every mildly attractive man that had a little muscle on him. Though you knew they could never replicate him or that wild night, it didn’t stop your mind from thinking up scenarios or your body from reacting to them.
   Now is not the fucking time for this. You scolded yourself internally. What if you couldn’t keep your eyes on their face? What if you turned into a stuttering pile of goo, because you were being a horny toad? Oh dear god...
   “Guys she’s the best. I can’t wait for you guys to meet her.” You hear Nat say. She turns back to look at you from over the small hill. She must’ve known you were close enough to hear. “If she ever gets over here!”
    “I’m coming Nat. I’m a baker, not a damn hiker! It’s a long walk, jeez...” Finally making your way over the hill separating you from them, you approach the picnic table. Nat jumps down from the table where she sat and placed down her drink. “Guys, this is Y/N.”
   The first one to say hello is someone you don’t recognize, a black man you don’t recognize with a short cut. “Hey, I’m Sam.” He puts out his hand for you to shake, which you do. “Natasha won’t shut up about you. I think you’re the only normal woman she hangs out with.”
   “Oh shut up dumbass.”
   You laugh, “Hi, I wish I could say the same. Nat over here,” he elbows her in her side, “Refers to you all as the big one, or the dumb one or the nice one or Steve. Oh! Or the god, one of you is a god.”
   Sam laughs, “Figures.”
   “There are others. The big ones went off somewhere to find a bathroom. The asshole was busy, building something as usual. He sends his love in a check though.”
    “A check? Nat, I told you over the phone he didn’t have to send one. He’s a goddamned millionaire, I bet he is too busy for a bake sale. I’m sure we’ll raise enough money without it, anyways.”
   “Exactly, he’s a millionaire. Charity for a few kids won’t break the bank.”
“Don’t make him think I’m a-“
“You don’t do things like that. We’re in a park, with children Bucky!”
“I made sure no one was around. I’m not a fucking creep.”
You, Nat and Sam turn to where the noise had come from. And there’s- oh god. No, no, no, no. What the fuck is he doing here?
   Him. The man who’s been haunting your every wet dream for the past three weeks is right here in front of you. God does he look just as good as the night he put you against that wall and-
   “Hey, who’s this?” You know him, that’s Captain America. Well Steve, Nat calls him. He’s everywhere. One of your customers’ kids always asked for you to turn on the news just to see him, you think you’ve memorized his face.
But he isn’t important, he isn’t who catches your attention, it’s the man next to him. He’s as brooding and handsome as the night you met him in that bar. The metal arm that had done things to you that you wouldn’t even tell to Nat your closest friend, was right there.
“It’s you. It’s you again.” He says his gaze shitting up and locking with yours.
You’re in shock, your jaw slack.
Sam, Nat and Steve look at either cluelessly. “You guys know each other Y/N?” Nat whispers to you.
“He’s uh- we met at the- I-” Your mouth is dry and you’ve forgotten every word that you have ever learned.
“Yeah we do. I think I’ve seen her at my gym.” Bucky finishes for you, looking away.
“The gym? Since when do you go to the gym Y/N?”
You shake yourself out of your trance. “Uh sorry. Yeah we did meet at the gym. He lifts like 300 pounds as a warm up, I was just surprised to see him here that’s all.” You’re proud of yourself for saving face and coming up with a story so quickly.
“Oh well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Steve, Natasha’s told us a lot about you.” He smiles at you warmly. You reach out to shake his extended and smile back.
“It’s nice to meet you too. Surprised you didn’t come in uniform, you’ve got a lot of fans here.”
“I’m trying to fly under the radar today. Hopefully, I can keep it under wraps.”
  “Sorry to break it to you but are all very avenger like, you should prepare to take a lot of pictures and sign some autographs later.” Avenger like... yes he was very avenger like. He had a metal arm for crying out loud, and you didn’t think to connect the dots to the Avengers?
The short and sweet conversation with Steve is enough to give you time to fully compose yourself and hopefully make everyone forget about the weird encounter with ‘Bucky’.
Before things can get awkward again, and you have about her chance to lock eyes with him you’re excusing yourself and Natasha is accompanying you back toward the bakery.
Bucky is watching you and Natasha retreat and finds his eyes trailing down to your ass adorned by the fitted light blue jeans you’re wearing.
   “What was that?” Sam questions sitting onto the bench watching Bucky watch you. “Don’t tell me you think we believed that damn gym story. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.”
Bucky is tuning him out, committed to watching you disappear around the corner. How the fuck did this happen? Bucky didn’t think to ask who this friend was, he regrets not listening to closer to Natasha.
“I mean she does have a great ass. If you-“
“Shut the fuck up.” Bucky warns.
“Ah- so that’s how you know her.”
“You slept with Nat’s friend Bucky?” Steve questions.
Bucky groans. “I didn’t know she was her friend…”
“You’ve just got bad luck, my friend..” Sam teases, clapping Bucky on the back, laughing.
Bucky cuts his eyes at him, making Sam put his hands up in surrender. “Fine, hands off.”
“When did this all happen anyway?” Steve asks.
“A few weeks ago, when you fuckers left me at that bar alone.”
Bucky had already not wanted to be here. He had better things to do with his time than a guys night, with the human golden retriever that was Steve and the dumbass that was Sam.
But he did, because they fucking nagged him about it for days until he snapped and agreed just to get them off his fucking back. He knew he would come to regret it, and now he was. Sitting alone at a table in the corner of this hippie bar, an hour past the agreed meeting time.
He was ready to leave. No amount of liquor would save this night. He’d already had several shots while waiting, and was buzzed enough to know more drinks wouldn’t help. He just wanted to go home… until you walked in.
You caught his eye with the tight red dress you wore. It hugged you in all the right places, the silk material tight against your ass, vibrant and soft looking against your skin. His eyes followed you to the bar where you sat down fidgeting nervously.
He watched you order a couple drinks, loosening up a little more after each one, the nervousness leaving from her until you were enjoying yourself completely. Dancing in your seat to the pop music they played, sipping on your drinks happily.
Then some fucker set his eyes on you. Obviously drunk from his sloppy movements, Bucky watched him closely, as stumbled over to you and flopped in the vacant chair next to you. You talked with him for a few minutes, and Bucky began to look away, you seemed comfortable, safe.
Then Bucky hears him ask to take you home. You tense up, obviously uncomfortable and Bucky is heading over before he has a chance to say anything more. “Leave.”
The man turns around to find Bucky towering over him. “What?”
“Leave, go back to your table or go home. I don’t really care. But leave her alone.”
He stands, up shaky to face Bucky. “Hey man this is fair game. I was here fir-” His eyes widen when he sees Bucky’s metal arm and he’s sliding money across the bar and slipping out the door before Bucky has to speak again.
“Are you okay?”
Your eyes flashed from the man to Bucky, back to the man and then Bucky. “I am.” You were unsure of him, gave Bucky a once over, catching yourself string at his metal arm for a moment too long you look up to his face. “I am now. Thanks to you.”
Bucky nods gruffly before heading back to his table. How was he supposed to leave now that you were here? He had to stay to make sure you were safe.
“Hey wait!” Bucky looks back. “Don’t I owe you something? You saved me from that creep. Can I get you a drink… a dance maybe?”
Bucky declines, “It was no big deal.” He’s waving you off, beginning to walk away again.
“Wait,” you reach out and grab his arm, his metal arm, “I want to, really. To show my gratitude.”
“The dance or the drink?” Bucky humors you. You look too good in that dress to be ignored, he starts to think how good you’d look out of it too.
“The dance really, but the drink I wouldn’t mind getting for you either.”
   You don’t let him decline again before sliding your hand down his to his hand, hooking his and your pointer fingers, guiding him towards the dance floor.
   Bucky can’t help but stare as he lets you walk him to the middle of the floor, mesmerized by the way the material strains against your ass, curves to cover your hips.
   You stop abruptly, making Bucky lightly press against you. Its light and brief but Bucky’s dick is pressed against your ass for a moment. It’s a good fucking moment.
   You turn to him with a smile, a smile that lets Bucky know that you’re very aware of what you’re doing. You put one of your arms around his neck the other resting against the bicep of his flesh arm. “Dance with me.” His hands are to your waist briskly, per your request. The music is still bubblegum pop, so you and Bucky find your own rhythm. Slow and steady.
   “Thank you again for saving me.”
   “It was my pleasure.”
   “Do you go around being Superman to every girl you see alone in a bar?
   “There aren’t too many women like you, alone in a bar.”
    You smile, “Like me?”
   “Yeah.. like you.”
   “Maybe I shouldn’t be alone then. Mind saving me one more time?”
   “You slept with him!?”
   “God Nat, I didn’t know you knew him!” You’re pacing around the kitchen, where you ran to after meeting ‘Bucky’.
   “He has a metal arm of course I know him! How could you sleep with someone and not tell me?!”
   “Ugh!” You cover your face in your hands. “It was embarrassing…”
    “What was so embarrassing, that you wouldn’t tell me about the first time you’ve had sex in months?”
   You lean against the wall. “You really wanna know?”
   “Y/N...” Natasha warns
   “Fine!” You shut your eyes so you don’t have to look at her when you say it. “This man has just given me the best fuck of my life. I’m naked, sprawled out on the bed, breathing like I’m an asthmatic. Completely out of it, exhausted-“
    “I get it, just skip past all that. He’s my goddamn teammate, I have to look at him again sometime.”
    “I’m out of it, and he stands up like he’s unfazed. Like I’ve done no damage to this man at all, after we’ve gone for more than an hour, and he says ‘Thanks I should get going now.” You cringe having to repeat the words.
    “That’s it! That’s what you’re so embarrassed about?” Because he said thank you and left? I know you’ve been out the game for a minute now but that’s usually how one night stands work honey.”
    “Natasha,” you whine, “You don’t get it. Have I said he’s given me the best fuck of my life yet? Cause he did, and I was so mediocre, so bad that’s he’s literally running away the second he finishes. He didn’t even ask for my number or anything!”
    “Y/N. That’s how men work! You fuck, they finish, they leave. It is kind of how that goes. You’re overreacting.”
    “Am not! Every guy I’ve ever had sex with has asked for my number after. I’m not cocky or anything, everyone has bad days or whatever. But I just happen to have my one bad day with him? The sexiest man I’ve ever laid my eyes on, of course I’m embarrassed. And now he’s out there probably telling the freaking avengers I’m the worst fuck of his life!”
    Natasha sighs, you were ways this dramatic. “Even if that were true, which I doubt, Bucky isn’t that kind of guy. He doesn’t even like saying good morning, trust me he isn’t going to go telling them stuff like that.”
    Nothing she’s saying can help. You’re already invested in the idea, and it was no help your core had started to ache remembering that night so vividly.
   “Hey. Can we get a hand up front, Isa just went on break and the soccer game ended and were moving a little slow behind the counter.” Alisha asks sticking her head inside the kitchen.
    “Oh, yes of course. Just give me a minute, I’ll be right out.” She leaves so it’s just you and Nat again.
    “Look,” She says putting her hand on your shoulder. “Go out there and focus on securing this snobby rich kid money. We’ll talk about this later.”
    You laugh, “They’re not snobby.”
   She shrugs, “Can’t tell, all rich people remind me of Stark.”
   You straighten your back, standing off the wall. And shake out your limbs. “Right, I can do this.” Nat gives you a reassuring smile before you suck it up heading out to give Eli and Alisha a hand.
    About an hour and half the words had died down, the soccer game finally finished and parents and kids were clearing out either to celebrate the win, make up for the loss or going home starting their homework and nightly routines.
    You sent Eli, Isabelle and Alisha home a little early, thanking them for their hard work throughout the day. You’re ringing up the last customer when the overhead door bell rings, signaling a new customer. You don’t even look up, trying to contain your annoyance. One minute til’ closing and they were still piling in. You hand her the Chocolate & Buttercream icing cupcake and need her on her way finally catching a glimpse at the customer who had walked in.
   Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him. Oh brother. You lock the register and leave from behind the counter with a cloth to wipe down the tables.
   “May I help you?”
    Bucky’s a little confused by your attitude, not that he expected you to jump into his arms or anything but why were you being so stand-offish? Was this all just too awkward?
   “Natasha sent me in to help you close. Her, Sam and Steve headed back but she said ‘you always have a problem closing on time, that you might need help.”
    It sounds just like Nat, especially after a busy day like today it was like her to send him to make sure you close. Obviously, you don’t ignore that she just had to send him.
   “If you could just flip the sign over for me.” Your head tilts toward the white sign that hands in your window, reading Open or Closed.
    He goes to flip it and you sneak a look at him. he’s wearing black jeans, and god does his ass look great in them, and a plain navy blue t-shirt that does barely a good enough job of containing his muscle. That fucking body accompanied with that face… it shouldn’t be legal.
   “Anything else?” He offers gruffly.
   “No that’s all, thanks.” You’re finished wiping down the tables and the only thing left to do it lock up, you’re tired and you can sweep up before you open tomorrow. You’re turning to go back behind the counters, to grab the keys and almost bump into him from the closeness.
   “Jesus!” You jump back. “You scared me!”
   “Sorry, was the only way to get you to look up at me.”
   “Yeah well… I’m busy so…” you look down to fold the cloth you’re holding.
    Bucky notices your fidgety behavior, like that night at the bar. What did you have to be so nervous about, you knew him. Well... knew him as well as a one night stand who fucked you senseless could know someone.
   “You told me your name was James…” you don’t know why you say it but it slips out.
   “It is. Everyone just calls me Bucky.” You hum still looking down at the floor. ”I don’t like everyone calling me that.” He adds.
   You can’t help but think of all the times you called out his name that night, screamed it at the top of your lungs, cried it out, moaned it. You straighten, squeezing your thighs together, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 
   “You don’t like everyone calling you Bucky or James?”
    “James. It’s more for close friends. People I trust.”
   “So why’d you tell me?”
   “You gave me the best fuck of my life, I I trust you more than I trust Stark.”
   You look up to him, dumbfounded. What’d he just say?
    You let out a nervous chortle, something somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “The best fuck of your life?”
    Bucky nods, like yeah that’s what I said. But that can’t be what he said.
   “If that’s how you treat the good ones, I’d hate to have a bad night with you.”
   “What? How’d I treat you?” Bucky has never been the most hospitable not since the 40′s anyway. But he always held to the notion of being a gentleman, he thought he was the epitome of one at all times. So he’s bothered by the implication in your tone. 
   “That’s like a rhetorical question right?”
   “No it isn’t, did I do something wrong?” You’re confused by the confused look on his face. Did you two experience the same night?
   “Bucky - James - uh... dude. You completely wreck me, which was great - amazing even, so thank you. But as soon as you, you know finished... you zipped up your pants and said, ‘Thanks, I should get going now.” Bucky is looking at you, waiting for you to continue. 
   “You didn’t even ask for my number.” Realization dawns on his face. 
   “Oh...” He trails off
    “Yeah, oh. Look I’ve got to start closing. It was nice-”
   The kiss takes you completely by surprise, his lips smashing against yours in a quick instant. His arm is circling your waist, the cold of the metal felt against your skin through the fabric of your shirt making you gasp lightly.
   But you’re slipping into the kiss, eyes closing in bliss the way his tongue explored your mouth. Your panties are flooding at everything after, the way he hoists you up onto his torso, gripping your ass. Sitting you on the countertop, positioning himself between your legs, pressing against you.
    “I’ve never had someone take me that way.” He admits, as Y/N pulls away, he stares into your eyes.
    “Take you...?” Your brain is a little scrambled, and you’re breathing heavily.
    “That night, you were so good for me.” His breath is heavy too, his voice deep and raspy, as he recalls. “You took me so well,” He’s pulling you closer, dropping his head to your ear, beginning to whisper lowly. ”So fucking perfect. Tight and wet, still taking all of me even when I thought it’d be too much for you.” He grips the counter worked up now, “Your pussy felt like it was made to take me, I’ve never... I’ve never been fucked that way before. Never fucked someone who’s been that way before”
    You’re out of breath looking at him with wide eyes, and you feel the rush in your panties from his dirty words, and it’s your first instinct to press your thighs together, but Bucky is between your legs, and had you tried he would’ve stopped you.
    “I - I thought that when you didn’t ask for my number you were unsatisfied or something... I thought I was a bad fuck.” You tell him, lowering you head sheepish, at the explanation of your behavior.
   Bucky laughs. A throwing his head back kind of laugh, hearty and full. “Are you fucking kidding me? I had to leave quick, or I would’ve... I would’ve came in you til my cum was dripping down your leg.” He takes a deep breath before finishing. “I would’ve bred you until you were full of me... until you begged me to stop. Would’ve given you my fucking kid, maybe a few of ‘em.”
    His dirty confession starts a frenzy; clothes start flying, hands gripping, grabbing, fumbling everywhere. All you do is hope everyone on the block has gone home, closed up shop and was far out of earshot because Bucky showed you exactly what he’d meant. He fully demonstrated, on the floor, the counter, the wall, the tables...
   You’ll have to do a lot more than sweep in the morning.
A/N: Was I writing this filth 10:30 in the morning??? Yes I was, pls mind your business.
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