#bucky barnes x reader
Looking at the Past
Summary: Loki gets captured by the TVA and gets to see his past were he finds out that he had a lover; you.
A/N: so I watched the first episode of Loki and it inspired me to get out of my writers block and write a story about Loki looking back at his past and sees someone that loved him. So trigger warning VERY EMOTIONAL AND LOKI EPISODE 1 SPOILERS
Loki had never felt so far away from the concept of control until now. He never felt so lost, so helpless and so purposeless until he stepped foot in the TVA. He hated the feeling, he hated feeling this way, he hated the Avengers but most of all, Loki hated himself.
At first, he thought it was a joke. That this place was all a front, that he was a God and a God was the most powerful being. However, after visiting Casey and finding the multitude of infinity stones used as paper weight, he realised that the TVA was no joke. The TVA was in fact the keepers of time and all the choices his made were choices that was already written.
Except him running away of course.
Loki looked at the projector that was playing before, paused on all the Avengers. A thought had slowly crept into his brain. The thought of looking at his whole life. He shuddered at the thought. He was scared. Mobius had told him his life purpose was to create pain and suffering for others so that they can achieve the best version of themselves. Had that been true? Was his whole life just pain and suffering? Had his life been a meaningless void filled to aid others to the betterment of themselves while he crumbled to nothingness?
Loki let out a sigh, thinking to himself how he might as well see how horrible his life was. He sat down on the metal chair, letting out a breath. His shaky hand went to the player, fast forwarding it to his mother’s death. The death that he had caused.
A single tear rolled down his cheek as he realised that his mother’s death was on him. He never thought Mobius was telling truth, that he was lying to manipulate Loki. But the infinity stones in Casey’s drawers had reminded him about the awful fact that he did indeed kill his mother. He was the reason why his mother had died. In an effort to gain control of his life, he lost the one thing that mattered to him the most; his mother.
He fast forwarded it but paused when he saw an familiar face, your familiar face. He was confused, you were the one who fought against him with the Avengers, why did you show up again? Did he come back to Earth?
“Loki, you are not responsible for your mother’s death,” you spoke, walking around to face him. He could see the skyline behind you, realising it was the Avenger’s Tower. Apparently he had returned to Earth after his mother’s demise.
“I led them to her!” He heard himself yell, chucking a glass. But you didn’t flinch. “I led them to her! I killed her!”
He watched as you walked closer to him, grabbing his hand. “You were in your lowest state, vulnerable to your weakest intuition. Your father had imprisoned you. Even though someone had been torturing you to do the things you had to do to New York.”
Loki flinched at that. Were you guys that close that he told you his deepest darkest secret? About how Thanos had tortured him and imprisoned him to get the other infinity stones?
“How did you know about that?” Loki yelled at you.
“Because I can tell when someone has been tortured and manipulated by monsters,” you replied back in a calm voice, your eyes tearing up. “I know Loki. I know how it feels to helpless, to feel lost and unwanted and-“
Loki stopped it, his breath trembling. He fast forwarded it, not wanting to hear anything else as more tears fell down his face. He paused again, seeing a provocative image fill the screen and his veins filled with curiosity.
“Loki,” he heard your voice moan. He watched on as he saw himself not fucking you, but making love to you. He watched himself, his eyes filled with love and adoration at yourself.
He watched as your bodies molded together so perfectly, how you were both moving in synchrony. He watched as none of you broke eye contact, as both of you moaned in pure bliss.
“I love you,” he heard himself tell you. Something he never realised he would ever tell anyone. And by the vulnerability in his eyes, he knew future him had a hard time even saying it. He looked at you as if he was scared he had frightened you, as if those words had pushed you away.
But it didn’t. It had made your bright and beautiful smile broaden even more.
“I love you too.”
He let out a breath, not stopping himself from crying this time. Had he finally found someone who loved him for himself? Had he really been that lucky? He paused it again, looking at you. How your eyes looked at his. How calming and serene you two looked together.
He fast forwarded.
“How could you do that!” He heard himself screaming at you. Your face was in tears, looking back at him. “How could you be so idiotic, I told you to go back!”
“Why are you so mad, I’m still alive aren’t I?” You yelled back, clutching your stomach.
“Barely! God you humans are so daft!” He yelled back at you, his hands brushing his hair back. “Humans are so fucking daft and fucking pathetic!”
“Oh I’m sorry God Almighty, forgot you were immortal!” You yelled back, letting out a groan as your stomach was fighting against your screaming. “I’ll take the thank you later.”
“Thank you? Thank you!” Loki yelled back at you. “That weapon would’ve barely scratched me! You didn’t need to risk your life to stop it! You didn’t need to almost die just so you get to play hero and-“
“Don’t you understand that I can’t lose you!” He heard you scream louder than ever before, making him go silent. You let out a sob, shaking your head. “You’re the only- only good thing that has ever happened to me. And and- fuck, it scares me how much I love you. I love you Loki Laufeyson. I love you so much that I’d go through hell and back just to make you smile even if it meant I wasn’t alive to see it!”
Loki paused the video, letting out a sob before shaking his head. He couldn’t even fathom it. He thought he was an unlovable monster. Yet it seemed that you were blind to all of it.
He fast forward.
“I bought you a house,” Loki heard himself again.
You two were lying on bed, looking like you were in a private room on a spaceship. Both of you cuddling under the the sheets, Loki’s fingers drawing shapes on your skin.
You laughed at him, not taking him serious. But his face didn’t change, stopping your laugh. “Wait, you’re serious?”
“Mhmm,” Loki replied back kissing your knuckles. You giggled at him, and Loki’s smile widened at your laugh. Even the Loki who watched on felt himself smiling at the sound of your voice giggling.
“And how did you get the money?”
“A god doesn’t pay.” Loki replied, laughing as you slapped him in the arm.
“Where’s the house? On Asgard?” You replied back jokingly. “How convenient for you, it’s in ashes now.”
“Earth.” Loki pushed your hair back. You looked at him in disbelief.
“Earth?” You questioned him, your face in bewilderment. “I thought you hated Earth, which is why we decided to visit Asgard instead.”
“But you love it,” Loki replied back, kissing your forehead. “And if you love it, then that’s enough for me.”
Loki fast forwarded it, unable to handle it watching it anymore. He needed to see how this played out. So he went to the end.
The hairs in his forearm rose as he stood up from his seat at the site of Thanos. He felt a cold shiver run down his spine, your bloodied face in the back.
“Please,” he heard you wheeze out, tears uncontrollably running down your face. You tried crawling over to Thanos, trying to find mercy within the Titan. “Please.”
“I am feeling generous today,” The Titan said with a smile before picking up Loki by the neck.
“No!” He heard you scream. It was as if all the energy in your body came out all at once as you got up to run, only to be locked down by pieces of metal from one of the children of Thanos. “No! Let him go please!”
“So I’ll only kill you, and I’ll spare your brother and the girl,” Thanos said, before snapping his neck.
Loki let out a deep breath, his whole body shaking. He heard you scream in agony, a shriek that can only be described as a mother losing a child to war. He watched as you flung your body on him, trying to protect him from the explosion of the ship. He watched as Thor begged you to leave, but you yelling that you weren’t going to leave him alone, that he was not dying alone. And then he watched on as the words ‘End of File’ were etched on the screen.
Loki shook his head, before he started laughing. Laughing at himself. Laughing at his life. Laughing at how just as life was getting better for himself, just as he started making amends, he died.
“What's so funny?” He heard a voice say behind him. Loki smirked, turning around. The women looked at him weirdly, his face all tear stricken.
“Loki?” Mobius called out to Loki who was sitting down, his hands on his face with the tesseract next to him. “Nowhere left to run.”
“I can't go back, can I? Back to my timeline?” Loki asked, feeling helpless. Feeling sad. Sad because he will never have a story with you, a life with you. “I don't enjoy hurting people. I- I don't enjoy it. I do it because I have to, because I've had to.”
Mobius slowly walked over to Loki, feeling a bit more motivated now that Loki was opening up to him more. “Okay, explain that to me.”
“Because it's part of the illusion,” Loki explained, letting out a sigh. “It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear.”
“A desperate play for control,” Mobius finished for him, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. “You do know yourself.”
“A villain,” Loki scoffed. Mobius shook his head.
“That's not how I see it.” He then looked at the tesseract that was near Loki. “You try to use that?”
“Oh, several times,” Loki laughed, looking at the tesseract with now lost interest. Men and women have died for this. Have started wars for this. Yet compared to the sacred timeline, these stones were toys. “Even an Infinity Stone is useless here. The TVA is formidable.”
“That's been my experience.” Mobius peeked an eye on Loki, feeling sympathetic. He let out a sigh. “Listen, I can't offer you salvation, but maybe I can offer you something better. A fugitive Variant's been killing our Minutemen.”
“And you need the God of Mischief to help you stop him?” Loki had asked him.
“Why me?” Loki asked confusedly, arching an eyebrow.
“Because the Variant we're hunting,” he paused, looking Loki in the eye.
You let out a breath, watching the minute men as they walked out of the portal. You hid back in the darkness, looking as the scene played out in front of you.
“I think some jackass found himself a time machine, came back here to get rich,” one of them spoke. You let out a small laugh, shaking your head at their laziness. The TVA might be powerful, but god their workers were indolent.
“Should we fan out and look for him, sir?” A smarter minute man asked.
“Nah. It's not worth the paperwork.” The minute man turned around, looking at the other worker. “Just prune it. Let's bail. Set a charge.”
The minuteman was about to set the charge but before he did, he made eye contact with you. You raised a hand up, purple light seeping through your fingers. “Wait. Someone's out there.”
“Who are you!” The minute men spoke, pointing their weapon at you. You know walked towards them, a little coy smile on your lips.
“I’ll make this easy for you guys.” You pointed at the device. “I want that. Give it to me, and I’ll spare you.”
“No you can’t just walk in here and-“
“Fine,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. Your finger lit up an even brighter purple spark, before pointing it towards the oil and lighting it up in flames.
You watched as the minute men burned into flames, slight twinge of guilt seeping through your veins. The Avengers would be so disappointed in you. But that thought disappeared as soon as it came to your head. You wanted Loki back, no matter what the cost.
You would walk to hell and back just to see him smile.
So you walked over to the device, picking it up before transforming back into your true form. The form you took after the final battle against Thanos. The form you took after you snapped your fingers, after taking the gauntlet. You didn’t care if you died when you wore the infinity gauntlet, you already lost Loki. But you didn’t died. Instead…
You became the Infinity Witch.
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im seeing something i like
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
Warnings: Little bit o' smut, needy, whiny Bucky
A/N: Just a little something until I get back to my laptop. No minors.
“I have to go,” you say, gently shaking off the vibranium hand around your ankle. Laughter bubbling up when he only groans in response.
Bending over you grab your shirt from under the kitchen chair, you start to pull it on, then a dull thud has you turning your head, “Did you-did you just kick the floor?”
Bucky glares up at you with baleful eyes. “Maybe.”
Clutching the wrinkled shirt to your bare chest, you roll your eyes at the pouting super soldier. “Bucky, we spent all weekend together-“ You start, ignoring his loud huff. “-I promised my friends that I would go out for one drink and I....”
You swallow, your mouth going dry as you watch him pull his cock out of tight black briefs. “Bucky, stop it.” you finish weakly.
He tilts his chin up, his ocean blue eyes ensnaring yours and he moans your name, it’s sweet and sinful, as if he’s tasting it, tasting you with each slow swipe of tongue across his bottom lip. Then you remember he is and your knees nearly buckle as he wipes your slick from his chin and smears it over his cock.
He’s so filthy.
Bucky twists his hand around his shaft, precum dripping down from the red, swollen tip.
And he moans your name again.
Louder, vulgar sounds emitting from his chest, his hips rutting into his palm. Thick, long fingers laced around his throbbing cock. “You’re really gonna leave me, Plum.”
You want to tear your eyes away but you can’t. Not with his back arching off the ground, soft grunts mingled with your name filling the early morning air. You bite back a needy gasp when he lets his cock go, fisting his hands at his sides. “I can’t finish,” he gazes up at you, a deep wrinkle forming between his furrowed brows.
Bucky reaches out for you. “My hand isn’t as good as your pussy.” Oh fuck, the way he says that has you trembling. “I need you Plum, need your tight wet warm pussy around my cock.” He doesn’t play fair at all, you’re practically preening at his praise. “You feel so good, doll, so fucking good, please don’t leave me.”
Bucky stretches his legs out, patting his thighs. “Why don’t you let me show you how fucking good you feel Plum?”
You don’t realize you were walking back to him, drawn back into his orbit with each filthy word until he sat up, hands smoothing up your thighs, his breath washing over your glistening cunt before he tugs you down over him.
“Oh Buc-,” you cry out as he pushes you down, down “just a little more plum there you go, until his thick throbbing cock is buried in you, the first stretch knocking your breath out of your chest until you’re panting.
Bucky wraps his arms around your back, pulling you into his warm chest. “Now I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll never think about leaving me again.”
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summary: While on a mission, Bucky becomes dissociated into the Winter Soldier. But instead of becoming a threat, his instinct is to protect.
pairing: bucky x reader
word count: 6.5k
warnings: dissociative episode, PTSD symptoms, winter soldier!bucky is clingy and protective af
a/n: this is based off a request I got ages ago from @visitneptune. It's not letting me tag you hun, so I hope you still see this!
Bucky stood at the mouth of the jet; the wind rustling violently around him, eager to knock him off his stance, to instill doubt into his body though it was made of stone. His left hand gripped to the handle on the wall; metal seared to metal, crystalline marble. Several hundred feet below laid the ruins of an old Hydra base; its walls coated in graffiti, the foundation left to weather, the hinges to rust. It held his empty stare.
“You sure you’re up for this?” you asked him softly under the roar of the wind. A particularly grueling gust swept through the bridge and you gripped the strap on the back of Bucky’s jacket for support. He was unwavering in its path, though he seemed to soften at your touch. He turned to you then, pressed out a weak smile and nodded.
You released your hold on his jacket, smoothing down the harness with a quick brush against his spine. He shivered as your fingertips grazed over the dip in his back and you bit your lip between your teeth. When you looked up at him again, you tried to force out a smile for him in return, but found the light would not touch your eyes.
The rush of adrenaline was still spiked high in your veins from the last time you heard Bucky scream – the agonizing break in his voice as he desperately clawed himself from the edge of nightmares Hydra had left behind. You could still see the sweat on his forehead, the rapid breaths in his chest, the fresh reflective tracks on his cheeks. You could feel him trembling in your arms, his hands begging for purchase around your body, his repetitive whispers against your neck.
It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.
But Bucky was desperate for absolution. He had it in his mind that the only way to atone for the violence he’d done under Hydra’s thumb was to settle the score. To make amends. To undo the carnage he’d once created with every Hydra base he dismantled. He never allowed himself to acknowledge the steel toed boot that had been pressed to his neck, forcing his hand, controlling his mind, suffocating his will. He sought forgiveness for the crimes of his captors. He would not consider that his body was merely the weapon at their disposal.
He wasn’t new to missions where Hydra was at play, but he was often only able to hold it together long enough to wash the blood down the drain before the weight of it split through the cracks. You’d find him curled up on the floor of the shower, rubbing his skin raw in attempt to wash out the red stained to his hands. He wouldn’t speak a word until morning came, wouldn’t sleep for a second. But he’d allow you to hold him, to soothe a hand over his hair, to rest his head against your heart.
You never talked about it. Never named the lingering tension in the room when he crawled out from under your sheets, shamed seeped into his veins. This silent and impenetrable bond you shared. The knowledge that you could pull him from the darkest corners of his mind. That you were a safe place even when he felt the walls were crumbling around him. You never spoke of it, but it remained.
“Nat and I will head to the control room while Sam keeps the jet in the air,” Steve said, a single hand on his hip. The other gripped at the ropes to keep himself steady in face of the wind. He clenched his jaw, a reluctant look upon his face as he turned to Bucky. “Buck, I need you on the lookout for their lab. It’s not marked on the blueprints but if anyone can find it...”
Bucky nodded. No one knew for sure if this was one of the bases he’d been held in as the Winter Soldier, but you supposed it didn’t matter. They all held the same trauma, the same reminders of the horrors he’d faced. The muscle memory alone to step foot in a building where he’d been conditioned down to his bones was an act of violence within itself.
“Y/n, I want you with him,” Steve added, a knowing look shared between you. It wasn’t that Steve didn’t trust Bucky. He was afraid for him the way you were; wanting to protect him from a world that had caused him so much pain. It was a need the both of you shared.
“What’s in this lab anyway?” you asked, changing the subject as you watched Bucky avert his gaze, pink burning in his ears.
“Samples of a pathogen Bruce thinks he can make a vaccine for,” Natasha said as she clipped her gun into the holster on her thigh.
“And they’re entrusting us to return it safely?” you raised an eyebrow.
“Nat has experience with this stuff,” Steve explained. “She’ll take care of it. Just signal on the coms when you find it. The base is empty. We’re not going to run into enemy fire.”
Your gaze flickered to Bucky. His back was to the group, his focus staring down at the abandoned Hydra base below. The metal handle had warped under his grip, outlining the shape of his fingers in smooth ridges along the surface.
You wondered then if it mattered whether the base was occupied at all; if the nightmares could still seep through the cracks in the walls and cause damage all on their own.
The door was lined with rust. Red and orange and oozing from the hinges. Bucky stared at the knob, his grip readjusting on his rifle. Steve and Natasha had already taken the north entrance, leaving Sam hovering above in the jet for a quick exit. You and Bucky remained at the south entrance. You watched him carefully, studying the tension in his shoulders, the reflection of gold weaving delicately along his left arm as the metal plates flexed. He was so still you wondered if he was even breathing.
“Bucky?” you called, setting a hand on his forearm. You walked out ahead of him, trying to meet his eye. The contact usually grounded him when he could not hear your voice through the mess inside his head, the numbness. You brushed your thumb gingerly along the vibranium edges. “Are you with me?”
He nodded, shaking himself out of the trance he had fallen into. “Sorry. Just need a moment.”
He looked as though he needed more than just a moment. A lifetime, perhaps, before he would ever be able to set foot in a Hydra base without some remnants of his own trauma clawing at the back of his neck, sinking talons into his muscle and yanking him to the depths.
“No one would blame you if you wanted to sit this one out,” you told him sincerely, eyeing the quinjet hovering over your heads. “I could get Sam to come down and—”
“I’m fine,” Bucky snapped, yanking his arm away from your hold. It startled you enough to step back a few paces, your hands burning as heat rushed to your cheeks. But as quick as it came, the sudden hardness of his features washed away when he noticed the hurt upon your face. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to—” Bucky sighed, dropping his head. “Let’s just get this over with, okay?”
“Okay,” you replied quietly, taking another step back to give him space. He glanced towards you, an unreadable expression in his features, though it made you wonder whether the space had been a relief for him at all. He clenched his jaw, turning back to the rusted door. He kicked hit boot to the weakest spot in the frame, near the hinges, and the door slammed to the ground. Broken entirely from the walls around it. Dust smoked up from the floor from where it crashed to the cement and exposed a dark, windowless hall behind it.
“Maybe we can watch that series you’ve been wanting to show me when we get home?” Bucky offered softly, inching closer to you as if the space between you was too much to bear. He pushed out a smile; one you knew took most of his effort to produce in witness to the building that could have been the one to rip him to pieces. It touched his eyes, left lines in its wake. It was beautiful.
“Deal,” you grinned, nudging his side until he started to laugh. The meaning of such a sound amongst the horrors of these halls was not lost on you. It echoed through the corridors and touched the cobwebs hanging in the corner. Its ghosts may have been the ones to hear his screams once.
Bucky took the lead. Even amongst the baron halls, he positioned himself as a shield between you and the darkness ahead. His wide frame took up most of the narrow hallway, his stance cautious to keep you protected at his back. Every so often, his ear flexed at the sound of your steady breathing, the shuffle of your shoes over the debris upon the floors. It was like he was fighting the urge to turn over his shoulder once more to confirm with his own eyes that you were safe behind him. He continued on, deeper into the darkness as fingers flexed against his rifle; his steps undetectable.
You passed by dozens of emptied rooms with dark stains upon the concrete and shackles molded to the wall. Bucky didn’t speak as his gaze trailed along the reinforced cells and the ghosts they carried. Tension etched into his muscle the further he walked.
A shiver burrowed into your spine as you kept your pace close to Bucky’s stride – close enough that you brushed against his shoulder blades every so often. It had been a comfort at first, drawing away the stone in his spine, but then after a while he began to bristle at the contact, almost as if he’d forgotten you were behind him, before he eased again, relaxing into your touch.
You’d been walking through the maze of hallways for nearly ten minutes before either of you spoke.
“Do you recognize this place?” you asked cautiously when Bucky took a right turn down an adjoining hall. He hadn’t even stopped to consider his path. It was as if he were following a memory.
He shook his head, a contemplative look on his face. Still, his attention turned down the corridor like he was being drawn towards it. He sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. But something’s telling me to go this way.”
You didn’t question whether it was the lab beckoning him or something else, something more dangerous. Instead, you set a comforting hand on his forearm and gave a short squeeze. A pained smile pressed on his lips as he stared down at your hand, how your thumb so sweetly ran along the thick material of his jacket. When you released him, he took in a heavy breath and continued on.
You followed him in silence until you neared the end of the hall. The lighting became progressively dimmer, the bulbs flickering in their disuse. Bugs scrawled along the edges of the walls, scampering through piles of dust and dirt. You held back a shiver as you kept as close to Bucky as you could.
It was as if the walls themselves were molding his body to marble with every step further into their maze. His back tightened, his spine straightened. His breathing became shallow to the point you could no longer hear his careful inhales. But something in him relaxed despite the tension in his body. You were about to call his name when suddenly, he turned sharply into an open room.
The door was lined in dozens of steel bolts and reinforced locks. It looked to be in pristine condition in comparison to the rest of the building. From a short glance inside, it was evident that this room was not the lab Steve sent you in search of. It was lined with cement, void of any furniture, let alone laboratory equipment. It was completely empty, save for the shackles fused into the furthest wall.
It was a cell.
You furrowed your brows as you followed Bucky into the baron room. He didn’t look around, didn’t so much as turn in your direction. Instead, he stilled at the center of the room, his back to you. You swallowed, though it tasted of copper.
“Bucky?” you called nervously. “What are we doing in here?"
As you stepped further into the room, you noticed the dent on the inside of the door. Heart pounding violently in your chest, you reached out and touched the caved in metal, drawing your fingers along the perfect imprint of a fist. No one else could have had the strength to cause that kind of damage except—
“Bucky?” you tried again, panic starting to lace into your voice. He was standing too still, too quiet. He didn’t so much as move a single muscle at the sound of his own name. His posture was too rigid, too formal. It reminded you of— oh God.
You took a single step towards him, the heel of your boot softly tapping to the concrete and suddenly, Bucky whipped around to face you. His expression was cold; void of the man you knew him to be; absent of the smile you drew out of him on the edge of this dreadful building. In one fluid movement, he raised the barrel of his rifle and unlatched the safety. There was no time to panic, no time to call his name, to so much as raise your hands in defense.
Eyes screwed shut, lungs burning. There was a deafening ringing in your ears, pulsing deep into the back of your head, obstructing your balance. Slowly, you opened your eyes to find Bucky lowering his rifle to his side, the same vacant look in his expression staring at something beyond your shoulder.
“--company!” Steve’s voice suddenly cracked through the coms. “We’ve got company!”
You followed Bucky’s vacant stare to the body currently lying in the hallway. A man laid upon the threshold to the room, a shotgun in hand and a Hydra insignia affixed to his lapel. Blood pooled into the concrete, inching along the floor towards you. You hadn’t even known he was there, that he was just seconds away from firing a shot to the back of your head. The man’s finger was still curled around the trigger. You inched closer to Bucky.
“Y/n? Bucky? Someone report!”
Your gaze trailed over Bucky’s frame as he remained impossibly still. Not even his breaths seemed to rise against his chest. His stare was etched to the door, his eyes absent of the fear he once carried in these halls. They were coated in something darker – an oncoming of stormy skies masked under an ominous grey fog. Obstructing him. Confining him. A terrifying state of peace within the submission. Bite nestled to your tongue and you swallowed it—the burn of acid dripping down your throat.
“Bucky?” you begged, desperate to believe this place hadn’t undone him down to his bones. He didn’t so much as blink. You gritted your teeth, jaw clenched so tightly it began to ache and you forced out a name you swore you would never utter aloud—
It was barely a whisper, the most you could possibly manage, and still— Bucky’s gaze flickered to you. When vacant, blue eyes met yours, you bit down hard enough to draw blood, your hand trembling as you reached up and touched the warm coat of blood against your lip. He furrowed his brow, studying your reaction and the utter desolation painted over your features.
“If you don’t respond, I’m coming to get you!” Steve warned through the coms. His voice pulled you away from the fog threatening to consume you whole as you stared at the shell Bucky had slipped into. Steve was panting, out of breath, a grunt through the speakers as a heavy thud fell to the floor.
Tears burned in your eyes as you cleared your throat, raising a finger to your coms.
“We’re okay,” you said slowly, not daring to take your eyes off Bucky for even a second. “We’re safe but... something happened, Steve. Bucky’s not himself.”
There was only a short pause. One where Bucky’s eyes centered on you, trailing over your frame as it were for the first time. They slid down the line of your suit, over your thighs to your boots, then back up along your hips to your arms. They lingered over a faded bruise on your cheekbone – one you’d sustained in a mission in the previous week against a rather unpleasant arms dealer in Slovakia. The muscle in his jaw flexed, his hands curled tight into fists.
Slowly, his eyes returned to yours. They didn’t carry the weight you recognized, the years filled with shame and guilt and burden, but they held a heaviness nonetheless. Deep blue as the depths of the ocean, coated in such darkness the sunlight could not hope to reach. They were the eyes of a man who knew what it was to be punished for disobeying orders, who recognized those who had caused him harm, who could identify those who would keep him safe.
The Soldier was not an empty shell. He was not simply a weapon for Hydra to dispose. He was living and breathing and impossibly real. Stripped down to the very threads that kept him human. Removed of his memories, of his past. Tortured for his mistakes. Kept in a cage like an animal. Taught to be silent, to expect fear, to follow orders.
This was not the Winter Soldier as you remembered him on the bridge, in the sky above D.C., in Vienna. Humanity was slipping through; though it was small, subtle. It was only when his gaze flickered briefly back to the bruise on your cheek and his eyes narrowed in what appeared to be rage, that you realized what had happened.
The man before you was the broken shards of who Bucky had been inside this cell – somewhere between the Winter Soldier and the prisoner of war. Too far gone from the Sergeant who held out as long as he could and miles away from the Bucky who turned on the kettle for you in the morning before you woke up, who indulged your ridiculous list of must-watch movies, who curled against you in the middle of the night when the monsters plagued his dreams.
A purgatory within his own mind.
“Y/n!” Steve called panicked through the coms. “Get out of there! We don’t know what he could do if he—”
“I don’t think he’ll hurt me, Steve,” you replied evenly, holding Bucky’s gaze. “He shot a Hydra agent before I even knew they were there. He saved my life.”
Bucky’s attention snapped to the door, his hand flexing against his rifle. You followed his eye line, unsure of what he must have heard, but with his advanced senses you knew better than to question him.
Slowly, he stepped out in front of you, holding an arm behind him to keep you centered behind his back. Your heart fractured as you realized he was shielding you. Even stripped down to basic instinct, muddled by the horrors of what Hydra had inflicted upon him, he still chose to protect you.
“Get him back to the jet,” Steve ordered, though you could hear the reluctance in his voice, even as he engaged in direct combat with enemy agents. “We’ll secure him there. Be careful.”
You nodded, trying to gather your courage though it felt impossibly far away. You were about to reach for Bucky’s forearm when you stopped yourself, quickly yanking your hand back against your chest and you had to remind yourself that this wasn’t your Bucky. You had no idea how the Winter Soldier would react to such an intrusion, especially given what you remembered about how Bucky first responded to touch – how he’d flinch away from it as if he’d been expecting pain. The Soldier didn’t know to expect anything less.
“Soldat,” you called firmly, mimicking the tone of the Soldier’s handlers. He straightened his spine, turning his head to you, awaiting orders. You inhaled a shaken breath, struggling to meet his eye. “I need you to get us out of here. Both of us. Do you understand?”
Bucky narrowed his eyes at your emphasis, though slowly he nodded. You had no idea how many Hydra agents crawled out from behind the woodwork or what to expect when you stepped into the hallway. But the Soldier needed a mission. He needed orders to follow. You weren’t sure whether he would go willingly without them.
Bucky eased out into the hall, a cautious glance behind his shoulder as if to make sure you were following close behind. You gave him a short nod and he turned back to the end of the hall; his rifle gripped tight to his grasp. You attempted to peer around his shoulder to get better leverage and provide coverage, but then—
An arm snaked around your neck, clamped down against your windpipe and yanked you backwards. You gasped for breath – the strangled sound alerting Bucky to your distress as you desperately clawed at the arm around your neck, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.
Bucky whipped around, rage quickly burning as the blue in his eyes reduced in thin, cerulean rings. You met his gaze, air obstructed as you choked against the man’s grip, and still – you saw a world of panic breaking through the cold exterior of the Winter Soldier.
You quickly elbowed the assailant in the ribs and he released your throat, doubling over in pain. It was enough time for Bucky to fire a single shot once you ducked clear out of view, sinking to the ground as your hands darted at your throat in search of air. You only vaguely recognized the sound of the body thudding behind you as you began to cough violently, blood spilling from your lips.
“You’re hurt,” Bucky murmured, so quiet you almost didn’t catch it. He was kneeling at your eye line, his brows furrowed and drawing worry lines over his forehead. His voice didn’t sound his like his own – too hesitant, too quiet. Longing and terrified and filled with unbridled rage all at once.
“M’okay,” you choked out, though your voice was rough, as if it has been tossed through a blender and dragged over sandpaper until it bled.
Bucky’s hand reached out to you, gently pushing the hair away from your eyes with the lightest feather of a touch. You stilled as the very tips of his fingers grazed gently over your skin, watching him as he studied the markings on your neck. An impossible moment amongst the chaos in the distance. The humanity of the Winter Soldier breaking through. His upper lip twitched as his fingers touched the discoloration on your neck. His jaw wired shut, a twitch in his upper lip, and suddenly, a weapon was in his hand again. He fired another four shots into the dead body on your right.
“It’s okay! It’s okay!” you told him, gathering his face in your hands, urging him to meet your eye. You drew your thumbs along his cheekbones until he finally forced his gaze back to you. He was breathing heavy, the rage spilling through the cracks in his surface until you said again, “I’m okay.”
A wash of relief coated his features for only a moment. Then, he nodded, almost as if to shake himself of the emotion he was not allowed to express. The lines on his face faded into the façade, the stone cold expression returning and wiping away the traces of the man underneath. Without saying a word, he stood back to his feet and waited patiently for you to follow.
By the time you made it outside, Steve and Natasha were standing by the mouth of the quinjet, weapons at the ready. They were both covered in open cuts and bruises, red seeping into their uniforms and coloring their skin. Natasha was leaning against the edge of the ramp, barely holding herself up, though she started to relax upon spotting you.
Bucky froze at the sight of their weapons and you collided into his back. He pulled out his gun.
“No! Stop!” You rushed out in front of him, holding your hands up defensively. “They’re friends! They won’t hurt us.”
You stared down the barrel of his rifle, counting each agonizing heartbeat as you waited for him to lower his weapon. You didn't know why, but the Soldier was drawn to you, connected to you in some way that he protected you without a second thought. It was his mission. His only directive. It wasn’t one you’d given him, but still—it remained.
His eyes flickered to you, unsure. You gave him a gentle reassuring nod and slowly, Bucky lowered the gun.
“Y/n?” Steve called hesitantly.
“I’ve got him, Steve,” you replied over your shoulder. “He’s okay.”
“He’s not triggered, not like you think,” you explained as calmly as you could manage. You could sense Bucky eyeing Steve, his hand flexing against his weapon, and you didn’t want to give him any reason to believe Steve was someone you needed protection from. “I don’t know what happened, but one minute he’s Bucky and the next he’s...” You sighed, glancing back at Bucky’s rigid posture. “Something in that base fractured him; awoke this part of him again. It’s a defense mechanism. He’ll come out of it, Steve. Give him time.”
Steve's gaze flickered to Bucky before returning to you. “Last time you met the Winter Soldier, he almost killed you.”
Triggered under Zemo’s twisted plan to draw a line between the Avengers, Bucky had once shot a bullet clean through your stomach. You could still picture the cold look in his eyes as he stood over you, readying for the kill shot as you laid frozen on the floor in a pool of your own blood. You’d never felt fear quite like that – the certain knowledge that you would not survive. If it hadn’t been for Tony’s intervention, you would have been dead.
It was before you knew Bucky. Before you loved him.
Maybe you were naïve, but something had changed in the Soldier since then. Perhaps, the same thing that changed in Bucky.
“I’ll be alright, Steve. He won’t hurt me.” You eased your hand in Bucky’s direction, urging him to holster his weapon. He did and you hoped it was because he trusted you, not because he saw you as his handler. You sighed, turning to Steve. “I’ll take care of him. Just trust me with this. Please.”
“Okay,” Steve sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. “But I have to secure him. For everyone’s safety, including his.”
"Let me,” you offered quickly, unsure of how Bucky would react to Steve trying to restrain him. “He’ll take it better if I do it.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”
No. You weren’t sure of anything; not with Bucky locked in this state. But you told him you were anyway.
“Soldat,” you called, turning away from the flash of surprise on Steve’s face as you turned to Bucky. “Follow me.”
You turned up the bridge of the jet, walking past Natasha and keeping your gaze straight ahead. You didn’t want to see whether she was disappointed with you for feeding into Hydra’s conditioning to keep Bucky compliant. You were only trying to keep him safe, to get him through this in one piece. He’d come out of it eventually. You kept telling yourself that, though you were never entirely convinced.
Bucky hovered behind you, keeping close despite the wide berth of the jet. You gestured to a seat along the side wall of the plane and Bucky sat down. You knelt down beside him, pulling a pair of reinforced handcuffs from under the seat. The team kept them on hand for the varying occasion when they needed to restrain enhanced individuals or Norse Gods. They’d work on Bucky, too.
“I’m going to put these on you, okay?” you told him, watching for any resistance. But Bucky didn’t move. He only watched you, following the metallic flicker of the handcuffs as you gently fastened them to his wrists. The center affixed to a chain connected to the floor of the plane. He didn’t move a single muscle.
You sighed, brushing at your eyes as you crawled up to sit in the seat beside him. You never wanted to see him in chains, never wanted to be the one to secure the metal around his wrists, but there was a trust within it. A trust that you would undo the locks, that you would protect him while he was vulnerable to attack the same way he protected you. But you couldn’t read Bucky when he was like this. You had no idea what he was thinking. If he was thinking anything at all.
“What about the mask?”
You blinked, thrown by his voice. Rough, unused. Unsure. He was watching you curiously, studying the stunned look of disbelief on your face, and you quickly shook your head.
“No mask,” you said simply, though you could feel the lump building in your throat. It was more of a muzzle than anything else – used to silence him, to humiliate him, to make him feel like a weapon of their own making and destroy any last thread of humanity he was clinging to. You could barely picture it without tears blurring your vision.
“Just try to relax, okay?” you told him. “We’ll be home soon.”
He raised an eyebrow at the mention of home, but your heart was too broken to explain any further. He didn’t ask. You supposed he was trained not to.
By the time you landed hours later, Bucky still wasn’t himself. Sam was the one to reluctantly suggest you bring Bucky to a holding cell until he came to again, but you feared that would only make it worse. It was a cell that triggered this state, you didn’t expect a cell would bring him out of it.
Steve and Natasha landed the jet away from most of the crew so you could guide Bucky away from the crowd without anyone noticing the handcuffs on his wrists. Steve threw a jacket over Bucky’s hands to hide the restraints and gave you the key.
“You call me the second it turns bad,” he ordered, a cautious look thrown in Bucky’s direction.
You nodded and reached out to squeeze Steve’s hand. He sighed at that, the tension coursing painfully through his body. “It won’t, Steve. But I promise I’ll call if I need you.”
Steve didn’t seem any more convinced but you could see the longing for hope in his eyes; how badly he wanted to believe you, how badly he wanted his friend back. He gave you a tight smile and nodded, stepping back.
“Come with me,” you told Bucky and he followed without question, trailing behind submissively and it left an awful pang in your stomach. As you stepped down onto the loading bay, you moved to walk in line with him. “I don’t know how much you recognize but no one here is an enemy, okay? We’re safe. I promise I’ll remove the cuffs once we’re out of sight.”
Bucky didn’t say anything, but you could see his eyes flickering to the sparse agents he passed by as if he were sizing them up, deciding how best to engage with his hands bound. He watched your every move, flinched as a head popped up in your direction as you approached, winced as your name was called in greeting from across the hall, shivered under the steady blow of the air conditioning above. He was on constant edge.
“Oh, hey guys!” Scott Lang jumped out from the elevator before you could press the button. Bucky jolted to step in front of you, blocking you from the perceived enemy who was likely the least dangerous man in the compound. Scott still had Cheeto dust on his fingers.
“Ah, I get it, I get it,” Scott laughed, hands raised in the air playfully as he backed up. “I’m happily in a relationship, my man. Hope may be way out of my league but I’m still in it, okay? You don’t have to worry about me snatching up your girl.”
You smiled, setting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder blades and easing your fingers down his spine. It was something you did for him to help him calm down when you didn’t want to draw attention to his distress. You hoped it might work on the Soldier, too. Sure enough, he began to relax. You stepped out from behind Bucky.
“Don’t mind him,” you told Scott with a casual shrug. “He’s just a bit on guard. Rough mission.”
Scott nodded in understanding, his lips pressing to thin line. “Totally get it. My bad, man. But hey! I’ll see you for poker on Saturday, right?”
“He’ll be there,” you replied, answering for Bucky whose gaze looked as though he could pierce daggers straight through Lang’s chest. You guided Bucky in the elevator and quickly tapped on your floor, hitting the button several times until the doors eventually closed. Once you were alone, you slumped against the wall and released a heavy sigh.
When the floor dinged, you straightened to find Bucky watching you. You were sure whether it was curiosity or concern in his eyes as they followed you into the hall.
“The team knows to leave this floor alone until I give them the okay,” you said, gesturing for Bucky’s hands. He held them up for you and you removed Steve’s jacket and tossed it to the couch. Then, you unlocked each of the cuffs and set them on the table.
Bucky rubbed his hand over the reddened skin on his right wrist. You winced at the burn mark.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think I closed them that tight.” You reached for him and you were surprised when he didn’t pull away. He allowed you to take his hand in yours, soothing the cool press of your palms against the irritated skin. He closed his eyes, sighing at the touch.
“Come on.” You eased Bucky to the couch, though you did not lose contact with his wrist. You sat down, sinking into the cushions and gently tugged him down beside you. He was uncomfortable, a little out of place, but you hoped the familiarity might be enough to sink in.
His posture was rigid beside you as you turned on the television and began to search for one of his favorite movies. You were so used to Bucky sliding in next to you, closing the gaps between you without ever acknowledging the comfort of laying in each other’s arms. Now, he sat with his back straight, his hands planted firmly in his lap. He looked as though he didn’t know what to do with the deep-set cushions and the pillows surrounding him.
Bucky looked around, his eyes skirting over the furniture, the television, the window view of the lake down the way, and then—to you. He paused, his features softening.
“I know you, don’t I?”
You clenched your jaw, fighting tears. You nodded.
“I know this place,” he continued, his voice a quiet whisper, as if he was worried who might overhear. “These people, too.”
“Yes, you do,” you confirmed gently. Panic began to wash over his features and you inched closer to him, setting your hand on his forearm. “It will come back to you, Bucky. I promise. Give it some time. I’ll be here when it does.”
His eyes drew down to where you touched him, where your hand gently squeezed his forearm, your thumb brushing tenderly over the lining of his jacket. He watched you as if you’d never done that before, like he’d never experience such kindness in a touch.
It wasn’t until long after the sun had gone down and the room coated in the comforting tones of the stars and moonlight beyond the window, the flash of the television illuminating the kitchen behind you, that Bucky finally spoke again.
You jolted up from your position, your cheek imprinted with the lines of his jacket. You hadn’t realized how close you were to nodding off, how much you’d leaned against his body and relied on his comfort, even in this state. But something was different as he wrung his hands in his lap, twisting around metal fingers and reddening the skin of his right hand.
Bucky swallowed nervously, lowering his head. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
He was expecting you to withdrawal, to be angry for the burden he’d placed upon you, but instead, all you could feel was relief. You threw yourself into his arms, burying your face to the crook of his neck. He held his arms out to the side, as if he were unsure if his own touch was wanted, until slowly, he allowed himself to hold you.
“Are you okay?” you asked against his collar, unable to pull away for even a moment.
Bucky sighed. “As okay as I can be, I suppose.”
You swallowed nervously. “How much do you remember?”
“All of it.”
You stilled; breath caught in your chest. Memory of the dehumanizing name still present on your tongue. “I’m sorry that I—that I called you—”
“It’s okay,” Bucky eased, his breath warm to the crown of your head. “You did what you had to. You got me out. I could have... I could have hurt you.”
“No,” you shook your head, determined. “You saved me, Bucky. Hell, you even tried to protect me from Scott. All you did was protect me.”
Bucky nodded, a flicker of realization in his eyes. “I guess even in that state I knew.”
“Knew what?” you asked, looking up at him.
Bucky smiled and pressed a kiss to your hairline. “That I could trust you with my life. That I would always protect you with it, too.”
You smiled at him, easing your hand against his cheek. Your thumb brushed sweetly over his cheekbone, your palm against the stubble on his jaw. Even as darkness clouded over him, even when he was lost to the confines of his own mind – he would find he way back to you.
He’d come home.
Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨
2K notes · View notes
abstract ; baby making sex with your husband.
pairing ; tfatws!bucky x f!reader
word count ; 2,521 words
content warnings ; talk of having kids, baby making sex [unprotected], intrusive thoughts [for bucky], pet-name [petal], baby-making sex positions, squirting, blowjob, oral, cum-play, praise kink, mocking & degradation [name called - slut], dumbification, alludes to public sex, soft and sweet moments — 18+ ONLY • MINORS DNI
notes ; starting the dilf!bucky protection squad because he deserves the world <3
Bucky Barnes wanted a baby. He wanted a family, a family that was his. A family with you. It was apparent that he’d been longing for it for as long as you could remember.
For a super-soldier ex Russian spy, he wasn’t that sneaky.
A list of baby names scribbled onto a piece of paper, tucked away in the pages of his favourite book.
The computer search history asking questions of how long does it take to get pregnant? A tab holding the question of best positions to make a baby? And, your favourite one yet, is 106 too old to be a dad?
Bucky had caught the baby fever.
You think it was because Sam had become a new dad and Bucky jumped at the opportunity of babysitting whenever you guys could, offering his help whenever, and even asking Sam questions about fatherhood.
It was sweet, wholesome, endearing, and it made you uncontrollably horny.
Because Bucky? As a fucking DILF? Fuck, yes.
Then he finally let it slip, cuddled up in bed, a comfort movie playing on the TV, but Bucky couldn’t pay attention to anything but the thought of starting a family with you.
“I wanna have a baby,” he blurted, his heart racing as you turned to look at him all while trying to hide the smile that was threatening to break free across your face.
“I wanna make you a mom,” he added, twiddling his thumbs and you could tell you nervous he was.
You reached out for his hand, cold and sleek, as you squeezed the prosthetic.
“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that, Buck,” you whisper softly, running your finger over where Bucky had his wedding band engraved where his fourth finger meets his knuckles.
He’d worried about how he would find a ring, but he found a better, more permanent solution to that problem and it only made you fall more in love with him as he engraved your initials on his palm.
That way, he could hold you no matter where you were.
“Really?” He sounds surprised as he pulls you onto his lap. You have to giggle, because he really was oblivious for the deadliest assassin to ever step foot on American soil.
“I wanna have your baby, Bucky. I wanna have as many babies as we want.” His eyes gloss over because truthfully, who would want to have a family with a monster like Bucky?
It took years of therapy, and Bucky was doing much better, but that’s the thing about intrusive thoughts; they never leave you alone.
So when Bucky got down on one knee, shaky hands holding the velvet box, he was sure that you would say no to his proposal.
But he had to admit, hearing you say that you want to carry his baby...his dick twitched at the thought.
And you noticed, because you smirked, raising an eyebrow, “should we get started tonight?”
That’s all it took for Bucky to flip you over, have you writhing under him as he whispered about how full he was going to have you. That you would be leaking by the time he was done with you.
Sex with Bucky was always mind-fucking-blowing.
But baby-making sex with Bucky?
Well it made you almost fucking astral project as he stepped up his already perfect game in the hopes of filling you with enough of his seed to make you nice and round.
And so, when you got your period the next month, you had to remind Bucky that it was going to take a little time. Even with his super-sperm, you were still human at the end of the day.
But Bucky just quirked an eyebrow, stepped closer to you and trapping you against the counter as he whispered, “guess that means I’ll be findin’ every and any excuse to pump you full of cum, isn’t that right, Plum?”
Leave it to Bucky to have you squirming at 10:32 AM on a Thursday morning.
It didn’t stop there, no, not when you were wearing Bucky’s favourite sundress to the park.
“You really expect me not to take you when you wear this?” He groans as his already wandering hands are grabbing and squeezing at your ass as you let out a soft giggle.
Okay, yeah. So maybe this was part of your plan.
“Baby my dick is so hard, I can’t go back there,” he whisper-yells pitifully as you’re hiding in the small wooded area.
The fallen tree branches crunch underneath both of your feet as he has you pressed up against a thick wooden tree. It scratches at your exposed skin, but you don’t care now that Bucky’s hiking your dress up and...
“Oh you little,” he can’t even finish his sentence as he meets your bare pussy.
He meets your eyes, they’re hungry as he licks his lips, “my little slut wanted to get fucked in the middle of the fuckin’ woods, huh?”
God, if this is how you and Bucky get pregnant, it would be one hell of a story.
See that’s the thing about Bucky; if he wants it, he’s making damn well sure that he’s getting it.
It had been a few months of trying to get pregnant, being given the all clear by the doctors, so really all you had to do was have stupid amounts of sex.
Bucky fist-bumped the doctor, he cheered and joked that the doctor had literally prescribed you guys sex.
He was just an overgrown fratboy with the skillset of someone who the KGB used to be afraid of.
But truthfully, that’s exactly what you had left to do. And Bucky was very proud of his craft which meant he always left you shaking at the end of the night, kissing you and telling you how proud of you he was.
Tonight was no different.
Dinner had been left on the table, cold and uneaten as Bucky pressed you against the wall and wedged his thigh between your legs only to pull back to gauge you reaction to the words that would come from his mouth next.
“’M hungry for somethin’ a little sweeter tonight, Plum. And ‘m feelin’ greedy.”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, gasping softly when he dug his thick, cool digits into the flesh of your cheeks effectively holding your face in whatever position he chose.
“Tonight,” he smirked. “I wanna watch you squirm, beggin’ for my cock, beggin’ me to fill you up ‘til you can’t take anymore.”
You sucked in a harsh breath, “because I’ll take care of you,” there was a sinister look in his eyes.
“But only if you behave.”
You whimpered, audibly, as your knees buckled slightly and then his lips were on yours in a greedy and needy kiss. There was nothing more you wanted than to feel his tongue against yours, but even that he wouldn’t give you so easily.
“Aww you poor little thing,” he cooes mockingly, “you gotta learn how to control yourself.”
As if his words would make you feel better. They only accelerated your heartbeat and the unevenness of your breathing.
“But Bucky,” you whined, not being able to get a single other word out as he shut you up by tightening his grip on your face.
“Shut up.” He growled, surprising you as your breathing stuttered in your chest, “get on your knees.”
You looked at him, dumbfounded, as if you didn’t speak English and he snapped his fingers in front of your eyes.
“Well? Did your dumb baby brain shut off? Do I have to dumb it down even further for you?” He continued to taunt you, “get on those knees and open your pretty little mouth for me.”
You’re being pushed down, strong hands on your shoulders before you’re met with his impressive bulge.
He’s teasing you, slowly undoing his belt and pulling his zipper down as you unconsciously lip your bottom lip in anticipation.
But Bucky catches it. “Desperate little thing, aren’t ya?”
Baby making sex with Bucky was never just about the sex. He always shifted his focus on you, knowing you better than you knew yourself, and making sure you were having a good time.
Which you really fucking were because your panties were fucking soaked. Drenched. Gone.
A shudder rolls over your body when he finally pulls himself free, giving himself a few strokes before you’re gently being slapped by it.
“Eyes on me, yeah? Focus, you pretty little thing.” He purrs with a wicked smirk, mischief in his eyes.
You feel the weight of his head against your lips, prompting you to open your mouth and slowly wrap your lips around him.
The hiss that leaves Bucky sounds like this is what he’s been needing — craving, even.
“Oh yeah, that’s it baby. Love your mouth so fuckin’ much,” he groans, eyes fluttering closed as you take him further.
You’ve memorized the spots on him that make him whimper and moan, hitting them with your tongue as his dick twitches in your mouth.
“Look’atcha,” he smirks, “mouth full of my cock and you’re squirmin’, huh?”
Shit. You were hoping he wouldn’t notice how unbelievably turned on you were — oh, who were you kidding?
Of course you wanted him to see how fucking wet you are.
Your brain was nothing but mush at this point, the only thoughts being anything and everything revolving around Bucky.
“Up,” Bucky said. “Stand.” His tone was much more demanding the second time around as you stood on shaky, wobbly legs.
Panties soaked, your core absolutely aching, and your makeup a mess as Bucky runs his thumb under your eyes and smirks.
“You look so pretty like this, Petal.” His voice is soft, but he’s going to think about this moment the next time you cry.
He loves it. He loves it when you cry because he gets to tell you how pretty you look — it’s fucked up, messed beyond belief, but you like it.
You enjoy being Bucky’s ruined little mess.
The moment doesn’t last and you don’t get to relish in it before your clothes are literally ripped off, leaving you with hard nipples at the sudden cool air surrounding you.
Then he pushes you against the even colder wall, chest against yours, “now I think it’s only fair we get you nice and ready.”
Bucky sinks to his knees, lips trailing down your body and he doesn’t break eye contact before he nuzzles his face between your thighs and his scruff sends a chill down your spine.
“Such a pretty cunt, God, I love this pretty little pussy,” he groans, placing your legs over his shoulders and he’s eating you out.
Eating you out against the wall, holding you up entirely as he digs his fingers into your hips and ass.
You think you’ll suffocate him with your thighs.
Bucky wants exactly that.
He’s lapping at you, licking, sucking, and drawing tight figure eights in your clit as you soak him with your slick.
When he lets out a moan against your pussy, you gasp as your walls flutter because of how goddamn close you are.
“Oh,” a whine cuts you off. “Oh Buck, so close.”
He already knows. He doesn’t need you to tell him that you’re about to cover him, drench him, he’s been craving it the entire day.
It’s so fucking hot he has to wrap a hand around his dick, slowly stroking himself because he’s painfully hard now — but he refuses to let himself cum until he’s buried deep in you.
Your orgasm rocks you, earthquake to your bones as you grip and tug at his hair before he’s coming up for air.
A cocky smirk and glistening lips, “could have you squirt over me every fuckin’ day.”
“But as much as I’d like to keep devourin’ you,” he’s standing up now, your legs wrapped around his torso as he’s making his way to the bedroom.
“I want to stuff you full even more.”
You’re thrown on the bed, relatively gently before Bucky is hovering over you with his dog tags swinging gently against your chest.
This is the moment you’ve been waiting for, but it doesn’t happen immediately. Instead, Bucky groans as he furrows his eyebrows.
“I read,” he mumbles to himself, grabbing a pillow from beside you, “that this could help.”
He’s patting your bum, “lift your hips up for me, Petal.”
You do as you’re told, intrigued and hey, if it’ll help, you’re willing to try anything.
He places the pillow beneath your hips so they’re lifted — raised up — but comfortably so and you’re just anticipating how deep he’ll be able to get with this angle.
“C’mon, Bucky,” you whine, grabbing for him. “Fuck a baby into me already.”
You swear he growls, pinning your wrists against the mattress as his nose bumps you and smirks, “oh, I’ll be sure to fuck you so full tonight, Petal.”
He lines himself up, sending a wink your way, “don’t you worry.” He says before he pushes in and groans so lowly that you can feel the vibrations running through his chest.
“Baby,” he whines, “baby oh you feel s’good.”
His thrusts are slow, but deep, making sure to relish the way your warm walls grip him as the bed creaks and shakes under the both of you. And thank God for Bucky’s internet search history.
Because this new position is not only comfortable, but Bucky is deeper than ever before.
“Want you to feel how deep I am,” he grunts, grabbing your one hand and placing it over your lower tummy and applying pressure over your hand as you whine.
“Yeah, you feel that?” He smirks, “God, you take me so fuckin’ well.”
The soft praises leave you reeling, clawing into his flesh trying to bring him closer but Bucky is set on watching his cum leak out of you so he can push it back in you.
His thrusts grow sloppier, brow creasing as he nuzzles his head in into your shoulder as you milk him with your own orgasm before he can no longer hold himself back.
“Fuck,” he’s panting. “’M cummin’, Petal.”
It leaves you shuddering, pulling him close as he sinks his teeth into you shoulder before kissing the indents of his teeth softly.
He’s still inside of you, sitting back on his heels as he’s massaging your hips, “not wastin’ a single drop tonight.” He proudly grins as you give him a tired and soft smile.
“Jus’ relax, baby,” he purrs, slowly pulling out of you after some time has passed.
Bucky sucks in a harsh breath at the sight of his cum leaking out of you, fingers collecting it and carefully spreading it over you, “’m gonna be takin’ care of you all night long.”
What you didn’t realize is that tonight was going to be the night.
A few weeks later, a positive pregnancy test, a teary eyed Bucky, and lots of kisses to your tummy as he whispers how much he loves the little Bean growing inside of you.
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ways writers can be inclusive 101
“my cheeks turned pink in embarrassment” → “my cheeks heated in embarrassment”
“his hand ran through my hair” → “his hand ran over my head/hair”
“her bright pink pussy” → literally anything else
stop using mood boards of only white couples/children (heavy on this one)
using children names like eveleigh ann (do i need to explain..)
her hair was put in a messy bun/her long silky hair...
Respectfully, I know it’s just fanfiction, but if you’re going to write reader insert fics then do the bare minimum of making sure it’s actually inclusive and not white coded. Many of us shouldn’t read an x reader fic and imagine a white woman every single time. Stop taking criticism from bipocs, saying your writing is not inclusive, as hate. Let go of the mindset that having a bipoc in your writing means they have to go through some racial struggle or you must talk about their culture (a lot of bipocs don’t know their culture/where they came from). It shouldn’t make you uncomfortable to write them in your stories, we’re normal people too. If it does maybe a reflection is meant to be had. Like i said, it’s just fanfiction and it’s supposed to be fun, but some of y’all are purposefully exclusive and still tag your writing wrong.
And if you can’t handle it, tag ur fic as an oc or white!reader. Because it’s not right for writers to attack people asking for inclusivity and playing victim bc they know they can.
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May I contribute
Bookworm! Bucky Barnes or Librarian! Bucky Barnes.
Like this man can open both books and legs.
Like one minute your both arguing over Shakespeare and the next he's having you read smut out loud as he gives you mindblowing orgasm again and again until you can barely make out the words on the page.
Paring: Chubby!Librarian Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 1.8K
Warnings: Smut, Minors DNI, 18+ only and always.
A/N: Don't copy, repost, rewrite or translate. I love likes, comments and reblogs! Written on my phone and unbeta’d
Normally Bucky is a bit shy and reserved. Content to spend his days among his books, making sure everything is in order in between helping people discover new authors.
Some days you stroll into the library to find him with his soft belly pressed into the counter, one elbow on the marble surface, a book in one hand, his lips parted as he reads.
When he’s really engrossed in a story, a wrinkle forms in the middle of his brows and he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth. His glasses perched atop his head as he squints at the page.
Occasionally his vibranium hand will sweep across the counter, gingerly searching for his cup of coffee or a snack, his eyes never leaving the words on the page.
You only heard him raise his voice once. Someone, a know it all, tried to insult one of his favorite writers and your soft-spoken librarian lost his shit.
It was beautiful.
The way his eyes widen and he spluttered before finding his voice, eloquently arguing his point as his voice deepened until the man backed away. You smiled to yourself, so proud of him. And you giggled behind your book when he immediately reverted to his shy self the second he realized he had a captivated audience.
A crimson blush swept up his neck to his rounded cheeks, his sky-blue eyes flitting to you. He nervously chewed the corner of his lip, debating with himself. Bucky wanted so desperately to speak to you, but he was worried you would think he was brash after his impromptu outburst.
Bucky looked down at his book with a frown, his brows pinched as he studied the cover, it’s not his usual reading material. As much as he loves the world of elves, knights and hobbits, he didn’t think he could impress you with his vast knowledge of the fantasy realms.
So 'how to ask a woman out in five easy steps' it was.
“Who’s the lucky lady?”
Bucky startled, flinging the book on the floor. You both glanced at it and then at each other. His blush deepened, his face getting hotter by the second until he was sure he was going to combust.
“Um, I wasn’t, I can’t read-I mean I can read, of course, I can read,” he huffed, laughing to hide his growing mortification as he tapped the counter, “but I wasn’t reading that,” he finished lamely.
“Whoever she is, I’m sure she’s worth it.” You said wistfully, setting your library card down.
Bucky sharply inhaled, as if he were trying to pull the words back into his mouth. His eyes flicked up, not sure what he was expecting to see, maybe a look of pity or worse disgust.
Instead, your face brightened, and you beamed, giving him a radiant smile so beautiful that it made him dizzy.
It took a few months but your sweet chubby boyfriend grew more confident around you.
Still sweet and shy as always until you discovered all you had to do was mix up elves and fairies, Roman and Greek mythology or gasp star trek with star wars and he would launch into these passionate tirades.
No, it’s not that you’re wrong Petal, it’s just that Zeus, well...he was nothing like Juno-he explained gingerly bordering between not wanting to hurt your feelings and being appalled by what you just told him-and hold on, hold on, I have a book.
Soon all you had to do was ask him to tell you about his favorite works and he would light up, clutching a book to his chest, his hand waving in the air as he spoke.
You could listen to him for hours, watching his mouth, occasionally breaking his concentration with kisses until his soft lips are swollen and he’s rattled.
Nothing compares to the sensation of him mumbling about a quest to reclaim a kingdom as he slowly melts into your kiss, his eyes fluttering shut as his words trail off into a moan.
Today his handsome face is flushed as he pushes his glasses back, fervently explaining why Langston Hughes doesn’t get enough credit. He’s pacing back and forth around the table as you scroll through your phone hidden in your book.
A particularly spicy scene draws your attention away from your man. Bucky’s rant tapers off to a suspicious hum as he watches you shift in your chair, your thighs clenching together. “Petal?”
You tap the screen trying not to squeal when the main character challenges the alpha.
“I can take it. Please.” You circle your hips, biting your lip when he grunts out a low, gravelly fuck. “Give it to me Alpha.”
You bite your index finger, thinking no you can’t, have you seen the size of his cock girl? You know can’t handle all that-
Bucky places his head on your shoulder. “What did you say?” His incredulous tone making you jump in the seat. Shit, did you say that aloud? Fuck.
“Oh hey Bucky,” you giggle, your face burning, damn it, you can’t let him see this, it’s just porn, you try to close the book over your phone but he places his hand on the page, tilting his chin towards you.
“Can’t handle a big cock, can you, Petal?”
Bucky picks up your phone, his eyes scanning across the page. “Remember, you begged for this,” he reads, his voice lowering, the unmistakable lust in his tone has you so damn wet.
Bucky places his cold vibranium knuckles on your jaw and pushes, just enough to turn your face to his, your lips brushing over his. “Is that what you like Petal?” He hums, his tongue darting across your bottom lip. “You wanna be my good girl?”
Fuck yes you do so badly. Hearing those words on his tongue has you dripping, your clit pulsating, begging for his touch.
“You want me to eat your sweet pussy until you beg me to stop.” He kisses right over your pulse point, fuck it’s getting hard to breathe. He’s not done, his lips ghosting across your ear. “You always taste so fuckin good Petal, you can fuck my face as much as you want.”
You whimper as he bites down on your earlobe. What happened to your sweet boyfriend and how are you so wet. Bucky places your phone on your lap, stepping around you, letting his finger trail across the back of your neck and you shiver, feeling those cold smooth digits go up your jaw until he’s tilting your chin up.
“Gonna split you open on my cock, fuck you so hard you won’t walk straight for days-“ he promises. “But first I want you to do something for me, Petal.”
“Oh god, please I can’t Bucky,” Your sheets scrunched in your fist as you cry out. “Please, Bucky.”
A deep thrust has you keening, your walls clenching down over his thick cock, sensations clawing up your belly as his swollen tip finds that sweet spot. fuckfuckfuck, that feels so good.
“You’re taking me so well, Petal, being so good for me,” he praises, his soft belly grazing over your back as he thrusts into you. “Keep going pretty girl.”
You rock your hips back, craving more friction, needing just a little more to put you over the edge. Bucky pulls back with a soft tut as you drop your weight your forearms. You want to scream please Bucky, but you know what he wants.
You lift your head, blinking, trying to clear your blurry vision, the words swimming across the screen. “You swear you’re being split into two, ah fuck,” you gasp, his hips snapping faster into your tight pussy, a burst of pleasure has you pounding your fist on the bed.
You have to keep reading, fuck you’re almost there, the coil in your belly forming an almost painful knot as his strokes quicken. It’s hard to concentrate with him fucking you so good, but you know what’s about to happen if you finish and your pussy throbs around him.
You take a deep breath in, “-into two as he moves deeper and deeper,” the words spill out into an incomprehensible jumble.
Bucky places his hands on your waist, lifting his leg on the bed and he slams into you, thrusting so deeply needing you to feel every ridge and vein against your wet velvety walls, wanting you to cum for him. Your back arches as the intense sharp sensations burn across every fiber of your being, the coil shattering with each filthy sloppy grind of his cock into your aching cunt, your loud frantic moans drowning out his that’s it, that’s my girl.
Bucky’s own frenzied grunts echoing in the room, his pace erratic as he chases his high, your warmth squeezing him tighter until he spills inside you, filling you with his thick, hot cum as he praises you for making him feel so good, keep milking my cock, that’s it just like that, fuck you’re so good petal.
You collapse on the bed, arms splayed out, you vaguely hear your phone clattering to the floor as you sigh, soaking in the blissful sensations as your pussy pulsates, the small aftershocks of your orgasm vibrating through you.
Bucky pulls out of you with a wet plop, grinning at his cum seeping out of your puffy cunt. He lies beside you, a sweaty pleased smile on his face, propping his head on his palm.
“How was that Petal?” He asks eagerly, as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out.
You nod, panting heavily through your nose. “Where did that come from?”
Bucky sits up, stretching his arms behind his back. “I saw all those Alpha male books you’ve been hiding from me.”
He chuckles at your shocked squeak, dipping his head to give you a tender, loving kiss. “I may have read one or two and figured why not give my girl what she wants.”
“I’ll be right back,” Bucky smacks your ass, his fingers soothing away the sting before climbing out of bed. Your mouth drops open as you stare at your boyfriend. “Gotta get you cleaned up.”
He saunters to the bathroom, pausing in the doorway. Piercing blue eyes capture yours and your stomach drops from the look he’s giving you. Your heart skips a breath as his lips curl into a mischievous smirk. “Oh and Petal, I may have downloaded some books we can reenact. If you want of course.”
You dive off the bed, snatching your phone off the floor. You fumble through the apps until you find your kindle. And then you see what he bought, oh hell yes, hell fucking yes, you’re so excited you almost throw your phone.
“And Petal,” he starts, waiting for you to look up at him, “I got a few things in my personal collection I can’t wait to show you.”
“More books?” You ask, eyes widening when he shrugs. “Bucky what-what things?”
He winks. “You’ll see.”
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Can I have a Biker/Mob Bucky with a forced marriage trope? 💦💦 (Breeding kink please?)
Title: Promised to Him
Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader
Summary: You return back to your town after years, hoping to start anew. But faces of the past reappear, set to fulfill promises you had made years ago.
Warnings: Non-con, forced marriage, breeding kink, kidnapping, language, 18+ ONLY
It was strange how this town never seemed to have aged. Everything was almost exactly how you remembered it to be. Even the smell of the place seemed the same: hyacinths that grew in almost every house, stale coffee, and motor oil. Being back here proved to be more difficult than you thought, for everyone was keen to catch the look of the girl who ran away.
Nobody ever really left this town, and if they did, they had the good sense to be gone forever. You held more than mere curiosity; you held their smug resentment too. They had told you when you’d left for university years ago that you will regret leaving, but you never knew they’d make you regret coming back too.
“They don’t sell them carrots at the city, do they?” The cashier taunted you, putting your groceries in a bag. You held in your retort, reading her name tag and recognizing her as one of the girls you went to school with.
“How much?” You asked, not rising to the bait.
“I would charge you extra for being you, but alas, it’s all paid for. Grab ‘em and take ‘em and leave.” She said, rolling her eyes at you. You stood still in surprise, your wallet open in your hands.
“Excuse me?” You said, bringing her attention back to you from the other customer she had started on. “Paid for? How? By whom?”
The look you got told you exactly where she thought you could stick your questions in. That was one thing you missed about the city. Everyone was too busy in their lives to care about someone else. People there were aloof, often even cold, but that suited you just fine.
“Look, I haven’t got time for you. You’re blocking the queue.”
You struggled for a moment, determined to hold your ground when the person behind you huffed in irritation. Taking your stuff, you bowed your head down and exited the store, ignoring the murmuring that followed you. Oh god, how you wished to return to the city where all that was expected of you was to pay rent and do your job? You had never expected to be laid off so suddenly, nor find yourself alone and helpless enough to let your mother convince you to return home.
It had been years, but your legs remembered the way home easily. You’d played in these alleys, stolen sweet kisses behind the trees in your youth. They remembered you just the same, the birds chirping out their hello to you, the only ones to do so sweetly as you passed.
You were almost to your home when the rumble of bikes reached you. You sidestepped, walking along the edge of the road to allow them to pass, however, they slowed near you and purred alongside. Raising your head to look at them, you caught your breath. Well, you suppose it was time for him to show up anyway. You’d been expecting him since the day you came back.
“Bucky”, You whispered, watching him dismount his bike and walk over to you. Steve and Sam smiled at you from their own bikes, though they didn’t climb down. They all seemed to have grown buffer, stronger than before and you spied some new tattoos inking under the collar of their shirts.
Bucky stopped directly before you, his long hair tied back into a small pony. His blue eyes were fixed on you, the curve on his lips widening as you began squirming under his gaze. Tilting his head to the side, he asked, “Doing okay sweetheart?”
His voice had deepened, a scar near his eyebrow dimpling as he regarded you. You gulped uneasily, the last day you’d seen him flashing behind your eyelids, that confrontation still ringing in your ears. It was dim hope that he’d have forgotten about that, but by the steely look in his eyes as well as the danger he exuded, you knew that to be false. Bucky Barnes was not one for forgiving, and never for forgetting.
“Hi.” You softly greeted him and his friends, managing a forced smile. Sam waved at you cheekily and your eyes flitted between the three of them nervously, your fingers playing with the strap of your grocery bag.
“Been a long time.” Bucky said, coming closer. Almost unconsciously you stepped back to maintain some distance, watching his smirk widen as he pushed you back against the wall, cornering you in the isolated alley. “Come on sweetheart, you don’t need to look so scared. The last time I saw you, you were spitting fire.”
You touched the cold wall behind your back as if asking it to give away a little. This was not how you’d expected to meet him again. You thought he’d show up at your house, ready to continue the argument that had cemented your decision of leaving this town, but meeting him in a dark alley was not something you wanted. You had no control here, nothing to defend yourself against him.
“I have to get home soon.” You pathetically said, looking away from him. “We can talk later.”
Bucky chuckled, placing a hand on the wall beside your face as he bent to bring his face level to your own. “Of course sweetheart. About time you came home, hm?” Tucking a stray hair behind your face, his eyes still hard, he smiled before taking your hand and pulling you with him. You protested, digging your heels into the ground as Steve and Sam watched in silence.
“Bucky, stop!” You said, hitting his back with your fists until he jerked around to roughly pull you to himself, your grocery falling away from you and spilling on the ground. “Aah! What are you doing?”
Anger that had not rushed in your veins in years rose to the surface again, your eyes blazing at him in fierce rage. Years ago, he had done something similar and it had sent you skipping town in the dead of night, and looking at him now you knew it was the right decision. Just like this town that never stopped living in the past, Bucky refused to move forward and change.
“What am I doing?” He asked, fingers digging painfully in your arms. “I am doing what I should have done then. What did you expect baby, that you’ll come back here and we’ll pretend nothing ever happened?”
You slapped your hands on his chest to push him away, barely managing to put an inch between you. Two people walked past you, looking at the scene before quickening their steps and going away. You didn’t even try calling for help. Nobody would interfere with Bucky and his people, not if they knew what was good for them.
“What happened between us was in the past Bucky.” You snapped, trying to keep angry tears at bay. “Don’t make the same mistakes you made then. Let me go!”
Incensed by your words, he squeezed you harder until you cried out in pain, whimpering in his hold. This was only the second time he had put his hands on you, a reminder of the strength he packed and how it was barely kept at bay.
“Buck,” Steve called suddenly, “come on man, you’re hurting her. Let up, you know we don’t hurt our own.”
Almost instantly his hold slackened, thumb running gently over the place where you’re sure you’ll bruise tomorrow. His eyes went soft, almost apologetic as he stroked your cheek. “You’ve always had a way of getting under my skin.” He said, linking your fingers together. “Come on now, I am taking you home. You’re not getting away from me again.”
As he tried to take you away, you shook your head, a traitorous tear sliding down your face. He refused to listen to anything you said, Sam and Steve ignoring your pleas to them as their bikes rumbled to life. You looked back, a hand reaching out for your fallen groceries as if they could anchor you and prevent your taking.
“Leave them. I paid for them after all so I can leave them to rot.” Bucky snapped, forcing you onto his bike. Cupping your jaw, he stared into your eyes until he knew all your attention was on him. “Hold on. You can try to run away, but you’ll only break bones this time. This time, you won’t break my heart.”
He climbed in front on you, taking your hands and pulling them around his waist, squeezing them in warning. Then in a roar of engine, you were flying with him, the wind whipping against your tear-stained face as you drove past your house and back to the past.
Back to square one, that’s where you were at. The boys hadn’t renovated their house, but it still looked huge and intimidating. Walking in, you were flooded with the memories of your teenage years spent playing with them, your first kiss with Bucky in the kitchen, the first night you spent in his bed, the very last night you spent here and in this town. This used to be your heaven, today, it was your hell.
“Have someone bring her stuff round here.” Bucky said, his fingers wrapped around your wrist though you’d stopped struggling a while ago.
“Nat and Clint are already on it.” Sam said, chucking his shoes off and flopping dramatically on the couch.
You bit your lip at the news, scared for your mother. You’d known Nat and Clint for years, but you doubted they’d taken your leaving any better than the other members of the gang. Bucky turned to look at you and sighed, cupping your chin to press a kiss on your forehead.
“They’ll behave themselves.” He promised. “You’re my girl, your family is my family. Nobody’s gonna harm them.”
Even now with the years long gone by, he could read you like an open book. Your love may have faded, and his may have soured, but the remains of it that lingered between you were potent and strong. How had things gone so wrong? How can the man you would have once taken a bullet for scared you enough that you just left?
“Buck,” You softly said, trying to appeal to the softer side of him. “It’s not too late, please let me leave. We can talk over this.”
He had rarely denied you anything, but this man was not the man you’d known before. Bucky exchanged an amused glance with his friends before looking at you like you were the dumbest, cutest thing ever.
“Sweetie, don’t worry your head. We’ll have a lifetime to talk after the ceremony, hm? Come on, you need rest.”
Bucky started you up the stairs and you screeched, shouting curses at Steve and Sam who were scrolling down their phones. If by any fluke they let you in the kitchen, you vowed to poison the lot of them.
“What ceremony?” You asked, panting as you tried to keep up with Bucky’s stride. “Bucky! What ceremony?”
He didn’t answer until you reached his room. You sucked in a breath as you entered. This was the room you had slept your last night in town, well, not really slept. You’d crept away from his bed and rushed home to pack and disappear, leaving a scrawled note for your mother and Bucky that you’re leaving early for your studies and would not be coming back.
Bucky watched you take in the room, standing behind you with his arms around your waist. He’d taken your virginity in this bed, promised a lifetime of happiness.
“Not much has changed, has it?” He asked, placing a scratchy kiss on your neck. “You can redecorate if you want.”
You gulped as you found a picture of yourself beside his bed, one taken on your 19thbirthday, merely days before you skipped town. You both looked so happy that day. Bucky had finished university while you were only considering joining one. He hadn’t been happy about you looking for ones in the city, but that day he had promised you no arguments and fights. It was such a beautiful day with all your friends and family wishing you the very best.
“I remember that day.” Bucky said, following your gaze. “I made you cum so many times that night that I had to carry your downstairs in the morning. You were always so responsive to my touch.”
As he talked, his hands moved, roving over your frame. You shivered when he grazed your sides and under your breasts, pushing his hardness firmly into you. Whimpering, you placed a hand on his wrist to stop him and he stilled before grabbing you by your shoulder and turning you to face him.
“Bucky, please don’t.” You begged, tears prickling your eyes. “Why are you doing this?”
He blinked at you before smiling tenderly, tucking a strand of hair behind your year. Gently leading you backwards, he pushed until you were at the edge of the bed. With a shove, you bounced on the mattress and crawled up on your elbows, watching in fear as Bucky deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, his eyes boring into yours.
“Why am I doing this?” He asked, titling his head. His shirt fluttered to the ground, leaving him bare from waist up and you couldn’t help but stare at your name tattooed right over his heart. “I am doing this because you promised yourself to me.”
Pants roughly pushed down, he quickly came forward to pull you back by your ankle as you tried to escape. Climbing over you with only his boxers on, he held you down with one strong thigh thrown over yours, the blue in his eyes darkening.
“You remember those days?” He asked, “We were only teenagers when you promised you’d marry me. You were spoken for, always. We were always meant to be!”
His lips descended over yours, claiming them after years with a passion that hit you like a punch in the gut. You sobbed into the kiss, your nails raking across his back as you wiggled under his body.
“We were kids!” You protested, screeching when Bucky tore through your clothes to bare you to his hungry gaze. “It didn’t mean anything!”
“It meant the world to me!” Bucky harshly said, breath warm on your face. His rough fingers traced your cheek before holding your jaw in place, pressing a kiss on your pouted lips. “You meant the world to me. You still do.”
Cold air met your sweaty skin as he forced you out of your tattered clothes, licking and biting every patch of skin he exposed. You cried out, pulling on his hair to deter him.
“Bucky, this isn’t you. You wouldn’t hurt me like this.” You gently said, softening your touch until his eyes were on you. “We promised each other a lot of things. You promised never to hurt me.”
He bunched the cloth of your panty and ran his thumb over your covered slit, taking in your gasps with delight. Leaning down, his nose nuzzled into your hair and he sniffed you, holding you hostage.
“That’s right.” He agreed, pressing a kiss to your temple as he kept rubbing you. “Just like you promised never to leave me. And then you did.”
Your panty was torn away with one powerful tug, it’s elastic chaffing your skin and making you cry out. Bucky’s eyes feasted on your glistening sex, his tongue running across his bottom lip in wonderment at your moist center. Carefully collecting your dewy essence on his thumb, he brought it to his mouth and sucked it, closing his eyes as he tasted you again after what felt like ages.
“Nothing intoxicates me more than your taste.” He said, holding your hands tight. Lowering his boxers, he presented you his thick cock, the very sight of which had you tremble. What is this large before? “I would have loved to taste you again, to have you come in my mouth again and again and then take you until the sun preyed upon our tryst with voyeuristic eyes. But I have waited far too long for you. Today is the day I will bind you to myself. Forever.”
Every plea falling from your lips meant nothing to him and he positioned himself over your weeping slit, his hardness lubed in your juices. Your wrists were pinned beside your head, his blue eyes churning like the evening sky and gleaming with the light of burning stars. In one push of his hips, he sheathed himself inside your warmth, your gasp matched only by his groan that reverberated through the room.
“Oh god!” You exclaimed, struggling to take him in. It had been far too long since you’d laid with a man, especially one as large at Bucky. He stretched you to accommodate him, rolling his pelvis until you keened pathetically.
“Oh yes, I am your god. And by sundown tomorrow, I’ll be your husband.”
He maintained a steady rhythm, pumping in and out of you in long strokes that had you whimpering. It felt too good, too sensual. Bucky burned with the need to possess you, but it was impossible to separate his love away from his obsession. You felt his light and his darkness in equal amounts, the sparks of his fire reaching you and forcing you to burn too.
“Bucky – I, please.” You begged, incoherent with pleasure. The last night you were under him flashed behind your eyes, a major wave of déjà vu rolling down your spine. A heated promise of matrimony was made, followed by an equally powerful night in the sheets where he forced you to shout to the heavens that you’d take his ring and name. The very next day, you were gone. But today, he held on tight. There won’t be any escaping now.
“Look at me.” He hissed, toying with your clit, bruising your shoulders and neck with his passionate kisses. “Look at me and fall apart. Let me see your walls break down. I am claiming you again baby, and there won’t be no leaving this time.”
You came like a thunderstorm ravaged your insides, flooding your channel with heat that bubbled around his length. His breath hitched, eyes squeezed tight as you clamped around him. It took a while for you to realize you were crying, the salt of your tears on Bucky’s lips as he kissed them away, eyes too tender for the way he was taking you against your will.
A monster had no right to be this beautiful, nor so full of love.
Biting your lips, you shook you head as the familiar tingling in your abdomen began anew. Bucky tensed, his thrusts choppier and jerkier as he neared his edge too.
“Yes baby, one more time.” He said, “Come on, let me love you again. Open your heart to me.”
The tidal wave of emotions that you couldn’t keep at bay swept over you again, your back arching. Your nipples scratched against the hair on Bucky’s chest, the added stimulation causing you to groan in pleasure far too great to bear. Shuddering in delight, you fell apart and Bucky grunted, holding you tighter as he prepared to unload into you.
“I’m gonna fuck our brat into you.” He promised and your eyes widened. You weren’t on any pills. “Let’s see you run away now. Once you’re my wife, the mother of my child, you’ll never leave.”
“No!” You shouted, but to no avail. Bucky let out a moan, his face buried in your neck as he came inside you, flooding you with his spent. You cried at the feeling of his warmth inside you, cried at your freewill being snapped like a stretched rubber band. His hold loosened, an arm wrapped around your waist and bringing you in his side.
Turning your face to him, you sniffled when he softly wiped away your tears. Kissing you deep, he lost all the hardness that he had had earlier today, bringing to you the wounded look that had probably stayed with him for years after your departure.
“I love you so much. I never stopped loving you.” He said, blindly reaching back into his nightstand until he got the velvet lined box out. You swallowed thickly because your reality was staring you in the face with an ultimatum. No was not an option.
Knowing that the rest of your life might go much easier with a loving man by your side, you sidled closer, brushing his scruffy jaw gently. His eyes misted at your voluntary touch, overwhelmed. You’d loved this man once more than life itself. If the only shot at happiness you had was reigniting that, you’d start now.
“I will love you again too.” You promised, not knowing if it was your vulnerability or your helplessness that prompted this. “You gotta give me some time.”
Taking your hand, Bucky slipped in a diamond ring and kissed your fingers before kissing you.
“You’ll have all the time in the world almost Mrs. Barnes. We’re getting married tomorrow.”
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𝙡𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙙𝙚 ; 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀
summary┃a new city, a new house, a new life, & a new hot neighbour who just so happens to be really good with his hands.
pairing┃neighbour!bucky x f!reader
word count┃2,600 words
warnings┃talk of cheating [readers ex-husband], talk of divorce, reader doesn’t want kids [kid-free by choice], character mention: sam wilson, sexual tension with bucky, pet-name [plum], mention of spanking, lots of teasing, bucky works out shirtless, sexual activities in the kitchen, bucky takes readers panties off with teeth, bucky keeps readers panties, oral, squirting, sex against window, exhibitionism, dog tag kink, choking [bicep], dumbification [dumb baby, stupid, big girl words], belly bulge kink, size kink, mocking + degradation, breeding kink, wife/housewife kink, unprotected sex — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI
notes┃trying out a new format <<3
It was always men that managed to ruin your life.
From your high school boyfriend abandoning you at prom or your that one college hookup that managed to say all the wrong things.
It was always men.
You thought your husband, ex, husband was different. That’s why you agreed to marry him in the first place.
He was sweet and charming, whisking you away on dates and telling you how pretty you looked.
The facade didn’t last. After the honeymoon is when things slowly started crumbling.
He began picking up longer working hours, claiming that it was exactly what you guys needed to start a family.
A family? He never listened to you.
You didn’t want kids. In fact, you were incredibly happy being the aunt to all you nieces and nephews making sure that you were their safe space.
It was never in your books to have kids.
So when you discovered that you wonderful, loving, caring husband had cheated on you—you didn’t hesitate to draft up divorce papers, find a new place, and then spend six months travelling the world.
You met amazing people and made amazing memories. But you were back again at a new city city, a new job, and a new house.
It felt so…empty.
Minimalism not by choice, but by necessity.
A few pictures hung on the walls, some of your family and friends, but were mostly cheap prints you found at your local home goods store.
A work in progress, is what you told yourself as you slowly settled in. It didn’t have to perfect.
The neighbourhood was nice; cute, quaint, and quiet. The people were nice and helpful, welcoming you as you caught the eyes of a particular neighbour.
Everyone called him James, but he introduced himself as Bucky as he extended an arm for you to shake.
It was warm, a beaming smile on his face as he pointed to the u-haul truck in your driveway, “need any help?”
You remember shaking your head, pride and ego too high before Bucky scoffed and said “you expect me to believe that a pretty little thing like you is gonna carry in an entire couch by herself?”
You felt embarrassed. You therapist did tell you that it was okay to ask for help, so you finally caved.
Bucky called over another neighbour; Sam.
He made you laugh within the first five minutes as his nephews came barrelling down the street yelling “we can help!”
And they did, the two boys probably did more than the three adults ever did—and the best part is that they still had energy by the end of it.
“I don’t have much, but how about I order us some pizza’s as a thank you?” You offered, shutting your fridge as you realized you had nothing but a few beers and some ketchup.
Sam laughed, “I’ll take you up on that offer next time, but I’ve gotta get back.”
You thanked him profusely, telling that the pizza offer didn’t expire before it was just you and Bucky.
The old you would have never asked for help, let alone offering a stranger dinner, but here you were.
You both are swapping stories before the night grew young and you’d swapped numbers.
Yeah, this neighbourhood was alright.
Bucky had a habit of doing most things shirtless.
Not like you minded, in fact, it didn’t seem like anyone in the neighbourhood really minded. Only Sam ever giving Bucky shit asking do you even own any shirts?
It was Sunday morning which meant you’d woken up to multiple sets of lawnmowers and the faint sound of chirping birds before you’d decided that you’d add your brand new hydrangea tree to your front yard.
Lucky for you, Bucky had decided to workout at the same time.
He jogged past you, stopping to send you a wink, “lookin’ good, plum!” He chuckled, stopping on his driveway as you saw the gym equipment in his garage.
You could do nothing but shake your head and laugh as you continued to prod at the dirt.
The sexual tension that Bucky carried with him was obvious. You’d learned very quickly that everyone was interested in getting into Bucky’s pants, but no one had ever gotten that lucky.
He loved the attention though, he had to as he did pull-ups in full view of everyone.
It wasn’t long until his sweaty torso, dog tags clinging softly, was making it’s way over to you as he brushed a few beads of sweat off his forehead before crouching down beside you.
“What are these?” He asked, slightly out of breath as you dropped the small shovel in your hand, “hydrangea’s.” You answered, smiling as you finished patting the soil.
He hummed, “they smell sweet.”
You nodded your head, “they’re my favourite.”
Bucky looked at you, smiling, “not as sweet as you though, plum.”
It was an instinct to roll your eyes as Bucky chuckled, the two of you standing up as the local power walking club passed you; mostly paying attention to the shirtless Bucky.
You couldn’t blame them.
“You wanna come in for some lemonade? It’s freshly squeezed,” you enticed him as he chuckled, “I’d love some.”
Bucky knew your house all too well, his trips becoming so frequent that you had decided to give him the tour one night before dinner.
They were cookie cutter houses, an identical copy to all the other houses on the block, but Bucky still took the tour as if his life depended on it.
“Any plans for today?” You asked, opening the fridge as you grabbed the glass pitcher while Bucky slid onto one of the bar stools.
“I’ve got a few case files to look over tonight,” he groaned as you poured him a tall glass and slid it over to him before you did the same for yourself.
Bucky was an attorney, so it made sense as to why he didn’t have wife.
Or at least that’s what you told yourself because surely there’s eligible people that he’s shown interest in.
His work hours were hectic and never consistent, some days staying in the office until five and other until one in the morning.
“Well then here’s to the weekend,” you smiled, raising your glass as Bucky did the same, lightly tapping them against one another before taking a sip.
He let out an approving moan, eyes locked with yours as he licked the remaining lemonade from his bottom lip; but he knew what he was doing.
“Almost as sweet as you,” he was proud, the smirk on his lips telling enough as you shook your head, “you’ve gotta put that pent up sexual energy to use, James.”
The slip of his name always did something to him, watching the way his eyes darkened just a little.
“Plum if you call me James one more time I’ll have no choice but to put you over my knee,” he deadpanned, your breath catching in your throat at the prospect.
Was that something you were into? You weren’t sure, but for Bucky? You’d try anything once.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” you mumbled jokingly, half jokingly, as you began wiping the counter down to distract yourself from the fact that Bucky had stood up and was reaching his black and gold arm out to place over yours; stopping your movements.
“Let’s stop playin’ this game,” he purrs, heavy hand tugging you so you’re facing him.
His hair has grown since you’d met him almost eight months ago, pushed back from his sweaty workout as you meet his gaze.
It’s darkened, pupils consuming his irises as you swallow thickly, “what game?”
He shakes his head, looking down as another smirk tugs at his lips, “don’t act stupid with me now.”
A shiver rolls down your spine at the authority in his voice and the way he’s holding you by your bicep.
“Don’t act like you don’t think ‘bout me late at night,” he purr, voice dropping an octave and you can smell him.
There’s sweat and bergamot, presumably his deodorant as you’re chewing on the inside of your cheek.
“Do you wanna know what I think about, plum?” He then cooes, cupping your face gently with his cool palm.
You can only nod your head.
He turns your head, “see those windows?” He asks, your eyes scanning the large living room glass before you nod your head.
“They look out into the entire neighbourhood,” he whispers, “and I’ve dreamin’ ‘bout the day I get to fuck you ‘gainst them for everyone to see.”
His words make you gasp, breath hitching in your throat as you have to bite your lip to stop the moan that threatens to slip past your lips.
“Dreamin’ ‘bout the day I get to make you mine.”
You feel butterflies, but not in your tummy.
He pulls you close again, pressed against his crotch and oh.
“That’s what you do to me,” you wiggle your hips instinctively, finding your confidence and Bucky sees this.
“Use those big girl words of yours, plum. I know you’re a smart girl,” he mocks, tapping your lip and suddenly you forget how to speak.
“I want you to use me,” you finally manage to spit out, watching the way Bucky’s face lights up and the way his cock twitches against your hip.
“Good girl, see what happens when you put that baby brain of yours to work?” He taunts you, already bunching your sundress until he’s hiking it around your waist so he can slip his fingers under your panties.
It makes you gasp, eyes closing and mouth opening as he runs warm fingers through your folds.
“So fuckin’ wet,” he growls, “barely need any warmin’ up, could probably take my cock right now, so desperate.”
Oh how his taunts makes your knees weak.
He’s quick to sink to his knees, nose prodding your covered core as he looks up at you before he’s biting your panties with his teeth and slowly tugging them down your legs.
That’s a new one.
It causes a moan to bubble, leaning against your counter as he shoves your panties into his pocket, “I think I’ll keep these.”
Do whatever you want, just touch me you keep repeating in your head as you feel his hot breath over your pussy.
His mouth is finally over you, lapping your juice up as he hums and moans against you. The vibrations are enough to have you teetering on the edge, his beard rubbing against your inner thighs and you’ll be feeling that tomorrow.
“God,” he groans, “you’re so fuckin’ sweet, plum.”
You look down, seeing the way he’s palming himself through his shorts all while he’s eating you out and it sends a shiver running over your body.
He pulls away, lips glistening under the light filtering through your windows, “have you ever squirted?”
The question catches you off-guard, mouth slightly agape as you stutter out nonsense.
“I-uh, I think? Maybe, once, I-I don’t,” you don’t know what the right answer is, but Bucky just hushes you.
“I want you to relax, okay? Don’t think, jus’ feel.” He explains as you swallow and nod your head before he’s back between your legs.
He starts slow again, with his tongue flat against you before feel his fingers at your entrance.
When he slowly stretches you, curling his vibranium fingers, there’s absolutely no holding back.
“That’s it baby,” he cooes, “can feel you squeezin’ me, I know you wanna,” it’s a slightly foreign feeling. The tightness and pressure mixing and meshing with each other as sudden waves start washing over you.
It happens all of a sudden, a loud yelp leaving you as you soak Bucky’s face and chest, and Bucky looks feral.
He’s up, standing, before pulling you into a kiss, your first kiss, where you can taste yourself.
“You ever done that, plum?” He asks, heaving chest and aching cock as you shake your head, “no.”
““Course you haven’t, but that sweet cunt’s mine now, gonna have you squirtin’ every goddamn day.” He growls, quickly tearing your dress off of you, taking a step back and admiring you.
“You see this?” He pulls his cock free, pumping himself, “all because of you.”
You’re kissing him again, skin against skin, as you’re moving towards the large windows in the early afternoon light before Bucky has you pressed up against it.
The glass is cold against your skin, nipples perking up as you gasp again, “now everyone’ll know jus’ who you belong to.”
It makes you whimper, feeling him run the head of his cock through your folds teasingly.
He kicks your feet apart further before he’s wrapping his bicep around your neck, getting so close to your ear that you can feel his breath against you.
When he sinks into your slowly, you relax against him, “fuck,” he hisses, “so fuckin’ tight.”
Your walls flutter around him, greedily grabbing him as you swallow him.
“Takin’ my cock so well, baby. And all for the neighbours to see,” he chuckles lowly, bottoming out and pulling your back flush against his chest.
His warm, wandering hand starts down at your clit, teasing you before slowly running up your tummy before he groans.
“M’so deep ‘side you, can you feel me?” He purrs, pressing on the belly bulge as another low groan echos in your ear.
“Bucky,” you whine, wiggling your ass as you feel your slick against your own thighs now, without a doubt dripping onto Bucky too.
“Aww, sweetheart,” he’s mocking now, “you need’a be fucked? Can feel how wet and desperate you are.”
He rocks his hips, a gentle taunt as he gets even deeper.
“S’okay,” he cooes, “m’gonna take care of ya even better than that husband of yours ever did.”
He then snaps his hips harshly, taking the breath from your lungs as you’re pressed harder against the glass.
You can feel his now hot dog tags pressed against your back, clinking together as he fucks you deep and hard.
“C’mon, plum,” he grunts, “want you to squirt over my cock.”
The same pressure is there again, like a rubber band waiting to snap as Bucky’s fingers find your clit and you can’t hold it back anymore.
You’re soaking his cock, pushing him out with the force of your orgasm as Bucky bites down on your shoulder before he’s slipping back inside of you.
“My dirty slut, gettin’ fucked for the neighbours to see,” he growls, “but ‘m not satisfied yet.”
He’s grabbing your ass, squeezing the supple flesh, “cum for me, cream over my cock, plum. Let me breed you.”
You’re whimpering, voice leaving you as you feel your orgasm gripping your body in immense pleasure before Bucky’s hips are stuttering deep inside of you and you can feel the twitch of his cock.
The sound of Bucky cumming, deep, rumbling moans replay in your mind as you find your breath again, his bicep relaxing from your neck.
He presses soft kisses to your shoulders and neck, turning you around with a lazy smile.
“You’d make a great wife, y’know that?” He smirks, wiping your bottom lip, “sweet, innocent lookin’ thing on the outside, but fuck do you make my knees weak, plum.”
You can’t help but giggle, pulling him in by his dog tags, “take me to dinner first, James.” You purr teasingly, watching him bite his lip, “only if I can have you for dessert.”
Dessert, breakfast, lunch, dinner? Bucky didn’t care, he just wanted you always.
And he finally got you.
3K notes · View notes
What if Bucky and the reader are in a relationship and he finds out he’s really into being a pleasure dom and wants to try it with the reader? 👀
Pleasure Dom Bucky, yes please 😩 you just know that mf would take such good care of you after a long stressful week. Honestly, this one took me a hot minute to write because I had to do some research for it lmao, I hope it’s okay!
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 5.6k
Summary: You have a terribly long week at work so Bucky helps you relax
Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it pls), PleasureDom!Bucky, sub reader, pet names, praise kink, degradation, size kink, breeding kink, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, oral (f receiving), somnophilia (done with consent established previously), daddy kink, the dog tags make an appearance, mention of safe words, overstimulation, lil voyeurism (watching yourselves in a mirror), light humiliation
Minors, do not interact
What had started out as a week with very little in your calendar soon turned into an absolute killer. You weren’t quite sure how your time got filled up so quickly, wall to wall meetings scheduled into your diary, leaving you hardly any time to even breathe. The meetings themselves weren’t even the worst part, the worst was knowing that after your work day had officially ended, you had endless catching up to do for your other projects and then all the planning for the meetings the following day. Your sleep was limited, as was Bucky’s. He hated going to bed without you, tossing and turning in the sheets for hours until you eventually gave in and joined him. As the week went on you found yourself only getting more and more stressed. By Friday you were almost ready to lie in bed and not move all weekend, just hoping Monday wouldn’t bring more of the same torture.
When 5pm on Friday rolled around, Bucky was standing waiting at the door to your study, adamant that your laptop would be switched off and hidden from you all weekend, along with your work mobile. You huffed out a little tired laugh, rubbing your sleepy eyes as you surrendered your gadgets, not even wanting to put up a fight, just glad to see the back of such an awful week. Bucky had let you choose a takeout to order from, keen to get some real food in you before making sure you got a good long rest to combat those dark circles forming under your eyes. Within 20 minutes of finishing dinner, your sleepy eyes became too heavy to hold open. Bucky hated seeing you so worn out, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you to bed, thankful that you had changed into your pyjamas before the food had arrived so he wouldn’t have to disturb you too much. His heart melted at the sight of you clinging to his thin cotton pyjama top, craving the comfort his body afforded you even when you were sleeping.
But God, waking up the next morning, he was reminded of exactly how much comfort your body afforded him. Your hair was fanned out on the pillow gently, your face looking so relaxed compared to how it had been all week, long eyelashes casting shadows on your cheeks in the early morning sunlight. Your little snores were still deep but fuck, the sight of you in only his shirt and a thin pair of panties had him harder than he could’ve believed possible without being touched. Suddenly, the room felt stiflingly hot, his whole body itching to touch you, to make you forget all about that terrible week, fucking all thoughts from your head until you couldn’t think of anything never mind work. He put it down to the fact that he had hardly so much as kissed you goodnight all week, his body going into overdrive from the pent up longing and frustration.
He couldn’t help how he noticed everything about your body this morning, the way your nipples pebbled quickly when he slipped his cool metal hand under your shirt to gently grab at your breasts, doing his very best to contain his satisfaction at the way you tried to lean into his touch. He also didn’t miss how your body responded when he ran one flesh finger over your clothed core, a little groan falling from your parted lips when he added a little extra pressure to your clit. He loved how your body was just so intoxicating, always ready to take him. After a few more teasing glides across your core he pulled your panties to the side, finding your body was reacting to him nicely, wetness beginning to drip from your needy hole. Without thinking, he shuffled down the bed, his tongue poked out, lapping gently at the sweet nectar he had drew from your body. He was so hard now it almost hurt, noticing how even in your sleep, the wetness between your legs only grew. Tiny whimpers fell from your lips as he pressed a metal finger to your entrance, sliding in with ease, tongue lapping gently at your clit.
“So delicious toots, takin’ me so well.” He whispered, knowing you couldn’t hear him but still needing to tell you. Your hands grasped at the sheets, fingers gently bunching them, stirring from your sleep but not quite conscious yet. Your walls were fluttering around the single digit, your high not far away.
“Christ, Bucky.” You whined, eyelids flickering open, trying to adjust to the brightness of the room and make sense of the overwhelming sensations between your legs at the same time. “What are you doing?”
“Havin’ a little breakfast babydoll, jus’ let me take care of you. Wanna make you feel good all day, okay? You aren’t leavin’ this bed.” His voice was so low and seductive, lips latching back onto your clit and his finger curling inside you. You could only nod, whining as the pleasure became too much, keening against his face to ride your orgasm out against his tongue. “Tha’s it toots, gimme more. Good girl.” He encouraged, working his finger even faster, prolonging your high for as long as possible. God he got off on this, your needy moans nearly too much for him to handle. But no matter how much precum leaked from his swollen tip, no matter how badly he needed to cum, so long as you were getting off, his pleasure was only an afterthought to him.
“Well good morning to you too.” You huffed out a little laugh as his finger eventually slid out of you.
“Sorry baby, couldn’t resist.” He smirked, wiping his now glistening chin with the back of his flesh hand.
“No complaints here Buck, it was better waking up to that than an inbox full of emails.” You chuckled, stroking his hair lovingly.
“It had better be, if you’d rather have the emails I’d be offended.” He laughed softly stroking the inside of your thigh with his flesh thumb. “But if you talk about work anymore I’ll have to gag you.” His voice was light and teasing.
“Maybe some other time Buck.” You chuckled, running a hand gently through his messy bed head, your high ebbing pleasantly away as your feet hit the plush carpet of your bedroom.
“Ah ah ah toots, what did I tell you? You aren’t leavin’ this bed today. Gotta make you feel good til you can’t think of anything but me.” He reached out, grabbing your legs to pull you back onto the bed, lips latched onto the soft meat of your thighs, fingernails digging into your flesh gently as he kissed you, a fire burning fiercely behind his eyes once more. God he meant it. You really weren’t going to get a minute’s rest today.
“I was thinkin’ babydoll, how many meetings did you have yesterday?” He asked thoughtfully in between sloppy kisses to the sensitive skin of your thighs
“Eight honey, why?” You managed to choke out.
“Wanna give you that many orgasms.” He stated bluntly as if it was the most normal request in the world. You knew very often Bucky got as much pleasure from making you cum as he got from cumming himself but this suggestion was something else. His lips on your thighs felt amazing, the little dusting of stubble burning as his face drifted up the inside of your legs, his eyes never leaving yours
“There’s no way I can handle eight.” You whispered, losing yourself slightly to the pleasure of his mouth on your sensitive skin.
“Course you can little slut, that’s one down, only seven to go. That’ll keep you nice and busy won’t it? By the time I’m done, work will be the last thing on your mind.” He made it sound so easy, so lovely, like it was absolutely manageable, enjoyable even, but you knew better than to dream of gentle orgasms, soft touches and sweet kisses. You knew that when Bucky got into the mindset that everything he did was entirely for your pleasure, it was all about tearing you orgasms from your trembling body in the quickest succession possible, one barely ending before the next began. This was the first time he had ever suggested such an intense session. His kisses got sloppier, his wet mouth making you groan as it connected with you core once more, panties pushed to the side. Fuck, his tongue felt incredible, broad, firm strokes over the entire length of your dripping sex. You pressed your lips together to stifle your noises, your hands sinking into the soft, dark hair on Bucky’s head to pull his face closer to where you needed him most.
“If you’re holdin’ those pretty noises back toots, I’ll add another orgasm on as punishment.” He quipped, mouth creating a seal around your clit before sucking hard to pull the filthiest moan from you he had ever heard. He was in his element, hard and needy and damn near ready to hump the bed beneath him for some relief but determined to absolutely wreck you before he could even think of his own pleasure. Without saying much more, he slid two metal fingers into you, admiring how they slipped in with so little resistance.
“That’s it, oh God you take me so well. Know exactly what your body needs baby, need to be fucked like a whore don’t ya? Gonna make sure you can’t even think straight by the time I’m done with ya.” He was almost growling in between little kitten licks to your clit, fingers plunging in and out of you, rubbing your silky walls perfectly.
“Bucky, more, fuck.” You hissed out, grinding your hips against his hand. The vibrations from the little laugh he let out in response felt amazing.
“God doll, you’re not gonna be begging for more by the time I’m done with you. Gonna have you begging me to stop. But since you were a good girl this week, I’m sure I could play nice for now.” He laughed, lips and tongue crashing against your clit, fingers working faster and his eyes trained on your face as he tore another orgasm from your body. You groaned out, rutting against his face, your juices soaking his fingers and tongue as you rode out your high, panting and whimpering deliciously for him.
“Good girl honey, did so well. Want you to ride me now, yeah? Want that little body on top of me. You just gotta use me to make yourself feel good doll, don’t even worry bout makin’ me cum. Want as many of those pretty moans as you can give me before your legs give out.” His filthy plans had you whimpering, knowing that when your legs turned to jelly from too many orgasms, that didn’t mean you’d be stopping. It just meant he would take over. You did as he asked, hopping up onto your knees while Bucky undressed himself, giving his proud, hard cock a few lazy pumps watching you remove your pyjamas. You positioned yourself above him, his metal hand lined his cock up with your soaked, already abused hole. Sinking down onto his length tore groans from both of you, Bucky’s flesh hand gripping your waist to stop himself from pushing you the whole way down too quickly.
“Tightest fuckin’ pussy, you feel so good for daddy. God kitten, this pussy is so hungry isn’t it? Needs me, I can feel it. You need daddy’s cock to make you feel good? Gonna take such good care of you.” He was losing himself in the feeling of your silky walls gripping him, wetter than he could ever remember you being before. But god, you had six more orgasms ahead of you, how on Earth was he gonna make it if you got any wetter? The thick drag of his bare cock inside you was almost more than you could take as you pulled yourself back up his length again, sinking down quickly until he was entirely seated inside you.
“So so big daddy, I can’t.” You wailed, the sloppy sounds coming from your pussy fuelling you to keep going regardless.
“Yes you can angel, doin’ so well for daddy. So tight around me, can hardly move. Nothin’ feels as good as you do. Fuckin’ live to be buried in this little pussy, you know that?” His filthy pants had you rolling your hips faster against him, not really fucking him, more grinding your pelvis against his with his length fully seated inside you. It was such a different sensation to being fucked, it just made you feel endlessly full, the thickness of Bucky’s cock stuffing you, the head nestled deliciously against that sweet spot inside you. Every little grind of your hips had him nudging that spot inside you, making your eyes roll back and your head flop to the side. And Bucky was absolutely obsessed. He couldn’t find it in himself to tear his eyes away from you, not knowing whether he wanted to watch how your breasts jiggled as you moved, watch down at the mess you were making where your bodies were joined or watch the look of sheer pleasure on your face. He loved seeing you take what you needed from him, knowing that he was still in control but letting you use his body to satisfy yourself.
“So deep ‘nside you toots, bet you can feel me in here.” He pressed his metal hand to your lower tummy, the coolness making you gasp. Everything felt like it was too much but the grind alone wasn’t enough to tear your building orgasm from you and of course Bucky knew that.
“Tell me what you need, tell me and I’ll give it to you.” Bucky whispered softly, lips dusting chaste kisses on your shoulders, flesh arm wrapped up your back, helping you move against him.
“Fingers daddy, on my clit.” You pleaded, eyes squeezed shut and your mouth hanging open slightly.
“Magic word toots?” He teased with a little laugh, flesh fingers dancing over your clit torturously.
“Metal ones daddy, please.” Your whine would have been mortifying under any other circumstances but right now, you didn’t care. Bucky raised an eyebrow at your little request, secretly thrilled that you got so much pleasure from his metal digits.
“Filthy girl.” He whispered, replacing his flesh hand with his metal one, rubbing between your bodies in harsh circles. The cool fingers felt even better, the ridges in the unrelenting metal only added to the sensations threatening to consume your body. It didn’t take long for you to feel yourself tightening, Bucky’s movements never even faltering as you hit your peak.
“That’s it, cum for me, good girl, hump Daddy’s big cock. Know how much you need this, know you love daddy fillin’ you up.” His eyes were completely trained on your face, loving how it screwed up in response to the words he mumbled in the quiet, early morning air. Your gasps didn’t stop as your high started to subside, mainly because his fingers didn’t stop. You tried your best to pull away, becoming far too sensitive very quickly but Bucky’s flesh hand on your hip held you in place.
“Want another one out of you before I let you move.” He whispered, fingers only speeding up against your overstimulated bundle of nerves.
“Can’t take it daddy, it’s too much!” You sobbed, face buried into the crook of his neck as your body twitched around him, another peak fast approaching. You knew you could’ve said your safe word if you needed to but deep down you knew you could handle it.
“I know you want it angel, c’mon, stop holdin’ back.” He growled, rubbing you even faster, dragging you screaming into yet another orgasm. You couldn’t help but bite down on his flesh shoulder as you came, your body shuddering, wet nectar dripping out of you and down over his balls.
“Oh fuck, soakin’ me, you know that? Pussy is drippin’ everywhere. Such a wet little slut for daddy, aren’t ya cupcake? Such a good girl.” Bucky’s praise only made your walls flutter even more, pulling a growl from his throat. Before you even got a chance to register what was going on, Bucky had you flipped over, ass in the air, face down on the bed with his cock still inside you.
“Can’t wait anymore toots, need this.” He grunted, fucking into you recklessly. You could’ve screamed from the overstimulation, body trembling, walls still trying to milk Bucky’s thick cock. Again, your last orgasm didn’t even get a chance to ebb away before you were being worked towards another one. Your back arched into the bed of its own accord, letting Bucky fuck deeper into you. Your whimpers mingled with Bucky’s grunts, sounds of skin slapping on skin filling the house.
“Pussy’s still clenchin’ me so tight, you’ve no idea how good you make me feel. Body’s always so ready for me.” Bucky was almost growling, his own need almost entirely taking over, eager to cum so he could get back to focusing on giving you as much pleasure as you could handle.
“Thank daddy for fuckin’ you. Thank me for givin’ you my cock raw like this.” He groaned, fingers drifting between your thighs to play with your swollen bud once more.
God, this was humiliating and you were loving every single second.
“Thank you daddy! Love your cock so much, think about nothing else. Love how you fuck me, love how big it feels, love your cum, just need more daddy please.” Your words were only broken by little gasps, Bucky fucking into you harder than you even thought possible.
“Tha’s it, God yes, takin’ me like a good girl, my best girl. Little pussy so hungry for daddy’s cum. That never changes, does it honey? Should just keep you plugged and full of me all the time. Only thing that could keep your needy cunt happy, isn’t it? Just a little cum whore. Gonna give you a load now baby, okay? Keep that little face pressed to the bed and ass up, want it all drippin’ as deep ‘nside you as it can get. Don’t want a single drop spillin’.” Sometimes you wonder where Bucky possibly learned to talk so dirty but right now you didn’t care, teetering on the brink of a fifth orgasm as you lowered yourself the way he wanted, his cock nudging your cervix in this new position.
“So deep daddy,” you whimpered, muffled slightly by the thick duvet as he pounded into you. His fingers rolling perfectly against your clit was enough to tear you apart, your body shaking, fingers squeezing the sheets as you rode out the electric feeling shooting the whole way through your body. That was all it took to drag Bucky over the edge too, not able to hold back with how your walls were tightening around him, milking every drop of cum into your body.
“So tight toots, can’t even move.” He groaned, stilling his movements to stay pressed right at the deepest point inside you. The warm feeling of his cum exploding into you was almost more than you could handle, knowing every drop had to stay there to keep Bucky happy. His fingers didn’t stop moving against your clit though, tearing as many aftershocks from your over worked body as you could muster.
“Bet there’s so much cum in you now.” He whispered proudly, kissing down your spine despite the thin sheen of sweat, slowly pulling out and humming appreciatively when there wasn’t even the slightest indication of the mess he had made inside you. You felt absolutely boneless, knowing you were over the half way mark but still nowhere near finished yet.
“Three left honey, how ya feeling?” He cooed softly, taking a second to stroke your hair and dote on you. His cock hadn’t softened at all but it rarely ever did after only cumming once during such an intense session.
“Feel good Buck, sensitive.” You whispered, flopping onto the bed with your eyes closed, sucking in deep breaths to steady yourself.
“Think you can take some more for me?” He asked quietly, placing tiny kisses to your shoulders and neck. You could do nothing but hum contentedly, letting him give you as much affection as he wanted.
“Need you to use your words sweetheart. Didn’t make you, dumb already, did I?” He chuckled, making you open your eyes to see that dashing smile
“Want more daddy, I can take it.” You nodded gently, noticing how his smile only widened at your eagerness.
“I’m so in love with you, ya know that?” He beamed, giving you a gentle kiss that was all teeth and tight lips, his smile still so evident on his face. “Won’t mind though if you need to stop. Want you to enjoy this babydoll.”
“No Buck, I can keep going. But we can cuddle afterwards, yeah?” You asked, placing a little tired kiss to his knuckles of his flesh hand.
“Oh honey, when we’re done here, we can do whatever you like. This weekend’s about you, jus’ wanna make you feel good.” He agreed, heart aching at the sight of you looking so beautifully fucked out and still asking him for more.
“Thank you daddy.” You smiled lazily, knowing it would get him right back in the mood to fuck you relentlessly through the final three.
Bucky groaned hearing the title fall from your lips again when he was least expecting it, cock bobbing deliciously in agreement.
“Fuck princess, you’re gonna be the death of me you know that?” He laughed, metal hand falling to grip his aching cock. “Jus’ you lie there angel, lemme do the work this time.” You sure weren’t going to argue, pressing your head back on the soft pillows as Bucky positioned you how he wanted you, slotting neatly between your spread thighs. Despite how kinky Bucky was, missionary was still one of his all time favourite positions. It was simple, comfortable, uncomplicated and he loved being able to see your face contort as he takes you apart, not to mention the perfect bounce of your tits when he slams into you. Bucky lined up with your soaked pussy, taking the time to make sure none of his seed from the last round had spilled from your core. Once he was satisfied that it was only your own juices that were coating your thighs, he pressed in, revelling in the gasp you let out.
“So warm and wet babydoll.” He hissed, head thrown back as he set a decent pace, thrusting in and out with his metal hand pressed to your lower tummy. “Swear I can feel myself in here, just so deep ‘nside you, aren’t I?” You couldn’t really believe how your body was still craving him, still needing more even though you were so fucked out already. You couldn’t even find it in yourself to reply, almost every coherent thought having been fucked from your head. The soft clinking of metal had you opening your eyes. But when did you close them? You had no idea, and far less did you care upon seeing Bucky hovering on top of you, his dog tags swinging in front of your face. Somewhere deep inside your brain you registered that he must’ve pulled them from the nightstand when your eyes had been shut but there was something about them that just made the sex that little bit better. He knew how much you loved them too, smirking down at you as he continued his leisurely thrusts.
“Like what you see?” His voice was deep and seductive, close to only being a low rumble. His abs rippled with every push into your tight heat, little grunts slipping past his lips occasionally, a light flush on his cheeks from arousal. What was there to not like about Bucky Barnes? You could only nod, trying to press your hips closer to his pelvis, wanting to pull him deeper than even should have been possible.
“God, you can’t get enough can you? My cock that addictive honey?” He teased, flesh fingers toying with your clit. You cried out quietly at the feeling, not understanding how you could possibly still need more. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you reached up, taking those jingling dog tags in your mouth, lips wrapping neatly around the chain. Bucky thought once more that he might cum then and there, just at the sight of your little pretty mouth enveloping his tags, the metallic taste covering your tongue.
“Need your slutty mouth filled too baby? Should’ve said somethin’, coulda had my fingers ‘nstead. But maybe you couldn’t tell me? Can’t get any words out now, can you? Daddy’s cock knocked all thoughts out of that little head, hm? That’s okay angel, daddy doesn’t need you to think, jus’ need you to cum. Think you can do that for me?” Your legs were shaking but you nodded you head regardless. As Bucky had been talking, he had dialled everything up a notch, fucking you faster, rubbing you in tighter circles, everything just felt incredible, your orgasm so close once more.
“Ah, daddy, please.” You pleaded, absolutely no idea what you were even pleading for anymore other than release. Bucky chuckled lowly from somewhere deep in his chest before giving you what you had begged for, pressing a little harder on your clit, rubbing in the same tights circles, dragging you through a painfully intense orgasm. Your teeth bit down on the hard metal in your mouth, trying to stifle the screams and whines that fell from you as every single vein in your body throbbed, desire washing through you violently. Bucky was completely and utterly obsessed with you, coaching you through your high with the same filthy grunts and promises that you had learned to expect from him.
As your high subsided, Bucky didn’t slow, if anything he just fucked you faster, not chasing his own release yet but loving how you looked like you had been fucked absolutely senseless, eyes rolling back, head crooked to the side, fingernails digging into his flesh, dog tags still in your mouth.
“You’re a fuckin’ picture like this doll, so beautiful for me. Can’t believe you’re all mine.” His thrusts had your tits bouncing back and forth, jiggling even more as you squirmed, trying to move away from him given how painfully overstimulated you were becoming. You screamed and yelled as his fingers picked up speed, slipping around from the insane amount of slick that had dripped from your hole.
“Come on little whore, cum for daddy, give it to me. Silly little slut can’t do anything but cum, can you? So fuckin’ good at it, no thoughts left in that pretty head of yours, daddy fucked them all out didn’t he? Love seein’ you like this, greedy pussy takin’ everything I give it. You’re an angel, you know that? My angel. Body’s always so ready for me.” Bucky’s voice was deep, strangled and needy, working you as fast as he could. Your legs couldn’t hold still as he pounded you, metal hand still pressing on your tummy so you could feel his cock even deeper inside you. It was all too fucking much, that ball of need inside you exploding once more making you scream, thrashing around under his huge body. Your rhythmic squeezing had him groaning, screwing his face up, unable to hide how good it felt.
“Last one princess, you ready?” Bucky asked softly, pulling out to give you a second. Christ, you looked wrecked but in the best way possible. His dog tags slipped from your mouth, spit trailing down your chin that you wiped away with the back of your hand.
“You sure you can take another? Need a colour toots.” Bucky probed gently, stroking your cheek lovingly, pushing your hair away from your sweaty face.
“Green daddy, just one more. I can take it.” You nodded weakly, fawning over the little gentle kiss Bucky pressed to your forehead.
“That’s my good girl.” He soothed. “I’ll make it quick, promise.” With that he hopped off the bed. You couldn’t really find it in yourself to care about why he had got up, taking the time to catch your breath and steady yourself but when he came back empty handed, you couldn’t help but be a little confused.
“Gonna move you toots,” he hummed quietly, shifting you onto your hands and knees at the side of the bed and that’s when you realised what he had been doing. Bucky had pulled one of the wardrobe doors open, specifically the door with the full length mirror, leaving it at an angle so you could see yourself from where you sat on the bed.
“Want you to watch yourself, see how pretty you look when you cum for me.” He groaned, harder than he could ever remember being in his life before. You whimpered even just at the thought, letting him slip inside you then pull your back flush to his chest. His whole body felt like it was surrounding you, probably because it was. His firm chest felt so comforting against you, both of his arms supporting your bare frame, casing you in against him. He pulled your hair out of the way, making sure he was able to kiss your neck and shoulders before beginning to piston his hips, fucking into you at a punishing pace. You were so glad he was holding you up, knowing if he took his arms away, you would be left to crumple onto the sheets. Your moans were so lewd you surprised yourself at how keen you were to just keep taking his cock. You knew you would feel empty without him inside you after such a long session but the emptiness might even be a blessing after this insane amount of stimulation.
“Look at yourself baby, you just came seven times for me and you’re still keen to go again. Still gonna give me ‘nother one. Cause you’re the best girl, aren’t you? So so good for daddy. Jus’ lettin’ me take and take from your body. You feel that mess sweetheart? You’re fuckin’ soaked right down to your knees, toots. All my cum from earlier drippin’ out of you. Don’t worry, got ‘nother nice big load to fill you with. Gotta give my best girl what she needs.” You hadn’t even noticed the sticky wetness between your thighs, the change in position letting it all seep out of you. You whined, high and needy as his fingers ghosted through the wetness, landing on your clit. His movements were smooth and methodical, rubbing you at the exact pace he knew you liked. He didn’t want to drag this out any more and he wasn’t even sure that he could last any longer.
“Cum for me babydoll, one last time. That’s it, good girl, hump daddy’s fingers. Excellent baby, doin’ so well for me, ‘m so proud of you, you know that? So so proud.” You felt your body clench harder than you had even thought possible, a strangled cry being torn from Bucky’s throat, his seed spilling so deep inside you.
“Ah, holy shit, can’t stop cummin’.” He panted against your neck, your head flung back onto his shoulder as the most intense high of your life took over. Your whole body was alight with pleasure and yet everything still felt so intimate in this position. Your bodies just felt connected in a way that you couldn’t even describe. Maybe you were just delirious with pleasure but it didn’t even really matter, chants of Bucky’s name falling from your lips like a prayer. Your pussy throbbed, aching and abused but not relenting in the slightest, if anything it only clenched harder around Bucky, milking every single drop of cum from him.
You practically collapsed onto the bed together, chests heaving, both spent and sweaty from the most exhausting morning of you life.
“Christ.” You whispered with a little content laugh, words not even connecting in your brain to form a coherent sentence.
“I agree.” Bucky laughed softly, pulling you practically on top of him, needing to feel you close and take care of you. “How ya feelin’?” He asked quietly, kissing your forehead and playing with your hair, being as delicate with you as possible.
“ ‘m good.” You hummed, giving him a little nod, taking in all the adoration he was offering.
“How bout a little nap, hm? You’re exhausted sweet pea. Then I’ll make us some lunch, yeah?” Bucky suggested, losing his mind when you snuggled yourself even closer to his body. You could only nod and give him a little smile, his fingers carding through your hair ever so gently. The hammering in Bucky’s chest was returning to a more natural thud, comforting you even more, your eyes closing of their own accord.
“My best girl.” He whispered, pressing more gentle kisses to your fragile body, little compliments and praises breaking the silence, lulling you into the best sleep of your life.
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I've been thinking about a priest trying to "save" the reader from demon Bucky, only to fail miserably and gets forced to watch Bucky fuck the reader in his own church
Pairing: Demon Bucky x reader
Warnings: Smut, kinda public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism Minors DNI.
Word count: less than 1.5 k (?)
A/N: Written on my phone while at work. Will edit later. Do not copy,rewrite, translate or repost my drabbles.
You're sitting in Father Roger's office wearing a demure white lace dress. The matching stockings go up to your thighs, held in place by a pair of wine red garters. Buckys favorites. He loves how innocent you appear when you dress like this.
Your eyes hover over the bookshelf to your left, it's filled with religious literature. Even more books are stacked on his desk. Various pens and crosses are scattered across the uneven piles of paperwork. The overhead light catches specks of dust that dance in the still air. The faint scent of damp wood seeps into your nose.
You eye a particularly pretty cross, your hand drawn to it. Touching the tapered edge, you giggle when you feel a spark sting your fingertips. Withdrawing your hand, you continue to study the room while you wait.
You hum under your breath, perking up when you hear footsteps approaching. Straightening up, you smooth down the front of your dress.
Father Rogers closes the door behind him with a heavy sigh. "I'm so glad you could make it today."
He steps into your line of vision. You give him an alluring grin, widening your eyes ever so slightly. "Of course Father," you say, keeping your voice soft.
Folding your hands on your lap, you blink up at him. Steve watches you closely as he takes his seat, his eyes hardening when he sees the finger shaped bruises decorating your neck.
"There have been rumors that you were seen at the old church and that you may have been engaging in--," he huffs, removing his glasses, he pinches the bridge of his nose. In all his years, he never thought he would be having this conversation.
You lean forward, placing your palms on his desk. "Yes Father."
"Excuse me." He says, his brows furrowing.
You get out of the chair, keeping your hands on the smooth wooden surface. "I did go to the church. I did call for Bucky. And those activities they're whispering about are all true." You smile proudly.
Steve exhales sharply. He tosses his glasses down and grabs your hands. "Child, do you know what you have done? It's not too late, I can help you. We can rid you of this demonic presence."
His impassioned rant fades when you tilt your head to the side. Your eyes drifting over his shoulder. You grin, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. "You hear that baby. He can rid me of your demonic presence."
Steve gawks at you, carefully withdrawing his hands. The sweet scent of lilacs and vanilla fill the musty air. The lights flicker changing from the dull yellow glow to an unnatural red.
Steve turns his head, startling in his chair. He curses under his breath, his heart hammering painfully in his chest as Bucky emerges from the shadows.
"Mmm language Father," Bucky purrs, gliding across the room.
He stands behind you, pressing down on your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. "Tell me, Father, just how do you plan on getting rid of me."
Goosebumps prickles across your skin as his large hands push your dress up your thighs to your waist. He plucks the garter, the band snapping on your tender skin. You hiss, loving the delicious sting. Bucky palms your ass. You hear shifting and rustling behind you.
Steve raises his hand, starting to form a cross. Bucky laughs a beautiful musical tone that makes you shiver. You're still not used to that mesmerizing sound.
Steve flinches, clutching his ears. He gasps when his hands are pulled down. His seat moving across the floor, the wheels squeaking and rattling as he's pushed to the desk.
Bucky licks up the side of your neck. He grips your hips and pushes into your slick walls with one firm thrust. Pleasure blooms from your core as he stretches you. Fuck, you never feel a burn with him, just pure bliss. You drop to your elbow, moaning as you blatantly stare at an aghast Steve.
Bucky grunts, snapping his hips into yours. "I'm so deep in her. She's so fucking tight." He lifts your hips and you cry out his name.
"You hear that Father," Bucky asks, a smirk forming as Steve struggles against his invisible bonds. Bucky pulls you flush against his chest, each stroke of his cock pushing you to your tiptoes.
He places his hand over your mouth, muffling your moans. The salacious wet sloshing of your cunt echoing in the small room is vulgar and filthy and it makes you even wetter, your slick dripping around his cock.
"Sounds like she doesn't want to let me go." Bucky taunts, lifting your dress, exposing your swollen pussy. Steves's eyes darken, a hoarse grunt caught in his throat.
"Her sweet cunt keeps sucking me back in." He groans, fucking into you harder and faster. You're not listening, too focused on the pleasure burning through your veins.
His tail wraps around your belly, keeping you still. Buckys mouth drops to your ear. "You know, I bet the good father is hard right now, bet his cock is aching to feel your tight pussy wrapped around him."
He flicks his wrist, lifting Steve out of the chair. Your grin hidden by Bucky's rough palm, he's right. Steve can't hide his lust-blown pupils, he definitely can't hide his cock straining the thin fabric of his pants.
You can help the moan ripping through your chest. Buckys large body surrounding you, Steve's piercing eyes on you. It's so debauched but you love every second of it.
"Aw look at that," he darkly chuckles. Bucky pulls your dress down exposing your tits, his thumb teasing your pebbled nipple while his long dexterous fingers circle your clit. "He wants you, little one, but you belong to me."
"Yes, yes I'm yours, all yours Bucky," you pant.
He nips at your bruised throat, his hips slapping into you so fast you're getting dizzy. It's too much, you're so close, so fucking close.
"All mine. Let's show him how pretty you look when you cum."
Steve crashes to the floor, his head tilted back as the desk flies across the room. His gaze locked on your pussy. "Cum for him, little one, let him see why your pussy is better than salvation. " He says, his fingers spreading your folds so Steve can see his large, thick cock pushing into your sopping core.
You clench down with a cry. It's a visceral reaction, the knot unraveling in your cunt, your body tensing as you fall apart.
"Good girl." Bucky groans, his deep voice rumbling across your skin. " Don't you agree, Steve?"
A sly grin cuts across his face, his blue eyes flickering to a deep black. "She's a very good girl."
He stands, shedding his cloak. "Now it's my turn to ruin her sweet cunt."
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Alright whore, you asked for this 😘
Stepdad!Bucky making reader squirt for the first time then going completely feral and shoving her face in the mess she made while he just fucks her into the mattress
Make A Mess For Daddy
Holy fuck, I did ask for this didn’t I? 🥵
Pairing: Stepdad!Bucky x 18+F!Reader
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, jealousy, stepdad/daddy kink, p in v, squirting, humilation, mess kink. 18+.
Word Count: 500ish
Bucky's jealously often reared it's ugly head, and he never failed to take it out on you.
He'd been waiting for you that night, sipping a whiskey over ice in his armchair when you crept through the door just after midnight - glaring at you accusingly as you kicked off your shoes and tried to ignore his frustrations.
You thought maybe tonight was different, that maybe he'd just let it go and allow you to disappear to your room without even so much as a snide remark about your date with Peter. You were wrong, of course.
"You fuck that kid tonight, huh? Walkin’ around dressed like a whore, bet he couldn’t keep his grubby hands off you." He grunts - sharp, insistent stabs of his cock against your cervix causing you to wince in discomfort. Bucky never cared for your pleasure when he was like this. Possessive, marking his territory, fucking you until all you can remember is his name. "I asked you a question. Better fuckin' answer it, princess."
"N-shit-no!" You rasp, your mouth dry from panting into the comforter. The sound of your pussy squelching around his cock is hypnotising. No other man would ever compare to him. "I didn't. I swear."
"That's right, you fuckin' didn't. You know who this slut cunt belongs to, don't you?" He fucks you harder with each word that slips from his filthy mouth, pushing you further towards the edge, an unfamiliar pressure building in your abdomen - burning between your thighs. "Let's see how much of a mess you can really make, shall we? C'mon baby, make a mess for daddy."
Bucky pulls his cock free of your cunt, nudging your knees apart as his hand slips down - fingers finding your clit and rubbing it with a ferocity that makes your eyes roll back. Your face pressed into the mattress, you sob at the pressure inside you, an intensity you've never experienced before.
"Daddy, I can't-" he shuts you up with a harsh pinch at your sensitive nub, but you can't stop. "Doesn't feel right, please, I think I need to-"
A sharp slap of his palm against your pussy sends you hurtling - bliss searing through your veins and your knees weak as you feel moisture pool beneath you.
"Well fuck, would you look at that?" Bucky hums, damp fingers curling around the back of your neck as he tugs you up against his chest. He tightens his grasp and forces your gaze down - the large, dark patch of moisture staring you in the face. "You did make a mess, didn't you baby?”
Shame swirls in your gut as he chuckles against your ear, dragging your body backwards just enough so that when he forces you back down, your cheek squelches against the moist puddle of arousal - the taste of it marring the corner of your mouth.
“My nasty girl, that’s what you are.” He grunts in satisfaction, sliding his cock back into your overworked channel, his balls slapping against your clit when he picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Lick it up, princess. Be a good girl and clean up after yourself.”
God, it makes you cringe how much you enjoy it. Makes your pussy tighten up around his girth, has you rocking back against him - the globes of your ass bouncing off his hips.
You do as he says, tongue slipping out to lap at the mess beneath you; his palm splayed out against the side of your head, forcing to hold your position.
"That's it. Get it all. When you've cleaned that up, I'm gonna make a whole new mess - just for you."
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If I see ANYONE trying to ship MCU Natasha and Yelena when Black Widow comes out i’m going to commit arson.
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how about dilf!bucky and cockwarming (if you’re into that kinda thing) 👀
⟶ midnight delight ; dilf!bucky
SUMMARY || you fall asleep before you & bucky can have time to yourselves, but bucky has a dream about you and needs you now. turns out you didn’t keep all that quiet.
PAIRING || dilf!bucky x f!reader
WORD COUNT || 1,327 words
WARNINGS || mention of: squirting, scars, pregnancy & masturbation, cockwarming, breeding kink, size kink [belly bulge], crying kink, ruined kink, cumplay + creampie, lots of teasing & dirty talk, bucky turns subby for a moment — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI
NOTES || for bucky i’d have kids <<3
It was the first night where the kids were in bed before 10 PM.
Do you know how often that happened?
The kids asleep, the kitchen clean, and Bucky stepping out of the shower before 10 PM?
It never happened.
Bucky's towel hung low on his hips, dangerously low as it revealed his toned, but soft tummy. The tummy that was littered in hair and various scars that you’d always ask to hear stories about.
You loved listening to Bucky speak. About anything.
“The kids are?” Bucky was confused at the words that left your lips, “asleep?”
You nodded your head, giddy as you giggled, “they sure are.”
With the towel still wrapped around his hips he stepped closer and closer and even closer until he stood right in front of you.
Body still warm and slightly wet from the shower, smell of bergamot, like Earl Grey tea, on his skin.
You were on your knees, still having to crane your neck to look at him, “mmm, I think that calls for mommy and daddy to have their own celebration.” Bucky purrs, kissing you sweetly.
You hum into the kiss, “I think we should.”
That’s the thing about having kids, you were tired.
Well, exhausted after the week you’d had.
So when Bucky disappeared into the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed and you slid under the comfortable, oh so soft against your skin covers...well, you passed out.
Like a light.
Cuddling Bucky’s pillow for him to come out and chuckle, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he turned off your bedside table lamp and slid under the covers himself.
But you didn’t stay asleep long, getting roused by Bucky’s lips on your shoulder and neck.
You groggily opened your eyes, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjusted before you made the brave move of checking the alarm clock that sat on your nightstand.
Oh thank God.
“You awake, sweetheart?” Bucky asked, voice thick with sleep still as you groaned in response.
“M’yeah,” is all you can mumble as you slowly get comfortable again, Bucky’s wandering hands causing a flutter in your lower tummy.
They’re squeezing your hips, pulling them tighter against his crotch and...
That’s explains why he was awake.
“Had a dream ‘bout you,” he whispers, lips back against your neck as you wiggle your hip, “tell me about it.” You breathe out in a sigh, smile on your lips as you enjoy the way he’s massaging your hips.
“God,” he chokes out, “felt s’fuckin’ real.”
It had been a while since you and Bucky had been intimate. Not for a lack of trying, of course, but every time you would get interrupted.
Or your vibrator had died because you hadn’t charged it in weeks.
Bucky has you pressed against his front now, dick rutting against your ass as you feel and hear his breathy little pants against your skin.
“Jus’ need’a feel you, sugar. Your tight cunt wrapped ‘round me—shit,” he hisses, choking back a moan as his hips press themselves tighter against you before you’re flipped around.
“Been far too long since I’ve been buried deep ‘side of you,” he purrs, holding your face with one hand as the other is lifting your leg to hook over his hip.
You’re tingling, panties damp at the mere thought of his cock.
When his fingers swipe through your folds, collecting the sweet slick on the tops of them, is when you realize just how much you need it.
“S’fuckin’ wet, you’re soakin’ right through your pretty little panties,” he groans, dick twitching in his boxers, “fuck, I-I jus’,” he can’t finish his sentence.
“I know, I know,” you pant, nodding your head, “need you, Bucky.”
He’s pushing his boxers down just far enough to grip his cock, shoving your underwear to side before plunging into you.
Slowly, both of you relishing in the moment that you’ve both been longing and yearning for.
The low rumbling moans that leave Bucky’s lips makes you flutter around him, squeezing him tighter, “oh my God.” Bucky can’t even find the words.
Chanting your name like a mantra, whimpering as he’s sunk into you, as deep as he can possibly go and he’s gripping onto you like you’re just a figment of his imagination that’ll fade away if he loosens his grip.
“Baby,” he rasps, “can we stay like this? So warm and wet,” he whines in your ear, “yeah, fuck, we can do anything you want.” You blurt because the feeling of Bucky nearly in your guts is sending you into overdrive.
Holding each other, you stay connected for a little while, enjoying the moment as Bucky occasionally rock or circles his hips making you squeak and whimper yourself.
“The last time I was this deep ‘side of you,” he chuckles, “we got pregnant.”
You remember the last time, both of you ripping each other’s clothes before you ended up straddling him on the couch not allowed to move as Bucky kept you pinned on him.
A shudder ran through you at the thought of that night.
Bucky cocks his head, “are ya thinkin’ of that night?” He hums, moving your head so you’re looking at him.
““Bout how I fucked you ‘til you couldn’t remember your name? The way I made you squirt all over me that we had to buy a new couch? Or was it the way I stuffed you full of my cum?”
You let out a strangled sob, feeling yourself grow wetter from his words, making a mess over yours and his thighs.
Your fingers are gripping his shirt, “please?” You croak and he just shakes his head, “please what?”
The frustration you felt was making it so you were close to tears, “oh baby, don’t cry, you know that jus’ makes it even harder for me to resist you.”
A stray few tears slip past your closed eyes, “need you, please, anything.” You hiccup, feeling his hands digging into your hips now.
“Anythin’?” He teases, pumping slowly into you, “I can work with that.”
The bed creaks, shitty headboard knocking against the wall and you both curse under your breaths just hoping that it doesn’t wake the kids up because you’re both sure as hell to horny to stop.
“Love feelin’ myself deep in you. All the way,” he presses on your tummy, “here.”
“S’my favourite fuckin’ thing,” he continues to fuck you with slow, but deep strokes.
“Havin’ you wrapped ‘round me, squeezin’ me with that greedy cunt of yours,” his eyebrows are tight, panting and it’s embarrassing how close you are.
“Plus,” he smirks, “I’ve missed seein’ that cute, swollen pregnant belly of yours.”
That’s all it takes for the coil to snap, biting down on Bucky’s shoulder as you cum because you’re nearly screaming his name.
“That’s it, baby, gonna let me fill you up. Gonna be leakin’—fuck.” Bucky’s hips stutter, spilling his seed in you and he can barely catch his breath.
You’re still floating, letting Bucky take care of cleaning you up before coaxing you to go to the bathroom before you inevitably fall back asleep.
The next morning you’ve both got a pep to your steps, breakfast laid out on the table; pancakes, various fruits, eggs, toast, and anything imaginable as your kids and Bucky make their way downstairs.
“Hey dad?” Your youngest son says, “what is it, bud?”
“Why were you and mom jumping on the bed last night if I can’t?” You have top turn around, choking on your coffee as Bucky’s eyes blow wide.
Your daughter happily munching on her pancake, “we’re adults, that’s why.”
It’s a good answer, but it doesn’t please your son as he’s going to open his mouth, but Bucky beats him to it.
“When you’re an adult, you’ll understand, buddy,” Bucky laughs before quickly and swiftly changing the subject and coming up to stand behind you.
“Next time, remind me to gag you with your panties.”
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When you just want to enjoy some fluffy x reader fanfics but the entire tag is filled with horndogs
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Summary: You and Bucky get trapped overnight in the safe house after a mission. Everything should be okay, except he's your ex and thanks to his carelessness, the situation gets a little more complicated.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word count: 7,887
Warnings: Smut (sex pollen, slightly dub-con only due to the circumstances but both parties are consenting, fingering, vaginal penetration). Swearing. Angst with a happy ending. (18+ only please).
A/N: This is my submission for @saiyanprincessswanie 2.5k follower challenge. I chose the trope sex pollen. Congratulations, Missy!! You deserve all the love and all the followers. You are truly such an amazing person. Anyways, hope you enjoy this! It was my first time writing sex pollen so hopefully it isn’t awful 😅 Happy reading! 💜💜
A blur of white crystalline flecks swirls against the dark backdrop of nightfall, a taunting dance as you watch through a small window of the safe house. Staring dumbly, you helplessly watch as thick layers of snow blankets over the wooded area. On any other given night you’d find the scene beautiful, mesmerizing even, but not tonight, because this is not how things were supposed to go.
The mission was supposed to take a few hours. A simple in and out plan; get the intel and anything else seemingly worth of value, engage only if needed, and get home. Getting stuck overnight at the safe house was not part of the plan, but it seemed Mother Nature had other ideas when she decided to conjure up the biggest snow storm Eastern Europe has seen in years.
“Fuck me,” you grumble with a sigh, hands perched on your hips.
“As you wish,” a voice from behind replies in a teasing tone.
The comment elicits another sigh, a deeper one this time, full of frustration at the situation and annoyance for who you’re stuck with. Turning on the ball of your foot, you shoot daggers at your partner before rolling your eyes.
Bucky laughs at your exasperation, and it only spurs his teasing on more.
“Could be worse,” he muses, kneeling down in front of the old fireplace. He quickly gets to work on placing a few logs in the center, dousing them with lighter fluid and igniting a match. The room is instantly bathed in a warm, yellow glow.
“No,” you remark sternly, “It cannot be worse. This is my literal nightmare.” Each word is punctuated with the rough shrill of velcro coming undone as you walk away from the window. The sound slices through the air, along with the clicks of buckles before you remove your tactile vest completely and toss it harshly onto the worn couch in the middle of the room. “And to top it all off, tonight is date night.”
“Oh, date night?” Bucky asks in a mocking tone, complete with a faux puppy-dog pout.
Your leather gloves are ripped off your hands and slammed onto a small table by the couch, evidence of your dwindling patience. “Shut up.”
“What?” He chuckles, clearly enjoying the irritation emanating from you. “I just don’t understand what you see in the guy.” He casually walks over to the wooden dining table that sits off to the side.
Another ice cold stare, irritation hardening your jaw and the corners of your eyes. “Enough.”
This time, Bucky rolls his eyes and mumbles something under his breath you don’t quite catch. He turns around to begin sorting through the documents the two of you recovered from the Hydra base.
Gently chewing on the inside of your cheek, you take a moment to watch him and wonder how the two of you ended up here—and you don’t mean snowed in and trapped in a safe house for the night.
The bitter wall of resentment that’s been built up between you over time has left you emotionally drained and, if you’re being honest, deeply hurt. It wasn’t always this way, though. At one time, Bucky was your sole source of all things love and happiness, but he’s always known exactly what buttons to push.
Being partners stuck in a safe house is one thing. Being exes and stuck in a safe house is a whole different ballpark.
You now wish you would’ve agreed with Steve’s initial hesitancies to send you and Bucky on this mission alone, despite your reassurance you’ve both managed to maintain a professional relationship. Which is true.
Flashbacks to the earlier mission attest to that—your seamless fighting styles and communication haven’t been affected by the fallout of your relationship. Each mission is completed smoothly and efficiently with as little damage taken as possible. If only the two of you managed to figure out how to make it work outside the field, too.
“Hey,” Bucky’s voice brings you back to the present, “are you gonna help me with this? I”m not doing all this paperwork by myself.”
“Yes, I’m gonna help,” you grumble, marching over to him and snatching the paper he holds. “I want this done before we leave so we don’t have to worry about it when we get back.” You plop down into a chair, pulling out a Stark tablet from one of the black duffle bags, and begin the tedious task of documenting the details of the mission.
“And why is that?” Bucky questions nonchalantly, taking the seat across from you. “So you can go see what’s-his-face the second we get back?” He leans back in the chair, interlacing his fingers and placing his hands behind his head.
“You know his name,” you reply flatly, not even bothering to spare him a glance.
“Oh, right, Todd.”
Finally, you look up to him from the tablet you hold. “What is your problem with him?” You ask, frustration lacing around the syllables, but there’s a hint of genuine curiosity hidden between the words.
“No problem,” Bucky replies smoothly with a shoulder shrug. “I just don’t think he’s good enough for you.” He holds your stare, daring you to look away as he speaks with conviction.
There’s a slight quirk to your brow, a sardonic laugh falling from your lips at his words. “What? And you were?”
Bucky’s hands fall to his lap, a tight clench growing in his jaw as he sighs deeply through his nose. He holds your gaze for a moment longer, serious and slightly sad, before he drops it to the table and responds, “Let’s just finish this.”
An hour or so passes, and you’re only halfway through the post-mission reports. You’ve silently cursed Steve for sending you on this mission only once or twice, but you’ve lost count of the times you’ve cursed SHIELD and their repetitive documentation. Bucky, in his typical fashion, has been minimal help with the true detailing of the mission happenings; usually only offering elaborate recalls of his super human abilities.
“You did not take down five Hydra agents with one bullet,” you comment evenly, continuing to type and ignoring his false recounts.
“Sure I did,” he responds. He sits back in the small wooden chair, propping his feet on the table as he tosses a small vial in his hands. “You were looking the other way.”
You suppress an eye roll, placing the tablet onto the table. “Stop fucking around before you break something,” you snap, fed up with his uselessness.
“Will you relax,” he replies calmly. “I’m not going to—“ but the rest of that sentence gets stuck in the back of his throat as he overshoots a toss and misses the glass cylinder.
It all happens in an instant—the vial catches on the tips of Bucky’s fingers, both jumping to your feet, yelling to not let it break. But as the vial crashes to the floor, the red liquid inside spilling onto the aged wooden floorboards, it feels like time slows to a complete standstill.
Silence settles over the cabin then. The faint crackling of the fire is the only noise as you and Bucky stare in shock at the small pool of scarlet. Waiting for something, anything to happen, but nothing comes.
“What the fuck, Bucky?!” You cry, the sound of your voice slicing through the thickened air. “What is wrong with you?!”
“It was an accident!”
“I told you to stop and look what happens! Why don’t you ever listen to me?!”
“Will you just re—“
“Don’t,” you retort, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Do not tell me to relax. We have no clue what was in that vial and now it’s all over the floor, and probably seeping into the air as we speak.” A gasp falls from your lips, slipping through a shaky hand that covers them, as panic begins to settle in. “Fuck, Bucky, we don’t know what was in there! What if it kills us?!” Your eyes grow wide, tears brimming at your lower lash line.
He sighs heavily. “Sweetheart, please take a deep breath. We’re not going to die.”
Any other time the pet name would’ve had you stopping, tossing a snide, and probably hurtful, remark at him to not call you that—that he can’t call you that anymore. But in this moment, it falls on deaf ears, and you unknowingly ignore the squeeze in your chest his terms of endearment always elicit.
“You don’t know that!” You feel a tear slip down your cheek and you step away from Bucky and the stain, beginning to pace in front of the fireplace. “Fuck, this is so bad.”
“Everything is going to be okay,” Bucky begins, reaching for his coat and sliding his arms into the sleeves. “I’m gonna go get the hazmat kit from the Quinjet, and I’ll clean it up.”
Worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, you look to him and nod.
“I’ll be right back.”
You watch as he slips out the front door, a gust of icy wind sweeping through the small living room. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around yourself in an effort to warm yourself and calm your nerves.
Bucky returns not even five minutes later with a hard, black case. In an attempt to save yourself from any of the harmful effects of the liquid, you remain on the other side of the room, and allow Bucky to clean up his literal mess. He removes his coat and places a mask over his face before slipping on a pair of rubber gloves. From inside the case, he pulls out a few microfiber towels and spray bottles. With your thumbnail lodged between your teeth, you anxiously watch him work in silence.
“Okay,” Bucky sighs, dropping the last towel inside a black bag. “It’s all cleaned up.” He gives the floor one last spray before taking the trash bag to the front door and tossing it outside. Then, he turns to you. Concern colors his features, crinkling his brow and softening the corners of his eyes. “Are you okay?”
Still in a slight state of shock, you can only nod, eyes wide in worry.
“Do you feel okay?” He presses, slowly walking towards you.
You quietly nod again.
When he gets about a foot away, he places two large hands—one warm, one cool—on your upper arms. A gentle squeeze from both to ensure you’re still with him, his eyes searching yours. “Y/n,” he tries, “tell me you’re alright.”
Blinking several times, you can feel traces of rogue tears trailing down the skin of your cheeks, but then you’re nodding your head and taking a deep breath. “I’m…I’m okay.”
His hands don’t move, and you would never admit it, but his touch has always been a source of comfort for you. Even now, when you no longer can seek him out for it. With one final squeeze to your arms, Bucky drops his hands to his side and he lets out a breath.
“Maybe we should call it a night.”
Bucky turns to walk back over to the table to begin collecting the files and tablet, sliding them into a bag. A weight still sits on your shoulders, your feet like lead, holding you in place by the fire. It heats your legs; the warmth seeping through the fabric of your tact pants, and it would be unbearable, except, you’re more concerned with the heat spreading from within.
“Y/n,” Bucky softly calls out to you, “bed?”
“Ye—yeah,” voice sticking, you clear your throat and try again, “Yeah, bed.” Without giving Bucky another glance, you sweep a shoulder against him. When you reach the door to one of the bedrooms, it shuts with a definitive slam.
On the other side, you stand with your back against the wooden slab, chest heaving as you try to ignore the obscure feeling that something is off. Instead, you kick off your boots and crawl into the bed. Normally, you would’ve whined and complained about the hard mattress and scratchy sheets, but your mind is miles away from this small cabin. It isn’t until you hear the distant sound of the other bedroom door closing that you attempt to get some sleep.
It’s hot. So unbearably hot.
Your shirt and tact pants were discarded hours ago, leaving you only in your underwear and tank top; the blankets kicked off soon after. Even with the single window open in the middle of a snow storm, your body is still on fire. Sweat soaked through the thin sheets, dampening the fabric an uncomfortable amount. And as you continue to toss and turn, limbs thrashing from discomfort, you realize the sheets aren’t the only thing that’s damp.
You tried to ignore it. Tried to forget and tell yourself that’s not what this is. But as the minutes ticked by and your body grew hotter and hotter, the aching between your thighs screamed at you that this is definitely what you so desperately wished it wasn’t.
A fucking sex tonic.
Of course the one vial Bucky had to fuck around with consisted of a serum designed to make its recipients sexually aroused beyond reason; a feral experience until the ache is satiated.
You almost had enough sense to chastise yourself for not recognizing it sooner. The serum was only a myth until Steve and Nat found remnants of it on a mission a few months ago. Bruce was able to run some tests on it, and the findings even made the Hulk squirm.
But your mind is clouded with unquenched desire, the ache between your legs radiating into your lower abdomen now. A throbbing cramp has you curling over into the fetal position, a weak sob wracking through you as you press your face into the damp pillow, willing it all to stop.
From what you can remember of Bruce’s presentation, your options are very limited. You could wait for the serum to run its course, with the small chance it won’t send you into a pain induced coma. You could try to satiate the need yourself, but he warned this could also have a counter-effect, making the pain so unbearable you end up in a coma anyways. Or, and really what seems to be your only option, you engage in coitus.
Another cry rips from your lungs, the piercing pain continuing to uncomfortably pulsate under your skin, as you realize the only person who could help is the last person you would want to ask. Instead, you have a brief moment of lucidness and you allow your stubborn nature to take over.
Slowly, you shift to lay on your back, tears slipping out of the corners of your eyes and trailing down your temples. With a shaky hand, you slide it under the elastic of your underwear in search of some relief. The fabric, damp and tacky with your arousal, brushes against your knuckles, but the second the pad of your middle finger touches your swollen clit, a sharp sting shoots up your body. It rips you apart, like a knife stabbing mercilessly at your insides and slicing you open; punishment for not doing what the serum is designed for.
A pitiful whine falls from your lips followed by a cry. It’s the only thing you can do as you roll back onto your side, pinching your legs together. The lust induced fever reaches unbearable heights, your consciousness waning when a new prickling sensation of needles all over your body takes over. It immediately has you resenting your stubbornness.
Then, a rough, almost desperate, knock breaks you from your thoughts. Through your delirium, it takes you a moment to gauge if it was real or not. But when you hear it again, you deduce it wasn’t a hallucinated side-effect of the serum.
On trembling limbs, you manage to get out of the bed. As you stand upright, you take a moment to grasp the nightstand. Dizziness swirls around your head, the room spinning as you attempt to discern up from down before taking the five, agonizing steps to the door.
With great effort, you turn the knob and pull the door open. On the other side, Bucky appears. Through blurry vision you can see he’s drenched in sweat, too. His long hair sticks to the sides of his face as a sheen of sweat glistens off his forehead. A flush like a blooming rose stains the shiny skin across his chest, reflecting off the moonlight as it rises and falls in rapid motions.
He clenches his hands into fists, but overall, he seems in a bit more control of his body than you, most likely in due part to the other serum that flows through his veins. But when you meet his gaze, there’s a burning, untamed desire spiraling in the depths of blue, blowing his pupils wide, and you realize his control is holding on by a feeble thread.
Seeing him ignites a new fire within you, and it takes you back to before. To a time when things were simple, and there were no defensive walls between you. To a time when you called him yours.
It forces you to let your guard down, and you nearly fall into his arms, whining, “Bucky…”
He catches you, scooping you into his arms and carrying you back to bed. Gently, he lays you atop the drenched mattress, his sinewy figure hovering over yours. He’s close, so close, and that fact alone is enough to make you lightheaded.
A blinding wave of lust crashes over you when you’re hit with a scent that you can only describe as him; musky with a hint of spice. But there’s a trace of something tangy you pick up on, and when you glance to the bulge in his boxers, you know it’s his arousal. The thought induces an uncontrollable throb to pulsate through your core, its effects rippling with pain and you cry out instinctively.
Bucky can only stare at you as he assesses the situation. He’s in his own world of discomfort, you’re sure of it. He can smell you on any normal given day, so you can only imagine what kind of restraint he’s using in this moment when his senses are in overdrive.
“Sweetheart, please tell me you didn’t try to touch yourself,” he pleads when he realizes how much agony you really are in.
Sobbing, you can only nod. A pattern of crescent moons indent into the clammy skin of his back as you dig your fingers into it, an attempt to hold onto something to ground yourself and take the pain away.
He lets out a sigh, one you think is mixed with slight frustration at your refusal to never ask him for help and genuine concern over your wellbeing.
“Please,” you cry again. “Help me.”
Biting through his bottom lip, Bucky can taste copper. His hands clutch at the sheets on either side of your head. The whirs of his left arm fill the heated space as it incessantly grinds from tension; the muscles of his right arm almost bulging out of their flesh confines. A rush of conflicted emotions scatters over every inch of his face; desire, guilt, a tortured sadness, love.
He wants to help you. Hell, he needs help himself, but even through the fierce blaze of pain his body is going through, his moral compass remains strong, and he doesn’t want to make you do anything you would regret.
“I don’t want…I can’t…” he stammers. “You’re with somebody else.”
“Bucky, I don’t give a fuck about that!” You scream, finding your voice through the pain. “If this doesn’t stop soon, I’ll kill you myself before this fucking serum can do it.” Sweat continues to build along your hairline, beading and dripping. Gripping his face, you hold him an inch away to ensure he hears you loud and clear. “I need you.”
The remaining shreds of hesitancy and decency Bucky clung to instantly flies out the open window, catching in the freezing wind and lost to the blizzard. With a firm hand, Bucky reaches behind your neck and crashes his lips to yours. The cool metal of his hand alleviates some of the feverishness, a brief moment of respite, but it’s the feeling of his lips moving against yours, the knowing of what’s to come, that brings you most relief.
A light brush of his clothed erection against your leg has Bucky on the verge of crying, skin crawling with need. His symptoms started after yours, he deduced by the looks of your state when you answered the door, but it doesn’t mean he’s in any less anguish. Everything from the angry red tip of his cock to the sensitive skin around his sac aches in the most unpleasant way.
Leaning closer to you, Bucky rests his chest against yours, only feeling slightly satiated as his body begs for more. But the pressure has you pulling back, sucking in a pained hiss through clenched teeth.
“It hurts,” you whine, eyes scrunched closed in hopes to mentally will the pain away.
Bucky glances down to your covered torso. Through the thin fabric of your tank top, he can see your peaked nipples straining against the white cotton. Without another thought, he slides his hands underneath and removes it one quick motion. In the next, he swirls his hot, wet tongue over one bud before encasing his lips around it, gently sucking at the needy flesh.
“Ahhh!” You cry breathily.
Desperate fingers tangle in his sweaty locks, pulling at the scalp as he tends to one breast then the other. The ache in your abdomen is beginning to subside, but it’s still not enough. Instinctively, you start bucking your hips up to meet his.
“I need it, please. I need you,” you whine into the top of his head, taking a deep breath as his delicious pheromones continue to invade your senses.
Stopping his motions, Bucky brings his lips back to yours for another bruising kiss. His flesh hand immediately begins to descend over your stomach, slipping under the hemline of your panties. He feels how wet you are; how incredibly, impossibly wet you are, and his cock jumps in his boxers at the feel of your warm arousal covering his digits.
This time when your clit is touched, there is no shooting pain, only a blooming sense of relief, and it sends a wave of goosebumps over your entire body. A choked moan sticks in your throat, tears welling in your eyes and spilling out.
“Yes,” you sigh.
Fingers still twisted in his hair, Bucky tends to your neck with sloppy kisses, the short hairs of his stubble scratchy against your skin. Small ripples of satisfaction pulse through your core at Bucky’s continued ministrations, the squelching sound of two thick fingers moving in and out of your heat condenses the heavy air. But it only lasts a few minutes before your body is burning up again; twisting your insides and reprimanding for not giving it what it needs.
Releasing the hold you have on his hair, your hands trail down his sides to his lower abdomen. The bristly hairs below his naval tickle your palm as you slip a hand under the elastic of his boxers. His cock is achingly hard when you wrap your fingers around it, thick and heavy, velvety soft in your hold. It’s the hardest you’ve ever felt and you wonder how he’s been able to restrain himself for this long. Gently, you sweep your thumb over the weeping tip, his pre-arousal hot and sticky.
A guttural groan, deep and pained, erupts from his chest, reverberating against the skin of your neck. Bucky shudders on top of you, body going slightly limp as he allows himself to bask in the brief moment of respite. God, he missed being touched by you.
Finally, Bucky picks his head up. His eyes are wide, a crazed, animalistic look glazing over the usual calm ocean blue, but there’s a flash of concern that cracks through.
“Are you ready? I don’t wan—“
“Yes, I’m fucking ready,” you grit out. “Now stop acting like you aren’t also dying for this and fuck me already.”
In a blur of heady movements, Bucky removes his boxers and rips your panties off, leaving you both stark naked together for the first time in a long time. Settling between your thighs, Bucky lines himself up at your entrance, your core already throbbing in anticipation. He easily sinks in, a chorus of moans breaking out when he passes the threshold, the first sense of real relief you’ve both felt all night.
When he bottoms out, it's the fullest you’ve ever felt. It’s an unexplainable feeling that has you wanting to claw your skin off at how amazing the sensation is; the ache almost satisfied.
Bucky nearly collapses on top of you. Also momentarily blissed out from the euphoric sense of relief, his forearms catch himself just before he crushes you with his weight. You’ve always been tight, but this, this has his toes curling and fingers gripping desperately at the headboard, willing himself to keep it together and not manically drive into you.
“Fuck,” he groans, and you can feel his body trembling against yours.
Nails dig into the slick skin of his lower back, pulling him into you briefly before demanding, “Move.”
Without having to be told twice, Bucky lets go and retracts his hips before relentlessly pounding into you. A scream rips from your lungs, and you think you could be on the verge of passing out. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, blending with muffled grunts and strangled moans.
“Always so tight,” Bucky groans against your open mouth. “So good for me.” He peppers kisses over your face, wiping a gentle hand over your forehead to remove some of the sweat that’s built up before using it to cradle the back of your head.
Your body is alight with a tingling desire, tuning you into every minute feeling; each veiny ridge of his cock drags against your silk walls, the coarse hairs at the base tickling your slick folds each time he reaches the hilt, a delicious full pressure filling you up. It creates a burning friction that has you already clenching around him, and your only reaction is to bury your face into his neck, nipping at the flesh there.
Bucky growls, his chest vibrating against yours. Blindly, he reaches for your right thigh with his metal hand, hiking it high over his hip. The new, deeper angle has you pulling your mouth away from his neck to blissfully cry out. The springs of the cheap mattress continuously prod at your lower back as Bucky shifts his weight to increase the force of his thrusts.
Above you, Bucky is teetering on the edge of losing all control and giving in to the innate primal urge clawing its way out, begging to be released. But the super soldier serum allows him to keep one hand on the wheel, and he’s grateful for that. At least one of you can keep a semi-level head in this situation—one that he’s to blame for. As he watches you, though, squirming under him from uncontrollable need, feeling you clench down around him over and over again, whimpering in a blissed out daze, his willpower is faltering.
With every rough snap of his hips, he feels you getting closer, the tip of his cock repeatedly hitting the sweet spot inside you. He’s mindful to not leave any marks; a partly coherent piece of him still aware enough to not leave any physical traces on you of this god awful event. The vibranium grip he has on your thigh loosens.
He’s careful to not leave a mark, but he lets you. From the bruising kisses already purpling on his neck to the harsh red lines scratched down his back, he lets you. And he silently curses the serum’s rapid healing effects, knowing he’ll only have these reminders for a short while. To remind him when you were his again, even if it isn’t in the way he wanted, he could still fool himself.
Two trembling arms snake around Bucky’s neck, your quivering thighs tighten against his hips. There’s a new throbbing ache, a building soreness, between your legs, but this time, it’s welcomed. Your insides begin to twist, the chord of pleasure straining for release.
Bucky momentarily frees your thigh from his hold to slip his metal hand between your sweat covered bodies. The typically cool metal is hot against your swollen clit as he rubs generous circles over it, pushing you closer to the edge of euphoria.
“Don’t stop,” you pant against the shell of his ear. “Please don’t stop.”
It takes only a few more rapid thrusts before your skin begins to prickle with the sensation of pins and needles. A contradiction of pain and pleasure emanating from your core, overwhelming you as the chord snaps and your entire body engulfs in flaming elation. It ceases your breathing, has your eyes rolling into the back of your head, vision blurred and whited out.
“Fuck, yes!” You cry out between strangled sobs, arms and legs securing firmly around Bucky.
Tightly clenching around him, Bucky nearly chokes on air, the tightest you’ve ever been, and he’s determined to reach his own release. His skin is on fire, body blazing with need and his rational mind slips as he finally gives in. Viscously snapping his hips into you, he’s so close he can almost taste it. A wild rush courses through him, egging him on and clouding his mind.
“My best girl,” he pants by your ear, face buried in the pillow you rest on, “my only girl.”
He continues to pound into you, his thrusts faltering every now and then when he feels a fluttering aftershock of your orgasm. “Love you,” he breathes between nips and kisses along your slack jaw, one hand gripping the back of your neck, the other gripping onto the underside of your thigh again, “so much.”
The words dissolve into the mist of your sex fueled haze and they’re quickly forgotten about as you blindly agree you love him too. He bites down gently on the skin of your shoulder, a feral growl reverberates through his entire body as he releases inside you, and he forces himself in as deep as he can go. So much for not leaving any marks.
The two of you stay like that for a moment, bodies trembling and hearts thundering wildly in your chests, competing against one another as you come down from the intense high. Like a thick fog, the lustful intoxication of the serum dissipates, clearing your minds and allowing the harsh reality of the situation to settle in.
A chill fills the room, a breath of wind spilling in from the open window, causing you to shudder beneath him. It’s the only thing you can really feel as a numbing after effect consumes you.
Bucky feels you slightly shaking and lifts up, letting go of your thigh and you let it limply fall to the mattress. Resting on one hand, Bucky uses the other to grip the base of his cock, slowly removing it from inside you. You both watch as he reappears covered in your mixed juices. Pained hisses cut through the silence when he’s fully out, taking a piece of you with him; or maybe it’s one he’s always had. An uncomfortable emptiness leaves you feeling hollow in more ways than one.
Then, Bucky is looking to you. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He searches your eyes for any indication that you’re in any form of discomfort.
You don’t respond; only stare blankly up at him for a moment before sliding your legs out from under him and gently push off the bed. Silently, you gather your clothing that was discarded in a feverish state of pain and desire, not even bothering to take the time to search for your underwear Bucky carelessly threw somewhere. As you move around the room, the warm stickiness of his spend begins to trail down your inner thigh, hastening your effort to get cleaned up. Without another glance in his direction, you slip out of the room and into the bathroom across the hall.
Cool, refreshing water cascades over your skin, simmering the boil of surging emotions inside. Anger at Bucky’s carelessness; guilt at cheating on your partner; and confusion at the newfound adoration you thought was buried long ago, when you and Bucky decided it was no longer working between you.
It’s difficult for you to discern when your feelings towards Bucky started blossoming again. You could easily brush it off as a lingering side effect of the serum—a slight emotional attachment to the person who took your pain away. But you know it’s so much more than that. If anything, tonight has brought to light all the feelings you’ve been trying to suppress for far too long.
Moments of catching yourself staring longer than you should; being secretly excited when assigned on missions together, despite outwardly protesting your discontent for the situation; nights spent wondering about the what ifs and could have beens.
The raging storm of confusion elicits a deep frustrated grumble. Slipping your head under the running water, you pray for it to help make sense of everything swirling around inside it.
The pipes squeak and groan as you cut off the water, drying off and redressing. But before you slip your shirt back on, you catch sight of a reddened mark on your right shoulder in the mirror. Grazing light fingers over it, you harshly bite down on your bottom lip to stop the threat of tears. Quickly, you drag your shirt over your head and cover it up, trying to forget that Bucky had been yours once again, if only for a moment. But there’s still a dull ache throbbing between your legs, radiating up into your chest and clamping around your heart, and you pull on every fiber in your being to not cry at the thought of it.
Opening the bathroom door, you peek out into the hallway, searching for any sign you’re not alone. When you don’t see one, you step out but stop before going back into your room.
The door hangs open, a clear view of tangled sheets and a fading imprint on the mattress the only remaining signs of what just occurred. The ache slightly intensifies the longer you stare at it. Instead, you opt to sleep on the couch in the living room.
The fire burned out hours ago, the room only illuminated now by the bright moon hanging outside the window. Laying on the couch, a numbness settles over your body, glassy eyes staring at the pulsating glow of the small pile of embers. Only a few minutes pass before you finally cave, crumbling into yourself as you allow the new wave of internal pain to take over, and you cry.
A soft weighted sensation stirs you from your sleep the next morning, and you have to quickly reach out to stop the blanket that covers you from slipping onto the floor. Gripping it, your brows knit together as curious eyes scan over the fabric. You don’t recall getting the blanket at any point during the night, and you slowly sit up to place it on the cushion beside you.
The front door opens, and you snap your head in the direction to see Bucky’s large figure appearing in the room, stomping his feet to rid his boots of snow. Instinctively, your eyes squint from the brightness of the sun reflecting on the whiteness outside, raising a hand to shield it. When Bucky catches sight that you’re awake, he stops his motions and stares at you.
His cerulean eyes are always brighter in the morning, something you remember from before, but no longer allow yourself to bask in. This morning, however, they’re a sad shade of grey; dull, puffy, and slightly red around the rim. A flicker of remorse flashes across his features as he notices your own disheveled state.
He uneasily clears his throat, dropping your gaze to remove the gloves from his hands. “The Quinjet is all packed. I figured you’d want to leave as soon as possible.” He clutches both gloves in one hand, looking to you once again. “I’m ready when you are.”
Blinking away the tears that burn the back of your eyes, you nod your head. “Okay.”
Almost like a hangover, you’re still a bit lightheaded from the after effects of the serum and your night of crying, wobbling a bit when you stand on two feet. In hopes to steady your equilibrium, you press the base of your palms into your eyes, taking a few deep breaths.
“Are you okay?” Bucky softly asks, voice ripe with worry.
“I’m fine.” The words scratch their way out, your throat sore from crying.
Without another word, you collect your belongings and rush out to the Quinjet, leaving Bucky to follow behind you. Settling in, you choose to sit as far away from him as possible, your skin already crawling at the prospect of sitting in an uncomfortable silence for the next four hours with your ex-boyfriend.
Your ex-boyfriend who you reluctantly had between your legs no less than eight hours ago.
The faint throb returns, constricting your chest, and you shift to turn away from him. Even from the pilot’s seat, you can feel Bucky’s stare burning through you. You shift again, curling your legs up and tucking an arm under your head in an attempt to get comfortable enough to hopefully fall asleep, and ignore the awkward tension brewing between you.
Once you’re finally back at the Compound, you can’t get off the Quinjet fast enough. As you land, Bucky rhetorically tells you he’ll finish up the rest of the post-mission paperwork, ensuring you won’t have to worry about it. You only nod before leaving him alone to retreat back to your room.
Five long days pass in a blur.
Nat came to check on you soon after you returned home. You internally debated telling her what happened, but the more you tried to keep it to yourself, the more it ate away at you. Once the initial shock wore off, she insisted you go to the med lab to get checked out, and then asked what you were going to do now.
You could only answer honestly when you said, “I don’t know.”
You knew you had to talk to Tom. The thought alone created a rock of dread that sat heavy in your stomach, but it was nothing compared to the thought of having to talk to Bucky.
It’s on the sixth day you finally manage to muster up enough courage to talk to the man you’ve been avoiding for almost a week. You haven’t seen Bucky since you returned home, mindful to keep your distance and you’re sure he tried to keep his, too. A few times you heard him coming and going from his room, and you think there was one night he lingered outside your door before he decided against coming to you.
The sound of his door closing breaks you from your thoughts, head snapping in the direction of the wooden barrier currently between you. Gently chewing on the inside of your cheek, you ponder for another moment before you ultimately decide to just get it over with, rip the metaphorical bandaid off and be done with it. Standing up from the chair you sit on, you take a deep breath and go to him.
Hesitantly, you raise a fisted hand to his door, knocking softly. You wait, your fingers wringing together as anxiety curdles in your stomach, and you almost turn to leave, but the door suddenly whips open. Bucky stands before you with a slight dip in his brow, eyes uncertain as he regards you, waiting for you to speak.
“Um,” you begin, voice low and shy, “can we talk?”
He remains silent, stepping to the side to open the door for you to enter. You falter, taking a step before second guessing if this is even a good idea, and you almost run back to your room until you stop yourself. Stop being dumb.
Bucky closes the door once you’re inside, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the fact you’re alone with him once again when he turns to face you. Goosebumps prick at your skin, the anxiety twisting your insides that much more.
“How are you?”
The weakness of your voice has you internally wincing. You’ve been with this man countless times before, fought with and against him, and all of a sudden you’re a fragile mess before him? No, you’re stronger than that. Pulling your shoulders back, you raise your chin as you wait for him to respond.
“I’ve been better,” he replies evenly.
You slowly nod. “I assume you went to see Bruce,” you begin, and continue once he confirms, “and I assume everything was okay?”
“That’s good.” You pause to rub your lips together, crossing your arms self-consciously over your midsection. “I told him the tonic took a few hours to take effect, so he thinks it might’ve been old.” Another pause before you sarcastically add, “Still potent once it starts working.”
Pinching his lips together into a thin line, Bucky doesn’t say anything. You notice the dull blue of his eyes, reminding you of the sad, stormy grey they were the morning after in the safe house.
Swallowing thickly, you briefly look away as your brain scatters for something else to say. With your mind distracted by other things, and in your haste to get this whole ordeal over with, you gave little thought to what you would say to him. You open your mouth to say something, what—you aren’t sure—but Bucky beats you to it.
“I really am sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”
There’s a sadness that pulls at the corners of his eyes, a sincerity in his voice, but his words flip a switch inside you. No longer a lost, fragile mess, red begins to cloud your vision, anger seeping into your veins.
“Oh, so you’re finally taking ownership for your actions?” You spit. “That’s nice.”
Bucky lets out a frustrated sigh, rolling his eyes as he looks to the ceiling. “Please don’t do this.”
You choose to ignore him, continuing with your verbal assault and unsubstantiated accusations. “Or did you do it on purpose? Trying to get back in my pants again to prove some kind of sick point that I’ll always be yours? Is that it?”
Incredulity creases Bucky’s brows, his eyes widening at your outburst. “What are you talking about?” He asks, annoyance threading through his rising voice. “How was I supposed to know what it was?”
Clenching your back teeth, you shake your head at him. “Forget it,” you begin, moving to step around him. “Forget I even came here. This was stupid.”
You only make it halfway to the door before Bucky is grasping your upper arm, stopping your movements and swinging you back around to face him.
“No,” he firmly states, “you came here to talk, so let’s talk. This isn’t gonna be like before. I’m not going to let you run away from this.”
A tense silence falls between you, chests heaving as you stare each other down. Finally, Bucky speaks again, releasing your arm and dropping his gaze to the floor.
“What did your boyfriend say?”
Taking another hard swallow, your voice is low when you respond, “We’re not together anymore.”
Bucky swiftly picks his head up to look at you, guilt shining over his pleading eyes. “Please don’t tell me he broke up with you because of my fuck up.”
“No,” you sigh, eyes downcast to the floor. “I broke up with him.”
There’s a brief pause as Bucky processes your words. “Why would you do that?”
The question is simple, but the answer has left you in a tangled mess of emotions. “Because,” you pause, taking another deep breath, “because I realized something.”
Gazing back to Bucky, you choose to ignore your conflicted answer, and instead ask him a question of your own. A question you hope will help bring you some form of peace. “Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” His voice is low, nearly a whisper.
Taking a moment to gather your thoughts, steeling your frenzied nerves, you finally respond, “When we were…together, you said you loved me. Did you mean it?”
Bucky’s eyes widen in surprise, clearly not expecting you to bring that up. It was a slip of the tongue, spoken in the heat of the moment as he was overcome with a crazed desire. He didn’t think you heard it, or at least, didn’t really comprehend what he was saying, but he did mean it. He’s silently loved you from afar every single day since he let you walk away, always too afraid to admit it out loud to himself, and to you.
But he does. He loves you and he means it, every word. And in this moment, he’d rather ingest the sex tonic all over again, allow it to destroy him, than let you slip away a second time.
“Yes,” he replies, voice strong and full of conviction. His eyes hold your stare, watching as they gloss over with unshed tears. “I meant it.”
The confession has a breath catching in your throat. The raging war of confusing thoughts and feelings comes to a cease fire, your inner turmoil surrendering as everything falls back into place.
Without an ounce of hesitation, you reach out for him. Both hands grasp along his jaw, lips crashing onto his. Bucky reacts instantly, gripping your waist to pull you in. His lips are fierce against yours, desperate like a man starved, and his tongue slips out seeking yours.
The kiss is a bittersweet taste of resentment and longing. Tongues gliding against one another as you both forgive and remember what it’s like to be together again. It tastes like home.
Breathless, you pull away, eyes searching his—no longer dull and conflicted, they shine bright with a spark of hopefulness.
“I’m sorry, too,” you softly say, “and I’m willing to try again if you are.”
Bucky lets out a deep, pleased sigh, the beginnings of a smile curling the corner of his mouth. Tenderly, he places a chaste kiss to your lips, your cheek, and wraps two strong arms around you, securing you into a tight embrace.
“I missed you,” he says, the words muffled, his lips pressed against your shoulder.
The beating of your heart stutters at his admission, a pleasant flip in your belly, because you’ve missed him, too. So much, and more than you allowed yourself to admit.
Tightening your arms around his neck, you softly tell him, “I love you, too.”
And you mean it.
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Sweeter than Sugar
Summary: She broke his heart but you're not going to let her win. Bucky deserves the best and you're going to give it to him.
Pairing: Chubby Baker!Bucky x Reader, mentions of former relationship with OFC.
Word Count: 4K
Warnings: Smut, Oral (fem receiving), body shaming by OFC, language, mentions of insecurities. painful break up (not reader) bit angst, fluff. As always 18+ only.
A/N: Do not copy, rewrite, repost or translate my works. Comments and reblogs are welcomed. Beta'd by the lovely @deann and @makbarnes but all mistakes are my own.
A/N II: @star-spangled-bingo 2021 Squared filled: Curtain fic and @gotnofucks Body positivity challenge
"Wait till you try this. I think this is my best batch yet." Bucky promises as he pulls the tray out of the oven with his vibranium hand.
You cringe for a second before remembering that he can handle the heat.
You stretch, looking around the large bright kitchen. A fresh breeze floats through the open window carrying in notes of rain and freshly cut grass and the faint sounds of the neighbor's kids playing with their dogs.
Leaning back in your seat, you turn your gaze back to him, a faint smile on your lips as he blows on the pastries, cute little puffs he named after you.
His blue eyes shine under the soft yellow lights, an apron under the swell of his pudgy belly. He looks incredible, wearing only a pair of black boxers that stretch across the curves of his ass. His hair is pulled back into a small bun at the nape of his neck, and there's always something smeared across his cheek.
Yesterday, it had been red velvet frosting, and today, cherry.
Bucky scoops a puff on to a small white plate, grabbing a fork from the drawer. He beams, his entire face radiant as he walks towards you.
That's the look that makes your stomach twist and leaves you feeling dizzy.
Dating Bucky has been a dream. He's loving, kind and he looks at you with such love that you lose your breath just thinking about him.
According to him, you've improved his life in several ways; he swears his food tastes better now, that you somehow make his cakes perfect, his frostings sweeter, and well, he can’t look at a peach without grinning like a drunk-in-love idiot.
You’ve spent many late mornings and lazy afternoons watching him patter around the kitchen, listening to him explain his baking processes while you lounge in a chair.
You don’t understand half of what he’s saying, but he speaks with such passion, his hands animatedly flying in the air as he talks about chocolates, melting points, and the differences in pans.
Bucky has discovered early on that he loves to watch you eat. To be more specific, if it's his food. Only his food, if he’s being honest. He gets so nervous every time that his stomach plummets because he wants to make things for you.
Give you so many things.
Starting with your own custom-made pastry.
“Here, Peach, it just melts on your tongue,” his deep voice lowering to a near moan.
He slips the pastry into your open mouth, his thumb grazing over your bottom lip as you swallow. Oh, your eyes almost roll back in your head when the flavors explode on your taste buds. You’ve never tasted anything that wonderful.
“Oh my god, Bucky,” you gasp, leaning forward for more. “I-that’s so good! Can I have another?”
He grins, lopsided and wide, his heart thundering so hard it feels like it might fly out of his chest. Bucky will give you pastries as much as you want if you keep looking at him like that. He puts his all into his baking and the fact that you enjoy it makes him feel as if he can walk on air.
Bucky kisses your forehead as you chew, pushing away from the table, he slides on his sock-covered feet to the fridge. “What do you want to drink?”
“What do we have?” You giggle as he dances in front of the fridge, calling out options for you.
It’s hard to believe that the carefree man in front of you is the same one that was ashamed to remove his shirt a few weeks ago.
Bucky holds your hands at your sides, fingers laced between yours as he feasts between your thighs. He promised to make you come for him at least three times and you swear it’s been double that by now. His warm, wet tongue flicking over your swollen, sensitive clit over and over, sucking and pulling it into his mouth like he can’t get enough of you.
You moan incoherently, voice hoarse from begging and mewling, your legs limp around his broad shoulders. “Buc-Bucky, oh right there, Bucky,” you plead, feeling pressure build in your belly as his tongue traces patterns over you.
Bucky grinned, his face covered in your slick. He can’t remember the last time he had a better meal in his life. “That’s my girl, so sweet, need one more taste, just a little more,” he whispers before his lips wrap around your clit again. Your mouth falls open in a wordless scream, back arching off the bed when he gently shakes his head, sucking so hard that you see stars.
Bucky groans actually groans deep and vulgar when you cum,and you feel it as your body explodes, waves of pleasure surging through you until you’re gushing on his beard. He eases up, nuzzling into your puffy folds as you come down from your high. Bucky looks up, his dark slate-blue eyes taking in your heaving chest, a bead of sweat rolling down your belly.
“One more?” he says hopefully, wanting to dive back into your pussy.
Your eyes widen as you frantically shake your head. “No. Oh no. Bucky, I can’t, I really can’t, I’m not sure I can handle any more.” You laugh breathlessly, tugging one of your hands free from his tight grip. You rake your fingers through his hair, smiling down at him. "Besides, I’ve been dreaming about you fucking me until I can’t walk.”
A faint blush sweeps across his cheeks as he averts his eyes. “Peach,” he mumbles shyly like he just didn’t spend the past hour worshiping your pussy with his mouth.
Bucky stands up, wiping a hand down his face. He stares at his glistening palm for a second, and then his pink tongue darts out, swiping across the wet surface. You wonder if he’s aware that he's moaning, your pussy throbbing at the guttural sounds.
“You’re filthy,” you jest when he does it again. His face gets even redder as he sucks on his finger.
“You taste better than my pies,” he retorts. “I could eat you all day, every day.”
“Tomorrow, for sure, but right now I want you inside me.”
His smile drops a little when you tell him to get undressed. He’s been dreading this moment, doing everything he can to avoid it. You scoot back on the bed, reaching out for him. Bucky looks down at his body, at his belly, his eyes narrowing, he scratches the back of his neck, telling himself he can do this.
He lifts the edge of his navy blue Henley, freezing when he hears her voice in his head. “Who would want a fatty? No one is going to love you looking like that.” Even now it stings thinking about her. Bucky glances over at you, his heartbreaking at the thought of you rejecting him.
Bucky drops his shirt and reaches for the lamp. “One second.” He says. An unmistakable hint of sadness in his voice has you sitting up. He’s never sounded like that before.
You tilt your head to the side, searching his face. “Bucky, what’s wrong?”
“Just gonna turn the lights off first.” The corner of his lips lifts in a weak, watery smile.
You move to your knees and grab his large hand before he can switch them off. “Why?”
Bucky swallows, “no reason, just like the lights off, 'is all.”
Bucky’s admittedly good at a lot of things, but lying isn’t one of them. He briefly meets your gentle gaze, worry and fear swimming in his beautiful clear blue eyes.
Placing your hands on his chest, you grab his chin. “Bucky, look at me.” He immediately follows your soft command. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”
Bucky blinks, shaking his head, almost confused at the thought that you could do anything wrong. “No, no, you’re perfect! It’s me. I don’t wanna disappoint you.” His voice tapers off in a whisper, hearing her sharp laughter the last night they were together. “I know I’m fat, so it would be better if we turned off the lights, that way you don’t have to look at me. “
You stare at your generous, doting boyfriend. “Why wouldn’t I want to look at you?,” you question, befuddled because who on earth would jump at the chance to see a naked Bucky Barnes.
He shrugs a shoulder, his somber eyes drifting down. He grabs his belly and jiggles it. Another shrug followed by a quiet, “I look different with my clothes off.”
You crane your head back, “I love your belly, it’s perfect. Who made you feel like you have to hide it?”
Bucky sighs, rubbing his cheek into your palm. “My ex, Moxie- “
Bucky dated her two years ago. She latched on to him when he and Steve bought the bakery, wanting to be the girlfriend of the rising baking star.
Bucky slowly gained weight as he sampled his baking and designed dessert menus for local restaurants, his joy for baking expanding each day, finally getting to see his dreams become reality.
He hadn’t noticed the changes in his body until one night Moxie cruelly pointed them out.
He was getting ready for bed, eager to be with his girl after a full day of running around. He had been telling her about how another restaurant wanted his input, so excited to share his news that he didn’t notice the way she glared at him.
Tossing his shirt in the hamper, he turned to her and smiled, his hands on his belt. “I’ve been thinking about you all day baby, I can’t- “
Moxie sneered at him, pretending to gag. “Are you serious?”
Bucky’s brows furrowed. “Um, what?”
“Um, what,” she mocked, pulling the blanket up to her chest. There's a pause, tension seeping into the room. “You know what, I have to say it, I can't take this anymore James. Look at you and look at me, why the fuck would I let you touch me anymore?”
Moxie sighed, “can you put on your shirt back on or something because that- “she gestured at him “-is disgusting” She let out an irritated groan when he flinched at her words.
A punch to the gut would have hurt less. Bucky felt his heart split. “Moxie,” he whispered, unable to find words to express the pain currently ripping through him.
“Look, I didn’t sign up for this, you were in shape when we got together, what the hell happened to you? Why do you think I stopped letting you touch me.” She ranted, ignoring his soft pleas for her to stop.
“Either lose the weight or I’ll fuck Steve, at least he still looks good.” She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, yawning, “can you go somewhere else, I don’t want you accidentally rolling over me and squishing me in your sleep.”
His mouth floundered open, but he couldn’t speak. It all hurt too much, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, the air was too thick and his chest grew tighter with each breath; he needed to get away, terrified of what might happen if he cried in front of her.
Bucky shuffled out the room, his heart shattering with every step. He thought she was happy, that he made her happy. Her laughter following him out to the hallway made his head droop even more.
What did he do wrong?
He spent the night on the couch, staring at his old pictures through tear-filled eyes, Bucky always had a little fullness to him, but he was always happy with his body. And he had been having so much fun with the grand opening and all the new opportunities that he never noticed that he stopped needing belts and his shirts were a little snug over his belly.
Bucky called Steve, his best friend fuming when he told him what happened. By the time he was done speaking with him, Bucky felt a little better, his heart may have been in pieces but he knew what he needed to do.
He kicked her out the next morning.
Much to Moxie’s surprise and Bucky's. He may be chubby but he's not going to be her pushover either.
Bucky ignored her apologies and said she had to go. It shocked her when Steve had shown up with a roll of garbage bags, tossing them at her feet with a sharp quip that he doesn’t fuck losers. Both men stood side by side, watching silently as she packed her belongings.
The only things she left behind were his broken heart and a few nagging insecurities that plagued him.
He finishes, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of his confession, you want nothing more than to stamp out the sadness marring his beautiful eyes.
“I thought she loved me but--“ he sighs, “--I don’t want you to look at me the way she did, I love you too much, Peach, and I know I should probably lose a few -”
You’ve never been angrier in your life. You want to punch little Ms. Moxie in her throat, she better hope she never runs into you because they will have to pry you off of her.
Clearing your head, you clasp his face in your hands and pull him down for a kiss. “Bucky Barnes, you are the sweetest man I know, you’re beautiful and I love everything about you.”
You silence his objections with another kiss. “I mean it Bucky, I love all of you. You don’t need to change anything.”
Bucky swallows the small protest, letting himself relax. You’re not her, you won’t hurt him. Placing a kiss on his soft, round belly, you murmur, “you have no idea how sexy you are, honey.”
You stand on the bed, holding on to his bicep for balance, and tug his shirt off. Looking down at him, you bite your lip. He’s ridiculously handsome and you’re going to prove it to him.
You pepper kisses along the curve of his neck as you sink back down, praising him and telling him how much you love him, describing in vivid detail how each part of his body is perfect.
His confidence and love for you growing with each word. By the time you reach the band of his boxers, he panting, his eyes darkening with an almost feral need to possess you.
Bucky tears off the last barrier keeping you from him and he pounces. You giggle as he pushes you into the soft blankets, the solid, comforting weight of his body encompassing you as he kisses you with such passion you forget to breathe. His warm lips melding into yours, his wet tongue dipping into your mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue as it dips into your mouth.
Bucky reaches down with one hand, grabbing his cock, his other hand cupping the back of your head as he deepens the kiss. He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours so he can gaze into your eyes. Bucky watches your mouth fall open, a gasp pouring out when he guides his thick cock into you.
He rolls his hips, moving deeper into your wet, hot heat. “That’s it Peach, you’re so good,” He brushes his lips across yours, swallowing your oh Bucky as he stretches your tight pussy around him. The slight burn gives aways to pure bliss, you circle your hips after a minute. A quiet I’m ready breathed into his mouth.
Bucky thrusts languidly into your pussy, each deliberate slow drag of his throbbing cock against your soft walls sends bursts of pleasure up your belly and down your spine. His lovemaking tender, yet so possessive that your head is reeling.
He makes sure that you feel all of him, each inch as you clench down, greedy for more of him, even as he goes deeper and deeper, his soft lips caressing your neck. His body keeping you pinned, so you have to take everything he’s giving you.
That pressure builds again, heavy and hot in your belly, digging your heels into the top of his thighs, you meet his strokes, pleading with him to please move a little faster, you need it so bad.
You don’t have to beg; he wants you to cum for him; he wants to feel your sweet pussy flutter around him as you cry out his name.
Bucky sucks a bruise on your throat, his hips pounding into yours. The headboard smacking against the wall with each powerful thrust. The dull thuds drowned out by your loud moans, the pressure getting more intense.
“Bucky,—” you cry out, scratching his lower back when he grinds his hips down, “—oh fuck, do that, do that again,” you frantically chant, slapping your hands on his ass, keening when he does, god yes, he does it just right, hitting a tender spot inside your cunt so hard that you bite down on his shoulder to keep from screaming.
“That it Peach, is that what you need.” He slips a hand between your bodies, his wide fingers circling your clit, “Go on, cum for me, give it to me Peach, be my good girl, and cum for me.”
You do, your walls clenching down as the pressure snaps, sensations firing off as your orgasms winds through you. Bucky’s pace falters, becomes erratic when he feels you milking his cock, unable to hold himself back any longer he lets himself go, relishing in your warmth until he spills inside you.
He tries to roll off of you, but you wrap your arms around him, murmuring for him to stay for a minute. You smooth your hands over his slick back, Bucky relaxes on top of you, grinning at your contented sigh. “I love you Peach.”
“Love you too,” you respond, plotting all the ways you’re going to let him know how much he means to you.
After that night, you began to praise Bucky, complimenting his body every chance you got, smacking his ass whenever he walked past you, hugging and kissing him.
The first couple of weeks, he would hide his face behind one of his large hands and his cheeks would resemble one of his bright red apples. “Peach, you don’t have to, I mean I’m-” he would stammer each time, always tucking his hair behind his ears.
It took you three days to figure out that he has a praise kink and you amped it. He barely opened his eyes before you were saying something that made him hide his face behind his pillow, laughing when you wiggled under it to tell him how good he looks when he smiles.
While you loved making him blush, you cherished how confident he became. And you reaped the benefits, one second he was a bashful baker with buttercream frosting on his forehead, the next he was bending you over his counter, railing you so good you couldn’t even scream his name.
After a while, he stopped avoiding the bathroom mirror in the mornings. And you couldn’t wipe the grin off your face, the first time you saw him cooking, shirtless, in the kitchen. He turned when he heard your footsteps, his face turning that familiar shade of red as you openly gawked.
“C’mon Peach, don’t you start-” he playfully grumbles, his lip twitching as he held in his smile, he moved back to the frying back, turning off the stove as he braces himself.
You squeal, flinging yourself at him, peppering his back with kisses. You couldn’t contain the litany of praises on your tongue, so proud of him. Bucky twisted in your grasp, cupping your face in his hands. “God I love you Peach.”
Bucky and Steve are celebrating the grand opening of another bakery. The largest one to date. The new building is full of investors, press, other bakers and chefs, a live band playing in the corner, drinks, and food everywhere, and of course the tower of desserts in the middle of the room. The atmosphere light and airy, glasses clinking, people dancing and every kind of cake, pies, and pastry imaginable on silver platters through the room.
You’ve never had so much fun, although a slightly buzzed Bucky is having an even better time because you’re wearing one of his favorite dresses. You remember when he first saw you in it, you twirled out of the dressing room and he nearly lost it in the middle of the store.
The more he celebrates, the more he’s giving you that look. Steve has to keep interfering, he’s close to going feral in front of all his guests.
Steve sent him to the kitchen after he caught him trying to put his hand between your thighs. You’re laughing as a contrite Bucky gets up from the table to refill the rapidly diminishing display.
“You know I’ve known Buck my whole life and I’ve never seen him this happy.” Steve remarks as he takes a seat across from you. His warm blue eyes glistening. “Thank you for that. He’s been through a lot and you’re the best thing that happened to him.”
Your cheeks get heated at his words. Steve leans forward, holding your hand between his. “I mean it, even though he’s getting on my last nerve talking about you.“
Steve squeezes your hand as he looks up at the ceiling for a second. “God, the man never shuts up, and I’m this close to strangling him if he compares you to another peach, but I love-“
He cuts off, his head jerks back so fast, you think something struck him. “What the fuck is she doing here?”
You turn around in your chair, searching the crowded room. “Who are you talking about?”
“Moxie,” Steve spits out, his hand curling into a fist. “White dress by the bar.”
You find her flirting with one of the investors. Moxie puts her hand on his chest, her shrill laugh cutting through the surrounding conversations. Whatever she tried fails spectacularly. The tall, sturdy blonde grimaces and walks away. You would almost feel bad if you didn’t want to slam her face into the wall.
She spots Steve and waves, making her way through the crowd. “Hey, long time no see.”
Steve raises a brow, his eyes hardening. “Why are you here?”
She laughs, patting his shoulder. “I’m here to apologize to Bucky, I know he misses me, he must be lonely.”
“Really?” you question, keeping your voice light and even.
Moxie dismissively glances at you before returning her attention to Steve. You chuckle under your breath, tapping your heel on the floor.
Don’t ruin your man’s event. Don’t ruin your mans’ event. You repeat the thought as you inhale through your nose.
“So I heard you two are doing really well.” She says, her manicured nails roaming over Steve’s suit. “Really well.”
Steve flicks her fingers off him, “We are. No Bucky’s not lonely. He doesn’t miss you. He’s very happy. With her.”
Moxie’s polite veneer cracks when Steve points at you. Waving your fingers at her, you grin at her. “You go near my Bucky and I’ll rip that cheap necklace off and shove it down your throat.”
She turns to Steve, gesturing to you as if she's the innocent one here; he raises his glass, blowing a harsh breath through his lips. “Don’t look at me, I still don’t fuck losers, but I’ll call if you if that changes.”
You laugh in your empty glass when she sputters. She turns to you, hand on her hip. You slowly raise your eyes, returning her stare. Part of you wanting her to do something, so you can wipe the smirk off her overly painted face.
“Whatever, I don’t need this. Keep the fattie. I can find another rich loser like that.” She snaps her fingers, storming over to the bar. You blink a few times in disbelief. The audacity of this bitch, thinking that she can stay and mingle at his event.
You're debating if you should have her thrown out by one of the staff or if you should drag her out by her hair.
You look her up and down as you ponder your choices, pausing when you see the edge of a tag sticking out the back of her dress. Hmm, interesting. She must plan on returning it after tonight.
A devious smirk slowly takes over your face, you know exactly what you’re going to do to little Ms. Moxie.
You glance at Steve, picking up his wineglass. Steve shakes his head while grabbing your hand. “Hey hey, I know what you’re thinking, and no.”
Before you can say anything, he’s pouring more burgundy wine into the glass until it’s nearly sloshing over the sides. “If you’re going do it, you gotta do it right.”
You exchange knowing glances. No one hurts Bucky. You saunter over to her, keeping your hand steady, not wanting to lose a single drop on the floor.
“Hey Moxie,” you call out. She turns around and you ‘trip’ over your heels, the deep red liquid flying forward in a perfect arch, splashing across her ivory dress, her face and you even got some in her hair.
“Oops, gosh, I am so clumsy,” you state, hiding your grin as she shrieks.
Steve jumps up, offering to help before she can swing at you. “I got you, darling.”
He places a hand on her back, quickly ushering her away “a little club soda will get that right out,” he reassures a pouting, whining Moxie.
He's lying through his teeth, that stain will never come out. Steve gets a peek at the price tag, almost laughing at the $899 imprinted on the card. He maintains his façade, leading her through the room, he stops, giving her a wide smile.
“And you can find some at the drugstore down the street.” He states, opening the front door and pushing her out. Her indignant shouts cut off when he slams the door in her face.
You throw your head back and cackle, startling some guests around the bar, you apologize for your outburst between fits of laughter, wiping the tears pricking at your eyes. You wave down the amused bartender, placing an order for you and Steve.
Steve joins you, raising his fresh glass of wine in a toast. “No one fucks with Bucky.”
Neither you nor Steve realizes Bucky saw the whole thing. He ducks back into the kitchen, clutching the tray of Cannelés to his chest. For weeks after the breakup, he had rehearsed what he was going to say that next time he came face to face with Moxie.
But what you and Steve did was even better, the love of his life and his best friend always looking out for him.
Loving him unconditionally.
And just like that, the last traces of his insecurities vanished.
Later that night, you fall asleep with your head on his shoulder. He smiles at your hand on his belly. He places his large hand over yours, wondering how he got so lucky to have you.
And if Steve would kill him if he named another dessert after you.
He’ll risk it.
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#1 for imagine with dads!best friend 😉
So y/n has a crush on her dads best friend, because he’s this big beefy man with charm that makes all the ladies swoon. He’s all she can think about when she is laying there awake at night.
It’s her graduation (or some event) and her dad throws a celebration. Bucky is invited and she’s excited to see him until he shows up at their house with a random woman hanging off his arm. She’s jealous and realizes he’s never going to like her the way she would wants and sneaks off to her room to be alone, until Bucky finds her and they are alone
The Graduation Party
@littlecanadianlani was kind enough to send me over some (immaculate) Dad’s Best Friend! Bucky ideas and I’m so obsessed I think I’ll make them a series of one-shots so I can keep up with my requests at the same time!! Each piece will be a standalone fic rather than a chapter but I’m super excited about this!! 🥰
I went for a graduation party since I didn’t really get one yet 😅
Pairing: Dad’s Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 4.3K
Summary: Your parents throw you a graduation party but things take a turn when Bucky turns up with a new girlfriend
Warnings: Smut, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, fingering, huge age gap (Bucky is maybe around 40, reader is 21), lil angst perhaps? Fluff, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (behave yourselves pls), dirty talk, praise kink, degradation, pet names, coercion (but in the sense that Bucky knows he shouldn’t want his best friend’s daughter. All parties are enthusiastically participating), humping, riding, dumbification
Minors, do not interact
You weren’t sure there was a man more intimidatingly handsome than your dad’s college best friend and he knew it. If tall, dark and handsome was a person, it would be Bucky Barnes with his piercing blue eyes and soft, flushed, pink lips.
He was the definition of a bachelor. Unmarried, no kids, seemingly endless disposable income and from what your dad had told you, a new woman every week. And why shouldn’t he? Married life just didn’t seem to be his thing, settling down might never happen for Bucky and there was nothing wrong with that.
Plus the fact he hadn’t settled had kept your little crush alive. You couldn’t help wondering what it was like to be with a man like Bucky. A man with experience, a man who knew how to actually make love to a woman, rather just offer five minutes of painfully inadequate sex before rolling over and falling asleep, leaving you frustrated and unsatisfied.
It was terrible to admit but countless nights had passed with your hands delving between your thighs, a shiver running over your flushed skin as you imagined how his gruff little groans would sound when you offered yourself up to him. How it would feel to have him slipping into your tight heat until you weren’t sure where his body ended and yours began.
But your little fantasy was all crumbling down around you now, at your own graduation party no less. Bucky had just arrived with a girlfriend. You couldn’t have seen it coming, a tall, beautiful woman hanging off his arm as his dad introduced himself to her.
You couldn’t believe how jealous you were. You were only carrying a school girl crush after all, plain and simple infatuation, it was nothing serious but God, your chest had tightened with discontent seeing how he smiled at her, introducing her to the other guests at your garden party until those charming eyes locked with yours.
“Oh sugar, congratulations on the results! You did amazing!” He beamed proudly, crossing the whole garden to wrap you up in the tightest hug. His body felt huge and comforting, smelling fresh and woodsy and God it would be so easy to get lost in it, lost in him.
“Thank you Bucky!” You couldn’t help your little blush burning in your cheeks as you pulled away.
“Oh angel, you make me feel so old. Can’t believe you’ve graduated college now! You’re so beautiful too, you’re all grown up! But hey, this is Sarah, she’s been dying to meet you!” Bucky grinned, his words making you tingle with longing right up until Sarah was thrust in front of you, your arms wrapping around her before you had a chance to stop yourself.
“It’s so nice to meet you honey, Bucky’s been gushing about how proud he is of you!” Sarah was so lovely. That was even worse. Never mind the fact she was pretty, she was painfully sweet.
“It’s nice to meet you too! Bucky hadn’t mentioned you before. How long have you two been… um…” you questioned softly, not really knowing their situation
“Dating? A few weeks now. No needa be shy honey, I don’t mind answerin’ your questions.” Bucky’s confident smirk made your stomach churn. The whole time you’d known Bucky, he’d never been this open about being in a relationship. In fact, Sarah was the first actual girlfriend you knew of. You could feel your smile faltering, your little crush being dashed before your eyes.
“Oh shit, we should go say hi to your mom, talk to you later okay?” Bucky grinned, gently lifting Sarah’s hand in his own once more and heading off to find your mother.
You needed to get away. You needed to get out of the crowd before the angry, frustrated tears that were prickling your eyes spilled over. It was stupid, childish and you knew that but it didn’t make it any easier, knowing you’d never compare to this beautiful woman in Bucky’s eyes. No one stopped you as you made your way to your room, the wooden door slamming behind you while you flopped onto the bed, face buried in the pillow.
You had no idea how long had passed before you heard the door creak open again.
“Baby, you in here?” The familiar voice sent longing straight through you, the sickly feeling nestling in your chest. At the sound of Bucky, you pulled your head up out of the pillow, thankful you had managed not to cry.
Bucky looked so damn concerned.
“Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He questioned softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, face flooded with worry.
“Nothin’ Bucky, just didn’t feel great. Where’s Sarah?” You asked, running a hand through your hair, the hem of your little sundress ghosting the top of your knees.
“Oh she went home.” Bucky laughed, the low chuckle erupting from his throat.
“What’s so funny?” You quizzed gently, watching his expression as he turned to look at you.
“Say nothin’ okay? Your dad and I made a bet a few years ago. Bet me fifty bucks that I wouldn’t have a girlfriend by the time you were graduating. Sarah’s my neighbour, she volunteered to play along when I was tellin’ her bout you last week.” Bucky’s admission made your heart swell for so many reasons. He wasn’t settling down. Sarah wasn’t his, he wasn’t taken and fuck, he told his neighbour about you?
“Oh…. So you’re not… Dating?” Damn your curiosity, the words tumbling out of your mouth before you had considered how they would sound.
“Not dating anyone, sugar. Why? Ya getting jealous of Sarah?” He teased, working out that he was spot on when you couldn’t meet his gaze. You were jealous of Sarah. You did want to be her. You could feel how your cheeks were burning ferociously, the room suddenly far too hot despite the evening breeze drifting in the open window.
“Oh angel, don’t tell me a delicate, innocent little thing like you wants someone like me.” His words made you impossibly hotter, your skin burning up under his intense gaze.
“If I didn’t know better honey, I’d think you were jealous of Sarah. You wanna be my girl, huh? I’d only ruin you princess. Don’t wanna do that, wouldn’t be right.” Bucky could hardly contain himself. Your blush gave you away entirely. You did want him. You wanted to be ruined, pinned to the bed and fucked until you couldn’t cum anymore but he needed you to admit it. Needed to hear it out loud before he could give in.
“Tell me you want it angel. Tell me you wanna be treated right. Tell me how bad that little pussy needs a real man to take care of it.” Fuck, how had his voice dropped an entire octave? It was coming out as more of a low rumble, sexy and deep and delicious. The heat on your skin danced it’s way to your core, nestling in your tummy in a way that made your insides squirm.
“Fuck Bucky, I need it. Need you to t-treat me right.” You couldn’t even consider that he might be messing with you, so highly strung from need that it couldn’t even be a possibility. No, you needed this too badly now. Your fingers just wouldn’t compare to what you knew Bucky could offer.
“Fuck this is so wrong.” He hissed, hands fisting your bedsheets to hold himself back.
“Oh Buck, just once?” You suggested quietly, setting a hand on his clothed thigh. His eyes scrunched tightly shut at the contact, willing himself not to look. Not to feel you touching him. Your hand looked so tiny on his leg and you just wished he would open his eyes to see it.
“Careful angel, you don’t wanna do this.” He couldn’t bear to look at you. He couldn’t let himself. He knew that when the dam inside him broke, there would be no going back.
“Oh but I do Bucky. Wanted to do this for years.” His resolve was weakening, huge frame almost trembling at the thought of being buried so deep in your tight little body.
“Baby, it’s so wrong.” He was losing it as your fingertips trailed higher up his thigh. He could tell you had shifted closer without having to look at you, your breath tickling his neck from how close you were. He could smell your shampoo and your perfume but most of all, he could feel your confidence that was now seeping out of every pore, clearly emboldened by seeing the effect you were having on him and fuck, did he find it sexy.
“You know what’s ‘wrong’ Buck? How long it’s been since a man fucked me right. Bet you could change that though, couldn’t you? Bet you could make me feel so good. Two of my little fingers just don’t fill me the way I know you could. Such a tight squeeze, you have no idea. So warm and wet Buck, bet even you would struggle to last.” Where in the hell was all this confidence coming from? Half of you didn’t even care and after hearing the growl that came from Bucky, you knew he was loving it as much as you were.
“Oh fuck honey, you can’t say shit like that. Can’t fuckin’ handle it. Makes me wonder how filthy that little mouth can get.” His breathing was heavy and irregular, leaning into your lips on his neck, eyes still squeezed firmly shut.
“You wanna find out Buck? Wanna find out how good my mouth can make you feel?” Fuck he had lost it. The band inside him snapped, grabbing you by your thighs to pull you messily onto his lap, lips on yours in an instant. There was no finesse or practice to it, just two people, consumed by need, trying to relieve some tension but finding that making out had the exact opposite effect. You were both only becoming needier. Huge hands wandered over your body, the kiss becoming fiercer and more intense, fingers gripping hungrily at any exposed skin either of you could reach.
“Jesus, oh Bucky.” The little cry had slipped from your lips, muffled by Bucky’s own lips on yours.
“Oh god angel, we shouldn’t be doin’ this.” Bucky hissed quietly, removing his shirt nonetheless. He was so keen he could hardly keep up with himself but his head still told him he shouldn’t want this as much as he did.
“Do you wanna stop? Too old to keep up with me?” You teased him with a flirtatious roll of your hips over his crotch and you could’ve swore you heard an actual growl leave his throat.
“Was thinkin’ for your sake angel. Don’t think you’ll handle what I’m gonna make you feel. You won’t want anyone but me to touch you ever again. You ready for that honey? For your own fingers to not be able to give you the same relief I can?” God it all sounded so appealing falling from his mouth, his tone laced with nothing but sex.
The mewl that left your body was borderline embarrassing, Bucky gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it over your head in one swift motion. He hadn’t expected that one action to leave you bare in front of him. He could feel his mouth hanging open, drinking in the sight of you in his lap. The swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the endless expanse of soft skin, begging to be kissed and held and loved before you pressed your lips hungrily to his, ridding him of his jeans as quickly as possible.
“You’re fuckin’. Beautiful.” Bucky could only gasp the words out between kisses, both his hands charting a path up your naked body after you slotted comfortably onto his lap again. The skin on skin felt incredible, not to mention his cock lying between his legs, heavy and thick and begging for attention.
“Wanna be selfish for a second Buck.” You whispered, pushing him back flat on the bed. Your cheeks were blazing as you reached between your bodies, pressing his thick cock flush with his tummy before spreading your slick folds, setting yourself down on his bare dick. A strangled cry left the large man as you rocked yourself back and forth, spreading your wetness over him. Your clit dragged over his sensitive head, pulling a groan from both of you. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding your movements and fuck, you looked like a goddess above him, breathy sighs slipping from you, using his body for your own pleasure.
There was something about it, seeing you so bold and confident, taking what you needed from him that made him even harder.
“Oh God Bucky.” You whined, pressing yourself down harder ever so slightly.
“That’s it angel, keep goin’. Fuck you’re just gettin’ wetter. You look so pretty and dumb like this, ruttin’ on my cock. That smart little brain just turned to mush now you’ve got a nice big cock to play with? All that education but your pretty little head just stops workin’ when you needa cum, is that it?” You didn’t expect Bucky to be so vulgar in bed, especially not with you but you were loving it.
“Fuck you feel so good.” You gasped, taking in his lazy smirk as you worked yourself on him.
“Think you could cum like this honey? Or do you wanna come sit on my face for me?” His words pulled a gasp from you because yes, you really did want to sit on his face. How could you refuse an offer like that?
So you shuffled up the bed, settling on Bucky’s face.
“Put your weight on me honey, I won’t break.” Bucky laughed, noticing how you couldn’t possibly be comfortable just hovering above his face. Pressing down a little more, he chuckled at how you were still reluctant to put your whole weight on him.
“Like this angel.” He smiled before gripping your thighs to press you the whole way down on him, beginning to lap at your pussy with long, broad strokes of his tongue straight away.
Fuck his tongue worked miracles, slipping between your folds while his nose nuzzled your clit. You’d never been eaten so intensely before, whimpers escaping you while Bucky sucked and licked and bit at the most sensitive part of your body.
When his lips connected with your clit, you almost wanted to squirm away from the insane amount of stimulation. His lips wrapped around the swollen bud, tongue flicking over it while he moaned sinfully, holding you against his mouth with one arm wrapped around each of your thighs. There was no escaping his mouth, hot and wet and trained only on driving you into blinding pleasure. Your hands fisted in his hair, helping you to ride his face while Bucky devoured you.
The knot in your tummy was tightening, fuelled by Bucky’s moans at how good you tasted.
You were so close, curses and pants of Bucky’s name spilling from you like a prayer and when Bucky’s eyes opened, looking up at you, a content hum left his throat.
That hum shattered you, the vibration on your clit driving you over the edge and if Bucky thought you looked like a goddess before, you certainly did now. He completely admired you, taking in how your back arched, how your head flung back, hips grinding against his face while one hand left his hair to tease your own nipples and God, that cry of his name made his cock throb painfully.
“Oh oh, Bucky please.” You whimpered, struggling in his grip when your body told you he had given you too much.
“You sound so sexy when you beg, you know that?” Bucky smirked, letting you go so you could pull yourself from his face, tumbling on the bed.
“Not just as sexy as you sound when you cum, but close.” His dusting of stubble was shiny with your slick and you struggled to think of a more attractive sight than his beautiful man that had effortlessly dragged an orgasm from you, lazily stroking his own cock to the sight of you naked in front of him.
“I can do both for you if you want. I’ll gladly beg if you make me cum like that again.” One orgasm like that couldn’t satisfy you, not now that you’d had a taste of real pleasure. Besides, you hadn’t even had a chance to feel his cock inside you yet.
“Shit angel, I’d love that, havin’ such a sweet little girl on her knees beggin’ for me. Fuck, you might be the death of me, you know that?” Bucky fisted his cock a little faster at the thought up until you shuffled off the bed and onto the floor, kneeling at the edge of the bed. His eyes went wide as you looked up at him expectantly, perching himself on the edge of the bed to watch you.
“Is this what you want? Want this big cock angel?” He cooed softly, not taking his eyes off you. You couldn’t tear your attention away from his swollen tip, head slick with precum, begging to be lapped up.
“Please Bucky, please lemme take care of you.” You whispered, offering him huge wide eyes and plump lips, longing to be parted by his dick.
“You can do better than that honey. If you want this, you gotta earn it. Ask a bit nicer.” He had every right to be so cocky after eating you like that so you indulged him a little.
“Please Bucky, can’t think of anything else. Needa feel you.” You whined. “Just lemme taste you Bucky, please, thought about this for so long. Thought about gagging on your cock like a good little girl, thought about you fucking my face.”
“And did you touch yourself while you thought of me?” Bucky asked, leaning back on the arm that wasn’t stroking his cock, giving you a chance to take in his tight abs.
You could feel your cheeks burning up as you nodded, admitting to your deepest secret.
“Good girl. This pussy belongs to me now, okay? You feel like touching yourself, you text me.” Want and need surged inside you at Bucky’s promise of this little arrangement continuing but you almost lost it when he leaned forward, pressing a hand to the back of your head, guiding you over and onto his cock. Your lips parted and wrapped around him of their own accord, letting him slip into your mouth. The slightly salty taste of his precum made your pussy throb, your tongue running over his slit, collecting every last drop.
“Oh Jesus.” Bucky managed to hiss, one of your hands wrapping around the base while you forced your head down further.
“Where did you learn this shit angel? Fuckin’ filthy, you know that? Thought you wanted to be a good girl but this mouth says otherwise. All mine now though, aren’t ya? This mouth only sucks my cock from now on.” You hummed in approval, dragging another hiss from Bucky, thrusting himself deeper into your throat.
You pressed your head down until he hit the back of your throat and God, the strangled cry that left him was pornographic, low and wanton and pained, like he was holding himself back, trying so hard not to fuck your face recklessly.
“Feel so good baby.” He whimpered, pressing you down until you gagged around him. The noise, coupled with the sudden tightening made him almost feral, a loud grunt from him inspiring you to work your hand faster on his base.
“Oh fuck, I can’t take much more angel, ‘m so close.” He whimpered, thighs trembling, ready to paint the back of your throat at any second. You sped up your movements, bobbing your head in time with your hand, tight and sloppy and noisy before Bucky pulled you off him, squeezing his hand tight around his own base.
“Can’t cum yet baby, fuck, needa feel that pussy first. Know you needa be taken care of.” You certainly weren’t going to argue with that. When he was sure he had held off his orgasm, he let go of his cock, arranging you on your hands and knees on the edge of the bed, stepping up behind you. His dick pressed to your entrance, gathering slick until he slowly began to press himself into you, inch by inch.
“God, you’re big.” You whimpered, fingers gripping the sheets, arching your back to allow him to push in with less resistance.
“Fuck, feels good. God, can’t believe I’m fuckin’ inside you. Can’t believe a sweet little thing like you is so cock obsessed. Gotta say, I’m lovin’ this side of you honey. Even lettin’ me fuck you raw? This little pussy jus’ wants to be filled. S’okay, I’ll fill you up nicely.” He had sank the whole way into you, allowing you a few seconds to adjust to the stretch before you took charge and began to move, inching forward, then back onto his cock, almost hoping he wouldn’t notice how needy you were.
“You that horny? Can’t even wait for me to fuck you so you gotta do it yourself?” His tone was condescending, almost dripping with pride that he had reduced you to such a mess so quickly.
“Bucky, so fuckin’ horny, please. Please give it to me. Just fuck me.” You couldn’t have possibly cared that you sounded like a whiney mess. It didn’t matter that you sounded obsessed, all that mattered was feeling Bucky finally start to move.
“Oh kitten, you’ve gone all cock drunk on me? Silly baby can’t think of anythin’ but cummin’ round me. Tha’s okay, guess I can forgive you this time. You were so worked up earlier after all, seein’ me with someone else. All yours now honey. Gotta make this pretty pussy feel special.” Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when he gripped your hips and pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you again, beginning to set a decent pace.
You hadn’t expected his cock to pound your g-spot right away but you guessed it helped to be with a man who knew what he was looking for, unlike anyone you’d been with before.
“R-right there Bucky, oh fuck, I can’t.” You whined, keening against the bed so he could press painfully deep inside you with each thrust.
“You can’t what honey? Can’t handle it? Can’t get enough? Can’t hold back?” His suggestions all came in that confident tone because he knew you couldn’t answer. He was fucking you senseless, each thrust driving every thought from your head.
“Can’t hold back, fuck.” You whimpered, knowing your orgasm would be seconds away. But on the next thrust, everything stopped. Bucky didn’t push back in, sinking to his knees instead with a groan, level with your pussy. Two fingers slipped effortlessly inside you, curling in a way that you could hardly handle while his lips sucked your clit. You were done for, pussy clenching around his digits while the dragged you through your high, tongue lapping at your clit for all he was worth. You were gushing on his face, you knew it and you didn’t care, mumbling little ‘thank yous’ and praises as you rode out your high. You could hear the slick noises of Bucky fisting his cock in his other hand, tight and relentless, still wet from your pussy.
“Good girl honey, bet that felt good.” He whispered when your high had ebbed away, pressing his cock back inside you, fucking you fiercely once more. The wet sounds of his thrusts into you were horrendously loud but then again, so were his grunts as he chased his own release. You were on cloud nine, feeling fucked out and euphoric but delighted that Bucky still wanted to finish inside you.
“Cum for me Bucky, please please fill me up. Wanna be your good little fuck bunny. Wanna feel your cum leakin’ out of me.” You knew he would love it if you used a little pleading tone but you didn’t realise just how effective it would be. A few more hard thrusts had Bucky’s hips stuttering, cum spilling inside you. The groan that left Bucky was mesmerising, clinging to your body while he spilled his seed inside you.
“Jesus I don’t remember the last time I came that hard.” Bucky murmured in more of a relaxed chuckle, kissing down your spine before pulling out of you slowly, grabbing a washcloth from your dresser so you could clean yourself up.
“I’ve never cum that hard before.” You giggled gleefully, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, still faintly tasting yourself on them.
“We should get back to the party but we should do this again sometime. I meant what I said honey, you’re mine now.” It was such a change seeing Bucky so sheepish but it was quite pleasant at the same time. You didn’t even know this side of him existed up until now.
“And you’re… Mine?” You questioned softly after pulling your dress on again, straightening it out as much as possible.
“All yours angel. Maybe we shouldn’t be too open ‘bout it just yet though.” He laughed, admiring the little flush of your cheeks and the twinkle in your eye.
@babebr @sebsbrokentoe @justatirednightowl @harrysthiccthighss @stucky-my-ship @allydrabbles @white-wolves-and-grey-skies @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @littlecanadianlani @badgirlwolfy
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So I’m putting this out here right now with the whole new Post+ thing tumblr is doing because some of you in fanfic don’t know about the shit that Anne Rice and a bunch of authors and production corporations pulled on fanfiction back around 2012 and even before that, but DO NOT put any of your fanfiction behind a paywall. DO NOT put fanwork up under Post+ because you can be sued for copyright violations.
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MR. BRIGHTSIDE | B.B
summary┃the one where you fuck your ex’s dad.
pairing┃ex’s!dad!bucky x f!reader
word count┃1,997 words
warnings┃age-gap [20’s versus 40’s], cheating, divorce, sexual tension, teasing, revenge, protected sex, pet-names [sweets], squirting, oral, overstimulation, slight orgasm denial/edging, taunting, praise kink, metal arm kink, slight mocking — 18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI [please do not read if uncomfortable with any of the topics!]
notes┃i don’t think this is my best work, but i’m just trying to get through a funk. not proof read as always, oops.
The Killers were onto something, they really truly were when they wrote the lyric it started out with a kiss.
Because it was only just a kiss.
You didn’t know how it ended up like this, it was only just a kiss.
Except it wasn’t just a kiss.
At least not for your boyf—sorry, ex boyfriend.
He sure as hell did a lot more than just a kiss. Hitting all three bases in fact, slam dunking on them or whatever the fucking term is.
He did it all.
The worst part? He didn’t even cover his tracks properly, leaving you to find the evidence: panties shoved underneath the bed when you bent down to find the stupid earring backing that fell from your fingers.
You really wished you’d never bent down to find it, uncovering the pretty lace thong.
It wasn’t yours, never quite comfortably fitting into them before swearing them off. Your butt was plenty cute anyways.
Yet another part of you is glad that you found them because you would have never ended up in the position you were in.
Revenge tasted sweet and you really didn’t care about the consequences.
No, not when Bucky Barnes, your ex’s father was between your legs speaking Greek and making you moan his name.
Let’s rewind for a second.
You expected him to be there. For him to be opening the door. So when it wasn’t in fact him, but his father, well you were pleasantly surprised.
Call it what you want, but Bucky Barnes was hot.
He was a certified dilf, the ones you’d see at Disneyland and go damn, wish that was me.
And he was divorced, newly divorced. No one but a few people knew the details — you being one of them.
It had been a long time coming, apparently, neither of them putting up a fight as they signed divorce papers and she left.
He kept the house, busying himself with repair work as he told you he was looking to sell it and start fresh.
A new life. Some new experiences. New people.
You saw the way he looked at you, you weren’t blind to the fact that he licked his lips every time you wore something revealing or tight or really, anything.
He placed his hand on the small of your back whispering jus’ gettin’ by ya as a shudder went through your body.
How his son turned out to be a cheating dirtbag you’d never know. Quite frankly, you didn’t want to either because well, you wanted revenge.
You’d raised your share of men and God knows you were done with that.
Bucky was older, nearly twice your senior and maybe that was part of the appeal. Or maybe it was the bionic arm he told you countless stories of over dinner.
Whatever it was, he had you hooked.
So that’s how it started off with a kiss.
He had opened the door, moving aside to let you step inside as he put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed all while saying…
“Between you and me, he never could’ve treated you right.” Something about those words made you tingle, fire blazing inside of you as you had to take a deep breath and nod your hand.
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes. It means a lot,” he chuckled, reminding you that it was Bucky and that you would have to start getting used to calling him that.
Oh how intriguing that statement was.
The tension was thick and you knew Bucky could feel it too. You could tell by the way his eyes travelled up and down your body — nothing but a tank top and some shorts.
“Here, you can drop his stuff off in his room,” he said before you followed him up the stairs despite knowing the blueprint to his house.
You scoffed to yourself, of course your ex was living with his dad. Not that there was anything wrong with that.
It’s just that he kept telling you he was gonna get his own place, you know, for privacy. Yeah, it’d been two years and he hadn’t even tried to look for his own place.
You also thought you should be a lot more upset and broken-hearted over this. Carrying up a trash bag of his stuff and yet…all you could focus on was Bucky’s ass.
He opened the door and you just dropped his stuff on the floor without a second look before your eyes were trained on Bucky.
And his on yours.
And suddenly you were on the bed.
Lip-locked with your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging at the roots while he rutted his hips against yours before you finally parted for breath.
“You got any idea how sweet your moans are when you’re tryin’ to keep it down?” He whispered and fuck, it sent you into overdrive.
You whimpered, wanting to feel his lips on yours again.
Then an idea struck you, smirking as you licked your lips.
“Was always thinking of you, Bucky.”
That was clearly the right thing to say because he moaned into the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as your heart thumped loudly, flipping at the prospect of fucking Bucky.
The way his hands travelled over your body, squeezing curves you’d grown to hate only for him to lust over. There was no denying that whatever the fuck you were feeling was real.
Even if it was a product of the moment; a product of you being cheated on causing your emotions to say fuck it and take what you’ve been wanting for years now.
So that’s how you got to this place.
With Bucky’s face between your legs, holding them open with thick arms as he lapped at whatever you had to offer him, making sure not to waste a single drop.
“I’ve never heard you so,” he stops to think, “loud.”
One cocky motherfucker, you thought, but he deserved to be one when he had made you cum two, three? Ah, you’d lost count.
“Never thought I’d get to hear you moanin’ all for me,” he hums, “so much better than what I’ve been dreamin’ ‘bout.”
Your legs instinctively go to squeeze shut, but Bucky has other plans.
“Uh, uh, Sweets,” he purrs, “I know you’re not done, look at how wet you are.”
His words made a shiver run down your body, thighs slick with your wetness and Bucky’s face was absolutely drenched as he continued to circle your clit with his tongue, rutting his hips into the mattress at the same time.
“I can feel how close you are, right on the edge,” he taunts, fingers curling upwards and brushing the spot you thought was a myth until that moment because no one had ever made you feel this good.
“If you want it,” he smirks, “all you gotta do is ask.”
You whine, arching your back as you grip onto the bedsheets like you’ve never before. His fingers are still deep inside of you, but they’ve stilled, eyes watching you like you’re a helpless deer in the wild and he’s the starving lion who’s gotten a taste for you.
“Please,” you croak, “please let me cum.”
He groans against your pussy, wrapping his lips around your clit and you’re on the verge of tears from how fucking good everything feels. Your brain is foggy, head dizzy and everything is a new sensation.
“You’re not gonna cum,” he growls, a whine leaving your lips out of pure frustration, “you’re gonna squirt for me.”
A throat wrenching moan rips through your chest, the wave of pleasure that washes over you (quite literally) curls your toes and steals all of the oxygen from your lungs.
You had a taste of Bucky could offer you and you knew that there was no going back.
“Fuck,” he hisses, “hottest fuckin’ thing.” He rushes out hastily before his lips are on yours in a deep, needy, and downright desperate kiss.
A kiss where when Bucky’s tongue swipes against your own, you can taste yourself on him and it sparks something inside of you. A carnal need before he’s looking at you, panting.
“Are you sure?”
Holy fuck, yes.
You nod, “I deserve to be fucked until I can’t walk.”
Oh yeah, that’ll do it before you’re flipped over on your hands and knees, face pressed in the sheets until you’re left shaking in anticipation. Waiting and wondering when and what Bucky’s next move is going to be.
The crunch of the condom wrapped only make you squeeze your eyes tighter before you feel one cool and one warm hand on each of your cheeks.
“Poor little thing,” he cooes, “jus’ desperate to get fucked every which way, huh?”
“Yeah,” it’s a pathetic little whimper that falls from your lips.
“Oh don’t worry,” you feel him glide through your folds before he’s lining up at your entrance, “‘m gonna take care of ya.”
You inhale sharply, waiting for the moment he plunges into you, but in never comes.
Instead, he bends his body over yours, mouth against your ear and you can feel his hot breath.
“You really think I’d miss the look on your face the first time you take me?” God, his voice was so low and raspy, vibrating through his chest and onto your back before you’re flipped around.
“I jus’ wanted to see that ass of yours,” he smirks. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly and out of sync, but Bucky doesn’t look anymore composed than you.
His hair is mused, from your fingers being run through it as you grip it. Cheeks tinted and flushed a pretty pink, lips wet and love bitten with blown pupils as he drinks the sight of you underneath him.
Completely submissive. Completely desperate.
Then the moment you’re waiting for finally comes. And you’re not sure it’s real because first time’s aren’t supposed to feel this good. Maybe you’re stuck in a dream, confined to your head and in a state of comatose.
“Fuck,” it’s that low, almost a whine breathy pant that leaves his lip as he sinks into you.
Head hung low as he watches his cock disappear into your cunt, the image being burned into his mind permanently now, sure to flash behind his eyes every time he closes them.
“Feel s’fuckin’ good, Sweets. So tight and warm, shit.” He’s reduced to incoherent blubbering as he rocks his hips against yours, circling them as he watches how your face contracts in pleasure.
Your mouth falling open, silent pants falling from it. How your eyebrows furrow and how you squeeze your eyes shut tighter every time he sinks back into you.
“And such a pretty sight, all for me,” he grunts, placing his forearms right beside your head, locking you in place.
You can hear the low mechanical whirring of his left arm as he fucks you, deep and slow, in your ear and it only reminds you of how powerful he is.
There’s something so intoxicating about him, how he smells like rich coffee and sweet oranges, but snarls at anyone who dares cross him.
“Oh I can feel how close you are, gonna make a mess all over my cock? Mark me as yours?” It’s a low taunt, a purr almost, as the bed creaks beneath you both.
You can only control yourself for so long before he sends you over the edge for the last time that day, gripping him until he spills into the condom.
The moans that leave him are filthy, full of absolute sin, but you continue to dig your fingernails deeper into the skin of his back because he likes it.
Both of you are entirely fucked out. Panting, trying to catch your breaths as you open your eyes and meet his. They have that hazy, post-sex glow that you knew you’d be seeing again.
It started out with a kiss, but you were glad it ended up like this.
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facial expressions brought u by ✨𝑏𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠 ✨
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