On My Knees For You
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader
Word Count: 1407
Summary: The sickly green tiles have sharp edges that cut into your knees, shredding your worn fishnets. The whole bathroom is done in the same vomit-green tile, and it casts the two of you in anemic colors. Bucky is standing over you, looking tall and intimidating in the nasty light of the dirty club bathroom.
Notes: Based on this Instagram post. Seb is playing Tommy Lee, which idgaf about. So Bucky became a rockstar (and kept his metal arm okay), and this fic happened. I’m sorry. I’m a hoe for a tattooed badass.
(A/N: this not part of the Backstage Pass series)
Warnings: smut, porn without plot, rough sex, face-fucking, choking, penis in vagina sex
DISCLAIMER: 18+ ONLY PLEASE. By clicking Read More you agree that you are 18 or over. I do not consent for minors to read any part of this fic.
Posted on Ao3: HERE
Do me a favor and reblog this if you like it. I really appreciate it. 💜💜💜
“Open up, dollface,” he says, tracing his thick thumb across your bottom lip. Your mouth pops open automatically, and the rough digit sweeps across your tongue, tasting of cigarettes and whiskey. If you could taste the tattoos that swirl over his skin they’d taste like licorice, angry and black, and as lethal as the man who wears them.
The sickly green tiles have sharp edges that cut into your knees, shredding your worn fishnets. The whole bathroom is done in the same vomit-green tile, and it casts the two of you in anemic colors. Bucky is standing over you, looking tall and intimidating in the nasty light of the dirty club bathroom.
“Open wide, dollface,” he growls, “don’t choke on it.” His thumb on your tongue, and index finger under your chin, he roughly pries your mouth wide with his pincer-grip. His cock is huge, and you’re not sure how he expects that you won’t choke on it, but damn if you ain't gonna try.
Your eyes are on his face, framed with long shaggy hair, dark eyes ringed with smudged kohl. He’s biting his bottom lip when his fat cockhead slides over your tongue.
He’s only just started feeding you his dick and you already feel the strain in your jaw. He slides his thumb out of your mouth so he can slip more of his prick in. His fist is wrapped around the base of his cock and the metallic fingers are still an impossibly long way away from bumping against your lips. In a blink, his rough grip changes, and his fingers are pressed into your cheeks, wrenching your jaw even wider. With a grunt he thrusts in, finally his metal fingers are gone, and he’s pushing past your gag reflex.
And you do choke then, a wet, broken gagging sound that makes Bucky grunt, and you feel a wet drizzle of precome slide down the back of your throat.
“Fuck you sound pretty, gagging on my cock, dollface.” Another thrust, and it happens again. He cups his unyielding metal hand around the back of your head and starts fucking your face in earnest. Tears are running down your cheeks, and you can feel drool coursing down your chin every time he pulls out.
He abruptly withdraws from your mouth, sending you rocking forward, hand planted between your knees to keep yourself from falling. His metal arm winds itself into the hair at the nape of your neck, and your skin tingles when he uses it to pull you to your feet.
He’s backed you against the wall now, the metal fingers are wrapped around your throat. He kisses you roughly, not caring about the mess he made of your face. His right hand is under your skirt, rubbing against the soaked fabric of your panties.
“Dollface, you’re dripping for me. Can’t wait for me to fuck you, can you?” You shake your head, and with a quick yank, your panties are gone. Bucky tosses the shredded mess onto the floor. His fingers are back to rub your cunt, but the fishnets are in his way now, so he rips them right up the middle.
You groan when he shoves three thick fingers into you with a wet squelch. Slick runs down your thighs and Bucky curses at how drenched you are.
Your knees go weak when he bends to kiss you again. His tongue is in your mouth, and your legs aren’t supporting you at all anymore, but you don’t so much as budge from your spot on the wall. Bucky’s metal arm has you pinned in place as surely as if you’d been mounted there with screws.
Then his big hands are on your ass, scooping you up to wrap your legs around him. His thick cock is nudging against your pussy, and you make a broken sound when he starts pushing in slowly.
He feels even bigger than he looked when he was in your mouth, and the stretch hurts in the sweetest fucking way. “Oh, fuck, Bucky,” you groan, “so big.”
“Yeah. Fuck, you’re tight. You can take it, dollface. Know you can.”
Finally his hips snug up against your ass, and you’re having trouble breathing because you’re full of his cock. With a primal growl he starts fucking you hard and fast, punching weak pleading noises out of you. You cling to his shoulders, your nails leaving hot, angry furrows in his skin.
He perches your ass on the edge of the filthy countertop, and the new angle drives his cock right into your g-spot. An orgasm rolls over you without warning. Bowing your back, and balling your hands into fists, you leave a pattern of bloody half moons all over his shoulders. A gush of hot, slick fluid rushes out of you, drenching the front of his leather pants with your come.
He pulls out of you with a grunt, spinning you, and pushing you onto the countertop. He pushes back into your pussy and fucks you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. He yanks you back against his chest, letting you leave one knee on the countertop, and hooking his tattooed arm under your other leg to spread you open for him. His cool metal hand is wrapped around your throat. And maybe it’s a promise. Maybe it’s a warning. Maybe it’s a threat.
You’re both in the reflection of the dirty mirror over the sink. Bucky shines with a sheen of sweat, but other than that he shows no sign of strain. He isn’t even out of breath.
“Look at that, will ya?” his Brooklyn drawl is even thicker when he’s got his dick in you. “Tight little pussy split open on my cock. Look so fucking good when you’re full like this, doll.”
He spreads his big hand over your lower abdomen. “Fuckin swear I can feel myself right here.” The pressure helps him pound into your g-spot again and sends another orgasm burning through you, and you come with another rush of fluid, screaming Bucky’s name. The rapid-fire orgasms make your head swim.
“Oh fuck,” Bucky chokes out. You’re squeezing around him, and you feel so much tighter from this angle, and he’s racing toward his own release.
He grits his teeth together, and brings chilly fingers to your clit. “One more time for me,” he demands, “come on doll. I’m close.” And he doesn’t even have to ask, because you’re already right fucking there, as his fingers push you over the edge, screaming and gasping his name.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he grits out in a rough voice, “Oh fuck—”
A heartbeat goes by where he feels impossibly large, and then his cock is throbbing inside you, flooding you with his hot, sticky come. Bucky bites your neck as he fucks out his last few strokes, pushing jizz out of you, leaving a streaky mess on his leathers.
Much more gently than he’s been so far, he spins you in his arms, and sets you on the countertop. He passes you a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, and grabs more for himself.
“I think you ruined these pants,” he chuckles, “And I’m not even gonna say how wet the inside of my boots are.”
“I can hardly be blamed for that,” you sniff.
He holds his hands up in supplication, “I’m just saying—you were there too.”
You giggle as he leans against the countertop, tucking you under his arm.
“You ever fuck a rocksar before, doll?”
You snort a laugh. “Only every single day, punk.”
Bucky chuckles and you elbow him in the side.
“And everytime I touch myself...” you continue.
Bucky grins at you like a predator, “Oh doll, now we’re talkin’...”
“Down boy. I know you don’t need to recover, but I sure as shit do.”
“Well, I’m feeling generous, so you take five.”
Your laughter echoes off the grotesquely colored tiles. Steve, the bass player for your band The Howling Commandos peeks through a crack in the door. “If you pervy fuckers are done, the bus leaves in fifteen. Don’t worry about packing up your equipment, I took care of it…” Steve turns away with an eye roll, mumbling, “like I always fuckin do.”
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