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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

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Day 30 — Double Penetration

Pairing || Beefy!CatholicPriest!Bucky x Inexperienced!Innocent!Virgin!Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 4400

Contents & Warnings || Smut, Dark/Taboo Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, non-con, explicit content/language, pet names, religious themes, blasphemy of religion, sacrilegious acts, biblical references, sexual content involving a catholic priest, strict/religious parents, age-gap (Reader is early 20s, Bucky is early/mid 30s), Father kink, priest kink, size kink, corruption kink, authority kink, inappropriate/forceful touches, begging, double penetration (in two holes), vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration with sex toy, anal play, anal fingering, anal sex, intense orgasm, squirting, no loss of virginity, mention of bodily fluids.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Kinktober Masterlist

Every Sunday after mass, you would happily accompany Father James in tidying up the church.

It had become a routine—a secret ritual almost for you and him to clean and organise, which would inevitably lead to him creeping up behind you, disturbing whatever you were doing, so that he could continue his corruption on your body and soul which he had done so for the past few weeks now.

But this time, it was different. This time, as soon as the town had said their blessings and goodbyes to Father James, he was right on you with his wicked plans and corruption—tidying not on his agenda for today.

“Come,” he held out his colossal hand for you to take, but all you did was stare at it in confusion with big soft eyes. His face held no emotions—not the wicked kind nor the sweet kind which he indeed possessed as well at rare times, making it hard for you to read him on what his intentions were.

“Um, a-aren’t we going to clean a-and tidy up, Father?” You mumbled.

He shook his head no while a hint of a smirk twitched on his lips—revealing that his purpose for you may be unholy and ungodly after all.

“Not yet. Now come with me.” He further extended his hand to you, insisting that you take it and let him lead the way.

You hesitated only for a second or two more before you lay your smaller shaking hand in his larger grip—not wanting to disappoint Father James in any way if you didn't do as he willed. His tender hold on contrasted with how he usually handled you—determined and forceful.

You weren't able to revel in the sweet touch for too long before he pulled you with him—through the nave, up the altar, into the sacristy and up the stairs that led to the second level of the holy church, which you had never been to. He stopped in front of a door and let go of your hand before he pulled out a key from his front pocket.

You stood a few steps behind him, fidgeting with your fingers and looking down at your shoes as he unlocked the door. The heavy wooden door creaked as it opened, and you peeked up to see what was held behind. It looked to be a room—his room, his sleeping quarter.

Why had he brought you here?

“Please, come inside,” he smiled warmly at you as he presented his arm into the room, gesturing for you to enter.

You dragged your feet across the creaking floor while still looking down, shy and not daring to look up at him as you entered the room and came to a halt in the middle of it. He closed the door behind himself, and you turned your head slightly to glance at him, still with the same warm smile on his handsome face.

“It's ok. You can look around if you'd like. I'm just going to grab something.”

“O-ok.”

Your eyes scanned around to take in his personal space. It looked pretty generic and boring—not much going on in the small room except for a desk, a wardrobe and a bookshelf. What did catch your eyes almost immediately was the bed in the corner, and you were intrigued to investigate closer. Your legs carried you effortlessly to it, and you stood at the foot of the bed as you examined the space further.

A bible lay on the side table, along with some personal books and his rosary beads. Jesus on the cross hung on the wall; looking down at what you found the most interesting—his bed. The white linen was ruffled, and the pillow still had an indent from his head lying upon it. The faint aroma that exuded was that only of Father James—a musky scent of heaven or perhaps even hell. Your mind started to wander to scenarios other than him sleeping in the bed—reading, praying, touching himself.

You hitched an inhale as you thought about it—him lying naked on the soft sheets, writhing in pleasure as he touched and pumped his thickness—heavy moans and groans bouncing across the walls as he neared his end. You wondered if you and he ever pleasured simultaneously late at night, reaching that heavenly state together.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of creaking wood slowly approaching. A growing sinful manifestation lurked behind you as Father James neared where you stood. Not even looking at him, you could tell that that sweet and warm smile he displayed when you entered his room was long gone, replaced with his signature wicked smirk that meant corruption and authority.

His broad torso ever so lightly grazed your back—a significant contrast to the way his hand grabbed your clothed hip in a harsh grip, making an inaudible gasp slip from you. His lips ghosted your earlobe, and his warm breath made your skin tingle in fear and excitement.

“You still won't let me corrupt your innocence, huh, sweet thing?”

He's been on you for weeks, practically ever since you and he started your sexual adventure together, about your virginity—wanting to take and destroy it, but you still couldn't find the nerve to go through with it, even though your primal urges begged and yearned for it. It was just too deeply ingrained in you that sex before marriage was a great sin and, definitely, a one-way ticket to hell in doing it with a man of God.

“I-I can't, Father, I-I just can't. I'm sorry….” you mumbled in shame—ashamed once again that you couldn't give him the satisfaction of taking your virginity which he so desperately desired.

“It's ok,” he murmured before kissing behind your ear. “There are still lots of ways for me to have your body and holes while still keeping your purity,” he growled against your neck as he skimmed his lips on your sensitive skin, making your whole body shudder. He pulled you flush against his broad torso while his hand that held your hip crept downwards to grope your covered core, making you sob at the cruelty of his grip.

“Will you let me do as I want, sweet thing?”

“I-I–”

He chuckled at your struggle to find words to speak your mind. “I'm going to do whatever I want either way. Whether you want me to or not,” he spoke, and before you knew it, you were tossed down frontal onto the soft mattress by Father James' forceful hand, making you gasp at the unexpected action.

He pressed his heavy weight on you as he pinned you further down—trapping you so there was no chance for you to escape his wicked grasp.

“W-what are you doing, Father?” You sobbed in fear as this was quite a new scenario he'd ever put you in, and there was no telling what he could do to you in this power stance.

He kissed your cheek lovingly, but the words he uttered against your heated skin were nothing but evil and impure. “I may not be able to take your virginity, but my God, sweet little thing, am I going to defile your precious soul in another way. I'm going to fill both your pure and innocent holes up until I have you a pretty and whiny mess for me on my bed. I’ll have you riveted in such extraordinary pleasure that I'll make you see God, trust me.”

You've never heard him utter such filthy words before. Frankly, you didn't even quite know what he meant by some of them, but with the way you felt your panties dampen with arousal and excitement, had you know that your body had a strong desire for this, despite your mind not being entirely on board with the idea.

“B-both h-holes?”

“Yes,” he growled through gritted teeth as he started to hump his covered front against your backside, his hardness rubbing against you, making you softly moan in need. “But don't worry, my sweet little thing, I won't stick my cock in your tiny little innocent cunt. But I will stuff your pussy with this.” He held something that resembled a penis in front of your face. Not as big as Father James, but it definitely wasn't small either.

“W-what is that?” It scared you. The thought of him inserting something so life-like into you had you fear about your virginity and whether it would be broken or not.

“It's a special little toy I bought for you, sweet one. You can even take it home with you after and play with it as much as you want, but I'm the one that's going to fuck you with it first.”

“B-but will I still be a virgin after, Father?”

“Don't worry, my little angel.” He kissed the corner of your mouth tenderly and sweetly while he uttered some reassuring words. “I swear this won't corrupt you in that way.”

You tried to open your mouth to say something more—beg him to stop or encourage him to go on with his vile plan, but all you did was stay silent as you felt paralysed due to his assertive promises on your frail body.

He got up from his position on top of you and raised your hips in the air while he found his place behind. You felt very unsteady in this bent form—face pressed into the mattress and your backside up in the air. It was new and uncomfortable, thighs shaking slightly, but after a couple of seconds, you managed to ground yourself.

He lifted your dress to reveal your panties damp with your arousal, making him chuckle at you being a needy little angel for him. “I knew you'd be wet, sweet thing. Such a dirty little girl you are for wanting a man of God to perform such vile acts on your innocent body.” He hooked his fingers in the hem. Your panties clinging to your sticky folds as he peeled them off and let them fall down to your rested knees.

“Thank the Lord,” he mumbled as he inspected you, his hands caressing your hips very delicately, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin. You closed your eyes in shyness and shame and nibbled on your bottom lip at being so exposed to him in such a lewd state. All the passages in the bible about whoring perfectly embodied you at the moment.

“Where do I even start with you?” You felt his warm breath on your left cheek, followed by a series of sloppy kisses on your skin. “I want to eat all of you, sweet thing.” His words tingled against your holes as he ghosted his lips on them, making your breath hitch in your throat and your walls flutter around nothing. Father James had never had his mouth on you like that, and you wanted him to devour you and show you a whole new sensation that his fingers could never emulate.

He licked a broad stripe through your mess, making you gasp in delight at his delicious tongue on your most sensitive part. “So good and tempting,” he murmured before laying a kiss on your needy nub, “but I think I want to leave that for another time. I just want to get right on and destroy your little angel holes.”

A bottle opened up, and a globby slickness of some sort fell on your puckered entrance before it slowly trickled down and coated your folds as well. It was not saliva but something unfamiliar.

“W-what is that, Father?” “Just something that will make it less painful, sweet angel.” “P-painful?” “Don't worry, sweet one. I'll be ever so gentle with you, I promise. You're in the safe hands of God.”

This felt more like the Devil's.

He circled the pad of his thumb on your puckered hole, making you gasp and jerk your hips forward due to the alien and slightly uncomfortable sensation. “It's ok, sweet thing. Relax for me” His other hand caressed your hip to soothe and comfort you as he continued his stimulation. You took a few deep breaths and tried to loosen the stiff muscles in your body.

Slowly, he pushed through the tight barrier, making you clutch the sheets in your grasp at the knee-buckling and slightly painful sensation. “I-it hurts,” you sobbed into the mattress once the tip of him was inside your heat. It was too much, and you feared how it would be to have his thick length split your flesh in half.

“Shhh, it's ok. It will feel better soon. You're doing such a good job,” he praised as he began a slow, steady rhythm of thrusting the tip of his thumb in your tight warmth. It began to be less painful and more pleasurable the more you got used to the new stimulation, making you sigh in relief.

With his other hand, he ran his fingers through your sticky and messy folds before he circled your aching little pearl, making you mewl at the all-so-familiar sensation that ascended you into pleasure, and with them two combined, it was like reaching a new state of euphoria. “T-that feels so good, Father,” you moaned as your eyes fluttered and your skin shivered in delicious tingles all over.

“It gets better, sweet one,” he uttered as he teased your quivering opening before inserting a finger deep into your drenched walls while simultaneously pushing his thumb further into your heat, reaching knuckle deep, making you cry aloud while your knees trembled. Both your holes clenched around him so tightly, but with the help of Father James' once more reassuring words, you managed to relax and revel in the complete fullness. “That's it, my sweet little angel. Relax and take it all in.”

At the same time, he pulled out his digits from your tight holes, teasing your openings in circles before slowly pushing in again, making you hiss at the burning sensation, eyes rolling back and toes curling as they sheathed themselves entirely in you.

Father James begins pumping his two digits in and out of your tight and warm holes, curling them against your inner walls. The tips of his fingers meet each other with each deep thrust, making your eyes see stars at the earth-shocking sensation it brings. The delicious stimulation had that buzzing passion in the pit of your stomach rapidly build up with each pleasurable push into your insides.

As you were on the brink of a heavenly release of bliss, all stimulation on you ceased to a halt, making you whine in protest at his Godly fingers stopping his Unholy corruption on your innocent holes.

Father James chuckled at the state he's made of you with only his digits—already a pretty little mess for him, as he told you would be. “I've barely started, sweet thing,” he sneered as you heard him take off his pants behind you. You tried to lift your head to see him spring to life, but you were too weak to bring yourself up.

Your tight little flower gushed in need to be stuffed and filled once more, while your throbbing and dilated heat ached just the same to feel fullness again.

“P-please, Father, I-I want you to fill me.” You weren't used to begging in such a dirty manner, and once the words left your mouth, you became so flustered with shyness and awkwardness that you buried your face into the mattress in shame.

“My, my,” he growled deeply like he was possessed by Satan himself. He leaned over you and lifted your face off the mattress by your neck, and turned your head so you could stare directly into his dark eyes with your hooded and weak ones. “Not such a sweet little angel anymore, are you? Such a dirty little demon I've made of you, little girl,” he chuckled before letting go and returning to his assertive and towering stance over your frail and helpless body.

He grabbed both of your cheeks in a forceful grip and spread them, making him growl as both of your throbbing holes opened more up for him. “Such tight little holes begging to be stuffed and abused, sweet little thing.” You hummed your approval at his dirty statement, wanting nothing more at the moment than to have your holes split in half and destroyed.

That same bottle as before opened up, and you heard him smear his length with the same slickness as he had done you. His thick and heavy size rested against your cheek, so close to your aching heat, his pre-cum leaking all over your skin.

He grabbed the toy he presented to you before and gently tapped it against your little pearl, making you lean more into its delicious touch. He ran the length of it against your slick folds before teasing your opening with its bulbous head, preparing to penetrate your gushing flower.

Slowly, inch by inch, he buried the toy into your walls. You've never had anything so significant inserted into you before, only being used to a finger or two. The stretch was burning and uncomfortable, making you emit a cry in pain as your eyes brimmed with tears. “Shhh, it's ok, sweet thing,” he comforted along with a soft touch on your skin with his free hand.

Once the toy was sheathed into you to the hilt, nudging your sweet spot, you exhaled a content sigh, slowly getting accustomed to the delightful fullness. He slowly started thrusting the toy in and out of you—easy and short strokes to begin with, getting your walls familiarised with the stretch before he could fully pump the toy in and out of you in long and deep movements. Your soft purring had Father James twitch against you as more of his slick moisture leaked on your skin.

You had gotten so accustomed to the toy in your velvet walls, driving itself in and out of you in riveting movements, that once his swollen tip gently rubbed around your puckered hole, you gasped in surprise. Father James prodded your entrance, preparing to add more stimulation to your already overwhelmed and sensitive body. So he slowly, and so very delicately and safely, pushed through the tight barrier, making a cry rip your throat and grip the sheets harshly at the invasive and dirty stretch.

His soft lulling, and comforting caress on your smooth hip made you ease down to the best of your abilities and open yourself up for him to take you as he wanted.

“God, so tight, my sweet little thing.” Once his swelling head was nestled in your heat, a thick and heavy lust-filled grunt rumbled in his throat, and it went straight to your tingling nub that begged to be played with and stimulated—jealous of all your holes getting the attention.

It was like he intruded your mind because his hand, which was once on your hip to soothe and comfort, went underneath you to caress and massage your deprived nerve—easing some of the discomforts.

He pushed through a little bit more, about halfway, before slowly pulling back till only his tip rested inside your warmth. Each time he delicately thrusts into you, he gets a little bit further, a little bit deeper.

The toy inside of you kept a steady and delicious pace, all while his girth kept accommodating to your tight heat, and before you knew it, he was finally buried to the hilt inside you, making you feel every single inch of him. “God, sweet thing. Your tight little ass feels so good wrapped around my cock,” he groaned in satisfaction at being buried so deep.

You were left so taken aback and overwhelmed at being so filled and stretched in both your holes that the moans of pleasure and pain you emitted didn't even sound like you—the tone laced with filth and sin.

How you were and sounded at the moment was nothing like the innocent little girl your parents raised you to be. This type of corruption from your unholy priest left a significant dirty stain on your innocence, and you feared you would never again be pure and righteous in the eyes of God due to this major violation of your body and soul, despite still keeping your virtue.

He pulled you out of your wandering thought as he peppered soft and wet kisses on your shivering spine. “Good girl,” he praised, making you hum at his rare loving nature surfacing. The action of his kisses were so tender as opposed to the sinful degradation of your holes.

“Do you want to continue?” It was rare of him even to ask since he usually just did as he pleased, and you would always acclimate to what he was doing. You nodded, incapable of forming your words for him to continue his delicious corruption.

With a feral grunt, he pulled out his length and toy simultaneously before thrusting them both inside, making you yelp and fist the sheets tight to brace yourself for the forceful and intense push. The toy inside of you started to pump with ease—deep and whole, while his thrusts in your heat were slow to begin with as it's the most invasive and hurtful, making tears spill from your eyes and stain the sheets.

But once Father James senses that you were starting to relax and enjoy yourself, he picked up the pace, slipping into you with ease, making the bed squeak with each thrust.

The tantalizing rhythm his hips hold as he smacks into your behind was so incredibly lewd and sinful. His girth sheathing into your heat that wrapped so perfectly around him, had him relish in pleasure as he voiced his praises quite lively. “So tight, my sweet thing. God, you're so good. You love having my cock buried so deep in your little ass, don't you? All while fucking your needy little cunt with the toy?”

You had trouble finding your words as the sensation of having both holes used and abused left you a cross-eyed, drooling and blubbering mess. But after trying a few times, all you managed was to give him a weak “yes”, which had him chuckle at the messy state he's made of you as he leisurely continued his pace with both his girth and toy into your quivering holes.

The tip of the toy nudged and stimulated your swollen sweet spot each time it filled you up, and along with Father James and the toy brushing against each other between the thin wall of your insides, it had you see stars as waves of your moans and whines were muffled into the sheets.

And the way his colossal fingers stimulated your engorged and overwhelmed bundle of nerves tied it perfectly together. All three stimuli brought forward a sensation that could only be described as pure paradise.

You don't know how long this sinful violation went on as you all but ascended into a haven of burning pleasure that Father James acted upon your body.

And without warning, your senses were rocked by an intense and violent orgasm that consumed the entirety of you.

Your vision turned bright white like you'd ascended into heaven as the electrifying buzz coursed through each ending of your nerves. You convulsed and cried on the bed as a gush of wetness exploded out of you, making Father James curse and pull out the toy from your quivering walls and furiously rub your throbbing pearl while still continuing his thrusts into you, which made your gushing walls clench around nothing. At the same time, your tight heat squeezed him harshly.

With a guttural and feral groan, he pulled out of your used hole, making your weak knees collapse and hips hit the bed as you lie limp on the soft surface, still twitching from the earth-shattering aftershocks while your chest lifted erratically to catch your breath.

You heard him pump himself to completion as he uttered nothing but filthy words. “So wide and open for me, baby,” he grunted as his holy seed spilt and coated your pulsating and dilated hole. “God, look at that. Your little ass is so hungry for my seed,” he finished himself off entirely with heavy moans.

You were so weak and dissociated as you were still floating somewhere far above due to that soul and body-wracking orgasm. You’d never experienced anything like that before.

It was only when Father James softly caressed your waist and peppered comforting kisses on your spine that you got pulled back into reality, hissing and whining when he touched your tender skin. His twitching girth rested comfortably against your used and abused heat.

“You did so well, sweet one,” he murmured against your skin, making your already sensitive nerves burn intensely. “I'll clean you up, and then we can rest.” You clutched the sheets and shut your eyes tight as he wiped down your holes since they were so oversensitive and raw from the violation he'd done on you.

Once he was done, he pulled your weak and trembling body further up the bed, laying you on top of his broad and firm chest as he held you close. Softly stroking your back and kissing your forehead. You revelled in the gentle care and love as it was something Father James rarely showed.

“F-Father,” you murmured, barely above a whisper into his skin.

“Yes, sweet one?”

“A-am I dirty now?” Those thoughts you had before about your innocence forever being stained and God not seeing you as pure and righteous anymore clouded your mind, making tears spring from your eyes that you may never recover from this great sin, no matter how much you repented or pleaded for forgiveness and blessings.

“Hey,” he softly stroked your tear-stained cheek while you peered up into his crystal eyes that now held nothing but sincerity and tenderness. “I promise, sweet one, that we did nothing wrong. You’re still a virgin and pure and whole in the eyes of God.”

“A-are you sure, Father.” You knew you should never question the authority and words of a priest, but you had to be sure that your virtue and innocence were still intact.

“Sweet one, you are forgiven, and you are whole and perfect. God loves you and forever will.”

“T-thank you, Father,” you breathed a sigh of relief at the blessings and forgiveness. Now, you could rest comfortably against Father James, knowing that you were still loved and treasured by God.

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nexusnyx · 1 year

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i'll tell you my sins | b.b.

SUMMARY: If religion was the safe haven where Bucky found reasons to be alive and see the good in this world again, loving you was where he found the freedom to be more than just expectations once again. Human emotion, connection and need more than anything else. Also, devotion. Bucky already understood that one, but with you, it reached heights he never dreamt of before.

⚠️ This work is intended for 18+ audiences. Minors, DNI. Explicit depictions of sex. Religious theme. Smut. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, or reuploaded on any other platform. | WC: [7.5k]

Everything about her felt forbidden.

From the moment he met her to the moment they befriended.

Every step of the way, every interaction, smile, deep conversation outside the church, random encounters in the city—Bucky knew it. He was aware of it, and yet, he did it anyway. He fell for the power in your voice, for the mind behind those eyes, for the soft and electrifying touch of your hands. Bucky was presented with temptation and he fought it until he longer wanted to. Until all that was left inside of him was desire, longing, and need. Temptation won, but only because there was no game anymore: Bucky was presented with you in his life, and for the first time in many long years, his life expanded once again.

From the moment Laura brought you to the Church's congregation party for the holidays and introduced you, he knew he should stay away.

It was the eyes.

Laura pointed at you, and said, "Father, this is Y/n, my best friend who I'm always talking about."

He had been polite back then. Bit down on his usual winning smile when meeting new people because something about the glint in your eyes hooked a piece of his chest when they met his.

Bucky had given you the polite smile, and said. "I've heard quite a lot about you. Nice to meet you, I'm Father James."

He extended his hand, which you shook without breaking eye contact.

Then, you said: "Nice to meet you, Father," and Bucky's insides burned despite the cold weather surrounding him.

That day, he couldn't escape fast enough.

You were a friend of one of his congregates, so there was no way he could be rude, but every time he glanced in the direction where you were, talking and smiling with other people who frequented the church, your eyes met his and Bucky felt like a deer caught in the headlines.

An animal in the jungle, like one of his favorite documentaries—he suddenly understood the prey when they felt the eyes of tigers and lions on them.

Frozen.

Bucky's throat felt dry every time you did it. You looked at him over the rim of your cup, and it was like your eyes searched for something, and they could see beyond his cassock and coat.

Whatever you were looking for, Bucky wanted no part in helping you find out.

She'll be gone by the end of the day, he thought all night long. There's no need to worry.

If only he knew.

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ — ✞ —

ㅤ

It was a fun discovery to learn that while you believed in nothing, you believed in everything at the same time.

It took Bucky three months of meeting you outside the Church when you picked up Laura from the masses and having brief, but sweet exchanges with you to accept the fact that you were a really nice person.

Funny, intelligent, sweet.

He stopped escaping whenever you were around. Stopped running away whenever Laura brought you by force to one of the fairs or events, and surrendered with ease to the reality of it all: apart from your non-belief, you seemed like someone he'd be close friends with.

Which is where you two ended up after he found you drunk at the city square and walked you home.

That was the first conversation ice-breaker. And from then on, Bucky simply accepted you.

Which meant you know popped up outside the church with good beer and the newest thing you were reading about regarding space to talk to him.

For those visits, you usually showed up at the end of the day, after your work hours. You stayed for a couple of hours talking to him about nonsensical things until a real topic was approached and you two shared things that Bucky forgot he thought about sometimes.

"You know, these are starting to feel like my own confessional," he offered.

You chuckled, hiding behind your beer. He still saw the way your nose scrunched. "I don't know if that's supposed to be a compliment or not."

"It is!" He laughed. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Why wouldn't—Father. C'mon. Those things are creepy as hell."

"First of all: blasphemy. Second of all—stop laughing, I'm serious. That was very blasphemous." He adored listening to your silly laughter. "And second of all: they are not creepy. They're just... methodic."

"Yeah, the method being 'scare people until they talk'. I'll give it to the Church: clever, at least."

He's thinking about that day and the things you said about the hour of Twilight when he hears the doorbell.

Bucky halts everything he's doing.

It couldn't be you.

He looks at the clock—00:52.

Fuck.

What were you doing here?

This week had been hell, both figuratively and literally.

The tragedy that happened in the city and the heartache that followed everyone like a dark cloud ended up inside his church, as darkness usually does. It's where it goes to be diluted, but being the tool of change as he is, Bucky's the one who ends up feeling like a truck ran over his back.

It couldn't be you.

Bucky heard from Laura about how pissed off you were about everything. 'Religious people and their ways of meddling in people's lives and their bodies and their ways of handling life', as you claimed, and everything wrong attached to it.

He hadn't seen you around the city all week long.

"James Buchanan!"

That is definitely your voice.

Bucky swears under his breath, puts on the first hoodie he sees, and doesn't even bother checking on his reflection to know he looks like shit.

He's tipsy and tired, and there's no need to bother putting out his tobacco before he goes downstairs to open the back door for you.

Out of all the people who could see him in this state, you'd be the last one to judge him.

When he opens the door, he sees you're on the same boat as he is.

Tired, and trying to cope.

He sighs, opening the door wider. "Thought you had eloped town by now."

"I unfortunately am stuck to this hell hole."

Turning around, he sees you taking off your boots and placing them on the shoe rack.

"Put on a slipper, it's still wet outside," he tells you. "I was going to bed."

Behind him, he hears the sound of you scoffing. "No, you weren't."

"Yes, I was," he argues.

What follows is silence, and Bucky sighs. You know him too well.

He opens the door that leads to his small herbs garden outside where two chairs are already placed next to each other and waits for you to make yourself at home.

He wonders if it's one of those days.

"You know... you're really nice to talk to, Father James."

He kind of hated when you called him that. It felt teasing. Laced in the taste of wine.

"Do you?"

"I do. You don't shy away from answering questions. People nowadays don't wanna have conversations. It's exhausting. You, though—you... think about it. Answer me. I can talk without feeling like I'm being judged—"

"Oh, sometimes you definitely are."

He likes your laughter. The more it sounds like this—free and caught off guard, the more delicious it is.

"I'll take your word for it. That was just me wanting to thank you for being a nice ear, I guess."

"The same goes for you."

It's becoming more and more common for Bucky to be stuck in a memory of you before reality calls him back to the moment.

The door clicks behind him and he looks over his shoulder to see you holding two beers, a cigarette in one hand, and the tiredness in your shoulders.

Dropping your body to the chair next to his, you hand him the beer and then light up your cigarette.

For a while, all you two do is sit there sharing sips of your drinks and looking at the brick wall ahead of you. Bucky's hyper-aware of you and your movements, as always, and notices from the corner of his eyes when you start distracting yourself with the new flowers in his garden.

It's when he sees a single tear running down your cheek that his body comes alive.

Bucky feels alert in a second.

Sick to his stomach.

He wants to reach out and clean the tear from your cheek, but it wouldn't take away the pain that let it fall.

He waits, though, because he knows you wouldn't be here unless you wanted to talk about it.

Then it hits him—she trusts me.

He has to swallow that pill down with large gulps because it would get stuck in his throat otherwise.

He remembers as clear as day hearing you say how hard it was for you to trust people. To let people in.

"Sometimes, I barely want most people in this town to know I'm a human being. The less they see of me the better, you know? They're just—fucking vultures. Waiting for a sign of weakness to start roaming your body and getting to pick it apart."

Through the sips of his beer, Bucky wonders how many people have seen you cry other than him.

You clear his throat next to him, and all thoughts are vacant from his mind.

He turns his head to you, attention solely focused.

"Did you do a mass?" You ask, voice rough as sandpaper.

You're questioning whether the people who died got a mass this week. Bucky has to breathe through the 'why do you ask, why, but WHY' and simply answers. "I did, yeah."

You nod, sniffle and clear your face in your sleeve. "Cool. That's good."

Bucky feels he'll puke if he doesn't get a little more than that, so he takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he can be brave. "There'll be a lantern reunion at the lake."

You turn to him, eyes red and vulnerable, and Bucky has to grip tighter on the can to stop himself from cleaning your tear-stained cheeks once again. "A what?"

"A lantern reunion. It was Laura's idea, actually," your friend was a blessing to his congregation, and it made Bucky smile a little to think so. "People from the congregation will go in a fortnight to the city lake a little further in the mountains and light up little candles in their names. Push it into the lake as sort of a goodbye and a desire for good passage."

"Into heaven?" you ask, smiling sarcastically.

Bucky's gotten so used to it that it doesn't even rattle him anymore.

"Into anywhere," he answers.

The sarcasm drops from your face like rain does out of nowhere from the sky, and you sigh. "That's nice."

"Is it?"

"It is." You take a sip, and Bucky feels it in his chest the blow before it comes. "Naya would've loved it. Probably reminded her of Tangled or something like that."

The name hits clear as day as part of the list Bucky read on Sunday.

"Was she a friend?" He asks.

You shake your head. "Goddaughter."

Your jawline is sharper than ever before. Razor-sharp. Bucky realizes when he pays attention to more than just your eyes, the usual lovely, deep, and telling eyes, that the rest of your face lacks any of your kindness and softness—you're angry. Properly raging, he imagines.

It's the first time he's seen the emotion on you, and it rattles something in the attics of Bucky's brain.

Ghosts of his past, of guns, violence, and the range that humans could go to.

"Tell me about her," the words fall from his lips, and Bucky feels like prey once more when your eyes snap back to him. "If you want to, of course. I—I'd like to hear it."

For a moment, you only watch him, eyes searching all over his face.

"Why?" You ask.

Bucky shrugs his shoulder, sipping a little more. "Because... offering my condolences won't do any good, although you do have them. And talking about the occurrence serves no purpose, either." Both of those options are weak at best. "Hearing about who your goddaughter was, on the other hand, sounds nice." He wonders how close you two were. Was she the daughter of a best friend? Bucky knew you had no sisters. "D'you have sisters?" He asks to confirm. "I thought you didn't."

The ghost of a real smile appears on your face. "I don't."

"Right."

"She's—was... she was my best friend's daughter. Hugh." The smile turns more real than ghost-like. "He and I have been friends since middle school."

Wow. That's longer than Bucky's been in this town. "That is a long time."

"Not that long, c'mon Father. Don't call me old."

Bucky laughs. "You're not a sweet summer child, that's for sure."

"Wow!" You say, joining him in laughter.

"Your generation is a mystery to me, I'll tell you that."

"Ugh—there you go again with 'your generation'. You're not that much older than me, Father," you give him a pointed look.

Bucky hums. "I beg to differ. There's more than a decade bridging this," he gestures between you and him.

"Fine, old man. Whatever you say," you chuckle, and sip the rest of your beer, crushing the can in your hands. "Anyway. Hugh's not usually here—he works two towns over most of the time."

"Is he married?" He asks out of curiosity.

You shake your head. "Nope. Naya's mom was a fling."

"Got it." From that, he deduced you had a lot to do with the girl while growing up. "Was she a lot like you?"

You laugh. "A mix of Hugh and me, yeah. I spoiled her quite a lot."

Bucky smiles. "Tell me more."

And you do.

Bucky listens to you tell him about Naya, and she comes to life inside his mind.

He saw the picture of everyone involved, but now he can see the glint she had in her eyes, the quirks you mention, the passions in her heart.

He does his best to stay present in the conversation, letting go of any pain related to the tragedy in order to give you a good ear as you mentioned he has.

It hurts almost as much as if he was thinking about it all.

The oscillations in your smile between heartbroken and sad, and heartfelt. He feels the changes like shrapnel under his skin.

After a few more beers, the talk changes every now and then. From kids to raising them without parents, to the dangers surrounding newer generations—like always, talking to you is a rollercoaster of topics, and Bucky thinks he's done a good job of taking your mind out of the dark places it was.

Until you stop, look at the wall in front of you again, and the tears start streaming down again.

Bucky's heart breaks all over the wet ground, getting dirt all over the pieces.

He's closing the distance between your bodies before he thinks better of it.

His arms wrap around your shoulders and you bury your face in his chest, letting go of your pain in the safe space of his arms.

Bucky lets you cry for as long as you need to, and when the quiet sobs diminish to only your sniffling, he still holds you close.

"I feel... like barbed wire. I don't know." Your voice is thick with emotion, and Bucky squeezes around you subconsciously. "There's so much rage inside me, Buck."

"That's okay. It's the normal thing to fill you."

"You wouldn't say that if you knew all the things I'm thinking. I—I'm not the best person ever, but the things I'd do right now..."

Bucky shakes his head. You're human, he thinks. "You're a good person even with those thoughts."

"You don't know that," you argued.

"I do, though," Bucky counters. "All the things you want are a response, not an initiative. That's how I know."

At that, you stay in silence. Bucky feels you moving your head—before, you had your forehead resting against his chest, but now you move your head to the side and lay your cheeks against him, making yourself comfortable.

"You'd judge me, though," your voice is barely above a whisper. "They're horrible things."

Bucky scoffs. "I've done my fair share of horrible things in life, Y/n. I'll never be in any position to truly judge someone else," he tells you.

Then it hits him—I trust her too.

"I don't believe that," you whisper.

"It's the truth." Bucky's past is his own, but he allows you to have this. "I was a tool for a long time, one that did many wrong things. I hardly think that you wanting to kill the people who did this with your bare hands is something so atrocious."

"I'd think you'd judge upon murder, Father."

"Not my place to do so," and if he was being honest with himself, never would be. The things he believed in were symbolic.

"Is this what a confessional feels like?" you ask with a chuckle.

Bucky rests his head on top of yours. "It's the idea."

"I like it. It's not so bad." You take a deep breath, and Bucky feels it.

I like it too, he thinks. Why does it feel mutual?

"D'you want some food?" he asks. He needs something to do with his hands that doesn't involve holding you.

It takes you a moment to answer. "Sure." You pull your head back a few inches to look up at him, and the smile he sees in your eyes takes his breath away. "Thanks, Father."

This feels as holy as any of my prayers.

Bucky feels dizzy.

"Thanks for trusting me," he answers, and then lets you go. His arms feel empty and cold the minute they leave your frame. "C'mon. I'll make us sandwiches."

"That's not food," you argue behind him.

"It is in this house," he rolls his eyes, knowing you're just doing it to tease him. "Ungrateful youth, I swear."

"I'm not being ungrateful, I'm being factual. You know, back during the Roman Empire in Grece, they..."

ㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ — ✞ —

ㅤ

The night of grief changes nothing and everything at the same time.

Bucky knew you were a person beneath all the exterior of perfection, but it takes seeing you cry for him to realize why he deemed everything he saw to be that way—he saw beauty even in your imperfections. He met you by chance, befriended you by fate, and because the Universe wrote you and him to be this way, something about your existence read as beautiful from top to bottom. Breathtaking. It never occurred to him that he'd find something else to look at and see unadulterated and raw light, but there you were. Whether it was talking to friends, working, running past him at eight in the morning, or crying in his arms, the aura around you glowed in holy light, and Bucky had only one night of absolute existential crisis before acceptance washed over him.

He might have found his peace in god, but the god he believed in never excluded the Nirvana existing in love.

Accepting things as they were hurt much less.

— ✞ —

Everything about him felt holy.

The whole month you stayed away from him, that's all you could think about.

Bucky felt holy. His blue eyes on you, the gentleness in his words, and the shy cocking of his neck whenever he was under the light of a compliment—holy, holy, holy.

That's why you hated how much you desired to corrupt all the purity within every thought permeated by him.

It made you a little sick at first. Desiring him and still talking to him normally as if you didn't touch yourself to thoughts of Bucky fucking you and stretching you around his cock while filth dripping from his lips was a hard task, but no one could say you were one to shy away from a challenge.

All of that goes away when he cooks for you.

The shame in wanting him.

From that day on, you allow your mind to drift wherever it pleases.

To his words, his eyes, his lips, the feeling of how strong his arms were — how did I miss that, what is that damn black thing hiding, why does it feel so warm and firm, oh my god — and anything in between. His voice. The way he curses under his breath as if Jesus is not listening if he talks low enough. How much lower his voice can go.

Letting all those thoughts roam free is both a blessing and a curse.

When you see him the day following a dream where Bucky did all the things your mind wanted him to and a bit more, you realize where the curse part walks in.

It's hard looking him in the eye when you have vivid images of his hand gripping your neck. It's sad that all you have is images, but they're more than enough to make you take a step back every now and then.

You can't get wet if you don't get a whiff of his perfume.

Can't feel embarrassed and hot all over if he doesn't make one of his silly jokes under his breath.

It takes you a few weeks of escaping him here and there before you receive it, at 11:50 pm on a Monday night:

What would you say if I told you I need my confessional bubble?

The message stares at you, and you stare back.

The feeling of his hug around you comes to you like the scent of someone being dragged by the wind.

Where are you?

The church. I was organizing some stuff. Come over?

Not one to say no to him, you drive there with your heart beating in your palms and the familiar knot on your throat of someone haunted by their own thoughts.

At the church, you find Bucky with a glass in his hands and all the pictures and remains of the shrines packed in one corner.

"Evening, Father."

Bucky turns around sharply, and you see that he's not drunk nor tipsy yet. His look is sober, and his eyes lighten in color when they see you.

"Hey." He points to the stuff on the floor. "I'm gonna put this in the back. I'll be back in a minute—you're very fast. How fast did you drive?"

Probably too fast because I was anxious. "Maybe you're just slow, Father James."

Bucky's eyes narrow, and your mind goes oh-oh. He looks at you with narrowing eyes, but then the mirth is back on his face. "Ha ha." He picks up the boxes. "I'll be back."

"Won't I burn in your absence?" You call after him, trying to contain your smile.

Bucky looks over his shoulder just so you can see him rolling his eyes.

You chuckle. Was there even a need to be nervous?

This is Bucky.

James. Father James. He's a good guy, and a great friend, and a pretty funny person for someone who is so mysterious.

In his absence, you start walking aimlessly through the church.

You're here very rarely. Paying attention to the details of it is not the first thing in your mind but, with nothing to do, you notice all the beauty in the place: the colorful glasses, how polished and shiny the wood benches and every other wood surface looks, and then it catches your eyes.

On the far right corner, close to the altar, there it is.

The confessional.

You're walking to it before you notice what you're doing.

It's bigger than you expected.

Your hand comes up to touch the wood and its patterns—the velvet drape which closes one of the sides is blood red, and you raise both eyebrows at it.

Gorgeous.

The other side is closed with a wooden door, though. You imagine it's where the priest enters, and because you're friends with the one who runs this church, you let yourself in.

The space is big enough to fit two adults if they're squeezed close together.

You take a seat, looking over the side where you can see very little from the open spots in the wood.

Then, you hear his footsteps coming back out there.

"Y/n?" He calls out, sounding confused.

You think about coming out, but then...

Confessional bubble.

You open the door minimally, put only your hand outside, and wave. "Here," you singsong.

There's a second of silence in which you wonder if Bucky is genuinely offended for the first time about something you're doing, but then you hear his laughter approaching.

You hear his body passing through the drapes and sitting next to you.

"Not where I'd expect to find you," he says from the other side.

It's with the first sentence that you realize what a terrible, miscalculated, poor idea this was.

Your senses go from 0 to 100 in a second. They're all tunneled to his voice, and you can smell his perfume permeating the small space.

"Y/n?"

"I was curious," you answer. Your voice is low, and you swallow down the nervousness. It should be fine. What could go wrong? "Plus... this seems like a cool bubble."

"I told you it was, you never trusted me in that," he answers.

You chuckle. "I didn't know about all the velvet." And the stripping of your senses. God, I feel dizzy.

"It's charming, isn't it?"

You are, your traitorous mind replies. "Yup." You take a deep through your mouth and let it out slowly. "What was in your mind, young padawan?"

Bucky laughs. "Wrong religion."

"Right, my bad—what's in your mind, my sheep?"

"You're not so bad at this."

"And you're great at deflecting," you bite back, smiling already. Your body relaxes on its seat, and you start picking on your t-shirt. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"I did." Bucky hums. "Didn't think you wanted to, though."

What? "What?"

"I was gonna ask you to go grab a bite with me so I could hear how you've been doing these past couple of weeks. I haven't seen much of you," his voice sounds a little small, and you hate yourself for a second. "I imagine you're busy."

Does trying to get rid of thoughts of your naked count as busy?

You bite your bottom lip nervously. "Not that busy," you reply. "Just... processing."

"Right. I thought about that too," he says. Bucky takes a deep breath and you can hear that too. "I just... missed your company."

You smile at that. "Awn. Thanks, Buck. I missed you too."

"Did you?"

"Of course," you say. "You know I like your company better than most. More than, like, 99% of this town, for sure."

"I'm flattered," he chuckles. "I thought I did something wrong, that's all. I—you'd tell me if I had, right?"

That ties knots inside your brain. Your neurons seem to clash with each other, and you look from side to side trying to find out if that was a joke.

"What could you possibly have done to me?" You ask with laughter.

"Dunno." Bucky seems to be thinking, so you wait. "I can be annoying sometimes."

"Have you met me?"

He laughs again. "You're peculiar."

"Most people go for 'annoying'."

"Most people are pussies," he replies back so quickly that you burst out laughing.

"Father James!" You tell him in a reprehending tone. "This is not the place for such language."

"I think you'll find out that we're in the only place of holy grounds where you can say whatever the fuck you want," he chuckles.

"Is that so?"

You can almost see him shrugging his shoulders. "It's how I always felt."

"Cool. This is the blind spot, then?"

"Exactly." Bucky seems to be tapping on the wood, and you recognize his nervous tick. "Maybe you can use the blind spot to tell me why you've been avoiding me, then."

Shit.

The silence is as much of a confession as you trying to play it dumb would be.

"Y/n..."

You hate how he makes your name sounds like a plea.

"You didn't do anything wrong," you tell him. "I swear."

There's a heartbeat of silence, and Bucky seems to believe you. "Okay." The sound of a thud tells you he rested his head against the wall at the back, and you do the same. "So... did something happen? To you, I mean."

Yeah, you did.

Thinking that's not the reply he wants, you hum thoughtfully. "I'm... trying to work with life's limitations."

There's another moment of quiet, and then Bucky snorts. "That was vague as shit, Y/n."

"It's the truth!" you laugh.

"I know it is, but it doesn't explain anything," he counters. "What limitations?"

How do I answer this? How do I tell him it's him without putting him under the spotlight? I don't wanna lose you, Bucky. I like what we have. I like this.

You like him.

"No judgments. Remember?" He asks.

Fuck. Fine, here goes nothing, you think. "I... have been thinking a lot. About someone. In ways that I'm not sure this person would want me to."

Out of all the silences, this is the heaviest one.

You hear him breathing in deep, and it feels like his body has strings attached to yours.

"You're insecure about having... feelings for this person?" His voice is rough. Carefully curated out of any emotions.

You realize you're speaking to Father James rather than Bucky.

"Kinda," you reply, surprised that you don't care about the switch in roles.

"Why would they be bothered?"

The million-dollar questions.

Your palms are sweating. Your body has the low humming of when blood is pumping everywhere at a higher speed, and all the anxiety you had when you first saw his message rushes back.

"'Cause I'm pretty sure they'd view it as... something bad," you reply.

"Feelings are never bad."

"No?"

"No. They're natural. The person might not want them, but if they view them as bad, that means they're not worthy of it."

"No—what I meant is—maybe they would feel bad about being on the receiving end of it."

"Again, that makes no sense. Why would they be offended by it?"

"I don't know. 'Cause they don't want me?"

"That's their loss. Still doesn't mean your feelings are bad. They could be unreciprocated, but never bad."

"Maybe that's what I'm scared of," you confess. Fuck, this thing works. "I don't wanna face the fact that it could never be mutual."

"That is scary," he whispers. You still hear it.

"Yeah."

"You'll never know, though. Unless you tell them, you can't know if it is or not."

You laugh, humorlessly. "I don't think I need to. Not for this."

"Why not?" asks Bucky.

"Because the chances of him wanting me or anything are slim to none."

"I find that hard to be true, Y/n."

"What percentage of priests lead a personal life outside their calling, Father James?"

The question comes out breathless and it finishes the job of setting your body on fire.

On the other side, the silence is deafening. You can't see him, but your mind paints the picture easily: Bucky standing there, frozen in his spot as the realization dawns on him.

Then, his reply comes and what was left of your body turns to dust.

"A low percentage. But some of us do."

You have to bite your bottom lip to swallow a whine. His name still comes out. "Bucky."

"You've been thinking about me all this time and you thought I would be upset about it?" He sounds breathless. Your body is not only alive now, but it's also starting to respond to the drop in his voice.

"They're not very holy thoughts," you chuckle humorlessly.

"Tell me."

Two words and your legs constrict against one another. Your core feels like a furnace, heating up more and more by the second.

"I... are you serious?"

"Very." Bucky sounds as affected as you. "Tell me what thoughts were so bad they drove you away from me."

"I... I had dreams." You want to touch yourself so badly that you start squirming in your seat. "About you."

All he does is hum in reply.

"You kissed me. And then... you told me I was going to accept all that you wanted to give me. And I said yes. So you started to get... more—of me. You took off my clothes. And said you needed to let out some... steam. To let out some things that have been inside of you."

There, your words were cut short.

The images of Bucky kneeling in front of you and eating you out like he never had a meal before in his life.

"Go on," his voice breaks through the smoke.

It sounds like an order.

Your body shudders, and you try to grip on reality before the dreams take over. "You ate me out." The whisper sounds louder than any of his sermons you had the pleasure of hearing. "And..." I can't say it. I can't. You can feel the wetness dripping to your panties, and you have to sit on top of your hands to stop them from starting to roam your body.

"Finish it."

Where did he learn to command people like that?

"I asked to do the same." How could you not? All you wanted was to choke on the weight of Bucky on your tongue. "And then you fucked me. Slowly. And... kept telling me about how long it had been. How good it felt to stretch me out." Why am I going into details? You whimper. "Bucky."

"Is that why you were away? You dreamt about me being inside of you and that's it—your brain stopped working around me?"

"I got off to those dreams too many times to not think about them when I saw you."

"Fuck." Bucky must move next to you because you hear the sound of his clothes ruffling. "You touched yourself thinking about them?"

"Yeah."

You hear his breath intake, and the next sound drops your heart to your feet.

Bucky gets up, the drapes ruffle and then, the door of the confessional is opening.

The sight of Bucky standing tall over you with his black t-shirt tucked inside his pants and the tent of his dick straining against his slacks makes your mouth dry before it starts to water.

"Show me," says Bucky. Then he drops to his knees in front of you, reaches both hands to your knees, and places them there. He looks up into your eyes to ask, "Can I?" and you nod, dumbly and shaking, as Bucky spreads your knees open. You're wearing loose pants, and his hands go further up to their hem so he can pull them down.

Allowing him to leave you in nothing but your panties feels like a fever dream.

With your pants pooling in your ankles, Bucky lets hands drag on the skin of your legs and thighs.

"You're right," he says. "It's been years." His hands reach your waist, and your shaking comes to a halt with the firmness that they touch your pelvis bones. "And yet, I think I've thought more about pleasure and connection these past months than I did my whole life." Bucky moves his body closer until he's nestled between your legs, and when his head inches closer to your cunt you realize what he's about to do, whining at the thought. "I dreamt about this, too."

He presses his nose on the hood of your pussy, inhaling deeply and making your legs turn from solid to liquid.

Bucky runs his nose there, and when he hums against your core, you feel it inside of you. "You smell so fucking good, dove."

"Oh, god."

Bucky gropes your ass and shakes his head. "No. Forgot my name already?"

"James, please. Please," you whine, your legs coming up to his shoulders.

He lets you, helping your legs to secure around his neck, and when you look down and see he's smiling, you know you're fucked.

"It's been a while, so let me take my time. I think I still remember how to do this," Bucky says.

Then, he pushes your panties to the side and groans out loud.

"So fucking wet for me. Shit." He pushes his nose again, getting it wet with your slick. "Fuck," he dives in.

Bucky's tongue gives gentle licks against your clit, as if savoring it first.

When he feels your legs spreading wider and he has more room to work with, he truly starts his job. His tongue licks on your folds, then dips from the bottom all the way up, licking a stripe across your cunt before his mouth attaches itself to your clit.

Bucky sucks on the hard nub with his tongue, alternating between slow and hard-pressured jabs to quick flicks of his tongue from side to side.

Your hands are covering your mouth to stop the screams from coming out.

He slurps on the slick and the more the works his tongue on your clit and then pushes down to your open cunt, the wetter you get.

Time ceases to exist with Bucky knelt between your legs.

He goes slow, then fast, then very slow just to hear your whines getting louder. He laughs in your pussy, and the vibrations crawl up inside of you.

At one point he looks up and with a hard grope on the back of your thighs gets your attention on him again.

His beard is glistening, wet. He's smiling like he's seeing something funny for the first time in ages, and when he asks, "Do you like penetration?" as if he doesn't know the answer, you feel like crying.

"Please."

He takes pity on you. "It's okay, dove." Bucky's right hand leaves your legs and his fingers join his mouth between your legs. He coats his fingers in your slick before he pushes the middle one all the way in, slowly at first, then he removes it all the way and pushes back in with his tongue.

"Bucky!"

"Hmhm," he hums against your pussy. "Is this what you dreamt of, dove?" He asks before latching onto you again and sucking on your clit like it's a lollipop.

The coil in your lower stomach seems like a rubber band ready to snap, but you need more.

"Bucky. Bucky," you call.

"Hm?"

"I wanna cum with you inside me. Please?"

Bucky's hand squeezes involuntarily on your leg. He looks up and kisses your inner thigh. "You do?"

"Please."

"Will you let me take you for a bite afterward since I couldn't help myself and I'm doing everything backward?" He asks, already getting up.

You nod a bit desperately. "I'll let you bite anything, just—please."

He laughs. "Get up."

You do, and it's a tight squeeze to switch places with him, but you two manage. Bucky sits on the place you sat and unbuttons his pants, pulling out his cock from the confine of his briefs.

You step out of your pants and sit on his lap, trying to keep all the feelings daring to pool out inside while you feel like everything about you is already stripped bare in front of him.

"You sure you want this, yeah?" I asked.

At that moment, Bucky pulls you close by his waist. It's almost easy (keyword being almost) to ignore the outline of his hard cock between your legs when he's holding your face like this.

There's barely any light illuminating the inside of the confessional, but there is enough for you to see him glowing. Glistening. Smiling like he's watching something unfold.

He holds your face in his hand and pulls you in for a kiss.

I hadn't kissed him yet.

Bucky kisses you with slow, soft tenderness at first.

It's almost his way of saying he means everything—he means this, and he means what he said about being a part of the cleric who still allows themselves to have a life outside their work.

When his tongue opens up your mouth sinfully, that's when you feel him twitch underneath you.

His arm around your waist pulls you even closer, and you get him. You'd want to merge with him right now if you could.

"Put me inside you," he pulls back his face only a few inches to say those words, then dives in for another kiss.

Your mind is too dizzy with everything that is James to do anything but obey.

You reach beneath you to hold his cock in your hands and guide it to your entrance.

Perhaps you should care that none of you discussed the important things you should have before you let him inside you, raw and deep like this, but all you want is this:

Feeling him stretch you out.

When his tips fit and you can let go, both of you groan at the same time. He's big.

He's thick, and he's leaking, and when the tip pushes in, gliding easy with how wet you are, you have to pull back from his kiss so you can breathe.

Bucky groans louder and hides his face in the crook of your shoulder.

"You're big," you whisper, sliding down further until he's bottomed out. "Oh my..." can't call out for Jesus, but you're still shaking and finding a new reason to worship right there and then. You might be drunk on desire, or drunk on how high Bucky made you by eating you out, or how close you were to cumming before he made you get up. Maybe all of the above. "Father James—feels so good."

The slap comes as a surprise, but the sting and your scream are both pleasurable.

"Don't call me that again," he growls. He bites your neck, and moves his hip for the first time.

"Why not," you whine. It feels so good. You feel so full. "Feel so full, Bucky."

"I know, dove." He bucks his hip upwards, thrusting deep and slow. "You're so fucking tight," his voice is strained, and you pull his face back to yours, cupping his neck. With his eyes on yours, Bucky's face softens. "Feels good?" He asks with another pointed thurst.

You nod, riding him in the same rhythm as his thrusts. "Hmhm."

"You look beautiful on top of me," he mutters, kissing your chin, you cheeks, and your eyelids, each kiss pointed with another deep thrust.

"We're gonna do this again, right?"

Bucky hums, and thrusts harder. FUCK.

"Ah, there it is," he mutters, as if talking to himself. "Was looking for that." He thrusts again, confirming to see if he's found your g spot. The way you clench and moan his name is enough of an answer. "We'll do this many more times. I just—need—fuck, need to do this proper." Bucky pins your hips in place and takes over the movements. "Shouldn't be fucking you, dove. Not here, not like this."

"I'm so fucking wet, Buck," you cry. "You wouldn't let me go home to get off thinkin'—oh—about you—fuck, right there;"

"I wouldn't?"

"Bucky." It's louder than before. Both a moan and a prayer.

His thrusts become more erratic, and Bucky's own moans and prayers start sounding much like yours.

So tight, dove. Fucking made for me. Stop clenching your pussy, Y/n, fuck. I'm gonna fill you up, d'you want that? Hm?

"Don't pull out," you whine.

"No?"

"No." You shake your head. He should, your mind says. I don't care, your body responds, hips going harder to meet his harsh thrusts.

"Want to feel me leaking out of you?"

Fucking hell. Where was this holy mouth hidden? "Yes!"

"Say it," Bucky's grunting, and his forehead is sparkling with sweat, and you feel the sweat dripping down your back.

"Wanna feel you dripping out of me, Buck."

"Fucking—Y/n, I'm gonna cum. Are you close, dove?" He holds you by the neck, and brings your mouth to his. "Tell me how to make you cum. Tell me."

"Hard. Deep."

Bucky's a good listener anywhere. He pins your hip in one place, buries himself as deep as he can go inside of you and mutters about how good it is to feel your cunt stretching out around his cock, then pistons his hips in place just like that, hitting that spot inside of you so mercilessly that you're excused to scream as much as you do.

When you yell that you're gonna cum, all he says is, "Please. Please, dove. Show me. Cum for me. Cum only for me, Y/n."

With another scream that leaves your throat aching, you feel your walls convulsing and your legs shaking as an orgasm knocks you out.

Bucky cums by muffling his own screams in your neck, and you feel the warmth of him spilling inside of you.

If there were any ways for you to not surrender and devote to him, they're all burned and gone.

This feels like the beginning of all things holy for you.

part two →

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#usernexusnyx #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x oc #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky smut #priest!bucky #bucky barnes x smut #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky fic

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harmonizingsunsets · 1 year

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I’m sorry if this has been done before but I had to

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ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 2 years

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𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

⋆ Happy Halloween everybody! you know what that means... It's kinktober time! So, gather around my blog as I post daily updates of a new kink with your favorite characters!

Day 1: Daryl Dixon — Rough Sex

Day 2: Steve Rogers — Captain Kink

Day 3: Dean Winchester — Submission

Day 4: Castiel — Corruption

Day 5: Daryl Dixon — Hair Pulling

Day 6: Spencer Reid — Hand Kink

Day 7: Aaron Hotchner — Uniform Kink

Day 8: Emily Prentiss — Teasing

Day 9: Rick & Daryl — Threesome

Day 10: Spencer Reid — Size Kink

Day 11: Maggie Greene — Brat Taming

Day 12: Daryl Dixon — Shotgunning

Day 13: Michonne Hawthorne — Body Worship

Day 14: Bucky Barnes — Overstimulation

Day 15: Dean Winchester — Blood Play

Day 16: Sam Winchester — Throat Fucking

Day 17: Rick Grimes — Sir Kink

Day 18: Daryl Dixon — Sweat Kink

Day 19: Dean Winchester — Food Play

Day 20: Spencer Reid — Strangers

Day 21: Glenn Rhee — Handjob

Day 22: Bucky Barnes — Choking

Day 23: Dean Winchester — Somnophilia

Day 24: Priest!Sam Winchester — Blasphemy

Day 25: Micheal!Dean Winchester — Knife Kink

Day 26: Spencer Reid — Handcuffs

Day 27: Aaron Hotchner — Spanking

Day 28: Penelope Garcia — Aftercare

Day 29: Demon!Dean Winchester — Biting

Day 30: Natasha Romanoff — Femdom

Day 31: Thor Odinson — Dumbification

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iheartsebstan · 6 months

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First one really is Sebastian. But the others, oh yes, I went down the TikTok @/animarvelita rabbit hole of Priest Bucky 😍😍😍

@jtargaryen18 I can’t 😅🥰

#sebastian stan #priest Bucky Barnes #marvel #bucky barnes #avengers #winter soldier #captain america #mcu #avengers infinity war #marvelcinematicuniverse #fws #i want a marvel au of this so bad #hot priest

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punksdoll · 5 months

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~~~𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙1~~~

𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 CLOSED 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖𝚜

𝐃𝐍𝐈 𝐢𝐟… 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐬𝐫𝐚𝐞𝐥, 𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐜, 𝐩𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

🌧️angst ☀️fluff 🌦️angst&fluff

𝖂ᥕᥱ

𝗥𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻 𝗥𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗻𝘀

Welcome Back ☀️

🪬

𝗥𝗵𝗲𝗮 𝗥𝗶𝗽𝗹𝗲𝘆

Shortcake ☀️

Always loved 1 Always loved 2 Always Loved 3 🌦️

I’m here☀️

🪬

𝗟𝗔 𝗞𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗖𝗺 𝗣𝘂𝗻𝗸

And your new ☀️

Surprise doll ☀️

🪬

𝗗𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗮𝗻 𝗣𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀𝘁

Buenas Días ☀️

Feels for you ☀️

Proud of you ☀️

Got your back ☀️ Cashing feelings ☀️

Giddiness ☀️

You’re my prize ☀️

En Tus Brazos☀️

Pinche Priest🌧️

🪬

𝗖𝗼𝗱𝘆 𝗥𝗵𝗼𝗱𝗲𝘀

My Woman 🌧️☀️

Christmas Love☀️

🪬

𝗝𝗲𝘆 𝗨𝘀𝗼

Jealousy got the better☀️

I’m okay☀️

Savior☀️

Pendeja ☀️

Mío☀️

🪬

𝗦𝗵𝗮𝘆𝗻𝗮 𝗕𝗮𝘀𝘇𝗹𝗲𝗿

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗥𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘆 𝗢𝗿𝘁𝗼𝗻

Worried ☀️

🪬

𝗦𝗮𝗺𝗶 𝗭𝗮𝘆𝗻

I’m okay☀️

Forgive me🌦️

Savior☀️

Pendeja ☀️

🪬

𝗞𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗻 𝗢𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘀

Forgive me🌦️

Savior☀️

Pendeja ☀️

Listen to me☀️

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖁𝖆𝖒𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝕯𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘

𝗦𝘁𝗲𝗳𝗮𝗻 𝗦𝗮𝗹𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗲

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗗𝗮𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗦𝗮𝗹𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗲

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗡𝗶𝗸𝗹𝗮𝘂𝘀 𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗮𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗼𝗻

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗘𝗹𝗶𝗷𝗮𝗵 𝗠𝗶𝗸𝗮𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗼𝗻

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖑

𝗕𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 𝗕𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗥𝗼𝗴𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝕬𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖆𝖗 1&2

𝗝𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝗦𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗡𝗲𝘁𝗲𝘆𝗮𝗺 𝗦𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗟𝗼’𝗮𝗸 𝗦𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗧𝘀𝘂'𝘁𝗲𝘆

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝕬𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖊

𝗦𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗸𝗮

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗩𝗶

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗝𝗶𝗻𝘅

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

🪬

𝗩𝗶𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗿

𝒊𝒏 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔

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bucknastysbabe · 1 year

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Thank you hotd fam for making me feel like a million bucks— it’s also so freeing and fun to be confident and open about this to ppl in my personal life. I told my aa sponsor and she was like YES GIRL! What a queen. Next up for HOTD I’m gonna try to get into the obsessive Criston hcs but I am a busy bitch

Anyways this nasty shit has been sitting in my drafts TOO DAMN LONG. I have so many Bucky blurbs if anyone is into those— they’re already written. BUT in honor of going to an all day Catholic event tomorrow I’m going to try to get excommunicated by posting this. Ladies and gents and fancy folx I bring you: ✝️beefy priest bucky✝️

Noble and Chaste

“Lust; disordered desire for or inordinate enjoyment of sexual pleasure.” -Catechism of the Catholic Church

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Rough oral (m!receiving), priest kink, LOTS OF SACRILEGE, teasing, confession booth, manipulation, age difference, dom!bucky, priest!bucky, BEEFCAKE BUCK, reader is of age, degradation, dirty talk, deep throating, f!masturbation, smuttysmutsmut

1977

St. Maria Goretti Boarding School. Also known as where parents send their daughters who are whores or have a temperance issue. Or both, just like you. Your parents sent you up the east coast to this place in upstate New York. It was down the road from an asylum. You felt that was a planned threat.

You placed your new record onto the player. It was the soundtrack to Saturday Night Fever. You loved disco so much. Back in New York you’d gone to some clubs and partied all night long to their songs. Now you were here surrounded by idiots and dusty nuns. At least the priest was funny. You had a year left, this being your senior year. You could pretend to be normal and get back into your parents good graces before fucking off to college and being free again.

For now you smoked out of the window, singing to the along to ‘Night Fever’. Wanda whined from her bed, “No smokingggg, Sister Agatha will whip us again.” You rolled your eyes and snickered, “You want one or not Maximoff?” She groaned and joined you on the windowsill, lighting up.

The girl was accused by her parents of being into ‘witchcraft’. In reality she just liked crystals and horoscopes. She took a drag and spoke on the exhale, “Did you hear about the assistant priest coming to train under Father Dugan?” You whinged, “He better be hot this time. The one two years ago was a square.”

Wanda gasped, “Girl! He’s a man of the cloth.”

The pair of you devolved into giggles, bumping shoulders affectionately. You spent the afternoon gossiping and planning on how one would seduce the young priest.

You ended up wearing your skirt from freshman year. You’d grown since then, leaving little to the imagination. Of course you had your thick white tights on underneath. If your button popped loose on your shirt during the nightly meeting, everyone would be too prudish to say anything until afterward. Wanda dolled you up with the little makeup the pair of you had smuggled.

The nightly meetings were a bore. It was run by Father Dugan. They were a time for the ladies to share about a topic and learn how to deal with it more ‘christ-like’. Sometimes you’d just start laughing uncontrollably to Sister Agatha’s chagrin. You strolled in, last in line of the senior girls. There was about twelve of you, filling the chairs. Sister Agatha watched like a hawk from the back of the small room.

Father Dugan walked in with the new priest. A collective low burble of noises broke out amongst the ladies. You whispered to Wanda, “Fuck— he’s like sex on legs.” Dugan smiled knowingly but you focused in on the new one. He was powerfully built, all wide shoulders and huge arms. The priest had brown hair to his neck and the prettiest lips. His angel face and baby blues didn’t quite match up with being sturdy as a brick shithouse.

He introduced himself softly, “Hello, I’m Father Barnes. I’ll be helping Father Dugan here until I’m assigned to my first parish. I can’t wait to get to know you lovely ladies of the Lord.”

You lowly groaned, “I can’t wait either.”

The pair of holy men sat in two of the chairs in the circle. You eyed Barnes’ chest straining his black garb. God he was gorgeous. Father Dugan started with a prayer and some scripture. He began, “And with that, I’d like to talk about confession and honesty today.” You snorted when the others all suddenly had something to say. They could try but he was yours.

You sat through the boring drivel and bit back a laugh when Elizabeth burst into tears about lying to her parents. Agatha cleared her throat pointedly, staring you down. You caught blue eyes on you, and smiled good-naturedly at Father Barnes. He blushed and redirected his attention to the squalling Elizabeth. Wanda elbowed you.

“Since you seem to be so invested, why don’t you share your thoughts?,” Dugan asked humorously as he pointed at you. You laughed flatly, straightened up and crossed your legs. You dryly rambled, “Well Father. To be human is to sin. We’re born with it. Instead of holding onto the guilt I just confess it. Whether it’s to you or my friend, I have to be honest. Even if I just pray to the Holy Spirit. Keeps me in check.”

Dugan replied, “Well said. Humans are sinful. So we must-“ You blocked off his voice to a dull hum as you ‘accidentally’ popped a button on your shirt, revealing your cleavage. Wanda smirked from next to you. You stretched your arms, highlighting the opening. Father Barnes’ eyes flickered over before dropping to the ground. Then repeating again. Hooked. With an exaggerated gasp you excused yourself from the meeting, citing ‘impropriety’.

You relaxed in your bed, kicking your legs as you laughed. Wanda busted in and pointed at you. She hissed, “You little minx! He watched your ass when you left the meeting!” You rolled onto your side with a smirk. You drawled, “I just gotta get some more info,” you hugged yourself dramatically, “get closer!” Wanda cackled in glee before Sister Maria told you two to hush through the door.

The next day you were in the cavernous library. Considering all your faults you did try to keep your grades up to secure your way out. You wrote down equations, a bored hand supporting your head. You heard a door open behind you, and some footsteps echoing after.

“Dugan warned me about you,” Barnes spoke.

He tried to sound confident but you picked up on the slight crack in his voice. You smirked at your paper before schooling it into a placid expression. You retorted, “Whatever do you mean, Father?” You turned to face the young priest, who perched on a table two rows away. His muscular arms were crossed defensively.

Barnes’ lips pouted as he stared you down. A few beats of silence passed over the room before he spoke again.

“I think you know what I mean,” he deadpanned.

You mimicked the clergyman’s pose, turning around to sit on the table. You spread your legs ever-so-slightly. Barnes’ eyes stayed on your face but his jaw twitched and cheeks flushed. You purred, “Tell me. What did Dugan say about me?” You thought the man was going to explode as he slapped his hand down on the table and spluttered, “Quit with the nonsense!”

Your lips stretched into a catlike grin.

“Tell you what Father, I’ll confess to you what I do so sinfully. Then we can start fresh huh?”

The angered brunette’s heaving chest slowed as he processed your words. Accusing blue orbs bore into you before he clicked his tongue. Barnes replied, “Fine. Lead the way.” You laughed and hopped off the table, swaying down the hallway leading to the chapel and confession booths. You felt his heat close behind, but the man kept quiet.

You entered the booth, kneeling immediately. The priest entered the other side, the curtains closing with a swish. You heard the wood creak as he sat down. He cleared his throat awkwardly. You made a sign of the cross while speaking, “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was one month ago."

You saw his silhouette shift behind the screen. You continued, “Since my last confession I’ve sinned greatly. I was inattentive and late to the last mass. I didn’t show respect for my classmates. I’ve been prideful, angry, envious, and a gossip.” The priest hummed quietly as you breathed, “I’ve been especially bad lately. A lustful sort. I know why Dugan said what he did.”

His breath hitched as you falsely expressed sorrow in your next words.

“I haven’t been chaste in word and thought. I’ve had impure thoughts and gratified myself sexually to them. I just can’t help it. It’s been so long since I’ve been fucked.” Your voice petered out in a sigh, “And you look so good.”

He growled suddenly, “Do you think this is a joke?”

You shook your head vehemently. You cried, “I’m so sorry— do you think I’ll be forgiven?”

You yelped as he jerked out of the booth. You thought he was leaving before a big hand ripped you up violently by the arm. Barnes pressed you up against the unforgiving wood of the confessional. His nostrils flared and jaw ticked as he furiously glared at you. The brunette’s hand gripped your arm in a vice.

You held his gaze, panting softly. He hissed, “You probably won’t be forgiven. But neither will I.” His lips sealed against yours roughly, dominating the space. You opened up, letting the man take his rising frustrations out. Your free arm wrapped around his neck, gripping at the base of his skull. You moaned lowly as he nipped your lip, big body pressing into your giving flesh.

The priest let go of your arm to move both hands down to your ass, squeezing forcefully. He groaned raggedly, “Fuckin’ Jezebel— Delilah— Been thinkin’ bout that ass since last night. Whore of Fuckin’ Babylon.” You whined at his words, chasing his plump lips eagerly. Father Barnes sucked on your tongue before massaging it with his own. His thick cock pressed into your waist, throbbing hotly.

You moaned, “Wanna suck you off— please.”

He pushed you down quickly. You cried out when your knees hit the wood floor. He jammed two thick fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Saliva filled your mouth as you sucked the best you could. His eyes rolled back and you saw his cock twitch under his dark slacks. The brunette breathed out, “Do it then, do it since you need it so bad. Slutty little thing.”

Trembling hands undid his belt and popped the button. You slid down the zipper and pulled him out with a shaky noise around his unmoving fingers. Drool fell down your chin, dropping onto the floor between your thighs. Your pussy throbbed and clenched in need. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth, sucking on the wet digits with a long groan. Your hands held onto the man’s hips as you slid him in your mouth.

You started with kitten licks around his tip before swiping your tongue against the leaking slit, savoring the salty taste. The priest swore and groaned, thighs flexing. Then you started to suck and hollow your cheeks to take him in. His hips thrusted forward and you gagged. Barnes cursed, “Fuck— you’re gonna take this cock like a good girl now. I’m gonna fuck your throat, mhm.” You nodded around his length, sucking air in through your nose.

Tears slid down your face as he eased the hot flesh down your throat. Eventually your body accepted the intrusion and he started an easy rhythm, hips thrusting shallowly. The man let out a weak noise and gripped at your hair. He quickly sped up, the slick noises of your throat heightening. Father Barnes hissed, “Sh-shit you feel good. Damned succubus.” His strokes stuttered when you whined pathetically on a particularly hard jerk of his hips.

You reached a hand down between your legs, shoving your fingers into your panties to get at your swollen clit. He laughed breathlessly, “Yeah pretty girl— come when I fill your whore mouth.” You circled your fingers harder around the sensitive bud, bucking onto your hand. He was earnestly fucking your throat now, you choking on a whimper every other thrust. The man of the cloth fared no better, running a frantic hand through his long hair and softly begging for forgiveness as he let out a particularly high noise.

Barnes cried out, “G-gonna come, fuck, fuck!” He pulled you flush to his pelvis, your nose hitting his wiry curls. You felt him twitch and swell as the man emptied down your throat. You seized up on your fingers and wailed around his dick as you gushed in your panties. The brunette slid out with a whimper as you gasped for breath. Your swollen lips throbbed as you heaved in. The clergyman rubbed a big hand against your cheek.

He looked down at you, pinkened cheeks and hazy eyes making him look like an angel. Barnes demanded softly, “Act of contrition.” You whined a ‘huh’ as he repeated harder, “Say the act of contrition.”

You made another sign of the cross with a weak hand as you hoarsely prayed, “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell. But most of all because I have offended you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve with the help of your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance and to amend my life. Amen.”

He drawled, “You’re absolved. Come back next week.”

Barnes extended his other hand to help you up. You stumbled like a newborn foal into his broad chest. His stony face eased into a soft smile as he murmured, “Such a good girl. You alright?” You nodded against his chest, worn out from the experience. He kissed your forehead and warned, “No speaking of this. Then maybe I’ll let you come on my tongue next time.”

#bucky barnes x reader #priest!bucky #catholic kink #religious kink #dom bucky barnes #bad girl reader #marvel smut #70’s au #purgatory sentence: maximum #bucky barnes smut

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daliaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa · 10 months

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He told me "kneel". Maybe I misunderstood what he wanted.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #sebastian stan fanfiction #winter soldier #nick fowler #dark priest #hot priest

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 8 days

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The Temptation Chapter 6 FINAL

Priest!Bucky Warnings: eventual smut; religion (yes it's a warning); mentions of past sexual assault

It was a stormy night just a few days later when Bucky left the church building, bags in his hands and plain clothes on. He had a handful of bills in his pocket as he flagged down a taxi. He gave the driver the address and sat back as he watched the rain pelt the windows. How poetic.

When the driver pulled up and dropped him off Bucky looked up at the brownstone. A few lights were still on. He walked up the stoop stairs and huddled under the small awning of the doorway. He rapped his knuckles on the door loudly as he waited, a shiver starting to settle into his body from the cold night air. He heard some footsteps inside and braced himself.

Y/N heard the knock, looking at the clock on her phone and wondering who would be coming at this time of night. She trudged over to the door and looked through the peephole. She did a double take and paused before opening the door.

“Bucky?” she said, staring at him in awe.

“Hey,” he stared back at her.

“What are you…? Well come in, it’s freezing,” she ushered him inside. Bucky walked in, still holding his bags as he dripped on the marble floor. “You’re soaking wet, what are you doing here?”

Bucky shivered as the warmth inside enveloped him and he sighed. “I quit.”

“You…” Y/N stopped as she blinked. “You quit? Quit what?”

“My priesthood. I quit. I left,” Bucky stated as he took her in. She was in a short pajama tank top dress, barely skimming below her butt. She wore a kimono style robe over it and thick thigh high socks. Her pink hair was down rather than tied up like she normally had it. “I…had nowhere else to go.”

Y/N let out a breath and gave him a small smile as she took in his drenched state. “Okay, well, let’s get you cleaned up.” She reached out and took one of his bags and turned towards the stairs. Bucky followed her up a flight of stairs to some bedrooms. Some of them were still under construction from the renovations she had talked about, so she led him to an open one. She turned the lights on and put the bag at the end of the bed. “You can stay here. The dresser is in the closet over there,” she pointed to a door off to the side, “and the bathroom is there,” she pointed to another door. “You can shower while I take these and get them washed,” gestured to his wet clothes. “Are these drenched, too, or are some of them dry enough for you to wear?” She bent down and opened the bag she’d been holding and checked on the clothes inside. Bucky did the same with the bag he had.

“Yeah, there’s some dry ones in here,” Bucky said as he pulled them out. “I don’t have much.”

“Obviously,” Y/N snorted as she gathered the bag she had been holding and then took his other bag from him, rifling through and taking the ones that were wet. “Now go in and take those off. I’ll wait here till you’re done and you can pass them to me before you get in.” Bucky nodded as he headed towards the bathroom. He was going to have to get used to the idea of being on the “outside.” The whole ordeal had been quick, being laicized then packing and leaving. He’d been going through the motions and now it was all becoming real. He stripped out of the clothes stuck to his body, standing naked in the middle of the bathroom. He gathered the clothes and cracked the door, keeping his body behind it. He felt her hands gather around the clothes he held. Before she could turn away he gripped her wrist. Y/N turned back to the door, seeing him peek around the corner of the door.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Bucky murmured, gulping before looking at her face.

Y/N nodded. “It’s no problem, Buck.” He smiled at her then dropped her wrist, closing the door quietly.

Y/N brought the clothes back downstairs to run them through the laundry. He was here. In her house. Showering upstairs. He had quit the ministry, whether it was for her or for himself remained to be seen. She didn’t know how to process this information as she went to the kitchen to find him something to eat really quick.

Bucky was having a small meltdown in the shower upstairs. The hot water ran down his body, warming him from the outside in. He felt a weird sense of freedom mixed with fear. Now what? He felt the worry setting in after he washed himself. For the first time in his life he started having a panic attack. He felt himself start to blackout, his body thudding against the side of the shower as he struggled to keep upright and sunk to his knees as the water ran over him.

Y/N heard the thud. It was louder than it should have been for any normal shower activities. She had a sinking feeling and ran back up the stairs. She barged into the room, walking over the bathroom and knocking on the door. “Buck? Bucky are you okay? I heard a loud noise.” She didn’t hear anything. “Buck I’m coming in!” Thankfully he hadn’t locked the door and she walked in. The water was still on, steaming up the mirror and the shower glass doors. She could make out his body heaped on the floor of the shower.

“Oh, Buck,” she opened the shower door and crouched down inside of it next to him, getting herself soaked under the stream of water. Bucky was hyperventilating, his eyes shut tight, his whole body shaking. “Bucky? Come on, handsome,” Y/N ignored his nakedness as she moved him so her back was against the wall and he was laid with his back against her front as she held him. The water was now hitting his face a little bit, helping to distract him. Her arms wove around his shoulders and chest, caressing his skin softly while one of her hands went to his hair as his head rested on her shoulder. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. You’re having a panic attack, you’re going to be okay,” she whispered in his ear. Bucky twitched as her fingers ran through his wet hair. “I’m here, I’m right here, it’s gonna be okay. I got you,” she kissed the side of his head. “Just breath, handsome. Breath…”

Bucky’s breathing started to even out as she slowly breathed behind him, her chest rising behind him giving him a rhythm to try to copy. His clenched hands slowly unclenched, his legs relaxing and stretching out as he started to come back to himself. He could hear her words but they were distant, the ringing in his ears slowly fading. His eyes fluttered open as he felt her kiss his head again, her lips brushing his ear as she spoke.

“Y/N?” he whispered, it coming out more as a grunt from how hoarse it sounded.

“Bucky?” Y/N twisted so she could see his face better. Her fingers moved from his hair to his face, softly stroking his cheek and his nose to wake him up. “Can you hear me?”

“Y-yeah,” he tried to move but it made him lightheaded and he sank back against her.

“Don’t move, handsome, just hold on, get your bearings,” Y/N whispered. “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

Bucky lay against her and breathed deeply. He felt embarrassed at needing this kind of help, and yet he loved the way she was holding him right now. After a few more minutes he shifted in her arms. “I think I can get up,” he said quietly.

“Okay, hold on,” Y/N said, and she got herself out from underneath him. “Let me up first and I’ll help you.”

Bucky held himself up as she stood and then rounded to face him. She held her hands out. He took them and she pulled him up. She made sure he wasn’t woozy as he stood. “Did you wash up?”

“Yeah,” he said, putting a hand over his cock to cover himself. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry Buck, it’s alright,” she reassured him, turning the water off. She opened the shower door and stepped out, grabbing a towel for him and then one for her. “I’m going to change really quick. Just take it slow and I’ll be right outside, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky nodded.

He dried off and changed quickly. When he opened the bedroom door Y/N was already there in a long, oversized hoodie, her hair tied up again and slippers on her feet. “Are you hungry?” she asked sweetly.

“Starving,” Bucky smiled at her. She looped an arm around one of his arms as they headed back downstairs. He knew it was to make sure he was steady but he appreciated the closeness. She led him to the kitchen and sat him at the table before returning to the fridge and pulling out ingredients to make him a quick sandwich.

“The kitchen just barely finished renovation a couple of days ago so I still don’t have a well stocked fridge, so I hope this is okay,” Y/N brought over the ingredients to the table, setting them down and then getting plates.

“This is perfect, thank you,” Bucky’s stomach growled as he looked at the ingredients. He made himself a sandwich as Y/N set a plate in front of him. She went back to the fridge and dug around inside.

“What would you like to drink? I’ve got water, some soda, some wine,” she said suggestively.

Bucky laughed. “I’ll just have some water, thanks.” “Killjoy,” she teased him, bringing him a water bottle while she pulled out the wine for herself.

They ate in silence. It wasn’t necessarily awkward or uncomfortable, just heavy. They had a few things to talk about and they both were putting it off.

Y/N decided to break the ice first. “So I saw you naked.” Bucky choked on his bite of food, coughing as he glared at her. She glared back at him, fighting off a smile. “Looking good there, Barnes,” she winked at him.

“My god,” Bucky sputtered as he took a drink of water.

“You’re awful prude for a guy who had his face in my boobs a few weeks ago,” she teased him again, but there was an underlying question in her words.

Bucky swallowed as he finished his sandwich. “Yeah, that was…new for me.”

Y/N giggled as she stood up to clear the table. Bucky watched her as her hoodie shifted around her thick thighs, her underwear peeking from underneath when she walked. Her legs jiggled as she walked to and from the table, making him want to touch them again and have her wrap them around his waist. He tried to cut off his thoughts.

“Let’s go to the front room, hm?” Y/N asked as she finished cleaning. Bucky nodded and followed her into the next room. She sat on one end of the couch and he sat on the other. He didn’t know what she wanted, or didn’t want, from him now, and didn’t want to push his luck.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Y/N grunted as she shifted into a comfortable position, throwing a blanket nearby over her legs and sharing it with him on the other side. “Why did you have a panic attack in the shower?”

“Because I freaked out when I realized just how real this all was in the moment,” Bucky replied instantly.

Y/N nodded. “Okay, makes sense. And why did you leave the ministry?”

“I would like to think that that’s pretty obvious,” Bucky narrowed his eyes at her.

“It’s not,” Y/N said simply.

“Okay, well, a few months ago this girl came into my life that I thought was beautiful and we became friends. A few weeks ago I let that girl into my room and kissed her and touched her and wanted to do a lot more with her but she left trying to protect me. I like that girl a lot, and after she left I couldn’t just get back into the swing of things. I didn’t want to. I wanted her, and only her,” he said while gazing at her.

Y/N swallowed as she listened to him. She looked down as she asked, “And what do you want from that girl now?”

Bucky moved over to where she sat on the couch. He took one of her hands in his and brought it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’m hoping that she knows that I chose her,” he said quietly. “And I’m willing to take anything she’s willing to give. For as long as she’ll have me. Because I realized that night that she was my church. She was what I wanted to worship for the rest of my life.”

Y/N was crying now as she listened to him. He spoke about her with such reverence that it almost scared her, but also made her feel honored. She brought the hand that held hers up to her lips and kissed his hand this time. She wiped her eyes with her free hand and then gave him a watery smile. “Yeah I’ll have you.”

Bucky reflected her smile. “Can I uh, get a little something for my good choices?” he asked, giving her a wink.

“Oh my god!” Y/N laughed at him. “So you’re free what, a whole day, and you think you get to have some pussy right off?”

“Woah, I never said that!” Bucky looked horrified. “Jeez Y/N I was thinking of a kiss or something.”

Y/N laughed at him again before she moved. She straddled his lap, her core set right over his, and she looped her arms around his head. Bucky’s hands automatically went to her hips. “Yes, Father.”

“Oof, no,” Bucky grimaced and shook his head, making her laugh. “Don’t like that.”

“Me neither, I just love teasing you,” Y/N scrunched her nose at him. She kissed his nose, making him smile. She ghosted her lips over his cheek and over his mouth. Bucky waited for her, wanting this all to be on her timing. When she finally kissed him Bucky instantly felt home as his mouth pressed against hers. With all the uncertainty and frustration and despair he’d been feeling since she left that night, this was like a salve, a medicine to his fractured soul. A dam broke in his mind, the last wall fell, and he held her close and tight like he was afraid to lose her. Y/N opened her mouth to taste him which he gladly accepted. She licked his lip and sucked it into her mouth. She bit it lightly and mumbled around it, “Mine.”

Bucky whimpered at her claiming him. He nodded when she let go of his lip. “Yours,” he promised.

Through a rush of sighs and moans she was naked on top of him, grinding herself onto his crotch, her naked breasts brushing against his now naked chest. Bucky was panting, the desire overwhelming him on a molecular level. “I’ve never done this,” Bucky heaved as she helped him slide out of his pants and underwear.

“I’m sure,” Y/N smiled as she sat back down on him. Her naked pussy slid across his shaft, making him moan loudly. “If you’re not ready, we can stop,” she breathed as she scratched down his chest.

“No I…ungh, I want to,” Bucky said as his hands groped her ass.

Y/N continued to grind on him. “Are you ready?”

Bucky nodded as he watched her grind on his cock. She grabbed his jaw and made him look at her. “Words, handsome.”

“Yes, I’m ready,” he answered her, his head nodding frantically. “Please…”

Y/N took his cock in her hand and gave him two pumps before lifting herself up slightly and angling the head towards her entrance. Once it was nestled into her lower lips at the right spot she let go and began to sink down on him slowly.

“Oh my god,” Bucky groaned, his head thrown back as he tried to keep himself composed. He didn’t want to burst right away. Once she was fully seated on him she waited.

“You feel so good, Bucky,” she whined as her legs trembled, wanting to move. She experimentally swirled her hips.

“Ah! Don’t…god,” Bucky whimpered. “I’m trying not to cum, Y/N, please…”

“Sorry handsome, you just fill me up so well,” Y/N sighed. Her hands pulled his hands up to her breasts, showing him how she wanted him to massage them and touch her nipples. Bucky did what she wanted, feeling her pussy flutter around him as he did.

“Can I move, handsome? Please? I want…” Y/N was shaking with need.

“Yeah, yeah…” Bucky grunted.

Y/N swiveled her hips again, making his mouth drop open in a silent moan. She slowly lifted herself up until he was almost all the way out of her, then plunged back down. Bucky hands tightened on her ass, helping her grind her hips down on him.

“Y/N…God…shit…” Bucky didn’t know what he was saying. His mind was clouded. As she bobbed up and down on him he felt the urge to thrust up into her and followed that instinct as she sat down on him. Y/N’s body shuddered at his thrust. “You like that?” he breathed as he linked his arms behind her back and held her close to him. “Okay then…”

He held her tight against him as he lifted her so he could raise his hips and then started thrusting up into her hard and fast. Y/N gripped the couch cushion behind him, her head falling back as she moaned loudly. Her breasts jiggled in his face and he sucked a nipple into his mouth as he drilled into her.

“Bucky…ah, I’m gonna…mmmmh…” Y/N’s voice was in his ear, her punctuated breaths as he thrust into her egging him on.

“Yesss angel,” Bucky hissed as he felt the burn in his thighs.

Y/N tensed and then came, shouting his name as her pussy clamped down on his cock. Her whole body shook as she tightened impossibly hard around him, her hands reaching into his hair and pulling. Bucky came soon after, a yelp falling from his lips as he thrust one last time, filling her up with everything he had. They slumped into the couch together, holding each other as they tried to come back down to earth.

Bucky kissed her cheek, his hands resting on her back and slowly tickling her spine with his fingers. Y/N gave him a kiss to his neck that she was curled into. He smiled as she sat herself up, the movement making a little bit of their combined juices drip from between them.

“Goddamn, Buck,” Y/N breathed as she fixed his hair.

Bucky smirked at her. “And you said I wouldn’t get pussy on the first night.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she loudly scoffed as she slapped his chest making him laugh. “It’s not my fault I got an eyeful of you in the shower. How were you hiding all this,” she gestured towards his body, “underneath a robe?” Bucky’s face flushed at her compliment as he bit back a shit-eating grin. “Oh I see, you know you’re hot shit, huh? Had all the little old bitty Catholics pining after the young hot priest?”

“Well, they weren’t all old,” he joked. “And I’m not that young anymore.”

“Mhm,” Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. She suddenly moved herself up, making a mess on him as he slipped out of her. He gave her a surprised look.

“Come on then, old man. Let’s take a more fun shower.”

***

2 years later

Bucky had been to multiple states and countries by now and none of them had been as beautiful as Bora Bora. The white sand, the bungalows set in the water, the people, the greenery, it was what he imagined heaven, if there was one, to be like. As he walked along the beach holding two drinks in his hands he smiled seeing Y/N in her bikini, taking pictures of the water and the scenery around them.

“Here you are, angel,” he said as he walked up beside her. Y/N turned the camera towards him and took a few candid pictures of him sitting next to her holding out the drink.

“Thank you, handsome,” she cooed at him, kissing him before taking the drink and taking a sip. She moaned at the taste and cool reprieve it provided.

“You gotta stop that, angel, or we’re about to get really dirty,” Bucky groaned as he sipped his drink, shifting on the beach chair he was sitting on.

Y/N laughed at him. “Aw, is my pretty sweet thing a little horny watching me enjoy my drink?” she teased him as she moved over to kneel in front of his chair, her breasts resting on his leg as she reached up and squished his cheeks together.

“You’re mean,” he pouted through his pursed lips.

Y/N pulled his face towards hers, kissing him and nipping his bottom lip. “And you’re mine.”

**picture if from Pinterest, it's A.I. so there's no "artist" or "creator"**

And that's it! I hope y'all liked this one. It was a lot of fun to write. The next one is going to be a Viking!Bucky story that I'm really excited about. Thanks for the follows and likes and comments! You're all so sweet. <3

@wintrsoldrluvr

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #smut #priest!bucky barnes x reader #priest!bucky barnes #chapter 6 #final chapter

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crazyunsexycool · 6 months

Note

Is childhood sweetheart mad at Bucky? 👀

As she will be when she sees him…

#you’ve got mail 💌#val answers #priest!bucky barnes

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

Text

Amen

Pairing || Beefy!CatholicPriest!Bucky x Inexperienced!Innocent!Virgin!Female!Reader

Summary || Your parents invite Father James to your home for dinner. Throughout his stay, he just can’t seem to keep his hands to himself…

Word Count || 3817

Contents & Warnings || Smut, Dark/Taboo Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, non-con, religious themes, blasphemy of religion, sacrilegious acts, biblical references, sexual content involving a catholic priest, strict/religious parents, explicit content/language, age-gap (reader is early 20’s, Bucky is early/mid 30’s), sexual thoughts and acts, pet names (baby, sweet thing) Father kink, size kink, corruption kink, authority kink, semi-public, inappropriate/forceful touches, hand over mouth, vaginal touches, fingering, teasing, begging, degrading/shaming, praising, orgasm denial, orgasm, mention of bodily fluids.

Authors Note || We’re only starting to scratch the surface for what this man is gonna do to you ;P

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Priest!Bucky Masterlist

I don’t do taglists anymore so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

A tradition you and your parents had kept for years was to invite the priest of your small town over for dinner once a week. Even though Father Jacob, who had been a highly respected priest in the community for years, had retired, your parents still wanted to keep the tradition going with the new priest, Father James, who happily accepted the invitation.

On the day of the dinner, you and your mother worked hard from early morning to prepare for the three-course meal you'd have tonight with your special guest. Once the house was clean, and all the food had been prepared, you had 30 minutes to get ready for your guest. You took a shower to freshen yourself up from the day's work, feeling relaxed and content once you were done.

Clad in your cotton white panties and matching bra, you walked to the closet to find something to wear. Scanning through the dresses, you wanted to find a perfect one that showed off some skin but was still respectable. You wanted to look pretty for Father James but also keep your daddy happy by looking presentable.

As you looked through the dresses, you started to slip into one of your daydreams again…

You'd developed such a hard crush on your priest—sinning and dreaming of him every night, wishing to run away with him and live happily ever after, just the two of you. To have him teach you about life and explore with him every desire that had taken over your mind the last couple of days.

There was a knock on your bedroom door, pulling you out of your fantasy world.

“Honey, are you in there?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Do you need any help with getting ready?”

“No, mother, but thank you.”

You shook your head to get your mind back on track—find the perfect dress to wear.

Ah, this would be perfect to wear.

It was a beautiful white dress with lovely red flowers scattered on the thin material. It stopped mid-thigh. The shoulder straps were thin, exposing your shoulders and clavicles, while the shoulder puffs lay comfortable and beautifully down your upper arms. The dress gave away just the right amount while still keeping it classy and honourable.

You didn't go too heavy with the makeup—approximately the same amount as you did for Sunday church when you first met Father James.

Once you were done, you checked the clock on your nightstand; the time read 5.54 PM. Father James would be here any minute now. With one last look in the full-length mirror, you gave yourself a nod of approval of all the elements combined, making you look cute and presentable.

As you went down the stairs, the doorbell rang, chiming throughout the house that there was a guest at the door—Father James.

“Honey, will you get that?” Your mom called for you.

“Yes, mother!”

A tingling sensation overcame you that you would soon, in just a matter of seconds, be in his powerful presence once again. You'd craved to be in his proximity every waking moment since the last time you saw him in the confessional.

You walked to the front door, slight wobbly in your legs, and took a deep breath in and out to compose yourself. A sweet and welcoming smile was plastered on your face as you opened the door.

When you opened it, it was like a bright light of beauty, sex and grace hit you hard, your eyes becoming bewitched by him. There he stood, looking gorgeous as always with that luxurious hair and that beautiful face. That signature smirk of his had you feeling weak in the knees. An inaudible moan escaped as you exhaled. His broad and massive frame towered over you, and all you could think about was climbing him like a tree.

“Hello,” he said with a light chuckle. He must have noticed your slight absent state.

You shook your head mentally to try and pull yourself out of the trance.

“Oh, h-hello, Father. Welcome, and come on in.”

“Thank you.”

He did a slight bow and entered. You moved aside so that he could get through the door, and you closed it after. When you turned around, he was right behind you with a sinister smile on his face.

“Oh, wow, you look mighty gorgeous today, young lady, very pretty.”

Your eyes peered up at him—so sweet and innocent as you slightly tilted your head to the side. The back of his finger lightly traced your cheek while his tongue poked out to lick his lips. His beautiful blue eyes displayed the same dark cloud of evil and wickedness in them as the last time you saw them.

That simple touch almost had you faint. You wondered what would happen when he had his full touch on you, forcing his hand on your body.

It felt like an eternity as you stood there in the foyer, fantasising about standing on your tippy-toes, snaking your hand in his soft hair and pulling him down for a kiss while he held your waist in a tight grip and pulled you flush against his big frame, but it had only been a few seconds of your time.

“Hello, Father, welcome to our home.”

It was your dad.

Father James quickly retracted his hand from you and put on a respectable smile before he turned around to greet your dad.

“Greetings. Thank you for having me,” they shook hands, “I was just complimenting the outside of your house to your daughter. It's lovely.”

Was that what we were doing?

Your dad put on one of those fake, over-the-top laughs, clearly wanting to make an impression on Father James. It was rather annoying.

“Why, thank you, Father. Please,” he gestured into the living room, “we can take a seat in here.”

Your mother stood by the coffee table like a good and honourable housewife. On the table were some lovely appetisers to munch on and some refreshing lemonade to drink while waiting on the main course to be finished in the oven. You found your seat on the sofa. Father James sat on the other end of it, farthest away from you. You wanted to scooch closer so you could sit thigh by thigh.

Your parents sat on different armchairs on the opposite side of the small table.

“You have a lovely home, ma’am.” Father James complimented.

“Oh, please, Father, call me by my first name.”

You all engaged in conversation while waiting. It was mostly your dad talking—asking and quizzing Father James on where he lived previously, what his interests were and how he was settling into our small community. He also spoke about his own interests and hobbies and how it was to work at the police station. You and your mom chimed in every once in a while.

After a few minutes of talking, the oven sounded that the main course was ready to be served.

Everyone takes their seat at the table, your mom and dad on one side, while you are seated next to Father James on the other. The food looked and smelled delicious—making your mouth water. You were so hungry, but it wasn't allowed to eat before a prayer had been said.

“Father James, would you please bless our food?” Your dad asked.

“Of course.”

Father James presented his hand to you so you could hold it. Your heart was thumping against your chest as your hand came in contact with his—sparks and tingling feelings lined your nerves as you touched skin. Your small hand fit so perfectly in his bigger one. You wanted to stay in his grasp forever.

When everyone had found each other's hand, you all closed your eyes in preparation for the prayer.

“Thank You, Lord God, for this food we are about to eat. Thank You for the hands that have prepared it, for those sitting around the table who are here to share it….”

While Father James was praying, he suddenly released your hand from his. You furrow your eyebrows, wondering why he let go when the praying wasn't over yet. Suddenly, you feel a hand, his colossal hand, taking a grasp on your naked upper thigh. You jolt slightly from the chair at the unexpected surprise, an inaudible gasp emitting from you. Father James never fumbles over his words while all of this is happening under the table, your parents utterly oblivious to what's unfolding.

Any other person would most likely get up in disgust at such an inappropriate touch, but you craved and needed his forceful hands on you. You had wanted more of his delicious touch since that interaction while taking Holy Communion at Sunday’s mass.

He inches higher up, your skin feeling electrified, where he goes over with his palm, and when his thumb swipes the edge of your panties, you quickly shut your legs on his hand and grab the edge of the table with your free hand.

No, he couldn't?

He couldn't be touching you like that.

Not while your parents were right here. That would be taking it too far.

But it didn't seem like he cared where you were because he pried your legs open with his hand and gave you a light tap on the inside of your thigh as a warning not to do that again.

You obliged, not wanting to make a scene in front of your parents.

You bite your bottom lip hard, drawing blood, and shut your eyes even harder when the pad of his thumb finds your pleasure pearl through your now-soaked panties. He circles it in small teasing circles, building momentum with each stroke. You want to touch your body all over while his hand focuses on your most sensitive area. You want to moan and cry in pleasure as he touches you so heavenly, but you have to be dead silent, dead still.

All while this is happening, he never stops praying, almost seeming unbothered by the sinful acts he's performing on you underneath the table—like this is something he does daily.

Your toes curl in your shoes as he pleases you—circling your tingling nub in the most perfect and satisfying way. You’re so close—chasing that incredible euphoria that feels like heaven.

Please don't stop. Please don't stop. Please don't stop. Keep going, Father.

You beg of him in your mind, hoping that he’ll somehow be able to hear you.

“... we sit here as evidence of Your goodness. Thank You for the gift of today and all who are here to share it with us. In the name of Your Son, Jesus, we pray. Amen.”

“... Amen,” it sounds across from you.

His hand retracts from between your legs, and his sinful touches come to a halt. Your pleasure stopped and denied, and you whine out at the loss of him. You didn't want it to end and without thinking, forgetting where you were for a split second, you cross your legs and start humping to try and find your sweet release.

“Honey!” Your mother calls for you.

With a gasp, you stop and open your eyes to find your parents staring at you with questioning faces. Father James hides a smirk on his face, but you see that slight wickedness in his expression—that he’d managed to make you so flustered with pleasure. Your face was horrified that they noticed what you were doing.

“W-wh-what?”

“You didn't say Amen.”

Oh, thank the heavens!

They luckily hadn't any suspicion.

“I-I'm so sorry. I was just really into the prayer Father James held.” You hated lying, but it was what was needed in this situation.

“Thank you, Lord, Amen.”

“It's ok, sweetheart. It's good that you felt the Lord’s presence.” Your dad said.

More like the Devil.

“Alright, let's eat,” your mom announced.

Throughout the whole dinner, you mostly stayed silent, only speaking when you were spoken to. Your head was slightly bowed in shame and somewhat angry as you ate. Your mouth mostly remained in a thin line.

You felt so resentful towards Father James for leaving you so unsatisfied. He controlled the prayer. He could have kept it going for a few more seconds so you could find your sweet release, but he had chosen cruelty towards you.

“This was a delicious dinner. Thank you so much for inviting me to your lovely home and company.”

“Ah, well, we have the girls to thank for such a blessed meal. They've been at it since this morning,” your dad said proudly.

“Well, thank you, ladies,” he looked at you both, “this was excellent.”

“Thank you, Father James.” Your mom felt so honoured by the compliment.

All you did was smile at him.

“Well, should we proceed to the living room again for dessert? I'll get it fixed right up. Honey, why don't you sit with Father James? Keep him company?”

“O-ok.”

“I’ll go and see if I can find that collection I mentioned earlier to you, Father.”

Your mom went to the kitchen to prepare the dessert. Your dad went to your messy garage to try and find whatever it was he needed. While you were tasked to keep Father James company for the time being.

You went to the living room and sat on the sofa. Father James finding his place beside you. Due to the weight of him, the cushion dipped, pulling you slightly down with it. Your naked thigh came in contact with his clothed one, and your shoulders bumped. You were wide-eyed, not sure how to react? If you should politely move away or keep your ground? You decided to listen to your body, screaming at you to stay instead of your conscious.

You were so nervous—practically shaking at having him sit so close. What were you going to talk about? What were you going to say? Luckily Father James was quick to strike up a conversation, facing you.

“So, tell me, young lady, what do you like to do around here?”

You were raised to always look at the person you were talking to, but with Father James, it was impossible to look for too long—with his captivating good looks and enchanting eyes. Every once in a while, you looked down at your twiddling hands to not fall into his devil trance.

“O-o-oh, w-well, I, um… There's not much to do in this small town. Most of my friends have gone off to college, a-and the few that remain, we usually just hang out whenever we can.”

“Why haven't you gone off to college?”

“Um… I-I'm not really sure what I want to do yet, so I'm just living at home and helping my mother around the house whenever I can.”

“And… you and your friends… what do you like to do?”

“We hang out at each other's houses, watching movies or reading books, a-and sometimes just talking about life and God.”

“And uh…” Father James turned his head towards the kitchen to see if your mom was still turned with her back to the living room. She was. Father James then placed his colossal hand on your upper thigh like he'd done previous—digging his nails delicately into your soft skin. You gasped at his touch, closing your eyes as his thumb caressed the flesh of your inner thigh.

“... and… is there someone you like in town? A boy, maybe?” His voice dropped an octave as he whispered in your ear. His lips skim the shell of them. The sound of his low and raspy voice has tingling shivers trickle down your spine.

“N-no… I-I mean y-yes.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as you fumbled with your words as he inched his way higher up your skin, just like at the dinner table.

“I-I'm interested in so-someone, b-but it's no one m-my age. I-it’s someone much older.”

“Is this the same one you told me about in the confession? The same one you think about when you play with your sweet little pussy at night?”

“Y-yes.”

“Who is it? Is it me, sweet girl?”

“P-please, Father, I-I can't say.”

“Oh, it's me; I know it is. You're such a little whore for fantasising about a man of God in that way.”

He cups you over your soaked panties, his palm putting pressure on your bundle of nerves. You can't help it when a loud whiny moan escapes you.

“Shhh.. sweet thing,” his other palm clasps over your mouth to keep you quiet and to manoeuvre your head so you'd keep looking straight at him—straight into his possessed eyes, “we don't want your parents to hear what a dirty little girl you are, now do we?”

You shook your head no. It would be scandalous if they knew what was happening to their sweet and pure daughter.

Your eyes were pleading for more now that your voice had been taken from you—for him to proceed with his forceful touches on your innocence.

Finally, his hand went into your panties from above. A raspy groan formed in his throat as his fingers came in direct contact with your wetness.

“Fuck… you don't know how long I've wanted to touch you, sweet thing. How much I've wanted to defile this innocent little cunt of yours. This is just the beginning. I have so many plans for you. For us.”

Your heart was thumping in your chest from fear and excitement as his middle finger teased your entrance—toying with you. You grabbed his clothed thigh to brace yourself—digging your nails into the material.

A muffled scream sounded against his palm as he forced his finger into your warm tightness—stretching you out.

“So wet you are for me, dirty girl.”

It was kind of painful to begin with—his fingers were longer and thicker than yours. Your eyes were becoming glossy with tears each time his finger drove into you. His thumb circling your bundle of nerves managed to ease some of the discomfort. Your cries of pain and pleasure were drowned out by his hand on you—making it impossible to ask him to stop or plead for more.

Slowly it became more bearable, more enjoyable, your hole accommodating his digit gradually with each stroke.

His eyes were fixated on you the entire time—watching your innocent, sweet eyes react to his sinful and sacrilegious acts. Every once in a while, he would flicker them to the kitchen to ensure your mom was still preoccupied with the dessert.

“Do you think you can take one more?”

A second finger teased your entrance—wanting to penetrate you, to fill up your innocent hole even more.

You shook your head no. A single tear fell down your cheek. You couldn't. It would be too much, too painful.

But he pushed the tip of it in slowly, and you closed your legs hard around his hand, trapping him while shaking your head once again.

“It's ok, sweet thing. I won't be cruel towards you. Not this time, ok?” He wiped your tear gently. “Open them up for me again, yeah?”

You nodded in acknowledgement and opened them once more for him to continue his devil work.

“We’ll take it slow for now. Work you up to it.”

He continued driving his single digit in and out of your tight wetness and circling your tingling bundle of nerves with his colossal thumb. Your pleasure started building up, and with a sudden curl to his finger, he made you see stars as you’d never done before. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he kept stimulating that delicious spot inside you. You'd fingered yourself multiple times before, but it’d never come as close to this euphoric sensation. Your inexperienced fingers were no match to such expert ones that seemed to know all the ins and outs of a woman.

“There it is, huh?

Your hand went over his that was working on you—not wanting him to stop the devil work he possessed as he made you feel so insatiable good. Your soft mewls of pleasure were muffled by his hand. You started rocking back and forth on the sofa, chasing your orgasm.

“Such a desperate and needy girl you are, huh? Are you gonna come for me, sweet little thing?”

You nodded your head furiously; You were so close. As close as you were at the dinner table, only this time you hoped he would give you what you wanted, what you craved and needed—release.

“Do it. Let go. Let go all over my finger.”

An explosion hit you hard as a delicious out-of-this-world sensation travelled through the nerves lining your whole body—making you convulse on the spot. You felt like passing out at how hard it hit you—your eyes fluttering shut while a few tears rolled down your cheek, your toes curling at the intensity. All while this was happening, while you had this extreme reaction, Father James never stopped his finger using and abusing your hole. Never stopped his delicious stimulation on your precious, tingling pearl.

“Good girl. Such a good girl you are for me.” His praises came through gritted teeth. His tone was deep and sinister, like Satan himself.

He stilled inside your panties when he felt you’d had enough. An animalistic groan sounded from him as he graced your temple with his lips, leaving a delicate kiss on your skin. You whined against his palm when his touches disappeared. Your hole contracting in desperate need for more. You closed your legs to try and stop the aching you were feeling.

When he removed his hand from your mouth, you inhaled and exhaled the pure air. You wanted to say something, but your lips were trembling. Your body was still in shock from the intense orgasm.

“Mmm… speechless now, are we? Was it that good, baby?”

All you could do was nod your head yes. You wanted to thank him, praise him, and give back to him for making you feel like that. But there was no time to recover and show your appreciation because your mom was now coming in with the dessert, and you could hear your dad close the door to the garage.

“I hope you all have some room for dessert?” Your mom asked cheerfully as she walked out of the kitchen.

Father James moved away from you slightly to make things a little less suspicious. You wiped the wetness from your cheeks and fixed your dress. Clearing your throat of any pleasure lace into it and putting on a sweet and innocent smile on your face—making it seem like everything was normal and that Father James definitely hadn’t just defiled you in this religious household.

“Oh, maybe just a small bite,” Father James said while putting the finger that had just been inserted in your tight hole into his mouth, tasting your slick arousal while giving you a wink, “I’m quite full….”

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

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nexusnyx · 1 year

Text

i'll tell you my sins | b.b.

part one

The sound of a storm, pouring heavily outside with wind howling, knocking against the windows, and being as loud as the skies allow, it was now tainted. Painted. It would never be the same for you.

Not when it was the soundtrack to Bucky standing right behind you, his whole body's front glued to your back, one arm wrapped around your shoulder as his hand held your face in his hand, and the other arm wrapping around your middle, his other hand busy making a mess of every cell in your body. Touching you. Buried inside your panties, his fingers circling your clit or dipping inside of you.

His breath on your ear and the stubble rubbed on your neck and cheeks turned you delirious. A whole month of doing nothing more than a few kisses and in one night, he does this.

In your ear, Bucky groans. "So good like this. I missed hearin' the little noises you make," his mouth kisses the part that it can reach of your face, and you want to tell him to speed up, but then remember what brought you to be bent over his kitchen counter with Bucky turning your reality to something mellow, and red, and sinful:

"I just wanna see you feel good for a little. I wanna touch you. Can I? Can I take my time just... touching you?"

That's when you learned Father James would be the death of you.

It all started because you decided to help him clean after the Church's latest event instead of going home.

Bucky accepted your help, and you two managed to update one another on your week as you helped him around the Church. Outside, the sky did its watercolor dance throughout the last hours of the daylight, and you two smiled and flirted while moving boxes, cleaning the kitchen, and discussing yourself as well as others.

After what happened at the confessional, Bucky had done what he said he would:

Took you on dates. Picked you up, asked you more questions now that were not only about the world and the wonders, and 'did things the right way'. For the past month, you got to know more of him than you did in a whole year.

It was fun. Exciting, emotional, and nerve-wracking.

Bucky's eyes on you made you feel things you thought could only be felt in books or movies—the way he looked at you sometimes did that.

The things he said.

"It's kinda hard for me to let... people in. Most of the time. But not with you."

"I like it when you tell me these things that go through your mind. No, really—don't look at me like that. I do. I meant it when I said I liked you, and you are who you are with all those things. Knowing what goes on inside that pretty head makes me... happy. ... Even if you can be a cute lil' weirdo sometimes."

All those things—the dates, phone calls, the kissing.

Bucky deserved for you to try and do the impossible too and allow yourself to try.

That's what you're thinking about when the noise amplifies out of nowhere outside the heavy wooden doors.

Not expecting a flood pouring from the sky, both of you are caught off guard:

Bucky only takes public transportation, you came with a ride: the only solution is to go for it; you two run until the bus stop and, soaked to your bones, opt for you two to get down at his place which is closer than yours.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder right there, in the middle of the bus where anyone could see, and got as close to you as possible.

"Your mouth's so pale," he told you. It made your gaze drop to his lips, too, and you understood what he meant.

You nodded. "Yup." Yours too.

Bucky chuckles then kisses your temple. "My bad. You stayed to help me."

Even with the chill in the air freezing your fingertips, your chest warms up for a second. "It's ok, Buck. I stayed 'cause I wanted to."

"Thanks, dove."

Fuck. He used the nickname so rarely now that you shuddered when it came, and you were thankful you could blame it on the cold. If Bucky noticed the electricity running higher in you for a second, he kept quiet about it.

You should have seen it then on the bus.

The way the world diminished until only the two of you existed.

You'd been there before and yet, you missed it.

Too lost in how cozy Bucky's words and gesture of holding you made you feel, you missed all the cues, and when you realized that both of you had set up and walked into the Universe's trap again, it was too late.

Bucky welcomed you into his house with you two shaking so violently that all you wanted was some whiskey, to be quite honest.

"Stay put," he told you the minute you two walked in.

Then, he started removing as many clothes as possible right at the door.

Right, you remembered. My little neat freak.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you ignored it. Bucky took off his black pants, sweater, t-shirt, and socks, leaving nothing but his underwear on, and put down his shoulderbag there with all the wet clothes, then padded softly upstairs.

That's my cue, I guess.

You did the same as him after waiting a few minutes, giving him time to switch to warm and dry clothes and pick out some for you.

After you two were changed and the wet clothes were in the dryer, Bucky looked at you standing there in front of the door still.

He frowned.

Then you realized you never really came inside his house.

You two always hanged outside, or in the year.

When Bucky extended his hand, you walked in trying not to be too obvious about how giddy it made you feel.

"I'll heat up some of yesterday's leftover. Is that okay?" He asked.

"Sure." You felt like a caterpillar trapped in the blanket cocoon. Sitting on the chair, you looked around as he rummaged through his kitchen. "I didn't expect this many... stars," you commented.

His house was filled with space things.

Bucky looked over his shoulder and smiled at you. "You're never getting inside my room," he laughed.

You rolled your eyes. The teasing was obvious in his face. "Duly noted, Father.

"D'you want anything else?" He asked.

There was nothing religious-themed in his house, and you felt weirdly relieved as you looked around. "Uh—do you have whiskey?" If there were Jesuses staring down at you from everywhere, you'd reluctantly pick to hang outside every time you came over.

Bucky closed the fridge with his foot, and you learned another neat trick of his crazy moby mobility.

He sometimes did stuff without even looking at them, like he had perfect air.

"You're for real?" He asked, making you look away from the constellation painting he has hanging up on the wall behind you.

"Yeah," you nodded. You gave him a cheeky smile. "Gotta warm my insides."

He gestured dramatically to the leftovers he was putting inside the pan. "What's this?"

"Sustenance," you answered. The smile widened. "I need hot."

In a rare display of cockiness, Bucky gestured at his own body.

Your cheeks flamed, and he laughed at you.

"No fair," you mumbled. It's not like you're giving it to me, a bratty voice said in your brain.

"I'll give you a shot, you pouty thing," Bucky said when he was done laughing. "Gimme a moment."

When you weren't thinking about all the cool things you did know and were learning about him, your mind diverged to his past which he disliked so much and hid in his mind attic.

Where was he from?

Bucky's accent was definitely not from here.

He had an easiness to his step that said big town, too—his cheekiness told you that Bucky's years had been well lived.

Even his leftovers tasted amazing.

What kind of man knew how to take care of themselves so well? Not many, that's who.

"D'you like it?" He asked.

You two sat on the couch finishing your food, and after the two shots of whiskey you both shared, the deluge outside was just great soundtrack.

Bucky's legs tangled in yours underneath the blankets moved a little and his foot poked your thigh. "Answer me," he said, smiling on the corner of his mouth.

As if you hadn't told him already you liked it.

Bucky loved the praise.

"Shut up," you whined, laughing with a mouth full of food. "I'm eating."

He nudged your thigh again, moving your plate. "Your cheeks are red."

"That was really good whiskey."

He did the foot thing again and you yelped when he moved your plate a little too much. "Tell me it's good—"

"Father James if you put that foot against my leg one more time I will bite it." He burst out laughing. "You're gonna make me drop my plate. That's blasphemy."

He laughed harder. "You're impossible."

"And you're a good cook, now shush and let me eat," you said.

He nodded, pleased, and put his empty plate on the center table.

Bucky watched you eat — like a weirdo! your brat teased — and made a few comments every now and then that you agreed with a hum or disagreed with a nose scrunch, and when the food was over, he pulled you to his lap, adjusting your legs on either side of them.

It was the most compromising position you two had been in weeks.

And then he used it to kiss your nose, and ask you, "'You warm, dove?" in a low whisper.

God.

"Yes, I am."

"Good," Bucky leaned his head up, angling for a kiss. "Gimme a kiss and I'll make you hot chocolate."

You felt even warmer if that was possible, but in more than just one place.

His face was so gorgeous.

Flashes of that closed booth and that pretty face between your legs made you shiver.

You hid in a kiss that you tried your best to keep innocent.

Four weeks ago, Bucky had told you, "I wanna take it... slow. So we can... think better, getting into this. Is that ok?" and yes, it was.

But at the same time—hmnm.

He tasted so fine.

When he pulled back from the kiss and smiled, you whined.

"Ah—don't," he warned. "I'm making you hot chocolate even though you're bad and told me my place is decorated like a ten-year-old with a Nasa obsession. No whining."

You snorted, trying to not laugh.

"You're so bad," he said, unable to hide his own smile.

That's how you two ended up in the kitchen for the second time.

You followed him there, too cozy in his presence to be too many feet away from it, and watched as he separated the ingredients: the milk, chocolate — which he was going to grate — and everything else.

You picked up your phone from where it was charging when you arrived and took some pictures. Then, you played some music while he stirred the pot, and you retired the blanket over the back of the couch, not feeling cold anymore.

When the mugs were served, Bucky opened his cabinet, put on the marshmallows in it and slapped your hand away when you tried to pick up yours.

"Ah. It's hot," he warned you off.

You rubbed the sting away from your hand, and stared at him. "Outch," you said.

Bucky was leaning against the kitchen counter.

The black sweatpants were identical to yours, but his navy Harley looked way cooler on him than the black one looked on you.

At least you thought so.

"—enough for you?" Bucky's voice finishes.

Fuck. You were staring.

Licking your lips, you look away from his body. "Huh?"

Bucky arches one eyebrow up. "You didn't hear me?"

Double fuck. You shook your head, feeling hotter out of nowhere.

Bucky nods. "Hm." His eyes rake you up and down. "I said... I know of your sweet tooth, so I wonder if this one will be sweet enough for you?"

There was a lump in your throat.

The energy this man radiated made you weak in the knees. "I'm sure it will," you replied with a weak smile.

On his face, a smile grew like a flower blossoming at night. "So polite out of nowhere..." he comments, feigning wonder. Bucky's head tilts to the side. "No one would believe you mean you were to me on that phone call yesterday."

Shit. Shit, shit shit—you thought Bucky's grunts and extended silences as you got ready to go out with your friends with him on the other side of the phone right after you shower, lotioning up your body, and talking about which outfits you'd wear were just him playing. He talked normally most of the time. You thought he was just going along with your teasings.

(You might've had too much wine before the shower. No one could blame you for teasing him.)

Right now, he looked like he was enjoying something.

You.

"That was me being nice," you said. it came off in a whisper.

Bucky stayed in silence for a second, his eyes on your face and his hands gripping the counter behind him. "C'mere," he said.

You walked over, and he held you close to him. One hand on your waist, the other holding your face.

His hand caressed your cheek and time started moving differently as you gazed into each other's eyes.

The air got a little thicker. Static.

Your eyes closed, and your face leaned into the touch.

"I like seeing you happy, dove," he whispered.

Whether it was the nickname or the sentiment behind his words that hit you harder, you were unaware, but the feeling took over at the speed of light: happiness, all over and around you. "Bucky," your whole body dropped against his, and you angled your head in search of a kiss. "You make me so happy."

His lips on his were his answer.

The short, weak grunt on his mouth as he kissed you hard, lips smashed on yours.

He pulls back only to say, "You make me happy too, dove," then he dives right in.

It had been so many days without kissing him like this that you forgot what it was like.

The power that he could have.

The way his kiss deepened with each stroke of his tongue on yours, and how the deeper and more in the rhythm that you two were with one another, the more his body came alive, limb by limb.

First, Bucky stood up straighter, cupping your face in both of his hands, and moving your head to his wish, opening your jaw wider. Then, his hand flew to your hair, and the other started exploring your body.

It was exactly like the rain pouring outside.

When it all started, it was too late already.

You moan so loud when Bucky pulls your hips to his with force and grips your hair in his fist that it's all fucked from the start.

"Oh," he mutters, a single inch and a string of saliva separating your lips. "Y/n."

"Bucky," his name already sounds like a prayer.

He closes his eyes, and nudges his nose on your face. "Baby..."

The way he extends the word makes you realize how hard you're holding onto him. Your hands grip his shoulders so tight that your fingertips hurt a little, but all you want is a little more.

Then, Bucky whispers. "Dreamt so much of you these weeks." He takes a step forward, guiding your body to where he wants. "It was so hard. So—fucking—difficult," the last three words he punctuates by caging your body against the counter instead of his, then pulling you up by your waist to sit on it, then pulling you by your ass to fit against his body.

You lunge forward like a starving madwoman.

Bucky takes it very well.

He gives back, much to your relief, and to your utmost pleasure.

With his mouth, Bucky manages to answer all the doubts you have not even dared ask yourself, and he tells you his secrets with his hands as they roam you, as desperate for a feeling of your burning skin as you are for him.

When he pulls back, Bucky holds you by the hand fisting your hair at the nape, and the sight of his swollen pink lips is a bit much.

"Dove," he groans.

"What?"

"I'm... I don't know if I'm ready to do anything, but—are you? Because—fuck, I miss touching you so much. It was only once but I miss my hands on you—making you feel good."

"Bucky, please," you nod, desperately. "Please."

He smiles, and nods too. "Yeah?" He confirms. "I just wanna see you feel good for a little," he says, starting to leave a trail of kisses on your neck. "I wanna touch you," he licks your earlobe in his mouth and hears chuckles when you whine like a cat made of puddy in his hands. "Can I? Can I take my time just... touching you?"

"Please," you beg.

"Okay, dove." There's one more kiss on your neck before he pulls you down from the counter. "C'mere."

That's when Bucky turns you around and presses your back against his front, bending you over the counter a little. He holds your upper body up with his left arm wrapped around your shoulders, his left hand gripping your chin and moving to his waiting lips while his right hand is doing the most.

On your sides, under his shirt, and on your breasts, getting a feel of them, pinching and grazing your nipples like a feather right next.

There's thunder and lightning, and then there's you, whining and moaning like you're in heat before his hand even drops to your panties.

Your soaked through panties.

"Oh, god, oh my god," Bucky mutters under his breath.

Bucky can fit one and then two fingers between your folds with ease due to how wet you are.

He tells you as much. "All of this for me, dove?" He asks, breathless. Your neck is going to be a red mess tomorrow—his kisses, teeth sinking on your neck and shoulders, the beard he keeps rubbing on you like he's a wolf and you're his to mark—it'll be a mess, and you whine even louder at the thought of it.

He takes that as your confirmation.

"So good for me," Bucky kisses your cheeks like he's thanking you. "Still your hips. I'm in no rush," he laughs.

He sounds like he's having so much fun. If it's possible, that aids in making you even wetter.

You can feel the outline of his cock through both the sweatpants pressing against your ass, and Bucky's hips buckle sometimes, grinding minimally against you.

If there's one thing to get on your knees for and thank this evening is how strong this man is underneath all his clothes.

Bucky spreads your legs apart wider with his feet and then goes to town.

He starts on your clit, with a light, but speedy touch. It's certainly a quick way to get your pussy clenching and begging for more in minutes. It makes your hardened nub so sensitive that you start begging under your breath for more, and Bucky ignores you for a couple of minutes until out of nowhere, he slips a finger inside of you.

You moan, happily, leaning your weight on his arm, in the direction of the counter.

Bucky's hips grind on you again, and then there's one more. He pumps his fingers in and out of you, fucking you with them properly until he stops, pulls them out and grabs your cunt with his whole hand, getting a feel of how drenched you are. Spreading your slick on his palm.

His breath on your ear and the stubble rubbed on your neck and cheeks turned you delirious. A whole month of doing nothing more than a few kisses and in one night, he does this.

In your ear, Bucky groans. "So good like this. I missed hearin' the little noises you make," his mouth kisses the part that it can reach of your face, and you feel like you're gonna cry.

He circles your clit more, and you want to grind back against them, but even in your delirious state, you remember what he said.

"Please," you cry. The only thing holding you up is his arm and his hand between your legs. "Please."

"Please what?" He says as he slowly pushes his middle finger in, curling it in the perfect spot.

"Fuck!"

Bucky sighs happily on your neck, and goes, "Hmhm," with another chuckle.

He enjoys this, and it's in the next few minutes you understand why:

In this position, Bucky can take all the time in the world.

He can go back and forth between fucking two or three fingers deep inside your cunt, moaning alongside you when you start filling his kitchen with your pleas of his name and your near-screams and then playing with your clit as he pulls you back from an impending orgasm.

His hand won't get tired like this; his wrist won't crane in a weird direction.

When your orgasm comes, it's a tsunami.

Bucky edges you three times before your body can't take it and you cum with a scream, chanting his name as your body convulses, legs shaking violently as you cum, probably more than once with how he doesn't stop.

He lets you come down from your high.

Bucky holds you up with his arm around your waist, pressing several kisses on your nape, and down your back.

The whispers of, "Did so good for me. You're amazing," are repeated until you hear them.

Bucky waits until you look back over your shoulder before he pulls his hands from inside the pants, and instead of going to wash them, he licks them.

"Oh my god," you whisper.

He shrugs his shoulder at you, and licks his fingers clean. "Hmmm," he hums. Don't say it, don't say— "You taste good."

Your cunt pulses at the words, and you hate yourself for wanting even more.

Can your legs move? No. Do you still wish to wrap them around his waist and sit on him, again?

"Shut up, Father."

Bucky laughs, "Alright. I see how it is," he kisses your cheek, and your lips. "I—" he takes a deep breath. "Am going to shower. You—hot chocolate. Drink it." He kisses your nose. "I'll be back."

You nod. "Ok."

Don't look, don't look, don't look.

You have to repeat the words to yourself as Bucky walks away to take care of his own problem. You'd call it 'little problem' if you hadn't felt that problem inside of you, and knew that there was nothing little about it.

Or about how much of a problem he was. To your health, at least—feeling this hot shouldn't be normal.

You get your mug of hot cocoa and put his inside the microwave for when he comes out, then go back to sit on the couch.

With your brain too fuzzy from the orgasm, most of Bucky's absence goes into white noise. Then, when you hear the shower turning off, your brain turns on.

It doesn't shut up when he comes back, or when he heats up his cocoa and sits behind you on the couch again.

"Watch something?" He asks, making himself comfortable as your couch pillow.

You shake your head. "Hm." If he loves hearing the thoughts in your brain so much, then he might not hate you for asking this. "Bucky?"

"Yeah?"

"Did I do something... wrong... that day?" You ask.

Bucky lowers his drink, and he has a hot cocoa mustache. "What?"

You wipe it off with your thumb, sucking it in your mouth. "That day. Confessional day."

Bucky puts his mug on the table and turns your body to the side a little so you two can look at each other. "You did absolutely nothing wrong that day. Why would you think that?"

"Because... my head likes to overthink?"

He narrows his eyes, but within a second, a look of realization dawns on him. "Right. Y/n—me wanting to take it slow has nothing to do with you, dove." He cups your face in his hands. "Please don't think that. I promise you it doesn't. It's gotta do with me."

"And I can't help you with it?"

He shakes his head. "Not really, no."

"How are you so sure of it?"

"Because you can't change the way my brain's wired, cute thing," he chuckles. His fingers caress your cheeks, then tuck your hair behind your ear. Bucky likes to touch you as he thinks. "I can, though. And I'm trying to."

Still feeling lost, you frown. "What's wrong with your brain's wiring?"

Bucky takes a moment to look at you before he answers the question, searching for something in your eyes. If you mean the question, you imagine. When he nods, all serious and taking a deep breath, you know you were right.

"A lot," he chuckles, deprecatingly. "But when it comes to this—to sex, it was never so bad. At least I think not. See... I wasn't interested in many people in my life, but I guess that even with the ones that were just a fling, I was always a bit... aggressive. Dunno if that's the word. Rough, maybe. And I know all of them liked it—I'm not—you know. They asked for it." Like you did, your mind provides. "But I always wondered why I didn't wanna all that sweet love-making stuff most people do. Never thought too much about it. Just enough to feel a little like a dick sometimes. Now... I don't wanna be like that with you, dove." He pierces you with his blue oceans, looking at you earnestly. "You mean too much for me to think about you and my brain to just use these—these degrading shit. You know?"

The words sink in slowly, like a body at the sea.

As they do, one single thought forms in your brain:

Am I this man's damnation?

To put it simply, you're turned on once again.

"Bucky..." give me a second to think.

He does it without you even asking for it.

It's a power he has—delivering your needs regardless of words.

"Okay." You take a deep breath, too, and then sit face to face with him, both of your hands laid on his chest. "I'm gonna try to... explain the way I see things, and then you tell me if they make sense to you, okay?"

Bucky takes a moment, then nods. "I'm listening."

Good. You swallow the knot his words twisted in your throat. "Bucky, I feel like... there's a lot of negative connotations on certain feelings we have, and they were placed there by people who want to weaponize our very fucking... human experience. You know? Like—how we're not allowed to be too curious, or how they make being educated so difficult, and how sexuality which is the most normal thing in our species became an issue, and then a... thing to repress." You swallow an even thicker knot, this time for being talking about the very institution for which he works. "Does that make sense to you?" Because continuing if that doesn't would be hard.

You see Bucky licking his lips, eyes going around his living room, but as they come back to you, there's knowledge there. "Yeah. Yeah, it does."

"Okay. Good. See—I hated myself for years growing up because I was never a very 'sexual' person or whatever the fuck that means, and I had to deal with everyone judging me for it. 'Prude', or 'virgin', or 'is there something wrong with you' or whatever. And then!" You laugh, humorlessly. "Then, when I started to be active because I wanted to and I found who and what makes me feel good, I was judged again. For being sexual, and for being safe about it, and for educating myself and other people around me on it. And then it hit me! They're gonna fucking hate me no matter what."

And I won't live like that.

You touch Bucky's cheek, running your fingers on his bear. "I'll never ask you for anything you don't want to give me. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Good. Here's the bottom line: what you want to give me, is mine to accept or not, Father James," you whisper. "I don't care if you think... I wanna ruin her. I don't care if you wanna wrap your hands and choke me 'till I can't breathe when you're manhandling me around like I'm a doll—like I'm yours, because if you're doing that, I wanted it too."

The blue that once was the majority is now nothing but a string.

There's very little light streaming through his tiny glass windows so high above in the living room, most of the illumination coming from the kitchen, but you can still see it.

He closes his eyes, shaking his head at you, and the knots start spreading to your stomach before Bucky leans in closer. "How on earth did I find you."

From the way it comes out, it sounds more like he's talking to himself than to you.

"Do you get what I mean?" you ask, feeling his breath on your face. "Those things can't be bad, or your 'brain wired wrong'. They're just—desire. A lot of it," you chuckle, breathless. You can feel it between your bodies—desire, licking its way up like the heat of the sun permeating through the skin. "And I want you too. If you ask me and I'm being honest here... I wanna ruin you sometimes."

Faster than you can catch, Bucky's lips are on yours and he's got your body in his hold.

The kiss is something so desperate that it's more you two biting and licking each other's mouths and kissing, but it's what you two as Bucky holds your legs around his waist and guides you to his room.

He had piggybacked you before.

"Aren't I a little to heavy for this?"

The deadpanned look he threw you almost made you whimper. "Y/n. I carried a backpack with your weight for hours roaming the desert with an arm almost as tall as you on my front. Hop on my back and shush, please."

"What?"

"Your feet's getting more swollen. Hop on, dove, Jesus Christ."

That had been how you discovered his past involved being drafted. It made you shut up now at least whenever he wanted to carry you.

There's no time for you to tease him about any decor because you're too busy pushing him against the wall and dropping to your knees the second he walks in and shuts the door behind him.

"Fuck," he looks up, rubbing his face with his hands. "I thought I couldn't get hard this fast anymore," he laughs at himself.

The hushed reminder that Bucky's in his forties hits you in the face.

So does how hard his cock is in his sweatpants.

He had taken care of his erection earlier on in the shower — you presume — and that thought brings you joy because it means you can taste him as much as you can, and he probably won't cum from it.

"You wanna do this?" Bucky asks as he watches you pull his dick free, sucking air between his teeth. "Fuck."

"I really wanna do this."

"Okay," he nods. "Here. I'll hold it for you," he grabs all of your hair, gathers it in one hand, and then secures it in his grip.

You guide the tip of his cock to your lips and it's inevitable.

His cock is so pretty. Dicks can be so ugly, but Bucky is so damn thick, and he's long — but not long enough that it feels like he's poking your stomach — and the tip starts leaking with your kitten licks on it.

Bucky's great at receiving head just like he's great at giving it.

He keeps his hips still at the start as a gentleman's courtesy: he gives you time to get all of his cock wet with your licks, sucking it into your mouth and pooling drool on your tongue for a better glide. You like this wet, and messy, and if his increasing groans are an indicator, so does he.

The praise doesn't lie, either.

"Look at you, dove." You love how awed he sounds. "Oh. You suck dick as well as you take it—yeah, like that." He looks at you, but sometimes gets lost when you start bobbing your head; his neck cranes back, and he groans to the ceiling. "F-Fuck—oh, your mouth's so wet. No, no—slower... yeah, like that. Wanna feel the tip sliding down your throat. Sounds so good. Suck harder—o-oh my fucking god, you take instructions so—fucking—well."

Bucky fucking your throat makes your hand fly between your legs in a desperate search for some relief, but he catches the motion somehow even with his eyes closed and he laughs.

"Nuh-uh, you better take that hand off." Bucky pulls his cock out of your lips and holds it an inch away from your face. "Did I tell you that you could touch yourself?"

Fuck.

"No, Father."

Bucky's dick twitches right in front of your face. He sighs, angrily, and lets go of his dick to grip your chin and make you look up to his face. "Then don't do it. I'm the only one to touch that cunt. That's all mine, dove. To make it cum, to touch, to make it feel good. Mine. Understand?"

You nod, "Yes, Father."

"Good, precious thing." His hips move slightest, and his dick is close enough that you can guide it back to your lips. "Yes," he groans, loudly. "Suck me really nicely, dove, and I'll ruin you like I've dreamt of."

If there is one truth, it's what James said: you are very good at taking directions and orders.

Guided by the grip he has on your hair, you let Bucky dictate how deep you should be and serve the purpose of being on your knees like this: eyes closed, sucking and bobbing your head on his cock with tears pooling in the corner of your eyes when you hear him lose himself in the pleasure and moan brokenly, calling your name.

It sounds divine.

When Bucky gets enough, he pulls all the way out, and then looks at you with drool running down your chin and your eyes teary and glazed, and he smiles.

"So beautiful," he whispers.

You close your eyes at the praise, clenching your thighs together.

"Get on the bed, dove."

Getting up on wobbly legs is difficult, but you manage. His bed is a queen size, thankfully, and when you lay on his white sheets, Bucky climbs between your legs, stripping you item by item.

"You have no clue how much I missed feeling you," he tells you.

"I do, I have," you whine.

"Poor dove," he coos. "You missed me, hm? Missed feeling my hands on you making you feel so good your smart brain goes a little stupid? Missed me stretching you out so nice you can't think?" When he has you naked and writhing on the bed, he starts taking his own clothes. "We were so irresponsible last time, dove. I just gave you all my cum because you asked so nicely, and I shouldn't have. Not without us talking first. I have condoms here, and also my latest medical check if you wanna confirm that I'm clean for—"

"I believe you," you tell him, sounding desperate. "I do. Please? I don't wanna hear a sermon, Father. I wanna feel you."

You notice the mistake of your words as soon as they're out and Bucky's eyes darken even further.

"What did you just say?" he asks in a lower, interested tone. Bucky kicks his pants outside of the bed and climbs on top of you. "Repeat."

Fucked before you're even fucked. "I—I said I wanna feel you."

Bucky grabs you by your thighs to pull you closer to him, and slaps your right ass cheek, hard. "Don't be a smartass with me."

It burns, and you moan. "I said I don't wanna hear a sermon, Father James. Want you inside me," you finish in a pathetic whimper.

Bucky takes a deep breath, and you hear him going tsk tsk close to your face. You open your eyes to see his smile.

"Get on all fours," he commands in a whisper, one hand cupping your face.

It takes you a second to digest it, but you do as he asks.

Bucky gets behind you, much like he was in the kitchen a couple of hours ago. Oh, how far we've come. He nudges your body until you're close to the headboard of the bed, and places all his pillows in front of you.

"Hands flat against the headboard," he whispers in the shell of your ear.

You place them there, your whole body tingling with the anticipation.

"Now, repeat after me: I should not be a fucking brat."

"What?" you ask, breathless.

The head of Bucky's cock brushes between your folds, and you see his other arm coming up, the hand gripping the headboard.

"If you don't repeat my sermon, there's no fucking, dove," he tells you.

Looking over your shoulder, you see he means it.

Bucky would give you both blue balls right now.

"I should not be a brat," you whisper.

He nods, very pleased. You feel the head pushing in, and both of you moan.

"Oh, I missed you," he mutters.

Bucky's got the same courtesy with his hips now as he did with his dick in your mouth—he knows he's thick and you need a minute, which he gives.

His movements start small and slow, gentle rocking of his hips back and forth until he's seated almost all the way in.

When he bottoms out, Bucky covers your back with his chest and you hear his delighted groan coming to rest on your ear shell again. "Say: I'll be good for you, Father."

Your moan comes out choked. "I'll be good for you, Father."

Bucky pulls out, and slams his cock back in.

"Do you want me to ruin you?" He asks, slamming in again.

"Yes!"

"Then say it."

"I want you to ruin me, Father," you beg, arching your back to him and whining like the heat has taken over your brain and fried it to dust.

"Oh, god," this one sounds earnest and honest, and it drapes over your skin like praise that Bucky is affected by this, too. "Say: Fuck the words out of me."

Whimpering, you say, nodding, "Fuck the words out of me. Please, please—"

Bucky does.

He holds onto the headboard of the bed and starts his hard thrusts with a pause between them, but the more you fuck yourself back on his cock, the faster he goes.

Bucky's hand that's on your waist suddenly comes up to your shoulder again, and you moan with nothing but pleasure clouding your brain for the second time that night: it's the same position as earlier, except instead of toying with your cunt, he's getting leverage on his bed to fuck the life out of you.

The words out of you.

"Say: Nothing feels better than this," he demands in your ear, slowing his pace a little.

"Nothing feels better than this—faster, please, please—"

"That's not what I said," he pulls almost all the way out, only his head still inside of you.

You cry, and arching again, your neck leaning on the touch of his hand, you mumble, "Nothing feels better than this," now please.

"Yes," Bucky goes back to fucking you, and neither one is able to stop this time.

He takes out his cock sometimes to slap your pussy and clit with it, and the filthy, wet sounds it makes are perhaps worse than your desperate moaning.

The next time Bucky asks for you to repeat his words, all that comes out is his name and please.

Your favorite prayer.

"Have I done—oh—done it, dove?" He sounds so far gone. His hips are faltering. "You close?"

"Bucky, yes!"

"Good. I wanna see it. Cum on my cock and I'll paint your back with mine."

"Nononono, want it inside me—"

The sharp slap makes you scream. "Don't. Y/n, please—"

"Bucky it feels so good," you babble. "Please, please? Don't wanna feel it? I want it—I need it."

"Fuckfuck," Bucky's hips starts hammering you, and your moans turn into screams. "Want me to breed you, dove? I fucking will."

"YES!"

"Then cum for it. Tell me you're gonna cum," he says over the sound of his hips slapping against your ass.

"I'm gonna cum!" You felt it, coiling around your belly and starting to zap in your brain. "Oh—FUCK! I'm gonna cum, James, James—"

"Do it."

You cum in a scream, and you grip the pillows as tight as your cunt grips his cock when it happens. You feel a few more harsh thrusts inside following but it's so tight that all that Bucky says is, "So—fucking—tight—all mine," before he cums too, deep inside you.

Heaven.

Divine.

All you can do is lay and feel it. So holy.

His touch makes you ascend to places you've never been.

When you come down from the white noise that's inside your brain, you realize you haven't moved.

Bucky has. He's gotten a wet cloth and is cleaning between your legs, and he looks at you peeking at him over your shoulder, smiling at you, shyly.

The audacity.

He goes to his bathroom to throw the towel in the washing bin. He removed all the clothes from the floor too and folded them.

Neat freak.

He lies in bed with you, and pulls you to lay on his chest. "You know, you gotta stop doing that—unless; wait. Do you want babies? Like, now?"

Your eyes go wide and you are suddenly very awake. "No!"

"Oh. Good," he laughs. "Then stop being a menace," he tells you, kissing your lips sweetly.

"It feels good," you mumble weakly.

"Oh, I know." He chuckles, kissing your cheeks and forehead. "We can pretend, though. Don't wanna do stuff we'll regret, dove."

He's right, you think. And you shouldn't take him by surprise.

"Bucky?"

"Hm?"

"Was that... good for you?"

Bucky feels the seriousness in your tone and lifts your chin with a finger.

He smiles, all ocean blue eyes, sedated smile, and pink cheeks. "You make me the happiest I've been, Y/n. And that was heavens above 'good' and you know it," he says.

It makes your chest breathe easy. "Okay... good."

"Now sleep. I'll wake us up tomorrow," he says.

With the rain still falling and him wrapping himself around you like an octopus, that's the easiest thing you had to do all day.

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