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#the falcon and the winter soldier
youlightmeupfinn · a day ago
Doll, Come Look! 》 Bucky Barnes x Reader (18+)
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request: Smut #11 with Bucky Barnes?? I feel like it would just be a funny thing he would do. Thanks for even reading this 😂.
a/n: AHHH i loved this! i also added some c-warming at the end bc apparently i'm obsessed? loool i hope you enjoy!
warnings: smut; c-warming at the end, fluffy goodness!
summary: While wrapping presents at the tree, you suddenly hear Bucky ask you to come upstairs. When you get up there? You're met with a bow... on a certain area... Whoops.
Prompt #11 smut: “Did you really put a bow on your penis?”
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“DOLL!” Bucky yelled from upstairs. You were just finishing up wrapping a few gifts by the tree when his voice carried its way to you. Pushing yourself to your feet, you made your way up the stairs, unsure of what you were about to uncover.
“Bucky, this better be good!” You laughed as you pushed the door open to your bedroom. However, when you carried your feet over the threshold, you were suddenly met with a naked Bucky who had a… bow on his lower half.
In a very specific spot.
“Bucky!” You squealed, covering your eyes, but you peeked through your hands. Bucky licked his lips, shifting his hips side to side on the way to you. The bow was settled right along his shaft with his tip hanging just below. “What are you doing?!” You screeched.
Bucky finished off the space between you two, taking your hands into his. He pulled you into him, your chest pressing against his. “Wanted to give my pretty girl a present early…” He whispered, trailing a line of kisses from your cheek to your neck. Your eyes fluttered at the feeling, a soft moan erupting when his tongue darted out to lick along the skin.
“Did you really put a bow on your penis?” You asked him as he continued to kiss your neck, making your skin ignite and the heat from between your legs.
“Mmhmm,” Bucky moaned against your neck. “You know you love it…”
Your hands moved to tangle through his hair as he removed the bow and hoisted you into the air. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you felt your back press against the softness of your mattress. Your lips met for a chastised kiss, the want and need for each other evident in the exchange.
Groaning against his lips, you reached below and took him into your hand, Bucky releasing a loud moan against your neck where his lips peppered kisses once again. You smiled to yourself, feeling as Bucky’s hands slipped underneath your shirt to grab both breasts. You released a whimper, his fingers twisting around each nipple before he lowered his head to capture a nipple into his mouth.
The contrast of hot and cold against both breasts made your senses become electrified. The hairs stood up across your body when Bucky slipped his hand underneath the waistband of your joggers and connected with your sopping heat. A whine unleashed and your legs fell open naturally, practically on the verge of begging for him to be buried inside of you at the rate he was going.
You could easily see Bucky’s member hardening as the seconds lingered and the more fervent his kisses started to become. You were whimpering beneath him as he removed the shirt away from you, leaving your breasts completely exposed to him. He was thankful at this moment that you decided not to wear a bra. Licking his lips hungrily, he pulled your joggers down and was met with your glistening heat hidden just beneath the black lace.
“Bucky!” You cried as he teased you with his finger. “I’ve got presents to wrap, please can we get right to it?” You sighed.
Bucky stared at you with a glimmer in his eye.
“My Doll… You’re not up for foreplay? You just want me stuffed inside of you, hmm?” He practically cooed, earning your jaw to simply unhinge. Nodding your head, you grasped him against, pumping his shaft in your hand.
“Please, need to feel you, Buck,” You whispered.
Bucky smiled and decided not to push you any longer. Attaching his lips to yours, he leaned forward and lined himself up with your entrance. As he pushed his tip inside, a yelp extruded itself from your pretty pink lips as Bucky adjusted himself inside. Giving you a moment to catch your breath, he was soon pushed all the way in.
Recoiling, Bucky made it a point to lift his head away from your mouth and look at you.
“Look at you, baby…” He trailed. “So needy for me.”
Hissing, your angry noises turned into ones of immense pleasure as Bucky started to rock his hips into yours. You moaned wildly, your walls tightening around his length as he held you in place. Pressing his lips to your neck, he went back to massaging your breast in his hand, his fingers twitching to playing with your nipple which made your hips grind to meet his calculated thrusts.
Your legs clamped themselves around him, your arms wrapping around his neck. As Bucky pushed himself harder into you, your hands instantly reached for his back. Your nails dug into his skin, surely leaving red marks, but the super-soldier could care less. He loved to be marked up by you.
“That’s right, Doll… Dig those nails into my back. Feels good, doesn’t it? Love seeing you so full of me.” Bucky grinned, kissing your lips. You could feel that familiar budding sensation develop in the pit of your stomach. Your whines grew more desperate as your release was suddenly about to be chased.
“So close, Bucky, don’t stop!” You arched your back off of the bed, your stomachs pressing together. As he slid up, the feeling of his abs drawing against your belly sent you into spasms.
“Cum around me, baby… Wanna feel you.” Bucky begged you.
You released an earth-shattering moan that made you tumble right over the edge. A cry erupted from your lips as you gripped your boyfriend tighter in your grasp. His hips drove themselves sloppily into yours, his own high being chased as you rode your climax out along him, Bucky finishing deep within you.
As the heightened moment slowly came to a stop, the two of you looked at each other with the stars shining in your eyes. Bucky slowly pulled out of you and the feeling of him being gone made your lips pout.
“What, baby? You said you had presents to wrap…” He trailed softly, brushing back the strand of your hair. You sighed, shaking your head.
“You know what I want…” You drug a finger across his chest.
Of course, he did.
Bucky smiles cheekily and carefully slides his length back inside. A drawn-out sigh emerges from your lips, your walls instantly pulsating around him. He settled himself right in your center, your entire focus on him and how good he feels back inside of your tight space. A hum leaves your lips, your chin nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
Bucky wraps his arms entirely around you to encase you, ensuring that the warmth you felt was transmitted from his body to yours.
“I love this, Bucky,” You told him honestly. “So relaxing…” You whispered with a sudden yawn.
Bucky chuckled, obviously enthused with how his girlfriend relaxed with his length buried inside of her post-sex. He massages your shoulders from his position just above you, but he managed to turn you two over so your chest was flush against his, your legs tangled through the others.
“I do too, Doll.” He smiled sweetly at you, kissing your lips.
Needless to say?
Those presents didn’t get wrapped.
tagging: @high-functioning-lokipath @eclecticlokibytomhiddleston @spidyyparker @nervousbiscutzonkslime @kiolabean @caritobbg @lynnettes-stuff @straightforwardly @tiredmamamac @stuckybarton @peachsteven @mvaldez7821 @moonshooter @holdmytesseract @mcu-thoughts @wander-lustbabe @cadythelady @captain-asguard @xfirespritex @inas-thing @harrietbarnesblog @wearenotdoinggetheelllp @marvelgirl0515 @blue786sworld @blackberryblossom @asgardianprincess1050
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this-boys · 2 days ago
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Anthony Mackie is photographed for Los Angeles Times on May 5, 2021 in New Orleans, Louisiana.
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artemisiatodd · 2 days ago
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Can exist something better than Sam Wilson?
Yeah, his smile 🥺🤩
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a-fictional-mans-wife · 17 hours ago
„The Devil wears six inch heels“
Mob!James 'Bucky' Barnes x Mob! female reader (Mafia AU)
Words: 9.6k
Summary: You may be the city’s Queen but he’s a King as well. Bucky has power, his people, his connections -just like you. The only reason for the truce between you and him, was the incident with John Walker’s gang a few months ago, where Bucky unfortunately had to ask you for help. And now you’ve come to him, ready to collect your payment.
Warnings: explicit smut, enemies to lovers, enemies with benefits, hate sex, degradation kink, orgasm denial, p in v, oral, fingering, choking, insults, blackmailing, dub/con
Notes: —
🤍 read it on ao3 | my main masterlist 🤍
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Bucky gets up from his seat inside his rather big office, looking from the small window on his door inside the already closed club, the time being well after closing. Shady deals are mostly done late at night, he thinks. Right as he’s leaving the office, two bodyguards behind him and closing the door with a key, the movement outside catches his eye and Bucky turns just in time to watch as the black BMW sedan of the year quietly comes to a halt right in front of his club. He frowns, knowing who that means. He'd much rather deal with the asshole that’s responsible for his loan initially than with you.
Two men emerge from the front doors of the car, one immediately heading for the passenger door while the driver checks the street; they exchange a small nod before the man on the side of the sidewalk opens the passenger door and when he does, he positions himself behind it and immediately out of the way. Bucky could be intrigued by the action if he didn't feel so represented by it -he, too, would prefer to always be out of your way.
There’s power in the way you move, ingrained in your body as you descend an expensive red heel onto the concrete beneath you on the sidewalk, the other following suit while you propel yourself out, holding the frame of the car for support. It’s late at night and the street is fairly dark, but your simple presence, clad in an impeccable white suit with a deep neckline showing immaculate skin, is enough to brighten the place. There’s an elegant, expensive-looking and equally unnecessary fur coat draped over your shoulders and your hair was flawlessly styled.
You draw attention like the color black absorbs light -from all and everything. Maybe it is because of your soul, Bucky muses.  
Once you were standing outside the car, your driver marched to the door of the club, holding it open for you while you strode inside, heels clicking on the pavement, the sway of your hips something Bucky may think is beautiful to watch if it weren’t you.
“Good evening, James. Hope you have better news for me this week.” You state as cheerfully as you can, calmly entering the building in a glory of white. You shed your coat once you passed the door, the driver catching it while the second man seemed to survey the outside area a little more before entering.
Bucky greets you before he extends his hand with the brown envelope. But you go around him and walk to the counter, calmly sitting down on one of the high stools while absentmindedly looking around the club that looks a loot shadier when it’s empty.
“I missed my lunch today, so I hope you don’t mind me grabbing a bite before I leave.” You know there’s a kitchen right behind the bar and that they’re serving appetizer to their drinks that are surprisingly good.
You don’t look at Bucky when he doesn’t move from his place immediately.
“We’re closed.” He says and you turn around just momentarily, piercing eyes on his profile. One of your bodyguards is still by the door and the look he gives the other is also very compelling. Bucky feels his teeth gritting against the pressure he makes to shut his tongue. "Sure."
One of the goons comes closer and takes the brown envelope from his hands, without you even looking back as the burly tattooed man sits in one of the booths and starts counting the money inside.
“So, how’s business?" You try to make small talk while checking the menu over the counter, carefully done nails threading along the bars menu. You only press a long nail against what you want and slide it to him, the 18K diamonds on your small and discreet Cartier watch and matching trinity ring on your finger catching more of his attention than your watchful eyes. Your jewelry is discrete, tasteful, and still amounting enough to buy the whole building where the club is located.
Bucky doesn’t say anything in return, silently signaling one of his men to work on your order in the kitchen. He’d like to say his eyes keep diverting to your neckline because of your shining jewelry, but that would be a lie.
"So rude, James." you chuckle. “And I’ve been nothing but nice to you. Didn’t you pay for your little plumbing problem with my money? Is it only dirty to you once I’m present?"
"You wanted that bastard gone just as much as I.“ Bucky doesn’t beat around the bush. And once he’s done with this payment he’d be completely free of you anyway, he doesn’t feel the need to pretend.
“You know, I really liked John. He had talent, James. It’s a shame you wanted him gone, he could’ve easily replaced you or Rogers by my side.”
Bucky’s snort is disrespectful. „By your side? Who said were on the same side, doll? The only reason your corpse’s not laying in my basement yet, is because you helped me out and I’m a nice man.“ The big man by the door moves but a simple turn of your hand in the air has him standing back, carefully looking at Bucky, but unmoving. The other’s still counting the money rather calmly, the booth he’s seated unseeable from the window next to the door.
“You see, disrespect won’t take you far.” You say offhand, your watchful eyes on Bucky’s every move but with no real worry. You don’t trust him, but you know he’s not stupid.
"I don’t plan on it." He answers you after a beat, while his man comes back from the kitchen and depositions a plate with small delicacies in front of you. Bucky doesn't use the fact that he doesn't like you as an excuse for a half-ass job; he's not the type, which is refreshing. Is what you like about him. "But remember, right now, you’re on my side of the city. If you want to make threats, make sure the next time I’m on your side. Because as soon as this is over, i don’t want to see you or any of your lapdogs in my territory again, doll.“
Bucky chooses to sit next to you in silence, his bodyguard handing him a glass of scotch that he almost downs in one sip. You, however, are happily chatting away at his high stool as if this is just another day of bullying patrons. Maybe, for you, it is.
“You work very diligently.” You observe, eyes trailing from his tattooed arms to his deft fingers holding the fancy glass. Bucky just grumbles out something, or tsk, even when the way you look at his fingers takes an unexpected appreciative turn. 
“Maybe I should have you working overtime more.” You muse. Bucky eyes you nastily, clearly displeased at your comment, which makes your lips split in a bigger smile before you take a bite of the delicious looking appetizer.
“See, this is why I like you, Bucky.” The brunette frowned at your loose use of his nickname, reserved for the people he trusts and that are close to him, and the way it rolls off your tongue so nicely. “You always deliver good work.”
“It’s my job.” Bucky retorts, unamused. “I do it right even if it’s for…” He catches his tongue right in time, his eyes catching movement from the man seated down at one of the tables, almost biting his tongue in the process. “-people like you.” 
Bucky watches while the burly man with tattoos moves discreetly despite his size, bends down so his mouth can be on your ear level, and murmurs something to you that he doesn’t quite catch. Your steely eyes are momentarily looking down when they blink and fly back to his face, a deep, blank stare that makes Bucky’s brows furrow. His back becomes straighter, a gripping feeling in his gut that triggers his fight or flight. 
He presses the urge down - tells himself he doesn’t have anything to fear.
You may be the city’s Queen but he’s a King as well. He has his people, his connections -just like you. The only reason for the truce between you and him was the incident with John Walker’s gang a few months ago, where Bucky unfortunately had to ask you for help.
Bucky may be looking down at you, but he almost feels small under your steady glare. Which in reflex, after several years of being stupid in pair, makes him want to act up.
"Seems to me you forgot some money, my love."
"What?" His shocked tone is harsh and his eyes dart between you to the two men behind you, looking as steady as his walls and just as broad. "I counted it twice, everythin’ I owe ya ‘s there." His accent comes out pretty hard when he’s agitated.
"You only have fifty thousand here."
“I owe ya fifty thousand.” Bucky deadpans, almost sneering. “What ’re ya sayin’?"
“No, love. Fifty thousand is what you owed me two weeks ago.”
"Ya gave me an extension." He argues, brows furrowed.
"Exactly. I never said anything about the interest.”
"You forgot the interest." You talk to him as if he’s a child, lips turning upwards at his confusion. Bucky has the gut feeling you’re enjoying every second of this. Every little moment of his deep discomfort. “You were informed about them when you accepted the loan, you know how they work. If you don’t pay on the due date, 10 percent interest each extra week you remain in debt.”
"Are ya telling me I'm missin’ over 10K in interest rates?
"Yes." You say, smiling while tilting your head sideways, analytical. "Because you are."
“I'm paying you back,” Bucky grits through his clenched teeth, almost as if he’s willing it to be true, “Everythin' I owed ya is there. ”
"Not quite. You’re paying me back about…” You smile and press your lips in thinking, eyebrows furrowing while you calculate on your head the exact number.  “82 percent of what you owe me.”
Bucky’s fists close, veins bulging while his heart picks up with the adrenaline rush of a fit of rage. Aggression flows on his body to the point where his entire frame trembles. His teeth are clenched, tightly forced together by his pressed jaw. His brain cannot reason beyond the need to vent that outrage, and with every second he spends looking at your pretty-faced indifference sitting in front of him at the bar counter, his outrage slowly merges into fury. Bucky stares back at your emotionless eyes, breathes deeply a few times, and then calms himself down. It’s not like he doesn’t have the money -he has. He has more than enough. But the amount of money you demand for helping him getting rid of a rival gang is ridiculous. He deeply regrets asking you for help, should’ve done the job alone even if it had taken him a while longer and probably cost a few more lives on the way…
There’s a reason everyone warned him to sign a contract with Brooklyn‘s devil.
"So how much do I still have to give ya?"
“I think the better question is: Can you pay?”
Bucky rolls his eyes, his clenched jaw working over grinding teeth. "Of course I can, who do think I am?“
“Okay then let me phrase it differently, love.” You tell him, your spine regally straight on the high seat as if it is your throne. Your lips move around the next word with malice. “When.”
Bucky stops to think for a moment, coldly calculating his financial situation.
You watch him slowly, almost amused. That disinterested stare in his handsome face nothing short of sharp, his aloof behavior making every second of rilling him up to this manifestation of discomfort all the more delightful. His only problem is that the man plays by rules you don’t. And what you want, you take.
And Bucky is right where you wanted him to be.
“I’ll need an extension for the rest.” He finally says, so absolutely angered it’s almost a curse. Even the hostility in his tone makes a shiver run down your spine, all the hairs on your arms standing on edge while your insides slowly melt, fed by the images in your brain.
“Really?” You playfully answer, faked surprise not made to convince anyone. You knew he could pay you twice the amount of money right now. He just didn’t want to. Bucky seethes in place, labored breathing making his chest move up and down. “See, now I can’t help you out. I told you disrespect would only take you so far.” 
You get up from your seat, a show of touching your expensive red plump Louboutin on the ground. “I can’t let you out like this, not when you did such a show of being… rude.”
“What do you want?” Bucky almost spits at you once you’re standing in front of him, entering his personal space, closing on him. But he holds himself in place by pressing his nails hardly against the inside of his palms.
“First, some respect.” You sultrily say at him, much as a viper luring its prey. It rolls off your scarlet lips while you look up at him from your long lashes and perfect face. It makes Bucky want to wreck it.
“I don’t respect you, doll.” He says in undertone since you’re close, sounding much like a hiss. 
“Doesn’t seem like a smart thing to say to someone to whom you owe so much.” You purse your lips, fake pout. “And you seem like a smart man, James. Or am I wrong?”
Bucky blinks, brows furrowing while he looks down at you, his mind working.
“Where are you going with this?” He eyes you warily, his mind trying to gauge the target of your wicked intentions. “You want something.”
You smile, pretty red lips stretching to show a beautiful line of white teeth and he’s surprised that the poison isn’t dripping. 
“See, I knew you were smart.”
“I’m not giving you any of my clubs.” Bucky hisses, like a cornered animal, but his instance shows he’s more prone to fight than flee. 
“Don’t want them.” You’re quick to tell him, innocence so out of place that it makes even clearer that you’re being honest. “I may need… services, though.” 
Bucky’s spine shoots straight once again, his eyes sharp boring into your face with cold disdain.
“I’m not laundering your money.” 
“Money launder? My love, that’s a federal felony.” You lean back, supporting yourself on your forearms against the bar, vigilant eyes zooming on him. “Are you saying I’m a criminal?” 
Bucky stays silent again. There’s a predatory glint in your eyes that he understands as a warning, but that doesn’t stop him from upturning his brow and tilting his head in a small challenge. Bucky is appalled at what your upturning lips do to his guts, swallowing the saliva that pools in his mouth. He must be wrong in the fucking head to feel anything else than disgust in your sight, but even so, there’s no denying the way there’s a devilish pull around you, like the temptation of a capital sin.
“What I mean is… I have a specific service for you, personally. So you could pay me in...” Your tongue snaps against the roof of your mouth with a small noise, lips turning up in vile intention, “Different goods, per se.”
Bucky refuses to accept his train of thought, eyes pressing into slits while he watches you. His tone enunciates every word of his question. 
“What do you mean?” 
Your answering smile is sordid.
“You know what I mean James, we’ve just established you’re not stupid.”
“I’m starting to think you are, though.”
Your laugh is loud, cheerful even. It makes him look at you as if you’re insane.
“Maybe.” You chuckle, retreating your arms back and straightening your posture, your neck tilting to the side. “But when I want something, I want it. So why deny myself that? I find the whole point of self-control to be so… boring.” There’s this contempt in your tone at the word, mixing into trivial once your shoulders shrug your consideration for a whole chunk of what living in a society means. “Why hold myself to it if I’m above?” Bucky chooses to ignore that question once again.
“And what if I say no?” 
“You’re free to do what you want, I don’t own you.” Yet, you think, smiling. “Then again you still owe me 10k in interests and we know what’ll happen if you don’t pay me back…  And I’d hate for that to happen to you.”
The silence is heavy and acidic, burning on him. And you let the seconds pass, relishing in the way he seems to grow aggravated, jaw overworking around nothing to bite, hands in fists by his side. 
Oh, you’re close to defiling the pristine white of your designer clothes, the feeling brewing inside you threatening to spill between your thighs. Bucky looks absolutely delicious while being so emotional. You can see the gears turning inside his pretty head, his eyes looking around and back at you, threading down your face, to your neck to the plunging neckline of your suit - you elongate your body while he watches, pleased to have his eyes on you, especially when they're burning with unattended violence and aggression. 
Bucky’s always so detached from the events happening around him, so unshakable in that aura of apathetic tranquility that it has caused you to develop an almost macabre interest in making him desperate. And now you are continually enjoying the result, the awakening of the flames that you always knew existed inside the mobster boss. A few minutes pass while you’re just content to watch, the knot in your stomach growing tighter as you appreciate the size of his shoulders, the strength hidden in the strong biceps, the broad, defined torso that you know exists under that simple black suit. You are tempted to ask him to turn around so that you can also enjoy his backside.
“Ok.” He says in a breath that seems more like it was ripped out of his chest. Like a dead man’s last word. You like this analysis. But of course, he can’t have it so easy.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear. Did you say anything?”
Bucky purses his lips in discomfort, almost bites his tongue in the process of not telling you to go to hell.
“I said,” he entones again, though his disdain is showing. “Ok”
“Ok, what?” You press. Oh, the way how his veins bulge on his forearms when his nails press on his palms have your hairs standing on end. You blink at him with a smile, all too pleased with yourself.
“Ok, I’ll do it.” Bucky squeezes out, brows furrowed in discovering your intentions. You’re leering with wicked prowess. 
“I don’t think that's how you say it, James.” Your brows go up in the tiniest indication of irritation. Your voice is calculated, though unable to hide the elation.
“Ok… Ma'am. I’ll do anything you want.” The words come out of his mouth sounding nothing like submission and much like he just cursed your whole generation, teeth grinding. Still, it makes you smile. You don’t want to break his spirit -that’s why you chose him.
“That’s what I like to hear.” You say, pushing yourself out from the bar where you supported yourself. Coat long forgotten on top of it, you cross your arms in front of your breasts, knowing exactly how you look and very pleased at the way his eyes ever so slightly thread down your plunging neckline. “But not so fast. I didn’t tell you I’d accept it-”
“You just—” Bucky almost explodes, the arms he holded closed in front of him being thrown in the air as if he’d be ready to grab you. You just turn a hand up and reels at how he actually shuts up right after.
“I just told you, you could pay me in services.” You continue, one step closer to him in your expensive shoes, plump red lips dripping wicked intent. 
“But,” You start, closer to him enough that your breath is touching his heated skin and you can smell the sweat his aggression produced, your mouth salivating at the thought of tasting it on his skin. Your finger rests on his chest and you thread it up while speaking, looking him in the eyes, so pleased at finding so much life in his usual dead stare, “I don’t know if you’re good enough for the job yet.” 
Bucky stares back at you, hands in fists forcibly stuck next to his body, feeling the way your hot breath trails on his jaw and hating himself for what it brews in his insides. 
You stretch up in your heels, mouth dangerously close to his, which rests ajar to let his breathing out, enough that he can taste your mint breath on his tongue. 
“I think I may need a little…”  Your eyes thread down to his mouth and then back to his eyes while you speak your next words, “—taste, you know?”
Bucky flexes his fingers, swallows dry around his closed throat, stares at your face -so close the downright devilish smile on your red lips seems to narrow his field-view- and he blinks. 
The brunette thinks how he wants to wipe that smile off your sinful lips. How he wants to have you trembling, unattended, and disheveled. He thinks about you begging with his name on your tongue, for a release that he’ll keep denying at his disposition. Bucky thinks about leaving you sore and marked, thinks about wrapping his hands around your neck to watch as you struggle, life evading you while he fucks you; consider this may be the only way he’d ever had the opportunity to get even close to a payback. 
Bucky wants you to experience mind-numbing pleasure you’d never before, uniquelly brought by him… and suffer through the rest of your fucking disgraceful life without being able to taste it again once he’s done paying his debt. Because Bucky swears on his fucking name and whole life, nobody would be able to make you feel what he’s going to make you feel.
He can see your future already and in it you’re fucked - both by him and for him, while he’s the one who gets away. The mobster wonders if you ever lost anything like this in your life, can feel himself growing hard at being the one to make you cry. 
“Sure.” Bucky smiles, lopsided, the devil himself being safer than him. “I’ll give you the taste you deserve, doll.“
Your eyes press slightly closer in mistrust, the wicked intention pouring from his body so close to yours impossible to miss. Either way, it's your win; that’s exactly what you’ve been bargaining for, despite your game being rigged from the start. 
You bring your face close to his as if you were going to kiss him and you are delighted when his eyes go down, although not completely closed, his pupils focusing on your lips. 
You smile and retreat, turning to your men still positioned exactly where you left them, next to Barnes Bodyguards. They remain so observant and sharp as ever, despite looking more like gargoyles than men.
“We need a moment.” You tell them in a serious tone, calm. They all look at you for a second and nod, their stances changing very little despite it. You turn back to him but walk inside his establishment as if you own the place, pushing through the doors that lead to the back and inside the small, equipped kitchen. Bucky follows in silence, briefly wondering if he’d be able to snatch a knife and bury it in your chest. 
There’s not much outside cooking paraphernalia, with two big counters and taller than normal table in the center. You stop right in front of it, your hand threading over it for a moment. 
“That’ll do.” You say while you turn around to look at him. You look so strikingly bright in the middle of the rather normal kitchen, clad in both lavish clothes and unblemished skin; he wants so much to be able to say your sight doesn’t thrill him -but he can’t lie to himself. 
But then you pointedly eye him and then the ground in front of you, “Kneel.”
Bucky considers his previous thought about burying a knife deep in your chest but walks, stiff, to where you indicated. He kneels with even less disposition than when he walked towards you, the descent slow until the ground’s hard tile is registered against his knee. He makes a point of looking into your eyes as he lowers, hatred overflowing in waves that seem to give you a sick satisfaction, your eyes becoming slightly out of focus.
The brunette’s about to ask what you’d want him to do next, like pledge himself or some shit, when your hands move to the hidden zipper on the side of your impeccable white pants. 
It drops to the floor in one go, displaying the graceful planes of your hips, appeasing spanse of flesh, a small triangle of silk hiding your most private parts. Saliva pools in Bucky’s mouth at the sight, his teeth pressing against one another to avoid betrayal. He’s still unsure of what’s his next step until your heel digs on his shoulder painfully, using him as leverage to prop yourself up on the high table. 
His eyes snap to yours while he bite his tongue to not curse you out loud.  
Your suit threads up when you move up and slide on the table, the white silk panties peeking in between your open thighs. You look back at him once you’re so open right there on the table for him, your heel still supported on his shoulder but not digging on his skin anymore.
You lay slightly back against the tabletop, forearms resting on the surface carefully. Dressed in a white, stylish suit like the last trend, the skin in between so bright it feels like a taunt, the curves of your breasts so ripe he wants to taste, the closed lapels looking like his own pathway to sin. He can feel his blood boiling, aggression throbbing, and he wants to paint you in red.
“Well then,” You start, happily above him, spread like a meal, “Show me if you’re good enough to pay your debt. Consider this your warrant.”
“Don’t worry, doll.” Bucky drawls out with dripping distaste, his hand slowly, almost bored, threading up from your ankle to your knees. “I’ll fuck you like you want it. Within an inch of your life.”
His hands lock on the back of your knees and he parts them forcefully, while you leave a yelp followed by laughter, your head thrown back with glee. 
You smell of flowers and spice, so expensive he was surprised that you weren’t dripping fucking gold. His palms slide through the back of your thigh and the skin under his fingertips is soft and firm, all shapes of heaven despite being in sole service of the devil. 
Bucky starts slowly, the table leaving you open just at the height of his neck while he’s kneeled on the ground, at the perfect height. His thumb presses on your skin while he holds one of your legs up, brings his lips to your knee. There’s a welcoming stain on your panties, and he scoffs at you despite the way his cock responds on his trousers. 
“I haven’t even started and you’re already wet?” The way you smile at him is both infuriating and bewitching. 
“What? Didn’t you enjoy our little foreplay earlier?” You tease him, plump lips locked under a row of teeth with mirth. His skin feels prickling and Bucky decides he needs more room, roughly pushing on your thighs until he can fit between them with room to spare.
It’s not fair, how good you feel, the delicious smell of your skin, the way your taunt alights him with fire in his veins. 
Bucky knows it’s bait -and he’s willingly falling for it.
When his lips start to thread on the inner part of your knee and up, the mobster does it with the intention to mark; he sucks instead of kissing, licks instead of caressing, and bites once he finds the plush meat of your inner thighs.
It stings and you let the smallest of sounds, but Bucky feels it in his gut, brings his hot tongue to soothe over it, bask in the way you tremble under his fingertips just enough for him to sink his teeth and revel in the pain on your groan. 
His nose treads along the furthest expanse of the joining of your thighs, touches the silk of your expensive panties, senses the way you tense and watches while your pussy trembles, even while still covered by fabric.
He considers holding back his tongue, but Bucky has never been the type to be held back by the threat of punishment. And you’ve shown to clearly enjoy his fiery side.
“Such an eager pussy right here, isn't it?” He threads his nose against the wet patch in the silk, carefully breathes against the covered lips. Bucky lets one of his shoulders bear one leg and brings his thumb to pass over the growing wet patch. “So wet.” He presses it from the wetness to the place where your clit should be, watches as you respond to his touch with aborted movement. “Such a slut.” It’s supposed to be degrading, but there’s a hint of appreciation in his words that isn’t lost on you. “Is this all it takes for my debt? It’ll be finished in a second then.”
Your mouth opens to retort but closes in time to withhold a moan before it falls through your lips. His thumb’s pressing against your clit in tight circles while the index of his other hand threads over your covered cunt. Turns out Bucky has moves to back up the big talk. 
He’s methodical, clearly good and deft with his fingers, controlled pressure applied in a way that has you writhing on the table despite your intention to make this hard on him. Your desire to make him work for it, apparently, is no match for his. 
Bucky presses the tips of his fingers on your clothed entrance, enough force that it barely breaks inside you but the teasing has you churning on the table for him, legs trying to part beyond limits, body arching where it’s been relegated. Your chest feels hot and heavy despite the little clothing. You’re hoping for the moment where he’ll tease the hard nipples pressing against the flimsy lace of your bralet and the inside of your suit with the same intensity he’s depositing on your cunt.
Bucky, on the other hand, has no rush. You did this, gave this opportunity for him to wreck you, and he plans on enjoying it to the bitter end. He’s fairly surprised at how responsive you are, how quickly you melt for him, how vocal you can be despite doing little more than grunts and sighs. A thought flashes through his mind when he feels a renewed wave of wetness blossom against the fabric where his fingers are pressing, his lips turning in a self-satisfied smirk.
“Have you been so desperate for a good cock you’ve resorted to blackmail?” Your eyes snap open at his voice, a warm wave of something that you refuse to believe in being embarrassment depositing in your cheekbones. Bucky’s fingers prod harder against your entrance, fingers spreading against the wet fabric to your outer lips while his thumb keeps drawing endless circles around your clit. “Tsk, what a dirty move from an even dirtier slut.” 
He slaps your clit once, then twice, his bulking frame preventing you from closing your legs against the sudden pain. Your body trembles on unsteady forearms. You choke on a breath and then release a moan, the sound outrageous to Bucky even as his cock throbs from it. 
“Maybe I’ll give you what you want.” The brunette teases, his voice sounding even despite the turmoil inside him. You look up at him with such eyes he could fool himself into thinking he wanted this. 
His fingers teether on the edge of your underwear, rough fingertips just daring to cross into the emanating heat. Your hips twitch, the emptiness inside you accentuated by your muscles clenching around nothing, desire pouring out against the prodding fingertips. Bucky snorts, throws you a hard stare that is equal parts fire and contempt. 
“You’re so wet. Are you enjoying this that much, doll?” It drips acidic from his tongue against your neck, after he bends himself over you. From so close, Bucky’s warm breath is the same as a caress, his tongue teasing you with the way it threads over his lips but doesn't extend the courtesy to your skin. “You’re rather easy to rile up, huh? Or is it that you enjoyed playing with me before?” His teeth flash white above your head and you swallow around the desire of having them plunging on your skin. “How was it you said? Foreplay, hm?”
You feel weirdly wound up inside your own skin, as if there’s not enough space and still a growing void inside you waiting for him to fill. It’s insane, it’s delicious, and a loud moan breaches your throat when Bucky plunges two fingers inside you without warning. 
Your body arches in such a curve your breasts press against his chest, the relieving brush too shallow to register in your brain when you’re hyper fixated on the sensation brewing inside you. 
It doesn’t even sting, instead you feel like your hunger escalates, fed by such little push that your want becomes need and for the first time in forever you actually consider asking for something. 
Your mouth opens, and Bucky snickers. “What?” He presses his thumb over your clit fast, relinquishes in the way you moan, feels the way your insides beg him to keep going. 
Still not enough though. He wants it ruined for you. 
“Maybe I’ll just make you cum on my fingers right here.” He spreads, scissor and twists them inside you, enjoying the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him at his every move. Bucky’s skin feels on fire, body overheating, and the way your lips turn up to reveal a line of white teeth in glee has his gut twisting. 
“You have a pretty loose tongue for such a quiet guy.” You look at him with semi-closed eyes, the victorious smile of the cat who got the mouse. “Maybe you like me more than you thoug— fuck!”
Bucky shoves and prods around your insides for that special place even demons like you have and his assault is nothing short of merciless. Your eyes snap open at the force of his ramming, eyebrows furrowing at the way your pleasure seems to have forgone climb to skyrocket instead. Bucky watches in begrudging enchantment while your lips fall open to suck air into your breathless lungs and your eyes grow unfocussed, shoulders falling against the table so your hands can come to hold his arms but for what he doubts even you know. 
He’s not stopping. Until he does. 
You let out a noise like a wounded animal, tethering on the edge of mind numbing pleasure he won’t give you and when your body trembles from exertion of a denied orgasm instead of bliss, Bucky’s chest swells in pride.
“Whydidyoustop?” You lament in one breath, eyes are blinking back into focus, sweat and - oh he hopes those are tears - droplets dripping from the corner of your eyes while you turn to press your face on the cold metal surface of the table. “I was so close!” This time you rage, nails pressing against his skin enough to hurt.
“What do you mean?” Bucky tilts his head sideways, patronizing. “You didn’t ask for it. I’m just doing what you told me: being respectful.”
You laugh, still breathless, and turn to him in disbelief. “Fucker.”
“Not yet,” He corrects you, nuzzling his hips on your thighs. “Maybe if you ask nicely enough, doll.”
Bucky retreats while you regulate your breath, letting your useless legs fall limp while both of his hands come to help your panties down, marveling at the way they’re peeled off your wet pussy lips. His cock aches and demands, but he’s used to reining in his dick. And he’s just started, anyway.
The mobster pushes you forward on the table, opening your legs wide like a treat. Your pussy is glistening, rhythmically calling for something to fill it while you leak. He plunges a finger back inside to watch you tremble, stimulation enough to make your eyes fall closed, long black lashes against beautiful sweaty skin. 
“Look at this.” Bucky plunges a second finger inside, opening them wide enough to sting. “What a desperate whore.” 
Your mind is swirling in urge, but you refuse to spill the words on your tongue. It would give you what you want, but at what cost? Bucky looks positively ferocious above you, dark eyes focused on your every move; it sends shivers through your spine, your body trembling and blossoming for him once again. You’re in your personal heaven, in company of the devil himself. Oh how the table had turned…
Bucky kneels again in front of your open legs, hook one on his shoulder while he holds the other thigh forcefully up with a grip so hard your muscle aches under his fingers. But you don’t care, in fact you sigh “more” for him right as his breath teases your folds.
“No.” He tells you, two fingers pumping at leisure. His tongue slurps at your inner thigh, teeth closing in a bite with nothing to sooth. 
“Fuck.” You breathe out in a groan and his smirk is pronounced against your skin. 
James Buchanan Barnes, as you’re learning, is a fucking tease.
His moves are soft, lacking in everything but aim; his tongue moves along the sensitive parts of your body you’ve never really cared for, like the plush flesh of your thighs, underside of your ass, the juncture of your groin. He has yet to taste you but you feel wounded, body constricted under weak ministrations, feather-like teases. It sinks with a piercing revelation that you could cum like this -in an unfulfilled manner with not-good-enough touches that somehow have made your body feel raw like an exposed nerve in which the minimum touch would be enough to warrant waves of pleasure.
When his tongue comes to thread along your slit slowly, nose caressing along his way, your body clenches and threatens to spasm around unmoving fingers. You’re so close, so close, your body is ready to burst, fraying at the seams of a control you’re not using, your hands flying to try and find your clit at the same time Bucky’s eyes flash and he holds it, presses it forcefully against your belly while his lips slurp at your folds, circle your clit, but it’s so soft, it’s fucking unfair.
“Goddammit, James!” You scream, enraged at the way your second orgasm flies away from you as his fingers leave your quivering hole, his mouth doing nothing more than lap at your overflowing juices with no real worry, no urgency.
“Oh, look at that.” He smirks, drawing back up to look at your disheveled state; flustered, sweating, dripping and unattended. “You wanted a taste.” His hand comes back to your cunt, fingers thread along puffy lips. “I’m giving you a taste.”
“You bastard.” His fingers leave your heat just to plunge inside again, a loud gushing sound following it. “Shit.” You sigh while falling back, and Bucky feels his cock throb once more at how breathless you sound. 
Your mind works around the feeling of being spread so far you feel as if you’re paper thin. Your mind goes rushing in its last attempt at working. Bucky looks self-satisfied, almost content, so you know where to hit. You want it, so you find a way to have it. 
“Oh, poor Bucky-” You coo at him with a hoarse voice in glazed eyes, but the condescending tone is clear as day. “Are you trying to hurt me?” You plant a hand on his black hair, pulling at it enough to hurt. “‘Cause I like pain.”
Fire explodes in his eyes and you tighten around his fingers in response, but other than his frown, Bucky remains calm. 
He slams three fingers inside before you can mouth any new words, smirks down at you with mischief when you tremble and bite your lips to hold the noises in, eyes falling back closed to hide the way they turn inside your skull. His other hand is holding your thigh forcefully open once again and his palm presses with hurtful intention, fingertips buried in your flesh so hard his digitals may mark you for days.
“Let you cum on my fingers and nothing else, is that going to be enough for ya?” Bucky snarls against your ear, hot breath tickling your jaw. His hips hold you open to his assault at your pussy and his hand abandons your thigh to glide over your body and close around your throat. 
Bucky squeezes hard.
“Then again I could ruin your orgasm for the third time.” He bends over you, his lips right in front of your sight; eyes looking down at you with such fire you almost wonder if they’re the cause for the burn in your lungs. “Leave you writhing on the table, empty, until you learn to have a little respect.” 
Your lips spread in a smile almost maniacal, goosebumps rising on your skin as if you’re electrified. This is what you’ve wanted all along —passion, fearless assault of words, electrifying pleasure; and also, the detachment, the murderous intent, all merging together in one perfect James Buchanan Barnes. Shit, you think to yourself, at this hate you may actually come from his teasing alone.
“You talk too much for someone who didn't make me cum yet.” You pour gasoline into his fire. 
Bucky pulls you up by the lapels of your suit, button flying open at the hastiness, your breasts protected by such a flimsy piece of lace you’re surprised it doesn’t turn to ash at his stare. Your hard nipples mark the black bralet, the air feeling cold at how hot they are. 
A hand covered in your juices closes on your cheeks, forcefully opening your lips at the threat of pain, his fingers with lingering heat from your insides.
“Such a big mouth, should I shut you up?” Bucky asks you, eyes boring on yours. The plea is on the point of your tongue as if he’d shoved his hand inside you to yank it himself, and it tips out when his icy blue eyes steal one single snippet of your smeared red lips open by his hands.
“Fuck me.” 
He nods negatively, presses hard enough that your teeth could cut your inner cheeks. He relents and your tongue grazes your lips, moistening them for his eyes.  
Bucky smiles, a tilt of his lips up but so earnestly you’re almost hopeful, then: “No.” 
Even if as he says it, it’s a lie. He knows he’ll fuck you, but right now he’s enjoying the build-up, toying with you as if you’re his plaything and not the opposite. You growl and curse, head falling back when he palms at your covered breasts, push the lace up, hears the way it strains and threatens to rip. 
It’s oddly relatable -Bucky also feels taut, stretched around a fleeting control that he feels will slip with one dip inside you. His past sexual experiences involved mostly one-night stands which, for the small time his dick was inside them, he was mindful and cared for their pleasure. 
Right now, while he pinches and palm at your body, he has not a single worry about your pleasure and all the concern about his. This is for him. He bends his head over your chest, sucks a nipple inside the hot cave of his mouth and bites. As his cock twitches and aches inside his trousers, he relishes in the pained noises you leave, even when they’re marked by breathless arousal.
“You sure are fucked up. Look how much you’re enjoying this.” His fingers force the howl of your cheeks, feeling your teeth nicking the insides of your mouth even through layers of flesh. There’s an infuriating elation in your expression, and Bucky retaliates by sucking harshly on your skin, teeth finding soft places to close on.
You moan loudly and his hand slides back onto your throat in the motion. Your hand shots up from the table to find his hard dick and your laugh makes his blood boil. “Clearly I’m not the only one.”
His heartbeat spikes at the words, even if Bucky knows it. The mobster pulls the suit jacket half-down your arms and slams your front on the slight cold surface of the metal table, noise sounding thunderous but still no one comes after you. 
Your skin erupts in goosebumps at the aggression, blood flying so fast through your heart you feel lightheaded. You’re about to spit some more fire into Bucky when two of his fingers gag you, other hand descending on your ass with such force and so unexpectedly your legs give out, dangling from the table as if you’re a ragdoll.
Something remarkably close to a whine turning sob slides through your throat and dies at his fingers, just as something big and hot surges over your ass cheeks. Something coils on your chest, the emotion makes your eyes water and for a moment you blink it away, thanking the new position doesn’t let Bucky catch that. 
Too soon. He pulls your head back as his hand peels the globes of your ass apart and before you can breathe, the little air inside you is being knocked out with one thrust of Bucky’s hip.
He forces his dick inside you, tearing you open as your walls make way for his aggression, wetness dripping while Bucky fills you to the hilt, because yes, that's what you want. You want his hate, his passion, you want Bucky to tear you apart while you enjoy every second of it.
“Shit— Bucky!” His name is on your lips as your eyes roll back, whole body tensing until you’re falling, just like that. 
Then he retreats again. “Fuck! Fuck no!” This time it’s a wail, a sob as your third orgasm turns to ashes, your insides trembling with nothing to hold, empty and meager pleasure. 
"You’re coming already? Nope.” The mobster laughs above you, hands tilting your head painfully back. “So embarrassing.” Bucky mocks you and you swear you can feel a renewed wave of cream slide down your insides to greet the head of his cock, nudging along your swollen lips. Your tongue feels so heavy on your mouth, parched and breathless all at once, no way out but silence. 
“Such a greedy fucking pussy, doesn’t deserve to be this tight.” 
Your laugh turns into a deep moan when Bucky hits deep inside you. “God yes.” You twist one hand out of the suit’s sleeve just to pull him by the hem of his blouse, your nails digging against the skin of his neck, blooming red yelts. “Talk shit to me James. I know you have better lines.”
“Fuck you.” The man spits, his hips pistoning harder against yours until he just stops the motion, leaves you open and gapping for him to fill you again. “Of course a filthy girl like you has the hots for humiliation. Look at that, the slut’s pussy squeezing around my dick because she thinks I'm doing this for her pleasure.” His hand comes down on the other side of your ass, where he hasn't hit yet. It stings, but the way his palm massages and grabs at it before almost soothes the burn. “Sluts don’t get to say anything, not even begging will get you what you want. I decide what you get."
You look back from your shoulder to see his cock is standing proud and angry, swollen head shining red and dripping translucent white, as if he hadn't been wet from your juices before.
Bucky’s big, especially thick and he presses inside you again without giving you time to adjust, unforgiving pace right from the start.
You curse at the way one of your hands keeps locked behind you by your suit, your nails digging on your own skin without anything else to find purchase on; the other tries to grab onto Bucky to no avail, falling on the table to help support yourself at the strength of his pounding. Your mouth is open, divided between sucking breaths and puffs of air. Bucky’s hand has since found purchase in your neck, the way he forces it back painful, the pressure on your throat growing and ceasing as he wishes. 
Still, you can’t think. Your mind is lost in a sea of searing pleasure, your nipples pressed against the metal surface as Bucky finally fucks you as you’ve been dreaming. No, maybe even better. The past men you’ve fucked had all been afraid of hurting you, careful with retaliation. As Bucky fists your hair and forcefully presses you against the table; you think you may be having a religious experience. Your eyes water from the force of his manhandling, tears spilling while you left unbelievable noises fall from your lips. You want to scream and laugh, a hot sensation spreading from your fingertips to your core. 
The wave of the orgasm is forming quickly, your toes curling against the insides of your Louboutins enough to hurt, the incessant pounding of his hips against your ass sounding downright pornographic. As the peak approaches, doubt gnaws at your chest for the first time in forever. 
The simple thought of Bucky robbing you of your orgasm this time is enough to make your whole body tremble and recoil, your mind too slow to catch on to his intentions. You consider biting your tongue to hold the plea in, but as you bolt into mind-blowing pleasure you’ve never even imagined before, the alternative feels like dying.
You’re tethering the edge and you feel Bucky pressing harder against you, and you break.
“Please!” You cry out, “Pleasepleaseplease, don’t stop.” His movements slow down and halt, and the hand on your ass slides around you, a single finger taps repeatedly on your swollen clit. 
“Say it.” He all but howls at your ear, bites on it for good measure.
“Please, James, let me fucking cum!” You beg but you’re already falling over, whole body shuddering just from the way he nudges his hips against your ass and taps on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Panic surges in between your pleasure that he’ll ruin this one when he retreats from your quivering insides, but Bucky rams back inside you with such power that your head rattles, hips hurting from the impetus of his fucking. 
Sound rings in your ear while you drown in the thunderous waves of your pleasure for what feels like forever. It flows and flows and flows to a point you can’t tell if you’re seeing black or just closed your eyes. 
Bucky watches, enthralled, how you go completely boneless under him. Your insides have stopped squeezing him tight but his hard, aching cock still throbs inside your heat. It’s honestly unbelievable how tight you feel around him, how fantastic he feels buried balls deep inside your walls. He had to stop trying to fuck you through your orgasm in worry he’d may cum. Poison and pleasure curl in his chest at the thought. Bucky feels like spanking you, choking you, to punish you for this undeserving heaven you have between your thighs.  
But he’s not done yet.
He retreats, the slide of his cock leaving your delicious walls, cold air from outside so less welcoming, and you sag on the table. He pulls you up on unsteady legs and smirks, proud. Your bare feet touch the ground and Bucky spins you around, swallowing on a tight throat after one look at your disheveled blissful state, but then he retreats and let’s you collapse to the ground.
The image of your legs sliding open on the cold tiled floor, unsteady hands finding purchase to hold your torso up while your head looks up at him in outrage is one he sears in his mind, a wicked satisfaction sliding over his spine at the sight alone. The wreck of you at his feet, by his hands, nothing short of perfect. 
His cock throbs and pulses in front of your eyes, dragging your attention and Bucky steps closer, poses one hand on the top of your head, ruins the rest of your styled hair by dragging fingertips in it. 
You’re still lightheaded, shockwaves making you twitch on the cold floor and Bucky is elated at how wrecked you look, makeup smeared, hair disheveled, body holded up by unsteady arms. Your lips are open, between breathless pulls of air and heavy exhales, but he doesn't care, hands forcefully tugging your hair back and angling your mouth at his swelled cockhead. He counts as a win that you don’t bite him, your tongue threading flat on the underside of his length as he buries himself on your throat. 
There’s resistance, so Bucky retreats, forcing it back a few other times until it finally slides a few inches more inside. While he maintains the force over your hair, his other hand engulfs your chin, thumb breaching your lips to hold your mouth open despite the fact you don’t make any move to close it. 
It feels his chest with acidic bitterness that you welcome his aggression, glazed, tearful eyes looking up at him as if the fact he’s using you as little more than a cocksleeve is the brightest part of your day. Still, Bucky’s skin feels close to tearing under the sheer amount of pleasure flooding his insides. His hairs are standing on end, heart beating so fast his lungs burn, every muscle on his body tensed at his mindless pursuit of his high. He buries his cock deep inside the tight space of your throat, your gurgles and groaning enhancing his sensation. It looks painful to you to hold him inside, tears ending your makeup, face turning red at the lack of air. He closes both hands behind your head, making you nuzzle his pelvis even as your nails close on his thighs threatening to break skin.
He retreats again to let you breathe just as your eyes go unfocused, feels something squeezing inside as you cough and wheezes and his throat squeezes a large gulp of air when you look up at him, tongue hanging out with a wide-open mouth just offered for him.
Bucky feels like hurting you at how good you are, infuriatingly obedient and willing to be at the end of his aggression. So he buries himself back inside at one go, both hands holding your head for him. There’s too much chaos inside of him, so he decides to pour some out through words.
“You like being used like this, huh? Like being nothing more than a fucking cocksleeve for me.”
“What is it? Does being in power make you this needy? Does being wrecked make you feel this good?”
Your groan makes your throat tighter around him, your eyes rolling back from his fucking and degradation.
It’s unfair, infuriatingly so, that this might be the most unbelievable great sex he ever had. 
Bucky can’t hold back much longer, everything feeling just too good, his skin burning at the stretch of the tourbillion of emotions inside his chest, the captivating sight of tears dropping from your jaw and coating your long lashes as your face darkens by the lack of air, swollen lips stretched beyond capacity around his cock while you willingly let him go harder, faster, into your tight throat. There’s a warm sensation flowing from his limbs to his spine, melting his bones and weighing on his balls until it spreads over Bucky’s whole being.
He pulls back from your throat in time but presses his hands on your jaw and hair to keep you up and open as he coats your wrecked face with hot spurts of cum -the final touch to the perfection of your wrecked image at his feet.
It lands haphazardly over your lips and even your eyelashes, tear-stained mess of a face marked by his essence. Bucky tells himself he could never feel anything towards you, but for a second there’s a hint of territorial pride at how you look -and how it is all his doing.
The mobster is still swimming in searing pleasure as you lick over your lips, hands almost fondly landing over his as if you're assuring him that he can let go.
And he does, his eyes are glued to how his cum is dripping from your chin onto your chest, how you bring your fingers to sweep over it and end it by cleaning the digits with your tongue. If Bucky’s cock wasn’t so spent, he’s sure it’d swell right back up at the sight alone.
“Can’t say what’s better,” your hoarse voice is barely above a murmur, “the taste or the feeling.”
While you’re standing on unsteady legs and already fixing yourself, he leans against the table, questioning his life choices and Bucky feels as if he’d made a deal with the devil and you’ll be coming back to collect his soul.
And worst of all, he’d happily give it to you…
“Seems like the start of a nice partnership, doesn’t it, James?“
91 notes · View notes
captain-buckyyy · 12 hours ago
summary: bucky needs to taste you on his tongue
word count: 1,077
warnings: sub!bucky, dad!bucky, lactation kink, reader calls bucky different pet names, swearing
⭒ pretty baby masterlist  ⭒
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Bucky knows he shouldn’t be jealous, he knows he shouldn’t be pouting in the corner, arms crossed as he huffs and sighs in a fruitless bid to gain your attention. Bucky knows. He does. But he can’t help the way green washes over him and fills him with envy.
There you are on the bed, shirt off, laid back against the headboard as your sweet little bundle of joy suckles from you. Outside of your bedroom, the shouts and screams of two other boys sound out but Bucky barely hears them as he can only focus on the way you whisper sweet words to your little boy.
“Bucky, baby can you please tell the boys to stop screaming at each other and play nicely,” you say and Bucky pouts in response. You can’t help but chuckle at the sight of the super-soldier sulking by the door of your bedroom, pouting like a small child.
“Baby!” you warn in the stern tone you’re used to using with your boys whenever they have their daily fight over their toys.
Bucky’s little pouting session is interrupted as his eyes cast upon your hard glare aimed at him, “Boys!” Bucky shouts and immediately the sound of screaming and shouting stops followed by both yelling sorry for before falling quiet again.
“Thank you,” you let out a deep sigh as your bundle of joy stops suckling and lulls into a gentle sleep. You gaze down at your son, soaking in the warmth that floods your heart at the sight of your son sleeping peacefully.
You barely feel Bucky sink down into the comfort of your mattress until his fingers brush against the soft skin of your cheek and then his lips press against the juncture of your neck. You can’t help the moan that escapes your lips as Bucky presses kisses to the spot on your neck that makes wetness instantly pool between your legs.
“He’s asleep, let me put in his cot,” you say between moans and Bucky stops his assault on your neck not before snaking his metal arm down your chest and squeezing your full tits until a droplet of milk falls. The groan Bucky lets out at the sight of the milk trickling slowly down from your now hard nipple is sinful.
You put your sleeping little boy in his cot before coming up back to bed resuming your earlier position, head back against the headboard shirt off waiting for Bucky. You know what he wants, what he needs without him having to say a word.
“Come on puppy, take what you want,” you offer, eyes trailing down to the large bulge in his sweatpants. You can’t help but smirk at the poor man, all hard and aching and just starved of your attention.
“You better hurry up before one of the boys wants one of us,” you say when Bucky doesn’t move from his position next to you, staring unashamedly at the swell of your tits. But the second he hears your words, he’s settling himself so his head is buried in your chest and he’s surrounded by soft supple flesh.
Your hand rests on the back of his freshly cut hair, pushing his head closer and instantly his plump pink lips latch on to your nipples, the sweet nectar of your milk spilling onto his warm tongue. Bucky’s teeth rake gently across your hard nipple as his metal fingers toy with your other hardened peak, milk gushing out onto his vibranium fingers before Bucky’s wet tongue is lapping the milk up from the cold metal.
“Look at my little puppy, so hungry for mommy’s milk like a good pet,” you coo, fingers running through his short hair as Bucky groans around the metal of his fingers at your words. He’s painfully aware of just how hard his thick cock is as you praise him, his cock only getting harder at your words.
“Mommy…” he whines like a bitch in heat and you can’t help but chuckle at your husband.
Bucky goes back to suckling at your nipple, his lips wrapped tightly around the peaks trying to suck every last drop onto his tongue. He’s addicted to the taste, can’t get enough of it, all Bucky wants to do is give you more children so he can have your tits heavy and swollen with nectarous milk.
“You taste so good, mommy,” Bucky moans against the curve of your tits, his head buried in the soft flesh.
Bucky lips wrap around your nipple once more and the moment he tastes your milk, he’s moaning wildly against your nipple. You can’t help but want to play with your little puppy, after all, he is being such a good little pet. Your hand easily finds his hard cock, palming it through his cotton sweatpants, the moment you touch him Bucky is all but crying against your nipple at the feeling.
“Mommy…” he whines against your velvety skin but you only increase your ministrations until you hear him make those little whimpers that go straight to your pussy. Slick oozes out of your pussy down onto your thighs and you can’t wait to watch your little pet lick every drop up with his tongue.
“Fuck, feels so good!” Bucky practically shouts, legs shaking as you continue to rub his cock so good he can barely breathe, the taste of you is intoxicating and the feel of you on his achingly hard cock is too much to handle.
You feel his legs continue to tremble and can’t miss the sound of his whimpers as your milk flows down into his mouth, you know your little puppy is close to cumming. 
“Mommy, please can I cum?” Bucky asks like clockwork making you smirk.
“Go ahead and cum for mummy,” all Bucky needs is your confirmation and he’s cumming in his pants like a schoolboy, nothing makes you wetter than watching your husband get consumed in being your little pet.
“You’re such a good boy,” you coo softly as you look at the mess he’s made in sweatpants.
“Fuck!” Bucky breathes, looking fucked thoroughly as he collapses on your legs.
You can’t help but chuckle darkly, “Mommy’s not done with you yet, puppy,”
That’s all Bucky needs before he’s sitting up on his knees waiting for your next command like the good husband he is.
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clownquicksparkles · a day ago
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I’m very pleased with this year’s first three top ships!
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Like, I was practically convinced Destiel would be no. 1 after November 5, however, since I’ve been so invested in my own fandoms, I sincerely didn’t see Lumity coming in second place! Congrats Lumity shippers!
Also, as a casual Sambucky shipper, I’m really glad it made it to third place. 🧡
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As well, I didn’t expect to see this one ranking so high! Holy shit, I’m so proud of them! 💚💚
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AHHH. 💖💖💖 I finished last year and started this one with this ship, so I’m quite glad it’s in a relatively high rank! 🤍💚
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Good to see Ironstrange ranking another year! ❤️️
Luberto!! 💚💙 My fishy, gay children, I love them so much! 🥺💖
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Finally... well, look at that! I definitely didn’t see this one coming, though it’s a pleasant surprise! I just love them very much, as well. 💜
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Most of them are new on the list and that’s great!
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nkp1981 · a day ago
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Sebastian Stan photographed by Dennis Leupold  for 'GQ Romania', 2014
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sholiofic · a day ago
I had several inbox prompts for de-aged versions of the characters, especially Zemo, but the one that really took off wasn’t actually one of the specific prompts, but rather, something that @scioscribe said, in what I think was a conversation about combining different prompts:
Also, this suggests a fic that I would totally read where de-aged Zemo gets hypothermia and also Evil Agencies want to put him back on the Raft even though he's, like, seven.
This is also influenced by some conversations about de-aged Zemo’s general personality on the Winterbaron discord. About 1400 wds.
Zemo was a tiny lump huddled under a sheet in a hospital bed. And Bucky, who up until a few minutes ago had been sitting in the chair beside the bed, was now on his feet and about to choke a bitch.
The bitch in question being Thaddeus Ross, and the six (!!) SHIELD agents he had showed up with to take a seven-year-old back to prison.
"Out," Bucky said between his teeth.
"He is a prisoner, and I have the paperwork here," Ross said, snapping his finger against it. "You've had him out for the allotted week—"
"Shut up before you wake him up." Bucky planted his mechanical hand on Ross's chest and shoved him into the two SHIELD agents behind him. They were all pushed out into the corridor, where the rest of them were milling awkwardly while nurses glared at them, trying and failing to look like they belonged in body armor on the pediatric floor of the hospital in the middle of the night.
Unfortunately Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross had never been deterred by irrelevant issues like "frightening small children."
"There is no line on Raft paperwork for 'the prisoner was turned into a small child on work release.' We're here to take him, and we're not leaving without him."
Bucky leaned forward until he was in Ross's face.
"Let's just make something clear—"
"Whoa, what the hell is going on here?"
Sam had just showed up in the hallway, a cup of coffee in each hand and a bottle of orange juice clamped between two fingers of one hand. Bucky was conflicted: on the one hand, Sam not being there gave him more options for, say, choking a bitch, but on the other hand, Sam was a lot better at defusing potentially volatile situations.
"Wilson," Ross grated out.
"The duty nurse at the desk told me you were here," Sam said, raking him with a glance. He handed one of the cups of coffee to Bucky, a seemingly offhand gesture, but it was almost certainly aimed at stopping Bucky from punching anyone. Devious bastard. "I thought they must have misunderstood, because even you wouldn't stoop low enough to try to put a sick kid in prison, but I guess I was wrong. And with backup, even. It takes a lot of tough guys to subdue a seven-year-old."
Bucky managed to keep his mouth shut.
There was really no way to explain the child version of Zemo to anyone unless you had actually experienced the child version of Zemo. He was very quiet, very polite, incredibly focused, and had immediately jumped to the conclusion that they were kidnappers and devoted all his unbelievable (for a seven-year-old) focus on playing nice with the supposed kidnappers while plotting to escape. This was his second attempt and the one that had ended with Zemo almost drowning, and Sam and Bucky panicking while wrapping him in coats and rushing him to the hospital.
"Yeah, how did he end up in the hospital, exactly?" Ross asked, switching tactics. "Maybe the two of you aren't suited to taking care of a kid."
"As opposed to putting the kid in prison, a vast improvement," Bucky said. So much for keeping his mouth shut.
"Look," Sam said quietly. He stepped into Ross's space, too, and this actually made Ross fall back a little. Bucky decided to assume that it was Ross just not being able to take the two of them combined, rather than Sam being actually more intimidating than the Winter Soldier when he got pushed so far past the limits of his easygoing nature that he actually got mad. "You might have paperwork that says you can take Helmut Zemo, forty-two-year-old Sokovian terrorist, back to prison. But there is absolutely no way anyone is going to believe that little kid is him, because it's impossible. Things like this just don't happen. At which point we've got you on kidnapping charges, caught red-handed hauling a sick kid out of the hospital, and you really aren't going to enjoy what happens next. Sheriffs in these small Southern counties are really understanding about that sort of thing, a bunch of Yankees kidnapping a small cute white child, so while you're enjoying finding out about small-town jails, then I get the lawyers involved, and if you think your top-secret middle-of-the-ocean prison is going to stand up to that kind of scrutiny—"
"God, you're a pain in the ass," Ross said. But he was stepping away. He was backing down. Bucky was reluctantly impressed. "I'm going to go consult my lawyers. And you know the DOD retains some good ones."
"Yeah, and Captain America is on a friendly basis with all of them," Sam said blandly, at which point Bucky realized just how deeply he was bluffing. He nudged the door open with his elbow. "See you later."
They both ducked back into Zemo's room.
"You absolute liar," Bucky whispered, impressed.
"Well, what am I supposed to tell him?" Sam whispered back fiercely. "That we don't have any paperwork for the kid either, and the nurses think he's a foundling we picked up at the river and already are giving us the side-eye? They probably could walk out with him; they're more respectable-looking than we—" He finally noticed Bucky trying to shush him and turned around. They both regarded the sleep-tousled seven-year-old sitting up in bed and looking at them with feverish suspicion.
"Who's that?" Zemo asked tetchily in his very careful schoolbook English.
"Very bad people," Bucky said. "Hey, Sam brought you orange juice."
Sam took the chair by the bed, so Bucky sat on the end of it. "You thirsty, kid?" Sam asked, cracking the lid off the juice.
Zemo went on looking at them with one of his politely hard-to-read looks. He was unfairly adorable like this, with a mop of light-brown hair and enormous eyes. "I heard you talking," he whispered, and coughed a little. "That man—I don't like him."
"Well, we won't let him near you," Sam said. He waggled the juice. "Want a drink?"
Zemo hesitated, then took it in both hands and drank.
"He's right," Bucky said, feeling suddenly a lot more awkward than when he was getting up in Ross's face. "I know you don't entirely believe us about the, uh, the adult you, but we're supposed to protect the adult you, so we're going to protect the little-kid you just the same. Nobody bad is going to hurt you or come close to you while we're here."
Zemo looked up from his juice. "Why can't I go home?"
Bucky opened his mouth and complete ran out of inspiration.
"Because it's not safe," Sam said quietly. "Because of men like that. So you'll be with us until it is safe."
They had said more or less this to him before—it was the closest thing they had to an explanation for him—but he had responded with nothing but tiny frowns of obvious suspicion. This time, however, he looked at them with one of those thoughtful little frowns, and then he said suddenly, "I believe you."
And he crawled out of bed into Sam's lap.
"Uh, hey," Sam said, startled. "Uh, here, let me take that." He took the half-empty orange juice and put it by the bed. "Hey, Buck, could I get a blanket or something ..."
Bucky took pity on him, because it wasn't every day you got the seven-year-old version of a wanted international terrorist curling up peacefully and trustingly in your lap, looking like he was about to fall asleep there. He took one of the blankets off the bed and tucked it around Zemo in Sam's arms. Meanwhile Sam was lightly stroking the kid's hair. Zemo sagged into him and then, from all appearances, did actually fall asleep, sliding into a deeper and less twitchy sleep than anything Bucky had seen him achieve earlier in the evening.
"Naptime for me, then," Bucky said, and stretched out on the bed. As a pediatric bed, it wasn't long enough for him, but he was too tired to care.
"Look, if I have to throw out Ross and his goons in the morning, I'll need the rest. Anyway, you're busy being a piece of furniture right now."
Sam snorted, but softly, and he reached over Zemo's curly little head, very carefully, to retrieve his coffee cup.
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chaoticcandyapples · 2 days ago
Rating shows I binged in 2021
(This isn't all of them. Not even close.)
How I Met Your Mother:
So good!! I loved all of the characters, and I thought they were developed well. The finale was so freaking bad though! I can't believe that barney and Robin got divorced!
Overall, 8.5/10.
Brooklyn Nine-Nine:
I had already seen the first 7 seasons, but I ended up rewatching them all, plus the new season. I have to admit, the 8th season wasn't as good as the rest, but there were still some good moments. I love the characters, and there are some truly iconic moments.
Overall, 9.7/10
The Falcon and the Winter Soldier:
Before watching the show, I loved both Sam and Bucky, and the show managed to make me like them even more. Daniel Brühl shined in the role of Zemo, and I hope the show leads to him getting more work. He is a terrific actor.
Overall, 8.8/10
The 100:
This show very different from most of the shows I watch normally. The cast had chemistry, and the plot was original. There was a lot of violence, and I cried and many of the deaths, especially Jasper's, Monty and Harper's, and Lincoln's. The last 2 seasons were, in my opinion, a lot worse than earlier seasons.
Overall, 7.8/10
The Mandalorian:
I LOVED THIS SHOW!!! Seeing the mandalorian and grogu's relationship grow was incredible. I was ecstatic to see one of my favorite characters, Ahsoka Tano, in live action. Rosario Dawson managed to pull of the character without looking crazy under all of the makeup.
Overall, 8.6/10
If anyone has seen or is watching a good show, I would love recommendations! I am currently watching Jane the Virgin, and loving it!!
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heinzrat · 2 days ago
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Joaquin being a master at blending in and definitely not looking at all suspicious
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supersambuckyomens · a day ago
Sam: maybe hot chocolate wants to be called beautiful chocolate sometimes.
Bucky, who couldn’t sleep and went to Sam for comfort, and is now listening to his cursed thoughts at 3am: *softly* ...yeah. maybe.
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ragingbyesexual · a day ago
TFATWS 🤝🏽 Hawkeye
making me fall for the female "villlain"
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