toddneilanderperry

[toddneilanderperry]

It's my 11 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

(Yesterday was)

#11 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone

[toddneilanderperry]

Such sweet babies 🥰🥹❤️

It Was Wonderful

Kinktober prompt: Aftercare

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Backstage pAss!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader

Warnings: Fluff, subdrop, comfort no hurt

Words: 1139

A/N: This is the end of my mini-kinktober. I hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for liking, extra thanks for reblogging and/or commenting, and gentle forehead kisses for everyone because I love you

Thanks for reblogging.

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Your eyelids flutter open slowly, and you find yourself staring up into Steve’s sky blue eyes.

He smiles at you radiantly, “Welcome back, princess.”

“Hi, Stevie.”

Your head is pillowed on his thighs, and when you roll over towards him you feel tears slip down your face. You bat at the tears with the back of your hand and laugh. Only the laugh comes out as a sob.

Steve gathers you into his arms. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m here, princess. I’ve got you. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“‘M not hurt, Stevie. I feel good. I’m not sure why I’m crying.”

“It happens, sweet girl,” Bucky reassures you, pushing your sweat-damp hair away from your face before dabbing at the corners of your eyes with a tissue. “Just give your body a chance to stow those extra happy chemicals, and it’ll taper off.”

You know this already. It happens to Bucky sometimes. But helping him with it and feeling it personally are two very different things.

Steve kisses your forehead. “Is it okay if I keep holding you, sweetheart?’

You wrap your arms around him. “Don’t you dare put me down,” you mumble against his neck.

He chuckles, “Yes ma’am.”

“Here. Eat some choccy,” Bucky says, crouching next to you holding a square of chocolate in front of you. “Choccy always makes me feel better after.” You try to take the chocolate from him, but he dodges your hand, and shakes his head. He holds it there until you pop your mouth open, then he slips it onto your tongue. “Good girl,” he chuckles when you hum at how delicious the sweet treat is.

“See? Look at you. Already done crying,” Steve says. He licks his thumb and swipes over the tear tracks before they can dry on your skin.

Bucky makes sure you’re done eating the little square of chocolate, then he offers you some water, making you sip it slowly. “I’ll get a towel. And a couple more blankets, and snacks,” he hums, handing the water to Steve before exiting the bunk.

Steve resituates you so he can give you more water, and another piece of chocolate.

Steve asks earnestly, “Was that too much, princess? We don’t have to do it again if you don't like it.”

“No, it was wonderful,” you rush to reassure him, while you make him eat a piece of chocolate too. “Not breathing this way,” you cover your mouth, “feels totally different from this way,” you press the webbing between your thumb and index finger against your throat. “I like it,” you nod decisively.

“Do you like it enough to do it again some other time?”

“Yes. Absolutely. But next time, can you have your phone with you?”

“What for?”

“I want you to be able to take pictures if you want to. I know you like to use them for your sketches.”

“I love you so much, sweet girl. I promise I’ll have my phone on hand next time.”

“Good,” you nod. You pop your mouth open and wait patiently until Steve slides a piece of chocolate onto your tongue. You take the bar from him, break off a square, and reciprocate by feeding him one too.

You lean your head against his chest. “You’re so warm,” a shiver shakes through you.

“Are you chilly?”

“A little.”

“You could lie down and cover up with a blanket?”

You scrunch your nose and shake your head. “It’s… ahm,” you flap your hand at the mattress, “wet.”

“Fair point. How about this instead,” he makes you sit up so he can pull one of his hoodies over your head.

You poke your head inside of the hoodie and take a big whiff of Steve’s scent. “Nice,” you say, “but not good enough.”

“What do you want, princess?”

“Lay down. On your tummy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Stay there,” you order. You climb onto his back and lie down. Up on his elbows, the natural curve of his back, butt, and legs conforms comfortably to your body.

Plus, it’s like being curled up on an extremely sexy electric blanket.

You wiggle, and make a happy noise. Steve laughs. “I’m happy to be of service, my queen.”

Bucky chuckles, “Is the bed not good enough?”

“She didn’t want to lay in the wet spot. And, well, since most of it’s wet,” he lifts an eyebrow and gestures to where you’re curled up on his back.

“You’re warm too,” you mumble against Steve’s shoulder blade.

“Aww. Thank you,” he says, genuinely happy to be able to offer you comfort of any kind.

“You don’t have to get off Stevie, but I need to clean you up princess,” Bucky says.

You roll over halfway, and when Bucky sits next to you, you squeeze his bearded cheeks until his mouth opens. You set a piece of chocolate on his tongue. He hums his gratitude, and starts wiping your face with the warm, wet hand towel he brought with him. Once he’s done cleaning the sweat, tears, and come off your body, he cleans Steve up the best he can without running you off.

After he gobbles up another piece of chocolate you shake in his direction, Bucky makes you roll over onto your stomach, so Steve drops his head down onto his forearm, and you roll over, Hooking your chin over his shoulder, and letting your arms flop out on either side of his chest. You ask lazily, “‘Zis good?”

“It’s perfect, baby girl,” Bucky soothes. He starts massaging your thigh muscles. Once they loosen up, he moves up to your glutes, then your back, neck, and finally your shoulders.

Bucky lifts Steve’s head up and places it in his lap. His warm fingers skritch over Steve’s scalp, until he’s practically purring.

“You did so well for us, princess, Bucky praises you affectionately. “You’re such a good girl. Thank you for trusting us to take care of you and make you feel good.”

You sigh softly, “I love you both so much.”

Steve reaches up to card his fingers through your hair and they both murmur their I love you’s. “Come lay down, Buck.” You pat the mattress next to Steve until Bucky parks himself exactly where you want him.

“That’s more like it,” you chip. You roll off Steve’s backs and plop down in the trench between their bodies. They both roll to face you, and scoot closer until you’re pressed tightly between them.

You giggle, “Well, I don’t need this anymore.” You sit up enough to slip Steve’s hoodie off, because a few seconds between them and it’s already too hot to be wearing it. You don’t lie back down fast enough for them, so they tackle you down to the mattress and tickle you until all three of you are laughing so hard your sides hurt.

[toddneilanderperry]

Damn and I thought I liked breathplay 😍😩

Deep Breath

Kinktober prompt: Breathplay

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader

Warnings: Breathplay, dvp

Words: 994

Thanks for reblogging.

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“Take a deep breath, princess,” Steve tells you.

You take in a big lungful of air without needing to know why. Then Bucky’s arm comes from behind you. He presses his warm palm over your mouth, and pinches your nose closed with this thumb and forefinger. He eases your head back against his shoulder, cutting off your air, with no hope of dodging away from his restraining hand.

Your lizard brain kicks in before the rest of your brain can catch up, and your heartbeat thunders in your ears, fast and erratic. But then Bucky’s soothing voice is in your ear, “I’ve got you, princess. Stevie’s got you too.”

Of course they’ve got you. They’ve always got you. There’s no place from which you could fall where they wouldn’t be waiting there to catch you.

You nod. Your racing pulse slows, and you let your eyes flutter closed. Giving yourself over to them means you don’t have to think about anything. You don’t have to worry about anything. All you have to do is feel them. Enjoy the press of their bodies against yours. How thoroughly they surround you. How completely they fill you.

“Eyes on me, princess,” Steve’s voice is gentle, but insistent.

Your eyelids flutter open, and his smile is soft and beautiful. “Good girl,” he murmurs quietly.

Just as the need for a breath becomes urgent, Bucky’s hand is gone.

“Breathe for me, gorgeous,” he whispers in your ear.

As instructed, you breathe, and the action sends endorphins cascading through your body. Your fingers tingle with the release of chemicals, and you exhale a long, wavering, exultant moan.

Both of your men make encouraging noises while they push their cocks into you harder.

“Deep breath, princess,” Steve’s low baritone instructs.

Bucky’s hand covers your mouth and nose again, and this time… it’s pure, unadulterated bliss.

Not being able to breathe makes you acutely aware of everything else that’s happening with your body. Steve’s thumbs stroking over the stiff, sensitive peaks of your nipples. The heat and tension of your impending orgasm building in your center. The strong, steady thrum of Bucky’s heartbeat against your back. The contraction and release of their abs and thighs as they work in tandem to fuck you.

“Come on, sweetheart. Come for us,” Steve urges.

He feels it before you do, and gives a happy moan when your orgasm hits hard and messy. Come rushes out of you, soaking them both as you squirt for them.

“Fuck yes,” Bucky groans.

“Keep it going for us,” Steve demands.

Bucky releases your face, and the sudden influx of oxygen fans the fading flame of your orgasm, coaxing another orgasm out of you, a wave of pleasure so pure and intense the world goes dim for a few moments.

“Good girl,” they murmur at you while you recover. “So fucking good for us.”

Steve is beaming at you, and Bucky is wearing a beautific smile when he turns your head so he can kiss you.

You sigh contentedly.

Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers are proof that if god is real, she has favorites.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks.

“Of course.”

“Do you want to keep going?” Steve asks.

Each breath you take belongs to them anyway, so you give him an eager, “Yes.”

“Then take a deep breath, princess,” Steve orders.

You inhale, filling your lungs with the smell of sex and lust, and the crisp, clean scents of your big, beautiful men. Your lungs hold the memory of those mingling fragrances while Bucky suffocates you, and they both fuck you.

Your hands wrap around Bucky’s forearm for support. Steve studies your face, looking for any sign of pain, exhaustion, or panic. You nod at him to let him know you’re fine. If you wanted Bucky to stop all you needed to do was tap his arm and he’d let up.

But you don’t want him to stop.

Another orgasm is building in your center. It already feels like a raging storm, and you aren’t even at your edge yet. Tears sting at the back of your eyes, and gather at your waterline. One spills over onto your cheek, and Steve sucks in a breath.

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look right now, princess,” Steve delivers his praise in a voice steeped with awe. Ordinarily he’d ask if he could take a picture of you, but he’s too busy keeping an eye on you right now. You make a mental note to ask for a repeat performance, and make sure he has his phone in hand next time.

Bucky’s hand lifts again, and you use that first precious lungful of oxygen to beg them to fuck you harder.

Your desperation spurs them on. Steve’s thumb finds your clit, every pass of his thumb lights your nerves on fire, sending little zings of electricity jolting through your core. Bucky snaps his hips into you harder, sending thunder reverberating up your body with each powerful thrust.

Your mouth opens behind Bucky’s palm, and your hands squeeze his arm hard enough that your fingernails pierce his skin.

“We’ve got you, baby girl,” Bucky whispers huskily in your ear. “We’re right here. Waiting for you. Just let go and come for us.”

Your orgasm ignites and sizzles through you like black powder. Every muscle in your body sings with the force of it.

Then Bucky lets you breathe again.

And here, right at this precise moment, you’re pretty sure your soul leaves your body. Because all you’re aware of is the weight of Bucky’s arm around your middle holding you up, Steve’s brilliantly blue eyes watching you, the incoherent noises tearing their way out of your throat, and Bucky and Steve groaning as their cocks jerk and throb as they spill their come inside of you.

Your eyelids flutter open slowly, and you find yourself staring up into Steve’s sky blue eyes.

He smiles at you radiantly, “Welcome back, princess.”

[toddneilanderperry]

I love it when one of them plots with Princess against the other one like the deviants they are 😈

I'm Not Stopping You

Kinktober prompt: Vibrators

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader

Warnings: Captain Denial is in full effect here (which means orgasm delay/denial), object insertion (vibrator), dvp

Words: 1676

Thanks for reblogging.

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The way Steve’s fucking you is languid. Patient. Unhurried. His hands squeeze your hips so you can’t move any faster than the languorous pace he sets for the both of you.

“Stevie, please,” you whine, squeezing his wrists like that’ll be the thing that convinces him to fuck you faster. Or harder. Or both.

“Please what?” He’s grinning at you just as lazily as he’s fucking you.

“Please, I need to come,” still whining, but also trying in vain to move the mountain known as Steven Grant Rogers.

Said mountain only chuckles at your desperation. “I’m not stopping you.”

“Well, you’re not fucking helping either,” you grumble.

Bucky’s metal fingers skim up your back from your sacrum to the base of your skull. You arch into the chill, and moan.

Bucky’s breath against your neck is warm. So much warmer than his fingers, and the combination makes you shudder. “Is he not letting you come, princess?”

“No, Bucky,” you pout. “He won’t let me touch myself either. See?”

And, indeed, the second you start to inch a hand toward your clit, Steve smacks it away.

So you turn your attention to Bucky. “Will you fuck me too? Please?”

Bucky kisses your shoulder. “In a minute, sweet girl, but not quite yet.”

A soft click is followed by a quiet humming noise, and Bucky dangles the powerful little bullet vibrator he’s holding in front of your face up by its tail. “Wanna see if we can light a fire under Captain Denial’s ass? Hmm?”

You nod enthusiastically, and a quiver shakes you as Bucky trails the vibrator up your spine, over your shoulder, then uses it to draw teasing circles around your nipples. You lean back against Bucky with a groan.

“Fuck,” Steve grunts.

Bucky hums nonchalantly, “Hmm?”

“She’s fucking squeezing me,” Steve rumbles. “She’s squeezing my cock so fucking tight.” He makes a breathless sound of pleasure.

“Bet it feels nice,” Bucky says casually, tracing down your body with the bullet until he comes to the apex of your thighs. “But,” he muses, “I bet it feels even better when she does this…”

He holds the bullet between two fingers, and dips them between your folds.

You gasp as the vibe presses against your clit, and reach over your shoulder to grab a handful of Bucky’s hair.

Steve licks his lips, and watches hungrily as Bucky makes you writhe and moan. Still, he isn’t inspired enough to fuck you like you were begging him to before Bucky swept in and pressed his vibrator against your clit.

Bucky slips his metal arm around you, and uses his chilly fingers to tease your nipples, tugging at the barbells, and circling the tender flesh until they stand in stiff peaks. His voice is a low rumble in your ear when he asks, “Wanna come for me, kitten?”

“Bucky, please,” you all but sob.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. I got you. Come for me. Soak this big jerk’s cock for him.” He eyeballs Steve over your shoulder, “Not that he’s fuckin’ earned it.”

Steve is probably winding up to throw a retort in Bucky’s direction, but before he can even formulate a comeback, your cunt is milking his cock as you wail Bucky’s name.

Steve groans long and low. It turns into a passionate curse when Bucky shifts the vibrator back just enough that it puts pressure directly on Steve’s dick.

“Oh, fuck, that’s good,” he moans, his hips thrusting upwards reflexively. The action makes you mewl.

Bucky hums in your ear, “Did you hear that? He says it’s good.” You don’t even need to see the smirk on his face, you can hear it in his voice.

You try to grind against the vibrator, but Bucky’s metal hand curls around your neck, pinning you against his body.

“You stay still, princess,” he purrs against your cheek while he squeezes you firmly against his chest. “You want him to make you come, and I think you deserve all the orgasms you can handle, so I’m just going to… incentivize him.”

He plants a quick kiss on your cheek before he pushes the vibrator into your pussy next to Steve’s dick. His girth keeps it pinned against your front wall, pressing into your g-spot, and you curse loudly.

Your back bows hard, and Steve’s curse echoes your own, as he shudders under you.

“Fuuuuuck, that feels so fucking good,” he groans.

“I bet,” Bucky grunts. “Now make our girl come, because I wanna fuck her too.”

“I’ll do anything you want if you keep treating my dick like this.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Now. fuck. her.”

Steve starts slow at first. Savoring the vibrations, he pulls almost all the way out before sliding his dick in so deep your clit is grinding against his pelvis. Steve watches your face closely, hungry for the way you look at him when he pushes in all the way to the root.

Bucky holds the tail of the vibrator, keeping it still, and precisely targeting your g-spot. It also ensures Steve has to fuck you nice and deep to get the full effect of the vibrations over the length of his cock.

When Bucky taps the button that kicks up the intensity of the vibrations a couple times, Steve loses his entire goddamn mind. His blue eyes are frantic and wild when they slip down your body to stare hungrily at the place where he’s splitting you open on his dick.

You repeat his name as pressure gathers in your pelvis. “Come on, princess. Come for me.” He curses as a rush of come squirts out of you, soaking all three of you, and filling the bunk with the most salacious noises.

“Oh, fuck. I’m gonna come,” Steve groans lowly.

His head falls back and his eyes squeeze shut. “Stevie,” you snap. “Look at me,” you tell him, wanting to watch the pleasure play over his face as he comes.

Quick as a flash, he’s up on one elbow, grabbing the back of your neck and pressing your foreheads together as he fucks you with urgency. He pants, “This better?”

“Yeah,” you answer weakly, the intense eye contact sends hot pleasure curling through you like fire. “Please come, Stevie,” you beg. “Want to see you. Want you to fill me up. Want to be dripping your come when you both fuck me.”

“Jesus fucking christ,” he growls. The hand on your neck slides down to your hip, his strong grip bruising your hip down to the bone when he holds you still so he can grind into you. It makes you come again, the rhythmic clenching of your pussy drags Steve over the edge with you. He bares his teeth and comes with an animalistic sound that sends goosebumps pricking over your skin.

Steve collapses to the mattress with a broken sound. “Turn it off, Buck,” he pants. “Turn it off before I fucking break her.”

He sounds desperate, unhinged. It’s so fucking arousing, a shudder rolls up your body,

Steve groans raggedly, his cock jerks inside of you. He's still hard, of course, because they're not nearly done with you yet. “Turn. it. off,” he grinds out. “And fucking sit still, princess. Gimmie a fucking minute. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Look at that, princess,” Bucky murmurs in your ear, lifting you up enough that he can slide the vibrator out of you. “You broke him. I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“I am,” you giggle.

“That’s my girl,” he hums, and kisses your neck.

You lean forward and drape yourself over Steve’s chest. Huffing and panting together, he chuckles, “Were those the orgasms you wanted?”

You nod. “Some of them.”

Steve barks a laugh. “I love what a slut you are for our cocks.”

You squirm a little, snuggling up to him, shoving him deeper into you. He gives a tortured moan. “Don’t you dare fall asleep, I’m not done fucking you yet.”

“I know. I’m just waiting for Buck.”

“Do you wanna whine, or should I?”

“You do it.”

“Buckyyyyyyy,” Steve puts on his most petulant sounding voice. “Come help me fuck our slutty little princess, pleaseeeeee.”

You giggle into his chest. Then yip when Bucky smacks your ass.

He asks, “Where do you want me, princess?”

You look up at Steve, and he squeezes his eyes shut and crosses his fingers. “Please say pussy. Please say pussy,” he chants.

Looking back at Bucky, you grin, “Pussy, please.”

Steve’s quiet yeesssss makes you snort a laugh.

Then Bucky is pushing his cock into you slowly, and you sag bonelessly against Steve’s chest. You both groan loudly.

“Sweet mother of fuck,” Steve’s deep voice is like thunder in the ear you have pressed against his chest. “Thank you, princess. Thank you. That is so fucking gooooood.”

You’re making the most pornographic noises of enjoyment while Bucky slips into you by measures. He grabs a handful of your hair and pulls against his chest.

“Are you trying to make me come with my dick only halfway in you?”

You gasp quietly, “No Bucky.”

“Then you stop making those noises until I start fucking you, or that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

“Then start fucking me,” you whisper. “Because I can’t stop.”

With a growl his vibranium hand circles your throat, and he slots his cock into you with one hard snap of his hips that makes you see stars.

He releases you, and you fold back down onto Steve. He coos praise at you while Bucky massages the muscles in your back. They fuck you with small, shallow thrusts, giving you a moment to adjust.

When you nod, Bucky hauls you up to his chest, and throws an arm around your waist for support when they start fucking you. The slip-slide of their cocks pumping in and out of you makes you forget just about everything except for how fucking good they’re making you feel.

You sigh contentedly, and Steve taps your chin gently.

“Take a deep breath, princess,” Steve tells you.

[lol cliffhanger. before you go asking for a part 2, please know that tuesday's fic will be a direct continuation of this fic, and then wednesday's fic will be a direct continuation of that]

[toddneilanderperry]

What I wouldn’t give for Bucky to wake me up like that 😍🥵 god damn

STFUATTDLAGG

Kinktober prompt: Dildos

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!Bucky x reader, and Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader (princess)

Warnings: Dildos, oral sex (m receiving), piv sex, spit kink, face slapping

Words: 2059

Everyone who reblogs gets my undying, and eternal love. No, really. xoxo

Kinktober Masterlist | Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

You wake up to a cold metal hand clamped around your thigh, pulling you out of bed. Then a warm hand slaps your face, gently, but firmly.

“Get up, sleepyhead,” Bucky says flatly.

You rub your eyes muzzily, and ask, “What time is it?”

“Noon.”

“‘S too early,” you slur.

“Oh, I know,” Bucky snorts. “But you didn’t seem to think it was too early when you woke Stevie and I up at the ass-crack of dawn because you wanted a couple dicks to bounce on.”

“You love it,” you grumble.

“I abso-fucking-loutely do, kitten. But turnabout’s fair play, and now I wanna get my dick wet, so I’m waking you up.” His gaze wanders over your naked body before he levels you with a steely blue gaze, and grabs your chin in his metal hand, guiding you upright in a way that’s impossible to resist, “Now, get. the fuck. up.”

“Jeeze, okay, bossy.”

One look from him, and you know it was the wrong thing to say. His hand tightens on your jaw, and he raises an eyebrow. “You want me to stop?”

You shake your head as much as you can with his big hand clamped around your face. “Please don’t.”

He smirks, and smacks your cheek again, a lot less gently than before. He pushes a shiny black bag into your hand, “Then get this on the floor.”

You open the bag curiously, and find a box. Inside the box is a very long, very thick dildo with a suction cup base.

You hold the hot pink dong up curiously, “You woke up early just to go–”

“What? Go to a sex shop? You think I need an excuse to wake up early just to go to a sex shop?” He chuckles, “Kitten, between the three of us, we own more fake dicks than we own pants. I don’t need a reason to buy another one.”

“But I thought you wanted to get your dick wet?”

His lip curls into a smirk, and takes half a step towards you, crowding into your space. “I do, kitten. Never said I was after this hole–” he shoves two metal fingers into your cunt. “I want–” the fingers withdraw, then push into your mouth, “–this wet little hole wrapped around my cock.”

He hums when your tongue starts smoothing over the digits. Cleaning your juices from between his fingers, tracing the plates of cold vibranium, and swirling over his fingertips.

His voice is softer when he pushes the box toward you again, “Get it on the floor.” He punctuates the order with a stinging slap to your bare ass that makes you squeal and drop to your knees.

There’s a two-foot by two-foot section of bare floor in the common area of the bus, where Clint had recently ripped up the manky carpet, then tried and failed to install a stripper pole. And it’s into this square of smooth floor that Bucky herds you.

Taking the dildo, he grabs your jaw again, squeezing with his metal fingers until your mouth pops open. He presses the suction cup base against your bottom lip, “Spit,” he orders.

You work up some saliva, and push it over your bottom lip into the divot.

“Stick it,” he points to the floor.

Using both hands, you press the suction cup onto the floor until you can tug the girthy length of firm silicone without it coming unstuck.

He pushes a tube of lube into your palm, “Now get it wet,” he murmurs, watching with avid interest as you drizzle lube over the flared head of the toy, and smooth it down the shaft with both hands.

“There’s my good girl,” his voice is rough and low when he praises you. “Now sit on that big dick for me.”

You position yourself over the toy, and start working your way down onto it slowly. Bucky uses your shoulder to push you down faster, “Come on, baby girl. We both know you can take it.”

Once you’re as far down on the toy as you can possibly be, you whine his name. This is when Bucky finally starts unbuckling his belt to get his cock out. Your mouth opens, and he shuts it again with a finger on your chin.

“Not quite yet,” he purrs. He bends down until his lips softly graze the rim of your ear, and his hair tickles your cheek. “Ride that cock for me, baby girl,” he whispers.

With a whimper you raise slowly up off the toy until his hand on your shoulder pushes you back down. He jacks his cock with his metal hand, and every noise you make sends more precome dripping from his slit to trail down his shiny knuckles.

Your hands are gripping his thighs hard, and he has to shake one of them off his leg to bring it up to his mouth. He hawks a wad of spit onto your fingertips, and pushes your hand back down toward you. “Touch yourself for me, princess.”

His warm hand enfolds your jaw, and he squeezes your cheeks until your mouth falls open, and he drops a string of spit onto your tongue. He watches adoringly as you swallow the spit, and pop your mouth open again.

“Fuuuuuck,” he groans, as his cock slides over your tongue, “so good for me. So fucking good.”

When you’re not fucking the toy as well as he thinks you should, Bucky grabs a handful of your hair, and holds your head steady.

He teases, “Is it too much for you, kitten? Too much to do?” A mischievous grin is fixed on his face when he pushes his cock into your throat. “I’ll make it really easy for you,” he uses the hand in your hair to manipulate your head. “You keep that cock moving in and out of your pussy, and keep your fingers moving over your little clit, and I’ll use this mouth as I see fit. You won’t have to think about it at all,” he smacks your cheek again, making himself moan at how the slap reverberates through the meat of your cheek and goes straight to his dick.

He eyes you hungrily; watching your mouth moving over his shaft, occasionally pulling you off so he can look between your bodies and watch your hand working diligently between your legs.

With a languid inhale, and a long groan, Bucky smirks at you. “You smell so fucking good, kitten. You’re dripping all over that fake dick, aren’t you?”

All you can do is nod, your wide eyes locked on his.

“I want you to come on that cock for me,” he purrs. “Can you do that?”

You nod the best you can with his dick in your throat, and he drops a wad of spit onto your cheek, and uses his thumb to spread it over your cheekbone. “Gorgeous, and so very filthy. So fucking good for me, princess,” he murmurs.

You’re right on the edge of an orgasm, your thighs shaking, and trying to close. Bucky’s bare foot digs into one of your shaking thighs. “Don’t,” he murmurs. “Keep ‘em spread. You can do it. Be a good girl for me.”

You whine for him, and he hums encouragement.

Your orgasm burns through you like wildfire. Bucky pulls his cock out of your mouth, so he can hear all the little pleading noises you make while your hips grind you over the toy.

He’s feeding his cock back into your mouth when the bus door swings open, immediately followed by Steve swearing quietly. “Fucking christ, look at you two,” he rumbles, abandoning the grocery bags in his arms by the door.

He drops to his knees behind you, his thick thighs spread wide to bracket yours.

You pop off of Bucky to say, “Hi, Stevie.”

“Hi princess. I'm here,” he replies, shushing you softly, and carding his fingers through your hair. He seizes a handful of it, pushing your mouth back onto Bucky’s cock. He growls in your ear, “Now shut the fuck up and take that dick like a good girl.”

The commanding tone of his voice sends heat lancing through your body.

You hear the jingling of a belt being unbuckled, the rustle of jeans being shoved down thick thighs, and Steve lifts you up enough that he can take the dildo off the floor and toss it aside. He slides under you, and slips his cock into you. Once you’re straddling his thighs he takes over the work you were doing to fuck yourself on the dildo, bouncing you on his cock until you're warm and tingly all over.

He noses through you hair, and whispers in your ear, “Look so fucking good with his cock in your mouth, sweetheart.”

Bucky groans deep in his throat, “Make her take it, Stevie.”

He pushes you onto Bucky’s cock until your forehead is flush with his straining abs. “Now choke on it,” Steve’s rough voice commands.

Your eyes sting with tears as your throat spasms. You gag around his length, and Bucky swears roughly as his hips jerk towards you reflexively.

“Such a good fucking girl,” Bucky’s voice is gravelly with tension. “Suck it like you fucking love me, princess.”

Steve pushes his cock up into you hard, shoving you onto Bucky’s dick again. “Choke on it,” he growls.

You do, and Steve swears passionately as your pussy spasms around him. “Keep doing that to me with your tight little cunt,” he grunts, grinding himself into you, “and you’re gonna make me come.”

You push your mouth down Bucky’s length deliberately, and gag again. Both men curse loudly.

Steve grabs your hips in a bruising grip, shoving deep, and grinding you against him. He spills inside you with an appreciative moan, “That’s my dirty fucking girl.”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky rasps, “you’re very fucking dirty.” He pulls his cock out of your mouth, and grabs the hair at the crown of your head to tip your face up toward him. He starts jacking his cock fast and hard. His voice is strained when he issues an order, “Now close your fucking eyes princess, and let me make you filthy.”

In the dark, you hear him groan raggedly before the first splash of come lands on your cheek. Mentally, you bless him for telling you to close your eyes, because this isn’t about him being careful where his jizz lands. By the time he’s done, your whole face is stippled and striped with his come.

He really did make you filthy. Just like he promised.

As soon as the last hot spurt hits your cheek, he’s dropping to his knees to lick himself off of your face.

Steve is still inside you. Still hard. You need to come so fucking bad.

Everything on your body is pulled taut. You’re strung so fucking tight, all it takes is for Steve to reach around you, and slip his fingers into your pussy alongside his cock, and you fall apart as he sends you hurtling over the edge. You come with your hands fisted in the front of Bucky’s t-shirt, sobbing Steve’s name while Bucky continues to clean your face with his tongue.

Steve groans as your cunt clutches at him while you rock on his lap. “Shit,” he swears, “I need you to get offa me, sweetheart.”

“But, Stevie, you’re still hard,” you circle your hips as if he needed to be reminded that he was still buried to the hilt in your tight, hot cunt.

“I am, princess,” he hums, lifting you off of him, “and I will be for awhile, because you are fucking sexy as hell. But I’d rather sit on the couch and watch you ride me.”

“But, Bucky–”

Steve grins, “You want him to fuck you too?”

“Please.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Don’t tease me, Stevie,” you pout.

“Yeah, Stevie, don’t tease” Bucky chides gently. He’s back with a damp towel he uses to wipe over your face, mopping up any errant come he missed. You taste the salty brine of his jizz when he pushes his tongue into your mouth.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, princess,” Steve reassures you while he settles himself on the couch. He pats his thick, tattooed thighs, “Now come sit on this big cock like the good fucking girl you are.”

If you like it, please give it a reblog! I've been away for awhile, and I think a lot of people forgot about me.

[toddneilanderperry]

Get Down There

Kinktober prompt: Boot worship

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x princess

Warnings: Boot worship

Words: 1159

Thanks for reblogging.

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The private room of the kink club smells like sex, leather, and champagne. The blue neon makes everything look frozen, except Nat, Clint, and the girl they're fucking on the opposite side of the large space.

The three of you are high off edibles and coke. You’re on Bucky’s lap with your hands fisted in his hair and his tongue in your mouth. Steve is trying to patiently wait for someone to sit on his lap, but his cock is throbbing, and his resolve is crumbling.

“Princess,” Steve groans, palming himself through his jeans, “get over here and ride my dick like a good girl.” He drags you off of Bucky’s lap, and stands you in front of him. His fingers go to the front of your shorts, and he’s no sooner popped the button before Bucky is trying to coax you back over to him, so you can sit on his dick instead.

“Fuck off, Buck. She was just in your lap. You had your chance.”

“Goddamnit, c’mon–”

“She can ride your cock after you kiss my fucking boots,” Steve growls, attention laser focused on getting his dick inside you.

Next to him, Bucky tenses, his back snapping his posture up a little straighter.

Immediately aware of the change, Steve turns his head to look at him, reading the thoughts flying across Bucky’s face. Steve’s thighs spread wide when he sits back, pushing his hips forward, and sinking down into the cushions. His voice is authoritative and low, already gravelly with arousal, “Go on,” he gestures with a jerk of his head, “get down there and kiss my boots, Buck.”

You scramble up onto the bench next to Steve at the same moment Bucky scrambles down to the floor.

“Stevie,” you whisper, the curious heat roiling in your belly knocks the volume out of your words.

He looks up at you, studying your face intently before lifting an eyebrow. “You too?”

You nod.

“Well get down there, little girl, and don’t stop until I fucking tell you.” His big hand lands a stinging slap to your ass as you clamber down to kneel at Steve’s feet.

Bucky is sitting on his heels, with hands flat on the floor in front of him, body pushed low to the floor. The carpet is soft on his palms, and through the holes in the knees of his jeans. He rests his cheek lightly on the smooth toe of the boot.

He’s facing you, but his eyes are closed contemplatively. A hank of hair has fallen over his face, and it trembles in the soft breeze of the breath he expels.

The first skim of his lips against leather is delicate. A barely-there graze of skin over the molded toe of the boot.

The second is a firm press of lips. A lingering moment where his fingers slide along the length of the size 13 Dr. Martens until they’re hooked around the back of the boot. The fingers of his metal hand cradle the heel counter, while his other hand gently trails up the backstay.

It’s only when you lower your lips to the toe of the opposite boot that you hear the contented hum of submission rattle in Bucky’s throat.

You approximate his movements; fingers trailing along the outside of the boot, pinkies sliding over the roughly-textured welt stitching, hands coming to rest cupped around Steve’s ankle. You lift, only to see the perfect pucker of a lip gloss kiss marring the surface of the dark leather. It catches the blue neon light, and sparkles like ice. You put another sparkly kiss right next to it. Your nose presses against the stiff surface when you do, and you inhale, filling your lungs with the mellow odor of leather, and the sharp, waxy scent of the conditioning balm he rubbed over the black surface of his boots just yesterday.

You kiss your way around the front of the boot, then pull back to admire the line of lip prints peppered around the front of it. They fade as you kiss more and more gloss off your lips each time they fall to the boots surface.

Bucky’s hair is curtained around his face, and you reach over to push a lock of it behind his ear, eager to see how beautiful he looks. His eyes are closed, and his face is slack and worshipful. Relaxed except the perfect pucker of his lips as they press against Steve’s boot.

The next moment—in typical Bucky fashion—the chaos takes over, and his eyes snap open. They’re nearly silver in the neon light. He looks up, training his eyes on Steve, only to find Steve already gazing back at him in slack-jawed wonder. Giving him the same look he wears when he’s sucking Steve’s cock, Bucky’s tongue dips out of his mouth, pressing against the cool leather. He drags it slowly, and deliberately up the middle of the boot, and over the rough speed bumps of the taut, black laces.

“Fucking christ,” Steve growls.

He adjusts himself before leaning forward to grab a fistful of your hair. “Get the fuck up here and let me see how wet that made you.” He stands you in the vee of his legs, and starts opening the front of your shorts. “Did you like that pretty girl?”

He bunches the open front of your shorts in his fists, looking up at you with intense, expectant eyes, waiting for an answer. He won’t touch you any more than that until you nod. Then his hand dips into the opening, and he swipes his fingers through your folds. “Goddamnit, sweetheart,” he groans appreciatively, “you’re fucking soaked. Did you enjoy that more than you thought you would?”

“I did, Stevie,” you whine, leaning forward because he’s fucking you with his fingers now.

He takes your hand and slips it over the front of his jeans. You can feel his thick cock straining against the denim. It throbs against your palm when you give it a firm squeeze. “I did too,” he whispers in your ear. “I’m hard enough to pound nails, princess. Do you think he’s this hard too?” Steve jerks his chin towards Bucky.

You look down at Bucky, who has gone back to peppering kisses over the toe of Steve’s boot, while his lust-blown gaze studies you and Steve. It’s abundantly clear that Bucky is beyond aroused right now, so you answer, “I know he is. Stevie.”

Steve asks, “Think we should let him fuck you?”

“You said he could if he kissed your boots.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he says, with a kiss to the tip of your nose. Then he pulls his fingers out of you, and pops them into his mouth. “You wanna suck my cock while he fucks you?”

“Please, Stevie.” You don’t wait, you just drop to your knees and start opening the front of Steve’s jeans.

Bucky doesn’t wait either, and his eager hands are rough on your hips when he starts tugging down your shorts to take what’s his.

[toddneilanderperry]

Nat and Clint are a team of menaces ❤️‍🔥 and I absolutely am living for it

Bubbly

Kinktober prompt: Object insertion

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!Natasha Romanoff x reader (not princess) x Backstage Pass!Clint Barton

Warnings: Object insertion (the neck of a bottle), oral sex (everybody receiving), vaginal fingering/sex, top clint, top Natasha, bottom reader

Words: 1988

Everyone who reblogs gets my undying, and eternal love. No, really. xoxo

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“That feels so fucking good, angel,” Clint praises, his head falling back against the padded wall. “Jeeze, your fuckin’ mouth.”

You hum around his cock and it jerks against your tongue, which has him rattling out a groan. It deepens when you press your tongue against the six barbells in the underside of his shaft. Your tongue bumps over them repeatedly, your fascination with them seemingly boundless.

You hum again, the dick in your mouth preventing your sound from forming into a moan, which is what that little noise would prefer to be, thanks to Natasha. Whose face is currently buried in your cunt.

Stuck between them, you feel overhot, and out of control. You feel everything, all at once. The soft carpet of the sex club’s private room cushions your knees as you kneel for them. The way Clint’s fingers tangle in the hair at the base of your neck to guide you over his cock, the scrape of his nails against your scalp, the salty taste of precome you lick out of his slit. Then there’s Natasha’s hand squeezing a bruise into the soft curve of your hip, the way her tongue dips inside of you, the playful graze of her teeth against your pussy lips, the way her fingers work inside of you while her thumb teases at your clit.

All of it. It’s overwhelming. It’s chaos. And it’s oh so fucking exquisite.

Then Clint pulls you off his cock, and stands to retrieve the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket next to the long couch. He takes a few pulls from the bottle, as Nat pulls you up to sit on your heels, with your back pressed against her front. One hand toys with your stiff nipples, and the other pulls your head back onto her shoulder, then squeezes your cheeks until your mouth pops open.

Clint takes another swig of champagne, then lets it drizzle it from his mouth to yours.

“Swallow it,” he orders.

With keen interest, he watches your throat bob as you swallow. As soon as he hums his satisfaction, he pulls you to your feet, and spins you so your back is against his front, and Natasha is on her knees at your feet.

The blue light in the room turns her flaming red hair to purple. The light makes her alabaster skin ghostly pale. The angel bites in her upper lip, the barbells in her nipples, and the jewel in her belly button capture the icy light, turning them arctic. She looks like a beautiful dead girl watching you avidly from her position between your legs.

“Isn’t she gorgeous,” Clint whispers against your ear.

“Very,” you gasp.

“Do you want her to eat your pussy?” The words are low and rough, and they go right to your cunt, making you squeeze your thighs together with a whimper.

The stunning woman on the floor at your feet smirks at you as she pushes your thighs apart again.

You whine desperately, “Please.”

“Then be a good girl for me.”

“You can do that, right? Be a good girl?” Natasha purrs from the floor, stroking a hand softly up your thigh to graze over your mound.

You curse quietly, and nod.

“Head back, angel,” Clint rasps in your ear, tapping your chin until you tip your face toward the ceiling. He hooks two fingers behind your bottom teeth, and tugs to open your mouth. “Wide,” he demands. When your jaw relaxes, he tips the champagne bottle against your lips, filling your mouth with the fizzy liquid. Then he pushes your jaw shut so you can swallow. He slides a hand around your neck so he can feel the bob of your throat as you obey.

You can feel the cold liquid slip down your throat just as Natasha’s tongue curls around your clit. When she pushes her fingers into your pussy, your knees wobble, and Clint throws an arm around your waist, pressing you against his chest.

“Steady there, pretty girl,” he murmurs into your ear, “wouldn’t want you to fall and hurt yourself.” He teases your mouth open again, and pours more champagne into it. When your mouth closes to swallow, he tips the bottle over your chest. The cold liquid makes your skin pebble with goosebumps, and your nipples pull painfully tight. The liquid sluices down your body, spilling over your belly button, and between your pussy lips; a tiny little waterfall of fizzy liquid, that Natasha eagerly laps off your clit.

A shudder ripples up your body, and Clint groans when your ass grinds against his cock where it’s trapped between your bodies.

Your hands bury themselves in Nat’s wavy hair as a moan trickles from between your lips. Your hips buck reflexively when three of her skilled fingers slide into your pussy.

“Oh, god,” you gasp airily.

“You can just call her Natasha,” Clint whispers slyly in your ear.

The last of the champagne trickles down your body, and Clint flips it into the ice bucket behind him, neck down.

“Let’s see how you taste now,” he hums. Natasha sits back on her haunches so Clint can curl two fingers into your pussy, then he drags them up your body through the still-damp line of champagne drying sticky on your skin. He pops them into his mouth and groans. “Delicious,” he rumbles in your ear.

Natasha catches your hand in hers, pulling you after her onto the long couch. She wraps a tattooed hand around your throat, and her legs around your hips, as she kisses you deeply. The taste of champagne and your cunt are heavy on her tongue when it pushes into your mouth.

She purrs against your lips, “Are you gonna be a good girl for Clint?”

You swallow hard, “Yes, ma’am.”

“I thought so,” she grins at you indulgently. Her grip on your throat tightens, “Are you gonna be a good fucking girl for me?” Her voice is husky and seductive, and it sends endorphins pinging through your body.

You lick your lips slowly, “Yes, ma’am.” It comes out in an unsteady whisper.

“You better fucking be,” she growls, pushing you down between her thighs, her fist wound into your hair so she’s in complete control of your head.

You part her folds with your thumbs, the balls of the curved barbell in her triangle piercing sparkling like jewels in the neon light. You want to tell her it’s the most beautiful pussy you’ve ever seen, but her fist twists in your hair, and she pulls you forward the handful of inches it takes to get your mouth on her cunt.

So, instead you'll have to show her.

Your tongue makes a slow trip up her slit. You nudge her piercing, first with your nose, then with your tongue, and her hips buck up like an electrical current is arcing through her body. You tease at her piercing with your tongue, her head falls back, and she groans long and low. You suck her clit, and flutter your tongue over the sensitive bumble of nerves. Her hips rock, grinding her pussy against your face, and making her curse.

“Holy fuck. You really are a good fucking girl,” she moans.

Clint’s lips graze your ear before you realize his face is right next to yours. “Good girls get their pussies filled. Are you a good girl, angel?

You whimper and nod the best you can with Natasha in full control of your head.

“Do you want me to fill your pretty little pussy?”

You nod again, and he chuckles softly before disappearing again.

You hear the crinkle of a condom wrapper, then something is nudging at your entrance. But it’s not Clint’s cock. It’s hard and blunt.

And chilly.

You whine, and Clint’s voice is back in your ear. “It’ll warm up, pretty girl. I’m gonna fuck you with this champagne bottle until you come, then I’ll give you my cock. Can you do that? Can you be a good girl for me?”

You hum an affirmative, and Natasha groans, “She’s such a good girl, puppy.”

“I heard, kitty,” he chuckles.

His breath is hot in your ear when he orders you, “Now I need you to come on this bottle for me, so I can fuck you with this big dick.” He guides your hand around his cock, and covers it with his own. He uses your hand to jack himself a few times, then asks, “You want me to fill you up with this fat cock, angel?”

You put the barest amount of space between yourself and Natasha so you can whimper, “Please.”

You can’t see Clint’s feral grin—Natasha has already hooked her leg behind your head, and pulled you back into her cunt—but you can feel the manic energy rolling off of him in waves.

“Then fuck this bottle for me, angel,” he orders, his arm going under you to lift your hips higher, so he can push the bottle’s neck in deeper, until the shoulder of the bottle starts to stretch your opening.

He praises you when your hips start rocking, pumping the bottle neck in and out of your cunt.

“I noticed you like my piercings,” Clint whispers in your ear. “Couldn’t stop playing with them with your tongue. You like ‘em on your tongue, just imagine what they’ll feel like when I’m fucking you, angel. Think you’ll be able to feel them? I bet, with your tight little pussy, you’ll be able to count every. single. one.”

His words make you groan, the sound muffled in Natasha’s folds as she grinds out her orgasm on your face. The redhead collapses back onto the bench seat with a curse. She releases your hair, giving you more leeway to help Clint fuck you with the bottle.

A needy moan bursts from your throat, and Clint rewards you by reaching under you to get his fingers on your clit.

“You’re fucking dripping down this bottle, angel.”

Your head is pillowed on Natasha’s inked-up thigh, and she’s running her fingers through your hair, praising you as Clint fucks you faster. Your hips rock to meet each push into your cunt, and you curse breathlessly against her smooth skin as tension builds in your core.

“Let go, sweetheart,” Natasha’s rough voice is melodic and low. “Show us how pretty you look when you come.”

You nod absentmindedly against her thigh as your orgasm overtakes you. The tension releases, tremors radiating through your limbs like little earthquakes as you fall apart for them. The neck of the bottle is swiftly replaced by two of Clint’s fingers in your pussy, and his thumb on your clit, drawing out the sensations rattling through you, making your knees weak.

When your body starts jerking with overstimulation Clint moves his thumb off your clit, but continues to draw his fingers in and out of your soaked pussy. Natasha sits up enough to trail kisses over your shoulder and up your neck. Two of her fingers nudge into your cunt next to Clint’s.

The redhead gives you a lascivious grin. “You were so good for us, beautiful.” Her praise sends a shudder skittering down your spine. “You ready for Clint to fuck you now?”

“Please,” the pleading word is heavy with need.

“Shh, shh,” she soothes. “There’s no need for that. We’re going to take good care of you.”

You hear a noise of agreement from Clint, then his dick is nudging at your entrance. He starts pushing into you, and—oh, god—you can feel every single one of those barbells as he feeds his cock into your pussy. A wave of lust punches you in the gut, and you let out an unsteady warble as you try to catch your breath.

“Oh, you sound so good when you’re being fucked,” Natasha coos. “I wonder how you’ll sound when I get my fist in you.”

If you like it, please give it a reblog! I've been away for awhile, and I think a lot of people forgot about me.

[toddneilanderperry]

As much as I love their rough and wild times, their sweet and tender moments are so beautiful ❤️

The Leash

Kinktober prompt: Spanking

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Spanking, punishment, collar/leash, rough sex, painplay, overstimulation, slight dacryphilia, tender sex/aftercare, restraints, vaginal fingering/sex

Words: 2159

Everyone who reblogs gets my undying, and eternal love. No, really. xoxo

Kinktober Masterlist | Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

It’s a beautiful afternoon, and you’re readying yourself to go on a walk with Steve, and Bucky. The weather is lovely, the leaves are just starting to change, plus everyone has been cooped up for a couple of days following a spate of heavy rain.

Just as tired of being stuck on the bus, Clint, Nat, and Scott had fled almost as soon as Scott had the thing in park.

You’re pulling on a pair of purple fishnet thigh-highs, while you admire Steve and Bucky as they too get ready to go out.

Your men look delicious, as always. Steve in a sleeveless Minor Threat tee with a fraying hem, jeans so tight you can see his thigh muscles, and freshly-polished shit-kickers. Bucky buzzes around him in a ratty CBGB tee, grey jeans so old and faded they’re more like the ghost of pants, and black Converse high-tops.

Bucky’s also wearing the collar that you and Steve had gifted him a few weeks ago. Thick black leather with two rows of spikes around its circumference. A shiny silver chain is clipped to the heavy o-ring at the front of the collar, and twisted in Steve’s fist.

Bucky doesn’t wear a collar all the time, or even often. Putting it bluntly, wearing a collar makes him a little feral and a lot horny. You can call it an extension of his deeply ingrained praise kink, that’s pretty close to how the collar makes him feel, anyway. It’s a tangible reminder that you and Steve love him, and that he’s a good boy.

Steve briefly drops the leash in order to pin Bucky against the bunk frame for a kiss. While they’re distracted you take possession of the leash. Steve makes a token effort to retrieve it, but Bucky chuckles and tells him you’d snagged it fair and square, and to just let you hang on to it for a bit so they can go back to making out.

‘A bit’ lasted roughly four and a half minutes.

You already know how easily provoked Bucky is when he’s wearing a collar, but you’re distracted by a couple who are walking a puppy outside. Looking out of the small window in the RV’s door instead of paying attention to what you’re doing. You mindlessly twist the chain around your wrist, then tug it loose again. It jerks and swings like a pendulum on the ring that hangs over Bucky’s throat.

Bucky breaks the kiss, hands desperately fisted in the front of Steve’s tee. The sweat dotted along his brow has very little to do with the man pressed against him. And he’s so hard he’d swear there’s a zipper print permanently stamped into the underside of his cock.

“Kitten,” he growls.

“Princess, you’re playing with fire right now,” Steve cautions.

Bucky tone is dark and carnal when he speaks, “Little girl, if you pull on that chain one more time, I will pin you down, spank you until your ass is on fire, then fuck you till you cry.”

“Princess, you should probably-“

Steve is cut off abruptly when you turn to face them, causing the chain in your fist to sway against Bucky’s neck.

Suddenly the world inverts, and you’re looking at Bucky’s ass upside down as he marches you away from the door, and drops you onto a section of empty floor.

You land on your feet, but he immediately pushes you to your knees, shoving you forward until your cheek rests against the grungy carpet.

Bucky yanks your skirt up around your waist, and with a quick tug, shreds your panties in his hands. A light, almost tender blow lands on your ass. He squeezes it in one hand, grip tightening until your breath catches.

“This is gonna hurt, kitten,” he promises in a rough voice. “Don’t you fuckin’ move.”

He spits, and a glob of saliva splatters against your ass cheek an instant before his hand smacks down overtop of it like a whip crack.

You yip, and lower your hips, trying to squirm away. He fists his metal hand in the back of your skirt and growls, “Stay.”

Heat blooms across your ass when his hand connects with the other cheek. You whine, again trying to wriggle out of Bucky's grasp, away from the stinging bite of his hand.

A heavy weight at the base of your neck pins you firmly in place. It’s Steve’s size thirteen Dr. Marten.

“Stevie,” you whine, sounding betrayed.

He chuckles, and tsks. “He warned you. I warned you. He even told you exactly what would happen if you didn’t listen. You damn well know how he gets when he’s in a collar.” His voice softens, “If you really can’t take it, you tell me. Until then, you’re gonna stay right here, and take your punishment like a good girl.”

You groan when Bucky’s hand slaps down onto the stinging meat of your cheeks again. The heat is intense and everything below your waist blooms with pain. He’s not using his metal hand, but fuck, the other one still fucking hurts.

After one particularly hard whack, Bucky’s fingers drag through your slit, and he pops them into his mouth. He hums around his fingers, pulls them out of his mouth, and slaps your pussy with them.

“Fucking soaked,” Bucky growls. “I think you’re enjoying this punishment too fucking much.” He smacks your pussy again, harder this time.

Arousal spikes through you, and with an incoherent cry your hand slips between your thighs to toy with your clit.

“I don’t think so,” he grunts, gathering your wrists in his metal hand, and twisting the chain of his leash around them until they’re immobilized against the small of your back.

You squirm, trying to loosen the chain, even though you know it’s not going to work.

“You’re my little fucktoy, and I’m the one that gets to make you come. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Bucky.” Your voice is light and airy with lust.

Your ass sways back and forth, and Bucky runs two fingers through your slit again, pushing them into your cunt, and groaning at the wet squelch the action produces, “Fuck, this little pussy is fucking drenched.”

The heat of your blush sears your skin, and you realize you can feel moisture trailing down your thighs, and you know he’s right. He’s spanking you hard enough that you'll be bruised later, but you’re still dripping for him.

“Please, fuck me,” you whine pitifully, then give a yip of shock at the sting of his hand coming down on your ass again. He follows it up by raking his nails down your lower back, and over your sensitive ass. Five little trails of fire follow their progress over your tender cheeks. Your nerve endings are alight with the variety of sensations. Pain and pleasure mingling, all muddled up together so every slap of his flesh against yours makes your pussy clench as if she’s dreaming of his cock, and every push of his fingers into your cunt sends the bright flare of pain signals coursing through your synapses.

He thrusts three metal fingers into your pussy. Thick and chilly, he twists them inside of you until you start rocking your hips against him. His other hand slaps down on your ass cheek and squeezes hard.

With every pump of his fingers you whine pleasepleaseplease under your breath.

Bucky smooths a too-warm hand over your ass, and hums, “Mmm, little girl, these cheeks are fucking toasty.” The observation is immediately followed by the sound of his belt buckle jingling as he gets his cock out.

You adjust your knees, spreading your legs a little wider, and lifting your ass for him, an invitation you know he doesn’t need, but will appreciate nonetheless.

“Fuck me,” he groans in adoration. “Look at this gorgeous little pussy,” he slaps your mound, and grins when you push your ass higher into the air. “Fucking dripping for me,” the head of his cock drags though your slit until it’s shiny and coated with your juices. He hisses when he sinks into you, bottoming out in one effortless push.

You make a strangled sound when he starts fucking you mercilessly, clearly intending to make good on his promise to fuck you until you cry.

You look up at Steve as much as the boot on your shoulders will allow, and you see he’s avidly watching Bucky rail you. He’s not jerking off, but even from the floor you can tell he’s hard. Instead, he catalogs every sight, sound, and smell, committing all of it to memory.

Bucky bends over you to get his fingers on your clit, dragging a couple quick orgasms out of you in rapid succession, like it’s his fucking job. When he doesn’t stop, you start to whine. “I can’t, Buck. I can’t. It’s too much.”

“I’m sure it is too much, kitten. But that’s kind of the point. Besides, you can and you fucking will. You’ll do it for me, because I fucking said so." He brings his fingers to his mouth, spits on them, then returns them to your clit. “Now cry for me while I fuck this pretty little pussy,” his voice is gritty and low. He grunts when his tone makes your cunt clench around him.

Heat builds behind your eyes, and spills onto your face as hot tears when he pulls yet another orgasm out of you like your body belongs to him and him alone now.

Almost as soon as the first tear rolls over the bridge of your nose and onto the carpet, Bucky stops torturing your clit. Steve’s boot is suddenly gone, then Bucky is pulling out of you and flipping you over.

He pushes his cock back into you, wrapping your legs around his hips, and using his vibranium arm to hold you up off the floor so your bound hands won’t be crushed underneath you. Tears skitter down your cheeks, and Bucky lovingly licks them off your face.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says softly.

You hiccup a sob, and giggle, “Hi Bucky. ‘M sorry I didn’t listen.”

He brushes the tip of his nose against yours, and huffs a laugh. “It’s okay. Sorry I was mean.”

“You weren’t mean,” you insist. “Stevie’s right. I should have been paying attention.”

You smile when his lips brush against your forehead in a soft kiss. He whispers against the damp skin, “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am,” you rush to reassure him. “Are you?”

“Yeah. I’m okay,” he huffs quietly with a grin. His exhaled breath tickles over your face, making sweat and residual tears dry prickly over your skin.

You can’t throw your arms around him like you want to, so you just bury your face in his neck, and take big draws of his familiar, comforting scent. Musk, vanilla, and citrus fill your lungs. It helps ground you, and you melt into his arms, locking your legs around his waist when his hand strokes up your thigh.

“Good girl,” he whispers in your ear, squeezing your body closer to his. He’s grinding into you now, shallow little pushes with his hips that make your core tighten, and your breath come out as a shaky whine.

The spikes on his collar dig into your neck, and the chain that runs between the two of you jingles musically behind you with every movement either of you makes.

“Bucky,” you whine.

His words heat your neck, because he refuses to put enough distance between your bodies to make eye contact, “Gonna come for me?”

You nod.

“Is it gonna be too much for you?”

“No. ‘S perfect. Need it, Buck,” your voice is breathy and unsteady with the tension that’s taken over your core.

“Shhh,” he whispers, “I got you, my good girl. You’re doing so well. Last one, I promise. I’m close too. Now come for me.”

He holds you tighter when your body arches against him, pressing himself into you, letting your orgasm milk him until he’s spilling inside of you with a relieved curse that grinds out of him on a rough groan.

While you’re both catching your breath, he reaches behind you to tug at the chain wrapped around your wrists. It falls away, and your arms instantly find their way around his neck. He wraps himself around you like he wants to climb inside you.

He squeezes you so tight you can’t breathe for the duration of the hug. He hums lazily into your ear, “Mmm, love you so much, princess.”

You wheeze a laugh when he squeezes you again, “I love you too, Buck.”

A throat clearing quietly has you both turning your heads toward where Steve is sitting on the couch. He’s got his dick in his hand, and his bottom lip poked out in a pout. He holds out his empty hand, “It’s my turn to pretty please hold the leash now.”

If you like it, please give it a reblog! I've been away for awhile, and I think a lot of people forgot about me.

[toddneilanderperry]

God I missed them ❤️

I Want Us To Watch

Kinktober prompt: Voyeurism

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage pass!Steve x reader (princess)

Warnings: Voyeurism, sex tape, piv sex, pussy slapping

Words: 1856

Everyone who reblogs gets my undying, and eternal love. No, really. xoxo

Kinktober Masterlist | Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

“I want us to watch me fuck you,” Steve purrs in your ear.

You’re laying down, playing on your phone, and suddenly he’s pressed against you from thigh to shoulder, breath warm in your ear, cock thick and hard, trapped between your bodies. His phone is out, grasped in his thick, ring-covered fingers; already recording, so he can watch your reaction to his request.

He hums, “Can we watch?”

With a vigorous nod, you moan, “Stevie, please.”

He grins at you, voyeuristic delight making his cock twitch against your ass.

He props the phone up on one of the bunk’s shelves, and pushes up to his knees, pulling you against him. He peels your shirt off over your head, and does the same with his tee.

Your back is pressed tight against his chest when he turns your head toward him, and kisses you deep. He mounds your tits in his hands so he can roll your nipples between his fingers. Teasing and tugging at the barbells until you squirm and whine.

“Feels so good when you grind against my cock like that,” he whispers against your lips. You grin wickedly and wiggle your ass against him, making him growl low in his chest.

He bounces your tits in his palms a little, then smacks them. You groan at the sudden sting, the heat of each slap melting into a burning ache that makes your pussy throb with need.

You moan, and on the screen of his phone you can see him smirk at you from over your shoulder. Pinching your tender nipples, tugging on the barbells, and rolling them between his fingers, he asks, “Like it when I hurt these perfect tits?”

“Yeah. I do, Stevie. Like it when it hurts,” you groan.

His hands on your thighs gently scoot your knees wider, opening your legs for him. “How about here?” He rumbles, then firmly slaps your mound.

You warble out his name, and sway on your knees when your legs go weak.

He lands another blow over your pussy, this one harder than the last. “Answer me,” he growls. “Do you like it when I smack this pussy, you little slut?” Each word of his question is punctuated with a slap to your sensitive cunt.

You nod weakly.

He grips your chin hard, “Use your words,” he murmurs.

“I love it, Steve,” you breathe softly. “Please don’t stop.”

A few more quick smacks to your mound, then he instructs, “Spread your pussy open for me. Lemme see how wet you are.”

Your fingers tremble when you open yourself for him.

One of his fingers drags though your slit to circle your clit. “Fuck. Look at you. You’re fucking dripping for me, princess.” He groans in appreciation. As soon as you start to relax into him, he smacks your clit with his fingertips.

You keen as the impact jolts through your body like an electrical current.

He watches your reactions on the screen of his phone. Swearing quietly, he smacks your clit again before plunging his fingers into your cunt.

You mindlessly grab his wrist and gasp, “‘S good. Feels so good, Stevie. Don’t stop.”

His fingers hook into your pussy hard, grinding the cool metal of his rings against your clit. Your back arches, and you mewl.

“Why would I stop, when you make such pretty noises for me?”

He starts fucking you with his fingers, and the bunk is full of the soft noise of your wet cunt sucking at the digits. He curses and grabs his phone, sweeping it down your body, and getting closer to your pussy. This results in a nice closeup of your juices coating his rings and dripping off his knuckles like honey.

“Fucking look at you, princess,” he says in a gravelly voice. He puts the phone back on the shelf, and grabs a handful of your hair, aiming your face at the camera. “Look at yourself. See how fucking sexy you look? Looking at you like this makes my cock ache.”

As if to emphasize his point, his dick throbs between your bodies.

“Stevie, ‘m gonna…” a reedy whine trickles out of your mouth while he expertly works your pussy.

“Gonna come for me?” He peppers kisses along the column of your throat, grinning against you when you nod. “Then cream on my fingers, princess.”

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, you come. Your back bows, and your legs tremble, hips reflexively bucking to grind you against Steve with every contraction of your inner walls. He has to throw an arm around your waist to hold you up, and you cling to it while mindlessly rocking your hips.

Steve’s fingers slow inside of you until you come back to yourself. He kisses his way from your shoulder to your neck, until he’s finally grazing his lips along the shell of your ear.

“Now thank me,” he murmurs.

“Stevie?”

“Thank me,” he repeats. “Thank me for making you come.”

You sigh your gratitude, barely audible, even in the relative quiet of your bunk.

Steve grabs your chin and aims you at his phone, where the screen shows you the stern look he’s giving you over your shoulder.

“I can’t fucking hear you,” he growls. “Do you want me to stop? Should I go jerk off in the bathroom instead? Maybe Bucky will come home soon, I bet he’ll be grateful for the orgasms…”

“No,” you whine.

“No, what?”

“Don’t stop.”

Using his grip on your chin, he gently shakes your head, “Then what do we say when someone does something nice for us?”

You give a feathery little gasp, then moan, “Thank you for making me come, Stevie.”

His face lights up with a radiant grin. “There’s my good girl.”

You whine, “Stevie, please fuck me. I need it.”

“Of course, princess,” he smirks into the camera. Reaching over you, he grabs his phone, then orders, “Get that perfect little pussy in the air for me.”

Without hesitation you fold forward, and Steve groans like someone punched him in the stomach. “Fuuuuuck, look at you.” He strums two fingers over your mound, and gets a closeup of the way your come splashes off your heated skin.

He gets a nice closeup of your pussy lips and tight asshole while he pushes down his joggers. Using the hand that isn’t on his phone, he jacks a fist up his dick, the heavy PA piercing makes a little jingling noise against the rings on his fingers. He drags the flushed head of his cock through your folds, using his piercing to tease your clit until your thighs shake, and you whine his name.

You get impatient when he teases you by pushing the tip of his dick into you, and pulling it out again, so the next time he dips into you, you shove back onto him. He relinquishes the grip on his shaft with a low groan.

“Fuck, princess,” he says, voice rough and breathless, “you’re just gonna use me like that?”

You gasp, “Yes, Stevie.”

He groans, “I fucking love it when you use me.” He zooms in on the place he disappears inside of you and pushes his thumb into your pussy next to his dick, then drags his wet thumb up and slips it into your asshole. “Now prove to me what a good girl you are, and fuck this big cock.”

He rolls his hips to get you started, and you take his momentum without a second thought.

Fucking yourself onto his cock with vigor isn’t enough for you though. He’s recording this, and you know he’ll show it to Bucky later, not to mention that you expect the three of you will also watch together.

So you want to put on a good show.

Dropping your chest down to the bed allows you to get your ass just a little higher into the air so he—and by extension, his camera—has a better view of your glistening cunt. You slam yourself down onto him, so the globes of your ass rebound with the impact.

You know this has the intended effect when Steve growls a curse. He smacks your ass hard. You choke out a cry and your pussy spasms around him, making Steve curse again.

“Goddamn, girl. The way you fucking clench around me when I do that.” His hand lands another stinging slap, and Steve grunts when your cunt clutches at him again.

He drops a string of spit onto his shaft and watches it vanish inside of you. “Christ, fucking look at you,” he groans. “Such a good little fucktoy. You were made to take my cock. Holy fuck.”

Soon, he gets greedy.

Goes a little crazy.

Tiring of the pace you’ve set, he reaches over you to place his phone back on the shelf, and slips his dick out of you. Spinning you to face him, he pulls you against his chest, urges your legs around his hips and guides his cock into you. He holds you up with one strong arm under your ass, and uses it to hoist you up and down to meet his hips. The other hand he wraps in your hair, and uses it to brace you against his punishing thrusts.

Fucking you fast and hard, and tension curls through your middle. You dig your fingers into his biceps, and whine, “Stevie, god. I- Oh, f-f-fuck.”

“Come for me,” he growls against your throat, “right now. Soak this cock like a good girl.”

The building tension breaks, and stars skitter across the back of your eyelids when you come. Keening his name, your body goes rigid against his, and your thighs crush his hips as your pussy milks his cock.

Caught in the clutch of your body, Steve curses as the heat of his orgasm boils down his spine, coursing out of him in hot waves. He bares his teeth and comes inside you with a growl.

He collapses onto the mattress with a sigh, taking you with him, so you’re both lying on your sides, nose to nose. He retrieves his phone, and holds it above you, centering you both in frame, grinning, sweaty, and thoroughly blissed out.

He gives you a soft little kiss on your nose, and says, “Thank you, princess.”

You giggle. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“It’s what we say when someone does something nice for us,” he recites what he said to you earlier with a studious tone and wry smile, chuckling when you snort a laugh.

He stops recording, and tosses his phone aside in favor of crushing you against his chest until you squirm out of his arms. “Where’d you go,” he pouts.

Seconds later, you plop down on top of him, holding your phone in his face.

You’re already recording, so you can watch his reaction. You purr into his ear, “I want us to watch me fuck you.”

He narrows his eyes, looks at you, then looks at your phone, then back at you.

He snatches you and rolls you underneath his big body. “Princess, did you just UNO Reverse me?”

If you like it, please give it a reblog! I've been away for awhile, and I think a lot of people forgot about me.

[toddneilanderperry]

Loki 😍😍😍😍 my king

My Pet

Kinktober prompt: Degradation

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!Loki x Backstage Pass!Clint

Warnings: Degradation and degrading language, (light) cock and ball torture, restraints, lots of pierced peen, top/Dom Loki, bottom/sub Clint

Words: 794

Everyone who reblogs gets my undying, and eternal love. No, really. xoxo

Kinktober Masterlist | Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

Loki looks entirely out of place in the grungy motel room.

The smell of bleach and mildew in the small space is strong enough to make their eyes water. The garish orange and yellow wallpaper, and pea green carpet are straight out of the 70’s and Clint reckons this room hasn’t had a deep cleaning since the eyesore wallpaper was originally put up.

Loki, on the other hand, is immaculate. Stripped of his motorcycle leathers, he dons black skinny jeans, and a black button up shirt with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, exposing the black latex gloves that tightly hug his long-fingered hands. The front of his shirt is unbuttoned, showing off the myriad of tattoos that creep up his alabaster skin to curl around the sharp line of his jaw. The messiest thing about Loki is the dark hair piled on top of his head in a bun.

Clint feels more than a little exposed. After all, Loki is still fully clothed, but Clint is completely naked. But he’s not just naked. Lying on his back in the bed, his hands are bound above him and each of his legs is tied to either side of the headboard with a leather cuff around each ankle. His ass is in the air, and he’s leaking precome all over his chest and abs.

He is bared in every possible way.

“Look at you,” Loki sneers. “So fucking pathetic,” disdain drips like venom from every syllable.

Clint’s face flushes pink. “I’m sorry, my king.”

Loki’s gloved hand thumps over his heart, feigning shock with a theatrical gasp. “Oh dear, my little pet is sorry. Well that changes everything.” If eyerolls were audible, Loki’s would be deafening.

“My king, please,” Clint whines. He squirms, trying to reposition himself, as if he had any choice but to lie there with his ass in the air.

“What could you possibly want, pet?”

“Please fuck me, my king,” Clint begs. Any poise he possessed disappears the moment Loki’s finger strokes over the six ladder piercings on the underside of Clint’s cock.

Loki’s blue-green eyes narrow. “I will fuck you,” he bends over Clint’s body, “when. I. am. ready.” A hard flick to the head of Clint’s dick punctuates each of the last several words from Loki’s mouth.

Clint inhales sharply at the pain, rocking his hips as much as he is able to in this position, searching for a little friction for his aching cock.

“Pitiful,” Loki scoffs. “Leaking all over your chest like the desperate little whore you are.” Loki slaps Clint’s testicles. The bound man’s body jolts with the impact.

“Thank you, my king,” he gasps. “May I please have another?”

The green gems that dimple Loki’s cheeks glint in the light when a grin curls over his lips. He delivers several rapid slaps, a little farther down, over the three curved barbells in Clint’s taint. His fingers slide back a little farther, slapping Clint’s asshole before unceremoniously pushing two fingers inside.

The stretch is immediate, and intense, then Loki’s fingers are gone before he has a chance to appreciate them.

“Fuck,” Clint sobs. “Please.”

Loki slaps his sac again, much harder than before. “Is that how you address me, whore?” A muscle in his jaw ticks, “Shall I make my pet kneel for me the rest of the evening? Use you for my pleasure, without any attention given to your. sad. little. cock.” He flicks the head of Clint’s dick again.

Tears sting at the back of Clint’s eyes, and he has to work to control his breath before he speaks. “If that’s what you think I deserve, my king,” he whimpers.

Loki opens the front of his jeans, extracting his cock, and milking a tight fist up its length. Clint whines when precome beads at the tip. It gathers on the gold ball of the curved barbell situated in Loki’s slit, then falls to the motel carpet with an audible plop.

Clint whispers hoarsely, “Please don’t waste it, my king.”

As if Clint is beneath is attention, like he isn’t paying attention to Clint at all, Loki hums, “Hmm? What’s that, pet?”

“My king, please don’t waste it,” he wiggles his hips in frustration. “Your come. Let me have it. Please.”

Another drop falls to the carpet with a wet pip. Clint sobs desperately.

Loki steps up onto the bed, still wearing his heavy, black motorcycle boots. He nudges the toes of his boots under Clint, and leans forward to grab the headboard with one hand. Standing tall, and arched over Clint’s prone body, he starts roughly jacking his own cock with the other hand.

“Quite right. Wouldn’t want to waste it.” Loki purrs, “I’m going to make a fucking mess of you, pet.”

If you like it, please give it a reblog! I've been away for awhile, and I think a lot of people forgot about me.

[toddneilanderperry]

Anything Nat wants, she can have! ❤️‍🔥 I’m so glad bp is back 🥰

Shark

Kinktober prompt: Overstimulation

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Backstage pass!Natasha x reader

Warnings: Overstimulation, vaginal fingering, oral sex, top Natasha

Words: 1055

If you like it, please give it a reblog! I've been away for awhile, and I think a lot of people forgot about me.

Kinktober Masterlist | Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-fi

The redhead’s muscular shoulders block the light when she hovers over you. Her wide, lipstick-smeared grin is intimidating the way a shark's grin is intimidating.

And apprehension curls through your gut, just as it would if it were a shark grinning back at you right now.

You whimper as her fingers ease out of your pussy, just to be pushed into your mouth. You tongue the taste of you off her digits. They’re pruny, because they’ve been inside of your dripping cunt for the better part of the evening.

“Be a good girl, and clean ‘em for me, sugar,” she commands in her rough, sultry voice.

Each time she praises you, chills scatter over your too-hot flesh. It makes you eager to please her, and you know you’d do anything she asked of you just to receive more of it.

Natasha’s naked skin is so pale it nearly glows everywhere it peeks from behind the tattoos cluttering her naked body. She’s singularly the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, and you felt unbelievably lucky when she picked you up after your bartending shift ended.

Now? You’re pretty sure if it were possible to die from being overwhelmed by orgasms, this is the woman they’d send to do the job.

Her chin is shiny with your juices when she looks down at you. Hoping for a break, time for your body to relax for a bit, you ask, “May I please eat your pussy now, ma’am?” Her fingers are still in your mouth, so the words come out garbled.

She pulls them out and you repeat your question.

She grins again, and you’re foolish enough to think she’s going to let you do what you asked.

Instead, she takes the fingers still slick with your spit and pushes them back inside of you. The squelch when she pushes into your cunt is obscene, and you blush, heat rushing over your body like slow-spreading flames.

With a low chuckle she says, “Oh, sugar. I’m not nearly done with you yet.” Her fingers rub against your g-spot, and you mewl. “When you’ve come so much—once you’re so sensitive you can’t even stand the touch of fresh fucking air on your needy little clit—that’s when I’ll let you eat my pussy.”

Then, just to tease you, she curls her middle and ring finger into her cunt—the cunt you’re dying for a taste of—with a moan, and you whine pitifully.

She leans over to whisper in your ear, “Seeing you squirm and cry for me has got me so fucking wet, sugar. I can’t wait to sit on this pretty little face.” She wraps the hand she was just using to toy with herself around your jaw to gently shake your head back and forth. Her fingers are sticky with her slick, and it leaves a streak of her arousal across your cheek.

“Ma’am, please. I can’t anymore. It hurts.” You know you’re whining, but you have no idea how to stop. She’s made you come more times than you can count. And, well, you know she’s not going to stop, so you might as well beg anyway.

“Now, now, sugar,” Natasha purrs, “we both know you fucking can, and I promise you that you absolutely fucking will come again, if I have to use my fucking fist to yank an orgasm out of you.”

“Ma’am–” you try to make another appeal to her. You try to come up with something coherent. Some words to tell her you’re too sore, too tired, too something, but instead, “–oh, fuck.”

Making you feel like you don’t even know your own body anymore, your traitorous pussy gushes slick over Natasha’s fingers, and your muscles strain as your back bows. The gorgeous woman purrs silky praise at you, that sends butterflies swarming through your stomach.

“Look at you sugar,” she beams at you, her angel bites glitter in the light when she licks her lips like a cat. “So beautiful when you come for me. I knew you could do it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you sigh deliriously, drunk off her attention.

She slowly descends your body, nibbling her way down, her perfect mouth leaving a trail of bruises in her wake. Her green eyes stay trained on your face when she slurps at your clit. Your hips rise off of the mattress, and she throws a deceptively strong arm over you to keep you in place. Your body already feels like one raw nerve ending, and she keeps plucking at that tight, strained feeling inside of you like it’s a guitar string she intends to play until it breaks.

Her persistent fingers on your g-spot pull a messy, squirting orgasm out of you, soaking Natasha’s chin and hand again. She laps at you like she’s starving, and you’re her only source of sustenance.

Your thighs are visibly trembling, and Nat smooths a hand down your flank. She coos, “Such a good girl for me. So fucking good. You came so fucking hard for me. It was fucking beautiful.”

Her tattooed fingertips make swirling patterns over your sides until your thighs are done shaking. She runs a knuckle up your slit, smiling lazily when your hips jerk reflexively at the lightest graze of your clit.

“Mmm, baby girl,” she hums, “look at you. So sensitive. I think you’re there. I think you’re right fucking there, sugar.”

She blows gently at your mound to cool your heated skin, then spreads you open with her thumbs. Then a quick puff of air hits your clit, and a bolt of electricity zings up your body. Your entire body jerks, and you mewl pitifully, “Please, no more, ma’am. No more. I can’t. I can’t. I really, really can’t. Don’t make me.”

She abandons the space between your thighs, and straddles your body. Silver tear tracks on your cheeks are wiped away by her thumbs, and you hiccup a sob at the gentle gesture.

Her voice is rough, and syrupy sweet when she soothes, “Shh. That part’s all done for now, sweet girl. You were so good for me.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” you sigh dreamily.

The too-sharp grin is back now. “You’re not nearly done, sugar. So don’t thank me yet,” she wryly remarks, grabbing a handful of your hair as she lowers herself over your face.

Everyone who reblogs gets my undying, and eternal love. No, really. xoxo

[toddneilanderperry]

That’s a deal I can’t pass up! 😆

it’s time for kinktober! …sort of

hi folks. i know i’ve been awol for, like, awhile. but now i’m back from the dead

so i wanted to have some fics for you guys to read for kinktober. unfortunately, it’s not a month’s worth of fics, but i hope you enjoy them 🩶

so here. have a little kinktober. as a treat

[10/22] overstimulation (backstage pass!nat x reader)

[10/23] degradation (backstage pass!loki x backstage pass!clint)

[10/24] being recorded/voyeurism (backstage pass!steve x princess)

[10/25] dildo (backstage pass!bucky x backstage pass!steve x princess)

[10/26] spanking/punishment (backstage pass!bucky x princess)

[10/27] object insertion (backstage pass!nat x reader x backstage pass!clint)

[10/28] boot worship (backstage pass!steve x backstage pass!bucky x princess)

[10/29] vibrators (backstage pass!bucky x backstage pass!steve x princess)

[10/30] breathplay (backstage pass!bucky x backstage pass!steve x princess)

[10/31] aftercare (backstage pass!bucky x backstage pass!steve x princess)

backstage pass masterlist | main masterlist | ko-fi

nb: i have discontinued my taglist. to be notified when i post, please turn on notifications for my blog

[toddneilanderperry]

I’ve missed these 3!!!! I can’t wait for them to be back! ❤️

it’s time for kinktober! …sort of

hi folks. i know i’ve been awol for, like, awhile. but now i’m back from the dead

so i wanted to have some fics for you guys to read for kinktober. unfortunately, it’s not a month’s worth of fics, but i hope you enjoy them 🩶

so here. have a little kinktober. as a treat

[10/22] overstimulation (backstage pass!nat x reader)

[10/23] degradation (backstage pass!loki x backstage pass!clint)

[10/24] being recorded/voyeurism (backstage pass!steve x princess)

[10/25] dildo (backstage pass!bucky x backstage pass!steve x princess)

[10/26] spanking/punishment (backstage pass!bucky x princess)

[10/27] object insertion (backstage pass!nat x reader x backstage pass!clint)

[10/28] boot worship (backstage pass!steve x backstage pass!bucky x princess)

[10/29] vibrators (backstage pass!bucky x backstage pass!steve x princess)

[10/30] breathplay (backstage pass!bucky x backstage pass!steve x princess)

[10/31] aftercare (backstage pass!bucky x backstage pass!steve x princess)

backstage pass masterlist | main masterlist | ko-fi

nb: i have discontinued my taglist. to be notified when i post, please turn on notifications for my blog

[toddneilanderperry]

I need a Bucky to take care of me in my depressive episodes

Shower

Sometimes it's all you can do to breathe. Sometimes you need a little help--even with the basics. Bucky's happy to help.

A/N: This is a completely self-indulgent comfort fic.

Genre: Fluff / Rating: PG

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Themes of mental illness, nudity.

Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

---

If you were being perfectly honest with yourself, you knew this was pathetic: lying on the bathroom floor, nibbling on a half eaten pop tart, and listening to the shower run.

“Not only am I gross,” you think, “I’m wasting perfectly good water.”

You sigh, willing yourself to stand up, to shower, to not eat on the bathroom floor. But you can’t.

Depression is weird like that, taking seemingly simple, inconsequential tasks and turning them into battles. You certainly didn’t lie on the bathroom floor, eating pop tarts, while listening to the shower run when you were mentally well.

The truth was: You just got back from a mission. A run of the mill recon mission. You were in, you were out. You did your job. But now you were sweaty, and sore, and unable to do anything for the benefit of yourself. Helping other people? No problem? Helping yourself? Mission: Impossible.

You groan, pulling your towel under your head for minimal neck support as you stare at the ceiling. You can see where condensation slowly develops and drips from the fan, and if you turn your head, you can see the fogged up mirror.

“I’ve been here a while,” you note.

You pull out your phone, checking the time. 9:04 PM. You don’t know when you got back, when you turned on the shower, when you dropped to the floor. The time tells you nothing.

You groan again, throwing your arm across your eyes. You’re tired, and you’re positive you could fall asleep here on the bathroom floor. You know you shouldn’t, but you could… and you haven’t been sleeping in your bed… and you let yourself drift off.

Banging. You wake to banging. No—knocking. You wake to knocking. As you come to, you realize someone is knocking on the bathroom door. You don’t have it in you to stand and open it. You never undressed anyway, lying on the floor in your tac suit, so you call out “unlocked!” and watch as the doorknob twists and the door is cautiously opened.

“Y/N?” The intruder calls softly with concern lacing each syllable of your name.

You groan in response, letting your arm fall from your face as your eyes flutter open. You look up to be met with the ever so concerned blue eyes of your best friend: Bucky Barnes. As he makes eye contact with you on the floor, eyes drawn downward at your groan, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, he opens his mouth to say something before seeming to think better of it.

“Can I come in?” He asks cautiously after a moment.

You nod and he slips into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind him. He lets himself sink to the floor beside you, pulling your head into his lap both to accommodate his large size in your small bathroom and in an attempt to comfort you. He lets his hand fall to your hair, quietly playing with it. You hum contentedly, eyes fluttering closed again, and you’re grateful he hasn’t begun interrogating you even though you know he’s confused.

Maybe 5 minutes pass in silence. Your mind is finally somewhat at ease from the comfort Bucky brings you, but you know he deserves an explanation as to why he’s on your bathroom floor holding you while the shower runs.

“I…” you start, trailing off before clearing your throat nervously and trying again. “I know this is weird. I can explain.”

Bucky shakes his head, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t have to, Doll. Lord knows I don’t always explain to you the weird things I do when I…” have an episode, he was going to say. He doesn’t want to call this an episode, though. He’s still not sure what this is. “We all deal with post-mission stress differently,” he says instead.

You huff. “I wish I was doing this because of mission stress.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, just watches patiently as he continues to run his fingers through your hair. He refuses to force anything out of you you’re not ready to share; after all, you never force him to spit his feelings out.

“Bucky, I… I’m not doing well.”

The admittance takes you off guard. You hadn’t even acknowledged to yourself that you weren’t doing well. You’d been avoiding that simple truth, that small detail.

“Yeah. Healthy people don’t generally run up the water bill while they snack on the floor,” Bucky teases gently. You are aware there’s no malice behind his words; he’s just trying to lighten the mood. You cringe, though, when you realize he had noticed the pop tart wrapper and the clear lack of pop tart. Bucky notices you cringe, though, and his light smile drops.

“How can I help, Doll?”

You shake your head. “You don’t have-”

“I want to,” he cuts you off.

You swallow nervously, but nod. You’ll let him help you.

“I, uh. Can you…” you scrunch your eyes, grounding yourself despite your embarrassment. “Can you help me shower?” You choke out the words, hoping he maybe missed them and will leave you on the bathroom floor to sulk.

Bucky smiles encouragingly, not showing any signs that he is bothered or uncomfortable with the request. Instead of running and leaving you to your self-destructive tendencies, he helps you sit up before standing himself, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your own feet. Gently he helps you out of your tac suit that clings to your body uncomfortably from sweat both from the mission and the steamy bathroom. Once your suit is removed, he helps you pull off your sports bra and shimmy out of your underwear. It’s intimate, yes, but it’s not at all sexual. You can’t help but curse yourself for letting the first time he saw you like this be under these circumstances. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You bite your lip anxiously, closing your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself in a self conscious hug.

Bucky’s gaze is 100% respectful. He keeps his eyes on your face, or the back of your head when you’re turned around, only letting his gaze drop to help you out of your constricted clothing.

He finally helps you step into the shower, pulling the curtain closed as you step in. You let yourself stand under the water, staring at the wall in front of you. Your thoughts are running a million miles an hour and are also nonexistent at the same time. You wish you knew how you could think about everything and nothing at the same time.

You hear a soft clinking sound that you’re sure is Bucky unbuckling his belt. Then you hear the sliding of his jeans down his legs, and the gentle grunt he lets out while he takes off his shirt. You’re not sure because you can’t see, but you’re pretty sure you hear him fold his clothes and yours to set neatly on the counter. Finally, he pulls the shower curtain back a little to step in himself.

He smiles reassuringly at you, keeping his eyes on yours. You force a small smile onto your own lips in response.

He’s still in his boxers, protecting his modesty for your sake. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed but you shake your head, chasing those thoughts out of your mind. He’s just your friend—your best friend—and he’s only doing you a favor. As a friend. Not his girlfriend.

Bucky’s eyebrows scrunch together in concern as he watches you shake your head, obviously distraught.

“Hey, hey. Sweetheart, look at me,” he says, resting his palm on your cheek. You look at him. “Are you alright?” He asks, searching your eyes for any indication that you’re not.

You only nod. He eyes you suspiciously but drops the subject. Instead, he reaches behind you for your shampoo, squirting some into his hand, before letting his hands fall into your hair, slowly massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

Bucky quietly washes you, stepping back only to let you wash your more intimate parts. His hands on your body are intoxicating. His right is calloused and rough from decades of use and his left is smooth and and warmed from the water, but they’re both so gentle as they run along your body. When he finishes bathing you, he lets his arms drop to his side, and you immediately miss his touch. He looks anxious and unsure of himself for the first time since entering your bathroom, and you realize it’s because he suddenly isn’t sure what to do with himself. Without thinking much about it, you give him a new task.

You step forward into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your cheek against his chest. The action surprises him, but he almost immediately wraps his own arms around you, holding you close. He plants a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ve got ‘ya, sweetheart,” he assures. “I’ve got you.”

[toddneilanderperry]

I love them more than anything 😍

Tap. Tap.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Pairing: Backstage Pass!Bucky x Backstage Pass!Steve x reader

Words: 3268

Warnings: Sensory deprivation (blindfold and headphones w/music), bdsm, sub!Bucky, Dom!reader, Dom!Steve, blow jobs, a little food play, orgasm control, scent kink, pain kink/painplay, knife kink, blood play, blood consumption, spit kink, subspace, aftercare, safeword (Bucky has trouble saying his safeword, so Steve and princess gently bring him out of the scene)

NB: This fic had a playlist that goes along with it

NB2: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate. Happy holidays to those who don't. And gentle hugs to those who are struggling.

If you like it, please give it a reblog! It's how other people find me!

Backstage Pass Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Buy me a coffee: Ko-fi

Bucky is alone in the dark. Floating. Weightless. Drifting through infinity on a soft, warm mattress.

He can’t see anything behind his blindfold, sure, but it’s the big, noise-cancelling headphones over his ears that have him feeling unplugged from the world.

Right now, it’s quiet. If he strains he can just barely hear the dull murmur of Steve’s voice over the faint hiss of the noise-cancelling speakers.

Bucky waits in the near-silent dark for some sign of what to expect, or what’s expected of him.

Until then, he hangs in limbo.

Even the most minute contact would be welcome. Two taps on his sternum to ask for his color. Or if he asks a question: one tap on his right shoulder for yes, two for no. It’s a way for them to communicate with him, but right now, he’s craving some contact. Any contact. Even if it’s just his Stevie’s thick finger thumping against his shoulder, or the gentle drumming of his princess’s fingers over the center of his chest.

He isn’t even wearing clothes he can pick at. And the mattress has been stripped, so there aren't sheets to fidget with either. His cock is already hard, and he wishes he at least had a pillow to squeeze in his fists to distract him from the ache.

It feels like he hasn’t been touched in forever, even though it was no more than a few minutes ago when Steve planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth, then fixed the blindfold over his eyes, and the headphones over his ears.

Finally two taps to his chest, and he immediately responds, “Green.” In the silence of his head his voice is far too loud, and he hopes he didn’t yell.

Just as jazz music begins playing, a heavy body straddles his hips.

Stevie.

He’s almost positive he says this out loud, but the volume of the music is being turned up, growing gradually louder, so he can’t even hear his own voice in his head over the sensual, rhythmic jazz.

He knows it’s Steve. He can smell Steve’s scent, feel Steve’s weight, but, even so, he needs confirmation. He whispers, “Stevie?” and a reassuring tap on his right shoulder makes him smile.

He whispers, “Can I touch you?”

Tap.

Bucky lets go and sinks down into his own head a little, as Eartha Kitt purrs in his ears, and his hands smooth up Steve’s thick thighs. He’s wearing loose-fitting satin pants, and the texture is wholly unexpected; fabric flowing over flesh like water. Corded muscle covered in the softest satin feels like heaven under his palms, and Bucky purrs right along with Ms. Kitt.

He realizes the song is My Heart Belongs to Daddy, and huffs a laugh right before Steve’s plush lips meet his.

Bucky melts underneath Steve's solid frame. Unconsciously his right hand goes to Steve's hair, long fingers sinking into the silky fauxhawk. He gingerly tugs at the golden strands, and is rewarded with the vibrations of Steve’s moan, which he feels everywhere their bodies are in contact.

Steve’s fingertips skritch through Bucky’s short beard. This time, Bucky knows he made a noise, because he can feel the contented hum of it in his throat.

Steve’s fingers map the muscles in Bucky’s jaw and neck. Bucky’s chin lifts reflexively. He bares his throat for Steve to bite, or kiss… or squeeze. His stiff cock twitches at the thought.

Steve’s hands smooth over Bucky’s chest. Palms dragging fluidly over the muscles, to drain any residual tension from them. Calloused fingertips trace along the borders of his tattoos, drawing invisible shapes overtop of visible ones. Thumbs rolling over his nipples, toying with the steel barbells, working the sensitive buds into stiff peaks until his chest strains up toward Steve.

The song tapers off slowly, and a livelier song replaces it. Steve’s hand slips around his neck, and Bucky’s mouth falls open with a deep groan. The sound is caught in his throat when Steve squeezes.

The body on top of him is hot. Feverish as it grinds over his cock. He doesn’t know if it’s the body heat, or the dirty little figure-eights Steve is doing with his hips while he chokes him that makes sweat bead on Bucky’s brow.

Likely it’s the combination of everything. The song. The ease with which Steve physically subdues him. Steve’s heat. Steve’s hands. Steve’s legs. Steve, Steve, Steve.

Bucky feels everything.

Heavenly. Weightless. Surrounded. Aching.

He whines when Steve disappears from his lap as the song changes.

This song is harder. Filthier.

Straddling him higher, over his stomach, a softer body replaces Steve’s.

“Princess?”

A gentle tap on his shoulder, which is immediately rubbed away by tender fingertips.

When the singer starts growling the lyrics he understands why she and Steve picked this song.

“Dirty Girl?”

The air from her laugh tickles his face as she taps his shoulder once, then grabs his jaw roughly with both hands, before driving her tongue into his mouth.

She lets him come up for air, and he shakily asks, “C-can I please touch you?”

Tap.

He lets out a shuddering breath, and the stillness inside his mind deepens.

She’s wearing flannel pajama pants. They’re old and worn in, nearly smooth with age, but still rough in comparison to her softness. The texture is so different from what he felt on Steve he can’t stop running the loose fabric through his fingers.

Tap. Tap. Color?

“Green,” he sighs contentedly.

She shakes his hands loose from her pants, guiding the metal one to her waist as her hips start to gyrate to the beat. The other hand she pulls to her mouth. His princess laves her tongue over the pads of his fingers, then slips two of them into her mouth.

As soon as she wraps her lips around his fingers, Steve’s mouth slides warm and wet over his cock. Since he can’t see them, somehow his brain connects the two movements, and it’s sort of like getting a blow job, but in stereo.

“Fuck,” he groans.

Tap. Tap. Color?

His words come out as a plea, slurred and rushed, “Greenpleasedontstop.”

He’s dimly aware of another song passing, but he couldn’t say which one. He only registers the change because of the tempo of his princess’s gyrating hips.

He whines when she draws his fingers out of her mouth, but it ends abruptly when she pulls his hands over her tits.

Tap. Tap. Color?

“Green,” he answers.

With a little pleading noise, he lets his mouth fall open, and his princess obliges him by leaning forward so her tits are within licking distance.

Well. Tasting distance.

Because the stiff nipple that slips over his tongue is drizzled with strawberry syrup. The sugary flavor of artificial fruit explodes in his senses. He eagerly cleans the sticky syrup off her skin, and the barbell that pierces it. He whines when she pulls away, but it’s only long enough to switch to the other tit. This one’s covered in chocolate syrup. Then she switches back to the other, and it’s strawberry again.

Between the tit in his mouth, and the mouth on his dick, he’s pretty much in heaven. So he can’t be blamed for the pitiful lowing noise he makes when they pull away in unison.

Tap. Tap.

“Green.”

His princess shifts so she’s straddling his hips instead of his stomach, trapping his aching cock between their bodies.

The mattress under his head shifts with Steve’s weight. Steve’s big hand presses down on his metal shoulder, a clear order to BE STILL.

He doesn’t move. Not even to nod. A handful of seconds tumble by, marked by the fading remnants of the music in his ears.

The final notes taper off, and are replaced by Till Lindemann’s bass growl counting in German.

Eins… Zwei… Drei… Vier… Fünf… Sechs… Sieben… Acht… Neun…

At the end of the countdown, after Til announces the arrival of the sun, the heavy, pulsing beat of Sonne begins, and the sharp, cool point of a knife drags over his collarbone.

He doesn’t move—at least not on purpose—but his dick jumps as heat licks down his spine, blurting precome onto his abs, and soaking into his princess’s flannel sleep pants.

Tap. Tap. His princess’s fingertips drum lightly over his sternum.

He drags in a breath to answer, and her smell hits him like a sledgehammer. The smell of his princess’s arousal is as warm and welcoming as he knows her cunt would be if he sunk his cock into her right now.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his hands seeking out her legs again. Then his arms are pinned over his head by two big hands on his wrists.

Steve’s hands.

It occurs to him that the knife is in her hands right now. Steve will undoubtedly talk her through this, and maybe even guide her hand with his so she doesn’t cut him too deep, but fuck, it’s her hand on the hilt. The thought makes him so hard his fucking teeth ache.

And by the way she smells, he can tell she fucking loves it too.

He repeats himself quietly, “Fuck.”

Tap. Tap. His princess taps his chest softly.

“Green. Green. Green. Fuuuuck,” he answers with a breathless groan.

The cold steel traces along his jaw, and down his neck over his Adam’s apple. He swallows hard, and there’s a pinching bite when the blade tip dimples, then pierces the sensitive skin. It’s the barest of cuts—a mere pinprick—but he can feel it in his gut like electricity.

The tip draws a thin line of fire down his chest, and over to his right pectoral muscle. The knife rotates slightly, and the sharp edge rests lightly on the skin.

A tease.

A promise.

“Please,” he whimpers.

Poised on the edge of the knife, he’s lost in the beat of the music in his ears, a throbbing rhythm that rivals the beat of his heart under the blade.

Then the pressure increases, and carves a crimson furrow in the skin over the swell of his pectoral muscle.

He moans, hips involuntarily thrusting up against his princess, but she lifts, so he’s just humping the air in search of some friction for his dick.

The knife lifts, and carves a second line parallel to the first.

“Please more,” he sobs.

He’s fully prepared to beg…

Tap. His princess’s fingers. Yes.

The first two lines are above his nipple, throbbing with the beat of his heart. The third is below. When the knife picks up again, the flat of the wide blade slaps over his nipple. The jolt of metal hitting metal is a distinct sensation, the barbell through his tit reverberates with it. The liquid pulse of his open wounds flares bright and sharp and painful.

It hurts so fucking good.

Suddenly the urge to come is overwhelming. But more than that, he craves permission. He wants a reward. He needs to know the two people making him feel so good are pleased with him.

His body is theirs right now. So it stands to reason, his orgasms should belong to them too.

“Can I come?” He tries to hide the desperation in his voice behind clenched teeth, but he fears he didn’t do a very good job of it.

Two thick fingers swipe through the first—and wettest—incision, and then he does start begging, pleasepleaseplease.

A finger taps his lips and his mouth pops open, his lizard brain taking over before he even processes the request. The copper-penny taste of his own blood slides over his tongue on the tips of Steve’s fingers.

A single soft tap on his shoulder, and he nearly weeps with relief when he comes. His cock jumps and twitches, pumping come over his abs.

Once he’s stilled himself, Steve’s fingers pull out of his mouth. He chases them until Steve’s big hand pushes down on his chest, then–

Tap. Tap.

“I’m okay,” he pants, and catches himself. “I mean—green.”

The flat of the knife smacks his other nipple, he feels the steel-on-steel tink in his bones.

The knife trails over his shoulder, and down his bicep, carving a shallow furrow on the front of his arm, he groans long and low, his cock straining against his abs in the puddle of come that hasn’t even had enough time to cool yet.

Fingers gently probe at one of his wounds, then a tongue wiggles into another. His princess’s soft lips suckle at the raw cut. Then she kisses him. Just a peck. The barest tap of her blood-stained lips on his, then she squeezes his cheeks, pushing the muscle between his teeth to force his jaw open, and she’s spitting his blood over his tongue.

Static fizzes through his brain, and he forgets how to talk.

Tap. Tap. The bony plate of his sternum reverberates with the firm thunk of Steve’s fingertips.

Bucky swallows hard. He can see the color in his mind: spring leaves and soft grass, mint, sage, pear, seaweed, pistachio-chartreuse-forest-shamrock limepinearmy.

Tap. Tap. Persistent. Demanding.

What’s the fucking word?

Oh yeah.

“G-green… green,” he answers unsteadily.

His princess’s tits press against his heaving chest when she leans in to rub her nose against his.

“I love you,” he whispers.

She frames his face with her hands, and kisses him gently. Sweetly. He can still taste the thick copper zing of his blood on her tongue.

“C-can you touch me? P-please?”

Tap.

He could cry. He probably would if she wasn’t already pushing her way down his body, and sliding between his legs. He wraps his legs around her torso, squeezing her ribs gently between his thighs. Just to make sure she’s real, and not some glorious wet dream conjured by his hazy, sluggish mind.

He locks his feet together over the small of her back to make sure he doesn’t lose her.

His princess’s hand swipes through the come on his stomach, and uses it to slick the movement of her hand over his cock. A shudder rolls up his body like a wave.

The song in his ears is soft and low. A woman’s voice. Whispering. Panting.

He remembers to breathe.

The tips of Steve’s index fingers tuck themselves under the mask, letting in the most minute sliver of light.

Bucky feels his hands fly up to catch Steve’s wrists. He knows Steve has no intention of ripping the blindfold off, but his hindbrain moves his hand before he even realizes it’s happening.

To his credit, Steve doesn’t even flinch. He doesn’t so much as budge until Bucky’s hand falls away. Even then Steve waits for the tiny nod Bucky gives him before letting in a little more light.

When Steve removes the blindfold completely a few minutes later, Bucky squints. The light in their bunk is dim, but the movement is unconscious, reflexive. When Bucky finally blinks his eyes open in the diffuse light Steve is above him, upside down because he’s kneeling above Bucky’s head.

“Hi,” Bucky chuckles weakly.

Seeing Steve’s face above him grounds him. Reconnects him with the world.

With a smile Steve sits Bucky up and slides in behind him, leaning Bucky’s shaky body against his chest. Just enough so Bucky can look down his torso and see you kneeling between his legs.

You’re still jacking his cock slowly, but now Bucky can see the streaks of claret over your mouth and cheeks. He can see Rorschach-esque blots of red over your decolletage and tits from where you pressed your chests together.

His eyes roll back, and his head lolls against Steve’s chest with a rough curse.

The sharp pain of fingers being pressed into the wounds on his chest make his eyes fly open, and his cock twitch in your hands. Steve nods toward you, and Bucky looks again, just to see you seal your lips around the head of his dick, and slide down, slotting his cock into your throat with one smooth motion.

If Bucky had two working brain cells to rub together right now, he might be embarrassed by the whine that spills out of him when your lips are stretched around the base of his cock, or by the way your talented mouth makes him come so quickly—a frenzied handful of heartbeats later—after you swallow around his length.

But he doesn’t have it in him to give a good goddamn about either of those things.

It’s just you. And it’s just him. And it’s the slick, slippery slide over his sensitive flesh. And the way his balls draw up tight against his body when he empties them in your throat.

The music stopped a while ago without him even noticing. So the low, muffled rumble of Steve's voice surprises Bucky when Steve explains he’s going to take the headphones off, both out loud and miming the action.

Bucky nods. The silence in the bunk is startlingly loud compared to the manufactured quiet inside of the headphones. The beat of three hearts, the scuff of skin against bare mattress, the hum of lights and electricity; it’s practically deafening.

“Stevie,” he whines.

“I’m here, baby,” Steve whispers.

“Please,” Bucky reaches for him. A soft noise of relief when he’s pulled closer to Steve, pressing their bodies together from chest to thigh.

“Princess?”

“Shh,” Steve soothes him, “she’s cleaning up.”

As if on cue, you toss a blanket over them both. Bucky coos gratefully.

“She’ll be right back, baby,” Steve reassures him. “Can you drink some water for me?”

Bucky nods, and slowly sips cool water out of the bottle Steve holds in front of him.

“I need you to eat a little for me too. Are chocolate-chip cookies okay? Or do you want a granola bar?”

“Cookies. Please,” Bucky begs quietly, popping his mouth open so Steve can put a little chunk of the soft cookie on his tongue.

“Whatever you want, my sweet boy,” Steve chuckles, and kisses the end of Bucky’s nose while he chews.

You bring Steve some antiseptic wipes so he can clean the cuts on Bucky’s chest and arms, and a warm, wet washcloth to clean the sweat and sticky come off of his skin.

By the time Steve is done with the cleanup Bucky’s had a couple cookies, and feels a bit more human. You enter his periphery when you return to dispose of the mess of wipes and rags Steve hands you.

Bucky reaches for you, “Princess, please.”

“I’m gonna throw this stuff away really quick. It’ll be just one more second. I promise.”

“Don’t go.”

Your face is soft and suffused with love when you answer, “Of course I won’t.” You toss the mess to the side to be dealt with later, and slide under the blanket behind Bucky. He immediately rolls over to wrap his arms around you and kiss the top of your head.

“Hi, baby,” you giggle.

“Hi.”

“Was that okay?”

He nods, “It was wonderful. Thank you.”

“Good,” you whisper. You smooth his messy hair away from his face softly, and ask, “Can you get some sleep for us?”

He only gives a halfhearted nod, because he’s already drifting off. He feels as insubstantial as stardust. The only places he exists are the places he’s being touched by his people.

His people.

He is so hopelessly, inexhaustibly in love with these two, he’d happily carve himself open so they could curl up safe and sound behind his ribs, with his heart nestled gently between them. But he’s glad he doesn’t have to, because this is pretty nice too.

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[toddneilanderperry]

Happy Merlin 10th anniversary !

[toddneilanderperry]