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#beefy bucky x f reader

buckyalpine · 1 year

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Sleepy Bucky

Overworked and exhausted beefy babie Bucky. He’s borderline acting like a toddler because he’s so tired and doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s beyond just sleepy, nearly delirious from a lack of rest after spending weeks on a mission. He’s all pouty and grumpy on the jet ride over, dragging his duffle back behind him as he trudges through the compound.

“Hey Buck” You greet him from the couch where you were watching TV, only for him to wordlessly flop forward and face plant himself onto the sofa. “You okay?”

He lets out a grunt while you pet his hair, coaxing him to at least lie on his back instead of suffocating himself into the couch seat.

“What’s wrong Bucky”

“Wanna poptart”

You were sure you heard incorrectly, there was no way the super solder had requested the very treat he said was nothing but sugar and chemicals (though it didn’t stop him from finishing the whole box the first time he tried them).

“A poptart?”

“Stwabewy poptart”

You blink at his slurred words, watching him curiously as he rolls off the couch to slump onto the floor like a starfish, eyes wide open, arms and legs splayed out to the sides.

“Do you still want the poptart?”

“Ya”

You nod, heading over to the kitchen to toast a poptart for him, occasionally peeking over to see what new pose he’d put himself in. You bring the poptart for him on a small plate along with a glass of milk, placing it on the coffee table where he’s still laying down. He pouts when you don’t put it on the floor within his reach, not bothering to sit up from his chosen position.

“Feed me” He demands, looking at you with puppy eyes while you giggle, sitting down beside him and bringing the poptart to his mouth so he can take a bite. You’re not a fan of him eating in such a pose but it’s not like your strong enough to move him yourself.

“Careful, don’t choke”

“Save me. Give me mouth to mouth” He snickers to himself, while you roll your eyes, letting him take little bites.

“Wan milk” He rolls over onto his front, humming contently when you bring the glass for him to take a sip. You can’t believe you have to deal with this absolute manchild, letting him finish his snack.

“Why don’t you get some rest” You see his eyes starting to close, but his body still too wired to actually fall asleep.

“Don’t wanna” he rubs his eyes, unsure of what he even wants anymore.

“Alright, how about we just put your things away and change into something more comfy” Your reason with him, relieved when he nods and allows you to help him up, taking him to his room. He tosses his bag aside before starting to take off his gear, grumpily huffing when his zip gets stuck.

“My zip” He pouts, dropping his arms to his sides, ready to crawl into bed with his tac suit on at this point. You giggle, gently tugging it till it easily slides down, helping him with the rest of the belts and buckles until he’s in just his boxer brief's.

“How about your joggers and a tshirt?” You were about to go to his closet to grab his clothes but he has no interest in putting clothes back on.

“No”

“But you’re just in your underwear Buck” You say incredulously while he starts making his way to bed, slipping under the covers.

“M’not nakey. Just half” He shrugs, giving you grabby hands, hoping you’ll join him. You sigh, joining him under the covers, hoping he’ll go right to sleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

“Wanna sleep” He whines, and you can’t help but laugh because it’s very clear he needs it and no one’s stopping him from going to bed.

“Go to sleep Bucky”

“Okayyy” He drawls, shuffling around the sheets, huffing with each position, deeming nothing comfy enough for him to sleep. He reaches over for you, disregarding his pillow and replacing it with you instead.

“What are you doing Buck”

“M’a koala” He mumbles, burying his face into your chest and wrapping his arms and legs around you, his body starting to finally relax, all the tension in his muscles dissipating into thin air once hes wrapped around with you.

“You’re a 6 foot super soldier” You huff, shifting against his wishes, trying to get air back into your lungs while he lets out a disgruntled grunt each time you squirm. “And you’re heavy”

“You movin’ too much” He complains, eyes still squeezed shut, hugging you tighter, starting to fall in and out of sleep at the feeling of your warmth.

“Cause you’re squishing bub” You snort, grazing his scalp and softly rubbing his temples while he purrs against you like a needy kitten. In his state of half slumber, he only registers bits and pieces of what you say.

“M”not squishy” His voice is muffled as he keeps his face pressed into your chest.

“No, I said you’re squishing me” By now theres no point in trying to tell him what you mean, he’s too sleepy to understand anything.

“My squishy” He sleepily mumbles, letting out a content sigh when you pull the covers up over both of you. “G’night squishy”

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leelee1234love · 13 days

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Emotional

Full Masterlist Marvel Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary:Your emotional because of your period and Bucky comforts you

———

Bucky was in the kitchen with Steve and they were chatting until Sam came in and asked “buck?”

“What” He replied in a grumpy tone

“I just overheard someone say they heard crying from Y/n’s room”

Bucky patted him on the shoulder as he quickly jogged to your room as fast as he could.

“Baby?” Bucky huffed as he smashed the door open his eyes darting everywhere in your room until they landed on you wrapped with a blanket crying with your phone in your hand.

“Baby?! Are you okay? What happened?” He rushed out his words.

And you whimpered as he wrapped you up in his arms.

“The poor f-fox” you balled out as you sobbed.

And Bucky was very confused but he still held you close to him giving you kisses all over your face.

“What fox honey?” He asked you confused and you just cried more as you handed him your phone.

It showed an animation of a fox being left out of his friend group 😞

Bucky watched it and he just nodded with you as he comforted with you, “I know baby it’s very sad..”

“T-They were so mean to him” you sobbed and he just nodded and agreed with you gently stroking your hair.

“I know honey”

Bucky was very confused because you were never really emotional at all, and then it hit him.

It’s that time of the month..

“Doll?”

“Mh?”

“How about you get in bed and I go grab some snacks and we cuddle mh?” He asked as he gave you a kiss on the cheek and you nodded.

“Alright baby..get in bed and I’ll be up in no time” he promised before leaving the room and not long later coming back up with all your favourite foods.

You held open your arms smiling and he couldn’t help but smile as he was about to go hug you, you shoved him off and grabbed the chocolate from him giggling.

“Wow..chocolate over me?” He gasped dramatically and you laughed nodding.

“You would too” you said and he nodded as he took a square off of you “yeah I would” he smiled admiring you as you turned on the tv.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #james barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky fic #beefy bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky #winter soldier #marvel #marvelfic

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buckyscombatboots · 1 year

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Monstertober Day 8

Careful what you wish for 🕯

Pairing: Incubus!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Initial Somnophilia, dub con, kind of rape, insults/degrading language, biting, scratching, marking, mentions of blood, womb tattoo/sigil, dumbification, aphrodisiac, vibrator, p in v, overstimulation, cunnilingus, demon summoning, beefy!bucky, condescending!Bucky, dark!bucky, praise, fluff

Nicknames: Angel, Doll, sweetness

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: I’m so sorry this is late, I was extremely busy on Halloween with teacher training and university work. But this concludes Monstertober, I have some exciting things planned for November.

༻𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫༺

Candles…You look around your floor surrounded by heaps of softly glowing candles, their flames waning and brightening again and again as the flame danced in the draft of your room. “Check.” you murmured, casting your eyes back to the grimoire’s aged pages; squinting in the darkness of your room trying to see the faded ink more clearly “stupidly complicated pentagram that took me multiple attempts and almost two hours to draw. Check.” You huffed glaring down at the pentagram drawn in white chalk on your floor, the edges smudged ever so slightly from where you’d repeatedly rubbed it away, only to redraw it wrong again. “An offering.” The book had not specified the offering that you had to provide for the demon, it simply said offering in intricate calligraphy “,how very helpful.” Grumbling you crouched to your knees, placing the grimoire down and scooping up your pile of “offerings” depositing them at random in a small circle inside your pentagram. Your offerings, if you could even call them that, consisted of a some loose change you’d found under and behind furniture, some candies you had lying around from halloween that the children hadn’t taken, a lock of your hair and a deeply personal item—which was the only clear instruction in the list, and you had chosen your trusty pink vibrator. Looking at the pink vibe on the floor made you want to crawl out of your skin in embarrassment, but it made the most sense since it was very deeply personal.

You picked the book back up and seated yourself in the centre of the summoning circle, you could feel your heart rate spike as you glanced down at the page for the summoning words. Your hands shook, palms growing cold and sweaty as you began “Heed my call, hear my cry may it lead you to me from your realm far away. I command you to my side so that we may make a contract.” You bite down on your finger drawing blood and swipe it across the floor “See me now and let me see you.” You blow out the candles around you and wait. You gulp as you sit cross legged in the dark, waiting. The sound of your breathing and your blood rushing makes the silence unbearable.

Nothing happens.

After sitting there for five minutes, you climb to your feet defeated. Tears on your waterline as you throw the book to the floor and flop into bed. You felt so stupid for even thinking that something like that would work, you feel the full weight of your adrenaline rush crashing to ground as curl under your covers rocking yourself to sleep s you mentally prepare for the rent payment tomorrow.

The blown out candles relight simultaneously as he steps out of the red swirling portal “You called?” He looked down expecting to see the person who summoned him, but he found the chalk pentagram staring back at him. He bends down, picking up the book you’d thrown harshly to the floor with a frown. He dusts off the grimoire, tracing the embossing in the leather cover with his blackened fingers, turning down the heat of his brimstone skin so the book doesn't burn. From the corner of his eye he catches your body shifting under the covers. He sets the grimoire gently on your chest of drawers and pads over to your bed “Wake up my little sleeping Angel.” He whispers in a gravelly tone, forming an ‘o’ with his reddened lips and blowing a stream of cold air against your ear lobe making you stir. He seats himself on the edge of your bed trailing his hand across your sleeping form “You’re wearing too much for my liking. Let me help you with that.” He threw the covers off of you and turned you more on to your back so he could peel your baggy shirt off, moving as quiet as a mouse. You were left only in a pair of panties, your comfortable pair that you wore when you knew no one would be seeing them, Bucky smiled at them thumbing the fabric adoringly. He ran his fingers across the middle of your panties till a soaking crease was visible. “Already so horny for me, naughty little human.” Bucky pulled down your panties, taking them into his hand to see the clear, sticky proof of your arousal. He tossed the panties already able to smell the thick scent of your arousal, he knew he had to taste you. He dipped his head down, running his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you. He decided there and then he was going to claim you as his. He sucked on his fingers, getting them wet, before inserting them inside of you. Your walls drew him in, clamping so tightly around his fingers that he could barely move them. His hardened cock twitched as he imagined sliding into you, pounding you awake watching as your pleasured cries turned into pleas for him to stop. He had to stop a wicked grin from spreading across his lips. “You’ve been neglected for so long, Pet. Bucky’s gonna change that don’t you worry sweetheart. Who would neglect such a pretty pussy, so fucking tight.” His fingers start to glide through your spasming walls as they adjust to the thickness of his fingers. He targets the spongy spot inside you, debaucherous wet sounds filing the sleepy silence of your room. He paused as a soft mewl left your lips, your body shifting and your fisted hands tightening their hold on your pillow. He continued his ministrations even as your eyes fluttered open and you finally came to, your pleasured babbling pausing. You stared, horrified at the man sitting at the edge of your bed. Your eyes travelled up to the black horns on his head that looked like a ram's horns then down his red eyed that even in the darkness stuck out like a sore thumb, they shone like road studs in headlights stealing your attention before he opened his mouth displaying sharp, white teeth “Thanks for summoning me, Angel. I can see why you needed an incubus. You seem to be very pent up, but I can fix that for you.” His deep melodic voice made the initial stress you felt drift far away. You gaze drops downwards following the muscle of his neck down to the imposing bulk of his shoulders and arms, the rise and fall of his burly chest becoming hypnotising as his scent reaches your nostrils a mix of myrrh and musk that has your head swimming making you completely forget what he said. The feel of his rough palm cupping your cheek anchors you “I said, thank you for summoning me, Angel.”

“I didn’t summon an incubus. You- You have the wrong house.”

“No need to be coy. It’s fine to need a bit of help.”

“No, I genuinely didn’t summon an incubus. I wanted to Summon a demon that could help me. I'm working two jobs, I’m exhausted, the cost of everything is rising and I just can’t anymore. I'm running myself into the ground. I must have summoned the wrong type of demon.”

“Ah, that's Ari’s department. I’d contact him, but he’s a bit busy with a few cultists. So I guess you’re stuck with me for the time being, but I can help you in a different way, Doll.” His other hand reaches to the side of him and heat floods your cheeks as your eyes lock on the pink vibrator he has between his fingers. He pops it into his mouth like a hard candy and sucks it a little before spitting it back into his palm, pressing the button to turn it on “Nice and ready for you.” He chides, slipping his fingers out of your tight heat replacing the emptiness with the warmed, whirling vibrator. You feel your stomach constrict in pleasure as he guides the pink bullet in further with his fingers, positioning it right against your sweet spot. Shooting you a knowing smile as you sob your walls fluttering around his fingers as you convulse “Such a good girl for me, coming all over my fingers.” Bucky coos taking the vibe out from inside you bringing it to the head of his weeping cock moaning as he rubs it against his precum leaking slit, pumping his length with his other ashen hand “Time for you to take me sweetness.” You try to scramble away from him but he was much quicker than you, sensing your fear before it had even registered inside your brain. His warm rough palm seized your thigh pulling you back in position.

“It won’t fit! You’re going to tear me in two. Please can you just forget I summoned you.”

“Oh, Doll, that’s not how this works. You summoned me, I have duties to fulfill and in exchange for said duties I get your soul. I’m not leaving, this will not be forgotten. Regardless, you need to breathe; I’m not going to ‘tear you in two’ that sigil on your womb will make sure of it and make it pleasurable whilst I do. So calm down for me, I don’t like it when humans make my job more difficult than it has to be so behave and you’ll be rewarded.” His threats wrapped up in a sweet tone making it seem as if he wasn’t patronising you. Despite this you began to calm down, wrapping your legs around his hips and controlling your breathing. Your eyes drifted down his muscular torso, focusing on the intricate tattoo like patterns on his skin to relax your mind. The tattoos brought you down to the deep ‘v’ line of his pelvis and back to his veiny member which he was prodding to your entrance. You were pulled out of the trace-like state that his prominent veins had put you in, as he bottomed out in you until your walls were stretched taut around his meaty shaft. He stays still until the burn subsides, watching as your eyes gain a hazy, spaced out glaze and your mouth drops open in an inaudible moan. He pulls out and thrusts so hard into you that your bed scoots under the force, the sound of skin slapping skin echos through your small room as Bucky snaps his hips into you pushing himself deeper and deeper each time, his movements are slow yet rough making you feel every inch of him as he fucks into your tight heat. A surge of heat spread all the way from your hips to the sole of your feet and the tips of your fingers, you felt almost drunk on pleasure, every single thrust of his hips renewing the heat. Your whole body tingles as he presses the vibrator to your clit “God!” You scream as your legs wrapped around his waist begin to shake.

“Oh no sweet little Angel, God isn’t here. In this room, right now, I am your God. You worship me. I give you pleasure.” He purrs, swirling the vibe on your pulsing pearl as he angles the tip of his cock to hit your sweet spot over an over, drawing the orgasm building inside of you to the surface making you cum with a whimpering cry.

The sound of your blood rushing in your ears filled your senses as you came down from your high, even as you came back to your senses you felt much more distanced from reality; your body felt as if it was submerged in a warm bath, and slowly but surely you were sinking below the water. Your break was cut short by Bucky continuing his thrusts, his hand pressing the vibrator to your now throbbing clit didn’t budge—he instead pushed down more harshly on your clit making your legs quake uncontrollably “Hnng! Please!” Was all you could force out before your tongue became useless, lolling out of your mouth. You came again with a shout, clawing Bucky’s back with your nails as you threw your head back into the pillow, your back arching even further into the air. You came so hard you forgot how to breathe, a heavy weight crushing your chest, as you slumped back into the mattress trying your hardest to breathe Bucky finally removed the vibe from your raw little nub. His palm flattened against your stomach where the sigil was placed rubbing a slow circle that set your nerves on fire, before he brought his hand up to the bulge in your stomach and pressed harshly with his thumb tearing a whimper from your throat.

“Fuck you can see me inside of you, Angel. I’m all up in your guts rearranging them. Turning you into the perfect little cock sleeve, gonna make sure I ruin you for any other man. Oh wait, you won't be taking any other man after me. Because; You. Belong. To. Me.” Her punctuated every word with a rough thrust, bashing your cervix which would usually hurt but whatever he did gave you a supreme, otherworldly amount of pleasure “the sigil is almost full, one more orgasm and my seed should be enough to fill it. Do you think you can take it?” He questions a small smile gracing his lips as he awaits your answer, but all you can do is mumble “So fucked out that you can’t even form a sentence, your heads probably so empty right now, my little fuck doll. It’s okay, you don’t need to think, Angel, let me do that for you; can’t expect a dumb little human like you who can’t even read the pages of a very clear, simple book correctly.” His hand slithers up your body towards your neck, wrapping around your throat before he starts to apply pressure—observing as your body begins to melt into the mattress. His thrusts continued and paired with the lack of oxygen bright flashes of white flicker across your vision. All your nerves began to thrum as you felt another orgasm coming, your wall clamped around him as you got closer to the edge. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, he released your neck allowing air to flow back into your lungs as he dipped his head down to your shoulder inking his teeth into your skin. The overwhelming sensations of lightheadedness, pleasure and pain threw your senses into orbit as you came your pussy squeezing his cock as you raked your nails across his back hard enough to draw blood. Bucky gave a few more weak, uncoordinated thrusts before he painted your insides with a wanton moan gripping the pillow hard enough for it to tear. You could barely comprehend your surroundings, you felt as if you were made of air and if Bucky let go of you you’d dissipate. Your heart hammered against your rib cage, as you stared up at Bucky’s handsome face; his sweat darkened hair glued to his forehead. He let out a chuckle, his hand caressing the sigil at your womb “Happy Halloween, Angel. This is the last one you’ll ever have to spend alone. The contract has been made and now, you belong to me. Forever.”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483 @little-bunny0523 @sojuxxi @adoreyouusugar @teambarnes72 @wintasssoldier @gryffindorqueensworld @aerangi @itwillgetbetter @taramaria @anniellacinamon @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @teddybearsgrr

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

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Amen

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

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

Word Count || 3817

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

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

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

Priest!Bucky Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey, are you in there?”

“Yes, mother.”

“Do you need any help with getting ready?”

“No, mother, but thank you.”

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

Ah, this would be perfect to wear.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, mother!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello, Father, welcome to our home.”

It was your dad.

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

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

Was that what we were doing?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, he couldn't?

He couldn't be touching you like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Honey!” Your mother calls for you.

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

“W-wh-what?”

“You didn't say Amen.”

Oh, thank the heavens!

They luckily hadn't any suspicion.

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

“Thank you, Lord, Amen.”

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

More like the Devil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All you did was smile at him.

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

“O-ok.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-yes.”

“Who is it? Is it me, sweet girl?”

“P-please, Father, I-I can't say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So wet you are for me, dirty girl.”

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

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

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

“Do you think you can take one more?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There it is, huh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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buckrecs · 7 months

Note

Hi I was wondering if you had any recommendations for lumberjack!bucky

Lumberjack!Bucky

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Hero Next Door by @jobean12-blog

You and your dog Winter have recently moved to the quiet of the country and you love it then you meet your new neighbor...

I’m yours by @peteyprecious616

soft lumberjack Bucky drabble

Safe Heaven by @world-of-aus

I’m Sorry by @wh0reforoldmen

Dark!Bucky You made Bucky mad, and he makes you apologize for your "wrong doing"

ooey gooey by @thornsnvultures

Every morning, Bucky comes to your store for terrible coffee and maybe something a little sweet on the side.

SERIES

Undisclosed by @pellucid-constellations

Desperate to outrun a secret that could cost you your life, you seek refuge in a small mountain town. Its deep forests and small cabins make it the perfect place to hide, but the travel website hadn’t mentioned anything about the quiet, burly lumberjack that wouldn’t leave your thoughts. No one had warned Bucky about you either.

Sturdy Roots, Strong Hearts by @rookthorne

Life in your small town could not have gotten any better, you had sworn. That was until you started to call a handsome, brooding lumberjack your best friend, and you developed butterflies at any mention of his name, or thought of him. Sure, it was going to be fine, you could do this. What could go wrong?

Through Sea Mist and Shadows by @archive-obsess

after years away, (Y/n) returns to the small family farm on a remote Maine island that was once considered her home. things are different now, her family bears her sad smiles, the fisherman's boy is quiet and reserved, and she herself has changed beyond her own recognition.

Lumberjack AUs by @angrythingstarlight

Lumberjack!Bucky Masterlist

Lumby and Bunny by @sweetdreamsbuck

Bucky's never been so scared of a feeling in his life. there are too many what if's– too many fears bubbling deep within the parts of him left broken and hollow, untouched for far too long. but he never envisioned finding you– and he's entirely too impatient; entirely too certain no one's ever been more infatuated with something than how he feels for you.

#bucky barnes fic rec #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes smut #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes series #lumberjack!bucky #bucky barnes modern au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #dark!bucky #beefy!bucky #neighbor!bucky

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flordeamatista · 1 year

Text

𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴

pairing: beefy!bucky barnes x reader

concept: By the delicious things you could do to him, he is already driven mad with pleasure by the thought of feeling your touch.

word count: 600

warnings: bathroom setting, masturb─ation (m), soft b─j, dir─ty talk, tiny bit of plot but desire daydreams, mirror time, o─ral (male receiving)nickname ──(Doll, Angel)

a/n: written for @cockslutpadalecki Fifteen Sentence Challenge Congrats on 15k! Thank you for always being the sweest soul and writing our favorite mean characters. I used the prompt: "Are you holding back? Don't"

lovely beta:@lunarbuck

masterlist

By the delicious things you could do to him, he is already driven mad with pleasure by the thought of feeling your touch.

Soft lips pressed against his own, then kissing his jaw and neck as your calloused hands caressed his naked body, Bucky felt warmth spread through his body as he received your embrace; his breathing quickened as your lips moved lower, tracing a line of fire as they descended into his skin, he felt tingles of pleasure as you explored his body with your lips and hands, and he felt himself responding to your touch.

Bucky closed his eyes and let himself drift away in the moment, your lips tracing a tantalizing path, eliciting a low moan of pleasure as you make your way to his throbbing erection.

Inhaling it, your lips swallowed it until your nose was buried in the small hairs at his base, by pressing your head towards him and your mouth down on his thick throbbing cock, as his hands pumped faster, the unimaginable thoughts flooded his brain, his heart raced and his breath quickened as his body responded to the intensity of the situation; veins tingling.

When Bucky is lost in his thoughts, you watch him, he looks down at himself and sees how his cock responds to the thought of you, he can't help but feel aroused by your nearness; as his body responds to the tingle of anticipation.

Watching him start again with long strokes, you find it difficult to stand as you swallow what you want but only think of how he tastes, each movement feels deliberate and purposeful, and you can feel heat radiating from your core as you observe him.

As he strokes hard, you can see every beastly muscle in his shoulders and back as he gets up close to observe a reflection of the authentic one.

Watching him in the mirror, you can also see his thick veins running down his length.

He looks up at you in the mirror, and his eyes glisten with desire, "Doll, have you been watching me— Come over and help me out— My cock is waiting for your hands and mouth."

One person knows how to stroke him in places where it excites his soul, and that is only if you let out a deep sigh and kiss his manhood as his body relaxes.

"Open your pretty mouth, Doll," he darkly groans as he lines his cock around your lips, your throat gurgles as he slides his beefy dick down your throat, “Take it, Angel.”

"Are you holding back? Don't, he says as he grips your jaw, "It's all yours, Doll," the taste of him was heavenly, and you felt him go in and out, using you according to his wishes.

You let out a moan of pleasure, and the intensity of the sensation only seems to increase, the shadows from the lights to the reflection of your head are moving in Bucky sees you taking him all in from the reflection of the mirror, that's what angels like you do when you try to sneak up on him when he is trying pleasuring himself to your polarid; but you get to be the sole one doing it for him, against his skin, your hands move, and your lips welcome every inch of him.

I feel his pleasure as it radiates through me, and I know that I have given him a night to remember.

#look ma I did it - fifteen sentences #beefy!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes x f!reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x latina!reader #sebastian stan x reader

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thevillainswhore · 25 days

Note

You Look Good On Camera, Baby

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Bucky’s not letting you leave the photobooth, not until he’s had his way with you.

Warnings: Established relationship, teasing, kissing, smut, public sex, p in v, quickie, finger sucking, uses panties to keep reader quiet, creampie.

Author’s note: Unbeta’d, warning graphics by @rookthorne

Aaand all of a sudden we have another oneshot. Sigh. This one has actually been on my mind since these pictures were first released so a big thank you to Lana for finally giving me the push to make it happen 🤭 really enjoyed this one 🤍

“Here?!” you screeched.

“Yeah.” Bucky shrugged, unfazed. “What’s wrong with that?”

You choked on your own spit at his nonchalance, how carefree he was about this. “W—What do you mean what’s wrong with fucking here, Bucky? We’re in a damn photobooth!”

The blank expression on his face was unchanging. “So?”

The words on the tip of your tongue died out. Your boyfriend could be a little freaky in the bedroom sometimes and you were all for it. Never had you both risked the danger of public sex, however.

“You’re out of your damn mind if you think we’re doing it in public,” you scoffed before beginning to make your way out of the stall.

But you were quickly stopped in your tracks as Bucky slammed his arm against the opposing wall, effectively blocking your path. “We’re not leaving until I’ve fucked you.”

A shudder of arousal ran down your spine at the gruffness of his voice. “Baby,” you laughed nervously. “I know we like to experiment sometimes, but this is a little far, don’t you think?”

The air between you was thick with tension, especially with a pair of bright blue eyes staring you down so intensely you imagined the burning embers of a fire raging behind them.

You gulped as Bucky slowly licked his lips, giving you a once over that made you feel too exposed in an already revealing sundress. There was a short distance between you, and your boyfriend’s stature was towering and beefy, taking up a large presence — his imposing nature made the hairs on your arms stand up.

He walked you backwards slowly, step by step, until you hit the far wall of the booth. Pressing his nose against the curve of your neck, he snarled. “All I know is that my cock is so fuckin’ hard for you right now and if I don’t have your pussy wrapped around it within the next thirty seconds, I’m gonna haul you over my shoulder and take you out there in front of the whole damn mall.”

You thought you could tamp down the moan trapped in your throat, but you were sorely mistaken when it unleashed without remorse. Your chest heaved with exhilaration and your fingers twitched excitedly at the prospect of something so scandalous.

“So what’s it gonna be, sweetheart? In this photo booth with a little privacy? Or out there where everyone can watch me ruin you? Your choice.”

You had not expected this outcome when you had dragged your boyfriend over to the booth. You wanted to take cute pictures and add them to your keepsake memory box. Now you were deciding your fate; whether you would be leaving your dignity in the tiny stall or chance getting arrested for public indecency in the middle of the shopping mall.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, awaiting your answer.

“In h—here,” you whispered in anticipation.

The cheshire cat grin you received in return spiked your nerves even further. “Clever girl.”

Without giving you a chance to backtrack on your decision, Bucky hoisted you up into his arms and smothered your squeal of shock with his lips. He wasted no time snaking his tongue into your mouth, fighting for dominance like always.

“Mmph!” you moaned when he flicked his tongue against yours. A zing of electricity shot down to your pussy and you threaded your fingers through his long hair, pulling it tightly.

Even after so many years, the spark between you and Bucky was still alive. Throughout the trysts of your sexual experiences together, the attraction to each other had only intensified. He was sexier now than ever before. And even if he came up with outlandish ideas that made you step out of your comfort zone, you held so much trust in him that it was easy to follow him to the depths of sin.

A string of saliva connected between your lips as Bucky pulled away for air. While he was reckless for suggesting such a depraved idea of public sex, he was smart enough to realise the two of you were short on time to make it happen.

“Hold on,” he warned before handling your weight over to one arm. With the other, he unzipped the fly of his trousers and shuffled them down just past his ass until his cock bounced out.

You gasped at the sight. Bucky really was hard for you already, if the angry looking vein straining from his thick length was anything to go by. He was throbbing, you could see his dick viciously twitching with need and your thighs clenched around his waist with hunger.

Your boyfriend squeezed your hip. “You like seeing me desperate for you, huh baby?”

You tightened your lips to try and hide your smile and shrugged innocently. “Can’t say I mind it so much.”

Bucky growled with a smirk. “You’re a fuckin’ tease, girl.”

The amusement was quick to wipe from your face when he reached down and ripped the panties covering your mound. “Bucky!” you scolded. “Those were new!”

He rolled his eyes playfully, trying not to laugh at the way the shredded material now hung from your ankle. “Oh, hush. I’ll buy you some more.”

You huffed. “What? So you can rip them off me again?”

Bucky chucked under your chin condescendingly. “Look at you, learning so fast.”

Smug bastard, you cursed internally.

“Gonna stop complaining and let me fuck you now, doll?”

You scowled and poked his chest with your finger. “You better watch the way you speak to me— OH!” The retort on your tongue cut off as Bucky sheathed the entirety of his length inside of your pussy in one smooth thrust. Your nails dug harshly into the firm muscle of his shoulders and you buried your head into his neck. “H—Holy shit.”

Bucky panted breathlessly, just as affected as you. Though he still had the gall to tease you. “You were saying?”

You lifted your head to glare at him, still winded. “You’re damn lucky I love you.” And though you wanted to scold your boyfriend for his cheek, you couldn’t help but squirm on his cock. There was only so much you could take until it wasn't enough — you needed him to move. To feel the delicious scrape of his length against your tight walls. “Now shut up and fuck me before someone comes.”

“You’re so hot when you boss me around,” Bucky moaned before kissing you with urgency.

The nails of his fingers dug crescent shapes into your bare thighs, but the sting of pain was nothing compared to the slow drag of his cock leaving your cunt. You whimpered as his thick girth left you inch by inch until only the tip sat inside of you.

“Gonna beg me for it, baby?” he asked.

You blew out an impatient huff and tugged on his hair harshly until he groaned. “Give me your cock, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Eh,” he shrugged. “Good enough.”

A high pitched keen was forced out of you when Bucky thrusted his hips up, the full nine inches of his dick sat deep inside of your pussy. “Fuck!”

“Should’ve begged like I asked and maybe I’d have gone a little easier on you, sweetheart,” he said tauntingly.

“If you ever think that I would want it easy then you don’t know me at all,” you clapped back.

Your boyfriend’s eyes shone with pride. “That’s my girl.”

Bucky fucked like it was the first time every time. His movements were careful and his hands were greedy; always touching you, always gathering you as close as possible to him. And while he was soft with his caresses, his desire to roughly pound his cock into your cunt, as deep as it humanely could, was another story.

“God, you’re like a fuckin’ vice around my dick,” he choked out. “Would’a thought you’d have loosened up by now, baby. But I can still barely move.”

Unable to speak without screaming, you sucked his neck, bruising his skin until it turned a dark purple.

“You markin me, huh? Want everybody to know who I belong to?”

You nodded your head while whimpering, the nails of your fingers scratching against Bucky’s scalp.

The motion of his thrusts made his balls slap against your ass — he loved it when you got possessive. “Filthy fuckin’ girl. Don’t worry, doll. I’m all yours.”

Letting go of his neck with a pop, you loudly whined out, “So good— cock feels so good in me, baby. Fucking me just right.”

“Oh, I know. But you gotta turn down the volume, sweetheart,” he chuckled. “Save it for the bedroom, alright?”

You tried, you really did. But the way the head of his cock repeatedly stroked against the sensitive spongy spot of your pussy made your inhibitions blurry and you couldn’t help moaning like a whore.

Bucky tutted and shook his head in mock disapproval. “Guess I have to do everything for you, hm?” His lips curled up in perverse satisfaction as he shoved three of his fingers into your mouth.

You hummed around them instantly while staring into his eyes. He made you this way; a willing body for him to toy with, a woman who was quick to fall under his command and you lived for it. You gargled around his large fingers as you jolted each time he drove his cock into you, drool dripping down from your chin and landing on your boyfriend’s lower stomach and dick.

“Can’t even let my fingers keep you quiet, huh? Just have to make sure everyone knows how good it feels to be fucked by me.”

Your back slammed against the wall of the stall and the force of Bucky’s hips rocked the whole thing back and forth. His strength only turned you on more and even with the intrusion of his fingers, your noises grew louder, more unabashed.

“Shit, you sound so pretty.” His eyes darted towards the swinging panties still attached to your ankle and he quickly removed his fingers to grab them. “Such a good girl for me, baby. But I think we need somethin’ a little more efficient to quiet my eager girl down.”

Before you had the chance to whimper again, Bucky shoved your underwear into your mouth. To both of your luck, your moans became muffled enough to not draw attention. “Perfect.”

Though the volume of your sounds had been solved, the slick noises coming from your dripping cunt became the center of attention.

“Are you that fuckin’ soaked for me, sweetheart?” Bucky’s eyes rolled back as his cock throbbed at the feel of you. Even though you were wet, your walls still hugged his shaft.

“Mhm!” you mumbled over your makeshift gag. Your worries of being caught had long disappeared, your main focus now to revel in the building tension from your lower stomach creeping to the surface.

The two of you were only concealed by a pathetic thin curtain that didn’t even close all the way. It left a large gap, one that should a member of the public managed to notice, would reveal Bucky’s bare ass and your scrunched up face, moaning in pleasure at the feel of his cock.

Again, you were so far out of your realm to notice. Though Bucky did as he glanced over his shoulder and the high he got from the danger was addictive.

Wrapping an arm around you tightly, Bucky discreetly reached into his jean pocket with his free hand while keeping up his momentum. He was so close to the edge, balancing on the precipice of cumming, but he strived to hold on just a little longer.

Grabbing the loose change, he discreetly dispensed it into the money slot of the machine. “You think you’re gonna cum for me, doll?” he asked, short windedly while his thighs trembled.

You whined desperately around your panties, your eyes glossy from the overwhelming thread that was beginning to unravel.

“Alright. I’m gonna count down from three and you’re gonna give it to me, yeah? Can you do that for me?”

Thumping your head back against the wall, you closed your eyes and nodded hastily.

“Good. Ready, baby?” he asked.

Your nails scratched the back of his neck in approval and he began.

“Three.” He pistoned his hips, fucking you with all the energy he had left in him.

“Two.” The deep dirty grind of cock into your cunt was torturing and your thighs shook as you fought to hold out.

“One.” On his final count, Bucky pinched your clit, hard. Your eyes shot wide open at the same time multiple bright flashes blanketed the photobooth and your mouth dropped on a muted scream.

“Holy— F—Fuck!” Your boyfriend’s shout echoed across the white walls while his fist slammed next to your head. A huge load of his cum shot up into your cunt, overflowing the already full hole.

Your mind swam in ecstasy from the adrenaline filled haze of your orgasm. The pure rush of your sparking nerves was a familiar thing with Bucky and yet the sensation was so deeply gratifying every single time.

You sucked in lungfuls of air on your comedown, letting your mouth hang open while your ruined panties dropped with a wet slap onto the floor. Shivers wracked through your body and before you could even notice the coldness, Bucky enveloped his warm body around you while he stroked your cheek.

“That’s it,” he cooed soothingly while he recovered from his own intense orgasm. “Take it easy, sweetheart.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you, until there was no space between you. “That was fun,” you slurred lazily.

Bucky’s tired laugh rumbled through you. “Damn fuckin’ right it was.” Lifting his head out of your neck, he kissed you delicately. “You alright?”

“I’m great,” you told him truthfully. “Though you may have to help me walk because I can’t feel my legs anymore.”

He grinned, satisfied. “I’m that good, huh?”

You lightly smacked his chest, even if you couldn’t contain your own cheesy smile. “Nope. I’m not inflating your ego more than it already is.” Turning your head to the screen of the booth, your eyes widened upon what you saw. “No you did not.”

“Oh, but I did.” Bucky said proudly. “A little souvenir of our sexual awakening.”

“Oh my god.” The shock of it rendered you speechless.

“I know, right? Now you have the photos you wanted.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped. Looking back at your boyfriend, you shook your head. “I wish I could tell you off.”

“You can tell me I’m a bad boy later,” he suggested with a wink. “For now let's get outta here.”

Once he gently placed you down, making sure you were steady on your feet, the two of you sorted yourselves; tidying the mess of your sex hair and straightening the wrinkles out of your clothes. Bucky made sure to pocket your panties from the floor, leaving no evidence of your fun.

“Come on, you.” He lightly slapped your ass before ripping the curtain open. “We’ve still got some shopping to do.” He stepped out, whistling to himself like he hadn’t just fucked you senseless and held his hand out for you to take.

“You want to go shopping while your cum is literally leaking down my legs as we speak?” you hissed as heat crept up your neck from the thought.

Bucky leaned his shoulder against the booth and smirked. “Well, we do have to buy you some new underwear. Remember, doll?”

You so desperately wanted to smack the self-satisfied grin off his face. “You wait until we get home, you little shit.”

An excited gleam twinkled in his eyes. “Can’t fuckin’ wait, baby.”

With a huff, you exited the photobooth, begrudgingly sliding your hand into Bucky’s. Before you left to continue your shopping, however, he plucked the Polaroids from the outside dispenser.

Your boyfriend admired the photos, each one a debauched image of you with heavy, hooded eyes with your mouth hung open on a scream.

“You look good on camera, baby.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and leaned down to whisper in your ear. “We should make a film next.”

Trying to clench your thighs together to keep his cum from dripping down your leg, you swatted his arm. “Pfft—you wish, big boy.”

But Bucky smirked, a wickedness in his expression. “I’m sure I’ll be able to persuade you somehow.”

Author’s Note: There may be huge potential for a part two 🫣

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fic #bucky fanfiction #bucky barnes one shot

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gutsby · 2 months

Text

Trigger Tease

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Your honeymoon from hell takes you straight to a strip club south of Madripoor, where Bucky teaches you how to give a lap dance, shoot a gun, and kill a man all in one night—and maybe agree to have his baby, too.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected piv. Oral (m! & f!receiving). Sex in a sauna. Sex in a strip club. Praise & degradation. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Double homicide. Dickriding. Beefy, mob boss Bucky hates birth control and bad men—loves babies and killing HYDRA operatives for his wife.

Descriptions of violence throughout

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

Roleplay was fun—even vital for a marriage like yours.

Only instead of assuming the role of sexy masseuse, strong and strapping CEO, hands-on handyman, or some naughty professor with a knack for after-class punishment, Bucky got to play a bloodlusting assassin.

‘Winter Soldier’ didn’t have quite the same ring as most pornographic tropes, but that was no matter. What counted now was making the shot, and getting it right.

You sincerely hoped you wouldn’t fuck this up.

It was no secret that the Barnes’ bloodline was steeped in dealing, stealing, gunslinging, and laundering cash. Staggering privilege, too. From the sandy shores of Curaçao to Luxembourg and Guinea-Bissau, any living heir to the dynasty could have expected to find safe refuge and respect just about anywhere that they went. It was all but engrained in their DNA at this point.

All that is to say, Bucky had no trouble finding a foreign hideaway in a pinch. He liked the Swiss Alps the best.

After your short and sweet conversation with ‘Joey’ over the phone—HYDRA hijacking the intercom system—he and Sam and Steve had made the split-second decision to reroute the plane to Zürich, and now you were here.

72 hours into a four-day ticking time bomb and totally clueless as to how you might stave off impending death, and mitigate other casualties, the best that you could.

The stress fucking with Bucky made it worth it, though.

In between breakfast and the start of your husband’s early briefing that day, you’d found yourself situated in much the same way you’d been spending a lot of time lately: pinned against the wall of a wood-paneled sauna, Bucky’s broad shoulders supporting both of your legs as he buried his face deep between your thighs. You sighed.

“Hold still,” Bucky grunted, voice muffled as he tried to keep your slick, squirming body in place above him.

You yelped and seized a fistful of his hair when he wedged his tongue even further inside you, nudging your clit with his nose almost too teasingly and deliberate.

“I can’t…help it,” you bit back, ignoring the brief glare you earned from your husband as soon as you said it, “Your tongue’s just so— s— James!”

This time, Bucky let out a full-throated groan when you yanked on those poor wet locks of his—‘Gonna make me bald by next Christmas if you keep doin’ that, honey’—and he pried his head from your legs just long enough to knock you flat on the sauna bench close by.

The western red cedar seared hot on your skin, already flushed from the exhaustion wrought by Bucky’s tongue; you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up when he pushed you onto your back and crawled over your body.

“How ‘bout my fingers, doll? Can you take a couple’a those for me?” Bucky crooned above you as he stroked your hair, bathed in pure sunlight pouring in from the windows. His voice was a touch more sympathetic now.

After all, this was your third orgasm of the morning. It really wasn’t fair for him to use that biological weapon of mass destruction he liked to call his tongue when he knew how sensitive your clit would get from just one ‘O’. Even his hands might be too much in your current state.

Bucky was busy peppering your skin with kisses, working his way from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, when you whimpered and tried to fight a smile.

“Finger,” you corrected him, “Just one finger, Barnes.”

You would’ve thought you’d just thrown your wedding ring in his face and told him to eat shit. Just one?

“How’s one finger s’posed to stretch you out for my cock, huh? Practically had you screamin’ when I stuck it in last night,” Bucky wasn’t one to hide his amusement, grinning even bigger when you swatted him on the arm.

“Who said anything about your cock?” You tried to keep cool as Bucky’s fingers trailed right back down to the place you felt yourself throbbing, aching for his touch, “You have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Meeting doesn’t start until I say so, my love,” Bucky reminded you just as his index ghosted over your folds.

In truth, he was willing to play this game any way, and for however long, you wanted it done, so long as he was the one bringing you pleasure all the while. Be that his cock, his finger, or all fucking five on one hand, Bucky just wanted to get you off. It was far better sustenance to him than the whole fucking meal he’d eaten that morning.

Bucky kept it down to one digit and lightly circled your bundle of nerves when he sensed you were ready.

You gripped his forearm and shot a quick look between your legs, still in disbelief as to how he could make you feel this good so soon after you’d cum twice before. You felt his lips drift over to yours and steal a few kisses.

“Always doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praised, moving his finger in circles. When you whined against his mouth, he pressed it even harder, “Such a good girl for daddy.”

“James,” you breathed, clenching your legs together.

“Everything OK?”

“Uh-huh.”

More than OK, in fact. That delectable coil of sweet, euphoric release was already swelling gently in your tummy. Bucky moved his finger even faster.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured low in your ear.

Bucky loved seeing you try to articulate your feelings—relatively fresh and new to your world, still—while he was giving you pleasure. Adored the way you winced and whined and arched your back into his touch as a whole blustering hailstorm of sensations crashed over you.

He sank his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you, as if trying to extract the words from between your lips. Your response, in consequence, came somewhat stifled.

“Mm— feels so, oh—” Your voice broke off in a moan when Bucky tightened his circles, “—so good, daddy.”

“Wanna show daddy how good and cum for me?”

Bucky knew by the way you were whimpering under his hand that the tendril in your stomach had almost tripled in size. It wouldn’t take much to tip you over the edge.

“My sweet girl,” he said, rubbing your cunt at the same time he was stroking the back of your head, gently, “Feels so nice down there, doesn’t it?”

You rolled your hips against the bench and nodded. Your breaths were short and ragged, panting helplessly into Bucky’s mouth when he adjusted his hand just a little: pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, with his index moving down to your entrance. Pushing inside you.

“Another,” you choked, not thinking.

Bucky met your desperate gaze and nodded, knowing this was exactly what you needed to make it over the precipice.

Still, he wouldn’t be Bucky if he didn’t tease just a bit.

“I thought my wife wanted one finger,” he hummed, brow pinching inward.

“No, no.” You could’ve shrieked when he curled the digit, “Want more— Bucky, please, please, I need more.”

Again, your husband appeared to nod in understanding, but his fingers didn’t budge. He worked his thumb a little faster and watched you writhe on the seat beneath him.

“How many, honey? Don’t wanna hurt my baby.” His words were all kindness, it seemed, but his tone laced with shameless condescension—the kind that said, yes, I know you need this, and no, I won’t indulge you just yet. Bucky was the worst when he wanted to prove a point. You could’ve ripped at his clothes and torn them in two if you weren’t both stark naked and shrouded in steam.

You opted to pull at his hair instead.

Bucky winced, but the smirk never left.

“I said how many?” he pressed again.

“Three. Four.” Fuck if you knew.

Your husband raised both eyebrows and hummed, a single finger still plunging in and out of your cunt at a rapid-fire pace. He teased the tip of another at your entrance and smiled even more when you whined.

“Needy little thing, isn’t she?”

“Bucky—”

“Just wants to fuck daddy’s hand to get herself off, hm?”

Bucky didn’t bother to mask his sweet, degrading tone any longer as he talked down and teased you to no end. It drove him half-insane to see you squirm around, rut your hips, let him say the filthiest fucking words he could conjure up, and just bob your head to whatever he said. His impeccant wife and her insatiable needs—Bucky couldn’t even begin to express how turned on the sheer dichotomy got him. He stared in your eyes, all glossy and soft, and felt his cock stand even more rigid on his belly.

He didn’t give a shit if he’d taunted you enough or not; he just shoved his middle and ring fingers alongside the first and clenched his jaw to start fucking you hard with all three.

Your whole face contorted with pleasure, tinged with the faintest shade of discomfort at the tail end of it. You’d forgotten how big his fingers felt all together.

“Bucky,” you whined, mindlessly clawing at the wrist that was moving back and forth, fast, between your legs, “B-Baby, slow— slow down a little.”

But Bucky was deep in the zone. He knew you wanted it too—sensed that you liked to play it safe when it came to your pleasure and grew a little timid at times it got to feel too much—and he needed to talk you through it.

Rather than turn his head and keep to himself as he got you up to your peak, Bucky pressed his face down to yours and nodded again—this time with a tender sincerity.

“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”

You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Bucky kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his fingers wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,

“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”

“My perfect fucking wife, so good at taking my fingers.”

“Gonna be nice and stretched out for my cock, hm?”

Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Bucky wanted you. Exactly how you needed to be, bucking your hips in time with the cadence of his fingers fucking inside you, and soon, those whimpers were turning to moans as that soft little helix inside you reached its breaking point.

Bucky brushed once or twice more against your sensitive spot, and suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his wrist you feared you might snap it in two, and then getting kissed again, over and over. Bucky soaked in your every sound, and the few tears that would inevitably spring to your eyes, like sweet nectar.

You were still moaning, curling your tongue feebly against his own and leaning into him as far as you could, when your husband slipped three fingers up between your mouth and his and pushed them past your parted lips.

“Suck,” Bucky said, clenching his jaw as he watched you, “C’mere, honey, taste your cunt on my fingers.”

You took him in and sucked your arousal off his fingers just like he asked. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his hand, where your juices had no doubt collected too.

That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Bucky could’ve wanted.

He climbed on top of you and took the base of his cock, rock-hard and weeping tears of precum from the tip, almost drunk from the feeling himself. His mouth hung open as he dragged himself over the seam of your cunt.

“I need to fuck you now.”

Bucky’s words couldn’t have hung in the fog-infested air for more than a millisecond or two before he had you back in his arms and carried to the far end of the sauna.

At the door—or, rather, on it—with your back flush against the wood, you felt Bucky pin you in place with his hips and press his erection to that soft, cramped space between your bodies. You tightened your legs around his middle and sucked in a breath when you felt him pulse.

Then the head of his cock was circling that slick, taut ring of muscles like all hope for his future happiness lay there: right between your legs in the softest and sweetest recesses of your body he could reach. His eyes could’ve been engulfed in flames and still not betrayed a fraction of the smouldering desire that lay behind them now—he drank you in with a single look and sighed.

“Can I— do it, now?” The term ‘fucking’ swiftly lost all lustre when he was an inch from your heat and ready to press in; he just needed to be in you, a part of you, now.

“Yeah,” you breathed. You pressed your forehead to his.

Bucky ran his tip once more down your slit and had just begun to ease his hips forward when a moan snagged in his throat. He braced you firmer against the door, letting your arms drape over his shoulders, and was just about to slide his length inside of you, then—

Thump, thump, thump.

Three knocks in quick succession.

You jumped, the sudden raps reverberating up the door.

Bucky held you to him, tight, and planted a hand beside your head as if to hold the whole frame still. Then, through gritted teeth,

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Need you downstairs. Now.”

It was Sam.

“Can it wait?”

“No.”

Bucky frowned. Scratched the wood surface reflexively.

“Can it…wait?” he tried again, tone laden with a silent but pointed, ‘Is it urgent enough to drag me away from my wife when I’m less than an inch away from being seven inside her?’ Evidently, Sam got the gist, or was just keen to get him out, because he returned, quick:

“Yeah. Legal’s here.”

‘Shit’ was Bucky’s wordless expression below you.

Then a ‘Shit, shit, shit, just shoot me now’ kind of look that raised an eyebrow on your own frazzled face.

Wasn’t the arrival of Bucky’s legal team a good thing? He’d been agonizing for days, badgering Sam and Steve to no end over when they’d hear back from his retinue, and here they were. You couldn’t ask just yet, as your husband was lowering you to the floor and stepping back from the door, chest racked with a shuddering breath, but you wanted to know. You reached for a towel.

“Fine. Fuck. I’ll be right out.” As it was, Bucky had chosen to forgo the dry-off altogether and just started chucking clothes on his body, eyes roaming all over.

You turned from the sound of Sam’s retreating steps and found him moving fast, graceless—shoulders hunched, head bowed, pants wrestled almost angrily up his legs. He found his balance, barely, bracing his weight against the sink, then nearly tore the porcelain fixture off the wall with how hard he kicked it trying to get his left shoe on.

He muscled into his dress shirt and flushed bright red.

In a second, you had either side of the crisp white button-up between your hands, frowning.

“Any reason why we’re so upset?” you asked after a beat.

Bucky puffed a short breath over your head as you secured the first button. Then the next. Then the next.

“What? Apart from the fact I’m not balls deep and about to give you your fourth orgasm?” he grumbled.

You shot him a look.

“I mean it’s— not ideal, getting a visit at a time like this,” Bucky continued once he’d sufficiently contained half a smirk and could don a more serious look, “If we were getting any good news they would’ve just called.”

Hell, great news could’ve made it in an email. The whole aggregate of his legal team taking the trip from Brooklyn to Zürich meant that shit had most likely hit the fan in a big way. Bucky wasn’t thrilled to learn the ‘how’ just yet.

Instead, he cupped your cheek in one hand and brushed his thumb along its curve once you’d made it to the last button of his shirt. He started to lean in, hoping to delay the briefing downstairs with a quick diversion to your lips, but he stopped about an inch away from your face.

You’d lowered your touch, slipping it under the band of his boxers. He was still as hard as you’d felt him last.

Bucky let out a grunt when your fingertips grazed the soft tufts of hair adorning that part of his abdomen. He sucked in a breath when they sank even further.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” you said, voice dulcet and slow as you wrapped your hand around the base of his shaft.

Again, a sound rumbled deep inside Bucky’s chest, and the thumb resting on your cheek stirred. In fact, it had no other choice—your head was starting to move.

Descending, slowly. Sinking to the floor in front of him. Positioning yourself right above the bulge in his pants.

Now Bucky’s palm was laying flat on your head, resting light as it ever had while you drew him even closer.

“Baby—”

“Yeah?” you hummed, just then tugging him out and bringing your mouth to the swollen, leaking head. Bucky gripped a good handful of your hair and rutted his hips without meaning to, and you smiled, “Can’t have my husband showing up hard as a rock to his meeting.”

You were right. There was no way Bucky was getting rid of this wood without the help of his hand or one of your holes. And, under any set of circumstances, he would’ve much preferred the latter to the former. He groaned when you took his tip to your lips and stroked him softly.

You made remarkably quick work of the man with just a minute or two, your mouth, your hand, and a tiny bit of spit—a record-breaking feat, Bucky had thought to himself with some embarrassment. But you weren’t concerned with his stamina in the slightest, focusing instead on the ways in which you might maximize his pleasure in the same way he’d done for you. Stretching your lips, loosening your jaw, and taking him down as far and as frequently as you could manage without gagging around him, you had him good. Deep. All but aching for release as he took a firm hold of the sink behind him.

“That’s a—fuck, that’s a good…fuckin’ girl.”

You bobbed your head once or twice more, flitting your gaze to his face, and felt the warmth unload in ropes—glazing your throat and every soft, square inch of your mouth as he did. Practically flooding your tongue with his cum. Bucky groaned and made a fist in your hair.

“Baby…shit,” came the sound of disbelief under his breath when you pulled off just enough to breathe.

You were careful how you took in air; flaring your nostrils the slightest bit, feeling a twitch at the corners of your lips as you tried not to smirk. Then, with an obscene sort of precision and purpose, you gave something else a try.

You stuck your tongue out at Bucky to show him the warm, oozing load he’d just left in your mouth.

Your husband’s response was immediate: evidently, he loved nothing more than a show of himself inside you, displayed like a prize between your two rows of teeth. You watched him grit his own to suppress a moan.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he seethed. Still reeling from his high.

Then he paused, in awe for a second, before dropping one finger to your mouth and swirling his touch along the sticky, opaque puddle resting over your tongue.

You closed your lips around him, snug, and held his gaze.

A weaker man might have come undone. Bucky just let out a breath and smiled.

“If you wanna play show-and-tell with my cum I can find someplace to put that, doll,” he said, low as ever, then,

“C’mere.”

You didn’t need the powers of telepathy to understand what he’d meant. Should’ve known better than to dip your toe in the cumplay game with a man who arguably harbored the world’s biggest breeding kink and really wanted to knock you up. The realization had you back on your feet in an instant. Having swallowed fast, pried your lips off his digit with a pop, and licked the corners of your mouth, you rose without the threat of a second thought.

Your pale yellow dress was the first thing you grabbed—the first thing Bucky tried to yank off of your body when you’d slipped it up your legs and staggered backward.

“Not happening, Barnes,” you giggled, pretending not to see him advance when you stepped back.

But Bucky had never been big on civility in times like these. He lunged forward and nearly tore the barely-zipped frock off your frame, eliciting a shriek and another arch look from you as you started toward the door.

You were amazed you made it through—your husband had had to stop to tuck his dick back in his pants before stumbling after you—but when you took off down the hall, you knew it was only a matter of time before you heard his footsteps thundering fast after your own.

The tips of your toes had just barely grazed the first step down the stairs when hands seized your hips. You yelped.

“BUCKY!”

Whether on account of your own practiced agility, or the fact that Bucky’s palms were still sticky and slick with his sweat, you managed to wrest yourself out of his grip just long enough to get a start down the stairs.

“COME HERE!” Bucky boomed loud, trying his hardest not to laugh as he chased after you.

You screamed without meaning to. Yanked your wrist out of his reach when you’d made it to the bottom of the stairs and felt your husband close the distance in quick. You tried to be firm, insistent, primed with the kind of fine and unfuckwithable attitude that signaled you meant business. You didn’t, though—the series of giggles bubbling up in your chest said as much.

You descended the last step with a hitch, almost losing your shit within a foot of the landing, when Bucky scooped you up in his arms and held on tight. His lips were at your ear in a second, breaths coming in quick.

“Hell, I’ll give you one right here, honey,” he sneered before flipping you back around to face him.

He pressed you flush to the wrought iron railing, then over it, pushing you back bit-by-bit until you had no choice but to jump and latch your legs around his hips.

“James Buchanan Barnes, if you don’t—”

“Give you a baby right now?”

“—get off of me!” You were laughing now, squirming when he nipped at the space just below your ear.

One more second and he might’ve convinced you. Your Bucky was persuasive like that, too smug and self-assured for his own good but one hell of an advocate when he wanted to be. At length, he opened his mouth to take an even bigger, teasing bite, when a voice cut in,

“Barnes.”

He stopped. You froze. Together, you reluctantly turned your heads in the direction of the sound and found a keystone conference table situated at the far end of the room—seating a dozen-odd faces with identical, muted expressions of surprise. Mild discomfort, for some.

Wild discomfort for your mother and father, you saw.

Bucky set you down and simultaneously yanked the hem of your dress back into place. Flashed a smile for the ages and snaked an arm around your waist as he started to lead you over.

“Nat! Hi,” he tried, far too casual, “Long time no see.”

You bit the inside of your cheek hard and hoped like hell your husband had remembered to zip up his pants.

The woman at the head of the table—the source of the voice you’d heard—raised a brow. One cherry-red curl from her sleek, cropped bob threatened to fall out of place as she tilted her face to regard you both. The smile Bucky proffered had done nothing to repair her glare.

Some wordless exchange passed between the two of them, and next, you felt a hand directing you to a seat across the way—Steve. Smug as ever. Smirking just then.

The empty chair beside your mother. The horror.

You were dimly aware of some introductions being made on your behalf and a round of awkward, disjointed congratulations around the table. Greetings from Nat, Sam, Steve—conceited little shit—a few you knew as Bucky’s groomsmen, a couple members of the security detail, and several more friendly, unfamiliar faces, including a smartly dressed blond named Sharon. Your husband had taken a seat by the latter at the end of the table.

“Momma.” You weren’t sure why you felt the need to whisper when the attention had turned back to Natasha and other matters, but you did, “Where have you been?”

Your mother and father were perched in their chairs like prisoners. There were no shackles to be seen but an air of discomfiture and compulsion bound to their every feature. You couldn’t be sure if it was humiliation on your behalf—they had just witnessed their son-in-law promise to put a baby in you for all present to hear—or something more.

For once in your life, you hoped it was just the prudish, sex-averse tendencies of the two rendering them silent.

You tried your mother again when she hadn’t responded.

“Momma.”

“Now is not the time.”

Her voice was clipped. Abrasive.

You knew better than to test that tone another time. You sank back in your seat and let your gaze roam the table, flitting between your father and Bucky a few more times than it probably should have. Surely, your dad, who had screwed Bucky over to hell and back, obliterated your wedding, and jeopardized your lives for a few more million in his pocket would have warranted some sidelong, hateful look from your husband. A glance or a stare, certainly something to show that he knew, and hadn’t forgotten.

No—Bucky was occupied with Sharon at the moment.

You watched your father twist his signet ring on his pinky, jerking the gold back and forth as if hoping for it to break, or save him. He didn’t look at Bucky, either.

“Natasha Romanoff is the Barnes’ retained legal talent for all things maritime crime and narcotics trade-related. Some estate planning, too,” a voice rumbled beside you.

You made a low ‘Hm’ to feign understanding of whatever the fuck Steve had just said, and nodded.

Then, when your eyes wandered left again,

“Sharon Carter, criminal liaison and kingpin informant. Been in bed with the Barnes’ as long as I can remember.”

He really couldn’t have used a worse string of words if he had tried. You cocked your head just slightly and stared at the pair. You considered holding your tongue.

“And she’s been in bed with Bucky how often before?” You’d decided against self-restraint for the time being.

Steve blinked a little harder.

“What do y—”

“I’m not asking if, but when, they fucked,” you interrupted.

Steve blinked again, as if to clear a string of cobwebs from his eyes, and couldn’t quite find the words to answer your question. Either the truth or some half-baked crock of bullshit—there was no in between.

“Once,” he answered, at length. Honest.

You figured as much.

In any other situation where you were faced with one of Bucky’s former fuckbuddies, you probably would’ve felt more than a twinge of jealousy. Might’ve even cast a dark look in the girl’s direction and willed her not to even breathe the same air as him. Then you remembered you weren’t fourteen years old and could behave with some modicum of maturity when it came to some old flame of your husband. They weren’t even sitting that close.

You winced when Bucky gave her shoulder a playful squeeze, though. That facial tic you couldn’t control.

“So to recap,” Natasha announced, having just plodded through a few dull formalities up front, “Barnes got the intercom call from Schröder at 1500 hours, Friday.”

Every head nodded.

“Schröder gave Barnes exactly ninety-six hours to recover the $90 million lost in the…mishap, in Brooklyn—” Natasha’s eyes flickered to your father no longer than a second, “—and today is Monday. We have twenty-four hours to come up with the funds, or face the…penalties of Schröder’s exploding offer. Whatever those may be.”

You knew what ‘those’ were. Ms. Romanoff was either too kind or too diplomatic to say it, you reckoned, but the threat Joey Schröder had made to Bucky had been patently clear: procure the cash or your wife’s family dies.

That was why you’d been so surprised to see your mother and father seated at the table that morning—Schröder had further stipulated that there was to be no contact between you and your parents in the time it took to come up with the money. You’d been completely cut off, in the Alps, since the day of the attack, left to wonder without reprieve whether HYDRA’s bloodless henchmen had taken hostages of your parents, let them abscond to Brooklyn, or simply killed them both and sent the rest of you all on a wild goose chase to get hold of the money.

Now if they’d only had sex once, why was she looking at him like that?—The intruding thought couldn’t be helped when you peered over again—Surely the most platonic and professional working relationships didn’t call for looks like that.

Shut the fuck up. Shut the entire fuck up, please.

The lives of those closest to you were on the line and all you could think now was how well you compared to this random woman in giving Bucky head? Brain fucking rot.

You scrunched your nose and turned back to Natasha.

“…and up until this morning, Schröder’s whereabouts were unknown,” she continued, careful as she spoke.

It seemed that part had caught Bucky’s attention, too, because he was tilting his head away from Sharon and shifting his gaze to the woman at the head of the table.

“And now?” he cut in.

“I’m getting there, James.”

Sharon smiled a little at that, tracing her nail on the notepad in front of her. She muttered something to Bucky, who disregarded her remark entirely.

“Do we know where Schröder is?” he barked.

Across the table, Sam shifted in his seat. He glanced to Natasha, then Sharon.

“I believe we have modestly reliable intel—” he began, only to have his speech mowed over by an impatient, increasingly irate Bucky.

“No. No— we don’t do ‘modestly reliable’ for this, Sam. We either know where the fuck the guy is or we don’t.”

That last fragment seemed to hang in the air a couple seconds longer than needed, and a tense silence fell over the table. It took a new voice—one you hadn’t heard much at all yourself—to reignite the conversation.

“I know it,” Sharon said, “I know he’s in Madripoor.”

Madripoor? The make-believe safe haven for terrorists? You couldn’t tell if she was kidding at first. Then Bucky flitted a look to the side, and his expression was grave. Natasha’s, too. Maybe there was a Madripoor after all.

“Or he will be there, most likely, tomorrow night,” Steve interjected. The hands that had been folded neatly in front of him were now tapping a light and mindless beat on the table, “He’s got the Foxy Den rented out for a…thing.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Where else but a titty bar would Joey host his ‘things’?” he muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear.

So Madripoor was real, and it had strip clubs. Wonderful.

It seemed Natasha was keen to regain control of the conversation, because she presently broke in,

“Keep in mind that time is of the essence—a private flight from here to the Indonesian archipelago is sixteen hours minimum. We most likely can’t afford to fly private, b—”

“Since when the fuck can’t I afford to fly private?” Bucky spat.

You hated how short and plainly nasty he was being to all those around him. If you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought these folks were at fault somehow, but they weren’t. Your father, the real culprit, was sitting right under Bucky’s nose, and he wouldn’t even look in his general direction. Your husband flared his nostrils with a new surge of indignation, and Sharon patted his hand.

“She’s not talking finances, bub,” the blond started, “She’s saying your jet is on a no-fly list, we don’t have time to charter a new plane, and there’s a hefty fucking bounty on your head if you ever set foot in Madripoor. We need to get you on a commercial flight, undercover.”

“Fuck that.” Bucky’s response was reflexive. He rose fast.

If your parents could have appeared any more stiff and uncomfortable you might have mistaken them for two charming, thoroughly terrified wax figures. Your father continued to fiddle with his ring as he watched Bucky.

Natasha tensed as well. As soon as Bucky was up on his feet, pacing around at the end of the table, she was urging him to relax, Buck, this isn’t anything we haven’t done before—sit down, please. Bucky didn’t sit, and he most certainly didn’t relax, but he did kick a stool across the room.

“I am not going back to that shithole.”

The stool tumbled onto its side, one leg splintered in half. You made a mental note to look into some anger management classes. Your parents, along with most of the table, flinched at the crashing sound, while your husband stood, supremely agitated, and did not even regard the broken chair. He turned away from Natasha.

“Yeah, well, that ‘shithole’ is our only hope of getting Schröder behind bars and you out of custody, Bucky,” Natasha called as he started to pace away.

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

Bucky tilted his head to the side. He contemplated snagging a bottle of Macallan 25 off the bar cart by the window but decided against it.

“Have you been listening to a word of what I’ve said all weekend?” Natasha returned, almost as biting, “Turned on MSNBC or CNN or any other news outlet in the last forty-eighty hours?”

She dropped her own notepad on the table and scanned the area in search of something else. Sam and Steve took that as their opportunity to jump in.

“Bucky,” Sam started, calmly, “There were over a dozen foreign attachés and two heads of State at your wedding, half of whom are now being hospitalized for injuries they sustained in the attack.”

“So?” Bucky snapped.

His eyes were already trailing back to the cart.

“So you think the U.N. Security Council was just gonna let that slide?”

“Two-thirds of its members have been up in arms, practically chomping at the bit to get someone pinned for the fucking thing—that leaves you or Schröder on the chopping block,” Steve chimed in.

“So one more federal probe. What’s the big deal?” Bucky hardly realized he’d taken a tumbler in his hands.

Just as he’d turned to pour himself a drink, guided more by bare muscle memory than anything else, Natasha raised a manila folder—the item she’d been looking for. He’d filled his glass half full when the folder was flung his way like a frisbee. He narrowly saved himself a papercut—or ten—by ducking his head, almost spilling his drink.

“The fuck, Nat?!” he bellowed.

“Extradition, Bucky. Search warrants for your Brooklyn residence, all your money service businesses up the Eastern Seaboard, and a whole hell of a lot of other financial records that we do not need dredged up in this mess.” Natasha pointed to the folder on the floor, which had just spilled a litany of documents at his feet.

“Let them.” Bucky wasn’t fazed by the warrants, walking over them as he drank, “I’m not going to Madripoor."

This time, it was Sharon's turn to roll her eyes as she swiveled in her chair to face Bucky. She was turned from you now, but you could almost smell the smug, knowing look she raked over your husband as she uncrossed her legs and leaned back.

"We don't have time for this," she said, coolly, "If you have any hopes of getting the Counter-Terrorism Committee off your ass and Schröder in custody, you'll listen to Nat."

Bucky paused, weighing her words in his mind before meeting her gaze again. He brought his glass to his lips and drained it.

Then, perhaps feeling a bit emboldened by the idea that she was the only one to have shut Bucky up—to have made him listen, as it were—Sharon piped up again. You didn't need to see her face to know for certain there was a smirk etched across it,

"Don't look so glum, honey. We have no choice here."

It startled every last soul at that table, yourself included and Sharon especially, when the cup in Bucky's hand sailed across the room and shattered on the edge of a cabinet close by. Before the glass had so much as splintered and scattered half of its jagged shards along the floor, your husband was stalking, then stopping, then looming over Sharon with an implacably dour look. And a jaw set tight as you'd ever seen it.

"My choice," he seethed, so low the words almost came out in a murmur, "is to protect my wife. Whatever you, or Natasha, or anyone else has in mind comes second to that. Do you understand?"

Sharon nodded that she did.

A hushed silence fell over the room once more, only now its duration was greater, and the cause of it—your red-faced, fuming husband—had turned his back to the group and was retrieving from the bar cart another glass. Another drink. Natasha followed his path with a vigilant eye.

"Bucky," she said.

Bucky didn't answer. Filled his new glass to the brim.

"Bucky," Natasha tried with a little more volume and vigor.

Your husband lifted the cup to his mouth and started to guzzle, against every shrill and helpless plea from his liver, you guessed. You wanted to object, to take leave of your seat as quick as you could and knock the thing out of his hand before he could finish, but Natasha had you beat—not with any physical act but a word to slow him down: "Barnes."

Then, a few more to get him to stop entirely:

"Look. Over there."

She pointed to a slip of paper somewhere at the top of the shuffle.

Bucky shifted his gaze to the floor. You saw him lick both corners of his mouth, bathed in whiskey residuum and a light, nascent spatter of stubble. He looked almost menacing in spite of the grin that kicked up.

"What's this?" he murmured.

"The terms of Schröder's newest offer. The one he made this morning."

Bucky's second glass was discarded in an instant.

He dropped to his knees, seized the paper in his hands and pored over the bare, 11-point Times New Roman typeface like it was the single most precious set of words in the world to him. There were several mountains of text, and you sensed he couldn't begin to under the legal jargon with just one cursory look.

"What? What's'it mean?" Bucky wouldn't tear his gaze away, even as he shouted to Natasha.

Your own eyes probably should've been fixed on Bucky, or in your lap, or out the window, reflecting in silence on what the fuck could be going on and why it felt as though things were suddenly coming to a perilous head. Instead, you pivoted to Natasha. Her face was tilted to you.

Then she spoke to Bucky, still crouched on the floor a few feet away from her, but she kept her focus on you. She spoke carefully.

"Schröder won't take the money, Bucky."

"What?"

Bucky's gaze combed over the page, desperate to make sense of what was printed in front of him—"The hell's this all mean, Nat, tell me what it means and what he wants, for fuck's sake."—and he flipped the document. Read some more. His eyes flitted from line to line in a full-blown terror.

Then the eyes stopped in one spot.

Bucky stood.

Fisting the letter in one hand and making a wild, inarticulate gesture with the other, he probably could've seared a hole in Natasha's head with the force of his stare. She refused to meet it.

"This is a joke, isn't it?"

All of a sudden, your father leaned over your mother to you,

"We can make it work. We can keep you—"

"Hey. Don't talk to her. Don't fuckin' look at her. Is this—"

"—safe. We'll keep you safe, darling, I swear."

"—some kind of sick fucking joke?!"

You stared at your dad in disbelief. Bewilderment. Then you chanced a look at Bucky, who had all but gone blue in the face as he approached your father from the opposite end of the table, letter still crushed in his hand.

Your father averted his gaze.

He knew.

You saw him flick the gold signet on his pinky once more, and for reasons you didn't yet understand yourself, you couldn't look away from it, or him.

Surely this scared-shitless son of a bitch could speak to you now. He'd have to. There was no way he wouldn't when the problem was staring him right in the face and his son-in-law was practically apoplectic with rage in front of him.

Something clicked in Bucky's brain.

He knew.

Your husband’s breath caught with the full weight of the realization, and he blinked. He didn’t hesitate; he simply sidestepped Sam and Steve—who had stood as soon as they saw the look of understanding cross over his face—and he seized your father. You heard a scream, most likely from your mother, and you saw Bucky swing, but the act barely registered as real until his fist first cracked against your dad’s skull. Again. And again. And again.

Somewhere in the raucous din and sounds of punches, kicks, and muffled groans, a discharge of blood, and the dim recognition that some of the stuff was dousing you, too, you managed to make out several words, disjointed:

“—FUCKING KILL YOU—SOLD HER—SOLD HER?!”

Roleplay was fun—even vital for a marriage like yours.

‘Winter Soldier’ didn’t have quite the same ring as most pornographic tropes, it was true, but it was an alter-ego he’d been given from his earliest days as a made man. A caricature of himself that was to represent everything he did and was capable of doing in places like Madripoor.

You didn’t know that side. You didn’t like that side.

It was Bucky, and it wasn’t—pummeling your father’s face in the ground after learning that he had offered you up, again, in satisfaction of a debt. Sparing no feelings when he spoke to Natasha, Sam, Steve, Sharon, or anyone, making clear his wife’s safety was paramount.

Maybe you were meant to feel proud. Or flattered. Or safe. But oddly, the longer you’d stared at the bloodied, bruised fist he held above your father’s face and the half-deranged look of anger on his own, the more you began to wonder if the fury was for your protection, or simply a knee-jerk response to the thought of losing a possession. A mere object that he couldn’t bear to part ways with.

You had thought long and hard about where the Soldier stopped and Bucky began. No matter where you landed, you were far from comfortable with the conclusion.

Now, even as you stood two feet away from the man in an upper-level lounge of the Foxy Den, roughly half a day removed from the whirlwind turn of events that almost sent your father to hospital, you hardly knew what to say.

“Zip me up?”

The closest thing you’d had to conversation in hours. Bucky obliged.

You viewed your new dress in the mirror from the side and made a face. Pretended to examine the tight black number but were really just zeroing in on the sight of Bucky’s knuckles as he dragged the zip up your back. He hadn’t bothered to mend his hands, and you hadn’t thought to offer to bandage them up. You tried not to stare.

The hands paused at the top of your dress and froze.

Then crept back slowly, taking the zip along with it.

“Wanna—?”

“Bucky!”

One low groan, followed by a palm to his worn and wearied face. When you spun around, he didn’t move.

“Are you serious?” you bit.

“Will you talk to me now?” Bucky retorted.

To be fair, neither he nor his Winter Soldier persona knew how to solve the silent treatment from a pissed-off wife. This was brand new territory—being ignored for hours on end—and frankly, he had thought a playful request for sex might make you more amenable to conversation.

He had thought wrong.

You stared daggers at his handsome face and raised a finger as though to warn him, then stopped. Opened your mouth as if to speak, then appeared to decide against it. A steady, pulsing bass from the floors below was all that could be heard, and momentarily, you were reminded of why you were all here in the first place:

Locate Schröder. Corner Schröder. Capture Schröder. Bring the bad man to justice—or else just pump the motherfucker’s head full of lead and be done with it.

You weren’t too familiar with the particulars of the plan, but that had seemed to be the heart of it. Bucky never intended for you to stray from the safety of the lounge upstairs, where half of his team were casing the club through dozens of surveillance cameras, and he would likely take off with Sam and Steve the second you’d finished dressing. Now would be the time to talk.

And you planned to. Eventually.

For now, though, you’d let him sweat it out.

You had long envied women with effortless sex appeal and charisma. The kind that seemed to be made for the stage, capable of transfixing any audience, or individual, with little more than their aura alone. You’d never felt a fraction of that allure emanate from yourself before, personally, but looking at Bucky now brought you as close as you’d ever been. He was enthralled by your every move, he was intrigued at all times, you could see.

He was visibly aroused before you had even touched him. You knew it was cruel and unkind before you were even fully conscious of what you were doing, but you did it.

Someone had to teach this man how to control his anger—and his urges—somehow. Who better than you?

You drew closer to Bucky until your fronts almost touched.

“Baby,” you murmured. Simple, nearly plaintive.

Bucky blanched. Could it be? Had his bullshit gambit actually paid off and made you want to talk, or possibly do more? His hands immediately went for your hips, but you were quick to shove them off. You poked one finger to his chest and shook your head.

“We can talk,” you said, measured.

You pressed into his sternum and pretended not to see a short-lived look of defeat, followed by confusion, cross Bucky’s features. He let you walk him back a step or two.

“Okay. What about?”

Where the hell could you even begin?

“Sit first,” you urged him.

It was then that he realized you’d been walking him toward the plush sectional couch behind him—a cozy little touch to the VIP room only marginally diminished by the fact that it was coated in liquor, coke, and glitter. Bucky sat down anyway.

You didn’t follow, choosing instead to stand as you appeared to…scratch something on your back? Your husband looked on in muted curiosity as you reached behind yourself and tilted your torso just slightly.

Then he heard a zip. A hitch. Another, longer drag.

Bucky knew he was fucked before you ever slipped the dress off your body. You were to make quick work of it, eyes never leaving the man in front of you as you peeled the fabric down your legs and off of your frame entirely. When you were down to just your underwear, you hadn’t even needed to see his face to know exactly where his gaze was likely to land—this part was new to him. You kicked the dress aside and let him stare.

To be fair, it wasn’t every day he got to see a Ruger LC9 strapped to your thigh. Hidden in plain sight now that you were stripped bare before him in just your bra, panties, and garter-like holster across the top of your leg.

“Where’d you get that?” Bucky nearly choked, eyes wide.

“TJ Maxx,” you huffed, “Where the fuck do you think?”

“I never said you could— And Sam and Steve—”

Bucky paused, suddenly aware of how indignant and stupid he was starting to sound. He had given orders to the rest of his team not to let you carry a gun under any circumstances, but here you were. If he weren’t so violently aroused by the sight of you wearing the thing, he probably would’ve been fuming.

“A couple guys from your security detail were kind enough to make an exception,” you smiled, words verging on smug, “And who’s to say what I ‘can’ and ‘can’t’ do, hm?”

Bucky looked as though he were priming himself to stand when you lifted one stiletto to rest between his legs on the seat. A silent and quasi-sweet threat in one gesture.

“I didn’t say you can’t— well—” Bucky faltered at the last.

“You just said you never gave me permission!” You threw your hands up in exasperation, “That doesn’t sound very equitable to me, James.”

Bucky let out a frustrated sigh of his own.

“C’mon. You know what I mean, honey…I just…want to keep you safe. You know that.”

“Self-defense is a pretty integral part of safety.”

“No one’s ever taught you to shoot!”

“You never bothered to ask!”

This was getting a little too aggressive and Jerry Springer-eqsue for your liking. Not nearly sexy or seductive enough to be heading in the direction you wanted. Bucky always brought the bickering out of you, but you had to stay strong. Slow and steady and all that bullshit.

So, before he could respond to your last remark, you lowered yourself over him. Brought both legs to bracket his hips and hovered carefully in place above the bulge in his tactical pants. When he swallowed beneath you and raked his gaze over your body, you felt a twinge of relief.

You sank further down. Dragged your lower half over his own and earned a groan from deep within his throat. Again, his hands flew to your waist to get a good grip, but you pried them off before they could ever fully sink into the flesh.

“What?” Impatience palpable in Bucky’s tone.

“No,” you answered simply.

“No?”

“No, you don’t get to touch me. You don’t own me.”

Your husband shifted under your body, hands helpless at his sides and masseter muscle visibly clenching beneath the skin as he gritted his teeth. He shook his head.

“I never said that I did,” he managed, after a pause, “Baby, I love you.”

“And beating the shit out of my dad was your special way of showing that?”

“That wasn’t—”

“Or snapping at Natasha. And Sam. Steve. Sharon,” you added emphasis to the last name without really meaning to, and Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. I…lost my temper, I—”

“Couldn’t control your anger. Or wouldn’t. All because my dad made some stupid deal with a man and offered me up as collateral.”

“Because Joey wants you for himself!” Bucky snapped, voice suddenly raised to a near-deafening pitch. He shifted his hips and inadvertently grazed the heat between your legs, drawing a subtle pinch in his brow at the friction, “The deal your dad made was to give you over to Schröder in satisfaction of his own fucking debt—you think I was just gonna sit by and let that happen?!”

In spite of the animosity, you pressed your body to his even harder and watched him fold—if only slightly. He breathed a sharp inhale through his nose and flexed both his hands, as if wanting to make fists. However, he knew better than to move himself around at a time like this.

“What? Like the deal you made with him?”

Your words were clipped, almost cruel. You knew it would hit a nerve in Bucky, and sure enough, he met you right where you wanted him: enraged.

“That’s fucking different,” he seethed, “I would’ve paid your father’s debt without— without anything in it for me.”

“But you didn’t, and you got me.”

“And I love you. I don’t wanna lose you.”

The abrupt vulnerability in his voice was all but agony to hear. For a second, it seemed the anger had fled—or at least been eclipsed by some softer, sweeter shade—only for Bucky to blink again, shake his head, and wear that stupid, hardened look that said, ‘I am not losing this.’ Your hands reached for his belt and started in on the zip.

“You have a real fucked up way of showing love, James.”

To your surprise, Bucky let you continue, unhindered. Blue eyes meeting yours in a cold look.

“Makes two of us,” he mumbled, shrugging his boxers and trousers out of the way anyway.

That was probably true. No person in their right mind would think fucking their husband was the safest, most surefire way to let him know they were pissed at him, but both you and Bucky were working on communication skills, still. You’d get to healthy, non-sex-fueled fights at some point.

As it was, Bucky was fumbling around your thighs, trying to pry them open even wider for better access through your panties. That you allowed, but the second he tried manhandling you over his crotch, you pushed back.

“I wanna do this— without your help,” you said, firm.

Somewhat begrudgingly, Bucky agreed. He let you line yourself up with his length, brace your weight against his shoulders, and when you paused, he made a soft, ‘Hm?’ and glanced down where you looked. Before you could remove the pistol from its holster, he set his palm atop the cool metal.

“Leave it,” he murmured.

His eyes flashed with desire. It was almost more than you could bear, despite the plain fact that riding someone with a firearm strapped to your thigh probably violated every NRA gun safety rule known to man. Whatever.

You lowered yourself onto Bucky, slow, and sucked in a quick breath as he filled you. Your husband groaned.

“Fuck,” followed shortly thereafter, almost timid to crawl out of his mouth as you sank to a fully-seated position on top of him. He gripped the armrest beside him.

When your hips first stirred, you thought the man might burst a blood vessel trying not to move right along with you. You pressed a hand to his chest and reminded him, gently but with purpose: let me fucking do this, Bucky, and he relented. Fisting the couch cushion in something close to a death grip, he nodded his head and heaved a short breath and watched you all the while, grinding on him.

“My pretty…pretty girl,” he managed through his teeth.

He was doing better than you expected. You watched his face contort with pleasure when you lifted yourself up to the tip of his cock and slide back down. You squeezed his shoulders, and you let out a low whimper yourself, and dammit all, you felt that pesky fucking knot already forming in the pit of your stomach. You glanced down and frowned, wanting this to last so much longer.

Fortunately, when your eyes found Bucky’s again, you got the sense that he was in the same boat as you: brow furrowed tight in concentration and lips parted slightly, panting in time with each one of your movements.

“Baby,” he said, the single word treading close to a plea. He paused, dropped a glance to the spot where your bodies were coupled, and swallowed. He cursed aloud, then continued, quietly, “Baby…’m’sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You bounced a bit faster.

“For— fuckin’ hell, honey— for being a…dick.” The last part of his sentence was pierced by a grunt and a moan, but you heard it just the same.

You clenched around him and tried to keep steady. Manage a small, shit-eating grin above him, even.

“Being a dick?” you repeated, pretending not to know what he meant. When his cock grazed over a particularly sensitive place inside you, you just swallowed the moan and kept going, fingers taking hold of some short tufts of hair at the back of Bucky’s head as you rode him.

“Possessive. Controlling. Kind of a—” Bucky paused to grunt when he bottomed out inside, hands aching to hold you, “—piece of shit.”

Finally, you were getting somewhere. Not nearly close enough to cure the rage or the dark, grating impulses churning inside of him, but good enough, for now.

You reached for his hands and set them over your hips.

The next most natural thing was to lean down and kiss him—let his tongue invade your mouth as soon as he’d caught your lips and show you, with a wordless and fast-moving show of affection, that he missed you. And meant what he’d said. With his hands moving quick to cup your cheeks, hold you to him while he kissed you and stroked deep inside your walls, he gripped you tighter than he had in a while. You could feel strips of tension and desperation bleed through his every fingertip.

“Wanna…fuckin’ kill anyone who even thinks…of— fuck,” Bucky’s words were almost slurred at this point, so close to the point of release it seemed every wild and wanton thought that crossed his mind was likely to dance off his tongue, unchecked. You loved to see him in it this deep.

You also had to remind the murderous alter ego that violence was not the answer…always. You let him pull you closer, bodies pressed flush against each other while you fucked, but you made sure to tilt his chin up to yours so he could see the expression on your face as you spoke.

“Hey,” you pinned him with one stern look, “No murder.”

Bucky frowned.

“Yes murder,” he retorted.

You sighed.

This shit was worse than teaching a dog not to bite.

Instead of pulling back or being strict this time, though, you decided you’d give positive reinforcement a try. You squeezed his short locks of hair, gently, and rolled your hips even tighter to his, eliciting a stuttered groan. You bounced up and down on his cock, pulled him into your chest, and brought your face within an inch of his.

“Promise to be good, and I’ll let you cum inside me,” you murmured into his lips. Not the wisest offer you’d made to date, but one that Bucky seemed to want more than the air in his lungs the second the words escaped you. He pulled you in for a kiss, immediately.

“Fuck, you mean it?” he breathed, in between each sloppy, frenzied movement of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you tried not to grin at how eager he seemed, “You’re gonna apologize to everyone, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

Bucky barely seemed to register anyone or anything but you and your pussy at the moment, yearning for the go-ahead to let himself free inside you. With a nod of your head, you’d let him start meeting your motions with gentle thrusts of his own, and both of you were teetering precariously close to the edge with that added pressure. In spite of both your hot and heady, near-anoetic states, you endeavored to hold out a little longer, legs aching.

“Gonna try and talk to Schröder first?” you panted.

Bucky rutted into you hard, lips twitching into a frown.

“Doesn’t…deserve it,” he grunted, barely able to get the words out as he grabbed your hips and thrusted harder, “A fucking bullet between the eyes is what he needs.”

You eyed him soberly, or as serious as you could manage with the force of his strokes nearly sending you into a spiral. You fought back a moan and gripped him tighter.

“Bucky.”

“Bunny.”

Damn, that name.

“Promise me you won’t kill him—or anyone—tonight.”

“Baby—”

“Promise.”

His thrusts were getting sloppier; with his hands hoisting you just above him and his cock practically drilling into you now, speech and coherent thought were some of the toughest things to accomplish, but he tried it, anyway. Bucky would swallow his pride and accede to his wife, no matter how fucking badly he wanted to cum—and kill that Russian mob boss with both his bare, bloody hands.

He could be better than the Winter Soldier. He would.

With a rough, labored breath, Bucky pulled you in for a kiss and felt you squeeze around his cock like a vice. Still thrusting, clutching you, kissing you hard, he saw both of your releases coming in fast and had to act even quicker.

“I— I promise,” he stammered.

That was all either of you needed, or could bear, quite frankly. In the next second or two, you felt a cord snap in your lower half and a deep, punchy flurry of pleasure follow shortly thereafter, fingers sinking deep in Bucky’s shoulders as he bounced you on his cock and held you close. With your walls still pulsing around him, you felt him chase his own high at a breakneck pace, shooting his load inside you a moment later. It was bad, it was brash, it was a really fucking dumb idea to be playing around with the odds of making babies at a time like this, but it also felt good. Exhilarating, even, feeling him empty his balls in that space between your wet, aching walls and filling you up with his seed.

Maybe just one little mini-Bucky wouldn’t—

STOP.

You barely had the energy to acknowledge, much less arbitrate that bone-crushing conflict between your brain and reproductive organs, so you shut the thoughts up with a quick, messy kiss to Bucky, whose chest was still heaving from the peak of his release, holding you to him.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Maybe even two—

FUCK YOU.

The internal war wouldn’t go away that easy, it seemed.

You kissed Bucky long and hard regardless, hoping the shit would sort itself out before you really had to think. Or worry. Or plan. It was dumb and a bit short-sighted, but feeling that hot, erratic pulse between your legs did a pretty good job of making it seem just fine for right now.

Bucky’s expression was lax. Soaking in the feel of your cum-painted insides still squeezing around him, gently. Had he been anywhere but the heart of Low Town on a covert mission in a strip club, hunting down the head of HYDRA with a whole troupe of trained assassins, he probably would’ve liked to stay that way a little longer. But, as it was, he could already hear folks filing in and out of the lounge, footfalls growing heavier as his team loaded up with guns, grenades, and whatever other weapons they could fit beneath their formal attire.

“Don’t look so sad,” you said as you lifted off of Bucky. Carefully pulling your panties back into place as your husband watched you do it, practically forlorn.

“Too late,” he returned in half a groan, yanking his own clothes where they needed to be and trailing a look up your legs, “Might feel better if we tried it again, though.”

“I bet.” You pulled your dress over your head.

Your husband had just tightened his belt and was rolling his shoulders to get a knot out of his neck, it seemed.

“What are your thoughts on ‘Bucky Jr.’?” he asked casually.

“Don’t start with this shit.”

“Jamie for a girl, maybe?”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your baby talk and death threat tête-à-tête continued for quite some time—just a couple minutes, but they felt like years to you—and before long, you were rubbing the gun under your dress and casting a glare in Bucky’s direction, and he got the sense that it was time to head back to the group. He looped an arm around your waist and led you out into the main space.

The living room was little more than a makeshift headquarters at that point. You’d been expecting to see more faces, but the only ones you found were Sam, Natasha, and a few silent, beefy individuals you assumed were part of security. Where Sharon and your parents had gotten off to was anyone’s guess. You took a seat on the couch.

“Anything yet?” Bucky questioned, approaching the panel of surveillance screens with a wary eye.

“We’ve had intermittent visuals on the second floor for forty minutes or so—” Sam motioned to one screen on the left, “—but Schröder hasn’t moved. Hasn’t done anything but bullshit and booze and buy rounds for his group. Won’t even talk to the dancers, which is weird.”

From what you’d been told, the goal was to get Schröder off the second floor, up to one particular private suite on fourth, then send in an agent dressed as a bottle girl to make entry as soon as the rest of the party had arrived, keeping in contact with HQ, and Sam, via PTT earpiece all the while. The details from that point were hazy, but you’d gotten the sense that someone—or, more likely, a sizable and duly-equipped group of someones—was lying in wait somewhere in the suites surrounding them. Steve had been tasked with leading the incursion, though where he could be found, or whom he was with, remained largely a mystery to you. Recon in a bustling, crowded area with music blaring on all four sides was a formidable undertaking, and you could tell both Sam and Natasha had been having trouble keeping tabs on every player. They seemed on edge, monitoring the screens.

“Won’t talk to the dancers?” Bucky’s brow pinched in.

“Won’t talk to anyone outside of his inner circle,” Natasha said, grim, “Which leads me to think he’s not staying here long. Probably called his associates in for a speedy-quick deal because he knows he’s being tailed.”

“Hasn’t engaged with any of our undercovers?” Bucky pressed.

Natasha and Sam shook their heads. Your husband groaned.

“Then how the hell are we getting him upstairs to the champagne room? If he hasn’t budged and doesn’t look like he’s planning to stay?”

The looks on the faces in front of him said there wasn’t one readily available answer—or any answer at all. Bucky turned back to the screens and seemed to survey the whole panel, gaze cooling with the first inkling that this operation may be classed a failure in the very near future.

He barked some half-coherent babble about strategy, security, and failsafes, then barked for Steve.

And, as if on cue, Steve appeared at the threshold of the room a moment later, breathless and slightly flushed.

“Rogers, you’re suppos—” Sam started, eyes widening at something you couldn’t quite discern from his arrival.

“I know, I know,” Steve cut in, fast, “Want the good news or bad news fir—”

“Just spit it out,” Natasha said, preemptively unnerved.

“Schröder’s headed to the suite right now—”

Bucky raised both eyebrows at Steve as he continued.

“—but they won’t let Wanda in.”

‘Fuck’ was the first audible word from your husband, then Sam, in short order. Wanda must have been the agent playing bottle girl upstairs. This didn’t sound good.

“Why the fuck won’t they let her in?” Bucky snapped.

“Someone might’ve tipped his security off. Or else they’re just being extra cautious about who’s let in.”

Steve fiddled with one cufflink on his suit and tried not to appear too despondent, but the implications of this single event were huge, you could read on every face in the room. Wanda had been meant to do something important before the rest of the brigade mobilized—take some key step that couldn’t be omitted from the plan.

“So we retreat.” Natasha was not one to mince her words, per usual, “Get your guys out of the suites now.”

Bucky’s fingers twitched at his sides.

“No,” he said, sharply, “We’re not doing that.”

“Bucky.”

“We’ll get someone in there. We’ll find another way.”

Your husband was already pacing the space in front of you, and you looked on with uncertain eyes. You chanced a look to Natasha, Sam, and Steve, all of whom shared similar, albeit slightly more wearied, expressions as they watched and murmured among themselves.

“None of our people are getting up there, Barnes. Schröder’s got a goddamn sixth sense about our agents or something,” Steve said, at length.

“They’re all in masks—for a fucking masquerade—and we can’t get one person in?! In-and-out, that’s all it needs to be,” Bucky growled.

“We can’t get in there, that’s the point,” Sam sighed, “Masks or no masks, they know our people too well and won’t let us through.”

“We can at least try, for Christ’s sake. That’s what we came this whole fuckin’ way to do, right?”

When no one said a word in response, Bucky scowled,

“Right?”

There was a lull in the conversation that seemed to last for minutes, when, in reality, couldn’t have been more than ten or fifteen seconds. Tensions were high. You could tell from the look in Bucky’s eye he was trying not to lash out as he normally would, but in no time at all, you saw a fractional break in his resolve. You feared he might fly off the handle, or else compromise something that couldn’t be spared at a time like this. You swallowed.

“I’ll go.”

It was stupid.

Every face turned to regard you as if you were stupid, you assumed as soon as the words had left your mouth.

But then, much to your surprise, Steve was perking up, eyes suddenly brighter as his gaze tilted to you.

“She could,” he said, shortly.

“Should she?” Sam seemed to murmur at once.

“Sure, why not?”

“I can think of plenty reasons why not,” Natasha was quick to counter, but beneath that pensive expression, you could’ve sworn you saw the smallest degree of contemplation. Even hope, from the looks of it.

‘NO’ was Bucky’s wordless, immediate, and resounding answer as he kicked whatever furniture—a footstool, this time—was closest to him and sent it flying toward the door. It seemed that self-control of his had worn off fast.

“No,” he affirmed in a word a second later, jaw clenched, “She is going nowhere near that suite.”

He didn’t even spare you a glance while he spoke. He was too busy eyeing the others, Steve specifically, as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths and a light, blooming tinge of pink rose the length of his neck. If it weren’t for that staunch and menacing look on his face, he would’ve almost looked cute, you mused to yourself.

But, pretty man be damned, you wouldn’t stand for being ignored. Fuck that noise.

“I will,” you returned, a little more resolute this time.

Now Bucky had no choice but to pivot to you. His expression softened some, but not by much.

“No,” he said, again.

“Yes.”

“Baby—”

“Don’t fucking ‘baby’ me, Barnes. You said someone who wasn’t an agent could make it up there, and I can do it. Or try, at least, like you just said.”

If your attention hadn’t been fixed on your husband, you probably would’ve caught sight of more than one thinly veiled smile from the group around you. Natasha, in particular, all but tickled to see someone stand up to Bucky and give him a taste of his own shit—and live to tell the tale. The sight of her boss’s eyes almost glossy in the first tender look she’d seen from him in years was almost too much to bear. Steve stood grinning beside her, and Sam narrowly stifled an exhale of amusement. Neither you nor Bucky flinched from your positions.

“We can’t risk you being around him. They’re already all on high-alert,” your husband said after a calming breath.

“As are all your trigger-happy comrades waiting just ten feet outside the door, right?” you replied, “What is it, like, five, ten of them in total?”

“Twenty,” Steve interjected. Bucky shot him a look.

“I don’t care. I don’t want you up there when that fucker was just trying to— to kidnap you last week. I’m not—”

“Right. Right. Trying to kidnap me, not kill me. If Schröder wanted me dead, he would’ve made pretty quick work of that before,” you cut in, tone a touch more deliberate, “Even if he sniffs me out, he’s not gonna screw this whole deal by hurting me now.”

But the mere suggestion of harm to you had seemed to raise every hair on its end for Bucky, and then he was shaking his head, evidently more stubborn than ever.

“No, fuck. Don’t start,” he snapped with his newfound indignation, then, quieter, “Please…don’t, honey.”

You wouldn’t bow that easily.

“Why not?”

Truly, Bucky couldn’t be certain if it was the lilt in your voice, the pinch at the sides of your lips, or simply the sincerity consuming your eyes as you spoke to him, but the man could not stomach the thought of you, his own wife, being a stone’s throw from mortal danger and beyond his protection—or control, he wasn’t sure which one of the two was more dominating. Some cruel and unforgiving knot inside him came to tighten, and twist, and, nauseating as it was set on escape, the white-hot surge rose like bile in his throat. Before he could stop it, the words were spilling out through his teeth like froth:

“Cause I fuckin’ said so, that’s why. That’s it. It’s settled. You’re not allowed anywhere near him, you hear me?”

What Bucky hadn’t expected was the swift ascent back to your feet. The cool and almost careless expression as you rose, as though his words hadn’t registered at all.

He certainly hadn’t expected you to check him with your shoulder as you passed, knocking him slightly off-balance as he turned, in shock, and watched you give him one manicured middle finger over your left shoulder.

“Rogers, I’d like you to escort me upstairs.”

Worst of all, Bucky hadn’t expected Steve to listen.

Fortunately for him, the night was still young and with it, more than ample opportunity to be proven wrong again. And again.

“And again,” Steve murmured low in your ear as you walked side-by-side down the corridor on fourth floor, “If you get even the slightest bad feeling, you leave.”

“Might as well dip right now,” you muttered, adjusting your mask. Your attempt at humor fell flat with the man.

“I’m serious. We’ll be right outside and listening in from headquarters, but HYDRA is not a faction to fuck around with, or underestimate—as I assume you know by now.”

You did. Or would, eventually.

After the mask, you were busy trying to yank the back of your cocktail waitress dress to cover the full swell of your ass, not just the upper two-thirds. Unsurprisingly, it was a tougher task than you had been prepared to handle. Your new heels were tight and impossibly high, your new dress a mere scrap of pink fabric riddled with sequins and glitter, and your mask—holy fuck, were you glad Mardi Gras was not a year-round affair. Bucky had insisted on the fluffiest, stuffiest, full-face covering to ensure that no one would be able to recognize you, but in exchange for your anonymity, you had had to give up breathing, it seemed.

And then there was that vial of poison between your tits.

Sam had assured you that it was a nonlethal dose before handing it over; Steve had urged you, discreetly, to pour Schröder two for good measure. Natasha had overheard the latter and threatened legal action if he ever tried killing a target without her permission. You hadn’t spent much longer getting ready in the bathroom after that. Then you’d brushed past your husband the second you’d stepped out and strapped that last, semi-lethal ‘accessory’ to your bra before taking the lift upstairs.

As it turned out, you weren’t able to escape him entirely.

While you walked with Steve, Bucky was in your ear.

Literally—the man was talking nonstop through your earpiece and clearly had no intention of shutting the fuck up anytime soon. You silently wondered if there was a way to adjust the volume on the gadget as you ambled along.

“Honey.” There was a slightly more mechanical buzz to Bucky’s voice over your private line. You ignored it.

“So just find the cup he’s drinking from and pour the serum in?” you reiterated to Steve for the third time in the last ten minutes.

Your companion nodded, rattling off a few extra precautions while Bucky’s tone rang out a bit louder:

“Honey? You there?”

At last, you stuck your finger to the tiny flesh-colored device in your ear and snapped, “What?!”

“I love you.”

This fucker.

“I love you too. You’re still high on my shit list, though,” you answered, low and begrudgingly.

“Did I hear ‘hit list’? You’re gonna let me tap that later?”

If you didn’t have about fifteen different reasons to hate the man’s guts, you almost would’ve chuckled. At length, you muttered a quiet, ‘Kiss my ass, Barnes,’ and turned back to Steve, who was just then leading you closer to a room roped off and marked ‘EXECUTIVE SUITE.’ Your stomach did a flip as you paused around the corner.

“Right there. All you gotta do is knock and say a guy named Zemo sent you,” Steve spoke slowly, as if he were teaching arts and crafts to a five-year-old and not a woman about to embark on a high-risk sedation mission.

You nodded and took the silver tray from him carefully.

All the platter contained was an oversized bottle of Brut and a silver bucket, but damn if it didn’t feel like you were carrying the world and some change on that thing. You shifted your weight from foot to foot and turned in the direction of the door just a few yards away.

The time for painstakingly descriptive instructions and pep talks was long past you now. You nodded to Steve one last time and started to wobble over.

The entryway was flanked by two muscle-bound men. You approached with a smile.

“Hi. Zemo sent me.”

You didn’t know who the fuck Zemo was.

You hoped they wouldn’t ask, or notice how stilted and awkward you’d sounded just then. You swallowed a peach-sized lump in your throat and smiled again.

The one on the left grunted. The one on the right gave a nod. Without a word spoken between them, the former opened the door and made way for you to step over the threshold. You couldn’t help but notice both with their eyes trained straight on your tits as you passed by.

There was no way that had just worked. No pat-downs or harrowing threats? Not a single, searing interrogation into your identity or what you might be there to do?

Men were dumb, you decided, far too easily deceived by a decent pair of tits—HYDRA security personnel or not.

But you already knew that. You stepped inside.

The fetid stench of half a dozen blazing cigars and booze spilled on every surface were the first to greet you. A wave of smoke, then a bone-jostling bum bum bum to the beat of what sounded like a Don Toliver song came next. You almost couldn’t bear to make your feet move.

But then, shortly, you had to because a shrill, shimmer-doused beauty was waving you over toward the kitchen.

“Ba-by!” she shrieked, gesture growing frantic, “Bring it over!”

You walked with the tray out in front of you, careful with your steps across the sticky floor. When you made it over, where one other girl was stirring wildly at some concoction on the counter, you stopped, and had only to stand for a second longer, because the redhead that had beckoned you was taking the tray, setting it down, and grabbing something thin and pointy. You’d barely even registered it as an ice pick until the thing was thrust in your face.

“Crush it up,” she ordered, one curt nod toward a block of ice nearby. Evidently not giving a shit who you were or where you’d come from either. You guessed Wanda had just gotten unlucky, or they’d all stopped giving a fuck once Schröder’s men had really started drinking.

And drinking they had been, as your eyes surveyed the scene. Half-naked women with fully-clothed men, dressed head to toe in the finest of suits that were probably soaked through to the bone with sweat and Stolichnaya. You almost shivered at the sight of all the masked, wildly gyrating pricks, fumbling desperately through one verse of ‘After Party.’ You could vomit.

But where was your prick? That grimy little shit, Joey.

“Back of the room by the couch,” Bucky said, as if he’d read your mind.

Then a beat.

“Wait. Shit. That isn’t him. Schröder’s over by the door.”

How many tall, lanky blonds could there be in this place? You cast a sweeping look across the room and received your answer in less than two shakes of a lamb’s tail—there were a shit ton of Joey lookalikes all around.

“Careful. Mr. Schröder’s been on edge all night. Might bite your head off if you stare too long.”

The girl that was stirring had apparently caught you looking. She set the spoon aside and turned, but not before chancing a quick glance at the man Bucky had identified to you as your target. The man lifted his gaze.

You chipped away at the ice even faster.

Crush the shit, make a drink, pour the serum, and get it in him. Now. Don’t draw his attention just yet, though.

Something in your head told you to steal another look. You knew it was a bad idea, but you went on and did it anyway—and fortunately, felt a wave of relief at seeing that he’d retreated somewhere back with his friends. The ice pick in your hands made it through the last block.

“I’ll serve the shots, you bring the bottle to Mr. Pierce.”

Mr. Who?

“One of Schröder’s associates. Roll with it.”

It was Natasha’s voice now. Measured, but tense.

“He’s the older gentlemen straight ahead. He probably ordered the champagne for him and the others.”

That was Sam. You could only imagine how all of them looked huddled around the surveillance panel with the transmitter to your earpiece being passed about from person to person. The grip Bucky must’ve had on his gun, or his switchblade, or whatever weapon he could seize to make himself feel a little less helpless. But he was—as were you. And truthfully, there was nothing either one of you could do about that until Schröder was in custody. This was the first step toward reaching that goal.

So you walked with the bottle, now bathed in a tub of ice. You tried to keep steady, but the staggering drunks all around were making that tough, to say the least.

When one man struck you straight in the chest, elbows jutting out as he danced, you stumbled back a step. Nearly lost the tray for half a second, then recovered.

Until the dipshit hit you again.

This time you truly almost sent the bottle sailing for the floor, grip slipping on the tray and knees buckling underneath you as the force of the blow set you back. You bit a quick, ‘Fuck!’ in the air, seized the platter twice as hard and braced your weight against something firm behind you. A shelf, a TV stand, or something. Maybe a half-wall if you were lucky enough not to have careened against some expensive piece of furniture. You sighed.

“Everything alright?” a voice rumbled behind you.

Or a person. Yeah, a person would be pretty fucking bad to bump into at a time like this. Your whole body froze.

You turned.

“Ye-es sir. Yes, sir.” You quickly righted your tone the second you realized it was someone important.

Not Schröder, but someone who seemed to be big-name enough; you just weren’t sure who. The man smiled down at you from under his Venetian mask.

“Is this for me?” he nodded toward the tray, half-teasing.

You swallowed.

“Are you Mr. Pierce?” you asked.

The man’s grin stretched even wider.

“Nope, I’m Ward. but I can take you to Pierce.”

For the first time that night, your heart swelled with some promise. You thanked him quietly, gratefully, then made as if to follow him back through the crowd, when all of a sudden, you stopped. That heartfelt swelling in your chest halted right along with it. You almost dropped the tray.

“Schröder!” Ward bellowed.

No, no, now you were actually going to lose your shit. There was no way in hell you were keeping a grip on this silver little plate any longer without crying or screaming or shitting your pretty, pink, sequin minidress right there. You almost shrieked when a hand reached for the tray.

“Pierce got you doing all the heavy lifting, huh, honey? The bastard.” Even through his own ornate mask, you could tell Joey was grinning—glinting with conceit, as was his prerogative. He took the load off your hands.

“Take it easy now, he’s just—”

“Staring at your rack. Pull your top up, baby, please.”

The chatter in your ear had switched from Sam to Bucky at nearly lightning speed. You glanced down at your cleavage and tugged the fabric up quick, heart beating even faster underneath it.

In front of you, Joey Schröder was all teeth. A gruesome spectacle in spite of its seemingly benevolent intentions, one smile could have turned your stomach sideways. And it did—you wanted to throw up again—but you knew you had bigger fish to fry, and evil mobsters to poison. You didn’t flinch when Schröder nudged you in the shoulder and made his way ahead, coaxing you to follow.

You didn’t tense and didn’t protest. Didn’t blink when he led you straight through the party, around a few topless performers on poles, and into a backroom lounge.

In fact, your mind practically sang as he led you inside.

It was just every other nerve, muscle, and trembling tendon not under the immediate control of your brain that needed soothing. You could’ve sworn the men on the couches would see your legs shaking as soon as you trudged into the room and sniff you out on sight.

But if they had, they didn’t show it.

No one moved when you entered, save for a few lopsided grins and tilts of happy, masked faces. Sizing you up. Drinking you in. Far too easily mistakable for a band of apex predators that had just caught wind of their next meal, and not a room full of sleazy Russian mobsters. You bit back your grating disgust with a smile.

“Got a present for ya, Pierce,” Schröder announced.

A honey-blond head flecked with silver and white sat up from the sofa. Presumably the one who’d ordered the champagne.

“Oh yeah? What’d ya pay for her?” he returned, mouth curling up in a wicked smile.

Even above the booming music, you could make out peals of laughter as the men around you shared in some lewd, crude comments and several whispers exchanged between them. You would’ve liked to grab your bottle by the neck and break it over the nearest patron’s head, but then you remembered yourself, and your mission. You stilled beside Schröder and let them crack a few more tasteless jokes at your expense. Schröder chuckled and set the tray down in front of a thoroughly amused Pierce.

Then he grabbed you by the waist.

“Right. I forgot to ask—what is your price, sweetheart?” he said, swiftly pulling you up to his front.

Your hands flew to his chest reflexively. Your nose scrunched in a wince at the sound of an electric shout:

“GET HIM OFF OF HER!”

“Bucky, hey, hey, we can’t just—”

“NO! THAT’S NOT PART OF THE FUCKING PL—”

The line went silent. You scratched at the space behind your ear, trying hard not to betray any pain on your face, or the fear for what might be going on downstairs.

Clearly, you failed on both fronts, because Joey’s grip only tightened. He peered down at you, curious.

“You deaf or somethin’, sugar? What’s your price?”

You batted your eyes, momentarily struggling for words.

But then, somehow, you managed to choke out, stomach churning with bile:

“Whatever you want, sir.”

You felt your soul drain out through the soles of your shoes as you’d said it. Something fell from your face—most likely a light behind your eyes and any semblance of self-worth as you stood before the man who had tried to buy you, drug you, and kill half your family, and then pretend like you wanted to dance for him, or do more.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t right by any means, but it was all just roleplay.

Roleplay.

You had to keep telling yourself that as you let Schröder’s hand glide up your spine and grip the back of your neck, tilting your head up to his. It was just like your husband and his cold-blooded Winter Soldier persona, you tried to convince the increasingly frightened voice in your mind. Just like him, just like your sweet and soft and sadistic—

“Bucky,” you whispered unconsciously.

You knew he couldn’t hear you now. It was almost insane to think anyone could save you now but yourself.

“What?” Joey exhaled sharply.

You froze in fear.

“Five hundred bucks,” you corrected your error quickly.

You weren’t sure Schröder was convinced.

“Five hundred bucks for one lap dance and some fun?” he scoffed. Then he squeezed your neck a little tighter and drew your face within an inch of his own. You could feel the hot puffs of breath, smell the rancid liquor on his tongue, but you stayed where he held you in place and tried not to grimace when he said, “That’s a damn steal.”

Your lips were shaking something awful under your mask. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what kissing this vile, soulless bastard would taste like, but you feared it might come sooner than you knew, because Joey was drawing you even more rough and tight into his chest.

Just when your mouth was less than a hair’s breadth away from his, though, you heard a woman’s scream.

Then another. And another. And another.

Before long, almost half the suite had erupted in shrieks, it seemed, and the sounds of their horror were shortly supplanted by a series of explosions. And gunfire.

Johann Schröder dropped your body like the worst habit known to man and went bounding away from the turmoil as fast as he could. This time, you did trip over your heels and took a nasty little nosedive to the ground. Fumbling, crawling, then sliding across the shag carpet on your belly with your eyes in wild search of somewhere to hide.

You spotted a coffee table and muscled your way over.

“SCHRÖDER!” a voice roared from somewhere behind.

Again, you knew better than to look, but the fear of not knowing who, or what, might be barreling your direction at any second outweighed more sensible considerations. You stole a look over your shoulder and nearly screamed.

A man with a pitch black balaclava stormed into the lounge and wasted no time setting sights on his intended target—raising a Heckler & Koch MP7A1 submachine gun to his face and firing the second the impulse struck.

You watched a once-handsome, lively, and drunk man turn to shredded, fleshy carnage in less than an instant and fall right beside your head with a thud. Your hand was your only defense to keep the shriek inside your chest, but even that blockade was crumbling fast as the blood-soaked assassin wrenched the body in the air.

The gunman tore the mask from his victim’s head and inspected the face—or what was left of it. He cursed.

You could tell from your close proximity to the blues of his eyes, and that sigh, you wouldn’t need to ask at all. You just sat there and stared, knees hugged to your chest as Bucky threw the body back down as hard as he could.

“FUCK!” he bellowed, voice flooded with rage.

Steve stumbled in with his gun at the ready. He eyed the man on the floor, then you, then a dozen other flailing, desperate partygoers trying to escape the suite all around you. You just drew in even tighter to the table.

“What happened?! Where’d he go?”

Rogers, like you, seemed unable to look away from the carcass, but for entirely different reasons. He appeared to be studying it just as your husband had been.

“It’s not Schröder!” Bucky yelled.

“Where the fuck’s he— shit.”

Suddenly, an unknown assailant opened fire on the two men from the opposite end of the room. Both dove for cover, but not before Bucky grabbed you and dragged you, full-force, behind the sofa. It didn’t seem there was time for sweet words or consolations, his eyes wide and half-crazed as they bore into yours just in front of you.

“Don’t move,” he barked, readjusting his grip on his gun in one hand and feeling around all over your sides with the other. On seeing and feeling no trauma, he nodded his head and moved his hand to your cheek, just briefly.

“Honey, I need you here—right here for me, alright? Don’t move a muscle,” he spoke low as Steve covered from above, rapid-fire shots ringing out on both sides.

Rushed and furious as he was, he couldn’t help but linger on that face a half-second longer than he intended. You were shaking your head and hugging your knees, meeting his eyes with what seemed to be reproach.

“You promised, Bucky,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

You were in shock, that was what it was, he kept telling himself. You didn’t know what you were saying, and he needed to turn away to help Steve, but then you were eyeing that body—that man he could’ve sworn was Schröder when he’d pumped him full of bullets—and you were turning back to him with unmistakable disgust.

He would’ve fallen to his knees and begged his wife for forgiveness if there weren’t more pressing matters at hand. Like your life and his, and Steve’s—and Sam’s, now, bursting onto the scene with a semi-automatic rifle of his own as he helped his friend gun down the last of the stragglers. Bucky knew he had to help them, too.

So he’d stumbled back on his feet, less conscious than acting on pure impulse, and he joined in on the gunfire.

He reckoned he liked it. However long it lasted. He just rolled his shoulders once and sent the rounds flying; he ducked and he moved and he stood and he crouched and he fired every shot as if it were as easy to him as breathing. He didn’t think. When the three of them had cleared the lounge, and Sam and Steve tore off toward the two or three remaining rooms at the rear of the suite, Bucky still wasn’t fully present in his body. All he knew was that his clip was near-empty and his side was in pain—and the room they had emptied was safe. For you.

For you—where the fuck had you gone?!

Bucky barreled past the spot behind the couch where you were supposed to have been, but weren’t, and made a beeline for the closest room over. And nothing. More empty, threadbare, and bloody rooms filled with bodies that didn’t belong to you, and shortly he was yelling for Sam or Steve or anyone in that massacred suite to help him find his wife. The breaths in his chest were heaving.

He turned once, twice, eyes roaming wildly and hand grabbing fast for more ammo. He couldn’t find any more. Beads of sweat began to collect on his brow, and just when he turned to call for backup once more, he paused.

In his periphery, he saw two forms.

He stopped fully and turned to the side.

If it was fear he had felt just then, he wasn’t aware of it. Instead, it seemed a white-hot and blinding ire had taken over, and rather than grow timid, or afraid, he went cold.

“Bucky…don’t,” you managed in a strangled, hoarse tone, throat visibly contained by a blade being held to it.

Behind you, a man stood masked and unflinchingly calm.

Bucky knew that wouldn’t do—no matter how hard or helplessly you pleaded with him then not to do it, please don’t do it, Bucky, please. All he heard in his head was the throb of his pulse, and all he saw before him was red.

He fired without a second thought.

The round just grazed the edge of the man’s cheek.

Bucky swore. Tried to fire his gun again. It was empty.

Still not thinking, much less hearing his wife’s desperate cries for him to spare the man’s life, he grabbed the smallest, sharpest object that was closest to him and charged your would-be attacker head on.

Both men fell to the floor, but only Bucky was mobile.

Only Bucky held the weapon now, as his opponent’s knife had been lost somewhere in the skirmish, and he was wielding it now faster than he ever had before, he thought—an ice pick, of all fucking things—driving it into the man’s face and neck and chest without the slightest regard for anything else.

Somewhere far outside his mind, he heard you scream. Felt you claw at his arm, grip at his shirt, make some wild, shrill, and vehement pleas that he couldn’t begin to understand in this state, and he continued. Hadn’t even considered slowing down until the man’s carotid was shredded in two and spewing blood all over his front.

Bucky couldn’t be sure how long it lasted like that; all he remembered was stumbling back, energy spent, fist still holding the pick and eyes duly glued to the body he’d just stabbed through and maimed until no life was left.

He saw you crawl over the body.

He wanted to warn you not to touch it. Lifted a hand and tried his best to form words, but nothing came out.

He watched you lift the mask.

From that point on, he was certain he had to have been seeing things that weren’t really there. Trauma-induced psychosis, he tried to assuage himself silently—that was the only explanation for the scene unfolding before him. Surely it couldn’t be you cupping that face, pinching that skin, shaking that cold and lifeless, blood-drenched frame beneath you as a sob racked through your own.

That signet ring on a pinky couldn’t have been real.

Bucky didn’t want to believe that gruesome discovery made manifest before him—in many ways, he couldn’t—but then it was painted clear as day as the cries endured, nothing changed, and a helpless, frantic wail rang out:

“DAD!”

—

Taglist: (If I missed anyone please lmk!!) @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes @wilsons-striped-ties @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic @dameron-grant-spector @sushiseoks @deansapplepie @mrsjoequinn @gyokujyn @lunaroserites @first-edition @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi @excusememrbarnes @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl @diannana @shawnberry @yujyujj @urmomsalex @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @athenabarnes @christinabae @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast @wintrsoldrluvr @bethbunnyy @i-heart-smut @dixsond @aagn360 @dahliawolfe @fantasyfootballchampion @lilyevanstan1325 @kandis-mom @thealyrs

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob!bucky #mob!bucky barnes #mob bucky #mafia!bucky #mafia bucky barnes

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navybrat817 · 5 months

Note

Bucky needs to pay attention to me. 😤

I feel you, nonnie. 😂

Running on Empty

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You had a long day and need Bucky to give you some attention.

Word Count: Almost 1.3k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), established relationship, dirty talk, humor, sassy reader, inner monologue, slight feels (it's me, lovelies), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Work left me in a mood, so apologies for this. 😂❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You huffed as you took a seat on the couch and wondered why you bothered getting out of bed today. Contrary to popular belief, Mondays weren’t always the worst. Naturally, the universe decided it would be fun to give you problem after problem today at work in retaliation for having a positive attitude. How you managed to get anything done outside of putting out so many fires, you had no idea.

And Bucky?

Your beefy, gorgeous specimen of a boyfriend had time to sit, relax, and reread his copy of The Hobbit for the umpteenth time. Manspreading in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. Not that you wanted him to have a bad day, too. God knows he deserved rest and relaxation.

But why was he reading instead of fucking the obvious frustration out of you?

“You’re staring at me,” he said, turning a page without looking up from his book. “Which I would say it’s creepy, but we both know you like looking at me.”

True.

You bit your lip as you unashamedly checked him out, wishing he’d lift his gaze so you could see the blue of his eyes. It was an impressive feat that his prosthetic arm matched his right arm in terms of the muscular form and structure, the fabric of his shirt stretching to accommodate his torso. It didn’t matter if he decided to hold you down with his flesh or metal hand, he loved to remind you of his strength as he pounded your desperate pussy, stretching your walls and driving into you so deep that you swore you saw the gates of heaven.

Maybe that was why you thought Bucky looked like Jesus when he was in Wakanda.

“Yeah, I am staring,” you replied, tapping a finger on your thigh when he hummed. “Because I’m trying to figure out why you’re reading instead of eating my pussy.”

Bucky waited a beat before he picked up the bookmark beside him, carefully slotting it between the pages before he shut it and gave you his full attention. “You mind repeating that?” He asked, his voice gruff as he tucked some of his hair behind his ear. He wore it down today, but kept a hair tie around his right wrist.

Perfect for him to pull it back when he went down on you.

He smirked and scratched his scruffy chin when you narrowed your eyes. You craved the burn it left behind when he rubbed his face against your most sensitive area. He knew that.

“You want me to spell it out for you, Bucko? Fine,” you said, leaning back on the cushions as you spread your legs and planted your feet on the couch. Your hands formed a perfect V by your mound, which might as well have been a neon fucking sign since you ditched your under minutes ago, as he tried to hold back a groan. “See this? I have a perfectly good pussy right here and it isn’t going to eat or fuck itself.”

Bucky ran his tongue along his bottom lip before he inhaled. The beautiful bastard was actually sniffing out your arousal. You almost wished you could go back in time and let the scientists know that the serum they created helped super soldiers use their heightened senses to get their dicks wet.

Not that you were complaining since Bucky eyed you like he wanted to devour you whole.

“I’m sorry, baby. Didn’t realize eating or fucking your pussy was on my ‘To Do’ list today,” he said, purposely running a large hand over his crotch.

Fucking tease with his fucking massive hand and cock.

You pouted when he didn’t make a move to get up. “I am your ‘To Do’ list. I’m your girlfriend and I want you to do me because I had a long day,” you huffed, dipping your hand between your spread legs before you batted your eyes at him. “You haven’t fucked me in ages. It isn’t fair.”

Your beautiful man snarled at that, making you shiver as you teased yourself. You didn’t dip a finger in, but you did spread your growing wetness around as he watched. “I fucked you last night,” he reminded you.

“It feels like ages,” you corrected yourself. Thanks to him, you experienced what all-consuming desire felt like and you didn’t like going long without him having you. He couldn’t fault you for that, even if he did thoroughly wear you out the night before. “I’m so empty, Bucky, and I have this tight, wet hole for you to fill up. It’s all yours if you want it.”

His nostrils flared as he finally pushed himself up, his fingers flexing as you kept rubbing yourself with a sweet smile. “It’s my pussy,” he rasped, palming himself again as he stood in front of you. “And since she’s so needy that I can’t even finish a chapter of my book, stop touching her and let me get to work.”

Like you don't have a needy cock, big boy.

The growl in his voice brought a moan out of you, but you didn’t stop touching yourself. “Unless you mark it,” you began, looking him dead in the eye as you brought a glistening finger to your lips and traced along them like a gloss. “It isn’t yours.”

You managed not to smirk triumphantly when he took the hair tie from his wrist and pulled his luscious hair back. “She knows she’s mine. Bratty pussy just wants some attention,” he said as he dropped to his knees and leaned in to nose at your slit. “But I don't mind leaving my mark again.”

“Did you just call my pussy a brat?” You questioned, the last word coming out as a strangled moan when Bucky darted his tongue out, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you still.

“No, I called my pussy a brat. Good thing I know how to tame her,” he said, winking up at you when you looked down. The playful look in his eyes made your heart swell. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. “Kisses are a good way to start before I pump her full.”

“A very good start,” you smiled, clenching in anticipation.

“And she loves my kisses,” he replied before dragging his mouth along your folds. The sensation that shot through you almost had your thighs clamping around his head, but it wasn’t possible with the hold he had on you. “I gotta say though. She's a messy little thing. Gets my mouth so wet.”

“Bucky,” you whimpered, tugging some of his hair free as he gently wrapped his mouth around your clit.

He hummed and lightly sucked on it before he pulled away, making you whine in protest when the sparks of pleasure fizzled out. “Speaking of kisses, I almost forgot.”

You gave him a small smile when he leaned up to tenderly kiss your mouth, letting him swallow down your moan as you opened up for him. It ended far too soon for your liking, making you loop a finger around his dog tags to pull him back to your lips. “Love you, Bucky,” you whispered.

On the days you practically ran on empty, you appreciated having someone like him by your side.

“Love you, too, baby,” he whispered back, his gaze soft as he slid back down your body. “Now hold on and let me make you and my pussy forget all about that long day.”

You knew he’d ask later if you were okay, but for now you’d let him shut your brain off and make you feel boneless.

And maybe you'd offer to warm his cock later as a thank you while he caught up on reading.

We all deserve that, right? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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buckyalpine · 6 months

Text

Give me Beefy Bucky who is shy yet obsessed with how soft and little you are compared to him. Compared to his thick, wide shoulders. His meaty, firm thighs. His huge, heavy balls. His perfectly fat, split you in half cock.

“C‘mon bunny, put ‘em both in your mouth” he whines with puppy eyes, spreading his legs more while you nearly choke trying to fit his balls in your mouth. The delicious scent of his musk makes you moan with your mouth full, his heavy sac already throbbing. “Want you to suck them both at the same time”

“S’too big” you pout, cupping and rolling him in your palm, giving your aching jaw a break. He blushes at your words, his curved throbbing cock jumping against his belly.

“You have such a cute little mouth” he whispers with a soft smile, the pink on his cheeks deepening when you shove his thighs apart again, dipping your head to take them in your mouth, “oh fuck just like that, use that tongue, suck them nice and hard, don’t care if it hurts, suck them harder bunny”

He’s a feral little (beefy) fuck, holding your head in place while rutting himself against your face. The shallow breaths you take in between with your mouth full make his tip weep and he can’t help but reach down to stroke himself, using his thumb to spread his arousal around. When he finally can’t take it, he grabs and flips you onto your back, splitting your legs open and humping himself between your folds.

“Fuck you’re so tight bunny” he shudders above you as he pushes your thighs to your chest, folding you in half, making you hold your knees apart. He pumps his cock a few times while staring at your slick hole dripping and fluttering for him.

“Look at your little pussy” his voice is between a whine and a whisper, pressing just the head of his cock into you making you moan, his tip alone stretching you. He doesn’t even fucking move, pulling it back out and pushing just the head in, his lil caught between his teeth watching his perfect pink tip disappear in and out. “How are you gonna take all of me bunny,you’re already stretched open”

He’s not even taunting you. He’s blushing so much because he can feel the way you quiver around him already and he isn’t even inside properly. “Can feel you sucking me in baby, you want more? That’s just the tip bunny, so sensitive for you, m’already making a mess”

“More Bucky, fuck me, please” you plead with him, pulling your knees back further, tightening around him even more.

“Oh God” he plunges himself into you without warning, drawing his hips back and slamming them back in making your body bounce with each thrust. You sob in pleasure, broken moans leaving your lips as he knocks the wind out of you with the powerful snap of his hips.

He looks feral, eyes fixated on where his cock disappears in and out with each thrust, your sweet mixed cream squirting out of you each time he shoves himself back in.

“Look at the mess we’re making together baby. So. Fucking. Pretty. You’re so pretty when you’re all stretched open bunny, pussy was made for my cock, you take big dick so well, you’re such a good girl, my good girl made for fat cock”

You nearly wail as he speeds up, panting and grunting, your belly bulging each time. He’s sitting back on his heels so he can watch exactly how much your pussy opens up for him, that needy button between your legs equally desperate for attention.

“Why’s are you so tight around my dick baby, can’t even last when I fuck you” he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to try and collect himself but it’s pointless. His cock starts to swell, drops of cum already starting to spurt out. He’s trying so hard to hold back but his body can’t stop moving, chasing the way your pussy chokes his length.

“M’mph-gonna cum-“ he chokes out, his movements growing sloppy and erratic, the bed banging the wall. “Gonna pump you full of cum baby, gonna make you wet the bed with how much cum drips of you”

“Cum in me Bucky” your nails dig in his shoulders, gasping when he sits back and spits onto your clit before rubbing it in circles.

“Such a cute little button making you scream so loud, you sound so beautiful like this” he gives it a pinch and you shatter around him, desperate squeals making him moan louder.

“Gonna milk my cock dry, gonna give you a thick load baby, there’s so much cum in my balls, in my dick, I can’t hold it, it’s so swollen, S-o sensitive- FUCKKK” he lets out a broken sob as he starts to throb ropes and ropes of his warm spend in you, the sheets soaking what your pussy can’t hold.

“Got the sheets all wet bunny, can feel it on my thighs-

Anyway. As always I’m sorry for this.

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the-queen-of-hell-666 · 7 months

Text

Big Boy

Kinktober 2023 - Day 3

Pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Petite!Fem!Reader

Kink: Size Kink

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: You meet Bucky in Romania and you show him a good time for the first time in 70 years.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected sex, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal sex, creampie, oral sex (f! receiving) , hickies, size kink, overstimulation, missionary), slight!inexperienced!Bucky, lots of fluff, smitten!Bucky

a/n: Hello everyone! Here is Day 3! I'm working on the days I missed but it might be a while! Hope you enjoy!

Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Bucky has been in Romania for almost a year and he liked his crappy apartment, taking odd jobs, but his favorite thing to do was come down to the fruit market outside of his apartment. His favorite stand was the plum and baked goods stand run by you. The most beautiful dame he’s ever seen and he loves talking to you because you listen and treat him normally, not like a freak which everyone else treats him like. They avoid him like the plague and don’t ever talk to him but you? You will stand and talk to him for hours no matter how many people avoid your booth but you couldn��t care less. He was so charming and yet with a shyness that you found it so adorable. You would talk his ear off which he found adorable and he did want to ask you out, he was terrified if his past caught up to him then you would get hurt in the crossfire.

But then, you asked him out for a cup of coffee. He said yes. Then one date turned into two and now it was after your fourth date that he found himself in your small house outside of the city. It was small but neat, wall to wall bookshelves, somewhat modern kitchen with a cozy reading nook in the bay window and it was perfect. It smelled like you making him calm as your scent surrounds him. You walked over with two cups of tea and handed him one as you sat down beside him.

“I know it’s not much but it’s home.” You said as you sip your tea. He smiled and shook his head, “It’s beautiful, doll. It represents you.” He said as he sipped his tea then set the cup down.

You set your mug down and turned to face him, “I have a confession.”

He suddenly became a little nervous but swallowed silently. “What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath and bit your lip before speaking, “I know this is only our fourth date and I don’t want to rush or anything but… I really want you, tonight.” You whispered as you peered up at his curious blue eyes.

“O-oh, doll. I-I would love to, it’s just it’s been a while and I’m not sure how well I would… um… perform.” He said hesitantly and you nodded as you listened.

“I totally understand that and we don’t have to do anything tonight. I just wanted to bring up the subject.” You whispered sheepishly but his super hearing caught it and he sighed but gave you a warm smile.

“How about we start and you just show me what you like?” He offered with a genuine smile which made your heart warm.

You nodded and bit your lip, “I would like that.” You smiled and you slowly leaned over to cup his cheek with one hand and your lips ghosted over his.

You leaned up to press a soft and loving kiss to his lips. Bucky’s cheeks warmed as you went slow with him and his large hands grasped your waist gently and helped you straddle his lap as you two continued to kiss passionately and slowly. He smiled against your lips and he pulled back to kiss down your jaw and neck slowly remembering the few times he was with a girl and how they liked their neck kissed. You gasped softly as you felt his teeth gently graze against your skin, your hands moved up to his hair combing through it gently feeling the soft locks through your fingers. He had washed his hair for tonight because you two were going to a fancy restaurant so he decided to get cleaned up for you which he’s thankful he did.

You pulled his head back up to kiss his lips passionately as you moved your hands down to start unbuttoning his shirt slowly, once undone you ran your hands up his chest softly. He froze under your touch as you got close to his metal arm and you felt him tense and you pulled away to look up at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked cupping his face gently.

“I… um… lost my arm in the war and it’s really messed up.” He said self-consciously as he laid his head back on the couch.

You sighed and pulled his face down to look you in your eyes. “I don’t care about scars or missing limbs or anything like that. You are the sweetest man I’ve ever met and no matter what you look like, it doesn’t matter to me. I like you for you.” You whispered to him and he smiled softly as his chest warmed with your words and he leaned down and kissed you passionately. You smiled against his lips and pulled him closer and your hands moved back under his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders and you pulled away to look at his bare chest. “You’re so handsome.” You whispered as you caressed his chest and up to his shoulders. You leaned up to kiss his lips deeply and he smiled against your lips and his large hands squeezed your hips softly as he held you close to him.

He looked down at your small body on his lap, he loved how small you were compared to him. It turned him on like he’s never been before, not before the war, not ever. He felt an overwhelming attraction to you, you were his diamond in the rough and he just wished that this wouldn’t be ruined, but he didn’t want to think of that, he just wanted to enjoy the moment with you. To feel your small body pressed against him having him get the skin to skin contact he craves.

He unzipped your dress and let it pool around your hips revealing your dark blue lace bra and a peak at your matching panties making Bucky groan softly and he leaned down and pressed kisses to the tops of your breasts as his hands squeezed the meat of your thighs. “You’re so beautiful, doll. So soft and small.” He whispered against your breasts as his strong hands moved down to help you shimmy out of your dress. You reached behind you to unhook your bra and threw it somewhere in the room making Bucky groan at your newly revealed skin. “You’re going to kill me, doll.”

You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him passionately, your breasts pressed against his bare chest. “Take me to bed, Jamie.” You whispered against his lips making him smirk and scoop you up without any effort. You squealed softly as you wrapped yourself around his chest and he carried you to your bedroom down the hall before gently placing you on the bed. He pulled away and finished taking off his shirt then unbuckled his jeans and undoing them as you slid back against the pillows and let your knees fall open for him.

He growled softly before he quickly kicked off his jeans before climbing onto the bed and laid in between your legs pulling them over his shoulders as his lips pressed soft kisses to your inner thighs making you gasp softly at the sensitivity. “You’re so soft and pretty, sweets. Can’t believe I have you to myself.” He mumbled against your skin, making you smile wider.

“Sweet talker.” You smiled as you threaded your fingers through his hair tugging him closer to where you wanted him.

His hands reached up to yank your panties down and off your body, revealing your soaked folds to him making him groan low in his throat and he pulled you closer by your thighs. His lips engulfed your clit sucking softly making your hips jolt up and his tongue moved down to lick through your folds. You cried out softly arching your back against his face as his tongue slid through your folds and up to your clit. The coil in your belly started to tighten as his lips sucked on your sensitive bud making your hips buck up and you pulled his face closer to your cunt by his hair. He doubled his efforts as he felt your cunt pulse against his tongue making your moans grow louder and you arched against him. The coil tightened as you were pushed over the edge cumming hard on his face making him groan as your taste flooded his senses. He helped you through your orgasm as your thighs shook around his head and he pulled away with your juices on his face and a smirk crossing his lips.

“You taste so sweet, doll.” He purred as he climbed up your body to connect his lips with yours as his hands pulled your legs up around his waist. You helped him shuffle off his boxers as you two made out and he held you close to him. His large body covering you and pressing you against the mattress which helped ground you as you felt his thick cock press against your weeping hole.

“You feel huge, baby.” You whispered as you pulled away from his lips to lock eyes with his blue ones.

“It might be a tight fit.” He chuckled, making you smile and kiss him deeply and you reached down to help him line his cock up to your hole. He slowly started sliding the thick mushroom tip of his cock into you making you moan and your eyes water at the burn. “Deep breaths, baby doll.” He whispered as he wrapped his arms around your waist and gently pressed you against his chest. He slowly continued to slide into your tight cunt groaning at your walls squeezing him tightly and he leaned down to kiss you deeper.

“A-ah, so big. H-hurts.” You whimpered quietly and he reached down to rub your clit softly helping turn your pain into pleasure.

“I’m right here. I got you.” He whispered against your lips as he rested his forehead against yours. He finally slid all the way home making him groan and moan at your walls clenching and pulsing around his cock. You moaned his name and whimpered softly at the underlying pain but your pleasure overtook the pain and eventually the pain went away and you pleaded with him to start moving.

Bucky linked your fingers through his and pinned them above your head and slowly started thrusting in and out of you. You moaned his name as you arched your back and squeezed his hands. He groaned as your walls sucked him in as he pulled out then thrusted back in. Your eyes locked and he pressed a warm kiss to your lips making you purr softly. He pulled back to look down at your lower belly as he thrusted in and out of you, you had a slight bulge to your belly as Bucky slid into you and out making you whimper at the stimulation to your g-spot.

He slowly took you apart piece by piece making you moan and whimper and cum over and over again on his cock. He loved to hold you close as he made you cum and feel every twitch and shake of your body. He finally couldn’t hold his orgasm back and came deep inside of your overstimulated cunt and made sure that you took all of his cum and he held you close as you crashed from your highs together. He helped you to the bathroom to clean you two up then you two laid on the bed together. You laying on his chest as his large hands traced shapes on your bare back making you smile and snuggle closer to him, happy to stay with him forever no matter what tries to pull you two apart.

#james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x you #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #marvel #marvel fic #kinktober #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #2023 kinktober

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buckyscombatboots · 2 years

Text

Monstertober Day 2:

My Legacy

Pairing: Orc!Bucky x Captured!Reader

Warnings: Non con→Dub con, Dead dove: Do not eat, insults/degrading language, forced breeding, forced impregnation, drastic size difference, belly bulge, blood mention, virgin!reader, hair pulling, cowgirl→mating press, dacryphilia, dark!bucky, threat of violence, aphrodisiac

Nicknames: Tiny, little one, cum slut

Word count: 2.4 k

Monstertober master list

Master list

Tag list🎀

This has been long awaited, I know everyone loves Orc!Bucky, me too honestly. Enjoy.

A colossal, herculean man loomed over you, he was built from slabs of muscles that shifted under his thick layers of green skin. His bulging forearms, decorated with tribal tattoos, half concealed by a pair of tanned leather bracers, lined with fur; the designs carved into the leather matched his ornate iron pauldrons, slightly covered by the reddish-brown pelt of a direwolf, and the only thing covering his lower half was a loin cloth attached to a metal belt adorned with his tribe’s insignia. His eyes narrowed in a scowl, but despite this you could see his golden eyes, with flecks of amber and a vertical slit for a pupil—reminiscent of a cat's eyes. They were trained on you, hunched between the cart and barrels “How unfortunate Tiny. Should have hid better than that.” His meaniscing tone sends a ripple of goosebumps across your skin, a scream bubbles up to your throat and dies there as he reaches out for you. You scramble away from his enormous juniper hand, the lighter skin of his palm filling your vision before he opts for grabbing you by the waist and pulling you out “Gods above I can smell chu ‘ittle one. You’re terrified out your tiny little brain, but you're still so wet for me. If you play nice, I won’t have to hurt chu.” You consider chomping down on the web of skin connecting his thumb and forefinger, but Orcs are known for their tough skin, you decide not to. You stare up at the monster before you through your long lashes, tears streaming down your cheeks “Good, Tiny human. My true name is too complicated for your kind to understand or pronounce, so you can call me Bucky. I am War chief of this clan of Orcs, it will do you well to listen or I’ll pass you to the others. They ain’t too kind to little tiny girls like chu.” He begins to walk with you, pushing you to his beefy chest like a mother holding a baby close, your hands grab for purchase at the direwolf pelt strung across his shoulders; the feeling of the fur in your hands and the familiar scent brings you solace as he carries you over to a large group of orcs, one with blonde hair turns towards Bucky smiling with his tusks on full display, you cower at the sight—you know exactly what those tusks can do, you’ve watched them tear people like parchment “Steve, I’m going to head back to camp with a small group. You stay here. Kill any survivors, pillage whatever’s left, return by nightfall.” The Orc named Steve nods and replies in a strange serious of grunts, to which Bucky also replies in the same manner. They he’s walking again, he stops infront of an orcish warhorse—specially breed to be taller and stronger than normal horses to with stand the sheer size of the orcs— then he climbs on with you held in one arm

“Where are we going?” You whisper near his ear

“To your new home ‘ittle one.”

The ride back to the camp isn’t a long one, you slept for most of it as your adrenaline finally died down or you’d fallen into a state of shock. At this point you had no idea. When you awoke you’d arrived at what he called ‘your new home’ There were countless Orcs, they barely used any of their troops to conquer your village. The feeling of hopelessness rose in you once again.

“‘ere we are, Pet. Home sweet home.” He got off the horse and handed the reins off to another orc to be taken care of. He spoke to the orc bostriously with enthusiasm, smiling so wide you thought one of his tusks would like your eye out. Then he strode off decisively through the thicket of tents. He was taking you home, to his home. Not yours. He burnt yours down, he murdered your family. You hated the fact that seeing him smile and talking so happily, despite you being unable to understand what he was saying, made you happy. His attitude was contagious.

You approached a tent that was much larger than the others, it was also dyed a faded black compared to the other plain tents. It had two lit torches on each side of the pegs keeping it up and on the tent door was the same insignia that was on his belt, but this was painted in red—the colour of blood which he was so accustomed to spilling. You had to hate him, you needed to hate him.

He pushed aside the cloth entrance revealing a very spacious tent decorated in a sporadic manner with a large table that had a map splayed on its surface, your eyes shot down to all the red markers on it. One was on your village. They had planned this and nobody knew, fresh tears welled up in your eyes and you bit your wobbling lip, but a whimper still slipped. “This is your new home princess,” he wiped the tears from your eyes with one of his thick green fingers “so don’t cry anymore. It’s all gonna be okay. If you listen, everything will be fine. Now,” he placed you on the ground and walked over to a pile of things in the corner. He turned to face you before pulling out a shotel from behind him, but this shotel was the largest one you’d ever seen; the blade was unbelievably sharp, it was obvious that he’d spent hours sharpening, cleaning and customising it. Your legs collapsed beneath you as he pointed the curved blade at you, the point resting below your chin. Tears leaked from your eyes like a flowing river, you let out a whine as he hoovered it so close to your skin that you could feel the coolness of the blade “Move and I’ll cleave your skull in half. Understood?” Your vision shook as you meet his steely glare

“Y-yes.” You blubbered, he removed the blade and pulled out a chair from the long oaken table. The chair was much larger than a normal chair, obviously hand made for orcs by orcs—no scratch that, handmade for him. The chair was even bigger than all the others, it was made for Bucky, it was made for the war chief who towered above even other orcs. He plopped down in it, the twine holding it together creaking under his substantial weight, and opened his legs slightly clapping his massive bejeweled green hands down on his muscular bulging thighs.

“Come ‘ere little one. Sit on my lap.” He commanded, spinning the shotel on its blade on the hard packed dirt next to him. When you sat frozen, on the floor, he raised the blade towards you “I know you ain’t deaf. I don’t like repeatin’ myself.” You pressed your hands either side of your thighs and pushed yourself to your feet, your legs shook as you stumbled over. He extended out a massive green hand, you took it noting how your hand could only wrap around two of his fingers. Your line of sight travelled down to his dick. It was huge. Straining against the thin fabric of his loincloth. Straining so much that you could see all its features; dark green with lighter sections of skin, ribbed, with a thick gold ring pierced through the thin skin just under the head. There was no way he’d fit.

He helped you climb onto him, practically pulling you up by your arm which was dwarfed in his grasp. You straddled his lap, sat right in front of his bulging cock. Once you were in place he undid the opulent belt keeping the loin cloth in place and pulled. With one swift movement the belt and the loin cloth were both removed and thrown to the ground. His member was now on full display; girthy, long and definitely not able to fit inside you. You paled at the sight of it throbbing and leaking “It won’t fit!” You cried, attempting to run. He grabbed your arm just before you fel to the ground and pulled you back in place. You struggled against him, floundering like a fish drowning on land “Please! Anything else! You’re gonna kill me!” His hand clasped around your face as he reached back with his free arm and came back with a hefty glass bottle filled with a shimmering clear liquid.

“Breath, Pet. I ain’t expecting it to fit in you without a little help, little one.” He uncorked it with one hand and finally removed his hand from your mouth, you relished in the woodsy scent. He poured a generous amount on his hand “Take yer clothes off. Or I’ll rip ‘em off.” He ordered sternly, you met his gaze. His cat eye pupils had blown wide, filled with lust and need. You obliged, stripping off your dirty, torn clothes that smelt heavily of smoke. You swallowed your vomit as you recollected the state of your village.

His huge green hand began slathering the liquid on your pussy, it was warm. The heat coming off of the orc had heated it in such a short period of time, your eyes met his cock again. The heat of it was slightly darker green with a bluish cast, his balls were heavy and full. Your mouth was almost watering. You were pulled from you from your blatant ogling from the sting of a finger being inserted inside you. You yelped, grabbing at his thick wrist with your small hands “It hurts!” You yowled, beating at his calloused palm with your fist, he began moving his finger and the pain slowly melted into pleasure. You hummed at the heat filling your belly “Mhmn.”

“You’re a virgin aren’t you little one, there’s blood.” He cooed, slipping another finger. Which your quivering hole gladly took. You nodded slowly, whimpering as he stretched you, scissoring his fingers “Were gonna fix that. The Oil is enchanted, it should help you be able to take me, it’s also an aphrodisiac.” His words swam in your mind becoming almost meaningless as you pushed back on his fingers until you met his rings at the base of his thick, lengthy fingers.

Suddenly he pulled his fingers out, you whimpered at the loss humping his thigh for friction. You needed more. You wanted Bucky in you “Buck. Want you in me.” You mewl, grinding your sensitive bud down on the thick skin of his thigh

“Gladly.” He lifts you as if you weigh nothing and holds you above his dick, smiling coyly at your lopped sided grin and hazy eyes before slamming you down on his fat cock. The pain momentarily breaks your gaze but then the overwhelming feeling of his humongous prick filling your insides. Your hands travel to the bulge in your stomach, running your hands over it. Marvelling at it as he thrusts in and out. The meaty slaps of Bucky bouncing you roughly up and down on his lap filled the tent, more likely than not the sound was spilling outside. You didn’t care, right now you didn’t have the liberty to think much at all with his fat cock muddling up your insides. Your tongue fell dumbly out your mouth as you dribbled mumbling and moaning with every harsh thrust “That’s it, Pet, go dumb on my massive Orc cock. Never gonna want a human after this, they can’t fill you up like an orc. How pathetic. You deserve an Orcs cock to bring you this. Much. Pleasure.” He punctuated his words with his thrusts, bashing your cervix each time. You threw your head back in a silent wail, digging your nails into his large pecs as you relished in the orgasm that wracked your body. Constricted his cock, drawing a deep, primal grunt from his core “Yes! Come! Come as many times as you want pet, soak my cock in your juices my little cockslut. Gonna get you pregnant, gonna paint you fucking tight little slut hole with my seed. Gonna watch you swell with my children. Take it.” He groaned slamming into you with a new found vigour, picking you up as he stood.

You barely even registered him laying you on the bed until he pushed back your knees, resting them near your ears. You thought it impossible but he dick managed to nestle itself even further inside of you. An electric shock ran through your body as you came again, the pleasure being tears to your eyes as his thrust became more erratic, more powerful. His face loomed above yours staring intensely into your eyes “Gonna make you a mother, Tiny. You want to be the mother of my children? You want to grow with my child? You want to birth My Legacy?” He asked, “Answer me.” He demanded pounded into your cunt, his balls smacking against your ass, twitching, as he pushed down on your bent knees.

“Yes! Make me a mommy!” You cried, squeezing around him as he came inside you, he continued to thrust as he shot ropes and ropes of cum into you. Your stomach swelling with the sheer amount of spend shooting from his spasming tip.

“Ah feels so fucking good. Look at you, your body can barely contain my cum.” He chuckled, huffing, sweat glistening on his forehead as he littered your reddened face, ruined with tears and spit with passionate open mouth kisses.

“Felt good, wanna nap.” You yawned, your body tremouring from the overstimulation, your clit puffy and sensitive as his pelvis pressed into you enrolling you completely, blocking out almost all the light in the tent.

A hearty chuckle emerges from him, the sound fills your ears making more slick drip from your cunt onto his cock still buried in your overflowing pussy “Oh, we ain’t done yet, Pet. Gotta make sure you’re nice and pregnant, gonna fuck ya till I make ya look pregnant; so everyone knows who you belong to, that I have claimed you and that they can never touch you. ‘Cause you’re gonna have my babies, I’ll keep you filled and wanton on my cock ‘cause we Orcs mate for life after all, Tiny, and I’ve chosen you to be the bearer of My legacy.”

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 2 years

Text

Day 26 — Face Sitting

Pairing || Beefy!Librarian!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 1100

Contents & Warnings || Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names, size kink, begging, teasing, face sitting, oral (female receiving), hair pulling, mention of bodily fluids.

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

Kinktober Masterlist

It’s been one of your favourite places to go for the last few weeks—the small and cozy library that was nestled relatively in secret that not many people knew about it. And that was probably for the better because you felt right at home wandering the almost empty rows of shelves which held endless stories for you to get lost in.

Once you had found a couple of books, you would sit and read on the sofa that's been dubbed as yours in the best and secluded area of the library. No one interrupted you as you sat with a cozy book and a warm drink in hand, except, of course, every once in a few hours, an exceptional someone would check up on you—the extremely hot librarian, and you didn't mind at all for his interruptions.

Along with the books and intimate environment, he was another reason for you to return regularly. You honestly couldn't believe that such a hot and kind man existed. And that he was a huge book nerd like yourself was the cherry on top. He was so dreamy, your absolute dream man, and luckily, you and he had become close the last few weeks, very close.

You were currently rereading one of your favourite books—getting so lost in the cherished story that hours passed without you even knowing. That was until you were reminded that it was late and closing time.

“Hey, doll.”

You gasped as you got pulled out from the book that you'd been so focused on. Looking up from the page, you saw him resting against a bookshelf—arms crossed over his chest and a tantalizing smirk curved on his lips. He looked so snug and beautiful with his warm sweater hugging his broad torso and glasses framing his handsome face.

“Oh, hey, Bucky,” you smiled at him.

“It's late.”

You looked out of the window to find that nightfall had covered the city, and you hadn't even noticed.

“Yeah, it is.”

“And, uh, there's no one here.”

You perked up your ears to listen for any sounds, but it was dead quiet in the library.

“So,” you closed the book, “we’re all alone here? Just you and me?” You smirked at him as you tossed it to the side.

“Uh-huh,” he smirked as he walked closer to where you were sitting and took off his glasses—anticipating where this scenario was heading.

“Well then.” You got to your feet, and you both stared at each other for a few seconds before closing the gap between you two—lips finding one another and molding together as you kissed your needs away. His hands held your hips in a delicate grip while you fisted your fingers in his long hair.

He pulled you with him to the sofa and laid down with you on top of him—never breaking the kiss or his rousing touch on you.

“I want you to sit on my face,” he muttered between kisses.

“W-what?”

You pushed on his chest to break the kiss and looked down at him which furrowed eyebrows.

“Sit on my face, babydoll.”

“I-I-”

“Shhh,” he caressed your cheek, “don't think, baby, just do. I need you on top of me. I need it so bad, please.”

Although his request left you quite flustered, the way he was smiling so charmingly at you, along with his encouraging begs, had you put your insecurities to the side and do as he wanted.

“O-ok, Bucky.”

Once your pants and underwear were off, you scooted further up until you were situated just where he wanted, with your thighs on each side of his head and dripping cunt right on top of his face. He held a firm grasp on your hips as he moaned at the sight of you.

“Surrounded by my two favourite things, books and you, babydoll,” he groaned before he nuzzled his face in your pussy, licking from your opening to your clit, flicking the tip of his tongue on the sensitive nerve, making you moan softly at his action.

You thought he would eat you out, but instead, he decided to be a tease and kiss and lick everywhere but your needy cunt, making you whine out in protest.

“Please, Bucky,” you sweetly begged as you started to move your hips, hoping it would entice him to put his heavenly mouth on you.

Finally, after your convincing begs, he wrapped his lips around your sensitive nub, altering between licking and sucking, making you moan and whimper at the instant pleasure. The added sensation of his scruff on your skin made you clench your thighs around his head.

One of your hands tangled in his hair while the other rested on the back of the sofa. The pull on his locks made him groan against your core. The vibrations had delicious tingles flow up your spine, making you shiver on top of him and lose your balance, despite Bucky keeping you upright with his muscular arms. You collapsed forward, resting your forearms on the armrest as he continued to eat you out.

His lips released your clit to lick up your gushing slickness, moaning at the taste of you. “You taste so good, babydoll.”

Once again, the delicious vibration had you weak and trembling as your eyes shut tight to revel in the pleasure. Moans, whimpers and pleas of his name went on like a broken loop as you started grinding on his face, wanting more.

Bucky held you still as he returned to his assaults on your swollen and throbbing clit that was in need of being sucked and stimulated.

“F-fuck, just like that, Bucky. Feels so good,” you mewled in pleasure.

You wouldn't last much longer. Not when Bucky took great advantage of the angle and exposure of your dripping cunt on his face, putting his expert skills on you.

You sobbed and convulsed as you came on his face, seeing stars in your eyes. The orgasm intense as he continued to suck your throbbing clit through your high.

Bucky was a kind man, so he tried his best to prolong your pleasure as he licked and kissed your abused clit and dripping slit while you came down.

Once you were fully satisfied, he pressed sweet and comforting kisses on your inner thighs while you pet his hair to show your appreciation.

He helped you sit upright and held your hips as you were still very unsteady. His breath fanned your core, making you needy for more.

“You know, I've wanted to do that for the longest time, doll.” He smiled up at you, making you all flustered.

“T-that was really g-good. I, um, c-can you do t-that—”

“Again?” He finished with a satisfying smirk on his lips. “I'll continue on for as long as you want, babydoll.”

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

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

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ramp-it-up · 1 year

Text

That Face

Summary: You get drunk and tell Bucky exactly what you want to do to that face.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1.9 K

A/N: You can read this as a companion piece to Red Wings.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. More angst on the part of the reader. Sweet Bucky fluff. Jealousy, excessive drinking, intoxication, drunken confessions, face riding, fingering, extreme oral sex (f receiving) anal play, praise kink, allusion to anal sex. Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post!

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Bucky was holding you close to him, and it should have been romantic, but it wasn’t.

You were shit faced, and practically falling down with every step.

“Careful Doll, I’m gonna have to carry you home.”

After just six months of dating, you’d moved in with him, your relationship barreling along with breakneck speed, but who wouldn’t fall in love with Bucky?

Who wasn’t still in love with Bucky?

You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, half a block from your brownstone.

“That sounds hot, Bucky, but I’m pissed…”

“Yeah, I know…”

“No, I’m mad.”

You stomped your foot and wobbled, until Bucky’s hands steadied you again. Bucky bent down and looked you in the eyes.

“You good, Doll?”

His sky blue eyes looked sincere, but jealousy and alcohol wouldn’t let you accept that.

“No! This was supposed to be our night to fuck and have a romantic dinner. You’ve been gone for three weeks. Three weeks, James!”

Bucky looked contrite, but then again there were four of him weaving in front of you right now, so you couldn’t be sure.

“Sorry, Baby. Didn’t know the guys would be in town. It’s my crew.”

“I can take your army buddies, but her. She’s a bitch!”

“Wow. Whoa whoa whoa. You know I don’t like anyone calling women bitches. Even you.”

Bucky straightened up and the stern look he gave you sent a thrill through you, but you weren’t done.

“She still wants you, Bucky. Sharon is a slut. And you always say you love when I’m a slut for your cock.”

Bucky looked around as you started crying and people walking by avoided the scene.

“I don’t want Sharon, Doll. I want you.”

Bucky looked down at you, eyes sparkling with amusement at your jealousy. Even his voice was smiling. It made you madder and you stumbled as you advanced on him, bucking up to the man who was a foot taller than you.

“Look at that fucking face.”

You reached up and took his chin between your fingers.

“No one gets to ride this dimple but me!”

This time Bucky didn’t care about who heard, you’d peaked his interest. His eyebrow shot up.

Even though drunk, you read his expression.

“Yep!”

You nodded and it threw you off balance, but luckily Bucky was there.

“Betcha didn’t know that I touch myself to the memories of the feeling of that chin between my legs. Did it the entire time you were gone. That cock is something else Bucky, but that face. I just want to ride it into the sunset….”

This was new information to Bucky. You seemed to love when he ate you out, but you were always hesitant to ride his face. He licked his lips as he thought of you pleasuring yourself to the thought of his face.

Then he grinned.

You read him again.

“Oh no! No no no. You think you got me. But you said you were mine…”

Bucky leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“I am yours, Doll.”

“So she can’t ride your face?”

Bucky slowly shook his head.

“No, only you.”

You sighed and sagged into his arm.

“Good, because I-“

And that was the last thing you remembered from that night.

You woke up the next morning, head pounding. You looked around, grateful to be in your bed. And grateful for your boyfriend, who’d left a bottle of water and some aspirin on the bedside table.

You could hear Bucky puttering around in the kitchen but you weren’t quite ready to eat.

You eagerly took the pills and drank the bottle down. Then, you turned on the shower as you brushed your teeth.

You reflected on the gathering at The Howling Commando, the neighborhood bar so familiar to you as you met Bucky’s friends. Which included Sharon Carter.

Bucky’s ex.

“Bucky’s just being nice, y’know?”

Steve tried to reassure you as she and Bucky caught up in the corner. You nodded back at Steve, but when Bucky smiled at Sharon was when you ordered your first shot of Jameson’s.

You showered as you tried to remember the rest of the night. But all you could remember was Bucky’s sweet face. You wrapped up in a towel and sat on the bed as you thought of how sweet Bucky was. He was so cute. That face.

That face.

“Shit!”

Your head fell into your hands as you remembered what happened the night before.

“What’s wrong, Doll?”

You looked up and your heart dropped.

Bucky was clad in only sleep pants and you could tell that there was nothing underneath.

You licked your lips, not bothering to hide your stare. Bucky came and sat down on the bed.

“See something you like, Doll?”

“Morning.”

“G’morning Sunshine..”

Bucky leaned down and kissed you on the cheek, chaste, despite the look in his eye. Your eyes fell to his lips. And lower.

Bucky licked his lips and rubbed his chin.

“You didn’t answer my question, Doll.”

Bucky’s mouth was an inch from yours. He reached for your towel and hooked his finger at the makeshift knot, causing his fingernail to brush your nipple.

“Don’t tease me Bucky…”

“I should say the same to you, Doll. You told me all the things you wanted to do to my face and then passed out.”

“James! I was drunk!”

“They say we are the most honest when we’re drunk.”

Bucky kissed you and then looked into your eyes.

“D’you believe that I don’t care about Sharon?”

You liked into his true blue eyes and you knew he wasn’t lying.

“I believe you. I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too, Doll.”

You reached up and caressed his lips and chin.

“Gotta admit. This face is pretty irresistible.”

Bucky grinned and you leaned in for a kiss and climbed on his lap, grinding as he took your towel off.

“Been so long, Bucky.”

Bucky’s hands caressed you as he leaned back and let you have your way.

You made your way down his body, reacquainting yourself with his form with your lips, tongue, and fingers. He lifted his hips as you pulled down his pajama pants, lightly scratching his thighs on the way down.

“God I missed you so much, Doll. Spent all last night just waiting until we could get home. Wanted to lose myself in you.”

You had Bucky in your hand, sitting on his legs as you stroked his half-hard cock to full life.

“M’sorry Babe. How can I make it up to you?”

You looked up at him, ready to suck his soul out.

“Come up here and ride this irresistible face.”

You gasped as Bucky pulled you up his body until you were kneeling over him.

“There she is.”

Bucky’s fingers helped to separate your lips as he breathed hot breath into your cunt.

“So fucking wet for me.”

And then he went to work on licking into your tangy goodness.

“So good. Such a good girl for me. Such a good pussy.”

Bucky sat you down and suckled your clit, pulling on it like it was gum, stretching it and your soul out for the world (inside your bedroom) to see. He was kneading your breasts and pulling your nipples, serving to make you wetter and him messier.

But it was only just beginning as you started gyrating on his chin.

Bucky smacked your ass and pushed you over on your hands and knees again.

“That’s a girl. Bounce on my tongue.”

You did as you were told, feeling Bucky’s chin in your vagina each time you bounced on his tongue.

“Smear that shit all over my fuckin face Doll. You know you want to.”

Bucky took your ass in his hands and then started moving you back and forth on his face. You were overwhelmed with numerous sensations as his lips, tongue and chin, covered with short facial hair, destroyed your soul.

“Now sit up and fuck this face, Doll. Please. ”

You peered down at his bright blue eyes as his fingertips grazed your stomach. You obeyed him as you pulled his hair and took your throne, his thick, wide tongue spearing into you as you fucked his face.

His chin was now grazing your puckered hole, and you moaned as the scruffy dimpled part of him made you tremble.

“J-James…”

Bucky spread your cheeks and moved his tongue so that it could invade your inmost parts. He licked you from ass to clit and your legs started trembling.

You leaned back over and bounced in his tongue again, holding your breasts with one hand as you braced against the wall with the other.

Bucky’s hand snaked around to flick your clit as you gasped and fully sat on his face as his tongue speared into you, twisting and curling, not as all consuming as his cock, but reaching that special spot inside you nonetheless.

You gasped and sat back, hand on his sternum as you rolled your hips into his face.

“Oh. Ohhhh, oh Jamesssss.”

You whimpered, and your crying-like noises as you moved told him how it felt.

“So… fuck it feels so good…

You were grabbing his hair as he craned his neck upward to look at you.

Bucky growled into your cunt then lifted you upright again, his thumb slipping into your ass. This caused a gush of your fluids into his mouth and he started moaning.

“Mmmmmm. Mmhmmmm!”

“Oahhhh oh ahhh.”

Bucky was still breaching your ass as his tongue sped up impossibly and his lips suckled your clit intermittently.

“More… please!”

You were seeing stars as you reached back and pushed Bucky’s thumb in to the hilt.

Bucky moaned as you started bouncing again. His hand was fucking your ass as you rode his face.

“Please please please…”

“Hmmph… yesssss.”

Bucky spoke into your cunt as you started to reach your crescendo. He could taste your orgasm coming before it happened. Everything sped up.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

“Ummmmmm!”

Bucky was in heaven as you continued to gush into his mouth.

You came with a scream as Bucky lapped you all up.

“Unnnnh!”

Bucky pulsed precum on his stomach as you came on his face.

“Unh ahhhh.

“So pretty, Doll. Stay right here.”

Bucky kissed your lips as you quivered in front of him.

“Want this ass. Gonna give it to me?”

“Bucky…”

“She’s ready for me now.”

Bucky’s finger found that hole again.

“Gonna make you feel real good.”

You whimpered as Bucky spit on his fingers and manipulated two of them inside you.

He gave your clit a peck with his lips and you jumped.

“Nice and loose for me.”

You looked down on him adoringly and carded your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. He moaned.

“Please Doll. But only if you want that too. I need you. You’re my best girl. My good girl.”

You looked back, his cock jumping on his abs, sticky with his pre cum. You shuddered at his praise and at the thought of him inside that hole. But as Bucky probed and kissed you further, you knew you wanted it.

You didn’t need to look back down to know that Bucky was buried in your cunt again, bringing you to another peak. Instead, your head lolled back on your shoulders as you rode Bucky’s mouth again.

“Anything! Anything you want, Bucky…I want it too! Ah…”

You just couldn’t resist that face.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes x black!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x you #bucky x reader #sharon carter #steve rogers #Bucky Barnes au

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flordeamatista · 1 year

Text

𝙒𝙧𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣 𝙍𝙚𝙙

pairing: Beefy!Bucky Barnes x Reader`

concept: Fire burns passionately when passion is present.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: Beefy Bucky, poetic fluff, poetic kisses, body worship, holiday poetic smut ─ p in v smut, size kink, unprotected sex, nicknames ─ (Angel, baby girl)

a/n: This is for the ‘Tis the Season to be Thot-y’ writing challenge! My dialogue prompt was: “you got me a Christmas present?” and my festive device was ‘Christmas decorations.” And my hot babe was Beefy Bucky.

Hi, @jadedvibes I'm your secret santa, and I hope you're beaming when you read the notification. The fact that I had the pleasure of becoming your little holiday menace made me so excited.

the cute gif/line divider/moodboard made by me

lovely betas: @lunarbuck and @writing-for-marvel

Masterlist

Let me meet your needs, and like lightning, you strike me down.

A crimson bow is placed on top of the gold-wrapped box. The Christmas lights are clearly reflected in your eyes. You are excited to offer this gift to your beefy man as he stares at you with his sparkling blue eyes.

He cautiously opens the box, his eyes widening at the contents before darting up to you and back down again, running his fingers across the polaroid. It's the most beautiful picture of you in red lingerie, tossing gold tinsel in the air.

When he recognized it, his eyes widened, and you caught his beaming smile as he turned to face you.

"Is this my gift?" Standing up with the package in his hands, he walks towards you, his eyes lustful. In a moment, he is mystified before closing the box, looking at you, and taking you in.

He tosses the package onto the table and glances at you.

You breathe, "Yeah, wrapped in your favorite color, and I’m wearing it right now."

"Oh-" escapes Bucky's throat as he arches backward, every nerve on edge. Dark blue eyes burn the trench coat as he looks around and forgets he is in public, and here you are teasing him.

"Would you like to touch and take it off, big boy"

That's what you do to him-take the air out of his body and make him happy.

He can take you apart in the restroom, or he can be a gentleman and wait until you get to the car. He sees the twinkle in your eyes, and he knows you love to be a menace.

You feel his lips touch your earlobe as he pushes you out the door.

“You look so pretty for me, but are you gonna scream for me? Wanna hear my name come out of that pretty little mouth." He whispers so close to your skin.

Seeing his hands on your waist, holding onto his arms, and feeling the veins tremble on your fingertips, seeing the muscular curves of his arm reminds you that tonight's show is yours. “Do you like to tease me, pretty girl?”

You live every second of your existence to tease him, and you like being with him simply to get a chance to turn him on and thank him for making him the savage beast he is. You can’t wait to get home and finish the teasing.

It feels so good, waiting on your patient lips, getting carried away by your words.

With a feather-light kiss, Bucky places his lips on your back, and you can feel the seductive moistness of his lips against your skin, enveloping your whole body and releasing a sensation of warmth and cushioning on your back. Your shoulders are now swimming with warm kisses while his fingers trace the garter straps.

The feeling of Bucky's fingertips digging into your hips, Bucky's forehead tipping forward against your back.

“Have you been nice or naughty? ”

"Yep," you whisper, breathless, as you turn around to answer the question because you know either way you respond, you’ll be teased. How do you answer such a question?

Now that he knows how jolly you are in your gift-giving, Bucky speeds every spotlight to find out how naughty you've been.

Your garter wraps around your full thighs, and your bralette squeezes the soft curve of your breasts. Because of the cool air and the texture of the lace, your nipples are barely visible and hardened. The hardness of his dick has increased. You are the perfect gift when the loose-fitting strap slinks downward over your shoulder.

As you twirl around a little more, you show him how it fits around you and how the red garter kisses your skin.

Bucky licks his lips because he wants to devour that pretty skin of yours and show you what you do to him.

The moment Bucky reaches for your bralette strap, your skin shivers.

Whenever Bucky touches you, you feel dizzy, lost, and found. He is the only man who makes you feel loved and seen. From his warm hand to his cold hand, dancing around your body and creating a sense of love in your soul.

You quickly pull silver tinsel and slide it over his eyes, he is effectively blindfolded. A very sexy sound comes from his throat, and he shakes his head slightly. "Can I open my eyes now?" he asked, a smile playing on his full lips.

“It sounds like a no to me." He says amusedly, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips.

"No. You can't open your eyes," you tell him. “It's either you're a good boy, or you're getting coal for being naughty.”

“You like me being naughty, Angel.”

Before you can begin the sentence, he grabs you and pulls you to him. He starts at your thighs, stroking up and down your silk stockings as he warms your skin. The sensation sweeps up your spine.

At the top of the stockings, he brings his lips to the bare skin and runs his tongue along the garter. His fingers run over the red lace, stopping to finger the small black bows.

He caresses your skin with his thumbs, making you moan, and leaving you breathless.

It's like you're going to burst when his lips trail kisses along your collarbone, licking and tasting your skin to the point of bursting. You can feel his lips numbing with pleasure after he whispers, "You make me want to do some naughty things to you," before he bruisingly kisses your lips.

With the kiss broken, he pulls off the blindfold and steps back, looking you up and down. You catch your breath when he finally meets your eyes with ocean-blues, glistening with lust. You feel the raging passion in his lips as he kisses you searingly, the heat of arousal breaking through.

"Naughty boy," you pant against his lips.

He growls low in his throat and grabs your ass, lifting you up into his lap. You wrap your legs around him and bury your face in his neck as he makes his way to the bed.

Upon inhaling the inviting scent of his warm body, you breathe in the pleasant notes of cedar and sandalwood, along with the inherent sweet scent of his beefy body.

With your own kisses, licking the skin on his neck, and smearing him with your own love, you can not savor him. You're thrown down on the bed, covered with his body, as he holds your hands above your head.

Now you are his.

“Angel, behave yourself."

He tortures you with his lips and tinsel like a feather, lying perfectly still while you whimper and try to obey him.

When he presses his palms against your breast, massaging and squeezing the soft flesh, he watches as it expands over the lace with a groan. A moan escapes your lips as Bucky leans forward to brush his nose against yours.

Bucky gently touches you deeply and presses his lips against your ear, “Want you to come. I want to see you all flushed and pretty,"

You detect none of the frantic energy from moments ago. Taking in the soft, rough lips of Bucky, you lose yourself in the feeling, comparing it with your own feelings. Your senses are rekindled as you inhale his sweet lips.

You have my heart when your lips are swollen with sensuality and desire.

The shockwaves of pleasure spread through your body as you clench your fists into the sheets. Your lips part slightly as a raw moan escapes your throat. Bucky groans softly, slipping his tongue between your folds to taste you and probe you gently. You urge him for more, letting your soft moans slide from your mouth as you arch up against his tongue.

A hand reaches out under your hips, caressing your lower abdomen, then he moves his hand down to your mound, teasing your folds apart. Bucky licks a stripe between your entrance and your clit slowly, swirling his tongue gently over it while humming softly.

As you rock against his mouth, wanting more and falling into the blissful pleasure, you feel as if you are on top of the Christmas tree, watching the lights dance, Bucky's name echoes in your ears.

He groans deep in his throat and closes his lips lightly around your clit, sucking it very gently as he continues to tease it with his tongue.

Love is more than words, so he wants you to feel his desire. He teases you a bit to get you to feel it.

As the tremors of your orgasm sweep through you, you choke out a gasping moan of Bucky's name in between other unintelligible sounds. Bucky spanks you for being so naughty.

It is a gift to see Bucky’s face as he watches you come for him. He knows that nobody can make you feel like this or even touch you how he does.

The holiday night is just beginning.

It was like a spark of life at the end of a long night, light to ignite the flame of your love that made him thrilled, thrilled merely to exist.

You let out a soft breath at the feel of Bucky's hardness trapped between you both. You slip your hands around his waist, pushing him back slightly so that you can wrap one leg around him, pulling him toward you. You arch your back off the bed, letting him start to press into you. "I've been nice. I need you now."

Bucky moans low and raw as you rise against him. “Yes, you've been nice, and your pussy's been nice too,” he chokes out, grasping tightly at the base, squeezing hard.

He whispers hoarsely, steadying the head of his cock at your entrance as he slips inside slowly, changing his hip positions as he goes.

After Bucky slowly begins to enter you, you let out a chorus of moans. You’re beginning to ache for it - something you haven’t experienced before. Your body is singing as the sensations start flowing through you again, and everything is amplified by the feeling.

A deep breath is taken by Bucky as his hips touch yours, allowing him to feel.

Then, with a swallowed groan, he gives into the instinctual impulse to thrust, to just move, and he settles into a slow, deep rhythm in order to stretch the moment out as long as possible. Even though you are already so close to him, he wants to prolong it forever. He feels so good around you that you can’t do anything else.

Fire burns passionately when passion is present.

Almost like being on top of the world, you can feel his touch in all the right places and feel your body temperature rising as you float above the clouds. You bite your lip as the emotions overtake you, and you lean over and pull Bucky up for a deep kiss.

Can this man really love you and still be real? Since the first time you met Bucky, he has been the greatest blessing to you. It has been an honor to feel him in the most intimate way possible.

As his hand wraps around your throat, he applies gentle pressure. At his mercy, you feel electric jolts coursing through you.

You feel Bucky's hands slip on your neck as he kisses you hard. The momentum of his thrusts drives you back to the edge as he grabs your other hand and digs his fingers deep into them for leverage. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your legs around his hips. As the heat pools in your stomach again, you whine softly.

As if moonlight shined over a misty night, your eyes seduced me in every way.

"I got you," he whispers into your neck, kissing your pulse and feeling the rapid beats.

As soon as you let go, he grabs you, driving into you hard, and joins you. Your screams are filled with his name.

With his hips stilled and burying his face in your neck, Bucky softly whispers, "Angel, my precious Angel.".

Taking hold of his angel, he breathes an inaudible blessing out to the gods.

Bucky shifts with you, pulling an arm out from under you to smooth your hair away from your damp forehead. He lightly circles your lips with his fingertips, he breathes, "Best holiday gift.”

The air around you grows quiet as you lean into his hand, your breath evening out. Your eyes slowly open, and you gaze at Bucky.

My lips, eyes, heart, and soul all tell a story, and he has the honor of telling mine through my body.