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#bucky x reader smut
thevillainswhore · 4 months
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New Tricks
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Pairing: Virgin!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Word Count: 9.5k
Summary: After your brother has to cancel movie night, you’re ready to resign yourself to an uneventful evening back at your dorm, alone and dejected. But what you didn’t count on, is your brother’s best friend and roommate, bursting through the door and asking you to stay; to spend the night with him, instead
What unfolds, however, while you spend time with the star football player, both shocks and astounds you — one confession in particular. 
Bucky Barnes, the Prince Charming of campus, the man you have been crushing on for an eternity, is a virgin.
Warnings: first kisses, fluff, smut, grinding, making out, big brother!steve, college!bucky, shy bby bucky, mutual pining, swearing, pet names, huge ton of reassurances, lots of praise, big hints of subby bucky
Author’s Note: beta’d by my baby @rookthorne
Okay, so where to start with this… the idea for this fic sprung from a certain someone 👀 and I just had to write it. Thank you to my girl for being a huge support through this, I love you 💗
These two have my whole heart and who knows? Maybe more will come of them 😌 for all my playlist lovers, you’re welcome - new tricks playlist ❤️
New Tricks Masterlist
I hope you enjoy this as much as I’ve loved creating it 🥹
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Standing outside of your brother’s apartment, your impatience starts to wane thin. For ten whole minutes, you have been waiting for Steve to open up. And knocking like a crazed woman is beginning to get old; so is waiting on the doorstep to his front door. 
“Oh, for–” You grumble, and you lift your arm up to bang against the door for the umpteenth time,  when your hand misses it entirely, owing to the fact it swings open to admit you with such enthusiasm, it creaks and threatens to bounce back off of the wall.  
Bucky — your brother’s roommate, best friend, and your crush — sheepishly smiles and scratches the back of his neck. 
The line of his shoulders slump when he lowers his arm, and you notice (and appreciate) just how broad and muscled he is. He must have just been working out, or you interrupted him — nonetheless, you’re thankful for the sight before you, and how it makes the crush you harboured for the brunette for years roar to life all over again. 
Excellent, you inwardly sigh.
“Buttercup,” Bucky says — the affectionate nickname born from his sappy personality always makes you swoon, and his hesitant smile morphs into a wide one. You’re left fighting  internally to keep your giddiness at the sight of him to a respectable level.  “Hey, you. Sorry I didn’t hear you; I was listening to music.” 
Your gaze continues up to his hair, finding it tied back with an elastic at the nape of his neck.  Oh, how you wished you could run your hands through–
“Hey, you okay?” he asks, furrowing his brows. 
Embarrassment floods you and you realise far too late that he probably has asked you a question, or several, while you were daydreaming. “Sorry, Buck,” you squeak, praying that the heat crawling up your neck was not as obvious as it felt. “What was that?”
His soft, puppy-eyed expression brightens when you meet his gaze. “It’s fine, doll. Everything okay?” 
No matter how badly you want to stand and unashamedly stare at your brother’s best friend and roommate, your true intention behind your visit comes to mind. 
“Can I come in?” you ask, lifting the bag of snacks you brought up higher. Bucky’s eyes glance down at the bag, and then back up to your face. “Stevie planned our movie night and he isn’t answering his phone — I told him I was on my way and I asked him if he wanted anything else.” 
The confusion that creases Bucky's brows and downturns his lips in a small frown makes you narrow your eyes. 
“Surely he didn’t forget,” you accuse, still staring into Bucky’s face. “I make the trip down from campus every two weeks. It’s been two weeks.” A sudden, encompassing guilt fills Bucky’s eyes, and he starts to worry his bottom lip with his teeth — a sight far too hard to ignore. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 
“Um– I just–” Bucky stutters, and you watch as his fingers twitch and fidget — a nervous tic. If he didn’t look cute while stumbling over his words, you would feel sorry for being so blunt. “I just thought that– Uh, I thought it was cancelled. The movie night, I mean.” 
You step forward slightly, and Bucky opens the door wider. A wordless invitation. 
Bucky rushes to clear a space on the entryway coat rack for you, when he suddenly says, “You know, because of his date, an’ all.” His words falter at the look you shoot him. You stop taking off your coat, and you drop the bag of snacks to the floor, ignoring the crinkle and rustle of plastic. 
“What do you mean date, Barnes?” The use of his last name causes a flush of deep red to pattern his cheeks, but you don’t let up. There’s music playing from down the hall of the apartment – right where Steve’s bedroom is. “What’s going on?” 
Bucky skittishly fidgets and glances around the apartment, before meeting your heated gaze. “I– Look, I didn’t know–” 
You silently mouth a curse, beyond frustrated with your older brother, and with yourself for taking just a second to indulge and admire just how sweet Bucky is when he is unsure. “Fine,” you huff, and you turn to walk straight towards the source and to investigate it yourself.
Bucky’s frantic footsteps behind you don’t deter your haste. “Wait, stop — Buttercup, wait!”
Forgoing a courtesy knock — having had enough of banging on his front door — you barge straight into the room with as little as a greeting call or warning. 
“What the shit–“ 
The door to Steve’s bedroom slams against the wall, and you come face to face with the blond in the middle of a dance off with himself in the mirror. “Sis! Hey,” he gasps, holding his hand over his heart in fright. “What’re you doing–?” 
In lieu of an answer, you cross your arms and stare at him, unimpressed and exasperated with his antics. “Don’t you hey sis me.” The fear in Steve’s eyes as you stomp towards him almost vindicates your indignation of being uninformed. “What do you mean you’re going on a date? It’s movie night!” 
Steve has the decency to look ashamed. “Flower, I swear, I’m sorry,” he rambles, and he takes your hand, directing you to sit down on his bed. “I would’ve called to let you know but everything was so last minute.” 
The grip he has on your hand is firm, assuring you of his true intentions, even when he turns the Roger’s charm up to an eleven to worm his way back onto your good side. “I swear sis, I wouldn’t bail on you without a good reason.”
“Okay,” you say, staring into his face — still not wholeheartedly convinced of his graces. A line of questioning is in order, you decide. “So, who is this good enough reason?”
“Natasha Romanoff.” The dreamy, love-struck sigh that leaves Steve’s lips after her name is uttered has you reluctantly trying to hide your giggle; the righteous anger and frustration slowly leaves your body in his admittance.  
The fact that he has been obsessed with the college’s most popular redhead since forever, was a balm to the annoyance. You truly did feel happy for him underneath it all. 
And, in the end, it’s how you decide to let him off the hook — though not without teasing him, first. “No way, the Natasha Romanoff? How the hell have you managed that one?” 
Steve pushes your shoulder, and the force of his shove knocks you sideways onto the covers of his bed. “Fine,” you grouse, sighing heavily and resigning yourself to a night on your own. “I’ll let you off this time.”
“I’ll make it up to you, Flower,” Steve promises. And you believe him. He has always kept his word; ever since the two of you were kids. 
“Good,” you say, smiling softly. “I expect an apology at my door in the next few days, though.”
Laughing, Steve nods, and then he stands from his bed. 
“I’ll leave you to it then, I hope you have fun, bro.” 
It is an impossible task for you to hide your dejected hurt from Steve, though. Clever and perceptive as he is, he detects the subtle sombre undertones underlying your reassurances, narrowing in on them like a dog to a bone. 
You get to your feet with a quiet sigh, and as you move, you miss the thoughtful expression on his face; the perk of his ears at the almost indistinguishable shuffling of feet just outside of his bedroom. “How about you have a movie night with Bucky, instead?” 
You stop in your tracks, frozen in shock at the sudden and downright surprising suggestion. “Stevie,” you admonish, “Bucky does not want to waste a Friday night with me–“
“I don’t mind!” Bucky shouts eagerly from the doorway, and you spin around to face him. The nervous fidget of his curls his fingers and hands around one another, over and over. 
Had he been listening that whole time? 
Guilt begins to flood you. Imposing on any plans Bucky  may have made was a burden you did not want to bear,  and you couldn’t fathom who would want to spend the night with their best friend’s little sister. “Thank you, Bucky, that’s really sweet of you,” you placate, smiling at him. “But I know you’ve probably got better things to do on a Friday night than be with me.”
Bucky seems to swell in the doorway, his chest puffing up and he sets his jaw, a determined glint in his eyes. “Actually, Buttercup,” he retorts, crossing his arms in a decisive move. “A movie night with you sounds perfect.” 
The confidence in his tone takes you by surprise, and you flounder for a second while you stare into his steel blue eyes. “Really?”
“‘Course,” he replies easily, shrugging his shoulders. “It’ll be fun.”
His words, and charming smile, ultimately win you over.  
With your attention wholly focused on Bucky as he begins to talk about what movies to watch, you miss the knowing, victorious smirk that curls Steve’s lips.  
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“Okay,” Steve calls from the doorway, looking back at the two of you, and you can’t help but be frustrated by his stalling. “Be good and behave while I’m gone. Oh, and, no staying up past your bedtimes — Bucky, her bedtime is ten o’clock sharp.”
The scowl on your face only serves to make him laugh, and you huff your exasperation before your hands grip his biceps; the only way to get him out the door is brute force. “Get out, Stevie,” you grunt, pushing with all your might, but it is to no avail. Steve is as immovable as a statue made of marble. “Don’t you have to go see Natasha?”
“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, and you hear the rustling sound of fabric. “Don’t you?”
Instinct tells you to duck, and you do so, just in the nick of time to avoid the pillow Bucky launches across the room from his place next to the couch. The pillow hits Steve square in the face with a comical thump. 
You burst into laughter at the stunned look of disbelief on Steve’s face, and you look over at Bucky, who is leaning against the sofa; a smug grin pulls his lips up and scrunches his nose.  “Get the hell outta here already, punk.”
With Steve distracted by Bucky’s betrayal, you take the chance to shove him out of the front door and watch delightedly as he stumbles in the hallway. “Hey–!” The door slams shut behind him, cutting him off. 
Giggles shake your shoulders as you put your back to the door, leaning against it with all of your strength as Steve turns the handle — evidently not finished in the war of quips. 
Bucky’s laughter from his place by the sofa makes your stomach flutter, and he walks closer, just as Steve stops attempting to break down the door. 
With the end of Steve’s attempts to forcefully open the door, you turn and face the wood and peer out of the peephole. A blond mop of hair is just within view. “Bye Stevie!” you call through the door, “Have fun, wear protection!”
Steve’s reply is muffled by the wood, and he flips you off before walking away.  
Shaking your head, you turn back to face the living room, and you see Bucky fussing around the sofa and coffee table. The strong aroma of a sweet, spicy scent fills your senses and you inhale deeply, letting the tantalising smell fill your lungs, before you ask, “Bucky, what are you doing?”
He sends you a furtive glance before looking back down at the snacks laid out on the coffee table, neatly placed next to two already filled glasses of drink. A bag of popcorn threatens to spill from his arms. “I’m, uh– I’m setting up? For the movie–?”
You could not help but notice how fast the bravado and confidence he displayed in the presence of Steve vanishes when he was with you, and you alone.  
“Oh, sweetie,” you coo, walking closer. “I thought we could watch the movie in your room, instead of out here. It’ll be more comfortable, at least, and we can spread out. Is that okay?” 
The popcorn bag that threatened to spill from his arms bursts instead, scattering the popped kernels all over the floor, making him yelp. “Ah! Uh– Okay, we… We can if you want?”
You nod once. “Absolutely. I’d rather be in your bed any day, then out here,” you tease, amused by the way Bucky’s eyes bulge and his cheeks flush. Then you look down at the popcorn all over the floor, and add, “But first, let’s clean this up.” 
Bucky starts to clean up the mess, and he tells you to grab the movies you agreed upon from the collection in the bookshelf. 
The selection to choose from is packed, as it always is. “Why don’t I grab a couple?” 
“Sure,” Bucky answers, sweeping the popcorn into a dustpan. “I mean, why not? May as well go all out.”
You grin and grab a couple of cases. “Do you need some help–”
“No, I’ve got it, Bubs,” Bucky interrupts. You look over your shoulder at him to see the blankets bundled high in his arms, and before you could protest and insist you help carry them, he shuffles off in the direction of his bedroom. 
Then, you glance down at the coffee table to see that the snacks and drinks are missing. “Did you grab the snacks?”
“Yeah!” Bucky calls back, muffled by the walls between the two of you. 
A fond sigh falls from your lips and you follow after him, DVD cases in hand.  
The tension in the air of his bedroom is charged with something you could not quite describe, and the butterflies in your stomach roar to life for it. You square your shoulders, and smile through it. “It’s no different, it’s no different,” you mutter under your breath; a mantra for confidence. 
Though, it is short lived. 
Bucky throws the blankets onto his bed with a grunt, and both the TV and DVD player switch on, ready to accept one of the disks you held in your hand. 
A shuddery breath falls from your lips, and you make your way to the player to place the first disc in. It whirrs to life as you turn to look at Bucky, who is placing the snacks on a tray table, his tongue between his teeth as he works. 
“Okay,” he hums, turning to face you, a shy smile on his face. “You ready, Bubs?” Without waiting for an answer, he walks past you to the light switch, his index finger poised to flip it off. 
You look down at your body, the warm outerwear you had thrown on to get to Steve’s apartment suddenly becomes scorching hot against your skin, and an idea comes to mind — flustering him has given you a rush of confidence before… 
“Almost,” you say, a hidden smirk on your lips. The layers of warmth are soft in your hands while you take them off, and you’re left in a thin tank top and soft, cotton shorts. “Now I am.”
A faint choking noise comes from the doorway behind you when you place the warmer clothes on Bucky’s desk chair. Inwardly, a coy smirk lifts the corner of your lips; outwardly, you look over to him, concerned and ever curious. 
His face, normally soft and kind whenever he looked at you, is taut with embarrassment; blotchy and red. His eyes are frantically looking anywhere, and everywhere around the room but at you. 
“Buck?” you say, getting his attention. His eyes meet yours. “You okay?”
The fidgeting is your first clue that he is struggling with something, and it is a battle to keep the teasing smile off your lips when his hands run constantly through his long hair and or come to a stop in the pockets of his grey sweats. 
Patiently, you watch while he repeats the same actions several times, each pass of his hands only serving to make him even more flushed. “Yeah. Yep,” Bucky coughs. “Mhm. Just great, thanks.” He looks up to the ceiling and gulps loudly. “You’re really wearing those? Uh– Just those, I mean?” 
You thin your lips to try and hurriedly fight off a smile as you grab your warm, fluffy socks from your bag. “Of course, silly,” you tease, shaking your head once. “I always wear my comfy clothes on movie night.”
The room turns deathly silent when you bend at the hip to pull the socks up your feet. 
Peering up from your task, you see Bucky staring at your legs, evidently thinking he hadn’t been caught and his eyes begin to trail upwards, towards your chest. The slackjawed expression amuses you, though you feel the beginning sparks of your own shyness come to life.
“Buck?” A nervous laugh bubbles in your chest, and you play with the hem of your tank top at the heat in his gaze. “Bucky?” you try again, “Are you ready?”
“Uh– Yeah, yes,” he rushes, quickly flicking the light off so his face is cast into shadow. You could have sworn he looked like a kid getting caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar — wide eyes and a deepening blush that spread down his neck.  
Bucky had always been a little shy in your presence, this you knew. Whenever you come over to visit Steve, or you bump into Bucky on campus, you always notice a remarkable difference in his normal, unwavering charm that he had in familiar company. 
This lack of swagger gives you the impression that you unfasten the young, boyish version of him; the one ruled by nerves, and hindered by a severe lack of confidence. 
Sure, you enjoy spending time with him here and there when you hang out at your brother’s apartment, but never before have you been this close to him, and alone. 
“Why don’t we–?” You gesture towards Bucky’s bed, and before he could either protest or agree, you jog to the edge and jump onto the plush mattress with a squeal of laughter. The blankets cover you easily as you roll yourself in them. “This is perfect,” you sigh, happy and content. 
“And where am I meant to sit?” Bucky laughs, appearing in your eye line with a bright, amused expression. “You blanket hog.”
“Fine,” you drawl, and you disentangle yourself from the cocoon of blankets. 
“Why, thank you, madame,” Bucky says, extending his hand in a mock salute, and he sits down in the now available spot, before sidling up the mattress, to rest his back on the headboard.
The broadness of his shoulders don’t leave much room between the two of you, and you decide to snuggle up to his side in a bid to get comfortable. You feel him tense with the proximity, but he doesn’t push you away or say anything.
“Are you ready now?” you ask, reaching for the remote. “For the movie?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” he rasps, nodding quickly.
Despite his initial nerves, Bucky settles comfortably in your presence — half of the movie goes by undisturbed with only the occasional shuffling to get comfortable after getting a snack, or a drink.  
That all changes the moment Bucky becomes restless,his leg twitching against yours constantly, and he repositions himself every couple of minutes. From the corner of your eye, you see his mouth opening and closing; the courage building within him to speak up. You bite your tongue against the urge — let him speak first, you chided yourself. 
“So,” Bucky eventually says, his voice quiet. “How are your classes going, Buttercup?” 
You take your eyes off the screen and face Bucky, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes bright from the glow of the TV. 
“They’re going good,” you reply, just as quietly. “Yeah, they’re busy — hectic, even, but good.” 
The fabric of the comforter ruffles as you turn your body towards him — your shorts ride up with the movement, and your bare thighs brush against his sweats. Bucky tenses while you settle in and only relaxes when you stop shifting in place. “This time of year is always busy, the coursework and exams,” you continue, shrugging your shoulders. “But I’m managing okay, thanks.” 
Bucky nods his head thoughtfully. “Yeah, all those art projects you’ve gotta finish, it must be tiring.” 
Shock slackens your features and you reel back — you could not recall telling him what you studied. “How do you know what major I’m taking?”
“I– um,” Bucky stutters, suddenly overwhelmingly shy. “I hear you talking to Steve about it. Y’know, when– When you come over, on movie nights, and other nights.” 
You can sense Bucky is not done explaining; he licks his lips and stares at his lap, where he fidgets, again. Quietly, as if embarrassed, he continues, “I see you lugging your big canvases across campus sometimes, too. From class, and– And from the window, when I’m actually studying.”
Warmth creeps up your neck again and you blink rapidly. You hadn’t noticed that he took so much notice of you before now, and you couldn’t help but feel endeared over it. 
Desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, you blurt, “How’s, uh– How’s training going for football season this year?”  
Bucky freezes for a second, then trips over his words, “Oh, it’s good– Yeah, it’s great. Coach says I’m progressing well, so I’m doing alright, I guess.”
“So modest, Buck,” you tease. It was common knowledge on campus that Bucky is the star player of the college football team, while also being scouted to join the professional leagues. You place your hand on his arm and squeeze his bicep reassuringly, lending him a bit of your confidence. “Don’t you sell yourself short, I’ve seen you play — you’re amazing!” 
He inhales sharply and grimaces, an expression that contorts his handsome face. “You really think so?” 
“Bucky,” you say slowly. The tense line of his body is obvious as you shuffle closer, but you are determined to prove your point; assure him of his talent and abilities, for all of a shy puppy that he is.  
“Listen to me, honey,” you continue, and Bucky refuses to meet your gaze, instead focusing on his hands. “Everyone can see it, all of us — all of the women in the crowds, all of the kids that watch you from the sidelines. We’re all screaming for you.”
His skin is warm under your palm, but you don’t remove your hand. Instead, you grip his arm and shake it a little. “You’re amazing.”
Bucky stays silent — contemplative of your words, and you take the opportunity to think over the reason why Bucky chooses to stay in on a Friday night. 
There is no questioning the fact that Bucky Barnes could pull anyone he wanted, whether it was to party, or to fuck, but to your recollection — and from what Steve had slipped in the past — no one has ever witnessed Bucky bringing anyone home, drunk or otherwise. No partner he could call his own, either, and he didn’t brag about the obvious charm he held over the many women on or off campus. 
Cautiously, you venture towards the subject of your curiosity. “Speaking of, shouldn’t you be going out on dates on a Friday night, like Stevie? Surely you’ve got tons of girls lined up for you.”  
Bucky’s silence turns deafening, unnatural. His body becomes stiff and he looks to be barely breathing. 
“Buck?” You sit up and look into his face. It’s pulled taut with what you could only guess as shame, but that made no sense, and with a mounting, swelling horror, you realise you may have pushed him too far; teased beyond the point of what is acceptable between friends. “Hey, did I say something wrong? I’m so sorry–”
“No! No– I… fuck.” Bucky throws his head back against the headboard and covers his face. “Oh, God,” he groans, muffled by his hands. “Shit.”
“Bucky–” You hesitate, unsure of what to do or what to say. You’ve never seen Bucky behave like this, so anxious and uneasy. “I– I’ll go, it’s alright, I’m sorry,” you say quickly, and you start to shuffle off of the bed when you hear his muffled voice say something behind his hands. “What was that, I didn’t–?”
A heavy sigh lifts his shoulders, and they slump back down as he exhales. “Ihaventevenhadmyfirstkissyet.”
“Sweetheart,” you say quietly, and you shift back towards him. The curtain of hair he’s so fond of covers and conceals his eyes from view, but you refrain from tucking it behind his ear. “I did not understand a word of what you just said.” 
Bucky clears his throat and shifts uncomfortably, looking up at you with a great effort. “I– uh.” His hands land on his thighs with a finality not unlike the final siren at his football games, and he utters a reluctant, “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet.” 
His bedroom is quiet enough you would hear a pin drop. The TV had long powered off, since the movie finished while you talked, and the tension was palpable; a living, breathing encumberment that could not be cut with a knife. The flickering light from the still burning candle on his bedside drawers makes shadows dance across Bucky’s face. 
Okay, you think privately, so what? 
Bucky hasn’t kissed anyone before. It was justifiable — too busy with life, training and keeping up his GPA. You didn’t have to make a big deal out of this. “That’s okay–” Then the reality of the situation hits you, and your mind screeches to a halt. 
If Bucky hasn’t had his first kiss… “Does– Wait, does that mean–?”
“Yes.” Bucky squeezes his eyes tight and refuses to look at you — it is obviously a painful confession, yet he still forces himself to spit it out, putting voice to the doubt in your mind. “I’m a virgin.”
Now that catches you off guard. 
Bucky… is a virgin? 
Bucky, the star football player; built like a Greek god with the charisma to match. 
Sweat beads on his forehead and he looks like he is about to bolt from the room in his fear, and you realise all of your thoughts had shown in your expression. 
“Oh,” you manage, blinking slowly. The hand that was gripping his arm had moved without you realising, and you hastily place it back on his bicep. “Oh, Bucky.”
No other words come to mind. 
When you came to visit Steve for movie night, a calm, easy tradition in your routine, you never expected to end up in this kind of situation; on the other side of a confession that has left you speechless with shock, all while a strange confliction brews deep within your guts. 
You had been there once, and what you wouldn’t have given to have the opportunity to experience it with someone you trusted wholeheartedly — like you did Bucky, your mind supplies not-so-helpfully. 
The realisation hits you harder than you expect, and you gasp quietly, still gripping his arm to reassure him. 
Bucky moves his hands to cover his face again, and his chest rises and falls with a sharp hitch. The nervous pants for air that part his lips bring you back down to earth and away from that revelation. You know he’s embarrassed; ducking his head to his chest and glancing up as though you had scolded him. The entirety of his toned body is rigid with fear, each muscle clenching and poised to run, to save what dignity he feels he has left after such a confession. 
It’s difficult not to stare at the veins that line and bulge from his forearms down to his deft hands,  and you almost feel guilty for it; he’s in distress, fretting over the reveal of his lack of sexual prowess, but you cannot help the lingering gaze over his body. He just looks so pretty. 
From the get go, ever since you had met the star football player, you have always fantasised about him. The silent crush on Bucky had developed into such a deep attraction you almost couldn’t bear it any longer. 
Having convinced yourself of the non-existent reciprocation kept your tongue at bay, in the past.  And while Bucky’s virginity is a surprise, it did not hinder or lessen your feelings for him, quite the opposite; the heady weight of it settling over your mind like a blanket. 
What was stopping you now? What would be the harm in testing the waters?
To hell with it, you decide. The springs of the mattress creak as you move to shuck the blanket off of your body, then your legs. 
Bucky audibly gulps behind his hands when you move closer, and he positively freezes, like a deer in headlights, as you lift your leg up and over his thighs to straddle him. The soft brush of his sweatpants over your legs sends a shiver up your spine, and you sit down, settling your body comfortably on his thighs, just above his knees. 
“What– What are you doing–?” Bucky whispers, and his words are muffled behind his palms. You grin, unseen by your quarry, and you shuffle up his thighs to his hips, your clothed cunt just below the seam at his crotch.  
The sound of Bucky choking on his own spit is comical. 
You pull his hands away from his face, the urge to kiss each palm overwhelming; feather-soft brushes of your lips against the soft skin sends the pulse in his throat racing. “Buttercup, please– This is embarrassing enough–”
“Bucky,” you whisper, cutting him off. “Look at me.”
Blue eyes meet yours, and you pour all of the unspoken words between you both in your soft gaze, willing him to feel the yearning. “Kiss me.” 
“But–” He hesitates, a fish out of water again. His mouth hangs slack from the shock of such a bold request, and you place your pointer finger over his lips, shushing him before he can carry on protesting. 
You pout, placing a hint of pleading in your tone, “Please?”
He looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads. “I– What, I mean,” he flounders, arms hovering at his sides, hesitant to touch you — terrified of taking it a step too far. “I don’t know–“
“Aw, Buck,” you coo, smiling softly. Carefully, you shuffle further up his lap until your knees brush against the headboard of his bed. Gently, you place your palms on Bucky’s toned chest, just above his beating heart hammering away — not wanting to frighten him. “I’ll show you, okay?”
“Yeah.” The tremble in his voice makes your heart ache, but you smile encouragingly.
“Here we go,” you soothe. He smiles weakly back, eyes still wide with shock. “I’ve got you.”
You slowly and steadily move closer to Bucky’s face. A shudder racks through his whole body when he feels your breath against his neck, and you peck his stubbled cheek before sitting back upright to face him.
“Okay,” Bucky shakily says, fisting the blankets in his hands. “Okay. That was okay.”
“See? It’s not so bad,” you tease, and you tilt your head to the side, sticking out your cheek. “Your turn.” From the corner of your eyes, you watch his eyes sweep across your face, still hesitant and nervous, but a slither of curiosity now shining through. 
Broad, strong shoulders lift in tandem with his deep, grounding breath, and he steadily leans in before he second guesses himself. He resolutely does not touch your body, but he manages to find the confidence to gently press his lips against your skin, kissing your cheek. 
This time, he sits back and looks up at you for direction and reassurance. 
You consider it, ignoring the fluttering of your heart. His touch was sweet, but polite; a kiss on the cheek that you would give a friend after such a long time apart. And, in the end, you want Bucky to gain more confidence and actually enjoy kissing — he shouldn’t have to be ashamed to want it. “Good, that was good,” you say, keeping your tone mellow so as to not spook him.
He is making good progress, and gentle encouragement is the way to ensure it continues, you reason with yourself. “Now, I want you to do the exact same thing, but start gradually moving towards my lips.”
“Oh– Okay, okay,” he breathes, and his eyes widen slightly before they dart down towards his lap. 
That needs to be rectified immediately, before he shuts down, you hastily think, and you react swifty, your hands roaming from his chest and up to the sides of his neck, adding a little pressure to bring him back down to earth. 
There was an innate need for him to know that he could trust you; that you would treat him with the respect he deserves. 
Gently, you lift his head up, forcing him to look at you, and the downturn of his lips makes your heart ache. All you want to do is soothe the fear and rid the worry from his pretty eyes that pierce you, even through the strands of hair that have fallen in his face. 
“You’re okay, Buck,” you soothe, rubbing your thumbs over his warm, rosy cheeks. The movement and assurance seem to do the trick. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
A minute passes, and you watch as the confliction flitters across his face; an inward battle to assemble his courage to bridge the gap between you both.
There is another minute of silence, when he slowly advances, leaving his palms flat on the covers of his bed as he kisses you on the cheek. 
“That’s it,” you praise, sitting still in his lap, but smiling softly in encouragement.
Bucky hesitantly returns the smile, and he doesn’t move away, rather, he decides to stay close. “You did good,” you say, still smiling, and he takes you by surprise when he moves forwards again to place another tiny kiss even closer to your lips. “Oh–”
The soft brush of his lips makes you freeze, and he takes his time, building his confidence with each peck he makes. 
Finally, he reaches the corner of your lips, and he stalls; confidence wavering and faltering with the daunting task. You go to part your lips to speak on instinct, to encourage him, when he suddenly moves even closer to your face, making you hastily shut your mouth and brace for what was to come; willing for your heart to slow down the tattoo it beats against your throat.  
“Okay,” Bucky whispers more to himself, and he clears his throat before licking his lips. “Okay, okay. Just–” His lips connect with the curve of you own, the brief and fleeting connection enough to tell you that his lips are plump; ripe to swell and redden with a passionate make out session. 
Hastily, Bucky withdraws, but not all the way back — he lingers and only allows the tiniest space between your faces.
“You did it, sweetheart,” you coo, keeping your voice low. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Th– Thanks,” he stutters, and the rosy blush he sported turns a splotchy crimson. Interesting, you think.  
You turn your head to look at him, and the proximity of his face makes both of your lips brush against each other. The intoxicating softness consumes you, and you cannot deny the reality that Bucky is there, he is right there. A torture that intensifies in the billowing silence, while a burning, reckless spike of adrenaline rushes through your veins.
“Do you want more?” you ask quietly, breaking the silence and shattering the tension. 
A harsh breath falls from Bucky’s lips, and he presses forward to kiss you properly for the first time. 
Whatever you had been expecting for a first kiss from the inexperienced, sweet, charming man beneath you, flew out the window. Your lips slot perfectly over his, a chaste kiss that held enough need and want to be something far more; it could not hold a candle to the sex you had with past flings.  
The kiss, unexpected as it was, lasts only for a couple seconds longer before Bucky pulls back from it, panting lightly — puffs of air fanning over your slightly parted lips. He lingers, bumping his nose into yours to keep close. 
But eventually, Bucky pulls all the way back to rest against the headboard. 
The silence is not deafening — not like it was before, and you open your eyes, blinking slowly. 
Bucky is already staring at you. His eyes are glazed over with hunger, and he's out of breath, the rise and fall of his chest faster than before. 
You fare no better. Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, but it still feels like it’s lodged in your throat. No words are spoken between the two of you; just an invisible string that keeps you entwined to one another. 
It’s difficult to find the words to say, especially after something so raw and vulnerable; so new and budding. You want him to feel safe, like he had done good, though; you want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, not with you. 
And just as you open your mouth to speak, to praise him for how well he had done, Bucky slides his hands up your thighs, over your waist, and up to your neck, cupping the back of it in his large palm. “I want–” 
To your utter shock, he drags you closer, his lips greedily slotting over yours for a far deeper kiss.  
Bucky can’t get enough of you; already addicted and demanding more. You can’t be mad for it, not when he’s a sensational kisser — he’s good, far too good. The basics have you dizzy with want, and you decide on a whim to challenge him, to push him a little further and test the boundaries. 
You part your lips as Bucky pulls back, and before he could kiss you again, you tentatively tease your tongue against his lips. The sensation makes him sit rigid again beneath you, and he chases your tongue, the surprised moan he lets slip vibrates into your mouth.
The power of such a move has you smirking into the kiss. 
You only plan to stoke the fire by pushing him into the deep end a little — the prospect of overwhelming him too risky, but when you feel the effortless slide of Bucky’s tongue entering your parted lips to dance with your own, it leaves you physically stunned and unable to move. 
Bucky compliments you perfectly, as though he is a natural, and someone so timid should not be capable of that — it’s dangerous. 
It escalates — tongues dance and lips clash, and Bucky’s breath is heavy on your lips, as yours is on his, when he pulls back for air. There’s a pull that you can’t ignore, not any longer, and you bring your hands up from his neck to his hair, threading your fingers through it, making him moan quietly against your lips, “Bu–”
Your nails scrape against his scalp while he speaks, and you squeak in shock as Bucky’s hips surge upwards, forcing his hard cock against your clothed cunt. “Oh, fuck–” he gasps, and his body turns rigid with fear again while he pleads for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, so sorry, Bubs– I–”
Quickly, you place your index finger over his lips. “Hush, you. It’s alright. I loved it,” you reassure, and suddenly, it turns into a game for you — you are desperate to see how Bucky plays along, how close to the edge you can get him. “Let it go, it’s okay.”
Bucky’s breath hitches as you grind down hard against him, and his hands rush down from your neck to grip your waist. The unabashed moan he lets slip is sinful; a delight to be the cause of, and a Cheshire Cat grin splits your lips. You’ll be damned if you don’t get more from him, you decide.
“Fuck,” he grits out, the grip of his hands on your waist turning painful. “Fuck, yes.” 
You moan and allow him to move your body where he wants it — predictably, he perches you straight on his crotch and his hands wander, slipping beneath the tank top you wear to brush against your skin. 
The resolve he had held onto so strongly is starting to slip, and you inwardly scream with joy at the dilation of his pupils, the heavy pants of his breath — a poor, virtuous man is melting into a puddle at your feet. 
The position of your body gives you an impression of just how big Bucky is, and with his cock hard, you can feel the girth and the size of him against your cunt  — a crime, you think, that it wasn’t inside you.
Your motions of grinding down into him have the tip of his cock catching on your clit through your shorts, and the thin material has no pretence of protectiveness, and you greedily lap every single, last sensation up while shamelessly taking more.  
“Bucky,” you whine against his mouth, and in turn, he nips at your swollen bottom lip before sucking on it. “Fuck– S’good.”
“Buttercup, baby,” Bucky slurs, and his fingertips dig into your skin, unknowingly marking you in his lust-fuelled haze. “Fuckin’ feel good, please,” he whimpers, unable to keep kissing you with the way his moans and litany of quiet cries fall from his lips, longing for more; too far gone, he can’t help himself anymore. “Need more, please.”
You’re all too pleased to listen to his cries for you; begging would taste so much sweeter, though. Next time. “Okay,” you soothe, pecking him on the nose. “I’ll give you more, sweetheart.”
The bed creaks as you shuffle up Bucky’s lap, and you move your hands to grip the headboard. “Don’t keep quiet on me,” you warn. 
“Wha– Fuck!”
You pant as you grind down on Bucky’s cock, the effort of making your hips work this hard and fast steals your breath, but the sounds — oh, the sounds falling from his pretty lips make it all worth it. 
The added friction of your lace panties against your soaked clit only amplifies the pleasure for you, and it’s all you can do to keep going.
Bucky throws his head back and groans to the ceiling, but you follow him, leaning over and panting into each other's mouths and kissing messily, barely able to put anything behind them as you work the both of you closer to release. 
You pull back to look at him, and the slope of his neck is too tempting to leave alone — the  loose strands from his hair are sticking to the sweat gathering on his skin, and you watch a bead of it roll down a curve of corded muscle. 
Of course, you weren’t going to let it go — you want him to crack.
Bucky moans, his breath stuttering as your tongue chases the bead of sweat, and you latch onto his skin, sucking steadily at his pulse point. “Baby– Baby, please, fuck,” he babbles, forcing his head back further to expose more of his neck. 
You oblige, all too willingly and with a giddy enthusiasm; the bow of your lips trace over his Adam’s apple and down to his collarbone, where you bite down gently. 
“Shit, shit,” Bucky suddenly exclaims, his words slurring together. “No– No, please, I ca– Can’t,” he begs, and you pull away from his neck, brows furrowing in concern. “Please, I don’t want to– To, shit–”
Words seem to be out of his grasp, and you wait patiently for him to gather his thoughts while you watch the thread of his restraint wearing thin, so close to snapping when he’s this overwhelmed with the pleasure you are giving him. 
You can’t have that, though. 
Bucky was torturing himself, not allowing himself the pleasure of giving into his base desires - what he needs. “Can’t what, sweetheart?” you ask. “You can’t cum?”
Bucky nods his head frantically, his eyes widening. You consider him, the sweat on his brow and upper lip, the way his eyes plead for something more; he’s so desperate to not cum, to let go. 
It’s plain as day that he is holding himself back, when you knew deep down that he is itching to relinquish control and give in. 
You decide then to push, to throw caution to the wind and make him take it. “Why not?” you whine, grinding back and forth, back and forth, over his painfully hard cock. “Doesn’t my pussy feel good, baby?” 
Bucky whimpers and scrunches his face up, cock throbbing as he grows closer to finishing. You don’t think he realises how he rambles to himself, “Fuck, yes! It does—fuck, it does baby.” 
“Think for me, sweetheart,” you say, leaning close to his face. “Just think for me, how good being inside my pussy would be.” The lure of being inside your cunt cracks the last of his resolve; control slipping through his fingers before he can grasp hold of it.  
You smirk, watching how his brows furrow and his eyes squeeze shut. “Just think, Bucky,” you repeat, “How wet and tight I’d be for you. How I would scream for more; beg for more of your cock and what you give me.” 
The sound Bucky makes is close to a wounded animal, and his grip on your waist is sure to leave bruises. “Oh, sweetheart,” you coo, mouthing softly up his neck until your lips brush over the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “Doesn’t that sound good, baby?”
Something snaps within him. 
The headboard of the bed thumps against the wall as Bucky tumbles over the cliff, his restraint long gone, and he wraps his arms tightly around you, curling them around your waist to hold you impossibly close. You feel something wet on your neck, and you realise belatedly that Bucky is crying silently, overwhelmed with the pleasure. 
To reassure him, you thread your fingers through his hair again to scratch at his scalp. You feel his lips move up and down your neck, placing open mouthed kisses over the skin “Are you okay?” you ask softly, careful to not move in his hold. “Bucky, baby?”
“Mhm,” Bucky hums, and he buries his face further into your neck, nodding frantically. “Pleasepleaseplease.”
A victorious smirk pulls the corner of your lips up. You know you have him — Bucky’s too far gone to come back down now, and he won’t be able to stop. 
“Go on,” you purr. Bucky hungrily grinds up into your heat, seeking it out and forcing a gasp from your lips with the pressure. “That’s it,” you push, and your last deadly blow has the dam breaking, once and for all: “Cum for me then, pretty boy.”
“Oh, oh, fuck– Baby–” Bucky moaned, but you keep steady pressure over his cock, and his hips start to stutter in rhythm. “Shit!” 
“That’s it, that’s it, sweetheart,” you coax, just as a damp patch stains the crotch of his sweats, and his legs tremble under your thighs. There’s a loud thump as his head hits the headboard of his bed. 
“Fuck–” Your own climax begins to mount, the tension of it unbearable, and just the band snaps, you cry out to the ceiling, “Bucky!”
The room is full of pants for air, the synchronised rise and fall of your chests in tandem with the twitching muscles of your body; the rushed gasps for breath a symphony to your ears.
“Holy shit,” you murmur, and you finally look at Bucky — only to be taken aback with the awestruck expression on his handsome face. His lips are stretched wide in a dopey grin, and his eyes, while normally so bright and soft, are glazed over with post-orgasm bliss. 
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he whispers. You feel the brush of his fingers over your waist and thighs, a soothing touch that in combination with his words sends another wave of heat up your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
You smile nervously, suddenly speechless with the earnestness and fondness in his voice. Instead, you shuffle down his thighs to rest your arms on his shoulders more comfortably, and you play with the hair on the nape of his neck — the soft locks damp with sweat. 
The two of you stare into one another’s eyes, then, you rest your forehead on his to whisper, “Well, handsome, not so bad for your first kiss.”
Bucky starts to laugh, then giggles take over as he faceplants into your chest, nuzzling himself against your tits in shyness. 
After a while, Bucky starts to shift in place, and you start to rise up off of his lap, when his sudden stiffness alarms you. “Bucky? What’s the matter?”
“I— I don’t, I didn’t mean to—“ He stutters, looking down at his crotch. You follow his gaze, utterly confused — there is nothing abnormal, only the wet patch of cum staining the material. 
Your confusion only increases, and you look back to Bucky’s face. It’s blotchy and red from embarrassment. “Bucky?”
“I– Oh, goddamnit,” he mutters, and he looks down at his lap again pointedly.
The realisation washes over you; a lightbulb suddenly going off in your head. He was embarrassed over coming in his pants. “Bucky, sweetheart,” you say, moving to cup his cheeks and force him to look at you. “Listen to me, okay?”
Blue eyes meet yours, his gaze pensive. You muster the warmest, kindest smile; no judgement apparent in your own eyes as you stare at him. “There is no need to feel ashamed.”
“But–” Bucky tries. 
“No, listen to me,” you interrupt, and you lean in closer, bumping his nose with yours before reassuring him, “There's no need to feel ashamed, sweetheart.”
His pure, innocent gaze doesn’t fail to make you swoon even more over him. “It doesn’t?”
“Of course not, you know why?” Bucky shakes his head, eyes wide and intent to listen to anything you have to say. Your lips hover over his as you whisper, “Because I love you making a mess for me, baby.”
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The weekend passes by swiftly, a tangle of bedsheets and limbs; kisses and fleeting touches that turn into passionate embraces. 
It was only when Steve came home on the Saturday night did he kick both you and Bucky out of the apartment with a yell of, “Bye! Have fun, kids!”
You decided to take Bucky back to your dorm-room — an easy decision when you get to watch how his eyes trail over your body as you walk down the halls holding hands. 
And on Sunday morning, bright and early, a series of knocks on your dorm-room door wakes you out of your slumber. “Damn,” you grumble, blinking slowly into the dimly lit room. The curtains are drawn, but a slither of gold peeks from behind the fabric; right over Bucky’s face and the mess of his hair. 
You sigh and tiredly throw the covers off you, mentally preparing yourself to get out of bed, but before you can get up, two arms curl around your waist and tug you backwards into a muscled chest. The warmth of the embrace makes you sigh contentedly.
“No,” Bucky groans before burying his face into your neck and smothering you with his body; trapping you with his arms and winding his legs around yours. “Dun’ get up.” 
You giggle as he starts kissing your shoulders and nibbling at your neck — the stubble of his jaw tickling the soft skin while his lips soothed over it. “I have to,” you say quietly, and you grab his arm to pull it off, only– 
“Nuh-uh. Where y’think you're goin’, Buttercup?” The deep rumble of his morning voice has you inner self trembling, memorising your antics of your weekend together. “Can’t leave me.” And to solidify his claim, Bucky clings onto you like a koala. 
“Bucky, you big goof.” You slap his arm, but he just grunts his protest, clinging to your body tighter. “Come on,” you say, wriggling — it’s met with no success of him releasing you. “Get off of me so I can answer the door.”
But you should have known that he is far too stubborn to let up that easily — a stubborn puppy that refused to give up his treat. “No. Tell ‘em to fuck off.”
“Fine.” Your only hope is an attempt to bribe him, you decide, and you look at him to find he’s staring at you through a half-lidded eye, the other eye obscured by his pillow. “How about you let me go, and I promise to give you unlimited cuddles for the rest of the day, no moving whatsoever?” 
That gets his attention, and he perks his head up to lean closer to yours. “I wan’ unlimited kisses, too,” he negotiates, pouting his lips and narrowing his eyes. 
You cannot help but chuckle. “Deal, handsome.”
Bucky plonks backwards onto the bed, star fishing in his sulking — the treat now successfully taken away. 
With your newfound freedom, you sit up and stretch, ignoring the grumbles and quiet whines of, “Bein’ left alone ain’t right,” and, “Tell whoever it is to fuck off, I mean it.”
The bedsheets rustle under you when you scoot to the edge, the warmth of Bucky’s body and the softness of the covers already sorely missed, especially when you stand up and slip into your fluffy, warm gown and slippers. The brush of Bucky’s shirt over your skin makes you smile, the fabric soft and worn but oh so perfectly Bucky. 
“Hurry back, Buttercup,” he calls after you as you walk slowly out of the room. “Please—don’ leave me too long.”
“Drama queen,” you whisper, quiet enough he wouldn’t hear. The knocking comes again and you curse the cause — if it’s your friend from class asking to borrow your notes again, you were going to slam the door straight back in their face. Aloud, you say, “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t bust the hinges.”
You prepare the speech to scold your friend as you walk to the door, and you grab the hand;e — the metal of it cold from the chill overnight. The door swings open with a loud creak, and you start saying, “What are you–”
The lack of a presence, or anyone at the door, stops you short — not even a shadow of someone running away down the hall.  “Fucking door dashers,” you groan, and you turn on your heel to go back inside when the toe of your slipper bumps into something on the ground. “What–?”
A gift basket, filled to the brim with an assortment of chocolates and scattered gift cards to your favourite stores, is innocuously sitting there. In the middle of the basket, poking its head out next to a bouquet of your favourite flowers, is the head of a stuffie Golden Retriever, the fur irresistibly soft and the eyes bright — much like Bucky’s. Its mouth held a note scrawled in messy cursive. 
“Okay,” you mumble, and you kneel down to look at it closer, worried that there had been a mix up or confusion of a dorm number. As you near the letter, you realise that the messy scrawl spells out Flower. “Wait.” 
That meant only one person was responsible. 
Your fingers tore open the letter and unfold it; the messy scrawl continues on the inside, too.  
Flower, I’m sorry for bailing on our movie night. 
I know you’re pissed, but I hope this and the beefcake attached to your back makes up for my mistake. 
Love ya squirt, 
Your big bro.
“Stevie,” you say, eyes darting over the lines of script. “You sneaky bastard.” There is a post script just below his sign off, and you continue to read.
P.S. Date went well, tell you all about it on movie night next week? I’m sure we’ll have guests joining us x 
Shaking your head in amusement, you place the note back with the stuffie, and pick up the rest of your basket. “What am I going to do with you,” you mumble, stepping back into your dorm to place the basket on the entry table to admire it again. 
“Wha’s happenin’?” a voice rasps behind you, and sure enough, the aforementioned beefcake in the letter from Steve plasters himself to your back; arms around your waist and his face tucked into your neck again. “Back to bed, c’mon.”
Bucky drags you backwards, chuckling deeply at your squeal of laughter that echoes down the hallway to your bedroom. “You made me a promise,” he grunts, and he pulls you back into bed and underneath the covers, intent on making sure you fulfil your end of the bargain. 
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Part Two, Part Three
5K notes · View notes
nastybuckybarnes · 5 months
Text
Car Rides
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Summary: Road trips are usually pretty boring, but you and Bucky find a way to pass the time.
Warnings: Smut, Public sex, Car sex, Language, Fluff, Mutual Pining,
Word Count: 1.8K
A/n: I got this request AGES ago apparently and I'm only just seeing it now! hope y'all enjoy!
~*~
"Can you move your seat up?"
There's a brief pause, almost like Sam's thinking about it, before - "no."
Silence hangs heavily in the car for a long moment as Steve drives and you can't help but feel bad for Bucky.
He's squished in behind Sam, While you've got a decent amount of room behind Steve.
"We can switch, if you want?" You offer quietly, nudging Bucky's knee with yours.
"Steve's not stopping the car just so Terminator can feel more comfortable," Sam interjects, ignoring the ice of Bucky's stare.
"I'm sure we can switch spots while he's driving. We've done far more on missions with less room, I have faith. Unbuckle your seatbelt."
"Yes ma'am."
You take off your own seatbelt, ignoring Steve's warning look in the rearview mirror.
"Okay, I'm gonna climb over you in the middle seat so when you scoot over I'll climb over and then we'll be set!"
Foolproof! Brilliant!
Bucky scoots over to the middle and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself, then grab his shoulders and stretch one leg over his lap.
Steve chooses that particular moment to hit a bump in the road, sending you tumbling into Bucky and forcing his face into your chest.
Your shirt of choice today is fairly low cut, leaving little to the imagination, even less now that Bucky's face is pressed to your goods.
Regaining your coordination feels like it takes a lifetime, but you eventually manage to pry your boobs out of Bucky's face and plop down in the seat behind Sam.
Your heart hammers in your chest and you avoid looking at Bucky with all your might as you put your seatbelt on.
It's no secret that there's tension between the two of you that has only been growing the more time you spend together, but now? Now that you pretty much forced him to motorboat you?
Horrible. Stupid. The worst idea you've ever had ever.
You almost pray for the car to roll off a cliff to save you from the embarrassment licking up your spine.
The ride is silent for a little while, with some of Sam's music being the only thing stopping it from being too heavy, and soon his soft snores accompany the tunes.
After maybe about half an hour, Bucky's knee brushes against yours once briefly, then rests against it more firmly, with purpose.
Your gaze darts over to him but he's got his eyes focused out the window. You let your eyes fall to where he's manspreading into your personal space, and freeze when your eyes land on the bulge in his pants.
The bulge that certainly was not there before the two of you switched spots, not that you looked.
And now you can't tear your eyes away from it.
Sure, all this time the two of you have been flirty and a little more than friendly, but never to this extent.
Your eyes raise to his face once more and your heart stops for a moment when you meet his gaze.
You're caught now.
Swallowing hard, you glance at his crotch once more then turn to look out your own window, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt at fighting the warmth that's quickly spreading.
Bucky rolls his window down, and the light mechanical whirring sound masks the soft gasp that leaves you when his hand lands on your thigh.
You glance down at where his hand is, watching as his fingers flex as he squeezes your supple flesh.
Your body acts on its own, thighs spreading slightly and giving him the green light he needs to slide his hand up closer to your centre.
Eyes focused on the rearview mirror, you slowly grab Bucky's discarded jacket and drape it over your lap while spreading your legs further, successfully hiding his fingers as they dust over your core.
"Cold?" He asks, glancing at you as he slides his hand down your pants.
You swallow hard and nod, leaning back and breathing through your mouth as he slides a thick finger through your folds.
"With the window open it's a little breezy, but the fresh air is nice," you whisper, breath hitching when he rubs your clit gently.
He nods his agreement, coating his middle finger in your essence then slowly pushing it inside of you.
"Clears the head."
You nod, eyes falling shut as he begins a steady pace, pushing on your walls deliciously slow.
"Exactly," the words are a mere breath on your lips as you lose yourself in the feeling of him.
He leans his head back, his eyes focused on your face as he massages your walls, pulling his finger out only to push two right back in.
He watches as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, brows furrowing as you try your hardest to stay quiet through the slow building pleasure.
It's almost torturously slow, and he knows that, but watching your small twitches and movements has Bucky's dick growing hard enough to cut diamonds.
"We got a good day for this, huh?" Bucky asks, grinning when you struggle to open your eyes.
"Yeah it's... good... it's really good," you whisper, eyelids fluttering slightly before you finally raise your glassy eyes to his.
"I could go for a snack soon though, something sweet to eat."
"Mhmm," you let out a soft moan of agreement as he slips a third finger inside you, pumping them in and out at a slightly faster speed than before.
Not fast enough to draw attention to the two of you, but fast enough for you to be struggling to keep still.
"Next gas station isn't too far out. They probably won't have much but we can stop there to grab a snack and stretch," Steve's voice says from the front seat, his eyes glancing at you and Bucky in the rearview mirror before focusing on the road again.
"Sounds good to me," Bucky says, his voice low and his mischievous eyes focused on you as you nod your agreement.
You dig your head back into the headrest, toes curling in your shoes as his palm rubs against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of your wet heat.
He stretches your walls deliciously, enhanced senses picking up the tangy sweet smell of your cunt on every gust of wind that blows through the car.
He can't help but lick his lips, greatly looking forward to tasting you once he's finished enjoying fingering your tight snatch.
Eyes slowly opening, you let your head roll to the side eyes finding his as you breathe softly through your mouth.
He grins cheekily at you and stuffs his fingers inside of you a little harder, watching in smug satisfaction when your face screws up with a mixture of pleasure and pain.
The car slowly rolls to a stop and Steve lets out a groan.
"All right. I'm gonna stretch my legs and grab a snack. Are you guys coming in?" Steve's eyes find Bucky's as he opens the door.
Sam jolts upright with a groan, rubbing his face then yawning and pulling off his seatbelt.
"I'm gonna come inside," He says groggily, stumbling out of the car and stretching.
"I think we're good back here, she's falling asleep," Bucky whispers, giving your clit a particularly rough rub before pulling his fingers out of you.
Sam and Steve head into the gas station, and as soon as they are out of sight Bucky is tossing the jacket off of your lap and yanking your pants down your legs.
He licks his fingers clean while using his other hand to undo his belt and shuck his pants down his thighs, exposing his weeping hot cock.
"We don't have much time, sweetheart, better make it count. N'when we get to the cabin I'll fuck you nice and slow and proper," he promises quietly.
You straddle his waist once more, wet core dripping onto his lap and Bucky can't help but hiss when he slides his aching cock through your folds.
He rubs your clit a few times then slides inside in one quick thrust, pressing his mouth to yours to swallow the sound of your moan.
With the window open, you guys aren't exactly safe. Anyone could drive or walk by and Sam and Steve will likely only be gone for a few minutes.
"Fuck, you feel so good, baby... shit..."
His voice is strained as you begin rocking your hips in his lap, eyes squeezed shut as the tip of his cock drags across your g-spot.
Rather than let you have your fun, he flips you onto your back in the back seat of the car and hammers his hips down to meet yours, his lips trailing over your throat as you moan softly at the new angle.
He's hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and kissing your cervix with every other roll of his hips.
The pleasure and pain mix and make your head foggy, and it doesn't take long for your toes to curl around Bucky's hips and your climax to creep up on you.
Metal fingers toy with your clit with expert precision, and within only a few moments, your walls are clamping down around him and successfully milking him of his cum.
He lets out a few shuddering breaths as his own orgasm washes over him, balls tight as he pumps you full of ropes and ropes of thick white cum.
His head rests on your chest for a moment, breathing you in as he basks in his high, and then he's carefully pulling out of you and yanking his pants back on.
You, on the other hand, are stuck on your back as aftershocks wrack your frame.
Chuckling softly at his handy work, Bucky helps you back into your pants then pulls you up into his arms.
You collapse against his chest when he leans back against the door, cuddled in his arms as much as you can in the cramped backseat of the car.
He holds you gently, his own eyes closing as he relaxes into his post orgasmic bliss with you.
Your heart is racing even minutes later when Sam and Steve return to the car, each climbing in quietly when they see the two of you curled up together.
Steve sets a grocery bag full of snacks and drinks down on the floor in the backseat, then turns the music on quietly and starts driving, oblivious to what's just gone on.
As he drives you settle against Bucky, falling asleep gently while his load drips out of your swollen cunt. A mess he plans on thoroughly cleaning up as soon as you reach your destination.
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(18+) fem!reader
bucky barnes is the kind of guy to fuck up into you during cowgirl, not because he's impatient, but because he simply wants to feel more of you.
just him lying back down on the mattress, you straddling his crotch, cock snuggly wedged into you - his hands digging into the plush of your thighs. he'd have to restrain himself, the squish of your skin pooling around his fingers being the main distraction. he'd look up at you as you slowly wind over him, brows knitted, eyes closed, lips bitten, tits swaying - the lewdest of images as you gently bounce. 
your hands placed firmly on his stomach isn't enough. he wants to feel you closer - he wants your chest sandwiched against his, wants his lips on yours. his cock inside of you, not enough to satiate the need.
he'd trail his hands up you higher, gliding up your tummy, over your tits, right up to your throat. he wouldn't squeeze, no. just lightly pulling you down to him, silently guiding you to hover over him. your weight anchored on your hands either side of him.
bucky would stabilise you, keeping you balanced - one hand on the curve of your hip, the other along your jaw, lips hungrily working over yours. he'd swallow your gentle moans, your soft, sweet whines vibrating against his tongue.
he'd bend at the knee and testingly nudge up into you, cock bumping into your pussy so nicely. the new angle ripping the most bliss-filled cry from the pits of your stomach. he'd smile against your lips, doing it again. and again. just to hear that same sultry noise from you. 
he would part from your lips, trailing kisses along your collarbone until he reaches your tits, leaving a line of soft, wet suckles behind. he'd wrap his lips around your perk nipples, tongue leisurely flicking over the bundle of sensitive nerves. dick stroking up into you unrushed.
his hands would leave the placement around your mid back, instead moving downwards - one metal, one fleshed hand slowly dragging over your skin. bucky's hands would rest on the dips of your waist, guiding you over his cock with very little manoeuvring, gently pushing your hips down onto him. the slow roll of his hips meeting you in the middle.
lips back on yours, muffling loving words into your skin. telling you that you're his sweet, special girl.
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assembletheimagines · 1 month
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a/n: my bad
warnings: 18+ to interact, cunnilingus???, oral (f. receive), Bucky's pussy drunk, established relationship
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Fuck you shouldn't be doing this.
But when Bucky gets down onto his knees, your mind blanks, legs automatically spreading for him and earning you the heart-skipping smirk he sends your way in thanks. "Bucky we can't-" your soft protests fall on deaf ears as you feel his hands glide up your thighs, moving to your hips and bringing you to the edge of the sink.
You two were supposed to be having dinner with friends, and you had only excused yourself to the restaurant's bathroom to wash your hands, not realizing your husband was following right behind you. He'd slipped inside the restroom quietly, making sure it was just the two of you before locking the door and trapping you against the sinks.
"It's fine baby," Bucky's voice is just as quiet as his fingers dip between your thighs, softly stroking over your panties. You should be embarrassed that you were already wet, but Bucky wasn't. As soon as he felt the wet spot he lets out a soft groan, eyes darkening as he began to rub swift circles on your clit over your panties. "You want this just as me."
-
"Bucky-" your whine gripping a handful of his hair between your fingers. You try, weakly, to push your husband from the spot between your thighs but he doesn't budge.
His arms are wrapped under your thighs, your panties hanging on your left ankle as his tongue continues to work in strong laps. His lips suck your clit into his mouth, ignoring your pleas for mercy. And your eyes are rolling back, now trying to bring his face even closer to your dripping pussy.
Which Bucky happily does so, his groans muffled between your plush thighs as he licks up your new wave of arousal. You're so overstimulated, you can feel the knot in your stomach form easily as he dips his head, tongue slipping further into you as his nose presses into your clit just right. You already had two orgasm, one by his fingers and one by his mouth sucking on your clit and you are close to tears as he doesn't stop his assault.
"One more, gimme one more," his words are slurred as he moves his head side to side, clutching onto you so you can't escape.
"Fuck, I can't I can't-" you yelp and press your legs close and Bucky leans back onto his legs. His hair is tousled from your tugging and his eyes are hazy, his tongue licking his lips and you curse again, both of you panting heavily.
He's the image of the word sinful. The bottom half of his face is a mess, wet with your arousal and previous orgasms. His lips puffy from the heavy make out he was doing with your cunt only seconds ago. Your stomach clenches at the sight, a new wave of slick appearing between your thighs and you curse again.
"Just one more baby, please, I just want one more," he begs and you can never say no to him. And even if you did, it's not like you really could stop him if you tried.
"One more," you agree, your cheeks redden at the permission. But Bucky's smirking in triumph, quickly, he grabs your thighs once more. He pushes you gently so you lean back against the mirror with your feet resting on the edge of the counter. He doesn't waste any time in diving back in between your puffy lips, tongue slurping up your slick as his nose brushes your clit so deliciously again.
It doesn't take long to build you back up. Your stomach tightening and twisting as his hands rest on your lower back, feasting on you like he's a man starved.
And you can feel this orgasm is going to be strong, your thighs tightening as you move your hands back into his hair, pressing him closer. "Close, I'm close," you warn and his head moves back and forth eagerly, his tongue sliding in deeper as his nose presses your clit harder from your words.
And a few seconds later, you're falling with a desperate cry. Cumming hard on Bucky's tongue, your hips bucking up to ride his face through your intense orgasm. A mantra of curses and whimpers falling from your lips as you briefly see white.
He licks you through your orgasm, licks you clean, drinking everything you offer like its water. And when you can finally open your eyes, you don't miss the beyond pleased smirk on your husband's face as he stands up. He's wiping his face with the back of his hand and licking his fingers clean like he could have gone longer and you want to curse him but you honestly can't hear over your heartbeat pounding in your ears.
But when you can hear, you don't miss the bulge in his pants. You're exhausted, but moving on shaky legs as you take your turn to slid down to your knees. "Baby?" Bucky questions, his pupils blowing wide as your fingers make good work with his belt and zipper.
"We can't leave you like this," you hum your hand struggling to wrap around the girth of his cock. "Let me suck your dick, Bucky." You look up at him and how can Bucky say no?
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winterarmyy · 2 months
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Kiss It Better
A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of. 
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Summary: In which the reader refused to let Bucky go down on her lately because she's embarrassed of the chafing marks on her inner thighs.
Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader
Words: 3.2k++
Warnings: 18+ contents, no minors allowed, nsfw, cunnilingus, cum eating, soft fluff, not much of angst but there's sprinkles of feels, body insecurities, bucky is in love and in heat tbh, i think he is particularly unhinged and filthy in this one but hey, you tell me. idk if i need to remind y'all about this but english is not my first language so my grammar are prolly fucked. Anyway--
Inspiration: Guess who felt a little soft and decided to wear a skirt to work? Yup, that would be me. No, because I commute to work (or basically anywhere) and there is quite a distance of walking in between the journey. Note that your girl here walk fast asf (basically running at this point).  And because them inner thighs ain't got no gap between them, so i got myself some blisters/chafing :') then i fell into a self-deprecating despair for the whole day and it hurts whenever i walk, at that time i just want Bucky to kiss it better. Fast forward a few days later, here we are.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
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She could feel it. His burning gaze following her every move. Observing, calculating. And she knew that must not show any signs of discomfort; not on her face nor from the slightest jolts of her hips. She must not gave him a reason to question her.
She can't.
So she continue walking around their room, back and forth from the bathroom to the wardrobe, as if every step she took was followed by a burning sensation on her skin. She momentarily stood in front of the row of clothes hanging on the rack, her back facing the bed where Bucky had been sprawling on since she went in for a shower.
Honestly, she was standing there suspiciously 'too long', as if she was choosing an outfit for a date night, when clearly she was just getting ready for bed. When she realized that, she quickly pulled out a clean set of pyjamas and walk back into the bathroom.
Bucky's eagle eyes followed her figure, disappearing behind the locked door. His lips pursed as his cogs of thoughts spins around, trying to find answer a question that his lover keeps avoiding but it was useless.
He can't think straight. Especially when he was undeniably famished. He had not got a taste of her his sweet pussy for about 2 weeks now and he was quite literally about lose his fucking mind. 
When his sweetgirl refuses to go further than kissing and making out, of course he obliged. She has every right to 'no' and he respects her wishes. Then it happened again the next day. And the next. Then again, and again. 
Normally, people would've assumed that maybe she was on her period, and she is not comfortable having any sexual intimacy when menstruating. But, Bucky can tell that, that was not it. Because first of all, it was way too early for that time of the month, he knows her schedule.l very well. Second of all, he would've smell the blood if she was on her period.
Most of his senses are enhanced after all.
So, why was she avoiding it?
Bucky's is completely fine if sex was not something she wanted to do, but not even letting him eat her out? Now that's concerning. At least for him.
Because he needs her. He needs to suck on that needy little clit of hers, make it wet and swollen. He needs to lap on that sweet juices when she cums on his tongue.
Fuck. He's getting all work up now, thinking about it.
He swore that if this keeps going on, one of these days he might just spread his legs and fuck his fist on their bed while she's tied on a chair on the other side of the room. Maybe forcing her; seducing her, to watch his desperate cock become wet and messy would give her a clue of what he is feeling now.
Absolutely needy and deprived of that pretty little cunt of hers.
He was quite distracted with the filfthy thoughts until he heard the clicking sound of the bathroom door unlocked.
As she walked towards the bed, Bucky felt like his lungs stopped providing oxygen through his body, "Pretty." His eyes sparkled affection as the voice in his head echoed his thoughts. It wasn't that he have not seen her in those pyjamas before, he had. Many times in fact. The very same lavender set with tiny little cartoon cats printed all over the fabric.
The same ones that she wore when she came rushing to his side on one of those sleepless night. The time when she hold him close, distracting him away from the nightmare by asking the most random question of "You know, Bucky... These cats supposedly have the same expression, except for one. Do want to try and find it?"
He found it. It was near the hem of her right sleeve. And by that time, his nightmare was no where near his mind, the next thing he knew, he fell right back to sleep with her in his arms. It was his favourite pair of pyjamas that she ever worn.  Nothing compares.
A loving smile unconsciously appeared on his face when his lady threw a sweet smile at him as she walked toward the bed, "My baby's so pretty." He thought.
The grin on his lips lasted, but not for long. Especially when he saw the tiny frown on her face, the faltered steps and when he heard that brief sound of a painful hiss slipped out of her lips.
So the moment she sat down on her side of the bed, Bucky already had his hands on her. Arms instantaneously wrapped around her waist, before effortlessly pulling her back onto his sturdy chest.
She giggled gleefully from his sudden rush of affection  and that surely managed to trigger a chuckle out of Bucky. He hums and proceed to purr in crook of her neck, "What's wrong, baby?"
She could feel his throat rumbling at the back of her neck, "Did he notice it?". Her heart beat ever so slightly picked up its' pace but she planned to act like opposite of it, "Hmm? What do mean 'what's wrong'?" She asked.
Bucky can hear the change tempo coming from within her ribcage, he knew something was wrong, "I just want to know how are you feeling."  He pressed a long and tender kiss on the shoulder.
The warmth of his breath tickled her skin, "Now? Hmm. I feel very loved." She smiled dreamily as she closes her eyes.
Bucky left out a brief laugh at her response, this cheeky little bunny, "That's true, but how are you really feeling, hmm? Like physically?" He urges softly.
She thought about it for awhile; contemplating whether she should just tell him the truth or proceed to act like she okay. Well, she chose the latter, "Hmmm physically. In this position? Very comfy." She wiggled her body back into him, closing the non-existent gap between their bodies and gripping Bucky's arms around her a little tight.
Though her plushy ass was rubbing against his crotch just nicely, but the former winter soldier was not going to let that distract him from his mission. He needs to know what she's hiding behind that sweet smile, "Doll..." his voice was stern and she knew he was not having it.
His calling was only met with silence when she didn't reply verbally. Since she was looking down, Bucky cannot see the frown on face and the wobbling worries in her eyes. But he did picked up on the anxiousness of her heart; beating faster by the second.
"I..." her voice cracked at the first word she said, and Bucky knew he fucked up. He swiftly maneuvered her body to sit on his lap, facing him. His metal hand craddled her soft cheek, and his flesh ones gently caresses her back, "Hey hey hey, doll, what's wrong? Shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pressure you." His voice was laced with panic.
When she only had her gaze down, Bucky tenderly coaxed her, "Bunny, look at me." His hand guided her by the chin and when they made eye contact, he apologized again, "I'm sorry. I just want you to feel better. Forgive me." He leaned in a planted a kiss on her forehead. Then, her nose. And her cheeks, all over her face, muttering his words of apology.
She felt bad that Bucky apologized for something that was clearly not his fault. She's the problem in this situation. Her negativity, her insecurity was what drove her away from Bucky for the past 2 weeks. She knew that. And she knew it wasn't fair to him.
Knowing Bucky, he's probably blaming himself for her actions. And she didn't want that. She decided to tell him the truth, "I just..." Anxiety runs through her veins when she thought about it again. Would she be able to handle it if Bucky reacted negatively to her truth? Probably, not. "Just... promise that you won't be disgusted by it... Or get the ick from it."
Bucky frowned in confusion, "I don't even know what 'get the ick' means but I promise." He swore.
She let out a short laugh at his comment, causing him to smile along. Seeing how loving his gaze was, it gave her the strength to confess. She started with explaining how she had been busy at work this month. With launch of the new product, and her being one of th product manager, she was obligated to visit the branches around New York.
Bucky listened to words attentively, at first he thought maybe she was trying to say that she's been stressed lately. But then she started to explained about how she had been wearing skirts to work most of the days, because it was one of the their campaign's rules and Bucky does not think that 'stress' was what this would conclude to.
Nevertheless, he didn't lose his attention.
"But basically what I'm trying to say is..." She took a deep breath before continuing, "It's just... My inner thighs are chafed..." her voice was barely audible at the end of the sentence but Bucky caught it perfectly.
He thought about it for awhile before asking, "So, you mean to say that you got blisters on your inner thighs?" He wanted to confirm that his understanding was accurate.
She looked down in shame as she nodded to his question.
Bucky responded by pulling her closer, and kissed her forehead, "Aww doll. Is this why you've been avoiding me? Because it hurts? Why didn't you tell me earlier? I could've helped you. I mean I could help apply some meds or--"
Horrified at the idea of him seeing marks; the literal reminder of how fat she is caused her to blurt, "No!" She pushed Bucky away, eyes widen in horrid.
"No?" Bucky frowned quizzically at her intense reaction.
Realizing what she just had just done,  she composed herself, and spoke, "It's... it's not a pretty sight. And I don't want to show it to you. Plus, if my thighs are a little thinner than they are now. Then, this wouldn't happen. If only these thighs are not like... fucking fat as they are we wouldn't have to go through this. And you wouldn't need to hear all this. You wouldn't---"
Bucky knew that once she was in the state of insecurity, she self-deprecate herself like she was less worthy than the goddesss that she is. So, instead of arguing with her, he simply intercepted her rambling, "Show me."
She stopped the seemingly endless word-vomit, and titled her head to the side, "Huh? No. Bucky I just said--"
Bucky grabbed her by the waist and effortlessly lifted her off his lap and onto the bed, caging her  below him, "And I said... Show. Me." His tone was more like an order rather than a request.
She didn't dare to defy him, when his gaze was as rigid as they were now, so pulled her pants off; slowly, reluctantly. When the pants was at the last inches before it's completely off, Bucky took control and quite literally ripped it off from her.
The sudden action resulted to her body needing to hide itself from his darken eyes. Her thighs clammed together as a whine slipped from her lips. The friction of her wounds brushing against each other was burning her delicate skin.
Bucky quickly softens when he heard her pained voice,  he pushed himself off from her and kneeled on the bed before her. "Doll, please..." His hands gently squeezes the side of her thighs as he pleads, "...Let me see."
Slowly spreading her thighs apart, Bucky's eyes are now focusing on the red marks on her skin. His thumbs absentmindedly traces the area around the broken skin. He was so concentrated that he didn't say a word. And that only triggered her insecurity that she started to rambled something about how she will start going in a diet and she'll add more intense leg workout in her routine.
But her voice was only a muffled strings of incoherent sounds in Bucky's ears when he finally processed everything that happened from 2 weeks ago until now.
The realization hit him like a high speed train with a broken break system. Did she really turned him down because of this? Did she really starve him out because of this? Bucky let out a growl of disapproval when he abruptly pulled her by her calves, forcing her hips to lift from the bed. She yelped in surprised but she saw the look on his face,  "You..." he rasped.
Bucky placed her legs on his shoulders, letting it daggle on his back as he palmed sides of her thighs. He then, proceed to leave trails of kiss on her inner thigh, avoiding the irritating wounds on her skin, "You deprived me of my sweet little pussy because you think this..." he flattened his tongue and nibble on her softness of her inner thighs, "...would turn me off? That these thick, soft thighs that I love so much would bother me?"
He planted a delicate kiss on the marks before, "Well, guess what bunny?. You're absolute wrong. In fact, it's quite the opposite." His lips travelled upwards until it found her core. Bucky's nose flared at the scent of her arousal, "And oh my sweet babydoll, I'm going to eat your pussy until understand that. Then, I'm gonna do it some more because I am fucking starving." He pressed a firm kiss on her clothed pussy, causing the cotton to soak the juices that leaks from her hole.
"Look at that. Does your needy pussy wants some pampering too, hmm?" She could see the lust dripping down his ocean blues; the same ones that were usually bright but now were now noticeably darker.
Bucky's finger traces the slit of her pussy, rubbing her over the fabric of her panties, making patch of wetness spread even more. "Yeah? Does she want me to kiss it better? Make her feel good?"
She moaned softly to his touch, "Please."
That was all it took for Bucky to rip her panties apart as if it was made out of paper.  "Fuck, there she is. My sweet pussy." He brought his fingers over, widened the folds of her pussy. Even with minimal lighting, it was enough to show him the glistening pink flesh of leaking cunt, twitching and needing his tongue to explore her insides.
He was hungry of course, just simply looking at her pussy had made his mouth water and impossible for him to resist the urge of putting his mouth on the pretty little thing. "Hmm,," a sharp cry escaped from her lips as he blew on her little twitching nub. There was this glint in his eyes as he watched her try to buck up, cunt helplessly clenching around nothing.
Before she could beg for him, Bucky's tongue dipped in between folds. Pointed at first, from the entrance of her pussy up to her clit. The tip of his tongue swirl around the aching nub. A breath caught in her throat when Bucky repeat the same move but this time he flattened his tongue.
And then he does it again and again.
Bucky, is generally the larger man compared to anyone. He is tall and beefy. But he is especially big when he's in between her legs, gently devouring her wet pussy. Slow and long licks were his favorite, it allowed him to savor the taste of her. Always so sweet and he couldn't get enough of it.
With every flick Bucky's tongue assulting to her swollen bud, she couldn’t help but pull on sheets behind her, needy moans leaves her lips every time he explored her, teases her. Her body cannot stay still when the pleasure was taking her higher. But it was not a problem for Bucky to control. Whenever she tries to close her thighs together, he stopped her. He didn't want to irritate her wounds or cause any pain, so he kept pushing her thigh open as he nuzzle his face into her pussy.
"Ahhh fuck ,, that feels so good, Bucky!" She moaned his name as the overwhelming feeling of his wet and soft tongue gliding and rubbing on her core, guiding her to heaven.
And the salacious squelching noises to fill the room as Bucky laps and sucks on her clit. She was so wet that he could just shove his fingers up in her hole but he didn't. He won't. After so many days not tasting her, he want to only use his mouth.
Though the man barely spoke during these times, he’d much rather keep his mouth occupied with drinking up her juices or suckling on her cute little clit. But when he does. Fuck. Does he spill the most unholy things.
Bucky momentarily detached himself from her and rasped, "Gonna cum, babydoll? Come on, give it to me. Let me drink and lick your cum after." His metal fingers quickly finds her clit, swiftly started to deliciously rub it; just the way he knew she liked it. It felt so good that her tongued lolled out her mouth out of pure pleasure.
"Yeah, bunny. You're gonna let me clean you up with tongue so nice, so that you can make the same mess again and again. Cum in mouth, babydoll. Cum for me"
He delved right back where is mouth belongs, licking her clit into his mouth just to wrap his lips around the pretty pink bundle of nerves sucking it harshly.  She whined needily her hips started to move on its own accord, searching for more friction of his tongue, “ahh ahh! hmmmm,, s-so fucking good! ahhh,, So close!” she was seeing stars in her hazy vision from how good and dirty she felt.
Bucky's eyes almost rolled back when let out a groan of satisaction against her spread out cunt; he can feel that she was going to cum and want her to do it with his mouth latched on her.
And cum she did, moments after she couldn’t help but squeal as her back arched from the bed, grinding herself on his tongue. Bucky growled at the streams of cream squirting out of her throbbing cunt right into his mouth, down to his throat.
So sweet and warm and addictive.
While her whole body was still shaking from the aftermath of the mindblowing orgasm, Bucky continued to lick and lap on her leaking pussy, slurping and suckling every bit of cream she had blessed him with.
Yet he was still hungry.
She mewled when Bucky started to suck on her clit again and when she looked over at him, he momentarily pulled away, "oh doll, did you forget? I'm not going to stop any time soon. So just lay there, look pretty for me and let me enjoy this sweet little pussy."
End.
Read my other works here: Masterlist
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A/N: Have you ever gotten your inner thighs chafed? Anyway, thanks for spending your time to reading my work! Leave your thoughts behind, I'd love to read them ♡
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insomniumstella · 6 months
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baby, she's all yours
bucky x fem!reader
warnings: free use (consent to be "used" anytime & anywhere), explicit language, fingering, oral (m! and f! receiving), a sprinkle of degradation, a sprinkle of breeding kink, dom!bucky, public sex, light spanking, daddy kink (i should be stopped). this one is bad, so it goes without saying, but MDI
word count: 1,240
author's note: this is a lil' story in celebration of kinktober, which time won't permit me to participate in, but my thoughts always wanted to. ➼ sharp, but oh so gentle
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James was hesitant to explore the concept you described as free use at first, and maybe a fraction scared. The two of you had been dating for close to three years, and though things were great, the idea of you introducing free use into the bedroom days after knife play troubled him. His heart has always been heavy with the notion of being too difficult to love and too bothersome to deal with, but you made him feel enough; more than. Special in public when you would proudly hold his hand, and special in the comfort of plush sheets when you would let him cherish you — use and mould you into a drooling mess, obeying every demand. Was proposing a fresh kink a silent plead to advise him you have gotten bored? 
As it turned out, it was. Kind of. The itch beneath your skin urging you to explore foreign waters wasn’t boredom but rather lust. Fiery hot and addicting type of lust that ignited every nerve ending in your body around him. Still does. Introducing Bucky to free use was the best—and the most deliciously infuriating—thing to soothe your constant yearning for his touch. 
It caught you off guard, the first time he complied with the request. Steve had recently purchased an apartment in Brooklyn and organised a small housewarming celebration. You slipped out of the living room and into the kitchen once your glass turned empty, oblivious to the very needy pair of eyes studying you. The music muffled your soft moans then, as James fingered you against the blonde’s new refrigerator, suffocating the whines his thick fingers caused with passionate kisses. 
The second time it happened, it was winter. Powdery layers of snow covered the entirety of New York City, and, as the sun laid to rest for the evening, the streets seemed magical. James and you were rushing to Natasha’s birthday dinner, stopping by Bergdorf Goodman for a last-minute gift. Time around holidays is always strenuous, but the missions almost doubled last year, rustles of a deadly biochemical weapon dampening the joy of Christmas and stealing your attention away from getting Natasha a gift early. Bucky tackled the three bottom floors whilst you handled the other three, scouring the variety of fine jewelry and designer clothing. As fate would have it, a gorgeous sequinned dress piqued your interest, the colour of it overly harsh for the redhead’s complexion but perfectly complimenting to yours. James practically pleaded for you to model it, assuring nobody would notice you being late a minute or two. Desire waltzed in his eyes when you agreed at last, twirling around to present the garment and flaunt how well it flattered your curves. He shoved the two of you into the private dressing room once the sales associate disappeared to bring out a pair of matching heels, closing the curtains and hiking the dress up to your waist. “Be good for me,” he spoke, undoing his zipper and slipping the tip of his cock into your dripping heat, “you wouldn’t want employees to hear us, would you, doll?” You couldn’t think of the gift you ended up buying Natasha, but you can still remember sobbing into Bucky’s hand as his hips feverishly snapped into yours.  
Sometimes, that particular memory makes you wonder if introducing James to free use was a mistake — you’d be lying if you said it was because the thrill of being played with at times you least expect is exhilarating. The agreement caused many risky scenarios, though. There was that instance of Bucky between your legs, lapping at your core during a video call with your sister. The wooden desk shielded him from view as he relished you, but the grimaces on your features were a smidge more difficult to camouflage. “You taste incredible, baby,” Bucky mumbled, flesh and metal hands gripping the softness of your exposed thighs, before eagerly licking your clit. “Couldn’t ever get enough of this pussy.” You inadvertently moaned thrice during the call, disguising the sinful sounds by feigning coughs and attributing your strange demeanour to a common cold. “Tell her the truth,” James teased then, slipping a metal digit inside your needy hole, and you sneakily slapped his shoulder. The unsuspecting woman on screen continued to babble about her upcoming visit as you hit the mute button on your computer because the man below you had zero intentions of easing up. “Can feel you squeezin’,” he groaned, slipping a couple more of his metal digits inside. “Please end the call, peach, so I could fuck you atop this desk already.” 
There was also the time he got annoyed on a road trip, freeing his cock and guiding your head downward to silence your complaints about his driving on unpaved roads. “Be a good girl and put that mouth to better use,” he grunted as you licked drops of pre-cum off his skin. “Na uh, doll,” with his left arm on the steering wheel, James forced the entirety of his length into your mouth, “we ain’t got time for any foreplay shit right now.” 
Furthermore, introducing him to free use is the reason for your current predicament — being bent over the sink at a local bar with Bucky balls deep inside you. 
“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart.” James praises, catching your gaze in the grimy mirror before spanking your velvety hips. “My girl’s such a slut for me, letting me play with her in a random pub’s bathroom.” It’s more of an observation than dirty talk, and you bite back a moan, nodding. “Bet you’re always thinking about daddy’s big cock, wishing you could be bursting full of me forever, aren’t you?” A harsh spank lands on your scorching skin when you don’t immediately answer. “I asked you a question, peach.”
“Yes,” you sob, digging your manicured nails into the base of your palm. “Love it—,” another wail slips past your swollen lips, “love it when you use me, daddy.” 
The pace of his hips slamming into yours remains brutal as he studies your expression in the mirror. “Look at you,” he clutches your chin, the slight pain of it forcing you to peel your eyes open, “my baby’s so fucked out, she’s having trouble speaking.” The steady pulse of your approaching orgasm heightens as Bucky admires the whimpering mess that is you, leaning lower until the slight stubble on his jaw tickles your ear. “Should I let you finish, or should I leave you all desperate and stuffed full of my cum until happy hour’s over?” 
“Please,” you plead, “I’m so close.” 
“That’s too—,” James chuckles through a groan as his own orgasm bursts in syrupy waves, “—bad.” The rhythm of his movements falters and then stops, and if tears weren’t streaming down your face already, you would’ve cried at the loss of contact, feeling terribly empty without Bucky to keep you warm. Though you don’t say a word to him, he can sense your frustration, the weight of your emotions lingering in the atmosphere around you. Slithering his metal hands between your legs, he pushes the cum that leaked out back inside you, thrusting a couple times to soothe your disappointment before withdrawing his touch and shoving your discarded panties into the pocket of his jacket. “Don’t let it drip out if you want a reward when we get home.” A lazy grin stretches across his features. “I promise to make it worth your while.” 
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buckys-wintersoldier · 3 months
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Already mine | Bucky Barnes
Pairing -> BestFriend!Bucky Barnes x BestFriend!Female!Reader
Summary -> Bucky and you are fake dating for a mission, when the two of you are out for dinner you tell him about your planned date with someone. But Bucky isn’t really happy about it and makes sure to show you that you’re already his.
Warnings -> (E) Minors DNI, 18+, smut, slight chocking, kinda public fingering (not really), fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), unprotected p in v, multiple orgasm, squirting, breeding kink, jealous/possessive Bucky, bit of miscommunication
Wordcount -> 3.4K
Request -> I am absolutely foaming at the mouth as i think about this request i'm just ASHWUWHEU. okay, i'm sorry. hello! i wanted to order (👀) something from your smut menu which would be !!! fake dating (i gobble this up every time), jealous!bucky (when he's POSSESSIVEEE like yes please), and breeding kink (don't look at me like that...) idk if you allow additional details, but maybe some miscommunication/misunderstanding? god, i love that little pain before the delicious fluff & smut. 🥹 but you don't have to add that bit if it's not allowed! back to freaking out JDAJJDWJIDWKDO omg if you do write this, i will forever be thankful JDIANDKWMFKFKKEFKKR THANK YOU!
A/N -> Thank you so much for the request. I tried to include everything, I added a few things and I hope you like it. My askbox is open so feel free to send and ask, as well as that feel free to send a request for the Bucky Barnes Smut Menu.
Prompt -> Fandom-Free Bingo | B4 | Multiple Orgasm | @fandom-free-bingo
Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Smut Menu | Fandom-Free Bingo | Bucky Barnes Masterlist | Part two
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You’re standing in front of your mirror; your red dress fits perfectly around your body, and you only need to fix your hair before you’re ready for your date with Bucky, or at least your fake date with him. The two of you are on a mission right now, dating each other, so no one will know that you're Avengers.
You hear the bathroom door opening and a gasp leaving Bucky's lips. With his eyes on you, he admires your back before his eyes move to look through the mirror. You smile softly when you see his blue eyes looking up and down, trying to see every inch of your body.
“You look beautiful, doll,” he tells you, and the feeling in your stomach, the one you have just with Bucky, grows.
You’re best friends, but something between the two of you changed. There are feelings for each other you have never felt for someone before. And now that you’re going on a date with him, even if it’s just a fake date, it feels like he really asked you out.
“Thank you, you too,” you mumble with a slight blush on your cheeks.
He walks a step closer and leans his shoulder against the wall. His hands running through his hair, the shirt, and his pants look like they were made for him.
“Can we?” he asks, smirking when you try to get your hair under control.
You nod while you turn around and fix your hair, walking a few steps closer to Bucky. His eyes are still on you, focused on every move you’re making. Bucky's nose is slightly scrunched while he smirks at you.
His hands are immediately around your waist when he is able to reach you, bringing your body closer to his. Bucky leans forward until he reaches your ear.
“When this would be a real date and not only for that mission, I would immediately help you to take off your clothes,” he mumbles into your ear, and you shiver slightly, pressing your thighs together to stop the arousal dripping down your legs.
Bucky chuckles softly, noticing your action, but he doesn’t say anything. He moves a few inches away from you and looks your body up and down before he holds his hand out so you can place yours in his.
“Ready?” he asks — Bucky, the 40’s gentleman in front of you — and you can’t stop but smile softly.
You place your hand in his, and then he walks through the room with you. His fingers are holding your hand tightly, but it is still soft in his hand. He smiles when he moves a strand of his hair behind his hair, then he opens the door and lets you walk through it before he follows you.
That’s something you love about Bucky. You've never met someone with that kind of charm and kindness before. He treats women like a gentleman, buying them flowers and asking them out to go to the cinema, and he takes care that his girl has everything she needs. You know those things because you have seen him with some women before — the way he smiled when he was buying flowers and presenting them to you, or when he asked for advice for date ideas in this century. You smiled and told him a few ideas, but inside your chest was a heavy feeling when you saw him with the other women, touching her and smiling at her in a way you would love him to look at you.
Bucky's hand is still holding yours when you walk through the corridor. You feel that tingling feeling in your stomach, and when you look at him, you need to concentrate so you won’t stare at him for the rest of the evening.
His jaw is relaxed, but his jawline is still visible. Bucky's blue eyes focused on the people around him, but his lips formed into a cute smile. You could look at him the whole time, but he caught you. He turns his head around and narrows his eyebrows.
“Do I distract you from the mission?” he asks, chuckling.
“No, it’s just- I wanted to make sure you’re focused,” you tell him.
“You checked that for five minutes already.”
His words make you blush, and you feel so embarrassed, but his beauty is just too much for you to look away from. The brown-haired man laughs before he walks through the door into the restaurant of the hotel.
You really looked at him for that long? You walked down the stairs, through two floors, and you weren't able to get your eyes off him? You definitely need to stop acting like that when you’re near him; otherwise, your mission won’t work the way Tony wants it.
He leads you to a table; it’s quiet there, and you enjoy the moment where it’s just the two of you. But when you see the people you’re looking for, you sigh softly. With a nod, you show Bucky you see them, and he turns his head softly.
They don’t look like criminals, but you read their files, and they are definitely criminals. They supported Hydra and still do, which is why you’re following them, and now it’s on you and Bucky to get to know where their hidden base is.
You listen a while to them before you look at Bucky with a serious gaze. When he feels you looking at him, he looks up from his plate, showing you he listens to you.
“Buck, you know we- we are best friends, right?”
He nods, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. His hand clenches softly around the fork, slightly sweating what you would like to tell him.
“And this whole dating thing is. Yeah, it’s really cool, but-“ you interrupt yourself. With a deep breath, you look down at your plate before looking back into Bucky's eyes, glistening with curiosity. “It’s just- as you said, 'when this wouldn’t be fake dating’ I don’t think we should. Bucky I love you, but I am dating someone else; he asked me out for dinner tomorrow,” you mumble, not really knowing why you tell him about it.
“Oke,” he says with a cold voice.
“Don’t be mad, please.”
“I’m not.”
You raise your eyebrow, knowing that he is mad at you. But there is no reason for him to be mad, right? The two of you are best friends, and he probably doesn't like you in the same way you do. But you can’t risk your friendship, so you just try to date the other guy; he is nice and handsome, and you can learn to love him, can’t you?
Bucky mumbles something to himself before he almost breaks the plate with the fork, smashing it down on it. His hand into a fist, and you can already see his knuckles turning white, his jaw clenching while his eyes are focused on you.
“Buck?” you ask softly, his eyes turning dark, but he is still quiet. “Could you try and not destroy the plate?”
He chuckles darkly, smashing the fork on the plate once more and breaking it. He smiles when he sees the damage in front of him and the sauce slowly flowing over the table.
You sigh softly, reaching for his hand to place yours around his. Bucky stands up, pulling his hand away, before he walks around the table and places his hand around your throat. With a firm grip, he pulls you up from the chair, making you look slightly up into his eyes. Bucky is towering over you, his tongue slipping over his lips.
“You can’t fuck someone else,” he tells you. His voice is deep, and it causes a shiver along your spine.
“What? Why can’t I? I’m an adult, and I can do whatever I want,” you say, not as confident as always, but you try your best to sound confident.
He laughs darkly and roughly. Bucky’s grip around your throat tightens, and he pulls you even closer. With his firm chest pressing against your front, you feel his muscular body through the fabric of your clothes.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, and he lets go of you.
Bucky turns around and walks out of the restaurant. Your jaw drops open slightly, and you look while he makes his way until he reaches the door and pushes it open. You need a moment to realize his words when you sit down to calm yourself down. You feel the eyes of all the other people around you.
Your cheeks heat up, and you want to run out of the room too, but your legs feel so shaky that you can’t do a step without holding yourself up at something. You put some money on the table and get up again, holding yourself to the chairs and slowly following your best friend.
When you finally walk out of the restaurant, you see Bucky leaning against the wall. His eyes are dark, and he looks at you with a cold expression.
He walks a step closer, towering over you. With a fast movement, his hand is around your throat once more, and he pushes you against the wall. It’s a loose grip but strong enough to hold you where he wants you.
“You’re mine, and I will fill you with my babies so everyone sees you’re mine,” he tells you with a slight smile on his lips.
You whimper; your hands are around his arm, but just to ground yourself.
“Bucky-“
“I smell you; I can fucking smell you. I see the way you look at me, the way you press your thighs together,” he says, chuckling darkly.
“It’s not,” you interrupt yourself. “I have a date tomorrow.”
The laugh that leaves his lips lets you shiver; goosebumps are all over your body, and you can’t stop the arousal growing between your folds. But if he is your best friend and you work together, you can’t be together, can you?
“Yeah?” he asks, and you nod.
Bucky lets go of you and walks a step away from you. He nods his head in the direction of your shared bedroom.
“Tell me you don’t want me, or I will carry you into our room and make sure who you belong to,” he tells you, his blue eyes looking almost into your soul, and you need a moment to handle his words and the way he looks at you.
“Bucky, I have a date.”
“Tell me you don’t want me.”
“I-“ you look down, playing with your hands in front of you.
Bucky laughs and steps closer again; his fingers find their way under your chin and make you look up at him. His eyes glistening with lust, his tongue slipping over his lips, before he leans closer until there are only a few more inches between the two of you.
“Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you and make you pregnant with my babies, doll,” he mumbles.
You feel his breathing on your lips. Before you can answer, you wrap your arms automatically around his neck and press him closer to you. Your lips meet his for a sweet but passionate kiss.
Bucky's hand finds its way down your body until he reaches between your legs and pushes your dress higher to slide his fingers over the fabric of your panties.
You moan when you feel the cold of the metal through your panties. His fingers draw small circles on your clit, making you throw your head back. Bucky uses the moment to attack your neck with kisses, and he bites softly into the sensitive skin.
“Bucky, please,” you whimper, pushing your hips against his hand.
“Let’s go to our room; don’t want others to hear what’s only meant to be for me,” he tells you, and you blush slightly.
Bucky takes his hand away from your folds and wraps his arms around your waist, lifting you up. Your legs are around his waist when he walks with you along the floor to the bedroom the two of you share right now. The mission is completely forgotten. It’s just the two of you — you and Bucky.
It doesn’t take long for your super soldier to carry you into the room and lock the door before he places you on the bed. He stands in front of you, his eyes roaming over your body.
“Strip,” he demands.
“Do it by yourself, old man." you laugh, but the way he looks at you lets you be quiet immediately.
“I can do it, but I don’t think I can hold back then.”
You swallow hard, your eyes focused on him, and the way he takes a step forward and closer to you lets you shiver once more. His aura, his eyes, he makes you go crazy, so you do what he tells you.
“Could you- Can you open the zipper, please?” you ask, and Bucky nods, stepping closer.
His firm chest is almost pressed against your face when he reaches his hands over your shoulders and opens your dress. Bucky lets his hands slide down over your shoulders, holding the fabric in his hand and exposing your shoulders.
Then he takes a step back. You nod as a thank you, standing up and letting the fabric slide down.
“You're pretty, and all mine,” he tells you, reaching out his hands to touch your waist.
Bucky pulls you closer, his hand sliding up your back. He opens your bra and throws it away. Bucky's metal hand captures one of your breasts. You moan softly when his cold hand meets your warm flesh.
He leads you back to the bed until you sit there once again. Bucky gets on his knees in front of you, and you smile mischievously.
“Don’t smile like that; you make me jealous and want me to share what’s mine. I will give you all my cum, and you will beg for more,” he groans, pushing you down so you lay on your back.
Your best friend lowers his head and kisses your pussy through the fabric of your panties. Your hands find their way, and you grip his hair to ground yourself. He uses his hand to push your parties to the side, licking through your folds before he groans.
“You taste better than I thought,” he mumbles, pushing his tongue against your entrance.
“Bucky, more- please,” you moan, arching your back.
He chuckles but does what you want and pushes his tongue inside of you. His metal fingers joining his tongue, he moves one of the fingers inside of you, curling it. With your walls clenching around him, you moan loudly and throw your head back.
Bucky pushes another of his fingers inside of you, pushing them until he reaches his knuckles, and then he pulls them out of you again. After a few more thrusts, he finds your sweet spot, pressing his fingers against it. Your wet and warm walls clench around him, making it almost impossible for him to move his fingers.
“I’m so close. Bucky, please,” you beg, but he stops his movements and removes his fingers.
He sits up and looks at his fingers; they are glistening with your slick, and you blush when he pushes them into his mouth to suck them clean. Bucky groans and takes his clothes off as well.
First his shirt, then he stands up to open his belt and pushes his pants down. You look at him, following his movements with your eyes. You gasp when you see the bulge of his growing dick in his boxers.
“Like what you see, doll?” he asks, and you nod, looking into his face and discovering his body before you stare at his member again.
Bucky pushes the fabric down. His dick springs free, the tip already leaking with pre-cum, and he wraps one of his hands around his member, stroking himself a few times while his eyes are on you.
“Don’t know how often I have imagined that already,” he groans.
You sit up and move yourself further onto the bed. Your legs are spread, and Bucky joins you in bed. He sits between your legs, his dick still sliding through his hand. Bucky slides his tip through your wet folds, groaning when he feels the warmth and wetness. Then he lines himself up with your entrance.
You wrap your hands around his neck and pull him closer, pressing your lips on his and biting his lip softly while he pushes inside of you. Bucky pushes himself further into you, slowly, so he won’t hurt you. He is focused on your expression, making sure to stop when he could hurt you.
“Move, please,” you say and throw your head back when he suddenly pushes the rest of his dick inside of you.
Bucky is balls deep inside of you. He groans softly when you clench around him. Your hands are still wrapped around his neck while he thrusts his hips, moving his dick between your tight walls.
He hits your sweet spot with every movement, making you clench around him more. You moan whenever he thrusts inside of you. The pleasure in your body feels overwhelming, but you love it.
“He could fuck you like that,” Bucky says, kissing your forehead and thrusting inside of you harder. “And he can't love you the way I do. I will fuck you so full with my cum that, doll,” he adds and groans.
“Bucky faster.”
Your best friend chuckles and does what you want. He moves faster and harder inside of you. You can feel the veins on his cock, his dick hitting every right spot inside of you.
His hand finds its way to your clit playing with it while he thrusts in a steady rhythm inside of you. The way you clench around him and your moans get louder, he knows you will cum with a few more thrusts.
“Come for me; scream my name while you cum all over my dick. And I will give you all of my cum; fill you so much; after that, you’re pregnant with my babies,” he mumbles into your ear.
The moment he tells you, you feel the pleasure in your stomach grow until you squirt all over Bucky. The orgasm and the pleasure in your body are better than you ever felt before, and you say his name over and over again while he fucks you through your orgasm.
You’re already overstimulated, but Bucky still thrusts his hips further against yours. You’re a morning mess, your hands tugging on his hair. And you feel the next orgasm building when he still rubs circles on your clit.
“Oh fuck, will give you all of my cum; don’t think this little pussy can take it all,” he groans.
With a few more movements, he cums inside of you and pulls you over the edge with him. Bucky lets his head fall down on your shoulder. His breath is heavy like yours, and he slowly calms down. You slide your fingers through his hair while his dick is still inside of you, and you feel his cum inside of you — cum painting your walls.
“Now you’re mine, and only mine,” Bucky tells you, biting into your neck. “And you will carry my babies, won’t you?”
“I will,” you say, and chuckle when he lifts himself up and kisses your lips.
“My doll, my wonderful, precious doll.”
Bucky slowly pulls out of you, his eyes focused on the spot where your body was connected and where his cum is dripping out of you now. Then he looks up at you again and smiles.
“I love you; I don’t want to be just your best friend. I want to be yours; I want you to be mine,” he confesses, leaning over you again.
“I love you too, and I want nothing more than to be yours. I wanted to date the guy because I wasn’t able to tell you what I felt. I was scared you didn’t feel the same, but you do. And I’m yours, all yours, Buck,” you say, and he nods, kissing you passionately.
“Let’s clean ourselves, and then we should look to see if our people are still eating or if we cuddle after taking a warm bubble bath." Bucky laughs, and you chuckle, and he lifts you up to go to the bathroom and take a bath together.
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Taglist: @nicoline1998enilocin | @mrsbuckybarnes1917 | @sergeantbarnessdoll | @rogersbarber | @kandis-mom | @km-ffluv | @bucky-barnes-lover | @felicitylemon | @identity2212 | @cjand10 | @harleycao | @lunaalovesyouu | @casa-boiardi | @futurequeen2018-blog
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mjolnirswriststrap · 3 months
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Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Masterlist
Word Count: 1,635
Summary: You being obsessed with Bucky and watching him every day during meetings, lingering around too long when you see him, all because of a dumb tiktok you saw late one night.
Warnings: 18+, f!masturbation, oral m!receiving, worshipping the man that is Bucky Barnes.
A/N: i saw this on tiktok and couldn’t help myself, imagine what’s your fantasy by Ludacris, ‘I wanna lick you from your head to your toes’
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It was late and you had work in the morning. You shouldn’t be mindlessly scrolling through tiktok, your eyes were starting to burn from the leds that lit up your face. You told yourself five more minutes, that ended up turning into forty five. With one last swipe of your thumb your eyes read the words on the screen.
“You can look at any object and your tongue already knows what it would feel like to lick it”
Your brain starts rapid firing. You look around the objects in your dark room. For the most part it was true. You could feel the cool clay surface of the lamp on your bedside table, the rubber nubs on your tv remote.
You shut your phone off, laying it facedown underneath your pillow. You move to lay on your back and when your eyes close you see black vibranium. The words dance in the back of your mind. You weren’t shy on the fact you had a crush on the super soldier, but you never thought about him this way.
The thought of running your tongue down his neck, you could feel his stubble tickling you. You felt a chill run over you and your nipples hardened. You could almost taste the sweat if you thought about it hard enough.
You run your hand across your stomach, slipping your fingers in your underwear. You fantasized about every part of Bucky you could lick. But you could only picture one, his bionic arm.
Sure you’d thought about him pressing you up against a wall with it, holding you down, squeezing you tight enough to leave bruises. But you’d never touched yourself at the thought of cold metal running over your tongue.
You use your left hand to finger fuck yourself, giving it a taste test. When your fingers entered your mouth you imagined Bucky, spreading your pussy open then shoving his fingers down your throat. You push your fingers harder on your tongue, holding your jaw tightly, it helped when you closed your eyes and imagined it was metal. You came fast, not being able to stop your right hand from stimulating yourself.
You run to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and cleaning yourself up. You don’t know what came over you, you got desperate, doing anything to make it feel real. You look at yourself in the mirror, you can’t meet your own eye, instead you focus on the tiny bruise forming under your chin, in the shape of your thumb.
You wake up early the next morning, needing to apply more makeup than usual to hide your late night activity. You found yourself staring at Bucky during the morning debrief, taking in every detail of his face, neck and hair. The man dressed like a swat team member at all times, revealing nothing. He gloved his hands, even here, where everyone knows and accepts him.
You found him in the kitchen later that day, glove free. He was setting a mug down in the sink, when you walked in. “Hey.” You say, not wanting to make things awkward. “Hi.” He says, in a customer service kind of way. Like he’s only saying it to be cordial. You open the fridge and fish out your lunch that you brought, a chicken salad, it was your go to for an effortless lunch.
You make yourself comfortable at the counter, chomping away at the lettuce that filled the plastic container. You watched him as he washed the dishes remaining in the sink. You smile to yourself, he’s such a gentleman.
You tentatively watch as his vibranium hand holds on to the dishes. It’s fluid, no robotic tics in his fingers. You know your eyes were locked on him for too long when he clears his throat. “You taking notes on how to wash dishes?” He says, meticulously drying off the gleaming metal.
“Sorry.” You say, averting your gaze from him. You stare at the slices of grilled chicken, not feeling hungry anymore. You got caught red handed.
“That wasn’t an answer.” He says, laying the hand towel on the counter, putting his hands on his hips. “I saw you this morning too.”.
Your breath hitches, he doesn’t know about last night, he couldn’t, you needed to relax yourself and try to lie your way out of this. “I wasn’t staring at you, I’ve just been zoned out a lot lately.” You hope that works.
Bucky nods his head, “That makes sense, or at least it would, if I couldn’t sense how tense you are. That’s the opposite of zoned out. I heard your heart beating faster when I turned around. You’re in the moment, not your head.” He reads you like a book.
You don’t know what to say, do you spill every detail or do you just admit to your school girl crush. You meet his eyes “I just think you’re cute Bucky. Is that a crime?” You laugh, you couldn’t feel your face since all of the blood rushed to it. You close your salad, placing it back into the fridge. “You caught me.” You raise up your hands defensively.
Bucky doesn’t react, almost as if he doesn’t believe you. Even though you didn’t lie, you get nervous, like he was about to catch you up.
“Is that so?” He says leaning against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest. You watch as the metal plates slide into place.
“Mhm.” You can’t even form a sentence as you watch the veins in his other hand strain. Your tongue moves against the roof of your mouth as you imagine the metal shoved in there. You’re close enough to see the details, micro bolts, chips and scratches in the black finish. You can feel it all with the tip of your tongue.
Bucky breaks you from your trance. “I can smell you, y’a know?” Your eyebrows furrow, you thought you used the right amount of perfume this morning.
He steps closer to you, using his body to press you against the steel refrigerator. “Why would your pussy be so wet, if it’s just an innocent little crush?”. You can’t get out of this, so why not go for it.
“I was looking at your hands, since they’re the only part of you’re not covered in black polyester.” You give him a smug look. “Watching my hands made you this wet?” He slips his flesh hand into your panties, curling them at your entrance. You nod, building up the courage to grab his hand, sucking on the metal fingertips. It’s different than what you imagined, warmer.
Bucky closes his eyes as he pictures his cock in your mouth instead of his fingers. “I was imagining what you taste like,” you lean forward and lick a strip up his neck, it’s exactly how you imagined. “, what it felt like to run my tongue all over your body.” You say, surprised by your own confidence.
He pushed his fingers inside of you, liking the dirty words spilling from you. You moan, reaching out to grasp his black vest. “Let me touch you.” You say, pulling his hand from your pants. He grabs your arm and drags you out of the kitchen.
You’re thrown on his bed before you know it, he climbs on top of you, going in for a kiss. You turn your head, not letting his lips meet yours. “Let me.” You wiggle out from under him, standing up.
He sits in the middle of the bed, his feet dangling off the side. You drop to your knees and begin to untie his boots. He gives you a confused look when your remove them and move up his legs to his belt, unhooking it and removing the button on his black cargo pants.
You look him in the eyes as you pull down the zipper. You remove his pants swiftly, moving to push his vest off, you have to get up on the bed, straddling his bare legs. He looks up at you, amazed by you taking the lead. You peel off his black t shirt and he’s left in his socks and boxers.
You move back off the bed, admiring him splayed out. “You’re so perfect.” You say, running your hands up his thighs. You lean down to kiss each of his knees.
You keep your eyes locked on his face as you kiss up his thighs, ghosting over the large bulge in his boxers. He takes a shallow breath when you kiss his hips. Like he’d never experienced it before. “So beautiful.” You say, licking the happy trail growing up his stomach.
Bucky’s been getting a vantage point of view from resting on his elbows. You put an end to that by pushing him down, making him face the ceiling. You press your lips to both of his biceps, hovering over him when you finish.
“Can I kiss you now?” You say, satisfied with making your way up his body. He nods, keeping his hands to his sides while you devour his mouth, biting his lip and sucking on his tongue.
“I’m gonna take real good care of you, okay?” You ask before you get back on your knees. Bucky gets back on his elbows, not wanting to miss the show.
You free him from his tight boxers, letting him spring up towards your face. You take a moment to take a mental image of him, laid out so vulnerable. “Thank you, tiktok.” You whisper to yourself, grateful that a video effected you like it did, or else you wouldn’t be here right now, trying not to choke as you force every inch of him into your mouth. You wanted him to be proud and satisfied, even if it meant a sore throat.
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darkdemeter · 1 month
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SIREN, BE BOUND TO ME
The DARK DEMETER WRITING CATALOGUE, BUCKY BARNES COLUMN (ONESHOT) #1 —
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—- not my gifs, credit to original posters! -—
Pirate! Bucky Barnes x Siren! Female Reader
A/N — Yes. Yes... YAAAAS! IM DOING IT! I'm frickin' writing a pirate Bucky! Mmmm! Fuckin' love pirate stuff, I'm just living for Bucky being a hotto potatoh commanding a vessel on the high seas.
WORD COUNT — 4.1k
READER DISCRETION — Pirate Bucky — semi dark Bucky — submissive/soft captive reader — possessive Bucky — SMUT 18+, Minors DNI! — P in V sex — memory loss/wiping via magic (reader affected) — light use of physical and sexual acts to avoid conflict — indirect breeding kink? — pet names — brief consumption of alcohol — I think that's it?
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SUMMARY — He is your captain. There is no place you'd rather be than by his side, nothing you could ever want for that is not him. You owe everything, your entire self, to him. And yet overboard and on the tide you set sail across in search for a great and ancient treasure, a song continues to seep through the cracks of your heart and soul... a song so familiar yet unknown. Forgotten. And Bucky reminds you yet again that there is no place else for you that isn't beside him, that there is nothing out there.
  There lays a song forgotten in your heart and soul, distantly faint as the receding tide to the shore. With each spare moment of peace you were given to dwell beneath the lapping waters, you spend a portion of it in search of that song. And what time remains within the falling sand’s glass, you bask in the blue and faded black abyss. 
  Tonight is no different. You could not remember the forgotten song that lulls you tenderly, pulling through skin and scale, calling you somewhere far, much too far, away from the balancing hull above. 
  You could not abandon your captain. Betray the trust between you both. After all, it was he who found you washed atop the rocky crevices of the island, who rescued you from a fate of drying out in the sun’s merciless heat. Who took care of you when there was nothing left of the life you once knew. 
  To break that earnt trust, to betray him, you can’t think of anything far more heartbreaking than that. 
“Time’s up, my Siren,” the voice of your captain beckons you. He calls you to the surface. 
  A sigh ripples through the water and your head tilts up towards the surface, the darkened slits in your milky white eyes shrink away from the moonlight penetrating through the waves. The long limb of your tail sweeps back and forth, thrusting you upwards, skin and scales shimmering brighter as you near the barrier between water and air. The breach pulls a lungful gasp of the night's chillingly crisp air, the only warmth coming from The Avenger. 
  Hair drench-pressed and thinned forms a curtain over your features as you peer up at the looming figure pridefully arching over the ship’s wooden rail. The slivered slits of your eyes grow wider as they focus on him, with a lantern beside him, glass scorched and worn by smoke, it illuminates the upper portion of his body. His white shirt ruggedly wrinkled and loosened to showcase a muscled chest, skin tanned by the sun’s heated kiss, sleeves rolled to the elbow, black ink painted legendary stories over his body in memorabilia. Stories forged into his flesh for all to study and cower in fear.
  He summons you with a kink of his finger and you obey his silent command with an all too eager nod. Around you, the water spirals into a column and rises up, pushing you higher to reach the wooden railing. Aboard the ship, the crew is merry in their celebrations. Another successful day of conquest and battle on the high seas, another amassed sum of gold and valuables to add to hull and reputation. 
  Of course spirits would be high and cheerful tonight. And of course, what was a conquest without the captain’s prize at the end of it all?
  Gathering yourself over the rail and onto the deck, the glistening shine of your tail morphs into two shapely legs, the milky hues of your eyes and other remnants of your true body hide in their human disguise. Your eyes find the hourglass on his opposite side, the sand all gathered in the bottom glass pit. Your captain holds something out for you and you graciously accept his gift, pulling the thin veil of your robe over your naked body. 
  His ocean blue eyes scan you up and down, the left corner of his plush, chapped lips turns upwards. 
“Did you find what you were looking for?” He purrs his question and it brings a cold chill to run up and down your spine, your lungs freeze with what little breath they had at that moment. 
  He turns his body properly to face you, burly shoulders and thick muscles straining the fabric of his shirt. His eyes fold slightly into a sharpened stare of interrogation. 
  “I–I don’t…” You shake your head, breath hitching. “I don’t understand, Captain. I search for nothing that is not you.”
  “Aye?” 
  Your gaze drops to the limb of his remaining flesh hand, the other limb itself brings an uncomfortable yet hazy familiarity, you dare not to look at it up close when in the awoken presence of his intimidating stature. Often you would question its being there and admire its raw and unique - mystical - materials, when your captain lay beside you fast asleep. 
  Wrapped tightly over and under the callousness of his palm, the golden chain twinkles in the pale moonlight, the larger pearl at its centre holstered by binding gold and tinier pearls, beneath the gilded net a more refined shape of a pearl dances on its link. 
  However, your mesmerised pupils flicker up in an instant, brought to the attention of your captain awaiting your obedient answer. A noise is pitched in your throat with the answer but it dies swiftly before its deliverance. 
  Your vision focuses behind him then, up near the ship’s helm, her fingers lace slowly in their hypnotic movement as the fabric of her scarlet magic is weaved together. A warning. You do your best to hide the distressed visage of fear, batting your eyelashes and brushing aside the death of your verbal response, you bow your body forward submissively to his that towers over you.
  When your lips touch his, he almost instantly devours yours in a hungry kiss, the soft caress of your fingers tracing the curves of his chest brings pride and lust to possessively reel you into him, your nude front colliding against the hardened wall of his own. 
  Your hands run their course of exploration up the swollen bulk of his arms until they find purchase and entangle themselves in his dark locks. His own hands ravage your body, kneading the flesh and slim muscle of your hips.
  He groans when you submit to his overpowering will, mouth parting to his eager tongue that shoots forward like a fired cannon, aimed to dominate you in every sense of the word. Your soft whimpers beneath him bring him unimaginable pleasure, the sort that drives him to seek it evermore, with no seeming end to his insatiable hunger for what is you; your entire being. Wolves are known to be ravenous beasts. It’s why he’s known by the moniker as the White Wolf. 
  His tongue fiercely dances over yours, swirling and his bottom teeth tease you by nipping your lip, earning a high pitched squeal from you. He chuckles, the sound rich and dark in its intention. Your core comes alight, burning hotly and the once cool air dissipates as heat courses through every vein and nerve in your body, your mind swimming in the ocean pools of his eyes. Eyes that at times are the only thing you need to be connected to the sea. 
  The prominent tent of his erected endowment presses against your stomach and lower abdomen. You finally pull away, however, in his caging embrace it’s not very far you’re able to move back. 
  “Wait for me in my cabin, little Siren,” he orders gruffly. Your mouth falls agape and you sputter in your rattled confusion. 
  “But I—” Still he penetrates you with that cold stare. It prods at you with radiant intensity, it matches the ominous scarlet glow that now burns brighter now as it moves down the upper deck’s stairs. Your eyes dart between the woman who controls the rolling waves of red magic and the ferocity of your captain’s hardpressed gaze. 
  Your head bounces quickly. “Yes...” 
  A few words of compliance are cut off by a gasp. As you attempt to follow his order and return to his cabin, he halts you within his metallic grasp and pulls you back in, curled lips mere inches from your own, in the clutches of his brazen hold, he commands your attention. Your hands are forced to rest over his chest. 
  He drawls with a warning growl, “Yes?”
  “Yes, Captain Barnes.”
  Bucky nods his head once and lets you go, his eyes flicker between the cabin door and you, silently instructing you to hurry along. Your bare feet barely make a sound over the wooden deck in your traversal towards the cabin, where you would await your captain to claim his prize. Treasure that he greedily gets to have all to himself. The conquest he takes glee in ravishing himself full of. 
  Once you’re tucked inside, exactly where he wants you, Bucky scratches at his stubbled jaw, his recent shave already beginning to grow in again. Wanda approaches his side, the fabric of her magic ceasing at her fingertips like embers passing over into lowly ashes. 
  “That was a close one,” Bucky growls, his tongue that savours your taste runs over his teeth. She hisses with a hushed tone, “With each outing she is given to delve into the sea, my magic weakens, Captain.”
  His eyes roll to glare at the woman beside him. She sighs with a bow of her head, eyes downcast as to not provoke him into thinking her words a challenge. 
  “All I mean to say is that you must reinforce her rules. She’s beginning to suspect far too much, and with each piece of recollection, my power is sapped by her own. Enforce her rules once more.”
  Bucky’s shoulders shrug upwards with an all too arrogant huff, haughty in his conviction. He idly tilts his flesh hand, admiring the piece of you he has wrapped up in his iron grasp. 
  “She will do well to keep in mind her place. She’s intimidated.”
  “She’s conflicted, Captain.” Her words bring about a scowl to Bucky’s face, lips coiled into a snarl and nose wrinkling, eyes thinning. “And it will be a matter of time before she is free of you, and you will be known as the captain who lost his siren.”
  The bridge of this knowledge leaves Bucky in a state of strife. An aspect to his notorious reputation was garnered by your captivity. The White Wolf known by all as the fearsome pirate captain who tamed a siren; held you in the oyster of his clutches. If he did lose you, then his reputation would be suffering a heavy loss. As if to sense his change of demeanour, her hands raise up with her glowing, magic tipped fingers. His nostrils flare and the harsh prestige that made him a force not to be trifled with, he commands,  “Do it.”
  Bucky struts off with a roll of thunder beneath his leather worn boots, swiping up a half drunk bottle of rum and swallows an animalistic gulp, joining in on the festivities of his crew. Wanda observes her captain for a moment before diverting her attention towards the cabin. Her hands fold over one another, and with her palms outstretched, the scarlet hue dances through the air in a thin, cloudy blanket, searching and finding the miniscule gap beneath the wooden door. 
  He pummels into you until your back pushes far into the mattress, eliciting sharp whines and sultry moans from your parted lips, breath caught in a pattern of shallow pants. He chases after his second high as he drives his cock deep into you, the sound of skin slapping skin perverts the cabin’s air and already you begin to feel your core tremble in its own pursuit for its fourth orgasm. With each powerful snap of his hips, his throat chokes out a grunt in his exertions, the girth of his cock sinks deep into the channel of your hot, velvety cunt. 
  “Fuckin’ hell,” he growls lowly with a hiss, “so fuckin’ tight! You feel so good, you’re— taking me so well.” 
  With an exceptionally powerful rut of his hips and he has you on the precipice of screaming, thighs quivering in their hold around his waist, heels digging into the dip of his large, muscular back. Any coherent thoughts and words die on the vine of your vocal cords, only able to procure sounds of pleasure, to chant his name over and over again. 
  “Captain Barnes!” you mewl with fervour. Bucky’s chest vibrates with a husky chuckle. “That’s right, scream my name, let the crew hear you, Love. Let them hear how drunk you are for my cock.” 
  His one palm is laced with sweat, thick and roughened fingers squeeze yours in a passionate display of his dark possessiveness over you. Your captain could be very jealous when another’s eyes lingered on you for even a second too long, many others had suffered the brunt of his fury - weapons ablaze - and you in the end suffered the brunt of his envy with his cock pounding into you for the next several hours. 
  To remind you to whom it was you belong to. 
  His lips suckle one of the erected peaks of your breasts, moaning as his tongue leaves a wet trail around it before passing over to the second to repeat the treatment. Your head turns to the side sharply when the head of his cock splits you open even further than you could previously imagine, hitting a hidden crevice that leaves you without breath. 
  He gauges your reaction, the colour of your eyes blurring, phasing between the natural milky white canvases and the hue of your disguise, your canines and incisors now elongated, all because of the pleasure that pools at the junction where your bodies meet. But for a moment, you catch the glimmer of gold still wrapped around his hand, glimmering metal gnawing and rubbing across his skin, you’re torn between your euphoria and clouded curiosity. 
  “Say it again,” he grunts with a hard thrust that makes his muscles ripple insanely beneath his skin.
  “C’mon, say it for your captain, Love.” 
  Your lips and tongue drag across the flesh of his wrist, the pulse of his racing heart beats through, you can almost taste the rhythm. His sweat tastes strong with his musk, a strong flavour of the salty sea, sandy beaches and gunpowder. 
  You moan softly, almost in a whisper, “Captain… C-Captain Barnes.”
  The effect you have on him is indescribable to him. Never has he been able to put it into words, all he can do is feel it; carnally. The repetitive pounding into that deeper and sweeter spot has your back arching up, the smooth layer of your sweat covered body rubs against his, able to feel each defining muscle, he uses his metal hand to grip hold of one of your thighs, angling you so that you’re spread further apart for him. Your eyes begin to fall heavy and roll back into your skull in your drunken haze, the shimmer of scarlet presently blooms from time to time in them.  
  “That’s right. You belong to me, little Siren. It’s my cock that has you dripping wet.” His thrusts become faster, losing the precise edge he had before, his climax inevitably as close as your own. Your nails embed crescent moons into the skin of his one hand while the other bites into his shoulder. 
  “I’m the only man— fuck! The only man who gets to have you like this. Shit… shit. ’M going to fill you up.” 
  “Please, please… Cap—”
  “Aye, I’m going to fill you up, have you nice ‘nd full until my cum is leaking out of your little cunt, Siren. Fuck… you want that, don’t you? I know you do.” 
  You gasp with each attempt to breathe, each push and pull of his cock strikes you like a match to light the powder keg, the explosion of your climaxes comes as a white hot flash in your vision, momentarily blinding you. Your hot walls squeeze around his large endowment, forcing him to thrust back and forth even harder, grunting hot breaths against the shell of your ear. 
  His seed is flushed into the channel of your pussy in thick, seething spurts that paint your walls that milk him for every precious drop. 
  What he gives makes your lower abdomen weigh a little heavier, a little bit fuller than you were before. His hips grow slower with each dissipating explosion from his tip. His large chest expands hugely with every intake of air to his lungs before deflating as a pleased groan. 
  In his reverie of contentment, having had his fill of his prize - for now - he withdraws his softening cock from your pussy, a moistened pop echoes in the emptiness of your thoughts. Bucky rolls off of you to lay at your side, atop the furs and silken drapes of the bed. Before you can make a move he uses his metal arm to drag you in closer, tucking you into his side, the coldness of his fingers skimming the delicate texture of your arm. 
  The soothing rock of the ship is enough to lull you to sleep, the lids of your eyes inching closer and closer together. 
  “Still deny that you found nothing?” 
  His question only brings your brows to knit together. You shake your head and huddle closer into his side, basking in the comforting warmth of his body. Why on earth would he ask you such a silly question? As if there was anything of importance that outranked him, by being at his side. 
  The answer you give is instant in its resolve, “I don’t understand, Captain. I needn’t find anything out there… I have you.” 
  Your answer, though unable to see it from your position, pleases him and his lips curl into a toothy smirk, long sweeps of his dark brown hair tousled about in his post sex state. You lay your head against his chest to hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, eyes closing to seek rest and refuge in the arms of your beloved captain. The man that grants you safety, that promises you nights of passion followed by the comfort of his body next to yours. All he asks in return is your loyalty. Your devotion.
  For you to be his siren. 
  Behind the blurry curtain of sleep layered over your eyes, you awaken and by your estimation, only for around an hour or maybe a little more. The morn still hasn’t risen over the ocean’s horizon, the moonlight shimmering and shining over the waves. The candlelight that bathed the cabin with a sensual atmosphere had now burnt out. 
  Breaths of deepened sleep sound next to you, the chiselled sculpt of his chest you’d used as a pillow takes steady form, as he sleeps. It makes you wonder as to what he dreams about, sometimes a scowl is etched into his attractive visage and he becomes restless, leaving you to somehow comfort him. And other times, mostly after he’s spent drawing orgasm after orgasm from the two of you, he finds respite. 
  You take the time to thoroughly yet delicately rub your eyes, robbing the tiredness of its hold to take you once more. With a tilt of your head, hair coming over your shoulder to graze the top of your breasts, his other hand lay out over the bed, residing just over the edge. 
  The mysterious object that somehow you know is linked with you, but as to how or why, or its significance to you in any case, is still laced around his calloused palm. Despite its odd gleam of familiarity, you believe this is the first time you’ve seen it before, however, the tiny voice in the back of your mind says otherwise. Then you must have seen something like it before somewhere. 
  Something deep in the recess of your heart, you have to know. Is this somehow linked to the estranged longing to a home you can’t remember? Does this necklace bind you to the lost melody of times erased from your memory?
  You take caution in moving carefully, inching your way to lean over the sleeping form of your captain, skin brushing skin, you slowly rotate your hips and hoist a thigh over his waist. Heated crimson flushes into your cheeks as you analyse your newfound position, but also from the way his body stirs lightly, still enraptured by sleep yet his body adjusting to your core lining over his naval. 
  Thawed from your frozen idle of panic, you take a moment to calm the racing of your heart that hammers vigorously against your chest, your nimble fingers reach out towards his flesh hand that clings protectively to the mysterious necklace. 
  This almost feels… too easy. You swallow a silent gulp, fingers grazing against his palm when his body shifts, bumping up into yours, you pull your reach back so fast, your hand slaps against his ribs, doing your best to cover up your true intentions. His stills beneath you once more and your shoulders fall lax with a sigh of relief. 
  Again you dare another attempt to grab the necklace, this time you don’t risk breathing, holding it for what seems like forever until your lungs begin to swell with an ache that makes them feel like bubbles about to burst. 
  You work the chain until it's loosened and finally allow your held breath to escape you, the strain to remain silent proving far more difficult than you would have liked. The weight of your body shifts backwards, now sitting up, you allow your eyes to take in every detail of the object in your hands. The gold chain is light, ghostly as it graces your hands, your fingers lace and loop it around amidst the process of your conjuring thoughts. 
  Like a puppeteer pulling the strings you raise the necklace up by its precious thread. The pearl encaged by its makeshift net swings from side to side, as though even when you are completely still, it has a soul of its own accord. 
  Everything you knew about pearls is forfeit, the identity of this one brings the bevel between your brows to form in thoughtful wonder. Therein lies the piece of some puzzle, the missing notes to the melody to which you only recall the faint rhythm of the song. 
  It has to mean something of greater importance. But if it did, then why is your captain so adamant to dismiss your curious nature to find the answers?
  As if the pearl itself is the key, you hear within your heart and soul the song. Voices sing a tone that is calming to your senses, a sweet and endearing lullaby meant for you to hear whenever you find yourself in the loneliest of places, in the darkest reaches of the ocean, the connection will bring you somewhere you call home. 
  But your home is The Avenger. Aboard the ship with Captain Barnes. The man known as Bucky to his closest inner circle. So why do the voices mingling with the tide call you away from all that? With each passing second you become ensnared by the spell of the pearl, the voices of whom you somehow find solace in become louder, the softened chorus of their song echoes a hundred times over in your head. 
  Before you even give pause to reason, your own voice becomes paired with the orchestra of sirens. You have no words, and maybe you never did, all you did need is the pearl to help guide you in remembering the melody. The uncertainty of your humming eases, the unforeseen instructors aiding you, your voice is soft within its deep reverie when it all comes to an abrupt pause, a gasp severing the tune. 
  He has you by the wrist, fingers bruisingly tight and giving you no choice to pull away from him, as he often did whenever he saw you retreat from him without his say so. 
  Bucky’s eyes bear into yours, penetrating the barrier of the necklace, he stares you down the way a wolf does the lonely prey in its path. His eyes match the brooding darkness of a storm at sea, a breed of villainy that threatens those who dare to try him. 
  “Captain…” Your throat bobs with a nervous swallow.  “I– I wasn’t—” 
  Out of pure instinct to not tempt his fury, your hold on the necklace ceases and it gathers in the roughened pad of his palm, large thumb that has caressed your sensitive nub plenty of times now works against the spherical shape of the pearl, brows heavy in their judgement to assess your punishment. His movement is sudden upon the brink of your awareness, a sharp gasp that cuts into the tender muscle of your chest as he plants you flat on your back, hands both of flesh and metal pin your wrists on either side of you until the bruising ache becomes far too unbearable. But you do nothing to voice the level of your pain. He would not hear of it. His newly erected shaft ghosts over your entrance, the beginnings of your slick painting his already drooling tip.  “I’m beginning to think you like breaking my rules, Siren.”
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sweetbbarnes · 10 months
Text
GODDESS
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postTFATWS!BuckyBarnes x Fem!Reader
Summary: You’re still trying to figure out how a healthy relationship works. Bucky is more than happy to show you.
Warnings: mentions of a past toxic relationship, reader is insecure, feelings (because it’s me), Bucky being the sweetest man possible (yes, he’s a warning), established healthy relationship, a tiny bit of possessive!Bucky (in a healthy way), SMUT, exhibitionism, fingering, talks about birth control, unprotected sex, cum kink (sort of), possessive sex (you have to squint), praise, p in v, let me know if I forgot something.
A/N: I was daydreaming about this yesterday and I just had to write, if you like it please let me know. Also I changed my username ‘cause I didn’t like the old one that much.
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I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY STORIES TRANSLATED, COPIED OR POSTED TO ANY OTHER SITE/APP/ACCOUNT. DO NOT STEAL MY WORK.
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You clutch your jacket tightly, your knuckles turning white as you secure the denim fabric around you — a nervous habit you've developed over time. You had intended to change before Bucky arrived, but he showed up earlier than expected, leaving you no time, so you just took the first jacked you saw and covered yourself. Insecurities flood your mind as you open the door for him. He gives you a tight hug that communicates how much he missed you, but instead of embracing him back, you just clutch your jacket harder. A shield, of sorts.
"Are you okay, sweetheart? Are you cold?" Bucky asks, concern etched on his face as he gently rubs your hips with his leather covered thumbs.
"I'm not sure about this dress," you admit, avoiding his gaze.
"Why? Don't you like how you look? Let me see it," he suggests, releasing his grip on you, giving you space to remove your jacket.
Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you summon the courage to reveal yourself. It’s a pretty dress, used to be one of your favorites, actually, but you retired it after it caused your ex to almost hit you for “wearing something so revealing”. Today, as you were searching for an outfit and found it hidden at the bottom of your wardrobe, you couldn’t help but choose it, as you felt an overwhelming sense of freedom after trying it on. Now, though, you’re not so sure anymore.
You feel the cold air touching your bare arms and brace yourself for the harsh words, echoes of your past relationship lingering inside your brain. But Bucky remains silent, intensifying your anxiety. It has only been a few months since you started dating the supersoldier, and while you've seen no signs of violence from him, you're still guarded, prepared if the moment comes. Bucky is a gentleman, but so was your ex at the beginning.
"I can change if you want," you quickly offer, seeking to appease any potential displeasure.
"Why would I want you to change?" Something in his voice prompts you to open your eyes. Rather than the disappointment you were expecting, there’s some kind of amazement and even lust as he looks at you up and down. Not a single trace of anger.
The gentleness of his question gives you enough courage to ask, “don’t you think I look like a slut?”
Bucky's eyes shoot up to meet yours, a little shocked, but upon noticing the fear in them his face softens with understanding, and he steps closer, enfolding you in his arms. “Darlin’, you look like a fucking Goddess.” He gently kisses your forehead. “Absolutely stunning.”
Bucky knows about your past relationship and the emotional scars it left behind. When he met you, you were a mess. He thought that an ex-assassin would be the last person you’d choose to date after everything, but apparently he did something right, and the moment you accepted him in your life he vowed to himself he’d do anything to show you what a genuine, nurturing love feels like.
"Are you sure? You're not... mad? I mean, that other men will look at me.” you ask hesitantly.
"Why would I be mad?" Bucky responds, his voice filled with sincerity. Despite the heartbreak upon seeing you so scared, he manages a tiny smirk. "They can look; only I get to touch."
You remain uncertain. Your previous boyfriend, when he was in a good mood, had also claimed not to care when you dressed like this — until another guy so much as glanced your way.
Sensing your hesitation, Bucky leads you to your bedroom, positioning you in front of the mirror and standing behind you. As you gaze at your reflection, he notices the sparkle in your eyes and the joy that emanates from within. You like how you look in the dress, and that realization instantly makes it Bucky's favorite.
His leather-clad hands gently trail along your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Do you feel beautiful?" he asks, admiring your form as much as you do.
You answer, blushing and avoiding his eyes, "Yes."
"And do you feel comfortable?" he inquires further.
You hesitate, your thoughts momentarily scattered. Then, you consider his words and the scenario he paints.
"I... Well..." you trail off, contemplating the tiny sparkle of confidence starting to bloom inside your chest.
"Forget about me for a moment. Imagine you're single, going out with your girlfriends. Do you feel comfortable then?" Bucky prompts.
You ponder his question, allowing yourself to envision the scenario. After a brief moment, you respond, "Yes, I do.”
Bucky raises his hand, cupping your cheek and tilting your head until your eyes meet in the mirror. A proud smile graces his lips.
"Then that's the outfit you're wearing tonight," he declares, his voice filled with certainty and adoration.
You smile timidly at him, not really sure how to deal with this… respect, coming from a boyfriend. His hand starts to travel down through your stomach.
“When the other dudes look at you, and they will…” Bucky lowers his mouth to the shell of your ear and whispers, “I’ll make sure to show them that you’re mine, alright?”
His words cut straight to your core, and you involuntarily press your ass against him, feeling his already hard length. You gasp. He whispers your name.
“Keep doing this and we’re not gonna leave this bedroom tonight.” He murmurs with a deep tone.
“Would it be so bad?” You fake pout, grinding against him again, on purpose this time.
“Well, I really want to show you off in that outfit, so…” He says, but can’t help himself from lowering his hands to the hem of your dress, leaving goosebumps along the way.
“Bucky…” You sigh when he starts giving lingering kisses along the curve of your neck and the bottom of your earlobe.
“But I suppose we have some time before our lateness becomes socially unacceptable, right?” He whispers, sneaking two fingers under the fabric, millimeters away from where you need his touch the most.
“How much?” You ask, watching as Bucky frees his flesh hand from the glove to let you know what’s about to happen.
“Enough,” he says, dragging one finger along your clothed cunt, and moaning at your drenched panties. “Already, baby?”
You only hum in response. He uses his other hand to pull down your panties and lightly tap on your hip, signaling you to step off of them. You obey. Returning his fingers to where they were before, he drags them along your lips, collecting your wetness, and starts the slow circles on your clit. Mustering that confidence Bucky just unburied from a locked place inside your brain, you cover his hand with yours and guide him to your entrance.
“No teasing,” you plead.
Bucky chuckles. “What a greedy woman you are.”
He circles your entrance for a few moments before slowly inserting two digits all the way up, your wet walls making it easy for him. You moan, relieved, and rest the back of your head on his shoulder.
“That enough to make you roll your eyes, darlin’?”
You try rolling your hips, but Bucky quickly encircles your waist with his metal arm, firming his grip so you remain still.
“Please, Bucky…”
“Oh, baby, you know I can’t resist when you beg,” he kisses and bites your shoulder, then curls his fingers inside of you, his knuckles rubbing on that delicious spot inside your hole as he presses his clothed cock against your ass again, “and look at this dress, see what you do to me?”
You feel a twitch in your stomach when Bucky starts stimulating your clit with his thumb, along with the in-and-out movement of his fingers.
“Open those beautiful eyes for me, would ya’?” He asks softly. “See how pretty you get when you beg like that.”
You silently thank the universe that he’s firmly holding you, because his words make your knees almost give in. Panting, you comply with his request, fixing your gaze in the spot where he’s fingering you under your dress. Just like everything else about you, he notices the direction of your eyes.
“You wanna see it, baby? Wanna watch while I fuck you with my fingers?” He asks carefully, amusement lacing his deep voice.
You whimper, imagining the sight, and nod frantically.
“Go ahead, dirty girl.” He encourages.
Satisfied with the permission, you lift one of your legs and place your foot at the bottom of your bed, granting you two full access to the view. You both watch Bucky’s motions in awe, the wetness that covers his fingers reflecting the dim light of the room, silent except for the squishy noises his fingers make as he fucks them into your pussy. The sight almost makes Bucky drop down to his knees to worship you like the Goddess he honestly thinks you are. Actually,  if he didn’t know you’re only standing because of his arm around you, he’d probably do just that.
“Like what you see?” He whispers in your year.
You moan in approval, trying to move your hips, but Bucky’s grip is strong, and he smirks.
“Magic word?”
“Faster.” You demand suddenly.
That’s not quite the word Bucky was expecting, but he’s too stunned by your behavior to care. You two had sex before — as soon as you gave him indication that you wanted it, because how could he resist you? —, but it was always so… loving. I mean, Bucky really wants to show you how tender real love can be, but he’s absolutely relishing this newfound confident side of yours. Never had he imagined you could be so filthy, and he really wants to beat the shit out of your ex for making you think that you have to hide it. Also, as he had already imagined it would, your slight dominance leaves him at your mercy, and he moans as he pleases you, fastening his movements.
That familiar knot starts to build up in your belly, and you try hard not to roll your eyes, not wanting to miss a single moment of the view.
“Bucky…” you call, finding it harder and harder to breathe. “I’m gonna come.”
“Do it, baby. Let go for me.” He whispers next to your ear, satisfied to feel your tight walls clenching his fingers. “You’re such a good girl. So fucking beautiful in this dress.”
With the fog of pleasure taking over your brain as the words hit your ears, you moan loudly and let the overwhelming feeling consume you. Bucky can’t quite keep himself from grinding against your ass as you drench his fingers with your sweet nectar, whimpering while he fingers you all the way through your orgasm. He watches, grunting in pleasure, as you fight your eyelids from closing, until you can’t control yourself anymore, going limp into his arms and rolling your eyes with relief.
Coming down from the high, you look at him through the mirror, smiling sheepishly as you watch him raise the two fingers he just used to make you come and suck them hungrily, licking until there’s no trace of your orgasm anymore. Finding it hard to decide if he should compose himself and drag both your horny asses to the bar or toss you in bed and keep your legs spread open for him to eat out as he pleases until the morning lights, an idea pops into his head.
“You’re on birth control, right?” He asks. He never fucked you bare before, so he never had to ask, but, well… There's a first time for everything, right?
“I am, why?” You ask, still a little dizzy.
He smirks, then gets you by the waist and tosses you in bed unceremoniously, making you gasp in surprise and then giggle.
“Bucky, we have to go.” You remind him, but give no indication that you’ll get up.
You watch as your boyfriend determinedly undresses himself, unashamedly staring at his built up body. The muscles from his abdomen tightens as he bends down to get rid of his jeans, and you lick your lips seeing his long length being freed, already hard with need.
“Sam’s got time. He can wait.” He answers, using his knees to spread your thighs apart as he positions himself right where he belongs: between them.
You make a motion to undress yourself, but when Bucky realizes what you’re doing, he stops you.
“Keep the dress.” He says, and you lay back.
You feel the coldness of Bucky’s dog tags touch the skin of your chest as he towers over you, using his metal hand to support himself and the flesh one to cup your cheek and caress it with his thumb. His expression turns into a soft one.
“When those guys out there look at you dressed like this…” he teases your over sensitive entrance with his tip, the sensation almost too overwhelming. Almost. “They’ll desire you, baby, and they’ll have no clue that you’re walking around with my cum dripping from this pretty pussy.”
With one swift motion, he enters you, unable to contain the pornographic moan that leaves his lips. You gasp in surprise, both from the lack of a condom and from the fact that Bucky never filled you up so abruptly like this. You’re not complaining, though, as you feel his bare skin stretching your soft walls.
“You like that, baby?” He asks when you raise your hands to his short hair and pull it. “Everyone will see you in this beautiful dress and they won’t even imagine that I just fucked the shit out of you in it.”
Bucky slowly – so slowly – takes his cock out of your hole, leaving just the tip, and sharply enters you again, earning an almost scream from your lips.
“Want them to know…” you manage to say hoarsely “Want them to know I’m yours.”
Your words hit Bucky in an instinctive place of his brain, awakening all those raw feelings of protection and possessiveness inside his subconscious, and he almost finishes then and there. He thrusts into you vigorously once again before answering.
“Oh, they will,” if you had the mind to pay attention, you'd notice his voice just got impossibly lower, “we’ll show them, alright? You and me.”
Bucky loses the ability to make coherent sentences as he feels your walls clenching around him, a sign that you’re already getting close again. Without hesitation, he fastens his movements, losing himself in the feeling of your soft interior.
His thrusts are harsh, but still caring in a way, since you know he’s not doing it to hurt you, but to please you. He kisses you passionately, holding your face and licking the inside of your mouth, because if he's being honest with himself, if you keep almost screaming his name like you were, he might as well not last as long as he needs to make you come again.
You wrap your legs around his waist, the new angle making you feel him even deeper inside your cunt, and he almost loses it when he feels you dragging your heels along his lower back.
With one hand, you scratch his back hard enough to feel his warm blood staining your fingers, growing desperate with the tight knot that’s once again forming inside you. Bucky kisses and bites and licks your neck, not giving a damn about the pain — enjoying it, even. Your other hand goes straight to your clit and you start treating yourself with just the right amount of pressure and speed. The action, of course, doesn’t go unnoticed by Bucky, and he grunts in approval.
The headboard slams into the wall as Bucky feels his movements start to become a little sloppy. “Gonna come.” He says, panting “Gonna come inside you, baby. Gonna make you all mine.”
A jolt of electricity travels down your spine, getting you closer and closer to the edge, and you buckle your hips up in excitement.
“Let go, Bucky.” You command, making him roll his eyes. “Fill me up, make me yours.”
“Need you to come first, darlin’. Need to feel you co- Ah” Bucky’s request is interrupted by the loud moan you let out when you finally snap, no longer able to control your second orgasm of the day. He follows you not a long time after, as you can feel his hot seed painting your walls white, and he drops his forehead to your shoulder.
You don’t even have a chance to catch your breath when you feel his thick fingers once again entering your overstimulated pussy. You whimper, holding his wrist.
“Just a little bit, sweetheart,” he coos, “gotta make sure it stays inside.”
You whimper again, but let him do his thing, hearing the squishy noises his fingers make as they shove every drop of his seed all the way up before it slips away. Then he proceeds to get up, put on his clothes and retrieve your panties from the floor.
“Can you lift your legs for me, doll?” He asks, and you obey. “That’s my good girl.”
Bucky slides the piece of lingerie up your legs, until they’re back to their place — securing his cum inside of you — and helps you get up, holding your hips until he’s sure you can still walk.
Just as you were going to comment on the plans you two have, you hear Bucky’s phone ringing from his pocket.
“Hi, Sam.” He answers, staring at you. “We’re on our way. We had a little bit of a… situation.” A playful smirk adorns his lips as he says that. “No, I didn’t make her up, Sam. She’s real, we’re just a little late.”
You chuckle. When Bucky invited you to meet his friend — Bucky calls him a colleague, but you can see by the look on his eyes that he cares about him like a dear friend — Sam Wilson (yes, the Captain America), he warned you Sam would probably question if you’re real, since he can’t believe the “bionic staring machine” could be so charming as to find a girl for himself.
Said staring machine hangs up the phone and gives you a peck on the lips.
“Ready?”
He guides you to the door after you secure him you can walk by yourself, opening it for you like the gentleman he is. However, before you can get out, he stops you.
You look at him questioningly.
“Everyone will know that you’re mine,” he reassures, “and if you behave…” he lowers his head until you can feel his warm breath against the skin of your ear, “when we get back, I’ll make sure to worship you like the fucking Goddess you are.”
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masterlist
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Note
🌸 Bucky Barnes is tired of you thinking your nobody’s choice and he shows you how much you matter to him. Can be SFW/NSFW (haha last request from me love your responses by the way☺️)
Bucky makes sure you know you're his first choice - Headcanons (NSFW) ❤️
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Content Warnings - 18+, smut, kissing, implied sex, foreplay, swearing.
*************
- Bucky knows you've been struggling with your confidence lately. You've made a few self-deprecating comments here and there, and he's intent on proving to you that you could never be second choice, at least not for him.
- Hovering over you as you kissed, the soldier made his way down your body, starting at your head and moving lower, paying focus and attention to every inch of you. Having a metal arm of his own, Bucky knew what it was like to wage a mental war with your own body, and he never wanted you to feel this way.
- Peppering soft, wet kisses across your forehead, down your nose, to each cheek, and to your mouth, he intertwined his tongue with yours passionately. "Mmm, you taste so good Doll~" He mumbled into your lips. "And do y'know how cute this face is?" Squishing your blushing cheeks in his hand, he gazed into your hues with hungry eyes of his own.
- Lowering himself, he trailed sloppy kisses down your neck, licking and nipping at your sweet spot. Smirking as you began to whimper underneath him, he would tease you. "With cute moans like that, how could I resist you Doll?"
- Attaching his mouth to your chest, the brunette set his sights on your breasts, nipples already hardened in arousal. "Oh gorgeous..." He cooed, grasping your left one in his palm. "See. Perfect. Fit so well into my hand..." Massaging it gently, he chuckled before using his tongue on the other, licking circles around your nipple. "So fuckin soft Doll, all mine."
- And finally, making sure to kiss over your belly along the way, he made his way to your dripping folds. His fingers brushing your entrance, the avenger couldn't help but groan at how wet you were. "Such a beautiful pussy..." He whispered, his greedy stare almost admiring it. "I'd choose it again and again if I had too... can't get enough..."
- Bucky placed a sucking kiss to your clit before kneeling up beside you, hastily undoing the buckle of his belt as he eyed your core. "Still don't believe me Doll?" He baited, exposing his hard length. Positioning himself at your hole, he hovered above you, leaning down to rasp domiantly in your ear. "Then let me prove to you, that you are, and always will be, my first fucking choice..."
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Text
All The Way Down.
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Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Female Reader 
Summary:Bucky reminds you just how much of a super-soldier he really is.
Warnings:Smut, 18+, Oral Sex (F Recieving), Face-Sitting, Mentions of shitty past ex-boyfriends, Dirty Talk, Bucky eats pussy for his own pleasure
Word Count:1,232
Authour’s Note: I kinda wanted to try to get back into writing for Bucky since I hadn’t done so for a while so it might not be the best writing but it’s here and it’s filthy, so there’s that
also this is for all my fellow thick-gals who just want a super-soldier bf to tr-eat them right.
MASTERLIST
When it came to you, Bucky was insatiable. He was perfectly happy to be spread out on the bed on his stomach, with each of your thighs thrown over his shoulders whilst his tongue and fingers worked their magic on your pussy.
When he was in one of those moods, then there was very little that would be able to separate him from you.
And tonight he seemed to be in that particular mood, as he licked his tongue through your folds, gently as he helped to ride out the aftershocks of your second orgasm of the night. 
“Doll..Want you to sit on my face…please..” he mumbled as he placed sloppy kisses to the inside of your thigh.
That was something that, until now, you had been avoiding. He’d politely asked you about it before, trying to get from you what he so badly desired. You so far had swatted away his advances with a kind smile and a little white lie that you had been too tired. You’d always assumed that you were too heavy, and past boyfriends and hook-ups had been less than kind to you when it came to how to handle a bigger girl in the bedroom. So from then on, you tried to save yourself the embarrassment and opted rather to either lay back or to be on the giving end of pleasure.
Bucky couldn’t lie, your rejections had hurt his pride, but he couldn’t help but feel like there was a reason why you didn’t want to do this with him, and it wasn’t because you were too tired. 
His mind ran through all the times you’d been together in the bedroom (and the few occasions outside of the bedroom too) and all the things that you’d done together, when he suddenly came around to the thought that not only had you never ridden his face, you’d also never been on top of him. That wasn’t right, he thought to himself. That needed to change right away and he was going to get you on top of him one way or another.
“It’s okay, baby, you don’t have to do that.” you say sweetly as you run your fingers through his hair from between your thighs.
“No, I know I don’t have to do it, but I want to. Want you to ride my face, Sweets.” he says with such a sweet earnestness that it almost breaks your heart with how much he loves you and wants to please you.
“Buck, please…”  you say as you withdraw your legs from over his shoulders and pull them up to your chest, sitting at the head of the bed.
“I’ve never pressed you about this, I’ve never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable, but you’ve never wanted to be on top..like ever…and I just have to ask, why?” his steely grey-blue eyes looking at you in question.
You felt safe with Bucky. Safer than you had ever felt with any of your past boyfriends. He was sweet to you, and he deserved the truth. 
Huffing out a breath to steady your nerves you looked at your boyfriend before speaking.
“I know I’m not the daintiest of girls, okay? I’m bigger and heavier than most girls, and I guess past boyfriends always made me feel insecure about being on top.” you explained.
Bucky listened carefully as you talked through your feelings.
“So, just to save myself the embarrassment and stop the insecurities creeping in, I always decline to get on top. I know most guys aren’t going to enjoy being squashed underneath me” you chuckle that last part, trying to lighten the mood.
“I’m not most guys, Doll.” He says to you confidently. 
You look at him, not totally understanding where he was going with this, so you let him continue.
“It seems as though you’ve forgotten that your boyfriend is a super-soldier, Doll.” he smiles “I promise you I’m strong enough to handle anything you throw my way, and believe me when I tell you that I would be happy man with a pretty thing like you sat on my face. I wanna fuckin’ drown in you, sweets.” he finishes, his voice dropping to a seductive growl and coming over to you to place a hungry kiss on your lips.
Looking deep in your eyes once more, he gives you a cheeky wink before laying on his back stretched out with his head resting on his hands 
“C’mon dollface, what are you waiting for? Your throne awaits.” His cheeky charm never fails to make you blush. 
You make your way over to him, cautiously swinging your leg over his body until you were straddling his chest, hovering over him.
“My face is up here, Sweets” he says, tapping his fingers to his chin to prove his point.
You shuffled further up his body until you’re hovering over his face, and you could see his lazy smile between your thighs.
You feel both his strong arms wrap themselves around your thighs, the contrast of the warmth of his hand and the metal of his other hand is a strangely grounding feeling that you welcome wholeheartedly. 
“I said sit on my face, sweets, none of this hovering, I want you to sit all the way down.” he growls before he locks his arms around your thighs and pulls you close.
His tongue ran the length of your pussy, lapping up the dripping wetness of your arousal. He was tasting you as though he was a man starved, the rumbling vibrations of his moans and groans sending shivers down your spine.
Suddenly you found your hips rocking themselves against your boyfriend's face, the tip of his nose nudging at your clit had you letting out shameless moans above him.
You can feel his cheeky smirk underneath you.
“That’s it sweets, ride my fuckin’ face…Taste so fuckin’ sweet…” his words are slurred as his tongue drinks you in.
He flicks his tongue over your clit a few times, before swirling around and then moving to suck it between his plump pink lips. The feeling of his scruffy beard against the soft skin of your thighs is a pleasing burn as your thighs clench themselves around his head.
Your hands have found themselves tangled in his hair, thankful that he had chosen to grow it longer again, needing something to ground yourself as you found your head swimming with pleasure.
He knew you were close, he’d seen you desperate for release many times before, he continued tonguing your clit as you whined above him.
“Fuck…Baby Please..feels so good..” 
“That’s it doll, let go for me, sweets..let me taste you..” he slurs continuing to help you roll your hips over his face.
It all felt too good. Too good and too much. The tightening knot in the pit of your stomach snapping, and your orgasm rushing over you as your hips slow to stuttering movements. His tongue laps slow stripes over your wet cunt as you come crashing down from your high.
You swing your body to lie next to him, your chest heaving with breaths you break the silence that had fallen between you both.
“I do believe it’s my turn to return the favour, Sarge” you say sweetly as your lips begin kissing a trail down his toned abs.
“Well…I ain’t ever gonna say no to that, Dollface.”
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nastybuckybarnes · 1 year
Text
Comfortable
Pairing: Bucky X Reader
Summary: Bucky finds out that you’ve never climaxed during intimacy and he’s not happy about that.
Warnings: Smut, Crying during sex, Overstimulation (mental and physical), Language, Fluff, Minor Angst but not really
Word Count: 2.8K
A/n: Kinda based on life but without bucky coming in and setting things straight lol. I’ve also got the first like 5 parts of a new series written, so that’ll be coming soon hehe. anyway, I hope you guys enjoy, and I love you all very much! 
~*~
“I don’t know, Nat, I just... I guess I’m just never... I don’t know. I’m in my head a lot, I guess.”
The redhead snickers, elbowing her sister and sharing a look with her before both of their gazes return to yours.
“Barnes lacking?”
You shake your head quickly, trying to clear his name.
“No! No, God no! He just... it’s not him, it’s me. I think too much, I’m focused on making sure it’s good for him, making sure he finishes that I... I don’t know.”
Yelena purses her lips, “does he know he hasn’t made you cum yet?”
You swallow hard and shake your head, dropping your gaze to your lap.
“I... I fake it.”
The assassins exchange glances again and you huff a sigh.
“He’s good, he’s really good and he makes me feel good and I get close but... I just can’t... I can’t cum. And it’s not like it’s just him, I’ve never cum with anybody I’ve been with. I just... can’t do it. Maybe I’m broken,” you whisper that last part mostly to yourself, but both women jump in and shake their heads.
“It’s an intimate thing. You probably just want to feel one hundred percent comfortable with the person before giving that last bit of yourself to them. Orgasming with a partner for the first time is... intense. You should talk to him about it, tell him the truth and explain it. Maybe you guys need more foreplay, maybe you need to be in control more, but you’ll only figure it out by talking to him about it.”
You bite your bottom lip and shake your head at Natasha, “I don’t wanna hurt his feelings though, Nat. I just... how the hell do I gently tell him that he hasn’t made me cum and I've been faking it the whole time?”
Two sets of trained eyes dart over your shoulder just as you hear the door to your apartment shut.
Tension pulls your shoulders up and you squeeze your eyes shut, praying that he didn’t hear you.
The way the two Russians in front of you press their lips into thin lines gives you your answer, and you drop your head forward, hating the fact that this is now a conversation you need to have with your boyfriend.
“Well uh, I think we should take that as our cue to leave,” Yelena says awkwardly, pressing on a smile and offering Bucky a small wave as she rises to her feet, Natasha following after.
You stay rooted in place on the couch, refusing to even acknowledge his presence as he putters about in the kitchen, waiting until your friends leave before finally making his way into the living room.
Your eyes don’t leave your hands as he takes a seat on the floor in front of you, his hands, one cold and one warm, finding yours and squeezing gently.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut and trying to take deep breaths.
If you were to look at him, you’d see that his face is confused, not angry. Not a hint of anger could be found within him. If anything, he’s upset that you hadn’t told him before. That you didn’t feel comfortable confiding in him and telling him the truth.
The entire time he was under the impression that you were enjoying the sex and getting just as much out of it as he was.
“Why are you apologizing, sweet girl?”
You sniffle and shake your head, fear icing your veins.
You don’t want him to be mad at you and you don’t want him to feel offended.
“I just... I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head and reaches one hand up to cup your jaw, raising your head enough so that you finally, finally look into his eyes.
Your beautiful eyes are filled with tears and it makes his heart ache in his chest.
“Why the tears, honey, what’s wrong?”
You shake your head and sniffle, dropping your gaze only to raise it when he squeezes your chin.
“C’mon, sweet girl, you can talk to me. I... I don’t want you to ever be afraid to talk to me, okay? What’s got you so upset?”
You take a deep breath and squeeze his hand, trying to muster up your courage.
“I just... I don’t want to make you mad.”
He furrows his brows and shakes his head, absolutely flabbergasted at the fact that you think he’d be mad at you for being honest.
“Why would I ever be mad, baby? If you’re upset, I wanna know what I can do to make you feel better.”
You take another deep breath then slowly nod.
“I just... I know that sex is a sensitive topic for a lot of guys. Especially... their performance. And yours is great! The sex is great and I love it and you’re amazing! I just... I haven’t... ya’know. I never have with anyone else either. I’m starting to think that I can only do it by myself,” you whisper glumly, your shoulders sinking in.
Bucky is quiet for a moment. He’d already heard every word you’d spoken to Natasha and Yelena, and, he’s not gonna lie, it punches at his pride to know that his girl isn't enjoying it as much as he is. All he wants is for you to feel your best in every aspect of life.
“Well, why don’t we talk about this a bit more, huh? You said that it’s not just me, but everyone you’ve been with?”
He knows this isn’t about him, it’s about you, but he really hopes that you’re not trying to soften the blow. If other people have made you cum, he wants to know how and when and then he wants to cut their fingers off for ever touching you.
You nod, sniffling. “Yeah, I just... I don’t know if I get in my head too much or if I’m... not comfortable enough, but I just... I can’t.”
He nods slowly, trying to gather his thoughts and figure out a solution.
“What can I do to make you more comfortable, honey?”
You shake your head and push to your feet, hating every word of this conversation.
“I am comfortable with you, Buck. I just... forget I said anything, it doesn’t matter anyway.”
His long fingers wind around your wrist, stopping you from fleeing like you so desperately want to.
“It does matter, honey. It matters a lot, actually. I’m not mad and I’m not offended. I just... I want you to feel the same intimacy that I feel when we have sex. It’s... amazing. And I want you to experience it. So tell me how I can make you feel better.”
Your glossy eyes raise to his and, when you see nothing but honesty and love, you nod slowly.
“I don’t know what’s missing or what needs to happen. You’ve got me really close, but I just.. maybe I think about it too much? I don’t know.”
He cups your cheeks and presses the softest kiss to your forehead.
“You’re gonna need to direct me, baby. Next time, you’re gonna need to tell me what you like, what feels good, okay? And when you get close, you tell me and I’m gonna keep going until you actually cum, is that all right?”
You nod again.
“Okay.”
He kisses your lips gently then pulls you into a tight embrace.
“Okay.”
~*~
The next time the opportunity to be intimate arises, it’s after a small get-together at Yelena’s place.
You’ve already had a sizeable glass of wine, and now all you want is your boyfriend’s hands on your body.
He pushes open the door to your shared apartment, a grin on his lips as you pepper kisses along his jawline.
“Hey, sweetheart. You want something? Hmm?”
You nod, lips not leaving his skin as you push his jacket off of his shoulders.
“C’mere.” His metal arm dips beneath your thighs, hoisting you up, while his flesh arm wraps around your waist, keeping you held tightly against his chest as you wrap your legs around him.
He leads the two of you through the apartment and into the bedroom, laying you down gently on the bed and pulling away to pull his shirt off.
You shimmy out of your dress and toss it to the ground, leaving you only in your matching black lace set.
Bucky’s eyes devour your figure and he’s quick to shed his pants and join you on the bed, crawling between your legs and smoothing his hands over your thighs.
“How you feelin’, pretty girl? You okay?”
You nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as he looks at you like you’re the only woman on the planet.
And to him, you might as well be.
“You gonna let me eat you out, baby? Please?”
How could you possibly say no to that?
When you nod at him, he grins, beyond pleased, and slides his fingers beneath the fabric on your hips.
He pulls your panties down your legs and brings them up to his face, holding your gaze while taking a deep breath through his nose.
“Fuck, you smell good. Taste even better, though.” And with that, he situates himself between your thighs and flattens his tongue against you, licking you from your dripping hole up to your throbbing clit.
You sigh happily, fingers tangling through his hair as he works his tongue over your clit and dips two fingers into your heat.
“Just like that...” you whisper, your head digging into the pillows as he plays you like a fiddle.
He continues fucking his fingers into you, pausing when you give a particularly hard tug on his hair then repeating exactly what made you do that.
You can feel it slowly building, each pass of his tongue and thrust of his fingers brings you slightly closer, and you can’t help but feel your heart begin to race.
“Fuck... just like that, Bucky...”
He follows your instructions perfectly, doing exactly what makes you feel good.
He watches your face scrunch, feels your heels dig into his back and your nails scratch at his scalp and - Goddamn is this what he was missing out on? This is what you look like when you’re really about to cum?
It takes all of his self-control to not grab his phone and take a picture of you.
Your chest rises and falls more rapidly and your eyes are squeezed shut as your walls start fluttering around his fingers.
Fuck, you look gorgeous.
It’s such a strange feeling, having him bring you closer and closer to the edge. It’s so foreign yet so right and you tug at his hair and roll your hips up to his face.
“Bucky, I... I’m gonna.... oh fuck, please... I’m gonna cum, please!”
God, hearing that is like music to his ears.
He continues, bringing his free hand up to yours when you reach for it.
You interlock your fingers and grind your teeth together as your release washes over you, far more intense than anything you’ve ever been able to bring yourself.
A sound that’s half-moan half-gasp falls from your lips and you squeeze his hand harder while your walls clamp down around his fingers.
Bliss fills you, sparks flying from every nerve in your body, head to toe, and Bucky watches in awe.
He’s not sure how he believed you before when you were faking. The way you look when you cum is something he’s never going to be able to forget now.
Your body is wound so tight, your thighs clenched around his head and your nails digging into his scalp. Your walls are pulsing and clenching and, fuck, it feels incredible. He can’t wait to feel it around his cock.
He continues slowly fucking his fingers in and out of you while working his tongue over your clit, only pulling away when you tug your hips back.
He smacks his lips together and pulls away, his eyes connecting with yours.
Your chest heaves and your forehead has a light sheen of sweat on it, and you look like the Goddess you are.
“How you feel, baby?” He asks gently, smoothing his hands up your sides and rubbing his thumbs over the soft skin of your stomach.
You only nod at him, your hands coming to rest on his wrists.
“Words, baby. I need words.”
You lick your lips and take a deep breath before speaking.
“I feel good, Buck. I-I feel really good,” you whisper, eyes prickling with tears at the intensity of the moment.
He smiles lovingly down at you and leans in for a gentle kiss.
You taste yourself on his tongue and it makes the moment even more erotic.
“Gonna let me fuck you, baby?” He asks against your mouth, trailing his lips down your neck and kissing your skin gently.
You nod, sighing softly as tears trail back into your hairline.
He pulls back for a moment, just long enough to situate himself comfortably between your thighs and align himself with your entrance.
And then he’s pushing into you slowly, making you feel every single inch of it.
Your mouth drops open and your legs wind around his hips, pulling him even deeper than before. He’s pressing against every sensitive spot inside you and it feels heavenly.
“Fuck, you feel good, baby. Feel so good... God... nice n’ tight... wet... shit you’re like heaven.” He rasps the words against your throat, lips trailing up over your skin to rest on yours for a quick moment before he pulls back to gaze into your eyes.
“I love you, pretty girl. I really do.”
Your heart swells and you lean up to kiss him, gasping against his lips when he pulls his hips back and slams them forward.
He starts a steady pace, smoothing one of his hands over yours and interlocking your fingers.
“I wanna feel you cum for me again. Wanna feel it on my cock, baby. God, you look so pretty when you cum. Wanna take a picture of it and frame it, I swear.”
You squeeze your eyes shut and whine softly, arching your back and groaning when he hits deeper inside of you at the new angle.
“Right there... oh fuck, please...”
He buries his head in your neck, peppering the skin there with kisses while his free hand travels between your bodies to find your clit.
He circles the bundle of nerves with expert precision, lifting his lips to yours to swallow your moans.
You’re barely kissing. No, it’s more of just breathing each other’s breaths and moaning in each other’s mouths, but the intimacy is unmatched and the passion is flaming through your soul.
You wind your free arm around his shoulders, pulling him down to press more of his weight against you, and you can’t help but feel more secure and more comfortable.
“I... Bucky... I’m gonna... oh fuck.”
He nods, showering your face in kisses.
“Cum for me, honey. C’mon, please. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.”
You can’t very well deny him when he’s asking you so nicely.
His fingers move against your clit faster and faster while his hips continue grinding into yours firmly, making your toes curl and your back arch further.
Your chest presses against his and you rake your nails against his back so hard you're sure you’re drawing blood, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.
Not when you’re falling headfirst into the most intense and powerful climax of your life.
Your vision goes white and your ears start to ring, and all you can do is squeeze around him.
Your legs tighten around his waist, your nails dig into his flesh, and your walls clamp down around his cock as fireworks erupt in your belly.
Bucky fucks you through it, keeping his pace steady as you tremble and convulse beneath him, your mouth open as soft whines fall from it.
God, the feeling of you, all hot and tight and wet around him... he’s ready to die happily now that he’s gotten to truly experience the glory that is having you cum around him.
His pride swells and he can't help the way his ego inflates when he pulls his head back to look at your pretty face.
He did that.
He made you feel that good.
He’s the only man, no, the only person in the world besides yourself that’s ever made you cum. And he’s going to be the only one.
And now that he knows how to do it, now that he's gotten you there with his mouth and his cock, he’s never going to get enough of it. He’s gotta make up for lost time, doesn't he?
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Text
UNTOUCHED. 18+
pairing. dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader
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word count. 2967
summary. you thought your crush on your dad’s best friend would never be reciprocated. but it turns out, that’s not true
warnings. 18+ only!! age gap (20s, 40s) dbf, 'experienced' virgin reader, body worship, titty stuff, fingering, unprotected pinv sex, soft dom bucky. minors dni
rewrote this from a request I did
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You often felt a spiral of shame surrounding your thoughts. Thoughts that no one should be having of a parents friend. 
And yet, it was happening. 
These abashed notions of your father's best friend clouded your mind far too regularly for you not to question your moral judgment. You would often find moments where you told yourself lies to feel better, saying that it was natural to feel this way about someone you can't have - someone you shouldn't have. But with most things in life, the more you can't have it, the more you want it.
This impromptu lakehouse vacation with your parents and said friend has been the most challenging strain on your ethical code. Every stolen glance feeling that much more intimate, given the circumstance. Almost confined within the same household for the past several days - forced into family dinners, nudged into game nights, all of it intensifying your attraction towards him.
These thoughts of utter infatuation continue as you watch Bucky and your dad at the pool table across the room, your pen tapping rhythmically on your chin as you pretend to think about the words on the notepad. Your perfect little ruse while you gawk at the hunky man leaning over the felt table, large bicep flexed with the cue slotted underneath.
Staring at him like that with eyes so eager and attentive made you feel juvenile —pathetic— the whirlwind of schoolgirl-like emotions that followed with a crush so prohibited made you feel confused. It would've been easier to take a liking to a guy your own age, to a guy you'd maybe have a shot with, but no. It was on someone completely off-limits and someone you should not be thinking of in the way you do.
The illogical connotations that followed with the infatuation seemed to heighten everything - everything within your little delusion growing more and more dramatised. 
So now, when you meet Bucky's momentary gaze from across the way for the fifth time, you begin to overthink everything, all prior thoughts spiralling out of control. With an uneasy inhale, you briefly drop your head into your hands and then collect your things, bunching everything into a pile - leaving it neatly on the coffee table.
You slip out of the main room, going undetected as you head for your bedroom across the house. Once within your own space, you take a moment to compose yourself - to give yourself a second to regulate the dirty thoughts that hogged the rational parts of your brain. 
But to no avail, it fails. 
Instead, you make your way into your ensuite and turn on the water, hoping that your second shower of the night will clean your mind this time.
You allow yourself some time in the shower, standing in near silence as you lather the soapy loofah on your skin, doing everything you can to fight off the want. All earlier feelings slowly being replaced by a slither of sanctity.
After a short while, you shut off the water and wrap a towel around your body, patting yourself dry before rubbing on some quick creams. Opening the door, you see an outline of someone sitting on the side of your bed - their —his— broad, upper figure acting as a surely silhouette in the moonlight. 
"You're in the wrong room," you say - speaking softer than you'd have liked. "Shouldn't be in here," you add, gripping your towel tighter.
"No?" Bucky hums, almost pleased. Cocking his head to the side as his eyes slowly rake over you, gaze trailing up the exposed parts of your body that are lit in the moon's cast.
You shake your head, pointing at the door. 
Instead of doing as you asked, he reaches for the lamp on your bedside table and flicks it on. Turning his attention back to you, he scans over your body with that subtle hint of possessiveness he often wears around you. Blue eyes bloomed up, taking you all in. 
You rush over and hastily grab his hand - pulling down on the chained switch to turn it off. But his hand underneath yours pulls back down on it, letting in a gentle flood of light, allowing him to see you clearly again. 
And only now do you really see his face. Eyes primal as they look up at you standing between his spread thighs, hand wrapped tightly over his on the pull-chain. Keeping his focus on you, he brings his spare hand up to rest on your hip, palm grazing along the towel covering the curve.
"Saw you looking at me earlier," he finally speaks, words faint and low as he slips his hands into both of yours - holding them.
You gently shake your head and divert your gaze to your hands, looking down at the difference in size - how his large ones almost engulf yours. "I don't know what you're talking about," you lie, tone breathy. 
He brings your hands towards his face and places a soft kiss on the back of each, keeping his eyes locked at you from above. "Liar," he whispers into the skin. "Thought your parents taught you not to lie."
"Don't talk about them," you utter, breath catching in your chest, watching your hands in his. 
"You don't want them to know you got a thing for your old man's friend?" he asks, voice silky as he fiddles with your fingers. The act like a tender caress, his big, rough hands uncharacteristically gentle with you - everything like you pictured them to be. 
You shake your head a singular time, the motion faint.
"I don't want my friend to know I have a thing for his daughter either."
Meeting his now earnest eyes, you see that he held truth within his confession - his expression purely genuine under your focus. His fingers continue with the playful teasing in yours, his sole attention locked on you standing between his wide-spread thighs.
He carefully releases your hands and lets them hang at your sides, your fingertips skimming at his knees. Your eyes hone in on him, intently watching him resume his visual survey of you.
His hands reach for the opening of your towel, looking up to a hesitant expression on your face - features pulled together with uncertainty. This was all so foreign to you, and you didn't know what do to with yourself. You've wanted this so bad, for so long, but now that it was actually and finally about to happen, you felt at a loss. 
"You haven't done this before?" he asks rhetorically, knowing what that tentative look means.
With your silence, his question gets answered. That same possessive expression resurfacing. 
He weaves a finger to the opening at the bottom of the towel, hooking it aside to reveal the very upper of your thigh - the soft, plushy skin looking the more tempting. 
"I'll be gentle with you," he whispers, voice hoarse as his finger slips higher, exposing the crease just under your hip bone - that irresistible line right next to your cunt. "You tell me to stop, and I will."
Though no words come from your lips - silently agreeing.
With his singular finger parting higher, the towel untucks from its hold around your chest, the fabric undoing and falling to the floor - pooling around your feet as you stand naked in front of him. His fully clothed self juxtaposing the sheer bareness of you. 
His attention dances over your body slowly, taking all of you in - letting the image curate in his brain for safekeeping. Eyes temporarily focus in on your tits a mere foot away from his face, slowly travelling down your stomach and finally to the beautiful, tempting, untouched thing between your thighs. Your pussy.
He places his palms back over your hips, hands almost dwarfing you as he guides you closer - making you take a step towards him. 
"So no one has ever..." he starts, bringing his hands up to cup your tits. "Seen them, touched them?" he asks, rolling them gently, eyes flicking up at you.
"No," you utter, bottom lip bitten as you eagerly watch him palm your breasts. 
"Good," he murmurs, brushing his thumbs over the perk nipples. 
The action causes a hitch in your breath, his touch so unlike that of your own during late-night solo sessions - the feeling of another person's touch coating your body with goosebumps.
He leans in closer to you and presses a kiss into your rib, the faint contact of his lips on your skin making you shudder. Though, he doesn't pull away. He continues with a trail of soft kisses up the underneath part of one of your tits, lips grazing along the dome-like shape - eyes locked on yours.
He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, wrapping his lips around it - tongue flicking over it leisurely between kisses. Shame and lust and excitement rise to heat your cheeks, and you drop your head backwards at the feeling, puffed lips parting as you squeeze your eyes shut. 
"Feel good, hm?" he muffles against the plush of your tit, moving to the other - giving it the same attention. 
You hum sweetly, mind blank. You bring your hands to rest on Bucky's broad shoulders, your fingers digging into the swell of his muscle as you use him for stability - thumbs brushing against the base of his neck. You straighten your neck to look down at him, watching the way his lips caress your nipples.
You glide a hand along the side of his head, teasing fingers dragging across his scalp as if to hold him there - like you were trying to keep him glued to you. But he pulls away, and you bashfully rip your hand from its placement in his hair. 
"Sorry."
Resting his hands on your waist, he looks up at you, turning his attention away from the wetness around your nipples. "For what?"
"Think I made it awkward," you whisper.
"When?"
"Now. Just then."
"You didn't," he assures, trailing kisses down the valley of your chest, working featherlight pecks along the top of your abdomen.
"No?"
"No," he confirms.
His hands stroke over your hips, palms light and tender as they caress you. He nudges you forward, making you take another step closer - his grip directing you and making you perch upon his thigh, guiding you to straddle it. 
His placement on your hips slips upwards, moving into a gentle but surely hold in the middle of your back. Like he was taking charge, doing the thinking for you - letting you turn your mind off. 
You loosely drape your arms off his shoulders. "I haven't..." you start, pausing as if to think of the words. "Done... this before."
"I know," he hums and leans in to place a kiss at the base of your throat, trailing them upwards - working up to your jaw. "Don't worry about it. I got it."
With one hand now on the side of your face, the other in its spot on your lower back, he pulls you towards him and rolls over into the mattress, holding you to him as he does so. He repositions you underneath him - hovering from above to your side. Almost cradling you with his lips resuming their previous spot on your throat. 
Bucky leisurely grazes his hand down your stomach, moving steadily towards your inner thighs. He's slow and teasing with it, making you wait - letting the anticipation build impossibly further before he finally slides to where you wanted him. 
He slides the tips of his two middle fingers over your cunt, the pads coating with a creamy sheen of your arousal as he gently parts your folds. Like the feeling of his mouth on your breasts, this sensation was so unlike that of your own. The foreign touch of another person is solely enough to elicit gentle dulcet noises from you.
He pulls his forehead from that spot in the crook of your neck, adjusting to glance down at you - his eyes low and lidded as he looks into your eager ones. Your pretty eyes so trusting and willing under his attention.
He teases his middle finger around your entrance, the pressure almost non-existent as he circles over it. Just slow movements as he watches the knitting of your brows - the rest of your features blissfully pulling together. He's being so softly dominant with you, every touch made with tender precision.
He eases his finger into your cunt, the thickness of it a slight stretch as he curls it up into you, hooking up against that spongy spot. He keeps it there, pressing a kiss into your cheek.
Ever so slowly, he begins rocking it into you - the heel of his palm rubbing nicely against your clit as he does so. He's patient, listening to your body, waiting for it to tell him what it wants. 
Even though you were inexperienced, that didn't mean you don't know your body - know what it wants. You've had years with yourself cultivating your likes, but you've just never had someone to fulfil them. You knew the things you need and where you needed them, and it happened that Bucky knew it, too. He knew it all without you having to voice it. 
His finger pumps into your pussy, the motion a slow, steady rocking, moving into you as if he was trying to familiarise you - get you used to the feeling of having someone else inside of you.
"Listen to how wet you are."
He drags along the inside of your cunt before easing out and bringing his finger up to you, showing you the ringed milky sheen above his last knuckle. He licks over the skin to lap up your arousal - like the act was muscle memory, a process he didn't need to think about.
Your eyes compliant and eager as you look up at him, darting over his face as if to process what had just happened. The warm, fluttery feeling of being indulged pushed you into a tizzy and the look on his face as he did it, expanded the need unbearably further between your thighs.
He coos softly and readjusts you up the length of the bed. Cupping the back of your head, he peels it from the mattress and places a pillow underneath - getting you comfortable. Taking the lead, taking care of you. 
Kneeling between your open thighs, he tugs off his tee, his upper body like everything you had pictured - rugged, sculpted, beefy, a true sight.
And he was on his knees, between your legs.
You lay there somewhat patiently, mind whirling as you watch his hands slip into the waistband of his plaid lounge bottoms, the slight force down on the fabric exposing himself to you. Your eyes rake down his stomach and to his happy trail, eager cock standing attentively below - the sight almost intimidating. 
The first real cock you've seen and sure to ruin all future expectations.
He hovers over you, his weight anchored on a singular hand beside your head - the other wrapped around his cock, stroking himself as he guides his head closer.
"I'll go slow," he whispers, his voice soft and gentle, speaking mere inches from your lips.
You nod, the motion faint as you slip your hands into the sides of his hair, fingers skimming his scalp. Doing what you've read - doing what you've seen, not letting your lack of experience awkwardly taint the moment you've been waiting for. 
With his grip on the base of his cock, he nudges himself closer - his leaking tip pressing up against the warmth of your cunt. He pushes his head through your messy folds, collecting your arousal as if it were lube. 
Easing his head into your pussy, he stills, letting you adjust to the unfamiliar sensation - the stretch of your walls opening to accustom him. Keeping his eyes on yours, he looks out for discomfort, only to find none - your features clouded with lust and bliss and obedience. 
With your silent encouragement, he slips in a little more of himself - the girth of his upper shaft creating a mellow, tame burn in your cunt.
"Such a pro," he praises, moving the hand from his cock to place on the side of your face - his palm warm as it rests against your cheek, holding you. "S'good," he mutters, tone strained as he kisses under your jaw.
Your dulcet, sultry noises ring like music to Bucky's ears - the sounds like everything he's imagined them to be, if not better. The soft, breathy, whiney moans combined with the wet clicking of your cunt, egg him on more than he thought to be possible. More than he was used to.
He momentarily parts focus from your face, instead glancing down your stomach to look between your thighs, watching himself sink into you - the swallowing of your pussy pulling him back in for more. The creamy ring forming around the base of his cock. His new favourite sight.
Your eyes so full of lust and trust - everything about you in this position igniting something deeply possessive within him. 
And though you were still new to sex, he wanted to ruin you - obliterate your standards so that you keep coming back for more. He knew in his mind that was wrong, but when he watches your face knit with waves of bliss, he can't help but think he's not alone in that feeling.
He knew this wasn't going to be a one-time thing. And in your heart, you knew that, too.
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lwk hate this, but in my drafts so worth posting
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assembletheimagines · 23 days
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Warnings: 18+ to interact, choking, cream pie, f!reader , cum stuffed back in
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Bucky's big hand wraps around your throat and gently squeezes.
And it's just enough to make your pussy clench around his cock, a new wave of slick gushing from between your thighs and soaking his dick.
It makes his smile curve into something dark and seductive. His strokes staying rough and deep as he keeps pressure around your throat. "Oh does the pretty girl like it when I choke her?" He hums and your gasps increase, eyes closing as he keeps hitting the soft spot inside you with each thrust.
"Please," you don't know if you're begging for more or what but your fingers dig into the arm that's connected to your throat. It keeps him right there and his eyes watch as yours roll back in pleasure.
The sounds of skin smacking against skin resonate in the room before a loud gasp falls from your lips and then you're shaking. "That's it," he coos but you're already gone.
Your thighs shake as your walls pulsate around his shaft. Your orgasm consuming you and leaving your mind blank. You soak his cock with your cum that it drips down to his balls and the groans he lets out ends in a growl.
He wants you like this always, his hips picking up speed, fucking you through your orgasm and chasing after his own. And fuck, you keep sucking him back in deeper, body begging for him to cum.
And he can't say no, getting a few more sloppy thrusts in before his cock twitches and makes him press in deeper. Filling you with his seed.
When it finally stops, his hand lets go of your throat, thumb softly stroking your skin. You whine as he slowly pulls out, but you're not empty for long. The fingers that were wrapped around your throat only a few moments ago, scoop his cum that's dripping from your pussy and stuffs it back in.
"Don't want you wasting anything."
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buckypinetrees · 8 months
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Warm Pt. 2
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Pairing: Bucky x Avenger!Reader (No use of Y/N)
Summary: After Bucky warms your bed and leaves you wanting more, Reader decides it's time for a little payback. Continuation of Warm
Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, enemies-to-lovers, oral sex (m receiving), orgasm denial
A/N: Thank you all for all of the love you showed towards part one. I truly was not expecting it to blow up the way it did and with so many people asking for a part two I knew I had to continue the story.
You were screwed. Absolutely screwed. Bucky had made you see stars last night and disappeared before you could return the favor. If you got out of this bed, his cocky smirk would be waiting for you, to gloat about how fast you were willing to give in to him. And if you didn’t get out of bed, you would be stuck in the same position you were in yesterday cold and hungry. So, you rose from the bed, fighting the urge to hide from him forever, and made your way to the kitchen.
Bucky’s smug grin was present as you entered the kitchenette. The smell of food wafting towards your nose and your stomach growled. Placing a hand atop it, you tried to silence the noise.
“Hungry?” He asked knowing full well you were. 
“What’s the catch, Barnes?” you questioned, eyeing him.
“No, catch. You just haven’t eaten, and I know you won’t make it five minutes out there fending for yourself” he smirked back at you.
Defeated you grabbed a plate from him. He had won every spat you two had since you arrived. You acted like a toddler, and you couldn’t take care of yourself. You hadn’t gotten any firewood and you were so cold you allowed him into your bed. And now you were eating the food he had managed to find. But you were done with that. Last night was a lapse of judgment. Today you would be stronger. You had to be. 
“How does it taste, doll?” Bucky seemed genuine as he gazed down at you. 
“It tastes all right,” you said back not daring to give him the satisfaction of knowing it was delicious. 
“You’re a bad liar” he shrugged at you and continued. “I’m not hungry after my feast last night so eat up little dove.” His voice dripped with sensuality as he shot you a wink. Your face immediately flushed as you mumbled some excuse about wanting to get started with your day. You pushed your way out of the cabin and made your way to the tool shed. You had two goals today. One, get firewood, and two, get some food. You found a worn ax and a shoddy fishing pole, but it would have to do.
You began to trek into the woods, careful this time to mark where you had been so you wouldn’t get lost. Another embarrassment on your part yesterday was having to follow Bucky back to the cabin after you got lost. That little outburst shouldn’t have happened if you were truly an Avenger. In the heat of battle, you would’ve been dead if you had lost your judgment like that. You had to do better.
Finding good firewood took longer than you expected. Searching for a dry enough tree in this snowy area was hard. But finally, you found a clearing of younger trees. Your muscles screamed as you brought the ax to the trunk. But repeatedly you swung, letting your anger and hatred toward Bucky take over. When you were done you had enough wood to last you a few days so you wouldn’t have to return for a while. But the task wasn’t done. You had to lug the wood back to the cabin. With as much as you cut, it would take at least two trips. You didn’t want to leave the ax either so maybe three trips then. Whistling sounded from the path you came from. 
“Hey there, little dove. Need some help?” Bucky’s voice rang out from behind you.
“I don’t need your help” You began to pick up the logs you could manage while also carrying the ax. 
“Really? You don’t need my help?” he scoffs, “You didn’t seem to mind my help last night.” He steps forward grabbing the ax out of your hand. His words have you curling your toes as you remember exactly what that pretty mouth did last night. 
Deciding not to grace him with a response, you simply picked up what you could and began making your way back. Bucky continued to hum as you walked back to the cabin, carrying whatever you couldn’t. The sun was already starting to set by the time you made it back. You would not have time to go look for food. Once again having to rely on Bucky for sustenance. 
You dropped the firewood off and turned to Bucky, but a response had already started to form on his lips. 
“Don’t worry, little dove. I know you were out working hard so I made sure to get enough food for the both of us. You know this would be much easier if you decided to work with me?”
“Thank you,” was the only response you could muster. Today you would accept his help but tomorrow with all the other necessities taken care of you would be fine. 
Bucky seemed pleased by this response and made his way to the kitchen to start cooking. You had to admit, Bucky was a damn good cook. He made the stuff he caught and trapped out here actually taste good. 
“Oh, by the way, doll,” Bucky said to you over his shoulder while he cooked, “I get the bed tonight.” You could not believe your ears. There was no way in hell you were giving up the bed. 
“No, you can sleep on the couch again,” you said angrily. 
“You didn’t let me finish. You can sleep in the bed too, but I am not sleeping on that damn couch again” Bucky said in a matter-of-fact tone. 
Despite your protests, it seemed like Bucky’s mind was made up, so you attempted to outwit him. After dinner you let him shower, quickly rushing to the bed. You would attempt to already be asleep so he would feel bad and have no choice but to sleep on the couch. 
Despite this after about an hour you heard the door to the bedroom squeak open. The side of the bed furthest from you dipped from the weight of Bucky sitting down. Your mind raced. He really had no care for what you had wanted, and sure maybe it was a bitch move on your part but here he was cuddling up next to you. It took everything in you to continue pretending you were asleep. Eventually, you heard his breath even out as he fell asleep next to you. 
Your sleep never seemed to come. You stared at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity as you tried to sleep next to the man who frustrated you to your core. Giving up now, however, would only make you seem weak in his presence. You tried to close your eyes one last time, as you heard a whimper fall past Bucky's lips. There must have been a mistake because when you listened closely, you heard your name slip past his lips. Not the nicknames he had deigned to call you. No, your own pure unadulterated name. 
You had come up with a new idea as you felt his hips lift off the bed in his sleep. Maybe a little payback for what he did to you yesterday was in order. Your hand traveled the length of his unclothed torso. Rubbing small circles against his nipples as he let out groans in his sleep. Your other hand traveled down to his waistband, playing with the fabric it found there. For a second you hesitated. Perhaps this wasn’t truly okay. He couldn’t consent like this. You pulled your hand back away from him but as you did his metal one grasped your wrist. 
With glossy eyes, Bucky simply said “Please little dove. Need you.” 
You shushed him. “Let me take care of you Sergeant.” Ulterior motives playing in your mind. 
You rose to kneel beside him. You trailed your mouth over each unclothed inch of his body until your lips met his waistband. Taking the fabric into your mouth you pulled it into your teeth before snapping it against his skin earning a groan from him. Your hand moved to palm his length as you continued your ministrations of leaving wet kisses against his chest. 
“Please doll,” he begged underneath you. 
You wanted him truly worked up for what you were about to do to him. You slowly moved his underwear down freeing his cock. His length bounced up to hit his chest as he sucked in a breath from the cold air. The tip already glistening with precum, but you avoided the area he wanted you most. Moving to leave kisses on his thick thighs. Little moans and whimpers fell out of his mouth. Your tongue darted out to soothe the red skin where you left bite marks. Eventually, you made your way up to his balls, licking at the seam between them. He bucked his hips up towards your mouth wanting more. 
“Remember what you told me last night Bucky? That I needed to learn patience? It seems like you were projecting.” Having the soldier become a moaning mess beneath you was only driving your ego. His moans and the way his hands dug into the sheets made your underwear into a puddle. But you had a plan, you couldn’t lose sight of it. 
Taking one of his balls into his mouth you began to rub his cock with the heel of your hand. His hips jutted against you as his mouth hung open. Once he was properly worked up you kissed your way up his length. Your tongue darting out to lick the angry red tip.
“God, Y-yes,” Bucky moaned.
“God can’t hear you now,” you say as you finally take his length into your mouth. Your tongue brushed over the veins that protrude from his cock. His hand metal hand clutching the sheets and his flesh one comes to brush your cheek. His eyes meet yours as he shows gentleness at this moment. You flush for the first time all night from his show of kindness even though you’ve been far more physically intimate with him. Bucky does not try to force you further down, simply enjoying the pleasure you are willing to give him at your own pace. You take as much of him into your mouth as you can manage, your throat closing around him in a gag making his thighs tighten up. Your hand moved back up to cup his balls. He threw his head back at your actions. 
“Little dove, I- I’m so close.” Bucky chokes out in between broken moans. 
You feel his balls tighten in your grip and you abruptly pull off him. His eyes open instantly going wide at his denied orgasm. You remove yourself from the bed smirking back at him. 
“Goodnight Bucky,” You step off the bed and make your way to the couch, silently celebrating your triumph. 
Tags: @unaxv
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