⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐀 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞
Slow mornings were the best on your farm — the sounds and smells and sights of the early hours painted a picture for how the day to come would no doubt pan out. It also helped having an insatiable husband, you supposed.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈
☼ Farmer!Husband!Bucky Barnes x Wife!F!Reader
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕
☼ 2.0k
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔
☼ Fluff, Bucky is a horn dog and a menace
჻჻჻ SMUT: Unprotected piv, outdoor sex
჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, CMNF
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆
☼ I don't know, I just... don't know. He's a weakness, sue me.
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎
☼ Hey, Gringo by KALEO
჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕
☼ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer
჻჻჻ Week 3 — Bent Over
— Masterlist
𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬 ‘𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
The stirring of the farm was always a symphony of sounds that filled your heart with joy: the clucking of the chickens and morning crow of the roosters, the loud calls and brays of the horses and cows, not to mention the dogs snuffling around the yard for the fresh tracks of wild rabbits and stray foxes. It was a sight both you and Bucky had worked so hard to achieve, and for the rest of your days, you would treasure it, protect it.
The smell of hearty pancake batter wafted from the mixing bowl in your hand as you worked, preparing for the feast that Bucky would inevitably be starving for once he woke with the sun that had started to peak over the horizon.
Farm life always started early, and for a change, you had beaten Bucky in rising and beginning the day, but not without good reason – the silk chemise flowing and brushing your thighs would be a welcome sight for your husband, that you could guarantee.
You started to hum quietly, swaying your hips to the rhythm in your mind as you placed the bowl on the counter to ready the pan, when you heard the loud trill of the alarm clock and an even louder groan of protest.
“Coffee,” you muttered, grabbing Bucky’s favourite mug from the cupboard just as you heard shuffling footsteps down the hall, heading straight for the kitchen.
“Well,” Bucky rasped, and you turned to smile at your groggy and sleepy husband, who was eyeing you with a brewing hunger. “Ain’t you an angel, huh?” The kettle whistled, and you shrugged, determinedly getting back on task when strong arms suddenly wrapped around your middle, a warm weight enveloping your back and pushing you against the counter. “Good mornin’, Peach.”
“Morning, babe,” you whispered back, turning your head to kiss him on the lips softly. “How’d you sleep?”
Bucky shrugged. “Jus’ fine, darlin’,” he yawned, pulling away to start making his coffee – strong and black, no cream or sugar. “Woulda been better if I got to wake up with my girl in my arms– better yet, wrapped around her.”
“You horn dog,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Later. Let’s eat breakfast first.”
Plates of pancakes, bacon, and fruit vanished faster than you could refill them. Bucky was sweeping the dirty dishes from the table quicker than you could even offer to help clean up – not that you’d complain, there was a lot to take care of today.
The first order of business, though? Taking Bucky up on his offer.
“Alright,” Bucky said from the kitchen, the clatter of plates in the dish drainer making you smile – one less job for you to take care of; bless him. “I’m goin’ to get dressed. Get this day started so I can come home to my Peach, huh?”
“‘Kay,” you called back, stretching in your chair before standing. The wooden floor was cool under your feet as you padded to the front door to take in the morning air, a happy sigh leaving your lips as you opened the screen door, allowing the nicer smells of the countryside to fill your senses; morning dew, fresh hay, and the faint scent of cedar.
Mac and Lilo were bounding in the yard with loud yips and barks, chasing their tails with the excitement of work to do.
The porch was glowing in the morning rays, the timber planks painted with yellow sunlight, while the plants that were placed by the porch steps swayed ever so softly in the warm breeze. It was a beautiful morning, the epitome of tranquillity.
Boot falls sounded behind you, and the door creaked open. Then, everything came to a halt – the sounds of the morning dulled and became distant as you felt eyes roving your figure, a promise for what was to come.
“Goddamn, Peach, baby,” Bucky whistled, and before you could turn to face him, your front was crowded against the railing. His frame overpowered you, his very presence was demanding, and the hunger in his touch made you shiver. “How’s a fella meant to get any work done ‘round here when you’re walkin’ ‘round like this?”
“You didn’t seem to mind it in the kitchen,” you replied, smirking and looking over your shoulder at his face to see a brow raised incredulously.
“My wife was also in the safety of our home.” Bucky’s hands gripped your waist, the fabric of your chemise riding further up your thigh. “Who knows, sweetheart,” he continued in a low voice, his breath hot against the shell of your ear as he moved to palm your hips with his callused hands. “One might think you wanna get caught out here–bein’ fucked by your husband as he claims what’s his.”
“Oh my god,” you gasped. “Buck-”
A squeak of shock left your lips when Bucky suddenly pulled you closer, his hands holding your hips tightly so your ass was against his crotch – his cock was straining at the fly of his jeans. “Y’see what you do to me, Peach?” he breathed, voice husky with need. “Walkin’ round here like this–fuck, I’m a lucky man.”
Heat settled in your cunt with a dull throb, and you moaned, pitch high and wanton. “Fuck me,” you rushed, and he chuckled. “Bucky, please, hurry up–need you.”
The sound of Bucky’s belt buckle undoing echoed so loudly through the morning air you heard it over the roar of blood in your ears. “So sweet for me, Peach,” he drawled, his hand running up your back and pulling the chemise with it. “Don’t need this anymore, do we?”
Fabric flew over your vision – you were bare and gripping the rail for dear life. “Bucky.”
“Oh, baby,” he breathed, his fingers dancing across your skin until he cupped your bare ass in his hands. “Ain’t wearin’ anythin’ under- Wow.” Whistling appreciatively – much like the one he let loose in the kitchen, he stepped closer, his proximity forcing you to bend at the hip as he crowded you again. “If I knew that, sweetheart, I woulda fucked you in the kitchen, on the counter-” A kiss to your shoulder whilst his hand moved to spread your thighs, a quiet whimper leaving your lips. “In the dining room, on the fuckin’ table-” Another kiss to your shoulder, followed by a bite. “And against the damn front door.”
“You can–you can, just fuck me, please,” you mewled, your whole body tensing when his right hand circled your hip to cup your sex, his deft fingers playing your clit in the way that made you sing. “Fuck, fuck–c’mon, Bucky.”
“Who am I to deny my Peach,” Bucky chuckled. “Not when she’s asking so sweetly.”
The brush from the head of Bucky’s cock made your breath hitch. “Yesyes, oh fuck, yes,” you moaned, grinning when you felt him drive forward with a low groan, his forehead resting between your shoulder blades. Laughing breathily, you widened your stance, your feet spreading further apart.
“Always take me so well, baby,” Bucky huffed, his breath hot against your skin. “Jus’ like you were made for me–so fuckin’ hot and tight f’me.”
“Uh-huh,” you giggled, edging forward and slamming back into his hips to hear him cry out, his cock hitting all the right spots. “Want you to move, babe, fuck me.”
“A-Alright,” Bucky stuttered, slightly breathless, and you grinned wickedly. His hands rubbed up and down your sides, finally coming to settle on your hips. “I’ll fuck you, Peach. Don’t keep quiet on me, now–lemme hear you.”
You nodded and braced.
The pace started slow – long, deep thrusts that morphed into brutal pumps of his cock, each thrust punctuated with a loud grunt of pleasure from Bucky, a high moan from your own lips, and the wet sounds of him fucking you in earnest. “Bucky! Fuck, yes–ohmygod, don’t stop!”
“Don’t plan on it, sweetheart,” Bucky panted, his lips finding the spot on your neck with ease, and he began to suck harshly – the contrast of the sting of his lips and the all-encompassing brush of his cock made you cry out, gripping him and the porch rail like a vice. Slick started to run down your thighs, and you whimpered as Bucky moved one hand back to your clit. “You’re squeezin’ me, darlin’, fuck–you close already?”
Your breath hitched in your throat as Bucky worked your clit in fast, tight circles. “Yeah!”
A pleased hum rumbled in Bucky’s chest, and he stepped impossibly closer – almost becoming one with your trembling form. "Feel s'good around my cock, Peach, fuck.” The pace changed to be frantic, his hips pistoning in and out with unmatched desperation. “You ain’t allowed to wear anything under that pretty workin’ dress a’yours, baby. I want my cum dripping down your thighs all day–a reminder of just what I wanna do to you tonight."
“Oh!” Your voice could have carried out past the hills of your farm for all you cared if Bucky kept up this pace while promising more – you wouldn’t last. “Please! I won’t, I won’t, fuck-”
“Tha’s it, darlin’,” Bucky purred, his voice deep and alluring over your keening moan. “Lemme hear you, c’mon–cum for me, let go.”
“Bucky, Buck- ‘M close, don’t–”
“Fuckin’ let go for me, darlin’,” Bucky growled, and you whined loudly as your toes curled. “Good girl, gimme it; I need to feel you cum on my cock. C’mon.” His voice was wrecked, a low moan building in his throat as you seized in his grip.
“‘M coming! Bucky, fuck!”
Bucky choked on a gasp, his hips faltering as you fluttered and pulsed through your high. “Good god, baby,” he gritted out through his teeth, his grip on you becoming bruising as he pulled you back against his chest. The brush of fabric against your back startled you – he was still clothed? “Fuck, you feel s’good, I’m gonna cum, and you’re gonna take it–yeah, you’ll fuckin’ take it.”
“Cum for me, wanna feel it,” you cried, gripping his arm and meeting his thrusts. “Bucky, please, please, gimme it.”
“Ah–ah, shit, darlin’,” Bucky moaned. There was a sudden jolt of heat in your cunt, and Bucky bit your shoulder to muffle a shout as he came, pulling off only to whine as his cock twitched, emptying completely in your heat.
You shuddered in Bucky’s embrace through aftershocks, both of you gasping to catch your breath.
“Fuckin’ hell,” Bucky panted, squeezing you tight against his chest, and you sighed happily. “Y’alright, sweetheart? I wasn’t too rough?”
“Nah,” you answered, leaning into his clothed chest. “Wait-” You looked over your shoulder properly, down his shoulders and chest, to find Bucky still fully clothed – a plaid shirt and tank top covering his muscled chest, and the feel of the crotch of his jeans soaked with the mess of your coupling. “You’re gonna have to change, babe.”
Bucky only grinned.
You lost a moment gazing into his face, studying the way his eyes flickered around your face. “See somethin’ you like, Peach?” he murmured.
“Yeah,” you whispered, wincing as Bucky pulled out slowly and helped you stand upright. “The oaf and horn dog that I married all those years ago.”
Laughter filled the air, and Bucky shook his head, his eyes sparkling in the rays of the sun. “And I’m the luckiest fella for being able to call you mine.”
“Such a sap.” Carefully, you bent to pick up the chemise from the decking, the fabric cold between your fingers. “Alright, mister,” you pointed towards the door of your home. “Get changed, then get outta here. You promised me, and you damn sure are gonna keep it.”
“Only if you hold up your end of the bargain,” Bucky quipped, a brow raised at you as he opened the front door, gesturing you inside. “After all, darlin’,” he drawled as he closed the door behind him, his tone sultry. “What kinda husband would I be if I didn’t fuck my beautiful wife at every damn possible opportunity I could get?”
⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁
⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁
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