#reader x bucky

[itsmeatballworld]

| just a dream |

summary | Bucky and reader are neighbors in Brooklyn. When reader has a spicy dream about the broody man, it sets off a series of events that ignites something in both of them.

pairing | bucky barnes x f!reader

wc | 6k [pls I got carried away]

warnings | smut & fluff babes so 18+ ONLY. Cursing, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, p in v (no condom mentioned but pls wrap it up irl), lots of praise kink, handjob, cock warming (if you squint). If a one-shot could be a slow-burn romance, here it is.

a/n | set during tfatws. I posted this on my ao3 account originally, so here it is on my tumblr account!

Minors DNI, 18+ ONLY [again, 18+ only] Minors, Do Not Interact.

dividers by @/firefly-graphics 

The shimmer of moonlight illuminated the small space in an ethereal glow. Below the bedroom window, a messy bed was littered with pillows. Pictures hung on the walls to hide imperfections laced throughout the simple paint color. 

And you were standing among the wreckage of clothes stripped off your body one piece at a time.

Your hand played with the fabric of your panties, watching the tall masculine figure waiting in the darkness for your next move.

You flicked your tongue. “Your turn. Jeans first.” 

On command, a pair of jeans landed at your feet as proof of his contribution to the clothing pile. 

“Now the shirt,” you said. A hum escaped your lips as you unhooked your bra. You waited until his shirt, now crumpled in a ball, fell to the floor. 

He was nearby, hidden by the darkest part of the room where moonlight failed to highlight his handsome features. 

“Lie back,” his sultry voice demanded.

Bare legs brushed the edge of your bed as you pout your lips. “What’s in it for me, Sergeant?” 

He stepped closer to your scantily dressed body, as only your underwear remained. “Lie back and find out.” 

A grin plays at your lips before you tossed yourself down, burying yourself in the silky sheets. 

Through the dark, it was hard to see him but it was clear he had you in a trance. 

The bed creaked under his weight as he moved closer. “Can I touch you?” 

“Yes,” you mewled, nearly squirming from the never-ending tightness in your lower belly.

You needed him. Wanted him. 

Callous hands gripped your ankles. “Can I taste you?” 

Your breathy voice sputtered out ‘yes’. 

Instantly, his head lowered into the only sliver of moonlight over the bed. His blue eyes were the first thing you always were drawn to. Bright and clear like the sky on a spring morning. But woven throughout were waves of steel, silver, like a shadow trying to dull his brightness. Chiseled jaw with stubble. Short brown hair that clipped perfectly around his face. 

“Bucky!” Bucky Barnes, your neighbor who just moved into the complex, was the only person you wanted in this world.

Those blue eyes drop to your body. 

“Bucky.” 

Fingers trailed up to the band of your panties and within seconds they were gone. “Impatient as always,” his sweet laugh seemed to take on a hint of something hot, something feral. 

“Mhm.” 

His head dipped between your legs. “Baby,” Bucky gripped your thighs as his tongue slid across the softest, most inner part of your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel good. Just like that,” he coaxed as your knees spread to allow him complete access. 

“That’s my girl.” 

Your head dropped back against the bed at the sheer sound of his raspy, honey dipped voice – You snapped your eyes open. 

Sweat pooled at the back of your neck. Sheets tangled between your legs, twisting around into a woven knot. Your hands fell to the thumping rhythm in your chest. 

“Fuck, fuck…” you cursed between pants of air. Like the world was crashing down on your chest, you couldn't breathe. 

Bucky. Bucky. It felt so real. His skin on yours. His touch. His tongue. “What the fuck?” 

Bucky Barnes, your neighbor, who you talk to in passing since he moved in. He was very attractive, you couldn’t deny that. And now you’re having sex dreams about him. 

He was quiet and removed, most likely because of who he used to be: the Winter Soldier.

People whispered about him in the complex, sharing secrets on the elevator. I heard he’s killed thousands of people. I heard he worked for Hydra and is still working for them. 

You ignored their stupid comments, knowing damn well he wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. When those blue eyes looked at you it was clear that he was a wounded shell of a man trying to find himself in a new world, not some soulless machine. 

And those vibrant eyes carried into your dream. A dream that felt too real. 

You wobbled off the bed, which was easy considering you were inches from falling. Padding to the bathroom you jumped into a luke-warm shower. The more you scrubbed and washed the thoughts away the more you could feel him on your skin. Under your skin. In every inch of your mind. 

He was like a drug, lingering in your system. A drug you didn’t expect to be so potent. It’s just Bucky. He’s just some guy you met from across the hall. He’s a nice guy.

Maybe it was because you helped him not too long ago when he moved in as a “welcome to the neighborhood” greeting. Since then, you both have done little things for each other.

For one, you brought him muffins because he’d mention quickly how he likes blueberry sweets. It was a simple thing that offered no reciprocation. But then, he brought you a bunch of Japanese sweets that were out of this world amazing. And the little things kept on happening. Now, you chat in the halls and you look forward to it everyday.

Shit, maybe you were kind of crushing on Bucky Barnes. 

“UGH!” a frustrated yelp escaped your lips. The tile wall became a post to rest your wildly spinning head. 

No, this dream – these feelings – they were all just in your mind. Right?

He replayed the scene in his mind. Over and over, he circled back through the hazy nightmare. Blood. Bullets. Knives. He killed people, he knew it was him in those memories. It was his finger pulling the trigger, and yet it was like someone else did it. 

It wasn’t really him. It was what they made him to be. A monster. 

“—still having nightmares?” 

The question cut through his dissociative moment, but like a statue he kept still. His eyes focused on the corner where the tile met the molding. 

“James,” the woman pestered, “I asked you a question. Are you still having nightmares?” 

“No.” Bucky Barnes tipped his head back, staring up at the blank white ceiling above him. 

“James. I can’t help if you’re not being truthful with me.” 

He didn’t respond. He knew there wasn’t any way he’d get out of these mandatory therapy sessions. The longer he sat here, the less sanity Bucky could maintain. 

“Okay,” his therapist sighed wistfully, “no nightmares?” Her eyes burned into him. “Fine. Then let’s move on. Have you talked to anyone recently? Sam? That neighbor across the hall?” 

His eyes snapped towards the mid-aged woman. “My neighbor?” 

“Now don’t play dumb.” 

“I’m not—” 

“The neighbor who helped you.” He stared blankly at the therapist. She sighed, scribbling something in her notebook. “She fixed your radio—” 

“Gramophone.” 

Her pen moved as her eyes circled him, curiously. “A what?” 

“You know, a gramophone. A record player.”

The woman hummed and Bucky clenched his fist. He started to silently plot how he could escape the questions he was currently under fire for. He didn't want to talk about the nicest woman from across the hall. The kindest stranger with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. He’d like to keep it to himself. 

“Well. This woman who fixed your gramophone is the same woman you mentioned,” she scanned the paper before wildly circling something, “knocking at your door with…muffins.”

He paused, contemplating her words. He’d be lying if he said he hasn't thought about his neighbor on more than a few occasions now. 

On the elevator, he’d nod when she said ‘good morning’. Another time, she knocked to tell him about the roofing construction in the complex that would start early in the morning. It was sweet of her to tell him, but Bucky never had the nerve to say he never slept so the noise never bothers him. 

She’s the one with the sweetest smile and pleasant conversation. He couldn't help but like her a bit more each day they interacted. Just last week, he walked with her up to their complex from the street. 

Although Bucky told that to his therapist, what he didn't say was how he knocked on her door with homemade dorayaki. It was a gift from his friend Yori but he wanted to share something sweet with the kindest woman he knows. 

But none of that would leave the confines of his mind. Instead, a snide smile seemed to match his tone. Bucky sighed, “boy did I say all that?” 

“James.” 

“Doc.” 

She groaned, clicking the pen again. The look on her face was something Bucky was used to now. The woeful stares and patronizing expression were a part of coming back from being the monster they made him into. The weapon of a man Hydra used at their disposal until he was no longer necessary–until he wasn’t a puppet anymore. 

“James, did you ever think of trying to make friends? It’s healthy to have people in your life.” 

He didn’t respond. Instead, Bucky focused on his black leather gloved hands folded neatly in his lap. The only person he wants to talk to is his neighbor.

Maybe the doc was right. Maybe he should be friends with her.

“Look, why don’t we start fresh next session,” the therapist sighed as the notebook dropped onto the side table. “Hopefully you’ll be more open and honest.” 

Bucky sighed, his tongue flicked over his teeth. “Sure, doc.”

The text message was very clear: be there in ten minutes. That was two hours ago. Either your date had a series of terrible events happen or he stood you up. You checked the clock again. 8:12pm. 

It was dark outside now and you could barely see past the street lamps on either side of the road. Tonight was the first of many real dates in a long time. Whatever the reasoning, whether it was no guy was good enough or you were just too terrified to put yourself back out there, you agreed to go out with the guy from work. He seemed nice enough. 

But your kindness was running short. He was late. Very, very late. 

Now it’s 8:16pm. 

Heels tapped impatiently as you sat in the lobby of your building. 

“Miss?” A deep voice called out from across the room. The night concierge peered over the desk. Coffee in hand, he raised his mug. “Sure you don’t want some?” 

“No, but thank you.” Your smile dipped. These past few hours you’ve been sitting downstairs with the sweetest concierge named Joe asking if you needed anything. He nearly handed off the homemade pupusas he had in his lunch bag after an hour of waiting. 

You sighed, tapping the screen until you reread his message again. Ten minutes. You typed out a quick response, again, hoping he’d at least –

The screen flashed to a new text. 

Your Date: Shit I forgot. Sorry. Rain check?

The screen went dark. Anger and sadness swirled through your body and there was no distinction between them. You were furious — and rightfully so. He forgot? He was acting as if he misplaced his car keys or left a sweatshirt at his friend's house. 

You stood up, mind racing, blinded by swirling emotions and – something hard bumped into you. You stumbled, grasping at emptiness until a strong arm grabbed ahold of you. 

“You okay?” Staring down at you, Bucky Barnes gawked. 

Those steel eyes froze you. “I’m fine…” 

He nodded, slowly helping you back up to your feet. You flattened your outfit into place as Bucky handed off your phone. “Thanks.” 

“Miss,” Joe called out. “Any luck?” The concierge tapped at his wristwatch. “If he was my son, I’d yell at him for keeping you waiting.” 

Bucky didn’t move from his spot near you. 

“Um,” you cleared your throat. “He’s not coming.” 

Joe slapped the desk, spinning in his chair. “Now that’s some grade A bullshit!” 

“It’s fine. I’ve got a pint of chocolate ice cream in the freezer calling my name.” You turned slightly to Bucky, staring anywhere but his eyes. The same eyes you dreamt about the other night. So instead, you fixated on his hands. The same hands you fantasized about touching you. His chest. The same chiseled and bulky body you’ve caressed in your dream— 

“Do you wanna go get some dinner?” 

Your face scrunched in response. “What?” 

“I was just thinking about eating at this diner down the block.”

“With me? You want to go out to eat with... me?”

“I’m asking, aren't I?”

“You’re talkative tonight,” you chuckled.

There was a spark in those mysterious eyes. Maybe it was because he asked you out or maybe it was because you were actually going to say yes.

“I’d love to.”

One month later.

Bucky ducked down. 

“Right there, no on the left–” 

“My left?” 

“Yes,” you laughed. He reached lower until you nodded with approval. You clasped your hands together as he brought the next round of vinyls over. 

The small office in your apartment was converted into a book/music room where you housed everything in messy but surprisingly organized stacks. Rows and rows of bookshelves kept your things lined neat enough to tell the difference between albums and novels. A dresser sat across the shelves topped with the record player and lots of random things you owned. Opposite that was a small loveseat you dragged back to the apartment from a flea market. 

It has been a month since your dinner dates started. Neither of you said they were real “dates”, but both of you secretly felt like it.

Every Friday night (and a few Saturdays too), Bucky knocks on your door and walks you to a restaurant. A cute little Italian bistro or a modern Thai restaurant in the midst of old school Brooklyn. Then, it was back to your place for music, movies, and pure enjoyment of another person’s company. 

Each night has been more exciting than the last. And somehow in the midst of dinners and getting to know this solitary man, you felt it.

That spark.

It sounded stupid but it was real – that feeling you get when you fall in love. The butterflies and tingling when talking to him. The way he smiled made you melt. The goofy laughs and excited conversations about his obsessions. You were head-over-heels, mind numbingly in love, with Bucky Barnes.

And those feelings were getting harder to ignore. 

“Listen to this one,” you dropped the record player’s arm down. “You’re gonna love it.”

A soft melody echoed through the space and he nodded his head in approval. “Told you. It's a good album.” 

“Yeah, but I never heard of them.” He leaned against the dresser. 

“Never?” 

“No,” his eyes flickered from you to the album. The Bee Gees. His gloves were removed, piled on top of the mahogany colored wood. Stacks of vinyls towered over the old-school record player you owned. 

“Here, this is one of my favorites.” You yanked a record out from the stack and handed it to Bucky. “Take it home with you, listen to it, then tell me what you think.” 

His brows furrowed. “Why not now?” 

“It’s getting late, I don't want to bore you all night.”

“You’d never bore me,” Bucky said as he twisted the record. “I like being with you.”

Instead of focusing on him and those hands, and what he just said, you dove through the next pile of records.

/-/

When you looked away, he grazed his eyes down your body. He was infatuated with you. The way you moved, the way you smiled. Everything you did had Bucky’s eyes locked on you. It made him feel like he was going crazy. Maybe he was going crazy. He’s never felt so attracted to someone like this before. When he asked you to dinner, he chalked it up to trying to be friends. But that wasn't it. He liked you. He liked you but was too afraid to make a real move. 

So asking you to dinner after being stood up seemed like the easiest way to ask you out without putting himself out there. And every Friday for just over a month has been heaven and hell. He was ecstatic to take you out. To make you smile. To hear your laugh. 

But he was in hell—a hell centered around his paranoia. He doesn't want to lose you if he tells you how he feels. 

Shit. It was getting harder to ignore his feelings for you. 

Some time passed and you both wound up on the couch. Conversations came and went. They were silly topics and some things more personal. He let out a slow exhale. “I don't get it.” 

You sat up. “Get what?” 

“I don’t understand why you’re so nice to me. I know you know who I am… or who I was. I just can't understand how someone so kind and smart and–”

“I know a good person when I see one. Maybe it’s hard for you to see that you’re not a bad person. You’ve done bad things, most people have. But that soldier isn't the man who’s in front of me listening to music.” Your hand gently brushed his vibranium fingers exposed past the henley sleeve. “The past doesn't always have to define who you are today. If you know the bad stuff, understand the horrible things you've done, and you grow from it? You’re a better person than the rest of us, Bucky.” 

He didn’t move or speak. He just watched you as if your next move would be the one to level him down to nothing but ‘the real him’.

The real him—when he was just a dumb kid from Brooklyn heading out to fight for a war he knew little about. You saw him for who he was: wounded and broken, but not irreversibly damaged. You could see him for who he wanted to be and Bucky wasn’t ever going to let that go. 

“You’re something else,” he murmured your name like it was a prayer on his tongue. 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” 

He lifted the vinyl. “Well I should head home. I’ll play this tonight,” he smiled softly.

/-/

That smile – Oh. Oh. You felt a rush of nerves and excitement through your body. 

“Thank you. Tonight was fun.” 

“I had a lot of fun too.” He was warming up to you. Or you were warming up to the cold, grumpy ex-Winter Soldier. 

He gave you one last smile but you were too in your head to realize. You liked him. You really, really liked him. Bucky was already out in the living room when you called for him. “Next Friday?” 

You wanted to do this again. More than Fridays. Many times. For dinner. Drinks. Anything. He sparked something in you that couldn't be put into words. Something unknown. Unfamiliar. Exciting. You wanted, no, needed more. 

He poked his head through the doorway. That light smile plastered across his face, warming his tense features. “Next Friday.”

One week later.

You polished off the last handful of popcorn. Bucky slumped against your shoulder as he tapped his fingers on his jean-covered knee.

“Okay you were right. I really hated that movie,” he turned to you with a dreamy expression.

“If you liked the Hobbit that much when it came out–”

“When it came out in 1937 it was a masterpiece.” He rested deeper into the couch as the credits rolled and it brought you back to the streaming platform’s screen. “Now that was poorly executed.”

Bucky could ramble on and on about his love for fantasy and science fiction and you would happily sit through every second of it.

“We should watch Princess Bride next.”

Resting blue eyes flicker to your face. “Game on,” he murmured with a grin.

“Need another drink?” You stood up and moved towards the kitchenette.

“Nah, I’m fine. Thanks.” He kept that sweet smile for most of the night. So you played vinyl after vinyl while making cookies. Then movie after movie. At two in the morning, you were wide awake and no matter what excuse you used, tonight was the best night in a long time. Barnes was a surprising man under all that stoic exterior. He was flirty. Goofy. A bit of a nerd. He was more than who he thought he was before.

“You’re staring.” Bucky stood to meet you. The lip of his shirt dropped over his exposed muscular mid drift, but not before you caught a glance at his defined abs.

You nearly choked when you remembered the abs you dreamt about the other week and how eerily similar they were. “I was just thinking about how late it was.” You turned and shut the fridge. “Maybe we should go to bed.”

We.

“Yeah, you’re right. We should go to bed.” He didn’t correct you either. A wave of excitement and nerves bundled inside.

“I’ll set up the couch in the office if that’s okay?”

“Fine with me,” he stretched again.

Carefully, you stepped into the book infested room to fix the cushions. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too.”

“Next Friday?”

He nodded, “next Friday.”

“Feel free to leave a note on my door if you need to switch out a vinyl.”

“A note? Like a love note?”

The flirty side that you’ve seen of Bucky was back. He was in this trance, watching you. He was mesmerizing but you continued fixing his bed. You moved towards the dresser in the room, opening the top drawer for blankets.

“No, but I wouldn’t mind,” you whispered.

“You wouldn’t?”

You shook your head. “I’d write back but don't expect anything poetic.”

“Well then.” Bucky leaned in, “guess I’ve got some writing to do.”

“Guess so.”

He was so close to you. If it weren't for his shirt, you’d be staring at his abs again. “What would you say?” Your voice was so quiet.

“Hm?”

“In the note.”

“My love note?”

“Yeah.”

He kept that piercing yet warming gaze on you. “I’d say that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You’re the kindest person to ever walk into my life. You look at me and I can’t help staring back. I’d say…you’re amazing. And that I’d be an idiot not to tell you. I’d be even more of an idiot not to show you how I feel.”

Those butterflies returned with a sense of urgency. Hot, twisting excitement buried deep in your belly as his rasping voice sucked you in. It wasn’t a matter of how you would tell him how you feel. It was a matter of when. And this was it.

“How would you show me?”

He stepped in close. “Show you how I feel…” he pondered the question. Searching his mind, Bucky seemed to be in a swirling pit of emotions in front of you. “If I was the old me, before everything, I would take you out to dinner.”

“Check,” you grinned. “Next.”

“Well, then walk you home.”

“Bucky, this sounds like any old Friday–”

“And I’d kiss you.” He was so close yet not close enough. You needed him. The dresser’s edge dug into your back as he stepped towards you again. “I’d kiss you softly so I could savor each second.”

Something hot and urging was burning through you. Then, his hand brushed against your wrist. “Is this okay?”

“Touching me?” Your voice felt heavy.

“Yeah. Touching you.”

Your breathing was rapid and deep, each inhale bringing you one second closer to smashing your lips on his. “Yes.” You were breathless. Then his arm brushed your hip.

“And then…what would happen?”

A wolfish grin crossed Bucky’s face. “Honey, we’d barely make it to the bedroom.”

Warmth rushed to your belly to the core of your body. You wanted to be held by Bucky. Kissed. Licked. Fucked. One more touch and you were sure there wouldn't be anything stopping you. And you were desperate for him.

“Touch me again,” you whispered. The wooden dresser dug into your back but the pain was so faint compared to the toe curling feeling Bucky gave you.

He loomed over you. Skin and vibranium trailed up your jeans until he clamped down on your waist.

“I’m a bit rusty,” Bucky whispered. “But I wanna make you feel good. Tell me if this is okay.”

You feverishly nodded, tugging at the henley he wore. “I want you. I need you.”

Those bright blue eyes darkened as something primal took over. His hips pin onto yours as his knee slides between your legs. You hitch a breath as he leaned into the movement. His tongue dragged across his bottom lip like he was thinking about his next move–contemplating his options.

“That so?” His mouth hovered above yours. Tentatively, Bucky squeezed your waist as his warm breath trailed down your cheeks.

You whined and inched closer until you kissed him. It was soft, just like he said. His lips danced with yours while those hands migrated up to your neck. He circled the delicate skin at your clavicle, tracing it back and forth.

Savoring every morsel of his kiss, you leaned in with a whimpering sigh.

He moaned in reply and twisted his fingers into the back of your hair. He pulled and angled himself so you were pressed more into him rather than the dresser.

“You’re… rusty?” you gasp between kisses.

“I used to be pretty good at this part.”

“Mhm,” you slid your hands down his chest. “I’ll say.”

Within seconds, you were straddling Bucky as he carried you down the hallway. He was strong. Never did you doubt the ex-winter soldier to carry you across your apartment. The man was multitalented.

He kissed you again, tugging on your soft lips with each step to the bedroom. You slide your hips down a little with the hopes of relieving the already budding ache. But it was his bulge that halted your movement.

Bucky pulled back, “shit. You feel that? You feel how hard you make me?”

A mewling moan escaped your lips and you pushed down onto his cock. “So fucking hard.”

He growled when you rutted against him. “Oh, God.”

You liked the way he quivered under your body as if your touch made him desperate to relieve his own ache. His arms pulled you closer, “Christ, I'm not gonna hold out much longer with you doing that to me.”

The bedroom door opened and closed with a quiet thump. His hand was firm on your ass while the other wrapped around your waist as he maneuvers through the pitch-black room.

You nudged against his stiff cock again. “Please.”

Without hesitating, he lowered you to the bed. Bucky dropped to his knees as your pants and underwear were tugged down instantly. It was all his pent-up excitement fueling this sleep deprived man.

As he made a move for your top, you pressed your hands against his chest.

Your tongue flicked between your lips. “Slow down, now it’s your turn. Shirt.”

He grinned, tossing the henley to the floor with your clothes. You pushed him back to admire his chiseled body. But you also couldn't help but stare at the scars. The vibranium.

Bucky moved with you on the bed and nestled between your legs. Any clothes left were tossed over the side, forgotten.

He kneeled above you, heavy eyes scanning your body. Every inch.

“Fuck,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.” He dipped low, nestling himself fully between your opened legs. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

Tentative movements of his hands explored your body. His mouth drags hot, open-mouthed kisses up your inner thighs. Then, that mouth was on your pussy. Gentle and unsure, Bucky started to figure out what you liked. Understanding what wasn’t comfortable. But eventually, he had a handle on it.

He picked up on the way you twisted and pressed down. Sensing your love for his movements, he continued. Your hands gripped the short brown hair on his head. You gasped, “Bucky please.”

He rolled his tongue then flattened it, twisting and stimulating your sensitive clit. His vibranium hand slowly trailed up until it reached your breast. He squeezed as Bucky continued the same pattern over and over. Inching you closer to the inescapable height of your orgasm.

You whined, “oh. Oh, yes.”

“So good. Just like that,” his finger slipped inside. Then another. You bucked up as he curled and fucked you with his thick fingers. “You’re so tight,” he moaned into your pussy between licks. “Come on baby. Just like that.”

“Please,” your hand tugged his hair again. But he wasn’t relenting. Bucky’s fingers continued their rhythmic pattern in and out as his tongue lapped your clit. You cried out, “Fuck, baby—”

He rocked his hips into the mattress. You knew he was still so hard. The image of his hard cock and the feeling of him between your legs sent you over the edge. The throbbing sensation of your orgasm hit you like a train. You cried out, bucking under his weight. It was hot and fast, but you could still feel another orgasm begging for release once again.

His mouth slipped away from your throbbing pussy as he dragged his devilish tongue up your stomach.

To your happy surprise, his thick fingers stayed inside you. Slowly moving in and out as if he could feel your second orgasm building up quickly. His lips trailed to each of your breasts. He nipped at the sensitive skin before finally kissing you.

A breathy gasp escaped your lips. He was relentless with those fingers of his. He grinned, pinning himself against you. His hard cock pressed down on your stomach.

“Bucky.” Your hands traveled down. You squeezed.

Bucky’s eyes rolled back as a gasping moan left his lips. You squeezed again, rubbing up and down his cock already slick with his own pre-cum. “I can help you feel good too.”

He dropped his head, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

“I want to make you feel good too.” You squeezed his cock again. He nearly toppled over. “You deserve it.”

He moaned in response. “Yes, keep goin’ baby. Touch me.” His words were as hot as the room.

In that instance, he moved his thumb back over your clit. His fingers continued to thrust in and out. You grasp his cock again, watching the blue of his eyes deepen. You pumped him, but the stimulation was getting to you.

“S-shit,” you withered. “Fuck, I need you. I knew it the moment–” you gasp as his fingers curl up. “I-I knew it when we went out the first night.”

Breathless, Bucky propped himself up higher. His eyes roamed your body and how determined you were to make him cum with you. “Mm, that’s my girl, getting off at the thoughts of the first date we went on.”

“You looked so g-good.” You mewled, feeling the pinnacle of your orgasm again.

Bucky groaned as you flickered your thumb back over his tip. “What do you need?” It was a statement, a demand, not a question. He knew exactly what you needed. What you wanted.

“I need you.” His mouth found yours as he seamlessly screwed you with his fingers. The moment he brushed over your sore and aching clit for the last time, the spasm rocked over you. Waves of heat rolled over your body.

“Yes, oh, god yes!” It was earth-shattering but you needed more. It was obvious he needed more.

“Inside,” your hand continued to thrust his throbbing cock. He moaned as you squeezed his shaft, rubbing your thumb up the tip. He was not going to last much longer. “Inside me. Now.”

Those blue eyes widened and you opened your legs wider. Grabbing a small pillow from the bed, Bucky nudged it under your hips. He moved slowly as he aligned himself. His tip nudged at your opening.

Fuck, he was huge. No matter how many orgasms you had, his aching cock was bigger than you’ve ever taken.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts.”

He moved in, gently stretching your already relaxing muscles. You gasped as he pushed in a bit deeper.

Those blue eyes shot up to you, “I should stop–”

“No.” You lifted your hips and he slid deeper. You tossed your head back. “Keep going.”

You exhaled as he sunk down to the base of his cock. He pressed into you, leaning above by his elbow. The motions were slow and steady at first as Bucky found a solid rhythm again. You dug your nails into his back as he thrusted deeper. Harder. Faster. He was fucking you so deep, so good.

Bucky kissed you. His vibranium fingers found your clit once more. The sensations were too much to bear.

You cried out in pleasure as he groaned into your neck. Harder. Faster.

A third orgasm wrecked your body. The sensation of his cock slamming into you with the rub of his vibranium thumb on your clit sent chills down your spine. Twisting and writhing under his touch nearly had Bucky spilling over. He bared down on you, feeling every inch of your pussy tighten and throb. You mewled, “oh god yes. Fuck yes.”

When you were finished, he was close behind. It was like he waited for you. Hoping to please you first like he insisted the moment he kissed you.

Bucky slammed into you again and came with a breathy groan. “I knew you could take it,” he grunted, spilling inside as he leaned down to press his sweaty chest against your breasts.

“That’s it,” he moans. “S-so good to me. Take it.”

It was all too much. His body against yours, the feeling of him inside you. You were folding at his touch. With one final rut, he was finished.

Against the bed, Bucky collapsed into you. Both bodies were covered in sweat, panting like it had been the most intensive work out of your lives. He kissed your lips, not bothered to pull out.

He liked how he was still throbbing inside you.

“Wow.” He murmured your name, “That was…you’re amazing.” He brushed your cheek. “Was that okay?”

“Y-you’re kidding, right?” Your chest bounces as you laugh. It wasn’t intentional, but you couldn’t contain yourself.

Bucky lifted enough to see your smiling face and glossed over eyes. You looked drunk on him.

“What?”

“How the fuck are you rusty?”

His tight lips turned into a wide grin as he joined in on the laughter. “We made it to the bedroom at least,” he hovered above your body.

“Barely.”

You smiled. He kissed you. Pressed together, slick with sweat, you held each other tightly.

Sunlight danced across the bedroom leaving a rosy glow everywhere. You stretched, remembering the feeling of his skin pressed against your body.

Remembering last night. 

His kisses were hauntingly beautiful. Each time his lips brushed yours, it felt like parts of you were placed back where they belong. Like pieces of yourself had been missing for years and he was putting you back together. You’d never be able to forget the way he felt, the way he tasted.

His kiss would linger on your skin even after tonight because you knew that he was more than just a dream.

He was your reality.

Almost on cue, a strong arm draped across your waist and tugged you backwards.

“Morning,” Bucky yawned.

“Mm, morning. Want some breakfast?” You spot the time on your cell phone wedged onto the nightstand. “Or I guess brunch? I can make waffles.”

His fingers trailed the length of your body and you rolled over until his sturdy chest pressed to your front. “Waffles?” 

“Mmhm,” you nestled close. “Only if you want.”

Bucky refused to pull away. Every morsel of his being was tied to you, right here, right now. He smiled. “I do.”

“Perfect,” you grinned.

His pink tinted lips pressed against your temple as his vibranium arm tucked you under his body. Rolling over, he hovered above you. “I happen to make the best cup of coffee in Brooklyn.”

“Well, it just so happens that I love coffee.” You leaned into his embrace as his lips met your eager mouth.

Neither of you moved from bed.

And it was perfect.

-xx-

-xx-

a/n 2.0 | thanks for indulging in my chaos <3

#Bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #reader x bucky #reader x bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky x y/n #y/n x bucky #no y/n used #no minors please #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

[assembletheimagines]

Bucky X reader, the reader is a part of the team. And she and Bucky start to hook up at one of Tony's parties, they aren't dating. But as they are gettin into it, the reader stops beacuse she is a virgin and kinda nervous. She is about the same age as Bucky but it's just that sex has never interested her before him.

Warning: Smut, 18+, oral f!receiving

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Your head tilted back as Bucky’s lips brushed down your neck, his hand sliding up your leg moving your dress’s slit to the side for more access. Your back pressed against the door of the supply closet as your hand grasped his dress shirt in anticipation. You could faintly hear the music on the other side of the door where Tony’s party was in full swing but you could barely focus as Bucky’s finger slid up your clothed pussy. His groan sending a new pool between your legs. “Fuck, you’re already wet for me, baby.” 

You keened at his words and gasped as he used two of his fingers to rub slow circles on your covered clit. “Bucky,” your hips pressing forward for more friction but Bucky held your hip in place with one hand. 

“Use your words,” he teased, continuing his actions languidly. 

“I need-” you whimpered trying to focus on your words as Bucky dipped his head down. His lips kissing your neck, his leg keeping you open for his hand. “Please,” you gasped as his tongue sinfully licked over the mark he left on your neck. 

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He hummed enjoying how responsive your body was to him. 

“You,” you finally managed. “I need you.” 

Once the words left your lips, Bucky dropped to his knees within seconds causing you to moan at the sight of him kneeling before you. His hands reached up your thighs and dragged your underwear down. He couldn’t help but groan as he got to see how wet you were up close. “You’re so fucking perfect.” 

“Bucky,” you whined as he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder, your hand resting on his shoulder for balance. 

“Keep saying my name, baby” he ordered and dove between your thighs, licking up your wet folds before wrapping his lips around your sensitive clit. You cried out in pleasure, moving your hand to his hair as your hips moved forward to press him closer, his name falling from your lips again. 

His hands moved to hold you down, one hand gripping the top of your thigh that was resting on his shoulder as the other hand held your hip, pinning you to the door. He groaned again causing pleasurable vibrations against your clit. “You taste so good,” he mumbled between your thighs and buried his face so his nose pressed against your clit as his tongue savored your taste. 

You felt a burn begin to form in your lower abdomen as your hips rolled forward, using Bucky’s mouth for your pleasure. Your fingers curled around his hair, tugging, when you felt one of his fingers press against your opening. Moaning as his mouth moved back to your sensitive nub, sucking on it as his finger slid inside. He continued to suck as his second finger joined his first, not being able to stop his groaning at how snug you felt around his fingers. He began to curl them looking for the one spot that would make you go wild. 

You shivered, moaning, as you felt yourself getting closer to cumming. His fingers stretched you open as he moved them, his lips overstimulating your clit. You cried out his name when his fingers found the spot he had been looking for. 

“There we are,” he hummed and went to work. His fingers angled to stroke that spot with each thrust of his hand as he watched you from below. “You going to cum, baby?” He asked and you keened feeling your orgasm getting closer and closer. You grabbed the shelf to your right to gain balance as your thighs began to shake. Bucky’s eyes lit up and he licked his lips as he began to move his fingers faster. He moved his mouth back to your clit and began to suck again. “Cum for me,” he groaned, holding your thighs open with his metal hand. 

With a cry of his name, you were pushed over the edge, your walls clenching around his fingers as he continued to thrust them. Fucking you through your orgasm, praise falling from his lips as your body slowly came down. 

You felt unsteady as Bucky moved your leg off his shoulder and shivered as he slid his fingers from you. He gave you a knowing smirk as you watched him stand up, licking his fingers clean. Your eyes moved to his waist then as he unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down with his boxers. Your eyes widening as his dick curved up his abdomen. 

“Bucky,” you said as he took your leg again, placing it on a shelf as he stood between your legs. He began to rub his length along your folds. You gasped as the head of his dick bumped your sensitive clit. 

“Yes, darling?” He answered and you felt a blush darken on your cheeks. 

“Bucky, I haven’t-” you started feeling embarrassed. “I-” you tried again, stumbling over your words. He stopped his strokes of using your arousal to wet his shaft, his eyes widening in surprise as he realized. 

“You haven’t?” He asked and went to step back but you reached for his arm, stopping him. 

“Well, I never wanted to.” You mumbled looking down nervously before back up. “Until you.” You felt shy at the truth being exposed. 

“Are you sure you want to? And with me?” he asked, his thumb stroking your thigh softly. If he had known sooner, he wouldn’t have had you in a storage closet. 

You nodded your head in response to his questions. And with that answer, Bucky stepped back and bent down, grabbing your panties from the floor and stuffing them in his pocket. He fixed himself and then you before he grabbed your hand leading you out of the closet and through the party. “Bucky, where are we going?” You felt a small feeling of rejection begin to run through you but one look from Bucky stopped you. 

“Your first time is not going to be in some Stark supply closet.” He answered like it was obvious and your cheeks burned red. “I’m taking you to mine and we are doing this right.” 

#assembletheimagines #bucky #bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchana barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #x reader #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #bucky imagine #buckybarnes #smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fic

[bloodycassian]

Long walk home. Reader x bucky barnes ABO SMUT - 18+ DNI IFI YOU’RE NOT 18+

Living alone meant dining alone. And on the long days after work when you didn’t feel like cooking, that also meant finding the best takeout on your own. 

Even if you were in heat. It wasn’t like anyone else would be able to get it for you. And you didn’t trust a random delivery person to not beat down your door once they smelled the pheromones that leaked from your door like a bakery. 

So you stashed your knife in your front pocket and hurried your way though the streets as nonchalantly as you could. The friction of the seam in your pants was not helping your scent, but thankfully, among the crowd most of the betas couldn't’ tell exactly who the smell came from. Most gave curious glances around, only a few adjusted their positioning while they stood waiting for the crosswalk. 

You dashed inside the cramped restaurant and grabbed your order, sitting atop the counter. When you turned, you nearly crushed it into the man waiting in line behind you. “Oh I’m-” You 

His throat bobbed, his eyes dark when they met yours. “Do you ahh.. need help with anything?” He asked, as if unsure of his own words. His hair was recently cut, only the font showing the slight curl of the pattern. His boxy face and sweet eyes made your stomach flip, and as you opened your mouth you noticed his hand.

His very shiny hand, that led to a shiny forearm, then bicep. “Shit-” You breathed, unable to smell your food any longer. All your senses had been taken up by him. The way his soap melded with the very male, very alpha scent of him. It demanded your attention. By the immaculate way his body was shaped, how you’d witnessed him on TV and in documentaries a thousand times but never thought you’d ever meet him. 

“I uh, I know you.” You said, unsure how to answer his question. What exactly was he offering to help you with? You could think of a thousand ways he could help, particularly the ways he could ease the throbbing in your cunt. “You’re James-”

“Bucky.” He corrected, and eyed the bag of food, his eyes dragging over your body in a way that made you want to melt through the floor. He leaned closer, lowered his voice and spoke so softly it gave you chills. “I can escort you, if you’d like.” He said, glancing over your shoulder to the patrons that stared at you from their seats. One man at the short bar area tossed a few dollars down, and left his half drink to approach you and Bucky. 

“Yes, please.” You breathed, ducking your head and hurrying for the exit. 

+

“You’re really an avenger now, aren’t you? Saving the citizens of New York, one at a time.” You poked fun at him, hoping to ease the thick tension in the elevator ride. The entire carriage filled with your scent mingling with his, and it was every bit as lovely as you’d imagined on the walk back.

“I’m calling it my good deed for the day.” He said, taking in the shortest breaths possible. If he let himself smell your heat, the wetness that he was sure was between your thighs, he couldn’t weigh the possibilities that he’d be able to stop himself. Even during the small walk over, it took all his effort to try to act as normally as possible when other men looked her way. When they stared at her, at the way her hips moved and the hungry look in their eyes. 

Bucky had shared women before, hadn’t had a problem with it. But he’d never had a woman in heat before. He’d never wanted to test himself like that, unsure that he’d be able to stop himself from the urge to knock her up and be stuck with a kid on his payroll the rest of his unforgivingly long life. 

He wished he hadn't offered this in the first place. His cock strained against his pants, though he’d already tucked himself three different times when you weren’t looking. He watched as the elevator numbers went up, and up and up… jesus, how tall could the building be? 

He couldn’t look at you, couldn’t risk a glance in your direction. He’d nearly taken you into an alley on the way over when he’d stared too long at your ass as you led the way. And God, he could scent how badly you wanted. How much your body needed a male right now. Not a beta. The thought alone made his temper flare. No, you needed a good fucking from an Alpha, and he wanted to be the one to do it. He wanted to hear his name on your lips as he made you come undone on his cock, wanted to-

The door dinged, and he followed you out, taking a deep breath of the clean air. His mind cleared, but the desire didn’t. She started walking down the hall, towards one of the many unremarkable doors. “Are you coming?” She called, juggling the food while she pulled out a key. 

He approached slowly, eyeing the distance from her room to the elevator, taking in every small detail of the hall in search for threats. He’d never leave his paranoia behind, and he accepted it. It’d saved his life more than once. It also worked to calm his hard-on, so he could think about actually helping you instead of being a deterrent for other males.

He took your takeout bag, looking to the welcome mat splattered with stains. It was a design he could hardly make out. A cartoonish AR-15, and worn text that said “If the dog doesn’t get you, this will.” 

He scoffed a laugh. 

“What?” You asked, taking your food from him once you jammed the door open. The thing was off it’s hinges slightly, and required a good hip check to open. 

He gestured to the mat. “You don’t strike me as someone who can handle an AR.” 

“It’s a deterrent. Works great when I put the boots out.” You said proudly, placing your food and keys on the table just beside the door. 

“Boots?” He asked, stiffening when the scent of your apartment hit him. It was a goddamn wall of desire, raking over every one of his senses and assaulting his mind with need. His cock twitched. 

“Yeah, mens boots. Keeps the creeps away.”

“Well where are they now?” He asked, concern coating his mind. Had she had so many run ins with weirdos that she’d had to resort to false threats? He prayed she actually had a gun. 

“Maybe I’m not trying to keep people out, right now.” She said, leaning against the door and biting her lip. His heart ticked up a beat, blood rushed through his ears so loud he could hardly hear his own voice. 

“Why would that be, sweetheart?” 

She didn’t answer, but instead shrugged and turned away, leaving the door wide open as she peeled off her tank top and tossed it on the back of the couch. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath, inhaling the very sweet, tantalizing scent of her. “If I come in, is a dog going to attack me?” He asked, already toeing off his boots. If he’d known he’d be getting laid when going out this evening, he would have at least dressed better. 

“Another deterrent.” She called, turning on a soft lamp in the corner. Leaving his shoes outside the door, Bucky shut it with a loud creak of the hinges. 

“Is the door one, too?” He asked with a smile, eyes roaming over her gilded frame where she stood at the end of the couch. His mouth watered at the sight of her perked nipples and soft skin. 

“No, that’s just my landlord being an asshole.” She smiled.

She approached him slowly, easing off his jacket with his help. The motions were slow, like both of you wanted the other to know they could be done with this. That this didn’t have to happen if they didn’t want it. An unspoken hesitation that charged the air with challenge. Who would break their unspoken rule first? Who would touch the other first? It felt like a dam readying to break, cracking beneath the weight of desire. 

His shirt went next, Bucky swearing to himself when it caught on one of the layers of metal on his arm. He fought to control his breathing, to keep it slow. He didn’t want to rush you, didn’t want to make it a fast fuck that he’d leave right after. No, he wanted to enjoy every moment of this. Especially with such a beautiful, funny omega. In his years he’d met men and women both that had wanted him for his body, for his title, or for his fame. This seemed different. She didn’t pursue him. She’d left that door open, completely up to him to decide if he wanted to be a part of this or not. And the more time he spent in your presence, the more he wanted to stay. Your hand coasted over his bare chest, raising goosebumps over his arms.

His mind raced with ideas to come back. He could offer to fix the door. He could offer his services if she were in heat again. Fuck, he’d cook her dinner if she thought she had to go out during her heat. A part of him roared in anger that she’d even risked going out in the first place. Another was thanking the universe for her craving that led you both to the same place.

“I can hear your stomach growling.” He said, voice low and gravelly. His mind was a tornado of thoughts. The urge to take care of you, the ideas to get to stay, how to make you his, and above the rest, looming over like a cloud, he needed to be inside you.

“I can hear your belt straining.” She countered. Quick. Witty. His cheeks were already warm, but now they flared. Of course she knew, who wouldn’t know. With her scent mixed with her being fucking topless before him, no shit he was hard.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I guess the answer depends if you’re going to fuck me or not.” You said, tension and impatience lacing your tone. 

Oh fuck. Oh, fuck this. His temper ignited. Her tone, her very presence caught him aflame with desire, need warring with a want he’d never had before. He wanted to punish you. He wanted to show you just how good he’d fuck you. Then you wouldn’t be asking again. He’d make sure you knew that if she asked, he’d give himself to her. That she’d only have to ask, first. 

His lips met yours with a heated, quick energy that you responded with in kind. His lips crushed against yours with bruising force, teeth sinking into lips and skin and tongues lapping at areas you’d never thought of before. His ran from your neck to your collarbone in a flat, long lap before he was pulling your pants down, revealing your naked cunt. He knelt before you, took a deep breath in and looked up. 

Your legs trembled at the sight of him there. Dark eyes and hair and immaculate body, his cheeks flushed. It was a sight you’d wished you could get a picture of.

His hands went to your thighs and pushed you back onto the couch, your lower half propped up against the arm while your back laid comfortably against the leather. His one hand, warm and soft, squeezed and massaged your thighs. The other, cool mechanical hand lifted your leg over his shoulder and wrapped around it, holding you in place. Warm, long kisses pressed against your inner thighs, his tongue leaving chill spots the entire way up. 

His mouth grazed over your waiting pussy, he laid his tongue flat against your clit and watched as you jolted from the shock of it.

“Fuck-” You breathed. He hummed, the vibrations going through your body and causing a chill to break out over your skin. 

He started slow, building and building his pace, his eyes occasionally darting up to watch you writhe in pleasure before him. His cock was aching, need filling the marrow of his bones. He wondered distantly if he would be able to last, once he was inside of you. His arm flexed when your thigh threatened to fall from his shoulder, and he lapped at your sex while bringing you higher up on the arm of the couch.

 The taste was incredible, sending him further into a frenzy of determination. He wanted to make you come. He wanted to make sure you came until you physically couldn’t any longer. You were a delicacy that he needed more of. 

He slid two fingers against your folds, collecting the wetness there before pushing inside you slowly. His hips rolled forward at the feeling. The warm, hot mess you were… he could feel the precome leaking from the tip of him inside his pants. Her legs flexed again, a loud moan making him groan along with you. He curled his fingers, spearing into the spot inside of you expertly. He pulled off your clit to watch his own fingers delving inside of you, working the moans from your mouth. “That’s right sweetheart-” He encouraged, thrusting his fingers in and out, drooling over the sight of you. “I’m gonna make you come. Can you do that for me?” He said, voice deep and needy. 

You nodded, but the gesture was lost. His fingers stopped. His hand pinched your nipple, hard, drawing a strangled moan from you. “Say it.” He demanded. 

“Yes- Yes!” You panted, bucking your hips to him, trying to get him to move as he had been. 

“Yes what, sweetheart?” He kissed your thighs, and worked his fingers back into the rhythm slowly. 

Fuck no. You wouldn’t be begging him to make you come. You could do that on your own. Stubbornness and spite fueled you. You pushed yourself up, brought yourself from his mouth and pushed him back with a foot. Caught off guard, he rocked back long enough for you to right yourself on the arm of the sofa and catch his lips with yours. You made quick work with his pants, and finally had his cock in your mouth within a few moments. 

“Fuck-” He hissed. If he wasn’t sure about his longevity before, he was now. He was somewhat thankful that you were easing him of the ache, but even more grateful that he’d be able to fuck you without worrying about coming inside you. Your mouth was incredible. Perfect rhythm, perfect warmth and fuck- He squinted his eyes shut and to resist the urge to hold you in place with his cock down your throat.

 Within a few minutes, he was surging, his balls so ready to release that he saw stars. “I’m going to-” You swiped your tongue over the tip of him and he was done. He came with a shuddering gasp that left your sex dripping for more of those sounds. He spilled inside your mouth and shook slightly when you brought yourself upright. His silver hand gripped the couch, exposing the white stuffing inside. You watched him a moment as he collected himself,  his breathing heavy and labored turned into senseless curses mixed with promises of what exactly he was going to do to you. 

His teeth sunk into your lip and with ease, he lifted you from the floor and bent you over the couch. “Gonna fucking give you exactly what you want-” He muttered, stroking himself a few times before rubbing the length of his cock against your waiting pussy. The heavy head of him tapped at your clit, and he rubbed it there a moment, enjoying the way your body reacted to everything he did. 

You were on fire. The core of you was burning up, and if he didn’t completely fuck you soon, you’d be ash. Your thighs pressed together, rocking against your clit in desperation. He spread your legs back apart and pressed his fingers there, rubbing you slowly. Too slowly, your body needed him, needed his knot, all of him.

“You’re bad aren’t you?” He asked, sucking marks into your back as he coated his cock with your wetness. “Don’t take orders from no one, do you?” You couldn't help but smile at that. You didn’t expect him to like that about you, not when his title as the winter soldier went against that very idea. 

“Not if it gets me a better fucking-” You hissed as his cock slid inside you, stretching and claiming you. 

“That’s what you need, a good fucking, right?” He said, pulling out nearly all the way before slamming back in. You whimpered, arms shaking as you held yourself up on the couch. Coolness pressed into your back, easing you down. Your ass raised higher in the air, his other hand slapped and gripped your cheek, shaking it slightly.

 “I think I can give you that.” He snapped his hips forward and your hands gripped for anything to hold you in place. Instead, his hands went to your hips, one of his feet to hooked over the arm of the couch, and he held you steady while fucking into you. You were moaning something, you weren’t sure but he liked it. The need of your orgasm was climbing rapidly, your walls clenching around him with every thrust. The knot at the base of his cock was beginning to swell, catching on the inside of you with every few thrusts. 

It was loud. Your skin slapping against his as he took you was enough, but mixed with both your moans, you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a complaint letter in the mail in the next few days. 

“Please-” You didn’t know what you wanted more of, but you needed it. You were so close, so nearly there that- 

He pushed down, shifting you up slightly and pressed you into the couch. He rocked into you harder, forcing your clit to grind against the material. Your insides spasmed, and seemed to take him even deeper as your climax peaked and you fell into bliss.

Oversensitivity was apparently non-existent with him, and within a few more of his thrusts you were coming again, legs shaking violently. He breathed some kind of encouragement, his knot expanded quickly at the sensation of you around him, his own arousal peaking again while your cunt milked him. The fullness of him pressed inside your entrance caused another wave of pleasure to overtake you, and you cried out as the slightest motion against the couch sent you over the edge again. 

It felt endless. A downpour of pleasure that had you melting beneath him, shuddering and panting and drooling against the cushions. He leaned against you, but didn’t put his full weight on you. You could feel his heartbeat through you bodies, and your eyes felt suddenly heavy. Two sleepless nights pleasuring yourself in a attempt to keep the heat at bay had made you exhausted. 

Within moments you’d come three times, each of them hard enough that they left you exhausted, sated for at least a little while.

You woke hours later, while it was still dark out with Bucky at your side in your bed. You felt suddenly self conscious about the state of it, but realized he’d probably seen much worse than a few piles of clothes lying around. You took stock of him, each scar that dotted his face and the ruffled hair that stood out at odd angles. His face was so relaxed, so peaceful like this. Even with his soft snoring, he was more than just handsome, he was rugged. Intimidating, if giving the right look. No wonder no other men had approached you on the walk home. 

Your eyes roamed over the rest of him, how he’d pulled a spare blanket over himself instead of going beneath the quilt with you. Had it been for your comfort or for him to slip out more easily in the morning? Was it a limitation he set for himself? If it was, why hadn’t he left already?

You watched his breathing, making sure he was deep asleep before running a finger over the cold metal of his arm. Intricate layers of metal, locked together so tightly and thoroughly that it felt like a continuous piece of metal.

 Idly, You wondered how he ever took a plane anywhere. Your hand drifted to his, where you found half a fortune cookie. He’d helped himself to your dinner, apparently. Your laugh shook the bed, but he didn’t wake. You got up, used the bathroom and went to the kitchen to heat your meal back up.

He’d placed your takeout in the fridge, along with a note with his number. So he had planned to leave in the morning. But he’d wanted to see you again. 

You warmed up the food and when done, found the shirt he’d taken off. You pulled it around you, reveling in the scent of him on it. When you returned to the bed, he wrapped you in his arms almost immediately, pulling you close to his chest and tucking his forehead against your neck.

“Gonna fix that door.” He muttered groggily. 

#BUCKY X READER #READER X BUCKY #BUCKY BARNES FIC #ABO FIC #ABO #MCU FIC

[slenbee]

In Honor of Mermay:

Sunshine - Explicit - 18+ ONLY - Merman!Bucky x Reader

Mine - Explicit - 18+ ONLY - Octo!Bucky x Reader

Pearls and Perils - T+ - oneshot - Merman!Bucky x Mermaid!Reader

Prompts/requests: Open! Also, please see this post. Thanks! :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #mermay

[iwillbeinmynest]

Migraine - Bucky x Reader(f)

Authors Notes: This ones is for my girl over at @unleashthebeees! I hope this can offer some emotional support. I haven't had a migraine in years so I hope I did it justice.

Word Count: 950

Notes/Warnings: migraine, fluff, kissing (but not inappropriate) and just overall sweetness

 “Where are you off to?” Steve glanced up at Bucky from his laptop and smirked.

 “I’ve got some errands to run before meeting Y/N for dinner,” he responded honestly. He grabbed his leather jacket and glove and slipped them on.

 Sam walked in from down the hall. “You got a hot date, old man?”

 Bucky rolled his eyes as he fixed the fingers of his glove.

 “I think he’s going soft,” Sam half whispered to Steve.

 “You’re just jealous cause you can’t get a date,” Bucky finally retorted.

 “Oh, I can get a date.” Sam straightened his spine and wiped around his mouth, “fixing” his short beard.

 It was Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. “What are your plans for tonight?”

 Sam’s smile faded. “Well, I mean, I don’t have a date right now, but-”

 “Exactly.” Bucky grabbed his keys and threw his backpack over his shoulder. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out. He opened a text and frowned.

 “Everything okay?” Steve asked.

 Bucky didn’t respond but began texting.

 Steve tried again, “Buck?”

 He looked up. “Hm? Oh, yeah,” he shook his head and plastered on a smile. “Everything’s fine. I promise.” He put his phone back in his pocket and hurried for the door. “Have a good night.

====

 There was a quick knock on the door before you heard the jingling of keys. You continued to lay on the couch with your head under a throw pillow to block out the light.

 “Y/N?” Bucky called as you heard his keys hit the bowl in the foyer.

 “Living room,” you answered quietly. You heard him shuffle to the kitchen, moving plastic bags around and something hitting the counter. 

 He kicked off his shoes, leaving them by the wall, and walked softly to you. He sat beside you and began to rub your back. “A bad one?”

 You nodded.

 “When was the last time you took medicine?”

 You shrugged your shoulders. 

“I need a guess.”

 “Maybe four o’ clock?” you offered from under a pillow.

 He rubbed one more circle before getting up.

 You knew what he was doing; bathroom for meds, kitchen for water, freezer for a cold compress. When he came back, he gently removed the pillow from over your face.

 You prepared for the onslaught of pain that the light would bring, but you were surprised to find your living room nearly pitch black.

 “Hey,” he grinned. He handed you the pills in his hand and offered you a glass of water.

 “Hi.” You wanted to smile back but sitting up nearly made the room spin. You took the meds and he leaned you over his lap for you to rest your forehead on his thigh. He rested the cold compress on the back of your neck and then began to rub your back again.

 You stayed like that with him for nearly thirty minutes as the medicine kicked in. 

 Finally, you had some energy to sit up. “Thank you.”

 He smiled and placed a hand on your cheek before tugging you closer to place a soft kiss on your lips. “That’s what I’m here for.”

 You chuckled, “I don’t want to feel like this but if it gets you here…”

 He shook his head, his smile never faltering. “You don’t need to have a migraine for me to be here.” He got up from the couch and went towards the kitchen.

 “Why is the house so dark?”

 “Well, you can’t eat from under a pillow so I figured I’d close the curtains.”

 You looked at the curtains, they were unusually dark. They didn’t used to be like that. “Are these blackout curtains?”

 “I replaced the ones you had after your last episode. You kept talking about the light being too much.”

 You almost cried. “Thank you.” That was the sweetest thing anyone had done for you.

 Bucky shrugged and sat beside you setting take-away boxes on the coffee table. “It’s really not a big deal, but I’m surprised that you only noticed now.”

 You looked at him in awe as he spoke about the process of ordering the right length of curtain and installing them when you’d run out to the gym one afternoon. His eyes almost sparkled in the light coming from the kitchen. Wait, what light? The lights were off. You turned to see seven candles lit and flickering on the breakfast counter.

 “Candles?” you interrupted. 

 He sighed, “I’m not trying to make a move, I promise. I just read that lavender helps with migraines and I couldn't find any of these, um, oils? Essential oils? I googled migraine remedies and saw something about oils. Am I saying ‘oil’ too much?” he chuckled nervously.

 You laughed.

 “Anyways, I couldn’t find any, but I found lavender candles. They were small, so I bought… a lot.”

 You smiled at him and shook your head. 

 “What?” he asked after a while.

 “I’m just… No one has ever done something like this for me.”

 Bucky’s expression softened. “Well, I wanted to.” He looked at the food and his brows shot up with a deep breath. “So, I didn’t know if you wanted Chinese food so I also got Mexican and Thai.”

 You smirked and took his hand. You brought it to your lips and kissed it. “You’re too good for me.”

 “We both know that’s not true,” he grinned. He pulled you into a hug and leaned back onto the couch. 

 “Shh, It’s my night for misery,” you teased.

 The two of you stayed that way until the food went cold. Sometime later he got up and reheated everything and you spent the evening talking quietly in the candlelight until you fell asleep against him.

Tags:

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#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #reader x bucky #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky drabble #hurt comfort #comfort fic #marvel #iwillbeinmynest

[kurogxrix]

me when the READER in the X READER has a name:

like babe the fic ate but i do NOT look like an Aurora🙁

#bucky barnes x reader #peter parker x reader #bruce wayne x reader #din djarin x reader #steve harrington x reader #john price x reader #simon riley x reader #joel miller x reader #writing #fan fiction #fanfic #authors of tumblr #kurogxrix talks

[itshelia]

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

#bucky barnes x reader #spencer reid x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #dick grayson x reader #eddie munson x reader #tate langdon x reader #tommy shelby x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #steve harrington x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #astarion x reader #bellamy blake x reader #daryl dixon x reader #din djarin x reader #ghost x reader #jake sully x reader #joel miller x reader #neteyam x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #kaz brekker x reader #mike schmidt x reader #peter parker x reader #sirius black x reader #marc spector x reader #rafe cameron x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #steven grant x reader #x reader #matt murdock x reader

[poltoreveur]

I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.

#i’m very delusional but very real #please support my delulu #coriolanus snow x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #tom riddle x reader #void stiles x reader #ethan landry x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott x reader #luke castellan x reader #tate langdon x reader #rafe cameron x reader #eddie munson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #druig x reader #jason dean x reader #jonathan crane #patrick bateman #joe goldberg #klaus mikaelson #i like my men psychotic

[l0velysmut]

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

#smut #relatable #neteyam x reader #jake sully x reader #lo’ak x reader #tonowari x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #konig x reader #draco malfoy x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #ellie williams x reader #harry potter x reader #rick grimes x reader #dean winchester x reader #neytiri x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #edmund pevensie x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #five hargreeves x reader #leon kennedy x reader #gojo satoru x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj mayback x reader

[buckyalpine]

40s Sergeant Barnes with a nurse and a Sergeant kink (and breeding and house wife kink, virginity loss). This was supposed to be a pure smutty drabble but then I got in my feelings and added some fluff and angst but I promise Bucky is still a dirty, nasty little fuck in this. Just with a sweeter ending. The one he deserves.

Listen just imagine what a cute, sexy menace Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes would be just waking up from an injury when his eyes flutter open to the pretty nurse he’s been eyeing from the day he started. You’re not a shy, dainty little thing, nope. Not at all.

You bark out orders like a drill Sergeant and one glare from you is all it takes to get everyone in line and on task without a second thought. Even his superiors are scared of you, biting their tongue when you stitch them up and send them on their way before running off to your next patient.

Bucky was in love.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he rasps, throwing you a charming smirk while you roll your eyes in response, shaking your head. "How'd I get so lucky, got a my little angel tendin' to me"

“I see your injury hasn’t stopped hurt that mouth of yours Sergeant" You quirk an eyebrow while he playfully huffs as you change the dressing covering a gash on his abdomen. You swab the area clean and he doesn't flinch even though you know it must burn like hell, his muscles tensed while he continues to watch you with heart eyes. "Now you know I'm not your little angel, I got 20 other men to fix up, you better be out of this bed as soon as you're all healed up"

“C’mon sugar, you're breakin' my heart" Bucky gives you a little pout with those perfect lips and you catch the twinkle in his eye as he looks over your form with complete admiration. He loved your sassy, take no shit attitude and it's taking everything in him to calm himself down so he doesn't get a hard on right there in front of you.

"You'd tell that to a cat with three legs if it was in a nurses outfit" You try your best to not give into his flirty comments and puppy eyes, knowing damn well he's a heart breaker but he makes it so difficult when he continues to woo you with his boyish charm.

He can't help but chase after you; catching the way your eyes always dart around with anxiety when his group returns from an operation, relief flooding them when you finally spot him. He loves your indifferent attitude, patting him down to make sure he's uninjured but your furrowed brows and the tiny pout on your lips give away that you're worried.

How can he just let you go. Every time you check over him, he needs you closer.

So much closer.

-

"Ms. y/l/n, Sergeant Barnes is requesting you in his tent, he says it's urgent"

You shake your head looking over at the time, quietly making your way over to the tent he's stationed at, thankful that a number of troops were sleeping so you wouldn't be seen as you quickly slip inside.

“And what hurts now” you sass with your hands on your hips seeing the soldier in perfect health, doing your best to assess him without letting him know.

"Always checkin' over me" Bucky chuckles, seeing what you're doing; his words making your cheeks heat up, "Knew you cared about me sugar"

"Well what am I doin' here" You give him an unconvincing huff, struggling to keep your voice steady, refusing to meet his eyes, keeping your gaze on his silver dog tags instead. It doesn't help that he's handsome as hell with a light dusting of scruff covering his cheeks. Bucky's never seen you flustered before and it evokes something in him, all the blood in his body rushing south seeing your fingers twitch.

All he wanted to do was kiss you but now-

“Help your Sergeant out doll” He whispers, taking another step forward till his chest brushes against yours, his hand coming to tilt your chin up, "Will you?"

You gasp feeling his hardness press against your thigh, your heart fluttering wildly as his thumb traces your lips, any semblance of control you had slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“Y-yes Sergeant Barnes”

His lips press against yours, soft and sweet, a stark contrast to the way his body was screaming for him to pick you up and toss you onto his cot.

"Sweet like sugar" He lets his hands fall to your waist, pulling you flush against his body while your arms drape on top of his shoulders. You stand on your toes chasing more of his lips and he chuckles at the needy whine you let out when he pulls away for air.

Now let's say your first night together was actually quite tame. He kisses you again and you swoon when he repeatedly checks in with you before going any further. His hand slips under your skirt, letting his fingers toy with places no on else has touched. With each night, he needs you more and more until he can't hold off any longer and neither can you.

-

You sneak into his tent and this time he doesn't hesitate to undress you completely, not when he needs you bare with nothing separating you both. You feel your heart race as he lies on top of you, draping a thin sheet over himself when you shiver at the chill night air. You feel his body heat instantly warm you up, his heavy cock resting between your soaked folds.

"Are you sure, sugar?" He asks, his hand cupping your cheek and stroking your skin.

"Please Sergeant" You whisper and the way you say his title makes his cock twitch. There's something so different about you when you're in his bed, a sweet little bunny giving herself to him completely. It drives him feral with a need to make you feel good, make you cry for his cock and his cock only, to keep you nice and full of him.

You don't look twice at anyone else and here you are completely naked in his tent with your tight little virgin cunt, your legs spread open so he can put his dick in you; there was no way he was ever going to let you go.

"You tell me if it's too much, alright?" His lips tickle your neck as kisses your skin while rubbing his heavy cock through your folds, coating it in your slick, "Breathe for me"

He slips his tags into your mouth as he starts to press in, the initial sting making you bite down hard onto the metal feeling a mix of pleasure and pain. You whine at the way he stretches you open, your thighs squeezing around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders.

"Shhh, that's it love, doin' so good for me so good for your Sergeant, look how you're takin' all of me baby" He looks down to where you're both connected as he continues to slowly push himself in till hes fully sheathed inside you. He gives you time to adjust, slipping his tags out of your lips and letting his tongue lace with yours instead, his balls already throbbing with how tightly you were squeezing his cock.

"Please-Sergeant" your heels press into his ass desperate for him to move, gasping when he starts to slowly roll his hips, barely pulling out.

"I got you love-don't worry" Bucky moves as slowly as he could not wanting to hurt you, taking just as much care of you as you had with him countless of times.

But he can only keep up at that pace for so long. Your muffled whines and moans don't help the way his mind is already spiraling. His pretty little nurse all spread out just for him, taking his raw, bare cock in her soaking pussy, squeezing him so tight, he was only a few strokes from cumming.

If it were up to him he would've proposed on the spot, thinking about making love to you on your wedding night, seeing you all shy and sweet wrapped up in soft white lace. If you were his wife, he'd take you apart every which way, not giving a fuck about traditions, taking you right on the dining room table.

You'd be the prettiest little thing for him to come home to, such a good wife all dirty just for her husband. Only he'd know the way your mouth would slobber all over his cock like your life depended on it. The way you'd moan at the taste of his cum. Bucky's eyes rolled back at the thought of you with nothing but some heels and a string of pearls he'd put around your neck while he stuffed you with cum and emptied his balls in you.

"S-Sergeant-I-oh god" You whimpered feeling his cock grow harder, your pussy pulling him right back in, feeling the coil low in your belly pull tighter and tighter as he hit that spot.

Meanwhile Bucky's jaw clenched as he felt his balls pull tight to his body, the tip leaking steadily in your pussy. His mind spiraled into places he didn't think would exist before he met you, rogue thoughts he only entertained when he had his dick in his hand. The harder he fucked you the more he thought about how gorgeous you'd look with a swollen belly.

Fuck, imagine if he got you pregnant right then and there. That nurses uniform would no longer fit you. Everyone would know he knocked you up, your perfectly round tummy carrying Sergeant James Barnes' baby, breasts heavy with milk, God, he wasn't going to last-

“Gonna let your Sergeant pump you full of cum?” He pants, letting his hands grip onto your hips like his life depends on it, the wiry hair at the base of his cock rubbing against your clit.

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-youI-I'm gonna-"

"M'yours sweet girl, m'all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum Sergeant" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, m-gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Bucky right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair; his usual kempt brown locks now disheveled .

“Y’know m’gonna marry you” his scruffy cheek nuzzles into your neck as he continues to stay deep inside you as his cock softens, “after all this is over. Gonna put a ring on that finger”

His words send a different wave of emotions over you, feeling more safe than ever, clinging onto him as tightly as possible. You let a whimper slip out and he pulls away from your neck with an expression of concern.

“What is it love” Bucky coos, wiping away the tears that slip you, stroking your cheek while you bite back a sniffle.

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” You weren't sure what Bucky would want-there was still a war going on. Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course sugar" Bucky presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

-

And of course he gets his happy ending. Because when it's all over, he gets the ring for the girl he loves. He's on one knee, proposing to you with the sweetest words. He treats you like a princess on your wedding night, making love all night long until the sun is up.

There isn't a surface in the house he's left untouched. Nothing makes him more feral than moaning for his pretty wife, constantly taking her hand and wrapping it around his cock, watching that diamond glint with each stroke.

It doesn't take long for you to feel a little squeamish, knowing all the tell tale signs.

The day you tell him he's going to be a dad is one of the happiest days of his life. There isn't a single night that goes by where he isn't nuzzling his face into your tummy, talking to your little one.

Everything was perfecttt.

#40s bucky barnes #40s bucky #40's bucky #40s bucky barnes x reader #bucky banes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x nurse reader #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fan fic #bucky fan fiction #bucky fanart #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x smut

[gutsby]

Wedded Bliss

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: The marriage was arranged, and the sex is deranged. Bucky is so obsessed with your pussy that he almost forgets he’s meant to be faking this whole thing—and hating it, like sworn enemies are supposed to do.

Warnings: 18+. Dubcon. Corruption kink. Virginity loss. Arranged marriage between enemies. Brat taming. Breeding kink. Beefy, mob boss Bucky devolving into a fall-to-his-knees-just-to-fuck-you kind of horny mess.

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

You kissed him and wished him dead in the same breath. You said ‘I do’ and meant ‘I don’t,’ exchanged your vows like your own last rites, and felt him slip the ring on your finger as if he’d just tightened a noose around your neck.

You didn’t want to be a bride, and you sure as hell didn’t want to be the bride to Mr. James Buchanan Barnes.

Frankly, you were mortified.

And terrified, too, now that you knew your groom might actually kill you in the kitchen of your honeymoon suite.

“Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I walked down the aisle, didn’t I?”

Another plate went crashing on the wall behind your husband’s head just as he managed to duck. He side-stepped a spray of porcelain and glass and probably crushed several hundred shards beneath his polished black oxfords when he walked—stalked—over to you.

You’d just reared back to hurl a serving plate at his face when you found your speed swiftly outmatched. Bucky had your elbow gripped between his forefinger and thumb in less than a second, and, pinching the bone like he might readily break it, he said, even as always,

“Put it down.”

You did as he told you and dropped the platter to the floor with a crash.

Rather than berate you for the broken china—or the four other pieces before it—your husband only smiled.

“Are we done?”

Hell, you wanted to be. Slide over a pen and a one-way plane ticket to someplace in BFE, and you’d be signing those divorce papers in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, your dear husband was just referring to the temper tantrum.

You weren’t totally sure if you were finished on that front, so you looked him up and down and shrugged.

“Now darling—” he started.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Light of my life—”

“I’ll kill you.”

Your cool, level-headed groom took each gibe like it was his sworn duty, and only when he yanked your wrists behind your back and shoved you toward the bedroom door did you sense that he might not be too pleased with your behavior.

Your knees struck the edge of the California King at the center of the room, and before you could will yourself not to fall face-first, Bucky nudged you hard again.

Still pinning your hands behind you, he followed your collapse on the bed and leaned over your prone body.

His breaths were hot on your ear; you could tell he was smiling as he started to hike your dress up your legs.

“It’s all part of the deal, doll.”

You wriggled under his hold and tried to angle yourself better to see him, hoping he’d see your scowl.

“The deal was to get married,” you reminded him.

“Mhmm,” Bucky hummed, just then starting to trail a finger up the uncovered skin of your calf with his other hand, “And what is it that married people do?”

You kicked your foot reflexively, paused, then said,

“Fight. Constantly. Probably resent each other for the better part of two decades before we finally decide that ‘making it work’ for the kids isn’t worth it at all, and I claim half of everything you own in a bitter divorce.”

That earned a chuckle from Bucky. He kept his roaming hand brushing up the back of your thigh and squeezed the flesh just below the swell of your rear.

“Don’t worry, my lawyer drafted a pretty good prenup.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but then he was tracing the contour of your ass with his palm, and you cut yourself short. Bucky carried on, careless as ever.

“But the kids you mentioned,” he said, “How are we supposed to get those?”

You pursed your lips and tried hard not to move when his fingers drifted inward—you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm. The bottom of your dress was bunched around your hips now, leaving you sorely exposed. Had your bridesmaids not thrust that stupid white lingerie set upon you hours before the wedding, you probably would’ve chosen something a little more modest than a thong. But here you were.

At least the sight seemed appealing to your husband, whose eyes hadn’t left you once while his hands grew even hungrier to feel your warmth.

“I’m hoping a sperm donor or one of your double-crossing mobster friends will knock me up, honestly,” you said, feigning enthusiasm at the thought.

A tart slap delivered to your ass told you that Bucky hadn’t found that funny. After, he started kneading the skin a bit harder.

“No shot,” he shook his head, suddenly gliding his fingers down closer to your core and waiting for you to say something in protest, “Only one that’s gonna be pumping this thing full of babies is me, I promise.”

It was like he wanted your retaliation, whether that be by a thinly veiled look of disgust or a reactionary jab of your own. You weren’t keen on fulfilling any wish of his, but at this point, you felt you had no other choice. When you sensed he was distracted by the newly-discovered heat between your legs and had loosened his grip on your wrists, you flipped yourself over on the bed. Shoved at his chest before he knew what to do with himself.

Of course, the push didn’t send him far, but it was enough to get his attention—and his hands off of you.

“I’m not having your babies, Barnes! I am never going to fuck you, no matter how long we stay fake married,” you spat.

At that, Bucky just raised his eyebrows and wet his lips. You were cramming your wedding dress back into place, glaring at him the whole time, and were scarcely more aware of the bright, teeming city outside the window than you were of your husband’s own growing erection.

Finally, you’d said it. His new wife wouldn’t fuck him. The sound of your resistance was almost a pleasure unto itself, and the longer you stared at Bucky with growing contempt and resolve not to do that thing, the more determined he became to make it happen.

Cat-and-mouse games had long been a staple in his life, and he was pleased to see them carry into his marriage as well. Surely if he’d triumphed in every pursuit for the last twenty years—facing the likes of some seriously execrable bandits and racketeers—he could take on a bratty woman less than half his size. You said you didn’t want his babies now, but just wait until he’d fucked you full of his cum once or twice. You’d be begging him for it in no time at all, and shortly thereafter, he’d have you barefoot and pregnant as many times as he liked. Always swollen with one of his children and whining for more.

The woman before him now had a murderous glint in her eyes, but he could fuck that away easy. In fact, he would live to do it. He traced the outline of your thigh over your dress and smiled when you tried not to recoil.

“Surely you didn’t think we’d be finger-painting and reading poetry to each other on our wedding night, hm?” he asked, almost delicately.

“Thought you might have one of your other women lined up,” you snorted. When you tried to move away, Bucky pinched your leg to make you stay. You winced.

“That’s not funny,” he said, a little more consternation in his tone. Like he actually cared whether you thought him a profligate Lothario or not, “Now that we’re married, it’s only you and me. No mistresses, nothing.”

Yeah, and he was just as likely arriving to your marital bed a blushing virgin. You rolled onto your side and pretended not to feel him tighten his grip as you did.

“Try the carnal part of our marriage yourself and I’m sure you’ll find I’m an exceptional fuck,” Bucky continued, speaking low as he stroked the chiffon of your dress.

You didn’t doubt the man was good—certainly the extent of his sexual escapades as a twenty-something seemed to demand it—but exceptional? No fucking way. You knew men like Bucky, with the world and every walking pair of tits at their fingertips, and almost all were incurably selfish. Cocky. The kind to jackhammer a woman for three consecutive minutes, roll over, and say, ‘Did you cum?’

No, there was not a snowball’s chance in hell your husband’s sexual prowess was even half as good as he claimed it was. Deciding to bite your tongue for the first time that night, though, you just stared at him blankly.

What you didn’t know was that your silence only stoked the flames of his ego, prompting him to press the matter further.

“What? You think I can’t fuck?” he said, “Any woman lucky enough to bed me has cum at least twice. Every time.”

Sure they did, Bucky, you wanted to say, but were suddenly drawn into his lap before you could speak.

“But let’s pretend I can’t,” he said, heedless of the face you made as soon as you were straddling his hips, “You wouldn’t let your husband prove himself tonight?”

“I don’t fuck strangers.”

Bucky smiled at that.

“Everyone’s a stranger until you get to blow them, honey,” he teased, squeezing your hips when you didn’t seem amused at all. Then you let out a cry, feeling yourself thrown back on the mattress like a rag doll while Bucky moved off.

Before you knew it, he was tugging your ankles down the length of the bed and widening his stance just a bit. He stopped pulling once your knees were grazing his black dress pants and your feet were dangling off of the bed.

“You like skylines?” he asked.

You frowned and raised a brow that he was quick to interpret as a ‘yes.’ He hauled you onto your feet.

“‘Course you do. All pretty girls like pretty skies,” he rattled on, strolling with you step-by-step to the set of French doors at the end of the room.

Bucky led you out to the balcony. The air was warm as it ever was, dull gusts of the evening wind curling up from the coastline below. Just as your husband had promised, the skyline of Santorini greeted you on either side, and you had to admit, it was more than just pretty. The views from your villa were absolutely breathtaking.

You stood with your back to Bucky, hands resting on the marble balustrade, and you felt him there, behind you. You didn’t bother to tilt your head when he drew even closer.

“What do you like most about it?” The question was simple enough, punctuated with a kiss on your shoulder. Your eyes scanned the horizon, the sea, even the quiet little streets down beneath, and you racked your brain trying to think of an answer that might satisfy him.

Before you could, though, you sucked in a breath when you felt your dress start to come undone at your back.

Bucky was unzipping your gown, gentle as ever, and probably grinning from ear to ear as he watched you shift uncomfortably in place and try to hold the material above your breasts where it had been fastened all day. Presently, you kicked your heel backward and hoped it would land somewhere near his balls. You missed.

“James,” you hissed.

Bucky groaned at the sheer intonation of his name on your lips.

“Yes, dear?”

“Why are you undressing me?”

Bucky had successfully dragged the zipper all the way down to your ass, and it seemed he was trying to shimmy the dress off your frame. You held on tight.

“I’d like to fuck my bride over the balcony railing, if that’s alright with you,” he answered truthfully.

The man was nothing if not blunt and crass. You turned around to give him a look, yanking your gown even closer to your chest.

“I’ll— I’ll tell my mother, Barnes.”

You felt stupid as soon as you’d said it—using your go-to threat whenever you were in distress. What were you, eleven?

“Your mother?” Bucky repeated, words steeped in derision, “Last I recall, mommy dearest was practically begging me to get you pregnant at the reception.”

Your jaw clenched, and you internally cursed your whole family. Your parents were supposed to be on your side throughout all of this—it was bad enough they’d pawned you off to a mob boss of unrivaled infamy all to settle a debt, but this? Your mother had assured you just the day before that Mr. Barnes was bound to tire of you within the year. No mention of sex or babies whatsoever.

The same mother who had beat you over the head with the notion of your own virginity since you were old enough to read, the one who had underscored just how important it was to wait for the right man to give yourself body, mind, and soul to, turning around and telling this filthy criminal to have you any way he liked. And knock you up? The fucking nerve of that woman.

You were so preoccupied with thoughts of your own backstabbing family that you hardly felt Bucky drag your dress the rest of the way down your body. It was only when you were completely bare before him, and your husband had just started to skim his lips over your tummy that you tensed with surprise.

“I don’t have to fuck you just yet, doll,” he murmured, having sunk to his knees and only moving lower. Then the corners of his lips twitched, “Least not with my dick.”

You tried to pry his head from between your legs before he could stretch his tongue so much as an inch.

“James!”

Again with that name.

“You know, I love when you call me that, Mrs. Barnes.”

Bucky was peering up at you now, soaking in the sight of your body in a white lace bra, panties, and stockings.

“Is my bride feeling shy?” he teased, gently nipping at your inner thighs.

You weren’t sure what you were feeling in that moment, to be honest. Revulsion, betrayal, arousal, you name it—each crowned with an all-encompassing hatred for the man currently occupying the space between your legs—while a still stronger desire almost hoped he would stay.

“You can hate your husband all you want and still let him tonguefuck you,” Bucky growled against your skin.

Like he’d read your mind.

In reality, your husband hardly needed the powers of telepathy to tell him just how turned on you were; the sopping wet spot in your panties said as much. From his vantage point, Bucky saw the disgust in your eyes slowly eclipsed by lust, and with a single flick of his tongue, he knew he would have you exactly where he wanted you.

“Just let it happen, honey.”

He felt your fingers thread tight through his hair and the first stir of your hips in tandem. One small, delectable whimper crossed your lips, and it took everything in Bucky not to tear your panties straight off with his teeth.

Instead, the man opted for a soft, gentle lick over your clothed slit. Testing the waters.

Your whimper was quick to meld to a moan, and then, just as fast:

“N-no, Bucky.”

To your dismay, his tongue didn’t retreat, only making firmer laps against your centre while his lips grazed the lace. He gripped your thighs and wedged himself deeper, and again, you cursed the paper thin fabric of your panties for letting you feel everything his mouth was doing. He hadn’t even made proper contact with your cunt, and your knees were already starting to shake.

He pressed a kiss above your clit through the flimsy material, and you almost tore a clump of hair from his head.

“No. Please.” You hardly made sense to yourself; it was clear you wanted his touch, but something inside you wasn’t quite ready to submit to the idea that this was all okay. That your husband’s tongue and lips might be meant for something like this, and you didn’t have to feel so guilty for wanting it either. Fucking purity culture.

“My pretty girl,” Bucky presently murmured above the fabric, words sending a dozen little shockwaves in their wake, “My beautiful fucking wife.”

The man inhaled your scent and could’ve sworn he was in ecstasy. Blinded by desire as he was, he really wasn’t bullshitting in the slightest when he gathered you to him and said you were the best; he’d genuinely grown transfixed by the feel of you, in spite of every fibre of his being telling him not to. The marriage was arranged, fake, and fueled by hatred—and somehow, Bucky couldn’t get enough.

Nor could he wait any longer. One light swipe of his finger tugged your panties aside, and then he was latching on, no cover this time, to take your clit between his lips. Sucking hard, going fast, needing it bad.

A moan rang loud in his ears, and your hand on his head was instantly joined by the other. You yanked his hair like you never had before, pulling so tight at the roots as though your pleasure depended on it. Bucky smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue.

“Feel good, baby?” he breathed.

His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions.

You didn’t know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Bucky flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking.

“You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?”

His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the marble and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

Bucky wanted to break that resolve. He brought one hand closer to your entrance.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside. The act surprised your husband almost as much as it did you—not quite, but almost—upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him.

When you whined a loud, protracted, ‘FUCK!’ he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this.

Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Bucky knew you were close.

He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else’s. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

Then, unexpectedly, both were robbed of your touch.

Seized with fear, you shoved Bucky off and stumbled away from his glistening face. You took off toward the doors and fled the balcony before you could think.

“What the f— honey? Honey?!” Bucky sputtered. He bounded after you.

You’d thrown yourself in the master bathroom and locked the door behind you in the blink of an eye. Outside, your husband had only to stare in pure bewilderment and awe, mind reeling at what had just happened.

Fucking hell, he knows. He knows! You collapsed against the door and slid down a couple inches. Your hand reflexively flew to your mouth to stifle the sounds when Bucky began pounding the wood behind you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What’s—what’s goin’ on?”

In truth, you’d rather chug bleach than divulge the thought that had just scared the everliving fuck out of you back there. It was stupid and senseless and should’ve been frightening you for weeks before it ever came to this, but here you were, panicked in the bathroom of your honeymoon suite because you’d never done this before—and you’d never reached climax in your life without bursting into tears.

Fuck, you felt stupid. How could you think this would be any different—or that Bucky’s tongue wouldn’t eventually attempt to wrest an orgasm out of you?

It’d just felt so good, you thought maybe a new climax brought by someone else’s fingers might free you from the same unsavory demise you’d met a hundred times before, but then it hit you, shortly after Bucky had plunged his fingers inside, you were going to cry.

You winced when Bucky’s knocks grew louder, his voice gaining more ire by the second, it seemed.

“Open the fucking door!”

He’d rake you over the coals for this. Getting so close to what he wanted, only to have his silly little bride snatch it all away and run hiding in the en-suite bathroom? Your stomach turned at the thought of what men in the mob were liable to do with women like you—what Bucky might conceivably do now that you’d sparked his rage.

Your eyes darted to the window just as his fist shook the doorframe behind you. You ran over to the tub, tucked squarely beneath the windowsill, and climbed onto it just to get a hold of the fastenings around the glass.

One click synchronized with the furious cadence being hammered on the door, and just as you started to slide the pane up the way, a heavy thud sounded outside. The weight of your husband’s body being thrust against the door, most likely.

You bit your lip and lifted one leg over the windowsill, shuffling your body even closer to the outside world.

Three floors up! Have you lost your mind? You could hear your father’s words ringing in your skull already. There was a ledge, you reasoned, no more than ten feet below, if you could just grab hold of the frame right there and slide down the cool stone you might—

“Fuck,” Bucky groaned.

You watched your husband heave through the busted door of the bathroom, wide eyes and a ‘Here’s Johnny’ flourish raging hot on his face. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you started to lower yourself out of the window, hoping desperately for that ledge below to be sturdy. But before you could make it even half of the way there, strong arms were circling your frame and yanking you back inside, hurtling straight into the bathtub with Bucky tumbling over you.

“What are you doing?!” he roared.

You wriggled under his weight, petrified of the fiery look in his eyes as he lurched over your frame.

He straightened up just enough to shake you by the shoulders—like a parent reprimanding a child.

“What the fuck was that?! Huh? You think that’s fucking funny, jumping out windows?”

No, no, not funny, you wanted to bite back, but found your mouth dry and unable to speak. When Bucky shook you again, you had only to whimper a pathetic sound.

The man was enraged. Stubble still damp with your juices and looking undeniably frazzled and spent, he drew closer to your face and demanded you look at him. When he took hold of your cheeks in both hands, the command couldn’t have reached you any more clearly.

“What— what was that for?” his voice lowered as he tried to catch his breath. You still couldn’t move.

“I-I don’t—” you stopped and hardly knew how to say it:

Sorry to cut our tonguefucking session short, I was just afraid I might burst into a fit of uncontrollable tears while you licked and sucked me through the best orgasm of my life. I’d rather jump off, or out of, a building than tell my mob boss husband that I can’t cum without crying. By the way, I’m a virgin!

Instead, you just blinked and stared back at him.

“Can’t…do it,” you murmured.

Bucky’s expression only grew more puzzled by the words out of your mouth. He squeezed your face tighter and leaned in even closer.

“Do what? Sex? Fuck, I— I didn’t mean to be that aggressive, hell, I’m sorry.” He stopped to run a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you could’ve sworn you saw the first glint of compunction in his eyes.

He looked away a few seconds, as if collecting what fragmented thoughts he could, then brought his head back down to your level and took your hands in his.

“Honey?” he tried getting your attention, just barely above a whisper now, “I know the whole thing’s fucked, I know.”

That was the understatement of the century. To your surprise, Bucky’s gaze softened when he saw a scowl cross your face.

“We don’t…have to do anything. I was just pushing your buttons earlier. Being a dick.”

His tongue moved to wet his lips once more, this time without the seductive, smug demeanor he usually wore and simply exhibiting discomfort. He swallowed. The bow tie around his neck appeared to him to be fastened far too tight all of a sudden, and then, haphazardly, he started clawing at the garment to get it off.

You didn’t know why you felt compelled to help. It was like all ten fingers just lifted of their own accord to join Bucky’s hands in trying to undo his tie.

The silk fabric wasn’t tied, but knotted, crudely and inflexibly, beneath the little black bow. You frowned. Still unable to meet his gaze as you worked your fingers under the tangled material and tried to pretend like the two of you weren’t still sweating profusely from the events that had just transpired—both the tonguefucking and the window-jumping.

“Who tied this, a five-year-old?” you muttered.

“I’m thirty-eight, thanks,” Bucky returned just as quietly.

Both of you indulged in a smile that lasted no longer than a second, but you felt the tension ease a little.

This was not where you thought your dreaded wedding night was headed before. Curled up in a bathtub with your hands around your husband’s neck—and not actually trying to kill him—while Bucky blinked almost nervously the longer your hands lingered on his collar. It seemed he’d found something especially tantalizing on the wall behind your head, because his stare remained fixed on that spot the whole time you fiddled with his tie.

Maybe that, along with the last ebb of alcoholic influence from the reception still coursing through your veins, had emboldened you to come right out and say it while Bucky was looking away. You couldn’t be sure.

“I’ve never had sex before.”

At last, the tie loosened a little.

Bucky flicked his gaze back to yours in a second.

“What?”

You lifted a brow, wondering if he really needed an explanation as to what it meant to have never gotten laid before, but you decided against indulging him any further. Bucky seemed keen on doing that all by himself.

“You’re a virgin?”

You nodded.

“Didn’t my overbearing mother make sure you knew?”

“Yeah, I thought she was full of shit,” Bucky answered bluntly. Then, catching sight of the semi-offended look in your eye, mixed with a tad more amusement than indignation, he added, “I mean— I didn’t think you’d, uh, wanna wait…twenty-five years for some action.”

He winced when he realized that sounded just as bad. His throat cleared shortly to make way for a new attempt at comity, but you cut him off, shaking your head as you finally got the knot to untangle.

“No, I get it. I don’t know why I waited this long either,” you shrugged.

As soon as you’d freed him from his bow tie, you started to stand from the bath tub. Bucky, too, straightened to his full height and started to close the window while you walked back to the bedroom.

You eyed the rose petals strewn across the duvet and felt a little more relaxed this time around. The weight of the V-word had been lifted from your shoulders, and now you had only to share the crying-while-cumming stuff to Bucky later on. Much later on, you hoped.

You crawled onto the bed and stretched out on your belly, playing with the soft red petals and wondering if room service was still offered at this hour.

Bucky had just stepped out of the bathroom when he halted at the threshold. Saw your body sprawled out on the bed, back arched and ass pointed in the air as you reached over for the phone on the nightstand. He stared for a second too long and felt a familiar stir in his pants.

Sonovabitch, he started to think, before chiding himself silently, Shut up, man, she’s a virgin. Be cool. Be cool—don’t make her jump out a window again.

He ducked back in the bathroom and eased the door to just a crack while you discovered a voice on the line:

“Hi! Hey, I’d like to order room service to, uh…” your voice trailed off. Then, covering the mouthpiece, “James, what’s our room number?”

Inside the bathroom, Bucky squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his name. Already palming his erection through his dress pants as he leaned against the wall.

“We rented the whole building, dear,” he called back.

“Oh.” He could just imagine the slight pout on your lips as you spoke. Then you asked if he wanted anything to eat, Bucky thought only of the sweet nectar between your legs, and he answered aloud, no, he was fine, really.

For the first time in his life, the man felt positively ashamed he was about to rub one out in a bathroom, alone. It wasn’t like this was the first it had ever been done, but now there was you, innocent and oblivious in the next room over, while Bucky undid his belt and quietly freed his cock from his dress pants. It felt kind of perverted, in a way, but he knew he needed this release to put his mind at ease and not feel so affected by you.

While you scanned your phone for a menu and chatted with the concierge downstairs about various food items, Bucky was spitting in his hand and fumbling for his shaft. You talked American Wagyu sirloin, lobster thermidor, and seared Faroe Island salmon while he thought achingly about the way your cunt had tasted and how badly he wanted to try it again.

How did he feel about an artisan cheese platter? Bucky hardly had the wits about himself to answer beyond a strangled, ‘Whatever you want, honey’ and a tightened fist around his cock, stroking hard to get the filthy thoughts out of his head before the food arrived.

Ever sweet, soft, supple, and savory—his mind reeled with fresh memories of that place between your thighs, and he almost lurched forward in pleasure.

Your brute of a mob boss husband was irreparably pussy-whipped and hadn’t even fucked you yet. He gripped the bathroom sink beside him and sincerely wished it wasn’t his hand doing the work right now. But of course, he had to be patient, had to be kind—couldn’t force himself on a woman who clearly wasn’t ready.

Again, he spit in his palm and jerked himself fast.

Any minute now, he thought with some relief.

Your feet padded softly into the living room as the pleasure inside him was starting to crest. Still pining for your warmth and the way your legs trembled around his head, Bucky was all but fucking his hand at this point. He’d snagged his bottom lip between his teeth in a lopsided smile and groaned, too low to be heard, and pumped himself even faster for his impending orgasm.

A thought crossed your mind as you stopped ahead of the sofa. You pivoted.

Suddenly, you were skipping back to the bathroom, wanting to know Bucky’s wine preferences before you placed another order.

You barged in and froze.

“Sorry!” you squeaked, darting out just as fast.

Five seconds slower and you probably would’ve seen Bucky blow his load all over the sink. As it was, the man was left sorely at a loss for any form of release and heaving fast, ragged breaths from the colossal scare you’d just given him.

Good fucking going, Buck—your wife wants to cuddle and eat cheese and you’re out here beating your meat.

Bucky shoved himself back in his pants and waited an excruciating minute for the sound of your second window exit of the night. A slammed door, a frantic phone call, a few sobs into your pillow as you realized how dirty and depraved your husband was, anything.

He was only met with silence.

Taking one more shaky breath, Bucky reached for the doorknob and started back out. Cautiously.

The man took his slow, silent leave of the bathroom with his gaze trained toward the doors—half-expecting to see his bride rappelling from the balcony—but then quickly shifted to the bed. Finding you kneeling at the edge.

“James?”

Your voice almost pained.

A word was all it took. Bucky was back on his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted it to go away, honey. I’m sorry.”

Go away? You quirked a brow and couldn’t hold his gaze much longer; just trailed your vision down his torso to his pants, then his erection, still standing prominent as ever.

Bucky struggled to decide whether you were ticked off or intrigued, seeing your eyes make their painful appraisal of his length beneath his pants. Your brow was pinched, but your head was cocked. Almost curious.

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, gaze fixed on the spot.

Immediately, Bucky rose to his feet and crawled back on the bed, seizing your body with both of his hands.

“No! No, not mad at all,” he mumbled as he sidled up beside you. Pleased to see you hadn’t recoiled, “I was just, uh…missing you, ‘s’all.”

If his men could see him now, Bucky was sure he’d be the laughing stock of all the town. Doting and kind, eyes softened beyond recognition, he just watched you and wanted nothing more than to repair the smile that had ebbed from your face. Come ridicule, hell, or high water, the man was infatuated with his bride—all broken plates and attempted window escapes be damned.

Presently, you brought your hand down to his bulge.

Bucky stiffened but didn’t speak. He wanted you to do this on your own, of your own volition.

“You seem kinda mad to me.” You hardly knew what you were doing. Just rubbing his length and hoping it was something he’d like.

Where Bucky had wanted to see you smile, you just wanted to hear him grunt and whine—maybe grab your hips and beg you to do something, please. You’d never felt any such degree of control, and you suspected Bucky had never not felt it himself. You wanted him desperate.

You were playing a dangerous game, you knew it, but something inside those baby blues said he wanted to do it, too. Do anything for you, quite frankly.

You watched the rise and fall of Bucky’s broad chest and stroked his length even softer.

“James.”

“Uh-huh?” His mouth hung open with a gentle grunt, fighting every instinct to buck into your touch.

At last, you squeezed his shaft and prodded him on. Let your head drift closer to his so his lips would graze the apple of your cheek, and just when you sensed he wanted a taste, you tilted your face toward his own,

“We haven’t even kissed since the ceremony.”

Bucky stared blankly at you, enrapt with the pulse of your fingers. You could tell he was aching to move.

“Oh yeah?” he murmured.

You nodded a wordless affirmation and slid sharply back in bed as Bucky lunged after you. Your hands flew from his pants to the plush mattress behind you as you shifted—or, rather, scrambled—back in place and felt your husband climb over you hungrily.

“That what my wife wants?” he murmured, frame slotting tight between your legs.

You nodded again, and had only to suck in a breath before Bucky was devouring your lips. The kind of flushed, frantic, filthy kiss that would’ve doubtlessly wrought looks of horror on every face at your wedding had he grabbed you that way after the declarations of ‘I do’ had been spoken.

You loved him like this, impassioned and a bit unhinged.

His tongue worked his way past your lips and scoured every soft, fleshy inch between the insides of your cheeks before he took your face in his hands, kissing you roughly.

Something hard and throbbing nudged your sex, and suddenly you were whining in his mouth. Wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Ah, honey, don’t,” Bucky groaned, visibly straining to contain himself. When you dug your heels even deeper in his back, the groan that followed from him was hoarse and guttural.

“I thought— I…fuck,” your husband turned his head to curse as you grinded your hips up to his. You had to bite back a smile.

“I just wanna do what married people do,” you murmured coyly, pretending not to see when Bucky shot you the most red-hot, wanton look he’d imparted all evening.

“Yeah?” Like a kid in a candy shop the size of Sears.

Bucky took your face in his hands once more and made sure to scan your expression for any shred of doubt. On finding nothing there, he sat panting, half-disbelieving and half-contemplating all the wretched things he wanted to do to you. You squeezed his sides with your thighs and just hoped your husband knew what to do, because, in truth, you didn’t have the first fucking idea.

A few dry, clinical terms flashed before your mind’s eye, along with your mother’s bleak depiction of what treatment lay in store for a woman on her wedding night, and as Bucky started to work his belt and his pants off, you just hoped he wouldn’t be cruel.

He couldn’t be, right? He’d only mowed down a hundred men and dismembered dozens more, you were told, but surely a set of eyes this soft, caring, and kind couldn’t belong to a monster. You let him lift your hips and shimmy your panties, garter belt, and stockings down your legs, and when he returned, you tried your best not to betray the thoughts in your head.

Bucky hadn’t been with a virgin for as long as he could remember—maybe ever. His own ‘deflowering’ an ancient relic of his boyhood and the multitude of partners since then a mere flurry of nameless faces, he sincerely couldn’t recall a time when he’d asked, or cared, whether the woman beneath him had her cherry intact. He didn’t suppose it could be too different, as he peeled the last pieces of your lingerie set off your body and saw you seemed perfectly ready. He ran a finger between your folds and felt you shiver with what looked like excitement. Piece of cake, he thought, smiling.

No doubt he would take great joy in making you his own. His bride, his wife, an unblemished beacon of light in a life as sordid as his, looked perfect spread before him. You would adjust to his size. Bucky trailed the head of his cock up your slit and coated himself in your juices, and just when he’d bracketed his other arm around your head on the pillow, you let out a small sound.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?”

Bucky fisted his length and pressed the tip to your entrance.

“Uh…yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

He hadn’t yet met a woman who wasn’t able to fit him.

“Okay.”

Somehow, your voice sounded even smaller, head lodged between pillows and the crook of Bucky’s elbow. You felt small. Frankly, it didn’t seem like your husband was quite computing the worries that were pervading your brain, but you decided he knew best—your mother had assured you that husbands always did—and when Bucky first pressed the head of himself to the seam of your cunt, you hardly even whimpered.

You watched his brow furrow above you. He tried to go further.

Your folds were as soaked as he’d ever seen a woman’s, your hole practically pulsing with desire, and somehow, he couldn’t push in.

Bucky snagged his lip between his teeth and braced himself with the aid of the headboard, taking your hip in his other hand. A breath sounded on your lips the second he adjusted, and shortly thereafter, he felt your gaze on the same place he was watching: the spot where your bodies were trying to connect.

His features darkened at the prospect of failing, or even appearing incompetent to you in the slightest. He’d done this hundreds of times before, why wouldn’t it work?

When he felt your eyes trail back up his body and study his face—maybe wondering why her new groom hadn’t gotten around to thrusting into her yet, he thought—he felt a swell of panic and pushed.

Against his better judgment and the feel of your body, he muscled his way through and forced his cock inside. Bottoming out in a single, stabbing thrust.

You seized in pain but wanted to be a good wife for him.

Bucky, too, felt his hips stutter at the resistance your walls were giving him, but then remembered how he’d sworn to be a dutiful husband, and kept going.

Together, you stared anywhere but the other’s face and gritted your teeth for two entirely different reasons—you, in agony, and Bucky, in ecstasy, the latter hoping with everything in him that you liked this as much as him.

Bucky took a tender, if not slightly awkward, rhythm rutting against your body and stared steady at the headboard like he always did.

You were in pain and faced with nothing but his hulking chest, moving up and down, back and forth, over and over again like a goddamn seesaw from hell while it felt like your insides were presently being torn to shreds.

Who fucking enjoys this? you wanted to wail, but feigned a moan instead, raking your nails down Bucky’s back, Why isn’t he looking at me? Why isn’t he touching me?

Your walls involuntarily clenched around him, and he swallowed a moan.

Just think of baseball, beer, math, the Roman Empire, anything to keep from busting right now, Bucky told himself as he clenched his jaw and fought to maintain his pace. Your pussy just felt so. fucking. good.

Beneath him, you had tried and failed to fight back tears. The burn was just too much; the longer he thrusted, the more your walls contracted, and confusingly, stupidly, it seemed like he was using you. Your mother was right, most likely, that sex was just a means to an end for men like Bucky, and your husband didn’t care about your pleasure at all. You fought hard to keep the waterworks at bay, that one thing you hadn’t wanted Bucky to see, but eventually, the tears were flowing freely.

You stifled a sob that your husband mistook for a moan.

He fucked you even faster and felt a grin start to twitch at the corners of his lips when you made a sound that seemed consistent with pleasure.

“Feel so fucking tight,” Bucky grunted, about to lower his gaze to your face for the first time since he’d entered you, “So nice and tight and w—hey, hey, baby?”

He stilled inside as soon as he saw that you were crying. Took your face in his hands and almost couldn’t believe the sight of your tear-stained cheeks beneath him.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” he asked, scanning your face for any signs of harm.

You just shook your head and tried to brush him off.

“Keep going, I’m good.”

Bucky seemed angered at the suggestion. He brought your face closer to his and stared almost reproachfully down at you. Then he paused a beat and swiped one of your cheeks with the pad of his thumb.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked.

“N—”

“Don’t lie.”

You squirmed a bit and winced. That was answer enough for Bucky, and he slowly pulled out of you.

“Aw hell.”

The two of you glanced down to see a blooming red spot on the comforter. Bucky rubbed the blood in disbelief.

He’d gone too far. Again. Hurt something inside of you that couldn’t be fixed with a kiss. While you struggled to sit up among the pillows, Bucky was running a hand through his hair and cursing himself up and down.

“Why didn’t you say something?” he scowled.

“I didn’t wanna interrup—”

“If I’m making you bleed, you stop me, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well you seemed to be having a pretty good time!”

Bucky didn’t need to tell you in words what was painted on his face; he was pissed off and probably bound to slip off the bed any second, when your tears started welling up again. Then he eased off, remembering he was more mad at himself than anyone else, and slid closer to you. He tried pulling you into his chest, but you didn’t budge.

“C’mon,” you said, grabbing his wrist, “Let’s keep going.”

Bucky eyed you incredulously.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” you insisted. He shot you a glare but didn’t protest when you guided his hand between your legs.

You were spread back open for him in no time. Still stinging like hell and ready for another go. Bucky almost couldn’t believe it.

“My headstrong wife.” He managed a smile before kissing the crown of your head, and kept right on kissing that spot no matter how far his fingers were traveling.

“You owe me two orgasms, remember, Mr. Barnes?”

It seemed Bucky’s boastful claims of late were in fact the furthest thing from his mind as he crawled back over your body. He pried your knees apart and left just enough room for his frame, taking his fingers to your folds and rubbing in light, gentle circles.

The bleeding had stopped. What little remained was long forgotten, and duly, the pain from recent memory was slowly but surely purged with every flick of his thumb. Bucky planted an arm next to your head and kept touching you there until your face relaxed completely.

When he chanced a finger inside, he was careful not to rub so much as plunge in quick, shallow motions, and at the first signs of pleasure, press light and tender kisses on your skin.

“If it hurts at all, you tell me.”

He sounded stern as he inserted another finger, but really, the man was all putty in your hands, wanting to please you and tease you in any way that he could.

When you told him faster, he sped up; you gripped his hair and said slow down, he did the same. He curled his digits in time with every whimper and moan you made and took care not to be too harsh on your sweet spot.

The only time he paused was when you looked up and asked him point-blank: could he fuck you sweet and gentle now?

Bucky paused. Swallowed.

The man would’ve screwed you six ways to Sunday if you asked him; that wasn’t the problem. The only traces of hesitation remained where your eyes said something different. Even as he shuffled between your legs at your behest, aligned his cock with your entrance, and felt a wave of desire wash over him, he pressed his forehead to yours and searched your glossy gaze once more.

“You sure about this, bunny?” he murmured.

Your heart melted at the name. You couldn’t deny you were frightened, and perhaps a bit worse for the wear after your last attempt, but his words were a comfort, his hand on your cheek a welcome gesture. When his thumb grazed your lips, you kissed it and nodded.

“Alright sweet girl,” Bucky said, tone laced with affection.

This time, before pressing the head of himself inside, Bucky caught your lips and kissed you softly. Rubbed himself up and down your slit—paying extra attention to your clit—and coated himself completely before trying to penetrate you again.

Your cheeks flushed, and you kissed him harder.

“P-please, Bucky, fuck me,” you murmured against his mouth, eliciting a small grunt from him.

“Yeah? You want your husband’s cock inside you, doll?” He kept the pretense of teasing, but really, he was just trying to make sure you wanted this as badly as he did. By the blissed out look on your face and the soft, ceaseless squelching noises produced by your arousal, he got the message pretty quickly.

He breached your folds with just the tip at first. You both felt your muscles contract. Instead of blindly pushing ahead like he had before, Bucky trained his gaze on your face and watched for any signs of discomfort.

“Everything okay, bunny?” he hummed as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face.

You were half in awe of how attentive he was, and doubly impressed by the stretch that followed—like a pinch, but nothing like the pain you’d felt before. You peered up at your husband and squeezed his shoulders.

“It— it doesn’t hurt this time,” you said, breathless.

Bucky could’ve caved at the sweet, innocent expression alone—like you were pleasantly surprised this hadn’t caused excruciating pain—and his lips moved down to pepper your cheeks with kisses again.

“Doll, I’m so sorry.”

The sounds and sighs of your pleasure beneath him, along with the words telling him it was okay, really, he hadn’t meant to do it, all made him feel even guiltier for having hurt you in the first place. It took him some time assailing your face with tiny, apologetic kisses before he even thought to feed you another inch.

When he finally plunged himself deeper, it wasn’t without your express permission; even then, Bucky feared he might split you in two.

The whole time he eased himself inside, he was moving his gaze between your face and the place between your two bodies—watching you open for him and take him inch by inch. He rubbed his thumb over your clit when you whimpered.

“Doing so good for me.”

“Stretching so nice for this cock.”

“My beautiful, beautiful wife.”

Every syllable of his praises flooded your head like honey. Feeling him stretch you out, fill you up, and rock you softly with his first shallow thrusts, all while talking you through it, had your mind ablaze and near-euphoric.

Pleasure practically searing your veins, you didn’t even hear yourself, or really mean to say it, as soon as you did.

“This doesn’t feel dirty at all.”

An epiphany to you and a puzzle to Bucky.

“What’s’at, honey?” He was still rutting his hips and slowly picking up speed. Your husband groaned when you clenched around him and pulled him even deeper—before you realized what you’d said.

Your cheeks flushed.

“I— I was always told sex made you dirty. This feels—” you stopped to swallow a moan when Bucky grazed a particularly sensitive spot inside you, “pretty nice.”

‘Pretty nice.’ Your husband couldn’t help the smile twitching at the corners of his lips as he leaned down to kiss you. He wrapped his big, muscly arms around you and pulled you closer to his chest.

“Makes you dirty?” Bucky said, disbelief evident in his tone before his smile broke into a grin, “Baby, you’re the cleanest, sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He didn’t let you endeavor to protest, just buried his face in your neck and pressed teasing kisses all over the skin while he continued to pump in and out of you. He knew to keep hitting that spot, too.

You were drowning in whimpers and kisses when Bucky brought his lips to your ear.

“Doesn’t make you dirty at all,” he assured you, “Just makes you my wife.”

You clawed Bucky’s back when he sped up a little, and you felt the pleasure soar to even greater heights when he propped your legs above his shoulders—a brand new angle for him to bend you like a pretzel and fuck you good.

“You take this cock too nice to be dirty,” he gritted his teeth and continued to soothe you just how he knew you liked it, “Such a good little wife, sucking up every inch of me like you were made for it.”

Your lips parted in a soft ‘o,’ feeling him plunge the depths of your cunt like he never had before. Bucky slipped his thumb in your mouth while he held your face.

“That what you are, bunny? A good girl?”

You nodded your head and sucked his thumb, feeling yourself fucked dumb as you did. Bucky loved that blissed out look in your eyes.

“Good girl for daddy?” he cooed.

Your ankles trembled around his neck as soon as he said it. You nodded again, yes, you were, and felt a light coil start to form in your lower stomach as Bucky kept pounding you and pushing his thumb between your lips.

Then, with a pop, he plucked the digit from your mouth and brought it down to your clit. He started soft at first, but before long he was rubbing vicious circles on that little bundle of nerves, watching you come undone before his eyes and clench around him even tighter.

“B-Bucky,” you whined, fisting the sheets underneath you both as you squirmed.

“Mhmm?” Your husband pretended to be oblivious.

“I w— I’m gonna—” The words could scarcely leave your lips without finding themselves punctured with a whimper as soon as they were spoken. Bucky thrusted harder.

“Gonna what? Cum for daddy?” he grinned, “Make a mess all over this cock?”

Your moans of pleasure more than sufficed for an answer. You nodded and winced, felt your whole lower half seize with a warm and heady feeling, and before you knew it, Bucky’s thrusts were sending you spiraling over the edge, with a wave of bliss following shortly behind. Sounds of skin slapping skin hardly faltered, and Bucky kept rubbing and fucking you all throughout the waves of your high.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you didn’t care. Your mind was alight with more bright, fervid feelings than you could count or comprehend, and your body washed over with pleasure.

You clung to Bucky and felt him keep fucking you, even as you shrieked against his skin.

“One more for me, honey.”

You didn’t think that was possible. You had just spilled all over him, squeezing his cock like a vice and screaming his name, and now he wanted it all over again? So soon?

Your fingernails sunk into his arms as he continued to rut into you, and you started to shake your head.

“C-Can’t Bucky, I can’t, I can’t,” you sobbed, tears still streaming down your cheeks.

“Sure you can.”

Your husband had his mouth at your ear again, panting as the pace of his thrusts grew faster. He tilted his body slightly forward so your legs were pushed even higher above you—damn near grazing either side of your head—and pounded you relentlessly.

His voice seemed so calm and assured as he spoke,

“Cum for daddy. Show me just how fucking good this cock makes you feel and cum again for me.”

With a command like that, how could you refuse?

You came a second time, hands seizing Bucky's forearms, and screams tearing through your chest as you rode your high impaled on his cock over and over again. The sights and sounds and repeated, pulsing spasms of your pussy on his shaft sent Bucky chasing his release not long after, and you felt a warmth spread inside you.

Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, your cheeks practically drenched already. As you came down from your high, you started to blink.

But just as you lifted a hand to sop up the moisture, Bucky was leaning over you and into you with the brightest smile. Then he was kissing each wet, salty stain like it was the most natural thing in the world, sponging soft and gentle touches all over the spots your tears had overflown.

It seemed every nerve ending in your lower half was on the fritz, your body little more than mush underneath him, but somehow you managed to catch his mouth as he traversed the skin. You kissed him back, and Bucky drew you closer.

The two of you separated for a second, Bucky’s cock still resting comfortably inside you and his broad frame engulfing you in bed. He paused a beat. Seemed to consider something in his mind before speaking aloud.

“Honey,” he started, unsure of how he wanted to say this.

You peered up at him, curious. His seed had filled every contour and crevice of your aching walls and was just then starting to dribble out of you. Bucky seemed unfazed. He cupped both hands around your face.

“I love you.”

You blinked. No fucking way you were hearing those words.

“What?” You felt too awestruck to say anything else.

“I love you,” Bucky repeated. A smile was starting to tug at his lips, his thumb tracing your cheek while you stared at him in disbelief.

You would’ve liked to speak.

Would’ve loved to say those three little words right back.

In fact, you had just opened your mouth to tell him that, when a sound at the foot of the bed startled you both.

The warm glow of moonlight pouring in from the window panes was your only means to see it. But sight wasn’t worth much at all when a man appeared and pressed the barrel of a gun to Bucky’s temple, letting out a chuckle.

Another man, clad head-to-toe in polished black tactical gear approached from the far end of the room. Bucky gritted his teeth but remained motionless, hearing that man cock his firearm as well. You were surrounded on either side of the bed. Your blood ran cold.

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Mr. Barnes,” the man on the left spoke so low and gruff he could scarcely be heard.

When Bucky started to stir, the man on the right raised his pistol as well. Curled his finger on the trigger.

“We haven’t even met your beautiful bride.” A set of cruel, glinting teeth turned in your direction. Suddenly, all eyes were trained on you—along with a third handgun, pointed at your head, as another man approached.

“Wedded bliss treating you well so far, Mrs. Barnes?”

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

[moonxnite]

y’all ever fantasize about a fictional character a little too hard to the point you’re convinced you should be admitted to a mental hospital?

#daryl dixon x reader #rick grimes x reader #roman roy x reader #coriolanus x reader #steve rogers x reader #peter parker x reader #peeta mellark x reader #leon kennedy x reader #joel miller x reader #bucky x reader #eddie munson x reader #negan smith x reader #din djarin x reader #javier pena x reader #ari levison x reader #andy barber x reader #steve harrington x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #lalo salamanca x reader #nacho varga x reader #finnick x reader #mike schimdt x reader #william afton x reader #johnny lawrence x reader

[l0caltiredgirl]

me @ y/n when they do something i’d never do:

like babe this isn’t us ?? get it together

#the secondhand embarrassment is real #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #steve harrington x reader #matt murdock x reader #steven grant x reader #jj maybank x reader #derek morgan x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #spencer reid x reader #poe dameron x reader #warren rojas x reader #marc spector x reader #pope heyward x reader #rafe cameron x reader #peter parker x reader #jake sully x reader #sam wilson x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader #eddie roundtree x reader #frankie morales x reader #javier pena x reader #frank castle x reader #cassian andor x reader #simon riley x reader #ellie williams x reader #l0caltiredgirl

[natti-ice]

18+ mdni

Me: “fuck, I need his cock”

Him: *is literally just words on tumblr*

#natti’s 18+ #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #tom riddle x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #rafe cameron x reader #jj maybank x reader #peeta mellark x reader #finnick odair x reader #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #peter parker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader #castiel x reader

[starsm00n]

Is he a scary man covered in blood? Or is he my baby girl? Spot the difference

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #simon ghost riley #konig cod #joel miller #negan smith #the walking dead #the punisher #cod mw2 #john price #rick grimes #billy butcher #bucky barnes #toji fushiguro #anakin skywalker #marvel #delusional #hes so babygirl #geralt of rivia #the witcher #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #rafe cameron #matt murdock #daryl dixon #javier peña #joe goldberg #marc spector #agent whiskey #eddie brock

[bethsvrse]

pov: I find a good smut fic but it includes a daddy kink

#I hate daddy kinks sm #I wanna start a petition to ban daddy kinks #joel miller x reader #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #sirius black x reader #spencer reid x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #jim hopper x reader #derek hale x reader #steve rogers x reader #remus lupin x reader #steve harrington x reader #george weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader