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Bucky had spent months trying to figure you out, only to find himself becoming more intrigued with each passing week. If anything, he found himself wishing he'd noticed you sooner.
Your dedication was admirable, It was the little things, really.
The security rotations you'd painstakingly learned just to slip past them unnoticed. The six guards that had become eight after he'd quietly hired two more, curious to see if they'd finally be enough to stop you.
They weren't, and he wasn't surprised.
He really must've been out of his damn mind, any sane man would've tightened security.
Bucky had turned it into a game.
A test.
And you never disappointed.
You obviously weren't a threat, at least not to his life.
Tonight, however.
Tonight he intended to see just how far you were willing to go to get his attention.
All my stories are R18. I write smut, and I may touch sensitive topics or topics that are not intended to be read by minors.
YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN CONTENT CONSUMPTIONS.
Masterlist
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader
Warning/Tags: Modern AU, PURE PURE SMUT, BARELY ANY PLOT, BASICALLY PORN, Soft Dom Bucky Barnes, Edging, Spanking, Kind of BDSM but make it inaccurate, Reader is sexually frustrated, Faux Kidnapping, Reader is tied up, DDDNE. I might be missing a tag, read at your own risk.
Word count: ~4.7k
Summary: After months of failed dates, Wanda decides to introduce you to Bucky Barnes, with whom you end up having more in common than you think.
Author's Note: This has been waiting on my drafts for MONTHS. literal months. This is something I owed my baby @kileyking so this is going to be a surprise for her. I wanna issue an apology to my tag list for tagging you in this... im very self aware right now... And mostly!!! thank you to @w1nter-fairy for betareading!!!
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You tried to comb your hair one more time before surrendering.
“He’s a great guy; Sam told me he’s been single for a while.”
“I wonder why,” you mumbled before finishing to apply your lipstick.
“I promise he’s not a psycho. Sam told me he’s just rough around the edges.”
You rolled your eyes and sighed at the mirror. This was your third first date in two months. It was not like you were desperate, but guys nowadays were not fitting your needs—and you were not the one to settle for anything just because you were in need of some dick.
When you arrived at the restaurant, the hostess made you aware he was already there waiting for you—as soon as he saw you, 6’0’’ of the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your entire life.
He greeted you, confirming your name.
“In the flesh. James… no. Bucky, right?”
“You can call me whatever you want—Bucky is a very old nickname my friends called me by when I was in college, and I couldn’t get rid of…”
He helped you to sit on your chair and went back to his, sitting in front of you.
The waitress poured wine into your glass before you could even ask for something else.
“Hope you don’t mind. I just ordered wine to the table to skip some steps—but if you need or want something else, don’t feel forced to drink it at all.”
“I—It’s fine. I like wine.”
“So, how do you know Wanda?” He finally asked.
“Oh, we’ve been friends since we were children, but I was out of town for some years. I came back to rest for a while. And, how do you know Sam? Wanda is head over heels for him.”
“Yeah. We served together… and I kinda took some time too to recover from that.”
“Oh…” You wanted to say something. Whatever. But your mind didn’t find the right words.
“No need. I’m much better now. I’m glad I did it. I’m glad that I came back almost in one piece.”
You furrowed and tried to laugh off that comment until your hand finally fell to his left hand.
A metal hand. He swirled his tongue over his lip.
“If you want to leave, I… I’d get it.”
“Why… Why would I want to leave?”
“Most woman think it’s not their thing…”
You chuckled, “I wouldn’t even care if you told me all your limbs are prosthetics.”
He laughed, full belly.
“I think I surpass the first flirt in my dating pool so far.”
“Let’s see how far we can get,” You mumbled before sipping on your wine.
The dinner continued with bottles of wine coming around faster than you would on any other first date, and for the first time, you felt comfortable with it. On other dates, you’d be careful not to drink too much alcohol, but that night with Bucky, everything seemed fine.
The dim light of the restaurant helped you feel less inhibited, and Bucky had already discarded his jacket, letting you see his metal arm full on display. Black and golden. Something you had never seen before.
“Shoot it.” He said as soon as he noticed you were staring at it.
“I’m so sorry, I've never seen something like this before.”
“Yeah. New technology. Pretty expensive, but I was promised I wouldn’t even notice it was not my arm.”
“And how have you felt with it?”
“By now, great. Thanks for asking.” He smirked.
You were really questioning if you were the weird one, because so far, you couldn’t even understand why he was failing in his dates. He was charming, never even mentioned the price of anything, and didn’t even bat an eye when you ordered a normal amount of food for a girl your age. He was handsome, a gentleman.
“Bucky… I need to ask something.”
He furrowed his brow, and after sipping on his glass, he nodded.
“Why are you still single?”
The smirk on his face was something brought from heaven. It looked angelic, but you could see something was hidden behind it.
“I think I haven’t clicked with my other dates.” You tried to play dumb, but you knew he was not being as honest as you wanted.
“But, being honest. I need more than that, Bucky.”
The expression on his face changed immediately.
“It’s just that. Not really something I can control. We were never a match.”
His voice was harsh—and that was it. You had always been short-tempered, but somehow, something ignited in you that you weren’t yet capable of understanding.
“What is it?” You pushed again.
When he didn’t answer, you nodded. Knowing well you weren’t going to receive a clear answer, you stood up, gathered your things, and before you could even mumble your farewells, his stern eyes stopped you on the spot.
“Sit.” He ordered.
You knew that tone of voice. You knew exactly where that kind of voice came from. That kind of imperative voice that could have you, literally, on your knees.
And as if something had been turned on within you. You sat.
“I knew I saw it in you.” He smirked. “I think I don’t need to say why I don’t click with most of my dates, and now I can see why you didn’t like the men before me… Too weak? Too vanilla?”
He mumbled, leaning over the table, his hands crossed in his chest, eyes locked on yours.
“Too weak.” You accepted, finally.
“Does Wanda know?” You shook your head.
“Does Sam know?” It was your time to ask; he motioned with his head, repeating your answer.
“I—I don’t like for people to know how I deal with my bedroom life.” You murmured.
“And more when you’re the one who receives the orders and is on her knees most of the time, am I right?”
You bit your lip.
“You’re a big girl; you can use your words.” He mumbled. His tone of voice was now low-pitched.
“Yes…”
“I’m not gonna discuss our personal life here. I am also not going to ask you to leave for a second location. So, what about we continue with our nice dinner, and then we can text later tonight to… get to know each other a little bit more?” He sipped on his wine. “Only if you’re okay with that.”
“Yes… Yes… I’m fine with that.”
He was charming. He knew it. But he was also the most respectful man you had ever encountered in this lifestyle.
Later that night, he took you home. Kissed your cheek and faded away as soon as you shut your door.
Not even an hour later, he texted you, letting you know he was home.
Two weeks went by, and you texted till late at night. Messing with your sleep schedule, sending photographs in the middle of the day, trying to tease him enough to make him beg for more, you wanted to see him again; you needed to be proven you were not too much to handle, as previous partners had told you—but he didn’t want to leave anything outside.
From safewords, kinks, hard and soft boundaries, whatever you both needed to know about each other. You even told him you could meet up to have a warm-up, but based on what you both were into. He wanted the full experience, and you did too. Those weeks were full of you trying to be sure he was interested. His early ‘Good morning’ messages were always on time. His sneak and peek photos of his dark dick under his jeans or sweatpants got you drooling.
“How was your date with Bucky? It seems like an eternity since the last time I saw you.”
“Oh, nice… We kinda hit it off, but we’re just like… getting to know each other.” You stirred your cup of coffee.
“That’s the first time I've heard you say something like that and not a fake ‘It was nice’ response.” She looked genuinely surprised.
“Well! I can’t lie. I liked him.” Wanda cheered.
“Sam told me months ago that he was sure you two would hit it off immediately, and I didn’t believe it… Maybe he has a better eye to choose a partner for you than I.”
“Might be.” You bit your lip.
“So, second date? When?”
“We are just—” Setting boundaries, you thought, “planning something cute for the second date.”
“Well, you already found each other. Don’t waste too much time!” She winked at you.
You loved Wanda; you really did. And you knew she would never judge whatever thing you did; she saw you in your sluttiest years, when you almost got married; she had seen you in your best and worst; you knew she would never bat an eye at the fact that you liked it a bit different. But you were not sure if you could look her in the eye and tell her you liked to be controlled in the bedroom, to be spanked, humiliated… You were not sure if you could tell anyone that.
Later that day, you were sitting on your couch watching a movie. Bucky had been busy at work, so he was not so active, but he had given you a heads-up about it.
Then your phone rang.
20:00 “How was your brunch with Wanda?”
20:03 “Funny how she asked the same about you.”
20:05 “Oh, you talked about me on your girl’s date?”
You chuckled.
20:06 “Just because you kept me interested.”
20:08 “I could do much more if you gave me the chance.”
And that’s how you ended up in a secluded parking lot.
The deal was easy.
He was a man stalking you and taking you from the parking lot after weeks of harassment.
22:00 “Hey? Are you near? It’s getting late.”
22:05 “Really, Bucky? So classy of you. Leaving a woman stranded in this situation.”
22:15 “Fuck you, man.”
But your texts went unanswered, and Wanda was not even answering your calls.
You were hating yourself for trusting a man again.
When you were about to leave, you felt a hand on your mouth.
The problem? It was not a cold metal hand, as he had told you he was not going to do to make sure you knew it was him.
“You look so pretty to be this alone.” His hoarse voice fell on your ear. You tried to fight back, kicking and trying to push the man away.
He scoffed a laugh, and the hand that held your mouth gripped harder while he pinned you against your car. His hands were covered with black leather gloves, and before you could scream for help, duct tape muffled your howls.
“Be a fucking good girl and take it.”
He scolded, his rough lips kissing your ear. His hands traveled on your jeans till they found your car keys. He opened it and tossed you on the backseat, kneeling on your butt. Your cold sweat was running down your forehead, while you damned Bucky once and twice. This was all his fucking fault.
How reckless of him to be late for something this dangerous?
Your tears were about to start when you felt something familiar—a rope on your wrists.
“That idiot didn’t even know how to block his phone.” He mumbled, and finally, his metal arm caressed your back when your shirt rode up while he was tying you up.
Your heart finally eased its pace. You finally realized it was Bucky.
‘Oh, he’s full on it.’ You thought.
When you were completely tied up, you realized you were facing a professional. Your wrists hurt enough for you to enjoy it, but not enough to hurt or leave a mark. Then, he tossed over you a blanket you had prepared to cover yourself—if things got hotter in the parking lot. Little did you know, it would fulfill another purpose.
“Were you telling earlier? How classy of me to let you all alone in a parking lot? So low of you. Thinking that I’d stood you up after days of talking.”
You tried to bark back, but your mouth was still muffled with the duct tape.
Another spank landed on your ass cheek.
He stood up, shut the door, and walked to the front.
You couldn’t see, but the ride was long. Long enough for you not to even know where you were heading. You knew you were safe; Wanda and Sam knew you were together. You trusted Bucky and everyone around him.
When the car finally parked somewhere. He opened the door and pulled you out by your ankle, tossing you over his shoulder, spanking hard your ass—it was getting a habit to him.
You finally noticed you were heading to his house. His garage was completely dark, and you could see your car parked inside.
He walked with you on his shoulder until you saw his bedframe. He tossed you and stripped the duct tape violently.
“Color?”
“Fuck you! Green!” You shouted, “That was not part of the deal!”
He gripped your chin and lifted your head to make you look at him. “What? Did you expect something soft, cute, and gentle? If you wanted gentle, you should’ve stayed with your weak-ass men.”
Your cunt clenched at his words—you knew he was right. This was what you wanted, what you had asked for many times. You knew he was not going to go easier on you unless you really meant it.
The grip on your chin loosened, but before you could say anything, he pushed you to the bed, unzipped your jeans, and pulled them down along with your panties.
“Look at this! All that bark to be this wet.” He chuckled and then stripped a line with his tongue, licking from your arse to your clit, sucking on it.
You were squirming on the bed while you tried to push him away. He held your thighs strongly before detaching himself from your clit with a ‘plop’.
“Stay still if you don’t want me to make you ask for it.”
You froze at his words. He nodded and went back to his ministrations. Tongue delving again in your entrance, while his nose kept nudging on your clit, and almost immediately, his finger slid in without any warning. Your back arched, and he smiled.
“Look at you. How long has it been since a man fucked you correctly?” He towered over you while his finger kept sliding in and out. “How long?”
“Months,” you mumbled, trying to keep your eyes open.
“Poor baby. That’s why Wanda was so desperate for you to find someone? Months without a proper dick?”
A second finger slide, and you were almost numb just from his fingers. The whole situation got you all worked up. It was the first man ever to find the guts to make you feel like you were helpless.
Your hands started to feel numb, like they were running out of blood.
“Bucky! My hands!”
He sighed, fed up, and with the same lack of mercy, he yanked his fingers out of your cunt.
He turned you around, your cheek pressed against his mattress.
He finally loosened the rope around your wrists, and you didn’t notice, but he caressed them slowly to confirm you weren’t really hurt by it.
“Hands above.” He ordered, and you did as you were told. “Did you bring what you were asked?”
“More clothes and my self-care products.” You repeated.
“Good girl.” He then proceeded to rip your blouse and break your bra from behind.
“Fuck you!” You barked. “That was new.”
Leaning on your back, his lips found your ear. “I can pay for three of those if you shut your fucking mouth.”
His fingers found your cunt again, hooking his fingers on your entrance, curling them, finding your most sensitive spot. His hand grasped your hip to hold you steady; his eyes were fixed on the arch of your back, the way it went deeper every time he curled up his fingers.
When your mind was getting foggy, and you could feel your orgasm was almost rocketing, he stopped his movements.
“Bucky!” You cried out, and he chuckled.
“Oh, poor baby. You were so ready to come on my fingers, but it’s too early for it.”
You now regretted everything you told him you were okay with.
He made you confirm everything you were into, and made sure to use it against you.
Leaning over your body, he pressed his forehead against yours, locking eyes with you. His breathing was heavy, his tongue licked his lower lip, and his hands still held your body by the hips.
“You look much better now than pretending you’re having fun on a fuckin’ vanilla date.”
“Well, after thinking I was going to be kidnapped by a psychopath, everything seems better.” You squirmed on the bed.
“Did you really think I was going to stand you up? You were teasing me all week, sending me those pornographic photographs, those audios that made me be on my knees… just for what? For me to be late—” You noticed how his hand traveled to his zipper.
“You didn’t answer my texts!” You cried out.
He scoffed a laugh, and his belt clacked on the floor. “You wanted realism. That’s what I gave you.” He was undressing himself, and you finally saw his bare body, first you noticed his dog tags dangling on his chest—they seemed so great there somehow, then you noticed the spot where his shoulder connected to the metal limb had deep scars—you didn’t really ask about it previously, but now that you were in front of it, all your attention was dragged into it.
You noticed how he immediately became self-conscious. You regretted it right away. You lifted your legs, straddling his waist—making him closer.
“James… I need you.” You mumbled, almost begging.
You noticed how he was really trying to come back to his mood. “Oh, do you?”
You nodded, trying to touch him. He slapped your hand, preventing you from touching him.
A thud sound made you look at him; his jeans were gone, and he was jerking himself, your hands clutched in the bedding. His metal hand kept you open by one of your shoulders as he still stroked his cock. His eyes were soft, half-lidded, lips red from his previous ministrations.
“Come here,” he mumbled. You fixed your posture and knelt on the mattress—you were looking up at him; his metal arm now gripped the back of your neck, pulling you closer to his tip.
You opened your mouth, and your tongue found his tip, delving your tongue over it; a dry grunt came from his throat. You could feel his hand gripping harder—you finally enveloped his cock with your mouth; a wet, sloppy feeling engulfed him as he helped you to bob your head.
“Keep going,” He ordered, and you could notice how he blissed out. He kept heaving his hips as you tried not to gag on his cock.
When you felt his cock twitching on your mouth, he yanked you by your hair, pulling out from your mouth. You panted immediately and you noticed the way his chest heaved trying to calm down.
Before you could complain, he made you turn around, ass up in the air, head smeared on his mattress. His flesh hand held you steady by your lower back; you turned around slightly and noticed he was wrapping himself up.
“What? Did you expect me to forget?” He scoffed a laugh.
Slowly, he sank to tower over you; his hand landed on your ass cheek—it was not even to spank—you learned through the weeks he was not a sadist; he just liked it a little bit rougher.
“Ready?” He whispered in your ear; he smeared the lube on the condom on your ass. You nodded eagerly. “Sweetheart…”
“Yes, James… Please…”
“Please… what?”
You grunted; you had literally said you loved explicit consent—now you had to own your words. “Please fuck me…”
A dry laugh made you dizzy, and he pushed his cock into you. He was big; your hands found his duvet, clenching it. When he noticed it, he took your hands and cuffed them in your back with his metal hand. Now your head was fully drowned in the place. He was frantically popping in the hilt. His tip was slamming on your cervix, making you roll your eyes—the warmth that came from his body was making you sweat, drowning you in all the feelings.
Your hips were rocking only by his pounding; you were basically grounded to the bed. He kept panting; some praises to you came broken from his throat. Some sweet glistened on his forehead, and his cheeks were completely flushed.
He leaned and dropped a kiss on your shoulder when he noticed you were squirming; your body was already on cloud nine.
“Color, sweetheart?” His lips were still on your shoulder.
“Green,” you keened.
“Good girl.”
You knew you were not going to cum only by his dick—you had never been able. You had told him, and you were expecting him to help you with his finger or at least let you do it on your own as he fucked you.
When he noticed the way you were dozing off, he gripped your chin from your back, “You’re here with me, don’t forget it.”
“James… Remember…” You cried out. He turned your head to look at him. “I can’t…”
He scoffed and pecked your cheek. “Oh, you think you’re not gonna cum only with my cock, right… right…”
Pulling out, he made you come down from your peak.
“Why—” You were about to complain, and he pushed his hands over your face, metal hand spreading you open and sinking once again.
Eyes rolling, mouth panting on his hand, his cock splitting you open. It was there when he noticed a pattern—every time you were reaching a peak, your cunt started to clench and then unclenching, almost like if you were trying to push him out, and trying to cross that bridge, he pulled out. If you were not letting yourself come, he was not going to do it either. Then, he put you on top of him, hands still cuffed on your back, as he pounded on you.
He was basically treating you like a fleshlight… and then, once again. The unconscious clenching and unclenching, your eyes pinched close, mouth pursing, hand clenching under his metal grip.
Then, he stood up and pulled himself out from you once again.
You knew it was on purpose. There was no way he was doing it by accident. He put you down and made you kneel; he took out the condom and looked directly at you.
“Suck.” His hand wrapped your hair in a messy bun; you furrowed but complied, sucking his dick immediately, hollowing your cheeks, delving your tongue. You tried to grin on your thighs, trying to make you feel something, and he pulled from your hair.
“Don’t.” He scolded and pushed you to his cock once again.
After some minutes, he pulled you up from your hair and made you lie down in the bed. He positioned himself between your legs and carefully took a second condom from his jeans, putting on the condom before sliding it without even letting you adjust to his size.
Your head tilted to the back as you bit your lip; you were tired—overstimulated, and you hadn’t even come… You were about to tell him to just let you masturbate to make you finish, and you could just suck him off to make him come too. You were feeling the same you always felt, that heat pooling on your lower abdomen, a warmth going through your veins—and then, nothing. It was always the same. You were feeling the contraction on your cunt and, once again, he pulled out. You grew frustrated.
“James!” You finally whined. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
He finally smiled. “Color?”
“Yellow, red… I don’t fuckin’ know what you're doing?!” Your voice was full of anger.
He chuckled, “I’m not doing anything; you’re the one who’s not letting yourself cum…”
Your mouth fell to the ground.
“I can feel you, sweetheart. You are not letting yourself come… and I’m not gonna just finger you or rub your clit when I know… I can feel it… I can feel the way you clench around my cock…”
You sighed and looked at him.
“I have never been able to do it…”
“Let me help you, let me take you there…” His voice was sincere. It was not even a matter of ego. He really wanted to help you.
“Fine…”
He gripped his cock and teased your slit again, “I’m gonna put it in… okay?” You nodded.
“You’re gonna tell me what you feel… every sensation…” He split your slit carefully, his tip kissing your core, sliding in slowly. “How do you feel?”
“I feel warm in my cunt…” You said, closing your eyes.
“Great… is it good?” You nodded, “Good… Now, how do you make you come?” You furrowed your brow at the question. “Do you do it slow or fast?”
His cock was still halfway through. You tried to open your eyes, and he was focused solely on the way you moved.
“Slow… I rub slowly, and if I have a toy, I slide it the same way.”
He nodded, gripping the base of his cock and slowly thrusted—his hips rolled in a painfully delicious pace. You felt it again, pooling on your lower stomach; you were clenching, and Bucky was nodding—this was more a mission than a sexual scene. “There it is… Feel it… Don’t think too much… Follow my voice; is it helping?”
“Yes…”
“Want me to keep going?” You nodded. “You’re doing great, sweetheart… It was not your fault… These weak men didn’t know what to do with a girl like you…”
“James…” You cried out.
“Doing great, honey. Doing great.” The orgasm finally washed over you—shockwaves bursting through your whole body; you were sure you were about to faint from the feeling. “Fuck… that’s it… damp my cock.”
The pace was slow—but you could feel his cock throbbing inside; his grip on your hips felt harder, and with a final thrust you felt warm inside. His body trembled over you, his eyes fixed on your face—droplets of sweat in his chest.
He fell over your body. You were almost crying and panting as your climax went down.
“Fuck…” You mumbled. “What the hell did you do?”
“Listening to your body, sweetheart.” He whispered in the crook of your neck. “Listening what you needed.”
“Never stop doing so…” Your voice came strangled.
“Oh, you want more times, huh?” His cocky tone made you chuckle.
“Only if you want…”
“I would never get tired of this…”
He nibbled your neck and stood up—you thought he was next to you, but when you turned around to hug him, he was not there. A knot in your throat… Was he that kind of man?
Before spiralling, you saw him crossing the threshold, he brought a damp towel, a cup of water, and some pills.
“Painkillers and water, sweetheart.” He handed them to you. “If you don’t trust, you don’t have to take them… I just… I know it was too much.”
You smiled. “I just let you basically kidnap me, take me to a second location, fuck me and edge me for hours, and you’re worried I don’t trust you to take some pills?"
You swallowed and drank the water. He made you lie down again and started to clean you up; the cold towel made you shiver.
He threw the towel to the side, sank to your side, and tucked you in his arms.
“Sam asked me if we were going to have a second date.” He hushed a laugh.
“Oh, Wanda asked me the same.” You mumbled.
“We tell them we went to a nice dinner and we finished in my apartment?” He looked down at you, and you smiled.
“But we didn’t do that.” You laughed.
“We can do it tomorrow morning.” He smiled and closed his eyes.
All my stories are R18. I write smut, and I may touch sensitive topics or topics that are not intended to be read by minors.
YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN CONTENT CONSUMPTIONS.
Main Masterlist
Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x F!Reader
Warning/Tags: AU | Childhood Friends Trope | Mean Eddie Munson | No Use of Y/N, Angst, Smut, Use of Drugs, Overdose, Drug Use Inaccuracies, Medical and Psychological Inaccuracies, Mention of Injuries, Bloody details, Sex under the influence (Don't do it at home!), Everyone is very shitty, death on major character mentioned. If there's any tag or warning missing, I will be adding it later. Warnings will be mentioned in each chapter.
Word count: In Progress.
Summary: After your childhood crush comes back to town, every aspect of your life turns upside down. Showing you a side of you that you never thought could exist.
Author's Note: This is a reedition of this series. It's still divided in three parts and will be a slow update fic since I need to reorganize a lot of things. But stay tuned!
I'm already writing the first chapter in the Second Part of this!
Thank you for sticking around even when i took my time with this...
I love this series but it's very exhausting since I need to re-edit it since it was originally an x OC, and you all know that I really like to make it as non-physical descriptive as possible...
Anywayyyyyyyyy, thank you all for sticking aroundd <3
Description: Reader dating an "I don't eat pussy guy", Older! Eddie hates that. (Eddie is 45, reader is 25)
2011.
You're at your wit's end. Dating in the 2000's is so exhausting. You're especially frustrated with your boyfriend Derek.
He's a 'great guy', but Derek only cares about his own pleasure during sex. For once you wish he would eat you out just once. You've heard what it's like and how it makes women feel.
You set your cup down on the bar, and take out your phone to go on Twitter. You sift through a few celebrity posts until you stumble across a picture of a piping hot older male.
His hair is brown with lightly greyed streaks. His got a soul patch and tame stache compliments his face perfectly, and you wonder how it would feel to ride it. He's toned for his age, and he's not the buffest guy in the world but you can still see the imprints of his toned muscles in the band T-shirt he's wearing in his photos.
You visit his page, and you're met with many of his other posts that you wouldn't look at in public if you weren't so sexually frustrated right now.
Your eyes widen.
Eddie Munson - Adult Film Star
With looks like his, you're not really surprised. You continue to scroll, and met with tons of other vids of him fucking women. They could be faking though, it is porn after all.
Then, you come across a video of him eating a woman out. Your eyes stay glued to the screen to take in every detail. His face is stuffed between her legs as his hair tickles her legs. Judging by the way she's struggling to hold the camera, she doesn't seem to be faking. Her legs clench around his head when she seems like she came, and his face is soaked when he raises his head.
Fuck, you wish someone would eat you out like that just once. You squeeze your thighs together before going to his inbox. If Derek won't eat you out, you'll find someone that will.
You decide to shoot him a text.
i'd love to link;)♡
You send him your trashiest photo, one you'll be sure will get his attention. You try to ignore the fact that he probably gets thousands of messages just like yours a day.
You decide to just wait and see.
When you get home, Derek gets up from the couch.
"Thank goodness, where have you been?"
"I went out for just a moment of peace. The usual bar."
"Good because, I've been thinking…I've been selfish."
God, please don't do this now. He's approaching you steadily with sexual intent in his eyes. Why do they always act right when you've already made up your mind?
"Derek, I just want to go to bed."
He retracts. "Are- are you sure?"
"Yes. I'm just tired from thinking about…us." You weakly smile.
"Come on, I'll get you to bed."
After some time, Derek eventually falls asleep before you. Your phone vibrates on the bedside table, and you carefully grab it.
you look like trouble, sweetheart. and i'd love to get into it;)
Thankfully, Derek is still asleep.
i've seen the way you eat pussy. i'd love to be in that girl's place.
You expect him to get bored of you here. But your phone buzzed again.
you can be honey, just say the words.
This is wrong, but you don't care. You're tired of being on the other end of Derek's selfish ways that you've been begging him to look over until today.
i want you to eat my pussy.
Another buzz.
i can arrange that, sweetheart.
The moment Derek leaves for work, you feel a happiness you've never felt in your entire life. A dreadful weight lifts off your shoulders.
Your arrangement with Eddie is a promised no strings attached sort of thing. You've told him of your sexual frustrations, and how much of a shit boyfriend Derek is.
god, i can't stand young men these days. who the fuck doesn't eat pussy? you're supposed to worship the ground a woman walks on. i'm on my way, darling;)
Eddie comes through your door with a polite and sexy smile that makes you feel like you're experiencing having a first crush ever.
"Wow. You look just as good as you do in your photos."
"So do you. And I'm talking about the ones where you're wearing clothes." You joke, which earns him a chuckle.
"Witty. By the way, just let me know if you feel uncomfortable at any time or if you need me to slow down."
"I didn't call you up for a slow, innocent fuck."
"Jesus, you've got a mouth on you."
"I'm paying you at the end of this, so you better be worth it."
"That a challenge?"
"Depends on if you're not a pussy."
"It's on."
You and Eddie leave a scattered trail of clothes on the floor until you finally reach the bed that he practically tosses you on. His body looks ridiculously gorgeous, and he's got multiple tattoos on himself.
He catches you staring. "Like 'em?"
You spread your legs while looking directly into his eyes. "Mhm."
He grips them with his strong hands, pulling you onto his mouth immediately. You squeal in surprise and grip the bedsheets. His tongue creates a sinfully pleasurable sensation on your pussy that awakens every sense in your body to an astronomical level. You look down at him and can tell he's fucking hungry as he messily fucks you with his mouth. His hair tickles your thighs when you squeeze him with them.
"Ah, ah shit-"
The very thing Derek deprived you of, Eddie was giving to you. Granted it's his job, still doesn't make much difference to you. You're satisfied, and that's all that matters.
Your mouth hangs open with an arch of your back as he continues his dirty work. Any efforts of keeping yourself quiet are thrown out of the window by now. You're dazed, and your neighbors can deal with it.
"Oh fuck I'm gonna cum!"
He chuckles between your thighs, beginning to suck at your bud and make your hands ball up your sheets.
"Don't stop, please don't stop-"
You shatter with a cracked, high-octaved moan that echoes into the room. Eddie lifts his face, and wipes his face with a smile.
"No one's really done that to you before?"
"No." You sigh. "Fuck that was the best thing I've felt in my entire life."
He strokes your inner thigh. "Do you have a toy?"
"…Yeah. It's fully charged because… Derek doesn't like that I use it."
"Oh. He's one of those."
"Can…can you use it on me?"
"Anything you want."
You reach over into your bedside dresser, and hand it to him.
"Just relax, okay?"
You lay on your pillow again, opening your legs for him again. A breathy moan leaves you when the toy gently vibrates on your bud.
"Shh, it's okay." He gently dips his ring and middle finger inside you, and curls upwards.
Oh shit.
"Ohgodohgodohgod"
He turns it up a setting, and quickens his fingers with the new adjustment.
"Oh, fuck!" You scream, your head thrashing against your pillow.
"Can you give me one more? Just one more, princess."
"Eddie I can't- ohgodfuck-"
You feel something crash within you that has never happened before. But whatever you did, Eddie fucking loved it. He removes his fingers covered in your slick, and looks at your dripping pussy.
"You ever done that before?"
"What did I do?"
"You just squirted, baby. Damn."
"Let me fuck you, please?" You beg.
"You sure you want that? I got condoms if you really do."
"Yes. Fuck me."
He grabs the condom and rips the gold packaging open with his teeth.
"I should warn you…most of my clients have…trouble getting me in."
Oh.
"Okay."
You turn around for him, arching your ass just enough for him to begin sliding in. Just the tip pokes it's way through you, and you're already beginning to see what he was talking. He's careful with you, holding onto your hips to brace you. Your pussy sucks him in with ease the further he pushes. He groans, and stops himself.
"Oh you feel so good." He shudders.
You fuck yourself onto him, reveling in the stretch he's made of your pussy. He holds you still as he watches you, letting you use him.
"That's it, sweetheart. Just like that."
You're drunk off of him, and for once you're not thinking of another man during sex to fulfill your fantasies. Your body has completely given itself to the man inside of you.
"Can you-?"
"Of course I can." He repositions himself by placing his weight onto your back and gives a kiss to your shoulder. He begins to thrust his hips upwards and roughly grunts in your ears. Just when you thought he couldn't get any better.
You hold on to the headboard, and his hand covers yours when he begins to fuck you with more intensity. The headboard smacks against the wall over and over with a harsh thud. He's hitting exactly where you need him to, and you feel like your legs are going to give it.
"Oh God." Eddie huffs in pleasure, clenching your hand tightly.
"Make me cum, Eddie."
"You're going to make me cum, first." He chuckles.
The feeling of suspense in your lower tummy is already forming. He's the best fuck you've ever had in your life, and he's not even yours.
"Eddie, I think I might-"
"Me too."
The bed creaks along with the thudding of the headboard until your orgasms come crashing through you both in sync.
"H- holy hell." He sighs.
"Can't believe I'm saying this. But you're worth the money. Shit."
He chuckles. "Don't worry about it."
"About what?"
"Paying me."
"Are you nuts? It's your job!"
"And I'm still letting you off the hook."
"This won't be my last time seeing you free of charge, is it?"
"After all this? Hell no, hon." He grins into your shoulder.
All my stories are R18. I write smut, and I may touch sensitive topics or topics that are not intended to be read by minors.
YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN CONTENT CONSUMPTIONS.
Masterlist | Part One.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader (Multiple forms for Bucky and Reader)
Warning/Tags: Smut, Spicy scenes, light angst, mention of HYDRA, alcohol consumption, if there's any tag missing, I'll add it later.
General Word count: ~6.4k
Author's Note: So, this is the recap of all my entries for the Galentine's Isla&Pink did back in February. I decided to do it this way to avoid spamming something that's themed for Valentine's. This is the first part, and I will be posting the second part later. Enjoyy!
February 7th: Luckiest man in the world.
Prompts:
"Do you think I would make a good mom/dad?"
"I would choose you in every lifetime, every universe"
Your pregnancy was a surprise for everyone—Banner and Tony were almost shocked when they realized he didn’t get the same treatment as Black Widows, and learning that the baby was a super–baby got them nervous. But you were happy, happy to share something as sacred and pure as a baby with someone like Bucky. You never really cared what anyone had to say about your relationship with him, or if he was going to be a good or bad father.
But Bucky, on the other hand, was nervous too. He had been like that since the day he discovered you were pregnant. Nothing in life could prepare him for an announcement this big. You were sure he was ready; he showed you he was there for you no matter what. And you believed him. You did with all your heart, but a part of you was also sure that he was afraid of being a father, that something in him was still trapped in the programming, and he was afraid he could snap at you or the baby at any moment.
And just because of that—you spent most of your private evening convincing him he was going to do great.
You couldn’t simply accept the fact that he felt so wrong with this whole situation. Because you could see it in his eyes: he wanted to feel happy, he wanted to feel worthy of having a family of his own.
Not that you hadn’t been his family the last few years—from the very first moment you showed him you wanted to make him feel secure with you, you reminded him of the humanity he still had in his bones.
That evening was not any different—you finished your shift earlier, and he picked you up from work, something he started doing as soon as he knew you were pregnant. He swore you weren’t going to deal with anything he saw his ma’ went through.
Deep down, he knew times were different; pregnancies were far from different than they were before. But the memory of his mother struggling with her last pregnancy was something that not even HYDRA took from him.
You were sitting on the couch, the T.V. streaming a movie he was not even paying attention to, while you were resting your body on his shoulder. His hand caressed your thigh with care—and then you noticed that he was not paying attention.
“Is there something wrong, Jamie?” You asked, pausing the movie.
“No, not at all. I’m just being… me. I guess.” You chuckled.
“What’s happening? Talk to me, Jamie.”
You stroked his hair, something you realized he really loved, but he never told you so. He was so ashamed to do it.
“I’m just thinking about the baby…”
“Well, the baby is safely swimming in my body right now.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
You sat straight to look at him. He sighed; he was sure you were tired of his complaints, but he also knew you would always say something nice and tender to make him feel better. Even when he was not fishing for that, he loved to hear you talking sweetly to him.
"Do you think I would make a good dad?"
You scoffed, “I think you’re going to be the best dad in the world, no doubt.”
“And what if I do something wrong?”
“Jamie, you don’t need to be an ex–brainwashed soldier to do something wrong with a child.”
He chuckled, a half smirk curling on his lips.
“Are you sure you want to do this with me?” He placed his hand on your lap.
“I think it’s a bit late to step out of this.” You chuckled; he furrowed his eyebrows. “Jamie, I’m as positive as the multiple pregnancy tests that I want to spend my whole life with you. I wanna raise a hundred babies with you—make them as naïve as I am, because they are going to sleep safe and sound knowing they have the greatest dad in the world.”
“Do you want to have more than one with me?”
His voice was surprised, as if he couldn’t believe that it was real.
“Of course I want to! You made me believe in a lot of things again. This baby is just the beginning.”
“You wouldn’t change me? Like—if I were someone else, someone who didn’t go through all the shit I went through.”
"Jamie, I would choose you in every lifetime, every universe, no matter what you did, what someone else did to you, or what happened before we met.”
He was not a man of tears; he felt that was robbed from him a long time ago—but at that moment, a tear was starting to well up on the corner of his eye.
“No, no. Jamie, don’t cry! If you cry, I’m going to cry too!”
The real panic in your voice made him snort a laugh, wiping the tears in a second.
“Fine, I won’t cry. But really—if at any moment you feel that you have to run away…”
You shook your head and cupped his cheeks with your hands. “Shut up, Jamie. I love you. I know for sure the one who’s gonna run away is you as soon as the first yapping baby starts to babble. Then, your days of speaking are over!”
He chuckled. That raspy laugh that made you shiver. That laugh—that gave you God’s solace every time you were blessed to hear. That laugh that he assured you was the only one able to take out of his chest.
But suddenly, reality hit him hard. His eyes were wide open.
“What happens?”
“You are going to be Mrs. Barnes, and we will have a yapping, rambling, super–baby running around as nothing matters…”
“Yes, all of that is true… I’m gonna marry you, I’m gonna have your baby, I’m gonna be the happiest woman in the world, and the luckiest one.”
“No. I’m the lucky one. I have the most stubborn, pretty, hard–working, yapping woman, and I’m gonna give her as many children as she wishes.”
“That’s a deal I will take with no second thoughts.”
“You’re going to be the greatest mother ever, and I’m glad to be the one to see you like that.”
February 8th: UNO Reverse.
Prompts: Going to a wine tasting, one of you gets silly drunk.
“I want you so badly it hurts to hold back."
You knew he hadn’t experienced a lot of things; even after being freed, he deprived himself of a lot of experiences. His excuse was that ‘he was too old for that’, and you accepted for the first six months of the relationship, even when you turned a year together. Not pushing too hard, letting him decide what was worth the trouble of convincing him to do it, and what was not worth.
He was always drinking beer, strong drinks; he did it just for the sake of the ol’ times, not because he could get drunk. The mere fact that he couldn’t get drunk was something that amused you; before he told you, you could sense it. He drank on all your first dates, and you didn’t even see him tipsy. Then, when he told you he couldn’t get drunk with normal alcohol, it made you curious.
All party or club nights ended the same: you being tipsy or drunk, while he was just happy to see you there, silly, doing your own thing, having the time of your life. And how could you not? You had your super soldier to protect you, and a super soldier who respected you the most and your friends, a man who never hesitated to protect all of you if someone tried to cross your boundaries.
It was not like you had a drinking problem, but he learned fast that you loved wine, tequila, and other kinds of drinks rather than beer or any other drink that you were offered there, and even when you were grateful for the things you were offered, you missed the liquor you used to drink in your hometown.
That’s when he came up with the idea of taking you there. He planned it for a whole month; he knew you had some forced time off, and he was happy to take advantage of it. When he gave you the news of your short trip, you couldn’t have been happier.
And you took the opportunity; before even taking the plane, you booked a wine tasting in a city near your hometown. He never really enjoyed those things in NYC; he said they were pointless for him. He just had to see people getting tipsy, so you never really went to one, but being in your home, he couldn’t say no; he really had no choice about it.
You got carried away with the experience, and he was so happy to see you like that, being completely you, feeling not out of your place for once. Something he hated the most about you living so far from your hometown, that from time to time you got homesick.
But there? You were enjoying yourself, drinking everything the people there gave you, making him drink too. He was amused by the way you could resist alcohol—but you explained to him that it was sort of part of your context there, so it completely took him aback the way you were all silly drunk by the third hour there.
Every drink made you even more clumsy, dancing all over the place, singing loudly, making him dance with you, drinking the things he didn’t want, staring back at people who looked a little bit more at him.
“Sweetheart, don’t you think it’s time to take a break from drinking? Just maybe half an hour, drink some water, and… maybe eat something that’s not charcuterie?”
You shook your head, “That’s the experience here—getting completely wasted.”
“I can see it, but I don’t want to carry a cute drunk bulk all over the place.”
“I’ll be fine! I’m enjoying it, and you should do it too.” You took the glass of wine you had in your hand, placed it in front of him, and pouted at him.
He snorted and opened his mouth to let you pour the wine on his lips.
Deep inside, he hated when you got drunk—not merely for the fact of you being drunk, but more for the fact that you got… horny. But not horny as ‘Let me kiss you a bit longer than usual.’ Nope. Horny all the way. You would touch his abs, his arms, make him kiss you feral, take him to secluded places and have a mid-public make-out session.
And ever the respectful man he was, he never let it go further than that. Not because he didn’t want to fuck that attitude out of you, but because he hated the idea of having sex with you being so vulnerable.
Unfortunately for him. You were at that point there, drunk, horny, and eager.
“Please, Bucky—it’s gonna be quick, I know a place right over there.” You murmured.
His mouth went to the floor. “I’m not sure if I want to know why you know a place.”
“What? I was twenty and crazy; can you blame a girl?”
He chuckled, “Sweetheart, you know it’s not my style, but when you sober up, I’m gonna make you all mine.”
You sighed, “It’s not fair that you don’t want to fuck me while I’m drunk.”
Your body leaned on his broad body; he just chuckled in response.
“What’s so funny?”
“I want you so badly it hurts to hold back, but I know better than doing it when you’re not completely capable of consent.”
You pouted.
“Sweetheart, I know you can wait a few hours ‘till you sober up for me to fuck you dumb.”
“I just think it’s not fair that I’m the one who’s always all horny while I’m drunk and you just get to decide that we can’t fuck ‘till I’m sober.”
“It’s been years since the last time I was drunk.”
He said while he slowly caressed your bare leg.
“I mean ‘years’; it’s an understatement.” You chuckled, “You should say ‘decades’.”
“Oh no, the last time I got drunk was in Wakanda. Somehow, M’Baku got a hold of Asgardian liquor—that’s the only thing that can get me drunk.”
Your mouth fell to the floor.
“Why didn't you tell me that before?”
“I mean… I never thought you would need that information—ts’ not like you want me to get drunk.”
He raised an eyebrow, but your face did the trick to let him know that it was exactly what you wanted.
“No. No. No. That shit is horrible. You can be the expert at drinking tequila, wine, whatever liquor you wanna list, but Asgardian liquor is something different.”
“Oh, that won’t be for me. That will be for you.”
He tilted his head; he was really amused by the fact that you wanted to see him drunk.
And that’s how he ended up collecting a couple of favors to find Asgardian liquor and give you what you wanted.
Seeing him getting drunk.
The night was cold; the rooftop at the Tower gave you the perfect weather, a glass that held clear liquid, and a glass of your tequila brought directly from your country.
A couple of drinks later, you could see the reaction in his body—his cheeks and the tip of his nose were turning red, the words in his mouth were now slower, and you could even hear a stutter here and there.
You were amused, almost excited by the way he was now on the other side.
“God, you are so beautiful, sweetheart.” He said, half smiling, “The man by your side is the luckiest man in the world.”
“I’m the lucky one.” You said, just looking at him.
“Of course you’re not. Look at you—beautiful, amazing, gracious, kind, and you fell in love with the bastard with a horrible past?”
“Bucky… you’re now officially drunk.”
“Can be, but that’s not a lie.” He stood up and yanked you from your chair to carry you on his waist.
You giggled and hugged him by his neck.
“The bastard by your side is the luckiest.”
His lips found your neck, pecking it slowly.
“I wanna make you mine.” He mumbled.
“Guess what? That lucky man that you mentioned taught me that we cannot fuck with drunk people.”
He grunted.
“Now you’re going to use my words against me?”
“It’s like when we play UNO. This is my UNO Reverse.”
He cracked a laugh. A playful giggle left your lips. “I mean, you’re not lying; I could never have something with you in this state.”
“Then, when I sober up—I will teach you why you don’t use my words against me.”
“In the meantime, let me enjoy the sight of you being so vulnerable.”
You kissed the tip of his nose.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, Bucky.”
February 9th: Show & Tell
Prompt: "You are just so cute" "You are the only one allowed to say that"
Bucky always thought that kids were not in his foreseen future; he always thought the further he was from them, the better.
That was until he met you. A kindergarten teacher. Not any kindergarten teacher, the best he could ever see. Kids loved you; they paid attention to you, knew when they were getting on your nerves and had to slow down, and they looked up at you as if you were something sacred.
And somehow, you landed eyes on him. Since the first time you both talked, he was whipped for you; the way you talked to him, how you paid attention to all the words that came out of his mouth, how patient you were with him, he really thought he had won the lottery with you.
Then, when it became official, and Bucky felt slightly more confident about hanging out with you in public, he started to take you to school and pick you up from there. At the beginning, it was complicated, parents talked—they weren’t the happiest to see The Ex–Winter Soldier in their school, but when they learned he was with you, they started to trust slowly, they trusted you, if you were with him, it was because you knew he would be of no harm for the kids or anyone around, they could even seen the perks of having a super soldier around most of the days.
Then, “Show & Tell Day” happened.
“Please, Bucky. They are so excited to meet you.”
“Honey, are you sure? What did your principal say? I don’t want to get you into trouble.”
“She’s so excited too. She thinks it’s the best opportunity for you to start to show that you are not a danger anymore.”
“And what am I supposed to do? Be there, smile and wave?”
“I mean, you could give a censored version of your story.” You stroke his hair. “Explain how bad people exist, talk about your metal arm, the war, how was life in the thirties. If I have someone interesting to show, it’s you.”
He sighed.
“Bucky, they already love you—let them show it to you.”
“Fine, but if it's a disaster and you get all fired, you’re gonna let me live my dream of you being my stay–at–home beautiful wife.”
You giggled, “Very ol’ fashioned of you, but fine. We got a deal.”
"I hate how you convince me to do these things."
"It's going to be the best day of your life, I swear."
"The best day of my life was when I met you."
"Shut up!" You giggled.
Bucky stood at the corner of the classroom, just next to your desk. He really tried not to look that intimidating; he didn’t want to traumatize any child.
A brunette child looked at him with a big smile; he smiled back at her and looked at you.
“Are you ready?” You mouthed at him without any sound coming out; he nodded and walked to the front of the whiteboard.
“My ‘Show & Tell’ of this month, kids. It’s my husband, his name’s…”
“Bucky Barnes!” They all chanted in unison.
Bucky was not even able to hide the smile that twitched in his lips. He sat in a chair in the middle of the front part.
“Yes, his name is Bucky Barnes—you may know him like that. Do you want to introduce yourself?” You looked at him.
“My government name is James Buchanan Barnes.” He said, leaning a bit on his knees.
A kid raised his hand, and you nodded for him to go ahead. “Why do people call you Bucky, then?”
“Well… back in time… a long time ago… My mom said I was too stubborn and hated to be called James, then Buchanan turned into Bucky, and I preferred that over time.”
Another kid raised her hand, “How old are you, Mr. Bucky?”
“A hundred and ten years old.”
A ‘Wow’ in unison sounded around the classroom.
“Why are you alive?” Another student asked without even raising his hand.
“Well… Eighty years ago more or less, some bad people did some experiments on me, then—I was used to doing things that were no good either, then they did a process where I was… frozen from time to time… that’s how I can be this age.”
"Why do you have a metal arm?" Another kid asked.
"Oh, well, I had a very bad accident, and my arm didn't make it... but for me it's like my normal hand."
"Does it hurt?"
A shy girl asked. You could see how she tried to be respectful, but you knew his metal arm was something he was still trying to see as a part of his body, and the pain he felt from time to time where it connected to his body was sometimes insufferable for him.
"Not anymore." He lied and smiled.
And the Q&A continued for what seemed hours; even other students surrendered their turn on ‘Show & Tell’ just to give Bucky more time to answer more questions.
Like every time in your exhibitions, kids were able to draw what they liked the most that day—and since Bucky was the only ‘thing’ presented that day, now he was being drawn by twenty kids in different styles.
At the end of the day, Bucky carried twenty paper sheets with drawings of him, your bag in the arm, and you in the flesh hand.
Kids waved him goodbye as he walked with you through the school yard; he nodded and waved them back. You felt like your chest was about to explode; this man who felt that he was never going to be able to be loved again was now surrounded by people who respected him, admired him, and even loved him.
“What?” He said when he realized you were staring at him.
"You are just so cute." You giggled.
"You are the only one allowed to say that; don’t you ever dare to say Sam this happened."
“Bucky, you’re going to be national news by tomorrow morning.”
“Be glad I love you more than anything.”
That night, when Bucky thought you were already sleeping, you found him in the office you both shared in your house, looking at the drawings. Something warm in your chest made you realize that what happened today was not something only for the kids, but for him.
He didn't really tell you, but you saw how something inside him healed. He was just not a weapon anymore; he was a man with a story. A man who had gone through hell and came back. A man who had a story to tell and at least the new generations were interested in hearing.
He left very early in the morning—so you decided to surprise him; you knew he was going to be out of the house for at least one day. So, you started a project with his drawings; you took them and created a whole collection of them. It was big, big enough to not be ignored every time he went into the office.
You hung it there: “Don’t forget who you are now.”
When he came back a day later, you were already at school. He went into the office to put in his safe box the guns he carried everywhere, but something caught his attention—the college hung on the wall near his safe box. He couldn’t stop looking at it.
“What did I do to deserve her?” It was the only thing he could say.
February 10th: No Strings Attached.
Prompt: An accidental I love you
His hips were thrusting hard, your mind was foggy, your throat was dry just from being agape, and your hand that still had strength enough to dig its nails in his back was almost giving up. He held your legs up, resting them on his shoulder, the tip of his cock hitting every time the perfect spot for you to squeak as a response.
He was mumbling praising words under his breath while his eyes were fixed on your face. He never really told you, but he loved the way your eyebrows scrunched in the middle every time you were about to cum, or how you swallowed slowly to hide a louder moan.
That was just a few things of many he didn’t tell you—but that was how your situation worked.
You never really told him that you were developing feelings, while he never told you he was already deeply in love with you from the third time you fell asleep in his chest.
But he didn’t have the balls to confess it. Because that was the deal. No strings attached.
You both didn’t even know your names until one day someone at the entrance of his building called him “Bucky”. So, you decided to make it even and told him your name.
For months, it was easier to fake that you both didn’t feel anything for each other, but every late-night talk, every coffee you bought, or those last-minute late-night calls you both answered made it worse and worse.
The moment he touched you with his mental hand, he knew he was in trouble—he didn’t even flinch when he did it. Because he knew you didn’t care what hand was touching you, nor what he had done in the past. You just cared to think that he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing he could ever hold in his hands, even if it was only something you were hallucinating from the pleasure of the moment.
And that night was no different—or that’s what you thought.
His metal fingers circled your nipple while his flesh hand gripped your hip to steady himself, you were about to cum, your hand was not even in that place at that moment, Bucky opened your legs to insert himself and hug you from behind, your cheek was pressed in his chest, your legs locked in the back straddling him, your left hand gripping his side, while the right one held his arm digging your nails in the skin.
He leaned on your ear and started to whimper words with not much sense.
“You feel like home.”
He mumbled. Your chest tightened up, and you held him closer.
“Let me make you mine…”
You nodded, not even sure what he meant—but at that point you were sure that you could accept anything he gave you.
You felt how your hips shifted down and then—how he took his cock out from your cunt, a muffled gasp left your mouth, and you felt his hand taking his condom off. Your core was now burning; you weren’t even sure if he asked you; he could have, but you weren’t even paying attention to his words.
“Are you sure?” He asked, and you nodded eagerly.
That was something you had thought about for weeks—feeling him bare, feel his bare length in your cunt, inch by inch he got you panting, scratching, rolling back your eyes.
And then…
“I love you, Bucky…”
He stopped mid–length. You opened your eyes and covered your mouth with your hands.
His face softened for a second; he took your hands out of your mouth and kissed you feral, like he was deprived.
“I fucking love you too… God. I love you so much I can't take it anymore.”
He started thrusting harder; his movements were contradictory to his soft words.
“I love you, and I will spend the rest of my days showing you how much I love you.”
You nodded—at that moment, you weren’t even sure if the climax you were feeling was because of the hard thrusting or his words.
When you both hit your climax, he lay on your chest; both chests were heaving, your hands slipped through his hair while he smiled.
“I meant it, you know it, right? I meant every word.” He lifted his body to face you, one of his hands cupped your chin.
“I hope so, because I meant it too,” you giggled. “I’m sorry for doing it like this.”
“This was the most unexpected ‘I love you’ I have ever received, and I can’t be happier to receive it in this way.”
“Are you sure you’re not saying this just because I did it while we were fucking?” He chuckled.
“I wish this was not the way we told our first ‘I love you’, because I don’t want you thinking it was the heat of the moment, but also—I think I cornered both of us to do it this way.”
“And now what?”
“Well… What about we start with some formalities like our last names?”
February 14th: Alpine's Arrangement.
Prompts: “I’ll make you mine forever”
"It's so hot when you talk like that."
The first time Bucky showed up at your door without calling, it was late at night. His knuckles were covered in blood, his left cheek was shattered. He didn’t say much, didn’t have to, honestly.
You were half asleep on the couch; a re–run of your favorite rom–com was humming on the TV. Alpine, the cat you adopted when you were together, was sitting on the couch next to, she had been with you since the breakup. He didn’t like her to be alone while he was out on missions. The arrangement was that he could visit her as much as he wanted to.
And he didn’t take advantage of it, even when sometimes he wanted to take it as an excuse to visit you, he didn’t. He just accepted what was given. And to see you from time to time was more than enough.
Since the breakup, he started showing up more often. Sometimes after missions, tension clinging to him like smoke. Sometimes on quiet afternoons when the world felt deceptively peaceful. At first, he never stayed long. An hour. Maybe two. He would sit stiffly on your couch, metal fingers tapping lightly against his thigh, as if counting exits, petting Alpine, mumbling something under his breath—and then he left, like he didn’t shatter your whole world with just his mere presence.
But that night, something felt different; he was nervous, he had an unkempt appearance, like he was running away from something.
“C’mere. I need to clean you up.” You opened the door and let him in.
You walked to your First Aid Kit. When you went back, Alpine was already in his lap; he had a hand on her, and the metal one covered his eyes in silence.
“Wanna talk?” You sat next to him, and he nodded.
“I’m just tired of this life.” He said, lifting his hand to let you clean his wounds.
“Well, you’re not forced to do it, James.” You started to pat the cut he had in his cheek; he flinched at the touch.
“What else is a Super Soldier intended to do?” He mumbled.
“James, the government told you—you don’t have to do it. You’re free. You have no debt with anyone.”
“Tell that to the nightmares.” He said, looking at you.
He hated doing it. Staring at you was like a stab in his chest; it felt almost like a punishment, like he was not supposed to do it, but there he was, breaking all the rules just to stare at your pretty face.
He didn’t break up with you because he didn’t love you. Not really. He did it because he was tired of you lying to him. Like when you said you didn’t feel alone when he left for weeks or months on missions.
Or the way you lied to him, telling him you were fine with being low–profile, even when he saw how you got all excited when your friends had big proposals or nice night dinners. While your reality was a whole different matter. People didn’t even know you two were dating; your night dates usually were in the compound or in your apartment—if you were lucky in a shitty restaurant on the outskirts. Nothing too fancy. But he was still too afraid of being spotted and that people judged you for being with him.
Both remained silent until his metal hand lifted slowly, carefully, as if approaching something fragile. The cool pads of his fingers brushed along your jaw. The contrast between cold metal and your heated skin made you shiver.
“You know I’d burn the world down for you, right?” he said, voice low and rough.
You chuckled; you really wanted to believe him.
“That’s not exactly comforting,” you whispered.
His flesh hand slid to your waist. It hesitated there for a second, waiting for resistance that never really came. When you didn’t pull away, his grip tightened slightly, drawing you closer until your knees parted around his thigh. Alpine was now long gone and staring with anger from her castle.
“Say it,” he murmured, forehead nearly touching yours.
“Say what?”
“That you feel it too.”
You swallowed. For months, you had both danced around it. The almost-kisses. The looks that lingered too long. The way he watched you like you were something precious and breakable all at once. Both of you knew that this whole ‘Alpine Arrangement’ was nothing more than a poor excuse to see each other.
“I do,” you admitted. “You know I do.”
Something changed in his expression. The hardened edges softened, revealing something soft underneath. A man who had lost everything too many times, a man who knew that he was about to lose something else, something almost sacred that life had given him, and he didn’t accept it at first.
His lips hovered just a breath away from yours when he said it.
“I’ll make you mine forever,” He murmured in your ear.
“You can’t keep promising things you’re not going to make real.”
“Are you saying I’m not capable of fucking my ex-girlfriend just to remind her that I love her deathly?”
“You know I don’t care about sex. I can take that from anyone else.” You furrowed and shifted in your position; now your hands hugged the back of his neck.
“And are you?” He tilted.
“What do you mean?”
“Are you fucking someone else?”
He never cared to look jealous when it was about you—he made sure to let the people around you know that he was greedy.
“Of course I’m not.” You rolled your eyes. “Bucky, you are the only man I’ve been with in the last years.”
"It's so hot when you talk like that."
You snorted a laugh and tilted your head back, exposing your neck. He couldn’t resist and deposited a peck on it.
“I promise you I’m gonna put my shit together.”
“Are you really?” You furrowed, “James… I’m not even asking you to stop going on missions, or working for Val. I’m just asking you to let me love you—even if it's on your terms.”
“That’s the whole problem—you don’t deserve to do something like this on any terms. You should love freely, as free as you are, as intense as you have always been. And… I don’t think I deserve it, not yet.”
“If you stopped seeing it that way…” You shook your head.
He sighed; deep down he knew you were right.
“James, look at me.” You cupped his cheeks with your hands. “I love you, and I don’t mind waiting, being hidden, being low profile. I love you from the first time; I love you, and that will always be like that.”
When you shifted your hips once again, you noticed the bulge growing bigger.
“Someone misses me?” He turned red immediately. He hated how much his body would ignore his pleadings when you were around.
“Of course I miss you, and I hate not waking up with you next to me.”
“That was on you. You were the one breaking up with me.”
He chuckled. “Don’t do this to me. It’s been horrible without you.”
Your face softened for a moment. You knew he was not even talking fully about sex. It was all the things he didn’t tell anyone.
“What about we go to sleep?” You asked, brushing your fingers on his neck.
Sleep was a fun word to call it.
It was the first time you were in bed again together.
You were sitting in his lap; both of you were now completely naked. His hands rested on your now bruised hip from the way he manhandled you minutes earlier.
“Please…”
“James…”
“Just his time—grant me that.”
You sighed and shifted your hip to stand up and hover his face with your bare core.
“I missed this sight.”
You were feeling heat all over your face. “James, don’t…”
“C’mon, you know I love it.”
He has always loved to be buried between your legs—to be your personal chair, as he called himself. Sometimes we just cum from eating you, from having you in his face and no more.
So, it was almost obvious the first thing he was going to do was to eat your pussy like it was his first meal after months—because he felt it like that.
He pulled you closer, making you straddle his head, his tongue lapping your folds, his hand digging its nails in your hip; you tried to gain balance on the wall by pressing your hands there. Without even noticing you were shifting your hips slowly, which made him growl— his lips nipped your clit with eagerness.
“James, oh God.” You whimpered, your hands pulled his hair slowly. “Don’t stop…”
You could hear the pornographic sounds his mouth made while his tongue lapped a straight line in your cunt, delving it, making your moans fill the whole room; his grunts muffled with your flesh made it even worse.
You were writhing as soon as your vision faded to black—he took you in his arms, and you could feel the tip of his dick brushing your cunt. It was not intentional. He didn’t mean to tease. He was just enjoying how good you felt this way again.
But you were now eager—there was no way you could stop yourself. He had trained your body to ask for more orgasms after hitting the first one. So, you did what you knew best.
You moved your body to make his tip rise at your entrance. Bucky growled, “We don’t need to…”
You shook your head, “I want to…”
He tilted his head back and gripped your hips, jerking you fast in his shaft. Then his hips started to tilt up; your hands rested in his chest while you fixed your gazes together—you both were locked in each other, your lips brushed each other, mumbling praising words.
That was something he loved—the intimacy of your words, the way you both knew what to say and how to say it. The way those words never left the room; what was said in that moment was only for you, him, and the room to guard.
When both of you dissolved your bodies in pleasure—feeling a trailing fire through your body, realizing both of you were nothing without each other.
There, you realized something—You both never reminded each other about protection; his cum dripping from your cunt felt lustful but somehow perfect. Like it was meant to be there, even when he didn’t do it on purpose, he felt… sure about it.
You looked at his eyes. He was as ashamed as you were. But you saw his smug grin… he had a snarky remark he wanted to make.
“What?” You chuckled.
“See? I told you I was going to make you mine forever.”
a small sub!Spencer Reid blurb inspired by this p link
“I-I don’t think we should do this….” Spencer muttered, his large hands covering the majority of his face.
If it wasn’t for the press of his hard cock against your cunt, you’d roll your eyes.
You settled for encouraging coos “Why baby? Thought you wanted this. You told me you needed this so bad, no?”
Spencer whines at your words, his hand coming down to wrap around your wrist. His entire body felt on fire, and his eyes kept darting to the barely closed office door next to you.
“I do! But not-not like this….it’s technically an HR violation and w-what if Hotch walks in, and-“
His words are cut short the moment you fully settle on his engorged cock, a high pitched whine escaping his lips.
“You needing me is an HR violation” you whisper, hyper focused on the slow grind of your hips against his. Spencer moans again, his hips bucking up involuntarily, and he grips your arm with more force than intended.
“S-not the same…please…”
“Please what baby?” you purr before changing your rythm, hips moving up and down his shaft”
“P-please stop!” his hands shot up to your hips, his mouth open in pure pleasure and his eyes wide with the need to come and to stop your actions altogether.
You make a soft, disapproving sound, resulting the grinding of your hips “You already let me sit on your cock, now you don’t want me to bounce on it? That’s disappointing.”
He whimpers and turns his head away at your crude words, unconsciously humping you and driving his dick deeper into you. He feels your walls squeeze him in with such eagerness, he almost forget you’re talking to him.
With his mind fuzzy and his eyes focused on your backside, he mutters “c-can’t let you do it….I can’t keep quiet mommy I’m sorry…”
A small tsk sound escapes your lips, and you slowly drag your hips up and down again, rolling your eyes at the loud moan that Spencer let out.
“Fine. If you can’t shut your mouth on your own, I’ll make you.”
Spencer almost cries out in frustration when you get up and turn around, yet is silenced by your panties being shoved in his mouth.
That’ll keep him quiet long enough for you to cum.
All my stories are R18. I write smut, and I may touch sensitive topics or topics that are not intended to be read by minors.
YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN CONTENT CONSUMPTIONS.
Masterlist | Part Two.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader (Multiple forms for Bucky and Reader)
Warning/Tags: Smut, Spicy scenes, light angst, mention of HYDRA, if there's any tag missing, I'll add it later.
General Word count: ~4.1k
Author's Note: So, this is the recap of all my entries for the Galentine's Isla&Pink did back in February. I decided to do it this way to avoid spamming something that's themed for Valentine's. This is the first part, and I will be posting the second part later. Enjoyy!
February 1st: Easier access.
Prompt: "You look so beautiful like this."
The lingerie in front of you made you flustered; it looked lustful, sinful, as if you weren’t supposed to look at it, but Natasha convinced you that something like that would keep things spicy, but now you were giving it a second thought.
You had been dating Bucky for almost a year, and he had been nothing but a gentleman in bed; he always said he never wanted to force you into something you weren’t completely down for. Then things started to cool down in recent times—not your fault or his. He’d been busy with Steve on missions. Sometimes he got home to you being asleep, or you being so tired that he didn’t want to disturb you.
“C’mon. Get a fucking grip, Buck.” Sam said while Bucky flushed his back on a wall.
He shook his head while his hands gripped the Glock he was holding. He was missing most of the shots, almost got shot twice, and nothing was making sense in his head. He felt exasperated; it had been two weeks since the last time he held you in his arms, when you cockwarmed him until he woke up. And before that—two weeks without having an intimate moment with you.
He was sure he was going insane if he continued like that.
It was not like he was a kind of sick man who just thought about that, but since you started to get physical, he realized you were the only solace he needed to continue his life. The first time he saw you naked? He could’ve had that sight day and night without doubt.
Bucky was almost tense, but every time he had planned to fuck you dumb and arrived home, you were sleeping; sometimes you weren’t even using something that gave him the hint that you were expecting something to happen, and the rest of the day you were busy at work, or he was not even home.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?”
You asked at the camera; the phone was facing up while you were putting the baby doll set lace you had on your hands.
“It’s a great idea; he is going to love it. You slept well to wait for him. I know he got sent home earlier; he was—distracted.”
Natasha answered on the other side of the phone.
“I feel stupid.”
“You must look perfect! I’m just telling you, he will be drooling as soon as he sees you.”
“And what if he doesn’t like me anymore?”
Natasha sighed.
“Look, girl. I haven’t told you this, but he got sent home because he wasn't focused—Sam said he looked as if he hadn’t felt relieved in weeks.”
“I—Oh, dear lord. Now everyone knows we haven’t fucked in weeks.”
You finished putting on the set; you felt—so self-aware, every part of you that you hated was so obvious now.
“Is this supposed to make me feel hotter? And what the fuck is this hole on my fucking cunt?!”
You got flustered; Natasha snorted a laugh.
“For easier access…”
“Oh. Oh… OH. Nat, I need to prepare myself for this.”
She chuckled; she knew how nervous you were about the topic; you didn’t even let her go with you to buy the sets.
“Good luck! And remember, spread your legs!”
You sat on the edge of the bed, the lingerie felt like something that was not supposed to be yours, something that felt as if you were doing something wrong—something wrong to you, to him; you knew this was not wrong in any way, you both had been intimate, he never let you think you were not attractive to him, but the distance took a toll on you.
By midnight, you could hear the door swinging open; you sighed and sat straight; the bed felt now bigger. After some minutes, he saw you there—sitting, a rope covering your lingerie, heated cheeks; he didn’t catch at first what he had in front of him. His mind was still racing through the throbbing inside his pants. But he didn’t want to pressure you. He just came back; you probably were tired.
“Hi, honey.” Your voice came shy, almost like a murmur.
He was taking his shirt off when he finally looked at you.
Fuck…
He saw how the rope was tied to your shoulders, your chest exposed with the lingerie, his mouth agape, eyes locked on you; you could see his bare chest stuck in the moment, not heaving, just still.
He didn’t even let you finish—his desire was taking full control of his actions; he was now hovering over you, taking the rope the hell out of you. His lips pecked every piece of exposed skin. His knee spread open your legs, setting himself in the middle of them, his growing bulge lining now with your core.
“You have no idea how much I missed you.”
The sight was beautiful; the lust in his eyes made you feel secure, made you realize you were going on the correct path.
Your legs straddled his waist, putting him closer to you. He caressed your neck with his thumb, just to travel down in a slow motion to your barely covered nipple. His fingers circled it softly, with care, as if he was trying not to hurt you. He was trying to memorize every shiver, every move, gasp, and heavy breath you were doing at the moment.
He pulled you closer, making you sit on his lap, your exposed skin kissing each other—his metal arm grabbing you by your back, flesh hand caressing your cheek.
“Where does this come from?” He chuckled while kissing your nose.
“I—missed you a lot.”
“And lingerie was the way to show it?” You nodded proudly, and he laughed.
“Well, I hope it was not expensive, ‘cause—” and he tore the lace that was working as a sleeve, “I don’t like to see wrapping on my gifts.”
You giggled while he kissed and tore every part of the fabric, leaving you completely exposed.
He spent the whole night reminding you how much he liked you, how much your body had an effect on him—you didn’t even realize when the sun went up; he was making sure you knew he loved you as much as you loved him.
And you did; you even forgot how you had felt the whole week, how much he had been absent and intently made you feel neglected.
When you woke up in the evening, every inch of you hurt; you could feel the soreness in your core, a glimpse of marks through your neck and chest—he was going to be ashamed the rest of the week because he hated to mark you.
The shirt you took from his closet was huge on you, and somehow felt better than anything you could’ve picked from your own things.
The scent of homemade food made Bucky wake up. When he tried to reach out to you and found the bed made next to him, he realized you were cooking.
In the kitchen, he saw you just in his shirt, no underwear, no makeup, just you covered by his shirt.
"You look so beautiful like this." He murmured, kissing you from behind, his now bulging area covered with sweatpants.
“I’m only using your shirt.” You giggled.
“I would die to see you all day and night with that set that I tore last night, but you don’t need all of that. I love you as you are; I don’t care how you dress, or what you do—I’ve been so caught up with work that I didn’t stop to think we haven’t had a private moment together.”
His lips brushed your shoulder, just to place a kiss there.
“I promise you I will take time off from missions, and we are going to have our time together.”
You nodded.
“How did you come up with this idea?” Your cheeks grew heated.
“Promise you’re not going to laugh.”
You turned around to look at him.
“Let me guess, a redhead gave you the idea.” You smiled and nodded, “I should have known.”
“I know—I was worried you didn’t find me attractive anymore.”
He sighed; his forehead rested on your shoulder. He took you on his arm and made you straddle his waist, his flesh hand cupped your chin while his metal arm was working as a rest for you.
“I’m sorry. The whole thing of being in a relationship while being active on missions is complicated, but I’m gonna do better.”
“We are fine; we both knew what the struggles were going to be in this whole thing.”
He kissed you. Never in his life would he think of himself as worthy of someone like you; he was always grateful for you, for how you took care of him, how you thought about him not only as a couple, but as someone with a whole different kind of life, and he appreciated your way to remind him you were all his.
“Just a question,” you nodded, “I know I tore the shit out of that set, but—do you have more of those?”
You chuckled, “Yes. I didn’t think a piece of fabric would survive a needy super soldier.”
February 2nd: I think I wanna marry you.
Prompts:
"Is that a ring box in your pocket or you just happy to see me?"
"I can hardly wait to put a ring on that finger"
"Are you still carrying that ring all over the place?"
Sam said, chuckling while putting the sports bag on the floor. Bucky had been nervous all week with the same thing—asking you to marry him.
Not in all his years of being completely freed would he have thought of marrying someone, let alone be nervous about it. And how could he? He fought against the worst scum alive. Asking someone who already lived with him to share private, intimate, and beautiful moments should be as easy as it sounded.
And of course, Joaquin and Sam had been a pain in his ass since the day they went with him to pick the ring. He knew what you liked—he paid attention to the details, he knew what kind of proposal was ideal to you, and the ring was the easiest thing to pick.
But what is learned is never lost. So, he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t find the ring while looking for something, so he started carrying it everywhere he went. Unless it was a mission, that ring was with him. He didn’t even care to look like an idiot with it in his pocket.
“Shut the fuck up, Sam. I just haven’t planned the whole thing.”
He chuckled.
“You’ve had that thing in your pocket for the last two weeks; by this point you should’ve thought of something.”
“What? Is Mr. Barnes frightened for the first time to do something?” Joaquin walked in.
“I’m not fucking afraid, it’s just…” He sighed, “I think she’s perfect, you know? And she should receive the best—not just a shitty proposal.”
“Buck, we have seen her—whatever thing you decide to do, she will love it. No matter what. She’s hopelessly in love with you.”
“And that’s the whole point. She’s been settling her whole life; I’m not gonna give her just anything just because she’s gonna accept it.”
Both men were speechless. They knew he loved you—hell… they loved you a lot. You were kind, thoughtful, grateful, funny; you understood what their life was like, and helped them as much as they needed. How could anyone not love you?
When he arrived late at home, you were half asleep, half struggling to be awake; he snuggled you, his so–often warm body wrapping you with care. You were about to fall asleep as soon as he tugged you onto his chest. The bulge was aligned with your stomach, which made you feel the ring he didn’t have enough time to take out.
"Is that a ring box in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
He tried to chuckle, but an almost nervous giggle left his lips instead.
“I think I’m just so happy to see you now.”
You smiled and fell asleep some minutes later. You were almost oblivious to the whole proposal thing. He was really good at hiding it, and you couldn’t ever wrap up the idea of him being completely open to the idea of something as strong as marriage. Not because he was not committed, but you always thought that was something he left in the past.
Moments like that made him feel so sure about his decision. You arrived at his life as a storm—loud, ridiculously loud, silly, made him go out of his bubble; he was not prepared for you, but he accepted how much he loved you from the very first moment.
When he noticed your hand, the finger in his left hand now seemed bare—as if it missed something it hadn’t even been there yet.
"I can hardly wait to put a ring on that finger"
He murmured on your hair, just to kiss the crown of your head.
February 3rd: You'll learn what funny is...
Prompts:
Making funny faces behind the computer as the other is on a boring call
"Is this okay?"
Congressman Barnes, as you called him just to annoy him, had been on video calls all morning—and you were about to go crazy. The whole point of him working at home was for you to spend more time together, not for the people to abuse resources and give him even more time at work than he should.
He was sitting at a desk that faced the couch; you were just watching a movie when you realized he was about to fall asleep. He was not a bad congressman at all; he just hated all the in–office labor, which, to be honest, was most of the things he had to handle.
You stood up and went directly behind the screen; he didn’t even realize at first you were there. He was using all his willpower to pay attention to what he was being told along with the rest of the congresspeople in the group call. You remembered he was almost snorting earlier while watching you struggling to open something, and he said your face was just the funniest thing he had seen in years and took a photo of you.
So, you did it. You remembered what face it was the face everyone thought you did as a joke—but it was just your struggling face.
When his eyes found your face, he really tried to compose himself—he cleared his throat and disguised it as a cough, but you could see the wrinkles on his eyes from when he was laughing.
“Stop.” He murmured with his hand still on his lips.
“Make me.” You mouthed.
“Stop, I’m trying to pay attention; that’s not okay.”
You rolled your eyes. It really turned you on when he was all serious, so you did what you knew best: Turning him on.
You took your bra off without him noticing, and before he could even understand what you were doing, you lifted your shirt, flashing him.
"Is this okay?" You murmured.
He sealed his lips in a straight line and focused his eyes on the screen; you giggled and walked away.
When you were getting ready to sleep, he walked into the bedroom; his tie was now on his hand.
“You think it’s funny? Making me all nervous, flashing me during an important call?”
You chuckled.
“Well, it was certainly funny seeing you all flustered.”
He sighed and crawled through the bed to reach you; his hand gripped your heel and pulled you closer to him.
“Now you’ll learn what really funny is…”
He spread your legs open; when you tried to protest, he laughed, he unfastened his belt, you swallowed—you could swear you were salivating.
“You are all talk using this short thing to sleep in, as if you didn’t know I would just rip it off if it were necessary.”
“I didn’t wear it on purpose…” You tried to make it less obvious.
He unzipped his fly without taking his eyes from you; he loved the sight—seeing your core exposed, your chest heaving, hands grasping the comforter.
“Look at you, you just wanted attention, right?” You nodded and bit your lips.
“You just had to ask for it—not to try to ruin my meetings.”
“I was not trying to ruin your meetings; I was bored.”
He knelt on the edge of the bed, circling your inner thigh with his thumb. His dripping tip teasing your entrance carefully, softly, reminding you how much you wanted it.
“Did you miss me?” Another nod, “Tell me how much.”
“A lot, I missed you a lot, I didn’t want to wait…”
“I know, honey, but you know I need to do this—this is not for me.”
His cock split open your cunt slowly—you were used to it, but it never stopped making you feel full; a gasp always left your throat without you even wanting it; you were always short of breath with his length inside, and you both loved it. You loved how your body reacted to his, how his hands made you stay still when you squirmed under his body.
“I need you closer…” You whimpered.
His hips thrust you enough to make space for him to lean closer to you; his arms slid under your body, his body now towering over you completely; your head was hidden on his chest while you bit his pectoral to muffle the scream you wanted to set free.
His hips never giving up, constant groanings in your ear, your arms hugging him, leaving your nail prints on his back.
You clenched on his dick; your body could not stop reacting to everything he did to you—his strong arms holding you closer, his warm breath on your ear, including his deep voice full of lust; your grip on him making him weaker, making him cum without giving him any chance to stop it, and in that moment you went limp; nothing even made sense anymore.
“You didn’t even give me a chance to tease you more…”
You were seeing black, breath hitching, heat flowing over your whole body; you weren’t even able to talk back.
“Do you need a minute?” You nodded.
He brought you water while you were trying to recover from the feeling.
“So, it’s still so funny getting on my nerves while I’m working?”
You nodded and smiled.
He sighed.
“You know I love you, right?”
“I’m sure about it.”
February 4th: Teasing a bit too much.
Prompt: "Are you just going to stare?"
Bucky teased you all day; the morning started with him wearing that shirt—that one you both knew made your legs shiver. No, worse. It started with a growing boner that he was thrusting against your butt.
“Sorry, baby. We can’t do it right now; we are late.” And he pecked your cheek.
Then, when you went off to the compound, he spent the whole training doing filthy sounds that got you distracted, just for him to smirk in response.
“You seem distracted today, doll.”
When the rest of the team arrived, he just stopped doing those noises. This was not even revenge; you hadn’t done anything to make him tease you all day.
After that, when you were eating all together, he gripped your knee underneath the table; he dug his finger on your skin, making you almost whimper.
He was all in teasing mode. And you were too horny to deal with it.
So you took hands on the matter—he had to stay at the compound for a little longer, so you went straight home, took your lingerie set he picked up months ago, took a shower, and waited—you both shared your location 24/7. Not in a possessive way; you both were together most of the time, but he was always worried something could happen to you. So you put out your phone, waited for him to be at the threshold of your home and started…
Oh, the show you were giving.
You were sitting on the edge of the bed, the one who was directed to the door. Legs spread open, hand teasing your lips, one finger sinking on your cunt, the other one gropping your breast, you left a filthy, almost pornographic moan out of your mouth, and when he opened the door, he saw you.
Head tilting back, moans filling the whole room, his mouth wide open, you could even see his dick twitching in his pants. He couldn’t say anything—his throat was dry, he felt a knot on his stomach; seeing you like that was the greatest thing that could've happened to him that day. And he couldn’t even move to help you.
"Are you just going to stare?"
“God, what are you doing?”
You couldn’t even speak—your own hands and looking at him in such a state got you on the edge.
“What about some help?” He asked, but you shook your head.
You were sure you were about to come; you could feel it on your legs, the way your toes curled up when the shockwave started to flow through your body.
You were closing your eyes, and you didn’t notice when he got closer; he knelt in front of you, just to admire you. He could be anything, but to not listen to your denials? Was not an option.
When the trails of fire stopped, you opened your eyes. He was trying to reach out for your hand; you moved it from your core and opened his mouth with your damp fingers. He closed his eyes while he was savouring your arousal on them.
You cut the distance between you two and put your lips just in front of them.
“Next time, I’m gonna deny you sex a whole week if you spent a whole day teasing me, you asshole.”
He pinched his eyes closed and nodded; he knew he deserved that—even when you were about to give him the best sex of his whole life, he knew that the teasing was not over.
February 5th: Homesick.
Prompt:
"Nothing feels as good as coming home to you."
"Nothing feels as good as having you come home to me."
Bucky’s missions were never something that took you aback; it was part of your lives, and both of you accepted it as what it was. But when missions took longer than expected, he felt like shit. He knew you had your own life, and you did well without him, but his heart ached every night he spent without you. And he knew you were sad too.
At least you had Alpine, the fluff cloud dressed as a cat you adopted a year ago. Before you were on the frame, he never really liked carrying a phone to the missions, but since you arrived—he was all into disposable phones. Every time he knew he would be out for more than a week, he would bring a burner phone. You would send your silly photos with Alpine, and he could swear he was having the best day ever.
But that mission? It was taking longer than expected—it had been almost a month. When he finally arrived home, you were on the threshold, your loose pajamas covered just enough for you not to be completely bare.
When the SUV parked in front and he got off, his first sight was you, your worried face finally relaxing—your knitted brows losing the tension between them.
Steve waved at you from the driver's seat. By this point, he knew better than to try to have a conversation with you when Bucky was walking in your direction.
You were not even paying attention to him; you were already running toward Bucky, your legs straddled his waist while your head rested on his shoulder. He inhaled your scent, filling his lungs with as much of you as he could.
He walked with you on his arm; you looked back at the SUV and smiled at Steve. He couldn’t even fake that he was looking at you two.
But he genuinely loved to see Bucky in such a state. Having you in his arms, knowing well he was well taken care of, and loved as much as he deserved.
When you were already in your bedroom, he put you on your bed, started to take the dusty tactical uniform off, and sighed, relieved.
“It feels fine to set your body free from those clothes after that much time?
He shook his head, "Nothing feels as good as coming home to you."
“And nothing feels as good as having you come home to me."
“Not even sleeping without me snorting by your side?”
You pursed your lips, and he snorted a laugh.
“What about I tug you in bed, we cuddle, and we can watch your silly movies all week without anyone bothering us?” You nodded while looking at his now bare body.
“You wanna join me in the shower?” Your eyes lit up, and you nodded.
