[programmerhumour]

Finding this in the server room made my day

[swarnpert]

my workplace deadblow

[coffeeandspentbrass]

Man, I miss Mjolnir. My old 5lb sledge welded to a 12in steel pipe

[carby]

My engineer slapped this on when our IT department issued guidance on proper disposal of HDD/SSD storage

[buckyfmd-deactivated20260404]

"would you quit being annoying and stop blowing raspberries every time i say something that annoys you?" bucky demanded, annoyance laying thick in his tone.

you rolled your eyes, your retaliation harsh with no thought put behind it. and boy, was that something you came (heh) to regret later.

"you wouldn’t be so mad if i blew you instead."

and so yeah, that’s how you ended up like this— mascara dripping down your face with your mouth stuffed full of cock. your gags were nothing but a cacophony as more tears welled up in your eyes, bucky’s hips thrusting forwards inching his length deeper in your throat.

the musk emitted from his body, pubic hair tickling your nose as your throat was nothing but a fucktoy to bucky.

"that oughtta—fuck—shut you up, huh?"

[blowingbarnes]

I’m totally so nonchalant about this I’m fully calm

I’m not freaking out at all

[superbassbuck]

he's a busy man!

18+ mdni. smut. this whole masterlist is filthy.

introducing you bucky's employed era, where ❝ bucky barnes is trying to earn some bucks.❞ — @houseofhyde™ employers fear him, his clients eat him.

he's working late, cause he's a super soldier! main masterlist I do not have a tag list. to get notified for fic updates, please follow @notify-superbassbuck and turn on notifications.

p*rnstar — camstar!bucky x virgin!reader ❤️‍🔥 You’ve never had sex before, still untouched and completely inexperienced. But when you stumble across Bucky’s porn channel—you quickly become his number one fan. You’re always in his comments, always in his chats, and never expecting it to go anywhere beyond the screen. Luckily for Bucky, your social media is linked to your account, making it easy for him to find you.

40-love! — tennis instructor!bucky x reader ❤️‍🔥 Coach Barnes lives by a simple motto. Happy clients, bigger pay. Most of the time, that means entertaining the old folks or pampering the rich and bored by always letting them win. Easy money. But what happens when his newest client is a spoiled little brat whose half his age, shoved on the court by mommy and daddy? Well. He'll make sure to put her in her place. Professionally, of course.

house tour — pool cleaner!bucky x rich girl!reader ❤️‍🔥 Your house is big enough to host a hundred people, but the only one you want in it is your maddeningly hot pool cleaner. You want him—bad. Yet no matter how hard you flirt, he never seems to take the bait. What you don't realize is that Bucky wants you just as badly, he's just very good at hiding it.

handle with care — mover!bucky x reader ❤️‍🔥 (coming soon.) After finding a cheap for-hire mover on Craigslist, you’re immediately thrown off by the man’s shitty, grumpy attitude. You’re half-tempted to fire him on the spot... until you catch the way his biceps curl and his shirt clings to his sweaty, muscular back with every grunt. Suddenly, the couch needs to move a little to the left… and the desk a little to the right. You’re testing Bucky’s patience on purpose, and sooner or later, he’s going to snap.

updated 10.1.25. sorry. you were probably expecting a kinktober. this is the best i can do.

[kylopen]

In My Head

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sunshine reader is always seen as sweet and innocent to the team, always happy to use her healing magic wherever possible. Bucky, touch starved and in love, discovers reader is not as innocent as she seems.

Word count: 8.2k words <3

Plus size reader safe! All body types are safe in this fic! Everyone loves Dom! Bucky I do too but good god I need whipped Bucky who will do anything for Reader. This is the longest piece I’ve written in so long! Enjoy and leave a note<3 I’m in my marvel era again so feel free to request anyone! I didn't proof read (i finished it at 1am)

Tags: There is a plot! (porn with plot lol) AFAB reader, The smut is pure FILTH tbh, Smut, Pining Bucky, no use of Y/N.

Smut warnings: Sub!Bucky, soft dom! Reader, use of ‘Good boy’, Bucky has a praise kink, pussy eating (lots of it), Needy/touch starved Bucky, Bucky has an Edward Cullen moment, Oral (female/reader receiving— THREE times hehe) penetration, Buck likes his hair pulled, Bucky dry humps, Reader squirts (third oral sequence so skip that part if you wish) needy creampie.

There were things in the modern world that baffled Bucky, Bubble tea, new terms for prejudice ending in 'phobia', babies with Ipads in their faces. And you. The first time he laid eyes on you, you gave him a blindingly sweet smile, and held your hand out for him to shake. When he didn't take it you didn't judge him or look at him funny, you smiled like you understood. From then on, you respected his boundaries and he began to feel safe. It made sense to him that someone like you had the power to help and heal others.

You’d always bring them things; vitamins, water, those weird orange flavoured things that dissolve in water, something a little sugary for a boost, with that sweet, innocent smile he'd grown to adore. He would never- could never admit that though, someone like him wasn't worthy of you. He could settle for some longing and pining instead.

Bucky is lounging on the sofa with Steve, some 50s flick playing that Steve had insisted on, something about a painter in Paris- he wasn't sure. And then, you walk in, your sweet voice drifting into his ear.

“An American in Paris, huh?” you asked, gently teasing as you moved closer to the sofa, catching sight of the movie they were watching.

Bucky shifted a little, his gaze flickering to you, then quickly back to the TV. He tried not to look at you too much when you were around, not because he didn’t want to, but because every time he did, it felt like something in his chest tightened. It certainly didn’t help that it was a hot day today, you’d opted for a cute pink and white sundress that stopped mid thigh.

“Yeah, Steve’s choice,” Bucky muttered, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out a little softer than he intended. He knew that you liked these kinds of old movies, so maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

Steve grinned from the other end of the couch, catching the subtle shift in Bucky’s tone, but not saying anything about it. Instead, he glanced up at you with a friendly smile.

“You a fan of the classics too?” Steve asked, gesturing for you to sit if you wanted to join them.

You walked over, the scent of your shampoo reaching Bucky’s senses. Vanilla and coconut, coincidentally his favourite fragrance, something that had changed not long after he’d met you… coincidentally of course, and the more you lingered around, the harder it became for him to focus on anything but you.

“Reminds me of my dad. Some are super sexist but I’m a sucker for Marilyn Monroe” you said, sitting down at the edge of the couch, right next to Bucky. Close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you, but still with enough space to respect his boundaries. You always seemed to know exactly how to balance that, without even trying. It amazed him.

Bucky felt his pulse quicken as you sat beside him. You were so close. Too close. Not close enough.

He grunted in agreement with your statement, nodding, though his eyes stayed fixed on the screen. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to you—he just didn’t know how. What could he say that wouldn’t make him seem awkward or broken? Besides, talking might make him reveal just how badly he wanted to be near you, and he couldn’t afford that.

But then you spoke again, your voice soft and gentle, like you were speaking just to him. “How was training today?”

He cleared his throat, trying to push away the thoughts clouding his mind. “Same as always. Steve still hits like a truck.”

Steve laughed from the other side, “You’re the one with the metal arm, Buck.”

Bucky shot him a look, but there was no real bite to it. Just a distraction. He was grateful for it.

You laughed too, and that sound—it was like a melody that settled right under Bucky’s skin, making him feel warm in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He stole a glance at you again, just for a second, and you were looking right at him. That smile on your face, the one that had been seared into his memory from the moment you’d met.

“Let me guess,” you said, eyes twinkling, “you didn’t let him win this time either?”

Bucky’s lips twitched, almost into a smile, but he stopped himself. “Nope.”

“Good,” you replied, your voice soft again, almost as if you were relieved. “Can’t let Cap off easy.”

It was such a simple thing to say, but it hit Bucky harder than he’d expected. You cared. Not just in the way you handed out snacks and drinks after training or smiled when they passed by, but genuinely cared. For him. For Steve. And maybe, just maybe, that meant you’d be willing to see something more in him than he saw in himself.

The silence between you wasn’t awkward, but it was thick with unspoken words. Bucky could feel it. He wanted to reach out, say something—anything—but the words lodged themselves in his throat, like they always did when it came to you.

For a moment, Bucky let himself wonder what it would be like—if he could let himself believe he was worthy of you. Of someone so full of light and warmth, when all he felt was the shadows of his past.

But then the doubt crept back in, and he looked away again. He couldn’t let himself get too close. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. It wasn’t much, but it was all he could manage without giving too much away.

You didn’t push him, though. You never did. You just smiled again and settled into the couch beside him, watching the movie like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And for a fleeting moment, Bucky let himself pretend that it was.

The training room echoes with the sharp sound of fists hitting metal, the rhythmic thud of boots against the mat, and the occasional grunt of exertion. Bucky and Steve were sparring again; the same routine they'd run through countless times. It usually helped Bucky clear his mind, focus his energy on something physical, something he could control. But today, it was different.

“Come on, Buck, focus,” Steve says as he circles around, hands up and ready. His movements were fluid, precise. He was always like that—disciplined, unshakable. Bucky was too, usually. But not today.

His thoughts kept drifting, unbidden, back to you.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how close you had been on the couch last night, the way your voice had softened when you’d spoken to him, like you saw something in him that no one else did. That smile. It was haunting him in the best way.

As if to taunt him farther, his mind flashes with the image of you in your sundress, the way it swayed around the soft skin of your thighs.

“Bucky?” Steve’s voice cut through his reverie, but not fast enough.

Distracted, Bucky moves just a second too late. He swings wide, and Steve, quicker than ever, ducked under his arm and swept his legs out from under him. Before Bucky could react, he hit the mat hard, air leaving his lungs in a sharp gasp.

“Damn it,” Bucky growles, more at himself than at Steve. He stays on the floor for a moment, trying to shake the thoughts of you from his mind. He shouldn’t be getting distracted like this. Not during a sparring session. Not ever.

Steve stands over him, offering a hand, his brow furrowed in concern. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky grumbles, accepting the hand and letting Steve pull him back to his feet. His ribs ache from the fall, but it wasn’t anything serious. It was more the embarrassment that stung. Bucky didn’t like feeling off his game, and lately, thinking about you was doing just that.

“You weren’t focused,” Steve says, stepping back into position. It wasn’t a question.

Bucky wiped the sweat from his brow, shaking out his arms as if that could somehow reset his mind. “I’m fine. Let’s go again.”

Steve hesitates for a second, then nods, getting back into stance. He could tell something was on Bucky’s mind, but he wasn’t going to push. At least, not right now. Steve knew when to back off, and when to press—though Bucky had a feeling that conversation would come soon enough.

They start again, trading punches and dodges, but Bucky couldn’t shake the lingering thoughts of you. The way you made him feel—safe, seen. The way you’d praise him. God… the way you’d tell him he did a good job after training or a mission,

Just for a second, his mind drifts again— Your pretty eyes, the way they’d look at him like he was something amazing, the smile you’d give him and then he wonders what your face would look like as he dives down deep between your thighs-

Steve’s fist came in fast, and though Bucky manages to block it, he doesn’t account for the follow-up. Steve's knee connects with his side, hitting just below his ribs with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

Bucky staggers back, holding his side with a grimace.

“Whoa, Buck!” Steve stops immediately, hands out in concern. “You good?”

Bucky clenches his jaw, nodding, though his side throbbed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not fine,” Steve replies, taking a step forward, but Bucky waves him off, frustrated with himself more than anything.

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky snaps, turning away for a moment to catch his breath. He hates this. Hates how easily you get into his head, how much he let himself think about you when he was supposed to be focused. It wasn’t like him to get distracted, especially not in a fight.

Steve gives him a long, knowing look. He wasn’t pushing the subject yet, but Bucky could see it in his eyes—Steve had noticed something. And knowing Steve, it wouldn’t be long before he asked about it.

Steve lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “You need to go get that checked out.” He motions to the cut on Bucky’s cheek and his ribs.

“I said I’m fine,” Bucky mutters.

Steve doesn’t budge. “Buck, if you don’t get that cleaned up, it’s going to get worse. You’re already bruised, and that cut—” He gestured to Bucky’s face. “—needs to be looked at.”

Bucky was about to argue again when Steve adds, with a pointed look, “Go see her.”

He blinks, his heart suddenly beating faster in his chest. “What?”

“Go see her,” Steve repeats, his voice calm but insistent. “You know she can patch you up. She always does.”

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. You always did take care of them after training, offering vitamin drinks or snacks, your touch gentle and your presence calming.

“I don’t need—” Bucky begins, but Steve cuts him off with a significant look.

“Buck, you’re hurt. Let her help you. Besides, we both know she’d want to,” Steve says, his tone softening as he rests a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She cares, man. And you’re not doing yourself any favours by pretending you don’t need her.”

Bucky clenched his jaw, his chest tight with a mix of frustration and something else he couldn’t quite name. The truth was, he did want to go to you.

With a heavy sigh, Bucky nods, finally relenting. “Fine.”

Steve smiles, patting him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go get cleaned up. I’ll finish up here.”

Bucky hesitates for a second before turning to leave the training room, his side still aching from the hit.

All he knew was that when he saw you, when you smiled at him with that gentle, understanding look in your eyes, it was going to make it that much harder to keep pretending he didn’t feel anything.

Bucky’s footsteps echo softly through the hall as he makes his way to the infirmary. When he reaches the infirmary door, he gives a soft knock before stepping inside.

You’re there, sitting at your desk with one thigh crossed elegantly over the other, your attention focused on some paperwork in front of you. You’re dressed in your usual professional attire—a fitted dress that hugs your form just enough to hint at your curves beneath your white lab coat. The subtle click of your black heels against the floor when you shift is a small, but noticeable, sound that makes Bucky's heart beat a little faster.

You look up when you hear him enter, that sweet, welcoming smile appearing almost instantly. “Bucky,” you greet warmly, your voice soft. “What brings you in? Did you and Steve go a little too hard today?”

For a second, Bucky just stands there, distracted by how you look. His heart skips a beat as he takes in the sight of you. He notices, maybe for the first time, how the hem of your dress rides up slightly when you cross your legs. He forces himself to look away before you catch him staring.

“Uh, yeah,” he mutters, gesturing vaguely to the cut on his face. “Just a cut… and maybe some bruised ribs.”

You arch an eyebrow, your smile turning a little coy. “Only maybe bruised ribs? Sounds like you need me to take a closer look.”

Bucky blinks, heat creeping up his neck as he tries to decide whether he’s imagining the playful tone in your voice or if it’s actually there. He clears his throat. “Yeah… probably.”

With that, you uncross your legs and stand up, heels clicking softly against the tile floor as you walk over to him. Your movements are graceful, confident, and Bucky feels his pulse quicken as you draw closer. There’s something about the way you carry yourself today—calm, collected, but with an air of subtle suggestion that makes him feel off balance.

You stand just inches away from him, reaching up to gently tilt his chin up so you can inspect the cut above his eyebrow. Your fingers are cool against his sweaty skin, and Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

“It’s not deep,” you murmur “But it’s a little more than a scratch. Seems like you need my magic touch~” you wiggle your fingers and Bucky bites back a groan at the subtle implication.

Before Bucky can respond, you place your hand gently over the wound, and he feels a soft, warm tingling sensation spread across his skin. Your healing powers are subtle but effective, and within seconds, the pain is gone, the cut already closing up beneath your touch. He’s experienced your abilities before, but every time he feels a spark from your touch, it’s a simple move but he craves more.

“There we go,” you say softly, removing your hand from his face. Your fingers linger a little longer than usual, trailing down his jaw ever so slightly before you step back, your eyes locking with his for a brief moment.

Bucky swallows hard, trying to shake off the heat rising in his chest. He’s probably imagining it—just reading too much into things. You’re always sweet, always kind and innocent.

Your gaze drops to his side, and you gently brush your hand over his ribs. “Lift your shirt for me?” you ask, your voice light but carrying a tone of suggestion that makes Bucky’s heart skip a beat.

He hesitates for a second, then does as you ask, pulling up his shirt to reveal the dark bruise spreading along his ribs. You make a soft sound of sympathy, a small pout forming on your lips as your pretty eyes lock with his for a moment. You look back down, your fingers grazing his skin as you crouch slightly to get a closer look.

“You really got hit hard,” you murmur, your tone carrying a note of concern but it switches up subtly as you carry on: “Good thing I can take care of you.”

Bucky’s breath hitches. Did he hear that right? Is there something more in your words? You were just talking about the injury right? The way you said it, the way you moved—it feels almost sinful in a way he’s not used to, at least not from you. He tries to keep his focus, but with you this close, your fingers trailing lightly over his bruised skin, it’s damn near impossible.

You place your hand gently over his ribs, your touch soft but firm as you close your eyes for a moment, focusing on healing the injury. Bucky feels the familiar warmth of your powers again, spreading through his body like a gentle wave. The pain begins to melt away, the bruise slowly fading beneath your hand.

“There,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “All better.”

But your hand doesn’t move right away. Instead, it lingers on his ribs for a second too long, your fingertips brushing the edge of his abdomen in a way that makes his breath catch. Then, just as he’s about to say something—anything—you pull away, turning to your desk, palms flat and bending as if you’re looking for something. Bucky’s mind flashes to pulling up your dress and fucking you senseless then and there, his metal hand clenches and he shakes the thought away.

Bucky exhales slowly, trying to calm the sudden storm in his chest. He has to be imagining it, right? You’re just being your usual caring self- but that touch felt different. Everything you’re doing feels different. More intentional. And the way you’d looked at him just now—

He notices you didn’t actually pick anything up from the desk after you’d bent over it a little.

“Alright, just one last check,” you say as you come back to stand in front of him, a small, almost playful smile on your lips. “Let me make sure everything else is fine.” You reach up, your hand lightly brushing against his neck as if you’re checking for tension or soreness. But then, your fingers linger—soft and warm against his skin, trailing slowly down to his collarbone. The touch is innocent enough, but there’s something in the way you do it that makes Bucky’s entire body tense.

You meet his eyes, your expression still sweet and professional, but there’s a hint of something more—something almost teasing in the way you hold his gaze. “Hmm, seems like you’re all healed up,” you murmur, your voice soft but suggestive in a way that makes his pulse race.

Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly dry as he stares at you. For a moment, he can’t move, can’t speak—stuck between the need to figure out if what he’s feeling is real or just in his head. He tries to convince himself it’s all innocent, but the way your hand lingers on his neck, the way your eyes flicker to his lips for the briefest of moments… it leaves him wondering if you aren’t quite as innocent as he thought.

You finally step back, that same sweet smile on your face as if nothing happened. “Take it easy, alright? Don’t push yourself too hard next time.”

Bucky nods, his voice hoarse when he finally speaks. “Yeah… thanks.”

You tilt your head, your smile widening just a little. “Anytime.” You sit down on your chair again, crossing one thigh over the other, it seemed deliberate.

You rest a pencil on your lower lip, teeth grazing it just slightly, pretty eyes on him. Bucky draws in a breath and feels a problem growing between his legs. He spins around to the door, hoping you don’t notice.

As Bucky begins leave you call out once more: “Let me know if you need me Bucky~ you can always come to me”

As Bucky leaves the infirmary, his mind spins. He came in with injuries, but now he has a different kind of problem, he attempts to calm down, the hardness in his pants making it hard to think. Something has shifted between you two, and whether it’s real or just in his imagination, Bucky can’t help but think back to it all. Did you want him too?

That night, Bucky stares at his ceiling, mind flashing back to you at your desk. Why didn’t you pick anything up? Did you forget what you were looking for? The look in your eyes told him you must’ve known what was going through his head.

He groans and pushes his face into his pillow, he thinks back to something that had happened a few days ago. You were giving out some sort of vitamin pill to everyone, when you’d leaned in, lips near his ear as you whispered:

“I saved you the last cherry flavoured one, don’t tell anyone” before winking slightly.

He shivers at the memory; he could smell every inch of you when you leaned in.

He grunts and pushes his face farther into the pillow. Why did you always save the good things for him? Was it on purpose? Whenever you baked you’d give him first pick- he thought you were just being nice, the sweet girl they all know. But the more he thinks about you the more he notices those little things.

Before he had even registered what he was doing, he was standing and making his way to your rooms. You did say he could always come to you. Bucky freezes outside the door when he realises where he was and what he was doing. Was he crazy? How could he come up with an excuse for being at your door at eleven at night? Before he can change his mind and turn around your door opens. There you stood wearing nothing but a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top- with no bra.

Bucky freezes, his breath catching in his throat as his gaze locks on you. The soft glow of your bedside lamp spills over your frame, highlighting the way your sleep shorts hug your hips and your tank top clings to your chest. His mouth goes dry.

You blink at him. “Bucky?” your voice is soft, a hint of curiosity laced in your tone. “Is everything okay? F.R.I.D.A.Y told me you were stood outside my door.

For a moment, all he can do is stare. He knows he should say something, anything, but his mind is scrambling for an excuse—an explanation for why he’s standing at your door in the middle of the night. His thoughts drift back to your touch earlier, the brush of your hand on his neck, and the memory of your lips near his ear just days ago.

You tilt your head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, and Bucky swears there’s something teasing in your expression. You step aside, opening the door wider as if you’re inviting him in. “You didn’t have to knock, you know,” you say with that same sweetness. “You can always come to me.”

His heart pounds in his chest, loud enough that he wonders if you can hear it. He swallows, trying to push down the tension, but something in your eyes—something about the way you're looking at him—has his feet moving before his brain catches up.

He steps over the threshold.

Bucky steps inside, the door clicking shut softly behind him. The room is dim, and the soft scent of your perfume lingers in the air, teasing his senses. He watches you as you turn back toward him, your smile still warm, still innocent—at least on the surface.

“So…” you say, your voice soft as you walk a little closer to him, “What brings you here so late, Bucky?” There’s a hint of playfulness in your tone, like you already know the answer but want to hear him say it.

He shifts awkwardly, his eyes darting away from yours. “I… uh, I couldn’t sleep.” His voice comes out rougher than he intended.

“We both know my healing powers can’t help you sleep Bucky. So what’s up with you coming to see lil’. ol’. Me.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but no words come out. His mind is racing—unsure if you're playing a game or if he’s just reading too much into it. His eyes flick down to your tank top, the way it clings to you, the coolness from the hallway had made hard peaks appear on your chest he then glances back to your face. You’re watching him carefully, that same playful glint in your eyes.

You tilt your head slightly, voice soft but teasing. “You’ve been thinking a lot lately, haven’t you?” Your fingers brush lightly against his arm, sending a shiver through him. “About me?”

Bucky feels his pulse quicken. He’s certain now—there’s no way he’s imagining it.

“I—” He swallows hard, trying to find the right words. But before he can, you step even closer, your body inches from his now, your hand lingering on his arm.

“You think I didn’t notice?” You ask sweetly

Bucky’s breath hitches as your words sink in, and his chest tightens, the space between you suddenly feeling far too small. His mind is racing, but his body is rooted in place, drawn to you in a way he can’t explain. He tries to speak, to form some kind of coherent response, but his voice fails him.

“You think I didn’t notice?” you ask again, your voice low, sweet, but with a teasing edge that makes Bucky’s heart race. Your hand is still resting lightly on his arm, your touch burning through his skin despite the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of your body is so close now, and Bucky is overwhelmed by the scent of you—intoxicating, pulling him deeper into the moment. He can feel himself grow hard at the simple touch, he want’s your hands all over him. He just needs to feel you touch him.

He stares down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the way your lips curve into that soft, knowing smile. You tilt your head up slightly, your eyes locking with his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of you, standing impossibly close, the air between you thick with tension.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, but Bucky hears every word. “I notice where your eyes go when I wear a skirt or dress, if I bend over or wear anything even remotely low cut.”

He swallows hard, his pulse pounding in his ears. He wants to say something, to explain himself, to apologize, but he can’t—because the truth is, you’re right. He has been looking at you, watching you, craving your presence without ever fully admitting it to himself.

You shift even closer, your chest almost brushing against his, and Bucky’s breath catches as your fingers slowly trail up his arm, lingering at his shoulder. His heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his chest, and he’s not sure how much longer he can keep control of himself. The way you’re looking at him, your lips parted slightly, your eyes holding his like they’re daring him to make the next move…

He’s losing it.

“You don’t have to hide it,” you whisper, your voice laced with that same soft, teasing edge. Your hand moves up to his neck now, your fingertips brushing the sensitive skin just below his jaw. “You can tell me what you want, Bucky…”

He whines.

Before the embarrassment can hit him you let out a low groan at the sound. “Fuck…”

Bucky’s breath comes out in a shudder, his self-control hanging by a thread. He feels the warmth of your hand against his neck, the way your touch lingers just a second too long, and it sends a wave of heat rushing through him.

He opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already moving, closing the last bit of space between you. Your eyes flicker down to his lips, and Bucky’s resolve crumbles. He can’t hold back anymore.

His hand reaches out almost instinctively, fingers gently curling around your waist, pulling you closer. He leans down, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches from your lips, his heart pounding in his chest.

“You…” His voice is low, strained, as if he’s barely holding on. “You’re driving me crazy, doll.”

You smile, and the look in your eyes—soft, teasing, and just a little wicked—sends him over the edge.

Bucky leans to close the gap but your finger presses against his lips. A frown forms on his face, and then you speak.

“ah ah ah” you shake your head “we ask for what we want”

Bucky mentally scolds himself for not asking, he was in the moment.

“May I kiss you?” he asks.

“Say please” there was an unexpected dominance to your tone, completely wiping out the innocence.

Oh fuck.

Bucky feels himself grow harder at the tone. He’s momentarily stunned. Your pretty eyes are on him, feigning innocence but there’s something sinful hiding in them. His beautiful blue eyes look down at you, filled with need.

“Please?”

You let out a moan at the word, your body heating up, your core dampens your shorts.

“Fuck… Bucky…” You say breathily before you pull him down a little to reach your height and kiss him. It’s gentle, as though you’re teasing him, giving him a glimpse to what he can have. He just needs to ask politely.

“Doll… please… I…” He struggles to get his words out, brain fogged over from all the sensations hitting him at once. You run your hands along his abs and he whines again. The whine shoots straight through you. Bucky Barnes, the worlds most accomplished assassin is whining for you.

“Please what? Good boys use their words.” You say in a sinfully soft voice that sends a shiver down his spine.

“I need… more… please” He whispers your name at the end and you hum, satisfied. You grasp his hand and it feels so good to him. Too good. He follows you as you pull him towards the bed.

“Sit there. Lean against the headboard” you hum and he immediately does as he’s told. Sure, he was a super solider who could overpower you in a second, you were both aware. But you were both also aware that he didn’t want that. He needed you to guide him.

You plant yourself in his lap, straddling him, before letting out a soft hum as you feel his hardness push against your core over your sleep shorts. Bucky lets out a moan at the contact but you’re quick to swallow it with a deep, heated kiss. His hands claw at your hips and you gasp slightly as the metal of his hand touches your skin. He’s quick to pull it away but you’re quicker, gripping his wrist and shaking your head, guiding it back in place.

You continue the kiss, before taking his lower lip in between your teeth. You open your eyes to see his blue ones are locked onto your own in what can only be described as the hottest, neediest way, his pupils dilated. You lick over his lip before your hand snakes around the back of his neck and up to his hair. You gently tug, its light, testing the waters and his lips part, head nodding. You pull his hair back a little harsher and he moans. You laugh, the sound dark and sinful in Bucky’s ears.

Your lips kiss his earlobe. “You like your hair pulled? Dirty boy~”

He moans again and nods, hands gripping your hips a little harder, pulling you down to grind on him. You make a ‘tsk’ sound and he freezes, quickly remembering your rule.

You get off him and he groans at the loss of contact, his needy eyes falling onto you. You slowly pull down your shorts, revealing your core to him. His breathing quickens, cock twitching and straining against his sweatpants.

“Take your clothes off, honey” your sultry voice fills his ears and he does so immediately, stripping off his shirt first, exposing the honey toned abs with numerous scars here and there. He is beautiful and you let it show on your face. He drags down his sweatpants leaving him in his grey boxers. There’s a dark damp spot on them from his arousal, pre-cum weeping through from the tip. You make a gesture for him to keep going and he obliges, dragging the boxers down. He stands there, glorious cock hard against his abdomen, looking at you, waiting for your next command.

“What do you want? You just need to ask” You inquire, goading him to tell you.

He swallows, looking down at your dripping core and then back to his cock. You fully expect him to ask to fuck you based on his expression, but he shocks you.

“Can I taste you please?”

Your eyes widen briefly, stunned at his choice.

“I’m sorry— if you don’t want—“ He begins to speak but you cut him off with a finger to your lips and standing up. You slowly peel off your shorts, leaning against the wall.

“You asked me so nicely.” You beckon him and the speed in which he’s on his knees in front of you has your legs weak. His hands skim over your thighs, leaving Goosebumps in their wake. “Is this what you want?”

Bucky looks up at you with desperate eyes, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “Yes, please” His voice is hoarse.

“You wanna make me feel good?” You coo.

Bucky groans, his hands gripping your thighs a little. “More than anything” He confirms.

You nod, giving your permission and he settles in between your thighs. He grasps your ass, pulling you up so your legs are over his shoulders, his head cradled by your thighs. You’re momentarily stunned, briefly forgetting he’s a super soldier with insane strength. The thought goes right to your core. Your back is against the wall, his hands still firm on your ass, keeping you in place. Bucky’s breath ghosts across your core before he looks up at you. The sight was nearly enough to make you come. With a firm squeeze on your ass, he dives in, licking a stripe up your lips, making you gasp and weave your fingers through his hair. He groans and begins to lap at your clit like a man starved. He occasionally moans and groans, letting you know how much he’s enjoying being between your legs.

“Bucky— oh my god” You moan out. This only drives him more, he focuses his tongue on your bundle of nerves and you see stars.

He is good at this.

Really fucking good.

Too good?

It doesn’t take you long to come at all, you grasp his hair tighter, thighs squeezing around his head in a way that makes his cock twitch against his abdomen. He rides you through your orgasm until you’re squirming and too sensitive.

He pulls back, holding you up still, and looks into your eyes. The lower part of his face is sinfully wet, he gives you a charming smile, eyes still betraying his neediness.

“You did so well… so good for me…” You breathe out and a strangled noise escapes him.

A praise kink.

“You did so so good for me Bucky~ You deserve a reward” You coo, getting off his shoulders and standing up. You tilt his head up with your finger. “You want a reward baby?”

Bucky lets out a breathy noise and nods.

“What do you want? I’ll give you whatever you want”

Bucky Looks up at you, standing up. He shocked you again.

“Please doll… sit on my face… if… you want…” He adds the last part, unsure. All he knows is that being in between your thighs, hearing you, feeling you, giving you pleasure is all he wants right now.

You bite back a groan and nod, watching him scramble to the bed, laying on his back. He’s gloriously naked, thick cock incredibly hard and standing to attention. You crawl up his body, making sure to brush up against his length to hear those delicious whines from him. His hips buck a few times against you and then you’re settled just above his face. You look down at him and he looks ravenous— His desperate eyes flicking from your core to your face. His hands keep flexing as he struggles, wanting nothing more than to pull you down onto his face and hold you there until he can’t breathe.

“You can touch me Buck” you say softly and his hands hesitantly settle on your hips. He pauses before it eventually becomes too much and pulls you down onto his face, groaning at the impact. You don’t move much, assuming he wants to take the lead when he speaks, muffled against your core.

You giggle and look at him innocently. “Sorry honey what was that? I can’t understand you~”

His eyes grow even more needy, looking up at you. He speaks, muffled again before he decided to lift you up just enough to speak.

“Move— please. Grind on my face. Use me to come please”

How could you say no to such a beautiful request?

You settle back down and rock your hips. His tongue moves with the same finesse and you can’t help but wonder if he’s tired. He doesn’t look tired. You move his arms so he’s holding them up and you entwine your fingers, using his arms to keep you upright, moving against him. His eyes are fluttering shut in pleasure and you groan. You make quick work of your shirt, leaving you both naked now.

“Eyes open Bucky~ I thought you wanted to see what you do to me?~” You tease.

His eyes shoot open again, pupils dilated, his eyes more black than blue now.

“Good~ So good to me” You breathe out and he moans against you, making you gasp and your hips stutter. You grip his hands tighter. His pretty eyes are begging you to come and you do, thighs once again squeezing around his head, making him feel dizzy. Your hips are bucking against his face not even thinking about his breathing— but that isn’t on Bucky’s mind either. You ride out your orgasm and get off him, falling on your back, breathing erratic.

Bucky lays there with the lower half of his face wet, stubble and all. His breathing is erratic and his cock is painfully hard against his abdomen.

“Holy shit Bucky” You huff out and a hoarse moan leaves his mouth.

He slots himself between your legs, kissing your shoulder, slowly moving down your body until he’s at your hip, kissing it softly.

“You are so beautiful doll” His eyes are sincere and your cheeks feel hot at the compliment. “One more time? Please?” He asks, eyes pleading.

Sweet mother of Jesus.

“You want— you seriously— you want to eat me out again?” Your eyes are wide.

Bucky nods, nuzzling and kissing your thigh before focusing on your face again. “And to fuck you with my fingers if that’s alright with you doll?”

Sweet. Mother. Of. Jesus.

Your brain short circuits for a moment at the words leaving his mouth and you mindlessly nod, your gaze heated and intense.

He runs a finger along your dripping core and he moans. Was he really getting this much pleasure? You hadn’t even touched him at all. He teases your entrance before sinking a finger in softly. He hisses at how tight it is, his cock twitching. You let out a soft breathy moan at the feeling, instinctively reaching for his hair. Bucky peppers kisses on your thighs before he begins pumping his finger.

It’s not enough.

“More” You demand, gripping his hair. Bucky is happy to oblige, pushing a second finger in, your toes curling. “oh god yes”

Bucky begins to curl his fingers, brushing up against your sweet spot as he increases his pace a fraction and you cry out.

“Am I doing good?” His husky voice asks, desperate for praise.

“So good baby, so fucking good. You’re so good to me” You moan out and he snaps, thrusting his fingers into you with a little more force and latching his mouth onto your clit. You’re so sensitive at this point you let out a whine, your words not coherent. You didn’t even know it was possible to come this many times before being fucked. The coil in your stomach feels more intense than you have ever felt before, you tighten around his fingers and before you could warn him, he pulls away, watching the liquid squirt from you in awe. You, on the other hand are glassy eyed and trembling afterwards.

Bucky gives you a few minutes to settle before he brings himself back up to your face, you pull him in for a messy kiss. His cock is settled on your thigh, Bucky whines into the kiss and you can feel him jutting against it. You grasp his chin as he kisses you, feeling his length as he desperately claims whatever friction he can get.

Bucky is surprised at himself. There has never been a time in his life where he has felt the need to dry hump a woman. But you have the best ways of bringing new feelings and actions out of him.

“Please” He says softly.

“Oh you’re so worked up honey. After doing such a good job. Take what you want Bucky” you coo, stroking his cheek and he leans into it before settling his hips between your legs.

“Can I… are you okay if I…” He begins and you nod.

“You’ve more than earned it” You rake your hands through his hair, nails scratching his scalp.

In an attempt to ground himself, He places his hands on your headboard, letting you guide his cock into place. He pushes in and groans, immediately shattering the headboard where his hands were.

Oh lord.

You squeeze around him and let out a breathy, aroused giggle. Bucky on the other hand looks mortified.

“Oh my god doll I am so sorry—“ He goes to pull out of you but you grasp his arms and shake your head. He doesn’t take much convincing before he pushes into you fully. He’s panting and rests his forehead on yours. Even with the fingers stretching you earlier, you need to adjust. The super solider cock is no joke.

You moan encouragingly in his ear and he pulls back softly before pushing back in. Your eyes flutter and Bucky has his trained solely on you and your reactions.

“Am I hurting you, doll?” He asks, breathily, stopping his motions.

You shake your head immediately. “Please don’t stop”

He keeps his strength in check, bracing on the half broken headboard again, his hands slotting into the Bucky sized hand holes in them. He uses a leisurely pace that does hit the spot, but it’s not quite enough. You could tell he was holding back for your sake but you needed to see just how much he needed you.

“Harder Bucky~ Fuck. I can take it— please”

The headboard crushes even more at your words, your legs were wound around his hips, he leans forward, wrapping his arms around you, his face buried in your neck as he desperately thrusts into you. It’s hard and fast, a string of moans and curses leaving your mouth as you can’t move in his grip, all you can do is take it. You’re seeing stars now, as Bucky is whining and muttering praises in your ear.

“You feel so good doll”

“I would do this forever… beautiful beautiful girl”

And lastly:

“Oh god thank you” He repeats the phrase a few times and your head spins.

He’s fucking thanking you.

You manage to moan out a few praises that are punctuated by his sharp needy thrusts. He pulls his face away from his neck when he’s close. You can see it on his face, begging you to come first. He slips his metal hand down to your clit, stroking the already sensitive bundle of nerves and your eyes widen at the coolness against it.

“Please come” He moans and it doesn’t take you long to oblige his plea, the metal hand on your clit, the whines from Bucky and his cock hitting you deep pushes you over the edge and you come, clenching him hard.

“You’re so beautiful” He says in awe. “Please can I come— please doll” Bucky’s thrusts are faltering.

“fill me up Bucky~” You moan and that’s all it takes, his thrusts become harder, your body jolting from the force, you’ll feel this in your hips in the morning. You could always heal it away. But you probably won’t. You place a hand over his neck holding it loosely, your other hand raking through his hair.

Bucky thrusts into you hard and deep, with hoarse moans of thank you as he comes inside you, filling you up. He simply stays inside you after, his body moving with his deep ragged breaths before he collapses on top of you, making sure to use some strength to stop him crushing you. You stroke his hair, muttering soft praises.

He rolls off you, his honey toned skin covered in a sheen of sweat that made him look godly. Your legs are jelly; you aren’t even sure you can use them for the next few days. Bucky stands and walks to your bathroom, giving you the perfect view of his sculpted ass and returns a few moments later with a warm wet cloth to clean you up with.

When the both of you are cleaned up, Bucky begins to wipe away the crushed pieces of headboard from your bed sheepishly.

“Sorry doll” He says quietly.

“It’s okay” You assure. “It was hot. Made me feel like Bella Swan” You joke.

Bucky looks at you, not understanding the reference.

“From Twi… never mind” You hum, helping to brush off the little pieces of wood. He lays back down and pulls you into his arms.

“Doll… I… I have never felt like that before. What did you do to me? I am under a spell when it comes to you.”

You yawn and let out a sleepy laugh. “You’re telling me. I don’t think I could sleep with a regular dude again after that”

It’s not long until exhaustion rushes through you. Super solider stamina is no joke. You drift off, head on his chest. Bucky watches the soft rise and fall of your chest, your soft snores filling the room.

And for the first time in what feels like forever; Bucky has a deep, dreamless sleep. His nightmares paused as he slumbers beside your soft, warm body.

It’s late when Bucky wakes up. Your side of the bed is cold. He glances at the clock on his phone, reading 11:07am, and a text from you, timestamped two hours ago:

‘Morning sleepy head. I didn’t wanna wake you. You looked too comfortable ;)’

He smiles at the text and looks for his clothes, only to find you must have taken a trip to his room to grab some fresh clothes. There is a towel on a chair with a new set of clean clothes and a pair of boxers.

When he’s all cleaned up and dressed he makes his way to the kitchen. You’re talking to Wanda, Steve and Sam.

“Bucky good morning!” Your sweet voice drifts over to him. “You slept in late. Are you feeling okay? Late night?” It’s an innocent question, no one bats an eyelash at it. You’re the healer of the team, and you’re concerned. But Bucky bites back a groan at the implications they both know is behind the sweet words.

Before Bucky can respond, Tony walks in.

“Hey Hippocrates” Tony calls out to you. “Why did F.R.I.D.A.Y tell me you needed a new headboard for your bed?

Oops.

-END-

[kaylasficrecs]

bucky barnes recs - part 2

no. of fics = 27

black sheep | one shot, flangst | @aquaticmercy (tw)

double agent | series | @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

chemical imbalance | one shot, flangst (more angst) | @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

dust to dust | one shot, angsty flangst | @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky

his girls | imagine, fluff | @artficlly

rubs your back | drabble, fluff, comfort | @inkdrinkerworld

all up in flames⟢pt 2 | au, two shot, flangst | @marvelstoriesepic

promise without ceremony | one shot, flangst | @cheekybarnes

take me home | imagine, flangst (more fluff) | @parkers-gal

in the woods | one shot, trifecta | @daddyjackfrost

teaching him to use modern tech | imagine, fluff | @imtaashu

i tought we were already dating | one shot, fluff, smut | @danysdaughter

blooming from within | imagine, fluff | @buckyseternaldoll

curiosity killed the cat | au, one shot, flangst | @queers-gambit

oh, it's hard to leave you | one shot, trifecta | @rosesaints

come back to me | one shot, flangst | @peterparkive

if we talked | imagine, flangst | @pellucid-constellations

pay attention to me | drabble, fluff | @navybrat817

with all my heart | one shot, fluff | @street-smarts00

five bucks and fries | drabble, fluff, comfort | @forthebrokenheartedthings

bergamot | one shot, fluff | @mcrdvcks

tell me what happened? | imagine, flangst | @greyyson-but-wrong

trauma scars | one shot, flangst | @sunsetmade

flashing lights⟢pt 2 | au, two shot, flangst | @pellucid-constellations

i'll find you | imagine, flangst, comfort | @kinanabinks

pressure points | one shot, flangst | @crybabycabin

one inch deeper | one shot, angst | @marvelstoriesepic

part 1

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[stanmarvelous]

Giggling and kicking my feet

[ronmerchant]

Bubble gum card with art by Robert Crumb- 1965

[vickyminajj]

Masterlist

——————

Sebastian Stan:

Trouble.. - Bucky Barnes x Reader PART 2

Jake Gyllenhaal:

Hardcoded - Quentin Beck x Reader (18+ NSFW) Cant Hide From You - Detective Loki x Reader  (18+ NSFW) Transparent - Quentin Beck x Reader (18+ NSFW)

——————

more coming soon....

Requests are open !

[vickyminajj]

Trouble.. Part 2

Summary: After weeks of heated tension, one night with Bucky sets everything on fire — your powers, your control, and the entire compound. Teammates won’t stop teasing, Hydra won’t stop hunting, and Bucky refuses to let you go now that he finally has you.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader (reader has telekinesis, shapeshifting and mind control powers.)

Warnings: NSFW (18+), MDNI, Heavy tension, rough kissing, possessive dynamics, Jealousy / protective behviour from Bucky, Mild violence (Hydra op, standard mission tension), accidental power surges (floating objects, flickering lights, rattling furniture), 

Word Count: ~2,800

a/n: yall i cant believe the first part got that much love!!!! so here is the awaited part 2.. enjoy...

——————

He kissed you like he was starving — hands cupping your face, metal arm pulling you flush against him, and you gasped against his mouth, fingers sliding into his hair, tugging until he groaned.

“You drive me insane,” he rasped, lips dragging down your throat.

“Good,” you gasped, arching into him. “You deserve it.”

Your telekinesis flared again, shivering through the air. Lights flickered inside the compound windows, the glasses and plates on the counter rattling as well

Bucky didn’t even blink. His hand slid down your side, gripping your thigh, hauling it up around his hip like he couldn’t stand space between you.

The kiss turned messy, frantic.

You tugged at his shirt until he stripped it over his head, tossing it aside. Scars and muscle gleamed in the dim light, his chest rising fast. He crowded back into you, metal fingers trailing down your ribs — cold and sharp against your heated skin.

You shuddered.

“Doesn’t scare you?” he asked, voice low, testing.

You smirked, tilting your head. “Try me.”

He growled. And then his mouth was back on yours, his hand sliding under your top, palm hot against your bare skin.

Your powers hummed dangerously, but you pulled them back, focusing on him — on the taste of him, the weight of him, the way he kissed like he’d been waiting a lifetime.

“My room." he muttered against your lips. “Now.”

You didn’t argue.

He scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you through the hall of the compound. You half-laughed, half-gasped into his mouth, clutching his shoulders, telekinesis rattling the picture frames on the walls as he carried you straight to his room.

The door slammed shut.

He pressed you back against it, kissing you hard, almost punishing, like he hated how much he needed you.

You tugged his belt open with shaking fingers, shoving the leather free. He caught your wrists in his hand, pinning them above your head against the wall. His metal arm held firm — unmovable — and the sight of him holding you there, all strength and restraint, sent a shock straight through your core.

“Behave,” he rasped, eyes flicking down your body.

“Make me.”

His jaw clenched.

And then he did.

He kissed down your throat, biting and soothing in turns, while his free hand slid under your shirt. You gasped when his thumb brushed over your breast, circling slow before squeezing. Your knees buckled; he held you up effortlessly, grinding his hips into yours until you moaned into his mouth.

Your telekinesis snapped — the lamp shattered in a burst of light.

“Control it,” he growled, lips brushing your ear.

“Can’t,” you whispered. “Not with you doing this to me-”

Something feral flashed in his eyes. He lifted you, wrapped your legs around his waist, and carried you to the bed.

The mattress groaned as he dropped you onto it, climbing over you, caging you in with his body. His dog tags dangled, brushing your chest, and you tugged him down by them until your mouths crashed together again. Clothes came off in a frantic blur — your top, his jeans, his boxers sliding low, your nails dragging down his back. He kissed every new strip of skin he uncovered, like he couldn’t decide between worshipping you or devouring you.

When his hand slipped under your waistband and found how ready you were for him, his groan vibrated against your throat.

“Fuck..” he moaned your name.

Your hips jerked against his hand. “Please.”

The word broke him.

He ripped the last barrier between you aside and pressed into you with a slow, deliberate thrust that made your whole body arch. Your powers flared out uncontrolled — the curtains snapped shut, shadows rippling across the walls, the bed frame rattling beneath you.

“Eyes on me,” he growled, gripping your chin when your head fell back.

You obeyed. And the look in his eyes — hungry, desperate, reverent — made you clench around him so hard he cursed, burying himself deeper.

“Good girl..” he growled, and you whined.

He set a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours, every thrust driving you higher. Your nails carved lines down his back, and he grunted at the sting, metal hand gripping the headboard so hard the wood splintered.

“Too much?” he panted, forehead pressed to yours.

“Not enough,” you gasped, pulling him back in for a kiss.

His hand slid down, thumb circling exactly where you needed it, and your powers exploded. The dresser shook, a picture frame crashed to the floor, and Bucky groaned like he didn’t care if the whole compound knew.

It built fast, unstoppable. You clung to him, breathless pleas tumbling from your lips. He buried his face against your throat, groaning your codename, your real name, like he couldn’t decide which one owned him more. And when you came apart, your powers surged — the lights blew out, the headboard cracked, the air around you humming like a storm.

He followed with a ragged curse, hips stuttering as he spilled into you, collapsing against you with a shuddering breath.

The room was wrecked — furniture crooked, clothes and various items on the floor, air still tingling with your power.

But neither of you cared.

He stayed pressed to you, chest heaving, his arm tight around your waist like he was terrified you’d vanish. When his breath steadied, he pressed a slow, reverent kiss to your temple.

He murmured your name, softer now. “You undo me.”

You smiled against his skin.

“Guess you like losing, Barnes.”

His laugh was low, dark, against your throat.

“Only to you.”

——————

The first thing you noticed was the heat.

Not the sunlight, not the soreness in your body — but the sheer warmth of Bucky Barnes pressed against you like he had no intention of letting go.

His arm was slung across your waist, his metal hand resting over your stomach, thumb brushing unconsciously against your skin as he slept. His breath ghosted against your neck, slow and steady, like you’d been his anchor through the night.

For a moment, you didn’t move. Couldn’t.

The chaos of last night replayed in flashes — his mouth on yours, the sound of your name torn from his throat, the way the entire room had seemed to bend around the two of you when your powers snapped loose.

Your cheeks burned at the memory.

When you finally shifted, his grip tightened instantly.

“Don’t,” he muttered, voice still rough from sleep.

You froze. “You’re awake.”

“Have been,” he lied. His lips brushed your shoulder. “Stay.”

You turned your head just enough to catch his half-lidded eyes, the faint crease in his brow like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“You’re clingy in the morning,” you whispered, a teasing edge to cover your thundering heartbeat.

“Deal with it,” he muttered, pulling you even closer, burying his face in your hair.

——————

You thought you’d be smart. Quiet. Slip back to your own room before anyone noticed.

Big mistake.

The second you opened the door, you walked straight into the firing squad.

Natasha, Tony, and Sam were all casually stationed in the hallway like they’d been waiting for hours. Wanda leaned against the wall with a cup of tea, hiding her smile. Clint strolled up from the other end with a bagel, eyes lighting up like he’d stumbled into Christmas morning.

“Well, well, well,” Tony drawled, arms folded, smirk dangerous. “What do we have here? A shadow slinking out of Barnes’ room at—” he checked his watch dramatically, “—oh, nine hundred hours sharp. Very efficient.”

Your face burned hot. “We weren’t—”

Natasha cut you off with a knowing smirk. “Finally. I was this close to locking you both in the armory.”

Wanda tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “You rattled the entire building. I thought it was an earthquake.”

Sam whistled. “Explains the power surge. Stark’s generator readings spiked at, what, three a.m.? Thought we were under attack.”

Your jaw dropped. “It wasn’t that bad—”

The door behind you creaked. Bucky stepped out, shirtless, hair a complete mess, eyes murderous at the scene in front of him.

“Not. A. Word,” he growled.

The hallway erupted in laughter.

Breakfast was worse.

By the time you made it to the kitchen, the entire team had heard. Vision politely pretended to read the newspaper, but his eyes flicked up every so often with a curious hum. Thor clapped Bucky on the back so hard the poor man almost dropped his coffee.

“Congratulations, friend Barnes!” Thor boomed. “You have been most uptight of late — it is good you finally released such tension. You clearly needed the se-”

You choked on your coffee. Clint actually fell off his chair laughing. Wanda covered her mouth, eyes wide.

“Thor,” Steve groaned cutting him off before he continued, rubbing his face. “We don’t need details.”

But Thor only nodded, completely serious. “Details are unnecessary. It is plain for all to see — Barnes walks lighter this morning.”

Bucky’s ears turned scarlet. He growled, “I’m going to kill you.”

Natasha smirked into her cup. “He’s not wrong, though.”

Tony nearly spit out his orange juice. “Oh my God, Thor, never change.”

Nat sipped her coffee like a queen. “You both looked tense for weeks. I’m just glad you didn’t kill each other before finally giving in.”

“Kill each other?” Tony snorted. “She nearly killed my infrastructure. Do you know how much StarkTech shorted out last night?” He tapped at his tablet. “Sparks flying, bedframe cracking, breaker box fried. Honestly, I should start charging you two rent.”

You buried your face in your hands.

“Im sorry!!! My powers arent exactly that controlled!!”

Tony chuckled “i figured that one out last night.”

Bucky muttered darkly, “I will throw every single one of you out a window.”

“Promises, promises,” Sam shot back, grinning.

——————

It didn’t take long. Fury had barely given the briefing before you realised how bad this was going to be.

A Hydra cell had resurfaced in Berlin, and the team was being sent to take it down. You and Bucky were paired as point team — infiltration, recon, neutralisation.

“Your inside,” Fury said. “You both know the drill. Don’t get compromised.”

Tony smirked across the table. “Compromised? Please. They’ve been compromised for weeks.”

Laughter rippled around the room. Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. Wanda smothered a grin behind her hand.

Your cheeks burned. Bucky’s jaw ticked.

“Can we focus?” he growled.

Natasha leaned back in her chair. “Sure, husband.”

The team roared.

The quinjet hummed with quiet chatter, but your row was silent. You sat across from Bucky, eyes fixed on your gloves, trying not to think about how his gaze kept flicking to your mouth like he couldn’t stop himself.

Sam broke the silence.

“So, Barnes,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “you gonna be able to keep your head in the game? Or you gonna be distracted thinking about—”

“Finish that sentence,” Bucky warned, voice lethal.

Sam raised his hands and smirked.

You wanted to sink into the floor.

——————

The warehouse stank of oil and mildew, shadows stretching long under the broken skylights. You kept your powers tight and coiled, telekinesis steadying the tools in your hands as you worked the lock. Bucky stood close, knife already drawn, watching every corner like the walls themselves might come alive.

The door clicked. You slipped inside together, boots silent on the concrete.

“Left corridor,” you whispered.

He nodded. His hand brushed the small of your back — fleeting, but deliberate — before he took point.

The deeper you went, the louder the hum of servers grew. Hydra had turned this place into a nest, wires crawling over the walls, crates stacked like barricades.

Then you heard it — voices ahead.

Bucky held up a hand. You froze, focusing, letting your telekinesis spread just enough to “feel” the space. Six men. Armed.

You shaped your power like invisible fingers, flicking one of the lights overhead. It shattered, glass raining down, and in the chaos you and Bucky moved as one. His knife sank into the first soldier’s shoulder as your telekinesis ripped the gun from another’s hand, slamming it across his face. Within moments, the floor was littered with groaning bodies.

“Clear,” Bucky muttered, chest heaving.

But the last man standing wasn’t just another soldier. He was waiting.

The lieutenant stepped out from the shadows with a slow clap. His uniform was pressed, Hydra insignia sharp against the collar. But it was his smile that chilled you.

“Barnes,” he drawled. “The Asset. And his… partner.” His gaze slid to you, lingering far too long. “Or should I say, the experiment?”

Your blood ran cold.

Bucky was on him in a blink, knife at his throat. “Say one more word.”

The lieutenant chuckled, unfazed. “They’re already looking for her, you know. The one with the mind. The one with the power to bend the world. Hydra doesn’t forget. And we always collect what’s ours.”

Your stomach twisted. You hadn’t told the team everything — how Hydra operatives had tracked your family before, how your powers made you a target.

“Enough,” you snapped, pressing his mind with a push of your power. His eyes glazed for a second, fighting it — but Bucky’s knife dug deeper, silencing him with a hiss.

“Bucky,” you warned softly. “Focus.”

His jaw clenched, chest rising fast. He looked at the man like he wasn’t just an enemy — he was a threat to you.

When you finally dragged the knocked out lieutenant outside, Steve’s voice cracked over comms.

“Report.”

“Lieutenant secured,” you answered, keeping your tone even.

“And your intact?” Steve pressed.

“Of course she’s intact—” Bucky snapped before you could speak.

“Relax, Barnes,” Natasha purred. “We know you’ve got her covered.”

“Covered, under, over—” Sam started.

“Wilson,” Bucky growled, voice lethal.

“Alright, children,” Tony cut in. “Focus on the op. Then you can get back to whatever Olympic sport you’re training for in Barnes’ room.”

You groaned, ripping the comm from your ear.

But when Bucky’s hand brushed yours as you loaded the lieutenant onto the jet, your pulse betrayed you. Hydra might have wanted to claim you, but the truth was simple: the only one who had you was Bucky.

——————

The quinjet touched down well past midnight. Everyone filed out, tired and restless, but the teasing still hadn’t stopped.

“Good work, you two,” Steve said evenly, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

Sam smirked as he walked by. “Yeah, real seamless coordination. Almost like you’ve been practicing behind closed doors.”

“Sam,” you snapped.

Natasha’s smirk was lazier, deadlier. “Don’t be too hard on him. We all saw it. The way you covered each other? You fight like people who’ve undressed each other- oh wait you already ha-“

You nearly choked. “Nat—”

Bucky’s metal fist clenched, the plates whining under pressure. “Enough.”

The laughter followed you down the hall anyway.

Your door barely shut before Bucky was inside. He leaned against it, shoulders tense, breathing like he’d sprinted the length of the compound.

“You’re letting them get to you,” you said carefully.

“I don’t care about them,” he shot back. His eyes caught yours, raw and burning. “I care about this. About us. And I don’t even know what the hell this is.”

Silence stretched. Your heartbeat roared in your ears.

“Last night…” His voice dropped. “That wasn’t just… release. Not for me.”

Your throat tightened. “Then what was it?”

His jaw flexed. “It was me finally touching something I wanted for so long I thought it would kill me.”

The air crackled. You stepped closer, your power sparking faintly at your fingertips. “Bucky…”

“Tell me you don’t want this too,” he rasped, crowding closer. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop. But if you don’t—” His metal hand slid to your hip, hot and unyielding. “I’m not letting go.”

Your answer came in the form of your mouth on his, urgent and rough. His growl rumbled against your lips as he lifted you effortlessly, slamming your back against the door.

The kiss was all teeth and need, a continuation of everything you hadn’t said in the field. His hands mapped you like he was claiming territory, like if he pressed hard enough he could brand you into his memory.

“Bucky—” you gasped when his lips trailed fire down your throat.

“You’ve been mine since the first time you looked at me like I wasn’t a monster,” he groaned against your skin. “Don’t think I don’t know it.”

Your powers flared, telekinetic sparks rattling the lamp on your desk. He smirked against your pulse. “Can’t even control it, can you? Drives you crazy the same way it drives me.”

The door suddenly rattled — someone knocking, too loudly.

“HEY, lovebirds!” Sam’s voice. “Keep it down, some of us actually like to sleep!”

Bucky’s forehead dropped to your shoulder with a murderous groan.

You laughed breathlessly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “We’re never living this down.”

His metal hand tipped your chin back up, his expression fierce. “Let ‘em talk. They don’t get to have you. I do.”

And when he kissed you again, it was with the kind of certainty that left no room for argument.

[bckyslover-deactivated20251213]

sweet girl--b.b

touching you--b.b

look at me--b.b

keeping up--b.b

no sharing--b.b

pornstar!bucky--b.b

shy little tease--b.b

itty bitty sundress--b.b

damn you ovulation--b.b

needy baby--b.b

sweet love--b.b

beefy!bucky--b.b

dad!bucky--b.b

so revealing--b.b

baby in you--b.b (pt2)

precious sugar--b.b

neighbor!bucky x married!reader--b.b

sub!bucky--b.b

praises--b.b

bucky text--b.b pt four

tied up--b.b

dbf!bucky--b.b

dbf!bucky teasing--b.b

roomie!bucky--b.b

public sex--b.b

lumberjack!bucky--b.b

scary privileges--b.b

beefy!bucky from behind--b.b

pervy!bucky--b.b , part two

stucky! x reader--b.b & s.r

alpha!bucky--b.b

beefy!bucky riding--b.b

super serum--b.b

jealousy--b.b

taunting me baby?--b.b

baby, I appreciate you--b.b

older help--b.b

it tickles--b.b

two? at the same time?--b.b & s.r

[blood-made-deactivated20251226]

lessons and lace - bucky barnes

bucky barnes x fem!reader

cw. smut. just smut. mean!bucky. edging. he's a bit rough in this lol unprotected p in v (sort of..). nipple play. bucky fucks u thru ur panties. 1k words.

a/n. no summary cuz i just thought this was too long to be a drabble but also too short to be a fic. def an au lol

dt. @blowingbarnes cuz this is inspired by her mean!bucky blurb, @superbassbuck for sending that blurb to me (really wish i could put joker here rn) @juniebjonesin & @flockoff-featherface because they're both phee.

taglist. @demiebarnes @kararchives @1dluver13xx @devililithh @iownguns @loki-licious-945ad @ruexj283 @henrywinterreincarnate @biggestfangirl @buckybuckybuckysstuff @mrsalexstan @pretty-girl-rock-3 @riot-sounds @ambervanth @hiraethmae @btwbaureidrc @overwintering-soldier @fluorjscent @sweetserendipity65 @icwallittrashmagic @user27386 @buckysbaker @kittieboo @pixviee @moonyxxbarnes @rhythmnobleus @barnesonly @avgdestitute @star-yawnznn @thenedicouncil @vxllys @sassandscribbles @resting-confused-face @alex-cheraya @nandanandada @iheartnostalgia @sept3mberchild @fallingwallsh

credits to @uzmacchiato for the dividers!

bucky's got you pinned flat on your back. his vibranium hand is a band around both your wrists, locked above your head against the rumpled sheets. his other hand is splayed on your hip.

you're bare everywhere else except for one detail: your damp, lace panties, still clinging to your hips.

"bucky," you whine, hips archingq off the mattress, seeking friction, seeking him. "please. please, c'mon. take 'em off. please."

his eyes rake over your skin, the tremble of your thighs, the way the soaked fabric clings to your cunt. "such a pretty mess you make, babydoll. all wet and beggin' for me. just like this."

his thumb strokes circles just above the soaked lace, right over your clit through the barrier. you cry out, hips jerking against his restraining grip. "fuck.. bucky, please. just fuck me! i need it.. i need you inside me."

"i know you do, sweetheart," he coos, leaning down. he nips at your ear lobe. "i know that pretty little cunt is drippin' for it. beggin' for my cock." his thumb presses down harder, rubbing your pussy through the lace.

"but see, you were bein' a brat earlier. actin' like you didn't need me. like you could walk away." his voice drops, losing the false sweetness, turning outright mean. "gotta learn your lesson, yeah?"

"i learned.. i learned!" you sob, out of pure frustration pricking your eyes. "i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, bucky.. just please, please fuck me! i can't take it.."

"shhh," he soothes you, filled with that stupid, condescending fakeness, and shifts his hips, settling more firmly between your thighs. you feel his thick, rock-hard cock pressing against the fabric right over your entrance. not pushing in but just resting there. taunting you.

"i know it hurts, baby. i know you're empty. that's the point." he grinds his hips down slowly, the ridge of his cock dragging against the lace-covered swell of your pussy. the fabric pulls tight, stretching, with the dampness spreading. "gotta feel it. gotta remember who fills you up. who owns this sweet little hole."

you whimper. a pathetic sound escapes your lips. you try to buck your hips to force him deeper, but his weight and the vibranium restraint are immovable. "bucky! god, please. m'yours.. i know i'm yours. please, just fuck me.. make it stopz i need you an' need you inside me.."

the sound that comes out of him is dark and patronizing. "beggin' so pretty now, aren't ya?" he lowers his head, capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and biting down just enough to make you gasp and writhe.

the dual assault.. the pull on your nipple and the grinding pressure against your panty-clad cunt, pushes you closer to the edge without release. "but i think...you need a little more convincin'."

slowly, he hooks a single finger under the soaked lace, pulling it aside just a fraction. just enough to expose the swollen, wet folds.

he drags the thick head of his cock through your cunt, coating himself in your wetness. the friction against your exposed clit makes you cry out again. "fuck.. bucky.. please."

"see how wet you are for me?" he uttered, voice thick with lust. "drippin' all over my cock, just beggin' for it. but you gotta wait, little girl."

but he puts the fabric back in place and positions himself again. the blunt head presses more firmly against your entrance, separated only by the barrier of your panties.

he pushes in the slightly bit and you feel the stretch, the fucking pressure, the fabric pulled taut against your opening, his tip held right outside.

"oh god. oh fuck.. bucky, please!" you're sobbing now, the denial is physical pain. "please, i can't. i need you. please fuck me. now. please!"

he leans down, his lips brushing yours. "i know, babydoll," he whispers. "i know it hurts. i know you need it. but lesson ain't learned yet."

he grinds down again, his cock presses insistently against the barrier. "gotta feel how much you need me. gotta feel how empty you are without me fillin' you up. gotta count every fuckin' stroke..." he accentuates the word with another grind, the lace biting into your flesh, "...while you beg."

he pulls back slightly, his eyes blazing into yours, holding you captive. "ask nice, little girl. ask me to fuck you through these pretty panties. tell me how bad you need it."

you're beyond pride, beyond thought. you're pure, raw, aching need. "please," you whimper, voice shattered. "please, bucky. fuck me. please fuck me like this. i need it. i need to feel you. please, please fuck your girl!"

a grin splits his face. "that's my good girl." he shifts his grasp on you, vibranium hand tightening on your wrists. "hold on tight, baby. gonna give you what you begged for."

and then he pushes in hard thrust, driving himself forward through the fabric of your panties.

the lace strains, and the stretch of him fills you, stretching you wide around the ruined barrier. the wet cotton is shoved inside you along with his invading cock.

the sensation is absolutely overwhelming – the fullness, the fabric against your inner walls, the shocking filth of it.

you scream, back arching wildly off the bed, not in pain, but in pure, shocked ecstasy. "oh god! fuck!"

bucky groans, hips snapping forward, burying whatever he can inside you, panties and all. "fuck yeah," he sats, already pulling back, the soaked lace catching and pulling, then thrusting deep again.

"that's it. take it. take my cock just like this, you desperate little thing. feel that? feel how fuckin' deep i go? learn your lesson, babydoll. learn who owns this greedy little cunt."

the torn fabric rubs, chafes, as a constant, filthy reminder of your punishment and his possession.

you're sobbing his name, a broken echolalia of "bucky! bucky! bucky!" as he fucks you through your own panties. he was mean. he was filthy. and he was giving you exactly what you'd begged for, in the most devastatingly perfect way.

[chateaubarnes]

sin eater

brother's best friend!bucky x reader // 6.8k

18+ - explicit content, MDNI, cheating, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, religious themes, secret relationship, reader is Steve's little sister

author’s note: This is an offshoot of something I cooked up for BWA, but here we are with the general public. If you don’t finish reading this hoping that they’ll end up together then I did it wrong…

Your extended family used to rent a stretch of beach houses every summer, close to the water, in a little seaside town. All of your cousins were boys, all older than you. You would try and tag along with your older brother, Steve, and his best friend, Bucky, more often than not. They both allowed it, but really, Bucky was the only one who ever gave you the time of day.

When you were five and he was eleven, you would trail him around the house with your stuffed rabbit, and he'd make you plates of oreos and watch cartoons with you, telling Steve it was fine, that he could go off with your other cousins for the day. When you came to the beach house when you were ten, you were losing the last of your baby teeth, your smile considerably gappy, and Bucky had been sixteen, learning to drive. You had a crush on him then, but you kept it a secret, afraid that Steve would tell him if he found out.

That was the last time you saw him for a while, because your family moved across the country when your dad got a new job, and the conflicting schedules meant that you never could make it back to the beach house, though you tried to convince them to put you on a plane by yourself multiple times, longing for the sun and the sand and the water, and your brother's best friend who treated you like an interesting little thing, like you mattered. He and Steve still kept in touch, and planned to go to college together. You'd seen him once or twice, but it was always fleeting. You couldn't be upset—he was your brother's friend, after all, not yours. Once you went to university, your summers were taken up by all your new friends, evading the beach once more.

You were going to be entering your senior year this year, the last one, and finally, finally, the stars aligned and you and your parents, and all the other aunts and uncles and cousins, were headed to the same group of beach houses that you used to frequent. Steve had long since moved out, twenty-eight now and living a somewhat successful life as a journalist, but even he made the time to come to the beach for old times' sake. You were privately thrilled to learn that Bucky would be coming too, as per tradition.

Bucky remembered you as a little girl with smiling eyes, not this gorgeous creature you’d become in the twelve years since he'd properly seen you. You'd seen photos of him on social media, photos from college ragers with your brother, or nice ones with his parents, the kind that were taken at holidays or for big achievements, but you'd always remembered him with streaks of sun-bleached hair, so proud that he was starting to get a little stubble, that he was allowed to drive you down the road to the little ice cream stand, that you'd ride your bikes together, sometimes. Now, he was an adult, a man, all blue eyes and dark hair and kind smile, all height and muscle, all generosity and intelligence.

You had been a little worried that it would be awkward, that after not being in his presence for over ten years, you would struggle to reconnect, but you were joined at the hip for the majority of the first week, when he wasn't around Steve, that is, and you were surprised to find out that you got along so well as adults, too, not just as kids. The fact that he actually cared to know what you liked, what you were doing at school, who your friends were… it was refreshing. You sometimes felt like your friends cared about nothing more than the next cute boy or party. You'd tried to ask him about his job, something in law, but you went a little cross-eyed when he explained it to you, and he'd laughed and patted you on the head, saying it was okay if you didn't understand, that it just meant a lot that you listened and that you tried to make sense of it.

You had a boyfriend, but you didn't love him. Luke was… fine. But you were mostly dating him because the girls you were friends with were each dating a guy from the same friend group, and Luke had been one of them. He'd unfortunately never made you come, though, and he was more interested in illegal car races than you, unless he was horny or high. But he remembered your birthday, so he wasn't all bad.

All the other cousins had started families or gotten married. Steve was seeing a girl on and off, not ready to ask for something more serious, and Bucky had the excuse of being busy with his career. You had the excuse of approaching your last year of school. Bucky had tentatively suggested that if you didn't know what do to for a job right away, he was sure that he could get you a spot as an assistant at his law firm. It wouldn't be anything glamorous, but it would be something, and you'd have a chance to see a big city on a more intimate scale, if Bucky gave you the tour. He said his apartment lease would be up in the next year or so, anyway, so if you were serious about it, he'd look for one that you could both share, at least until you saved up enough for your own.

The summer had been full of ice cream trips, piggyback rides, and dips in the lake. You'd shrieked and smacked at Bucky's shoulders when he'd picked you up off of your towel and walked to the lake, afraid he was going to throw you in, but he'd just gently waded into the water until it was up to his waist, and then set you down. and the water was cool, but not too cool, and his smile was as warm as the sun, and he'd shyly said, "You should enjoy it today, because I think it's going to rain all weekend," and so you had, both of you floating in the water, occasionally splashing at each other. He'd even been so kind as to help retie your bikini top when it had come loose.

It was just the your family and Bucky, near the end of the summer, the rest of your cousins and aunts and uncles having gone back to their homes and lives. Your parents were going to dinner and a comedy show, and Steve had insisted that he was interested in the 'inner nuances of the last laugh' or something, leaving you and Bucky in the beach house, the clouds rolling in, the sky gray and looming close. He'd asked if you wanted the pineapple vodka soda you'd been partial to all week, and if you wanted to play a few boardgames, since he was pretty sure the power would end up going out at some point. It was more fun than a movie, anyway. You'd said yes, and had started putting away discarded towels and lawn chairs while he went inside, feeling the first fat wet droplets of rain on your skin as you did.

When you came back, you weren't expecting the living room to seem, well… was romantic the right word? You couldn't exactly think of another way to describe it.

The only actual light on was a lamp next to the couch, but the rest of the light came from the little tea candles placed carefully around the room, making it seem cozy and not at all like the middle of the summer time. The Monopoly board was right in the middle of the coffee table, and you could see Snakes and Ladders, as well as Sorry! stacked on the couch. He'd dragged a few pillows and blankets onto the floor, too. He came into the room behind you with two wine glasses.

The rain came pouring down after a huge boom cracked across the sky, halfway through Snakes and Ladders. It was coming in sheets, the pattering loud against the roof and the deck, and you untangled yourself from the blankets to stand at the back door to the porch. You were still holding your glass close to your chest as you watched, admiring the nature, the beauty of it, that tap tap tap of the rain dripping off the edges of the deck.

It came to you immediately, the idea to go out there. You loved the rain. It made you feel pure and clean. You set down your glass on the side table against the wall and flipped the lock before sliding the door open. "Hey, what are you—" Bucky asked behind you, but you ignored him, enchanted by the rain, and stepped out barefoot onto the deck.

You were immediately soaked to your skin, your hair clinging to your face, your clothes sticking to you with fervor, and you laughed, a soft girlish sound, tilting your face up and spinning in a slow circle with your arms outstretched, your eyes closing.

When you opened them again, Bucky was standing at the open door, leaning against the arch of it, his arms crossed, his head tilted, giving you a fond smile. "You're crazy."

"It's so nice! Come out and enjoy it!" you said, motioning for him to join you.

He shook his head, the smile still there, and said, "No way. I don't want to catch a cold. You should come in. Do you want me to run you a bath?"

"Ugh, you're no fun, bucky. I thought you were supposed to be the fun one. Steve's always been the stick in the mud."

"Come inside. I don't want you to get struck by lightning."

"Stand out here for ten seconds. Just ten!" you pleaded, sticking your bottom lip out in a pout.

He shook his head again, making an exasperated sound, and you were ready to admit defeat, but he slipped his shoes off and took a step out and onto the porch. "There, you happy?"

You clapped and laughed and moved towards him, delighted that he'd given in to your wish. His hair was already drenched, and he brushed it back off of his forehead, and the look on his face was something unreadable as he took you in, something genuine and warm and confusing all at once. You stopped in front of him, blinking rain off of your lashes, a silly grin on your face. "Feels nice, right? Like you're reconnecting with nature."

"If that's what you want to call it." he said, a half-smile tugging at his lips. His hand came up and brushed a wet strand of hair off your cheek, tucking it behind your ear. "Now come on, let's go inside. You need to get changed."

You let him lead you, his hand linking around your wrist to guide you back in, your feet making squeaky sounds against the hardwood when you got inside. When he closed and locked the door again, everything sounded muted, just the sound of your breathing, and his, loud in the empty house. You felt a shiver creep through your spine. You'd forgotten the air conditioning was on full blast, and the cold of your clothes made goosebumps break out over your skin. He saw you shudder, and a look of concern, rather than an I told you so expression, crossed his face. "Yeah, I think you need a bath or a shower or something. I don't want you to get sick."

He pulled an abandoned towel from the back of one of the dining chairs and started to dry your hair with it, hands gentle, expression thoughtful as he bit his lip in concentration. You got lost in his eyes for a moment. Compared to the gray cast outside, the blue of them looked so vivid, like the brightest, prettiest topaz you'd ever seen. His hands slowed, then stopped moving entirely. The towel rested around your shoulders. Your breath mingled together, close in the air. His hands came up and held your face, his thumbs brushing under your eyes, and he whispered something—it sounded like, "oh, hell"—and then he was leaning forward, closing the distance between you, his lips soft but sure against yours.

It made you sigh against his mouth, like you'd been holding all the breath in your body and now it was safe to release it to him, for him to keep protected until you needed it again. His hands moved to rest lightly on the sides of your neck, and the towel fell away somewhere behind you, but it didn't matter, because you were lost, gone, absorbed in the feel of his mouth on yours, the glide of his lips, the first tease of his tongue that had you opening to him, sagging against him, his hands moving again to come to your waist and hold you up, your own arms wrapping around his neck.

You stood on your toes to reach him, the water from your soaked clothes seeping into his, your mind blank to anything that wasn't him, the taste of his mouth, the crisp apple of the wine he'd had, the feel of his arms, strong and certain around your body, the smell of him, all rain and sun and sand, the sound of him, because you were sure you could hear his heartbeat, and when you pulled away for breath, the look of him, his eyes heartbreakingly gentle, his nose brushing against yours.

"Let me take care of you." he whispered, and it was a plea, like he was about to be on his knees begging, like you were God and he was your disciple.

You could only nod, and he was picking you up, and you felt like a bride or a princess or something whimsical, nuzzling your face into the hot skin of his neck as he carried you through the rooms of the house. Your room was dim, the ballet pink wallpaper looking silver in the bleak light from the window, until he placed you back on your feet and turned on the bedside lamp, a soft glow ensconcing the space.

Then Bucky turned towards you, and you stood there in your drenched clothes, and he sighed softly before approaching and putting his hands back on your waist, where the hem of your shirt ended. He was slow when he tugged it up and over your head, and you weren't prepared when you could see him again, for the way his eyes had gone dark with want as he looked at you. You'd been in bikinis around him all week and never once had you recalled him giving you a look like that. The bralette you had on was cute and lacy and pastel blue, yes, but no more racy than the stringy swimsuits you'd packed with you. And yet he was looking at you like a precious gem, like there was only one of you in the world, the most devastating thing, like he wanted to preserve you and keep you safe.

He breathed heavily as he observed you, and then his hand flicked the button of your shorts open. It took the tiniest tug on one of the belt loops, done by one of his fingers, for them to fall down your legs and pool at your feet. The groan he let out was the sort of sound a broken man might make, when he learned his lover was leaving him, like he'd heard horrible news, but his eyes were all over you, the matching panties you wore, the way you stood with your knees slightly turned in, like you were shy.

And you were shy, because no one had looked at you the way he was right now. Not your boyfriend, or any boys previous.

"Sit down." he said, and you were already moving before he'd finished the command, settling at the center of the bed, watching him with big doe eyes. He shrugged his own shirt off, leaving him in just his shorts, and he knelt on the floor before you, his hands on your knees, smoothing down your shins. "You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." His voice was hoarse, and it filled you with such an ache that you could have been moved to tears. "Say that you're mine, for the night? Please. Please, please, please say it."

"I'm yours." The words left you without a second thought, like they were a fundamental truth, like they were lines in a script you'd memorized.

His forehead fell heavily to your thigh, and the kiss he pressed there burned like fire. Your hand moved of its own accord to card lightly through his hair, and when he looked at you again, he seemed so wrecked that it scared you for a moment, the pure devotion you saw there.

You were the altar he was kneeling at, and he was here to eat his sins.

Because the thing you didn't know, the thing you'd never known, was that as soon as you'd hit sixteen, your kind brother, wanting the best for you, had asked Bucky to promise that he'd never pursue you, and Bucky had agreed, confused, at the time, as to why Steve would even have to ask. You were like a kid sister to him.

Until you weren't.

He was slow, gentle, so careful, but his kisses carved a path of heat up your thighs, and you could only watch, enraptured, as he moved your legs further apart to slot himself between them more firmly. The kiss on your hip nearly undid you, his fingers tracing the line of lace at your waistband, before you felt his breath at your centre, then the press of his nose, then his tongue against the fabric, and the feeling made you squirm, too much and not enough, but you were rooted to the spot, unwilling to move for anything.

He hooked them to the side and the first swipe of his tongue made you go cross-eyed, your hands fisting the bedspread as you whined. He licked into you, taking his time, before sitting back, eyes blown wide, mouth wet, and tugged at your waistband again. "Please. I need these off, baby. Please, God. I'll do anything. Let me take them off."

He didn't even have to ask. You let him help you take them off, and then he was laying you back against the pillows properly, making sure you were comfortable, before he was between your legs again, his hands firm on your hips to keep you from bucking up, licking you like you were spun sugar, like you were sunshine and fresh air and vanilla cream, like you were a fleeting dream. Your eyes had fluttered closed, one arm over them as you cried and keened and whimpered, feeling like you'd left your body and transcended to heaven already, until he latched onto your clit, and you jolted at the sensation. "Bucky—"

He moaned against you, like he was the one being taken for a ride, not you, and all you could feel was the hot brand of his hands and the wet slide of his tongue, your breath coming out in gasps as an unfamiliar feeling spiraled tighter and tighter in your belly. You felt like a bug that had flown into a heat lamp when your orgasm hit, right when he'd stuck his tongue inside you, his thumb rubbing a delicate circle on your clit, your legs clamping around his head like a clamshell protecting a pearl. Wave after wave of it hit you, and your body shook, and you were crying his name over and over, mewling like a kitten, and one of his hands stroked your thigh reassuringly as he worked you through it, until you were shuddering and shivering from overstimulation, feeling like you had entered a fugue state where all you knew was the feel of his tongue.

Your head felt heavy on the pillow, and you were dazed, stars in your eyes, and then he moved until he hovered above you, a hand on either side of your head, his mouth and chin wet and shiny, his eyes bright and adoring. "You did so good. You're perfect. You're an angel. You're my angel, I swear to God, you are."

Bucky kissed your forehead as you made a weak little sound, and then he was gone from you, and you felt confused and lost until he came back with a throw blanket to cover you up with. "Are you… are you going?" you mumbled, feeling sad and empty.

He brushed your hair back. "Only for a minute. I have to clean up the living room. Then I'll come back, if you want me to. Do you want me to?" he asked the last part hesitantly, like he was sure you'd say no.

You used all your energy to grip his wrist, to focus on his eyes, as you said, "Yes. Please come back, please promise that you will."

And his eyes went soft and sweet as honey all over again, and he kissed you one more time, murmuring against your lips, "Yes, of course. I'll always come back to you."

You must have drifted off almost immediately after he'd gone, but you stirred when you felt body heat at your back at little while later, strong arms around your waist, and you turned in search of the source and moved closer, close as you could, until there was no space left, and you heard something murmured in the dark, something that sounded like love, but you were too gone to know that the words had been, "Sleep well, I love you more than words can say."

You woke with the dawn, feeling floaty and light like a dust mite, and you moved to stretch but realized you couldn't, because you were tucked firmly and safely into Bucky's chest like a well-loved teddy bear.

You felt flushed as you remembered the previous night, but not regretful. No, never that. It had been magic. It had been fairy dust. It had been fireworks and comets and sparks, not just what he did for you, but the whole thing, from the first kiss to the last.

Like it was instinct, he came to consciousness moments later, blinking sleepily at you, his hands immediately coming up to stroke your hair like it was muscle memory, like he'd done it before, or for his whole life. He lowered his head to kiss your brow, to mumble against your skin, though his voice was too low for you to tell what he said, so you just snuggled closer, letting him hold you like you were the most important girl in the world.

When he eventually pulled away from you, just enough to look at you, you were stricken by the sadness on his face, open and honest. "I wouldn't change what happened for the world, but you know I shouldn't have done that, right? It was bad. I was bad. I should have been stronger than that. I'm sorry."

"I—no, don't be sorry. Never be sorry. Please. Maybe it shouldn't have happened, but it did, and it was perfect, and I don't want to stop. I want it to happen again. I want you to feel good, too." you said in a stumbled rush, trying to sound firm, to make him understand. "I—I love you, Bucky. Please don't push me away."

You could have stabbed him, from the way he looked after you said those words. "You can't mean it like that."

"But I do. I do, Bucky. I love you. I want to be with you. Please?"

He pulled you close again, so you couldn't see his face. You felt the rumble of his voice in your own chest, the beat of his heart against yours. "My darling girl. You'll be the death of me with sweet words like that."

"Say them back." Now it was your turn to beg and plead, to throw yourself at his feet for a crumb of affection.

"Angel—" he sighed, like he was going to let you down easy.

"Bucky—please." Your voice broke when you said it, your eyes filling with tears. and you didn't know how he knew, but he did, because he was again pulling away to look at your face, to wipe at your eyes, and whisper, "I love you. I love you so much it hurts, it claws me open, it makes it hard to breathe. I love you, I love you, I love you." He pressed kisses to your face until you were giggling.

His forehead pressed to yours. "If we're going to do this, we have to be careful, hmm? Can't let anyone know. It'll be different if you come and live with me next year. But for now, around everyone else, it's a secret, yeah?"

You nodded, eager to please. "Yes. Yes, I'll be good, Bucky, I promise. I can do that. I can keep a secret."

You didn't know exactly why it was a big deal to keep it a secret. Was it your age? You were still in school, yes, but you were an adult. Regardless, you trusted him with everything in your being. And being sneaky sounded exciting.

Keeping it a secret was harder than you'd thought. Keeping it a secret meant that you couldn't sit in Bucky's lap or ask him to join you in the shower after playing around in the lake, or to share ice cream with one spoon. Keeping it a secret meant you could only speak to him like you would anyone else in your family, since he'd been around you so much growing up, he felt like he was, sometimes. But when no one else was looking, you'd boldly mouth the words, "I love you!" with a brilliant smile, and he'd look all at once panicked and happy, and he wouldn't say it back, but the next time he'd sit next to you, he'd trace it with his finger onto your leg or your arm, the digits writing out, "more than words" on your skin.

Keeping it a secret also meant stealing away in his cherry red rental truck, driving down a long dirt road after telling your parents that you were going hiking, something that Steve detested, and then driving some more, into a narrow stretch of trees, shaded from the sun and curious eyes, and you were climbing into his lap like you'd been doing it forever, your fingers twining into his hair, his hands firm on your hips, your body rocking into his as you planted wet kisses down the side of his throat.

Every sound he made took your breath away, and you wanted to learn every one. He fumbled at the buttons of your beach top, until it was falling loose on your arms, exposing your yellow bikini top. The friction of your jean shorts wasn't enough. You wanted more, wanted him, completely, truly, irrevocably. Wanted him to stain your insides as well as your soul. He laced your hands together, stopping you from moving. "Are you sure?" he asked, the question serious, though his eyes were wide and glassy, his lips swollen, his chest heaving.

"Always sure with you." you said with an honest smile, and then he was smiling too, the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen, and he let go of one of your hands to let you pop the button of your shorts and pull them down, along with your panties. His mouth was parted as he watched you do the same for him, and he shuddered and whined when you held him in your hand, stroking your thumb over the head, watching the look on his face with unbridled bliss. You rubbed him against your folds, slick and wanting, before lining him up and sinking down onto him with a whimper. His quiet curse was music to your ears, and he pushed your bikini up until he could palm at your breasts. "Perfect, so perfect." he breathed. "So perfect—fuck."

The air in the truck was a hot and heavy thing, sticky like syrup. Your breath fogged the windows while your hips rolled against him slow and steady, letting him stay seated inside you while you kissed him like he was the last man breathing. He groaned into your mouth, his fingers gripping your body to rock you into him, deeper, snugger, pushing you down to take every last inch until your clit brushed the coarse hairs at the base of him and made you cry out.

“You feel insane.” he gritted, his voice nearly a growl, broken by restraint. “So warm. Fuck. I don’t wanna pull out, I don’t wanna ever leave you, shit—”

You kissed him harder to shut him up before the words set you off. Your whole body trembled, bouncing slowly in his lap, his hands helping guide your rhythm even as his head dropped to your shoulder, gasping against your neck like you were taking the last of his self-control with every squeeze. You clung to him, arms around his neck, nails leaving light trails as you panted through every needy little roll of your hips.

The truck creaked with your movements, the suspension groaning, a rhythm of metal and desperate flesh. He filled you just right—long, thick, hot, stretching you sweet and deep until your walls were fluttering around him with every downward stroke. You moaned openly, loudly, shamelessly, like you were announcing to the world how he made you feel.

“S’good, Bucky—fuck, it’s so good—feels so good—!”

He kissed your collarbone, tongue flicking, teeth catching gently on the soft skin, whispering against you, “You’re made for me, you hear me? Made to take me. Look at you, bouncing on my cock like you were born for it—fuck, I can feel you clenching—”

“Bucky, Bucky, Bucky—!” you whimpered, dizzy with it, stars exploding behind your eyes every time your clit rubbed just right, body convulsing with every twitch of his cock as it nudged that perfect spot inside you.

“Ride me, angel,” he groaned, his hands now everywhere, sliding from your hips to your ass to your waist, back up to cup your breasts, your bikini top loosening with every movement, before it fell between you. “Don’t stop, yeah? Don’t stop ‘til I fill you up—shit—I’m gonna come, I’m not gonna last—”

You clenched down harder on purpose, gasping at the way he twitched inside you, the way his hands gripped you like he’d fall off of the world if he let go. Your body burned, shivering even in the heat, slick dripping down between your thighs, soaking his lap and the seat beneath you.

And then he was coming—his jaw dropped, his eyes squeezed shut, and he let out a raw, primal noise, somewhere between a groan and a choked-off cry as he held you still and thrust up into you, once, twice, deep, deeper, spurting hot and thick inside your walls. The sensation of his release sent you spiraling too, tipping you into an orgasm you hadn’t known was building so quickly, your body arching, head thrown back, voice breaking with your high-pitched sob of pleasure as you milked him, pulsing around him, both of you shaking.

When you slumped forward, your foreheads pressed together, his arms circled you tight, grounding, safe.

“Jesus,” he murmured, voice wrecked, and you couldn’t help the giggle that burst out of you as you rested your cheek against his damp neck. “Gonna kill me,” he murmured. “You’re gonna kill me, baby girl. Sweetest fucking torture in the world.”

You stayed there, impaled on him, basking in the heat, in the smell of sex and sweat and skin, in the sunshine and the trees and the summer breeze. When you finally lifted your head, you caught his expression—soft, dazed, almost devout.

“I meant what I said,” you whispered, brushing your nose against his. “Always sure with you. I love you.”

His eyes shimmered with something you couldn’t name. One hand rose to cradle your cheek, and he kissed you again, slow, deep, no urgency now—just promise.

“Say it again,” he whispered into your mouth.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I love you, Bucky.”

He kissed you between every repetition, like each one was a vow. And when you finally slid off his lap, wincing slightly at the mess you’d made, he was already reaching into the glove box for tissues, already tending to you, helping you clean up like it was the most natural thing in the world. Because you were his.

He redressed you slowly, tenderly. Buttoned your shorts, straightened your top. Then helped you hop down from the truck and pulled you into his arms again in the quiet of the shaded woods. The sun was peeking through the trees, mottling the earth in dappled light. He tipped your chin up and smiled.

“We’ll figure this out,” he promised.

And if you couldn't, he was sure he'd remember the taste of your skin, the taste of your sin, for the rest of his life, anyway, like it was his last supper. The memory of the rain clung to your skin, but now, so did the memory of Bucky's hands, all over you, and you were still warm where they’d touched you, still burning where they’d held on like he was anchoring himself to the world through you.

He fished around in the backseat of the truck for the old Polaroid camera you’d been bringing around all summer. He aimed it at you. “Smile for me?”

And you did, a dazzling, radiant flash of your teeth, a smile that could melt the iciest of exteriors. When it printed out you snatched it before it could develop and kissed the back, the faintest glimmer of pink glitter gloss staining it. “That’s for good luck, so that when you miss me, you’ll always have one of my kisses to keep you warm.”

It was type of thing someone experiencing puppy-love might say, but Bucky didn't care. He looked at the twin smiles, the one in person, before him, and the one in the picture, perfect and preserved, and he imagined where the creases would eventually show from where it would be kept in his wallet, because you were a piece of him now, and he'd carry you with him always.

The last night at the beach house was awful. You were tearful all through dinner, which your parents thought was sweet, that the reunion had meant so much for you. Steve had teased you a little bit, but he couldn't admit that he'd enjoyed his time, too. Not out loud. Only Bucky knew the true source of your tears.

You found it hard to sleep, feeling misery creep into your very essence, the thought of being worlds away from Bucky, your Bucky, making you want to bury yourself in the sand and never leave the place where everything changed.

It was like he heard the sad echo of your heartbeat through the walls, because he stole into your room, an old blanket tucked over his arm, his voice a whisper when he said, “I want you in the moonlight.”

You were floating out of your bed like a feather on the wind, fingers laced with his as you tiptoed out of your room and down the hall, careful for every creak and sigh of the house settling, your footsteps light as he slid the back door open and led you from the porch to the grass, bathed in silver, the air still and silent, the water beyond like the clearest mirror you'd ever seen.

The blanket was a soft, pilled thing, a little threadbare but cozy, and he laid it on the grass like it was the most precious parchment, like he needed gloves to handle it, like it belonged in a museum, like it would seal the memory within the wool. It was a risk, what you were doing. If anyone in the house got up for some water, they would see you from the kitchen window, but the thrill, the reckless abandon, the love shooting through your veins like the sweetest drug you'd ever known made you throw all caution to the wind.

He undressed you like you were carefully packed glass, like he didn't want to ruin or break you, like you were to be placed on display on the mantel, and laid you on your back beneath the stars, kissing you from your hairline to your core, worshipping every inch of exposed skin, touching every part of you, not just with his hands but with his soul, like it was calling to yours.

It felt so right, like he was put on earth specifically for this, for you, to love you and hold you close and whisper sweet nothings to you under the cover of shadows and starlight.

You opened like a flower unfurling its petals on a warm spring day when he slid two fingers into you, diving into your cunt, drinking you in like you were the most divine communion wine, and the sounds you made had Bucky feeling like he was at a private show, and you were dedicating the song to him. Your back arched off the blanket like you were trying to get closer to God, and he held you through it as you shattered apart like a falling star, swallowing your cries with his mouth, brushing your cheeks with his thumbs, looking at the reflection of the moon in your eyes, the silver of your tears.

Entering you felt like a sacred ritual, the heat of you a brand that marked him, ruined him for anyone else, because no one else could compare to you. Your nails scratched gently on the nape of his neck as you pulled him closer to you. He moved slow, savouring the moment, the push and pull, the look on your face, like you were utterly enamored, infatuated, obsessed, his name an exhale on your lips.

Every time he hit the deepest part of you, you both shuddered, like you were melting together, a gradual pour of your hearts into one vessel, until he was burying his face in the side of your neck, his lips on your throat, a whimper of your name leaving him as he filled you full, your walls clenching around him like you were trying to keep him there forever and ever.

It was perfect, your final night together under the stars, intertwined. He held you close and rubbed his hands up and down your arms, watching you lazily blink up at the sky, the universe above you, the blanket a warm embrace, and he didn't know how he'd survive without you tomorrow, or the days and weeks and months after that, so he tried his best to memorize the way you looked there under the deep blue of the sky, all long eyelashes and dazed wonder. If he was going to Hell for this, for corrupting his best friend's little sister, at least he’d gotten to experience something as holy as you.

The morning meant goodbye. Not forever, no. It couldn't be forever. It wouldn't be forever. He helped you load everything into the back of the car and said goodbye to your parents, leaving them to chat with your brother, who was staying behind to hitch a ride to the airport with Bucky. He pulled you aside, murmuring, “You break up with your loser boyfriend. You call me now, yeah? You call me whenever you need me.”

“But your job—“

“You matter to me more. The job is inconsequential.”

The smile you gave him was both sad and happy, like your heart was breaking and repairing at the same time. "Okay. I'll call you. Every day."

Bucky hugged you tightly then, his arms looping around your waist, his lips in your hair. "You and me. It's you and me, yeah?"

You nodded, your cheek brushing against his shoulder, whispering it back. "You and me."

And he didn't say the words, the I love you, because he knew it would bring tears to your eyes, but he hoped you heard them with every thrum of his heart, before he let you go and walked you back to the car, shutting the door after you'd climbed in.

And then Bucky was watching the car drive away, and he stood there, hands in his pockets, watching his heart leave with you, because you had it in your hands now, and he feared you always would.

TAGLIST;; @54nboo, @opheliabbarnes, @flockoff-featherface, @juniebjonesin, @firingstars, @blowingbarnes, @its-in-the-woods

[westviewsoldest]

hi!! love your work, by the way, you're amazing! if you've got a sec, do you think you could do another part to the needy girlfriend series? thank you regardless!

Role Reversal (i.e. Bucky & his needy gf)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Pre-established)

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), smut, p in v , unprotected sex, , reader has hair (sorry)

A/n: I will ALWAYS have time for this series, thank you for the request anon! Hope you'll settle for the other way around!

Summary:

Bucky's used to pleas, he just didn't know it would be the first thing to tumble from his lips when he sees you in your new tactical gear.

Masterlist || Series masterlist

“Please, baby,” are two words Bucky knows very well. Mostly because it’s his girlfriend’s most frequently repeated phrase in a day, when you suddenly decide that six hours between having him that morning, and wanting him now, is just too long. 

He just never thought he’d be the one to use them. Not like this.

But then again, James Barnes is a simple man. 

With eyes. 

And a brain to process what his eyes find. 

And a very hard cock as a result of their findings. 

Because his girl, his hot-as-fuck girl with big fuck-me eyes, was strutting around the apartment in a brand new, tight, latex suit courtesy of the same man who he’d spent the past year trying to make amends with: Stark. 

He can’t decide between getting on his knees and thanking the man profusely, or wanting to bite his head off for the fact Tony would have had to put his hands on you and be the first one to see you in your new gear to create it.

It wasn’t even something special—not as unique as Steve’s first Captain America costume, or even as bright as Tony’s tin suit, and definitely not as historic as Thor’s battle armour—it was just a simple black, leather suit that tightened at your curves, showing off your… well, Bucky’s favourite everything. 

The sight is downright obscene. 

He crowds against your back, strong biceps wrapping around your middle, breath hot against your ear as he lets out a curse. His hands have a mind of their own—running over the curves and dips of your body. He feels like going feral—like he has no say in the matter except that he has to have you. 

He can’t get enough, not even when his lips find your neck, trailing wet kisses over your pulse. “Look like something out of a fantasy. Please, baby girl.” 

Now that name was new. And you’d be a liar if you said it didn’t have heat pooling in your stomach. You reach behind you, hand tangling in his brown locks and absentmindedly tugging. “What’s gotten into you, Barnes?” He can practically hear your smirk. 

His eyes fall shut, his body pressing against your back as his hips grind against your ass. “You. That suit. You in that suit.” He murmurs, the words a rough growl when he bites down on your earlobe. 

You moan softly, head falling back into his body even as you unconsciously bend yourself over the kitchen counter—or a better word would be strategically. Because you know you’ve hit your mark when you hear the sharp inhale of your boyfriend, feel his fingers digging into your waist and his hips surging forward into you. Oh, you’ve definitely hit your mark. 

He lets out a low groan, as rough as his hands trailing over your thighs, before resting over the curve of your ass with a lustful squeeze. If you bothered to turn your head, you’d probably see Bucky flushed at the cheeks and pupils blown wide as he sees just how much the suit accentuates it.

“Should test how easy it is to get you out of this thing,” he growls. “You know… for when you’re too tired to figure it out after a mission.” 

“How very selfless of you, Barnes.” You tease, smirk forming into an amused smile. For the first time in your relationship, you can honestly say you made no attempt to orchestrate this, in fact, you even had plans to jump him in the shower later tonight. But this… this has worked well regardless. 

You feel him press another open-mouthed kiss against the column of your neck, right where the neckline of your suit starts. His hips grind against the ass he seems to be paying extra attention to tonight, as his hand stays there. Squeezing and pulling your cheeks. “It’s a thankless job,” he says, a mock tone of being put out. “But someone’s got to do it.” 

You push your ass up into his hand, encouraging him further when you finally suggest. “Should test if it softens hits too.” You and your boyfriend have tried a lot—the list increasing the longer you two are together, a funny parallel to when you first started dating and the first time seemed so… consequential. It took Bucky another year before he felt comfortable asking to try different things he’d hear about. But spanking hasn’t been one of them, and you’re certain he’s about to reject—

His hand squeezes your ass cheek once more, before following with a light smack—the sound alone is enough to have his cock twitching in his pants, leaking at the tip. If that’s not surprising, he adds: “Yeah… That’s… yeah. That’s a really good idea. Make sure it cushions everything right.” He spanks you again, this time a little harder, as if testing the waters.

The moan that slips out of you is a lot louder than you meant it to be, and you’d be embarrassed if you didn’t feel him harden through his sweatpants. He repeats the action, harder once more. “You like that?” 

You don’t even have time to nod before his hand comes down again, hard enough now that you know the suit won’t stop a red patch from forming on your skin. You make a mental reminder to have him test this out more often, maybe with the metal arm, if you manage to convince him it’s safe. 

“Barnes, if you don’t—” You grit out, because you need him. You always need this man, and you’re about ten seconds from—

“This thing is skin-tight, baby. Can’t even take a peek under here,” he whines, hands pulling at the compact material. His hands tug at the waistband next, “gonna have to take it off.”

Finally. 

“Pants have a zip at the front.” 

Thank you, Tony…. Will hopefully be the last time you say that as you’re about to have sex.

The former assassin wastes no time in finding the zip, and pulling your trousers to mid-thigh. He inhales sharply when he uncovers your underwear, black to match the suit. Hindsight would have had you putting something sexy and lacy on instead. 

“Mind keeping the top half on?” He asks, hand moving between your legs and cupping you through the thin fabric. 

“Anything for you.”

“You’re a godsend.”

The longer he plays with your clit over your underwear, the more you get irritated. “Just get those off I swear—” You whine. You don’t know when the power shifted, reverting back to you being his needy girl (as he likes to put it), when it was him begging that started all of this. He’s a genius, and one of these days you’re going to figure out how he does it. 

But instead, he mercifully pushes your underwear down, baring you to him. His hand immediately moves back between your— “You’re so wet for me already.” He groans. 

Impatient, you whine: “Hurry—”

He doesn’t make you wait, fingers rubbing at your clit as he presses up against your back. Your front hits the counter forcefully, but you’re too desperate to complain about the way it digs into your stomach. 

“Yeah, baby?” He mocks. “Need me?”

By some miracle you gather what was left of your earlier assertiveness, squaring your shoulders and grinding your ass into the soft fabric of his sweatpants—the ones that drive you crazy each time you see him in them. “Only if you ask nicely.” 

His fingers slide lower, pushing into you with a low groan as he curls them. “Please, baby. Need you right now.” 

The rush of power goes to your head, making you dizzy. No wonder Bucky never rejects your pleas if this is how good they feel. You open your mouth to instruct him, like he usually does, but nothing comes out when he thrusts into you hard with his fingers. So instead, like the real dominatrix you’ve deluded yourself into being, you nod dumbly. 

His fingers continue to pump into you, finding that spot that makes you gasp with expert ease. Even so, his other hand moves to fumble with the waistband of his pants not so expertly.

“Fucking hurry, Barnes—” You cry.

He responds with a string of curses as he manages to get them and his boxers down, just enough to free his aching cock. “Bend over. Put your hands on the counter.” 

You follow his instructions, no longer caring who’s in control as long as you get fucked. You push yourself further into the sharp counter, bringing your ass higher and flexing your hands at his next circle of your clit. 

You barely have time to moan when he lines himself up at your entrance with a rough: “You have any idea what you’re doing to me?” Followed by him thrusting to the hilt, burying himself balls-deep inside you. He groans, head falling against your back as he moves into a hard, steady pace. Just the way you like it. 

His flesh hand comes down to grip your hair, fingers tangling in it, and pushing you further against the counter as he fucks into you. “There she is. That’s it, baby. Take it.” His voice is low and gravelly, his breath warm against your ear. 

“Bucky,” you whine, pushing your hips to meet his with every stroke. 

His pace is relentless, his metal hand finding solace once more between your legs, making you moan. He times it with each thrust, pace fastening with each whined praise he receives. Even now, his eyes are trailing over you and taking in every inch of the top half of your suit. 

“Wanna hear you baby,” “That’s it, good girl,” tumble from his lips in pattern. His hand slides from your hair, to the middle of your shoulder blades to push you down further. “The things you do to me. Wearing this goddamn thing around the place.” He pulls out to the tip, before slamming into you once more with a punishing thrust. 

You moan, head falling forward over your arms as you take and take. “You’ve… seen me… in… tactical… gear… before.” You tease, between each thrust, voice jumping with every slap of his hips. 

He pulls at your chin, bringing your face towards him so he can take in the mess he’s made of you and your suit. Your hair is frizzy from where he’s grabbed it, a flush across your cheeks, and your eyes are swallowed by your irises. Fuck. “And that’s why you’re always late to training the new agents.”

“No. That’s why I always tell you it’s an hour earlier so I’m not late,” you breathe out. 

He lets out a similar sound when he shifts his angle, bringing your ass up higher so his cock bumps against your walls. “Mm, my smart girl. Wanna be even more impressive? Use that pretty little hand of yours for me.”

You reach your hand between your body and the counter, fingers brushing over where his have been meticulously playing with your clit. He only lets go when he’s sure you’ll take care of yourself. He wraps both hands around your waist, using it as leverage so he can slam into you—the sound of skin slapping echoing around the kitchen. 

“Fuck that’s—” he groans, the same time as you whine: “Bucky—” 

His thrusts get more erratic as his name continues to spill from your lips. “M’so close, baby,” he mumbles into your neck. 

You continue to stroke over your clit, as you reply: “You first.”

“You sure?”

“Please—” Because after all, there’s nothing hotter on this planet than your boyfriend falling apart. 

At that, he’s a goner. He bites down into your neck as he fucks into you one more time with his thick length. His body grows taut as his balls tighten, and hot liquid fills you up and spills down your thighs. You follow soon after, heat coiling in your abdomen before bursting. He whispers praises against your ear before pressing lazy kisses down your jaw, your neck, then your face. He continues to hold you against him as you both breathe out and attempt to come down from your highs. 

His hands trail over the buckles and straps from the top half of your suit, when he grumbles: “Pass me my phone.” 

“Now?” You scoff. 

“Have to ask Steve to take me off the rota. No way in hell I can do a mission with you for the next… pfft.” He blows a raspberry, eyes wide with exaggeration, and it’s that that has you laughing at him despite him still being buried deep inside you and making no move to change that. His hands wander higher, over the chest piece and resting at the swell of your breasts. “If you pass it over now, we’ll play with the top half next.” His voice is a low, breathy murmur, and there’s no way you’re getting out of this evening alive. 

“Yes, sergeant.” 

Followed by another spank to your ass, and this time, he gets to take pride out of seeing it turning his new favourite shade of pink. “Don’t you start with me.” 

[buckyfmd-deactivated20260404]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ KINK-OR-TREAT ; splash zone !

kink-or-treater ; munch!bucky x female!reader summary ; there was a hint of desperation in your eyes. not primal, no. it was there— of course there was, the thrill of getting fucked against the kitchen counter and getting caught by poor ol' bob who just wanted to get his routinely midnight donut, or maybe even yelena doing god knows what. what ever it was, the thrill was exhilarating— yet there was a daunting presence of need, like your heart yearned for him. it did. warnings ; KINK-OR-TREATER ONE — SMUTTTTTTTRTTTTTRR MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!!!!!! 18+ OH MY GOSH, unprotected piv, creampie, copious amounts of yearning, how that happened i do not know, oral sex (f receiving), they fuck in a kitchen alright, bob and yelena make an appearance again!!! yay!!!!!! okay not proofread. drea’s notes ; if you saw me post this the first time, no you didnt. how’s it already october????????? and also, i really don’t know how it got all sappy and yearny this was supposed to be pure smut. anyways. dedicated to my lovely baby @umbreoni i love you so much :3 if this flops im gonna cry. or die. or both. i’m not joking.

"buck— please— holy shit…"

you sobbed, your voice trembling as it cracked at your pleas. your head was tipped back, a spot in between your parietal and upper occipital pounding from when you'd dramatically smacked it against the wall— all of bucky's fault of course, "please let me cum, bucky… fuck please, i'll do anything."

you babbled, whines seeping in through the thick tension in the air, your fingers sowing into bucky's hair and pulling tight as his tongue danced dangerously around your folds, "anythin'?"

he purred, vibrations only making your orgasm creep in faster—sneakier—, voice muffled as his mouth worked overtime, tongue flicking ragged licks over your clit, bottom lip embedded behind your top row of pearly whites, "i pinky swear, please—please, please— let me cum…"

your whine sent shivers down bucky's spine, nearly letting him fold at your desperate request, but he already weighed the pros and the cons inside that fucked up brain of his. 

con: you'll be grumpy at him for the rest of the week— day if he'd beg well enough, or you know, if he'd fuck you well enough that night with a hushed apology laced with murmured desperation a a sly smirk spread across his mouth.

pro: you know what… the con already sounded like a pro.

and that's why james buchanan barnes just didn't stop. in fact, you're certain he sped up. you know it, you can feel it. the way his tongue lapped. the way his tongue laid flat against your folds before he gave you a harsh swipe up to your clit that made you squirm, your legs quivering with every flick of the pink muscle. 

your fingers grip tighter, the pressure on his scalp making bucky gush, the vibranium hand lifting off the floor and slithering its way to the 'gravitational pull' between your thighs, "she's just pullin' me in baby."

a skilled finger forced itself in, a tender gasp escaping the vicinity of your plump lips as he leans down, shoving his tongue down your inviting cunt, "can't let you cum just yet, princess."

a whimper rises from your throat, your oesophagus raw and tender from last night's screams and wails of bucky fucking you into an oblivion— pussy getting wetter at the memory, "please, buck… let me, i'll be such a good girl."

bucky freezes, removing himself from your weeping cunt, the emptiness of it all making you hiss. this is quickly noticed by bucky, his absence replaced by a cool blow of air to your bud, a screamed sob of his name tumbling off your tongue, "can't have you cumming—" he dives back in, tongue burying deep inside your core, nose nuzzling on your touched clit, "before i'm inside this tight pussy, baby girl.

a whine erupts from deep within your chest, your impatience only growing stronger with every thrust of his tongue, "need you inside me— fuck— please…"

"impatient little thing," he groans, lips bracketing around the bundle of nerves before sucking in, aggressive as ever. an assertive hum left bucky's nose, the warm breath spreading itself out on the surface area of the mound of your pubic bone, "but since you're asking so nicely…"

you didn't spend time wasting your breath, your hands yanking his face off your cunt, mouth glistening with your arousal under the soft gleam of the kitchen light, his pupils diluted and fogged with lust. a pout appears on his lips, unsatisfied with what you had done. 

"fuck me," you huffed, gaining some sort of composure; some sort of self respect, "now, barnes."

the line between who was in control blurred, especially for bucky whose eyes were in a haze, blinded by need and want as he stared at you, not a single appropriate thought behind his ocean eyes. obediently, he nodded and cleared his throat as he leaned a hand back, pushing himself off his knees, his pupils never leaving yours. 

"the things you—hah— do to me," he gasps softly as your hips grinding into the fabric of his dark blue jeans— the ones that slung low on his hips, and the ones that show the imprint of his indubitably huge cock.

a gulp accumulates in your throat when you felt his clothed shaft against your pussy, your clit crying with need as you rub it on the built-up tension of his hardened length. 

your face was filled with shame, visible by the crimson-tinted cheeks that crawled up from the back of your neck to your ears, lips puffy from your teeth gnawing at them to keep your whimpers and yelps down. you weren't ashamed though, your lips jumping on to his before he could even breathe. 

heated, messy, ferocious. teeth clacked against each other, but neither of you cared. he took the initiative, tongue slipping into your mouth, surpassing the gates of your lips, tongues sliding desperately against each other, the roughness only fueling the fiery rage of want and need.

"james…" you gasped, longing for air, though it really did feel like bucky was your only source of oxygen, for a flicker of a second.

he looked up at you with those stupid blue eyes— god, did you hate him. you hate how gorgeous he is; you hate how freakishly good he looks even under your supposed submission; you hated how good he could rip an orgasm out of you; and most of all, you hated how much didn't hate him at all.

"huh?" he huffed, eyes still locked onto yours, that sheepish look on his face making your eyebrows knit together in fury. 

hands reached for the hem of his collar, fists wrapped tightly against the soft fabric of his shirt, a harsh yank forward, pulling him in. there was no thought put in this action, it was if your muscles contracted and squirmed on their own, "please." 

you swallowed, a intake of the air filling your lungs, "please, for the love of god james, please just fuck me. now."

there was a hint of desperation in your eyes. not primal, no. it was there— of course there was, the thrill of getting fucked against the kitchen counter and getting caught by poor ol' bob who just wanted to get his routinely midnight donut, or maybe even yelena doing god knows what. what ever it was, the thrill was exhilarating— yet there was a daunting presence of need, like your heart yearned for him. it did.

you could feel it. bucky could see it— god, of course he could. he could see right through you. he knew the stolen glances from across the room, he knew how your eyes lingered on him even after he'd finish speaking. you'd never once tried to hide it from him, you'd only ever hidden it from yourself protecting yourself from the shackles of love.

he's kissed you before he could even respond. words wouldn't have been enough to explain how he'd feel. instead, his fingers traced gently across your back, situating when they arrived at your hips, squeezing as if to anchor himself. his tongue danced with yours, the contentedness of your hearts seeping into the sweetness of your saliva. 

"please buck…" you pleaded, your voice merely a whisper. his head cocked down, his mouth attached to your jaw peppering light kisses onto the edge, "i've been so patient…"

that seemed to get a kick out of him, his breath stuttering as he inhaled the delectable aromas of your skin, "you have, haven't you?" bucky smiled, his skin stretching as his teeth crawled out with the grin, stubble lightly dragging across the sensitive of your neck.

a finger looped along his belt buckle, the metal clinking and the leather whipping as your digits moved swiftly, removing a particle of clothing with fumbled precision.

his cock sprang free, vibranium fingers dipping down the band of his boxers, a firm grip craning the base of his throbbing shaft as he pulled it out. the elastic band of his underwear draped low, just beneath the humps of his balls, cupping them as he fists his vibranium around his length, pumping beads of silky precum on his glistened shaft.

his right hand— flesh-clad— laid low on your hip, tracing gentle circles, easing you to open up. you did. 

you always did. 

"in me," you cupped his face, taking his eyes— his focus— off his cock and onto your own optics, the hues of blues looking sincere, "i need you so badly, james."

his head dipped onto the valley of your shoulder, forehead kissing your delicate skin. a primal groan rose from his chest, fleeing from his lips as he felt your arousal spread, the reddened tip swiping along your slit.

"i need you," you gasped, a hand clutched onto his arm, crescent shaped marks filling the blank canvas of his brawny bicep, your grip only tightening as he stretched out the walls of your filthy heat. 

he muttered something incoherent under his breath, the warmth falling off his tongue and onto the delicate skin of your breast. maybe he swore. maybe he cursed out your name. you really couldn't care, the burn of the stretch making you unable to think— the pleasure too intoxicating for your own good. 

he sighed into the thrust, making him feel at home, your own holler belting out of your mouth, lips agape and cracking at the edges.

"you," bucky breathed in, as if he was bracing himself for the worst, "already have me. always have."

he gawked forward, lips pressing a gentle peck onto your collarbone as if it would do something to ease the fiery sensation of his girth.

your eyes started to burn, your jaw clenching as he bottomed out, "fuck."

"don't say that when we're…." you retaliated, his sweet words only turning into malevolent mush as it goes into one ear and out of the other. 

a roll of his hips made you squeeze your eyes shut, the loss of one sense only deepening the one in between your thighs. 

"when we're what?" he teased, pulling himself back up to your entrance, and huffing greatly as he bucked his hips towards yours, balls smacking against the mound of your ass as he pushes forward with one swift thrust. 

a guttural moan left your throat as a hand leapt to your mouth, muffling the sound of your mewls as bucky continued to pound into your needy pussy, your hole luring him in like a siren luring a sailor to his demise. 

and maybe you were. bucky swore that one day, you'd be the death of him. his hips proved that theory, slamming into you, every flick of his hips gnawing away at his dignity. 

a hand— unsure if it was yours or bucky, but alas, a hand— reaches down to your heat, a finger slipping into your folds, spreading your wetness around. it reached for your whining clit, rough circles dragging you closer and closer to your climax. 

"baby— if you keep on doing that—," he breathed, vigorous hips grinding into your cunt as you clenched with every deep thrust, "i swear to god, 'mgonna cum."

he growled, low and primal, pulling out of you with agonizing intent. pulling your tank top down, he takes the soft flesh of your tit and massaged it in between his fingers, nipple hardening instantly to the coolness of his vibranium. 

"turn around," he groaned, hands lapping at your breasts, "sweet girl."

"baby, please…" you begged, quiet but full of request, fulfilling buckys's command as the cool countertop grazed the just above your belly button. 

"that's it," he guides a hand to your lower back, a forceful yet soft hand bending you over the countertop, hissing at the temperature of the marble surface on your sensitive nipples, "my good girl."

your heart raced at the name, fluttering at the name. you shook your head, enough for bucky not to notice, but he wasn't blind. he just didn't bring it up, your cunt too inviting for him to care. 

yet, your mind kept replaying it. the use of 'my' sounded too deliberate, his words echoing in your mind verbatim. 

"stop thinking already."

you bellowed loudly, as he shoved himself into your tightness, forcing your mind elsewhere. it was sudden. forceful.

you wept out, drool accumulating on the counter as your jaw dropped in a silent moan. 

"please," you begged, once and for all, "please let me cum."

your voice laced with regret as your orgasm ripped through you, legs loosening like jelly as it's shattered through your veins— the surge of it all dizzying as it rockets through your lower body. 

your orgasm glistened hot on bucky's lower stomach, combining at the floor as it trailed off your thighs.

he stayed nuzzled inside you, the familiar sense of heat already pooling deep inside your stomach as he chased his own release. he bent down towards your figure, your back now stuck onto his shirt, clinging onto it with your sweat, his hips stuttering as he does so. 

"i'm begging you, sweet girl," his whimper catching you by surprise, "please, let me do it inside. need to fill you up, let everyone in this watch tower know you're mine."

that's when it broke, the realisation of it all hitting you like a brick wall. it was this time that bucky didn't notice, his cock too busy ramming in and out of you like a piston.

"james—" gasping for air like you were drowning, "please… not like this…"

"fu—uck…" he stammered, catching you in his arms as your legs ultimately gave out. hot, silky ropes of his release burst inside you like a bubble, his ejaculation decorating the plush of your walls. 

he murmured chants of your name as your walls clenched, fluttering around his cock, a ring of creamy white appearing on his shaft as he fucks his release back into you. 

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he babbled, though his actions contradicted his apologies, hips still moving at a pace where it seemed impossible for them to stop.

"bu—bucky," you gasped faintly, your brain fuzzy and lightheaded, a hand smacking on his thigh gently just to warn him.

he stilled, stopping at a halt though he was still buried deep inside of you, his cock softening gradually. 

he pulled out, a shaky whimper freeing from your reddened lips as he does so. a firm hand slithering down to the dip of your waist, forcing you to turn around. 

"i'm sorry," he whispered, cock dwindling against the soft of your thigh, his hands cupping your face before planting a soft kiss on glistened lips. 

"i love you."

you gulped, and suddenly all your senses felt like they've been heightened by one hundred. suddenly, the water dribbling from the tap boomed in your ear; and suddenly, the scrape of sweat that dragged across bucky's forehead became all to coherent.

"you," his cheek lifted, his eyes squinting in confusion as his brows knitted, "love me?"

his finger gestured between you and him, his own adam's apple bobbing as he gulps waiting for your reiteration. 

"i love you." your fingers found their way to his, intertwining them, holding them as if they were delicate and fragile. 

and that, he could very well. his arms found their way to yours, your body's moulding together like a puzzle piece. like you belonged there. you were home. and you were his. 

he didnt quite say it back, either— the three words seeming oh, too foreign for bucky to say out loud. he didn't need to, though. you felt it. you always did. like how he always felt yours. 

"you know," yelena belted just loud enough to be clear, "midnight donuts do hit different. don't they, bob?"

just then, you had walked in, legs nearly giving out every few steps. bob gulps at the question, seeming to on-the-fence about answering the question. 

his lips open, then close, then open again. "uhm— yeah— they do…"

"what's this about that?" you had asked, plopping your weight on the stool opposite bob and yelena on the island. 

"midnight— uh— donuts, yeah. donuts." bob responds, yelena's elbow digging into his chest as he speaks. 

"uhm, cool?"

yelena smacks her hands cold against the island countertop, coffee rippling in the mug due to the multitude of her slap, "last night. we heard you. and on the day i could finally join bob with a midnight donut? you and bucky are greedy." 

she sighs, as you look up at your phone slowly, heat of embarrassment weeping on your face. 

"that was the type of greed they talked about in the bible."

drea’s notes ; this is the calm before the storm. watch out.

💌 @umbreoni @sheriff-bodecker @opheliabbarnes @54nboo @bckyslover @barnesandashes @metal-armed-muse @demiebarnes @miraclediviner @letterstodevil @devililithh @fucky-barnes82 @mrgrungusthefrog @colettebarnes @herejustforbuckybarnes @kqtholins @amoremarveloustime @fluorjscent @sebastians-love @wint3rbarnes @nonyabusinesswhatmynameis @justalittle47 @yes-ilovetowrite @heldbybarnes @sweetxserenity @purplebuck @nandanandada @evalynkillgrave @buckysslut @daddysbitchybaby @nightshadecomplex

[myladybelle]

my heart went oops!

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader summary: you think you’re friends who occasionally kiss, but bucky thinks the two of you have been exclusively dating for a while now. it only takes one post-mission debrief for the whole team to realise someone’s missed a memo. tags: one of you thinks you’re just friends the other thinks you’re dating trope, avenger!reader, friends to lovers, alpine thinks you’re her other parent, everyone is alive and happy because i say so warning(s): reader wears jeans and a t-shirt, reader wears workout leggings, suggestive content word count: 5.1k note: i’m working on a personal challenge to write some shorter/medium length fics for the people who don’t always want to read 9k slow burns, so please let me know if you enjoyed this!!

masterlist

You’d lost count of how many times you and Bucky had ended up like this. Not that you were keeping score. If you were, it would be a very respectable number. Top-ten life decisions, easily.

The couch in his room creaked softly as you shifted higher onto his lap, knees bracketing his hips, the hem of your T-shirt tugging a little higher with every slow drag of movement. His hands, one warm and one pleasantly cool, rested at the small of your back, thumbs rubbing lazy circles through the cotton.

You kissed him again, deep enough that it made your stomach jolt like that weightlessness you feel at the top of a rollercoaster. You felt the familiar brush of his stubble against your jaw.

This was exactly what it looked like. Exactly as uncomplicated as it sounded. 

Friends who kissed. Friends who sometimes stayed a little too long in the doorway after a movie night, who sometimes let a conversation dissolve into mouths pressed together until the occasional little sound escaped when Bucky did something particularly good with his tongue.

And why not? Kissing was fun, and fun was the whole point.

Bucky hummed low in his chest. You smiled against his mouth, tilting your head to steal another kiss, slow and deliberate. He tasted faintly of the coffee you’d shared earlier. When his hands slipped under your shirt, flesh and metal fingertips trailing across bare skin, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you.

You liked kissing Bucky, Bucky liked kissing you, and the world hadn’t ended yet.

Friends, you reminded yourself as he nipped lightly at your lower lip, sending a spark down your spine. Good friends, even. Friends with extraordinary kissing chemistry. It was the kind of arrangement that let you enjoy all the perks without any of the drama; basically, hitting the jackpot.

Bucky’s metal hand shifted to the back of your thigh, cool through the denim of your jeans. The delicious contrast made you shiver and laugh simultaneously. He pulled back just enough to watch you catch your breath, blue eyes bright and a little smug.

“Cold?” he asked, voice rough with amusement. “Or is that just the effect I have on you?”

You grinned, brushing your nose against his. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Bucky’s smile was small but certain, like he already knew exactly how to make you sigh again, before he leaned in for another kiss.

It all started months ago, back when Bucky officially joined the Avengers.

Not the awkward probationary period when everyone still half-expected him to vanish into the night with a duffel bag and a handgun. This was after he’d settled in, started cracking jokes with Sam, and started trusting people enough to stay for movie nights instead of just lurking in the hallway like a cryptid with perfect hair.

Somewhere in all of that, you and Bucky had landed in the “pretty good friends” category. The kind of friends who could spend an afternoon sparring in the gym and still grab take-out after, sweaty and laughing. The kind who could sit on the roof and trade sarcastic commentary about Tony’s latest gadget, or drop down into a serious conversation about nightmares and past mistakes without it getting weird.

And, apparently, the kind of friends who made out. A lot.

It wasn’t complicated. Sometimes, missions were rough, and adrenaline was high, and you both needed a way to blow off steam. Sometimes a late-night movie ended with you leaning a little too close. Sometimes—like tonight—you just happened to find yourselves kissing because it felt good and you both wanted to, and that was reason enough.

No strategy, no hidden agenda. Just two adults enjoying themselves in a world that rarely handed out simple pleasures.

You were good friends who kissed when the mood struck them. That was it. No strings, no labels, no looming “what are we” talk. A perfectly modern arrangement for a perfectly modern pair of friends.

You liked the way things were. Bucky was warm, solid, and dependable. He had this way of making you feel like the only person in the room, which was a dangerous kind of magic when paired with a mouth that good. But things never got complicated, and in your stressful line of work, you appreciated that.

It was easy, light, and made you feel like the universe could occasionally be kind.

Bucky shifted beneath you, the couch groaning as he settled a hand more firmly at your waist. His metal thumb traced a slow, deliberate circle against your shirt, the cool contrast sending a fresh shiver up your spine.

“Comfortable?” he asked, voice low, rough-edged from kissing.

“Mmhmm.” You didn’t bother opening your eyes, just leaned in for another slow, unhurried kiss.

Bucky smiled against your mouth, a satisfied curve like he’d just confirmed something important. He always kissed slowly and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world and knew you’d give it to him. 

You melted a little—fine, a lot—into the steady press of his mouth. “You’re really making me work for it after leg day,” you mumbled against his lips.

Bucky hummed, a warm vibration you felt in your spine. “Maybe I just like having you in my lap, doll.”

You rolled your eyes, managing a smirk. “The feeling’s mutual, Barnes. But I could use a break.”

He chuckled, a low sound that made you want to drag him even closer. The couch groaned as he shifted, metal hand sliding beneath you in a smooth, practised motion. One minute you were sitting on his lap, the next you were stretched out along the cushions, Bucky braced above you.

The world tilted pleasantly, the weight of him sinking into your bones.

“Better?” he asked, breath brushing your cheek.

“Comfier,” you admitted, trying very hard not to sound like someone who had just been given the universe’s best weighted blanket. “You’re heavy. In a solid, heroic kind of way.”

Bucky’s grin flashed, quick and boyish. “Heroic heavy. I’ll take it.”

He dipped his head again before you could muster a comeback, mouth sliding against yours in a kiss that was both careful and possessive. His flesh hand cupped your jaw, tilting you just so, and the combination of soft pressure and cool metal tracing lazy paths along your waist sent heat pooling low in your stomach.

His nose brushed yours as he broke for air. “You taste like that sugar and espresso,” he murmured, voice rough. “My coffee, the one I made for myself.”

“It was a communal coffee,” you protested, fingers finding the hem of his T-shirt and giving it a cheeky tug. “Sharing is caring. Also, I’m a growing woman.”

Bucky smirked, clearly unbothered, and dipped back in. It was the kind of kiss that made you forget the world outside the four walls of his room and forget your own name if you weren’t careful.

His metal hand slid to your waist, tracing a line just under the edge of your shirt and approaching the buttons of your jeans. The cool touch jolted through you, sharp enough to register as a warning and a dare all at once.

“Tell me to stop,” Bucky said quietly, forehead resting against yours. His thumb pressed a slow circle against your bare skin, a gentle reminder that going further would tip past kissing for the first time.

The softness of it made something tighten behind your ribs, but you managed a grin. “You first.”

His mouth found yours again, slower still, and you decided that this was the best friendship upgrade you’d ever signed up for.

You tasted like sweat and a hint of something sweet, somehow.

Bucky let his back hit the wall of the training room with a low thud, the sound swallowed by the rush of your breath against his mouth. You were still in your usual sparring gear, hair sticking to your forehead, T-shirt damp at the collar. He hooked his flesh hand around your waist and pulled you flush against him.

You made a sound—half-laugh, half-sigh—that went straight to his chest. God, that laugh. Low and warm and a little breathless. He’d chased it for months.

His metal palm slid over the small of your back, cool against overheated skin. You shivered and pressed closer, hips tilting just enough to make his breath catch. The thin barrier of fabric did nothing to hide the heat of you.

“Good match,” you managed between kisses, voice bright with the last of the adrenaline.

“Mm.” Bucky’s answer came out rough. Talking felt pointless when he could taste you instead.

You tugged at the collar of his T-shirt, nails grazing the back of his neck. Bucky groaned, deep and quiet, and let his hand drift lower until his fingers brushed the waistband of your leggings. Not pushing. Just there. Asking.

You didn’t pull away. You only shifted closer, thigh sliding between his.

Christ. Bucky angled his head, deepening the kiss. This was new. Closer. The kind of slow grind that carried a promise. 

He’d been patient about romancing you—old-fashioned, even. The Bucky treatment, Steve would call it with a grin, which entailed absolutely no funny business until you were exclusive. Dinner after missions, walks back from the market, letting the thing between you build at its own pace. 

At first, Bucky worried that it was too slow for you. 

After all, you were a modern woman, and dating had escalated into something he barely recognised these days. He’d spent nights lying awake, half convinced you’d get bored and wander off before he figured out the new rules. People swiped left and right now; they didn’t wait weeks to hold someone’s hand. 

But you never once pushed. You were happy to linger after movie nights, to kiss until the streetlights clicked off, to let the quiet stretch between you without demanding anything more. Every time you smiled at Bucky across a dinner table or leaned against his arm during a walk, he felt a clean rush of relief—proof that slow wasn’t scaring you away.

Eventually, he’d worked up to what he thought was the big step: exclusivity. He’d asked in what he still considered a perfectly obvious, twenty-first-century way. Over take-out noodles one night, he’d nudged your foot under the table and said, “Guess we’re making this official, huh?” You’d grinned, clinked your chopsticks against his, and said, “Pleasure doing business with you,” before launching into a story about a disastrous mission briefing.

For Bucky, that was it. You were official, exclusive. He’d walked you back to your room that night, floating three inches off the floor, certain the air between you had shifted into something solid. He’d even texted his group chat with Steve and Sam the next morning—asked her to be exclusive. she said yes.

And now, weeks later, the ease of it still steadied him. Because you’d let him take his time, because you’d agreed to be his without hesitation, he could finally let himself imagine the next step. 

Not a leap, just a careful slide forward. A hand under your shirt, the warm weight of you against him. Little things that meant trust, not just desire. You knew he was serious; you knew this wasn’t a fling. And because of that, Bucky could touch you like this and know he wasn’t crossing a line.

It was worth every second of taking it slow.

He’d wanted tonight to be a reward. You’d wiped the floor with him in the last sparring round, and he’d loved every second of it. A kiss in the corner of the gym before you both hit the showers. A private victory lap. But the way you moved now—hips rolling, fingers sliding under the edge of his shirt—made the idea of stopping feel cruel.

You broke the kiss just long enough to breathe. “You’re dangerous, Barnes,” you murmured, eyes bright.

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh. “You started it.”

Your grin flashed. “Pretty sure you tackled me first.”

“I’m not the one wearing the sexy workout outfit.” He kissed the corner of your mouth, a small claim that felt bigger than it should. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

You answered by catching his bottom lip between your teeth.

Every sane thought disappeared from his head.

Bucky had been planning your next date all afternoon. Real food this time, something nicer than the take-out containers you both pretended were meals. Maybe that little place Natasha kept raving about. 

Afterwards, he’d walk you back to the Tower, maybe stop by the rooftop garden where you liked to lean on the railing and tell him funny stories. He wanted to see you there again, sweater sleeves pulled over your hands, laughing at his deadpan jokes. 

A relationship, exclusive dating after months of doing it casually and slowly. That’s what this was.

Bucky had been careful, giving you space, but the signs were obvious. Movie nights that ended with you asleep against his shoulder. Early morning texts about coffee orders. The way you started wearing one of his hoodies and never gave it back. People didn’t do that if it wasn’t serious.

And now, the way you fit against him, warm and trusting, made the truth feel solid enough to lean on.

You shifted again, a slow drag of hips that sent a jolt of pleasure through him. Bucky tightened his grip, metal fingers spanning your waist, holding you steady while you moved.

“Easy,” he murmured, voice breaking low. Not a warning. More of a plea to give him a second to keep it together.

You only smiled, wicked and sweet, and stole another kiss.

Bucky’s heart hammered a steady backbeat, climbing higher every time you shifted against him. He felt young again, as if the world had tilted toward something good and he was allowed to stand in the middle of it.

He thought of Steve and how he used to talk about simple pleasures, about not waiting too long. Maybe this was what he meant.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. Your pupils were blown wide, a question shining there.

Bucky smoothed his thumb along your jaw. “Tell me if I’m pushing,” he said quietly.

Your smile softened. “You’re not.”

He leaned in, forehead against yours, and let the next kiss start slow. A promise disguised as a reward. He’d wait as long as you needed, but tonight felt like the start of something bigger.

His girl, his doll, his future.

Bucky’s room smelled faintly of laundry detergent and cedar, the clean scent that comes from someone who actually follows the instructions on a bottle of fabric softener. Show off.

The lamp on his nightstand was turned low, casting a warm light over the bed where Alpine, a small white cloud with whiskers, was already perched as if she paid rent. You’d been in here enough times to know the lightbulb was the soft kind that made everyone look ten times kinder, which felt on brand for a man who pretended to be grumpy while secretly rescuing cats.

“Movie night with a critic,” Bucky said, toeing off his boots. “She likes to meow at the plot holes.”

“You’re just jealous she’s smarter than you,” you teased, settling cross-legged on the edge of the mattress. The comforter dipped beneath you, soft and heavy. It smelled faintly of clean cotton and something warm—Bucky, probably.

He shot you a look of mock offence while fishing for the remote on his bedside table. “Careful, doll. I can still veto your pick.”

Bucky queued up the movie and slid down beside you, long legs stretched out and arm braced on the mattress, brushing your thigh. A barely-there touch, but enough to make your nerve endings sit up like they’d just had a double espresso. The screen lit up with the opening credits of your favourite movie. 

Alpine gave a chirp, turned a slow circle, and then—betrayal of betrayals—padded across Bucky’s lap and plopped squarely into yours.

“Oh, c’mon,” he groaned. “Every time!”

You grinned, scratching behind Alpine’s ears as she head-butted your palm with the force of a tiny, determined marshmallow. “Face it. I’m her favourite.”

Bucky leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed in dramatic suffering. “I rescued her from a busted fire escape. Nursed her back to health. Bought the fancy grain-free food. And this is the thanks I get?”

“Maybe she appreciates quality company,” you said, wiggling your fingers to make Alpine’s tail swish in delight. “I have sparkling conversation and adorable charm. What do you bring to the table?”

“Trauma and good cheekbones,” Bucky deadpanned.

You snorted, nearly startling the cat. “Wow. Irresistible package.”

“She used to sleep on my chest,” he went on, ignoring you. “Now she hears your voice and suddenly I’m chopped liver.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you said, though you were enjoying every second of his mock sulk. “You’re still her giant food dispenser.”

“Thanks, doll. Real boost to the ego.” Bucky tilted his head toward Alpine, who was now purring loud enough to be heard over the movie. “You hear that, snowball? Dad’s feelings—obliterated.”

Alpine flicked an ear and nestled deeper into your lap like a queen receiving tribute. You gave Bucky a wide, innocent smile. “Maybe she just senses my aura.”

“Your aura?” He arched a brow.

“Yeah. Cats can tell when someone’s a good person. Or at least when someone’s not secretly plotting world domination.”

“Guess I should’ve hidden the plans better,” Bucky said, eyes glinting.

The banter slid back and forth like an old routine—effortless, balanced, as easy as breathing. You’d fallen into this rhythm months ago: Bucky’s dry humour, your quick jabs, both of you quietly delighted whenever you managed to crack the other wide open. 

He laughed now, a low, warm sound that vibrated through the mattress and settled somewhere under your ribs. You filed it away with all the other Bucky details you weren’t supposed to notice: the way his laugh always started in his chest, the tiny crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the ridiculous fact that it made you feel lighter every single time.

Halfway through the movie, Alpine stretched a paw across your stomach, claiming more territory. Bucky reached out, fingers brushing yours as he pretended to coax her back. 

“Traitor,” he whispered.

“She’s perfect,” you whispered back, though your focus snagged on the tiny graze of his metal knuckles against your skin. Cool and smooth, a contrast sharp enough to send a little electric zing racing up your arm.

Bucky caught the flick of your eyes and smirked like he’d felt it too. “You’re spoiling her.”

“Maybe I just have a magic touch.”

“You don’t say.”

On screen, the hero made a questionable decision that earned a disgusted chirp from Alpine. You and Bucky burst out laughing at the same time, the sound overlapping until you couldn’t tell whose laugh belonged to whom. He nudged your knee with his, just a small bump, but he didn’t move it away.

The rest of the movie blurred in a haze of shared snacks and whispered commentary. Bucky pointed out continuity errors. You defended the cheesy dialogue. Alpine purred as if she were personally invested in the debate.

If happiness had a sound, it might have been this: a cat’s rumble, a soldier’s laugh, and your own heartbeat trying to keep up.

By the time the end credits rolled, Bucky stretched with a satisfied groan, his shoulder brushing yours. “Not bad,” he admitted. “A couple plot holes, but the cat critic seems pleased.”

Alpine yawned and pressed her head into your palm.

“Five stars,” you said, giving the cat a final scratch. “From the only opinion that matters.”

Bucky’s eyes softened as he watched you. He didn’t say anything, just reached over to gently lift Alpine from your lap and set her on the pillow. But his fingers lingered for a beat, like he wasn’t quite ready to break the contact. 

With Alpine safely out of the way, Bucky leaned in and kissed you, slow and deep, as if he’d been waiting all night for the chance. It was the kind of kiss that felt inevitable, like the next logical step in a perfect night in.

The debrief wrapped with Steve’s trademark mix of stern professionalism and sweet encouragement. “Good work out there,” he said, setting the file down like it hadn’t just survived three explosions and a questionable landing courtesy of Peter. “Take the night off. Dinner’s on me.”

A chorus of cheers and applause rippled around the conference table. Chairs scraped back, jackets were shrugged on. The post-mission buzz was alive and well in the collective joy of finally getting to sit somewhere that wasn’t a Quinjet.

You stretched, rolling a knot out of your shoulder as Bucky fell into step beside you. His hand brushed the small of your back for half a second.

“Dinner?” Natasha asked, leaning against the table with the confidence of a woman who already knew everyone would say yes. “Pizza? Burgers? Anything that involves carbs and regret?”

“Carbs are a therapeutic necessity,” Steve said dryly.

“Carbs keep me sane,” Kate added, slinging her bow case over one shoulder. “I vote for pizza.”

“Seconded,” Peter said, already halfway to his phone, texting Joaquín. “I’ll find somewhere with those giant garlic knots.”

The group hummed with agreement, overlapping suggestions flying. Ava and John debated deep-dish pizza versus thin-crust pizza with the seriousness of a nuclear treaty. Yelena quietly pilfered the last of the conference room snacks, unwrapping a protein bar like it had wronged her.

Sam’s eyes flicked to Bucky and then to you, a grin tugging at his mouth. “Buck, you bringing your girlfriend or what?”

Yelena snorted so loudly it should have counted as a war crime. “Ha. Good one.”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

Bucky’s frown was immediate and sharp. “Why is that funny?”

Your laugh came out higher than intended. “Oh, uh… I think she meant—”

“Meant what?” Bucky asked, still frowning. “Why would that be a joke?”

Across the table, Steve froze mid-water bottle sip. Ava’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Because it is funny,” Yelena said, pointing to you with a grin. “She is not his girlfriend.”

Sam looked suddenly, violently confused. “But… she is Bucky’s girlfriend?” He turned to you for confirmation. “Aren’t you?”

Your heart jumped. “No,” you exclaimed, while Bucky declared, “Yes.”

A silence followed so heavy you could practically hear your heart drop to your stomach.

“Interesting,” Natasha said, stealing Yelena’s protein bar with the calm of a woman watching a soap opera unfold in real time. “Please, continue.”

Bob’s eyes ping-ponged between you and Bucky like he was watching the world’s most stressful tennis match. “Um. Did we miss something?”

“We’re—” you started.

“We’re dating,” Bucky said, voice firm, like he was reciting mission intel.

You gaped at him. “We are not dating.”

Ava arched one perfect brow. “This is going to be good.”

Bucky turned to you, confusion etched deep. “What do you mean we’re not? We’ve been—” He broke off, gesturing vaguely with both hands, as though the universal sign for making out on couches would help.

Your face went hot. “That’s not dating, that’s us letting out some steam once in a while. Friends with very occasional, very PG-13 benefits!”

Sam’s mouth dropped open. “Occasional? You two are attached at the hip. You leave missions together. You do grocery runs together. Bucky refers to the both of you as a ‘we’ like he can’t bear to do anything alone. I thought that was relationship-level stuff.”

“That’s just… logistics!” you protested, which sounded weak even to you.

Kate leaned forward, delighted. “Okay, but the movie nights?”

“Friends have movie nights,” you said.

“With tongue?” Yelena asked flatly.

You flailed. “Sometimes!”

Bucky stared at you, blue eyes wide and wounded. “You thought this was friends with benefits?”

Your stomach twisted. “You thought we were in a relationship?”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face, muttering, “Unbelievable.” 

John was trying not to laugh and failing spectacularly. Natasha wore an expression that suggested she was mentally drafting a memo about emotional communication for the next team briefing.

“Wow,” Ava said, grinning. “This is like watching two different movies at the same time.”

“Alternate universes,” Peter murmured. “One where Bucky’s a committed boyfriend. One where he’s a very dedicated situationship.”

“Okay,” you said, holding up your hands before the word situationship could set the room on fire. “Let’s all just take a breath.”

Bucky’s jaw flexed. “I asked you to be exclusive.”

Your brain replayed the sentence like a faulty recording. “When?”

“That night after we got Chinese food,” he said, voice rising slightly. “I said, ‘I don’t want to share you.’”

You stared. “I thought you were talking to the spring rolls!”

Sam made a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Bob buried his face in his hoodie to avoid second-hand embarrassment. Natasha bit into Yelena’s protein bar as if it were popcorn and she was at the cinema.

Bucky dragged a hand down his face. “I meant you. And then I asked if we were official, and you said something about being happy to do business with me.”

“Oh.” Your voice squeaked on the single syllable. “That… does clarify things.”

Steve, who had been silently observing like a patient kindergarten teacher, finally cleared his throat. “Maybe the two of you should talk privately.”

“Great idea,” Kate said brightly. “Before Sam combusts.”

“I’m fine,” Sam said, clearly not fine.

The room erupted into overlapping chatter—Sam defending his assumption, Yelena narrating every awkward beat, Peter mumbling something about how communication is key. Through it all, Bucky kept his eyes on you, a mix of hurt and hope twisting behind the blue.

You swallowed hard, heart pounding like it was trying to hammer out a coherent sentence.

So much for perfectly normal friend behaviour.

“Okay,” you said finally, meeting his gaze. “Maybe we do need to talk.”

Bucky nodded once, slow but certain, like a man accepting a mission. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “We do.”

Steve and Natasha began shepherding everyone out of the conference room. When the door clicked shut behind them, the room felt too silent all of a sudden. The scent of burnt coffee and adrenaline clung to the air, a reminder that superhero drama apparently came with office-breakroom ambience.

The rest of the team’s laughter echoed faintly down the hall.

Bucky stood near the table, arms crossed but not in a threatening way. More like he was trying to keep all his pieces inside. Your stomach did a neat little backflip.

“So,” you said, voice wobbling toward cheerful. “That was… fun. Nothing like a room full of superheroes arguing about your love life to keep a mission debrief lively.”

His mouth twitched. “Could’ve been worse. Sam could’ve made a powerpoint.”

You laughed—short, nervous. “He probably has one ready. Charts. Graphs. Pie slices of evidence.”

Silence settled again. Bucky uncrossed his arms, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, doll, I’m sorry. I should’ve— I don’t know. Made things clearer.”

You stepped closer, shaking your head. “No, I should’ve—”

But he ploughed on, words rushing. “I just thought— hell, I assumed. We do everything together. You stay over half the week, Alpine’s basically picked you as her human. I figured you were happy to take things slow for me, but then I assumed we made things official. And tonight—” His voice cracked. “I feel like an idiot. Like I set myself up for this.”

“Bucky—”

“I should’ve said something. I should’ve asked. Instead I’m standing there like a chump while half the team thinks I’m your boyfriend and the other half thinks I’m delusional—”

“Hey!” You caught his sleeve before he could spiral farther. The fabric was warm from his skin; the metal of his arm cold through the seam. The contrast shot straight to your heartbeat, a reminder of how many contradictions made him Bucky. “Bucky, stop. This isn’t a one-sided screw-up, okay? We both failed at communicating what we thought we were.”

Bucky finally looked at you, eyes stormy and searching.

You took a breath, steadying the racing pulse in your throat. “I didn’t think we were dating because we never said we were. But that’s on me too. I never asked, never clarified. I just liked what we had and didn’t want to scare you off.”

His shoulders eased a fraction. “You liked what we had?”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “Obviously. Have you met you?”

That earned the tiniest smile.

“I like us,” you continued, softer now. “I like movie nights and bad diner coffee and the way you always walk on the street side. I like how easy it is to talk to you, even when you’re grumpy and pretending not to care. And yeah, maybe I wanted more, but I didn’t want to risk losing the friendship that’s basically my favorite thing in the world.”

Bucky’s gaze flicked down, then back up. His voice came out low, careful. “You’re my favourite thing too.”

Your chest squeezed in equal parts terror and relief. Apparently, your ribcage had decided to moonlight as a vice. “So maybe we stop assuming and actually start communicating.”

He stepped closer until the air between you warmed. “Communicating,” he echoed. “Like, I want to be your boyfriend. Present tense. Clear as day.”

You grinned, heart hammering. “Exactly like that. Because I want to be your girlfriend. Also present tense, clear as day.”

The grin softened into something else as Bucky reached up, fingertips brushing your cheek like a question. You answered by leaning in, closing the space. His lips met yours in a slow, careful press, the kind of kiss that asked for trust instead of taking it. 

His hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, steady and warm, the faint scrape of calloused skin sending a quiet thrill through you. You angled closer, a subtle pull that left you swaying toward him until your chest met the solid line of his. 

His thumb traced a small circle against your jaw, patient and deliberate, like he wanted every second to count.

When you pulled back, breathless and a little dizzy, Bucky rested his forehead against yours. His eyes stayed half-lidded, the corners soft with something that made your stomach flip all over again. “Worth the public humiliation,” he murmured.

The door banged open.

“Please tell me I’m not interrupting more feelings,” Tony said, strolling in with a tablet. “Steve just told me you—” he pointed at you “—thought you weren’t dating the Hot Topic Terminator over here. Congratulations, you are officially the least perceptive spy I’ve ever met.”

You groaned. Bucky chuckled against your hair.

Tony smirked, already tapping on his tablet. “Great. Now that the sitcom subplot is resolved, can we schedule the next mission?”

You buried your face in Bucky’s chest, laughing despite yourself.

[anotheranonymousfanwhore]

This is how the miscommunication trope should be done every single time. Perfect. No notes. Top tier.

[wandererling]

welcome back

summary after a two week long mission, Bucky is determined to show you how much he missed you

pairing bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count 2.7k

warnings (+18) smut!! (p in v, fingering, riding, unprotected sex), nicknames, mentions of cuts and bruises.

a/n i wonder what you guys will think about this :>

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Bucky had just come home from a 2 week mission and after kissing you passionately for ”only a few minutes” you had finally convinced him to take a shower.

While you were heating some food, Bucky stepped out of the bathroom, freshly washed, and wrapped in nothing but a towel around his defined waist. His body was covered in a few new cuts and bruises, proof of his recent mission, but none of them too deep.

He walked into the kitchen, his bare feet padding softly against the floor as he approached you, still drying his damp hair with another towel.

“Something smells amazing.” Bucky remarked, his mouth watering at the familiar scent of homemade food.

“And someone looks amazing.” You wink at him playfully.

Bucky let out a soft laugh, his lips curving into a smug smirk at your flirty comment. The sight of you checking him out never failed to make his chest puff out a little with pride. He leaned against the counter next to you, his toned biceps flexing as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Oh, yeah? You like what you see, baby?” He teased, raising an eyebrow at you with a playful twinkle in his deep blue eyes. He was clearly craving your attention after being away for so long.

His hand wrapped around your waist to tug you in between his legs, making you stand flush against his towel-clad body. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued to speak in a low, seductive tone.

“You know, the shower is still warm. We could always save the food for later…”He suggested, his hands slowly trailing up under your shirt, his fingers tracing over the exposed skin of your hips.

“I thought you were starving, sarge.” You tease.

Bucky’s eyes darkened as he felt your skin beneath his fingers, his grip on your hips tightening just slightly as he let out a low, guttural hum. He was indeed famished, but not just for food. The sight of you in front of him, looking so enticing and captivating, was making his hunger for something else flare up tenfold.

“Oh, I am... But there's something else I'm even more hungry for right now.” Bucky purred, his lips brushing against your neck now, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your shoulder.

You chuckle under his touch and the sound of your soft laughter only stirred his desire even more, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he continued to lavish your neck with kisses. One of his hands moved around to the small of your back, pulling your body even closer against his, his growing arousal blatantly obvious against your hip. He nipped the sensitive skin of your shoulder, his voice coming out in a heated whisper.

“You have no idea how much I ached for you while I was gone.” He grumbles against your skin.

“Mm, Buck,” You moan his name desperately.

Bucky’s grip on you tightened in response to your soft moan, his body pressing up against yours as he continued to lavish affection on your neck and bare shoulders. Hearing his name fall from your lips in such a way drove him crazy with want and need. He gently started to move you backwards, slowly, until your back was pressed against the counter and his body was trapping you there.

“God, baby, I want you so bad. I need you…”

He murmured hoarsely, his hands continuing to roam over your body, hungry and impatient.

His lips found yours in a searing kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth to taste you in a hot, demanding way. There was an urgency to his actions, a desperate need to feel you, touch you, claim you after being deprived of your presence for two long, torturous weeks.

“I missed you... I missed this.. missed us.”

Bucky gasped against you, his body now fully pressed against yours as he pinned you against the counter, his hands sliding further under your shirt, seeking out bare skin to touch.

“I missed you too, Bucky. So much,” You breathe out between kisses.

His hands quickly moved to your pants, his fingers swiftly undoing the buttons and zipper before they were being pushed down your legs, joining your shirt on the floor, leaving you in just your underwear. Bucky’s mouth latched onto your neck again, his hands sliding down to your thighs to pull you up onto the counter, spreading your legs to make room for him to step between them.

“You drive me wild, baby. Always have.”

He growled into your skin, his hands sliding up to grip your waist possessively.

His hands continued their explorative journey over your body, running up your sides to your chest. Bucky’s fingers lightly brushed over your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra before they moved higher, reaching up to the clasp at the back.

“I missed my girl too much. Need to see all of you.”

He murmured huskily, his dark blue eyes watching as he unhooked your bra, sliding the straps down your shoulders to free your breasts from their confines.

His hands immediately moved to cup your now bared breasts, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples to feel them harden under his touch.

“Christ, you're perfect.”

He groaned, his head dipping down to replace one of his hands with his tongue, his mouth closing around a hardened bud to suck and lave at it hungrily. His hands moved to grip your hips, holding you firmly in place on the counter while his other hand continued to assault your breast, his fingers pinching and rolling the nipple it wasn't currently attending to.

“Bucky, please.” You beg.

His mouth left your breast with a loud, wet pop, his lips moving to leave a trail of hot kisses up your neck.

“I know baby, I know. I need you too.”

He husked out against your skin, his fingers finally finding the edge of your panties. His hands slid around to grip your ass, tugging them down your legs roughly as he continued to cover your neck in affectionate kisses.

“Always need you. Every single day.”

His fingers trailed up your inner thigh, lightly dancing over your wet heat Bucky giving you the proper contact you needed. Bucky teased you with a smug smirk, loving how impatient you were getting.

“Oh, you're so wet.”

He murmured, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your neck as his fingers continued to explore just outside your folds.

“Sweet girl, always ready for me.”

“Only for you” You moan out.

Bucky’s fingers continued to trace along your slit, feeling how dripping you were for him. He let out a low moan against your skin, his teeth scraping gently along your shoulder.

His fingers finally slid up to circle your clit, his touch light and teasing. His touch was infuriatingly gentle, just the barest whisper of a caress against your clit. Bucky seemed to enjoy tormenting you with his slow, light movements, his fingers making lazy circles around your clit without putting the pressure you desperately needed.

“Please.” You moaned, your hands reaching up to clutch at his broad shoulders.

Bucky’s eyes darkened at your needy plea, a shiver running down his spine when your nails sank into his skin. He loved when you marked him, claimed him just like he did with you.

“Please what, baby?”

He murmured huskily, his fingers still moving torturously lightly against your clit, his teeth grazing over your shoulder again.

His touch remained just as light, seemingly unhurried and unaffected as your frustrated hips tried to buck into his fingers. His hand in your hair kept you from pressing forward, forcing you to stay still on the counter.

“You have to ask, baby. Tell me what you want.”

He murmured against your neck, his fingers finally beginning to move a little bit faster, his touch still too light to bring you any real relief.

“I want you,”

Bucky grinned against your neck at your response, his own growing increasingly short on patience. He liked the needy, desperate side of you, but he was getting to the point where he needed you more than he craved your want.

“You're so sweet, baby.” He murmured, his hand slowly easing back from your neck to slide down your back. His fingers moved to grip your thighs, spreading them even wider apart as he pulled your body closer to the edge of the counter.

“But I want to hear you say it. Say it, honey. Tell me what you want from me,” He growled.

“I need you inside me, Bucky.”

A low, satisfied rumble emanated from deep in Bucky’s chest at your explicit words, his fingers tightening their grip on your thighs.

“Yeah? That's what you want, baby?”

His voice was rough, a stark contrast to the soft, sweet words he was saying. Without warning, one of his hands slid under your ass to lift you up, making you squeak in surprise as he took you off the counter entirely.

Bucky carried you like you weighed nothing, his eyes never leaving your face as he walked the few steps it took to reach the couch. He sat down on it, settling your body onto his lap, facing him. His arms snaked firmly around your waist to keep you still, your knees resting on either side of his hips.

“Ride me.”

He commanded lowly and as you looked at him surprised, his hands started to guide you to grind down against the hard bulge hidden beneath his towel.

His hands gripped your hips, holding you still when you tried to move on your own, your desperation to feel him inside growing more and more. Bucky’s fingers dug into your skin possessively, his hands directing your movements with a roughness that made it clear he was the one in control.

“Like this, baby.”

He murmured, his voice thick with need as he helped you grind down against his length, the only barrier between you and him being the thin fabric of his towel.

He tosses the towel aside and you moan in shock. He continued to hold your hips firmly, not allowing you to do anything more than grind against his stiff cock.

“God, you're so beautiful.” He growled, his hands guiding your movements rougher now, his fingers leaving marks on your skin as he lifted you up just slightly.

You let out a loud moan as you slid down onto his cock, his grip on your hips tightening almost to the point of bruising. His jaw clenched as he fought the urge to buck up into you, his hands holding you still as he let you adjust.

”Fuck, baby.”He moaned, his head tilting back before he looked back up at you with hooded eyes.

His arms remained locked around your waist, not allowing you to move just yet. Bucky lifted his hips slightly, just enough to start pressing even deeper into you, the feeling almost maddening.

“Feel so good, baby. You are doing so good for me.”He murmured huskily, his hands starting to guide you up and down his length, setting a torturously slow pace that left you desperately wanting more. You roll your hips, letting his cock explore your warmth. Bucky moaned deep in his chest at the roll of your hips, his hands tightening on your waist in response. The pace he had set up until now was slow, almost unbearably so, but his self-control was quickly starting to fray.

“So beautiful.” He rasped, his head falling against the back of the couch as you continued to rock against him.

Bucky’s hands tightened on your waist almost to the point of pain, his grip on you becoming a vise as you started to ride him more desperately. His head stayed tilted back against the couch, his neck bared and exposed as he moaned deeply with each bounce of your hips.

“Fuck, just like that.”

He groaned out, his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving marks in their wake.

“Bucky” You breathe out while jumping and Bucky growls in response.

The pace you set was hard and fast, each downward movement making the pleasure inside you build. Bucky’s hands moved up your body, skimming down your back before they reached your shoulders, his fingers digging into the meat there and using the leverage to help lift you up before slamming you back down onto him again.

“So good... so good…”

He moaned out, his fingers sure to leave deep, finger-shaped bruises on your shoulders at the force of his grip.

His hips rose up to meet your movements eagerly, not attempting to slow down the rapid pace you had set. Bucky’s mouth was open in a silent gasp as he panted with exertion, each slamdown of your hips making his breath hitch.

"Oh... oh, baby."He moaned, his face turning to press his sweat-damp forehead against your neck. One hand slid up into your hair, fingers tangling in the strands.

“Buck” You moan his name again and keep repeating it like a prayer.

Bucky moaned again, a low rumble in his chest at the sound of you moaning his name again and again. His mouth continued its assault on your neck, alternating between sucking hickeys into your skin and muttering praises against it.

“Yeah, just like that. Love hearing my name, baby. Say it louder.”

His hips rose up to meet yours in an increasingly frenzied pace, the hand still gripping your waist helping to slam you down onto him. You keep repeating his name like a moaning mess as he fucks you in his lap.

“I am so close,” You manage to breathe out.

Bucky moaned at your confession, his arms sliding back around your waist to hold you tighter against him as his hips snapped up to meet your movements.

“Me too, baby. So close.”

He groaned out, his hands gripping your hips possessively, his fingers leaving more marks on your skin as he helped you speed up your pace.

His rhythm became harder and more erratic as you started to chase your release, his fingers bruising your flesh as he drove himself up into you.

“Come on, peach. Come for me.”

He gasped out, his mouth finding your neck again, his teeth sinking into your skin as he left more marks there.

“Bucky” You moan out as you come.

Bucky moaned deeply against your neck as he felt you clenching around him, your climax pushing him to the edge.

”That's it, sweetheart”

He gasped out, his hands moving back up to tangle in your hair, his face pressed into your neck as his hips suddenly stuttered and he found his release.

“Oh... oh, oh god.”

He moaned as his climax coursed through him, his forehead pressing hard against your neck.

His grip on you remained tight as he spent himself inside you, his body shuddering and gasping with each wave of his release. He let out a shaky breath before lifting his head to look up at you, sweat covering both of your bodies and causing some of your hair to stick to your forehead.

”(y/n)…” He panted out, his hands still holding you tightly against him, almost unwilling to let you go yet.

“I missed you so much,” You say, mind still hazy from your recent climax.

Bucky’s chest was still heaving with uneven breaths, but he managed a small, breathless chuckle at your words, his hand lifting to brush some of the sweat-damp hair away from your forehead.

“Missed you more, baby.” He murmured huskily, his other hand rubbing soft, absentminded circles into your hip.

He took a moment longer to catch his breath before his hands started to roam your body again, his fingers skimming down your spine and running over your ass.

“Jesus... you really know how to welcome someone home.” He said with a small smirk, still a little breathless from the earlier exertion. His hands continued to explore your body, as if he couldn't get enough of you now that he had you back in his grasp.

You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

“Welcome back home, Bucky.”

[peachpitfics]

Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding.  In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

 Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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