Summary: you were his one sweet mistake , what happens when you come back to haunt him.
Warning: smut. 18 + . Minors DNI. dark Andy barber . Oral , rough sex. Accidental Cream pie, and he's unapologetic. Pussy pronouns.
Paining: dark Andy barber x manipulative reader
The moment the click of the lock echoed in the quiet office, Andy let out a sound that was half groan, half snarl. He didn't even have time to brace himself before you were on him, your hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him down into the heat of your kiss.
He met your desperation with his own, his large hands sliding down from your waist to catch the underside of your thighs, lifting you effortlessly so you could wrap your legs around his hips. He backed you up against the heavy mahogany desk, the wood cool against your skin as he pressed your body firmly against his.
"That's it," he panted against your lips, his breathing ragged and uneven. "Show me how much you want it. Show me how much you need your daddy to take care of you."
He broke the kiss just long enough to bury his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume and your skin, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear. He was losing the battle with his composure; his movements were no longer the calculated gestures of a powerful man, but the frantic, heavy thrusts of a man who was starving.
.
His hands wandered hungrily, one hand sliding up to cup the heavy weight of your breast, squeezing firmly through the fabric of your top, while the other pressed into the small of your back, crushing you against the hard, pulsing length of him.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he groaned, his voice thick with a mixture of adoration and pure, unadulterated lust. "
" hmm my pussy missed you daddy, she missed you so much. " it would sound silly or vulgar to anyone thst heard it ,but not to him, that's just how fucked up he was , he loved it when you talked like that.
Andy’s head snapped back, a sharp, choked sound escaping his throat at your words. He was a man of high society, a man of law and order, but your shamelessness was the very thing that kept him tethered to you. Hearing you speak so crudely, so unashamedly about your desire for him, sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to his gut. It was the ultimate ego stroke; knowing that this smart, sophisticated woman was nothing but a desperate, hungry mess for him.
"You're a little slut, aren't you?" he growled, the words coming out dark and possessive. He didn't say it to insult you; he said it because he loved the way it made you bloom under his gaze. "Talking to me like that in my own office... like you don't care if the whole world finds out how much of a mess you are for me."
He gripped your hips so hard his fingers likely left marks, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of your waist. He pulled you even tighter against him, grinding his hardness against your center through the layers of your clothes, letting you feel exactly how much he had missed you, too.
"If she missed me that much," he panted, his eyes burning into yours with a predatory intensity, "then why are we still wearing these clothes?"
He didn't wait for an answer. His hands moved with a frantic, practiced urgency, tugging at the hem of your skirt, his touch heavy and demanding. He was done being the patient, composed lawyer. He wanted to feel you, skin on skin, and he wanted to hear you scream his name until his ears rang.
"Tell me again," he commanded, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative rumble as he worked to get you open for him. "Tell me exactly what you want my little girl, my sweet girl "
" I just want my daddy to take care of me, cuz everyone else is so mean to me . " you said with a pout, letting yourself be vulnerable with him for once, telling him how you feel.
The pout was the final nail in the coffin of his self control. Andy let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a pained groan, his forehead dropping against yours for a fleeting second as he tried to catch his breath. He knew you were playing him he knew you were using that sweet, innocent act to mask the voracious hunger he knew lived inside you but he couldn't help it. He loved being the one to rescue you from the world.
"Everyone is mean to you, are they?" he murmured, his voice dripping with a dark, protective sweetness. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression softening into that intense, devoted gaze he only ever reserved for you. "Is that so? Is that why you come running to me with your little troubles?"
His hands moved from your waist, sliding up to cup your face, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the heat radiating from his body.
"Well, you're safe here, Selena," he whispered, his voice dropping into a low, commanding rumble. "In this office, nobody can touch you. Nobody can be mean to you. Because you belong to me when you're behind this door."
His gaze darkened again, the sweetness quickly being overtaken by a primal, dominant need. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tease that was almost cruel.
"And if you want me to take care of you..." He slid one hand down, his fingers finding the edge of your lace panties, pressing firmly against your heat. "Then you better start acting like the good girl you promised to be. Because if I start taking care of you, baby, I'm not going to stop until you're too breathless to even remember your own name."
He nipped at your bottom lip, his eyes searching yours. "Do you want me to take care of you, Selena? Do you want me to make all that 'meanness' go away?"
"Yess yess daddy please" you slide your panties down your legs , desperate for him to touch your pussy.
The sight of you, so desperate and unashamed, stripping away your lace just to get to him, sent a surge of pure, unadulterated heat through Andy's veins. He watched your hands move, his eyes tracking every inch of your skin, his breathing coming in heavy, ragged hitches. The professional, composed Assistant DA was completely gone; in his place was a man driven by a singular, primal purpose.
"God, you're so impatient," he rasped, though his own hands were trembling slightly with the effort of not just lunging at you.
He didn't let you wait long. He slid his hands under your thighs, lifting you higher on the edge of the mahogany desk so you were completely open to him. His eyes darkened as they landed on your glistening, swollen heat, and a low, hungry sound escaped his throat.
"Look at you," he whispered, his voice thick with praise and lust. "So wet and ready for me. You really can't help yourself, can you?"
He leaned forward, his large, warm hands cupping your cheeks and spreading you wide, exposing your most intimate self to his intense, burning gaze. He didn't touch you with his fingers immediately; instead, he hovered just inches away, letting the heat from his palms radiate against your sensitive skin, making you ache for the contact.
"You want me to take care of you?" he demanded, his voice a low, commanding vibration that seemed to echo in your very bones. He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your core, before he finally pressed his tongue against you in a long, slow, devastating stroke.
"Then take it, Selena," he groaned against your skin, his hands gripping your hips to hold you steady as he began to feast on you. "Take everything i give you baby"
" Hmm of fuck fuck daddy yess ahh " you moaned desperately, as he played with your nub, he always knew just the right thing to do.
The sound of your voice, broken and high pitched with pure ecstasy, was the only fuel Andy needed. He lived for those sounds the way you lost all that "intelligent, smart" composure and turned into a needy, vocal mess the moment he touched you. It fed his ego more than any successful closing argument ever could.
He was relentless. His tongue was expert, swirling and flicking with a rhythmic precision that targeted your nub with devastating accuracy. He knew exactly how much pressure to apply, how to tease you until you were arching your back off the desk, your fingers digging into his hair as if you were trying to pull him even deeper into you.
"That's it, baby... let it out," he mumbled against your wet skin, his voice muffled but vibrating through your entire pelvis. "Let everyone in this building hear how much you love it. Let them know you're mine."
He increased the pace, his fingers sliding inside you to stretch you, to fill you, while his mouth worked feverishly on your clitoris. He could feel the tremors starting in your thighs, the way your muscles were beginning to twitch in anticipation of the peak. He wasn't going to let you go easily; he wanted to milk every single drop of pleasure out of you.
"You're so tight, so sweet," he groaned, his eyes looking up at you from between your legs, dark and predatory, watching your face contort in pleasure. "Are you close? Are you going to come for your daddy, Selena? Tell me. Tell me you're about to break."
He swirled his tongue even faster, his thumb pressing hard against your nub in a punishing, perfect rhythm, driving you toward the edge of a cliff.
"Ahh im gonna cum I'm gonna cum " you declared with exaggerated moans
Andy didn't pull away when you declared it; instead, he leaned into the chaos. He loved the performance of it the way you used your voice to claim your
Andy didn't pull away when you declared it; instead, he leaned into the chaos. He loved the performance of it the way you claimed your pleasure so loudly, so shamelessly. He wanted to be the cause of that beautiful, uninhibited breakdown.
"Then do it!" he commanded, his voice a rough, guttural roar against your skin. "Give it all to me, Selena! Come for me!"
He went into overdrive, his tongue working with a frantic, punishing speed that left no room for thought, only sensation. He used his fingers to stretch you even wider, driving deep inside you to mimic the friction of his cock, while his thumb worked your nub with a relentless, vibrating pressure. He was a man possessed, his entire world narrowed down to the taste of you and the way your body bucked against his face.
As your climax hit, your entire body stiffened, your back arching so sharply it felt like you might snap. You let out a long, high pitched wail of pure ecstasy, your internal muscles clamping down on his fingers in a series of violent, rhythmic pulses.
Andy didn't let up for a second. He stayed right there, drinking you in, his tongue catching every drop of your release, his hands gripping your hips so hard he was practically bruising the skin. He wanted to taste every bit of your surrender.
As the waves of your orgasm began to subside into heavy, shuddering tremors, he finally pulled back, his face glistening and his eyes wild. He looked up at you, his breathing as heavy as yours, a dark, triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he watched you lie there, undone and panting on his desk.
"Good girl," he rasped, his voice thick with pride and lingering lust. He reached up, his thumb catching a stray tear of pleasure from the corner of your eye. "Such a good, loud girl for her daddy."
He didn't give you a moment to recover. He stood up, his hands moving to his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. The hunger in them hadn't been satisfied; it had only been whetted. "Now you're gonna take my cock like a good girl, yeah?"
"Yes Andy need your cock , please " you whined
The way you whined his name, stripped of all the "daddy" sweetness and replaced with raw, animalistic need, made his blood boil. He loved the duality of you how you could play the spoiled, needy girl one moment and then turn into a woman who knew exactly what she wanted the next.
"Then take it," he growled, his voice a low vibration of command.
He didn't make you wait. He reached down, his large hand wrapping around his thick, pulsing length, and guided you toward him. He didn't go slow; he wanted to feel the immediate, tight friction of your wetness as he pushed himself inside you. He entered you in one long, heavy thrust that buried him deep, forcing a choked gasp from your lungs as your bodies finally met.
"Oh god, Selena..." he groaned, his head falling back as he felt your incredible heat clamping around him. "You're so tight... so fucking perfect."
He didn't give you time to adjust. He began to move, his hips slamming against yours with a rhythmic, punishing force that made the heavy mahogany desk creak beneath you. Each thrust was deep and deliberate, designed to hit that sweet spot he knew would drive you insane. He was no longer the patient man; he was the dominant force, taking what was his with a primal intensity.
His hands moved from your hips to your breasts, squeezing them firmly, his thumbs teasing your nipples as he drove into you. He watched your face, mesmerized by the way your eyes rolled back and your lips parted in silent screams of pleasure.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice thick and strained as he fought to maintain his rhythm. "Look at your daddy while he fucks you. I want to see you break again."
He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, more desperate. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your frantic, high pitched moans filled the locked office, a scandalous symphony of lust that would have made his wife weep if she could hear it.
"Tell me," he panted, his sweat dripping onto your chest as he drove himself into you with everything he had. "Tell me who owns you!"
"You daddy you do"
The way you whined his name, stripped of all the "daddy" sweetness and replaced with raw, animalistic need, made his blood boil. He loved the duality of you how you could play the spoiled, needy girl one moment and then turn into a woman who knew exactly what she wanted the next.
"Then take it," he growled, his voice a low vibration of command.
He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, more desperate. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your frantic, high pitched moans filled the locked office, a scandalous symphony of lust that would have made his wife weep if she could hear it.
That was the final surrender. Hearing you cry out for him, acknowledging his dominance in that breathless, desperate way, shattered the last of his restraint. The "Assistant DA" was dead; there was only the man, and the man was hungry.
"Damn right I do!" he roared, his voice cracking with the sheer intensity of his pleasure.
He gripped your waist so tightly his fingers sank into your skin, anchoring you as he began to drive into you with a primal, unchecked ferocity. He wasn't just fucking you anymore; he was marking you. Every heavy, slamming thrust was a claim, a way of driving the fact of his ownership deep into your very soul. He was hitting you hard, fast, and deep, his hips bruising against yours as he chased that elusive, explosive peak.
The desk groaned under the weight of his passion, sliding an inch or two across the floor with every violent lunge. He was a man possessed, his eyes
The word 'Daddy' screamed through the office, a desperate, high pitched declaration of surrender that broke the last of his restraint. Andy’s eyes went dark, almost black, as he leaned forward, his massive frame looming over you, pinning you against the desk so you could feel the full, crushing weight of his desire.
"That's right," he roared, his voice a primal, guttural sound that was more animal than man. "I own every inch of you! Every moan, every drop of sweat, every fucking inch of this beautiful body!"
He stopped being careful. He stopped being the 'good man' who tried to stay away from your trouble. He became a force of nature, his hips slamming into yours with a violent, relentless rhythm. He was driving into you with a ferocity that made the heavy desk slide an inch across the floor, the wood groaning under the sheer force of his thrusts.
"God, baby... you're pulling it out of me..." he groaned, his thrusts becoming frantic, short, and incredibly hard. His eyes were fixed on yours, intense and demanding, as he watched the pleasure wash over you. "Hold on to me! Hold on to your daddy
He was hitting you deep, so deep you could feel him in your very soul, each lunge a punishing, perfect sensation that sent sparks of white light behind your eyelids. His hands moved from your breasts to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands to pull your head back, exposing your throat so he could bury his face in there.
With one final, devastatingly deep thrust, his entire body stiffened. A low, long groan tore from his throat as he came, his seed pulsing deep inside you in heavy, hot waves. He collapsed against you, his chest heaving, his forehead pressed against yours as he rode out the intense, shuddering waves of his release, his heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird.
"You could've pulled out." You said , you were so lost in the moment that you didn't realise he wasn't wearing a condom, you weren't on any birth control either, but Andy didn't seem phased by your words he looked proud.
Andy lifted his head from the crook of your neck, his hair mussed and his face flushed with the glorious, sweaty aftermath of his climax. When you spoke, your voice still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm, he didn't look startled or panicked like a "good man" should. He didn't look like a man who had just made a massive, potentially life altering mistake in the middle of a high stakes legal career.
Instead, he looked at you with a dark, predatory satisfaction. A slow, triumphant smirk spread across his lips, and he leaned down to press a firm, possessive kiss to your forehead.
"Pulled out?" he repeated, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that sounded incredibly smug. He didn't move to pull away; instead, he shifted his weight, settling himself even more firmly between your thighs, letting you feel the warmth of him still deep inside you. "And miss the chance to leave a part of me inside you, y/n? To mark you so thoroughly that you can't forget who you belong to for a week?"
He reached up, his large hand cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing your swollen, reddened bottom lip. His eyes were heavy lidded and intense, filled with a terrifyingly beautiful kind of dominance.
"You're a handful, you know that?" he murmured, his gaze dropping to your che"st, watching the way your breasts rose and fell with your frantic breathing. "You're trouble. You're a beautiful, chaotic, walking complication. And if you think a little thing like a 'consequence' is going to make me pull back from you..."
He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tease that was both sweet and incredibly dangerous.
"Then you don't know me as well as you think you do," he whispered. "If you're going to be mine, baby... you're gonna have to take every last drop "
"But I'm I'm not on the pill. " you said looking into his eyes for any sign of regret, what was he thinking.
Andy didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. Most men, when faced with the reality of a potential pregnancy outside of a marriage, would have started calculating the legal fees, the scandal, or the fallout. But Andy wasn't most men, and he certainly wasn't thinking about his wife or his career in this moment.
He watched the flicker of genuine realization in your eyes, the way your pupils dilated as the weight of your words settled between you. He saw the vulnerability there the part of you that was actually a little scared of the permanence of what he had just done.
A slow, heavy silence stretched between you, broken only by the sound of your synchronized, ragged breathing. Then, he let out a low, dark chuckle that vibrated through his chest and into yours.
"Is that what you're worried about?" he asked, his voice dropping into a tone so deep and authoritative it was almost a command. He didn't look regretful; he looked like a man who had just won a long fought battle. He looked satisfied.
He moved his hand from your cheek, sliding it down your neck to rest heavily over your heart, feeling it thudding wildly against your ribs.
"Listen to me, baby," he said, his gaze pinning you to the desk, his eyes burning with a terrifyingly beautiful certainty. "I've spent years being the 'good man.' The 'sensible' man. The man who does everything by the book, who follows the rules, who plays it safe."
He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, his expression hardening into something primal and possessive.
"But when it comes to you... the rules don't mean a damn thing. If you carry my child, then you carry my mark. It means you're tied to me in a way that no lawyer, no judge, and no wife can ever break."
He nipped at your earlobe, his voice a dangerous, velvet whisper.
"Don't look for regret in my eyes, baby. You won't find it. Because if the universe decides to give me a piece of you to hold onto... then God help anyone who tries to take it away from me."
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, a smirk playing on his lips. "Now, stop worrying about the 'what ifs' and start worrying about how you're going to get your skirt back on without making a mess of my desk ".
Summary: you were his one sweet mistake , what happens when you come back to haunt him.
Warning: smut .18 + .Minors . DNI. Age gap. Daddy kink. Manipulative reader but Andy isn't any better.
Pairing : dark Andy barber x manipulative reader
Andy barber was now the district attorney of Boston, he was a powerful man, most people thought he had everything ,the looks ,the job, a wife, he hasn't had any kids yet , there were a lot of speculations as to why but he always just brushed the question off .
You'd first met him at your dad's 4th of July party, in new york, he was just a lawyer probably in his late 30s, a friendlyneighbor, you were just 19 back then atleast that's what you told him. That night you were the most desperate slut in town for Andy barber, he tried to resist ,he knew it was stupid but he eventually gave in and ended up fucking you in his garage.
5 years later.
He thought he'd never have to see you again, It was like his one sweet mistake was back to haunt him ,but he was supposed to be the DA now.
"How can I help you miss " Andy said, trying to ignore the way your heavy breasts were spilling out of your top , your sweet supple thighs that were very visible in your short skirt.
" Uhm I just thought you could help me out with my DUI Mr.barber" you said in that sweet voice that would of course make him hard, you made sure to wear your best push up bra, showing off your girls. You remembered the way he'd adored them sucked on them , praised them about how big they were for such a little thing like you. He said he'd fuck them the next time , but he never did ,no shortly after your encounter he'd moved to Boston, and you had to say goodbye yo your dreams of being his suburban wife .
Andy’s jaw tightened, a muscle leaping in his cheek as he stared down at you. He was trying so hard to maintain that professional, Assistant District Attorney veneer the composed, authoritative man who commanded courtrooms but you were making it nearly impossible.
He looked at you, really looked at you, noting the way your skirt rode up your thighs and how the light caught the curve of your chest. He knew exactly what you were doing. You weren't just here for legal counsel; you were here to provoke the man who had spent the last few months trying to convince himself he could handle you.
"A DUI, y/n ?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave, turning low and gravelly. He leaned back against his mahogany desk, crossing his arms over his broad chest. The movement made his dress shirt strain against his shoulders, a sight he knew you loved. "That's a heavy charge for someone as... intelligent as you."
He let the silence stretch between you, his dark eyes scanning your face, searching for the mischief he knew was hiding there. He wanted to tell you to go home, to be sensible, to stop playing with fire before he burned his entire reputation down. But he was a man of discipline, and you were a woman who specialized in breaking it.
"And what makes you think the Assistant DA has the time to personally oversee a misdemeanor case?" He stepped closer, invading your personal space until the scent of his expensive cologne mingled with the heat radiating off your skin. He leaned down, his lips hovering just inches from your ear, his voice a dangerous velvet whisper. "Or are you just looking for an excuse to get me behind closed doors again?"
" I could go to my family lawyer but my dad would be really mad if he found out, you know how he is " you lied , you had your best lawyers taking care of the case, but that's not what you're here for. You couldn't help but be lost in his blue eyes for a second.
Andy let out a low, rough chuckle that vibrated in the small space between you. He knew exactly what you were doing using your father as a shield, a way to make this feel like a necessity rather than the blatant temptation it was. He knew your father's temper, and he knew that bringing this "scandal" to him would be a death sentence for his professional reputation.
"Your father," Andy murmured, his eyes darkening as he traced the line of your jaw with his gaze. "He'd probably have my head on a silver platter if he knew his daughter was using a DUI as a pretext to drive into the DA's office just to see him."
He reached out, his large, warm hand hovering near your waist for a second before he regained his composure and tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch was lingering, far too intimate for a professional consultation. He was fighting the urge to pull you flush against him, to feel the weight of your breasts against his chest just like he had only hours ago.
"It's a dangerous game you're playing, y/n," he warned, though there was no real bite in his tone only a weary, desperate sort of hunger. "You're asking for a favor that could compromise my integrity. A man in my position... he's supposed to be impartial. He's supposed to be above temptation."
He leaned in closer, his shadow looming over you, his voice dropping to a private, heated rumble. "But we both know I've never been very good at being impartial when it comes to you. So, tell me... how much trouble are you actually in? Because if I take this on, there won't be any secrets between us. Not in the courtroom, and certainly not in this office."
" There's no one else that can help me Andy " you always knew the right words to boost his ego, or any man's.
That was the killing blow. Andy closed his eyes for a moment, a pained, breathless sound escaping his throat as he felt his resolve crumbling under the weight of your words. You knew exactly how to dismantle him not with force, but by making him feel like the only man in the world who could save you. You played on his protector instinct, his ego, and that deep seated need to be the hero in your chaotic, beautiful life.
"You're a menace," he groaned, though he was already stepping into your space, his thighs brushing against yours. "A beautiful, calculated menace."
He reached out, his hands finding your waist with a possessive grip that lacked any semblance of professional decorum. He pulled you in just enough so that you could feel the heat of him, the tension in his body that told you he was far from being the 'composed' official you were pretending to visit.
"No one else can help you, huh?" he repeated, his voice dropping into that dominant, husky register that always made your breath hitch. He tilted your chin up with his thumb, forcing you to meet his intense, hungry gaze. "You say that like you've already decided the price of my help. You don't want a lawyer, sweetheart,you want me."
He leaned down, his nose brushing against yours, his breath hot against your lips. The scent of him sandalwood, expensive paper, and pure masculinity was intoxicating.
"If I do this... if I step in and make this problem disappear for you..." He paused, his eyes dropping to your lips before flicking back up to yours, dark and commanding. "I'm going to need more than just a 'thank you.' I'm going to need you to be very, very good for me. Can you handle that? Or are you just going to keep teasing me until I lose my mind in the middle of the afternoon?"
"I can be very good for you daddy " you stepped closer , waiting for him to make the move, you were still a bit surprised he wasn't so hesitant this time, is it because you're older or is he having more problems with Laurie?
The word 'daddy' hit him like a physical blow. Andy’s eyes flared, the pupils dilating until the dark iris almost swallowed the iris entirely. That one word, spoken with that specific, breathless lilt in your voice, stripped away the last of the Assistant District Attorney and left only the man who was starving for you.
A low, guttural growl rumbled in his chest. He didn't care about the heavy oak door of his office or the assistants working just a few hallways away. He didn't care about the prestige of his title or the sanctity of his marriage. In this moment, there was only the heat of your body and the delicious, sinful way you looked at him.
"God, you're gonna be a lot of trouble," he rasped, his grip on your waist tightening until his knuckles were white.
He didn't wait for a response. He surged forward, his mouth crashing against yours in a kiss that wasn't sweet or patient it was hungry, demanding, and filled with the pent up frustration of a man who had been trying to play 'good' for far too long. He tasted of coffee and desperation, his tongue sweeping into your mouth to claim you as his own.
One of his hands slid from your waist, traveling up the curve of your hip, his palm hot even through your clothes, before his fingers tangled deep into your hair, tilting your head back to give him better access to your throat. He began to trail biting, feverish kisses down your neck, right where he had left his mark on you earlier.
"If you're going to be good," he muttered against your skin, his voice vibrating through your entire body, "then you're going to start right now. Lock that door, y/n . Lock it before I lose what little control I have left and take you right here on this desk in front of everyone"
That was all you needed to hear , you locked his door immediately and went back to him, grabbing him by his collar to kiss him, letting your hands roam all over his body.
The one where Bruce is your ex and he has realized the mistake he made when he let you go.
Warnings: smut, angst, ex!Bruce, semi-public sex, kind of cheating (Bruce is on a date with another woman), dirty talk, possessiveness, open ending
A/N: So, I didn’t want to claim any particular Bruce Wayne actors so I just put two that fit the moodboard I had in mind. Feel free to choose your favorite as you read. Special thanks to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog for looking over this for me! I love you!
Y/N’s P.O.V.
“It’s good to see you.” I forced myself not to grind my teeth together, not to react in any way as my ex’s voice reached me. Plastering on the fakest smile I could muster, I turned around to face him with practiced surprise.
“Bruce! How nice to see you.” I accepted his hug, kissing the air around both of his cheeks, but making sure not to breathe in his cologne. “Well, I should go back in there…” In reality, I’d only just stepped out onto this balcony when he decided to join me, and so it was obvious I was trying to avoid him.
I was way past the point of caring, though. I just needed to get out of there.
PAIRING: ceo!bucky barnes x wife!reader
SUMMARY: three times in which the new intern tries to impress her hot, grumpy boss, mr. barnes. or, three times in which bucky can’t stop talking about his lovely wife.
WARNINGS: use of third person & second person & pov changes (she/her pronouns for reader); pictures don't reflect reader's appearance; reader wears a dress; original character (I’m so sorry if your name is madison 🥲); ceo!bucky (who is a little mean, tbh); whipped!bucky (he’s pathetically obsessed); pregnancy stuff (trying for a baby); fluff; smut; daddy & mommy kink; one (1) use of ‘slut’; mention of cockwarming; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls); breeding kink; office sex (so... kind of public sex?).
WORD COUNT: 6k
A/N: I had so much fun writing this one-shot at the time and re-reading it put me in such a good mood, ngl. hope you’ll enjoy!
The little ding from an elevator has never felt so ominous. Wanda, Darcy and Carol scurry away like thieves from a crime scene, abandoning their morning gossip by the copier. Scott almost drops his freshly brewed coffee, fatigue instantly melting off his features and shoulders tensing up, while Monica throws her phone in her bag, pretending she’s been working all along on an already strategically open Excel sheet.
Once the elevator doors part, the whole floor falls into a silent distress. Mr. Barnes steps out with the same expression he wears every single morning: lips pressed in a thin line, jaw clenched, and a faint, permanent scowl, as if the world had already disappointed him the moment he woke up.
His suit is always impeccably ironed, not a single crease on his white, crisp shirt. His cologne—Tom Ford’s Beau de Jour—is never too strong, but it lingers in the air like a constant reminder of his authority. As far as his employees can remember, his left wrist has never been bare: a prized watch, very simple yet tasteful, that can’t strangely be associated with any expensive brand, rests there. He’s very protective of it, and nobody has ever dared to comment on its simplicity, especially after an unpleasant episode involving one of the company's previous clients, Mr. Pierce.
The older man attempted to touch it with a grimace, as a joke, he kept insisting after. Nobody ever believed Mr. Barnes’ blue eyes could turn even icier. His voice was tinted with a subtle growl as he intimated the man to get his filthy hands off his watch. Scott almost fainted when he noticed Mr. Wilson tightly press his lips together to avoid bursting out laughing.
Needless to say, Mr. Pierce’s company lost all its deals with Barnes Investments.
Mr. Barnes walks with purpose, the same black coat gently swaying with every clipped step and tie mathematically aligned. He doesn’t even glance at his visibly fidgety employees, his blue eyes hidden behind a pair of Ami Paris black sunglasses that he only removes once he enters his office, strategically located at the very end of the open space.
He also doesn’t greet anyone. His presence alone is a daily roll call.
The CEO doesn’t talk much in general—not unless he absolutely has to. But when he does, one either ends up walking away with a quiet pride burning in their chest, or crying and shaking in the restroom. His words are sharp and efficient. A simple “fix this” could ruin an entire afternoon. A “this is unacceptable”, a week.
The worst thing is that he doesn’t even need to raise his voice, because his perpetual glacial calm is enough to make a grown man in his fifties tremble like a fawn taking its first steps. His disappointed silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of his pen against the sleek desk, could send any adult into an existential crisis.
He doesn’t even need to walk past the desks to know what happens inside his company. Every attempt to impress him is ignored without mercy and humor is met with a slow blink, as if it were a personal insult to his entire bloodline.
Somewhere along the way, the office collectively settled on calling him Mr. Tightass behind his back. Despite that, the CEO puts equal attention in rewarding and commending his employees when credit is due. It still feels like talking with someone who has been constipated for a month, but coming from the strict boss himself, the praise is always very welcomed.
Every morning, he follows the same meticulous routine: he checks his schedule with his trusted assistant, Natasha; retreats into his office to scan the reports left on his desk, flagging all the things he disapproves of, and then closes the door behind him with a resounding bang that feels like an order to not be disturbed.
He is habit wrapped in a suit and polished shoes; an ongoing source of heart palpitations for the entire staff.
This is the environment Madison Carrell, freshly graduated from NYU, walks into two days later, with a smug smile and pink high heels, blissfully unaware of what lies ahead.
Wanda is the one designated to show her the ropes, and Madison’s first day unfolds in a tour of the office—from the rows of desks lining the wooden floor to the large glass-walled meeting room. They pause briefly in the break room, where the analyst takes her time explaining how the kitchenette works. That’s when a dull knock on the open door interrupts their conversation. There, Mr. Barnes slightly leans forward, eyeing Wanda with his usual blank expression.
“I need the volatility report yesterday, Miss Maximoff.”
“Yes, sir. I apologize. I’ll bring it to your office right now—” He raises a palm, stopping her nervous rambling.
“No need, leave it to Natasha and she’ll bring it to me.” Mr. Barnes has already turned away when she remembers the girl beside her.
“Um s—sir, this is one of the new interns, Madison Carrell.” His head turns enough to marginally eye the girl, giving her a curt nod before he’s returning to his cavern.
“Was that… James Barnes?” Wanda’s eyes flit on the intern, grimacing at her wide, sparkling eyes.
“Yeah, that’s him. A real gentleman, as you can see.” She rolls her eyes, stealing a handful of cereal from the glass jar.
Madison quietly gasps, patting her skirt as if to ensure she looks presentable. “I didn’t think I would meet him today. I’ve been a fan ever since he was invited to speak at a conference at my university two years ago.”
Wanda blinks once, one eyebrow raising skeptically. “A fan?”
“Of course!” The blonde wheezes. “He’s a brilliant, successful man who has built this company with his own blood, sweat and tears from the ground up. You should be grateful he even glances your way.” She stares at the vacant spot previously occupied by the CEO, trying to fruitlessly contain a grin. “And he's very handsome.”
“You know he’s married, right?” Madison’s head snaps toward the analyst, her smile suddenly replaced by a scowl.
“What?”
It’s impossible. She knows his Wikipedia page by heart and there isn't a single mention of a marriage, nor of his personal life in general.
“Yeah, and also very much in love with his wife.” The older woman nods, quite amused. Now she almost regrets telling her, nothing exciting ever happens in this office, after all.
Madison’s mouth curves up, looking almost sympathetic. “Oh Wanda,” the analyst's eyes narrow on the intern patting her forearm condescendingly. “Everything ends. Even marriages.”
The analyst simply smirks knowingly, already walking to the door. “Mh, if you say so.” She then eyes the blonde, nodding towards the open space. “C’mon, I’ll show you your desk. It’s right next to mine and Darcy’s.”
The break room is unusually quiet for a mid-morning. Madison stands by the kitchenette, pretending to tidy up a stack of colorful mugs while her ear is tuned to the hallway.
“Move Stark’s call to Wednesday, and if he complains, remind him we received an equally convincing offer from Williams Enterprise.” The moment Mr. Barnes’ deep, commanding voice thunders in the hallway, she straightens, a toothy smile brightening her face as his measured footsteps get louder and louder, until he crosses the threshold of the break room.
He steps inside, heading straight for the coffee machine with his red ceramic cup in hand—it’s his third refill already. He presses the button, then crosses his arms with a rigid posture, his left foot tapping rhythmically. Impatiently.
Madison takes a second to adjust her locks, before she turns toward the man. “Good morning, Mr. Barnes!”
He gives her a brief glance, nothing more than a flicker of acknowledgement, and a curt nod, before returning his frown to the humming appliance.
She clears her throat, refusing to let his disregard deter her. “I, um… I baked something. Thought I’d bring some in for the team.”
Mr. Barnes looks bored at this point, still not moving his icy eyes from the cup.
She swallows. “They’re chocolate chip cookies, fresh from this morning. I figured you might like to try one.” As the CEO turns with his steaming coffee in hand, he almost bumps into the extended tray of sweets. He grunts, clearly annoyed at this intern’s insistence, and in that exact moment, his wife’s words echo sweetly through his mind.
“They’re your employees, Jamie. Just… Try to be a little nicer?”
With a sigh, Mr. Barnes places the cup back on the counter, before taking a cookie under Madison’s hopeful eyes. But her enthusiasm is abruptly torn to shreds as she watches him break the tiniest piece off, almost a crumb, then taste it with the air of someone challenged to eat concrete for money.
A low hum escapes him, thoughtful. He eyes the rest of the cookie distracted as he starts mumbling.
“I wonder if my wife will bake cookies, she already made a pie two days ago.”
Madison blinks. Why does he need his wife’s cookies? She's literally in front of him right now, with a tray full of them that she specifically baked just for him! Does he know how hard it was to keep the team away from them, then look for a good hiding place in the break room so they would go unnoticed? She had to wait here for hours, pretending to clean and look for random stuff every time a passing co-worker eyed her with suspicion.
Madison forces a chuckle, an idea quickly forming in her mind to not let the conversation die. “What kind of pie?”
His fingers lightly scratch the stubble on his chin, still pensive. “Apple. It’s my favorite.”
Her eyes lit up. “I make a mean apple pie! Next time I can—”
“It was excellent. The crust was neither too flaky nor too hard. And the flavors were perfectly balanced.” He shakes his head, still impressed. Madison winces as he literally cuts her off, but by the hazy look in his eyes, she doubts he even noticed her talking at all. “She’s a baker, so she knows her deal. Always testing new recipes on me.”
Is he pouting?
“I finished the whole thing in two days.”
Madison stands there frozen, the paper tray cradled awkwardly in her hands as she watches Mr. Barnes swiftly set the cookie down on the counter.
“I need to text her.” He murmurs, not even glancing at his cup as he moves hastily toward the door. “Tell her to make another one for tonight.”
And just like that, he disappears, leaving the untouched tray and Madison’s crushed expectations behind.
It’s not until Scott pokes his head in that her vacant stare finally moves. “Can we eat them now?”
Alright, so the first attempt to impress her boss didn’t go as well as she predicted. That’s okay! Madison wasn’t elected student body president by throwing the towel at the first obstacle.
The next occasion presents itself the following week. Wanda was tasked with drafting a counter proposal to Mr. Stark’s new project, which meant Madison could not only be present during the presentation, but also outline a section of the submission and prove to Mr. Barnes she deserves her place there—someone who belongs in his professional world, beside him, not a lowly baker.
Right now, they are on a small break after four boring hours spent discussing the billionaire’s proposal. From her peripheral vision, Madison catches Mr. Barnes coming back in the room, along with Mr. Wilson, Mr. Rogers and Mr. Stark. Her chest slightly puffs out, finally ready to spring into action.
“So I told him I didn’t give a fuck about fishing, and then he spent all night crying over his ex-wife—”
“Ask me about my lunch.” Monica balks at Madison, tilting her head.
“Excuse me?”
“Ask me about my lunch. Ask me where I bought those nice tomatoes!” She whispers, leaning sideways against the long table. Monica stares at her appalled, until their boss’ booming voice reaches her ears and her eyes roll to the sky. Of course it’s one of the new intern’s weird plans to catch Mr. Barnes’ attention. She can't believe Madison is still at it after ‘The Cookie Failure’, as Scott named it.
“Where did you find those nice tomatoes?” She mutters reluctantly.
“Louder.”
“Where did you find those nice tomatoes?” Her yell attracts the attention of the four men and other nearby employees minding their own business.
Madison gives her a little coquettish giggle. “You mean the ones in the salad I had for lunch? Of course I grow them in my garden!”
Last week, Mr. Wilson teased Mr. Barnes about his prettily packed lunch—no, she was not eavesdropping... She just happened to be walking past his office at the exact moment highly confidential conversations have the bad habit of being perfectly audible. At some point, he mentioned that the lettuce came straight from his garden, so she concluded he must have a green thumb.
Of course she didn't have the time, nor the patience, to grow fucking vegetables. No one would ever be able to tell the difference between store-bought tomatoes and homegrown ones, anyway.
Tomatoes were tomatoes. The internet agreed.
“My wife has a beautiful garden.”
Madison goes still.
“Does she now?” Mr. Stark amusedly teases him.
She doesn’t blink for a moment, like her brain has briefly stopped accepting information.
“Last year she grew tomatoes so perfect the neighbors thought they were made of wax.” He pats the pocket of his black pants. “Hold on, I have pictures.” And everyone gathers around him. Like bees around a flower. Even Monica!
“Look at the color! It’s incredible.” A few murmurs of agreement ripple through the room, no doubt praising her and her damn tomatoes.
“And these are her cucumbers. And her lettuce. And—oh, here she is mulching. She didn’t know I was there.” Madison almost has an aneurysm as a faint, unguarded smile appears on his lips. “She’s so lovely.”
Coughing, Madison raises her voice in a pathetic last attempt. “I, uh… planted some basil.”
And without missing a beat, Mr. Barnes destroys her while still swiping through the pictures.
“My wife grows five varieties of basil.”
Then, he stops short, his finger hovering over the screen as his lips press together to hide a grin. That's when Mr. Rogers clears his throat, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. His head jerks up, blinking as if he just woke up from a dream.
“Alright.” His frown returns. “Break’s over. Miss Maximoff, it’s your turn.”
“Shit.” Madison whispers, squeezing her eyes shut. She was so focused on looking up gardening tips these past few days that she completely forgot she also had to help Wanda present her counter proposal. Which entails talking in front of an entire board of stakeholders about things she only read in her university books.
Suddenly, those stupid tomatoes feel like they’re crawling back up her esophagus, and a cold sweat breaks across her skin. She makes it to the massive presentation screen on unsteady legs, her hands shaking so badly she can barely grip the clicker. Behind her, Mr. Barnes stands and starts walking toward them, while the rest of the table settles back into their seats.
“Maximoff, I read the counter proposal last night. Good job. The section about forecasted performance—”
Madison perks up. “I drafted that section—”
“My wife caught five mistakes there. Be careful.” He concludes, not sparing her a single glance as he turns to make his way back to the head of the table. Still, she catches his breathy comment.
“Such a brilliant woman.”
Her fiasco at Mr. Stark’s deal sets Madison back a few steps. Well, did she even move forward at all? After a week of reflection—mostly spent on TikTok tutorials about “what men like in a woman”, a suspicious amount of “CEO mindset” content and questionable productivity hacks she saved at 2 a.m.—the intern decides to take a new approach.
It’s Friday when Madison plans to stay back at the office, knowing Mr. Barnes always finishes late on Fridays. He doesn’t like being bothered over the weekend, so he ensures everything is done before he leaves.
Silence settles heavily over the building once the team leaves, making it easy to catch the rustle of papers and the faint creak of his chair around nine, signaling he’s finally done. Her coat is already on as she stands near her desk, deliberately checking her bag as if making sure she hasn’t forgotten anything. When he finally opens the door, she lets out an exaggerated sigh, lifting her eyes and putting on her best expression of surprise.
“Mr. Barnes! I didn’t think there was anyone left at this hour.” The man stops abruptly in his quick advance toward the elevator, turning to face her. “I had to finish a few things for Wanda and I didn’t notice the time. I’m just so happy to be here time kind of disappears when you get into it. You surely get that, right?”
He stares at her, deadpan. “Who are you, again?”
Her eyes bulge out. “I—” She gapes. “Madison Carrell! The new intern!” She rushes out, bordering on a shriek.
“Right.” He mutters, resuming his steps as she quickly jogs to reach him. “No, I actually don't get that. If it were for me, I would stay at home, or help my wife run her bakery.” After pressing the button to call the elevator, he stares ahead, still looking so put together after twelve hours of work.
James Buchanan Barnes—one of the richest, most hard-working people in the whole continent, two-time #1 on Forbes’ Top 100 CEO, and major partner at Stark Industries—longs to be a househusband just so he can stay with his wife? And run a fucking bakery?
“She’s always telling me I need to come home earlier.” He sighs, and to her shock, his mouth twists into something akin to a fond smile. “She worries so much about me. She sent me a selfie an hour ago and now I can’t wait to see her.”
Madison simply nods along, face frozen in polite agony while her bag takes the worst of it, her knuckles turning white as she crumples the poor handle. She just wasted four hours of her Friday night doing nothing only to hear the man of her dreams sing praises about a woman she’s never met, yet knows entirely too much about.
The ride in the elevator is excruciating. Mr. Barnes is too busy grinning down at his phone to entertain her, and Madison’s slumped shoulders are a testament of her crushed hopes. Once they’re outside, she notices a couple of people gathered in front of the window of a clothing store right across the street. They look like they are decorating for Christmas, strings of lights already up and various boxes blocking half of the sidewalk. Mr. Barnes shakes his head at the sight, and Madison catches it from her peripheral vision.
Of course a cranky and curt man like Mr. Barnes would be a grinch!
Such a shame she completely missed his soft smile.
“I can’t believe some people are already decorating for Christmas.” She scoffs. “C’mon, it’s still November! Who is the idiot that does that?” Turning her head toward him, her chuckle dies in her throat at his gelid expression.
“My wife.”
Madison’s heart drops to her stomach. “W–What–”
“My wife is the idiot who decorates for Christmas in November.” His caustic reply sends shivers down her back. Madison's jaw falls to the ground, and for a moment she just stands there, toes curling in shame and cheeks flaming red. Her mouth opens and closes twice, not really knowing what to say or do in front of the man eyeing her with so much vitriol.
Maybe the ground should open right this instant and swallow her whole. It would hurt less.
“I—”
“Goodnight, Miss Carroll.”
“What—” She whispers, completely caught off guard. “It’s Carrell!” She shouts, but he’s already halfway to his black Jaguar.
“FUCK!”
Wanda is so engrossed in her conversation with Darcy about the umpteenth date with a loser she met on Tinder that the loud thump on her right makes both women jolt in surprise.
It's Madison and she is... a mess.
Her ponytail is barely hanging on, a few blonde hair sticking in the air as if she was just electrocuted. Her makeup only consists of some smudged gloss—a rough contrast to the full face she has been displaying every single morning since she set foot here at Barnes Investments. Darcy and Wanda exchange a look of worry as they spot the big brown stain on her light blue shirt, probably coffee.
They’ve never seen Madison look so distraught in the two months she’s been here.
“Honey, are you okay?” Wanda tentatively asks.
“Okay? Why yeah sure! Why shouldn’t I be okay?” She grits out with a fake, entirely too big smile, while literally throwing her things on her desk.
“You sure?” Darcy raises an eyebrow.
“Of course! I mean, my crush is happily married to a woman who apparently has a pussy made of gold, because he can’t stop talking about her for one damn second.” Her pencil case almost flies to the ground. The desk shakes under the heavy laptop mindlessly tossed on its surface.
Her little outburst makes a few heads turn, prompting the two analysts to shoot on their feet.
“Hey, lower your voice!” Wanda whisper shouts. “I understand you’re disappointed, but did you forget said crush is also your boss?”
“No, Wanda. You don’t understand.” She growls out, looking like a feral dog. “Two days ago I had to bribe his assistant with a fucking thirty-five-dollar chocolate bar just to find out his coffee order! Do you know where Mr. Barnes buys his coffee from every. Single. Morning?” Wanda shakes her head, mildly scared as Madison leans forward, her right eye twitching. “From a fucking coffee shop on the other side of New York. It took me fifty minutes just to get there, only for him to tell me he doesn’t drink that shit anymore because that stupid wife of his says it makes him too jittery.” She mocks with a pout and a whiny voice.
“He switched to herbal tea, or something. Last week!”
“It’s been two months and I know more about this alleged wife of his than about the fucking company! He describes her as she is some sort of goddess who knows everything! And who the fuck keeps two hundred pictures of vegetables in their phone?”
At this point, Madison is having a genuine outburst, screaming and slamming her bag on the desk under her co-workers’ bewildered gaze.
“For God’s sake, is she even real?”
As if by magic, the ding of the elevator suspends the room in silence. Everything seems to freeze as the doors slide open, revealing a woman Madison has never seen before, cautiously stepping forward. Her A-line mini dress has a soft plaid pattern, the sleeves sheer and flowy. The skirt flares out with a gentle silhouette, half hidden under a long black coat.
The entire floor gapes, taken aback by the romantic, almost ethereal vision. There’s only one person who doesn’t seem fazed at all, and that’s Mr. Barnes, who abruptly opens the door of his office as soon as the elevator door shuts.
“Sweetheart.”
Your eyes immediately find Bucky's as he quickly makes his way to you at the end of the room.
“Jamie.” His own lips twist into a grin when he finally reaches you, circling your waist with his muscular arms.
“What are you doing here, doll? It’s your day off.” He mumbles, leaving a small kiss on your forehead. His blue eyes carefully take you in, poorly concealing his appreciation for your cute outfit, until they land on your bare legs.
“Where are your tights?” He frowns, gently tugging you forward. “C'mere, let's sit in my office so you can warm up.”
“I wanted to see you.” You hum, keeping your feet firmly planted on the ground as your fingers pull at his suit jacket, so you can drag his face closer to yours. Once your lips are brushing against his ear, you whisper as quietly as you can, hoping only your husband will catch your words.
“They're not the only thing I’m not wearing right now.”
Bucky’s eyes widen, before his saliva goes down the wrong pipe, sending him into a coughing fit under your amused gaze. His employees try to not stare at the scene, but it’s so endearingly rare witnessing their stern boss turn into this blushing, pliant mess in front of a pretty girl.
“Shit.” He swallows, awkwardly clearing his throat as he quickly recomposes himself. “Let’s go, sweetheart.”
Everyone knows that at his core, Mr. Barnes is just a man pathetically in love with his wife, still, curious eyes follow you as he hastily guides you to his office with a hand on your back, his gaze not steering away once from your face as giggles unusually fill the open space.
“Thank God she came by.” Scott leans in, addressing the three women. “He’s always more lenient after her visits.” He elaborates, mainly for a flustered Madison, who releases her expensive bag, letting it fall on the floor with a dull thud, before storming off to the restroom. Wanda sighs, slightly shaking her head in exhaustion.
The man just stares at the two analysts with knitted eyebrows, completely confused. “What?”
“My pretty little slut, coming to Daddy’s office without wearing any panties.” Bucky grunts against the skin of your bare chest, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs to keep you nice and still on his desk.
It’s been six months since you and Bucky have agreed to try for a baby. Six months of pure, unhinged, hot sex in his office. It just so happens that your husband has been at work during your fertile window for the past few months, meaning that he could use that as an excuse to have you bare and whimpering in his office for a few days a month.
Never in his career has Bucky dreamt of actually having sex here, of all places. Sure, he fantasized about your warmth by his side during those hard nights spent here amongst mountains of documents—he, Steve and Sam worked overtime almost every day at the beginning; his company was too small and new to afford the luxury of going home at a decent time.
And you supported him through it all, his perfect darling.
So imagine his face when you showed up at his workplace one day, locking the door behind you before literally throwing yourself at him, your breath warm against his ear as you gasped out how badly you needed him to fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name.
Honestly, it wasn’t his proudest moment. He ended up coming before you after only a minute top, too aroused as he stared at you eagerly riding him on his chair, a hand on your mouth to prevent any loud noise from spilling out as his employees kept working, not having the faintest idea about what was happening inside their boss’ office.
From that moment on, your little visits meant only one thing.
“Fuck, Daddy you’re so big.” You whine, clinging onto his shoulders.
He lets out an animalistic groan as he squeezes your hips bruisingly. “Say it again.” He growls, grinding his hips harder against you. “You know I love it when you call me that, baby.”
“Daddy please.” He slams his lips against yours, moaning as his tongue invades your mouth. When he pulls away, he goes straight for your chest, sucking on your nipple. Bucky loves to play with your breasts, you always get so responsive when his fingers tug and flicker your pretty nipples. Sometimes he just palms them for comfort during particularly frustrating calls he gets on the weekends from bratty assholes who refuse to go through his assistant first. Or out of boredom, while watching a movie. Until you get all worked up and end up cockwarming him throughout the rest of the movie.
“Can’t wait for these to swell up, gonna take such good care of you when they get too heavy and sensitive.” His head moves, the tip of his tongue already out to give some attention to the other nipple. “Wanna taste your milk so bad, baby. Will you let me? Bet it's just as sweet as your pussy.”
“Bucky!” Your head falls back as his teeth gently graze your erect nub, pulling a little pathetic whimper out of you that echoes loudly in the room.
“Shh-shh.” Your husband soothes, his voice back at your ear, his breath tickling your damp skin. “Been thinking about your pretty pussy all day.”
Bucky sounds a little dazed, his voice hoarse with something primal as one of his hands travels from your hip to your abdomen. “You’ll look so beautiful with your belly all big and round and full. All because of me.”
“Please.” You cry out, trembling as tears threaten to spill from the corner of your eyes. It’s too much. Everything is too much. Your hot skin rubbing against his soft clothes, his filthy words, the way his blue eyes look at you with barely concealed hunger... His big cock stretching you open for him to move as he pleases.
“You’re so fucking wet, baby.” Bucky marvels, staring in awe as his length disappears inside you, the loud, squelching sounds heating your cheeks up in embarrassment. You’ve done this so many times, yet that sense of danger, of possibly being caught doing something so debauched in such a professional environment, never fails to make your stomach flip and your core throb.
“Everyone will know how good I fuck you, how good I am for my beautiful wife.” He growls out against your lips. “My gorgeous Mommy.”
Your whole body shudder as your tongues dance, your pussy clenching at the sensation of his thick cock plunging deep inside you. It makes your head spin, leaving you completely speechless as Bucky's hips speed up.
“Fuck, Daddy!” A whimper involuntarily falls from your parted lips, and your eyes squeeze shut. “Fuck, too big—” You gasp out the last word, his hips giving a particular brutal thrust that allows him to reach impossibly deeper.
“Yeah? I know, baby. I know. So big you can’t even talk properly.” He smirks. “Still, you take it so good, such a good girl.”
He covers your cheeks with sweet kisses, tracing a slow path down to the slope of your neck, where he makes sure to bite hard enough to elicit a surprised squeal from you.
“‘M gonna make you a mommy.” He pants harshly into your skin, his orgasm gradually approaching when you clench again. “The prettiest.” Thrust. “Sweetest.” Thrust. “Mommy.”
“Yes yes yes Daddy please!”
Bucky’s low grunts and moans get louder as his fingers gently rub your clit, making your eyes roll back at the blinding pleasure. Your nails almost tear through the fabric of his half-open shirt.
“You’re so tight. Shit, I can feel you coming baby.” He moans, watching you nod quickly, and his voice drops a little. “Yeah? You finally gonna milk Daddy’s cock, pretty girl?”
Your palm slaps on your parted mouth to stifle your lewd sounds. Your legs wrap tighter around his hips, and as he keeps thrusting faster and faster, your vision goes blurry and the knot in your belly finally snaps.
“Daddy.” You whimper behind your hand, toes curling at the overwhelming bliss quickly hitting you. “Oh my God, I'm coming!” Your body wraps around him tightly as your hole clenches down, squeezing him so hard he almost chokes on his own spit. His fingers are cruel on your throbbing nub, toying with it until your hips jerk in overstimulation. You feel that hot pleasure everywhere—the base of your spine, deep in your gut, in your walls keeping him nice and warm. It’s always this intense with your husband: he knows what to say and where to put his hands so your orgasm hits you like a freight train, leaving your body exhausted yet quivering for more.
“Fuck fuck—Daddy’s coming too.” He grits out, his thrusts messy and frantic, before his cock twitches, spilling deep inside you. “Shit—that’s it. Take it all, beautiful.”
Your chest is still heaving when you flop against him, forehead falling on his shoulder as your trembling fingers stay anchored to his shirt. His hands move to your asscheeks, thumbs leisurely stroking small circles into your skin as he tries to regain his breath as well. Yet, smugness drip off his voice.
“Gave it to you so good you can’t even sit up straight, mh?”
You don’t have the energy to clap back, mewling with oversensitivity as he continues to gently thrust his softening dick lightly in and out of you, the mix of your juices trickling down and soiling the inner part of your thighs. Your lips part anyway to say something, but everything dissolves into an incoherent squeak when he gives your ass a light spank.
Bucky chuckles, proud of himself, his arms moving around your waist, hugging your body closer to his. “So gorgeous.” He coos, his eyelids fluttering close as the tip of his nose nuzzles your neck, breathing in your perfume, by now impeccably mixed with the scent of your favorite body cream.
“So good for me. Fuck baby, I love you. I love you so much.” His hands gently cradle your cheeks, tenderly coaxing you out of your hiding spot as the strong urge to kiss you takes over his whole body. “Gonna have my baby and be the best mommy in the world.” He utters between sweet kisses.
“Love you too, Jamie.” Bucky's lips curve softly at the way your eyelids barely stay open, letting you cuddle against his chest. His heartbeat never fails to speed up when those three magic words fall from your lips.
“Think we did it this time?” You yawn tiredly, trying to keep your voice neutral. Still, your husband knows you too well after all these years by your side, instantly recognizing that hint of fragile hope in your question, and the faint change in your body, gone a little rigid.
His arms squeeze your waist once, before he drops a kiss on the top of your head, hoping it conveyed all his tenderness for your small family. That gesture, although little, instantly warms your heart, melting the tension off of your limbs as you squeeze his torso once.
“I have a hunch we did, my love.”
She just wanted to gather more information about your marriage from Natasha in a last, desperate attempt to convince herself she still had a chance. She is Mr. Barnes’ personal assistant, the only one who gets more than a single austere sentence out of him; the only one he calls by her first name. She must know something about his personal life.
But Natasha was not at her desk. As a matter of fact, the small hallway was completely deserted, she noticed with a frown.
And unfortunately, she had to find out the reason the hard way.
It's impossible to not notice the intern's pale face as she makes her way back to her cubicle, slow and stiff as her eyes stay fixed on nothing in particular.
With a gentle voice, Wanda tries to strike up a conversation. “Hey, are you okay?”
Madison simply retrieves her bag, then turns away, Wanda barely catching her mumbled words as she starts walking toward the elevator.
Demonstrate Pt. 2! (Pornstar!Bucky Barnes x Reader)
A/N: HEY GUYS! Finally, it’s here! I’ve been having trouble trying to up the dirtiness from the last one, but I’ve finally made some str8 sin! 😭I was literally beaming while writing this cuz it’s SO DIRTY. :’D I hope you guys like it! ENJOY! - -Delilah ❤
Demonstrate Pt. 2: After the last successful video, Reader and Bucky are at it agin, only this time they’re welcoming a third member. (;
Warnings: SMUT! Dirty talk. Threesomes. Pornography. Humiliation. Sexual experimentation.
xxxxx
You were never going to view swimming pools the same way ever again.
The midsummer sun beamed down on you as you stood by the edge of the grand pool. Running a shaky hand through your hair, you pondered your current situation. The last video with you and Bucky was a huge hit at Stark Industries. It was praised by other websites like Carter Videos and HammerZone, which were the rival sites.
Bucky and your relationship was blossoming beautifully. He was a little old fashioned, but that was just how you liked it. On your first actual date, he brought you a giant bouquet of your favorite flowers and took you on a really nice dinner/movie date. It was so rare to find a man who was down for actually pursuing the women he liked instead of a one night thing.
Not to mention, the sex was fucking amazing. He was a gentleman about it, though. He waited the full ninety day no sex rule –which he did so despite your arguments that you guys had already done it. Bucky was trying to take things slow, but after many hours of trying to get in his pants, he finally gave in. Needless to say, he fucked your brains out that night. He made you feel things you didn’t even know you could feel, especially when he made you squirt for the first time. You had no idea that you were even capable of that, but with Bucky Barnes, anything was possible.
Which brings you to your current dilemma.
With the ratings to high, Tony decided that you two should be somewhat of a double act thing. And after how successful the last video was, he offered you both a contract. You’d both be doing at least twenty more videos together.
At first you were concerned about Bucky’s reaction, he’d been doing this for such a long time and he took his job seriously. You honestly expected him to turn it down, but to your and Tony’s surprise, he didn’t.
That’s how you ended up by the giant grand pool on the Stark tower in an extremely revealing little pink bikini –if you couldn’t even call it a bikini. Your nipples were practically peaking over the material. But that’s not what was currently bothering you. Tony decided to play around with the casting a bit this time, meaning there would be a third person in the video this time.
The first choice was of course, Natasha. You weren’t jealous!
Not at all.
Maybe a little bit.
Okay, you were really freaking jealous.
Not only was she practically perfect in every way – she had the measurements of every man’s dream woman! You knew that she secretly had a thing for Bucky. Apparently, they had a fling back in the day, years before you came along. You probably weren’t even of legal age when it happened, but it still happened.
And honestly, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t concerned.
You were very concerned! What if Bucky’s reminded of what they had and you two split? What if he’s so preoccupied with her that he doesn’t get turned on by you? And most of all, what if she satisfies him better than you?
You were at your breaking point, until for once, the universe was on your side.
Rhodey somehow convinced Tony to change his mind.
The scene was supposed to have an innocent feel to it, and unfortunately, Nat looked anything but innocent to be honest. Now, if it had been a BDSM themed video, than she would’ve fit just fine. But he needed innocence and nobody fit innocence like you.
And Wanda.
Yep. Wanda was going to be in the center of a Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N threesome. You were more than relieved, you nearly cried with happiness when you found out, but you were still nervous.
You had no idea how to please a woman.
Hell, you barely even had sex with men before you met Bucky. He was still in the process of teaching you how to properly deep throat –which is really freaking hard to do considering his size. He’s a fucking beast! So how on earth were you going to pull this off?
You glanced around the set, looking at all the crew as they set up the camera. When you peered across the pool, you caught the sight of Bucky talking to Rhodey, but his eyes were on you. You blushed, sending him a small wave. He winked at you, before turning his attention back to Rhodey.
“Hey, Y/N!” You nearly jumped out of your skin. Wanda always had a habit of popping up out of nowhere. The girl was a ninja, you swore.
She was dressed in a matching little purple bikini, which complimented her skin perfectly.
You smiled back at her. “Hey Wanda,” you say.
For the love of God, you can’t help but look at her chest. Her boobs were practically spilling out of the top. You’ve seen her without a shirt on before, but never this close. You didn’t really fancy watching her videos.
She dipped her foot into the pool playfully and kicked one of the floaties, sending it across the water. “I’m so excited! The people really dig the girl on girl scenes. It’s gonna be a huge hit!” She beamed at you, flashing you a million dollar smile.
And damn it, you felt yourself growing damp in your swimsuit.
She was your friend! It scared you a bit, but you couldn’t deny that she was attractive. She was gorgeous, but it seems like you never really looked at her in that light until now. Her blonde hair flowed down her back effortlessly. Her light green eyes made her stand out the most. Yeah, she was really nice to look at. And according to your vagina, she was banging material.
You nodded, tearing your eyes away from her chest. “Yeah! I can’t wait for everyone to see it. I’m not gonna lie, I’m a bit…unexperienced with the whole girl/girl thing.” You admitted.
She gave you a small smile, placing her hand on your lower back. You tensed at her touch. Leaning in, she placed her mouth by your ear.
“I know,” she whispered. “If it helps, all you have to do is just suck on my clit when the time comes. It’s simple!”
Your eyes nearly shot out of your head. Your body however, reacted completely opposite. You could feel the wetness pooling in the bottoms of your bikini. Goosebumps began to form on your skin.
You let out a nervous laugh. “O-okay, haha. I’ll try!”
Wanda let out a giggle before jumping into the pool. You watched as she surfaced and swam across the water. What have you gotten yourself into?
You looked up again to find Bucky staring at you. He completely ignored Rhodey and the others speaking to him; his eyes were set on yours, darkened lustfully. He took his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it. You could feel your cheeks turning crimson. Before you could give him a small wave, Rhodey waved a hand in his face.
Oh boy. You were certainly in for it now.
xxxxxxxxx
“Hey Wanda!” You called.
You were lying on one of the many large swimming chairs by the pool. The little bikini top tightened around your chest obscenely.
“I think I need some more sun block! This heat in killing me.”
Wanda emerged from the pool causally. Her purple bikini clung to her body tightly. A small, playful smirk was on her lips as she walked over to you.
“Well, well, well,” Bucky’s voice caused the both of you to jump and look over your shoulders. He was dressed in only a blue pair of swimming trunks, ones that showed off the V of his abs perfectly. In little white letters they spelled out: LIFEGUARD.
“Seems like we’ve got some law breakers here.”
“The sign says it’s open today!” Wanda exclaimed dramatically. Bucky leaned down so that he was inches from her face.
“It closed an hour ago, sweet cheeks.” You sighed, sitting up from your lying position.
“Can’t we just stay a little longer,” you pout, making sure to stick out your bottom lip. His eyes followed the movement. “Nobody has to know.”
Bucky smirked, reaching out his metal hand and taking a strand of your hair between his fingers. He twirled it casually.
"I could,” he says darkly. His eyes never leaving yours. “But what’s in it for me?”
You exchange a look with Wanda, before smirking.
"Anything you want.” You reply, sticking out your chest.
“Anything I want?” he repeated, raising his eyebrows.
His metal hand released the stray piece of hair in his hand and ran along the curve of your chest. You let out a sigh of pleasure.
“Anything.” You assured, placing your hand on top of his, guiding it slowly until it was resting on your covered breast.
Wanda hummed in agreement and scooted over until there was enough room of him between you. You pulled on his arm gently until he was seated between the two of you. You ran your fingers alongside his perfect jawline, grabbing ahold of his chin and turning his head to you.
You crushed your lips onto his, earning a moan from him. Wanda took this opportunity to run her hands along his chest, placing small kisses on his neck. Bucky’s hands traveled behind the two of you and began untying the tops of your bikinis.
“Jesus Christ, girls,” he groaned as he took in the sight of the two of you as you tossed the bikini tops to the side in unison.
He ran both of his hands along the curve of your breasts, repeating the action with the blonde as well. You let out a sigh at the coolness of his metal hands. His thumb ran across the sensitive nub of your nipple, pinching it slightly.
Both of you let out a chorus of whimpers, much to his pleasure. You straddled his thigh, placing your knees on either side. Wanda, taking the hint, did the same. You both began grinding your cores onto him, your clothed crotches rubbing against the material of his swims trunks deliciously.
“F-fuck…” Wanda whimpered, her head falling onto his shoulder. Bucky let out a husky laugh, running his hand down her back and onto her the curve of her ass. He pinched the flesh lightly, earning a gasp from the woman.
You could feel your wetness dripping out of your bottoms and onto the material of Bucky’s swim trunks. You grinded down on him harder, throwing your head back in pleasure.
The sensation of the material running along your clit mixed with Wanda’s whimpers was so erotic and you loved every second of it. Bucky’s metal hand found its way onto the small knot that held your bottoms together and skillfully untied it.
You leaned back, letting him have a view of your glistening core.
“You’re so fucking wet for me, aren’t you doll?” he asked, placing a kiss onto the flesh of your throat. You let out a pornographic moan as he sucked onto your throat, bruising the skin.
Suddenly, Bucky pulled away from the two of you. He shifted so that he was lying on the chair, his legs spread. “C’mon, doll face,” he smirked, taking your hand and guiding you until you were seated between his legs, your back facing him.
He hooked his hands underneath your thighs and spread them wide, leaving you completely exposed. And you couldn’t find it in yourself to be coy this time. Wanda licked her lips hungrily, her green eyes darkening at the sight of your dripping core. She slid onto the chair, lying on her stomach. You could feel the heat of her breaths on your pussy and you bucked your hips upward.
She let out a chuckle. “Someone’s eager, isn’t she?” she asked, her eyes flickering up to Bucky’s.
Bucky placed a kiss onto your temple, his hands running along your trembling body until they rested on your breasts. He kneaded them softly, enjoying the view of them in his large hands. You cried out, placing one of your hands on his bicep.
"Fuck…that feels so good, Bucky.”
Wanda blew a small puff of air onto your pussy, her eyes lighting each time you squirmed. You hated being teased.
“Please, Wanda…” you cried, desperate for any kind of pleasure. You longed to feel her between your folds.
“Please what, принцесса?” She teases, pressing small kitten licks to your labia.
Your head rolls back onto Bucky’s chest. You could feel his erection straining against the swim trunks. Grinding yourself back on him, he lets out a gasp.
“Please eat my pussy!” You cry.
With a smirk, she wrapped her lips around your clit and sucked harshly. Her slender fingers rubbed your glistening folds lovingly as she did so.
And it felt so surreal.
You’ve been eaten out by Bucky many times, and he was brilliant at it. But Wanda knew what made you tick from a woman’s point of view. The way she sucked on your clit, running her tongue over the numb repeatedly was the most beautiful sensation you’ve ever felt.
“Fuck!” You squeaked. Wanda began massaging your clit with her tongue, rolling it around in all types of directions. Your breathing came out in short, barely audible tuffs.
Bucky let out a curse at the sight. He began massaging your breasts with a little more force.
“You like that, princess?” He asked, his voice rough. “You like how Wanda’s eating your pussy out for everyone to see?”
You moaned, nodding furiously as she sped up her movements. You weren’t going to last long.
Your legs began to shake as your orgasm began approaching. The duel sensations of Wanda and Bucky were too much.
With a scream, you came, spilling your juices into Wanda’s willing mouth.
“Oh my god!” You screamed, feeling the the wetness dripping from you. Wanda groaned as she licked up your juices. She pulled away from your legs with a smirk, wiping her lips with her hand.
He shifted you so that you were on your back, lying in front of Wanda. You peered up at your friend with a grin and wrapped your hands around her thighs.
With a giggle, she spread her legs, placing both her knees on each side of your head. You reached, hands shaking with excitement.
Untying the small knot on her bikini bottoms, you pulled the string. The material slid from her body, giving you a view of her glistening core.
She lowered herself onto your face and began rocking slowly.
Wanda tasted just like you thought she would: sweet. You dragged your tongue along her hole, swirling it around in small circles. She let out a gasp.
You could feel Bucky get up from his position on the chair, leaving the space between your legs empty.
Wanda let out a moan as your tongue entered her. You hummed into her pussy, sending vibrations through her. You could feel her hands on your breasts, cupping them with her hands and massaging them softly. She rocked her hips harder into your tongue.
“Shit, Y/N…” she moaned, closing her eyes. “Just like that, baby.”
You moved your tongue faster, eager to bring her the same amount of pleasure she brought you. But your focus was broken when you felt Bucky’s hands on your thighs, spreading them apart.
You felt the tip of his cock against your folds, teasing it’s entrance. In one move, he thrust inside of you. You let out a groan into Wanda’s core, sending shivers down the woman’s body.
Bucky’s hands traveled to your legs and gently placed them around his waist. He started thrusting again, at a brutal pace. Your body jolted upwards at the force. You reached your hand out and placed it on Bucky’s arm for support.
Wanda was now grinding her pussy onto your face, riding it with ease. Her fingers were on her nipples, teasing them with little pinches.
“You’re doing such a good job, Y/N,” Bucky praised, thrusting harder into your heat. “Eating your best friend’s pussy like the good little slut you are.” You and Wanda let out out a groan in unison, earning a laugh from your boyfriend.
“You like getting your face ridden, don’t you Y/N?” Wanda asked, grinding her pussy into your mouth harder.
Mimicking her actions earlier, you wrapped your lips around her clit and began sucking harshly. She let out a strangled moan and threw her head back. You couldn’t wait to taste her cum.
You felt yourself clenching around Bucky’s cock. He let out a string of curses, closing his eyes at the sensation. You could hear the sounds of his hips hitting against yours as he began thrusting into you harder. The new pace caused you to let out a cry, pulling away from Wanda.
“Oh, Bucky…” you gasped, closing your eyes. He let out a chuckle before placing his hand between your bodies and rubbing small circles into your clit. Your mouth hung open, but before you could say anything, Wanda ground her pussy back onto your mouth.
“You’re not done here, yet, sweetie.” She giggled.
As hard as you tried, you couldn’t focus on her anymore. Bucky’s thrusts were hitting deeper and deeper, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.
Pressing your tongue against her clit, you began shaking your head from side to side, creating an obscene sound with her juices.
“Oh! That’s it, Y/N!” she cried out, her voice higher than usual. “You’re gonna make me come!”
With a few more licks, she was done for.
Her orgasm shook through her body, wetting your mouth with her juices. You could feel it sliding down your face as she rode out her orgasm.
By the time it was over, she was panting harshly, her thighs shaking with aftershocks each time you pressed small kitten licks to her clit. With a satisfied sigh, she lifted herself from your mouth and crouched next to you.
Bucky let out a groan at the sight of Wanda’s come dripping down your face. He’s done quite a few threesomes in his life, but this. This was by far the dirtiest thing he’s ever seen. You rocked your hips back in time with his thrusts. You could tell he was close by the way his hips began to stutter.
You propped yourself up onto your elbows and placed a small kiss onto his lips.
“C’mon daddy,” you whimpered. “Come inside me!“
With a shout of your name, Bucky spilled inside you, coating your insides with his come. You sighed at the feeling of being full. You loved it when he fell apart like this. You loved it even more now that it would be on camera for you to watch over and over again.
After a moment of silence, you heard a chorus of wolf whistles and applause.
“RHODEY, GET THE EDITOR READY!” Tony shouted, throwing the stack of papers that were in his hands into the air. “WE’RE ABOUT TO WIN A FUCKING OSCAR!”
The three of you let out a tired laugh. You peered over at Wanda, who was lying back on the swimming chair, her eyes barely managing to stay open. Bucky was still on top of you surprisingly.
“Getting old, huh Barnes?” you teased, pressing a kiss into his hair.
He gave you a small, playful bite into your left breast. You let out a squeak and swatted his shoulder. For someone a hundred years old, he acted like a preteen.
“I don’t know about you guys,” Wanda yawned. “But I really can’t wait to watch this when it comes out.”
You peer over at your best friend and gave her a grin.
Can u do a bucky x resder were the reader has a oral fixation and Bucky likes to tease her for it
. ୨୧ ݁ ꒰ 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 ⊹ . bucky x fem!reader. minors are prohibited from interacting.
warnings 18+ : explicit sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), cum play, cum smearing & feeding, cock worship, dirty talk, degradation & praise kink, slight dacryphilia, power dynamics
author’s note : this is pure filth... no plot, no apologies, just bucky being mean and sweet in equal measure while reader loses her entire mind over him. if that’s your thing, I hope it hits exactly right <33
You don’t even realize you’re doing it half the time.
The pen cap is already between your teeth, rolling slow against your tongue while you pretend to read mission reports. You’ve been sucking on it lazily for twenty minutes, soft pulls, little kitten licks, when Bucky’s voice slices through the quiet like he’s been waiting for this exact second.
“Jesus Christ doll. You gonna fuck that thing with your mouth or just edge it all night?”
Your eyes snap to the doorway. He’s filling the frame, arms crossed, metal arm gleaming, smirk lethal. Heat slams your cheeks. You yank the pen free with a wet pop that rings too loud.
“I wasn’t-”
“Bullshit.” He stalks forward. “Third thing you’ve had between those lips in the last hour. Coffee stirrer. Licorice. Now a goddamn pen. You keepin’ score or just tryin’ to make me snap?”
You try to glare. It folds the second he drops beside you, thigh burning against yours.
“Habit,” you mutter.
“Yeah?” He snatches the slick pen, twirls it, tosses it. “Most habits don’t make me this hard.”
Your mouth goes dry. Lips still buzzing, already aching for more.
He sees it.
Bucky leans in, mouth brushing your ear, voice smoke and gravel.
“Bet if I gave you somethin’ real to choke on, you’d forget everything else.”
Your breath catches loud, embarrassing.
He chuckles, dark and pleased then pulls back. Flesh hand lifts. Thumb drags slow across your bottom lip, parting it.
“Open.”
Pride? Gone.
Your lips drop.
Thumb slides in, warm, rough, tasting of gun oil, coffee, him. Tongue curls greedy. His pupils swallow the blue.
“There she is,” he breathes. “Starving little mouth.”
You hollow your cheeks, suck harder. He curses, metal fingers digging into your thigh.
You pull off slow, then look up through wet lashes.
“Maybe give me something bigger then Sergeant.”
His grin is pure sin.
No words.
He stands, unbuckles with one flick of metal, shoves jeans and briefs down. Cock springs free, heavy, thick, leaking and you whimper.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, wrapping flesh hand around the base, stroking once slow. “Already drooling.”
You lean forward.
He guides the head to your lips, smears precome like gloss.
“Open wider, sweetheart. Gonna feed you.”
Jaw drops, tongue flat. He slides in, slow stretch, velvet heat, salty musk flooding your senses. Deeper. Eyes water. You moan anyway.
“Fuck- there we go.” Metal hand cups your head, steady. “Take it like you’ve been dreaming.”
You do. Greedy. Sloppy. Hollowed cheeks, swirling tongue, needy sucks. He tastes addictive, musky, salty, all him. Head goes fuzzy fast. Thoughts dissolve. Just weight. Just heat. Just cock filling your mouth until jaw aches and throat flutters.
He groans, starts rocking shallow, then deeper. You gag, tears spill; you chase it harder. Chase the throb, the jump of his abs, the ragged breaths.
“Goddamn- look at you. Already cockdrunk.” Thumb wipes a tear tenderly. “Can’t think with me down your throat, can you?”
You shake your head no, muffled whine vibrating around him. He shudders.
“Fuck. Suck harder. Make it messy.”
You do. Spit slicks your chin, drips down your chest. Cheeks cave. He curses in multiple languages. Head swims, dizzy, euphoric, drunk on him.
He pulls out suddenly with a wet pop. Strings of spit connect your swollen lips to the glistening head.
You chase instinctively, tongue out, whining.
Bucky laughs.
“Greedy little thing.” He strokes himself fast, smearing your spit and his precome. “Want it back?”
You nod frantically.
“Beg.”
“Please- Bucky- please. Need it. Need you.”
Control shatters.
He feeds it back deeper, until nose brushes skin, throat convulses. Holds there, groaning, letting you feel every pulsing inch.
“Good girl,” he rasps. “So fuckin’ good.”
He fucks your mouth, careful but relentless until hips stutter, grip tightens.
But he doesn’t come down your throat.
He pulls out at the last second, hand flying, thick ropes of come stripe your face. Hot. Heavy. Across your cheeks, your lips, your chin. You gasp, eyes fluttering shut as it lands.
He doesn’t let it sit.
Flesh fingers scoop through the mess, smearing it slow, deliberate, painting your skin, dragging it toward your parted lips.
“Open,” he orders, voice wrecked.
You do immediately.
He pushes two fingers inside, coated thick with his release. You taste him, salty, bitter, warm, tongue curling around his digits like they’re everything. You suck greedily, hollowing again, moaning at the filthy slide.
“That’s it,” he breathes, watching you with blown pupils. “Clean me up baby. Every drop.”
You do. Swirling, sucking, swallowing until his fingers are slick only with your spit. He pulls them out slow, strings connecting and wipes the last smear across your bottom lip like gloss.
You’re a mess, face painted, lips swollen, eyes glassy, still panting.
He drops to his knees, cups your jaw with both hands, metal cool, flesh burning and kisses you deep, filthy, tasting himself on your tongue right alongside you.
“Still hungry?” he murmurs against your mouth.
You nod dazed, already reaching.
He grins, all teeth, all promise.
“Good. ’Cause I’m nowhere near done feeding this greedy mouth tonight.”
He hauls you up, throws you over his shoulder.
“Bedroom. Now. You’re gonna practice until you can’t remember anything but how I taste- and how you look covered in it.”
You’re already reaching back for him before he hits the hallway.
pairing: congressman!bucky barnes x college student!reader
summary: during finals week, you spiral under pressure, convinced you can and have to handle everything on your own. when exhaustion finally catches up to you, bucky steps in with his patient, gentle care to help you slow down.
warnings: second person (she/her pronouns for reader); pre-established relationship; age gap (he's 100+, reader is in college); no age regression; dom/sub dynamic (both in sexual and non-sexual scenarios); power exchange; reader calls bucky 'jamie'; reader doesn't take care of herself; fluff; protective!bucky; slight possessive!bucky; light angst; hurt/comfort; smut; praise kink; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it pls); big dick bucky organization (🙂↕️); creampie; hint at a little of cockwarming.
word count: 4.8k
a/n: so, I've done my first exam and I'm very worried because the professor put things that weren't in the syllabus 🙃 lately I can't find the strength to do anything after studying but I really felt the need to write this. I think this is a little mediocre, so I apologize in advance. thank you for all your nice inboxes and comments, I swear I'll reply to them as soon as I can. hope you'll enjoy 🌸
Midnight creeps up without mercy.
The lights in your dorm room are dim, your laptop casting a pale glow across your face as you sit at your desk, slouching against the wooden surface as several papers are scattered all over the keyboard. A half-empty energy drink sits next to a cup of cold coffee that you have filled a dangerous number of times in the last two days, while the wrapper from the protein bar you had for dinner lays sadly on the floor. You only notice the time when your eyes slide, unfocused, to the bottom right corner of the desktop and the numbers blink at you almost mockingly. Your dorm room feels suddenly smaller, like the walls have edged in while you weren’t looking.
12:22 a.m.
You didn’t mean to spiral. One thing just turned into another: one more topic, one more hour… And without your boyfriend here to support you, it has been entirely too easy to slip.
You promised him. Midnight is the line you agreed on together, the one rule you said you could live with during these dreadful two weeks, because it wasn’t unreasonable. But you aren't done. Actually, you aren’t even close. The notes in front of you are a mess of colors and arrows and half-written sentences, your handwriting getting worse as the numbers on the clock change. The same topic stares back at you, smug and immovable, like it's proud of the scared look on your face.
Two days stuck on this. Forty-eight hours of rereading, rewriting, convincing yourself you understood it, only to realize you didn’t the moment you tried to explain it out loud.
If you can’t get this, you’ll fail. If you fail, everything you’ve done so far is pointless. If it’s pointless, why did you even try–
You shake your head sharply. Another sip of coffee. Your stomach protests, hollow and sour, but caffeine feels like the only thing preventing you from collapsing to the ground and sleeping for three days straight. You can’t even remember how many cups you had today. Four? Five? You’d stopped counting after the third, the number that echoes in your head with Bucky’s voice attached to it.
“Maximum of three, princess. Then water.”
You press your lips together, guilty tears prickling behind your eyes.
You asked him not to intervene this time. You needed the space, or at least you thought you did. Two weeks without seeing nor hearing him because you knew too well that if you let yourself lean into him, you wouldn’t be able to pull away again. He makes it too easy to rest. Too easy to stop hurting.
You still text, of course. Short messages, check-ins. Him reminding you to drink water, you sending pictures of your notes as proof you are ‘doing fine’. Him replying with a heart and a Proud of you, princess that makes your eyes burn with shame.
“My goal here isn’t to hold you back, or control you. But I’m not just trying to be your boyfriend. I want to be your safe place. I want you to know you can hand yourself over to me completely— mind, body, everything— and trust that I’ll be there, ready to take care of you.”
In these past six months, you built something with structure, a relationship based on care and mutual trust. You never had that before, always being the one holding everything together– first with your family, and now with yourself, with your friends. Always fixing things and anticipating needs. You have always had the tendency to run yourself into the ground for everyone else, without anyone actually noticing how much that cost you. Control has been in your hands for as long as you can remember, and since your first ever relationship, nobody else has tried to earn your trust enough for you to give it up.
With Bucky, you bloomed so easily under his care. You started small: bedtime at midnight; sleep for at least seven hours; no skipping meals; no more than three cups of coffees a day, and only until four in the afternoon– to ensure your sleep quality wouldn't be ruined. And six cups a day of water minimum.
You liked those rules. You wanted them. He helps you to stop before you burn out like you did in the past. The rules are there because you lose track and push yourself too hard, and Bucky won’t allow that if you give him permission to intervene. He promised he would take care of you, no matter if you believe it's inconvenient or uncomfortable for him. Even when you fuck up– especially then– there’s never threat in his tone, nor disappointment. He is patient, very patient, and calm. His hands are steady and his blue eyes full of the promise that you’re always safe with him.
His urge to care for you extends far beyond the rules the two of you agreed upon. The structure matters, yes, but it was never the point. The point is the way he shows up in the quiet, ordinary moments, the ones you didn’t think counted until he made them feel sacred.
Bucky opens doors for you without thinking about it, always a step ahead, always aware of where you are in relation to him. When you walk inside somewhere together, his hand settles at your lower back, not pushing, just there– warm, grounding, a steady reminder that you’re not alone in navigating the world. He guides you like that through crowded rooms and narrow hallways, murmuring soft directions only you can hear.
“Watch the step, sweetheart.”
“Careful– chair’s closer than you think.”
He orders food for you when your mind is too cluttered to decide, and does so remembering your preferences better than you do. He goes shopping with you— not for efficiency, but because he likes seeing your eyes light up over small, pretty trinkets. A sweater softer than the others, a notebook with a cover that makes you smile, a bear keychain that you insist resembles him. He never comments on the practicality of it, his credit card is already in the cashier's hand to buy it for you. That’s also why he calls you princess. He repeats that in the quietest hours, words slow and low in your ear. You deserve to have your needs put first. You deserve to be spoiled, tended and cared for. And he would gladly do that because you’re so precious to him.
His Princess.
He gives you his dog tags one quiet evening, draping them around your neck with reverence. Tells you you’ll keep them safe for him, but the way his thumb lingers against your collarbone, and his eyes darken whenever your top is off says more than his words ever could. You wear them under your clothes, close to your skin, and some days that’s enough to steady you all on its own.
In the mornings, when you’re half-asleep and clumsy with fatigue, he crouches down without a word and helps you put on your shoes. His fingers are careful, methodical, like he’s handling something fragile. Before standing back up, he always presses a brief, absentminded kiss to your thigh.
When you walk together down a busy sidewalk, he always shifts so he’s on the side closer to the road. You don’t even notice when it happens anymore; it’s instinct now. If someone brushes too close, his hand tightens around yours for just a second, reassuring.
He always needs to touch you, in small, grounding ways. A hand on your thigh when you’re sitting side by side, fingers brushing your wrist when he passes behind you. And at night, as soon as the world finally falls asleep, you yearn for the moment he spoons you on the couch: his back against the cushions, you tucked into him, and his arm draped over your front. His fingers trace slow, repetitive paths along your ribs to your hip through your pajamas, never wandering, never demanding. Just steady and patient.
It lulls your thoughts into something manageable.
Bucky cooks for you, too. He pulls you from your chair when it’s time to eat, settling you into his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Sometimes he feeds you, one bite at a time, especially when your hands feel useless or when he needs the reassurance of feeling them rest against his arms, his chest. He doesn’t rush you. He observes your face, and waits for you to nod before the next bite, murmuring praises meant only for you.
“There you go, baby. Tastes good?” He coos, stroking his hand down your back softly.
You nod.
“Good.” He presses a kiss on your neck, smirking as you shiver.
And it’s in those quiet moments that you are reminded that his care is never about control.
Consequences were established not because he wants to punish you, or because you’re bad. But because you need more support than just reminders and soft nudges. The structure is already there and you want it, because you feel better with it. But the idea of actual discipline and being corrected… It made something flutter in your belly when you discussed it for the first time.
Bucky promised to always talk about it together before. No surprises or anger, just guidance to enforce structure. They aren’t about hurting you, nor embarrass you. He wants to protect you. If he’s not calm, it doesn’t happen. If you don’t agree, it doesn’t happen. If you are unsure, it stops: you use the traffic lights system and you have a safeword.
You both agreed on a sort of time out: ten minutes without any external stimuli, just you sitting on his lap in silence to allow your body and mind to unwind in his comforting presence.
No shouting, no pain, no shame.
The knock comes out of nowhere.
You flinch, noticing that you were five seconds away to fall asleep and possibly smack your face against the hard surface of your desk. A nosebleed is the last thing you need now.
Your heart slams hard enough that you feel it in your throat at the sudden noise. Your body freezes, ears perking up to catch any suspicious sound outside of your door.
It has to be your brain playing tricks on you, it’s not the first time you wake up imagining noises, or hallucinating them from lack of sleep. Maybe it was someone knocking on one of the neighboring doors. It’s past midnight, why would anyone look for you? Your friends always send a text before coming by but– oh, your phone has been sitting on silent, facing down your bed for the past six hours.
Just when you opt to stand up to check for any alarming text, there is another knock. Slower. Firmer.
Your breath hitches.
On unsteady legs, you are suddenly aware of how wrecked you feel— your limbs are heavy, your temples pulse, and your eyes feel so damp and swollen, as if someone tried to punch them. The room tilts just slightly when you take the first step forward, so you keep a hand on the wall just in case as you cross the space toward the door.
“Who is it?” You ask, mindful of your voice at this hour.
Silence stretches, and then…
“It’s me, princess.”
Three words familiar enough to make your stomach drop.
“No.” You sigh, even as your hand closes around the handle.
Bucky stands there in the hallway, and for a moment, you just stare at him, brain failing to catch up with reality. He looks the same as always: solid, warm, impossibly handsome, but there is something softer in his expression, something careful.
His eyes flicker over your face, your posture, the dim room behind you. He doesn’t comment, nor ask questions, but the small, gentle smile– like he doesn’t want to scare you off– is enough for you.
“Hi sweet girl.” He says quietly.
Your throat closes at once. You can see how obvious it is that you are barely holding yourself together, tired and unhinged with your routine completely messed up. The realization hits you like a tidal wave, knocking you off your feet as you can’t keep it in anymore.
“I—” Your voice breaks.
The tears come fast, overwhelming as you shake, hands curling into fists and arms wrapping around your waist as if to keep your body from crumbling. The first sob rips out of your chest before you can swallow it back.
Bucky promptly steps closer, still giving you time to pull away if you want to. When he opens his arms for you to step in, you press into his hold without thinking.
The moment his scent reaches your nostrils and the firmness of his broad chest rests against your cheek, something inside your chest gives out completely. You sob, face buried into him, fingers clutching at his shirt like you are afraid he might let go. Bucky only wraps himself tighter around you, one hand warm at the back of your head and the other resting on your waist.
He doesn’t say anything at first, breathing evenly, deeply, trying to lend you his calm. When you sniffle, he adjusts slightly, grounding you, his thumb moving in slow, repetitive strokes as if to say ‘I’m here now. I’m not letting go’.
“Jamie.” You whimper eventually, the name slipping out so painfully.
He exhales slowly, like he’s been holding that breath for a long time. His thumb traces your jaw, then tips your face up gently so he can kiss you, soft and reverent, his mouth lingering over yours enough to make you gasp.
“There’s my girl.” He whispers against your lips, tucking you back against his chest. “I’ve got you.”
You stay like that until your sobs weaken, until the sharp edge of your panic dulls into something achey and exhausted. Only then does he speak again, barely above a whisper.
“I need you to breathe for me, princess.” He whispers in your ear. “C’mon, follow my lead.”
You nod eagerly, your fingers tightening their grip on his shirt. You exhale a little too quickly.
“Slower.” Bucky instructs, his voice a steady anchor as his hand takes yours, flattening your palm against his pec. “Try again.”
This time you draw the breath deeper and fuller, just like he does, hold it and then let it out gradually. His hand doesn’t leave yours, rising and lowering in time with his chest, a way to support you with the rhythm he sets.
“That’s my good girl.” He praises, feeling you shiver under his palms.
When you finally pull back, furiously wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, he doesn't mention yours finals or the rules or the broken promises. He just looks at you with pure love.
“What color are you, princess?” He asks gently.
You swallow. “Green.”
“Okay,” He nods. “Thank you for telling me.”
He reaches down, lifting the takeout bag you didn't even notice he brought with you and left on the floor to comfort you. “I brought food. Your favorite.”
You want to wail again.
“… I didn’t eat dinner.” Your eyes lower, ashamed.
“I figured.” The corners of his mouth lift sadly, no judgment in his voice. Bucky pauses, watching you carefully. “Let's get some food in your stomach, sweetheart.”
You nod quickly, following his lead as he guides you inside, one slow step at a time, like he has all the time in the world.
And for the first time in days, you feel like maybe you do too.
Dinner is a quiet affair that sees you on Bucky’s lap at your table. He reaches for the utensils, cutting the food only to hold it against your lips. “Open up, sweetheart.”
He feeds you small bites and makes sure you have small sips of water while he talks about his day at work. His voice is soothing, and even if you don’t understand half of the things he mentions, you catch some familiar names and the successful approval of his proposal.
“C’mon, princess. Up we go.” You blink disoriented, appalled that you were on the brink of falling asleep in mere minutes. Bucky brings you on your bed, before quickly cleaning the table up.
“How are you feeling now?”
You’re tangled together on the bed, legs hooked, your head tucked beneath his chin. His hand rests at your side, warm and steady, not moving unless you do.
“Better.” You swallow.
Bucky exhales, slow and controlled, like that word matters more than anything else you could’ve given him. His thumb presses once, gently, into your hip. “I’m glad.”
There’s a pause that he doesn’t fill right away. He waits, letting the silence stretch until it feels safe instead of heavy.
“I was scared,” he admits at last with a low voice, almost tentative. “You looked… So exhausted. And I could feel it even through your texts.” His jaw tightens just slightly. “Knowing you were hurting and I couldn’t help… It destroyed me.”
You swallow, not sure what to say as fresh tears sting the corners of your eyes.
“And I’ve never seen you cry like that,” he adds, softer. “Not like you did tonight.”
Your fingers curl into his shirt without thinking.
You nod, but the motion feels too small, too insufficient. He shifts just enough to catch your eye, his gaze not demanding but expectant. The look that always tells you he wants you present. Honest.
Use your words.
You hesitate. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” He murmurs, fingers delicately dancing on your cheek. “I just want you to know that I’m here, and you’re allowed to ask for help when you are carrying too much, okay?”
You nod, but it’s not enough for him. “Words, sweet girl.”
“Okay.” You choke on it.
“Good girl.”
The praise lands deep. You close your eyes, shame prickling hot under your skin even as comfort wraps around you. You hate that you let him see you like this, that you let it get so bad. And yet— you can't help but feel utterly safe now that he is here.
The unraveling starts gradually.
Your shoulders lower first, the tension finally loosening its grip. Then you curl inward, folding into him like gravity has shifted. Your forehead insistently presses into his chest, your hands clinging onto his shirt.
His arms tighten around you immediately, solid. Your rock.
“I didn’t realize it was happening,” You whisper the confession. “I thought I still had control.”
“I know.” He hums understanding. “You are so good at following the rules, baby.”
“I didn’t want to ignore you.” You add, breath shaking. “I just– I don’t want to lose time.” His fingers gently lift your chin so he can press a kiss on the tip of your nose.
“It’s not losing time if you’re taking care of yourself.” He mumbles, his other hand stroking along your back. The motion is deliberate, unhurried, like he’s reminding your body that there’s nowhere else you need to be.
“I feel so embarrassed.” You suddenly admit, ears heating up under his intense yet tender gaze.
“Feeling overwhelmed doesn’t mean you failed,” he explains. “It means you reached your limit.”
“But I did. I did fail.” You sniffle, hot liquid sliding down your cheeks again. “I messed up.”
“Hey, hey.” His hands cradle your jaw so you don’t hide again, keeping you close to his face. “You struggled, you needed help.” he corrects gently. “There’s a difference. And it certainly doesn't make you weak.”
You go quiet at that, chin wobbling as your teeth bite your bottom lip harshly enough to hurt. Anything to not sob again like a child.
“I’m proud of you. So, so proud.” Bucky continues, resting his forehead against yours. “Because you let me see you. Because you didn’t shut down completely. That takes more strength than pretending you’re fine.”
“I didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle things.”
He stills, just for a moment, before his thumbs start a caressing motion on your skin. “I don’t need you to handle everything alone. I need you to let me stand with you when it gets heavy.”
You nod, swallowing around the knot in your throat.
He presses a kiss on your forehead, lingering. “Now let’s unwind, alright?”
You exhale shakily, letting your weight sink fully into him, and he waits, patient as ever.
After a while, he murmurs. “Let’s take a few quiet minutes. No thinking, no talking. Just rest.”
You don’t argue, nor apologize again. You just nod and let him adjust you, pulling you closer until your breathing naturally syncs with his.
Wrapped in him, shame softens into something survivable. And when his thumb traces a slow, reassuring path against your side, the buzzing in your head fades, guilt loosening its grip on your heart until it’s no longer crushing.
“There you go,” Bucky whispers, his own shoulders relaxing as he feels your body slowly melt against his. “That’s good, my love. It’s okay. You’ve got time. You can do it.” You whimper quietly at that, just realizing how much you needed to hear those words.
“You’re safe with me. I love you so much, princess.”
“Love you too, Jamie.”
At some point, when your head doesn’t feel as heavy as before and your eyes are completely dry, you wiggle in his arms, accidentally letting your core brush against his hard thigh. Bucky is still pressing soft kisses along the line of your forehead, noticing you shiver but not thinking too much about it– he knows you must be so sleepy now. Yet he couldn’t be far from the truth. Your body is craving a certain kind of pleasure and relief that you denied both yourself and your boyfriend for almost two weeks, so you wiggle again against his thigh, squeaking under your breath when it finally brushes your clit. Bucky’s body goes rigid for a heartbeat, suddenly catching on what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. You keep moving your hips forward, now thoroughly and shamelessly humping his thigh, him letting you and even adjusting his leg so it slots in perfectly between yours. His arms squeeze your waist, eliciting a surprised gasp out of you.
“What are you doing, doll?” He whispers, voice already heavy with lust. He might be a super soldier with a hundred and more years behind him, but how can he keep his composure with such a beautiful, sweet woman in his arms, so desperate for his touch?
“Need you.” You gasp. “I know ‘m tired, but I need you so bad Jamie, please.”
His breath tickles your nose as he exhales deeply, not annoyed, but more as if he is trying so hard to behave. “Color?”
“Green. So, so green.”
“You need help, baby?” Bucky reiterates, enjoying the sight of you basically straddling him now. You nod dumbly, still desperately trying to chase your high by rocking your hips.
Bucky takes his time, the way he always does when you’re unguarded and too tender, when what you need is to be cared for without being asked to give anything back.
He kisses your cheek, then your jaw, then lower. Down your neck, your collarbone, the soft skin just beneath. Each kiss is intentional, worshipping.
Once your sweats and hoodie are off and you are lying open and wet on your back for him, his hands roam your body with reverence, palms mapping the curve of your hips, then the dip of your waist. The way he touches you makes you feel treasured, not just wanted. His metal hand stays at your side, a cool anchor while his other hand explores, stroking along your ribs, your belly, your thighs.
“You can let go, princess.” He murmurs against the flesh of your breasts. “I got you. I always got you.”
You believe him with every breath that shakes its way out of you.
Even though both of you are burning with the pleasure that you so badly want to let consume you, he takes his time, tender and loving. You feel like light as cotton candy in his arms, sighing at his every touch.
Bucky lets out a soft pant when one of his large hands grasps your jaw, pulling you into a filthy kiss. You moan into it, the heat and wetness between your legs so hard to ignore now.
Once his cock is nestled deep inside of you, the ache becomes unbearable.
“Jamie, please.” You whimper, eyes squeezed shut and thighs tensing. Your eyes are half-lidded, dazed, nearly as wet as your lips that you keep biting so you won’t wake the whole dorm up with your wanton noises.
“I know, I know, baby girl. It’s big, hm?” He coos back, chest heaving and sweat pooling on his collar bones every time you clench around him. His calloused fingers dig into the plush of your ass every now and then, keeping you anchored to him just to see your eyes roll back at the delicious friction between your clit and his pubic hair.
“So big... Move, please?” You toss your head back once he gives a quick thrust, but Bucky is quick to grasp your jaw, tilting it back until the tips of your noses brush against each other.
“Eyes on me, princess… There you go, that’s a good little girl. Keep them on me so I can see them when you come, okay?” He asks you, arching a stern brow. You nod again, a bit more eager, moaning a high-pitched promise as his hips thrust forward leisurely.
Bucky would be lying if he said he isn’t getting impatient himself. He usually likes to take his time with you– break you down bit by bit until you’re crying, until you’re begging for him to let you come. But today is different and he can’t ignore the fierce urge to see you unravel on his cock.
“Hold on to me.”
You obey, wrapping your arms eagerly around his neck, breasts pushed up for him to nuzzle into.
Once his cock slams right back into you, you gasp, nails digging into his back, and he sets a brutal pace. Flesh slaps against flesh when his hips begin to piston forward, meeting your bouncing body as you shake like a leaf.
Your mouth falls open into a perfect round shape, and Bucky takes in the sight with pride burning hot in his chest.
“That good, huh?” He smirks, leaning forward to capture one of your tits, wrapping around a turgid nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “You feel perfect.” He grunts, voice rough with restraint. "Like you were made for me."
Your legs squeeze around his waist, drawing him impossibly deeper. “Think I am.”
You do your best to keep your eyes on his, but he takes note of the way they begin to roll as your pussy flutters more often. You feel so dizzy from his length pushing into you that you are certain you're going to faint.
“Jamie!” You whine, body squirming as if the pleasure is too much for your body to contain. “'M close.”
“I know, princess.” He murmurs, never breaking his rhythm. “Can feel it. So tight around me. So good.”
Your toes curl against his thighs, your breath hitching in your throat like there’s not enough air. Bucky is right there with you, brows pulled in concentration when he feels the familiar clench of his lower abdomen. His thrusts grow deeper, more purposeful, and you can tell by the tension in his jaw and the slight tremor in his arms, that he's fighting for control. Even lost in pleasure, he’s putting you first.
“Tell me when you’re coming.” He grits out, leaning down to steal your lips in a wet kiss. “Tell him so I know when to fill my pussy up. That’s what you want, right princess? Want Jamie to fill you up so you can feel it drip out of you while you sit all cute and primly at your desk?”
You try to tell him yes, but everything that comes out is a warped, high-pitched moan. It’s not even seconds later that you tell him you’re coming, deliriously repeating it over and over and over again until he can feel it happening.
“That's it.” He growls, his rhythm clumsily faltering as he feels you clench around him. “Let go for me. Just like that, beautiful.”
Your vision blurs at the edges as pleasure consumes every single crevice of your body until your brain only knows how to scream your boyfriend’s name, until there’s nothing but the delicious stretch of his big cock.
You squeeze him so tight his hips can barely move, pulsing and milking him. You keep your eyes on him, like the good girl you are, though your lashes flutter with the rest of your body that squirms in his firm hold.
Bucky follows you moments later, pressing deep as he shudders above you with his face buried in your neck, trying to muffle the roaring groan that rumbles through his chest. The contact grounds him as his cock begins to twitch and swell inside of you, borderline animalistic in the way his fingers bruise your hips as he finally finds the yearned release after these rough two weeks.
“Oh, my pretty princess.” His warm breath tickles your collarbones, hips still thrusting carelessly and body trembling slightly with the force of his orgasm. Bucky tightens his arms around you like he never wants to let go, both of your hearts pounding in sync as the aftershocks ripple through your bodies.
Eventually, the world stills. His breath slows, his senses clear, but when he tries to move, your limbs trap him there.
“Color?”
“Green.” Your quick breathing fades into a shaky and deep thing. Bucky kisses your temple, soothing his hands up and down the length of your spine as he gently moves you so you’re lying on top of him. You slump against him, nuzzling into his chest, limp and satisfied.
Bucky reads your body like his favorite book, knowing very well when it asks for this– sitting full of him. He’ll allow it only for a few more minutes; your body has been under so much stress lately and he doesn’t want to be the reason you'll wake up sore tomorrow morning. Not that it'll change something after the good fuck he gave you.
Maybe he'll wait until you fall asleep, just enough for every last drop of his seed to have the chance to settle inside you.
if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist, just leave a comment or an inbox (my whole account is nsfw, so you need to be 18+ and have your age displayed. it is impossible for me to go through every account, therefore I trust you to be honest and respectful of my rules and boundaries, thank you).
Summary: You're riding Bucky for the first time, and it's much more tiring than you expected.
Warnings/Tags: 18+ mdni, smut with no plot, overstimulation, soft dom!bucky, female reader (she/her) with female anatomy, soft dom!reader, unprotected p in v sex, praise, use of the term 'good girl', slight infantilization, inexperienced!reader, Thunderbolts era, pre-established relationship, no use of Y/N
Word count: 857 words
A/N: I haven’t written Bucky smut in ages, so this felt long overdue. This was supposed to be a fic for kinktober, but I burnt myself out and didn’t end up writing it until now. I was re-inspired by the Galentines Party event created by @wildflowersandvibranium and @pinksplace. This is for the spicy day three prompt, “Is this okay?”.
Marvel Masterlist
Since it was your anniversary, you and Bucky had been at it all night. The two of you were currently slick with sweat and recovering on top of the sheets. His hair was slightly damp, and your face was flushed. For whatever reason, you were still feeling needy. It was like you just couldn’t get enough. You shifted against the bed and tried to gather yourself before your boyfriend noticed. That didn’t work, though. Bucky soon broke the silence to tease you.
“Why are you squirming around so much, huh?”
“I just want more.”
“Seriously? Can’t a man recover for a minute?”
Bucky’s teasing was making you more frustrated, and you groaned softly. It wasn’t your fault that his old ass was tapping out. You huffed and tried to think of how to solve this issue. That’s when it hit you.
“What if you didn’t have to move? I’ll do all the work.”
“You’ll do the work? It’s a little more difficult than you think, sweetheart. You’ve never even been on top.”
The fact that he was doubting your capabilities only annoyed you further. It was no secret that Bucky had more experience than you did. That didn’t mean that you were naïve, though. You could ride him with no issue. At least, that’s what you thought, and you voiced that.
“I can do it, Bucky. Please let me try. Just teach me how to do it.”
“Alright. Do as I say and you’ll do great.”
“Okay.”
Without another word, he placed his hands on your hips and helped you move so that you were hovering over him. Your knees were placed on either side of Bucky's thighs. He was fairly large, so it took some effort to fully straddle him. You managed, though. Once he had you positioned exactly where he wanted you, he spoke up again.
“Just like that. I’ve got you lined up, so all you have to do is settle down.”
“Okay. You’ll say something if I hurt you or anything?”
“Of course, sweet girl. Go ahead and move.”
Taking a deep breath, you nodded and did as you were told. You slowly sank down on Bucky’s thick cock and gasped as he stretched you out. Since you’d both gone a few rounds before this, you adjusted quickly. This angle was a bit different from what you were used to, though. You locked eyes with your boyfriend and sought out reassurance.
“Is this okay?”
“Yeah, baby. Fuck, you’re doing so good.”
“What do I do, now?”
“Keep your knees planted where they are and just move. Do whatever feels best for you. You won’t hurt me.”
Bucky’s words had eased the anxiety you had surrounding performing. If he could sound confident about your abilities, so could you. Following his instructions, you did what felt right and started grinding your hips in long circular motions. He knew that you wanted to be independent, so he fought the urge to rut into you.
Instead of acting on those desires, Bucky laid back and watched the way that your tits bounced while you moved. God, he was never going to get used to seeing you like this. It was even better than he had imagined.
What you hadn't accounted for was that you were still tired and overly sensitive from earlier in the night. It didn't help that Bucky wasn’t a small man, and you had to be somewhat flexible to straddle him properly. You were determined to keep going, but your efforts were steadily becoming sluggish. He couldn't help, but tease you lightly.
“Poor baby. Is it too much for you? Is my girl getting sleepy on me?”
Refusing to stop, you didn’t give Bucky the satisfaction of responding, and you focused your attention on riding him. In a vain effort to anchor yourself, you planted your palms on his broad chest. It didn’t help very much, though. He could tell by the hazy look in your eyes that you were burning out, and he offered to lend a hand.
“You look so tired, pretty girl. Do you need me to take over?”
You nodded in defeat and tucked your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck. If you weren’t so exhausted and worked up, you would’ve been embarrassed. He wasted no time in taking over for you, moving your hips up and down. Your boyfriend was going out of his way to keep his motions gentle, but purposeful.
His efforts were relentless, and they were finally rewarded when you cried out. Your walls clamped around him and your vision went white with pleasure. Bucky's euphoria quickly followed, and he spilled inside of you. He held you close and rode out the orgasm with you. He continued praising you afterward.
“You did so good, baby. That was perfect.”
As you came down from your high, Bucky gently traced the curve of your spine and waited for his own breathing to even out. It took him a moment to realize that you had actually dozed off. He'd fucked his girl to sleep. The thought boosted his ego, and he could finally let himself return to resting.
Bucky Barnes Taglist: @sunday-bug (comment to join!!)
warnings: explicit sexual content and smut, graphic sexual descriptions, sexual intercourse, public sexual activity, sexually explicit language and dirty talk, power dynamics and dominance, sexualized body focus and objectification, nsfw material intended for 18+ audiences only.
→ bunny talking: i love bruce wayne tbh. also my requests are open !
Bruce loved to rile you up, and what other way could he do that other than with his words? Always whispering nasty things in your ear that he knew would have you wet for the rest of the day. The constant throb in your core that he couldn't wait to get him and push himself into.
"You look so good, baby. I can't wait to take this off you," he whispered in your ear at the charity gala. Of course, when you arrived home, you let him take it off you. His hands pressed your thighs to your chest as he pistoned his hard cock into your sopping cunt.
"Can you wear this f'me, angel face?" He asks while holding up the smallest piece of lingerie you'd ever seen in your days of shopping. "You want me to wear that?" You give him a confused look, because how in the hell were you going to fit into that pile of string? He attempted to help you into it at home, his eyes glazing over as he stared at your naked body. You weren't even halfway in before he pulled you closer and pressed his lips to your breats.
"Just ride me right here, no one's watching." He whispers in the back of the movie theater. But people were indeed watching, even if you couldn't see them. Not that either of you really cared, settling on his lap with his hand over your mouth as you grinded just right on his hardening cock. "Atta girl, just like that."
Warning: hunky nomad house husband steve rogers. He loves taking care of you, but wants you to be his submissive bunny. Dom steve . Breeding kink. . Size kink. He is one cocky Bastard. Degradation kink.
A/N : i bet all of you have had a long week like me, so just relax and let your house husband steve rogers fuck you into submission.
"morning bunny " steve said as he saw your sleepy figure trialing to the kitchen where he was making pancakes, the smell of the vanilla hitting your nose as soon as you woke up. You thought the hottest thing this man did was what he did with his mouth last night, as he was holding your thighs open with his huge hands , but boy you were wrong, him standing here in just his boxers , cooking was doing something to you.
You didn't even bother saying good morning, just wrapped your arms around his large frame from behind. Steve chuckled, "hungry bunny? " You nod ,against his back, hands already wandering towards his boxers, slowly sliding in , Steve didn't stop you, he knew how much you needed him in the mornings especially on a Sunday morning, after a long week at work, all you needed was him , just him, you thunk you wore him out but you could never wear out a super soldier. He never thought he'd enjoy being a stay at home husband, but now he can't think of anything that fulfilled him more, he can just sit around all day , working on his drawings, he found new hobbies like pottery, or woodwork.
You fingers played along his thick cock, one you were still not used to, you could take it's length, just not the girth, "your pussy is just too stubborn to let me in babydoll, but then when she lets me she's too greedy to let go." Steve would say, you thought it was silly at first how he'd refer to your pussy in third person, but that was until you found him having a whole ass conversation with it in second person, he's crazy but you love it. He was just as obsessed with you, as you were with him. who knew captian america was such a filthy man?
"wanna play bunny? Is that what you want, you wanna play with daddy's cock?" , if anyone else heard the words coming out of.his mouth, he'd get in big trouble, but he knew you were such a slut for it, that's why he didn't give a damn about what anyone else thought.
"yes daddy please..." You begged.
"alright come on , my little bunny slut" he tunred off the stove and took you to the couch, where he sat down with his legs spread. "Go ahead bunny , he's all yours " you don't know when you started referring to his private parts like this, maybe he started it, but that's what you both do now.
"All mine daddy ..." You pulled down his boxers, he loved when you gave up all your control to him, "little bunnies like you shouldn't use your brains too much , you can save it for work bunny, but at home , you let daddy do the thinking " he'd say .
"good girl now suck on it just like daddy taught you." And you did just that, making him lose his mind, "slow down bunny, fuck I don't wanna waste my cum on your mouth you know that " and don't mistake him he usually loved cumming in your mouth, and watch you swallow all of it, and lap up the rest of it, like you've been starving for days. But right now he wanted something different, he wanted his own little bunnies , ".being a stay at home husband is nice bunny, but it does get a little lonely when you're not around, so what you're gonna do is gimme some little bunnies to keep me company" atleast that is what you remember from that conversation, the rest of it was a blur , steve filled you up over and over again that day, and since then he refused to release his load anywhere other than your pussy and bt that he meant deep in your pussy, not lazily pulling out and watching his cum coat your "bunny button" as he called it, though it was one of his favorite things, he knew he had to save it for now.
"sorry daddy, i got excited" you went back to your old rhythm, bobbing up and down his length.
"it's okay bunny I know little bunnies like you get excited at the sight of a big cock, but behave for now" steve was on the verge of spilling his load down your throat .
He pulled you onto his lap, "now bunny i want you to ride me can you do that?" You got nervous immediately, you've only managed to ride your husband a few times , because he usually prefers you writhing under him, and because you can barely take him from that position. " Come on bunny don't be nervous daddy's right here and you did well last time, i don't think you even need my help this time" he knew that wasn't true, but he loved watching you struggle to take his cock, all clueless and nervous, you'd use your little fingers to prep yourself as if it's any match for his thick cock, he even let you use a dildo once , but then you just cried pathetically as you couldn't even take it.
"come on bunny" he pat your thigh with his big hands signalling you to start, he knew you could never take it, but he really got off knowing that his wife of 6 months still couldn't take his cock on her own. "Don't be nervous bunny,I'm right here." With his reassurance,you went ahead.
You took off your soaked panties, and went to place it on the couch, steve grabbed it quicker, he sniffed at them , almost moaning, "fuck now I wish you were on my face bunny, wish I could tease those pretty lips ." Your face went red, you could never get used to how verbal he was with his filthy thoughts.
You rubbed your slit all over his length, as steve watched intently, letting your juices coat his member, the friction was just enough to make you cum, but you didn't wanna come yet , you wanted to prove to him that you were capable of more. You put two of your fingers in you, scissoring yourself pathetically, you usually did it right, but with him watching it got a little intense for you to concentrate, "what's the matter baby?" He teased, knowing damn well what was happening.
"do you want me to call Bucky again ?" You flushed at the memory of the winter soldier, using his metal fingers, to stretch your poor pussy. Steve didn't trust you with anyone other than Bucky. Because Bucky was just as dumb and pathetic as you, good thing he's in Wakanda ,. rehabilitating himself. Steve was so proud of his boy.
. "My bunny can't get anything done on her own can she?" "Noo i can't, i just..."
" come on let's see if you can take my cock bunny" . "I can steve...." "Then do it, hop on my cock my pathetic little bunny slut " you were so turned on, you forgot that you were no where ready to take him . You tried to sink his length in your heat , wiggling around , trying to fit it in. Steve gripped your hips tightly, to stop you from wiggling . "Just do it bunny, wanna see you take it all bt yourself, make daddy proud" .
And you did you so badly wanted to , but your pussy just wouldn't let strech past his tip. He was enjoying this, just as he thought he would. "Bunny I'm starting to think your little pussy really hates me " .
"no no daddy she loves you, she does, she's just....shy "
"I bet she is, silly girl." He pushed you off of him, and placed you on the couch, on your back.
" now i have to talk to her again " he sighed playful ly. "And let her know who she belongs to." You could do nothing but nod .
" that's my good little bunny" and he got right to work...
summary: his job means he should destroy you and your empire. but andy barber buried his conscience with his family, and you’re the only thing that still makes him feel alive.
warnings/tags: SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, enemies with benefits, dom!andy, light choking, slight canon divergence (implies laurie and jacob are dead), dark romance vibes, 18+ MDNI
from maddie: day two of the january jumble scribbles - this was such an interesting prompt (from skyfall?), wasn’t sure how to make it smutty at first, but i quite like how i ended up using it. first time writing andy, and i had a lott of fun with it! i need this man soo bad.
word count: 391 (oops again 🫣 if this was a challenge to keep it under 400, i'd be nailing it so far...)
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You’re bent over your desk, pussy dripping on the ledgers and laundered books he swore he’d seize as evidence.
“Fuck—if you didn’t squeeze my cock like this,” Andy groans, one hand fisting your hair, “you’d be rotting in a cell right now.”
You moan for him, loud and shameless, because it makes him angrier. Makes him fuck you harder, like he’s chasing oblivion. Like if he just buries himself deep enough, your heat might thaw the cold that grief carved out.
“Lucky me,” you purr, grinding back. “ADA Barber’s got a soft spot for crime bosses with tight cunts.”
He’s still in his suit, sleeves rolled, pants shoved down, cock buried to the hilt in the same body he promised he’d put behind bars. You’re half-naked beneath him, legs trembling from how hard he’s fucking you.
Your pussy always makes him forget he’s supposed to be a good man.
“You like being bent over your empire, sweetheart?” Andy pants, thrusting harder, cock dragging against every spot that makes your walls pulse around him. “I should drag your pretty ass to holding. Cuff you and keep you there.”
You laugh, wicked. “Cuffs are in the drawer if you want a test run.”
He growls in response. His hand wraps around your throat, hauling you upright against his chest, arching your back so his cock slams into that perfect, unforgiving spot. Your vision blurs. You cry out his name, shaking, cunt clenching hard enough to make him swear.
“Look at you,” he rasps. “All this power and you still come on my cock so fucking pretty.”
He fucks you through your release, until you’re sobbing and pliant in his arms, and the fight drains out of you completely.
“Be a good girl,” Andy snarls, breath hot against your ear. “Say thank you.”
“Thank you,” you choke out a gasp, the sound almost swallowed by the slap of skin as he keeps driving into you.
That’s what breaks him.
Andy growls low in his chest, hips jerking and control shattering as he spills deep inside you. His teeth sink into your shoulder like it’s the only way to keep from falling apart completely.
Because he’s the law and you’re the rot beneath it. He shouldn’t orbit your fire.
But where worlds collide and days are dark, Andy Barber finds absolution between your thighs.
thanks for reading! if you enjoyed please like & reblog/comment as i would be super grateful for feedback <3
i'd especially love to know if any of these little snippets that i'll be posting across the month for the january jumble scribbles inspire any ideas that could be developed into a full fic!
Hear me out : Cuck! Steve Rogers who lets Bucky have his way with you…
Nsfw under the cut
Maybe it was the alcohol that was running through your body, or maybe it was the fact that Bucky was fucking you stupid while your boyfriend, Steve, swept the hair out of your face.
How totally ridiculous and wrong this was, he thought, that he even got off of seeing his girlfriend being fucked by anyone other than him - but especially his best friend.
It was so wrong, but so right. Steve sat on the bed, watching Bucky rail you from up close, your head in his lap as Bucky’s thick cock slid in and out.
“I want you to keep eye contact with him, sweetheart, look him in the eye while you take this fucking cock.” His words alone made your back arch, but you did as told. You could barely even keep your eyes open, your skin was burning with desire. “Should we let him make you cum, baby? Should we let him touch your sweet pussy while I’m fucking you?” Bucky said. You almost couldn’t speak.
“Please, Bucky, I wanna help her cum.” Steve said, almost whimpering. Bucky laughed a bit, and pushed your legs open just enough to let Steves fingers rub your clit.
“Fuck, oh my god!” You scream out, the sensation of Steves fingers and Bucky’s thick cock. “Please let me cum, Bucky, please, oh my god.” Your pleading sounded like music to both mens ears. Your legs started to shake, vision going white, and that familiar feeling washed over you.
“Good girl, cumming and letting Steve help. Was he good tonight too? Should we let him touch himself?”
Steve almost never got to touch you during these sessions. This had been the most he’d touched you, in fact. Usually he was instructed to sit on the bed and keep your hair out of your face, make sure you were pretty for Bucky. Sometimes, if he did a good job the previous time, he’d even be allowed to touch himself. To get himself off while watching your pussy be pounded from only a foot away.
Steve palmed himself through his jeans, he was still fully dressed. Watching you in this state, so blissful and taking Bucky’s cock so good, the sight alone might have got him off…
Anyways, reblog if you liked this :) and I might do a full fic abt this topic :p, this is my first post in quite a while :)))
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