Plump & Ripe
Pairing: Chubby!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected Sex. Some fluff. Slight Angst. A Pinch of Body Insecurity. Size kink. Use of pet names.
Summary: On a routine visit to the fruit shop, Bucky ends up with more than his usual goodies.
Word Count: 7.4k.
note: This is one of the works I'm submitting for the @avengers-assemble-bingo event for Bucky's 108th birthday, running throughout March. The prompt was "Plums". It was supposed to be a cute and fluffy fic, but it turned into pure filth instead. I'm sorry -not-
She looked up from the counter, and a welcoming smile spread instantly across her lips when she saw who had made the doorbell chime.
“You’re late. You’re lucky I set this bag aside when the distributor came this morning because they’re all sold out now.” She lifted a small paper bag from the shelf behind her, placing it on the counter between them. The deep violet of the plums peeked through the crinkled opening.
Bucky stood just inside the doorway, a little tense as he fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket. “Sorry. Something came up and... couldn’t make it earlier.” He mumbled.
That something had been him, forcing himself out of bed after three days of avoiding the world. Everything felt heavier these days, his body, his thoughts, even some goddamn things that weren’t so before. But he was here now, and that was better than nothing.
She leaned her elbows on the counter. “No worries. I know you’d never miss plum day on purpose.” She tried to tease him warmly.
Right. One of the rare occasions he’d missed plum day was when he went on that stupid mission, the so-called ‘walk in the park’ that turned into a bloodbath of agents and ended up with him being taken again by the same people who’d tormented him for nearly 80 years. Only this time, they didn’t just want their precious pet back, they wanted it better.
In five days of captivity, they not only strapped him to a modernized version of that damned chair. Oh no, they’d injected him with a cocktail of drugs that messed up his body in ways he was still discovering, even a year later. Like his fucked-up metabolism.
His gaze flashed to the plums, his mouth twitching just slightly. “You know me too well on that aspect,” he muttered, reaching out to grab the bag.
She observed him. “Do you need anything else?”
He hesitated, scanning the baskets of fruits lined up near the wall. “Yeah… green apples.”
She nodded, moving around the counter to grab another paper bag. As she started picking the bright green apples, she spoke over her shoulder. “I got a new kind this week. They’re a mix of green and red, still sour but with a sweet twist. Figured you might like them, so I’m throwing one in for you to try.” She dropped a smaller, two-toned apple into the bag. “No charge.” She winked.
His lips quirked, just for a moment, the closest thing to a smile she’d seen from him in weeks. “Thanks.” He said gruffly.
She twisted the top of the bag, folding it neatly before placing it on the counter beside the plums. But she didn’t step back, and her fingers dithered on the edge as if debating something. Her teeth caught her bottom lip, worrying the skin.
Always perceptive, Bucky narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”
Her head jerked up, eyes widening. “Huh?”
“You look like you’re trying to decide whether to say something or not.” He crossed his arms, leaning his weight on one leg. “Tell me.”
She huffed a laugh, embarrassed. “It’s... not very appropriate.”
One eyebrow shot up. “I’ve heard worse.”
She bit her lip again before glancing toward the back room. “I was just wondering if you could help me with a couple of crates. The distributor was in a hurry, and he just tossed the merchandise back there. It’s hard to move around.” She gave a half-shrug, sheepish. “I tried to do it myself, but they’re actually pretty heavy.”
He followed her gaze, and his expression softened. “That's all?”
“Well... yeah,” she admitted, heat creeping up her neck. “You already helped with the shelves last week, and the cooler the week before. I just... I don’t want you to feel like I’m taking advantage or something.”
His features softened even more as he huffed, twitching his lips in a half-smile. “I wouldn’t help if I didn’t want to. Show the way.”
She gestured to the door behind the counter -the only door, really- and he shot her a look. She shrugged, grinning. “I know, I know. Real hard to find.”
He followed her through the doorway, ducking his head slightly as they entered the cramped back room. His steps faltered as his eyes saw the scene. Stacks of boxes and wooden crates were scattered haphazardly across the floor, some leaning precariously against each other. It was like the distributor had been in a damn race to get out of there.
His lips turned into a deep scowl. How the hell did that asshole expect her to move this on her own? Where were the manners nowadays? He grumbled under his breath, weaving between the clutter as he started rearranging the crates into a more orderly stack. He made sure to place the heavier boxes at the bottom, the lighter ones on top, within easy reach for her.
She leaned against the doorframe, watching as the chaos turned into something more manageable. “God, I’ll kidnap you and put you on my bedside table.”
His head snapped up, brows drawing together. “Uh?”
She blinked, a faint heat creeping up her neck. “Oh, it’s just... a saying we have. You know, to cherish someone.” She waved a hand, brushing off her embarrassment. “Forget it. Thank you, really, for always helping.”
He chuckled. “Pretty sure your poor bedside table can’t handle me anyway.” His tone was dry, self-deprecating, like he was almost daring her to argue.
But her brain had short-circuited somewhere around ‘bedside,’ and before she could think better of it, the words just tumbled out: “But my bed sure can.”
He froze, fingers clenching around the edge of a crate. For a second, he didn’t even breathe. “Come again?”
She cursed inwardly. Did she… actually say that aloud? Oh my god. She could feel her soul leaving her body, her eyes darting down as her brain scrambled for something -anything- that could sound similar. She fumbled, words tripping over themselves. “I- I said... I wondered if... if you can open a can.”
Bucky blinked, and his expression changed from shock to confusion. “A can?”
She nodded furiously, feeling her face burn. “Yeah. A big one. I have- with peaches. And I don’t have an opener, so I thought maybe...” Her eyes flicked to his metal hand, then back to his face.
They stared at each other, the silence was thick and heavy. “You want me to open... a can of peaches.”
Her chin lifted defiantly, even as her face burned. “Yes. A big one.”
He looked at her, then tilted his head, his lips twitching slightly. “That so?”
“Yup. I figured you’re more than capable and I... really wanted to try them.” Her voice was firmer now, though her face was still in flames.
Bucky observed her for another moment, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to figure something out. Finally, he huffed, low and almost amused. “Alright then. Bring it over.”
She nodded quickly, grateful for the excuse to turn away from his piercing gaze. Her heart was still hammering against her chest, and her hands trembled as she rummaged through a cluttered shelf.
Eventually, she found the can half-buried behind a jar of jam, with its bright label slightly faded. Two forks were grabbed from a drawer without much thought, and her fingers clenched around them as she tried to calm herself. When she turned back, Bucky was stacking the last of the boxes, with his back to her.
Her eyes remained on the sight of his body for a beat too long, and her mind flashed back to her stupid, impulsive words. But my bed sure can. She almost groaned out loud, the embarrassment creeping over again. She would never live this down.
Clearing her throat, she approached him, holding out the can. “Here. I... uh... figured we could share. Since you’re helping me out and all.”
He turned, and his gaze dropped to the can before lifting to meet hers. His expression was neutral, but his eyes held a glint of something she couldn’t quite place. “Peaches, huh?”
She swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. They should be good. Sweet. Soft, too... uh, juicy.” The words tumbled out before she could stop them, and her face burned all over again. God, why did she have to say it like that?
Bucky just stared at her for a second, flashing his gaze to her lips before his mouth twitched. “Alright.” His voice was a little rougher, a little lower. He took the can and popped a metal finger through the lid, crumpling the metal until it popped off.
He handed it back, licking his finger for a brief moment, and she could swear she could have a stroke. “There you go. Good thing at least I’m as good as a can opener.”
She furrowed her brow, and the playful glint in her eyes faded. “Don’t do that.”
His shoulders tensed. What did he do to upset her? “Do what?”
“That,” she said, “Sell yourself short. That... self-deprecation thing you always pull.”
His jaw clenched, and his eyes drifted away from hers. “Just saying the truth.” Almost unconsciously, his gaze dropped to his midsection, to the slight curve that hadn’t been there before. To the proof that his body was failing him, that even with all the enhancements, he was broken.
“Bucky,” she said, with a softer tone but no less resolute. “You’re a damn Avenger. Half the days you come in here, you’re bruised and battered because you fight for people who can’t do it for themselves. You protect them. That’s incredible.” Her hand gestured to the neatly stacked crates behind him. “You’re kind... and good. Don’t diminish yourself.”
His eyes snapped back to hers, a glint of surprise breaking through his usual calm but hard expression. He wanted to deflect, to brush it off with a sarcastic remark. It was easier to joke than to acknowledge the weight of her words. But the way she looked at him made the words stick in his throat.
His fingers clenched around the can, the metal creaking under his grip. “Yeah, well... sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.”
She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving his. “Our own perceptions sometimes lie. Doesn’t make it less true.”
He stared at her, and his defenses faltered. The familiar cynicism was there, clawing at him, but her words were louder. His mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You're always this stubborn?”
She crossed her arms, lifting her chin defiantly. “Only when someone I care about is being stupid.” She seemed to realize what she’d said a second too late, her eyes widening before she looked away. “I mean... you know... as a customer. And a... friend.”
He cocked an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly as if he was trying to get a better read on her. “A friend to put on your nightstand.”
Her eyes snapped to his, caught off guard by the teasing lilt in his voice. “Sure.”
He leaned against the stacked crates, crossing his arms over his chest. His jaw worked, like he was chewing over his next words. For a heartbeat, he thought about letting it slide, about keeping his mouth shut and pretending he hadn’t heard. But not knowing was worse than anything, enough to make him reckless. “Did you mean it?”
Her heart skipped, and the peach suddenly felt too heavy on her tongue. She forced herself to chew slowly, buying time. “What?”
“The... bed.” His gaze pierced her in that way that made her feel stripped bare. “Did you mean it?”
Oh. So he had heard her.
Her mind raced, her instincts screaming at her to laugh it off, to deflect with a joke or change the subject. But he just stood there, watching her, waiting. It was infuriating how still he could be, how his silence demanded more than words ever could.
His eyes didn’t waver, his face was impassive, but there was something in his stance, something almost vulnerable in the way his fingers tapped once against his arm before he caught himself, stopping the movement.
She paused mid-chew, the peach now a lump in her throat. The hell with all. “What if I did?”
His expression didn’t change, but his posture did: his shoulders straightened, his arms uncrossed just slightly. He took a step closer, and the room suddenly felt a lot smaller. “Then I’d say... you’d better be sure.”
She swallowed, heat blooming up her neck. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
His lips twitched, the ghost of a smile as he closed the space between them. “I figured.”
His hand came up slowly, hesitantly, like he was giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn’t move as his fingers brushed her cheek, rough callouses skimming her skin. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and she couldn’t help but lean into it, never breaking eye contact.
His thumb traced her cheek, and his gaze softened as his fingers craddled the back of her neck. Her pulse quickened; she could feel it in her ears, but she didn’t dare to look away. Not when his eyes were so impossibly blue, focused on hers in a way that stole her breath.
She parted her lips in a silent invitation, while her hand found its way to his chest, grabbing softly the fabric of his jacket.
For a moment, he just looked at her, his face so close she could feel his breath on her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and his eyes darkened, “Tell me to stop if this is not what you want,” he murmured, but his hand didn’t move.
She shook her head, clenching her fingers on his jacket. “Not a chance.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and his lips covered hers, firm and demanding, as he fisted her hair and pulled her closer.
She responded instinctively, pressing her body into his as her hands slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck. He groaned against her mouth, circling his vibranium arm on her waist.
The world around her faded, the cluttered storeroom, the scent of the peaches, everything disappeared until there was only him. His warmth, his strength, his mouth moving against hers with a hunger that made her knees weak.
She sighed, threading her fingers through his hair, and he responded by deepening the kiss. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, she ran a hand along his slightly rounded cheek, tracing its curve with her thumb with a tenderness that made something clench on his chest.
“You are so damn handsome.”
His gaze widened slightly with surprise. The cocky 40s Sergeant Barnes wouldn’t have agreed. In fact, he wouldn’t have dreamed of seeing himself like this, heavier, slower, tired.
He swallowed as the weight of her words pressed against years of ingrained self-doubt.
She exhaled, shaking her head with a small, knowing smile. “I can see the gears turning inside your head, you know?” Her fingers lingered against his skin, warm and sure. “And, in a courageous and embarrassing -but it seems necessary-confession, I must say that I like this version of you. A lot.”
His body tensed beneath her touch. Of all the things he expected, this wasn’t one of them. People -some- admired him for what he could do. No one ever said they liked him like this.
He looked at her face, searching for doubt, for anything that suggested she was just saying it to make him feel better. His throat felt tight. “You don’t… have to say that.”
Her brows furrowed, and her fingers pressed just slightly into his skin. “I told you earlier that I mean what I say. You’re a soft wall of muscle.” She bit her lip as her eyes drifted over his shoulders and his chest, just long enough to make his pulse quicken. “And I like big men, so...”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, utterly at a loss. That... wasn’t what he expected. Not at all.
She felt the heat on her face but didn’t look away, just kept caressing his cheek. “In my eyes, you’re better than when I first met you.”
His heart skipped. “Better?” The tone was low, rough, like he was forcing the words out. “How?”
She traced his cheekbone with her thumb and felt all the heat in her body rush to her face again. She looked away, sensing the bravado faltering. “God, you’re going to make me say it. This is so embarrassing.” She took a breath, meeting his gaze again. “Sexier, Bucky. You look better to me because I find your bigger body more than appealing. Manlier. Is that enough clarification for y-”
She didn’t get to finish. His mouth was on hers again, more heated and demanding than before, as his grip tightened at her waist, pulling her flush against his body.
A low groan vibrated in his chest, his lips moving hungrily over hers, and she barely had time to gasp before his tongue slid past her lips, tasting, claiming. Her back hit the wall as his body crowded hers, and she didn’t care, didn’t want space, didn’t want air, didn’t want anything that wasn’t him.
His heart pounded in his chest, blood roaring in his ears. Her words looped in his mind, over and over again. Sexier. Manlier. More than appealing.
A hot rush of masculine pride coursed through his body. She wanted him like this, wanted him bigger, broader. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear that, how deeply her praise soothed the bruised ego he hadn’t even admitted having.
She felt his growing erection pressing against her hip, and she gripped his shoulders, feeling him beneath. There was nothing soft about him, not in the way he kissed her, fierce and unrelenting, not in the way his body pressed against hers, hard and unyielding.
He parted from her, all dark eyes and heavy breathing. “You like this?” His voice was rough, deeper than before, his words dripped with hunger. “You like me like this?”
She swallowed, her pulse fluttering wildly. “God, yes.”
His lips curved into a grin, that old cocky sergeant slipping through the cracks of his armor. “Good,” he growled, as his mouth descended on hers again, his hand sliding down his thigh to grip it with bruising force to hitch her leg around his waist, pressing himself against her.
His mouth was at her ear now, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that sent shivers down her body. “Because I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t think about fucking you raw under this slutty green apron every damn time you hand me my plums.”
Her brain stuttered, eyes widening as she processed his words. In a million years, she would have imagined him saying something like that.
His hips rolled, grinding his hardon against her belly, and she felt every inch of his cock, hard and wanting, and god, she couldn’t help it, she whined. A desperate, needy sound that escaped her throat before she could bite it back.
His eyes darkened, pupils blown wide as his lips smirked again. “Always with a little extra product, always checking on me.” His teeth scraped her jaw, flicking out his tongue to soothe her skin. “Thought you were just sweet, nice. Turns out you were trying to fatten me up for yourself, huh?” His words were teasing, but his tone was rough and possessive.
He rocked his hips again, a slow, deliberate grind that had her gasping, her fingers digging into his shoulders as heat pooled down her belly.
“Bucky-” Her voice was a breathless plea, her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to find words, tried to get a grip on herself, but his mouth was on her neck, sucking a hot, wet mark just above her collarbone, and she was gone, utterly, completely gone.
“You like that, huh?” His teeth grazed her skin again, his metal fingers clenching on her thigh, holding her in place as he ground against her. “Like knowing you do this to me? That every time I leave, all I can think about is coming back here, bending you over that counter, and fuck you right there, maybe squishing a fucking orange just to watch the juice dripping down your ass?”
Another whine slipped out of her lips, her body arching into his as her hips rolled instinctively to meet his. His words were like fire, filthy and raw, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel.
His lips trailed up to her ear, his breath hot and ragged. “So tell me, sweetheart... how long have you been thinking about me ruining you right here in your little shop?”
“If- if we’re about to speak on hard numbers...” She tried to tease, but the words came out ragged, crumbling under a hard suck just behind her ear. Her body shuddered, another whimper escaping her lips before she could stop it. “I’d say... the first time you came here. You’d just moved in and didn’t... didn’t even have pans to cook. Remember?”
His mouth paused on her skin, lips smiling against her neck. “Yeah,” he murmured. “Came looking for fruit, and you ended up selling me that tray of already cut vegetables to make soup. Lent me that steel jar to boil ’em in.” His tongue flicked over the mark he’d made, soothing the sting before he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. “I thought you were too damn trusting. What if I didn’t come back?”
She let out a breathless laugh, grabbing his biceps. “I saw your hand. You forgot the gloves that day. And I figured... the Winter Soldier wouldn’t steal a steel jar.” Her lips twitched, and a spark of mischief lit her eyes. “If you did, well, the loss was on me. But if you didn’t...” She trailed off.
His eyes darkened, and his grip on her thigh went tighter as he pressed her harder against the wall. “If I didn’t?”
She swallowed, feeling her heart hammering against her chest. “Then... I would have set some points with a handsome man.”
“Sneaky,” he muttered, brushing her lips, a teasing, fleeting touch. “You were setting a trap for me from the start.”
Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging just enough to earn her another low, hungry sound from him. “Can you blame me?” she whispered, her lips barely an inch from his. “You were brooding and grumpy... and so damn gorgeous.”
His eyes flashed with something wild and primal sparking in them. “And now?” His voice was low and dangerous, his metal fingers flexing on her thigh, holding her in place. “Now that you’ve got me? This bigger, grumpier version?”
She didn’t hesitate, running her hands over his broad shoulders. “Now?” She leaned in, grazing his bottom lip with her teeth before she pulled back. “I’d say it was a pretty good investment.”
His lips were on hers again, swallowing her gasp as his body pressed against her, heavy and hard and perfect. He kissed her hard, rough and hungry, while rocking his hips against hers, and she moaned, digging her nails into his scalp as she arched into him. He tore his mouth away, his eyes pinning her in place as they landed on hers. “Last chance, sugarplum.” His voice felt vulnerable beneath the heat. “You want this?”
She held his gaze and pressed herself against him, rubbing her breasts against his chest in an enticing motion. "I want you to ruin me, papa bear."
He froze. Every muscle in his body went still. His eyes widened, and his pupils dilated even more as her words penetrated his fogged brain. “...What did you just call me?”
Her heart plummeted. Oh god. Why? Why did she have to let that slip out now, of all times?
She could feel her face heating up, as a wave of mortification crashed over her. “Um- uh...” She looked away, fingers fidgeting nervously. “Too soon?”
For a heartbeat, he was silent, his jaw tight and his chest heaving as he processed the information. But then a low sound escaped his lips, something between a groan and a growl. His head dropped to her shoulder, pressing his forehead into her as his body shuddered against hers. “Fuck,”
She let out a shaky breath, her heart pounding so hard she swore he could feel it. “S-sorry. I don’t... I don’t even know where that came from, I-”
“Don’t.” His voice was firm as he lifted his head. “Don’t take it back.”
Her mouth went dry, and her body arched instinctively into him as his grip on her tightened. “You- uh... liked it?”
His mouth shifted into a feral smile, grazing her earlobe with his teeth before he murmured, “You have no idea.” His nose brushed her cheek, his lips a breath away from hers. “Say it again.”
Her heart skipped a beat, face flaming. “I-” She hesitated, but the way his body trembled, the raw need in his eyes, the way he was holding her like he was afraid she’d vanish... it buried any scruple she had. She leaned in, brushing his lips with hers as she whispered, “Ruin me, Papa Bear.”
He swore under his breath, crashing his mouth into hers again with bruising force. His hands gripped her tighter, possessively, desperately, and she moaned, opening up to him, letting him in. His tongue swept over hers, hungry and demanding, and she melted, her body molding to his as he consumed her.
He broke away just long enough to start tugging at her apron. “Take it off, or I’ll-”
The faint chime of the bell at the front door hit them like a bucket of cold water. Her eyes widened, and he stilled, his fingers clenched around the knot of her apron. The door to the storage room was wide open, and the front door? Neither of them had bothered to close it since none of this was supposed to happen.
His jaw clenched and he lifted a finger, pointing at her with a look that could melt steel. “Don’t move.”
She barely had time to blink before he was striding out of the storage room, his hair slightly mussed and the clothing crumpled. He got out to find an elderly woman standing uncertainly by the counter, clutching her purse tightly in her hands.
His expression softened -just a bit- as he forced a strained smile. “Hi, ma’am. I’m afraid it’s closed.”
The woman’s brows knitted together. “Oh, but I just wanted to-”
“Lemme accompany you out, yes?” He cut in, his voice dripping with forced politeness. “An emergency came up, and she’s... not here. I just stopped by to lock up.” His words were rushed, his body practically blocking the doorway.
“Oh, I see...” The woman glanced around, clearly confused but too polite to question him. “I’ll come back tomorrow then.”
“Good idea,” he agreed, already guiding her toward the door, hovering his hand protectively behind her back as she shuffled out. The door shut with more force than necessary, and the chime echoed high in the now-empty store. He twisted the lock and stood there for a moment, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath.
In a flash, he was back in the storage room, fixing his eyes on her with a hunger that made her knees weak. He didn’t say a word as he closed the distance between them. His fingers went immediately to the buttons of her blouse, and his mouth trailed kisses over every newly exposed inch of skin.
He almost groaned when he saw her bra clasp at the front. “You’re a fucking menace,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, before popping the clasp with an impatient flick of his fingers. The fabric fell away, and his mouth and hands were on her before she could think: warm palms against her bare skin, squeezing just hard enough to make her arch into him, a breathy moan escaping her lips. He latched his mouth to the delicate skin just above her collarbone, swirling his tongue, teeth scraping, tasting the salt of her skin.
She was driving him insane. Every little sound, every shiver, every way her fingers gripped his shoulders and pulled him closer.
Her hands were just as eager, fumbling with the zipper of his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders. She hesitated for a heartbeat when her fingers grazed his belly, flicking her eyes up to his. But there was no discomfort there, only hunger. Her pupils were blown, her lips parted, her breathing ragged. Her fingers splayed over his stomach, and the warmth of her touch sank into his skin even through the fabric of his shirt.
He kissed her harder, deeper, pressing her back against the wall as his body settled heavily against hers, his bigger form pinning her in place. She gasped, hitching her leg around his waist again, pulling him closer, grinding her hips against his, and he nearly lost it.
His lips trailed lower, over the swell of her breast, and his stubble grazed her sensitive skin as his tongue flicked over an already pert nipple. She cried out, and her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him there as her body arched beneath him, desperate, needing more. He was only too happy to oblige, closing his mouth around her, suckling greedily as his hand moved to the other, kneading, teasing.
“Bucky... please...” Her voice was a broken whisper, as her nails dug into his shoulders and scalp, and her body writhed against his.
He dragged his mouth back up to hers, capturing her lips in another bruising kiss, slipping his hand beneath her skirt, teasing the edge of her panties. “Want papa bear to touch you, sugarplum?” he growled, rough and low, “Want me to prep you nice and deep and then ruin this little pussy?”
His words made her shiver, then her whole body tensed at the need in his voice. She could barely breathe, could barely think, as her mind spun while his fingers danced along the delicate lace of her panties, teasing, taunting.
“Yes,” she breathed, her voice trembling, her hips rolling instinctively toward his touch. “Yes, please.”
A low, satisfied growl rumbled from his chest, “That’s my good girl.” His fingers hooked under the fabric, dragging her panties down slowly, deliberately, grazing his knuckles on the sensitive skin of her thighs. He wanted to savor this, to watch her come apart for him.
He lifted her easily, her back hitting the wall as her legs wrapped around his waist. The feeling of her pussy against his stomach made him swear under his breath, his head dropping to her shoulder again as he struggled to hold on to the last shreds of his self-control.
His metal fingers pressed her hips into the wall, to accompany his body, pinning her in place as his flesh hand slipped between her thighs. She was already soaked, and he groaned, feeling his cock throb painfully against his jeans. “So fucking wet for me... all that from just a little kissing?”
Her head tipped back, hitting the wall, lips parting in a breathless gasp as his fingers found her clit, circling lazily, teasing only to dip them lower, slipping them inside her, stretching her, pressing his thumb down on her clit.
He watched her face as he started to move his hand, pumping slowly, deliberately, curling just enough to make her shudder. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth falling open in a silent cry as her hips rocked against his hand, chasing every thrust, every stroke.
“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear. “Such a greedy pussy, taking everything I give you.” His teeth grazed her earlobe. “You’re mine now, sugarplum.”
Her body clenched around his fingers, a whimper escaping her lips, and her nails dug into his shoulders as she held on, tightening her muscles as he pushed her closer to the edge.
“Gonna come for me?” His fingers started to move faster, harder, while his thumb circled her clit mercilessly. “Gonna fall apart on my fingers before I even get to ruin you properly?”
Her whole body tensed, and her head snapped forward, pressing her forehead into his as she shattered with a force that stole her breath.
“That’s it... that’s my girl,” he whispered, slowing his fingers, easing her down from the high, brushing his lips against hers in a surprisingly tender kiss.
He adjusted his grip on her body, grinding his clothed erection against her, letting her feel how hard he was, how ready. “And now, I'm gonna give you what you wanted,” he growled.
He slid his fingers out of her and fumbled with the zipper of his pants. "Look at the mess you did here, all this cream on my zipper." She just moaned and ground herself against the back of his hand, thrilled by being pinned to the wall by his weight alone and his vibranium hand on her asscheek.
“Bucky... please...” Her voice was breathy, broken, her body trembling as his metal hand squeezed her ass, holding her exactly where he wanted her.
He hummed, while his fingers continued to play with the wetness she’d left on his pants, dragging her up his length, letting her feel every ridge, every pulse under his denim. “You’re so needy for me, sugarplum,” he murmured, his voice low, rough. “So wet, so… ready.”
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, her mind was blank with need as he finally spread his thick thighs, squatting a little, and sat her on them, tugging down his zipper, and freeing his heavy, leaking cock. He wrapped his hand around himself, his eyes never leaving hers as he stroked once, spreading her slickness all over his length. “You see this?” he growled. “This is what you do to me.”
She bit her lip, her eyes zeroed down, watching him pump himself slowly, hypnotized by the pornographic sight of his cock glistening with a mix of their arousal.
Seeing her heated gaze, he leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “You made this mess... now you’re gonna take responsibility for it.” It was all the warning he did before hooking the backs of her knees on his forearms, pressing his hands on the wall, and surging forward, burying the thick head of his cock in her entrance and pushing himself inside her in one slow, stretching thrust.
Her mouth fell open, and a choked moan escaped her lips as he filled her, inch by agonizing inch. Her back arched against the wall, fingers scrambling for purchase on his arms, nails digging in as her body stretched to accommodate him.
He was relentless, his eyes watching her face, noting every flicker of pleasure, every gasp, every shudder as he sank into her. “You feel that?” His voice was a rough whisper, his breath hot against her lips.
She could only nod as he pressed his hips even deeper against hers, burying his cock to the hilt. “Bucky! Oh, God...” Her legs trembled, thighs spread wide over his forearms, helpless to do anything but take everything he gave her.
He groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder, grazing her skin with his teeth as he fought to keep himself in check against the heat of her body. “Fuck. You feel so damn good... driving me crazy, sugarplum.” His words were rough and breathless, his control slipping with every second he stayed buried inside her.
Her walls quivered around him, clenching instinctively, pulling him in, holding him close. “Bucky... move, please...” she pleaded, trying to roll her hips to create some friction, to ease the maddening stretch.
He didn’t need any more encouragement. His fingers almost dug into the bricks, and he began to move in slow, heavy thrusts that made her whole body rock against the wall. Each time he withdrew, she felt the loss, the emptiness, and each time he filled her again, her world shattered a little more as she felt his cock stretching her, filling her, owning her. “Oh God...”
He could feel himself losing control, as his thrusts grew harder and faster, pinning her like a ragdoll against the wall, relishing the needy moans and whimpers escaping her lips.
A hand flew to his head, tugging his locks as he wrecked her. “Fuck, Papa Bear. You feel so good, so heavy, so… fucking… big, you turn me on so much.”
Her praise wrapped around him, squeezing him just as tight as her body did, and his head spun with primal satisfaction. He groaned as his cock throbbed and pulsed inside her, flooding her with precum, and growing even harder inside her. “Yeah? You like this thick bear covering you, pinning you, breeding you full?”
Her head thudded back against the wall as she tried to tighten her legs against his forearms, to arch her body to join his thrusts, digging her nails into his forearms. “Yes, god, yes... love feeling you like this, love how big you are...”
“Fuck, sugar,” his bruised ego drank her words like a man dying of thirst. Each confession went straight to his cock. He could feel her body yielding to him, taking everything he gave, and it made him lose his rhythm, made him rut into her like an animal, making her back slide up and down the wall with every hard thrust.
He lifted his arms to spread her wider, to take him deeper. Her cries only grew louder, more desperate, and he couldn’t get enough of it. “You’re mine now, sugarplum. Fuck, ‘m gonna fuck you so good... gonna make sure you remember this every time you close your eyes.”
She whimpered as he buried his face in her neck, nipping her sensitive skin. “Bucky- Papa- please! don’t stop...” she pleaded, fisting her fingers into his hair.
His mouth curved into a half smile against her throat. “Not planning to, sugarplum.” He rolled his hips, grinding deep, making her back arch and her legs quiver. “Not until you’re dripping with me... not until you’re so full of my cum you can’t stand.”
Her body convulsed, one hand remained fisting his hair, and the other dragged her nails on his broad back, “Fuck! Yes, want it so bad...”
He lost whatever thread of control he had left. His thrusts grew brutal, punishing as his cock stretched her, pounding into her with a force that bordered on savage. He watched her face contort with pleasure as the base of his cock ground deliciously against her swollen clit. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, and her eyes rolled back as he drove into her, harder, faster. “You’re gonna take it all, every drop...do you understand?”
She could only nod; her words were lost to the raw, consuming pleasure.
He was so close, muscles tensed to the point of aching, his breath ragged as his cock throbbed, his balls tightened, ready to spill. But he held on, watching her, waiting, needing to see her fall apart first.
“Come on, doll. Give it to me, come all over my cock... let me feel it,” he growled, as his wide shoulders caged her in. “Bet you’ve never been this full before. Never had someone this big ruin you like this.”
Her nails raked down his back, desperate, her eyes rolling back as she tried to meet his rhythm, but she was utterly at his mercy. “F-Fuck, Bucky... so... so big...”
“That’s right,” he rasped, a savage smile flashing across his face. “Too big for this pretty little pussy, huh?” he lifted her higher and marked every word with a harder thrust.
Her entire body seized up before she felt herself shatter, arching against his body and squeezing him, milking him so tight he finally let himself go.
“That’s it... make a mess... make a fucking mess for me, doll... fuck!-” his cock jerked, pulsing, as his release came hot and violent, spilling thick ropes of cum inside her. He kept grinding his hips, pressing himself as deep as he could, stirring his load inside her until it was too much to contain. The excess bubbled out around his shaft obscenely, warm and sticky, dripping down her thighs and landing on the floor.
He nipped at her collarbone, a lazy smirk curving his lips as he gently withdrew them from the wall. He eased her thighs down just enough to let her hook them around his waist, and his eyes turned toward an old chair in the corner of the room.
Without a word, he began to move with firm steps despite the lingering tremors in his muscles. As he walked them over, each stride pressed him deeper inside her, drawing soft whimpers from her swollen lips.
Reaching the chair, he sank heavily, the wood creaking beneath their weight. She straddled him, still nesting him deep inside her, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, tangling her fingers in his hair. His hands went on her hips, keeping her close, unwilling to break their connection just yet.
His head fell back against the chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he let himself breathe. “You feel... too damn good. Could stay like this all day...”
Her fingers started to brush his hair gently. “Then don’t move, just stay. You made sure that no other clients visited today." She slightly pinched his stubbled full cheek. "And, it's not fair you didn’t remove any of your clothes besides your jacket in all this ordeal."
He huffed out a low laugh that rumbled against her chest. “Yeah? That bother you, sugarplum?” His hands slid up her back, splaying wide as he pressed her tighter against him. “You wanna see all of me?”
Her fingers tightened in his hair. “I think it’s only fair,” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice. “I wanna see what I’ve been getting my hands on... what I’ve been wanting.” Her eyes dropped pointedly to his still-clothed body, darting her tongue out to wet her lips.
His eyes flicked away for a beat, his shoulders tensing a little. There was a moment, a fleeting second, where his hands stilled on her body, where his fingers dug just a little too hard into her hips.
Old doubts swirled in his mind, flashing to his reflection in the mirror, the soft curve of his belly, the heft in his chest that wasn’t just muscle anymore.
But then she moved, running her hands up his chest, her eyes wide, pupils blown as she whispered. “I want to see you, Bucky.”
His heart thudded hard, but he felt himself relax, the tension ebbing away as he let out a slow, shaky breath. “Alright,” he murmured. “You asked for it.”
In one swift motion, he gripped the hem of his shirt, muscles flexing as he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside. He forced himself to sit there, exposed, waiting for the flash of judgment, for her gaze to catch on his soft middle, or the faint stretch marks on his hips.
But her eyes were wide with interest as she took him in. Her hands roamed over him, tracing her fingers on his skin, lingering on the scars, the old wounds. She palmed his chest, brushing her thumbs over his hardened nipples, and his muscles jumped under her touch.
“Better?” his voice rough, his eyes heavy-lidded as he watched her explore him.
She bit her lip as she kept worshipping him. “Better... but I’m not done yet.” She added as she trailed softly the scarred flesh where his prosthesis joined his body with her tongue.
His cock twitched with interest inside her, still hard, still nestled so deep. His hands gripped hard on her hips, and his eyes narrowed. “You’re playing with fire, sugarplum.”
She smirked, rolling her hips slowly and deliberately. “Then burn me up, Papa Bear.”
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
