summary: roommate!bucky is obsessed with you - based on this Imagine...
tw: fluff, brief alluding to Bucky's past, m!masturbation, mention of porn, use of a sex toy, dirty talk, Bucky wants to get caught?
Roommate!Bucky who didn't mean to fall in love with you. The two of you ending up as roommates purely by happenstance. The chaos of it all drowning out his immediate attraction to you.
Roommate!Bucky who originally planned to keep to his room when you were home, only to find himself basking in your presence whenever he could. Shared meals and home improvement projects and unprompted lessons about all the things he never got to experience.
Roommate!Bucky who somehow got roped into keeping a list of every new song. And movie. And TV show that you introduced him to. Taking the time to actually rate them. Discuss them. Hold a real conversation like he's not some walking relic with a trail of ghosts.
Roommate!Bucky who started doing little things to make your life easier. Wash and refill your water bottle before he went to bed. Made sure there was something easy you could take to work for lunch. Switched your clothes to the dryer when you forgot.
Roommate!Bucky who tried to convince you (and himself) it wasn't a big deal. Simply old habits that survived the modern world. Pitching in on household chores. Volunteering to make dinner after a long day. Actually listening without trying to fix anything.
Roommate!Bucky who did his best not to let his gaze linger too long. Always careful to avert his eyes if you bent over. Or wore a low cut top. Or shorts that showed off your soft thighs.
Roommate!Bucky who pretended it was simply because he was a touch-starved centenarian. And not because he was addicted to you. To your laugh. Your teasing. Your stubbornness over the right way to do something. Even if his suggestion made it easier.
Roommate!Bucky who nearly combusted when you put your feet in his lap after a heated debate, declaring yourself the victor. Toes flexing against his thighs while he used every ounce of his super-soldier strength to will his dick to go down.
Roommate!Bucky who finally ventured out into modern day porn. Hoping it'd overwrite all the fantasies you've been starring in. Only to end up with a long list of sinful things he wants to try with you. The positions he could put you in. The way you might scream his name.
Roommate!Bucky who did his best to compartmentalize. Never let his mind stray when he was with you. Refused to focus on the flickering images his mind tried to conjure: kissing you. Touching you. Bending you over the nearest surface and fucking you with his tongue.
Roommate!Bucky who started taking longer showers to play out all those filthy thoughts. What you might taste like. The sounds you'd make while he licked your clit and fucked you with his fingers. How hot and tight and wet you'd feel. The way you'd grab his hair when you came all over his face.
Roommate!Bucky who eventually got so desperate for you that his hand just wasn't enough anymore. Restless nights of fucking his fist leaving him aching for more. Wanting to imagine your lips stretched around his thick cock, but all he could focus on were the hands that used to carve violence.
Roommate!Bucky who caved one night and spent hours searching for a sex toy that didn't make him itch with second thoughts. Finally deciding on something small enough to hide, but realistic enough to live out his fantasies. Convinced he'd spend the rest of his life like this. Fucking a silicone pussy, imagining it's you.
Roommate!Bucky who was supposed to be home when the package arrived, only to have you intercept it. Mistake it for yours. Open it and accidentally discover his dirty little secret.
Roommate!Bucky who appreciates that you at least tried to cover your tracks. Put everything back in its place. Set the taped box on the kitchen counter. Acted completely nonchalant.
Roommate!Bucky who's so obsessed with you that he instantly recognizes your scent lingering on the inside container - an image of the fake pussy plastered across the side. Leaving absolutely no doubt that you know exactly what he's doing right now.
Roommate!Bucky who should stuff everything away, shove all the evidence under his bed, and return to the living room. Maybe make dinner. But now he's harder than he's ever been in his entire life, and he can't stop picturing you finding it. Holding it. The look on your face. Plush lips parted. Gorgeous eyes widened in shock.
Roommate!Bucky who should feel ashamed for the way his cock twitches at the thought. Instead, he just lets the image shift, imagining you on your knees, same surprised look when you see him for the first time. Cock heavy in his hand, fist stroking it slowly.
Roommate!Bucky who doesn't even remember pushing his pants and underwear down, dick slick with pre-cum. Flesh and vibranium tearing apart the packaging, hastily preparing the toy before he's diving in. Knees hitting carpet, silicone perched at the edge of the bed, a stolen shirt of yours tucked around it, his fingers spreading the pussy-flavored lube like he's working you open.
Roommate!Bucky who watches the way the toy yields for him. Lets himself get lost in the fantasy. "So wet for me, sweetheart," he whispers, still currently terrified that you'll hear him. "Want me to taste you?" Tongue peeking out to trace along the puffy pussy, the scent of you making this feel almost too real.
Roommate!Bucky who has to grip the base of his dick to keep himself from coming. Tongue lapping at your folds, gathering your sweetness, drinking you down while his fingers keep you spread. Forearm resting on top of the toy to make it mimic your movements, hips following his hungry mouth.
Roommate!Bucky who will never admit to researching how to eat you out. Technically, how to eat pussy, but given the effort he put into learning all about it, he's sure he could have you shaking apart in no time. Lips suctioning around your clit, tongue finding the perfect rhythm, while his fingers curl inside of you. Stroking that spot until you're gripping his hair and riding his face.
Roommate!Bucky who barely registers the obscene noises filling the room. His unabashed groans, mouth slurping against silicone, lube and spit dripping down to soak your shirt. The repetitive squelch punctuating measured strokes along your silky walls. Swearing he can feel you tightening, his own hips humping the air in search of relief from the delicious torment.
Roommate!Bucky who growls your name, louder than he means to, nose pressed against the wet toy, breath sawing through clenched teeth, fingers leaving you to wrap around his painful cock. Heavy and swollen, a steady flow of pre-cum leaking from the tip, easing the desperate strokes.
Roommate!Bucky who should be quieter. Panting against your pretty pussy, lost in the fantasy. "Taste so fucking good, baby." A swipe of his tongue over your clit while he pumps his cock faster. "Can't wait until you - shit - until you ride my face." Back bowing from the overwhelming pleasure licking up his spine. "Gonna - oh my god - gonna smother me with that- that sweet pussy, doll? Gonna-."
Roommate!Bucky who's on the verge of coming when he hears you. Footsteps outside his unlocked door. Gentle raps against wood that has ice rushing through his veins. And his cock twitching in his grip. The soft "Bucky?" drifting through the barrier making him groan pathetically.
Roommate!Bucky who should be scrambling. Panicking. Destroying all evidence of what just transpired. But he's stuck. Heart hammering in his chest. Blood roaring through his veins, keeping him rock-hard. Only a couple deafening seconds passing until you're breaking the silence.
Roommate!Bucky who swears his heart almost leaves his chest when you confidently announce, "I'm comin' in, okay?" Voice thick with something he's too far gone to decipher.
Roommate!Bucky who doesn't tell you no. Doesn't tell you yes either. Lets you decide if you wanna be a witness to the most debauched moment of his entire life. Utterly and entirely consumed by you. And he swears to god, if you open that door, he's done feeling guilty about it.
(banners by @cafekitsune)
Hmm, I might just have to write more of these two...
summary: (5k - it got away from me, ok? lol) insecure reader x Bucky who's fucking feral for her (thank you to the lovely anon who requested this 🩶)
tw: fluff, enthusiastic consent, a lot of smut and Bucky talking you through it
Bucky had spent most of his life under darkness. Kept in the shadows like a secret.
So when he realized that's where you preferred to hide - in the same place that nearly destroyed him - he did the only thing he could.
He reached in and pulled you out. Used his skills to stoke confidence instead of fear.
Intimacy had always felt like a stranger to you. Something you couldn't quite grasp, even alone, no matter how hard you tried. Lights off and under covers not nearly enough to quiet your mind and just feel. To stop thinking about all the ways you might be too much. Or, not enough.
By the time you met Bucky, you were already convinced it just wasn't in the cards for you. Destined to spend the rest of your life always wondering 'what if.' Constantly reviewing the endless list of things you probably needed change about yourself.
And then he walked into your life and had the nerve to offer you the most dangerous thing of all.
Hope.
It started small. Slow. Two people learning how to trust again. How to be present. How to want without worrying about doing the wrong thing.
Bucky seemed to catch on much quicker. Kisses growing confident, words spilling out unchecked during heated moments. But never pushing. Always content with whatever pace you seemed comfortable with.
Inside you've been dying for more. More than just the heavy make-out sessions you'd find yourselves in. His body pressing you into the couch cushions, thigh slotted between yours, careful hands roaming over frustrating layers of clothing.
The words always seemed to die before they could ever fully form. Pleas for more getting lost in the ruminating thoughts that would inevitably take root. A constant battle of being silenced by your own insecurities until one day - suddenly - Bucky manages to coax it out of you.
"God, sweetheart," he groans against your neck, hips rocking gently. "Feel so good." One hand grips your thigh, squeezing the generous give of it. "So soft."
Your shuddering moan only seems to set him off more. Fingers readjusting, sliding higher, easily finding that spot on the back of your thigh that elicits some of the most needy noises you've ever made.
"Yeah?" he pants, kisses following a trail back to your lips, tongue delving deep. Teeth clashing in a frenzy that leaves you dizzy. Grasping at him, shirt bunched between your fingers, body seeking more friction.
It's the harsh gasp of his name that breaks the spell. Mouths reluctantly separating so he can check in. Gaze sweeping over your fluttering lashes, the heat radiating off your skin, your perfect, swollen lips parted in an effort to take in more oxygen.
"Doin' so good for me," he murmurs, pulse stuttering at the effect the simple praise has on you. Thighs tensing. Back arching. Another shuddering gasp that almost makes him forget he's a gentleman.
Dropping his head again, he noses along your jaw to breathe you in. His firm grip on your thigh encouraging you to keep moving. To keep taking. To stop worrying that he's thinking about anything other than how perfect you fit against him.
"Swear you were made just for me."
He says it with such conviction - such awe - that it's impossible not to believe it. To not let it sink deep and twist around all the ugly fears usually holding you back. Making room for one single thought.
"Please."
Such a simple word.
And yet, it has Bucky's brain short-circuiting. Cock twitching, his strained erection digging into your thigh. Leaving no doubt what you're doing to him.
"Please what, sweet girl?" he breathes, restraint warring with desire.
A pathetic whimper bubbles up, hands dropping to the cushions. Just long enough for him to start suckling a bruise over your pulse, wet tongue pulling your focus. Your grip immediately returns to his waist, nails digging in through the cotton. Eliciting a growl that has you once again forgetting about everything but him.
"What do you need, hmm?" Soft words muttered against your throat, his sure hand hitching a millimeter higher. Testing the waters without throwing you off balance. "Need me to touch more of you? Make you feel good?"
Heavy panting answers him. Your thigh inching up his side, letting him settle deeper against you. Letting him feel how fucking warm you already are.
"Christ."
His sharp inhale unlocks something inside of you. Giving way to a newfound confidence that has you taking a step all on your own, fingers dipping underneath the hem of his shirt, seeking out his feverish skin.
"Shit," he hisses, body locking up, weight dropping to his vibranium forearm, resisting the urge to rut against you like some animal in heat. Muffled laughter follows, his face buried in the crook of your neck as he apologizes, "was almost over before we even got started."
Warmth settles low in your belly, electricity radiating out from where he's grinding against you. Your hips setting the pace without you even realizing it.
It's never been like this for you. Not just the bursts of pleasure, but how he's able to get you to relax. To breathe. To just fucking feel for once in your life.
"Yes." It almost comes out as a sob. Your palms sliding over the strong muscles of his back, each flex grounding you deeper in the moment. "Please."
A slow shift and he's suddenly there. Flush against you. The fly of his jeans providing exquisite friction that has your legs squeezing his hips.
"Oh god," you gasp, a tremor running through you, limbs clinging to him like you're on the verge of losing yourself.
"Shhh," Bucky soothes, wasting no time in pulling you back from the brink, "open those pretty eyes for me."
The moment you do, he's leaning over you, intense gaze holding you hostage, taking you in like you're a work of art.
"There you are," he smiles, drawing out more needy gasps, your hips starting to find a quicker rhythm. "Love watching you... this little scrunch right here -" a kiss to the bridge of your nose, "when it starts to feel really good."
A deliberate roll of his hips and he kisses the spot again, grinning against your skin. Beard tickling your nose, a soft giggle pouring out of you like it's second nature.
"Already addicted to you, sweetheart, ya know that?"
Your answering moan has him reaching for your thigh, hooking it higher up his waist, opening you up until your crying out for him again.
"God, you're perfect," he groans, palm cradling the back of your skull to keep you looking up at him. Forcing you to rewrite your entire narrative. "So damn responsive for me."
You can feel it. The heat, the pressure, the hard line of his erection coaxing you to heights you've never experienced. Panties growing damp. Nipples pebbling inside your bra. An overwhelming ache for more.
"Please," as if it's the only word in your vocabulary. Nails leaving pink trails down his back, your other hand reaching down to grab his ass, using it for leverage to chase the pleasure coursing through you.
All because he hasn't taken his eyes off you. Showing you, clear as day, how fucking turned on he is. Just from seeing you like this.
So when you sense the shift - his breathing turning harsh, the tension building in his muscles, the way he keeps saying your name like it's the only thing he remembers - you're finally capable of asking for what you want.
"Please, I... can we- can we go to bed?"
Bucky'd throw you over his damn shoulder if he wasn't worried about scaring you off.
Instead, he takes his time. Kisses you nice and slow, easing you up so you're sitting for him. Giving you a chance to change your mind once you're no longer clouded by the heat spreading between you.
There's no second guessing this. No pausing. You just reach for his hand and allow him to pull you up, his steady feet guiding you towards the bedroom. Assuring gaze carrying you until you're both standing at the side of the bed. The low light of the lamp hiding nothing from either of you.
"Can I take this off-," he starts to ask, hands resting on your hips, fingers dipped under the hem of your shirt.
"Can we turn off the light-," you ask at the same time, your head turned towards the offending source.
Shy laughter vibrates against his chest where you bury your face, his arms banding around you, his warm chuckle shaking you both.
And then the moment threatens to turn sour, Bucky placing a kiss on the top of your head with a murmured, "tryin' not to hide in the shadows anymore."
It shouldn't shock you. Shouldn't freeze you in place. Shouldn't have you tensing in his arms like he's done something wrong.
"Sorry." The reflexive apology tastes bitter on your tongue, but it's the only olive branch that makes sense.
"Hey." That soothing tone again that has you melting, his hands coming up to frame your face, flesh and metal holding you like you're something precious. "None o' that. We don't gotta do anything, okay? Could just lay here, if you wanted."
Your fingers encircle his wrists, the contrast reminding you of everything he's been through. What he's capable of. How incredibly safe you are in his arms.
You start with the slow shake of your head, then you're offering him, "I'm just... scared. I don't... I'm not good at... this. At... being seen."
"Yeah, you are."
The words cut through the haze, a confused laugh passing between you before you're shaking your head again. Ready to prove him wrong.
"You are," he grins, turning to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling you between his bent knees. "You don't think you are. You've somehow convinced yourself you're incapable of it."
It's not criticism. Or a complaint. Just an observation that he's bringing into the light.
Thumb tracing the seam of your lips, he tilts his head, refusing to let you drop his gaze. "But you like it. You want me to see you. Want me to prove you wrong."
You swallow the lump forming, words getting lost in the process, your focus flickering between his mouth and his eyes. Trying to figure out where to go from here. How to-
"Ya gotta stop thinkin' so much, sweetheart," he grins, hands sliding around your hips, pulling you even closer. Cutting off your response with a teasing kiss. "Not expecting miracles, here. Just need you to trust me. Can you do that?"
It's an impossible task actually - stop thinking so much - but trusting Bucky? That comes easy.
"Yeah," you nod, hands toying with the cuffs of his sleeve, thumbs stroking his biceps. "Might still make it awkward."
"Awkward I can do," he promises with a playful smile, fingers starting to guide your shirt up. "Hiding's what scares me."
His confession catches you off guard, knees threatening to buckle, the vulnerability in his voice leaving you breathless.
"Know it makes you feel safe," he continues, eyes darkening when your shirt rides up just enough to give him access to the soft skin above the waistband of your pants. "Wanna figure out how to make you feel safe with me. Like this."
Each word dismantling another layer of armor until you're trembling in his arms, skin prickling with excitement, arousal building from the sheer thought of being taken care of.
"Can I try?" he asks, hands moving up along the curve of your waist, shirt bunching higher until cool air meets heated flesh.
He doesn't demand any more of you. He just sits there, looking up, patient as the day is long. Waiting for you to decide if this is something you're ready for.
If not-
"Yeah."
This time it resembles an actual syllable instead of a gust of air. The effort sending heat licking up Bucky's spine. Spurring him on to help you take the first leap, he rises to his full height the same time he gently instructs you to lift your arms. Shedding you of the material in one careful swoop, leaving no time for you to get lost in the tempting darkness.
"All you gotta do is stay right here with me," he reminds you, your shirt tossed onto the dresser behind you.
Then he's looking at you, hungry gaze taking in the swell of your breasts, cleavage on display, the delicate trim of your bra making him have to remind himself to behave.
For now, anyway.
When he finds you looking down too, he steps closer, catching your attention with a playful, "Knew I was lucky. Didn't realize how lucky until just now."
You forget how to breathe again when his hand makes contact with your bare waist, thumb resting just below dangerous territory.
"What else you got hidin' under there, doll?"
The question cuts through the noise starting to surface, an appreciative laugh getting swallowed when you take the initiative to kiss him. Arms draped over his shoulders, fingers combing through his hair, the tip of your tongue teasing along his parted lips.
That's all it takes for Bucky to take matters into his own hands. Literally. Palms effortlessly scooping you up, wrapping your legs around his waist before you can overthink it. He doesn't even turn towards the bed yet.
He just stands there, kissing you like his life depends on it. The solid weight of you igniting filthy scenarios he's desperate to act out with you.
By the time he has you on the bed, writhing underneath him, your shirt still the only barrier that's been removed, you've become someone you don't even recognize.
Desperate and needy. Holding onto him while he takes you apart.
His mouth leaving a trail of messy kisses down your throat, across your collarbones, tongue dipping between your breasts until your arching up. Offering yourself up to him, leaving him no choice but to devour you.
Wet heat closing over your nipple through the thin barrier of your bra, sending sparks straight to your clit. Your hips finding that rhythm again, grinding against his jeans until you forget that you never knew how to do this.
It doesn't even register once his hands slip underneath you, fingers unhooking your bra with ease that belies his recent experience. Once it's slipping free, he's kissing you again, distracting you with growling praise of, "so goddamn perfect," and "can't believe you're mine," and "love you so much."
Until you're dizzy again. Lost in the sea of sensation and intimacy. Brain quieting long enough for you to reach for his shirt, silently begging him to join you. To feel his skin against yours. Hard planes meeting soft curves that have you both moaning.
Then he's back to giving your nipples more attention, large hands cupping your breasts, fingers tugging at one neglected bud before switching sides. Lips and teeth working them into stiff peaks. All the while working you higher and higher with consistent pressure between your thighs.
Making you believe that something life-altering is coming.
Because it is.
Just, not yet.
When he pulls back, one hand slipping between your bodies to start working you free of your pants, the whine that erupts has your hands scrambling, covering your face to avoid Bucky's reaction. As if it'd be anything other than devoted amusement.
Smug satisfaction that he's able to bring out those kinds of noises even through layers of clothing. It leaves no doubt that this is headed exactly where he thinks it is.
As long as he can help keep you anchored.
"Gonna ask for a favor," he says, leaning in kiss the corner of your mouth. "If things get too loud up here," another kiss to your temple, "just let me know." Fingers hook into your waistband, pausing long enough to add, "doesn't even gotta be words, sweetheart. Could tap me. Get my attention if I don't notice, okay?"
He probably will. Always does. But it gives you an out. A way to break the tension before it can shatter the connection.
It doesn't take long. Once he's helping you wiggle out of your pants, the clumsy movement drawing attention to the parts you long to hide, you're reaching out. Trembling fingers brushing his shoulder.
He's already pausing, your pants pushed down to your knees, Bucky refusing to let the swirling thoughts take hold.
"I've got you," he murmurs, leaning in to press a deliberate kiss to your belly. Beard tickling along your side until your squirming for him, a beautiful giggle breaking free. Your pants getting kicked off in a haste to pull him closer.
Rough jeans meeting the thin cotton barrier of your soaked underwear, his hard erection trapped between you, begging for relief. He ignores it in favor of watching you lose yourself to the pleasure.
Head thrown back, eyes fluttering, nails digging into his skin every time he reminds you he's exactly where he wants to be. Heated groans of, "didn't think it could feel this good," and "you're so hot, sweetheart," and "can fucking smell you, wanna taste you so bad."
It should throw you for a loop. Should send you fleeing under the covers. But all it does is make you whine. Pussy pulsing, a gush of arousal that's sure to leave a wet spot on his pants.
"That a yes?" It comes out more desperate than he intends, fingers cupping your jaw, thumb guiding your chin down so he can lock eyes with you. Needing the verbal confirmation this time. "Want me to taste you? Eat your pretty pussy?"
"Oh god." Another whine. Eyes snapping closed. Thighs gripping him tight as your entire body reacts as if you've been electrified.
The growl he makes against your neck, teeth nipping at your dewy skin, has you confessing in record time. Gasping pleas of, "Yes... want that... please, oh my god."
"Fuck," Bucky grunts, forgetting himself for a moment as he thrusts against you, the fly of his jeans catching on your swollen clit, making you keen. Making the pleasure spike until you're begging for him to take pity on you.
It takes everything in him not to give in. Not to slide down and lick you clean, have your thighs wrapped around his ears as you scream his name.
Hips maintaining the direct pressure you seem to crave, he catches your gaze again, offering you that same smile that got you to agree to go on that first date.
"Same rules apply, sweet girl," he reminds you, nose kissing yours. "You let me know if anything doesn't feel good. However you can." A mischievous smile ticking up the corner of his mouth, "Otherwise, all you gotta do is lay here, okay?"
No expectations. No need for performance or overthinking. Just two people in love, exploring. Learning each other.
Bucky only moves once you fully relax, hands mapping your body as he trails kisses down your sternum. Tongue poking out to tease the side of your breast before dipping lower. Open mouth kisses across your tummy while the pads of his fingers tease along the soft skin of your inner thigh.
Giving you no relief to the ache building inside of you. But at least he's all you're thinking about. How good it feels. How much you need him to just tear your fucking panties off so he can make good on his promise.
Watching him have to unzip his jeans and reach in to adjust himself only sets more fire to your veins, nails digging into his shoulder while you tug at his hair.
"Fuck. Please, I can't..."
"Okay," he soothes, smiling against your skin, fingers sliding to catch the waistband of your underwear, dragging them down until you're completely bare for him. The scent of you hitting him like a tidal wave. Making his mouth water, his trembling hands coaxing your knees back, spreading you open.
"Bucky," you breathe, hands resting on the curve of your stomach, itching to hide yourself from his intense gaze.
"You're so fucking gorgeous, holy shit," he gasps, pupils blown, palms inching closer, thumbs meeting the slick heat coating your skin. "Jesus, you're so wet for me, baby."
That's all it takes, apparently. Some teasing, some filthy praise, and you're resting back against the pillows, thighs spread, hips already moving towards his mouth. Your hand never loosening its grip on his hair the moment he makes contact.
Lips and tongue leaving a wet trail along your thigh until his nose bumps your swollen pussy, the taste of you exploding on his tongue. Your scent filling his lungs. Making him never want come up for air.
"Knew you'd taste good, but fuckin' hell, sweetheart."
Nearly coming right then and there.
Tongue lapping at your folds, collecting more of your wetness, thumbs keeping you spread so he can drink you down. Never once letting you start to doubt this is anything other than worship.
For once in your life, time loses all meaning. Zero thoughts other than how much Bucky is enjoying this. Allowing you to focus on his mouth finding your clit, tongue swirling, groans vibrating that have you seeing stars.
"Like that," you manage between gasping breaths, sweat starting to collect between your breasts, your free hand wrapped around your ankle. Helping to keep you exactly where he wants you.
Where you're more than happy to be.
The pressure building again. Sharp zaps of pleasure radiating out from your clit. Juices drenching his beard. Your greedy walls pulsing around nothing. Aching to be filled.
Your demand for more is met with the pad of his finger breaching your entrance, slick digit slipping in without any resistance, knuckles curling to make you grind against his mouth.
Encouraging you to chase your pleasure, another finger stretching you open when your legs starts to quiver around his head. His hips humping the air while he devours you. The sounds you're making going straight to his leaking dick. Steel-hard and leaving a mess because he can't get enough of you.
You're almost there. Teetering on the edge of something attainable, eyelids shut tight, dry mouth left open in a permanent O, muscles starting to protest from exertion.
Reminding you how long you've been like this. While he's still-
Harder suction has you crying out, vibranium arm pinning your thigh to the mattress, your other dropping to mirror the relaxed pose. Heels digging into the covers so you can fuck yourself. Use his mouth to make yourself come. His fingers never ceasing their relentless assault, your fluttering walls starting to tighten.
Bucky couldn't even if he wanted to. He's too far gone. Lost in his new favorite place. Where he intends to spend as much fucking time as you'll let him.
Especially if this is where it leads. To you coming all over his face, pussy trying to milk his fingers, the hoarse scream of his name making him spill his load like some green cadet.
He doesn't stop until you're tugging at his hair, sobbing from overload, his fingers continuing to draw several more shuddering gasps before he finally relents. Letting you breathe, kissing his way back up until he's wrapping his arms around your shaking body.
Welcoming the onslaught of emotions sweeping you under.
"Shh, I've got you," he promises, soothing you with tender caresses along your sweaty back. "Did so good for me." Grazes of his lips over your jaw. "So proud of you. Takin' what you needed. Lettin' me love you like that."
Slowly bringing you back down to earth.
"Holy shit." The first words you're capable of, followed by tearful laughter. And endless admiration. "Can't believe you just did that."
Bucky's breath fans over your face, his laughter meeting with yours during a lingering kiss.
"We did that," he counters, fingertips stroking lower, tracing the swell of your ass. "You did that. And it was so fucking hot."
A squealing laugh erupts when he grabs a handful of your asscheek, rolling over until you're sprawled across him. Nipples scraping against his chest, thigh draped over his, one confident hand following an invisible trail to his open fly.
"Made a mess," he warns, abs clenching under your teasing touch, cock already twitching back to life.
"Should I stop?"
A hint of playfulness that has him grinning against your lips, tongue slipping into your mouth in answer. Hips arching towards your hand. Silently encouraging you to keep exploring.
The boldness wavers when your hand reaches his underwear, fingers hooking in the waistband to tug them down, only to realize you've reached the awkward one-handed stage. Your other elbow digging into the mattress to keep most of your weight off of him.
"You're overthinkin' again," he teases, whispering the words like a secret. "How 'bout you lay back for me? Let me do all the work?"
"Pretty sure you just did," you whisper back, hand stalling at his fly.
Soft laughter fills the space between you, Bucky's nose nudging yours, encouraging you to look at him, "So? Make me earn it, sweet girl."
Like he's craving it.
Pillow back under your head and his gaze stays targeted on you. Pants and underwear getting pushed down, clumsy attempts knocking him over before he's surging upright with a sheepish grin, the material finally getting kicked off his feet.
Your own relaxed laughter fades as soon as you lay eyes on him. Thick and heavy, growing by the second, leaving you torn between wanting him in your mouth and your pussy. Tongue peaking out to wet dry lips, thighs opening wider to invite him in. Unabashedly giving him the final choice.
It's no contest.
The thought of having your lips wrapped around him has a pearl of pre-cum beading at the tip of his cock, but it's the thought of sinking into you - feeling your walls squeeze him when you come again - that turns him rock-hard. Balls drawing up tight as he shuffles forward.
Resisting the urge to sink into you - a super-human fucking feat, given the tilt of your hips - Bucky places both hands to the mattress, right next to your head, effectively caging you in, pelvis flush against yours, the engorged head of his cock rocking against your clit. Creating a lewd, schlick sound.
Waiting until your fluttering lashes open to meet his gaze, he leans close, stilling your quick nod with a growly reminder, "Gonna give you whatever you need." Body aligning with yours, thick head nudging your entrance, he pauses again. Heavy breaths mixing with yours. "All you gotta do is lay there and take it."
The first exquisite stretch cuts off your needy whine. The uncontrolled sound morphing into a keening sob that wracks your whole body. Nails digging into his back, heels flexing towards the ceiling, his cock bottoming out to steal your last breath.
"Oh fuck me," he groans, forehead dropping to your chest, velvet walls pulsing around him, trying to turn him into a liar. Threatening to end this before he can make good on his word. "Gonna need a second."
His breathless confession has the opposite effect of what he's probably hoping for. Back arching, pussy squeezing his cock, nipples seeking out his talented mouth.
"Doll," he growls, body meeting yours in a slap of heated flesh, hips setting the pace you're begging for. Lips close around the aching bud, teeth worrying the sensitive tip, suction soothing the sting every time his cock hits that spot inside of you.
Driving you higher and higher up the bed until his hand shoots out, palm nearly cracking the headboard to protect your head from hitting the wood.
"Ain't gonna last," he grunts, letting your nipple go with a filthy pop. Sitting back to get a better look, eyes roaming from your bouncing tits to his cock disappearing over and over into your tight heat. "Fuck, baby, tell me what you need."
It hits like lightning, a burst of pleasure, a roll of your hips, and then a flash of insecurity. Stomach rolls on full display, thick thighs shaking with each hard thrust.
"Uh uh," he pants, "eyes on me."
Metal hand securing a thigh, the other gripping your soft belly, his twitching cock and gaping mouth all the evidence you need to believe his next rush of praise.
Vibranium thumb finds your clit, cool metal warming under the slick, swollen heat, metal starting to vibrate as he picks up the pace. Finding the perfect rhythm you need to start strangling his cock.
"That's it," he tells you, fingers wrapped around your waist for leverage, "just let me fuck you. Gonna make you come all over me, baby."
There's no doubt this time. An exhilarated laugh and you're throwing your head back, once again lost to the pleasure. Bucky fucking every single thought out of you. Leaving you breathless and whining, the intensity building until it hits you like a tsunami.
Wetness gushing around him, triggering his own orgasm, whiting out his vision as he falls on top of you, careful of pressing too hard against your belly, cock filling you up with several more sloppy thrusts. Prolonging the aftershocks until you're both spent, limbs trembling, words reduced to incoherent gasps.
Tears you don't even remember crying track down your temples, Bucky kissing them away once he finds them there, tasting sweat and salt and you.
"Love you," he breathes, pulse thundering in his ears, super-soldier serum having met it's match.
"Love you," you manage, despite being barely conscious, nails scratching lazy patterns down his back, bodies still humming.
Eventually, ears tuned to your steady heartbeat and slowing breaths, he shifts his weight to avoid crushing you, rolling you both over, his softening cock slipping out, severing the precious connection. Your twin moans from the loss creating more laughter. Lightness. A bridge back to reality. Sweaty bodies sticking together. Cum leaking from your sore (satisfied) pussy.
"Gonna get you cleaned up," he announces, hand holding yours against his chest, right over his racing heartbeat. "Right after I remember how to walk." Fingers tracing the soft curve of your back as you snuggle into him.
"You're on your own there," you mumble, "gonna have to carry me everywhere."
A tease that you'd never make before settles deep in his chest. Emotion tightening his throat.
Bucky fights through it, inhaling deeply, watching the way your heavy lids flutter during the exhale. "You got it, sweetheart. Your very own chauffeur service. Ready to spoil you rotten."
Sealing the vow with a soft brush of his lips to your forehead. Wondering how long it's gonna be until you're strutting around his place naked. Comfortable and free.
tw: sweet to spicy
Soft!Bucky who was terrified of asking you out. Fumbling his way through the first few attempts until his intentions were finally clear enough that you took pity on him.
Soft!Bucky who spent hours getting ready for the first date. Picking the right outfit. Buying the perfect flowers. Meticulous backup plans to the backup plans in case anything fell through.
Soft!Bucky who agonized and researched small talk topics and safe subjects to keep the conversation flowing. Only to never seem to run out of things to talk about with you.
Soft!Bucky who took advantage of every comfortable silence to study you. To memorize signs that might one day warn him that you were growing frustrated. Or trying to hold back your enthusiasm for something you were clearly excited about.
Soft!Bucky who promised to never let you hide. Especially from him. New music that made you squeal had him spinning you around the living room to dance. Books that made you cry had him kissing away your tears, holding space for you to mourn characters that burrowed deep in your heart.
Soft!Bucky who holds your hand at every opportunity. Walks in the park. Cuddling on the couch. Standing in the kitchen, so he can wrap his arms around you. Bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. Comfort. Safety. Home. A warmth that settles deep in his chest, thawing out his frozen fears of never deserving love.
Soft!Bucky who would spend hours kissing you if you let him. Gentle brushes of his lips on your temple. Apple of your cheeks. Tip of your nose. The corner of your mouth to make you smile. Tender kisses against your lips to prove his devotion to you. Only turning hungry when you'd invite him in, tongues meeting in a slow dance that leaves you both breathless.
Soft!Bucky who never stops showing how much he loves you. Date nights, even years into the relationship. A vow of, "I'm never gonna stop spoiling you, sweet girl," kept from the very beginning. Fancy dates to go dancing that end with you making out in the back of a limo. Living room picnics with blanket forts and whispered secrets under fairy lights.
Soft!Bucky who only has eyes for you. Making it his mission to overwrite all your insecurities. Mapping every inch of your body with his hands. His lips. Tongue. Tracing your soft flesh until there's no doubt left that you're perfection incarnate.
Soft!Bucky who nearly came at the first taste of you. Trembling thighs spread open for him, glistening pussy all puffy and gorgeous. Begging to be devoured. He only lasted as long as you did. Tongue swirling around your clit, fingers buried deep, walls fluttering around his thick digits. The scream of his name making him lose his goddamn mind.
Soft!Bucky who apologized for coming so fast by having you ride his face. His cock aching and leaking again by the time you're grinding against his mouth, chasing your pleasure, thighs threatening to smother him. His rough grip never leaving you wondering if you're taking too much.
Soft!Bucky who doesn't let you go until you've nearly drowned him, smug face dripping with the evidence of his talents. Your mouth landing on his the moment you sink down on his thick length, tasting yourself as he bottoms out inside your slick heat.
Soft!Bucky who always lets you adjust first. Half-lidded eyes drawn to the pleasure contorting your face, your hands gripping his shoulders with each deliberate rolls of your hips.
Soft!Bucky who never stops praising you. Even when the pleasure leaves him breathless. Words stuttering out between harsh gasps of incoherent curses. Feel so good. Can't get enough of you. - Takin' me so well, baby, like you were made for me. - You're so fucking hot, sweetheart. Ridin' me like you never wanna stop.
Soft!Bucky who takes over the moment your muscles start to protest. Rolling you onto your back, his hands wrapped around the back of your thick thighs, encouraging you to just lay there and take it. Let him fuck you nice and deep until your tensing up again. Pussy quivering, trying to milk him dry.
Soft!Bucky who refuses to fill you up until he's tasted you again. Beard sure to leave you sore as he tongue fucks you towards oblivion. Nose bumping against your clit with each filthy thrust, mouth slurping against your dripping pussy while you grip his hair.
Soft!Bucky who takes his time to ease back inside you. Palms flat next to your ears, fingers flexing against the mattress, hips nestled between your still shaking thighs so he can savor this. Punctuating each of your whimpers with soft kisses along your neck, nose brushing sweat-slick skin, nostrils flaring at the intoxicating scent.
Soft!Bucky who doesn't pick up the pace until your sobbing against his throat, nails clawing at his back, encouraging his thrusts to turn sloppy. The exquisite wet slapping of flesh each time he bottoms out adding to the keening symphony filling the space around you. Hurling him towards the point of no return.
Soft!Bucky who needs to feel you squeeze his dick one last time. His free hand slipping between your heated bodies to give you exactly what you need. Direct pressure. Filthy praise. Guttural moans that have your velvet walls squeezing the last bit of sanity of out of him.
Soft!Bucky who, even while chasing the delicious friction and pumping you full of endless ropes of cum, is still careful with you. Most of his weight shifting to his limbs, tongue soothing the spot his teeth had started to sink into it, his fingers ever careful of squeezing the back of your neck where he was holding for leverage.
Soft!Bucky who scoops you up the moment his vision clears. Heartbeat still pounding in his ears, but at least he can check on you. Bring you out of your cock-drunk stupor with lazy kisses and targeted caresses, bypassing all your oversensitive spots.
Soft!Bucky who only breathes deep once you snuggle close, giggling about being worn out, body lax against his. Trusting him to take care of you in such a vulnerable state.
Soft!Bucky who isn't sure he deserves the peace you bring into his life, but has slowly started to learn not to question it as much. To just accept it. Appreciate it. Cherish it. Like he'll always do with you.
Thinking about domestic!Bucky coming home after a long day. Shoes and jacket shed as soon as he crosses the threshold, gloves hastily stuffed in his pockets. Bare feet grounding him as he pads his way to the kitchen.
He finds you there waiting for him. Leaning against the counter. All soft and gorgeous, offering him space that he rarely ever takes.
"There's my girl."
Three simple words that have you melting and meeting him halfway. Greeting him with open arms and a smile that could power the city.
"Missed you," you mumble against his shirt, arms banding around him as if he might float away.
"Yeah?" Hope disguised as a tease. "Bet you spent the most of the day getting lost in your book."
A beat as you breathe him in. Soap and leather and gun oil.
"Both things can be true," you remind him with a soft peck to the corner of his upturned mouth. His lips chase yours for a fleeting second before you distract him again, "You showered."
Hearing the words for what they are, Bucky's hands stay relaxed, palm flush against your lower back, the other cradling your neck. There's no accusation. Just concern. Worry of a mission gone wrong.
"Mmhmm," he murmurs, nose nuzzling yours. "Mishap during training. Small fire. Sprinklers were triggered."
His warm fingers find their way underneath the hem of your shirt, seeking out the soft curve of your hip. Tracing the delicate stretch marks like he's done hundreds of times before.
Not to prove anything.
Just to feel you.
To simply exist in a world where he gets to have this. A stubborn woman who loves him. A safe place to come home to.
Endless piles of laundry to fold. And meals to prep. And leaky faucets to fix.
All the mundane things people complain about.
Not Bucky though. Even when he's elbow-deep unclogging hair from the drain. Or taking the trash out in the middle of the night because you both forgot.
He relishes it.
So when you casually mention, "the light in the closet finally went out. Took me forever to find the bulbs." it feels like a personal affront.
"Please tell me you at least used the ladder."
The sheepish smile on your face answers for you.
"Doll." His heavy head lands on your shoulder, both hands firmly gripping your hips. Fighting the urge to remind you how important you are to him. As if he doesn't already tell you several times a day.
"It was a very sturdy chair."
"You're killin' me here," he mumbles against the soft cotton of your shirt. "Would'a done it when I got home."
"I'm perfectly capable of changing a light bulb."
Your playful chide is met with a dramatic sigh, Bucky pulling back just enough to meet your gaze again.
"Course you are. But just 'cause you can do somethin', doesn't mean you have to."
Both hands slide underneath the back of your shirt, flesh and metal mapping warm skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.
"Love takin' care of you, sweetheart." His nose gently bumps yours again, breath fanning across your lips. "Love takin' care of our home. So, unless changin' lightbulbs really means that much to you, let me handle that kinda stuff, okay?"
"I guess I can give up changing lightbulbs," you tease, nails scratching lazy patterns across his back. "Might even let you do all the dishes if you're lucky."
Bucky laughs against your lips, kissing you properly, swallowing the groan threatening to surface. "Woman of my dreams, I swear."
"You're ridiculous."
Another giggly kiss that has him grinning.
"Ridiculously in love with you."
(banners by @cafekitsune)
I have no idea where this came from, but it was fun to write!
Bucky Barnes is nothing if not a considerate boyfriend.
Always going out of his way to make sure you have everything you could possibly need. Including an exact replica of his own cock to keep you warm on lonely nights.
And afternoons, apparently.
The noises register first. Your needy gasps and quiet moans going straight to his dick - the slick sound of you fucking yourself making him palm his straining erection before he's even laid eyes on you.
You're not expecting him for at least another couple hours. Your naked body sprawled across the unmade bed. Eyes shut tight. Head thrown back. Thick thighs trembling as you work yourself towards another orgasm.
Bucky stays rooted to the spot outside the bedroom, gaze flickering over all the sinful sights trying to draw his attention. Perfect tits swaying in time with your thrusts. Soft belly quivering as the pleasure starts to crest. The vibrator pressed to your clit, drawing out more of those punched out gasps that have pre-cum soaking his underwear.
And - fuck - your gorgeous, puffy cunt stretched around the thick toy, pussy making a mess that he's desperate to get lost in.
"My dirty girl."
The words spill out unchecked, toe nudging the door open the rest of the way, clearing the path to his favorite view. His approving growl catches you off guard, hands freezing in place, your wide eyes and startled gasp doing unholy things to him.
"Just couldn't wait for me to get home, huh?" he continues, the clink of his belt unbuckling easing you back against the pillows, shaky grip almost dropping the toys. "Poor pussy was just aching for me, wasn't she?"
He watches the sharp rise and fall of your breasts, nipples pebbled to tempting peaks, uneven breaths heavy with restraint. A heady combination that's impossible to ignore.
"Well, don't stop now, sweetheart. Show me how much you love my cock."
The goading punctuated by the echoing zip of his fly coming open.
tw: mention of free use
Bucky Barnes was raised to be a gentleman. Give flowers. Open doors. Pull out chairs. And never assume.
Ask. Don't take, like he was owed something.
So, when you first introduced the idea of free use, casual as Sunday mornin', it made his blood run cold. Like you were tryin' to give him permission to be someone he's fought long and hard to shed.
'course he knows it's not the same. Still took some time getting used to.
Rules helped. Boundaries. Safewords that you both insisted on. Especially nonverbal cues that you were more than happy to demonstrate.
Your head hanging off the edge of the bed, lips wrapped around his thick cock. Each careful thrust of his hips pushing himself deeper, sliding along your wet tongue until he's greeted by the tight heat of your throat.
"Shit," he curses, one hand cradling the back of your skull, keeping you at the perfect angle to chase his own pleasure. The other is wrapped around your neck. Cool metal seeking more leverage as he finds a quicker rhythm.
Your own hands remain hooked around his thighs as promised, the consistent pressure encouraging him to keep going. Watching himself disappear with each snap of his hips, your messy, gurgling moans spurring him on until all that's left is white-hot pleasure threatening to consume him.
"This what you wanted?" he pants, burying himself to the hilt, balls pressed against your nose. Throat convulsing with each dirty grind of his hips. "Me takin' what I need? Fuckin' you however I want?"
He nearly comes at the sight of you. Back arched. Nipples begging for attention. Slick thighs spread, humping the air like the greedy thing you are. Just for him.
All because he's using you like you've been begging him to. To take, without asking. To trust you enough to tell him when it becomes too much.
So, he keeps following your lead.
"Touch yourself." The growled command has you moving with lightening speed. Fingers fucking yourself perfectly, thumb grinding against your swollen clit, hips moving in tandem with his.
"That's it - Jesus Christ - so fuckin' perfect for me, sweetheart," he praises, gaze torn between his pistoning cock testing your gag reflex, and all the tell-tale signs that you're teetering on the edge, desperate to come choking on his dick.
So he makes you deal. One that has you digging your nails into the back of his thigh, and your pussy soaking your hand.
"Come right now, and I'll fuck you awake with my tongue tomorrow."
Always making it his mission to fuck every single thought out of you after you've had a hard day.
Today was especially difficult, and now he has you right where he needs you - restraints lax, tears tracking down your temples, skin slick from the countless orgasms he's already wrung out of you:
His hand between your thighs, palm pressed against your swollen pussy while he generously gives your nipples the attention they deserve. Teeth and tongue and delicious suction that has you coming on his hand within record time.
Thick fingers filling you, curling just right to make you shudder, your binds pulled taut. The obscene squelch as he fucks you harder only gets you there faster, cool metal tightening around your throat when his growl sets you off. "Listen to that - fuck. Pussy's taking me so good, baby. Just can't get enough, can she?"
Your lush thighs pushed back, his tongue spearing you open, following the desperate roll of your hips. His fingers keep you spread, wetness coating his beard, arousal smeared across his lips as he drinks you down. And the moment his thumb finds your clit, you fly apart for him, greedy walls pulsing around his tongue.
Slow, wet circles around your throbbing clit, your incoherent sobbing filling the room when a third finger stretches you open. Coaxing you into a keening mess that has your thighs trembling around his head, his talented mouth humming against your clit until you're soaking his hand.
You've barely caught your breath from the last one and he's already nudging your knees apart, one hand wrapped around his leaking cock, aching to be inside of you.
"Come on sweetheart, show me what's mine."
Your immediate obedience has him gripping the base of his dick, staving off the sudden surge of pleasure licking up his spine.
That's what you do to him. Make him nearly lose control without ever sinking inside of you.
tw: oral after creampie
Bucky Barnes isn't a man of many words. He is, however, a man of many talents.
Talents he takes full advantage of every fucking chance he gets to make you lose your goddamn mind…
Wide palm cupping the back of your skull during hungry kisses, swallowing the needy moans he coaxes with the solid weight of his thigh pressed between yours.
Careful teeth along your neck, marking you as his while his clever fingers tease your nipples into stiff peaks that beg for his mouth.
The delicious scratch of his beard when his lips and tongue discend, kissing every inch of your skin he can reach, growling about how perfect you are.
Greedy hands mapping your bountiful curves, giving extra love to all your insecure spots, hot words of praise ghosting over dimpled flesh.
Broad shoulders spreading you wider so he can settle in for his favorite meal. Unabashedly inhaling your musky scent before laving your slick heat with long strokes of his skillful tongue.
Devouring you like a starved man, strong fingers holding you open, tongue spearing you deep, your arousal coating his chin, wet obscene sounds filling the room.
Groans of "taste so fucking good," before his lips close around your swollen clit, Bucky determined to wring every ounce of pleasure out of you.
Thick fingers filling you, curling to make you see stars, his own hips grinding against the mattress, cock leaking pre-cum. Leaving a mess all because he's drowning in you.
And when he finally sinks into you, it's almost too much. The way your silken walls flutter around him, drawing him deeper. Your passionate cries spurring him on. Encouraging him to fuck you just like you both need.
Rough and raw and primal until he's rutting against you, gasping about how good you feel.
Sometimes he can't stop himself from spilling into you prematurely, thick ropes painting your pretty cunt before he gets a chance to feel you milk him dry.
Those are your favorite moments. Watching him lose control before he becomes feral all over again. Head back between your legs, tasting himself as your thighs clamp around his ears.
Then he's flipping you over. Desperate to keep fucking you. Prepared to prove, once again, that all those countless hours he's spent learning you will always lead here.
To you trembling underneath him, crying out his name, sobbing in exquisite pleasure as he breathes heavy promises of loving you like this forever.
