can i pretty please get your thoughts on dragon hybrid bucky with reader smut? however you want them to bang it out. and i am specifically picturing dragon dildos for the dingaling. Thank you beloved heldbybarnes <3
OH MY GOD THIS IS A NEW HYPERFIXATION FOR ME
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You’ve seen Bucky annoyed before—brooding, pacing, wings twitching like he’s holding back a storm. But you’ve never seen him molting.
Which, apparently, is dragon-hybrid code for I need to mate something right now or I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
“Don’t—” his voice cracks as you step closer, the heat rolling from his skin enough to make you sweat. “Sweetheart, I’m not… safe.”
You cup his jaw anyway. “Bucky. Look at me.”
His pupils blow wide. His wings flare. His tail—usually something he keeps tucked and polite—snaps behind him like a whip. And you swear the temperature spikes ten degrees when he inhales the scent of your neck.
“Fuck,” he growls. “You smell like you want me.”
You’ve wanted him since the first time he shifted in front of you, scales rippling down his ribs, smoke curling from his lips. You wanted him every time he pretended not to look when you stretched, every time his tail brushed your ankle “by accident,” every time he rumbled at someone who stood too close.
But nothing compares to this—Bucky trembling, sweating, wings twitching, pupils glowing gold because his body is demanding you.
“I can take it,” you whisper.
He huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Sweetheart… you have no idea what you’re offering.”
“So show me.”
Something inside him breaks.
He grabs you—gently, but with strength that reminds you exactly what he is—and lifts you onto the table like you weigh nothing. His claws tease your thighs, careful not to scratch, his breath hot on your stomach as he kneels.
“I’ve fantasized about this,” he admits, kissing the inside of your knee. “But not like a man. Like a dragon. Instincts telling me to claim you. Fill you. Mark you.”
You shiver. “Then do it.”
He groans like you’ve just unshackled him.
Clothes tear—yours—because he’s lost the thread of human patience. He mouths at your thighs, dragging sharp canine-like teeth just close enough to make your pulse stutter. His tongue is slightly longer, hotter, textured enough that when he licks a stripe up your slit, you gasp and jolt and nearly sob right there.
“Easy,” he purrs, gripping your hips. “You’re shaking already.”
“You’re—ah—warm.”
“Comes with the scales,” he smirks.
But when he spreads you open and dips lower, all humor evaporates. He goes silent, reverent, licking you like he’s starving. Long, slow drags. Deep pushes of his tongue that feel almost too big, too intense, too dragon. The vibration of his rumbling chest against your thighs nearly undoes you by itself.
You’re already dripping down his chin when he pulls back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Turn over.”
You do instantly, and he makes a sound that’s half-growl, half-moan.
“That’s it. Present for me.”
You flush, but you arch your back, tilt your hips, hands braced in front of you. His claws graze your waist, tracing reverent lines up your spine.
“You sure?” he rasps. “Last chance to say no, sweetheart. Because once I’m in you… I’m not stopping.”
You nod eagerly.
He exhales shakily. “Okay.”
When he frees himself, you feel it before you see it: heat radiating behind you, the brush of something heavy and thick against the swell of your ass. You look over your shoulder—and your breath catches.
It’s… larger. Not obscenely so, but definitely hybrid. A darker scale-slicked base tapering into something shaped more like those dragon dildos you swore you’d never admit you’d looked at. Slight ridging. A flared, swollen knot-like base that pulses with heat.
Your mouth goes dry.
“You’re… big.”
His laugh is dark, strained. “Too big?”
“No,” you breathe, hips pushing backward without permission. “I want it.”
He growls—loud—and fits the head of his cock against your entrance.
“You’re so wet for me,” he murmurs. “My pretty human, begging to be fucked by something not fully human.”
“Bucky—”
He pushes in.
Slow at first, because even feral he’s still Bucky, still gentle when he can manage it. But he’s so thick that your breath punches out of you, your nails scraping the table as you stretch around him.
“That’s it,” he coos, voice ruined. “Take me. Open up for me.”
He slides deeper—inch by impossible inch—until your legs tremble and your vision blurs.
“Bucky—oh god—”
“Almost there, sweetheart… you can take it, you’re doing so good…”
When his hips finally meet yours, you sob. Full. Stuffed. Marked by heat that coils low in your belly.
But Bucky is shaking behind you.
“Baby,” he warns, voice barely human. “If I move—”
“Move.”
He snaps.
His hand clamps at your waist, the other around your shoulder, pulling you back onto him as he thrusts. Not human thrusts—deep, rolling, full-body strokes fueled by molten instinct. His wings flare, his tail curls around your ankle, and every drag of his cock hits a place inside you that has you gasping, keening.
“Fuck, you’re gripping me so tight—gonna melt around me—smell so good—my mate—my sweet mate—”
His teeth graze your shoulder. Not breaking the skin. Not quite. But the intent is there.
“Mark me,” you whimper.
He chokes. “Sweetheart—don’t say that unless—”
“Do it.”
He bites.
Pleasure explodes through you, overwhelming and hot and primal. Your orgasm crashes so hard your arms give out, your body clenching around him in pulsing waves.
Bucky’s roar tears from his chest—deep, shaking the table—and his hips rut forward once, twice, before he spills inside you, heat flooding so thick you feel it drip down your thighs.
When he collapses over you, wings draping protectively around your body, he’s trembling.
“Sweetheart,” he pants into your neck. “You have no idea what you just started.”
You smile into the wood.
“Good.”
His tail wraps your waist. “Round two when you can breathe again.”
You laugh breathlessly. “When you can breathe again.”
He presses a molten kiss to your new mark.
“Oh, I can go all night.”
