season of giving ~ nsfw bucky barnes
congressman barnes x girlfriend reader word count: 7.3k disclaimer: insecurity, self-doubt. rough, fully consensual sex. exhibitionist kink, semi-public sex. one use of daddy for my fellow horny idiots 😈 a/n: merry christmas to all those who celebrate 🤍 thank you all for the love and support. a huge thanks to the amazing @chateaubarnes for organizing the twelve days of christmas collab!!!
you knew that getting involved with a politician, a Congressman, wouldn’t be easy. it was bound to come with not only its perks, like going to fancy gatherings and publicity events, but with its downsides.
a list that only seems to keep growing inside your head no matter how many times you’ve told yourself to ignore it.
he’s never home before you go to sleep; forget about even asking him to try and make it home for dinner.
there’s the endless number of phone calls he receives whenever he is home, as well as the fact that his already limited number of days off are even more sparse as the holiday season and end of the year approach.
you try to be positive about it, really. look at the good things, the fun times you’ve had, the true love you hold for one another…
…you’d really love it, though, if you could actually spend some quality time together outside of solely these crowd-facing dates you always seem to be attending.
you know that Bucky isn’t with you just for the cameras, nor is for the benefits of having a loving girlfriend on his arm in the public eye. he’s a better man than that; he loves you through and through, and he’s proven that time and again.
but dear god, he can’t even speak to you for more than five minutes after he’s arrived home before immediately falling asleep on the couch thanks to his exhaustion.
in the beginning, your relationship was nothing short of whimsical: spending every waking moment together, learning everything you could about each other, fucking like bunnies at every opportunity.
but now?
not only is the honeymoon phase over, but you feel like you’ve gone from hot new couple to old, decrepit married couple in the span of less than a year. that’s how it seems, at least; you love him more than life itself, and you know he loves you the same.
you can’t help but let your mind wander, though. when’s the last time you went out for dinner just for the two of you, no cameras, no reason other than for just spending time together?
when’s the last time you even had sex?
you know the answer to that one, but answering the question to yourself makes it worse than letting yourself pretend like it hasn’t been as long as it truly has been.
all you want is for him to look at you again, especially with the holidays coming up. of course, the holidays are also an additive reason why he’s so busy and constantly absent, but that doesn’t change the fact that you miss him and want to actually enjoy your first Christmas together.
maybe, with a flash of your sad puppy dog eyes and a soft frown with a twitching lower lip, you can even get him to take a day off to spend together, just the two of you.
you’ve never once asked him to do that before because you know how important his work is. you couldn’t stand to get between him and such important matters.
but aren’t you important, too?
~~~
to your utter surprise, it works.
“Bucky?” you whisper to him early one December morning as you lay there, staring up at the ceiling. “are you awake yet?”
from the other side of the bed you hear a soft grumble, an indication to you that the answer is a reluctant yes.
you don’t say anything else just yet, instead turning towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. you shut your eyes and inhale deeply, enjoying getting to have a single moment together. enjoying that he hasn’t already left for work and left the bed cold by time you wake up.
“I have to get up,” he tells you as he slowly rouses from his sleep, his tone of voice already telling you the exact answer you don’t want to hear to the question you’re about to ask him.
“you’re working today? it’s Saturday,” you inquire, your dismay clear even as you try to hide it from him, trying not to let it show how upset you are that you don’t even get to spend a single day with him.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. you know it’s busy with the year end coming up, and…” he trails off. he continues speaking to himself under his breath, though, as he lists off the innumerable amount of tasks he has yet to complete.
it pains you that he’s so busy and doesn’t have any time to spend with you, let alone a moment to himself. you simply wish he would take it upon himself to take some time off, even with his hesitance regarding the fact that he hasn’t been in the game for nearly as long as his colleagues have.
this job matters to him, and for that, it matters to you, too.
but there comes a breaking point, and you’re at the end of your rope spending every day alone. spending every night with your vibrator instead of having your loving boyfriend there to service you.
truly, you know you shouldn’t probe. you know you shouldn’t bring this up, shouldn’t even ask him for this, but…
…you really can’t help yourself.
“Buck?” you whisper once more, your voice so soft that you can barely hear yourself speak.
if it were any other person, any other man in your bed with you, you could pretend you hadn’t spoken up. you could pretend you hadn’t begun to ask, pretend as though your pain wasn’t entirely evident in your tone. but he’s enhanced; of course he hears it, and of course he’s going to recognize in a split second the fact that you clearly don’t sound yourself.
“what’s wrong?” he asks you, unraveling himself from your grasp and turning to face you. the look on his face is one of genuinity and wariness.
in the grand scheme of things, your relationship is still relatively new. it’s been nearly a year now since you got together, and yet you’re still hesitant to bring up issues such as this, especially when it comes to asking him to put you before something as important as his profession. because that is what should come first.
except when he rests his hand on your cheek, looking deep into your eyes in a way he hasn’t in weeks, you have to suppress the burning desire within you to let the tears fall.
you didn’t even plan this, haven’t even thought through what you’re going to say to him, and now you’re about to speak on emotion instead of logic?
yeah, this is going to go well.
“I don’t want you to go in today,” you admit to him while remaining as calm as you possibly can. “I just want to spend some time with you. and I know I shouldn’t be asking, I… fuck, I’m sorry. I just feel like I’m losing you, a little bit, I guess? it’s stupid, I know. and I know you have to work, that’s what matters most, so please, we can just forget–”
“how long have you been feeling like this?” he asks. because while he’s been too busy stressing about his work and keeping up with everything that needs done, he’s lost track of time. he’s lost track of the fact that not only does he miss you while he’s working, but you’re missing him, probably even worse. he’s lost track of the fact that he’s left you entirely alone, night after night, for how long now?
“it doesn’t matter,” you try to recover with a smile. “I’m alright. promise.”
your attempt to backtrack doesn’t work. everything he’d just been worried about regarding his work has suddenly become irrelevant, your concerns taking precedence. his mind starts rewinding, trying to recall the last time your days off lined up, the last time he took you out. it had to be for… or maybe when…
his heart sinks. you’re the first woman he’s loved in decades, and he’s letting you down in the worst way possible by neglecting you.
how the hell could he let this happen?
when he fell in love with you, he’d already been working in his new position for quite some time. he knew what the expectations of the job were, and he made sure you knew them when you started dating, too.
that’s all he thought it was going to be: a couple of dates with a beautiful woman.
he didn’t expect to fall for you so hard or so fast.
he didn’t expect that you would turn his entire life upside down, renewing his passion and vigor for life in the way he had expected his job would. sure, working in a meaningful position has given him purpose, but not in the way your presence in his life has. being with you is the most fulfilled he’s ever been.
he didn’t anticipate finding the love of his life in the first woman he dated after escaping his capture. he most certainly did not anticipate that he would ever find “the one,” another reason why he was content with choosing such a demanding profession. perhaps he didn’t think he could ever find anything more in life.
perhaps that’s why he’s lost sight of what really matters: because he’s scared of letting himself be happy. he’s scared of what it means if he, a murderer, lets himself move on and find something, or someone, to make his soul happy again.
but no way is he going to let his fears get in between the two of you and tear your relationship apart. he’s not going to let anything ruin the beautiful life you’ve made together, the one that he hasn’t even been a part of recently.
how could he not have seen this sooner?
“of course it matters,” he responds, wrapping his vibranium arm around you and tugging you in closer to him. “you’re more important to me than any bureaucratic bullshit, alright?”
this is why you love him. this is why he’s the one, the only man you’ll ever love again for the rest of your life. he understands you, even in moments like these; he can see that this runs deeper than the surface level concerns you’ve expressed to him. he does see you when it matters.
you love him beyond what you ever could have imagined.
“I’ll take today off, how about that? we can do whatever you want,” he offers to you, pulling your chest closer against his and pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“I can’t ask you to do that for me, Bucky, really–” you begin to protest, but he interrupts.
“stop that. I will do anything for you, okay? you just say the word and it’s yours,” he tells you with the softest of smiles on his face.
because he’s more than happy to stay up all night tonight after you’ve gone to bed just to catch up on work, as long as he’s made you happy.
and even though you feel like shit knowing that he’s blowing off work just for you, you couldn’t be more elated.
~~~
your first stop of the day: the local Christmas tree farm.
you hadn’t wanted to bother him about it quite yet, but the lack of holiday spirit in your apartment was starting to drain your soul of all your festive energy. as such, the first order of business on your holiday shopping spree was to find the perfect evergreen to sit beside your YouTube fireplace. only, of course, after stopping at your favorite cafe for a hot cup of cocoa.
“I’m buying the biggest tree on the lot,” you announce to him with a laugh when you step out of the passenger seat of his truck. “so you better prepare yourself.”
not only is it the fact that you have so few decorations put up so far that bothers you, but also the fact that it’s your first holiday season that you’ll be spending together as a couple. you’ve never gotten to experience it together before, and you were starting to think that fun, festive days such as these weren’t going to happen at all this year.
as he walks around the truck to take your free hand in his, you try not to mentally berate yourself for being the reason that he’s here instead of working. regardless, you’re still beyond excited to just be together for once.
you’re going to make the absolute most out of this day with him, because who knows when you’ll get to have this again?
“the biggest tree on the lot isn’t going to fit in the front door, never mind the height,” he says as you begin to walk towards the selection.
“oh, come on. don’t be a Scrooge,” you joke back at him with a gentle shove of your shoulder against his. “think positive. think of the Christmas magic.”
and despite the fact that he does nothing but laugh in response, he immediately begins directing the both of you towards the taller trees on the opposite end of the site.
the snow sits so beautifully on the leaves, you think, as you walk through the assortment of pines and firs available to you. every tree you pass by is luxurious, their branches decorated in thick green spires, tall enough they are easily double your height.
they’re all perfect, you think, as you walk by.
but none of them are just right.
that is, until you reach the end of the row, and you see it: the perfect tree.
“that’s the one,” you tell Bucky gleefully as you point towards it and make your way closer. “this is our first Christmas tree together.”
you practically hear the gears spinning in his head.
“it looks like the tree from the Charlie Brown Christmas special,” he comments as he takes in the sight of it.
“I’m choosing to ignore that comment, as well as my surprise that you even know what Charlie Brown is, old man,” you tell him as you walk up to the tree, running your fingertips over the sparsity of one of the branches. “it’s adorable, and I love it. I want it.”
“what happened to buying the biggest tree on the lot?”
“well, it’s big where it counts,” you retort.
that inspires a laugh from him, deep in his throat, a genuine amusement you haven’t heard from him in a long time.
“yeah, yeah, it’s big in Christmas spirit, right? alright. if you say it’s the one, then it’s the one, sweetheart,” he concedes.
you leave the Christmas tree farm beyond elated with your find.
~~~
your next stop of the day?
the mall, of course.
but it’s far more busy than you expected.
you immediately note the way Bucky’s eyes begin scanning the area, his mind unconsciously assessing the situation, an automatic reflex as the result of his decades spent fighting, strategizing, always in need of an escape plan. you can feel the way he tenses against you, standing up straighter and stepping physically closer to you even as you feel like he’s drifting off somewhere that you can’t follow.
“hey. it’s okay,” you whisper to him, squeezing his hand in yours a few times as you begin to navigate the crowd. “I’m right here.”
you turn towards him for a moment as you walk, meeting his eyeline, and you can see the difference in his gaze as he seemingly comes back to himself. he gives you a soft nod and squeezes your hand back, and although you can tell he’s still concerned, you know the gentle reminders help.
the reminders that he doesn’t have to spend every waking moment looking for threats, that he doesn’t have to be on-guard all the time.
while your soft reminders do help ground him, he’ll never tell you the truth that your presence in such situations only worries him more. because what if something does go wrong? what if there is a threat, and what if he can’t protect you?
he’d fight to the death for you, that’s for certain.
but he’s only one man, and the worries in his head run rampant at the mere thought of you being in danger.
“I haven’t bought you your Christmas gift yet,” you admit to him, trying to drag his attention back to the moment. “you haven’t even given me any ideas.”
it takes everything in him to direct his focus back to you, trying to process the words you’ve spoken to him while breaking out of his haze.
“I don’t need anything,” he tells you, to which you can only reply with a scoff.
“seriously? that’s bullshit. there has to be something you want,” you say with a smile, luckily evoking a laugh from him.
he turns to face you as you manage to break away from the current herd of people, that look on his face returning, the one that makes you feel seen, loved.
“all I want for Christmas is you, baby,” he says with such earnestness it causes your chest to ache.
how the hell does he make your heart melt so easily, even with such corny words? how can he be this sentimental, this good to you?
“you sound like Mariah Carey,” you tease back, trying to brush off the swell of emotions that rise in your chest and cause your flusteredness.
you watch him roll his eyes, the joke not falling on deaf ears. apparently, he has done his research on modern media and no longer lives in the 1940s.
“enough of that. it’s true. you’re all I need, baby,” he whispers, wrapping his hands around your waist, to your surprise.
two minutes ago, he was all Winter Soldier mode. now, this?
he’s never been one for PDA before.
“what are you doing?” you ask him as he leans in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “people might recognize you, and–”
“and what? see that I’m spending time with my girl? oh, yeah, call the tabloids. I’m sure they’ll love the drama, the scandal–”
“alright, alright,” you interrupt him, trying to hold back your laughter as you do. despite your confusion and surprise, it’s… nice, actually. it’s nice to feel wanted by him again.
with one last press of his lips to yours, he brings his flesh hand back to yours and tells you, “alright, doll, where to? lead the way.”
~~~
you’re not sure how long you spend wandering the mall together, stepping in and out of your favorite shops, all the while continuing to pester Bucky by asking him for even an idea of what you can buy for him.
instead of giving you an answer you can work with, what do you get?
the same cheeky answer he gave you the first time. “you,” is all he says, his smirk growing each time he repeats it.
despite the fact that he’s practically tormenting you this way, you’re glad to see him calmer and acting more like himself again after his initial hesitation when you first entered the mall. you’re glad to be able to roam around aimlessly with your boyfriend instead of sitting around at home pouting, wishing he would just come home, eat a meal with you, and fuck you through the bed for the first time in ages.
the thought comes to you as you enter the largest department store in the mall, piecing together his answer of wanting nothing but you with the desperation that’s coursing through your veins.
surely you’re not the only one feeling pent up, right? surely all the stress he’s been under has only made him even more on edge, even more frustrated than you are, perhaps?
you refuse to let yourself get into your head about the fact that he hasn’t even tried to initiate in a long time, reminding yourself that he’s just busy. he’s just exhausted from work. that there isn’t something wrong with you that’s pushed him away.
it can’t be. you know he loves you.
but the gift idea you have in mind can’t hurt, either.
“I have an idea,” you propose to him. “let’s split up, that way–”
“what? why would we do that?” he interrupts.
you can’t even be mad at him for it; the tone of his voice is so sad and reluctant, upset by just the thought of letting you out of his sight.
“because,” you continue, drawing out your syllables, “I know what I’m buying you for Christmas, and there’s no surprise element if you’re there when I buy it.”
when he doesn’t respond, you know he’s instantly wary. “I told you, I don’t need anything,” he tries to reiterate.
“well, aren’t you going to buy me something for Christmas?” you tease with a smirk. “I want to be surprised, too.”
the look on his face is one of pure exasperation with your antics, and yet beneath it, you can see his amusement.
“okay,” he concedes. “you’ve got me. go do your shopping and I’ll do mine. but remember, we’ve got a Christmas tree waiting to be decorated.”
“of course,” you tell him with a smile, and press a short kiss to his lips. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”
as you let go of his hand and begin to walk the other away, you know exactly where you’re headed: the women’s intimates section.
the selection you find is vast, so many different colors and styles of lingerie meeting your gaze as you browse. half of the options you find, you don’t even know how you’re supposed to wear them; the other half appear either entirely uncomfortable, aren’t quite your style, or are so otherwise mind-boggling you can’t imagine ever purchasing such a garment.
you browse for a few minutes, trying to find something even remotely close to the image you’re picturing in your head of what you’re looking for.
eventually, you stumble upon it: it’s a simple two-piece set, a bit more basic than what you had sought to look for, but it reels you in. the deep black fabric is decorated with delicate golden lace, far more elegant than any undergarment you think you’ve ever worn before. something inside you tells you, this is it.
no way you’re going to be so lucky as to find it in your size, though, you think as you begin searching–
apparently, you did get lucky, for what feels like the millionth time today. you’re so excited, trying and failing to tamp down your smile as you approach the cash register with the gift you’ve determined will be perfect for Bucky.
it’s just as you’re about to call him that you’re ready to head home that another thought hits you.
you hope you’re not keeping him too long as you duck out of the department store and head to one last shop.
~~~
this was supposed to be your Christmas gift to him, you remind yourself as you look at your reflection in the mirror. the holiday isn’t for two more weeks; you’re going to ruin the surprise that you were so concerned with having for him come the holiday.
you can’t help yourself, though, truly. having the day off together has been nothing short of amazing, so why not keep the fun going?
taming your nerves as you step out of the bathroom proves to be quite difficult as you remember that you haven’t done this for quite a while. you toss your hair a few times, trying to hold onto your courage as you walk back to the living room where Bucky is working on decorating.
“I’m looking through your boxes, doll, and I can’t find the tree topper,” he calls out as he searches through another box, unaware of the fact that you’re now standing behind him once more. “are you sure–”
just as he begins to speak again, he finally stands up and turns in your direction, his words failing him as he takes in the sight of you. his cheeks go slightly pink and the corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile, all while his jaw is still dropped in admiration.
“what’s all this?” he asks with a smile, stepping towards you and resting his hands on the flesh of your waist.
“your early Christmas present,” you pipe up, tilting your head down and looking at yourself as you continue, “do you like it? do I look okay?”
his vibranium hand removes itself from your skin and finds its way to your chin, directing your gaze back up to his as he takes another step towards you. his beautiful blue eyes are practically black with the way his pupils have dilated, and the look of desire on his face is unmistakable.
“you look like sin,” he mumbles, gripping your chin and your waist tighter as he pulls you up against him. “what did I do to deserve this?”
“you deserve it no matter what, Bucky,” you mumble to him, and the look in his eyes is a dead giveaway to the lust as it grows, coursing through his veins. you watch as he shakes his head as though in mild disagreement with your words, but his eyes never leave your figure.
he holds you in his tight grasp as he stares you up and down for a few more moments before finally speaking again.
“on the couch. now. hands and knees.”
you don’t dare waste a second as you immediately comply with his instruction, slowly stepping around his figure and towards the couch behind him. the feeling of his metal hand coming down on your ass as you walk past him makes you jump and you let out a squeal, your face going warm as a result.
you realize that you finally have his full, undivided attention for once.
your whole body is alight with excitement.
you do as you’re told, crawling onto the couch and getting into position, and at this point your anxious nerves can’t even touch you. you’re far too exhilarated and amped up, ready for whatever Bucky is about to give you.
after a few moments, you feel him approach you as he presses the heavy weight of his bulge up against the curve of your ass. the gasp you let out is shaky as you resist the urge to grind your hips back against his, waiting for further instructions.
instead, he lets you stew in your thoughts, in your desperation for a few more moments as he takes the opportunity to rut up against you with a few lazy hip thrusts. all the while, you know better than to make a single movement without permission, and he knows you won’t dare disobey his unspoken commands.
you’re taken by surprise when he suddenly reaches around you and grabs your arms out from under you, crossing them across your back. with the loss of your balance, your weight crashes against the soft plush of the couch, your face making contact with the fabric as you let out yet another yelp.
you don’t complain, not for a second. you missed this with him terribly.
“don’t move,” he orders, his voice ragged, “or else you won’t come for hours. do you understand me?”
a shiver runs down your spine at the sound of his words, and a small noise falls from your throat in acknowledgement. he must be pleased with your response as you hear him begin to shift his stance behind you.
his flesh hand comes to the inside of your thighs, softly spreading your legs apart and allowing him the space between them as two metal fingers dip underneath the fabric of the panties you’re wearing, probably soaked through by this point. he tugs the fabric to the side, revealing the sight of your weeping hole to his gaze.
“so pretty,” he mutters, and you’re not entirely sure if he’s talking about the garment or your cunt. you don’t have a single second to think it through as he presses a soft kiss to your twitching clit, while you’re barely comprehending that he’s no longer standing behind you but is instead on his knees to please you.
“oh,” you whine out. you catch yourself as you instinctively begin to push backwards to seek out more of the blissful feeling, remembering his threat about what would happen if you were to disobey. “please, Bucky…”
“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he whispers as his hands clamp down on your thighs, aiding in holding you still against him as he begins to eat you like a man starved. “gonna make you feel so good.”
it’s safe to say he makes good on his promise that evening.
~~~
when you wake up the next morning, reaching for his side of the bed, you expect to find him laying next to you.
you should have known better.
you shouldn’t have expected him to be able to sleep in with you this morning, for him to be able to take any more time off after blowing off work all day yesterday. of course your day off wasn’t going to last forever.
sitting up in bed, you scan the room and take in the fact that you both left an utter mess the night before. your brand new lingerie set lies beside you on the mattress; his clothes litter the floor; your sheets and blankets are falling off the bed.
don’t forget the mess you both left in the other room after failing to finish decorating the day before.
how could you think that the magic would last into this morning?
as you lay back down, wallowing in your self-pity for a few more minutes, you reach for the bra as it lies next to you and begin tracing your fingertips over the patterns sewn into the fabric. at least you both enjoyed it while it lasted, you think, even if you’ve now ruined the surprise of the only gift you managed to pick out for him.
it’s not long before you remember that that is simply not true, recalling the other purchase you made the day before.
yet another gift that certainly will not be waiting for Christmas morning to be unwrapped, but hey, at least you’ve still got another trick up your sleeve to try and get his attention.
~~~
a week passes in the same manner, both of you like two ships passing by in the night. you feel more like you’re roommates who share a bed than an actual couple some days.
it’s not forever, you tell yourself. hopefully after the first of the year, things should calm down, and you should have your Bucky back.
it’s the night before Christmas Eve, and in typical political fashion, there’s a gala that Bucky is required to attend. for you, though, it allows you the perfect opportunity to give him his second early Christmas gift.
you know he notices as you put on the same new set you just purchased for him underneath your black cocktail dress, and you’re more than well aware of the slight look of confusion on his face. he doesn’t ask, and you choose not to address it, instead letting him ponder about what antics you might be up to.
because lord knows you have a devious plan for the evening.
it’s when you’re stepping out of the limo and begin walking towards the building that you hand it to him as discreetly as possible, trying not to draw any attention to yourselves with the action as you wave to other faces you recognize in the crowd.
he glances down at the object as you wrap your hands around the crook of his flesh arm in order to assess what it is: a small handheld remote, with a few different settings to choose from.
you continue to act none the wiser, making your way towards the staircase at the entrance while completely ignoring the fact that his mind is whirring as he tries to make sense of whatever it is that he’s now holding between vibranium fingers.
“what is this?” he questions quietly, at which you smile softly to yourself.
“just something to spruce up our evening,” is all you offer in response.
the sharp inhale he takes after a few moments indicates to you that he’s finally pieced two and two together.
“is this–” he begins, cutting himself off.
“yes,” you affirm without a moment of hesitation.
he continues to mull it over as you walk, far beyond flustered but trying to hold it together thanks to the conveniently public location you’re in.
“I didn’t know we decided to go through with this,” he says to you quietly, slipping the control into his pocket and waving to other individuals as you make your way to the bar. “I thought this was more of an idea than a plan.”
“Merry Christmas, Bucky,” you tell him, and then your private discussion comes to an end as you’re greeted by one of Bucky’s colleagues and his wife at the bar.
you’re ready and waiting for him to torment you all night long.
~~~
he doesn’t.
not once does he reach for the control in his pocket, focusing instead on the reason you’re here, for socializing and business-related conversations.
you hope you didn’t upset him by not talking it through with him first, hoping that he’s not completely pissed off at you instead of being as excited by the fantasy as you are.
you’re not quite sure his feelings towards it, though, when he doesn’t bother with it even once.
that is, until you’re seated for dinner.
the woman you’re seated next to, yet another politician’s wife, is someone you’ve gotten to know over the course of the last few months at these events. you like her; she’s down to earth, doesn’t take any shit from the rest of the pig-headed men in the room who try to sway her into spending a night with them instead of her husband. more than that, you love getting to hear the latest gossip that she always seems to find out.
you’re deeply enthralled with your conversation with her, the situation with Bucky in the back of your head as you begin working on your entrée, when it happens.
the small vibrator trapped in your panties, pressed up against your clit, flicks on without a warning. you starkly inhale, trying to refrain from having an overt reaction to the sudden disturbance while in the midst of your conversation.
as you reach for your glass of wine, you meet Bucky’s eyeline from across the table. his expression remains stoic, his poker face on point.
you know better, though, because you know that look in his eyes. you know that beneath the facade, he’s excited, potentially even more so than you are.
you suppose that’s why it’s a gift for him, not you.
sipping your wine, you turn back to your conversation and continue your meal as though nothing has happened.
but that won’t do for Bucky.
the vibrator clicks up once, then twice within the span of a few seconds to a far more powerful setting, making you choke on your beverage as you go to swallow.
“are you alright?” the woman asks you, reaching a hand out to rest on your shoulder as you begin coughing and embarrassing yourself in front of everyone at the table.
you shoot Bucky a death glare between coughs before turning back to her and assuring her you’re more than alright, just a small accident.
why did you think this was a good idea, exactly?
sure, it’s a way to grab his attention the way you’ve been dying to for weeks now. and sure, it’s exhilarating to fantasize about the potential of letting him sexually torture you when there’s people around, forcing you to remain composed, all while there’s not a thing you can do about it.
you seem to forget that your boyfriend knows what he’s doing, that he’s mastered the art of turning your body against you. that he’ll never turn down an opportunity to humiliate you in a sexual context.
there’s no winning this time. you’re going to have to suffer through this one.
and you do: you grit your teeth and bear it, forcing yourself to maintain your composure and continue your evening as normal. as though you’re not fighting back debauched noises at every turn, as though it isn’t near impossible for you to form full, coherent sentences right now.
you’re hopeful that after half an hour or so of this torture, he’s going to give you a break, ease up on you if only for a few minutes.
he doesn’t.
as dessert is being served, you feel it click up twice more to the highest setting.
you’re screwed.
you try with all your might to eat what’s on the plate in front of you, to continue the conversation you’re supposed to be holding, but it’s clear something is wrong.
“are you alright?” the person seated on the other side of you asks, to which you take the opportunity to bound out of your seat and step away from the table.
“I’m alright,” you manage with a shaky voice, glaring at your boyfriend across the table once more. “forgive me, I don’t think the appetizers sat well with me.”
with the excuse, you begin bolting towards the restrooms, praying to yourself that you make it there without falling flat on your face as your legs shake and tremble underneath you. every fiber of your being is fighting the urge to orgasm in the middle of the hall, surrounded by hundreds of people.
you about jump for joy when you finally reach the single-stalled bathroom, shoving the door open and preparing to lock yourself in.
a vibranium hand catches the door before you can shut it, and there he is, forcing his way inside the room with you before locking it behind the both of you.
“Bucky, please,” you whine out, reaching both of your hands out to lay them on his chest, resting your entire weight against him.
his hands come to rest on your waist, holding you against him as he speaks, “don’t come.”
your eyes snap up to his, tears forming as you meet his gaze, no longer hiding your desperation.
“what? how could you…” you try, but a low moan falls from your throat as another wave of pleasure rolls through you.
“what, how could I be so mean? is that what you want to know?” he begins questioning, mocking you in a tone so condescending it might send you into orgasm. “oh, babydoll. you had to know I wasn’t going to go easy on you.”
you bite your lip and lean into him once more as you try to withstand the relentless vibrations.
“come on,” he says to you in the same tone of voice, roughly grabbing at your hips and pushing you towards the sink. “open your eyes, doll. look at yourself in the mirror.”
you blink open your eyes, taking in the way you’re crumpled over, pressed up against the countertop while Bucky digs his hands deep into your flesh. his form is right up behind yours as he holds you in place, unable to move an inch.
you look like a fucking wreck, you think, as the tears run down the planes of your cheeks. how did you manage to survive the last forty-five minutes of this?
“you wanted my attention, right?” he asks, both hands moving to roughly grope your tits through your dress. “answer me. use your words.”
“yes,” you whisper back, to which he chuckles.
“well, you’ve got my attention now, baby. is that all you wanted? for me to look at you?” he continues, feigning innocence in his tone of mockery. “because if that’s all–”
“no, please,” you whimper. “I need you to fuck me, Bucky, please? I can’t… can’t take it any longer.”
“aww, is that what you’ve been needing? need me to fill up your pretty little pussy, make sure she ain’t so empty anymore?” he speaks into your ear, and the words truly do drive you to the edge. you love when he talks like this, his Brooklyn accent peeking through.
“fuck, turn it off, I can’t–” you begin, and suddenly, the device flicks off, stopping your orgasm in its tracks. you immediately start rambling, spouting thank yous on repeat as he finally takes mercy on you.
as you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself, his hands come to the sides of your dress and begin hiking it up around your waist. he unceremoniously shoves the fabric of your underwear to the side, the vibrator staying in place by nothing short of a miracle.
“don’t you worry,” he mutters as he races to shove his own slacks down his thighs and out of the way, “I’m gonna fuck you, just how you like it.”
when you feel the tip of his cock breaching your tight entrance, your eyes all but roll back in your head. a vibranium arm snakes itself around your torso and you cross your arms over his, allowing him to tug you in tightly against him.
he places one small, gentle kiss to the top of your head before burying himself deep inside your cunt, fucking into you with a passion.
“can’t believe I’ve been neglecting my girl,” he mumbles in your year, words you didn’t hear from him the last time he had you like this on your day off. “can’t believe I’ve… been so stupid.”
you know what you would say to him if you were in your right mind, if you weren’t currently being fucked stupid. you’d tell him that it’s okay, that he isn’t stupid, he’s just busy.
the words you do manage to whine out: “fuck me harder, daddy.”
every word he says after that doesn’t even process in your mind as he begins railing you like you’ve been dreaming of for ages. it’s all you can do to hold on for dear life.
when you approach your impending orgasm once more, you really do try to form a coherent word, but all that comes out is a babble of moans and whimpers.
he understands. he’s the love of your life, he always understands.
“go ahead, doll,” he mumbles into your ear. “I’m right behind you, ready to fill you up so full you don’t even remember what it’s like to be empty anymore.”
your release is white-hot, blinding you as it overtakes every fiber of your being. you’re only somewhat aware of the hand that wraps itself around your mouth to contain your screams, preventing the rest of the people in the hall from hearing you getting your brains fucked out.
you stand there against the counter as Bucky holds you, keeping you from falling to the floor on your spent legs, for quite some time before finally coming back to yourself.
“that was good,” you whisper, leaning your head back against his shoulder and slowly blinking your eyes back open to look at him. “really good.”
he places a kiss to your cheek, your nose, your lips before responding.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy, babydoll. I hope you know you don’t have to… you know, pull any stunts like these just to get my attention. you can just tell me when you need me,” he speaks, so soft and kind that no one would believe the nasty words coming from his mouth just minutes before.
all you do is smile in response, placing another kiss to his lips. “sure, I can. but tell me, didn’t you enjoy your Christmas gifts, baby?”
his eyes narrow, the look of mischief returning to his face once more. “oh, don’t you worry. I loved them, baby. you better prepare yourself for worse, next time.”
as he kisses you, your makeup running and his cum dribbling down your thighs, you can’t help but begin to think up your debauched plan of action for Valentine’s Day.
✦ masterlist ✦
general bucky tag list part 1: (send an ask or dm to be removed)
@starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark @luckyhornet @maryevm @avengemepercy @mandoloriancookie @starstruck-cowgirl @doubledizzy22 @yvespecially @shereadzzz @blaineandergel @flow33didontsmoke @iiamlynn @belovedmoony @tellybearryyyy @doilooklikeagiveafrack @analovesmarvel @izzy698 @ketchumid24 @annabethboleyn @luv4kook @buckyseternaldoll @planetzeidy @thegirlfatherr @cieraboobear @wint3rbarnes @quinnofdrama @jeannie-beannie @buckysslut @peaceinourtime82 @poiscntree @sooberrt @yaboyguzma69 @dragonsoverall @drxies @morgan-getty
