. ୨୧ ݁ ꒰ 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐒 ⊹ . bucky x fem!reader. minors are prohibited from interacting.
𝔀arnings 18+ : face-sitting, no use of y/n, oral sex (f receiving), cnc elements (overriding pleas to slow down), teasing, buck coming untouched, bodily fluids, strong language, established relationship
𝓪uthor’s 𝓷ote : based on this lovely comment <33 ‘Awesome but... What about the opposite? Reader ovulating and Bucky's just trying to be helpful in any way he can but then he ends up under her and absolutely under her control.’
The bedroom is warm, the late-afternoon light slanting gold through half-closed blinds, and Bucky is trying, really desperately trying to be good.
He’d clocked the signs hours ago: the restless shifting of your thighs on the couch, the tiny, involuntary whimpers when his arm brushed yours, the way your scent had gone thick and syrupy, wrapping around him until every breath felt like drowning in want. He knows what ovulation does to you. Knows it strips away patience and turns you into something raw, single-minded, unstoppable.
So when you’d grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the hall with that glassy, predatory glaze in your eyes, he hadn’t fought it. Just let you shove him onto the bed, let you strip down to nothing but his faded Henley, the hem barely covering the tops of your thighs as you climbed over him.
Now he’s pinned beneath you, your knees caging his shoulders, your slick heat hovering just above his mouth. His hands rest lightly on the backs of your thighs, gentle, soothing circles with his thumbs even though his pulse is hammering in his ears and his cock is straining painfully against his boxers.
He’s been at it for a long time already. Long, dragging licks. Slow, open-mouthed kisses. Sucking your clit softly until your hips buck, then easing off before starting again. He’s trying to pace you, trying to stretch it out so you don’t crash too hard too fast.
But you’re not interested in pacing.
You’re feral.
Your fingers twist tight in his hair, yanking his head exactly where you want it. Every time he tries to pull back, even half an inch to drag in a proper breath, you haul him right back with a broken, needy sound.
“Baby,” he rasps against your folds, voice thick and wrecked, lips swollen and glistening. “Baby- fuck- my jaw’s killing me. Just- give me a second, yeah? Please.”
You make a sound that’s half sob, half snarl. Your thighs clamp harder around his ears.
“No,” you gasp. “No, Buck, I need more. I’m so close- please-”
He groans, the vibration rolling straight through your clit. His hands flex on your thighs, torn between holding you steady and trying to ease you off just enough to breathe.
“Doll,” he tries again, words muffled and slurred. “Sweetheart, I’m tryin’- I swear I’m tryin’- but I can’t- can’t keep goin’ like this forever. My tongue’s numb, my jaw’s locked up-”
You lean forward, one hand braced on the headboard, the other still fisted in his hair. Your hips roll in a slow, deliberate grind, dragging your slick over his lips, his chin.
“I know,” you whisper, voice shaking with want. “I know it hurts. But I need you to let me fuck myself on your tongue, Bucky. Just- open your mouth and let me ride it. Hard. Please. I need to come like that. I need it so bad.”
His eyes flutter shut for a second. A low, helpless sound rumbles out of his chest.
“Baby… Christ.” His voice cracks. “I want to- fuck, you know I want to- but I’m already hangin’ on by a thread here. If you start ridin’ my face like that, I’m not gonna last. I’m gonna- shit- I’m gonna come in my pants like some fuckin’ teenager if you keep goin’.”
You whimper at the confession, thighs trembling harder.
“That’s okay,” you breathe, rocking just enough to tease the tip of his tongue against your entrance. “I want that. I want you to lose it. Please, Buck. Open up. Let me take it. Let me use you.”
He’s panting now, hot little bursts of air against your soaked skin. His fingers dig into your thighs, not to stop you but like he’s bracing himself.
“Fuck- doll, you’re gonna ruin me,” he chokes out. “I’m beggin’ you. Just- slow down. Give me a minute. I can’t- I can’t hold it-”
But you’re already moving.
You sink down, slow at first, letting his tongue slide inside you. Then faster. Harder. Fucking yourself on it in short, greedy thrusts while his muffled groans vibrate through you.
His hands scramble up to grip your hips, not to control, just to hold on. His whole body is shaking under you now, muscles locked tight, breath coming in ragged, desperate bursts against your cunt.
“Baby- please-” he manages between thrusts, voice wrecked and pleading. “Slow- fuck- slow down or I’m gonna- gonna come- can’t stop it-”
You don’t slow down.
You grind harder, chasing the angle that makes stars burst behind your eyes, using his tongue like it’s the only thing that matters. His pleas turn into broken, garbled sounds- half curses, half whimpers- muffled against your heat.
And then you feel it.
His hips jerk upward, helpless, once, twice and a low, guttural groan tears out of him as he comes untouched, soaking through his boxers, body shuddering beneath you while you keep riding his face.
The sight, the sound, the feel of him losing it completely sends you over.
Your thighs lock around his head, a sharp cry ripping from your throat as you clench hard around his tongue, pulsing, shaking, drenching his face all over again. He keeps his mouth open, keeps his tongue flat and steady even as he’s trembling through the aftershocks of his own release.
When it finally eases, you collapse forward, forehead pressed to the headboard, chest heaving. Only then do you loosen your grip on his hair.
He sucks in his first real breath in forever, face a wrecked, shiny mess, lips puffy, chin dripping, eyes glassy and dazed. But he’s smiling, soft and stupid and so fucking in love.
You slide down his body until you’re sprawled across his chest. His arms wrap around you instantly, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back, the other cradling your neck.
“Thought you said you couldn’t hold it,” you murmur, voice hoarse.
He huffs a wrecked laugh, voice raw. “Yeah, well… I tried warnin’ you.”
You nuzzle into his throat, already going boneless. “Worth it.”
He presses a shaky kiss to your hairline, still catching his breath.
“Yeah,” he whispers, lips brushing your temple. “Worth every goddamn second.”
He’s still catching his breath underneath you, arms tight like he never wants to let go. And you know he’ll be right back down there the second you ask again.
I love clingy subs, the kind that cry whenever I don't give them enough attention, blow up my phone when I don't respond fast enough, send me videos while I'm out or working, trying to distract me so they can get attention they so desperately want from me.
Kirishima would be the type to consider himself a dom in bed until he is balls deep in your pussy. Being a submissive boy "isnt manly." And Kirishima is the manliest man he knows. He tells all his friends how he laid you down and took care of you like a man would, when in reality, he slipped into your pussy and let out the whiniest whimper in history. He tried to pick up his pace but he is just so scared of finishing early. He tries so hard to not finish early that he tears up. By the end of the night, his cheeks are stained with tears from how good that pussy is.
