summary: you’re in A Mood™ and your man will do anything for you
pairing: nomad!Steve x reader (what? I KNOW)
a/n1: nomad!Steve and his beard (a warning, always)
a/n2: NSFW, SMUT, and by smut i mean filth, face riding, praise kink, a hint of choking (if you squint), cursing, tactical gear and fingerless gloves, no plot whatsoever (plot? i don’t know her), complete disregard for grammar and syntax :’)
a/n3: ok listen, i have a filthy mind and a thing for nomad!Steve so i needed to get this out of my system. blame it on @yikeswtfmate who supports and encourages all my thots thoughts and ideas. ilysm this one is for you, jelly bean
a/n4: pls enjoy responsibly and stay hydrated
He is always so good to you. Loving Steve, caring Steve, gentle Steve. Your Steve pulling soft whimpers, moans and orgasms out of you one after the other, sweetly. So good to you, so good for you. All night. Every night.
But not tonight.
Tonight there is fire and desire in his eyes, boiling in his veins, pouring out of every scar and wound on his skin, there is darkness and lust. Tonight he is no Steve, no honey, no sweetheart, no baby. No. Tonight he is yes Captain, yes Sir, yesyesfuckyes. And you want it that way. You want him that way. And he can never say no to you.
Tactical gear still on, hands resting on his belt, standing in the middle of your bedroom, watching, waiting patiently as you take off that last small piece of blue lace keeping him from tasting heaven. From tasting you.
His eyes roaming your body, pupils blown as if he is seeing you naked for the first time, heat crawling under your skin, taking over your body, already curling your toes. Fists clenched, fighting his instinct, his hunger to touch you, to hold you, to be inside you. But that’s not what you need tonight. And tonight it’s all about you. And he can never say no to you.
A silent nod from him and you lean back on dark silk sheets and feathery pillows, a path opening up for him, warm, wet, begging to be explored. His footsteps light as he comes closer, bed dipping, knee between your thighs, hands caging you, his frame hovering over you.
“Oh sweetheart, look at you,” his husky voice vibrating low in his chest, syncing with your body, “dripping honey and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He knows, fuck he knows how much you need this, how much you need him, and only he knows how to tame that need.
“Be a good girl, tell me what you want. Do that for me baby, please?” his hand ghosting over the valley of your breasts, knuckles grazing the sensitive skin, leaving tiny goosebumps behind, wrapping softly around your throat. Thumb caressing your jawline, fingers pressing just so as he leans closer.
“Tell me what you want, show me and I’ll do it for you. Anything for you.” Lips whispering, nibbling on your earlobe, beard scrapping the soft skin of your pulse, breathing you in, exhaling all his desire for you. “I wanna smell you, taste you, dip my tongue in your honey, pull out those moans that make my cock so hard.”
Half closed eyelids, fingers wrapped on sheets, thighs spreading, shaking, words struggling to be set free from your lips. “You know what I want. Fuck, I....” You could hear the smirk forming on his lips. “Baby, language. And manners. Now, tell me what you want.”
Well, fuck this and fuck Steve Rogers (you would, later) because there you are, breaking down, giving in. “I want you to make me come.” Your hand cupping his face, your words landing like soft whispers on his lips. “I want you to stop talking and make me come, Captain.”
A low chuckle bubbled from his chest, “Is that what you want, sweetheart? For me to stop talking? I thought you liked it.” He lets his fingers wander, tease, stroke, return between his lips glistening with your taste. “You want me to stop talking? Make me.” Your hand tagged in his hair, his fingers anchored on your thigh, slowly rolling your body on top of him, love marks blossoming, a light blue shade like his eyes.
You straddle his thick thighs, rolling your hips slowly, your soaking wet core finding friction and relief on hard kevlar. You can feel his cock pressing against you, aching, throbbing, pulsating to be set free and find solace deep within you. God, you love this man and every inch of him, every scar, every wound, everything about him. The thought of him buried deep in you is enough to draw out a groan so low, enough to almost send you over the edge.
“That’s my girl.” He praises and worshipes with every word, guiding you higher and higher up on his body, a trail of your sweetness behind. “Let me get a taste of you, I wanna feel you clench around my tongue.” God he is filthy and crude and nobody knows that but you, you with your soft breasts and hard nipples, your puffed lips and soaked pussy now a few inches from his face, his mouth. Your throne.
He stares in awe, taking in the sight of you on top of him, cheeks flushed, hair disheveled, chest heaving, skin dripping. His queen for his throne. “Go on, honey. Take what you want, take what you need. Let me see you come undone for me.”
His hands crawling up your sides, stroking the soft curve of your breasts, the worn leather of his gloves scratching your nipples. His breath thick and heavy against your core, fingers gripping tight on the soft skin of your hips now, bringing you lower, lower, fuckyesyesyes lower. Rolling, sinking, flooding the room with your scent, his mouth with your taste.
You are tugging his hair for purchase, your eyes where the two of you become one, his moans shooting from his chest to his tongue straight to your cunt, heat spreading through every nerve, cell and inch of your body. Beard burning between your thighs, greedy tongue diving deeper, nose nudging your swollen clit, mouth opening wider, ready to swallow you whole.
A fraction of a second is all it takes, all you want, all you need and he knows it. He feels it, he feels you clenching, shaking, shuddering. His eyes open wide, his fingers tightening, and in a fraction of a second he breathes a “be a good girl and come for me. Come on my tongue baby, and I’ll lick and drink every single drop you give me. Please.”
And it’s that fraction of second and everything it holds, everything this man, your man, put in there, that makes stars and galaxies come alive behind your eyelids and has you coming undone and apart. Hard. On his tongue. On your throne.
Summary: Bucky longs for your touch.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
A/N: NSFW-ish, implied smut, fluff, Bucky worshiping the ground you walk on.
Seconds, minutes, hours and days.
Hands on knees and on the floor, eyes heavy with lust, blue gray a thin ring, a dark shade of desire expanding. Looking at you, worshiping you, desiring you, longing for you. His body is howling, has counted the days, the mornings and nights, finding his way through a maze, closer now. To you.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
His words trampled down by groans and sharp breaths, leaving his lips in spite of him, escaping him, betraying him. Gaze feasting on the sight of you, almost naked, almost his, almost within reach. Your scent fills the whole room, his lungs and his heart, memories flooding a distance, too little to keep you apart. So close now.
“I missed you.”
Seconds, minutes, hours and days.
His bare chest is heaving, yearning for your touch, just holding back now, impatient now. You take a step closer, your skin set ablaze, desire slithering, blooming, bursting now, untamed now. The last piece of lace flows, a sound light and loud, and it drops. You’re facing each other, the world stops to turn, your bodies now howling, louder, harder, deeper, faster.
“I want you.”
Seconds, minutes, hours and days.
A fever is broken, a craving, a need, consuming each other, lighter now, softer now. Your breaths and your whispers a choir in sync, a rhapsody flowing and bouncing on walls, skin dripping honey, a taste on your lips. Sweeter now, all yours now. Together now. No distance now. In your arms now. Forever now.
Summary: Bucky sings a hymn to the woman he loves, you.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
A/N1: NSFW, (implied) smut, fluff, my complete disregard for grammar and syntax :’)
A/N2: Enjoy responsibly and stay hydrated (Stay home, stay safe. I love you)
A/N3: *The Greek word ὕμνος (hymnos/hymn) means "a song of praise" usually religious, specifically written for the purpose of adoration or prayer, and typically addressed to a deity or deities, or to a prominent figure or personification
“Imagine being loved by me…”
A dimly lit room, air thick and heavy with desire and your scent. Your bed a shrine, you rest naked, body laid softly, almost floating above the cotton sheets. Light and shade playing on your curves and edges, hiding, exposing, caressing you gently. Skin glowing, lips parted, and your eyes stay closed. Your senses heightened, stay fixed on him, he’s watching you closely, staring in awe. His body an altar, his love a votive offering to you, for you to consume, for you to keep through time. Through eternity.
His words falling slowly, he’s chanting your name, his blood singing with your voice, he is drawn closer to you. Closer now. He is thankful, he is grateful, the universe was kind, leading him into your loving arms, finding a home under your skin. His lips yearning for your taste, his blue swallowed by lust, a light sheen of sweat his desire surging, pouring, flooding the room. Your body singing a siren’s song to him.
“Imagine being loved by me…”
A feather light touch, a dip on the bed, your warmth is inviting, your scent overwhelming. He is leaning, he is longing, he is burning for you, a devotion and passion you set running free. He is worshiping now, from head to your toes, a path he’s exploring open only to him. A graze of his knuckles, a touch of his lips, his senses feasting on your skin, consuming you whole. Making you part of him. Slowly now, he’s savoring now.
He enters a temple, you’re singing his name, warm and slick velvet enveloping him whole. His prayers, his graces on your body he lays, he lights all his candles and cries out a hymn. Curses and blessings, whimpers and moans, litanies and bodies melding all into one. You drown in each other, undone and divine, heaven and hell, emerging as one. One body, one heartbeat, one sermon of love, eternal, everlasting, as below so above.
Summary: A soft birthday morning for our birthday boy Bucky
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
A/N: Sleepy Bucky in gray sweatpants (a warning, always), nsfw-ish, tooth-rotting fluff.
Happy birthday Bucky Barnes! You don’t look a day over 102! 😘
Cinnamon and sugar, vanilla and spice.
His bare body warm, slowly shuffling in bed looking for yours, only to find an empty space, and your scent still lingering. Chestnut hair disheveled, blue eyes trying to wipe sleep, dreams and memories of the night before, looking at you. Loving you.
A light scent, your absence and he’s off the bed, shoulders bruised and marked by lips and teeth, lovingly. Adoringly. Gray sweatpants hanging low on sweaty and sweet skin, low where your lips have been the night before, worshipping him. Loving him.
Cinnamon and sugar, vanilla and spice.
His light steps guided, mesmerized by the scent of you, a promise, a surprise, everything and anything. As long as it’s with you. You, you, you.
And you are there, messy hair, cinnamon and sugar hanging from your lips. Whipping and stirring, floating in a blue Henley shirt, two sizes too big, like his heart. Like his love for you.
A hand on your middle, a hum in your ear, a hug full of him, him, him. Soft kisses adorn the crown of your head, vanilla and spice dancing on his fingertips. You shift in his arms, you hang from his neck. Traces of sweet batter on the corner of your lips, an open invite.
Cinnamon and sugar, vanilla and spice.
Melding. A taste of you, on a special day. A candle is lit, a wish is made.
Summary: Daybreak with Bucky
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
A/N: Waking up next to Bucky (a warning in itself), nsfw-ish, one curse word and a lot of fluff.
This is my first attempt at writing, so please be kind. :)
“Honey…”
Sweet and slow, falling from his lips and you shiver as the sound of his voice finds a home under your skin and nestles in your heart. His own, beating fast under the rumpled cotton sheets, fingers hooking on soft skin, plump lips parting, and sleep still heavy on the eyelids.
Tiny goose bumps dancing under the first sunlight, his breath warm on your shoulder, your body is answering his call and shifts slowly to face his. A calm ocean of blue and gray swallows your gaze as your hand comes to rest on his chest, thump thump thump, a music played only by your touch.
Only for you.
Warmth spreads as limbs get tangled, closer, closer, closer, bodies now orbiting as one. He breathes in sweet almond, you exhale a tangy breeze. Lips are brushing softly, finally fucking finally, promises and desire floating in the small space between them. Your moans and whimpers a breathy melody swallowed by his kisses, he keeps them wrapped in his lungs in case one day he forgets.
A need for air, a palm on his cheek, your tender touch and your adoring words a whole universe expanding right before his eyes.
Summary: Bucky is leaving Wakanda
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
A/N.1: Angst, goodbyes being a bitch, a little fluff (because I’m not a monster), White Wolf Bucky (my favorite Bucky).
A/N.2: La petite mort is an expression which means "the brief loss or weakening of consciousness" and in modern usage refers specifically to "the sensation of post orgasm as likened to death."
A/N.3: This is what happens when listening to The Princess on repeat.
Can’t hide from the light.
Dim room, dark eyes, light footsteps and a heavy chest. Packing, picking, what he takes, what he leaves behind. You. Fingers tangled in the hem of your dress, tearing, ripping, a tiny hole smiling. Like the one in your heart. Time slow, breath low, your voice only a whisper, too small to fill the room, the distance growing, your hearts bawling.
“We have little time. Please…”
A tug on his blue sling, your fingers crawl on his shoulder, the back of his neck, higher now, tighter now, locked on chestnut locks. A look in your eyes, trailing your nose, your lips, your neck. Touches and sounds, scents and colors, a memory behind his eyelids, painting it now, cherishing now.
Words scrabbled, bodies tangled, feelings reserved. An ocean of blue and gray in the way, a storm in your eyes, prepare those goodbyes. Clothes on the floor, hands and lips on each other, inhaling IwantyouIloveyouImissyoualready exhaling. A small death for two, two lovers reborn, hatched and transformed.
Can’t hide from the light.
Morning light shines bright, unforgiving, revealing, betraying. Red-rimmed eyes and swollen lips, keeping hid one last kiss, an everlasting thorn. Promises made, to be kept, to be broken, the distance growing, your hearts bawling.
A rumble is heard from afar, the sound you dreaded the most. Hugs and hello’s fill the air, old friends reuniting, smiling. The mission, the battle, the war, his mind distracted but his heart still behind. A final goodbyebesafeIloveyou in one breath, his footsteps heavy and forced, carrying him away from you. He is not leaving whole, his best part behind, you. As he turns one last time to make his promise…
o hai and congrats on 700, jelly bean! you deserve them all and all the love! i'm doing grabby hands for Do it for me - Rosenfeld with Bucky (obviously). pls and thank you, i love you. 😌💙
Of course that’s the one you want. Of course it is.
Thank you, I love you, please go crazy with it the way I know you can 👀
