#(opened a fic of him. its actually Lovette)

[gutsfics]

man. i really wanna replay Sally Face but also i hate how it ended so i never wanna replay it again. many such cases

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Good Ole Stuffing

A/N:  For @xxloki81xx​ ‘s 2019 Xmas writing challenge, filling the song prompt:  It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas - Michael Bublé.  Thanks for organising this badass challenge

This is a Bucky Barnes x Reader w/ powers fic where their relationship is established.  The story is set a couple of years after another of my fics, Disco Ball Diva.  I think I might make a cluster of fics with this reader character because she’s hilarious and sassy as fuck.

Read Disco Ball Diva  |  Main Masterlist  |  Mobile Masterlist

Words:  3.3k

Warnings:  18+ only please... Smut, threats of bodily harm, and terrible terrible language.

Summary:  The early arrival of Christmas and a prank courtesy of Sam ‘turkey boy’ Wilson ruins your super-chill fall vibe.  Bucky makes it up to you, and let’s face it, his recipe for stuffing is right up your street.

November 1st.  You sighed blissfully.  This day always felt so peaceful, like all the tension that built up over the course of a year just seeped away leaving behind a fresh, crisp, new-feeling world much like the old one but lighter; unpacked and unburdened.  This was one of the things you loved about Halloween, aside from the dark occult connotations, and the child-like excitement that came with this holiday, All Saints Day had its own special feel; everything felt cleansed.  Except your mind – that was always filthy.

Halloween at the Avengers compound had been an evening garden party with a bon fire, a haunted house marquee, carnival games and spooky themed circus acts.  It was more for the families of all the Avengers and Stark Industries staff (families with children), but you but you loved every second regardless.  Kids in costumes running around excitedly with candyfloss, completely hyperactive on sugar and E numbers.  Adults in costumes running around excitedly, completely hyperactive on alcohol.  But that had been later in the night, after all the kids had gone and all who were left were those of your who lived in the compound.

This year, you and Bucky had done the couples thing.  Collaborating costumes for the first time had been fun and your adaptation of Sweeny Todd and Mrs Lovett had gone down swimmingly, especially since you actually baked pies for the party; apple and blackberry, made to look like a bloody filling. Delicious.

It wasn’t the first Halloween you’d had together, you’d been together 2 years now and things were going great.  You’d danced around each other when you’d first joined the team but as time grew on you came to realise that you truly cared for the man formerly known as The Winter Soldier, and learned that he felt the same.  And boy, did he!  Bucky poured his heart and soul into you, giving life to the aching hope you cherished, that one day all the tension between you would evolve into something amazing. And that he’d fuck you senseless.  Phew!  That man was passionate on a whole other level, even the thought of him was enough to get you going.

Sweaty and in desperate need of a different kind of release, you quit the gym having worked through your hangover, and hit the showers.  If you’d have told yourself a couple of years ago that you’d be an exercise-loving badass Avenger with a badass Avenger boyfriend, you’d have told yourself to suck a dick.  You’d come a long way since Tony Stark picked you up, back when you were a hotdog seller whose superpower was simple prismatic projection.  Now you were a fully-fledged Avenger whose power could both protect and harm, as well as look snazzy as fuck.  Your Avenger name was Suncatcher, which was a hell of a lot better than Rainbow Brite - the name Bucky first called you when you joined up.  That asshole! 

The communal area in the compound had a different feel altogether.  Not the calm you loved about All Saints Day, but something glowing and bright and-.

“What the fuck is this shit?”

Your gym bag was heavy as you toted it the final few steps into the lounge where you observed a kind of carnage you’d never seen before, not even in the aftermath of battle.

 Bucky’s head snapped in your direction, his glitter-covered hair fanned, sending sparkling dust everywhere. There were fairy lights wrapped around his metal arm, plugged in, no less, and he had baubles on the floor all around where he knelt.

“Hey sweetheart.”  He was at your side in seconds, having ditched the lights and come to give you a hug and a soft peck on the cheek.

“Where’s the Halloween shit?”

Bucky’s mouth flapped in surprise at seeing your deep scowl, and he thumbed over his shoulder at his friend.

Ahh yes, the other culprit. The Falcon.

Sam had been knelt by Bucky, hidden from view when you’d entered.  Now he was out in the open, exposed, and he was struggling to stifle his mirth.

“Well, this ain’t happenin’.  Hell fuckin’ no!”  You stood in front of the partially assembled Christmas tree, hands on hips, bristling.  “I will fucking fight you both.”  You were sure you looked fierce.  Amazon queen that you were.  

“C’mon, Rainbow Brite.” Sam smirked.  “Tis the season to be jolly.”

“Fuck that!”  You gripe indignantly.  “It’s Halloween until December 24th and not a day before.”

“You tolerate this woman?” Sam jibed at Bucky, rolling his eyes with a long-suffering groan.

“Get stuffed, turkey boy.” Your irritation was only half serious, you loved talking shit, especially to Sam.  “I light up his life like the glorious disco ball of sexy bitchin’ badassery that I am.”

Bucky pulled you in for a hug, chuckling against the top of your head.  “Speaking of stuffing.”  He murmured.

“Oh baby!”  You moaned salaciously when his hands slid down to your ass.  “You know I love me some of that 100 year old sausage meat stuffing.”  You cackle with glee at the disgusted noise Sam made.

You were sorely tempted to push Bucky down on the sofa, straddle him and make a scene of dry humping him just to get Sam to flee the scene.  Bucky would let you do it too, he’d long since stopped being embarrassed by your exhibitionist behaviour.  But you wanted this man to fuck you senseless and that called for the soundproofed bedroom in which he slept.

Nightmares.  It was for the nightmares, alright.  But it certainly served your needs.

“If I’ve got to tolerate this Christmas bullshit before the corpse of Halloween is even cold then you,”  you paused to poke his pec playfully, “robocock, are going to make it up to me.”

With a grin, Bucky tapped your thigh and bent down a little.  Jump up, his eyes said.

No sooner were your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, were his lips on yours in a searing kiss and he carried you away.  Somewhere in the background Sam was muttering something about being scarred for life, counselling needed and some other lame ass complaint.  You didn’t care.  Bucky had you and he was going to take you.

 There was no preamble once his bedroom door banged shut against the frame.  Bucky threw you down onto the bed and tugged down your yoga pants, knickers and all. He knew what you needed from him, he was great like that, reading your mood and desire like you were an open book. It had come with much practice, but it had come.

You were yanked by your ankles to the edge of the bed and Bucky was inside you immediately, where he stilled, eyelids fluttering as he allowed you both a moment to adjust.  You were tight, even after all this time as his lover.  More so because he hadn’t warmed you up beforehand, but you were great.  Perfect, in fact.

You grinned at his sharp intake of breath at the purposeful flex of your pelvic floor, teasing him, goading him to fuck you sore.  To leave you with that burning throb that reminded you for days of the feel of him buried deep in your cunt.

“Lose the shirt.”  You commanded with a sly smile and he obeyed instantly.  “I’ve been thinking about you naked all damn day.”

“Yeah?”  He threw your legs over his shoulders folded you in half, leaning over you until his hair tickled your face, swaying as he started a slow rhythm.  “Been thinking about my cock too?  I bet you have.”

You groaned deep as he slammed into you hard, once twice, three times.  “What girl – doesn’t love – vintage – accessories?”  Your grin was taunting and your hit your mark.  You loved it when he talked dirty.

“I’ll give you vintage.” He growled, dragging your hands up above your head to pin you down, his hands locked with yours.  “You’ll feel this tomorrow, for sure.”

It was brutal.  The depth and force of his thrusts, and the angle he achieved by forcing your knees down onto the mattress by your ears using his weights as leverage.  You could hardly breathe, but that was half the thrill.  Gasping and keening, dizzy but exhilarated, you took every inch of him as he drilled you down into the bed.  Paying rent, you called this.

“You gonna come for me, huh, sweetheart?”  Bucky read the violent flush blooming on your face and décolletage with an arrogance smirk. “Gonna let me feel that sweet little pussy flutter?  Yeah, you are!  I’m gonna fuck you until you come around my cock.”

You had no words for him, only grunts and gasps made of what little air was in your lungs.  He didn’t mind, he was giving you this, fucking you how you needed.  It wasn’t always brutal like this, sometimes you couldn’t bare anything more than the softest touch, when you asked him to make love to you instead of fucking you into oblivion.

“Feel that?”  He slammed into you hard and ground against you for a few beats, his pubic bone wreaking havoc with your clit, before resuming his punishing rhythm.  “I’m gonna destroy that gorgeous hole of yours so bad you won’t sit right for a week.”

He was so close, straining to hold back until he pushed you over the edge.  Impossibly he picked up the pace, pounding you ruthlessly until your eyes rolled back into their sockets.  You practically drooled on yourself, groaning as you crested the huge mountain of intense pleasure he built for you.  The wave crashed, destroying what was left of your self-control. You cried out, tears undammed as they spilled forth.  It was exquisite, the sharpness of your climax and the painful burn where you were stretched so perfectly around his swollen prick.

The first violent contraction of your cunt dragged him with you, his cock twitched almost painfully as the pressure between his hips exploded.  The air around you grew heavy to the point where he couldn’t draw breath, and as he filled you to brimming with his jism small flecks of multi-coloured light erupted all around.

He slowed and sat back on his knees, prolonging your orgasm with slow deep strokes until you began to relax.  The light show was spectacular, undulating spectrums layered over one another, growing in size until you came back to yourself.

Bucky stroked his hands up and down your thighs gently, watching as your breathing settled and your eyes cracked open to meet his.  Your shock was temporary, followed by guilt and suddenly he could breathe more than short shallow breaths.  You hadn’t realised you’d used your power; it was a reaction to the intense emotions you’d felt.  The first time it happened, Bucky panicked, but now he knew to ride it out, and sometimes it added to his pleasure.

“How was that?”  he whispered, lowering your legs to the mattress and curling himself against your spine.

“Best stuffing, evarrrr…” You spoke quietly but with a smile, blissfully worn out and on the verge of unconsciousness.

“Not bad for 1940s vintage, huh, sweetheart?”  He pressed a kiss into the hair at your temple and pulled you closer, feeling you relax back against his chest.

“They don’t make ‘em like they used to.”  You mumble and Bucky chuffs a soft nasal chuckle, rubbing his stubbly cheek in your hair as you succumb to complete peace.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go…

Take a look at the five and ten, it’s glistening once again

With candy canes and silver lanes that glow…

 You stirred from sleep, grumbling at the infernal racket that was threatening to ruin the amazing dream you were having about Bucky kissing every single inch of your body.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store…

But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be

On your own front door…

 The muffled vibrating that accompanied the horrendous tune pulled you further from sleep and made you crack an eye open like a sleeping dragon.  A phone.  Someone’s phone was ringing.  Some Christmas-loving heathen’s phone.  Ughh!

A pair of hop-a-long boots and a pistol that shoots

Is the wish of Barney and Ben

Dolls that’ll talk and will go for a walk

Is the hope of Janice and Jen

And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again…

 You were soon bolt upright, slightly woozy but too grumpy to care.  You scoured Bucky’s room for the source of the annoyance and fixed, confusedly, on your gym bag.  What the fuck?  Hands frantically searching, you pulled out your phone to find one missed call from ‘Fist of Victory’.  Bucky must’ve called you to wake you from your nap.  Blissed out as you were, he must’ve left you to sleep while he ran some errands and did some chores, like bringing your gym bag from the common room.

The screen flashed and the voice of Michael Bublé piped up once more.  Bucky again.

It’s beginning to look a lot like-

You killed the call and, with an irritated nasal sigh, you delved into your settings to undo whatever heinous crime had been committed on your phone.

It’s beginning to look-

“Nope.”  You swiped the red button, growing more annoyed by the second.  Your phone asked you for a password but your pin didn’t work.  “Don’t do this to me!”  You groaned, trying everything you could think of short of factory restoring your device.

It’s beginning to-

“What the actual fuck?” You raged.  It was no use.  Some bastard had set your ringtone and locked you out of your own security.  “Fuck Christmas!”

Dirty yoga pants pulled on in haste and phone in hand, you raced from Bucky’s room towards the common room where you hoped to find your beau or at least someone who could fix this travesty.  Micheal Bublé’s voice chased you down the halls until you were about ready to flush your phone down the nearest shitter and call it quits.

Shoving through the door of the lounge, you were faced with 4 pairs of eyes around a dinner table laden with food; Bucky, Nat, Sam and Steve turned to look at you.  Bucky’s smile faded when he saw the state of you, dishevelled and panting, pink thong over the top of your inside-out yoga pants; furious.  You froze, cringing as the song continued uninterrupted in your hand.

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go…

There’s a tree in the Grand Hotel, one in the park as well

It’s the sturdy kind that doesn’t mind the snow…

 There was confusion from three of the four, Bucky included as he ended the call, but Sam – oh that bastard!  You lunged for him and almost got to him too, before a solid metal arm wound around your waist and pulled you back.

“You!”  You struggled hard against Bucky’s strength, but even if you got free Steve was ready to stop you before you could hurt yourself, and it would hurt, but it would be worth it to punch that smug parrot in his weak-looking jaw.  “I’m gonna fucking pluck you, roast you and feed you to the homeless.”

The amused glint in Sam’s eyes goaded you further but you succumbed to the calming effect of Bucky’s arms tightly gripped around you.  You dropped your head against his chest and groaned.

“C’mon, y/n!  Get into the Christmas spirit.”  Sam chuckled and you flipped him the bird.

He knew he’d won this round but you’d find some way of paying him back.  Maybe you’d set fire to his tree on Christmas Eve so Christmas Day would have that vibrant bonfire smell that reminded you of Halloween, which was only yesterday.  You huffed.

“Is this why the tree is up so early?”  Nat said judgingly with a slight roll of her eyes.  “You should probably fix her phone.”

“Hell no!”  Sam snorted around a mouthful of food.  “This is too much fun.”

“Suit yourself.”  Nat hid her smirk behind the rim of her coffee cup. “I’m not going to save you when she chokes the life out of you, Darth Vader style.”

Coughing and choking preceded grains of rice spluttered into a napkin as Sam’s wide eyes flitted between you and Nat.  “She what?”

“Wanda has been working with her on expanding the range of her powers so she can effect larger areas further away from her body.”  Steve chimed in.  “It’s impressive.”

“The air gets thick and suddenly you can’t breathe.”  Nat cocked a brow.  “She doesn’t even need to touch you and you’re choking to death.”

“From over there?” Sam pushed his chair back a few inches, like that would make a difference.

Steve and Nat nodded deliberately, solemnly.

You grinned, projecting a light show worthy of your wrath.  Sam was out of his seat and backing up before Bucky turned you and positioned himself between you and your target.  Sam didn’t know you couldn’t reach him and it was fun to make him squirm so you tried, like, really tried to stretch your power outwards at that winged menace. The air grew heavy and it seemed like everyone held their breath, everyone except you.

Bucky stroked his hand into your messy hair and tilted your head ready for his kiss.  You knew he was trying to distract you, and it worked. Lips and tongues eagerly danced until you were moaning into his mouth and pressing yourself against his growing arousal.  The room relaxed as he ravaged your lips, forgetting you were not alone.  Your tummy growled aggressively and broke the spell, bashful giggles followed.

“Looks like I’m going to be making it up to you again, darlin’, on behalf of that bird brain.” Bucky kissed the tip of your nose.

“Well…”  You drawled.  “If you’re going to fuck me every time he pisses me off then I might sign him up on a contract.”

Bucky smeared his lips against yours in a passionate but tongueless kiss before swiping a plate full of food from the table and shoving it into your hands.

He swept you up bridal style and spun you around once for good measure.  Nat caught your eye and you mouthed ‘thank you’ to her.  She winked subtly with that pursed lop-sided smirk she does when she’s highly amused.  Steve was looking elsewhere, seeing his childhood friend head-over-heels in love and so confidently displaying his emotions was a moment of awkward pride for him.

Sam was forgotten as Bucky carried you back to his room with a grin on his face that already had you weak. Your phone was forgotten, turned off in your hand, and as you disappeared down the hallway, those in the common room would swear they heard you humming a tune.  A tune that fit with the words now playing in your head.

 It’s beginning to look a lot like sex-mas

Several times a day

Take a look at that perfect bum, and that juicy pair of plums

And the cock that’s going to fuck my cares away

 It’s beginning to look a lot like sex-mas

Get the toys and stuff

If I’m still walking straight, and not with a funky gait

Then he hasn’t truly boned me hard enough

 A pair of nipple-clamp bells and some lube that smells

Like cherry and not something yuk

A straining hard cock that gives my ovaries a knock

And I’m gonna give it a suck

And when we’re done, we’ll watch some porn until we’re ready to fuck

 It’s beginning to look a lot like sex-mas

Fingers tease me slow

When he’s giving me metal three and working them ruthlessly

Until I’m screaming and I’m ready to explode

 It’s beginning to look a lot like sex-mas

And we’ve ruined Bucky’s bed

We’ll take it to the floor or stood by the door

Where I’m on my knees so I can give him head.

 It’s beginning to look a lot like sex-mas

He’s gasping as he comes

Filling me to the brim and holding me close to him

Rubbing my cheeks so tender with his thumbs

 I do love Bucky’s plums.

If you’ve enjoyed this, why not try my other Suncatcher fic, Disco Ball Diva.  Same sassy reader character, just earlier on in her Avengers career.