#and these are my bottoms bucky

[sweaterkittensahoy]

#listen. the order of operations is bucky < gale < curt.#gale shoves bucky back down into his seat but curt barely even has to touch gale to get him to back down#peak tiny top behavior#masters of the air#buck(y) sandwich

By "owe you one" Curt means, "I'll make you come untouched by telling you how pretty and good you are."

And Bucky is like "WHAT ABOUT ME?"

"I don't speak pushy bottom right now, Bucky. Shut your pretty mouth."

"Awww, he said my mouth was pretty."

MASTERS OF THE AIR — part 2

[kayvsworld]

i know sebastian probably doesn't want his face covered for a whole movie but like if they ARE doing winter soldier stuff they SHOULD have him wear a cute little face covering thing ONCE. for ME

[lefthandarm-man]

Bucky Barnes // The Winter Soldier Captain America: Civil War (2016)

the way he looks at steve (part 1, part 2, part 3)

(steve vers.)

[thwackk]

REAAAGHHHHHH‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[fandomfluffandfuck]

"S-say it again?" Steve pants, too desperate and on edge as his hips jerk forward uncontrollably. Thrusting in and pulling back sharply, quickly, and shallowly, unable to take it. Too much. So much.

Feelssogood.

Steve's ears burn with the tight, wet sounds that Bucky's cunt makes around his achy, hard cock. It's already pornographic but then the wet, slick noises have to be underscored embarrassingly by the obscene, sharp collision of their naked bodies hitting together--his pelvis pressed flush to Bucky's thick ass. Smack.Smack.Smack.

Oh, God, he can't help it. Fucking forward. Short and desperate thrusts. He can't help it. A whine trips and falls out of his buzzing mouth, kiss-swollen, red, and glistening. The phantom sensation of Bucky's teeth is still imprinted on his flesh, biting his fat lower lip just enough to hurt, forcing his mind to clear so he can listen to the growled instructions Bucky gives him on how he wants to be fucked. Saying the words right into his mouth, making him swallow them, hot and heavy in his belly.

For now, Steve swallows a whimper, the sensation of fucking is too much but he can't stop. He can't stop. He's sensitive but it's too much. Not enough! He, he...

He can't formulate a single fucking thought, he's so caught up in his throbbing, coiled-tight body.

Meanwhile, Bucky sighs pleasantly, content to keep the torture going and ensuring it will by squeezing his thick, strong thighs firmly around Steve's little waist. Holding him between his legs, heaven, like he wants to bruise him, mark him, hold him there, and make him lose his mind inside his molten body, carving deep into him. He knows exactly what he does to Steve and it isn't fucking fair. Steve keens. How is he supposed to function? How is he supposed to not go stupid?

When Bucky doesn't do anything else but grip him with his fucking thighs--Jesus, his thighs--Steve wilts, subcumbing to the crackling, spitting fire inside him, melting his muscles, leaving him weak and trembling as if he's feverish. He is. He's burning up. His head hangs lower, and his lips drag over the side of Bucky's throat, nosing his jaw, his breath humid and thick as he repeats himself, "sssay it again?" Steve begs. His voice is more whine than anything else.

He doesn't mean to be so pathetic, whining, nosing, and humping Bucky like a dumb puppy getting his dick wet for the first time, but he doesn't know what else to do. He needs it! He needs to hear it. It's all he wants. He wants it more than he wants his orgasm at this point. It is an orgasm, that in of itself.

If Bucky would just say it!

He wants it. He wants it so bad he can taste it.

It's not fair--he's drowning in the taste, but he can't indulge. The inferno inside his has reached a fever pitch again and again before Bucky's gotten control over it, suffocating the flames, cooling the heat just enough. Stopping him right on the cusp. Leaving him sweating and shaking but never losing it fully. Catching him just before his eyes roll back into his head--right before release. Now, poor Steve's hypersensitive and ever-burning. So molten that he's gone beyond red-hot to pure white.

Pure heat.

Steve fucks another little sound out of himself, grinding into Bucky's cunt too deep. He's flushed pink and needy all the way to his curling, cramping toes. It aches.

Yet, his hips buck again, jostling Bucky good, his cock battering his prostate like he likes, sending pulsing, electric pleasure through him. Bucky gets pleasure. Bucky gets to cum. Bucky tells him what do to, he orders him around, he owns his dick.

"Pleeeeease!" Steve whines, especially pathetic.

Finally fucking pathetic enough, desperate enough, tears in his eyes, a sob at the back of his throat that Bucky does as he asks. Just this once. But first...

Steve keens when he's blinded, assaulted, by the electric, sparkling sensation of Bucky's fist tightening its grip in his hair, holding right at the base of his neck like he's scruffing him or, oh, fuck, like he's pulling on a leash. It causes his hips to fuck harder, grinding deeper where he's hotter, wetter, tighter. So easy to direct, such an obedient boy.

But-!

Steve needs something to do with his mouth. Steve's out of his fucking mind. Steve doesn't even care that it's embarrassing how he drools and licks and sucks at Bucky's collarbone. It's there and he needs him. He needs his mouth full. He needs more. Moremoremoremore. He really just wants--

Bucky lets it happen.

He groans, "good boyyy," as he's pounded into fervently. God, Steve gets dumb but he knows how to use that big fucking cock.

"A-AH!" Steve cries out, still humping him, "ah, ah, ah-again!" Steve whimpers, his thrusts sloppy and clumsy as he's walked right up to the line. So eager. So close.

"Magic word?" Bucky chuckles, barely avoiding a moan of pleasure. He's so deep inside him that he can feel him in the back of his throat. Jesus.

"'Pluh-please!" Steve slurrs, drunk on the tight clench of his body.

"Good boy," Bucky barely finishes the words--pulling harshly at Steve's hair as he goes faster, harder, deeper--before Steve is losing it completely, curling over top of him, shivering so hard that it's more like convulsions as he empties himself inside him, moaning himself hoarse. He can't help it, digging his fingers into the sheets and mattress as he falls apart. He hears that little bit of praise, and every bit of restraint leaves his puppy.

[digital-nocturne]

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

I only wrote three for each, I apologize for the poor writing or grammar I'm trying my best to improve my writing skills! If you enjoyed feel free to leave requests and i will get to them if i can!

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞

He loves to bake, Steve will make small cookie tins to send out to loved ones during the holiday season. And practically has to fight Bucky off from eating them all before he can separate them into their containers.

Steve created homemade ornaments, weather salt dough or fabric he puts his creative talents to use. He uses photos of him and bucky over the years to put into the ornament frames he creates.

During Christmas eve he spends the night cuddling with Bucky on the couch. Watching Christmas movies while Bucky holds him, pressing kisses along Bucky's stubbled jaw as they drift off into sleep.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲

Bucky runs cold mostly, but in the winter it feels amplified. So he tends to use Steve as his own personal heater, cuddling up behind him while the blonde is baking. Running his cold hands up his shirt, warming his cool hands on staves belly, and sometimes on his pecs.

He likes the decoration but mistletoe is his favorite, he tends to move the decoration around the house stealing kisses whenever he can.

Bucky goes all off on gifts, he doesn't mean to but he can't help it. He gets gifts for the Stark family and all the members of the Wilson family, while Steve tends to worry and get one large gift, bucky gets many little gifts. Overflowing stockings and piling boxes under the tree.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

They also fuck hardcore on Christmas day, because bucky definitely gets Steve something lacey and pretty as a Christmas gift, I think bucky loves the rare occasion he can convince Steve to get dolled up for him.

please feel free to request headcanon lists or fics! I love anyone x Steve

And if you’d like an 18+ holiday sticky fic I have one here :)

[denebolablack]

Sooo, I have this HC that Tony needs to be using his hands with something while watching series, a movie, or simply listening to someone. Otherwise, he won't be able to concentrate, and he will end up biting his nails, scratching some part of his body, or biting his lips.

Well, his Brooklyn's boys found out about it very quickly. And ever since then, they make sure Tony always has some object to "play" with if he needs to.

*On a meeting*

Fury: Why is Stark dismantling a gun in the middle of our meeting?

Bucky: *With his arm around Tony's weist* Because I asked him to.

Fury: I won't even ask why. Just don't shoot anyone in this room.

Tony: If I wanted to, I would've done it long ago.

Fury: ...

Bucky: *Smug smile* He's not wrong.

*While watching a movie*

Tony: *Scratching his fingers anxiously*

Steve: *Put a notebook and a pencil on the genius's hands* Why don't you try drawing a plan of the house of the movie, sugar?

Tony: *Stops moving* That's a great idea! Why didn't I think about it sooner? *Starts drawing while mumbling to himself*

Steve: *Smiles and kisses the genius' forehead*

[hainethehero]

It doesn't matter who.

Tony, Bruce, Clint, Bucky...

They all have a soft spot for their sweet boy Steve.

For one of my bottom!Steve fics that I haven't updated in a while...

[jamesbukkakebarnes]

part 1 of 2 of my merbucky art for this year 💫

i was gonna write a whole au idea here but my brain is literally empty shdhsjdkd so idk, maybe they're reuniting after being apart for some time 😭

^ in blue bc why not 💙🩵💙

[siriusly-writes]

“You know”

“Yeah, I know”

“I’m sorry”

“You have nothing to apologise for”

“I know bu-“

“No. Nothing, you have nothing to be ashamed off. You were a child. You didn’t deserve it.”

“…no one’s ever said that to me before”

“Oh A…”

[ctrl-alt-bucky]

If The Winter Soldier was in Task force 141 — Headcannons

(Aka: can somebody teach these dramatic bitches some communication skills)

Be warned, this has a lot more words than I was aiming for (around ~739). Feel free to send me an ask if you want me to expand on certain scenarios, or send a prompt with these two and I might make a oneshot/drabble!

Contains a brief mention of SoapGhost. This version of Bucky is post Endgame. SFW.

♡ Headcannons below the cut ♡

Nicky Fury, the therapist— and most importantly, the government— come to an agreement with the former Winter Soldier: with the Avengers fizzled out, the world needs heroes now more than ever. And so, finding an excuse to use Bucky's highly trained skills, they stick him in with Task 141, hoping the structure and team bonding will help aid his fractured mind, and hopefully dampen his grief in the process.

Ghost isn't keen on a new recruit. He doesn't like extra men to babysit, and he especially doesn't like being unsure of the rookie's capabilities. It doesn't take long for a silent feud to form between him and the newbie, who refers to himself as "Winter" for a call sign or just "Bucky" if he favors you.

Bucky, on the other hand, admires the leadership and protectiveness Ghost shows to his team. But despite that, he's just as cautious of his abilities— and more specifically: where his trust lies, between Bucky, who hasn't entirely yet merged himself with the team, and between the rest of 141, who share a rich history with the Sergeant.

In the first couple missions, Bucky finds himself frustrated with Ghost's orders. He's held the Sergeant title too, once— Hell, climbing the ranks practically required acting on command without any question. That is, until he was able to make his own decisions again. But Bucky had become accustomed to leading himself, or often following behind Steve (who knew more than anybody that telling him what to do didn't guarantee anything), not to mention the mess of Hydra and everything he did to detach himself from that life— So, he struggles with Ghost's authority, and begins to learn very quickly that challenging the non-red, skull-faced fucker is a bad idea.

On one particular morning, just a few days after their last big mission, Bucky wakes up with no arm. Fortunately for him, it's a familiar feeling of emptiness on one side. He later finds it on a shelf in the common room, displayed like a mantelpiece alongside various weapons, with a little skull etched into the bicep with black grease paint. The worst part? Ghost is the first person to sneak past him in decades. Dramatic motherfucker.

After that, Bucky finds a balance of respect and displeasure for Ghost, and works alongside him in unison. The rest of the team doesn't question his sudden change in attitude: some of them, too, had to get over that barrier, after all.

They bond over a share of books. Bucky spent a lot of his downtime before and after the army reading, and likewise with Ghost. Bucky owned a first edition of The Hobbit before he became a pawn for the Soviets, and Ghost is secretly jealous of it, having lost himself in fictional stories all the time growing up.

They also bond over their shared magnet for idiots. Specifically, idiot teammates with a tendency for causing trouble. Bucky ribs him for not making any moves on Soap, whereas Ghost defends himself with a quiet grunt and often changes the subject to something else.

The biggest thing they oppose on, however, is the subject of masks. Ghost is never seen without his, but Bucky almost never has it on unless they're on a mission, and even then, he occasionally opts out, mostly to blend in when necessary (and to help keep his memories at bay, not that he'd ever say it).

Typically, their favorite past time is sparring. Bucky has never found a non-human that can almost match him strength for strength, and Ghost likes knowing he can throw his all at Bucky without having to worry about the damage it could cause. It's the best training for the both of them; allowing their energy to drain, their skills to improve, and their banter to escalate until one of them is on top of the other, holding them down until a forfeit is called.

More than once, Bucky has been the one on the ground with his arms pinned. He claims he only admitted defeat to, "boost Ghost's ego so the miserable bastard can smile for once," but they both know it's not quite the truth.

They work as a good team and even better rivals. And though Bucky would never admit it out loud, after everything he's lost, he enjoys having an equal again. And Ghost, well... Ghost wouldn't mind keeping him around for a while, that's for sure.

That's all I've got for now! I have a NSFW headcannons draft for these two soldiers' x reader. Lemme know if that's something I should post ;D

[kalee60]

Don't tell me - show me

Summary:

Bucky had always been a teacher of sorts in Steve’s life. He'd shown him how to sneak into movies, to charm the baker’s wife for hot bread rolls and later in life, to fight. (Much to Bucky’s dismay, Steve really took to that one). But one cool Autumn day, Bucky offered to show Steve something new. Something Steve had only ever allowed himself to want in the whispers of his mind.

It was shocking, exciting and could get them thrown in jail.

But was it just his best friend teaching Steve how to romance a dame?

Or was it much more than that?

Or: the pre-war ‘show me how’ fic that no-one asked for (except me).

Tags: Pre-war, Pre-canon, Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Show Me How, Steve’s POV, Explicit Sexual Content, First Times, Idiots in Love, Not Unrequited Love, Internal Angst, Body Worship, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers, Inexperienced Steve Rogers

Rating: Explicit

Words: 9,100

~*~*~*~*~

Well hello there! I'm back...

I've been sitting on this story for a very long time and finally managed to find the muse to finish it and let it free. It's my first pre-war fic for these two and well, it's full of my favourite things - mutual pining, idiots in love and feelings reveals (oh, also a LOT of body worshipping...Bucky deserves it after all).

So if this sounds like your kind of thing - click here!

Big thanks to @darter-blue for listening to me talk about this for literally years. I don't deserve you but I'm glad you're with me on these crazy journeys ❤️

[lefthandarm-man]

Steve Rogers // Captain America Captain America: Civil War (2016)

the way he looks at bucky (part 1, part 2, part 3)

(bucky vers.)

[fandomfluffandfuck]

I loove the whole vibe of the 'Bucky is just trying to make some eggs' ask and it got me thinking what if Buck was trying to torture Steve even more and agreed to 'just the tip' only. Only to learn that he himself can't resist to chase that fullness, that thickness, shimmering and undulating his hips more and more, needing something to touch his sweet spot, fill him fully. Pulling at his nipples and suckling at Steve's fingers, moaning like the whore he is.

Steve of course being all smug about it, trying to hold back to see how desperate and slutty can Bucky get, but in the end failing miserably.

Btw I love your work so much S, your blog is certainly one of the best on the whole Tumblr! Sending hug.

related to this

Thank you so much, I'm honored that you think so!

Now, here we go 😏

Bucky was--emphasis on was--on his way out of the fucking door right when Steve came tumbling out of their office-turned-into-Steve's-art-studio. Of course. What else could Bucky expect other than his own impeccably bad timing? Because Steve had been in there for hours, doing God knows what, wrapped up in the sweeping arms of creation, making him forget everything but the act itself. His big, buff artist boyfriend should be coming out for food and water and a bathroom break. But Bucky knew just by the way Steve's eyes scanned the room that it was not one of those primal needs he was looking to sate. Steve's body doesn't turn languid and syrupy with the lust for water or the pressing urge to piss and his eyes don't fill with hunger like that for food. Nah.

And so, fine, maybe underneath the mental complaints Bucky's dick had twitched at the thought of being just as important to Steve as those needs to live, maybe more important even--the ever-present, nuclear, serum-powered need to stuff his dick into a nice, hot, tight hole--sue him.

Buuuut he has things to do. He's not like Steve. Definitely not. When his dick calls, he doesn't have to pick up the phone every time. He, sometimes, even has the strength to slam down the phone and hang up (somewhere in there there's a pun about leaving himself hanging and being hung). So, he huffed and rolled his eyes and pretended to not want Steve's hands on him. He was already dressed with his feet shoved into his boots. He doesn't have the time for dick right now, batting those insistent, dinner-plate palms away. S'what he deserves, a little lovey slapping 'cause he's an annoying, buzzing fly insisting on circling Bucky when there's literally so much space in the apartment for him to fly around.

Ugh.

Again. But. Because Steve knows just where to grab and press and tug at him, aligning their bodies from tip to tail, his thigh hot and big between Bucky's legs, Bucky's back pressed against the inside of their front door... he crumbled.

Not his proudest moment.

"Just the fuckin' tip," Bucky growls, already not meaning it. If Steve wants to be pushy, though, Bucky's allowed to hit back. Give and take. That's a relationship. This is what they do. They play games. They've been together their whole entire lives, they're allowed to invent new, snarky ways to fuck with each other.

Unpressured and unsurprised, Steve laughs at him.

And Bucky may have been joking before but, oh, oh no. He won't have that. Steve is gonna eat shit. He will. Steve might seem more competitive and stubborn from the outside, but that's because he's a donkey. Bucky is a horse by comparison. Similar but also nowhere near as widely known for being an ass.

"I fucking mean it," Bucky fists that dangerously blonde head of hair, pulling at it until his neck arches so they're eye-to-eye rather than offset with Bucky staring into space, vision blurry, eyelids heavy, as Steve's hot, wet, red lips attach to his collarbone, sucking and gnawing at him like a dog with a new bone. Toying with him. "Just the tip," he repeats himself, steeling his voice the best he can when he feels anything but. Well. His dick is steel, but the rest of him is about as resistant as a twist tie between someone's fingers. "Get off and lemme go," he goes on, "I got shit to do, Rogers. Be quick. Y'know, you're usual M.O."

Steve, surprisingly, doesn't complain too much or shove back at him, getting off on how they can talk shit. It's just, "you say the sweetest things, Buck." He can't be too offended, though, because he's using those mits to shove his pants and underwear down and spread his cheeks to check and--"still wet from this morning, hmm?" He's pleased with what he finds.

Bucky grunts, barely keeping himself from shuddering with one, oh, two of Steve's fingers probing his hole. Still slick and slack, just like he said. Fuck, Bucky hates it when he's right. it's not his fault, though! Steve just can't fucking keep it in his pants.

Never.

"You were planning on going out like this?" Steve rubs around his gaping rim with those damn thick, calloused artist fingers, asking him with just about the same inflection as if he's questioning why he's wearing a scarf for summer weather.

Bucky's entire gut ties itself into a knot, nearly pushing a too-obvious sound of enjoyment out of him. Groaning. Steve's big, dumb, caveman fingers feel good, touching him where he's about to split him open, again, so what? Big whoop. "Dhh--I d-don't have much of a choice with you on me all the time, now do I? You're worse than a barnacle," he tries to hit back. His shot misses by a mile, not hitting him where it counts but in the ego instead--

Blondes, Bucky swears.

"You saying you're loose 'cause 'a me?" Bucky doesn't need to see Steve's face to know he's grinning like a lunatic.

"Pfft," he blows out a breath of hot air, more annoyed sounding than he really can manage to be so long as Steve's hands are on him, touching him, teasing him, "as if anyone could be loose with the fucking canon between your legs."

Steve bites his throat, locking his jaws around him until he whimpers. Then, victorious, he growls, "guess you're lucky I'm just sticking the tip in then like you want, hmm?"

"Uh-hhhuuh," Bucky starts to agree, but the sound is turned guttural and embarrassingly strung out by the quick, hot shove of the fat tip of Steve's cock into him. No warning. Just sudden murderously good, hot pleasure.

Oh, fuck.

Steve isn't done, apparently--that's not the end of his plundering of Bucky's body and pride, why would it be? How could it be? Steve's a fucking donkey. Bucky doesn't even know why he likes him save for that drool-worthy cock, and speaking of...

Steve shifts his hips back and the tip pops out, sliding past his rim, making it stretch stretch stretch then go lax abruptly. Empty. Bucky whimpers, far too devastated when he knows he's getting the tip right back. He knows! But, guh, as Steve shoves his way back inside, just the first inch, maybe two if he's lucky, Bucky moans, startled by how nice it feels. Yes. And that's how it goes.

Whimper-moan, whimper-moan, whimper-moan.

Out-in, out-in, out-in.

Steve shoves in and fucks back out.

The bastard could easily keep the tip of it inside and grind smoothly, he's got the muscle control and stamina for it, but he doesn't. He's being rough on purpose. Intentionally driving Bucky wild by fucking him in a jerky, both unsatisfying and over-satisfying way.

And, of course, just as Bucky starts to moan more and try to uncoordinatedly bat at his shoulder, wanting to badger him into just keeping it inside, please, god, it'd be so much less maddening that way--as is, he's shuddering, his rim is all sensitive and raw and hot feeling and he can't deal with it--Steve uses the tip of his cock to draw around his rim like he's smearing lipstick over Bucky's mouth. It makes him feel dirty. Used. Depraved.

Ohmyfuckinggod.

"Told you to do just the tip," Bucky hisses, pissed, so fucking frustrated with all this tension under his skin, deep in his muscles, he wants, Steve just needs to stop being such a--fuuuck. The way it stretches and pulls at his rim is too good. "So keep it in or get off me."

"Sorry, Buck," Steve's starting to pant, the only evidence of his breaking apart. Good. He deserves it. "Honey," his breath hitches before he really gets into it, "I can't help it! You're just so wet, I keep slipping out!" He has the gall to say all that, full of faux-innocence.

Bastard.

Bucky groans, "uunnngh," letting his head drop back, not caring when his skull connects with the wooden door. It hurts but the shock of sensation is welcome when he's fighting tooth and nail for crumbs from Steve. Fine. He curls his fingers into fists, arms thrown around Steve's neck indulgently.

Fine.

He can deal with this. He was tortured for seventy fucking years. Of course, he can take this. He can deal with a little bit of sexual frustration. No sweat. He can--

A cracked, nearly-shattered noise slips out of his lips. High and needy. Maybe he can't. The shove-in and pull-out is too good, each stretch and release of his overused rim makes him want to fucking die. Mouth hanging open, drool about to slip off his puffy, buzzing bottom lip, chest heaving so hard he's lightheaded, hyperventilating, and, just, it all leaves him with no choice but to swivel his hips and force himself down onto that fucking cock with the latest unsatisfyingly shallow thrust in Steve gives him. He won't give? Fine, Bucky will just take more of it.

It's agonizing, though, because it's not enough.

With the next harder, deeper roll of his hips down, Steve's big, infuriatingly steady hands catch his hips, "woah, Buck," he murmurs, holding him as he coos at him like he's a spooked horse, soothing his big, hot, heavy hands down his sides, shushing him, "watch yourself, Buck, you're gonna get more then the tip if you do that."

Bucky groans and breaks enough to let himself nod. Just a quick, barely budging up and down. He can't spare more than that, it's too humiliating. His pride. He won't have his pride more loose and fucked out than his hole, he wouldn't be able to bear it.

"But you said-" Steve's voice should be waaay more strained and less innocent. This is criminal. Bucky knows what he said but he doesn't fucking care now. Ugh. Read the room, Rogers! Bucky likes him the most when he's whimpering, humping him, and finishing in two quick pumps like an inexperienced frat boy, big and muscular but with the spirit of a golden retriever puppy in his huge chest, red in the face but unspeakably satisfied from finally, finally getting his dick wet.

"Don't care," Bucky grits, using his supposed superstrength against Steve's. It's a shame his strength seems to be shot to shit when he's being fucked-but-not-fucked-enough, so he just ends up squirming there uselessly. Not even pinned by cock, just barely scraping his toes against the ground, otherwise completely dependent on his asshole boyfriend.

Steve.

Steve's a good boy. Yeah, right. He's awful, following what Bucky said knowing that he's cursing his own words with venom right now.

Squirming harder, Bucky bites, "c'mon, just gimmie it--"

He can show Steve stubborn. Fuck him. He can be relentless. He's, he's an assassin! Just, c'mon, c'mooon.

It takes just a little more squirming and shoving and breathless orders that make them sound more like weak suggestions--it takes more work than he would like--but he gets there. He gets Steve to listen. His dick is back out of him when he finally just... gives in.

Finally.

He moans with his whole damn, huge chest into the junction of Bucky's arched neck, hot and sweaty, his hands bruising his waist, holding him so his left leg is curled around his waist and his right leg is stretched out, his toes barely making contact with the ground anymore, the way he's being fucked.

Steve is using him like a fleshlight, fucking up into him hard.

YES!

It happens so fast, though, that Bucky does not have time to gloat. The best he can do, the whole fucking thing inside him so fast, is choke on a sob.

It's in his throat.

"Ahh, yeahh," Bucky breathlessly laughs, frantic and unspeakably pleased, full of perverse glee like waking up on Christmas but to a tree surrounded by presents that turn out to be only wrapped up sex toys, "that's it," he moans. His hands squeeze roughly at the nape of Steve's neck, holding on for the ride. And there it is.

There's his good boy, whimpering, his hips stuttering now that his dick really is shoved somewhere hot and wet and tight, up in his guts. Losing control because Bucky is sloppy and too much. Too good. "Fuck me," Bucky demands. Steve is already going hard, but, damn, Bucky will be dead the day he doesn't push for more. So what if he's a desperate bottom that always ends up fucked out and loose? Steve's just as bad with his huge, hung-like-a-horse cock and stupid high sex drive. They're made for each other.

And Steve does as he demands. He fucks, driving his soul out of his goddamn body with how hard he drives into him, making their front door rattle. The neighbors are gonna call the cops again but Bucky does not give a single shit. He has more important things going on like moaning "AH, AH, AH!" at the top of his lungs.

[gay-jewish-bucky]

[dykeredhood]

Don’t even try to fuck me if you can’t get me as riled up as the score of Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) gets me